#it only took 100 applications!

[pendale]

secured a software dev internship IN THIS ECONOMY

[arolesbianism]

So I may or may not have spent a good chunk of my day trying to learn how to look into onis code and while I may not have yet succeeded I will likely keep fucking around with shit tomorrow and if I manage to succeed it'll spell great doom for my sanity as oni becomes the interest I've officially poured the most effort into analyzing

[5ummit]

So there's this post with a troubling number of notes going around insisting that "dead dove" is not a genre, it doesn't inherently have anything to do with darkfic, and that the tag could be applied to fics that are "100% fluffy where everyone's having a good time" if they happen to contain some abnormal (though entirely non-problematic) content like an unusual kink. The claim is that "dead dove: do not eat" is simply a "courtesy tag" that means "this is a very specific niche, mind the tags." And that's just... wrong.

I wrote up a whole rebuttal to this post since I can't stand misinformation and frankly OP was being kinda rude and judgey on top of their wrongness. But right after I posted my reply, OP turned off reblogs because, and I quote, “some fuckwad added some dumb shit onto this post and it is no longer educational” (the “fuckwad” being me and the “dumb shit” being proof that they were wrong). A couple people have asked me to make a rebloggable version of my response, which I've decided to do because this isn't the first time I've heard similar claims and I want to help set the record straight. However, I'm not linking the original post on the off chance this gains traction because OP did the right thing by turning off reblogs, preventing it from circulating further, and I don't want them to get hate for being unfortunately misinformed.

For those who don't know the history, "dead dove: do not eat" was originally proposed as a catchall "hydra trash party" alternative label for any fandom to warn that the content of a fic may be considered problematic or potentially upsetting and to read the tags carefully so you know what you're getting into and won't complain later. Specifically, DD:DNE was intended to convey that the Bad Things in the fic would likely be reveled in and not explicitly condemned by the narrative, which some people tend to get up in arms about, hence the need for the extra warning in addition to the tags. Don't believe me? Here's the original proposal (note DD:DNE can be found on a handful of fics dated before 2015 but this is when it really took off and became a Thing).

There are currently around 50,000 fics tagged as "dead dove: do not eat" on AO3 and close to 50% of those also include the rape/noncon warning (which of course is not the only type of "dead dove" but is one of the most popular and most consistently tagged). The normal percentage of noncon fics in any given fandom? Around 1-3%. That's a HUGE disparity. So don't tell me that dead dove is just a general "courtesy tag" and doesn't or shouldn't have dark connotations. Even the context of the original joke on Arrested Development has a dark undertone. Micheal Bluth casually finds an animal carcass in a bag in his refrigerator with the label "do not eat", as if eating it would be any sane person's first thought. The whole situation is kinda fucked up. And this fucked up vibe very much carries over into fandom usage too, as was intended.

The claim that dead dove has nothing to do with the content's genre and could just as easily be used to describe a 100% fluffy fic in which everyone's having a good time is straight up Wrong, or at the very least, severely warping the original meaning. Also, when someone these days says that they like/dislike "dead dove" most people in fandom automatically understand what that means because of the consistency of its usage over the years and the way language evolves. Whether you like it or not, "dead dove" IS a genre now and the term does carry a specific connotation. I do agree that DD:DNE should definitely still be used in conjunction with other tags, when applicable, to be explicit about the exact type of fucked up content you may find, but to say that the term is meaningless on its own is patently false and I'm tired of people who don't know what they're talking about pushing this narrative and causing even more confusion.

You want a generic term that also means "mind the tags" and doesn't have any inherently dark connotations? Just use good ol' "what it says on the tin" instead of trying to force dead dove to be something it's not.

[imagineinside]

Star-Like Encounters (Hugh Jackman x Fem!Reader) Chapter 1

A/N: In between posting chapters for the Wolverine fic I'm working on, I also wanted to pick up something about Hugh Jackman. I want to first preface with the fact that this is not meant to be taken as reality and we need to be respectful of people mentioned, this is purely a work of fiction. With that being said, I hope you enjoy!

Description: You begin your first semester at a prestigious university with a mix of excitement and chaos. After a frantic start involving a late arrival due to your roommate’s Hollywood-related detour, your day takes an unexpected turn when you meet Hugh Jackman, your roommate’s boss, at a movie studio.

Hugh, intrigued by your expertise in physics, invites you to consult on a film project aiming for scientific accuracy. Balancing your new academic responsibilities with a potential Hollywood cameo, you must navigate your dual interests. As you face your own feelings, you discover that the lines between your professional and personal worlds are more intertwined than you imagined.

Currently Applicable Tags: (Future) 18+, Fluff, cocky Hugh Jackman, flirty Hugh Jackman, age gap (55 and 27) more to come.

Running through the hallways of the prestigious university you had dedicated your whole life to working at, you cursed at yourself for running so late. It wasn’t entirely your fault, however. Needing to share a car with your best friend and roommate always had its disadvantages.

And this morning, her boss had decided he needed her assistance out of absolutely nowhere, meaning you had to drop her off at a studio downtown before driving to the university.

Unfortunately, you had no idea who her boss actually was, otherwise you’d go on a rampaging smear campaign as payback for them jeopardizing your career like this. You had asked your best friend various times, with you both sober and drunk at various times, who her boss was. All you had gotten out of her was that “he is a Hollywood hot-shot, and he’s been in some of your favorite movies.” She always said that last part with a mischievous grin on her face.

You bolted into the lecture hall and all 100-some eyes turned to you, including the headmasters in the back. You took only a moment to catch your breath before fixing your appearance, smoothing out your skirt and wiping the sweat from your brow.

“Good morning, everyone,” you called in greeting as you approached your desk, throwing your briefcase on top of it and shrugging off your jacket.

You received a cacophony of “good mornings” back.

“It’s a pleasure to be here at the start of your semester, and I’m excited to guide you through the wonders of astrophysics this semester.” You heard a few groans rupture from the students, but you simply smiled to yourself. You had been that student once upon a time. “We’ll explore the life cycles of stars, the structure of galaxies, and the mysteries of dark matter. Astrophysics can seem daunting, but it’s really about understanding our place in the universe. Embrace your curiosity, ask questions, and don’t worry if things seem complex at first—every great discovery starts with a simple question. I’m here to support you, and together we’ll uncover the fascinating stories written in the stars.” You felt your heart lift up in your chest, you truly had such a fascination with this field of study.

You dared for a moment to lift your eyes and read the approval written in the headmaster's face, a spark lighting in your chest. “Now, let’s start with the Big Bang, shall we?” You smiled once again as you heard hundreds of notebooks being flipped open to the first page.

Nothing like the start of a new semester.

* * *

You drove your beat-up Volvo to the location your roommate had sent you when she texted you earlier that day. As you rolled up to it, your brakes squealing as you came to a stop, you realized it was an entire campus of movie production. There were hundreds of people mulling about on the other side of the protected gate. Some were riding around in golf carts, others sprinting from set-to-set, a whole flurry of movement.

You always had a fascination with Hollywood and the film industry. When you originally started at university yourself, you majored in theater and dance. But… after your first year, for reasons you’d rather forget, you changed to astrophysics.

“There you are!” Your best friend, Ashley, squealed and pulled you into a big hug after you stepped out of the car. “I had the best day today!”

You laughed at the excitement written all over your friend's face, “I’m glad, just don’t make it a habit of making me late to my class.”

Ashley’s smile dropped as she put her hands together in a silent prayer, “I am so sorry about that. I talked to my boss about it and he promised he would be more considerate next time.”

You sighed and crossed your arms, fauxing an upset scoff, “Fine, I suppose I can let it slide this time–”

“That’s good, I don’t need you murdering my best assistant.” A deep voice called out past the front of your car. You knew who that voice belonged to in an instant with that deep, sultry Australian accent. You had all the X-Men movies he was in on DVD and saved to your computer, as well as “The Greatest Showman” and even the series “Faraway Downs”. (You used to have a cutout of him in your room when you were younger but you don’t need to bring that up…)

Your eyes were glued to your best friend who gave you a sheepish grin, as if even she hadn’t been expecting this. You were afraid that if you looked over at him, he would just evaporate into thin air.

“I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself, I’m your friend's boss. You can call me Hugh.” Suddenly he was crossing into your line of sight, a hand held out in front you as a way of greeting.

You snapped yourself out of your trance that only his voice had put you in and went into professional mode, something that was a common necessity in your line of work, “Hugh, nice to meet you. I’m Ashley’s roommate… and oftentimes chauffeur.”

That pulled a laugh from deep inside his chest as he shook your hand. His grip was strong but still gentle so as not to crush your dainty fingers. It was incredibly hard not to notice the way his hand dwarfed yours in size, his palm calloused and rough in comparison to yours.

“I am terribly sorry about today, we got called to set at the last minute to start production for a new movie. It will not happen again.” He assured you.

You gave him a reassuring smile, “No worries, only made me late to my first lecture of my professional career, but not a big deal.” You laced your words with heavy sarcasm as you flashed a look to Ashley, who looked like she was about to combust with embarrassment. Did she really think you were going to embarrass her in front of her boss that much?

“Lecture? Are you a Professor?” Hugh asked as he leaned against the rusted hood of your Volvo.

It took you a moment to respond as you soaked in his large arms crossed over his massive chest. You wish you could be buried in there. Christ, you were acting like a schoolgirl with a crush. You cleared your throat before responding and smoothed out your skirt. You weren’t entirely sure, but you thought Hugh’s eyes followed your brief movement. “Yes, at Stanford in the Physics department. It’s where Ashley and I both studied.”

“Stanford, wow,” he said with a raise of his eyebrows, he seemed genuinely impressed. “You must be quite renowned in the Physics world to have gotten a job there. And… excuse me if this comes off as inappropriate, but you are so young too.”

“Just passionate, Mr. Jackman.” You say with a polite smile.

“I thought I told you to call me Hugh,” he replied with a teasing smirk that lifted one side of his mouth higher than the other. It felt like you were going to combust right there with how fast your heart was racing.

“Anywaaaay,” Ashley jumped in. You had almost completely forgotten she was standing there. “She and I best get going, we still need to make dinner tonight.” She rounded the small car to the passenger side door and threw her bag in the backseat.

“I guess it’s–”

Mr. Jackman cut you off with a quick step forward, “Actually, if you don’t mind me saying, you may be able to help us.”

“Us?” You asked and flicked your gaze towards your friend who looked like her world was ending right there in front of her.

“You see, some aspects of the movie we are working on happens in space. I will refrain from saying anything else since, well–if you’re a fan I don’t want to spoil anything,” he said with a hearty laugh, “But the producers and directors have been fighting about the physics of the movie. They are trying to make it as accurate as possible, I suppose. And well, I am very out of my depth when it comes to anything like this.”

You nodded at him, one hand on the door handle of the Volvo.

“If it’s not too much trouble, would you be willing to join our next meeting to teach them a thing or two about physics?” He asked and took one more step forward, a sparkle in those soft, hazel eyes.

“Well, Mr. Jackman–”

“Hugh.”

“Uh, Hugh,” You went on, “I am very flattered but I just don’t know if I will be the best suited for the job. I am sure you can find others that will be better at this sort of thing.” You said with a nervous laugh. There was no way you would survive getting looped into this movie with Hugh Jackman as a leading character.

Plus, Ashley liked having boundaries between her work and personal life, which you understood. You didn’t want to overstep without talking to her about it first. You don't know what you would do if you lost her friendship because of something like this.

Hugh smacked his lips together and patted the hood of your tiny car. “As a person who enjoys her work because you are passionate, I feel you would be the best suited for this task.” He held up his pointer finger as he reached into his back pocket to pull out an old, leather wallet. “I will give you my business card,” he said, holding up a small piece of white paper, “if you give me yours… Professor.”

You hesitated for a moment, not sure what this would all lead to, before nodding your head and reaching into a side pocket of your briefcase, producing a small manilla rectangle with your information printed on it. “Here you are, Mr. Jackman.”

He didn’t correct you this time as he reached over to retrieve your business card, before placing his own in your open hand. You didn’t want to dwell on the fact that this piece of paper smelled like him, all manly cologne and pinewood…

“I think we will be seeing each other in the future, Professor,” he said with a wink and a wave as he turned around and walked back towards the campus.

And you’d be damned if you didn’t watch his tight butt in those bootcut jeans disappear past the gate. But you didn’t notice him turn back around to get one last look at you as you climbed into your car.

* * *

You and Ashley made dinner without touching the subject of her boss who apparently now wanted to recruit you to help with the project. On one hand, you really wanted to say yes to his proposal. After all, this may be the closest you could ever achieve to the film industry after your change in major. But on the other hand, you knew Ashley took a lot of pride in her work, even as an assistant. She planned to climb the ladder of the entertainment business one rung at a time. After all, she held out throughout the entirety of her theater degree at university, when you just bailed when it got too difficult.

“I can feel you thinking about it,” Ashley said while you sat on the couch together, each with your respective bowls of ice cream and rewatching Gilmore Girls for the third–maybe fourth time?

You groaned and grabbed the remote, pausing your show. “I know… I’m really sorry.”

“Hey,” Ashley said and reached across to place her hand on yours reassuringly. “I know you care about film just as much as I do. Hell, they do need a lot of help with the physics of the movie, and I am definitely no help in that department.” You let out a small chuckle in silent agreement with your friend. As much as you loved her, math was not her strong suit.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright if I say yes? I mean, it’s not like it will be my actual job or anything. I probably won’t even interact with you and Mr. Jackman that much.”

Ashley shook her head, “No, it’ll be completely fine if you take the offer. And you’re right, usually Hugh and I are busy doing other stuff rather than being involved in the technical discussions, or at least I am.”

“So our friendship will still exist?”

It was Ashley’s turn to laugh, “Yes, dummy, our friendship will still exist.”

“Ugh, you’re the best!” You yelped and lunged across the couch for a hug, ice cream be damned.

Later that night, when you were getting ready for bed, your phone lit up with a notification from… an unknown number?

You had to let out a deep breath after his last text let a flurry of butterflies free in your stomach. You tried not to let it get to you so much, he was probably just being nice. Plus, you’ve watched enough of his interviews to know how flirty he can be without really meaning it.

Laying in bed, you opened your phone to Instagram. You snickered at the first photo that popped up on your feed. It was Hugh Jackman dressed in his yellow Wolverine uniform taken from an angle that definitely aged him, but you still found it adorable nonetheless. Without thinking, you pressed the heart button on the bottom left of the picture. After all, you’ve been liking his pictures for years by that point.

After that, you set your phone to “do not disturb”, waiting for the sun to wake you the next day. And when you finally woke to check it, a notification popped up on your phone that had your heart flying around your chest.

[chuunai]

I had an idea for the 100 followers thingy- so like the babies thing but you’re a single mother (maybe teen mom?) and dazai (pm) falls in love with you and your baby :} ps- I LOVE YOU TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF SUGAR 💗‼️‼️‼️

I’m trying I swear TvT

✧˚ · . you’re a virgin and I’m just a meth head - pm! dazai osamu

the new hire at the port mafia interests him. the baby, too.

summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff with a sprinkle of angst, mentions of teen pregnancy, reader and PM! dazai are seventeen, SFW, mentions of a former abusive relationship, mentions of suicide (it’s fucking dazai), happy ending.

Assistants were something he never cared for much.

They came and go, either requesting to work for a different department in the Port Mafia after witnessing his peculiarities or dying. He hadn’t ever formed any bonds with them. Hell, he hardly knew their names. Dazai preferred to give them childish nicknames such as ‘four-eyes’ for the ones with glasses or ‘baldy’ for the ones who had barely began balding.

No use in actually getting to know them.

All they were good for anyway was organizing his work and making a schedule of meetings and pointless missions he’d hardly follow. And what could they do? Nothing.

Once, he had attempted to get Ango to apply for the job during an outing at Bar Lupin, but that four-eyes declined. So did Oda. Geez, his friends lacked faith in him. Dazai wasn’t that bad of a boss. His subordinates didn’t die that often compared to the others.

Then again, his most recent assistant had died via overdosing. Straight from the Port Mafia’s warehouses, too. Dying of his own stupidity because karma struck him down. The high may have been sending him to the clouds, but he got too close to the sun just as Icarus did and burned—or in this case, vomited—to death. Fun.

A replacement would be needed, yes, but that would involve looking through so many applications and that was boring compared to strangling himself or pulling Chuuya’s hair when the redhead was speaking with Kouyou.

He’d pick irritating the slug over paperwork any day. At least one was fun.

So he just had Mori pick one out. As long as they wouldn’t be a nuisance and knew their place, he didn’t care who it was. Boy, girl, whatever. All ages welcomed. Dazai preferred younger though. The old farts were annoying and so utterly dumb! So when a subordinate gave him a file for his new assistant, he didn’t think anything of it. He always got those for record keeping.

Although this particular individual piqued his interest as his eyes gazed over the information attached.

The age was young—seventeen, same as him. A girl. According to the report, you were previously stationed as a secretary for some lower ranking member. And you’d just joined, too. Only a few blissful months ago. Just barely a baby in the crime world. All dewy-eyed and truly unknowing of the dark underbelly of Yokohama.

Most interesting, though, and the thing that struck his curiosity was the fact that a small sticky note was attached to the last page.

‘Single mother of eight month old girl’

There weren’t many parents in the Mafia, much less teenage ones. Nobody had time to have a baby with the lack of safety. But you did. Someone desperate enough to provide for their child to the point where they joined an illegal organization without even being an adult yet. That took will and selflessness. Something he lacked.

And without having even met you yet, Dazai found himself fascinated by you.

Murmuring your name to himself, he found himself a bit startled at how smooth it rolled off his tongue. He liked it, too. Your name was nice to say.

Tossing the file onto his desk carelessly, Dazai tapped his fingers on the desk, mind wandering once more. If you had a child then you’d probably work your best to support them. You’d be competent enough for him.

Apparently competent enough to the point where you felt like you could handle bringing the baby to the Mafia HQ.

“I don’t remember hiring two assistants.”

Dazai’s voice came out as slightly amused and startled. There you were, standing in-front of his desk while occasionally shushing your…daughter? It looked like a girl, anyway.

“Sorry- her sitter wasn’t available and I-“

His eyes stared at your reddening cheeks—embarrassment and shame, he could tell—as you spoke again.

“I don’t really have anyone to watch her. I’m so sorry, sir.”

Sir? You called him sir? That made him wave his hand a bit dismissively. The only people who called him ‘sir’ were the random grunts and gunmen that served under him. Or people who were scared shitless of him.

“Dazai. Not sir.”

Sitting up languidly, his uncovered eye focused on the baby. Curls of dark hair fell over her forehead while her tiny hands grabbed at your shirt and hair. Funny, he thought.

“And the baby can stay.”

She reminded him of some of the orphans Oda took care of. Especially Sakura. Maybe they had the same name, too. Unlikely, though. She didn’t look like a Sakura, really.

Picking up a pen, he pointed it at you, a small smile on her face.

“Speaking of, may I know her mother’s name?”

He knew it already. But it felt more right if he convinced himself you told him.

“Oh! Yes, uhm, I’m (L/N) (Y/N). And her name,” Tapping your baby’s forehead, she released a small coo, giggling slightly. “is (L/N) Yukirou.”

“Winter baby, huh. I’ll guess, December 16th?”

This was so much fun for him so far. Maybe Yukirou really could be his second assistant. As a joke, of course.

Nodding, you began to ramble on about the baby as he relaxed back in his chair, spinning around and making funny faces at Yukirou. The small child giggled and outreached her fingers to him, probably infatuated by his bandages and messy hair. He didn’t touch her, though. No need to let such a good small thing interact with a person like him.

And so minutes went by. Technically, he should’ve been doling out tasks and trying to kill himself again—he had heard of a technique where one could inject apple juice into their neck and die, but he wasn’t sure it’d work—but it slipped out of his grasp. Maybe it was the fact you two were so close in age. The fact that in another universe you could’ve been classmates fueled this moment. Dazai didn’t really know people his age other than Chuuya, but Chuuya was Chuuya. You were new.

New to everything in this line of business. The killing, the release of morals. Then again, you were just an assistant. You’d never directly be involved with that. Just helping him out with whatever was needed.

Dazai thought that was a smart choice, whether or not you intended for it to be. As an assistant, you’d be safe from the gunfire and outermost threats. More likely to live and protect your daughter.

So caring in a line of work where lives were dispensable.

He wondered how you got there. Not to the Port Mafia—the file told him. But how you took on such a frowned upon job to solely provide for your child. Was the father a deadbeat? Or actually dead? His father was the same. Dead five years into Dazai’s life.

His mother tried her best, but she died too and he slipped onto Mori’s grasp. Hopefully your baby wouldn’t end up in the same situation.

The peaceful moment was interrupted by one of his men who dropped off a load of documents, side-eyeing you before leaving.

Dazai wished you hadn’t turned the conversation back to work.

“Sir, sorry- Dazai-san, would you like me to organize the papers..?”

Why did he forget that you were just an assistant of his? The medication must be making his mind woozy again.

“By date and incident, yep. Also, if you see any that mentioned a Chuuya, please throw them out. Or burn them. Preferably the burning part.”

His office was always to be kept rid of that ginger.

“On it.”

And so he doodled a noose on the wood of his desk while you slowly put the papers away. It soon became clear to him that Yukirou was making the job a tad difficult by trying to grab at the papers.

A slight idea of letting her crawl loose in Mori’s office and destroying it entered his mind, but it quickly left.

“Y’know, if she’s being a devil, I can play with her for a bit. I swear I’ll be good!”

The words left him before he could really process them. Next thing he knew he was wearing the baby carrier with tiny fingers pulling at his shirt. Instructions poured from your lips as he nodded and patted the baby’s back.

“I’ll kill you if anything goes wrong.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the sound of that. You? Kill him? Never going to happen. Unless it were a double suicide, but you probably wouldn’t say yes.

And he replied when the slight fear in your eyes registered after remembering that he was your boss in the Mafia.

“If course, cutie. I give you permission to kill me if theoretically anything goes wrong.”

Dazai made sure to sneak a peek at your reddening cheeks before leaving his office with the baby strapped to his chest and tugging at his bandages like a little snake.

That’s how it all started. A boy and a girl who happened to have a baby.

He’d never regret how months went by as you two became closer and closer. Joking around, complaining about work, all the stuff friends did. Hell, Dazai even watched Yukirou sometimes.

Thank god Chuuya wasn’t there to see him watching children’s cartoons on your couch with a baby in his lap and a stuffed animal in the other.

Or how he insisted on covering some of your rent when you were struggling. Yukirou needs a home, after all. He sees himself in her a bit. And he didn’t want her to turn out like him. If he couldn’t change his own life for the better, he’d change hers.

And yours.

Much better than that dickhead that fathered Yukirou. You told Dazai about it one night when he stayed over after babysitting once more. Yukirou was napping in her nursery, and you two were sitting on the couch just talking.

Talking turned into sharing details of your lives, and he came up. Your old flame who ditched you. Breaking a promise that he’d be there for the baby and you. Dazai was silent all throughout it. Quiet when you spoke of the emotional abuse and stress that you had, quiet when you began crying over the fact you never got to graduate high school.

He was just there, daring to awkwardly rub your back as you vented. He wondered if you had talked about it before. Probably not.

Dazai felt like he too needed to share a story of his childhood too in exchange for yours. So he told you about the poor neighborhood he grew up in and the horrors he saw daily.

Did it lessen the impact of your venting? Most likely, but in his opinion, he was trying to show you that he trusted you now too. He assumed it worked when you fell asleep on his shoulder. He took care of Yukirou when she woke crying an hour later. He would’ve been a much better father than that bastard.

It didn’t help either that Yukirou began to see him as her daddy. He was there when she turned a year old, gifting her all sorts of things. Scolding her when she nibbled on his hands. Doing nearly everything a dad would.

Even when she managed to say ‘mama’ and ‘dada’ for the first time, it was when all three of you were in the room together. In her tiny mind, it was her family. Her mama and Dazai—her papa. Oda congratulated him for becoming a father when you came along one day with him to Bar Lupin.

It didn’t live up to Chuuya’s reaction when he first heard one of his guys call Dazai a doting father. The shortstack had gone up to him asking if he really was Yukirou’s dad—rumors went around at HQ quickly—and Dazai had to sadly reply that he wasn’t. Sometimes he wished he was. Months of time with you led to nights in bed where he dreamed of a universe that he was really the dad. That Yukirou had his brown eyes instead of her dad’s blue ones.

It wasn’t fair.

Nor were his growing feelings.

Dazai was smart. A genius thinker and planner. So of course he noticed how his heart began to rapidly beat around you. The sweating of his usually cold hands.

He’d had crushes in the past, sure. But it didn’t equate to this. Such a strong connection only made it worse. Was it wrong his Google history lately was filled with questions about confessing to and dating a single mom?

Did you even like him back?

That question couldn’t be answered by anyone but you. It scared him. You probably didn’t. Not as more than a brother, anyway. His suicidal ideation and tendencies scared off any woman who wanted more than sex. But he probably wouldn’t be living long anyway. So he’d have to shoot his shot eventually.

Which he did after another five months of consideration and thought. Dazai committed this act by simply asking you to sort out some notes for him. A total of eight. Each one had a single word on it. If you correctly put them together, it spelled:

‘I like you. Do you like me back?’

Much to his relief and shock, you did. You did, and he had hugged you so tightly. Tightening their bond, too.

So he became your boyfriend. And he wore the title of ‘dad’ to Yukirou gladly. The little girl saw him as her papa, and he couldn’t deny it. Even if it wasn’t biologically, she was his. And yours.

Dazai’s life used to be mundane and slow, yet with his new…family, he felt genuine happiness for once. A reason to live.

That was the greatest gift he could receive of all.

Regular Tags: @twst-om-lover, @xxcandlelightxx, @sinfulthoughtsposts.

Tags for everyone who interacted with this post (it’s over 100): @walking-simp, @hypocritic-trash-baby, @heartsfourdazai, @cheriiyaya, @depressed-monarch, @nyxt0t, @baby-tini, @h0nk3rs, @internet-angell, @cupidszvlvr, @owosamu, @my-dear-melancholy, @dazaibae, @nekomafumafufan18-blog, @cvsmois, @lizsano, @nanamiinto, @inojuuy, @reomarys, @mayanakahara, @briiscoolig, @maislovebot, @syona-sachyo, @xieqq2, @angelof-darkness, @moriiko, @fuckthisfuckingshit, @daushu, @wrynue, @amnda-ft-fyodor, @rain-alucard, @hanayoshiii, @moemoekunn, @thatwasa, @miiiloo, @probablyzombiedinosaurs, @mauviese, @chips-and-vinegar, @https-dazai, @rragudoru, @leyla3x0, @cheetozai, @jillyfsh, @rylerboi, @linaaeatsfamilies, @zorizoras, @onlinewhisper14, @komicoral, @anim3-simps, @theoddsinner, @caayye, @scaramow, @such-a-silly-little-gy, @bunnybs-stuff, @psychiclovecollective, @sleepy-yumi516, @fromjas, @suzurans-world, @mrstengenuzui, @mitislm, @tealover111, @edgarallanpoeswifey, @baby-tini, @yaz4luvv, @deliciouscandysalad, @isrealityevenreal, @briefcreationcandy, @astr3eaa, @underscoredaniii, @nolongerhooman, @notalooo, @ratinawetsocksweater, @tomiroro,

Rest in comments I’m crying now also if your tag is white it’s because you didn’t pop up when I was doing the @‘s

[jikooklove9795]

https://www.tumblr.com/jikooklove9795/764513509135548416/all-the-antis-mad-cause-jungkook-said-jimin-and?source=share

I so love it when they can't use their "only Jimin is mentioning JK, JK isn't saying anything he's just minding his own business in the military because he's not a leech & attention seeker" delusional anti card.

But what constantly proves to me that these people are truly sick mentally and actually need serious help is how Jimin is the one who continues to get hate even if JK is the one who mentions him or initiates stuff with him. JJKs especially always give those vibes of miserable women who attack the other woman and tells her "stay away from my man, slut" even though they know very well it's her man who is constantly running after that woman.

The things they'd say about Jimin every time JK mentioned him in his lives, commented about him & stayed up watching him on his TV... Good lord🤦🏾‍♀

Hi Anon! There's a whole circus going on in X after the weverse messages dropped. The sole reason being Jungkook mentioning "Jimin and I ". Thats all it took for them to lose their minds. I'm pretty sure they would be cool with it if it was any other member whom Jungkook had mentioned in the place of Jimin.

You would already know the reason for their despicable behavior. They see what we see. They see how Jungkook behaves in the typical boyfriend/ husband way when it comes to Jimin.

They have seen the RB Ear Suck and that soft peck to Jimin's temple afterwards. They have seen Jungkook strutting around with a HICKEY from Jimin. Refusing to conceal it. Refusing others to touch it. Here, also the exception being Jimin whom he allows to caress it. They have seen Jungkook being protective towards Jimin. From airports to even standing up against his Hyungs ( Poor Yoongi in Run BTS ep 100 😅 )

They have seen Jungkook making sexual jokes with Jimin. They have seen Jungkook get annoyed at fans who were asking Jimin to marry them at an Award Show

They have seen GCF Tokyo. The entire existence of which makes any anti jikooker angry and insecure. They have seen all the other GCFs which followed and realized how Jungkook made sure that Jimin is highlighted in each one

They have heard members complaining how Jungkook gave a bday gift only to Jimin

They have seen and heard about the fan sightings of Jungkook with Jimin OUTSIDE THEIR SCHEDULES OFF CAMERA. Some of them being on romantic holidays

They have heard members saying how Jungkook is always in Jimin and Hoseok's room while they were in the dorm. They have seen this VMINKOOK Live, had their heart shattered after hearing this TMI

They have seen Jungkook's 2023 Lives where he spent hours watching Jimin content, lit up while reading Jimin's messages, asking Jimin to come over, asking if he could go over to Jimin's house, seen him flirting with Jimin while we all third wheeled.

They have seen Jungkook come forward denying the claims of him having a gf. EVERY SINGLE TIME. He even posted this video with the caption " I go the other way ". Posted it, deleted it. Knowing the point has been made

I don't know how they survived AYS??!!

They have seen how Jungkook made sure that Jimin appeared in his documentary

The final blow to them ( for the time being ) Jungkook enlisting with Jimin using companion system

When antis were celebrating Jikook being " distant " during the early months of 2023 Jungkook and Jimin were trying everything in their power to make sure they wouldn't be separated for the coming 18 months.

They have seen how even after Jikook got the confirmation of their applications being accepted and approved they continued traveling together. Wanting to spend as much time TOGETHER, creating memories to look back at while serving in the military ( Jungkook's own words ).

And here comes antis with their worn out trump card " Jungkook was forced ". I just feel like laughing. Cause they sound so childish. Don't they know the man who they claim to love? They do but they ignore it, twist his words and make him look like a company puppet. Cause thats the only way they can justify his actions with Jimin.

Jungkook is forced to interact with someone who he doesn't want to? This is the same man who was told not to get tattoos but got a full sleeve of them. This is the same man who stared down the fans who called him Oppa. The same man who folded his under wears on a live. The same man who fell asleep on his live. The same man who questioned the fans on why he shouldn't release an explicit version of his song.

He was brought up in a way where his parents let him do anything he wanted to. They only corrected him if he did something obviously wrong. This makes him an authentic, sincere person. Not the fickle minded, company puppet they want him to be for their own reasons.

He will never be the person who they want him to be. So, its better if they try to know the real him and love him for who he is.

[mbappeslover]

écoute chérie // kylian mbappé | part one.

kylian mbappé x f! reader.

saw this edit on tiktok, they edited mbappé to écoute chérie by vendredi sur mer and… i fell in love. the song is sooo mbappé.

y/n got the job as kylian’s personal assistant. his previous assistant fired for unknown reasons. y/n had heard about kylian mbappé and his terrible attitude. she wasn’t excited to work with him. but, turns out.. he’s actually not that bad.

read part 2 here.

read the finale here.

credits to the editor: strkvoid on tiktok, they did such an amazing job <3, my favorite mbappé edit.

“y/n y/l/n, you’ve been accepted!” the notification pinged and appeared at the top of your screen. you clicked on it so fast.

one week ago.

“y/n, have you seen this? kylian mbappé’s management is looking for a new personal assistant.” your friend tells you during a phone call.

“oh really?” you ask.

“yes… and, you qualify for it! like a 100 percent. wait, i’m gonna send you the link.”

you received the message and clicked on the link, it was indeed an exclusive offer/application to becoming the footballer’s new personal assistant.

“y/n, you should really go for it. the pay is amazing and i’m sure it’ll be an awesome experience.”

you skim through the countless pages and listing of requirements and benefits the job offered. plus, you were indeed qualified for the job.

“mmm… i don’t know. everyone talks about how much of an asshole kylian mbappé is. how he’s a jackass with a shitty attitude and an unbearable ego, bigger than the universe.” you explain, iffy about this whole thing.

“oh please, it’s not like you’re gonna be all lovey dovey with the guy. imagine how much money you’ll be making. you want to quit your current job right now anyway.” your friend says, trying her hardest to convince you.

you laugh. “okay, you’re right. i’ll call you back, i’m gonna read through all the paper work, submit my résumé and update you on it.”

you weren’t too serious about it, you doubted that you’d actually get the job.

everything just got real. definitely serious.

you got the job, you were on call with the footballer’s management, and you were now getting familiarized with his schedule.

“alright, ms. y/l/n, we’ve spoken through all the things you’ll be needing to do for kylian. i’ve sent you an email of a file that lists all the things you must do for him. now, all we need is for you to sign a few things. it’ll take you about ten minutes. it wasn’t much before but… some things went down. so, we had to make a few arrangements.” kylian’s manager stated.

you just nod taking everything in and trying to process it at once.

you heard the ping from your phone, signaling you got the email.

“okay, perfect. today, i’ll show you around psg and tomorrow you’ll be meeting kylian.”

a tour guide took you around the stadium, briefly explaining different areas and rooms in the building to you.

it was a long day. you were now in bed, aimlessly scrolling on instagram because you couldn’t sleep.

you’re nervous. why?

the athlete you’ll be attending to is possibly the biggest asshole in paris, france and you’re gonna have to deal with it.

you decide to go on his instagram.

“k. mbappé, 94.1m Followers, 389 Following, 1204 posts.”

you click on the first photo presented and begin scrolling down.

in almost all photos he’s smiling, with a caption full of emojis and empowering words.

he looks so… sweet?

is this the same guy with the so-called “bad attitude?”

you fell asleep.

after scrolling through all one thousand, two hundred and four posts by kylian mbappé.

your alarm rang, loudly.

you groaned, getting up to prepare yourself for the day.

after getting dressed, you received a call from kylian’s manager.

“good mornin-“ you tried greeting politely, before cut off.

“good morning dear, i need you here in ten minutes.”

“it’s only 9:00, i was told to be there at 9:30. did something happen?” you ask, exasperated.

“yeah, well, kylian decided to come earlier than we thought and right now, he wants an organic green juice from le juice. it has to be from juicerie.” the manager explains.

“le juice is like fifteen minutes from where i am right now, how will i be able to make it in ten?” you say, slightly panicking.

“well, find a way. mbappé cares about his health, a lot. all that stuff about nutrition and good food is the key to health. if you didn’t know, now you do. be here in ten, please darling!” the managers says in a cheery voice before hanging up.

first day on the job and they were already trying to make the impossible, possible.

you quickly go on the website for le juice and order and paid online for a medium organic green juice for pick-up.

you catch a taxi and head over to le juice. it was a five minute drive because it was still a bit early and the streets hadn’t start to fill yet, luckily.

you ask the taxi driver if they could wait for a quick second while you grab the order from inside.

the taxi driver fussed a bit yet ultimately decided to wait.

again, you were able to swipe up the juice since the shop just opened and customer didn’t pile up in the juice bar.

you hop back in the taxi and make your way to the stadium.

“tsk, your first day on the job and you’re seven minutes late. you better hurry up and get in there.” the manager scolds you once you arrive, outside the office room of psg.

“well, you should’ve told me i would have to be here earlier, you cunt.”

you didn’t actually say that, you thought it, but, you didn’t say it.

you quickly enter the room, with a little a stumble, almost tripping on your own feet. you quickly laugh at how much of a mess you are.

the room is packed, there’s people everywhere, most likely other staff members. you see at the corner of the room, there’s a small crowd of people surrounding something.

you squeeze in between people, trying to find a way through.

“excuse me. yea, sorry. my apologies. let me just squeeze in. i’m sorry.” you murmur out while gliding through the people in the packed room.

that’s when you were faced with him.

he’s exactly like those photos on the internet, a vibrant face, smiling while the people around him asks him questions like how’s his morning, would he like anything to drink, trivial things to simply make conversation. 

the infamous kylian mbappé.

you cleared your throat, put on your most brightest smile and polite voice.

“mr. mbappé, this is your organic green juice.” you say, putting your hand out to give the drink.

the area becomes quiet as the attention shifts on you.

you briefly look around confused.

and the smile that was once on kylian’s face had disappeared.

it was replaced with a hard stoned, cold glare.

“the fuck?” you thought.

he grabs the drink from your hand, not even thanking you before continuing the small talk with staff around him.

you try your hardest not to make a face at his rude behavior.

you brush it off.

literally.

brushing yourself off, taking a deep breath. putting on a polite voice again, you introduce yourself.

“hello, my name is y/n. i’m sure your manager already told you about me, i am your new personal assistant. if you ever need me, for anything, feel free to let me know. that’s my job, of course.” adding in a little humor to lighten the atmosphere, reaching your hand out.

once again, the area of the room goes silent. his smile falls once again and he slowly turns to look at you.

“d'accord. où est ma paille?” (okay. where is my straw?)

the crowd laughs.

you reach out your bag, handing him the straw before walking away.

“the rumors are true. he’s insufferable. literally an asshole. a two-faced scum? who even treats someone like that? no wonder his old assistant left. who’d want to deal with that.” you were now on the phone with your friend who encouraged you to apply.

“y/n, calm down. i know it was frustrating, but, it’s just your first day. at least quit after you get your first check.” your friend said, trying to comfort you.

yea, that’s right. y/n cried. cried very hard. today was extremely difficult.

you followed kylian everywhere, attempting to tend to his needs, but, all he did was be rude or downright ignore you.

“sir, how are you feeling? would you like for me to schedule a massage for you, in case you are feeling tense?” you ask.

“do i look tense to you?”

“mr. mbappé, your manager has informed me that you have a meeting on friday at 3pm.”

“who makes meetings on friday? i’m not going, you’re going. i have to relax.”

“mr. mbappé-“

“please stop bothering me. aren’t you my assistant? why must you keep calling out my name, you’re here to handle my business.”

“i don’t even know what i did to him? why should i get treated like this? it makes no sense.” you complain to your friend.

“i’m sure it’ll get better eventually… hopefully.”

“yea, hopefully.”

it’s been two weeks, working as kylian mbappé’s personal assistant.

to say y/n felt drained would be an understatement.

fourteen endless days of talking to a brick, solid wall.

a brick, solid wall with snarky remarks and a stinky attitude.

“mr. mbappé, your driver is outside waiting for you. he has the specific refreshments you asked for.” y/n says.

“alright, walk me to the car.” he says.

y/n’s concerned because he usually just nods and walks to the car himself.

as the two makes their way to the car, kylian starts conversation.

“your name, y/n, right?”

this is weird.

so weird.

“yes, sir. y/n y/l/n.”

“alright y/n, can you cook?”

“yes, i can cook, why?” y/n questions.

“génial. je veux que tu cuisines pour moi. (great. i want you to cook for me).” kylian says nonchalantly.

y/n stops dead in her tracks as kylian continues to walk.

“so, now i have to cook for this man? really?

well, it is your job…

oh, shut up. i know that!

just saying…” you internally battle with yourself.

he turns around, “well are you coming? i don’t have all day and i’m starving.”

you snap out of it, speed-walking to catch up.

“why are you standing by the door?”

you were in your bosses house. well, it’s not out of the ordinary because you are his personal assistant.

however, this is a drastic jump from a few days ago, when he didn’t even want you near him.

“are you okay, mr. mbappé? it looks pretty bad. i can go get you some soothing gel!”

he hurt himself pretty badly while trying to perform a trick during practice.

“no! i’m fine. don’t touch me, move!”

he spat out, stumbling to get up by himself.

you back up in utter shock.

other staff runs up to offer him support as he limps away.

mbappé’s pov:

his new personal assistant stood at the door, looking like a lost puppy that was left for dead on a rainy night.

kylian knew he was being hard on her, harsh to her. but, he couldn’t let his guard down.

he refused to let history repeat itself.

“why are you standing by the door?” he asks.

y/n seemed to be lost in her thoughts when he said that because she snapped up and made her way into the house after taking off her tory burch sandals.

kylian observed the woman as she subtly looked around the place before making her way to the kitchen.

he couldn’t lie. she was beautiful. she could be on the cover of a makeup magazine because of how natural and pretty her features were.

he wishes he could see her smile. most of the time she wears a frown on her face, sometimes a pout that kylian finds endearing. he wouldn’t show that though. or.. say it, ever.

her hair looked so soft, her voice was so nice on the ear. she had a nice figure, ones of a dancer, delicate, light on the feet.

“mr. mbappé? did you hear what i said? i asked, what exactly would you like for me to cook?” she said. he loved her voice, utterly. like a bee, wanting to drown in honey. he wanted to drown in her voice, listen to it forever.

“call me kylian.”

for some reason, he finds himself wanting to get to know her. get closer to her.

y/n’s pov:

‘oh God, he’s staring.’ you think to yourself.

y/n has made her way to the kitchen after taking in the penthouse. it was so nice and luxurious. she wondered how much or how long she’d have to work before ever living in a place like this.

she began looking in the cabinets, taking out a few pots and pans before realizing her boss didn’t even tell her what he wanted to eat.

“mr. mbappé, what exactly would you like for me to cook.” y/n says, an attempt to ease the tension.

‘he’s still staring. what the hell is wrong with him?’

“mr. mbappé? did you hear what i said? i asked, what exactly would you like for me to cook?” she repeats.

he looks you straight in the eye.

“call me kylian.”

you two continue making eye contact, you thought you’d feel uncomfortable, but, it’s rather… nice? it feels nice. it’s the first he’s ever actually acknowledged you.

you break the eye contact, clearing your throat.

“alright, if you don’t have anything set in mind, i’ll just cook and try to make do with whatever you have here.” you say.

it’s been about 50 minutes and you’re finally done cooking. you made steak & farfalle pasta with creamy tomato sauce.

kylian went into his bedroom since you began cooking and hadn’t come out. but, you did hear faint music coming from his room.

you begin to plate his food nicely, setting it on the kitchen island with a glass cup of ice water.

luckily, you clean along the way while cooking so there wasn’t a mess. you were tired, you wanted to get home and unwind.

you walk up to his bedroom door, about to knock, when the door swings open.

“oh! i was just about to knock. the food is ready.” you say slightly surprised.

he doesn’t say anything.

but, you could care less. your attention shifts to the song being played in the background.

“is that écoute chérie by vendredi sur mer? i love that song so much.” you say excitingly, completely forgetting that you’re at work. technically.

“yeah, it is. i love that song too.” he replies with a small chuckle.

‘did he just chuckle? with me? did kylian mbappé, my rude ass boss. chuckle… with me?’

you smile, looking at the small smile that adorned his face as he chuckled.

you won. you’re winning mbappé over.

mbappé’s pov:

he was in his room, sipping on some expensive red wine from a brewery that gifted him some.

he felt at peace, moments like these to himself. drinking something, listening to music, letting loose.

not only that, but, most likely, he could smell the aroma from the food his personal assistant, y/n was making for him.

its been a little while, he was gonna go check on the food.

his favorite song comes on.

“partir, venir, mourir, courir.”

what a lovely song. he sings to himself, along the chant before making his way to the door.

opening it, there she was.

“oh! i was just about to knock. the food is ready.” she says, obviously a little spooked.

he doesn’t care about that, though. the more he looked at her, the more time he spent around her, the harder it got to suppress his obvious attraction to the woman.

he visibly sees something click in her head as she moves from his sight to get a better hearing of what was being played.

“is that écoute chérie by vendredi sur mer? i love that song so much.” she says.

‘God, she’s so cute.’ he thinks to himself.

“yeah, it is. i love that song too.” he says, trying to hold back the ‘awe’ he wants to say so bad.

she smiles.

kylian felt like his heart could explode.

without absolutely zero exaggeration, she has got to have an award for having the most beautiful smile in the universe.

that smile right there—convinced kylian that he would make it his mission to always see that smile as long as y/n’s around him.

y/n turns around, leading him to his meal.

his stomach grumbles as he lay eyes on the food. it looks delicious. better than any five star michelin restaurant he’s been to. would probably taste better as well.

he’s confused, though. there’s only one plate of food.

he turns to y/n.

“where’s your food?”

“oh, i only made food for you, sir-“

“kylian, call me kylian.”

“yes, i’m sorry, kylian.”

“i’m gonna wait here for you to finish your food so i can wash your plate, then i’ll be out your hair, if that’s fine with you, kylian.”

he knows he can’t just let her leave like that.

he doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he thinks he knows what he wants.

“that’s fine. come sit down.” he says, pulling out the chair next to him.

y/n hesitantly makes her way and gets seated. kylian slides over the glass of ice water to her.

“no, it’s for you.” y/n explains.

“i know, but, just drink it. i have some wine in my room.”

“okay, do you want me to go get it and pour some out for you?” y/n says, about to make her way there when kylian gently pulls her down.

“no, no, it’s fine. relax.” he says.

kylian begins eating, almost scarfing the food down.

y/n takes a sip of the water while looking at him eat.

“is it good?” y/n asks.

he stops for a second, chewing and swallowing what’s in his mouth.

“very. best meal i’ve had in a long time, y/n. thank you.” he says with a genuine smile on his face.

y/n smiles back before bringing the glass cup up to her lips and drinking some more water.

“so, y/n, how old are you?” he says, finishing up his food.

“i turned 24 a few months ago.” y/n says.

“really? i turned 24 a few months ago as well.”

“i know that, you’re the star of france.” y/n says with a small smile on her face.

he smiles at her again.

y/n couldn’t take it.

‘this is awfully weird. why is he being so… nice. it was concerning.’ she thinks to herself.

silence takes over the room and the only sound being the fork hitting against the glass plate as kylian takes a bite of the pasta.

“kylian, why are you so mean to me?”

“y/n, i know i haven’t been the nicest to you…”

they say at the same time. they both laugh.

“you go first.” kylian offers to y/n.

“alright, i was asking. why are you so mean to me? did i do.. something.”

kylian sighs deeply, “no y/n, you did nothing wrong, but, a lot happened before that’s making me like that towards you. just know i don’t mean it.” he explain.

“well, what happened?”

“i’ll tell you later.” kylian says finishing the food.

y/n took the plate and glass cup, made her way to the sink and began washing the dishes.

y/n wondered, what was on his mind. what was he thinking about.

too deep in thought to not see her boss, kylian. staking right next to her, leaning on the countertop.

she finishes cleaning the plate and cup.

she turned to her left, her soul jumping out her chest.

“kylian! why are you always sneaking up on people.” y/n said, laughing off the remaining shock with a hand over her heart.

“sorry, sorry, i just like looking at you.” he laughs.

y/n laughs too.

“oh really?”

“OH? REALLY?” she says backtracking because it registered to y/n what he said.

“yes. you’re beautiful.” he says, stepping a teeny closer to the beautiful woman in front of him.

y/n blushes.

“the food was really good as well. i really wish you would’ve ate with me.” he says.

“i’m just your assistant. i don’t want to break any of your boundaries. i respect you.” y/n says.

“i respect you.” kylian replays it in his head.

he already had a slight crush on y/n, but, this was different.

he has a crush on y/n.

“wow, you’re making me feel like shit for treating you the way i did. i respect you, too. say, come over again tomorrow. if you make me something to eat again, i’ll tell you what happened.” he says with a smile on his face.

y/n remains silent. she was thinking.

‘is kylian mbappé flirting with me?’

there’s no way.

yes there is! look at the way he’s looking at you. he wants you!’ you weigh out to yourself.

kylian think it’s adorable. the way y/n constantly looks like a lost puppy.

he bends down a bit, leveling himself to y/n’s height to get her attention.

“everything alright in there?” kylian says.

y/n seems to still be in deep thought when kylian giggles.

he takes his index finger, placing it underneath y/n’s chin, lifting it up.

he looks her in the eye.

he wants to kiss her, her lips look so soft. he’s 100% sure if their lips were to simply graze across one another, he’d still love it. be addicted to it.

y/n looks back into his eyes, feeling her heart beat and her stomach start to flutter.

“deal or no deal?” kylian says as he tilts his head to the side.

y/n eyes drops to kylian’s lips. they were the perfect size and naturally protruded out.

she imagined how it’d feel. probably like a pillow, or, maybe a marshmallow.

y/n eyes make its way back to kylian’s.

she made up her mind.

“deal.” she says before gently removing his finger from her chin. she gathered her bags and made her way to the door, kylian following right behind.

she slipped on her sandals as kylian unlocked & opened the door.

y/n walks out, before turning to kylian who stood by the door.

“goodnight.”

“goodnight.”

they say together.

the two laugh.

“till next time then, goodnight mr. mbappé.” y/n says.

“it’s kylian and i’ll call you tomorrow. make sure you answer. goodnight, y/n.” he says, smiling.

a/n (author’s note):

i am confident in this at all.. i feel like it could be way better but i wanted to hurry and publish something to whoever’s waiting. i’ve been so busy and tired with school :,(. it was supposed to only have one part but i didn’t wanna rush the plot too much.

i tried something new with the whole “pov” thing. and, i hope it’s not too confusing because i switch from 2nd point of view to 3rd a lot.

i guarantee part 2 will be more exciting than this. thanks for reading!

[beardedmrbean]

In a classic example of better late than never, a Federal Court in Canada ruled on Tuesday that Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau's invocation of The Emergencies Act in 2022, used to crush the largest and most peaceful protest in Canadian history, was "unreasonable," "unjustified," and "violated the fundamental freedoms" set out in Canada's constitution.

The case was brought to the court by a number of individual applicants as well as several Canadian civiil liberties groups, including the Canadian Constitution Foundation and the Canadian Civil Liberties Association. And in the decision, Federal Court Justice Richard Mosley expressed what every trucker and other participant in the trucker's Freedom Convoy knew to be true: There was no justification for granting the government powers that amounted to near Marshall Law over a protest that was 100 percent peaceful, with no violence or property damage committed—that is, until the Emergencies Act was passed, and the police trampled grandmothers under horses, fired tear gas canisters at journalists within point blank range, beat protesters down and smashed the windows of the truckers rigs, and generally deployed the type of violence that the government had knowingly falsely accused the truckers of engaging in.

The government also froze the bank accounts of truckers, seized donated funds, and shut down of the economic lives of hundreds of Canadian citizens, a draconian measure which shocked the world.

Every protester and trucker who took part in the Convoy knew that the government and it's bought and paid for media were lying to the public about the Freedom Convoy, and though it feels good to once again be proven correct, that doesn't change what happened. It also doesn't change the division in Canadian society which took place under COVID, and it remains to be seen if this ruling will put an end to the ongoing punishments of various Freedom Convoy protesters which continue to this day.

For example, the trial of Tamara Lich and Chris Barber, who emerged as public faces and leaders of the Ottawa portion of the Freedom Convoy, has now become the longest mischief trial in Canadian history. Finally getting underway in September of last year, the trial proceeded in fits and starts into December, and is set to resume in February.

Or take Guy Meisner, a trucker from Nova Scotia, was one of the first to be arrested and charged when the crackdown began after the Emergencies Act was invoked. He will be back in Ottawa near the end of February for the ninth time to face his "mischief" charges.

Then there is the case of Christine Decaire, a woman who protested in Ottawa and was charged by the police, who was acquitted last year; much like this ruling today, however, The Crown has decided to appeal her acquittal. To drag an innocent person back to court is the kind of grossly vindictive behavior on the part of the Trudeau Government that they have become well known for.

There are dozens of cases like this working their way through the system.

And then we have The Coutts Four, a group of men who were arrested in Alberta right before the Emergencies Act was invoked and have been kept in custody without bail nor trial ever since. Hopes are high that this ruling may help change their circumstances, but it has now been two years since they have seen their families, which is a grossly offensive situation, especially in a country where nearly everyone gets bail.

All of these cases point to a level of vindictive cruelty on the part of this government as constituted under Trudeau, who was only too happy to champion the fair treatment of someone who fought on the side of The Taliban in Afghanistan and was later apprehended by American forces. Champion the rights of his own peaceful citizens to a fair trial? Apparently that is beneath the Prime Minister.

Trudeau's deputy, Chrystia Freeland was behind the bank account freezing acting as Finance Minister, and she appeared almost immediately after the ruling to announce that her government would be appealing, claiming to "remind Canadians how serious the situation was." This though all the evidence and testimony presented in 2022 at the official inquest into the invocation of the Emergencies Act found that no threats existed, and everything the media said about the truckers was a fabrication.

Justin Trudeau has remarked in the past that Canada is a "post-national" state that has "no core identity," yet when that identity asserted itself to say enough is enough to the strictures of his punishing COVID Regime, he was only too happy to unleash the full power of his "post-national" state to attack these citizens whom he holds in utter contempt.

It appears that there is no ruling Trudeau will not appeal or lawfare he will not pursue to ensure punishment of the enemies of his party.

Justin Trudeau is not a leader, but merely a narcissistic tyrant. This week was only the latest evidence.

Gord Magill is a trucker, writer, and commentator, and can be found at www.autonomoustruckers.substack.com.

The views expressed in this article are the writer's own.

[felinefractious]

I tried to adopt a cat from a rescue, I really did. I filled out and submitted applications to 5 different rescues because the local SPCAs didn't have cats that fit my needs (social with cats and dogs, approximately 1 year old, high energy, and preferably long or medium haired).

I explained in detail the care I give my current cupcake. She's spayed, gets routine vet care, is up to date on shots. She has her own room (my room) which is set up with shelves, trees, 2 litter boxes. She gets supervised free roam of the house (not 24/7 because of lifestyle reasons). I use puzzle feeders for her meals- high end brands like The Honest Kitchen, Open Farm, Stella and Chewy (I like to mix it up to keep it interesting). I play with her at least twice a day, or whenever she asks. Indoors only. She has a water fountain. We're working on harness training. I made it clear I had a second room set up similarly and ready to go, and carefully researched introductions. Dogs are cat social and kenneled unless supervised. I don't know, I feel like my cat lives a good life. She's happy, fit, and I adore her.

Couple of weeks past and I received 5 rejection emails with reasons such: I maintain a very small flock of exhibition poultry, that I do breed and sell the chicks of seasonally, which is...immoral to them, I guess; my brother who does live in the same household has intact show and working dogs; the dogs are kenneled (what??); I don't work full-time; one even said it was because I feed my current cat dry food instead of wet food. My cat straight up won't eat wet food! She hates it! I replied and said I would offer wet food if the new cat wanted it, and they never responded.

It all just seemed like weird reasons to me. Maybe not, I don't know if that's just how rescues are. I ended up with my cat through the pregnant cat distribution system (my mom owns her mom) so I didn't have to deal with takes on cat care I didn't get.

Dejected, I started looking on Craigslist and saw a cat that perfectly fit my needs- a sphynx outcross project that tested positive for mild HCM (asymptomatic for now) so the breeder who purchased him immediately neutered him. So I asked about him, located a cardiologist and scheduled an appointment with my vet ahead of time to get a referral to the cardiologist. Did lots of reading on HCM. Met with them and they were lovely. Got all his paperwork with his health testing and his whole history and genetics. I fell in love with him immediately. Everything they said about him has been true: he's confident, well-mannered, has the exact same play style as my kitty. There was not a single point during the 4 hour drive home that he showed signs of stress, he took treats and just lounged. When I set him in his room, he waltzed right out of his carrier with his chest puffed out, head held high, and rubbed all over me, purring and bumping his head into me. There hasn't been an adjustment period, he just came out and was like, "sweet, new digs! now, pet me!" Settled into a routine so fast. Has been perfect for his nails and bathing him. We're already making tremendous progress with recall.

This cat is so fucking well socialized. And his structure? Fucking gorgeous. Exactly as sphynx are described, with a deep chest, solid belly, longer hind legs than front, long creepy fingers which he uses to grip me instead of his claws and it feels like a human infant gripping me (deeply unsettling).

It's been such a good experience, and the rescues were so weird, I honestly don't know if I can ever get a cat that wasn't selectively bred again. He's not even pure bred! His dad is 100% sphynx but his mom is a dominant blue eye project from approved sphynx outcrosses.

Don't get me wrong, I love my first bastard kitty, she's the best cat there is. But now I have two perfect cats! I didn't realize that was possible...all my friends' cats, they're often much more nervous and shy. I was prepared for my second kitty to just never live up to my first.

Here he is, my weird coated mostly sphynx:

Bonus DNA results

I wonder what that person bit is about.

Unfortunately your story is not unique.

These excessive and unrealistic standards are part of what I mean when I discuss barriers to adoption as being one of the actual issues contributing to overpopulation of homeless pets.

I’ve seen people discuss being rejected due to their age despite being staffed in the veterinary field, the person was in their early 20’s.

I’ve seen people discuss being rejected due to having intact animals in the household despite them being species that aren’t traditionally altered, like reptiles.

A rescue I knew would avoid adopting out to people who indicated they would feed a brand of food the rescue considered to be lower quality, such as Friskies canned.

I’ve spoken to rescues for a veterinary reference who were disappointed the prospective adopters most recent cat wasn’t current on their vaccinations despite being an 18+ hospice case.

I could go on and on and on.

I’m glad you were finally able to find a cat to give a good forever home to, it’s clear that you’re passionate about your animals and knowledgeable about their care.

I would put too much stock in the 12% Persian, you can’t test for breeds in cats the same way as you can in dogs. Wisdom Panel is great for health and trait testing but nonsense for breeds.

You can really see the Devon in his face in the picture you used for the test, though!

[nylwnder]

lake house

a/n: HELLO SWEETIES!!!!! welcome to my first 2024 fic n series! i started it off with ryan cause if you know me, you know he was everything to me for the 4 months we had him. also, HUGE SHOUTOUT to @shoot-the-puck for in a way co-writing this and the others with me i love you so much scoob thank you for being my asylum roomie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! anyways, enjoy and dont forget to tune in to the other drops <3 mwah!

pairing: ryan o’reilly x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT, its giving soft sex (unprotected), lowkey body worship, lowkey exhibitionism, childhood friends to lovers, use of “snook” and ryan being such husband material. gawdamn.

word count: 1.9k

taglist: @11livpangburn , @domi-max , @boqvistsbabe , @sweetiet , @p1tstop , @occasionallyaurora , @laurenairay, @fallinallincurls

series masterpost

the drive to the lake house was as calming as ever. although it was a couple hours, it was a trip you knew all too well. one you were dying to take every june the minute the last bell rang for summer break.

sometimes it was just you, your parents and your brother. most times, it was you and the o’reilly family. a lot of kids shared between two vans, snacking on chips and freezies from the coolers at the back of the cars.

the tradition never stopped when the lot grew older. you escaped to the house every time your winter term ended, then after your internship finished, and then when you could use up all your saved vacation time from your new job. ryan always followed when his nhl duties came to an end. both respective families coming in to stay in between.

that being said, this was the first time you drove to the lake house with ryan in the driver's seat and with you in the passenger's seat. it was the first summer since he came back home to toronto. but more so, to you. officially.

he was sick of waiting until your usual shared break, and you were very much sick of coming home to a cold bed.

before any headline could find you, ryan called you that night. and it was as if the 100 ton weight was being lifted off of your desperate shoulders. because it was. after ten years of long and needy facetimes, one-night lustful visits, and the best stanley cup celebration you two could possibly have imagined, you were going to have him, at your full disposal, “whenever you fucking want” as ryan had told you.

ryan put the car in park and you couldn’t help but smile about the fact that this would be the first time you’d be stepping into that house, as a proud pair. the “finally” ’s already shed by your parents who were following in behind the two of you.

—

the first night was spent with take out, laughs, pjs and movies and it always makes you grateful for growing up with a group with such a tight knit bond. your heart was full when you heard inside jokes from circa. 2006 running through the house — which are still ever so applicable, presently.

the next day, you didn’t wake until you heard the cars drive off in the late afternoon. it had been a while since you had the time to sleep in, so it seemed your body pranced at the chance. after heading to the bathroom, you couldn’t find ryan in the rooms or common areas. he always made sure you get as much sleep as you need, not only because he knows how grumpy you get if you don’t, but also because he always wants the best for you.

as you made your way to the kitchen, you looked out the windows casing the large lake. you saw the large figure of the man sitting at the edge of the dock and didn’t do anything else but make the walk over to him.

you sat beside him as he turned to face you with a toothless smile. you smiled at it, you always told him he looked cute like that, and he started listening to you. “sleep good, sweetheart?” he asks as he looks down to cut the leaf caps off the pack of strawberries between his legs. “wonderful” you emphasised before you reached for the strawberry he handed you. “i’m glad. you deserve it.”

you took a bite out of the soft strawberry, the juices from the flesh spilling into your mouth. you couldn’t help but let out a little innocent moan. the first time you tried these, they were immediately the best strawberries you have ever had in your entire life. and they just so happen to be locally farmed near the lakehouse.

ryan giggled, “had to stop by the market and buy you a few packs during my run. wouldn’t be a lake house summer without these guys right here.”

“this is why i love you. thank you.”

he only responded by handing you the bigger piece between the two in his hand. you put your head on his shoulder as you two looked out in front of you. the sun was bright but not exhausting, as the wind from the water dismissed the heat.

“the folks went to gather some things for this week's meal plan.”

you hummed a response. but it got you thinking. and so you didn't waste time.

you turned yourself around in order to lay your upper body on ryan’s lap. he placed the knife and strawberries safely aside as he smiled. you gave him a small smile before shutting your eyes for a bit.

you reached for ryan’s hands from his sides. you played with his big and thick fingers for a bit, before taking his hand and placing it on top of your shirt. then you moved his hand under the hem. as you began to move it further up, the material of your shirt wrinkled with your movements and began to expose your skin.

ryan kept his hand in your grip and his eyes firm on you. you kept moving it up, reaching the curves of your boobs. “take it off” you mumbled as he obliged. taking off the tshirt and throwing it on top of the other items he had set aside.

you didn't reach for his hands again. he knows what to do. he always knows, ever since your first kiss.

the sun shined on your supple flesh. his calloused hands moved back to your curves. pushing down your pants a tad, in order to squeeze your love handles. later, his fingers lightly trace up the soft line marks found upon your hips, and the ones on the sides of your breasts.

your cheeks begin to mimic the berry blush as you open your eyes to look at ryan. you loved how comfortable you are to be vulnerable around him. you always felt adored, and safe.

he pulled you up swiftly, allowing your legs to straddle him. your arms naturally wrap around his broad shoulders. you look into his gentle eyes, “i love you, snook.” you lean in for a tender kiss but his hands push your body tight into his. “i love you more, sweetness.” his lips finally meet yours and he envelopes you perfectly. “always have. always will.” he whispers.

his lips meet your cheek as he leaves wet kisses on your jaw and neck. you let soft moans escape your parted lips, your body melting into his figure. ryan often joked that his body was made for you specifically, with the way you fit against him so perfectly.

“gorgeous.” he whispers into your ear as his beard scrapes against you. you bite your lip at his words. one he's been telling you since you grew butterflies in your stomach every time you saw him. “want you snook” you plead, your pussy twitching as his hands squeeze your bust. you grind down on him, and he huffs outs. “just had you yesterday morning, honey.”

“dont play with me, ry. you know i always need you.”

he hums in response. “thats true. i can never say no to my girl.”

he lifts you once again, getting to lay you down on the thin throw ryan had brought out with him. your eyes close again as the sun hits your face, but you feel kisses pressed all over your skin. ryan’s lips trace from your lips to your cheeks down along your jaw, and onto your neck once more. he sheds a few soft nips while he makes sure your panties and shorts are discarded.

its not long before he nips on your nipples, noises escaping your exposed body. your fingers pull down his own shorts and you feel his cock against your skin.

two digits slip smoothly into your damp cunt as ryan cups your face. you bite up a cry. but before you know it, he’s lined up at your entrance and you're pleading for him to move.

you let out a lewd moan as he pushes in. ryan followed with a low groan and you clenched around him immediately, “that’s my sweet girl. so divine.” he says as he gives kisses on the edges of your collarbone.

his thrusts are a blend of slow, long and quick, hard movements. his hands held your hips as he didn't let his lips leave your body. his hair tickles your chin as he gives your breasts some love once again. you felt yourself reaching the goal closer and closer. the all too familiar feeling of your wet walls stretching around ryan’s thick length driving him crazy.

your effect on him was always so strong. right from when you both were young. the minute you got hurt, it broke ryan to see you cry. it was his dire mission to help clean you up or provide you with the necessary pick me up. oftentimes that was bringing you your favourite snack or sometimes a kiss on your cheek was all you needed. when you laughed, ryan laughed. and even when it seemed like ryan and your brother were picking on you, he always made sure to give you a hug later on. he would never hurt you. and he'd never let anyone hurt you. that was for sure.

you were pleased that there were laughs, screams and talk from the surrounding residents that can help drown out your shared sounds. at the same time you couldn't possibly care if they heard either. your mind was far too fuzzy.

“make me cum snook. make me cum all over your cock” you were desperate and needy, i think that was already established. ry smiled at your words, pulling your body up into him once again.

your arms were so tight around him, you stuck to his body like gum on a shoe. he pumped into you as you also began riding his length. the way your body swayed with your hips helped bring ryan even closer to his climax.

your head fell back as you felt the wave of pleasure overcome you. ryan continued your movements for you until your whines dyed down. once you both finished you kept yourself on his lap “don't move, ry. still need you there.” you mumbled.

“till they come back?”

“please.”

a smile appeared on both of your faces. droplets of sweat trickled down his chest and you crushed them with your finger as your head laid on his shoulder. his hands rubbed the sides of your body as his face was cuddled on top of your head. his nose tucked into your thick hair. your smell, your weight, your breathing and your warmth calmed him. his mind never wandered off. he was the most present, the most grounded with you, like this.

“why is it that every time we have sex you’re so quiet?” you asked ryan as you looked up at him. it was a thought you had often so you figured you’d ask. “sometimes you used to make me feel as if i did something wrong…” you said with a little titter.

it was a stupid idea to think about, you knew ryan loved you so much.

he scoffed, “no honey, you could never.” you smiled. “you just take the breath out of my lungs”

you both start laughing. “you’re a pro hockey player and i’m the one who can kill you? i’ll take it.”

ryan lets out a chuckle again. “all i know is words cannot express how i feel when i’m with you, but i want to experience it till my dying days.”

your heart warmed. you grab his face and eagerly kiss him. “and so you will.”

[ enjoyed reading? join my taglist! : click here <3 ]

[dark-frosted-heart]

Crown's S Class Mission - Roger Barel (Part 1)

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. Roger using keigo feels weird

It happened while I accompanied Jude and Ellis on their mission.

Kate: Jude, the enemy’s behind us.

Jude: …!

Ellis: Kate, look out!

--

Roger: Alright, done patching you up. Luckily it was just a scratch.

Kate: Thanks, Roger. Sorry for the trouble.

(In the end, I ended up becoming the target when I tried to protect Jude)

I only ended up with a scratch because Ellis saved me, but I shuddered at the thought of what would’ve happened if he didn’t.

Roger: Hey, lil’ lady. Do you feel the need to be responsible for what happened?

Kate: Huh?

Roger: As a fairy tale keeper, you’re supposed to record our evil deeds, right? Then you should at least be able to defend yourself. That pointless sense of justice is gonna get you killed.

Kate: Well…you’re right, Roger. I’m a fairy tale keeper. But I’m selfish…And I want to protect those important to me when I can. So to do that, I need to get stronger.

Roger: It’s so like you to bark in frustration than be dejected.

I looked up and saw Roger smiling at me.

(Was he…trying to motivate me?)

(It’s annoying how well he can read my mind…)

Kate: Feeling down will get me nowhere, so I need to focus on being positive!

Roger: Well then I have some good news, lil’ lady.. Victor’s got an S class mission for you.

--

Victor: Everyone’s here! Now then, I’ll be announcing the S class mission. A “Beauty Muscle Club” will be gathering at a noble’s estate. BMC for short! Yaaaaay!

Alfons: That name sounds utterly absurd. 

Victor: Now, now, hear me out. As the name suggests, it’s a place for people who believe that women should also be strong gather and work out together.

William: Given how only the wealthy and military personnel have access to proper training facilities, there is certainly a demand.

(Women being strong too, hun? Yeah, that sounds like a wonderful idea)

Victor: However, here’s what’s strange. For whatever reason, the women who go to work out are getting hospitalized one after another. Furthermore, their symptoms include convulsions, paralysis, and poisoning.

Roger: Sounds like they could be getting drugged. The hell is going on there?

Harrison: And what’s with the S class? The mission doesn’t sound more dangerous than the usual.

Victor: I’m glad you asked! The club’s security’s been on high alert and it’s been extremely difficult to get in contact. But because I’m so talented, I came up with a great idea.

The Beauty Muscle Club has “instructors” that do coaching. And so I sent in applications for you all for the instructor position.

Harrison: There he goes doing as he pleases again…

Liam: And, what were the results?

Victor: I’ll announce it now. *drum roll* dokodokodokodokodoko… 

Liam and Ellis: So exciting.

Victor: Roger’s the only one with muscular beauty and so was immediately hired! Yay, congratulations!

Alfons: Aah, how envious. I wanted to infiltrate the Beauty Muscle Club!

Roger: You’re all smirking. Whatever, I’ll do it.

(I think Roger’ perfect for the instructor role!)

Victor: In addition, Kate, I also sent a resume for you as Viscount Morris’ daughter.

Kate: Huh.

Victor: Kate, you’ve been accepted into the Beauty Muscle Club!

And so it was decided that we’d go undercover, with Roger as an instructor and me as a student.

With his role as an instructor, Roger went in first to take a training course.

Kate: I’ll be following after you soon, Roger,  so hang in there.

Roger: Yeah. The next time we see each other, we’ll be “instructor and student”. It’s a mission, but let’s have some fun, alright?

(Fun, huh? It means doing our best together)

(Also, this mission’s perfect for getting stronger!)

Some time later when I infiltrated the Beauty Muscle Club, what awaited me was a shocking sight.

--

When I entered the noble’s estate, I immediately changed into light clothing before heading to the hall where training took place.

Kate: T-this is…

Muscular instructor: Pain is temporary, glory is eternal! If you want to be strong, let’s muscle again!

Beautiful lady: Yes, I’ll do my best! Muscle, muscle!

Muscular instructors were doing some extreme training with women.

This scene was as severe as the army—I was taken aback considerably.

(...)

(No, no, I can’t give up yet!)

Instructor Oliver: Oh, you must be our new student Kate. I’m instructor Oliver.

Kate: Ah, yes. Please be gentle with me…

Instructor Oliver: Haha, you’re strangely reserved. Women should be strong and bold. Muscle, muscle!

Kate: Muscle, muscle…

(Somehow…I feel like I’m the one from a different planet here)

I know it’s a mission, but my spirit’s already starting to break.

Instructor Oliver: You came just in time because a new instructor will be joining us today. Everyone, we will be pausing training. Attention! Roger, come in!

(Ah, it’s Roger!)

Roger: How’s everyone doing? I’ll be joining as the newest instructor. My name’s Roger!* I’m a sadistic instructor with the motto “carrot and stick”. Good girls who do their best get a reward while bad girls get punished. Let’s get stronger together.

As he said that, Roger showed off his biceps.

(Roger, you’re more pumped than I expected!)

As proof, the women present were getting excited too.

Instructor Oliver: Basically, we have one instructor per student. Kate’s instructor will be—

Roger: Here! Can you leave her to me, Instructor Oliver?

I believe we’ll get along as newcomers. Moreover… The fire in her eyes caught my attention. She wants to get stronger. Isn’t that right, Miss Kate?

I must’ve been the only one who noticed the twinkle in Roger’s eyes.

Kate: R-right… Of course!

Instructor Oliver: Outstanding! Then I’ll leave Kate to you, Roger.

Roger: I’ll do my best. Kate, let’s get along.

Roger’s smile caused the room to erupt in squeals.

Kate: Let’s get along, Ro…Instructor Roger.

Roger: Alright. Roger’s boot camp begins.

And that was the start of hell.

*Roger uses politer speech while acting as an instructor. 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

in the summer of this year, i (20) moved into an apartment with my partner (22) and our mutual friend (21, “Roommate”). we had all planned to move in together for two or three years prior, and it was finally happening. i was the one who secured the lease along with my partner, and our roommate moved in a month after us. the general agreement was that Roommate would get hired at my partner’s workplace, so all three of us can bear rent and utilities and whatnot.

instead, Roommate lived at our place for about three months, then suddenly left without giving us time to prepare. they told us a few days beforehand that they were contemplating leaving because they felt like a burden and an annoyance, and we were being unfair to them about their job situation. Partner and i reassured them that we rather they stay because we all planned to move out together for years now and we know Roommate hated living with their parents. plus, they were about to get a job, so they shouldnt leave. they left anyway. events of their time here listed below:

i pay their airplane ticket. $270. Roommate moves in. disaster already strikes. they had their parents mail all of their belongings to us rather than bringing suitcases on the plane. the shipping costs for their things are over $100 each per box (two), so Roommate is already in debt to their parents by the time they get here. the arrival of the boxes is inconvenient bc all three of us were away for the weekend, and when we came back, the delivery isnt at our door. Roommate essentially has no clothing because they didnt pack any extra clothes OR underwear in their one carry-on bag. Partner and i buy new underwear for them. two weeks later, the apartment front office tells us they have the boxes but they didnt pack any work clothes, so if they ever got a job, we also had to buy those!

when they moved in, they thought they had a guaranteed position at Partner’s workplace, and was waiting on my partner to help them with the work application. this took two, three weeks until i told them to just do the application by themself. they did, and the workplace never reached out back to them. so no job there. i got on their ass about the job frequently, and every time theyd tell me they were “waiting on Partner to help them”. atp, Partner was working full time hours and i had two jobs so we could afford rent.

they never thought they had to change banks when they moved here. it didnt even cross their mind until i brought it up. their card locked when they use it because theyre in a different state from their bank. they essentially had no access to their money for nearly the whole time they were here. again, i get on their ass about changing banks for weeks because i had to do that myself (also moved states), and they did eventually change banks but only a week before they moved back home. between me and my partner, we paid for their food and their portion of rent the whole time we were here.

when it turned out they werent getting hired at Partner’s workplace, Partner and i discussed getting a job at the local grocery chain. Partner had experience working there and knew itd be a good fit for them. they applied and after orientation day, they then proceed to drag their feet on the actual online training and spend two weeks completing what shouldve been six hours of online training tops. for a retail job. they were meticulously taking notes on all of the training lessons. i was pissed at them about this and blew up on them about how it absolutely shouldnt have taken that long. atp, my partner quit their job, Roommate’s stay was going on two months, and because of our financial arrangement, i had been paying rent by myself since we got the lease.

over their stay, my partner and i got increasingly frustrated with Roommate to the point of discussing them behind their back. we would talk about how long they were taking with their second job application or how they struggle with their hygiene or just how they annoyed us in general. like discord calling unmuted in the living room without warning us beforehand, not cleaning the toilet seat if they had left it soiled, washing the dishes poorly to the point that food was still stuck on them, etc. we had valid some concerns but i definitely just bitched about them. we did talk to them about some of our issues, like teaching them to wash the dishes right, sitting in their room to discord call, but i vented often about how immature and unprepared they were for the move, and faulted them for things that werent quite their fault.

eventually, Roommate informs us about how they have been feeling like we are annoyed with them and how they might have jumped the gun and moved out too early. Roommate is our friend, and atp they were about to actually get hired at their job, they were just waiting for a call back from the HR manager. ultimately we would rather Roommate stay with us because they’d be away from their family and they finally would have some independence with their job. we said we’d let them slep on it, but to please not leave or at least talk to us some more about it. a few days after we talk, i wake up to a text from Roommate that “their dad is here”. it turns out their dad drove the 8 hour drive to come pick them up and bring them home. they spent the morning of that day packing all of their things and then let their dad into the apartment without telling us beforehand. im pantless with a stranger in my fucking apartment. i spend the next 3 hours talking to their dad about how much they owe us in rent, expenses, and spending money, and trying to see if they can still stay. their dad says their mom demands them to come back home. after discussing how much they owe me, the two of them left. their dad would be paying me back the money, and they essentially got to stay here with us for the summer for free on their part.

aita for holding a grudge against them? i feel its hypocritical of me, especially because i actually treated them pretty poorly. because of how sheltered Roommate was, they would often ask questions about the most mundane and insignificant and common sense stuff, and i would get frustrated with them super easily. when they were filling out their work applications, they asked me whether they should work full time or part time hours. i had spent at least half an hour helping them fill in their basic information on the application, and i snapped at them that i literally couldnt decide that for them, they should figure out whether they can work full time or part time.

its been a month since, and its bothering me endlessly. their dad sent me a partial payment and nothing for the past three weeks, when we agreed he’d pay me back weekly. we’re STILL getting their mail and federal checks because they “couldnt get the website to work”, so i have to find time to mail their checks to them. something that could have been fix had they given me actual time to sort out their move instead of leaving without warning.

this was the first time ive ever had any independence. i moved away from a toxic family home myself, so i really wanted them to also stay away from their toxic family. so like was i somehow more toxic than their actual parents? i have an extremely short temper, so i definitely snapped at them and talked hella shit about them as time went on, but i was never violent to them and i tried my best to be civil and encouraging and supportive of them while handling two jobs and paying rent by myself. like, im the youngest, and i got the lease and was paying all of rent. i had changed banks and secured a job for myself before i had even landed in the state beforehand. like again, moving in together was The Plan we all had for the prior few years. i was super prepared, and it just seemed like Roommate didn’t really think about the logistics of moving in, just that omg yay they were moving in with their friends :). i dont know. theres a lot happening here.

What are these acronyms?

[collapsedsquid]

Dalio​ became more and more preoccupied with establishing a reputation as a guru. He talked often about Bridgewater’s ‘Principles’, a set of obiter dicta he had established over the years, which codified the rules for what the New Yorker’s John Cassidy called ‘the world’s richest and strangest hedge fund’. The idea was to create a culture of radical candour. All of Bridgewater’s employees were supposed to give one another constant feedback. Especially negative feedback. One Principle was that ‘No one has the right to hold a critical opinion without speaking up.’ It was forbidden to criticise anybody in their absence: you had to say everything straight to the subject’s face. Everyone at Bridgewater was given a tablet computer that they were supposed to fill with ‘dots’, positive or negative, giving constant ratings on every aspect of the company and their colleagues. The offices were full of cameras and sound equipment recording interactions between staff, all of it added to a Transparency Library, where it could be viewed by other members of staff, who would then provide feedback. Employees handed over their personal phones on arriving at work, and were allowed to use only monitored company phones; computer keystrokes were tracked. The surveillance and feedback were put to use. Failings resulted in ‘probings’ or public interrogations, often led by Dalio, in which the employee would be grilled on what they had done wrong, in search of the higher truth – the deeper, underlying weakness – that had caused it to happen. Dalio had visited China and liked what he saw, so he incorporated into Bridgewater a system in which Principles Captains, Auditors and Overseers vied in supervising their application and reported to a body called the Politburo. Videos of employees being caught violating a Principle, then probed, then promising to mend their ways, were assembled and used to inculcate the Principles. One series of videos, of a senior colleague caught in a untruth, was called ‘Eileen Lies’. Another, in which a newly pregnant senior colleague was publicly humiliated and reduced to tears, was called ‘Pain + Reflection = Progress’. Dalio was so pleased with that one he emailed it to all of Bridgewater’s thousand employees, and instructed that a version of it be shown to people applying for jobs at the firm. Expressing too much sympathy for the victim was an excellent way of failing to be offered a job. ‘Sugarcoating creates sugar addiction’ was a Principle. One of Dalio’s visions was to have the Principles encoded into software so that Bridgewaterians who needed a steer on what to do could consult the oracle. The project took more than a decade, cost $100 million and never produced anything useful, mainly because the Principles, all 375 of them, are a load of platitudinous, self-contradictory mince.

[physalian]

On self-publishing, and why I did it

Based on the research that I have done, following other indie authors across multiple platforms, I think I've made an approach to this that is a lot less... shall we say, *intense* than people make it out to be? I've seen some YouTube videos acting like picking one route or the other might be the worst mistake of your author career.

I mean, I guess?

Back a few years ago I had a manuscript I was querying around and couldn't find any takers. Couldn't find any publishing houses that were accepting open submissions to pick up my manuscript either. So many of them had clauses in the application verifying that you were submitting to them and only to them and to expect a reply within 8-10 months. Coooool.

I did not have time for that.

—

The manuscript I had was 120k words. Baby’s first novel sitting at 120k words is not attractive to publishing houses. It’s a risk. I was younger and didn’t know much about finding an agent and all that jazz, so I had looked into self-publishing and was staring down an editor bill of about $3k minimum because of my word count. I did not have the money for that.

So that manuscript got shelved, meanwhile I wrote the sequel and got halfway through book 3 before writer’s block took hold.

Enter February 2024. I have an idea for a new book. 31 days later, I have that book’s first draft done—Eternal Night of the Northern Sky, on sale from draft to publication in seven months.

This time, I didn’t consider for one second trying the traditionally published route. ENNS is 111k words, it’s a doorstopper of a book, but the bulk wasn’t the only reason I decided to bootstrap myself to the finish line.

I wanted complete, absolute creative control every step of the way

If I have to market myself anyway, why am I splitting profit with a publishing house?

I *really* don’t have time to wait around hoping the right person sees my manuscript. I have a new job coming that’s going to eat up all my free time and could either delay ENNS a year or more, or get it out while I still had time to do so

I didn’t do this for money

I think that’s what makes so many of those rather intense arguments for one or the other so harrowing—the pressure is a lot higher if you invested all this time, money, and effort expecting returns to break even, if not actually turn a profit. Publishing with a publisher doesn’t guarantee people will buy your book, mind you, but it’s a helping hand nonetheless. If I even want to break even, let's say just on royalties from the ebook, I'd have to sell over a thousand copies.

Breaking down my above points:

I’m a firm believer in “if you want something done right, you do it yourself,” which does bite me in the ass from time to time, this I know. I didn’t want to get caught up in contracts or editors telling me what I could and couldn’t do or what I had to change. If ENNS fails, I will have no one to blame but myself, and I am at peace with this. If ENNS fails, and I’d gone through the trouble of signing my book’s soul away to a publisher, then I’d probably be a little resentful. 100% of ENNS is mine, even the cover. I had an image in my head of what I wanted the cover to look like, and I sat down and I drew it and it matches perfectly. Aside from the feedback implemented from betas and editors, my story is told the way I wanted to tell it. If it fails, I am at peace with this.

On marketing, I am not a person who does well with social media. Maybe it’s autism, idk, but trying to keep up with an Instagram is exhausting. I just don’t get anything from tiny text posts and blurbs and doomscrolling through influencers and advertisements. Social Media is, for me, exhausting. Tumblr is different, because writing is my strong point and this blog exists to share and curate something useful. But either way, I’d have to market this book alone, so why not do so with full creative control? If it fails, I am at peace with this.

I have a new job coming very quickly. My current job allows me about 5 hours of free time during my 8 hour shift on a good day not including the time outside work, and I work from home. ENNS was written in 31 days thanks to this job. The new one? Not so much. Seeing “please allow 8-10 months” and “please ensure this is an exclusive submission” on so many little publishing houses, and I did search far and wide, was incredibly disheartening. For me, personally, it wasn’t worth the gamble of waiting all that time, following the rules, and being told no or just being flat-out ghosted. Nor did I want to sit around querying agents into the void. This time, I didn’t have time to sift through agents. ENNS had to get out on the shelves as quickly as I could get it, and all that time (five goddamn months of editing, 500% of the time it took to write it) was spent perfecting the manuscript that it is, *not* waiting around trying to find an agent. If it fails, I am at peace with this.

And lastly, I don’t care if I make absolutely nothing from this book. I didn’t do it for the money, I did it to say I could. I have a day job, and I’m about to have a much higher paying day job. Maybe I’m lucky enough to have that, but I am under no illusions that putting in the hard work guarantees success. Success as an author is a crapshoot and being an amazing book is not the metric sales are measured in, if no one wants to read it. I’d like to make money, I didn’t do it for charity. It’s going to be priced exactly the same as another fantasy book of its caliber. But if only one person buys it, and finds something good from it, something in it that changes their life, then I will have succeeded, profit be damned. If all else fails, I am at peace with this.

—

This is not a post meant to sway people one way or the other. I know I didn’t do enough research or scour the internet hard enough to find a good agent. All of this is irrelevant when time was the most important factor in my debut novel. I was in a position where I could drop that $3k on an editor, so I did. I’m a capable enough artist to draw my own cover, so I did. I might be abysmal at managing social accounts, but less than a year ago this blog didn’t exist and it has over 5k reblogs and 950 followers and I think that’s pretty swell.

I’m 25 years old. I was not about to let it keep sitting around waiting for the golden opportunity with the perfect publishing house that might not have been coming. I had the means and motive to get it done, and by god, I did it.

If it fails, at least I can say that I failed trying. I am at peace with this.

—

Eternal Night of the Northern Sky is available now on Amazon in ebook and paperback! It is also available through your local bookstore.

Check it out on Goodreads!

[illegiblehandwriting1]

HI! :D

Do you have any Four/Sky headcanons you have yet to share that you would like too?

*cracks knuckles* Do i ever. (a bunch of these will be just. straight from some of my fics but eh whatever i love them)

Four absolutely heard stories about Sky, particularly as a child. Sky was probably a cross between George Washington and, like, Odysseus to his era. Someone legendary, a hero just toeing the line between history and myth. No one's 100% certain he's real, but Four believes it. (So does Dot)

In Four's era, there is a constellation known as the Godslayer constellation. Enough said.

Sky's love of flying and his experience in piloting parallels Four's ceaseless examination of minute details. Four likes dealing in the little things that make big results, so he ends up being really fascinated with how exactly Sky's Loftwing can fly and how it evolved. And hey, giant specimen that won't eat him? Big win.

Four gets along so well with Minish engineers and scientists. It's scary.

Sky took up woodcarving as a meditative art. He couldn't focus for long enough (inattentive ADHD) so woodcarving became a way to learn to focus and complete tasks, and he just sorta fell in love. He probably learned with Gondo.

Speaking of, Gondo is probably his favorite shopkeeper at the Bazaar. Sky was totally the type of kid to pester him with questions and stories and anecdotes while he worked, and Gondo was kind and patient enough to let him. He also liked the company.

Sky and Four both seem pretty chill (one's a mom friend and one's pretty smart/inquisitive/has common sense?), which is why no one ever suspects them when they team up and pull the most ridiculous pranks. (Wild knows, though. His best friend is Flora. He knows how absolutely insane scientists are, and he and Sky regularly drag each other around on misadventures. When there is a prank war, Wild only makes Four's and Sky's favorite dishes. They scare him.)

Sky's soul doesn't display his physical scars. In Silent Realms, you can only see cracks and impacts where Guardians have gotten him. They glow.

Sky likes listening to Four ramble about cool stuff he's learned. He has no idea what Four's talking about half the time, but Four is always so excited to have someone listen that all of his walls come down and you can see the Colors more clearly. Sky adores it so much.

Speaking of, after Four Swords, i think Four came back together, but rather than being four people piloting a meatsuit together or just a single person again, he's more like a granny square blanket. He's one dude, but different characteristics will show more overtly depending on the situation, and when put under stress, the seams begin to rip until he has to use the Four Sword to split. Otherwise, he gets a super migraine and just can't function. Also, magic fucks with him.

I read a fic where Four had a stutter and that's canon to me now. Like. yeah.

Sky much prefers the application of things to the theory. He's a smart guy for sure, canonically breezed/slept through all of his classes and did well while Groose had to work his ass off, but while he was able to absorb the information easily, it just didn't engage him and he wasn't all that interested. His favorite classes were in the Sparring Hall and in the air on his Loftwing. As I said before, real ADHD guy.

Sky's Loftwing is named Bird. Sun's is Blue, and Groose's is Fast. I'm sure some kids made up cool names like Felicia and Arnold, but I love the idea that they were childhood friends before, like, middle school years, so they probably shared a single braincell.

Four ends up teaching Sky metallurgy and stuff when they get a chance to chill at the forge. Sky teaches Four woodworking/carving.

Sky is good at physics.

Four is like. SO autistic to me, what a guy, and the Chosen Hero is and has been a big special interest, so meeting Sky is like the best moment of his LIFE. He was probably trying to do some detective work with the other Links as subjects when he meets Sky and he just gets SO excited, it's adorable. Sky sees him, learns he's his successor, and immediately loves him forever. They are besties your honor.

also any version of FD!Sky

thanks for the ask!!! these two are my favorite dudes, i love them :D

[scientia-rex]

Hello! I'm new! You may have posted this somewhere already, but - if it's not too much to ask - may I inquire what degrees you pursued and what your medical jobs have been?

I ask not for vetting purposes, but rather directional purposes for mySELF. I dragged myself up out of a mental breakdown and started scrolling to snap myself out of it and saw your post like a beacon in the darkness.

You kind of hit a few buttons for me, and - though I might not be cut out to reach where you've reached - it is a DIRECTION.

Oh boy, I'm a bad role model because I went out and got a graduate degree that cost me 25 grand and increased my earning potential in the field from "minimum wage" to "just above minimum wage but it's a salary so you have to work more hours." Once I settled on medicine, which took me a long time, it took me an even longer time to finish pre-reqs for applying to med school (I had to take O-Chem as a night class at a community college, which was fun but oh my god that was a lot of work; volunteer at a local hospital on weekends; and keep working my day jobs, plural, at the same time). The MCAT sucked--I scored OK but that score did not change despite spending a bunch of dedicated time on studying. I didn't have money for private tutoring or prep classes. I would have done that if I had. It took two application cycles to get accepted; getting rejected from 15 schools the first time around after each application costs about 100 bucks felt like a nightmare. I wanted to appeal the rejections, but of course, you can't. So I put more effort in, did some mock interviews, interviewed much better the second year, and got in.

Once you're into med school, at least in the US, you are now a cash cow. You will not be expelled unless they can't polish that turd at least enough for a terrible toxic residency. The med schools spend a lot of money on you in hopes that you will become a rich alumna/alumnus who donates.

Once you're in residency, it is extra hard to get fired, because now you're actively making them money with your cheap labor funded in large part by the federal government and your very long hours. You have to REALLY work at it to get fired from residency. If someone is, I assure you, they did something bad. Not "protested racism" bad, as that catfishing doctor Eugene Gu who pretended to be a Black woman on Twitter to harass a much more popular MedTuber (Dr. Glaucomflecken) claimed, but being overtly incompetent and unwilling to do work bad. We had multiple residents who were VERY vocal during the Black Lives Matter protests and faced no repercussions. Some even joined a strike when the hospital employees went on strike, and although they only joined it for a few hours, that was a much more touchy subject with the brass than their anti-racism efforts.

Basically, if you're interested in medicine, I recommend reading Med School Confidential. It's a solid introduction to both the system and what to expect, and what to do in order to make the best of it.