#please help my googling skills are not up for this shit

[applied-soup]

hey besties i'm in the process of trying to write an essay and i can't figure out the right string of words to search for what i'm looking for, so i'm turning to you lot

can you think of any examples of people who society thought of and treated as experts, that we now with the benefit of hindsight would think are non-experts?

my current list is rasputin and andrew wakefield, and honestly idk whether to include wakefield because i think he does fit the bill, but would require a lot of caveats and descriptions and i'm on a word limit. like at the end of the day he definitely wasn't an expert on vaccinology or developmental disorders, but he probably should be considered an expert in like childhood gastrointestinal issues? so just calling him entirely a layperson isn't really accurate, but explaining the complexities takes Time and Words which i don't necessarily have

does anyone have any other suggestions to add to the list?

[queers-gambit]

I wanted to start writing fics and I have an idea of one I’d want to write but I’m unsure of even where to start. Could you please tell me how your process helps you? Any advice would be greatly appreciate!

Thank you!

hey, cutie pie! what a special message you've sent me. i'm feeling incredibly honored - whether you sent this message or not as a compliment, i don't wanna know, this could-be delusion is very flattering. you think i'm a well enough writer to ask advice from? 10 points to Slytherin.

it was Ernest Hemingway who said, “there is nothing to writing. all you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

unfortunately, i'm one of those people that says, "just start writing". i know this is like throwing you in the ocean without a life vest, but i hope i can teach you how to swim (or at the least, tread water) by breaking this down enough for yah.

please note i am NOT a professional - so everything below is to be taken with a grain of salt

first - welcome to the author community! where we all think we have to publish Pulitzer prize winning stories - every. single. time! and where we think our work is TRASH - every. single. time!

storytelling is a skill that you don't have to be "born with", but you do have to practice and experiment with. even seasoned writers need palette refreshers and to "return to the story drawing board." to me, writing is universally one of the greatest artistic mediums this world will ever know. stories transcend time; think folklore and mythology that date way way way back Before Christ (BC). stories can (mostly) only be built upon and altered - just look at the Bible! written text, yes, but it's diluted by X number of "translations" through the years, scholars, people, factions, economies.

anyways. i think it's REALLY cool you want to write and i honestly love that for you. i hope it's as beneficial to you as it is me.

best piece of advice i can give? be proud of yourself. confidence really shows through writing; it's not being arrogant or cocky, it's knowing you have a story to tell and being determined to tell it. trust me, that energy translates. when you're happy to write, audiences are happy to read; nobody is ever expecting you (or any fanfic writer) to be Chaucer or Shakespeare or Brontë or Poe or Fitzgerald or Tolstoy or Tolkien or Dickens or Eliot or Morrison, they want YOU to be YOU and to read YOUR story.

so have faith in yourself. have pride. find motivation and inspiration.

🍒 general rules of thumb

🍒 write everything down!

it doesn't matter where - just write! every! thing! down! write in a: -> Word document -> Tumblr draft -> good ol' fashioned pen and paper -> Sharpie and cafe napkin and for my Apple people: -> the notes app or Pages document

🍒 always write out the plot - doesn't matter if it's complete, just write it down! it's a tool, and trust me, when writing, think of it as your ankle being shattered and this written plot document is the crutch. it's extremely important to have a general idea of what your story's plot looks like so you can decide what details should be used to beef up the story's authenticity. this will help visualize the web you need to weave. it's a visual end goal. it's the reminder where your story is going. give yourself enough space to add to this idea, to expand it.

i prefer bullet points. experiment to find what works for you!

so, in a structure similar to educational notes, establish the general premise / main idea / main details. this is where you're going to answer (no, not literally), "why write this story? what's the point? what even IS the story? like, what's the plot?" -> if you ponder why you're writing a story and at any point, the answer is along the lines of being self indulgent, please understand, that is valid! write that shit!

🍒 notes are a safe space to write out ideas you might be interested in revisiting. so label everything because you'll revisit often - whether for the next story idea or not.

🍒 Google ― -> what you know to strengthen literary frame. allow this to include refreshment of writing devices. -> any and all words; keep a list of running adjectives, nouns, dramatic diction to give your story personality. -> definitions - even the words you already know! -> what you don't know! -> synonyms!

🍒 don't pay attention to word counts! 5k word fics are just as valid as 1.3k, even 896 word fics! fuck word counts, just tell the story.

🍒 write and rewrite. this is where writing becomes daunting, it's so fucking scary. but all you're doing is trying to find your voice, so write your drafts, then rewrite - rewrite - rewrite - and for good measure, rewrite, rewrite, aaaaand probably rewrite twice more. just allow yourself room to stretch and grow as an author when new and altered ideas come to mind - and when these new and altered ideas come to mind, write! them! down!

🍒 writing is supposed to be fun! 🍒 writing supports your emotional vulnerability! 🍒 be open to inspiration everywhere! 🍒 give yourself time and be kind! 🍒 encourage changes of thought and new directions! 🍒 don't minimize yourself to conform with what is "thought" to fit certain criteria - take authentic risks!

🍒 nonlinear and chaotic writing process

🍒 so... kinda first thing is done internally:

what's the plot? what was the idea formed in my head, inspiring me to write this story? what's the climax? is this idea able to turn into a story? -> i write it down.

which fandom? does my story idea fit into "canon timelines" or the fandom's setting? more or less, i determine if this is an AU or not. -> i write it down.

declare a muse i think BEST suits my story idea. -> i write it down (call that commitment).

now, i like to beef up the plot / climax details, either after the initial idea or establishment of muses. these are the nonnegotiable "dramatic factors" i think the story needs. -> i write it down.

🍒 then i just start writing the actual draft / structured story. i know, i know, i know! this is the worst advice and lots of authors say it. but it just means to start! it means you can start anywhere. it's your story, you're telling it - so you can literally just start because a story can grow in all directions.

🍒 personally, i use the fuck out of skeleton drafts (see below) because i like to revisit and build, restructure, and let seemingly random ideas take natural form almost every single time i sit down to write (which, for the sake of my mental health, is almost everyday).

🍒 i endeavor for mysterious, captivating, intriguing opening sentences or paragraphs and titles. so i'm constantly editing and Googling words, definitions, synonyms, phrases.

🍒 i draw inspiration from everywhere; sometimes from personal conversation and experiences, other books, quotes from movies and songs.

🍒 i strive for authenticity - i personally think it's what hooks an audience, when they can see even the SMALLEST fraction of themself in the story. so i challenge myself to get criminally vulnerable and open - so a lot of my trauma is processed through writing, too.

🍒 i like to employ common literary devices, such as metaphors, proverbs, iteration, personification. but that's a personal choice.

🍒 i often draft the story and then leave it for a bit to "marinate" because at the most random and often, inopportune, times, i'll have new ideas i want to add. so i leave myself time to revisit which can get frustrating, but it's necessary for my security to publish.

🍒 dialogue is "just conversation with a purpose". when writing dialogue, i often say the words in my head OR (as embarrassing as it might sound) out loud with the chracter's accents and TRY to convey that in my writing. so i use a lot of slang or incomplete sentences or predicates or accents - in the form of dropping the "g" from a lot of "-ing" ending words.

🍒 I DO NOT CONDONE THIS NOR ENCOURAGE THIS! but i'm a fiend and smoke a LOT. and i drink an unhealthy amount of coffee - so that def influences my writing whether i like it or not. this is 1000000% a personal choice and in no way, shape, or form am i encouraging anyone to smoke and / or give themselves kidney stones for the sake of writing.

🍒 i'm decently selective about my stories, in the sense of if i truly cannot connect or find influence to write, i won't. i can't. so i've been doing better about if a plot doesn't flow the way i want, i try not to force it and embrace the new direction. 🍒 HOWEVER - i still like to challenge myself, so, if i find writing has become like pulling teeth, i'll walk away and revisit at another time. i'll try to tackle from a different angle BEFORE giving up completely. yikes.

🍒 being said, walk away when writing feels frustrating and exasperated.

🍒 real life experience is your friend - "write what you know".

🍒 i'm criminally insecure and don't use beta readers nor editors so i rawdog every story and audience reaction. but i hear they're wildly helpful!!! do what feels right!!! it's your art!!!

🍒 skeleton drafts

when in school, teachers, professors, educators might have students structure essays as a "draft". maybe they asked for paragraphs to be organized in a certain way - intro., x3 body paragraphs, conclusion, bibliography - and more specifically, the paragraph structure: opening sentence stating summarized opinion / reason for thesis support, supporting specifics that explain the thesis, and then conclude on a summary of why the listed support supports the thesis.

whatever it is, i don't adhere to some parameters. i've always pissed off my educators because my "working drafts" never made sense, but whatever "final draft" turned in for a grade, did! make it make sense!

so i use "skeleton drafts".

it's where i try to outline the main ideas of my plot to ensure i tell the story i originally thought of. think of these as "plot points", almost like the ribcage of a skeleton. then i add certain supporting details between these ribs; the meat of the story.

i like getting the majority of the story outlined. i use bullet points, i try to use "dividers" or "headers" if i need a time jump, but i want the general idea down so that it's easier to add onto later if i so choose.

so, yeah, i don't "draft" as some American educators might approve of. the actual process is too tedious and i hate it. but that's just me. other authors MIGHT recommend traditional drafting, but i won't. i say do what feels natural to you, but still find a way to rewrite the story you want until it BECOMES the story you want.

"skeleton drafts" establish the plot and pose as major pillars to help propel the story's flow. "skeleton drafts" are like a check list: being the plot points framing the story's structure, as well as details (no matter how small) the story needs.

being said - using skeleton drafts results in a few different draft / note pages in different places so tread carefully. it can get very confusing and annoying, so, it's not for everyone. i'm just chaotic and all my writings are like a tornado.

i hope this helps in even the slightest of ways. thank you for sending your message - again, i'm deeply flattered. i apologize it took so long to respond but i was doubting myself and what to write.

listen, poppet. keep writing. try, try again. challenge yourself. and the VERY best of luck! i hope you fall in love with writing, and in turn, it falls in love with you!

come back anytime! if you so desire, please, send me whatever you write - i'd love to read it!

endless forehead kisses and all my love 🖤

[betatesterjeremy]

Okay… Got it…

This is a transcript of my nightmare last night, written by me in haste this morning.

(OOC: VERY long writing up ahead. Like, 15 pages in Google Docs. Fighting, blood/gore, manipulative behaviors, death mentions and threats, and a very hateful tango are included in this writing.)

[Jeremy is pulled into a large room with extremely dramatic lighting, it feels a little unnecessary. The pillars between the windows are a pleasing white, and the ceiling of the room is fairly elaborate, with gold accents on some of the more intricate parts. A large chandelier sits in the very center. It appears to be around midnight, the stars visible in the sky out the windows.]

Jeremy: … Okay, this one is different than usual. That’s new. Uh… holy shit?

[Jeremy finds himself glued to the ground, his eyes wide as he tries to take in every detail at once. Heavily shaken, he begins to take a step further into the room, hesitant.]

Jeremy: Hello? This big of a room is not empty, I’m not stupid.

?: I was under the impression that you are, since it hasn’t been disproven yet.

[Someone’s footsteps are heard echoing throughout the room, Jeremy can’t tell if they’re approaching him or moving away.]

Jeremy: I was right! … That’s not… Wait, that’s a different voice…

[Jeremy begins spinning himself around, trying to find where the voice is coming from, but every time he turns one direction, he hears a step from the opposite way.]

?: You’re going to make yourself dizzy, Jeremy. This is ridiculous.

Jeremy: If it’s so ridiculous, show up already.

[A figure appears directly in front of Jeremy. The person grins. They have brown hair, and appear to be wearing a hoodie, a button up, and black jeans.]

?: Hey.

[Jeremy jumps back, despite him asking to see the figure. Karma.]

Jeremy: Holy shit- Okay. Alright. I’m fine. Which one are you?

[A small frown appears on the other’s face, as they motion to a nametag that definitely wasn’t there before. It has one letter on it. E.]

Jeremy: Oh. Fun. You’re here to traumatize me too?

E: I– No. Contrary to popular belief, I’m trying to help. And since the other method is the reason you all dislike me, I’m trying something new.

Jeremy: Lovely. I’m a guinea pig.

E: Precisely, do you know how to dance?

[Jeremy double takes.]

Jeremy: I– … No?? Why?

[E raises an eyebrow at Jeremy, looking him up and down.]

E: It’s a wonder you ever caught the attention of a woman.

Jeremy: Uh, fuck you?? I don’t have to know how to dance.

E: Yeah, sure, you don’t need to. But it’s a good skill. It would make up for that haircut.

Jeremy: Hey, Jenny cut that… Besides, we unprofessionally dance together anyway, how hard could it be?

[The other rolls his eyes, holding out a hand. Jeremy hesitates, just long enough to be noticeable, but takes E’s hand.]

Jeremy: This is going to be fucking weird for me.

E: And the past few weeks haven’t? Your life is weird now, just roll with it.

Jeremy: Not weird like this. I, again, have never danced. And never thought I would. Especially not with ghosts.

[E turns, and pulls him further into the large room.]

E: This generation is so frustrating, first, I find out that your phones are flimsy as fuck, and now none of you can dance? What next? You don’t know how to write in cursive?

Jeremy: … Well.

E: [Turning his head to Jeremy, an expression of disbelief on his face.] You’re kidding, right?

Jeremy: Well, Jenny knows, but most people don’t anymore, I don’t think… Some people can’t even read it.

E: Back when I was in school, it was mandatory.

Jeremy: Oddly enough, it was for us too. We just… never used it.

[E stops walking as they near the center. Fully turning to Jeremy.]

Jeremy: … Shit, now I actually have to think about what I’m doing. I’m supposed to be sleeping, y’know? Don’t make me think ever.

E: I don’t know if you’ve ever started, so it shouldn’t be hard to continue that trend. Either way, I’m leading. You just need to not step on my feet.

Jeremy: God… Wish me fucking luck, I don’t even know what leading is.

E: If I weren’t already dead, I think you would’ve just caused me to have a heart attack.

Jeremy: Oops, I guess. Never had to dance. Do I look like the kind of person who would?

E: I guess not, I could’ve assumed so. You don’t look like you get out often.

Jeremy: That was probably meant as an insult, but you’re right. You’re just actually right.

E: The fact that I, a dead man, have touched more grass than you have, is slightly upsetting.

Jeremy: God. You should meet Alexander. He’s worse than I am about going anywhere… I think.

E: Well, if that was an invitation, I’ll be sure to pay him a visit. What kind of music would you like?

Jeremy: God, I hope you’re nice to him. Uh… I honestly don’t know, dealer’s choice, I guess.

[E grins, much wider than he probably needed to, and snaps his fingers. Generic sounding ballroom music begins to play from… somewhere. And he takes a step to the side after grabbing Jeremy’s hands.]

Jeremy: Oh, shit-

[Jeremy almost immediately stumbles, but somehow stays upright.]

E: We’ve taken one step, and you’ve already– oh my god.

Jeremy: I didn’t know which way we were going!!

[Another step is taken, this time, E slows it down so Jeremy can see which direction they’re supposed to be moving in.]

Jeremy: Okay, okay, uh…

[Jeremy starts counting beats to himself almost silently, trying to follow along the best he can. Surprisingly enough, he’s keeping up.]

E: Okay, now that you’ve got it… somewhat down, we need to talk.

Jeremy: [Facing downwards.] You know, we could have talked standing! My brain is not going to keep up with both things, dude.

E: I think better on my feet. Movement helps me work things through. You wouldn’t get it, I’m not sure there’s anything larger than a peanut up there.

Jeremy: [Looking up again.] Hey, fuck y–

[Jeremy stumbles almost immediately after taking his eyes off of the ground. He corrects himself quickly.]

Jeremy: … Okay. Point proven.

E: Mhm. [Clearing his throat.] So, I just want to set one thing straight here. I’m not against you, or Jenny. Or anyone you’re close with. Got it?

Jeremy: I uh… I can try to believe that.

E: [Sighing.] Look, I know I haven’t been the most… helpful, or… nice. Or trustworthy. Or anything positive. But I swear I’m on your side.

Jeremy: … I want to believe you. Really, I do. But with… I have trouble. I want to trust you, though. Seriously.

E: I know, if it helps, though… we’ve got one thing in common.

Jeremy: Yeah?

[Jeremy tries looking at E again, and manages to make eye contact for about five seconds before having to look back down. Oddly enough, a decent improvement.]

E: We were conned by the same man.

[The lights in the room flicker.]

?: Who, me?

[Jeremy visibly tenses, and subconsciously moves closer to E.]

E: Oh, you’re fuckin’ kiddin’.

[Emerging from the dark corner of the room is a man. First seen are his eyes, shining a piercing, unnatural purple, almost pink around the edges, the light reflecting off of his glasses. His face is scarred, and he looks deprived of any sleep.]

[Once his form is more visible, the second most notable thing is how tall he is. He looks about 6’4. Unfortunately, he appears even taller with the large golden rabbit ears sprouting from his head, adding a good 6 inches to his already large frame, even when they’re flopped down like they are, resting oddly naturally in his hair. His hair, a dark brown, near black, is tied into a low, frizzy-looking ponytail.]

[The ponytail rests against his gray dress shirt collar, which he adjusts, as well as his black suit jacket, matching his pants. As a final touch, he tightens his bright, velvety-purple bow tie.]

[He begins approaching the two. He’s not quick about it, he walks up as if they had motioned for him to walk over when neither of them wanted him here, as evident by E’s sharpening teeth, slowly bloodying form, and the ticking. The abnormally loud ticking is heard by Jeremy, and despite his fear of both people in the vicinity, he finds himself clinging to E, his eyes as wide as saucers, color drained from his face.]

E: You just had to show me up in every way possible, eh? Looks like someone’s compensating.

A: Looks like someone’s jealous, more like.

E: Of you? Has your ego gotten bigger since we last met?

A: Of course it has. And for good reason. Not many people can say they’ve tricked someone into giving them a living form…

[Anomaly leans forward, a smug smile across his face.]

A: Really, I can only think of two.

Jeremy: … I’d say the circumstances were different–

A: Quiet.

[Jeremy flinches, dropping his gaze to the ground. It’s clear this isn’t the first time this has happened.]

[E lets out a low… growl? As he makes eye contact with Anomaly. He appears to be considering his options. Suddenly, a grin appears on his face.]

E: Big talk for a guy who died in the most pathetic way possible.

[He starts to laugh.]

E: The fact that you could’ve avoided it always gets me. And besides, I didn’t trick Mari. I told them exactly what I intended to do. You didn’t say jack shit.

[His head falls back, and Anomaly laughs. It’s loud and it echoes in Jeremy’s mind. Sharp and inhuman, more like some sort of animalistic noise than any sort of human laugh. Suddenly, his head snaps back into place, a smile across his face despite his barely noticeable annoyance. (Oh yeah, I saw that, you masquerading- I’m sorry. I don’t mean that.)]

A: All you could think of to try to bother me, hm?

[Anomaly’s head tilts to the side, almost robotically.]

A: You know, I find it interesting that you mention that my death was avoidable because, really, yours was too. Maybe if you actually did your job you would’ve made it further.

[The volume of the ticking spikes, and E tenses. His right eye twitches in time with the ticking. He takes a few breaths, and the ticking quiets down.]

E: Maybe, yes. But I really don’t see how getting torn in half by robots was the result of a night guard not doing his job correctly, and not the fault of the person who designed those robots in the first place. And I’ve got a lot more where that came from, I’m only scratching the surface.

A: Interesting, because I had the same experiences with them in hell and still got through it several times unscathed. I think that’s more on you.

[Jeremy opens his mouth to object, to defend E, but quickly closes it as Anomaly glances at him. He lowers his head again, his shoulders tense.]

E: Mhm, mhm, and how many attempts did it take to get it right? I only had one try. Honestly, it’s so crazy to me how you’re still this salty about everything. It’s not my fault none of your kids like you. God, the things Michael had to say about you… and I don’t doubt that the other two have the same shit to say.

[E chuckles, leaning backwards. His hand goes to his forehead and he stands back upright.]

E: Man, he hated you! Said he used to look up to you. He wanted you to love him so badly that it ended up taking over his life. He wanted to be you.

A: He should’ve been nicer to his brother.

[Anomaly smiles wider after a moment, as if he remembered something.]

A: “Salty”, well… You’re still here too, aren’t you, Edgar? I’d say we’re both a bit unhappy.

E: Yes, you’re right. I’m very unhappy. Only because I’m talking to you, Willi–

[Before E can finish his sentence, Anomaly grabs his wrist, swinging him into the beginning of a long and angry dance. As soon as the spin ends, Anomaly slips his hand from E’s wrist to his hand, pulling E close to him in some sort of strange tango pose.]

A: You want to talk for a while? Because, as it turns out, I also think better on my feet.

[Anomaly glances at E, a smug look on his face.]

A: Hope you don’t mind.

[E’s jaw clenches, and his hands curl tightly around Anomaly’s. He glances back at Jeremy, expression unreadable, before looking down at his clothes, and then glaring directly into Anomaly’s eyes.]

E: Oh, you son of a– I’m not doing this in my fuckin’ work clothes, fuck you.

[As Jeremy blinks, E’s outfit changes from his old white button up to a deep red one, with a black vest overtop. His black jeans now a more formal pair, with some chains clipped on. A black tie is loosely tied at the top. His hair appears tidier now, possibly brushed, as well as washed. His hands also have fingerless gloves on them. How all of this happened within a second, Jeremy will never know.]

A: Aw, you felt underdressed. I apologize… Well, if it makes you feel better, now I’m feeling a bit overdressed.

[Even if you were looking at him (I was), you wouldn’t be able to place how his outfit changes. He does nothing special. Suddenly, his outfit almost mirrors E’s, but his dress shirt is a bright white, and his vest a deep reflective purple.]

A: There we are, now we’re matching.

[Anomaly grins, implications clear.]

E: You look shitty, I definitely wore it better.

A: Good thing I’m not aiming to impress anyone.

[E scoffs, looking Anomaly up and down.]

E: That’s fairly obvious. If I had worse vision I’d easily mistake you for a rat.

A: And I’d mistake you for someone’s shit prom date.

[The lights in the room become tinted a rich purple. Distorted and slow music begins, getting clearer and more cohesive as Anomaly starts to move, but E wrenches one hand out of the other's grip, forcing Anomaly into a violent turn that ends with him leaning away from E, holding on to his hand. He's pulled back in, and he instinctively picks his outside leg up as E leans him back in a dip that brings Anomaly close to the ground, the ears closing the distance between his head and the floor. The lights above turn a stunning shade of red as E pulls Anomaly up and switches the way they were facing, two hands around Anomaly's back as he sticks a hip out to the left.]

E: Come on, let’s fucking dance, asshole.

A: If you insist.

[Anomaly forces E backwards, taking step after step across the room, the lights switch to purple after the 4th step, on the 6th, they both stop. Anomaly turns to face E, wrapping an arm around his neck and raising the other towards Jeremy, E slides his hand up his arm and grabs the hand, turning Anomaly away, the lights flicker to red for a moment. Anomaly takes his first arm away as the two bend down, sliding into a pose with one leg extended to the back with the other bent underneath them. As they stand, Anomaly places his arm on E’s shoulder before he starts to move around E. They take steps backwards in time with the music.]

[Things speed up and Anomaly forces their steps to become smaller and faster, before ultimately picking E up and swinging him through the air as the violin plays more intensely than before, his legs straightened behind him. He’s forced into a sort of lunge, before he’s flung out of it and slammed backwards into Anomaly’s arm as the lights explode with a violent purple hue, his head whips backwards with a loud crack, and Anomaly stares into his eyes as he steps over E’s extended back leg. Jeremy catches E… wincing? (That bastard hurt him.) But he stops within a second, standing right back up and dragging Anomaly across the ballroom floor, steps becoming more complicated, perhaps as a way to trip Anomaly up.]

[The lights turn red again, a blood colour, as the two make their way around the ballroom, the footwork becoming even more complex as they swirl this way and that, E pushes Anomaly into a spin before grabbing hold of his hands again. They begin a diagonal walk, with Anomaly pushing E across the room, bathing it in purple light, before E retaliates and forces them back to where they came. The crimson returns. They stop abruptly, and E raises his hand above his head, bringing Anomaly’s with it. He attempts to lower Anomaly into a second dip, but is spun into it by him instead. As he’s brought back up, Anomaly picks him up a second time for another whirling turn, and as he comes out of it, he immediately whips around to be behind him, grabbing on and leaning to the side.]

[As they come up, Anomaly wraps a leg around E’s torso, then, after a few seconds, he unwraps it. The two step back, and Anomaly grabs E’s head. Forcing eye contact as they cross the floor once more. The action bathes the ballroom in purple.]

E: [Through a clenched jaw.] Let go of me.

A: Oh, why? You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you? You engaged the whole idea of dance in the first place.

E: It was never supposed to be with you, you flea ridden egotistical shitlord.

A: And yet you haven’t stopped yet. Interesting.

E: I am many things, but a coward isn’t one of them.

A: Could’ve fooled me.

[Instead of blurting out a witty reply, E bites Anomaly’s hand. Hard. Causing him to let go. Anomaly’s smug smile falters for a split second. The smile returns, but he speaks through gritted teeth.]

A: Gh–! … Dog.

E: [He grins, but not out of joy, but likely just to show his teeth.] Thank you! I’ll fucking do it again.

A: [He leans in, as if to prove he’s not afraid.] I’d like to see you try.

[E, now finally able to look away from Anomaly, only relaxes for a second before diving right back into the dance, turning the lights red once more. E leads Anomaly around the space, once again altering the footwork. He pauses and baits Anomaly into a high kick, before managing to get Anomaly to face the same way as he was. He quickly turns, and does a split leap, throwing E off balance slightly. As they continue to move about the space, E can be seen attempting to kick Anomaly in the shins.]

[They pause, and lean backwards in tandem, before Anomaly pulls E into an odd spin, allowing him to end up sitting on his leg. E immediately untangles himself and moves away, bringing Anomaly with him. Spinning with the other man under the red lights of the room. They stop. Anomaly forces E backwards, one step, two steps, three, four. The fourth is mixed with a sort of spin, which continues as the two dancers circle each other, illuminated by purple. They stop spinning, still moving. Their backs to Jeremy.]

[E twists around Anomaly, trying to gain the upper hand, steps gaining speed as they both attempt to keep control of the other. Twists and turns and jumps and steps are all part of their battle. E pulls Anomaly into a spin, Anomaly switches the direction of their movement. E steps back, throwing his arm up and grinning at Anomaly, taunting him.]

[The dance picks up immense speed as the two dash across the floor, shoes hitting the wood loudly as they move. E is picked up, and swivels his legs quickly in the air before being put back down. The two step quickly, the lights begin flashing. Red, purple, red, purple. Switching back and forth as they dance. Jeremy can barely keep up with the speed. E does a high kick, Anomaly retaliates by trying to knock him off balance. The flashing of the lights is beginning to make Jeremy woozy.]

[Anomaly picks E up in a lift, both his legs bent, he’s put down and they continue their war. Anomaly stops and holds E’s hand above him as he does a pirouette of some kind, kicking his leg to give him enough momentum to get him halfway around, then again. They leap into action once the turn is finished, Anomaly and E’s legs intertwine as they compete, kicking and weaving around the others like they’d practiced this for years in advance.]

[E grabs Anomaly the same way he did earlier, picking him up and swinging him in a circle, and then doing it again, the lights are so red the walls could’ve been covered in blood, and Jeremy would be none the wiser. Anomaly switches it on him and spins E around in a circle with his leg extended to the back, the switch to purple shows there is no blood on the walls. E jumps out of it, and Anomaly continues the previous action of the footwork, before picking up E in another lift and swinging him behind him, E kicks his legs and Anomaly places him back down. They end up leaning away from one another, and Anomaly pulls him in before violently dropping him into a dip, the same one from the beginning. E extends his lifted leg upwards, his supporting leg and head nearly creating a finished arch. He glares at Anomaly with such a deep and wild hatred you'd think he'd stolen his eyes from a sort of beast. The tango is finally done. And the lights stop changing. Anomaly is soaked in red, and E is only illuminated by purple.]

[Anomaly looks down at E, expression only able to be described as “lightly crazed”. He glances down at E’s position and, with no other thought, lets him drop to the floor.]

A: Lovely performance.

E: Thank you, yours was horrible. Off tempo for half of the fucking song, and the other half was just plain sloppy.

A: Wow, I try to be nice for once, and this is what I get. How rude.

E: Oh yeah, because telling me I did a good job makes up for everything. Mhm. All is forgiven. Yep.

A: Oh, no, I’m not trying for forgiveness. I’m just mature enough to know how to compliment people even when I don’t like them.

E: The hell do you want me to say? ‘Oh, thank you for interrupting me with your incredible dancing skills, this was totally better than what I was trying to do before.’?

A: You weren’t doing anything important—

E: Of course you wouldn’t consider it important, jackass. I—

[The two drop silent as a creaking is heard throughout the room. The chandelier is swinging.]

E: What the…?

[The chandelier seems to stutter in place, halfway catching itself. Anomaly begins backing away from it, eyes wide. As soon as he reaches a safe distance away, the chandelier shifts again, cracks forming in the ceiling. Jeremy finally musters up words to say. Or, well, a word.]

Jeremy: EDGAR!

[E, startled, turns to Jeremy, a confused expression on his face. Nothing happening seems to have registered yet.]

[The ceiling shatters, and through the debris and dust, Jeremy can only see a hand being placed on E’s shoulder. One that caused him just about as much concern, if not more, as the mental image of E being crushed by a chandelier.]

[When the dust clears, Jeremy can finally see the two on the ground, 90% unscathed. Anomaly, the closest to the broken glass, planks, metal and chain, is currently not paying attention to his cuts. It seems that glass shot past him and caught some of his skin. (I… thought he couldn’t get hurt.)]

Jeremy: Jesus christ, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t… God. I-I’m so sorry. Th-that was my fault… [Turning to E.] Are you okay?

[E, who was staring at… nothing at this point, blinks a few times before turning to Jeremy and nodding.]

[As Jeremy turns to look at Anomaly, he’s surprised to find him moving. Jeremy finds his eyebrows knit in concern and tries to force them down, as if that will stop him from feeling concerned too.]

Jeremy: … Are you—

[Anomaly shifts, pushing himself up off of the ground. Glass sticks to his palms, and he shakes his hands to remove it. The shards clink to the ground. As soon as he feels the big shards of glass are gone, he turns to look at E, his expression… blank…? (I’ve never seen him without a smile…).]

[After blinking a couple times, Anomaly looks at the palms of his hands, and his eyebrows furrow. He picks a few shards of glass from his hands, then dramatically wipes them off on his vest, like he was trying to scratch them against the fabric. When he’s done, he looks at his palms again, his expression finally settling on (what I think was) disgust.]

[After thoroughly examining his hands, he looks back at E. He looks at the chandelier. And then… he looks at Jeremy. His face morphs. From the corners of the mouth to below the outsides of his eyes, black stitching lines his face. Another line of stitches lay around his neck. Then, most notably considering his staring beforehand, stitching lining his hands and wrists, as if he’s being held together like Frankenstein’s monster. Around these stitches are more scars that weren’t seen before. Strange cuff-like scars around his wrists and elbows. Lines running down from his wrists to his knuckles. Most noticeable, however, are the strange crescent-moon shaped scars on his neck and down his forearms, and dots around his mouth, as if something stabbed through.]

[As if he were waiting for Jeremy to process what he was seeing, Anomaly stares at him for a moment. Then, his eyebrows furrow further, his mouth curls into a frown, and his eyes shine bright.]

A: [Quietly.] You…

[Anomaly starts to walk towards Jeremy, who begins to back away until he trips over a piece of debris and falls backwards, his back to the wall. Anomaly’s head twitches from one side to the other as he approaches, making painful clicking sounds, but his eyes never leave Jeremy.]

E: Oh, I don’t think so, you piece of shit.

[E, who was blankly staring off into the distance just moments ago, is now back on his feet, rolling up his sleeves. Blood begins to pool beneath him. There was a stream of red coming from his forehead, somewhat entering his mouth. There were now holes in his cheeks, showcasing teeth that are somehow sharper than before. He takes a step forward, then another. Each step, his gait changes ever so slightly. It isn’t until he gets closer that Jeremy realizes why. His legs’ very structure have morphed into something animalistic. They’re bent weirdly in the wrong places, kind of like a cat, or a wolf.]

[He untucks his shirt, likely just going to tuck it back in. As he does so, Jeremy notices some string sewn across his lower waist, where the blood is coming from. The stitches appear to be going the full way around his torso, tightly woven into his skin to keep his body from coming apart.]

[Anomaly’s shadow is cast in several directions by the dim light of the windows. The shadow over Jeremy almost looks darker than any of the others.]

[Jeremy’s back is fully against the wall, but he still keeps leaning further back, as if he’s trying to push himself through it. Unfortunately for him, the wall remains solid, and Anomaly continues towards him as if E had said nothing. His footsteps land heavily, heavier than would make sense for his build.]

[E closes the distance between him and Anomaly swiftly, a ticking sound accompanies his approach. As he reaches Anomaly, he clasps his hand around his shoulder tightly. His muscles tense up, as if just touching Anomaly is painful. And maybe it is. Even then, he keeps his grip on his shoulder.]

[As soon as Anomaly processes E’s hand on his shoulder, his eyes widen once again, and he turns all of his attention to him. His immediate instinct is to swing around and smack E’s arm away from him. His expression shows anger, but his eyes don’t seem to match that feeling (I can’t properly place what it was, but it wasn’t anger).]

E: [Smiling slightly, his head tilted to the side.] There we fucking go. What happened to maturity? Ignoring someone while they’re talkin’ to you is pretty rude, hm?

[Anomaly breaks eye contact, looking away and closing his eyes, seeming to take a deep breath before speaking again. As he speaks, the scars seem to disappear. The stitching goes away with them, as if fading to match the skin.]

A: Ahaha, I hadn’t heard you… What were you saying?

E: [Lowering the volume of his voice.] Well, I think actions speak louder than words.

[In a flash, E pulls his fist back and punches Anomaly square in the chest. A look of pure glee spreading across his face as Anomaly stumbles backwards, winded, and coughing. He shakes his hand out, glancing at Jeremy.]

[Anomaly coughs up blood. His hand goes to his chest, now bleeding (… from a punch?) through his vest.]

A: You little…

[Anomaly lunges at E, fire in his eyes, and knocks E’s animalistic legs out from under him. Before he can get up, Anomaly places a foot on E’s back, forcing his ribcage into the ground painfully. The force Anomaly’s exerting on E’s back doesn’t seem to fit his figure, nor how casually he seems to stand. A small grin appears on Anomaly’s face.]

A: Quite cocky for a doormat, aren’t we?

[E reaches a hand out in front of him, fingers flexing, one eye squeezed shut. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out except a strangled, pained cry. Jeremy doesn’t miss the tears forming in his eyes.]

[Anomaly chuckles. His smile widens, and he places more pressure on E’s back. He hears a choking noise, desperate, louder. Anomaly’s laugh raises in volume as well. It feels like his voice is coming from everywhere. A wild smile spreads across his face, as if he’s wanted this for a very long time. But, as soon as he goes to place all of his weight on E…]

[Anomaly is flung to one side of the ballroom, splinters of wood and cushioning follow. Jeremy throws the remains of the chair to the pile that once was the chandelier, and immediately is at E’s side, quickly lowering into a kneel and offering his hand to help him up. His face is lined with incredible concern.]

Jeremy: I’m sorry I couldn’t do that sooner. I’m gonna fucking pay for that… Are you okay, did he break anything? If he did, I’ll find another chair, I’m fucked as it is.

[E lays there for a bit, shaking, before reaching out and grabbing Jeremy’s hand. He misses twice, before finally getting it right the third time. He slowly pushes himself up using Jeremy’s help. He makes eye contact with him, his expression having lost the monstrous rage from before. He looks at Jeremy with a genuine, heartfelt smile on his face.]

E: [He coughs a little throughout his sentence, holding an arm to his torso.] I… I don’t think anything is– is broken.

[He stares at Jeremy for a small while, before opening his mouth to speak again.]

E: … Thank you.

Jeremy: No problem, I wanted to do that anyway, honestly… Glad I could help, seriously.

E: [He laughs, but it comes out as more of a breath outwards.] I get that, yeah…

[He nearly doubles over, wincing.]

E: Fuckin– Jesus, I’m going to be feeling that for days, aren’t I.

Jeremy: Yeah, jesus… That was horrific, I’m… I’m so sorry you had to—

[Jeremy is roughly tackled by Anomaly, shoulders hitting the ground hard as the two slide across the floor, glass shards that were once on the ground cutting into Jeremy’s back. Anomaly, stitched and scarred, sits on his knees on top of Jeremy, left hand pinning him to the ground, right hand raising a very sharp, very cared for knife. Anomaly’s joyful yet angered expression is that of a mad man, smile spread wide with excitement. His eyes swirl shades of purple, burning themselves into Jeremy’s retinas as he can do nothing but look at the terror directly above him.]

[A clock rings.]

[Anomaly’s rabbit ears perk up at the sound (so they are attached to him? They hadn’t moved before…). His expression drops slightly, and the knife he was holding clatters to the ground. He turns to glance out the window, seeing the sun begin to rise. Anomaly’s expression shifts in a blink as he looks down at Jeremy.]

A: Saved by the bell…

[Anomaly’s head slowly turns to E, a smug expression on his face. His head gently tilts to one side, his voice warm and music-like, a sharp contrast to what he’s had the entirety of the encounter. He taunts E quietly.]

A: Your shift’s over…

[E, realizing what that means, tries to run over, instead collapsing onto the ground. He scrambles to get up again.]

E: Nonono wait! Shit– No!

[His expression, instead of being filled with anger at Anomaly, or something along those lines, it’s worried. He’s not even looking at Anomaly. His full attention on Jeremy. In his rush to stand, he ends up missing the floor, falling down again. Unfortunately, he lands directly on his chest, causing him to violently cough.]

[Standing up, Anomaly forcefully pulls Jeremy up from the ground, causing Jeremy to yelp in pain from the sudden movement and… the absolutely scalding feeling of Anomaly’s touch. Anomaly swings him into a fast spin, confusing Jeremy and making him stumble more than he ever did with E, forcing him to hold onto Anomaly’s forearms, his grip tight from the pain of his hands burning and the fear of letting go. As his feet leave the ground, Anomaly’s eyes light up, and he yanks Jeremy towards him, catching him in a dip as Jeremy lets go of his arms, their faces uncomfortably close in the pose. Jeremy tries to lean away, to entirely break away from Anomaly, but Anomaly shifts his hold on him, holding onto his shoulder with an arm crossing his back, and Jeremy then realises that’s basically the only thing supporting him in his position. One of his legs is still suspended in the air, while the other is barely holding any of his weight.]

[Anomaly leans up from the position, removing one arm from Jeremy, making Jeremy panic and cling to Anomaly’s shoulders to avoid falling. Anomaly glances back at E, and slowly waves.]

[Once Anomaly is finished gloating, Jeremy is pulled against him entirely. Jeremy screams as he makes contact with the burning hot figure, his eyes squeezing shut as he tries to avoid the sight of himself burning, tries to focus on anything but the sound, the feeling, the smell. It’s an ineffective strategy.]

[When Jeremy opens his eyes again, he’s in his bed, completely unharmed. His alarm on his phone is going off. He sits up, and slaps himself to check if he’s awake. And he is. Finally.]

[nientedal]

All I said was I wish my friend would shut up forever about their headcanons because they were getting on my nerves. It doesn’t matter now because my friend found out I was ranting about them and we are no longer friends well I got my wish they shut up forever like I wanted. Yeah someone in the server told my friend I was ranting about them.

You ignored my ask. I am getting sick of people not listening to me! I already apologized to someone twice they ignored me even though I told them everything they wanted to hear. What more do you people want! I told you what you wanted to hear!

WHY IS EVERYONE IGNORING ME ! I just want people to listen me! Please!!! T been apologizing to this person and they keep ignoring me! Why can’t people see how sorry I am! I told them everything they wanted to hear! SOMEONE TALK TO ME PLEASE!!!

I considered just deleting these, but hey, this is maybe some kind of teachable moment??? Also I'm not sure if you'll be back to yell more later, so fuck it, I'll answer. But I'm going to be blunt. Three things.

One. I didn't see these until just now. But even if I had seen them, I don't owe you an immediate response on this website. It's hard, but you need to learn to process your own feelings WITHOUT relying on someone to reply. Also, it's my right to ignore you, but in this case? That is not what's happening, and accusing me of ignoring you as if you're entitled to my time and attention will only piss me off. I am literally a stranger. Fuck off or do better.

Two. It sucks that your friend told your other friend you were frustrated with them. You have my sympathy there. Very charitably, I assume you were simply venting and "shut up forever" was hyperbole, but if it WASN'T hyperbole...idk, maybe hang out with people who do not piss you off this way? I don't stay friends with people I don't like talking to. Perhaps consider modifying your approach to friendship in the future?

(Also, hold up, you "told them everything they want to hear" like you expect them to just get over it and forgive you and everything will be fine? Dude, that's not how feelings work. It does not fucking matter how "sorry you are"; people process shit at their own speed regardless of what you say or do. You do not control how people react to you. You control your actions, not your results. If you said something and you meant it, OWN IT. Even if it hurt someone! Apologize for hurting their feelings, but don't just say what you think someone wants to hear. Saying shit you don't mean just to get the result you want is emotionally immature and manipulative. I understand you're freaking out, but you can do better. You don't control your results, so don't try. Do whatever will help you live a life you can be proud of.)

Perhaps also consider googling "healthy coping skills" and "how to handle anxiety," and seek therapy if you can. You deserve to be able to process frantic feelings without dumping your panic onto (and demanding replies from) a total stranger. Which brings me to--

Three.

I have no idea who you are.

Genuinely, I'm sitting here blinking at my inbox like, bro, I'm 33 and left this kind of drama behind back in high school because I refuse to put up with it now. I do not know what this is about. It sucks that you're having a bad time, but I cannot help you with this.

[mimbotomy]

7, 24, 56?

Prompts found here!

7. How do you choose which POV to write from?

It’s a bit of a process IMO so I’m just going to go through it! Starting with my process for a multi chapter long fic with multiple POVs bc that’s mostly what I write lol.

My first step when starting a new chapter is to flesh out/rewrite my outline according to the previous chapters, changing any continuity errors, changing the tone if needed, etc, etc. Then I make of list of all the potential POVs and think about what notes I’d want each one to hit - their feelings, thoughts, how they would react to the action - and I’ll often write a couple short little snippets to see how their voice and internal dialogue works with the action of the chapter. Since I only really write Odyssey fic, a lot of this step focuses on our girl Kassandra and debating whether or not I want her POV or someone reacting to her, and then what kind of reaction I want! Then I start writing! And honestly, I go back and rework things or completely rewrite things to a different POV in the middle of this step more often than I would like to admit RIP.

My process for single POV fics, of which I only have two bc I like seeing different people’s view points, is mostly the same, but I spend a lot more time debating between Kassandra’s POV and reactions to Kassandra. Deciding on the POV for There is No Escape. . . was a lot easier bc after I decided I wanted this fic to take place after Hades’ canon storyline, the story became less “Kassandra and Zagreus fight Underworld baddies” and more “Zagreus’ decision to help Kassandra and the bond they form over their journey down and out of the Underworld.” And having it from Zagreus' POV, in a world and story format he knows and understands gave me the space to focus on relationships and characters rather than Kassandra reacting to the Underworld. And I had already down a Kassandra POV for A Miscalculation, which had a similar storyline of Kassandra saving Phoibe from the Underworld, so I wasn't necessarily chomping at the bit to completely rehash that.

But I went back and forth for a much long time between having the Children of Kephallonia be entirely from Kassandra’s POV or alternating between her and Phoibe’s before deciding on the former, bc I realized my plan for the story gave me the opportunity to have Kassandra reacting to herself and her own skill and power that I don’t really give myself to do in my other fics. One of the scenes that I thinks best explains this is in Chapter 6, The Interloper, where Kassandra is surprised that Brasidas doesn’t seem to believe that she can scale a three story wall in armor without being spotted bc she lowkey thought everyone could do that, and Ikaros says, “Maybe it’s just easy for you.”

This ended up being a little longer than expected but that’s my process!

24. Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you?

Writing in past tense! Not trying to shit on anyone who writes in past tense, bc I have read some truly amazing books and fics written in past tense, but I feel like my work became a lot more fluid when I started writing in present tense. It helps brings me into the moment and I think my work is now more detailed and easier to read bc of it. Easier to write too - flows better IMO.

56. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

Characters! Or more specifically, I think I’m pretty good at getting inside a character’s head and capturing their unique voice and I think I also do a decent job at exploring and fleshing out character relationships from canon. Honestly, I think a lot of my skill there has to do with the fact that I write a lot of crossovers (3 on AO3 and at least 5 rattling around in my head or on google docs please pray for me 🙏) bc it forces me to really think about Kassandra and the other characters, whether from Odyssey or Marvel or Harry Potter or Hades, to figure out how they would act and react in situations so far beyond the comfortable confines of canon.

For example, I personally saw a huge shift in my writing after I started my Odyssey x Marvel crossover: my Kassandra and Ikaros became even more tightly connected, she became more devout to the gods and both a little more and a little less arrogant at the same time, and her relationship with Phoibe solidly shifted over to the mother-daughter category, all of which ended up becoming big parts of my next fic The Children of Kephallonia and every fic since.

Also, I think I’ve gotten pretty good at writing fight scenes and giving Kassandra a unique fighting style, but those scenes are usually a lot shorter 😂

[league-of-sam]

Catching A Ghost | Simon 'GHOST' Riley

Ghost x Reader

CHAPTER THREE

Simon 'GHOST' Riley x AFAB!Reader!OC 18+ MINORS DNI! t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).

Catching A Ghost: Masterlist

Over the next few days, you spent time getting to know your team.

You learnt that Alejandro was the leader of Los Vaqueros, and Rudy was his second in command. They'd known each other for decades, and had one of the best relationships you'd ever witnessed. 

Soap had been hand-picked by your brother for the 141, having known both him and Ghost for several years also. He made the most effort to spend time with you, telling you all about his home life and his interests.

He was the youngest of four, with three sisters. His mother and father were still happily together, but he'd joined the military after not feeling like he fit in with his family. Your heart lurched for him, finding yourself placing a comforting hand on his thigh as he spoke to you. 

That's when he'd stared at you, an odd grin on his face.

"What?"

"Yer just bonnie, lieutenant." he said, smiling cheekily.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, "you're going to be trouble, aren't you, sergeant?"

"Maybe."

You knew Gaz and Alex fondly, so there was only one person left to get to know; 

Ghost.

He...was something else. 

He seemed to avoid you where he could, unless it was to ridicule your tactics or skill in training. 

The boys had you doing all sorts to gauge your abilities. First, they had you sparring in the ring, something you weren't keen on, and expressed as much. But who were you to defy direct orders from your Captain? None of them got in the ring with you, happy enough to watch you flatten some of the more eager Los Vaqueros soldiers that volunteered.

Next, your signature knife throwing. Possibly the only thing you did that earned you a slight compliment from the mask-wearer.

They'd set up several targets for you, and had you do multiple routines to show off your skill and accuracy. 

Every slam signalled a perfect bullseye.

"Fuckin' hell," Soap breathed, "She might even be better than you, L.T."

Soap nudged Ghost, earning a frustrated grunt.

"Yeah right." Ghost rolled his eyes.

You'd turned, smiling widely at your triumph as Price clapped you proudly on the back. You'd not heard Ghost's blatant criticism of you, but you had caught Alex's glare.

"Passed your tests yet, boys?" you quipped.

"You are very impressive, carino." Alejandro said, coming over to you and helping you collect your knives.

"Thank you, Alejandro."

"Please, call me Ale."

You smiled sweetly, before excusing yourself, leaving the men in the training area alone.

They murmured amongst themselves, all of them completely impressed by you, well...all of them except Ghost.

He just found your constant presence annoying, and then the fact that his own fucking team thought you were better than him? Absolutely not.

He was the lieutenant of this force, he was second in command. He was fucking Ghost. And having to adjust to someone of the same rank was not something he thought he'd ever have to do.

You'd made it clear you wouldn't be taking orders from him, too.

Every morning without fail, you'd been in his way. Every morning without fail, you did not recognise his presence. It grated on him, and the fact you gave him attitude every time he brought up your lack of skill only fuelled his fire more.

"Fuckin' hell, Reaper. It's like you're getting worse!" You groaned, turning to him, "Good morning to you too, Ghost. And for the last time, it's (Y/N)." "Ya actually startin' to piss me off." "Oh my god, have a day off!" "Want you in training early tomorrow, ya need to scrub up on those observing skills of yours." he muttered, pushing past you. You laughed, turning to continue plating up breakfast, "yeah, not fucking happening, hombre." "Excuse me?" "I'm not one of your sergeants, we're the same rank, sweetie. Can't make me do shit." you finished, a sweet smile on your face.

The two of you butting heads was not going unnoticed by the team, a lot of them groaning as they overheard the two of you argue every morning.

Barely any words were shared when you argued.

Mostly, it was brooding scowls thrown across the room, filling the air with tension.

You tried to resolve it, truly. You brought his breakfast to him every morning, offered to help him with training...but he didn't want to know.

And it stressed you the fuck out.

So much so, your nightmares had started again.

Your anxiety riddled your body to the point you were closing in on yourself, and sleeping through the night became a difficult task. Night after night, you found yourself sitting in the living room or at the kitchen island, fingers clung around a cup of tea, nose buried in a book.

Ghost had joined you once, his own book in his gloved hands. He'd slinked through the darkness, barely making a sound as he sat down opposite you.

He hadn't said a word to you, as if he knew why you were there. It only made the heat of your blush crawl further up your neck, and you sink further into the armchair you were huddled in.

Little did you know, he did.

He heard your sobs from your room, he'd shot up from his own the second he heard you stumble from your bed, grabbing his weapon. Opening his door the smallest crack, he watched as you ran silently to the bathroom, washing your face, before emerging again and descending the stairs.

When you hadn't returned twenty minutes later, he found himself confused as the concern raised in his chest.

Grabbing his own book, like he usually did at this time, he crept down the stairs, standing in the shadows to observe you.

He found you crying quietly, lips floating above your mug. The way your eyes fought to stay open, rapidly scanning the room, he knew exactly what had happened.

Since you'd arrived, he'd heard the whimpers from your room, and this...it just confirmed his thoughts. You were suffering with nightmares, and they were getting worse.

In silence, the two of you read, the only acknowledgement of the other being the stolen glances over the edges of the pages. You stayed like this, all the way until Price emerged, a raised eyebrow at the fact that you and Ghost were in the same room and not murdering each other.

But you welcomed it.

His silent presence gave you a sense of comfort, and seemingly, he felt it too.

Because after that, he didn't seem to try to hard to ridicule you. He didn't seem to bite at your attempts to wind him up. He even started giving you pointers of improvement in training, rather than just telling you that you were useless.

That didn't go unnoticed either.

"So, uh, are we gonna talk about how the L.T. has like...completely switched up on (Y/N)?" Soap said, approaching Rudy and Alex at the kitchen area.

Their eyes shifted to you.

You were with Alejandro, him timing how fast you were at taking apart and putting back together various weapons. You had a smile on your face as you spoke to the older man, the two of you in what seemed to be a very animated conversation, given the way your hands moved as you talked.

Across the room, was Ghost. Stood next to Price, but not paying a single ounce of attention to him. No, his eyes were on you. 

"I'll take whatever that is over them constantly arguing." Alex said, mouth full of his sandwich.

"They still argue." Rudy said.

"Yeah," Alex shrugged, "but not nearly as much as they have been. As long as it takes the pressure off her then I don't care."

"Pressure?" Soap questioned.

"She's not been a lieutenant for long, and...I just, I think there's something going on with her. She's not as bright as she used to be."

Soap looked confused, but ultimately set his eyes back on you, "Do ya know who she was engaged to?"

"C'mon man!" Alex responded, giving the Scot a hard thump, "is that all you think about?"

Soap shrugged, an amused smirk falling on his lips.

"I'm not telling you."

"What? She your girl and you just don't wanna say?"

Alex almost threw up at the suggestion. Sure, you were beyond beautiful, and you had the sweetest heart he'd ever known. But god, he could never think of you like that.

"Wha- ew! No, dude, she's like my fuckin' sister."

Gaz had joined the conversation now, finding the debate over your love life rather amusing, "there you go, Soap, I reckon you shoot your shot."

"Ya know what, Gaz? I think you're right."

"Get in there before Ghost does."

At that, the four men burst into laughter, tears immediately streaming.

You and Ghost.

Ghost and you.

Ghost and any woman.

Even the idea was completely, and utterly, hilarious to them.

You and Alejandro shared a look, before rising from your chairs, making your way over to the laughing men.

"What's so funny?" you asked, eyebrow raised.

"N-nothin', angel." Alex said, wiping his eyes, "nothing at all."

"Well, if nothin's funny, then you won't mind getting on with your training, would you?" a gruff voice came from behind.

The noises ceased, silence filling the room.

Ghost loomed behind, arms crossed tight over his chest, and eyes hard.

"Aye, L.T."

"Yes, sir."

"Affirm, sir."

The boys uttered out their responses, scurrying off to their respective stations and immediately starting on their training.

"Same goes for you, Reaper."

"Thought I told you already, I don't take orders from you, Ghost." you said, smirking.

With your chin held high, you walked in the opposite direction of your station, opting to sit at the mission table, feet propped up and leant back in your chair. Looking back at him, you threw him one more sweet smile, before picking up your knife, and beginning to clean it.

He felt himself going to retort, but stopped. He was letting you get under his skin...god knows why. 

But he was gonna put a stop to that mouth of yours.

Grumbling, he walked in the opposite direction, leaving you staring after him with a satisfied grin.

"You wanna stop winding up my lieutenant?" Price's voice came from behind you.

"I will when he stops treating me like I'm not worth his time." you shrugged.

Sighing, Price pulled a chair next to you, plopping down on it, "you're just new, love. He'll get used to ya in no time."

"But I'm not a rookie, John. I'm an L.T."

"Yeah, I know," he rubbed his brow, "I'll talk to 'im."

You shrugged, not really sure on how you were feeling. Sure, you wished Ghost was nicer to you, but maybe that was just him.

"What's up with you, anyway, big brother?" you spoke, changing the subject.

He smiled, throwing an arm around your shoulder, "not a lot, just glad you're here. Missed you, kid."

"I missed you too, so much."

"So, when are you gonna tell me what's gone on?"

"What do you mean?"

He frowned at you, giving you the classic 'don't play dumb with me' look.

You rolled your eyes, a groan leaving your lips.

"You know damned well what I mean, (Y/N). You were about to get married, and now you're not even together?"

"Please don't make me talk about it, not yet."

You pulled away from his grip, trying to stand up to walk away. He pulled on your sleeve, making you stumble. The small clatter it made caused the others to look over, their attention now on you.

"John, no. I'm fine, I...I'm just not ready to talk about it." you whispered.

"Promise me you'll come to me when you are? You're keepin' something from me and I hate it. It's not you."

"I barely know who I am anymore."

His expression saddened, and you mirrored the expression back, before offering him a small smile as you pulled from his grip, leaving the room with your eyes on the ground.

Price's head fell into his hands briefly, worry clouding his mind.

Something was going on with you, and your unwillingness to share your troubles was only causing him more heartache.

[lilietsblog]

someone please help

at this point it feels like the internet is gaslighting me about this. The entire google refuses to acknowledge the existence of the "frame or dare" aspiration goal except in "aspiration guides" that literally just copy the info from the game directly and don't explain shit. But that's fine, I cheated my way through that!

Now I'm trying to graduate early, and I have excellent grades and the top position in the after school activity, both with golden checkmarks. My skills are definitely high enough because I've already gotten 'graduate early' calls way back when (and said no bc I wanted to complete aspirations first, duh). But when I send my sim to school alone she comes back with a warning to "better shape up", even though she's done the homework and extra credit and all.

???

[blocksruinedme]

SMALLETHO WEEK STATUS: PENULTIMATE REPORT

(please let this be penultimate report)

Okay I have 11 hours to get these out in saturday my time zone and i am going to do it, or i'll take my me off and throw me in the lake (it's right there down the street I'll do it.)

You'd think they'd be done by now. You'd think given how many days ago they were first "basically drafted" they'd be done right now. But noooo, some bitch (me) decided the fic "deserve more" and there are scenes "they really need" and like fine yes I still agree but why can't they just be done.

Red Life fic:

the first three sections are about incidents after turning red than made etho go "huh" about joel. they serve their purpose, but currently exist mostly in the form i scrawled down on the back of another fic in my car after the dentist. I could def describe things more, add a little more reflection about their place in the double life ecosystem as they start murdering and burning

gotta make good kiss at end, and the last bits of lead in, and the little bit after

the main issues here is that i gotta go rewatch DL ep 4 from multiple POVs. at minimum i need pearl's pov of dying, and maybe check for some other people's reactions to joel's shit that are not in smalletho vids but in universe they would have heard. (if only i could shove knowledge of every traffic episode fully into my head, sigh. so much content.

so that's not too bad!

fuck me there's 36 [] around words i don't like/phrases that need to be replaced/etc. fml fml fml

LARPer au morning after fic

apparently i'm adding all this backstory, which means i got to take it out o the author's notes, which i hope will make it more appealing. it's mostly about the party that this is morning after, but it's joel pov and *very* focused on getting laid, he's kinda aware that a lot of shit went down for pretty much everyone else

i want to add a very quick awkward bit with joel asking jimmy about the party the night before, currently he's totally succeeding at making joel (who is very distracted) think he's fine. and it's not gonna get explained in this story, but i'm not setting up a giant mystery, it's just more of "joel missed some shit last night". if that upsets people... i'm sorry! i'm actually very new t writing fic but it feels fine? it's a 5k story, alluding to the rest of the world seems fine

then it's just, fuck holding my breath... 40 sets of []. many many many of them, when i have people look at them, they say "that's fine", and it's just me at "will i have a time to struggle for a synonym/rephrasing

Dear everyone who compliments my writing skill (which i love, keep on doing it)

i hope you are not comparing yourself to me. here's some reasons why i probably have a leg (several legs?) up on you

i am very old and have been writing in one way or another possibly since before you could write.

I legit used to teach sat prep in writing, i have been trained in this and made money on it

if you live like i do, when you are my age you will also have a pretty big vocabulary

i usually edit a lot. I get beta, i throw problem sentences and such at friends, i've gotten proofreading from actual professionals. If i published most of my first drafts, well. I might not get as many "well written" compliments (though i think my plot and characterization would be similar levels of quality, my voices not so much - i have google docs for the way people talks and go through my dialogue looking for places to change things. it's actually great. i could share it?)

it's wild that what is my most popular fic by 3x is the one that went from thought of to posted in <12 hours and thus had only quick editing. so, it's not alway from editing

i just never want anyone who doesn't have those things to compare themself negatively to me, y'know? That said I'm a hypocrite, I compare myself negatively to professional writers in other fandoms. So, do as i say, etc

am i avoiding getting back to writing? yes

back to joel talking about asking scott to help him get tarted up

okay one last thing, me being pleased with my writing - i am jumping between my early 20s larper au and my late 20s/30s burning man au, and i think i am doing a good job at giving age appropriate characterizations to similar version of the same characters. my 21 year old Etho feels 21 to me and my early 30s Etho feels early 30s to me. These ensembles are very much based on my own experiences so I've got a lot to work with, 60 year olds would be harder :)

[robcognitivepersonality]

The Mastermind & the Protector

How I get along with ISFJs as an INTJ

Space Cadet. That’s what you call me. And if I remember correctly, it’s because I’m spacey. I didn’t know what ‘spacey’ meant at first, but I figure it’s how I seem to be living in my own world up in the clouds. Well, in space. Fair. A lot of that space is empty too, I honestly don’t know what’s going on in my head. It does feel like there’s a lot going on though. I’m like Homer Simpson thinking of a monkey playing cymbals. Except the monkey isn’t doing anything, and I’m not doing any thinking… I guess Homer and I have a lot in common, come to think of it. There’s background music though, techno and anime BGM as you might guess.

‘Cadet’ though. Yes, I like that. A young budding military on duty adhering to an order he believes in. In uniform too. Bet I look hot in it. Holding myself to a high standard (whatever that means but everyone admires it). Acquiring a very particular sets of skills. Skills that make me a badass and respected across the land. I wield three swords. I don’t sleep, I wait. I am a space cadet and the next Hokage. You best believe it.

As I googled ‘Space cadet’ for writing this blog, I very recently learned that it’s a derogatory slang for one who deals with reality in a way consistent with being under the influence of (or “spaced out on”) drugs. One who forgets, daydreams, or otherwise is distracted from reality more often than most. Damn, did you know that? Wait — have you known that?? Were you ever gonna tell me?? You think I’m a flaky, lightheaded, forgetful person?? So I’m not a hot future Hokage with very particular sets of skills? All of that time together, I sat by you when you wanted company during your alone time. I listened to you blabbering on about work and family drama. I kept in all the dirt you’ve been so proud of digging out of others. I pretended to be friends with people you sent me out to get a read on. We were the dynamic duo. We were the best friends sitting in jail saying “Damn that was fun.” Fucking space cadet??

You know what? I don’t need you. I don’t even realize when you’re around. I tune out when you gossip about whatever I don’t give a shit. I keep dirty secrets because I know I’ll forget them. Don’t care! And those people are actually cool, okay. That’s how I get free blunts. Our relationship isn’t real. It never was, nothing is. Existence is arbitrary. Time is a circle. We survive and reproduce to keep the show going. The show that is consciousness reflecting itself through us as separate beings. Why would it emerge into lowly meat bags like us? It‘s caused nothing but loneliness and suffering. I don’t know, dude. I don’t know what makes you think I’m a space cadet.

Meh. Forget all I said. You know we’re still buddies.

I’m just so used to you telling it like it is. Like that’s cool, it’s great. Sometimes, you’re funny with it. Sometimes, it’s like doomsday is coming. Even then, you still make it sound kinda funny. There’s that mix of dry and observational sarcasm that only you and a number of other ISFJs know how to artfully slide into the conversation. It soothes me, it’s listenable. No matter how brutally honest, you’re not forcing it down my throat. You’re not trying hard to make a point. Truth just is, it’s not there to hurt anyone. Water’s wet and fire burns. If someone has a problem with that, they can’t be helped. Like I’m not gonna fight it. I know I’m spacey, so what?

That’s the thing that’s wrongfully misunderstood by the MBTI community. They think of you as this people-pleasing Mom carrying a tray of cupcakes who gets stepped on for the sake of harmony. That’s false. From what I’ve seen when things get *disharmonious*, when someone is throwing a tantrum or crying a river, you get the hell out of the way! Can’t get stepped on if you’re not in the way! Peace and harmony? More like peace the fuck out. In fact, you’re pretty good at not being part of any problem. Many times you end up standing next to me, enjoying the circus that’s happening with some buttery popcorn.

Things can get really spicy and emotional, and you don’t get caught up in it. Of course you’d help if the situation really matters. That’s just being a decent person. When you give advice, you don’t beat around the bush. A lot of the time, it’s just common sense. That can be such a weird concept to many, but you actually have a good idea of it. You’re a truth bearer setting people free, in theory. Again in theory, truth in itself doesn’t hurt anyone. What matters is how it’s interpreted. It’s how it reflects on the human beings involved. It’s how the information is received, and how people follow through with it. And I believe out of all the types, ISFJs are the best at delivering the message.

Maybe you picked up on this, so you’re tailoring your communications with me. It’s gotta be thanks to my laidback and no-nonsense personality, you get to drop that Fe veil down and talk straight with me. I don’t know, I’ll just take the credit. And you get to give your honest opinion about my shenanigans without repercussions. Yes, that porn stache never looked good, nor were any of my hairstyles. I don’t care. Getting a raw reaction from you made it all worth it. I’m at peace with you thinking that whatever I do is a bad idea. And with Extraverted Intuition-Extraverted Feeling, you’ve looked at how things turned out for others. So that critique of yours might be valid… and I’m gonna try to disprove you anyway. Between us, we know it’s all shits and giggles.

Sometimes brutal honesty is needed, sometimes diplomacy is. Sometimes it’s just not worth it, and best to let the world burn. Whichever way is most beneficial in the long run depends on the context. I know you’ll do your hardest to be as sincere as you can, unlike some folks who get off from delivering the brutality and not the honesty. Many times over we’ve made poor decisions because we jumped to conclusions missing critical information. You have the panoramic view to properly assess the full situation. What are the factors and who are the characters? How does this situation fit in the grand scheme of things? What are the ripple effects of these actions? What can be done for the betterment of the community? We’re messy conscious beings. We end up in messy spots. Your worldly curiosity gives you the power to help.

NeFe is what fuels that curiosity. Our lives are intertwined in this reality tapestry, and you like seeing where each of our threads came from and where they’re heading to. You want to see how this whole mesh looks like, its colors, structures, and material. You observe all of this from afar. Like literally physically taking a step back, standing in the far corner to see the whole thing without your shadow in the way. You want to see how it could all be better fabricated, how its kinks could be ironed out, and how you could be part of influencing the making of it.

"My mode as a writer is to layer different perspectives: the scientific, the philosophical, the political, the journalistic. When you layer them you get a really wholesome, interesting picture." - Michael Pollan

This mess that is society, in my opinion, is a circus. It’s a playground where I was given one chance to play. I’m promised a big prize at the end after I go on these adventures experiencing all that this playground has to offer. So yes, I too observe that same mesh standing at the far corner. We share the same view. We’re both in the shadows ninja-lurking and scanning what’s going on out there. It’s how we know what’s common sense. We join various subreddits, pick up random interests, build a network. For myself, I’d like to have an idea of how to navigate myself around. With Introverted Intuition-Introverted Feeling, I see myself as one of those threads. I foresee where they go, so I can choose one I like.

I’m the main character in my own a video game where I get to choose to do side quests. Being an INTJ makes me an introvert that FOMOs. “Why FOMO in the first place? Look at you. Every month you come with a new bruise, a band aid, or a gauze pad. How are you not dead yet?” I recall you asking. I’m a lone wolf on his hero’s journey. When it comes to people, I just want to know if they wanna tag along on my journey. At best, they become part of my pirate crew. At worst, respectfully, we don’t have to waste our time. It’s just potential drama I don’t need, ya know?

Well, no. You don’t know. You live for the damn drama. You’re always eavesdropping in conservations! Basking in the juicy dirt. Secretly wishing the beef escalates. You just love being in the know; bonus point if nobody knows you are. To you, life is like trashy TV. Literally Reality TV, it’s more than guilty pleasure. Yeah, about that whole curiosity thing and the power to help society I mentioned above…I’m not kidding. You wanna stay current with Internet beefs, and the latest on so-and-so just so you can be a step ahead of them.

It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there, especially in the office. Word gets around, so I should appreciate that you’re willing to spill the beans to me. So thank you for filling me in. I’ll be honest though, most rumors you’ve shared to me I’ve barely paid attention. I don’t care much about being in the know, except that it gets me on my moral high horse. I’m too good for it. No way I’m not gonna stoop down to the same level as those people. Especially Karen. I’ll tell ya what, that bitch had it coming.

OK fine. Not all of you are into gossip. There’s an infinite variety of ways you like to spend your time, most of them are things anyone can easily pick up, are logistically feasible, and doesn’t require insane dedication. It’s funny that the community calls you boring, when I’m kinda thinking you’re actually the one that gets bored easily. It’s not FOMO. We’re not doing anything life changing (or threatening) here. It’s whatever enables you to, uhh, unpretentiously nerd and geek out. Be it playing video games, building crafts, etymology, cooking, music, psychology, read books and comics, the history of bread, the list goes on. That includes vibing with friends, spotting plot holes, and laugh at ironies. If I can try to encapsulate who you are, you’re someone who understands life isn’t simple, yet low-key follows a cheesy basic mantra.

That kind of approach makes you really good at giving life advice. You listen first and know how to mediate. You’re like a social engineer or a casual psychoanalyzer. You’re objective and look out for the big picture. These are your gifts. You find what makes sense out of the nonsense. Real magic is discovering how the magic trick is done. Introverted Sensing-Introverted Thinking breaks problems down to the fundamentals and offers suggestions. It examines the situation from square one and excavates out until it finds how things started turning sour. It checks how things add up and come together. You analyze it all down to the nuts and bolts to develop comprehensive longterm solutions before anyone realizes there’s a problem.

Everyone carries their own beliefs and perceptions, but we can’t get anywhere if we can’t all agree. As an introvert, you’re not gonna waste your time arguing with people. Instead, you’re building a perspective objectively weighing all the factors. Complex problems require complex solutions. That’s why it takes a lot of thought, and why it’s best to look at problems from afar. The processes, systems, and people involved all deserve thorough fair considerations if we want to really fix things. We need crystal clear understanding of what’s going on before we risk making things worse. It takes time to craft up something helpful. It takes time to verbalize your thoughts effectively. We can applaud those who face issues head on. It’s honorable, but there’s a high risk of cloudy judgement and regress, getting caught up in the moment and lose the big picture.

"Basketball’s so much like life: if something’s going great, you wait a minute, it will change. If something’s going bad, you wait a minute, it will change. So I try to play things on such an even keel, knowing that things are going to change. You take the good with the bad; you don’t get too excited, you don’t get too down and sometimes that’s the hardest thing in the world to do when you’re in the midst of it, but that’s the best way to handle it." - Tim Duncan

All that’s wrong about the ISFJ stereotypes stems from bad understanding of the cognitive functions. Much of the MBTI community project their bad traits onto other types. Also, it doesn’t take many brain cells to figure that personality tests and type descriptions are flawed and incomplete. We can allow to have mental tendencies for efficiency, but we’re more than just one type. We’re complete human beings. Living is a whole brained activity. We can configure our brains to process information through a variety of cognitions which we see most situationally fit — some of us are better at it. Maturity, intelligence, and upbringing matter much more in defining who we are than type.

Let’s say we’re purely our types as INTJ and ISFJ, for simplicity’s sake. We would barely have any overlap in our thought processes since we don’t share any cognitive functions. In other words, our awareness live in very different parts in our brains. We would look at the same thing but interpret it very differently. While there are thousands of thoughts flying across our brains at once, we just can’t be aware of everything in it. To be conscious of all of them takes a high level of mindfulness and meditation. And ain’t nobody got time for that, we’re trying to survive here. We need to respond against danger quickly. We rely on what’s familiar and instinctually act on whatever pops in our minds. And that’s on top of what taints our perceptions such as our personal experiences, hardwired beliefs, cognitive biases, repressed subconscious, and internalized trauma.

We’re in a whole type grip, not just some inferior function grip. The truth is we’re sensors, intuitives, feelers, and thinkers all at once. There’s an infinite combination of ways to experience reality as it’s happening right here and now that our little brains cannot handle. Simplifying reality efficiently, not accurately, has been our surviving strategy as a species. We have evolutionarily developed heuristics and mental habits. For many generations our ancestors have managed to survive relying on certain cognitions that have worked for them. We’ve inherited these and through our own personal growth and neuroplasticity, we’ve developed our own thinking patterns. My cognition happens to most closely resemble that of the INTJ; and ISFJ for yours. We’re just evolutionary products of our environment.

We live in our own simulation. We couldn’t agree what color that dress was, and we fought each other over it! A trigger warning would’ve been appreciated for how that damn picture got us down to our survival instincts. Well at least that’s my take for why some of us take our personality type so seriously. We’ve suffered too much to have our reality questioned. Validating them helps us cope. We want our warped sense of reality to mean something. What we see has to be real. Treating our cognitive functions like they’re superpowers (just to get by) makes us feel a little special. And if we have to, we do a lot of mental gymnastics like calling ourselves rare, misunderstood, and shit on other types.

Equating Introverted Sensing with memory, routine, and nostalgia is too simplistic. At the dominant function, Si is much more dynamic. It’s a high fidelity microscope that looks at the underlying elements to piece together a big picture. Gotta get the basics down to be able to do complex fancy things. Gotta learn how to crawl before you run. Gotta sow the seed right for the tree to blossom. This is an attitude that welcomes growing experiences, opposite of being stuck with the old ways. Si is about developing and progressing. It may take some time especially about subjects you don’t know much about, but you don’t let things stagnate. You’d rather see how they unfold, constantly looking to reconcile with what you know. See what changed and what didn’t, form patterns that’ll fit future possibilities. Often times, you criticize how nonsensical traditions can be.

Think of memory as a recollection of information. It can be any kind of information. Logical, emotional, anecdotal, conceptual, anything. It’s data you need to look inward for. Our minds can only process what they know. Introverts particularly create internal experiences with those recollections, meaning forming new information out of old information. That’s imagination. It’s the product of memory. Introverted Sensing is detailed colorful 4K imagination that you get to experience and re-experience vividly. We have trillion dollar industries focusing on aesthetics because it directly correlates to creating fun experiences. Who doesn’t like fun? Fun truly is found right under your nose, well inside your head technically.

More technically, memory is a past experience that has become an abstract context influencing the present. Me having Introverted Intuition also means I value recalling my memory too. Like you, I look inward for past information. It’s just not detailed information, it’s not even in 240p. Imagine a beautiful Monet painting, but smudged to hell that all the colors blended into an ugly gray-brown that you can’t make anything out of it anymore. That’s me. That’s the explanation of my spaciness. Well I can adjust my antennas and tune my receiver to enjoy some clear pictures in my memories. But it’ll take a while and a lot of focus to filter out the noise. That’s how I introvert, being alone immersed in my head so I can listen and align my emotions at the right frequencies. My goal is to compose, using these frequencies, an internal harmonious symphony. I can scan a wide range, but I have my favorite presets. I may be “whatever” for a lot of things. But for the few things that matter, they matter a whole lot. And for the few things that I remember, I remember every detail. Otherwise for most of the time, the kind of memories I hold are themes, narratives, and trends. The thing is that they don’t change frequently nor vary drastically. There’s a few common nodes and presets that cover all possibilities. Like Christmas. Jesus has almond eyes in Korea and he’s dark skinned in Brazil. Japanese Santa Claus is just Colonel Sanders in a red fuzzy suit. They play “Let it snow” in tropical Singapore and in Australia where December 25th is the first week of summer. No matter where you are, some representation of a bearded old man in a red suit, a tree with white stuff on it, and “Let it snow” is all we need to present the idea of Christmas. And I predict that in 20 years, Christmas is gonna follow those same criteria. Minute details don’t matter. I reflect on my past days, and it all blends into ugly gray-brown. And it’ll be ugly gray-brown in the future. No matter what color tomorrow will bring, it’ll blend into ugly gray-brown. That’s the highly touted power of my Ni.

"This says… 'Bomb.' I don’t know if that is a noun, a verb, or an adjective describing my outfit." - Adrian Mallory, from Space Force

Ask me how my weekend was, I’d shoot out the thousand yard stare. Inside my head, I’m starring at an ugly gray-brown wall doing my best to answer how I feel about it. “Uhh, good.” I mean, I guess my weekend was alright. By then I’ve searched across the very edges of that wall. I’m too spent to evaluate what I want for lunch. Just surprise me. Am I hungry, you ask? Scanning my timeline of when where and how I was hungry and not hungry. Tallying up all of the data, I feel ugly gray-brown again. I do feel lucky that I spent more of my time full than famished. Biology says my body needs food in order to live. So after that round of thorough analysis, my cautious opinion on that matter is: “Uhh, sure.”

It’s shit like this that makes me value routine. I need routine! How did they come up that INTJs are allergic to boring routine? No, this is strategic! Routine is the product of efficiency. Routine is often the most straightforward and effective way to reach my goals. Routine becomes habit, giving me fewer decisions to make and more time in space. Get an INTJ out of their groove and see how irritated they get. I’m focused on something right now. I don’t want to think if I’m hungry, what to eat, and where to go. Just shove the damn calories in me. Get me what I got yesterday, like all the other days before. Killing my vibe, bro. Can’t you see you’re distracting me off my vibe here? I had the frequency and you made me lose it. All of my pairs of socks are black so that I don’t have to waste mental energy in matching them. Nobody’s gonna know, and neither will I. Seriously, who’s the boring one here?

When I get out of the house, it’s phone-wallet-keys. If something distracted me out of that sequence, I’ll forget something and won’t realize until after I walk out and lock the door. Everyday I make my coffee by pouring 60 grams of water heated at 85 degrees Celsius every 45 seconds. I set up my last burger bite where all the meat juice and melted cheese gather down at the toastiest edge piece. I feng shui my day-to-day so I can spend more time at peace with my ugly gray-brown state of mind. I’m just trying to get by and optimize my living experience like everyone else. Everyone has some kind of routine. We all need some sense of structure and control, so we can blissfully play in between. Peace is different for everybody. It’s built, not given. Who cares how boring or exciting that is. If someone doesn’t like how we do things, that’s on them.

The irony about being future-oriented is that my goal is to look forward of looking back. I hope to be gray reminiscing the good old days. I hope to have that moment where I genuinely feel that I did pretty good being a human. I hope to savor my last days imagining the ending credits scrolling up the names of those who influenced me, while playing highlight reels of my most badass moments. Where else will I look by the time I won’t have much to look forward to? I’m already doing this now! Yes I’m nostalgic, and it’s a privilege to be! They’re memories of times I’ll never get back. They’re shining moments in the midst of my ugly gray-brown world. That’s the root of my FOMO. I don’t want my life to look like a whole single uninspiring color. If it’s gonna have to be ugly gray-brown, then I want it to be a blend with millions of colors. I wanna make meaningful memories to tune back into and re-experience all the feels.

Extraverted Feeling is widely misunderstood as reacting to other people’s emotions, discarding the self for the group, and wielding that empathy superpower. Well, I’m highly sensitive of feelings around me. Locking eyes with someone is too invasive. I’m scared of running my own business because of what the Yelpers would say about me. I shut down or do my best to be invisible when I sense bad vibes. Culture and chemistry are important criteria for where I’d like to work. If the social environment is like a puzzle, my Fi is a piece trying to find its place in it. It can even change its form to better fit in. If you’re a social chameleon, I’m a shapeshifter. I figure what mold to model myself into. I’m not so sure about the whole sticking to my values thing. Like I don’t find it right as an American to be pushing my Western beliefs onto other people. When I travel, I pretend as if I actually lived there doing regular stuff. Don’t travel like a local, blend in and live like one. You bet I’d be paying attention to the local culture and traditions. Building my sense of identity is what draws me to the far corners of society and subcultures. It’s a curious case of studying my given existential space. I spend my whole existence trying to fit and thrive. So if I sense my presence isn’t welcomed, it hurts! That’s why I’m a champion for the misfits and misunderstood. Empathy to me is creating an internal experience that closely matches what others are going through using my emotional palette of a million colors. Having worldly knowledge and emotional intuition enables me to get into people’s shoes. That’s what it means for me to understand, by willing to get on the same frequency and share the suffering. I’m not a sociopath. Though sometimes, I can understand someone’s situation but I still don’t see why they’re being little bitches about it. And I can stretch my empathy to very imaginative levels. So if I still can’t emotionally meet where they are, it’s hard to be compassionate. They must be hiding something, they’re not being real with me.

"I prefer to win titles with the team ahead of individual awards or scoring more goals than anyone else. I’m more worried about being a good person than being the best football player in the world. When all this is over, what are you left with? When I retire, I hope I am remembered for being a decent guy." - Lionel Messi

That “F” in ISFJ is about managing social transactions like we’re in some sort of industrial complex of emotions. It’s about behavior governance, not just sensitivity to others’ feelings. It’s the actual moral compass pointing people at the direction of what’s right. Think of adhering to common decency, social contracts, and best practice standards. Or showing how we should treat each other fairly and respectfully, not kissing our little booboos. You too are free to call people out for being little bitches if they don’t meet those standards. It’s not like they’re that high anyway. But you can be really hard on yourselves for being the ones setting the example. Having this function doesn’t automatically make you a sweet guardian angel. You can judge harshly if someone’s being an asshole, and it might be projection if I were to call you out. Or you’re too jaded to even care, and have learned to laugh at the bullshit. Not much of an angel here. Nobody’s getting cookies.

To understand others, you don’t have to experience things for yourself like I do. You can figure it out using your head. Asking questions and tracing connections, formulating an elaborate schema with all that you know about humans. This can be a mix of scientific literature, street smarts, your own experience, and trash TV. Out of that spaghetti mess emerges great insights ready for anybody who wants to listen, I know I do. You know how someone is genuinely smart rather than trying to be smart? Like they take the time to observe and not allow emotions get the better of them. They have a high sense of self-awareness and are great at witty jokes. That’s how I look at you. Unlike that fake two-face stereotype, I find you refreshingly genuine. You understand there’s no silver bullet to life, and that we’re trying our best. You’re not being wishy washy, you’re just honest about not having clearcut solutions for complicated problems. I don’t sense you trying to be something else, you’re real with me. You’re the first to admit you’re not the most qualified. That helps me trust you. That and you being the more logical one out of us two.

That image of you always self-sacrificing for the sake of others is misconstrued too. Actually I find most ISFJs to be pretty self-preserving. Over extending yourself doesn’t add up when you tend to prioritize your own comfort. I get it, I had a Jesus phase too. Again, you just aim to be decent and not making situations bigger shit shows than they already are. Being logical means you don’t let your ego influence your thoughts. Everyone including you will be fairly considered. There’s nobody being put above or below others here. No judgement will be made until logic is sorted. Others follow a personal code. You follow a pragmatic philosophy. Like your own twist of the scientific method that involves memes and assigning nicknames to people you’ve never talked to. You figure what easy adjustments people can do to make their lives better. It’s always the small wins for you if I may add. Shooting for low effort, but making defining effects. Efficiency right?! Or productive laziness?

The point of everything I wrote here is to highlight that I fit the popular ISFJ stereotypes better than you do. Ask my friends, I’m an angel. My heart is so pure. I’m everyone’s big brother. Think a little more, and you can see how you possess some of those leet Mastermind INTJ traits. The ISFJs I know have their futures planned out. They’re in leadership strategizing and moving pawns around to improve chemistry and productivity. They’re big picture logical idealists who are ruthlessly authentic. There’s a lot we can relate here. I hope my described experience above resonates with you in some way. That under the pragmatic cerebral mind, there’s somebody who FOMOs wondering what little adventure they could embark on. We’re each other’s cool side of the pillow. In contrast, I think through about my FOMO ambitions to ensure I can realistically achieve them with practical means.

To answer how I get along with ISFJs as an INTJ, it’s tempting to say that it’s because we wholly compliment each other. And if we allow ourselves to see, we actually have a lot in common. When we realize we’re so much alike, it’s easy to see how you can be so candidly straightforward with me. And how I can be so open to you. We both can drop our respective veils and be our true selves together. We’re both grounded in our own ways. Plus we value the strengths we provide for each other. There’s a yin-yang thing going on. A playful back-and-forth of “be and let be”. The difference hinges on if we think first on our own interest or the community’s. These don’t have to be entrenched dichotomies. Sure a few of us won’t ever see eye to eye. But most of us are aware of our tendencies and strike a healthy balance. And the best of us can merge ourselves as individuals with the collective. We know how to unify both our logical and emotional thoughts, and enjoy both the content and context of our experiences.

I don’t believe I’ve reached that state of one-ness. All I can say is life has been a bitch. I’ve been beaten enough by it to the point I’m now appreciating it. And I feel lucky for it. Now at the age of 38, which puts me at midway realistically, I’m just glad to be at a place where I’ve done all that I’ve set out to do. Younger me would be proud of me, and I hope older me does too. For once I have no idea what future adventure is in store for me. And that’s OK. Actually that’s great. With all of the accomplishments I’ve accrued over the years, I don’t FOMO as much anymore. I’ve chilled out on being so future-oriented reaching my goals. I don’t have to be as much of an INTJ. Really I just stopped giving a shit, like how old people stopped giving a shit. That helped me end my suffering and being more honest with myself. I’m out of survival mode and am happily embracing my ISFJ side. Life’s gotta continue to tenderize my ass anyway. Best way to experience is to relax my butt cheeks and let it work those kinks. I’m looking forward to this stage of my journey. Maybe with this upgraded simulation, the best has yet to come.

Truth is just an agreed and accepted perception. When you think about how we’re trying to form it, it makes sense people would be so invested. It ties in deeply in how we view the world. If Extraverted Feeling was you adhering to social norms, Extraverted Thinking is me adhering to logical norms, or truths as best as we know them. So for me, relaxing my butt cheeks means I’ve learned to not be so anal about the truth. I was taught that Pluto was a planet. Somebody’s gonna disprove Einstein one day. Logical norms change, they progress. What makes sense now will be a mistake in the future. There’s no certainty, only data models and perspectives. That’s how I started to see logic as a means of building one new step at a time for us to walk on and move forward. That’s how truth started to be magical to me. It’s another adventure.

"I’m a human being who cares about my planet, who cares about people, who cares about the reality of our children’s future. The same way I needed a mentor, the same way I needed someone to motivate me, that became my reality. I want to be that source for Merry, I want to be that source for Dewey, who feel like no one can hear or understand them. And all they need is the tools to understand how to be great or either how to apply themselves. I started that effort when I was 16 with the idea that most influential role model for a child is a child." - Usher

Reality around me started to look more fun. The trees, the stars, the animals, people. There’s a math that connects us with one another somehow, whether it’s the global supply chain, evolutionary biology, or food culture. Rather than taking what life has to offer, I’m now appreciating it for what it is; what this puzzle always has been. I mean, a lot of it is just stuff, people, and animals. But it’s really cool. It’s the longest running show, much longer than the Simpsons. And I’m pretty confident One Piece will end before it does. I have so much to catch up. I’ll skip on what’s going on with the Kardashians…But did you know there’s people who’s spatial concept of the future is behind them, and the past in front? That we’re closer relatives with a tuna than a shark is? And guacamole is an anglicized word from an Aztec language that means testicle sauce?

Younger me wouldn’t have spent any time learning about things that didn’t serve his individual goals. I’m still like this now. My goal now is to give back. Building a deeper connection with others by learning about the world has helped me find my place in this reality puzzle. The happy version of myself looks like an old sage ISFJ Protector watching out for his community. Meaning to me is found by investing in the other life threads in this tapestry. I’ll honor those that helped me by paying it forward and help keep the show going. I hope to be a support watching our future unfold as a society. Whatever wisdom I’ve gathered from my experiences, it’s best for someone else to make good use of it. There’s no reason to keep it all in. I’mma start giving out life advices and telling stories of my mistakes. Who knows if it’s actually good wisdom, to be honest. I’m just a dude who has no place to judge for humanity. I’m here for the good vibes and memes.

[thehorrorsofhorror]

Shook (2021)

I've just purchased a Shudder subscription for the first time, and so I decided to kick it off with a Shudder original, Shook (2021) I had the highest of hopes despite the reviews, because there's nothing I love more than watching a social media influencer get their shit rocked, but DANG. This movie dragged for the first bit, I got 30 minutes in before I literally had to start writing down my thoughts while trying not to fall asleep. First few shots, cool! Really cheesy, but cool. I like the stills of the girl with the heel through her face, original- and I will be making that into an art piece shortly.

However, anything that's happened since the literal first frames has been so hard to pay attention to whatsoever. I guess the setup is that this killer has something against dogs, and so that's their main target, pet owners. We're watching the main character Mia home alone at her (bestfriends?) house dog sitting, we sit through multiple minutes of her scrolling her social media before she starts being harassed on the phone by our villain, Kellan (her boyfriend). This persons taunting her on the phone after stealing the dog, Chico. (If someone stole my big dumbass of a dog I'd be throwing hands instantly). After the premise of the film is introduced is where I had my first real problem with it, Mia calls the police because of the situation going on where she's met by an automated voice message saying: "Please stay on the line, you have reached the 911 call center, your call will be answered as soon as possible." THE 911 CALL CENTER? In what situation ever have you called an emergency line and been placed on hold? The literal only thing that could've improved this scene is if they'd given her some smooth jazz to listen to while she waited. Big scary phone boyfriend then tells her to hang up as soon as the police are finished jerking off, and then sets her up with a set of rules about not screaming or asking for help. He tells her that her dog sitting skills are subpar, and scolds her for her crippling millennial phone addiction. Then we're met with our first moral dilemma, who dies.. Lani or Chico? (Followed by this brilliant still)

Personally, I'd pick Chico to live.

"It's a simple question, your sick sisters dog, or the girl trying to sleep with your boyfriend." OOHH GETTEM. She picks to kill Chico, which is absurd, but we'll move on.

I can't contain myself when new age horror movies use phones as flashlights, this generation of horror movies has been replaced with an entirely new flavor of Idiocracy. (I'm hoping for the phone to die)

Now we're on to the next choice but our buddy Kellan gives her the chance to answer three questions, and if she gets them right- she doesn't have to make a choice and if not, somebody dies. Pretty fair! Off the bat, the first question is "what song has the rhythm for CPR" and Mia immediately tries to go to google on her presumably hacked phone, where the killers like "nuh-uh". (I guess no one is... Stayin' Alive) She then runs into the other room where she starts searching on her laptop, and the killer sends a video of her friend suffocating inside of a bag and hits her with Hey, CPR might help here. Lmao. What particularly stood out to me in this scene though, what I HAVE to mention is that not only does Mia not know this basic information, but she also does not known how to use a search engine. She didn't search, "What songs can you do CPR to?" she just searches "CPR" and is scrolling endlessly through multiple articles, that are of course not focused on what she's actually looking for.. before she finally finds it and yells out the answer in her final desperate seconds. The next question is "What temperature is considered a fever" and again, Mia is in desperation mode because she has no idea. My favorite part about this film so far is the killers absolute faith in Mia being an idiot. She desperately digs through her belongings in the bathroom before finding a thermometer and getting the answer last minute. The final question is where it gets interesting (Yippieee) "What were your mothers last words?" and GASP, how does my boyfriend know what they were?! Kellan teases at the fact that he was there to hear them, and I guess Mia wasn't around for the end of her mothers life. He then points out to her that for the last two weeks of her life, she was on a ventilator and unable to speak, so her final words would've been weeks prior, and Mia still didn't know. She's then forced to choose between her best friends, and one of them ends up dying. Lani then video calls her like "Hey girl omg we got you soooo good that was all a joke! We're all up in the attic, lol!" or some dialogue I really tried to listen to.. I guess Kellan was never the person on the other end of the phone it was Lani using a voice changer. What the fuck are these friends, Mia? Move on. This was all live streamed by "po$hgirLani" and as you can see, not for much:

Who made this movie and how old are they?

It is incredibly hard to keep up but after minutes of crying, she's on the phone with her sister, Nicole asks for pictures of Chico and then points out that she's watched the super successful live stream and is aware of ALLLLL the people in her house. Mia's pissed, because she should be, and demands the whereabouts of our little man Chico. Suddenly, the tone changes and all her friends on the phone are like hey get the fuck out of here and because of the prior gaslighting, Mia doesn't believe them even after this super cool visual scene we get

Wow this is a cool thing to do artistically in your movie!

Couldn't agree more.

And our super compelling plottwist... the bad friends were TOLD to do this to protect Mia from physical harm. (That's why Lani was taunting her happily and posting it on social media) Something splashes in the pool and we find ourselves with a Dead Lani, and honestly... I ain't mad. Round three commences, same rules as before. Mia grabs the knife to protect herself and starts hearing a voice (which I guess is just the texts read out loud) telling her to put the knife down and go into the living room. You see this voice as someone physically beside her, and then she discovers that the fire alarm has a camera they've been watching through. AND HOLY FUCK LET'S TAKE A LOOK AT THIS

AND TALK ABOUT THE ABSOLUTE WET NOISE THEY FELT THEY HAD TO ADD IN THIS SCENE.

Mia goes out to the living room where she finds a box of needles and is told to inject herself with all of them or Santi dies. (I really cannot keep up with these bitches, I'm sorry) Honestly though, this part felt unique and exciting, and credit where credit is due- this whole movies implied Mia's selfishness however she jammed them bitches right in there while the text timer counted down the SECONDS of the minute. She's running out of time and jams four of them into her leg at once and ADMITTEDLY I did a big cringe, this happens again with two more. Mia gets up and starts absolutely beating down the fucking door to get to Santi which is admirable after like 12 injections into her body.. then she finds all of her friends dead, I think? She gets a call from Jade who starts apologizing profusely and comes out with "Sorry, it was just a LOT of money." I guess Lani and Jade teamed up and got some serious bank off of psychologically abusing their friend Mia, but it's OKAY because they intended to share the money with her. I literally knew there was a reason I hated Lani this entire time even after it implied she was innocent, but to be fair Chico is probably the only character I like. Oh my god, it then shows a video of Lani being caught working at Whole Foods, and then depression crying because she likes to appear to have a lot of money and Nobody would follow a poor person.

An actual photo of my face watching this

Mia is going through the dark on a search for our boy Kellan, using her phone flashlight... (the battery did not die :c) She finds a closet and opens it, while holding up her defensive manicure scissors and this lil guy pops out

She moves on and finds a laptop with cameras on every part of the house, there she sees Nicole (her sister.. keep up) She calls her, I guess Nicole killed their mom (Just a fun little tidbit, it took me until this exact moment in the movie to realize they were sisters, because that's how little I could pay attention) because she was sick anyway. Nicole points out "Hey, you picked Lani over me." She tells her how it originally was supposed to be a game/joke but then she went through with it because lol fuck it, and how the moment she knew she couldn't trust her is when she lied about Chico.

"Covering up for your friends... I couldn't take it." Okay, we get it Nicole.. We don't like Mia, she is a bad sister. Oh SHIT, the sister is sick too and is mad that she didn't care for both the mother and her despite Mia not even having the knowledge that her sister is sick. OK. Nicole says that Mia has to break her leg in 5 minutes or less or Jade dies, I admire Nicoles creativity with these scenarios. She is one of the more creative horror villains imo. Nicole goes on MORE about Mia's abandonment to the family, then the video cuts to her with Jade and she's giving her some little stabbies in the leg. I guess Nicole can teleport also because I don't know how she went from the foyer to the living room with a hostage, but I digress. Mia is in a desperate attempt to break her own leg, she's got a baseball bat wailing on it, while simultaneously texting an uber driver that showed up to leave so her sister doesn't kill her friends, but Big Mike is having none of it.

oh boy

She continues beating the shit out of herself until she breaks a leg successfully, and then Nicole is all like I said legs not leg lol fuckin' nerd. (or something like that) so done with all of this, Mia hurls herself over the stairs railing to finish the job.. Go Mia! She's crying and screaming big when Nicole comes in and reassures her that Jade is in fact not okay and she has entirely wasted her time. Nicole's upset that she'd make this sacrifice for her friends but not her sister, then lays on the ground with her to chitchat about all the dogs she's killed during this process. Wow, seems necessary. Nicole goes on about her physical issues and how Mia ain't gonna help when she can't wipe her own ass before she tells her that she's in for a murder/suicide and she's about to wipe em' both out. EZ GG. Our boy Chico barks suddenly at the same time someone shows up at the door, Nicole warns Mia not to move before she answers the door to a friendly neighbor returning the dog. She grabs Chico from the man and sets him down on the ground, where Chico immediately comes back proudly covered in Mia's blood with a pool of blood beneath him. Neighbors like okay this is fucking weird and becomes nervous before Nicole comes out with her flawless cover story "It isn't what it looks like, it's paint."

Lord, please

When the neighbor starts asking how Mia's doing, they start mutually judging her dog sitting skills when Nicole tries to shut the door again and he stops it to ask to speak to Mia. Nicole makes the excuse that she's already left and he says "No she hasn't, her cars still here."

It looks like it's all over for Nicole when the first person with a functional brain arrives.

"She's got a ride, she wasn't feeling well" Nicole says to the man who still obviously does not believe her before she loudly exclaims "For fuck sakes" and just shoots dude in the chest. Right on the doorstep. Leaves the evidence there and everything because she's got bigger things to do. Nicole then receives a text and call from an unknown number with the same voice changer she used, she calls it out (especially for being a $5 voice changer) as Mia and it instructs her to look at Mia's profile. Mia's live! Going on about how her sisters a big mean murderer, holding a knife to Chico as a threat to kill him. Boy Mia, this was thought out, wasn't it? Nicole walks into the kitchen to find Mia before it becomes a full on brawl live streamed to the randos on the internet.

Nicoles winning because the advantage of her opponent having two broken legs, but eventually Mia comes in with a swift headbutt and claims the victory. Mia stands up on her broken legs (lol) with a walker, finds Chico and limps out the door to safety stepping over the dead neighbor. She trips, because what's a horror movie without a trip at a vital time?

And there goes the most interesting character in the film

With three minutes to spare I'm wondering what the hell could be left for us to wrap this up, and so we get a scene of Mia crying on the cement before BIG MIKE (our Uber driver who has been camping out) calls from his car and says "You Mia?" "No." Honestly, my uber driver won't even wait a full minute to find me if I'm standing across the street, so we stand Big Mike.

Nicole pops up for the final (but effective) cheap jumpscare to indicate the possibility of a sequel, and although I think the reviews are enough to prevent this, let me just say... Please, do not.

I'd give this a solid 6/10, and it is mainly because of Big Mike and Chico.

[flowgninthgil]

Pinned Post!

Current PfP from Taken form there, made by BeautySnake

All past PfPs can be found in my mess

I'm an openly anarchist person, probably from the same reality as you, and reblogs are gonna show that, but I also like arts and silly things, things that put joy in your life, but also things that allows you to see things from many different angles, all of those things that creativity only can give.

I use any pronouns by the way, literally, I usually take the exemple of cactuses, beats me why.

you know those things that are greatly limited by the fact that it takes time to create, the time you need to get the money that you need to keep on living?

We work to earn the right to work, to earn the right to give ourselves the right to buy oourselves the right to live, to earn the right to die.

Bat - > (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ) < - Bat

Anyway, this also serves for me to get some posts easely accessible 'cause I really like them and I like too many things to just search them back in the list, so here they go:

Thanks!

Always seek the root of the problem:

If you have an abusive family, this is a good number of advices to help you until you can safely leave:

Internet:

Artists.

Artistic Consent VS AI, Part 1: Glazing.

Artistic Consent VS AI, Part 2: Nightshade.

Privacy

People should try PiHole, I assure you, your privacy on internet matters.

I mean it, your privacy is important.

"Slow the Fuck Down"

Protexting private information can be hard, sorry

Cool things that internet allows you to do.

HTML is awesome.

Too many imbed for tumblr, switching to not-cool links from here.

Piracy.

Keep the Windows open:

Fuck windows, opt out those useless things

Fuck Google, here's some websites you won't find.

Google Algorythm is fucked and full of spam.

Twitter's Community notes are not Universal Truth.

Trick to get some disk freed up on your computer.

Fuck Spotify and the others.

The Cloud! Off-site SSD.

Please, take care!

Your body and mind matters.

It's OK to not be ready, or saying no.

Lazyness doesn't exists.

Learning how diet actually works is important, pizzas are supposed to be healthy.

Your posture matters, take care of your spine.

Breast Cancer CAN affect you, no matter who you are and what your biology is.

Know how you feel and what it means.

Say "Thank you" instead of "Sorry".

Fuck Depression.

Caring about others requires knowing about them.

Communication is key, in every interraction you can have, even the bad ones.

Look out of intersex people, especially at birth.

What is Ableism and what does people mean by it? (Thinking of things concerning disabled people from an Able point of interest.)

To Disabled Persons in the United States of Central North America, get a Abled Account.

Sex education is important for kids.

Explaining Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

Don't keep everything to yourself, it's not good for anyone.

Autistic lack of empathy.

Explaining Borderline Personality Disorder.

Down Syndrome does not keep people from being normal people.

Hey, people in rehabs and mental health facilities are people too.

It ends up making a very interesting point about disabled people.

Creation is an art!

AO3 & tips:

AO3 search filter.

If you don't private them, authors can read your bookmarks on AO3.

Compression Sleeves can help you when drawing.

Training is key! and this is awesomely simple!!!!!

Grey vs Gray!

From stories:

bittersweet, short, fantasy story.

Introducing a character:

Sci-Fy but it's not bad:

Changing your point of view.

Remarkable movie about Trans People!

Pokémon Lore!!!!

To Imagination!

Here's how to make fantasy names:

More fantasy world logic!

The Organic, the Mechanical, and the Holy.

But with reallife origins.

People need glasses, and imaginary people too.

Your work is actually Great.

It's about feminism and how all women are normal, but I think it can get you some useful bases on dressing up people.

Rude Compouds on Reddit.

Cultural mixity create great food!

Awesome person, horrible surroundings.

And History is a tool!

It explains,

Paper on cool alt people

Diversity of Arabic languages.

Exploring Music throughout history:

How bad can I be? I'm just building the economy!

And remember.

Did you know girls were awesome?

People lived here before you.

Bayard Rustin and the Civil Rights.

Former capital of the armenian kingdom:

Company town is not new.

Cool Dutch gay guy which tried his best to help during the occupation

Nazis didn't burnt book randomly, they knew what they were burning.

Fuckers and Nature All Around the World:

Helping people DOES help, don't prevent them needs in fear of scams, differences or such:

A little bit can do a lot for people.

More than anything, Welfare helps people.

I seem to have reached the maximum of links someone can add to a Tumblr Post... Can't even be a linklog on this tumblelog website! Anyway, here's the links and the name I gave them, they just aren't clickable:

Disgust is no reason to shame or be unsupportive. (Kinks and fetish are valid, because far-right is using them to bring you down.)

https://www.tumblr.com/bemusedlybespectacled/740639295563546624

Fuck racists.

https://www.tumblr.com/anarchistmemecollective/745001874298667008/anarchistmemecollective-willowdove

A Philosophy for Queer Labels.

https://www.tumblr.com/brightlotusmoon/736464664779702272/i-did-that-to-a-guy-he-wanted-to-be-a-wolverine

Learn from others around the world (Anarchy)

https://www.tumblr.com/fuck-yeah-anarchy/721841471755567104/zoe-samudzi-on-a-black-feminist-anarchism

Unlearning White Supremacy. (I guess some people need to.)

https://www.tumblr.com/anarchistmemecollective/746430184276836352/whiteness-as-property-pdf

You missed it out, but it's okay, we just have to give it to others to make it up. (about trans people missing out on growing up as a teenager.)

https://www.tumblr.com/idiot-trashpanda/746303006847418368/i-try-so-hard-to-get-over-this-because-i-cant-be

Cool story about how talking about sex is considered bad. (School director filming educational/humanising porn with his wife and publishing it on the internet without telling anyone getting fired for it.)

https://www.tumblr.com/theprofessional-amateur/738092201016492032/i-want-to-see-this-legal-battle-we-cant-do

Economy! (Seatle people burning up medical depts of people.)

https://www.tumblr.com/enkiduofvideogames/727566517643919361/thing-is-the-debt-companies-hate-this-because

Nature is beautiful:

Biology VS. gender norms. (Little informative drawings)

https://www.tumblr.com/obsidian-hollow-archives/733229447184089088

Fishes are not stupid, you know? (actually watched a documentary about it, fishes shows every signs of intelligence you might think of.)

https://www.tumblr.com/evergreenbutch/741135011848273920

Gretta Thumberg's growth. (lost the link :Sadge:)

Deep Sea livings. (Cool and dangerous in strange ways)

https://www.tumblr.com/plaguedocboi/729081806036647936/this-is-the-irukandji-jellyfish-which-has-venom

Science!

https://www.tumblr.com/supreme-leader-stoat/662522956249972736/i-love-the-pitch-drop-experiment-some-guy

TERFs and Nazis:

J.K. Rowling is both.

https://www.tumblr.com/joerojasburke/744953450298769409

You're not Destroying nature. (Big corps are.)

https://www.tumblr.com/anexperimentallife/736626826502356992

What is Blood Quantum? (American way to force amerindians to get erradicated.)

https://www.tumblr.com/anarchistmemecollective/713843341642563584/blood-quantum-was-designed-to-eliminate-native

Pearl Harbour on the Cost of Giving Birth in the USCNA (United States of Central North America)

https://www.tumblr.com/doubleca5t/742160965275172864/explanation-japan-bombs-pearl-harbor-which

Corporations are a Platypus. (Phineas and Pherb is awesome.)

https://www.tumblr.com/prettydumbloverboy/634121884908322816/corporations-are-a-platypus

& more to come

Redesigns of enby, ace, aro, and agender by @the-unicorn-nick, trans flag by @vampk1zzer, and colours from here by @caninophobia.

[erodasfishtacos]

~ MLB Curious Gazes ~

prompt: four different situations where people have run into or hung out with MLB!H - told from their perspective.

word: 6k +

warnings: language, mentions of sexual content

If you enjoyed this please - reblog, like, recommend, comment, and inbox me to chat about it!

please consider donating to my kofi - my work is FREE and it is a great way to show support!

enjoy!

-=-=-=-=-=-

The Doctor’s Office

Aubrey couldn’t believe her eyes as she sat in her uncomfortable, too small chair in the empty waiting room at the OBGYN office in the early hours of the morning. 

She was sitting alone with her baby boy sitting in his carrier on the floor - it was his nine month checkup and it was taking forever to be seen.

The woman was sitting, scrolling on her phone when out of her peripheral she saw an extremely - like extremely handsome man step into the area with a carrier.

Aubrey was a married woman but holy shit this guy was hot- without even trying is the thing. 

He had on a New York Yankees Nike hoodie and a pair of Nike athletic shorts with some calf length Blake Nike socks and trainers.

In the carrier was a fresh little baby, couldn’t be older than three months who was bundled up with a sunflower headband on.

The man was multitasking with a curly haired toddler on his other hip as he finds a seat a little bit down from Aubrey on the opposite side.

His wife was standing up at the check-in and of course it made sense that she was absolutely beautiful as well even though Aubrey could relate to how tired she looked.

The woman still had a small bit of her pregnancy bump left signifying that the baby was indeed very very new to the world.

She keeps glancing over at the man, he looks so familiar but she would remember if she had even met someone that handsome.

Then the context clues hit her, his hoodie, his toddler son was also in a little Yankees hoodie that matched his fathers and Aubrey googled quickly.

Her eyes flitted throughout the recent articles.

Styles’ Alleged $65 Million Dollar Bonus

Hot Head Harry Styles - how he managed to start three bench clearing brawls in one game!

Breaking Records and Bats - Styles manages to break his own record in the same season followed by breaking a bat in celebration

Holy shit.

She could help but watch them - this was much more interesting than reading a magazine.

Aubrey didn’t follow baseball but Harry had turned celebrity status and was this well known cocky dickhead to the media - women and men loved and drooled over him for his looks and his skills.

Right now, he sat down with his two babies - the boy looked exactly like Harry, it was quite unbelievable from the curly locks to mossy green eyes that was copy and paste.

Harry was currently tucking an applesauce pouch between his lips and guiding the boy's small hands to hold it for himself.

“Good job,  ,” He murmurs in the dead quiet waiting room as he tucks him further into the crook of his arm.

Harry looks up to his wife who joins them, she is a bit in awe when Aubrey sees him palm a bit at her bloated belly and whisper, “Y’look gorgeous today, mama.”

Aubrey couldn’t help but frown, she wished her husband did that.

YN sits down, leaning her head on his shoulder - Aubrey didn’t know her but she seems tired - of course she was a new mother.

The silence is broken when a nurse comes out and with an apologetic face says, “I’m sorry, we are running really behind today. It might be another thirty minutes,” before shutting the door again.

Harry kisses his wife’s forehead before wrapping his unoccupied arm around her shoulder, a flashing gold band on his ring finger.

Aubrey zones off for a little when her son wakes up, rocking the carrier a few times before he settles again.

She’s brought back to the couple when she hears a sniffle comes from Harry’s wife and his face turned towards hers, hand rubbing her shoulder reassuringly.

“Mama, she’s so healthy. There’s nothin’ to worry about, did a perfect job growing her in y’belly. I know these check-ups make you anxious but nothin’ is gonna be wrong,” He soothes, a near whisper because of how quiet the room is and he didn’t want to disrupt.

“I just don’t know if she’s been getting enough milk, it’s so hard to tell,” YN replies sadly, like she’s disappointed in herself.

“Y’kidding me? She’s our chunkiest baby - look at those little rolls. She’s on y’tits more than any of the boys including me,” He jokes softly, obviously trying to make her feel better.

It seems to work a little bit because she lets out a light giggle with a roll of her eyes, “No one is on them more than you.”

Harry shrugs unashamed before replying seriously, “Everything will be okay. She’s perfect and healthy.”

The curly haired little boy gets a bit squirmy with the wait after he finished his pouch, asking to be set down which his father does.

Harry is watching him carefully, his nervous but still adventurous little two and a half year old, as he toddles around the waiting room.

When he spots Aubrey and her carrier, he wanders over looking up her with wide curious eyes, he points at her son and squeaks, “Baby?”

Ever the diligent father, Harry is up and next to his son, Aubrey is a bit starstruck if she’s honest when he talks to her.

“M’sorry, he’s a curious little one,” Harry smiles at her, going to pick Ezra back up to guide him away from bothering her.

Aubrey waves her hand though, lifting the visor to show the sleeping baby, “Yeah, he’s a baby. That’s Dominic.”

The boy gazes at the baby before lisping, “Bry!”

Aubrey isn’t sure what he means but his father clarifies, “You’re right, Dominic is a baby just like your little sister Briar.”

“Okay,” Ezra shrugs and goes back to his mom to inform him of what he just discovered before crawling up and cuddling into her chest.

Harry nods, “Thanks for indulging him.”

“No pro-problem,” She stutters like an idiot and Harry smiles a bit like he knows but doesn’t say anything else before going back to his family.

A few minutes later when a high-pitched cry resounds through the room, Harry is carefully cradling his daughter who Aubrey notes looks nothing like him but like her mother even though her features were still so little.

“Shush, darlin’,” Harry coos with a soft drawl, leaning in to kiss at the newborn’s button nose.

Briar roots at her father’s chest, smacking her plump lips, and squeaking in frustration when she doesn’t find a nipple. It makes Harry chuckle before he glances at his wife and his smile falters a bit, “Sweetheart, did y’bring a bottle?”

Aubrey watches his wife shake her head, she is facing away from her so she can’t see her expression but gauging Harry’s it seems that she may be upset, “No, I completely forgot. I didn’t bring my nursing blanket either - I’m going to have to go the bathroom. M’being such a bad mom.”

The observer feels a pang in her chest, she can definitely relate to not always feeling like she is a good mother because of little mistakes she makes like forgetting diapers, buying the wrong formula, forgetting to bring a pacifier.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice is firm, “Y’not going to talk like that when s’the farthest thing from the truth. S’okay, we have four babies, we’re both goin’ t’forget things sometimes, okay? Here, let me help you.”

Aubrey wishes she had a husband who was as empowering, supportive of his wife.

He hands the whimpering baby over to his wife, he’s then tugging off his hoodie. Aubrey tries but fails to divert her eyes when his shirt rides up revealing  a glimpse of his taut abdomen and a light dusting of hair leading into his shorts, obscene tattoos covering his hipbones .

Harry maneuvers the hoodie over his wife’s shoulder, helping her tug down her loose shirt and nursing bra, and guiding his newborn to his wife’s breast until she latches and starts suckling hungrily.

“There y’go mama,” He whispers encouragingly before tugging Ezra back onto his lap to rock him a bit as he’s getting whiny - ready for a nap soon and not liking being in an unfamiliar place for too long.

-

Aubrey is buckling Dominic into his carseat when she spots the other family exiting the office. 

Harry’s wife looks much more relaxed, a smile on her face, and her arm tucked around her husband’s narrow hip, they’re parked close to each other, and Aubrey climbs into her small sedan - blasting the aircon.

She watches the parents strapp their kids into a massive, tinted and brand new cadillac escalade that was no doubt over a hundred thousand dollar car but who could expect them to be driving around a mid-level minivan?

After the kids are secured and they close the doors, Harry presses his wife up against it with his arm resting over her shoulder against the window. He is whispering to her, their mouths close before he ducks down to connect their lips.

His hand comes back to her deflating baby bump like he did in the doctor’s office, hand massaging the skin with adoration that was visible even to Aubrey as she sat in her car watching them.

Later on in the week, as she sits on her couch, a video pops up on her timeline. It’s a sports report she was about to skip until the name caught her attention. 

The sports reporter stated, “Harry Styles was fined an alleged sixty thousand dollars at last night’s game after getting into a verbal altercation when the second base man purposely tripped him.”

It flashes to the man she just saw in the doctor’s office in a form-fitting Yankee’s blue and white striped uniform with a helmet on as he ran at an impressive speed from first to second, stumbling when the baseman put out his foot.

Harry recovers quickly enough to touch the base to be considered safe. 

After that though, he’s pushing himself up and brushing off the dirt, then he’s charging towards the man who fucked up the play. 

He has no fear as he gets in the man’s face, veins on his neck standing out as he shouts. They don’t play the audio but you could tell Harry was cussing this man up and down.

It flashed back to the reporter speaking to another, “Nearly every team in the league reports that Styles is an absolute nightmare to play against from his skill to his downright arrogant and cocky attitude. He’s not someone I’d find myself wanting to hang around.”

“I agree with you there, Tucker. He has a right to be proud with all of his broken records and achievements but being a bit humble would do this man so good. I feel sorry for his wife and kids. He probably just spends all day bragging about himself.”

Aubrey clicks off the video, if only everyone in the world just saw the Harry Styles she saw just a few days ago - well they’d all change their minds on what kind of person he is. Especially what kind of husband and father.

--

The Charity Event

It was a charity event at Madison Square Garden in Time Square. 

It was for all Major League Baseball teams who had qualified for the playoffs and of course, The New York Yankees were there.

There were tables filling the whole stadium, extravagant in white linen tablecloths, multiple bars, and it was black tie dress code. 

It was a private event and it was not open to the public but after the dinner there would be awards given out and that would be broadcasted.

Nicole was there with her husband, Trent, the left outfielder with an average batting score. He wasn’t the most popular on the team by far - well everyone got outshined by Styles. 

She couldn’t help but be a little bitter that Harry had gotten a $60 million dollar bonus (the biggest bonus ever gifted but also the Yankees were not taking any chances at losing their star and their ultimate money-maker). Trent got a measly bonus of $100,000 which was nothing in baseball terms. 

The wives and girlfriends of the Yankees players did not like YN one bit. It really wasn’t fair because she was always lovely, kind, and friendly. It didn’t matter because they were all spurred on by jealousy of what she had.

Nicole couldn’t help by gaze at Harry as they sat at the same circle table towards the podium where the awards would be presented after dinner. He was in a sharp all black suit with a small team logo pin of the lapel.

She couldn’t deny how stunning YN looked in an absolutely stunning dress. It was a one-shoulder with sparkling black stripes against a tan background, it fit like a glove and accentuated her stunning legs with a high slit. ***

It blew Nicole’s basic black Gucci dress out of the water which made her even more infuriated at the woman. She knew she was being irrational and if she hated her so much, why couldn’t see stop staring at the couple?

Nicole could get away with it by looking past them at other tables but to be quite honest, the two were much too wrapped up in each other to be aware of any of their surroundings or people watching them.

Trent was off bullshitting with all the other players while the Styles’ sat at the table and Harry waited for people to approach him - like the cocky asshole that he was. He would give them a minute of his time before becoming visibly bored and returning his attention back to his wife.

As the appetizers arrived, Trent finally sat down with a grunt, giving his wife literally no attention as he dug into the salad like a slob. 

Across the table, Harry looked down at his plate, picked out all the tomatoes and stabbed them with his fork. He then brought his hand over to his wife who giggled and let him feed her the three little tomatoes for his salad.

“Don’t like tomatoes, Styles?” Henry, third-baseman, jokes as he watches him feed his wife without any shame.

“I love ‘em, m’missus just really like the little grape ones,” Harry shrugs casually - like that didn’t just sound like the most whipped thing that he could say.

Trent probably couldn’t even guess Nicole’s favorite color - let alone know something so minuscule like YN like the little tomatoes that come on house salads. 

Throughout the whole dinner, it was quite disgusting how infatuated these two were with each other - Harry had at least one hand on her body at one time - her thigh, shoulder, even cupping her neck in a way that was almost too intimate for the setting.

At one point, Harry notices that YN is a bit quiet - sipping on her glass of water and he pulls back from the conversation, murmuring, “Y’alright, mama?”

Nicole bites her lip hard at the cute pet name, feeling even more dislike towards YN - why couldn’t she have had someone like Harry?

“D’you think the babies are okay? Ezra’s been so anxious lately,” YN replies quietly, there were no phones allowed at the event and had to be left at home or at the door.

Harry kisses her temple, “Y’know Ezzie is good with m’mum, doesn’t get as anxious as he used to at sleepovers. Y’know East and Cash are probably on a sugar high.”

YN nods, agreeing and Harry jumps right back into the conversation but she notices that he keeps looking over at his wife to check on her.

Trent accidentally knocks her elbow hard and just grunts out a bland, “Sorry.”

The topic changed to traveling for games. Ellie, another wife of a player who was nice to YN were chatting about how stressful it is.

“I know, loading all three boys up is rough when we do decide to travel to games with H,” YN says to Ellie, a small smile on her face.

“Ugh, I know. Lily and Parker are the worst flyers! They usually end up throwing up or not being able to nap at all,” Ellie groans about her two little ones she has back at home.

YN let’s out a laugh that just irked Nicole to not end.

“It's going to be even harder when we have more kids,” YN laments like she’s bothered.

“Oh? More kids?” Ellie squeaks with excitement, clapping her hands together.

Nicole reaches a breaking point, jumping into the chat,“Really? More kids? Don’t you think you should focus on the ones you have? Or do you think because your husband makes an unfair amount of money, you can just have as many as you want? Hire nannies and act like you take care of them?”

Before YN frowns, about to respond when Harry interjects with a booming, displeased voice, “First off, why don’t y’mind your own fuckin’ business. My wife and I can ‘ave any many kids as we want, last time I checked.”

He continues with tense posture, all of his previous calmness disappears, “Second off, don’t take it out on my wife tha’ your husband got a shit bonus, we all know tha’ why y’pissy. And don’t act like y’dont have a nanny for your one kid while we don’t nor ever will have one.”

Nicole sneers, “You’re a cocky bastard.”

Harry smiles in faux charm, “Of course I am, dear. I’ve got a fucking beautiful wife, three healthy babies, the most records broken in history, and the fattest bank account in this room.”

“Alright, alright,” Trent interrupts and it doesn’t go unnoticed that he doesn’t defend his wife. Instead he shoots Harry an apologetic look for his wife’s behaviors.

Harry just scoffs at the couple, rudely rolling his eyes, and tugging his wife in for a kiss that’s a bit too intense but he can’t help himself, smiles against her lips when his wife pinches his thigh playfully.

He says (not quietly at all), “All these women are jealous of you, hm? S’cause you’re so beautiful and such a fuckin’ catch.”

Nicole feel a sharp pang in her chest at the indirect comment - fucking asshole.

Deep down, Nicole is unfavorably realizing that somehow YN has it all - a loving husband, who is seemingly head over heels four her, three well-behaved children, and everything she could ever want - sitting on Harry’s $600 million dollar net worth, on top of being gorgeous.

She didn’t have that. Trent and her were on the rocks constantly, has definitely cheated on her, their kid is a literal nightmare, and they’re both so reckless with money they have no savings.

It made her jealous to see Harry whispering in YN ear to make her giggle- lips brushing her ear, his hand splayed across her bumcheek while they waited for drinks at the bar, she even hears them murmur ‘I love yous’ at least twice.

Then the lights dim, spotlight on a podium in the front of the room, an older man in a crisp navy suit taking the stage.

“It is an honor for me to announce ‘Player of the Year.’ The decision by the board of Major League Baseball wasn’t a hard one. The statistics and records broke continuously by the man has led us to only one option.”

Everyone watches all the other players in room deflate a bit because they realize the award is going to Harry yet again.

 “He is again breaking a record tonight, he is the first player to earn this achievement four years in a row. The duality of this man when it comes to pitching a curveball or hitting a homer is truly remarkable.”

It makes all the players even more irritated than they already are when they look over at Harry who’s sitting back, manspreading, hand on the back of his wife’s neck gently, and a cocky, unbothered grin.

Like this award wasn’t the biggest accomplishment he could earn.

One of the players from an opposing team at a different table mutters to one of his teammates, “Fucking arrogant asshole. The only thing this award does is feed his gigantic ego.” 

“Such a douchebag,” The other agrees, jealousy tinges his voice.

“I’ve most likely made it obvious who the the recipient is this year. The New York Yankees pitcher with the most strikeouts to date and top-scoring hitter - Mr. Harry Styles!”

The crowd erupts in applause, whistles, and a standing ovation because despite his unsavory demeanor - no one could deny he was a legend.

Before he gets up, Nicole watches as he cups his wife’s cheek - locking her lips in a kiss before she has to give him a playful shove when he tries to slip some tongue.

When Harry gets up to the stage, he shakes the hand of the announcer and takes the award from him, setting it on the podium.

“Fourth year in a row has a nice ring to it,” Harry gives the crowd a dazzling white smile that have his dimples digging into his cheek.

The crowd whistles and coos.

Nicole notices YN getting teary-eyed as she watches her husband accept the award.

“I want t’thank a few people tonight. I want t’thank m’wife and the mama of my babies - YN. She’s supported me from when I was in college with no other career path but baseball, unsure of if I’d fail or not, she stuck through it.”

She can sense everyone’s eyes dart over to YN who is still staring up at her husband - who is giving her a gleaming smile right back.

“We’ve been through some really hard obstacles in our first years as a couple but she’s the reason for all this - the fact that she always believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.”

The audience is respectful, quiet as he publicly tells a story of his deep love for his wife.

“I want t’thank m’three babies. Easton, Cash, and Ezra. They inspire me to be a better better man and a good role model - even though I think y’all agree they won’t be if they watch too much how I play when I’m out in the field.”

The crowd erupts in laughter at Harry poking fun at his own antics that he’s most famous for. He goes on to thank the team, coaches, Nike, everyone on the professional side of career.

When he’s done, everyone stands back up to congratulate him, patting him on the back as he returns to his seat.

Nicole watches as Harry sits back down, chuckling as he swipes a tear off his wife’s cheek, “Why y’crying, mama?”  

“I’m just so proud of you. Everything you do for me and our babies. The best husband, best daddy. My heart is just full,” She murmurs, clearly not meant for others to hear but Nicole was eavesdropping.

Harry’s eyes darken with something Nicole can’t identify but does notice his hand creeping a bit further up her thigh.

He leans into whisper something into her ear before she sees his lightly nip at her lobe before pulling back to join into the conversation.

-

After the lights come back up, Trent abandons her to go shoot the shit with other guys.

When she trails off to the bathroom, down a long hallway from the main area - she hears a rustling from behind a door labeled with a plaque that says ‘executive meeting room’.

Nicole pauses confused, all these offices and other rooms were strictly off limits during events obviously. She was confused to hear someone in a room that was not supposed to be in use.

Then she realizes it’s not just someone - it’s two people.

“S’good, sweetheart. Give it t’me so good.”

And she knows right then and there all she needs to know about who’s in that conference room and what they were doing.

“Be quiet, you’re being too loud,” YN scolds back, the walls were clearly thin because she could hear the exchange.

“Make y’cunt not feel like heaven then,” He remarks back, his voice slower and more soft than it would be in front of people.

God, Trent and her haven’t slept together in ages - let alone has spontaneous hookups or dirty talk like that ever.

When they all end up back at the table before the closing speech for the night, Nicole spots a nicely sized mark under Harry’s jaw that he’s wearing with pride.

YN had her lipstick wiped off and was much more clingy as the night rolled on which Harry seemed to thrive on.

As she and Trent are on their way home, Nicole speaks into their silence, “I don’t think our relationship is working.”

Not after she saw love and happiness at that event table tonight - she wanted that kind of love not settling for some cheating asshole.

-

The Little League Game

It was a cool autumn evening, it was an important game - if you could call it that for the little league team that Kayla had her son on.

The goal was to determine which team would move onto the playoffs, even though most of this was all in good fun because it was for eight-year-olds and it wasn’t serious.

Kayla couldn’t lie and say that she didn’t spend some of the time curiously gazing at the New York Yankees player who would come to watch his son play.

He wasn’t at every game due to his schedule but it seemed like he came to whatever ones he could with his wife and other three kids.

They had taken the bench on the bleachers right below her so she had an up close and personal view of the family when they’ve never sat this close before.

As the kids warmed up, Harry had his youngest son who looked to be about four sit next to him, squished between his dad and mom happily.

Their middle son was next to his mom on the other side, looking to be about six, and he was wriggling impatiently in his seat - eager to join the other kids in the jungle gym.

The baby girl who looked about a year and a half old didn’t look anything like her brothers - it was obvious that she was a spitting image of her mother (who was stunning).

She was curled up in her mom’s lap, asleep with her face squished against her mother’s chest - a pacifier suckling fiercely between her puffy lips.

“Mama, please,” The curly haired boy begs with greedy puppy dog eyes as he keeps glancing back to look at the other kids.

“You stay right where daddy and I can see you, yes?” YN murmurs, brushing back his unruly curls that where getting long, “And what are our rules?”

“Stay where you can see, don’t talk to strangers, and be nice to others,” He recites perfectly, Kayla was a bit blown away by his manners.

She watches baseball. It was hard to believe their children were so mild mannered when their father was the exact opposite - at least on the field.

Harry was rustling in the diaper bag for something as his son looked at him with wide, concerned eyes, “My baby, daddy.”

“I know, Ezzie. M’lookin’ f’your baby,” His father replies softly, the polar extreme of his normal brash, crude language that had a nasty tone like he couldn’t bother giving people the time of day.

“Daddy, please,” The youngest whines, his little hand grasping at his father’s tattooed wrist as he gets to his knees to help his dad look.

“Left inner pocket,” YN murmurs offhandedly as she makes sure Cash gets to the playground safely with his friends.

“Say ‘thanks mama’,” Harry coos to his son as he manages to tug out the baby doll and hand it to the awaiting little boy.

“Thanks mama,” He replies instantly with a gapped smile as he nuzzles right back into his father’s side as if he can’t get close enough.

“How are you feeling, Ezra?” His mother leans over to ask, keeping the baby close to her chest.

“M’happy, mama,” Ezra replies simply before starting to babble to himself as he plays with the babydoll.

Kayla watches Harry and YN swap a fond look at their son but she couldn’t help but wonder why they asked him that? He seemed fine so why did they feel the need to do that?

The game is going okay, Harry stands up to cheer and whistle when Easton hits a two-base hit but YN smacks his thigh and motions to their sleeping baby.

He looks at her sheepishly before sitting back down, kissing her cheek in apology, and peeking down into the fleece blanket to watch his daughter sleep for a moment.

Then it seems like Easton starts to lose momentum after he pitches two home-runs, his face pinched in disappointment as the other team scores but Harry is attempting to keep him motivated with encouraging shouts.

Easton struggles from then on, he strikes out for his final three turns, doesn’t catch two pop-ups, and his pitches start to get a little shaky. It’s obvious in his facial expression he’s getting upset because he’s breathing heavier like he’s trying not to cry.

Kayla feels a sense of dread for the little boy, his father who’s the best baseball player in modern day history is watching his son not do well during an important game.

 Because of what she knows of him from his temper and attitude on the field - she worries that he’s one of those father’s who will hound their kid for doing poorly.

“Oh, c’mon East,” Harry murmurs softly when his son stumbles over a ground ball before another kid picks it up and throws it in - their son smacking his glove down against the ground in frustration.

“He’s getting himself worked up,” YN notes as she watches her oldest kick his cleats in the dirt with a quivering bottom lip.

“I know,” Harry replies to his wife, “Wish he wouldn’t, he’s gettin’ upset out there, I can tell.”

“Sad?” Ezra squeaks, clambering onto his father’s lap and stating, “Hold me, daddy.”

Harry obliges easily, gathering up his small son before his attention is directed back onto the game - it was down to the last few minutes and unfortunately Easton pitched a ball that resulted in a home run for the other team.

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, running a hand through his messy locks before he’s setting Ezra back down on the bleachers, “I’m going to go talk to him. Do you want to meet back home?”

YN nods, leaning down to tuck the baby into the double stroller before buckling Ezra in as well, “I’m going to go get Cash and head out. Why don’t you take him out for some ice cream? I love you.”

“I love you too, mama,” He replies, kissing her softly before kissing both of his kids foreheads and stepping down the bleachers - ignoring all the adults who are staring at him with a starstruck expression as he heads to the dugout.

It cleared out fast, nobody sticking around after the loss that ended with them not continuing on to the championship, and Easton was sat on the bench - he was stoic and there was a hard, angry expression on his face that reminded Kayla of what she saw Harry look like when he played.

As she gathers up her son and makes sure he’s got all of his equipment, Kayla stands and chats to a few of the moms before she’s heading to her car - which happened to be parked next to a sleek Masserati crossover, who would let their muddy kid go in there? Rich people, she guesses.***

Kayla pops the trunk to her van with her key as they get closer, she notices that Harry also has his up and Easton is sitting on the tailgate with his eyes looking down at the pavement. She tries not to appear as nosey or eavesdropping as she tucks her items into the back.

“Sweetheart, s’okay. Y’did so so good tonight,” Harry assures his pouty son, he squats down to start to untie his son’s nike cleats but continues to make eye contact with him. 

“No, I didn’t, Daddy!” Easton whines, tears finally starting to bubble over the surface as he begins to sob with a shuddering chest, “I gave up home runs and then I missed ground balls!”

“Whoa, bubby,” Harry simpers after he tugs off the shoes and throws them carelessly into the back before standing up, “Y’did amazing, are you kiddin’? You did three innings of strikeouts, hit two of y’own homeruns. Y’played like a professional, way better than daddy.”

Kayla’s heart aches a bit when she sees Harry sit down next to him before hugging him harshly into his side, thumbing at the tears that are running down his son’s sweaty cheeks with soft reassurances.

“Daddy, are you mad I didn’t win?” Easton asks shakily, keeping his head buried into his father’s side and his small hand clutching into the fabric of his hoodie.

Harry chuckles lowly, “Daddy would never be mad at you f’anythin’, definitely not a baseball game. Remember what mama and I said? If at any point y’want to stop playin’, just let us know and we can find something else, yeah? Just like how Ezzie does art classes.”

Easton seems to calm down after a few moments of Harry rocking him and reassuring him of what an amazing son he is.

As Kayla drove away that night, her perspective on the all-star baseball player definitely changed. It was refreshing to see someone to not hold their child to an unreasonable expectation just like she thought Harry would.

--

The Campfire

Austin was the shortstop on the baseball team, he’d brought along his girlfriend, Chelsea, to the frat party to celebrate another win.

Everyone was in whispers that Harry was bringing his new girlfriend but nobody knew who she actually was because it was just a rumor.

It was surprising because Harry wasn’t a relationship kind-of man. He wasn’t into hookups much - always said he needed to focus on baseball.

Many of his teammates were envious of how many girls were constantly coming up to Harry at parties to flirt and try to get a dance in but he had always rejected them.

Harry had never showed interest in any of these girls at the parties, never seen him disappear upstairs with one or really entertain a conversation over a beer like they’d expect.

Chelsea pokes his shoulder and nods towards the entrance when Harry walks in with his arm around YN’s shoulder.

Most were in a little shock because they seemed like such an unlikely couple - YN had written some scathing articles about him and it was no secret he hadn’t been a fan of her.

“Holy shit, Harry’s dating YN?” Chelsea whispers to Austin as the group of party-goers cheer and whistle at the allstars appearance.

“Guess so,” Austin replies with a shrug, tugging Chelsea into the kitchen for a drink.

Later on that night, there’s a bonfire on one side of the backyard and a volleyball net on the other where a group was gathering to play.

Austin and Chelsea are on the opposing team of Harry and YN - she can’t help but watch them with curiosity because of what a surprise it is that they’re dating.

Even Austin has been watching because Harry’s acting in a way that he’s never seen throughout his time on the team with him.

Harry is just all over YN which was confusing how he went from not being remotely interested in the college girls to being a lovestruck puppy.

When she throws the ball up to serve, Harry reaches over and pinches her bum which makes her squeak and accidentally drop the ball which has him cackling as she glares at him.

As they change positions, he crowds up behind her, and massages her hips, leaning down to murmuring something in her ear.

She blushes wildly before smacking him off which has him laughing hard and kissing the back of her head before taking his position.

After Harry jumps and spikes the ball hard, earning them the winning point, YN turns around and wraps her arms around him to hug him tightly.

Harry wraps his arms around her shoulders, returning the hug before pulling back to kiss her lips in a soft peck.

Chelsea elbows Austin, “Who’s that and what did they do with Harry?”

Austin shakes his head, “I really don’t fucking know.”

The group migrates over to the fire as they might become cooler and the stars are high up in the sky, the fire flickering orange and yellow crackles of sparks.

Harry plops into a chair, pulling YN right onto his lap, and she wriggles until she’s comfortable. Chelsea notices him tap her thigh as if telling her to cut it out, too much motion right on his crotch.

Jake, one of his teammates, says in a teasing tone, “YN, I’m surprised to see you around these parts . I clearly remember a strongly worded article about how stupid frat parties are.”

YN takes it in stride, smiling as she replies, “And this party just proves my point.”

The group laughs easily, they enjoy YN’s sharp wit and comebacks as they get to know her. Austin can’t help but to notice how quiet Harry is.

Normally, he’s the life of the party, loud and making his presence known to everyone but not tonight. He has his chin propped on her shoulder and she’s cuddled back into his chest.

Austin can’t make out what Harry is saying but he’s constantly whispering in her ear and accentuating each time with a squeeze to her thighs.

“Are you guys official?” One of the teammates asked bluntly, a few beers deep by this point in the night.

Harry replies instantly, a possessive squeeze, “She’s mine and off the market, s’don’t even think about it.”

“Well I don’t think it matters because she’s turned down the whole baseball team by this point. I think everyone tried to ask her out at least once,” Steve jokes as the others agree.

“Tha’s m’girl,” Harry murmurs to her before teasing his friends,“Who’d want to go out with any you? You’re all dickheads.”

Everyone continues to joke around, it’s nearing midnight and that’s right about when Harry gets in his prime - like the party just started.

But not tonight.

YN’s eyes start to flutter shut as everyone banters and drinks around the fire, obviously not used to these late night parties.

“I better get this one t’bed,” Harry states after a few minutes, thumbing at YN’s cheekbone as she tries to stay awake.

“I’m okay,” She mumbles weakly, head still heavy against his shoulder.

“You’re coming back though, right?” Kyle asks expectantly, brows furrowed.

Harry shakes his head, “Nah, m’in for the night when she is.”

All the players look at him with a bit of a dumbfounded look, Steve shooting out, “Who knew you’d be so pussy whipped, Styles?”

Chelsea’s eyebrows raise at the crude comment, waiting with bated breath as Harry’s jaw clenches as it seems like he’s biting his tongue.

“Goodnight,” Harry says in a tone Austin has never heard before - agitated and almost…offended.

When Austin and Chelsea are sneaking up to his room for a late night hook-up, she overhears Harry and YN in his bedroom.

At first, she thinks they’re in an actual argument but as she listens to them - it’s not the kind of arguement she thought it was.

“You’re always the little spoon,” YN groans from behind the closed door.

Harry squawks, affronted before huffing back at her, “S’my favorite, please spoon me, darling?”

“You’re so fucking spoiled,” YN giggles as Chelsea assumes they move into a position where Harry’s the little spoon.

“Mm, I like feelin’ y’tits against my back, s’nice,” Harry hums with a boyish tone.

Chelsea doesn’t even realize she’s smiling until Austin drags her from her stupor. 

All she knew was that Harry Styles really really fancied that school reporter.

-=-=-=-=-=-

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[artaxerxesthegreat]

For You- Part 2

Demetri x F!Reader

A/N: Wanted to make a oneshot, ended up making a 2 parter.

Warnings: Reader is female, she/her pronouns used, some language used, NO MINORS PLEASE, vampire reader, mentions of anxiety, burnout, google translate, pining, slowish burn

SMUT WARNING: SMUT! Baby’s first smut piece, dom/sub (?), soft Demetri (?), penetrative sex, masturbation (f), uhm cream pie? I guess

A/N 2: I was freaking out the whole time I wrote the smut portion of this so idk what all the warnings are, I’m sorry 😣!

I only own Louis and Ishtar.

Word count: 7K

Recap

“Are you sure you want to leave the Volturi, Y/N?”

“Yes, Louis, it wasn’t the best experience in the world. Plus I missed you guys!”

“…Very well, Y/N.”

——————

—3 weeks ago on the plane; 2022—

That was the end of that conversation and I still don’t know why everyone was asking about whether or not I wanted to leave Italy. Sure I was depressed when I got home, everything seemed a bit duller, empty, and quieter, but I welcomed it. Plus it wasn’t like I was never going to go back, I found myself getting anxious every time it was time to go for our yearly visit. I would spend most of my free time with Felix in the training room, which meant I would see Demetri. We never really spoke, but we did spare- just to make sure I wasn’t slacking off. Once he saw my skill was pretty much the same he would excuse himself and it’d just be Felix and myself.

I asked Felix why he always did that, but all Felix would say is, “You should ask him.”

No help at all!

I feel the plane make it’s descent and I let out a sigh as I prepare myself for the ‘time of my life’.

After the drive we are presented to the Kings who welcome us with a meal waiting.

“Ah, our guest of honor is finally here! My dear Y/N, how are you?” He holds his hand out to me smiling brightly.

“Pretty good. And you?” I hold my hand out but pause, he tilts his head in confusion, “So, like, there might… maybe, be some things in here that aren’t… nice.” He keeps his face the same as I sigh, giving up completely, “I was talking mad shit about you, bro. You have been warned.”

“You wish to be paid?”

“Oh, no that- that was a total joke-”

“Hmm, you have done a lot for us, you should be rewarded for all your time, effort and patience with us. I know it wasn’t easy teaching certain members.” He sends a glance to the twins who glare at me.

“Ah, shit. They’re gonna make my stay here a living hell.”

“They will do no such thing.” Aro pats my hand reassuringly, turning to Jane and Alec, “Leave her be.”

“…Yes, Master Aro.” They say in unison.

“So creepy.”

“The magic of twins.”

“What?” I look down at our hands, “Oh, right. You’d think I’d be used to this.”

“One would think.” He smirks, releasing my hand. “Now, you all must be hungry from your trip, come eat.”

“You are most gracious, Aro.” Louis steps forward as we watch the small group of humans be ushered into the room.

“I’m not really hungry.” I step back as flashes of blood spraying all over Caius fills my mind, “I’ll eat later, if that’s alright. I kinda want to get started on upgrading your systems.”

“There will be plenty of time for that later, for now just relax, and feast.”

“Why don’t you take it to-go?” Ishtar snickers as the humans slowly realize something isn’t quite right, “They look ready to run anyway.”

“Ha ha, Ish.” I give her a flat look, shaking my head, “Enjoy, I’ll just be up in my room.”

“Very well, Y/N.” There’s disappointment in Aro’s face, but he lets me leave.

As the doors close I can hear the sounds of screams and make eye contact with the secretary, “Party animals.”

She just smiles at me as I move towards the elevator. As the doors are about to close, a hand stops them, looking up at the person I’m filled with anxiety as I see that it’s Demetri. He pushes a human woman into the elevator, with his signature stoic face as I stop her from falling. He pushes the ‘close door’ button, never breaking eye contact with me until the doors shut.

“What the fuck.” I hold the sobbing woman in my arms as she has a mental breakdown, “Guess I’m eating in my room?”

I walk her to my room once we exit the elevator and let her sit down on the couch by the window. I hand her a glass of water as she stares off into a void, “Great, she’s broken. Whatever.” Sinking my teeth into her she lets out a stared gasp and then a soft scream as I feed on her. Draining her I let her body gently lay down on the couch as I start to unpack my things.

A few hours later, Felix opens my door laughing at the dead woman on my couch.

“What?” I snap playfully at him as he stands over the woman.

“You must be the only vampire who finishes a meal, and lays them down as if they’re sleeping.”

“Eh, she helped me, I let her look peaceful. Just cuz I’m a monster doesn’t mean I have to act like one.” I smirk, handing him a wrapped up box.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a Happy-all-the-holidays-and-your-birthday present!” Smiling brightly up at him, he just turns the box over in his hand, “Say thank you and get out, Felix.”

“Thank you, Y/N.” Laughing, he gives me a hug and takes the body out with him.

Laying down on my bed I hear a knock on my door, “Come in.”

“Hey,Y/N.”

“Heidi, what’s up?” I lean on my arms trying to hide my smile.

“Where’s my gift?”

“Gift? What gift?” I play dumb as she playfully glares at me, “Alright, alright, geez. Here you go, let me know if you need help setting it up.”

“Thank you, lovely!” She holds her new phone package close as she gives me a hug.

“No problem. Oh can you give these to Jane and Alec, please? I’d rather avoid them for a while.” I pass her their phones, “Plus, they’re already programmed so they shouldn’t have any problems.”

“I think I can do that.” She sends me a wink walking out of the room.

“Alright, I just need to give the rest of the guard their new tech, have a meeting so they know how to use it, block out time to set up a new router, get them the secretary a new monitor, and delete the huge digital footprint they’re all gonna make because of Ishtar.” Pulling off my sweater I slip it on putting on a headband, “Time to go to work.”

. . . . . . . . .

“I knew I’d find you here.” Ishtar chimes as she stands over me while I try not to rip the wires I’m tangled in in the maintenance room.

“I hate this, Ish. I thought this was going to be easier- I had a plan! SEE!” I hold up my planner covered in yellow, blue, pink highlighter, “Everything was laid out, but of course it wasn’t going to be this easy- of course some of these people had to make this as difficult as possible! Like, what do you mean you don’t know how to turn on your phone?! I gave you a pamphlet! Now, I have to make a detailed presentation about the inner workings of every phone here, get a new server up and running, do an overhaul on the computers, finish building the mainframe for all the laptops, rewire their network, clean up their digital footprint, install cameras for the tours, AND THEN! Take a look at all of their vehicles, because we don’t need to contribute to the destruction of the ozone.”

“Oh, wow. That’s a lot. Here, stop moving.” She begins carefully pulling the wires off of me helping me calm down, “When do you have to have all this done?”

“I was hoping to be done by the end of the week, but I think it’s gonna be at LEAST 3 weeks!” I sigh heavily rubbing my temples, “I’m sorry, you guys don’t have to stay that long, but it’s gonna take time.”

“Hey, hey, Y/N it’s fine. We’ll stay for as long as it takes. I know you don’t like being here for long… maybe we can have a girl’s night and go out on the town?” Ishtar sits down next to me holding my hands in hers, “Take a small break before you jump back into this.”

“I- I can’t- it sounds great, but I need to get this done!”

“Y/N, you know you can’t finish projects properly when you’re this stressed.” I shrink under her gaze.

“I- I… I know. BUT!”

“Stop.”

“…okay.”

“Just take a break, make smaller plans for each day- don’t overwork yourself. You may be a vampire, but you look like you need a nap, you have bags under your eyes… how is that even possible?�� She leans forward taking in the dark color under my eyes, “There must be something more, what else is bothering you?”

“Nothing.” She gives me a look and I sigh, shagging my shoulders, “I just- it- it… I don’t really know when it started happening, but lately it’s… it feels like it’s getting harder and harder for me to leave this place. Every year we come here, stay for a day or two and go back home- but over the years our stays have been longer and longer, and each time it’s getting difficult for me to leave. I don’t know why! I hate this place, so why do I feel like staying?! Fuck! We were here three times last year for a week and a half! WHY?!” Feeling venom pool in my eyes I let out a frustrated growl covering my face with my hands. Ishtar just sighs hugging me, “What's wrong with me?”

“Nothing, nothing is wrong with you, little sister. Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

“I don’t want to.” I mumble into her shoulder.

“Too bad.” She laughs pulling me up with her. Groaning, I get up and walk around the castle with her. It proves to be a good idea and my mind feels less stressed, until we start walking towards the training room. The sounds of grunts, and skin cracking brings flashbacks to my mind, making me flatter in my steps.

“Let’s go back, Ish.” I mumble trying to pull her back, she gives me one strong tug forward as we stand in the doorway.

Looking in, we see that a few of the lower guard are fighting Demetri one-to-three, and they seem to be losing. Felix gives us a nod before turning his attention back to the fight; one of the guards seems ambitious and charges at Demetri. He tries to tackle him, but Demetri slams his elbow in the guard's back, catches him before he hits the floor and throws him over his shoulder- not once did he take his eyes off of the other two. Both were unnerved by this, but they know backing out isn’t an option, they spread out trying to see if they can attack him from both sides. It seemed like a good plan, but Demetri was two steps ahead of them and they’re laying on their backs groaning in pain as Demetri shakes his head in disappointment.

“That was pitiful.” Ishtar mumbles to me.

“It was.” I nod my head glancing at Felix.

“Why don’t you show them how it’s done then?” My eyes snap to Demetri who stands tall staring me down. A few seconds go by before I register that he is in fact talking to me, and I stumble over my words looking to Felix for help. He doesn’t help me- jerk.

“O- oh, I have work to do- I sho- uld- should go-” Taking some steps back I avoid eye contact, “Go- go do that- who else can? So, b-bye-”

“Come here.” His words automatically make me stop everything. He has this knack for making commands sound like threats, I don’t know how he does it, but all his words to me seem like he’s at the end of his rope and if I don’t listen- well, it won’t be good.

Giving Ishtar a pleading gaze, she gestures with her eyes for me to go to him. I nod my head at him, walking past the guards. They exchange looks of confusion and annoyance, but these guys weren’t around for my training my first year here.

I may not look like much, but I was personally trained by Felix and Demetri, and they made it their mission to make sure I knew what to do in tough situations- even if I am scarred for life.

Taking my position on the mat, we stand in silence as I take a few seconds to get into the right headspace. Rolling my shoulders back I never take my eyes off of Demetri.

“No way I’m getting slammed into again… a least, not like that-”

Demetri tilts his head at the sudden look of bewilderment on my face, I hold a hand up to him.

“Sorry, I was… thinking…ignore me, just- forget it, forget it. Let’s just get this over with.” Fixing my stance we wait for the other to make the first move. Squinting his eyes at me in challenge, I remain in my spot. I give him a look of my own and he looks at me with mild shock.

“What are they doing?” Ishtar’s voice is full of concern and confusion as she leans towards Felix.

“I think they’re making faces at each other.” One of the guards whispers to her.

“Why?” Another asks, clutching their arm.

“I have no idea, why don’t you go and ask?”

“I’m alright.”

“They do this every time.” Felix closes his eyes, sighing annoyedly at us, “Will one of you move?!” We both shoot Felix a glare for interrupting our silent conversation. Rolling his eyes, he throws his hands up walking out of the training room.

“Where are you going?” Ishtar runs after Felix momentarily taking my attention, and a blur of black and blonde rushes towards me.

“Shit!” I barely dodge Demetri’s punch, feeling the air brush past my nose. Losing my footing, I tumble backwards and duck under the kick coming my way. “Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit!”

Trying to put distance between us, proves to be fruitless as he keeps doing something that has me moving closer to him rather than moving away. He has complete control over the fight and I’m just moving where he wants.

The guards watch in awe as we throw punch after punch, kick after kick, and still manage to miss each other by a hair’s breadth. I know that if I’m not careful he will find an opening and I’ll either be slammed into a wall and pinned, or slammed into the mat and then pinned- either way that isn’t an ideal position to be in.

“Well… it depends really. Who doesn’t like to be pinned down every once and a while?” Unbeknownst to me I smirk at the thought in my head and this seems to distract Demetri, because his movements start to become sloppy, “What the hell was that? Is he going easy on me or something?”

“Stop smirking!” He sends a front kick towards my chest, but I catch his foot and flip him backwards. Much to my annoyance he lands gracefully.

“I’m not!” Finally, I’m able to create that distance between us. I watch on, as he breathes heavily with pitch black eyes boring into my red ones.

“Sai esattamente cosa mi stai facendo, cuore mia.” He pants out.

“I don’t speak Italian, Demetri! If you’re gonna insult me, do it in a language I know!” I yell, taking a step towards him.

"Mi insulti, non ricambiando i miei affetti." He glares at me, taking his own step forward. I don’t know why, but I’m not scared anymore.

I’m too angry to be scared.

“Good god, man. I can’t stand you!” I throw my hands up, giving up completely, “I don’t even live here, but you still manage to make this the most unbearable experience ever for me! I hate coming here because of you!”

I look at him with so much anger that I almost missed the flash of pain that crosses his face as he lets out a small gasp. Instant regret fills my body as I try to take back my words, but he just growls at me and leaves the training room as if he’s on fire.

After a few seconds of silence I look at the three guards, “What the fuck was that?!”

They mumble out ‘I don’t know’ and awkwardly leave the room with faces of embarrassment as if they just saw something they shouldn’t have. Shaking my head I sit on the mat holding my head in my hand, “I want to go home.”

—Present Day—

After that incident, the next two weeks were trying for everyone. It felt like everyone was walking on eggshells around us. If I entered a room that had small conversations going on and Demetri was there, everyone would grow quiet and just watch us- waiting for something to happen.

Nothing ever did. Whichever one of us would enter a room inhabited by the other, we’d just walk right out, but not before locking eyes with one another.

It started to unnerve me that I started to only venture out of my room to work on certain projects, but thanks to this new digital age I can work wherever I want.

Ishtar would try to bring me out, but that was short lived when Demetri was walking through the hallway and we made eye contact. I turned right back around and into my room locking my door.

By the second week, Heidi was apparently getting annoyed and managed to get me out of my room. I would just stare off in space wherever she placed me and he would walk in, not noticing my presence right away. But when he did he’d stare back with this look on his face; like he wanted to say something, but then would leave instead. I’ve just stopped trying to look hopeful for some kind of response and just go back to what I’m doing.

For the past week, Heidi has been trying to get me to talk to him, but I have nothing to say- I mean, I should apologize but he needs to too! It’s his fault!

This whole thing has pushed my work back so much that Ishtar and Louis are leaving today. I want to go with them, but I can’t, not until I finish with the upgrades.

A knock on my door pulls me from my thoughts,

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, come in, Ish.”

“How’re you doin, sis?” She asks, leaning on my door with sad eyes. I don’t reply, just raise a brow at her and she sighs giving me a small smile, “You want to talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about? You guys are leaving today and I’m stuck here until I finish my work. Pretty straightforward.” Laying on my stomach, I fold my arms under my chin, staring at the floor.

“I meant about what’s bothering you.” She closes the door and lays next to me on my bed.

“That is what’s bothering me.”

“I mean what’s ACTUALLY bothering you.”

“…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I turn my head away from her, knowing she’s not buying it. She doesn’t say anything, just waits patiently for me to open up. Groaning I lay on my back and stare up at the ceiling, “It’s Demetri, I said something to him in the training room and now I feel bad- but I can’t talk to him because he leaves every room I enter, but I also don’t want to apologize because what is said is true!… So now we just avoid each other. I thought that would be a good thing, finally free of my personal torturer, but now… I can’t… I want-…” I cover my eyes with my arm struggling to find the right words. Ishtar gently pats my arm making me look at her.

“Do you like him?”

“Oh, yeah, Ishtar!” I deadpan, “I like the guy who made my first year as a vampire a living hell! Can’t get enough of him! Seriously, Ish?!”

“I’m being serious, Y/N. Do you like him? If you exclude all of the negatives, how do you really feel about Demetri?”

Opening my mouth I find that I have no words. Closing my mouth I try to think about what she just asked. She pats my arm smiling, leaving me to my thoughts, “Just talk to him, I know one place he’d never walk out of.”

I send her a questioning look at her smiling face, “Where?”

“Come with me.” Getting up quickly I follow her to the Elite Guards wing. We pass Jane’s room, Alec’s room, and stop at Felix’s door. Knocking lightly, he opens it with a quirked brow.

“Yes?”

“Estne in cubiculo suo?” Ishtar points down the hall, causing Felix to lean out and look in that direction. Glancing back at us, something seems to click and he just smiles sweetly and nods.

“What language was that? What’s going on? Why is he smiling like that?” I ask as Ishtar pulls me behind her, I shoot Felix a glance and he just shrugs his shoulders innocently. We stop in front of Demetri’s door and before I can protest, Ishtar knocks with three strong raps.

The door opens revealing a very annoyed Demetri and before anyone can say anything she shoves me hard into his arms, slamming the door closed. We don’t move, trying to process what just happened.

“…what?” I breathe out moving away from him to the door. I tug open the door only for it to be slammed again, “ISHTAR, WHAT THE FUCK!? OPEN THE DOOR!”

“NOT UNTIL YOU TWO SPEAK TO EACH OTHER!”

“ISHTAR!” I start rattling the knob debating on breaking it down.

“TELL HER, DEMETRI!”

“This is not your concern.” Demetri’s voice is calm despite the anger brewing on his face.

“CLEARLY IT IS!” Ishtar snaps back, “The both of you are being ridiculous and you need to explain why she feels so drawn to this place- AND SAY IT IN ENGLISH!”

Demetri scoffs in annoyance at her words as I lightly bang my forehead on the door. It becomes quiet- minus my head thumps- and I hear Ishtar leave the door, walking back down the hallway. I wait a bit before opening the door to leave, relief fills my body as I move to walk out, but I feel a hand on my waist, gently pulling me back in the room and the door is pushed close- I’ve never felt so pitiful, but I’m 99% sure I pouted watching the door close before I could be on the other side.

Neither of us move, or say anything as Demetri wraps his arms around my waist. I wish I could say something, but I’m so confused and lost about the whole situation I just stand there. I feel him press his nose into my hair and that’s when I pull myself away from him.

“What are you doing?” I point an accusing finger at him glaring at his sullen face, “What the heck was that?! Did you just really- no, there’s no way you just did what I think you did.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Why do I- Well for one, you hate me! And for two, you HATE me!”

“I could never hate you.”

“You-” I stare at him wide eyed, mouth agape in disbelief, blinking quickly I rip him a new one, “You made my life a living hell! You and your endless training sessions, flipping me, throwing me, tossing me like I’m a sack of potatoes! Slamming me into walls or the floor! Pinning me down and then threatening me endlessly!” He winces at my words, “Trying to alienate me from Felix! Avoiding me as much as you could! Being annoyed by my very existence! YOU HATE ME! Not once have you ever said a kind thing to me!”

“That’s not true-”

“It ISN’T?! WHAT, SO YOU’RE GONNA GASLIGHT ME NOW?!”

“No I-”

“SHUT UP!” He snaps his mouth shut looking at the floor and I don’t know how to describe how powerful that made me feel. I was caught off guard by my own words, that silence fills the space as I try to regain my train of thought, “I just want to know why. Why do you hate so much?”

He slowly lifts his eyes and I feel something inside me twist with pain. His expression is so solemn and full of regret that I feel like giving him a hug and never letting go, pushing that strange feeling down, I wait for an answer.

“…I…I am sorry. You must understand-”

“-I must?” He gives me a look and I motion for him to continue, “Sorry.”

“You must understand that I was not expecting to ever see you.”

“…What?”

“You are something of a myth for me, I never in my entire existence thought I’d ever meet you, and when I did, I didn’t know what to do.”

“I’m so confused.”

“Did Heidi ever explain to you what ‘mates’ are?”

“As in friends?”

“No.”

“Uh, then I’m not sure. Maybe, I was always stuck on ‘we can’t go out in the sun.’ Are ‘mates’ a part of the rules?”

“No.”

“Oh, then no. She never explained that.”

“Dannazione, Heidi.” He sighs out, dragging his hand down his face, “Essentially they are life partners, soulmates of sorts, it’s rumored that every vampire has one, but you may never meet them. They are very rare.”

“Ooookay…?” He doesn’t say anything else and I just wait for more explanation. Sighing, I go over everything he’s said so far and it hits me like a ton of bricks, “Oh, shit. You… and me…? No. There is no way.” Not saying anything he takes a few choice steps towards me, holding his arms out to me. Freaking out I step away from him, smacking his arms away, “N- no, don’t do that. You can’t just- you can’t-”

“Y/N, please.”

My body stills at him saying my name for the first time, he says it with such sincerity, compassion and love, I stare up at him terrified. His expression is soft, while I’m freaking the fuck out; I’m backed into the wall, but he still gives me space to breathe.

“You can’t just drop a bombshell like that, and expect everything to be okay!” My voice sounds so broken as I slide down the wall, defeated. He bends down on one leg, resting his hands on his knee, nodding at me.

“I know, but I didn’t know any other way to say this- I haven’t known for the past 30 years…” I just look at him dumbfounded as he furrows his brow searching for the right words to say, “I was blindsided when I saw you for the first time. You looked so scared and confused, it made me wonder if you knew about us at all-”

“-I didn’t.” I huff out a laugh remembering when I woke up three days after Louis bit me, “I was so confused, but everything made sense after that… kind of.”

He smiles gently, sitting with his arms loosely draped on his knees, we both relax a bit and I mirror his posture.

“I’m sure it was not what you were expecting.” I shake my head and allow him to continue, “You weren’t what I was expecting… actually, no one was expecting you, if I’m being honest. But you were a quick learner and even though you drove everyone up the walls, you were never cross with anyone. You had very little fear of making your thoughts known, and I admire that about you… You did have me worried for you though.”

“Why?”

“You… You were very clumsy the first few years, and I feared for your safety- that is why I was so hard on you during training. I also knew you wanted to leave, and I didn’t know how to deal with that- you never stopped talking about how wonderful Ishtar and Louis are that I felt… I felt…” His voice grows soft as his eyes become distant with venom pooling inside them.

“Demetri?” I try to get him to look at me, but he covers his face in his hands, shaking his head. Moving to sit on my knees, I pull his hands from his face, and the sight breaks my heart, “Oh, Demetri.”

I cradle his face in my hands, rubbing my thumbs on his cheeks; closing his eyes he gathers himself placing his hands over mine, “I felt… like I would never be able to match up to them, and if I were to ask you to stay, your life would be miserable… I would never be able to make you happy, and you would just leave me in the end, resenting me for depriving you of real and true happiness… or… finding someone who could do a better job than me.”

“…So… to avoid that you thought it’d be a good idea to be a total dick to me, instead of just talking with me?”

“Foolish, I know.” He pushes his face further in my hands, pouting as he looks at the floor.

“…You know… It’s hard to be mad at you when you look so adorable.” I give him a lopsided smile making him cast his eyes to the side smiling bashfully, “Oh gods, stop it, Demetri! Now I’m going to hate you for a different reason- for being so fucking cute. Asshole.”

He lets out a laugh apologizing, “I’m sorry. I can’t help it. I’m afraid it comes with the territory, cara mia.”

“Jerk.” I smirk, squishing his face playfully. It’s my turn to laugh at his sound of surprise at my actions, “Sorry, not sorry hashtag.”

“Doesn’t the hashtag come before the words?”

I let out a gasp, throwing my arms around to hug him. There was a bit of force behind the hug and we ended up falling over, “You showed up to the presentation!”

“Of course I did.” He carefully hugs me back, not sure if he should, “I was there every year.”

I squeeze him tighter, shutting my eyes, thankful I can’t cry anymore.

“Y/N?” He pulls us up to sit again.

“Hmm?” Worry starts to fill me, thinking I’ve crossed a line, but he shakes his head cupping my face in his hand. Instinctively, my head turns in his hand.

“Can you ever forgive this foolish vampire, for every missed opportunity and cruel thing he’s done to you the past 30 years- all because he was afraid?” He asks with a hopeful face, but there’s fear and desperation hiding in his expression.

Now, I could’ve been a nice person and said, “~Oh, yes! Of course, my Demetri! I can forgive you until the sun burns out and nothing you can do will ever make me think ill of you!~” But he made my life miserable for 30 years, so I think I’m entitled to some compensation.

So, as a few seconds go by and I haven’t said anything, his hopeful face is slowly turning apprehensive; and it brings me great joy and peace of mind- I also feel like a piece of shit, but it was worth it!

I can’t stop the smile that comes to my face, and he doesn’t stop the scoff at my dig at him, “Yeah, it sucks when someone’s a dick to you.”

“I will admit I deserved that.”

“Yes, you did.” I nod, holding his hand to my cheek, “But you aren’t off the hook. Not even close.”

“What must I do to have your forgiveness?” He tilts his head, giving me his undivided attention. He’s so keen on what I have to say he brings his face closer to me, and it gets hard to think, “Name it, and I will do it- whatever it takes.”

The glint in his eyes holds my attention, the way his lips are slightly parted waiting to agree to whatever I say. The messiness of his hair from when I tackled him with my impromptu hug.

“Cara mia? Y/N, are you alright?”

His scent invades my senses, clouding my mind with less than pure thoughts; his attentive attitude turns to one of concern at my lack of response. He begins caressing my cheek, leaning closer as he does. My brain feels fuzzy and slow as my eyes travel down to his lips.

“Y/N?”

Removing my hand from his, I place them on the lapels of his coat pulling him closer. Placing my forehead against his, I close my eyes taking in the closeness of him, and his scent. Brushing my nose against his, his breath hitches at the action and neither of us move. Opening my eyes slightly, I see his eyes are hooded and pitch black, as he makes the first move. Tilting his head to the side, bringing his lips to hover over my own, almost timidly. I go the rest of the way, feeling his lips on mine- melting any doubts or fears either of us have.

He lets out a soft sigh wrapping his arms around my waist pulling me closer; the kiss deepens as I push him down to the floor straddling him, not once breaking the kiss. Carding my fingers in his hair, I give it a light tug causing him to squeeze my waist, pulling back I nip his bottom lip, making him moan and the sound is intoxicating.

Sitting up, I roll my hips against his, feeling his erection underneath me; leaning back down I capture his lips with mine, his hands find their way under my shirt, and quickly catching them I sit back up. He has a look of uncertainty thinking he may have done something to upset me, but it’s soon lust filled at my words,

“Oh, you don’t get to touch; I do.”

His mouth hangs open as I stand up and undress myself- he swallows thickly as I straddle him again and begin to grind on his pants. He places his hands on my thighs urging me to go faster, but I keep my same pace, I trail my hand down my front to my core and begin pleasuring myself. He screws his eyes shut, letting out a whine at the lack of skin to skin contact. Sucking on my teeth I grab his face with the hand I was using to please myself, making him look at me.

“I didn’t say you could look away.”

“I-’

“-I didn’t say you could talk either.” I taunt, putting my fingers in his mouth, “Suck.”

He does as he is told, letting out a breathy moan, he keeps his eyes on me, gasping as I roll my hips against him. Taking my fingers out of his mouth, I trail them down his chin to his neck, down his clothed chest back to my pearl. My hips start to spasm as I feel pleasure building inside me, Demetri bucks his hips up suddenly making me gasp out at the action,

“Don’t.” I warn, but he fixes me with an impish grin doing it again. I brace myself on his chest not being able to stop the moan that comes from me. Feeling his hand on my neck, he pulls me closer whispering in my ear,

“How can I not, when you use me so well.” A small whimper escapes me as I rub myself faster at his words, “Imagine how you would feel with all of me.”

My head rests against his as I try to have some composure, but he lightly runs his hands over my back, making me arch my back at the feathery touch, “D-Demetri.”

“Yes?”

I growl at the cocky tone of his voice- he knows what he’s doing and it’s irksome. He lets out a breathy chuckle rolling his hips up making me stutter in my movements, gripping my hips he keeps the pace going. Turning my face in his neck, my moans turn into pleads as I feel myself getting closer to my release.

“What is it, Cara mia? Tell me what you need, and I will let you have it.”

I bit my tongue in defiance as he is now- somehow- in control. He halts all movement making me hiss at him, laughing, he looks at the anger and lust in my face, “Oh, did you not want me to stop?”

Growling, I rip open his shirt- much to his amusement- and rip off his belt, tossing it somewhere in the room. Grabbing my hands, he turns us over, hovering over me; with one hand he holds me in place, while he undoes his pants with the other. My chest is moving up and down as I take breaths that aren’t needed, and he shamelessly watches as he rubs himself against my core. Thrusting my hips up, he chuckles, leaning down to bite my neck causing me to whimper.

“Such a needy little thing you are.”

“D-Demetri… please.”

“Please, what?” He leaves open mouth kisses on my neck and collarbone stopping at my breast, hovering over my hard nipple. He lets out a ‘Tsk’ sound at the lack of response, taking my nipple in his mouth, lightly grazing his teeth over it. Gasping at the sensation, my back arches off of the floor, his free hand massages the other making me a whimpering mess as he locks eyes with me. Moving back to my face he bumps his nose with mine smiling as he raises a brow at me, “Please. What, Y/N?”

“…I can’t think.”

“Hmmm, perhaps we should stop then.” His hold on my hands loosens as he pulls away from me. Grabbing his hands, I turn us over, glaring darkly at him.

“Don’t you dare.”

He meets my dark gaze with a triumphant smile, taking his hands out of my hold, he places them on my hips, lifting me up, aligning himself to my core. Slowly, he fills me up to the brim allowing me to adjust to his size; my eyes flutter shut at the feeling of him inside me.

“Gods, you are beautiful.” I feel my walls clench at his words, causing us to moan out together. Placing his hand on my stomach he pushes me back slightly “Look at how well you take me.”

I shudder at his words whimpering again as my walls clench around him, “Please, Demetri. I- I can’t-”

He shushes me gently, pulling me close to him, “I know. We will work on it.” He thrusts up panting out, “We have all eternity.”

I become a moaning mess as he snaps his hips up at a frantic pace. I can feel his ball sack hitting my ass, causing me to push against his thrusts. Our breathy moans fill the room along with the sound of skin hitting skin; the rhythm is all but lost as we both near our peak. Gripping my hip with one hand, he pulls me down by my neck kissing me sloppily as my nerves feel like they’re on fire.

“Demetri.” I mewl out as my muscles tighten.

“Go ahead, Y/N.”

My walls spasm and contract, making me see stars and collapse on top of him. Holding me close he thrusts a few more times before he says my name like a prayer as he spills himself inside me. I whimper at the feeling hiding my face in his neck, we lay on the floor for a few moments before I pull myself up, looking down at a blissed out Demetri. My arousal is building back at the look on his face, but before anything can happen there’s a knock on the door making us jump slightly.

“Glad you guys are having sex, but Y/N, Louis and I would like to go home now. Can you come say goodbye please?”

I groan, slumping down on Demetri at the sound of Ishtar’s voice; he holds me close laughing as he sits us up.

“She has no shame.” He quips kissing my nose.

“None what so fucking ever.” I glare at the door as she begins knocking over and over again.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N/ Y/N/N, I know you hear me cuz I can hear you- hell, we all heard you.”

“Come, cara mia, before she opens the door.”

“This bitch.” I grit my teeth getting off of Demetri.

“She already came! The fuck are you guys doing in there?” Ishtar gasps from the other side of the door.

“ISHTAR!!”

Demetri laughs as helps me get dressed, pulling me close he kisses me, “We can continue once she leaves.”

“… You sure? I mean you don’t have to.”

“Oh, cara mia, I’m far from done with you.” Leaning his forehead against mine he adds, “I have 30 years of pleasure to catch up on.”

Wrapping my arms around his neck I pull him close, kissing him deeply, nipping his lip as I pull back.

“You’d really do that? For me?”

“For you, I will do that and much more.” He leans down and I wait ready to kiss him again when it’s interrupted by Felix.

“Did he tell her he made her the sweater yet?”

“Nope!”

I look up at Demetri shocked as he avoids my eyes bashfully, “You made the sweater for me?”

“Yes.”

Crashing my lips against his he holds my waist tightly mumbling, “Y/N, your sister is waiting.”

“Let her.”

He smiles into the kiss walking us to his bed and the faintest ‘rude’ is heard as we start round 2.

The End (kinda sucks I’m sorry)

——————

Tag: @aquanova99

——————

Sai esattamente cosa mi stai facendo, cuore mio. =

You know exactly what you are doing to me, my heart

Mi insulti, non ricambiando i miei affetti. = You insult me, by not returning my affections.

Estne in cubiculo suo? = Is he in his room? (Latin)

Dannazione, Heidi = Dammit, Heidi

[deniigi]

How to Critically Analyze a Piece of Media

By Deniigiq (Almost Ph.D)

 So as a person who has spent the last 5+ years working in higher education in both research and staff capacities, I feel that it is my responsibility to provide y’all with some tools to help you critically analyze shit that you come across so that you don’t end up guilt tripping yourselves and others around you 24/7.

I am writing this because I see people constantly saying that people no longer know how to critically analyze something or don’t have critical thinking skills, but very few people actually have the time/energy/obligation to break down what that actually means and looks like for others.

The good news is that I apparently do have the time, energy, and honestly, the genuine concern to start to help people do that.

This is going to be a long-ass post.

I am not sorry.

It is not comprehensive.

I am not sorry for that either. This is just a tiny taste of some shit that you can and should really go ham with.

 So anyways, here’s how to critically analyze a piece of media.

 Critically analyze = asking questions of a text/media/object and thinking about answers to those questions.

THAT’S IT, PEOPLE.

THAT’S ALL. Don’t make it more complicated at this point in time.

 Here are some basic questions that you want to ask yourself about a text/media/object (hereafter referred to as a Thing) before, after, and during your consumption of it:

When was this made?

The period in which a Thing is made is important because the world during that particular point in time influences the decisions that went into producing the Thing.

Why was this made?

This question has layers. You will find many answers to this question if you pose it to anything that exists ever. And it should have multiple reasons because humans give many different meanings to individual things. There are often very few absolutely right answers to this question.

Who made this thing?

The layered identities of the people who create a Thing are always present in it. The important part is that if a person creates a Thing, then that Thing will have both insights into that person’s perspectives/beliefs/values/identity AND the limitations of those perspectives/beliefs/values/identity.

What ideas does this Thing include and what ideas does this Thing leave out?

This is a really basic question that you probably don’t think of to ask yourself often, but when you are presented with a Thing, you have to first identity what is literally there right in front of you (example: this is a movie about a superhero. The superhero is a tall, beefy white man. The tall beefy white man has 2 sidekicks. And so on and so on.)

THEN, once you’ve done that, you sit back and think about what is NOT there. (The tall beefy white man’s sidekicks are both white characters. None of them are woman. None of them are people of color. And so on and so on.)

Once you get to this point in your analysis, you start asking different questions about the Thing.

For each answer you come up with to the above questions, you ask yourself:

1. Why?

and

2. How?

Some questions you may find yourself making at this point include:

Why was this Thing done in this way?

Why does this Thing have that audience?

How does this aspect of the Thing affect this other aspect of it?

Why did the person who made this Thing choose to do it X-way and not Y-way?

How might the time and place this Thing was made in affect its creation?

So you may be saying to yourself at this point, “but Matt, this doesn’t sound very critical to me! This just sounds like a load of fucking questions.”

To which I will say: thank god you have finally understood, padawan.

Being critical of something does not mean that you or someone else hates it.

It does not mean that you or someone else thinks the Thing is worthless.

It does not mean that you or someone else hates the people who made the Thing or the people who like the Thing.

It simply means that you have asked questions about the Thing and have recognized what it is, what it is doing, and what it is not doing from a variety of different perspectives.

So that means that when someone comes to you and says, ‘this Thing is having X effect on its audience,’ ‘this part of this Thing is representing X idea in Y ways,’ or ‘this Thing is leaving X people out in its story, which has Y effects’ that ‘criticism’ isn’t actually a targeted attack on you as a person.

This is because Things are not personality traits. Fandom ideas and ships and headcanons and whatever else are not what makes you you. You are special and unique because of so many other things that you do and have experienced. The thing that you like does not make up the entirety of your person or identity, even if that Thing or hell, even if a specific person has a lot of emotional value to you.

And because of that, when someone criticizes a piece of media or an object, they are not criticizing you. Rather, they are explaining to you how a Thing is functioning through a lens that you often don’t have access to or haven’t thought of.

That’s all!

That’s it, folks!

And just so that we are clear, you can absolutely like a Thing after going through this process and finding that it has all sorts of limitations.

You may find that there’s a lot of shit about a bit of media/fandom/object that you don’t like, and you might decide that that shit outweighs the things you do like about whatever it is.

And regardless of the case, you are MORE than allowed to continue to consume a bit of media or whatever and say, ‘you know what? I enjoy this for a number of reasons. And I also acknowledge that there are parts of it that are not good for a number of other reasons. So now when I have fun with this Thing, I’m going to be aware of and sensitive to those less great parts, while also celebrating the good parts of it, too.’

That’s totally fine. In fact, that’s great. That’s amazing. That’s the kind of awareness that people are asking you to have when they ask for critical analysis.

 So. In conclusion:

Critical analysis is a tool that helps you think beyond the surface layer of an idea/thing/object. Being asked to think critically is not an attack. It does not mean that you cannot enjoy something or let it occupy an important place in your heart.

Critical analysis is a tool for everyone to use, and it is intended to help you understand how an idea/thing/object relates both to itself and the world around it.

What you do with critical analysis after that point is all up to your values and morals.

Anyways, if you have more questions, please don’t ask me. Ask yourself and then ask Google for more information or what to do next. That’s a whole different process called ‘researching’ and no one is paying me to teach you all how to research next. (...UNLESS???)

[tsunderedoctor]

Hi, I have a request for you if it’s ok 👉🏼👈🏼

Could I get Killer, Law and Sanji with an S/O who gets the opportunity to study abroad for half an year but she doesn’t know what to do? Like she wants to learn new skills since the school system in her country is outdated but at the same time she doesn’t want to leave for so long.

Basically I’ve got the opportunity to study biology in Sweden but I don’t want to be away from home for that long but at the same time I want to develop my skills (especially when it comes to lab work and the human body) and some encouragement would help a lot.

Thanks a lot and have a great day/night 🤗

Of course you can, Maria!!

That sounds so amazing! I understand that it can be scary, but like you said this would be a great opportunity! I would say as long as you know some of the language, go for it! It's a once in a lifetime opportunity, just remember to take care of yourself and not everyone is your friend! ❤️❤️

*I used google translate so apologies if sentences are incorrect!!

“Massacre Soldier” Killer

In a more modern!AU, I see Killer working at an mechanics shop with Kid. Both are apprentices for the owner and are learning the business side of running your own company.

He understands you wanting to explore your horizons and learning new skills, he is doing the same in a way, so he gets it. He will definitely encourage you to go, telling you that you can have a long distance relationship and you two can talk on Zoom during the weekend. 

Tries to help you learn the language, or at least the basics. Will say random sentences in the language, helping you with responding to people better.

Kid will lowkey find it annoying and complain about it, which just makes Killer want to talk to you more in a different language, convincing Kid he’s talking about him- 

“Hur mår du?” The blond looked over at you expectantly, knowing you practiced this response for a while. Giving him an appreciated smile, you responded. “bra, och du?”

Giving you a thumbs up, you cheered happily that you got the response correct. As you two continued to practice more, Killer’s red headed friend piped up, annoyed. “You two better not be talking shit about me in some language I don’t get!”

Shaking your head no at Kid, Killer made a quiet mumble to himself causing you to giggle and face away from the now angered man. “Som om du skulle veta..”

‘What the fuck did you say, bitch?!”

Trafalgar D. Water Law

Law is a medical student and an intern, so he really gets wanting to follow your dreams. He would also encourage you, probably the biggest one to push you to go. Would actually be disappointed if you turned down the opportunity.  

Will literally ask you everyday if you signed up and started the process. Hell, he even offers to talk on the phone for you if you get anxious, you are doing the program!

Will also suggest Zoom dates and texting more, since he is usually busy anyway, this works out for him too! Both of you work on scheduling time and it helps with your regular life too!

Please expect Penguin and Shachi to ruin your Zoom dates. Also Bepo (a dog in modern!AU) will try to sniff the camera and want your attention. 

“You promise we are alone this time?” Giving your boyfriend a questioning look on the screen, the man only made an audible sigh and nodded. 

“Yeah the idiots went out drinking and Bepo is asleep in his bed, it’s just us, babe.” Smiling happily that you two finally get alone time, you told him about your day and the new experiences you had, all the while he unnoticeably began to doze off. Eventually you had asked him a question, facing the camera after getting a snack, only to see the man asleep.

Sighing, you knew he had it rough doing the internship, so you wanted to give him credit for trying, but this was the sixth time your supposed “date night” ended quickly. Hearing noises on the screen, you perked up and called out to the large dog who began to sniff the screen. 

“Bepo! At least you remember date night!! Such a good boy, I miss you!!”

Vinsmoke Sanji

Sanji might be the most difficult one to convince. He wants you to live out your dreams and do something so amazing, but he wants to do it with you!

Will ask you if he can somehow come, if it’s not possible to go via school, he will find a way to go on his own. He’s rich both in the canon and in a modern!AU, so he could totally pay his way to get in.

Says he is doing it to learn more cooking skills, and in all honesty he could learn a lot, so it really is a win-win for him.

If he can’t go for some reason, expect a sad puppy dog hugging you at the airport. Also lots of texts, phone calls, and Zoom meetings, this man must be involved!

Grabbing your last suitcase and placing it on the luggage train, you turned to face your crying boyfriend. “It’s just for a year, right? It will go by quickly.” You tried to reason for both of you as the man nodded, wiping his tears on his sleeve.

“That’s right, and I promise I will talk to you everyday! You will never feel lonely!” Smiling, you reached out and gave the man a hug, it was tight and war, both of you knowing you needed it. 

“Thank you, Sanji, you’re the best boyfriend ever.” Giving him one last kiss on the mouth, you headed out, as he grabbed your hand, smiling nervously.

“Are you sure we can’t go buy another suitcase and just stuff me in it?”

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 10: BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN

y/n is back in brooklyn for the holidays. thinking that a stream will make her feel less homesick for cali, she starts working on her famously titled hentai.free.srv. what was supposed to be a relaxing stream turns into a special delivery about two hours in.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 2.2k ─── ❥ req: Here's one... You know those apps for delivery like Domino's or whatnot... What if reader is streaming Among Us with Corpse, and reader mentions they're hungry and Corpse offers to order them food, and readers like no no it's fine... Then there's delivery at the door (Corpse ordered beforehand) 

author’s note: fucky format is also back in town baby!!! also if you find any mistakes - no u didnt <3 thank u everyone for enjoying this story sm i literally cant believe how feral yall going strawberry cow was a nuclear explosion im still recovering tbh. got an ask a while ago and decided to incorporate it into myso. happy holidays everyone! myso will continue on monday!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous.  ҉   next.

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Indeed, being soft on any social media platform was the biggest disgrace and needed to be eliminated post haste. Moreover, it was a slippery slope - once you start flooding your timeline with cute imagery and heart emojis, what will stop you from posting inspirational Facebook quotes? Disgusting. If Rae were here, she would chide you (not you thinking about her as if she’s dead or something). For once in your life, you feel like you deserve it. 

Alas, you hope this little chaos you’ve caused is enough to throw everyone off. The stans, especially. You know the hashtags, you’ve seen ARMY scourging for info online with the same fervor and ruthlessness 1 Direction fans hacked airport security cameras just to spy on the boys. If you had any dirty secrets online, they are out to the public now - thankfully, besides the Harry Styles stan account (with edits and all), you have nothing. Though, now that you think about it, exposed nudes would have been better than your Punk!Harry edit receiving almost a million views. God, your life’s a fucking mess.

Your fans aren’t the only ones out for info - you, too, are trying to decipher Rae’s message. Code: Barbecue Sauce. The two of you had come up with it roughly two years ago, around the same time when you promised that if you didn’t find significant others by the time you’re 40, you’ll just marry each other. It was one of the many rules found in your friendship codex. Barbecue Sauce signifies information - an exchange of information. And depending on how it ends or begins (”So I’m sitting there” alludes to Rae, “On my titties” alludes to you), secret data on that person is given away, usually free of charge. 

But why? And to whom did Rae give away what? You had pestered her mercilessly and even sent some voice messages where you were crying. You were only crying because of a video of a grandpa smiling you saw on TikTok, but you are a snake, and so you put those tears to good use. If streaming doesn’t work out, you’ll just become an actress. Hollywood would love you. Your PR firm sure as fuck wouldn’t, though.

Rae was having none of it. She said you’ll figure it out eventually. Told you to channel your superior puzzle skills. You were quick to remind her that you can barely count to ten without having an aneurysm. Oddly serious, she admitted that she worries for you sometimes. Why only sometimes?! you demanded. She merely sighed. uttering under her breath something that sounded closely to “Boke.”

You leave her for barely a week and she’s already neck deep in the gay volleyball anime, hoodie and cardboard cutout and everything. Your life is falling apart.

But Brooklyn is nice. It had snowed when you stepped off of the plane. Thousands of snowflakes sprinkling into your hair, dotting your cheeks and nose. You missed this sight back in Cali. You missed your parents, too. 

Home cooked meals, old sweaters, your old room and about 40GB worth of old high school pictures on your computer. You went through them all one night. Some were stomach churning, cringe inducing nightmares. You were especially fond of those. Texted some of your friends that were still in Brooklyn, met up, decided to bake. Bad idea, Rae was the resident chef back in Cali. Besides laughing till your stomach hurt, and almost burning down your kitchen, nothing all that significant happened. Somewhere down the line, at about 3 am, half-way through a cheesy rom-com you had the overwhelming urge to text Corpse.

That’s where the problems really started. God, you missed California, missed being in the same timezone with a guy you hadn’t even met yet, how embarrassing is that?! You missed skating around and taking pictures of the beach in the setting sun, sending it to him, silently wishing he was with you to admire the view. 

You really want to call him. And to hang out with him. But for some reason, the thought of that springs up immediate anxiety and you shy away from asking. Him sending you cute good morning texts doesn’t help, either. Maybe it’s better he doesn’t know that you’re a blushing, stuttering mess each time you read “baby”. 

Late evening. Your stream is already set up, people are slowly trickling in and you greet them with a grin and a soft “Hello! Hi hi!”. You did your best to make your room a perfectly chaotic backdrop - led lights, an embarrassing amount of anime merch and plushies. You always try to balance out your weeb side by dressing hot as fuck for your streams - today’s inspiration just so happens to be egirls. Mostly because you watched one too many egirl make-up tutorials on TikTok, and also because you’ve been listening to Corpse’s song all day.

Yeah, no, who are you kidding, you dressed up this way because you were hoping Corpse was watching your stream. You didn’t forget your cat headphones, either. You know he likes them. You want to make him suffer. Perhaps then, finally, he will ask you out, so you wouldn’t have to.

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“I feel like,” You start when you put away your phone, staring idly at the chat, “I feel like I need a new name for you guys. Calling you guys after two years of streaming is just... weird, no? I also don’t respect men so I don’t want to call you guys. Like, so many creator’s have, like, a name for their fans. Uhm, Cody Ko has the chodesters, Kurtis Conner has, uh, folks? Kurtis Town? Citizens! Markiplier has mommy issues--” You can’t help snorting, “So, I’ve been, like, thinking - I know, shocking! - so I was thinking I’m gonna name you cockroaches. Because you’re grimy little shits impossible to kill. And also then I can use the legendary Minaj meme ROACHES!”

Your stream enthusiastically echoes ROACHES, making the chat swim. Yes, if anyone would enjoy such a name, it would be your audience. You’re as equally proud as you are disturbed.

“Well, anyway.” Leaning back into your chair, you throw your arms out with a bright grin, “Big dick is back in town, baby! If you noticed the backdrops different, it’s cuz I’m in Brooklyn now. Don’t ask me when I will return to Always Sunny, I don’t plan that far ahead.”

While Minecraft boots up, you decide to answer a few questions.

r u dating sykkuno?

You want to smack your head into the keyboard, but as it is, you can’t exactly afford a new one, so you refrain, “No, Sykkuno and I are not dating, we are just good friends. Uhm, I’m not sure how much I’ll have to repeat this, but, we really aren’t, so if the roaches could chill - Oh my God, that sounds so stupid, I love it - uh, yeah, if the roaches could chill that’d be great.”

the roaches lmao sounds like we’re a sports team

“Oh shit, yeah it does, uh-- maybe I can make like, jerseys or something. That’d be cool, I think.”

how disappointed are your parents with the way your life turned out?

“My parents are actually not disappointed at all!” You say with a cute little smile, “Uhm, they’re both really proud, actually. They’re glad I found something I love doing and made a job outta it. Dad finds my Youtube videos endearing. Yes, they watch pretty much all of my videos, unless I explicitly tell them not to. And yeah, with all the fucks and thirsting for anime characters. Uhm, it was very embarrassing at first, but I mean, after a while, shame just...doesn’t exist anymore, I guess? Funny thing about my parents, actually, when they watch my videos-” You eye catches a comment, “Oh! No, they only watch my Youtube videos. They don’t know how to use Twitter, thank God. Uhm, anyway-- when they hear a name they don’t know, like, I dunno, Dabi, or something, they google--” You’re grinning by now, eyes crinkling, giggling softly, “--who that is, and buy me like, merch and stuff. It’s really cute. 

can i be adopted by ur parents plz

will you and corpse ever collab?!

You were about to answer, though the man of the hour himself decides to do it for you.

Corpse_Husband: yes.

Okay, not to say your heart skipped a beat, but it totally did. With a pleased smile, you nod, like one of those bobble head toys sold at the dollar store. The motion is oddly reminiscent of Sykkuno’s own nod. Perhaps you had picked it up from him. The chat seems to notice.

pack it up, sykkuno

More questions pile about this mysterious collab you and Corpse are planning. Yeah, you’d like to hear more about it, too, since he single highhandedly decided one was happening right now. Corpse remains silent. Fine, keep your secrets. 

“Okay, guys, oh, I mean, roaches, Oh my God--” You’re covering your mouth, giggling, “-calling all roaches, calling all roaches, calm down. Everyone grab a snack and a blanket I’m turning up the music volume so we can all chill. Entering chill zone. Entering chill zone. Roaches, prepare.”

we are prepared

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An hour or so passes and you grow hungry. It shows with the amount of cakes you had baked in your server. Currently, you find yourself throwing eggs at the wall of one of the renovated houses, your face scrunched in concentration and slight frustration. 24 of the 50 eggs have been wasted. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some chicks around here?” you had uttered under your breath, until, finally, a screech - the egg finally spawns a mob. Your mouth falls open, “Aww, look!” You approach it, so small, walking in zigzags beside you, “It’s a baby chicken! Die, bitch.” The baby chicken is no more as you swing your bedazzled (you have mods) diamond sword. You’re cackling by the time the dust settles.

y/n is a child murderer

“Roaches,” You address your fan-base, spurring another fit of laughter - you can’t get over the name, “I think I’m like, forgetting that eating in Minecraft won’t actually make less hungry in real life.”

take a break and go eat queen <3

“Fuck no, we starve and die like men. Now I actually really need another chicken.”

Another twenty minutes trickle by and you’re trying to lure back a panda from the jungle when there’s a knock on your bedroom’s door. Whipping your head to the side, you slide down your headphones. At the same time, your mom pokes her head through the ajar door, “MOM!” You scream, “Get OUT of my room I’m playing Minecraft!” But your yell has no actual bite to it, as you don’t manage to hide your smile. Your mom laughs, doing some sort of sign language and motioning for you to follow her with her head. That or it’s some sort of performative dance. 

“I’m live right now,” You tell her, pointing at your screen. She knows this already, though, “do you want to say hi?” 

The roaches spam the chat with friendly hellos. You mom, quite impatient now, waves you over. 

“Sorry, roaches, mom needs something. Be back in a bit!”

Stopping the stream, you rush out of your seat and pleased she slinks into the hallway. “What’s this about?”

“Your pizza came.”

“My what now?” You echo, confused.

“Domino’s. You ordered pizza?”

“What? No? I was busy with the stream, I never--”

Thankfully, you had managed to grab your phone from your room before you exited. You almost choke on spit once you read the messages.

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You decide that it’ll be impossible to stream after experiencing what you had just experienced. You tweet out a quick apology to the roaches (God, that fucking name) and say that you had a breakdown but you’re okay. That is as a close to the truth as you managed to muster. It’s a sad sight, chewing and crying; your mom winced when she saw your state - disheveled hair and rundown eyeliner and everything. “D’aww,” She had muttered, caressing the top of your head, “don’t cry my little raccoon.”

If anyone was ever to ask you where did your chaotic nature come from, you’d answer with my mom. To make yourself feel better, you took a selfie - duck face and peace sign and the horrible 2000′s angle. Sent it to Rae. 

looking hot, her message read. 

thanks, was all you replied with.

You couldn’t just leave things as they were. Once you calmed down, you wanted to text Corpse, but how would you follow up the ungodly caps lock and screeching? Impossible. An idea sprung to mind, one that was brave. Taking the first step.

Instead of sending a text, you sent a voice memo.

“Thank you for the pizza, it was delicious.”

You voice still sounded a bit raspy. His reply was instant. Your heart skipped a beat. He sent a voice memo back.

“Glad you liked it, baby.”

He was going to be the death of you.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @slashersdream - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai - @truly-dionysus - @multi-fandom-central707

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙