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#I need more fics like THAT!
improbable-outset · 2 months
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I’ll forever think ab that one fic where Mig synthesised a serum that stimulates reader’s ovaries so he can breed her successfully 🫠🫠 im physically ILL
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magnusbae · 10 months
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To illustrate this post by @mayahawkse I would like to visualize to you the difference:
A post in 2023:
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A post in 2014:
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A zoom out of the same post:
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This is what a community looks like.
See how in 2023 almost all of the reblogs come from the OP, from their few hours/days in the tag search. Meanwhile in 2014 the % of reblogs from OP is insignificant, because most of the reblogs come from the reblogs within the fandom, within the micro-communities formed there. You didn't need to rely on tags, or search, or being featured. Because the community took care of you, made sure to pass the work between themselves and onto their blog and exposed their followers to it. It kept works alive for years.
It's not JUST the reblog/like ratio that causing this issue, it's the type of interaction people have. They're content with scrolling and liking the search engine, instead of actually having a reblogging relationship with other blogs in their community.
Anyways, if you want to see more content you like, the only true way to make it happen is to reblog it. Likes do not forward content in no way but making OP feel nice. Reblogs on the other hand make content eternal. They make it relevant, they make it exist outside of a fickle tumblr search that hardly works on the best of days.
If you want more of something, reblog it.
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fox-guardian · 1 year
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man this sucks (<- likes a niche character that hardly has any fan content)
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audhd-nightwing · 9 days
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13 y/o dick grayson, holding 9 y/o jason todd like a stray cat: bruce, i got a little brother!
bruce, doing paperwork for WE, not paying attention: that’s great, chum
. . .
bruce, several hours later: wait, what?!
dick: it’s okay, alfred said we can keep him!
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voiider · 19 days
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I need codependent Danny/Jason as a little treat (for me) and I love the idea of them having some sort of instant connection the moment they meet (bc ghost stuff idk)
Danny who's been dropped in Gotham with no way home (alt universe??) and he's been here for 36 hours and having a Very bad time senses a liminal being and immediately latches onto them heedless of the fact that his new best friend is shooting at some seedy guys in an alley and goes off about how stressed he is and how he can't make it back to the ghost zone and what a bad day he's been having (and it's important to note Danny is a littol ghost boy literally hanging off of Jason's neck as he floats aimlessly) and Jason is like "who are you??" And Danny is like "oh sorry I'm Danny lol" and then just continues lamenting his woes
And honestly ? This might as well happen. Nothing about this Danny guy(is he human?) gives Jason a bad vibe and tbh he's never felt more calm and level headed before so he just keeps up his usual Red Hood patrol and doesn't even think about it when he heads back to a safehouse and feeds Danny dinner (breakfast) before crashing for half the day
The only thing I actually need is Jason meeting up with the bats for some sort of Intel meeting and they're like "uhhh who's that" and Jason is like "that's Danny." And does not elaborate (very ".... What do you have there?" "A smoothie" vibes)
And it takes them a while to realize that these two have known each other for less than 12 hours and are literally attached at the hip
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jedi-starbird · 3 months
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Time Travel is my favourite trope and I think we need more fics where both Obi-Wan AND Qui-Gon time travel together because no matter when they get sent it's chaos. They're saving the galaxy and being physic flash-bangs to everyone around them.
like before Bandomeer?
The entire council is baffled to watch as Qui-Gon 'never taking a padawan again' Jinn has suddenly cut off his post-Xanatos depression tour to return to the temple and beeline to the creche with a frantic energy. His wild eyes immediately single out a fluffy, red-haired initiate.
"You." he exhales with a pointed finger, slightly ominous as he towers over the child. Said child starts vibrating with delight. "Me." he agrees, launching himself at the man. Qui-Gon drops to his knees with a thud that cannot be healthy. Obi-Wan's attempts to clamber into Qui-Gon's robes and maybe onto his shoulders is thwarted by the fact that Qui-Gon's massive hands are cupping Obi-Wan's tiny squishy cheeks. He stares at the initiate for a few minutes with an intensity that is starting to worry people.
Finally, "You're so small." Qui-Gon sounds like he might cry.
'What the fuck?' Plo Koon projects at Mace.
"I'm 9! That tends to be the case!" the child chirps back.
"You're nine." Oh. Ah. Qui-Gon's eyes are distinctively misty. He squishes the boy in a hug so hard he squeaks. Mace makes a series of gestures that imply the need for a head-scan. Depa obligingly drifts off towards the halls. Qui-Gon scoops the child up onto his hip and claims him as his padawan on the spot. The assorted council members and creche-masters burst into noise. Mace tells Depa to bring some space ibuprofen as well.
after Naboo?
Anakin is a little apprehensive of his place in both the order and Obi-Wan's life, but then one day Obi-Wan wakes up and is suddenly a lot less sad in the force?? In fact, if Anakin didn't know better he'd say he was almost giddy, but he's watched Obi-Wan try to pretend his world hasn't fallen apart for the past few months so it can't be that, right? And um, Miss Bant? He knows grief is a funny thing that affects people differently but he's pretty sure 'massive mood swing' and 'having full conversations with invisible people' is not...great? and you said to tell you if Obi-Wan got really weird in any way.
Anyway after a lot of medical exams, intense consultation with the archives, and a couple exorcisms, Anakin ends up being raised by his 'real' master and his ghost master. He is far more well adjusted emotionally and far less well adjusted for what counts as normal people behavior(not talking to thin air). When questioned on this, all he ever says is that he's talking to Qui-Gon. Isn't he...dead? Well, yes. Wait, he's a ghost? Ghosts are real? ...Well this ghost is real.
This starts a great number of existential crises among non-force sensitives and incredibly heated theological arguments amongst the Jedi. Whenever Obi-Wan is questioned on this, all he ever says is some variation of "the force got to know him for 5 seconds and kicked him back out." Mace backs him up on this even though that reasoning is technically blasphemous. Qui-Gon is having the time of his un-life. He's ascended to his final form, his sheer existence is a heresy, this is truly all he has ever aspired towards.
the Clone Wars?
The minute they get dropped back Qui-Gon immediately goes and haunts the shit out of Dooku. They have a signed terms of surrender and promise of info on the Sith Lord within the year. Only half of it is because Qui-Gon's giving Dooku complexes that are only perceptible to shrimp, the other half is because they now have a ghost spy that is not bound by the laws of physics nor spacetime.
Obi-Wan only nominally pays attention to this as he immediately goes and implements his 19 step seduction plan with Cody (he had to focus on something on Tatooine to pass the time). It fails. Spectacularly. Publicly. Ah right. Tatooine was not exactly the height of his sanity. Everyone in the GAR and temple is now riveted by High General and Councilor Obi-Wan Kenobi's attempts to go on a date with his Commander, who bats him away him like a particularly annoying stray and seems one bouquet of cactus away from committing mutiny. Anakin is worrying if it means his master knows about his secret marriage and this is some sort of really weird power play. (It is, but not in the way he thinks)
The next time Dooku goes after Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon spends a good few months appearing tear-stained at the edge of Dooku's perception and only communicating in terrible wails and discordant mutterings of 'padawan. my padawan. my little one.' 24/7.
"Wait, you're annoying Dooku into surrendering?"
"Oh no Anakin, we're crushing his psyche like a bug. :)"
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frownyalfred · 4 months
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coffeecatcraze · 2 months
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The fact that Vaggie knew it was a HORRIBLE idea for her to go to Heaven because there were so many things that could go wrong and so many bad memories there, but her girlfriend needed her and she couldn't say no to her cute face; the fact that the headstrong, optimistic, determined, powerful Princess of Hell knew she couldn't handle taking this huge step alone and the only one person she could imagine being by her side in that critical moment was Vaggie.
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The fact that even when she felt so hurt, heartbroken, and betrayed and tried for a second to deny it, Charlie never stopped loving Vaggie, still referred to her as her girlfriend, and had full faith that she was completely succeeding in her task (getting detailed sensitive information from a weapons-dealing Overlord) while Charlie herself was struggling and failing with her own.
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The fact that even with Charlie so upset that she intentionally threw a painful commentbat her (a comment with a subtle double meaning, though Charlie herself was definitely NOT thinking clearly enough to realize that implication and only meant to make a jab at the secret-keeping), Vaggie still wanted so desperately to protect Charlie out of love that she regrew angelic wings despite having been in Hell for years.
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The fact that one gesture from Charlie told Vaggie everything she wanted to say to her, and that mutual understanding was so complete that she didn't hesitate to run to her knowing she would be accepted because her girlfriend still loved her and forgave her.
The support, love, and intimate understanding these two share even when things are hard and painful is so beautiful. They've been together for years; they've been through so much; and it's wonderful to have that respected and portrayed canonically instead of dipping into that easy, fan-craved trope of dramatically heavy relationship angst. I'm glad they left that angst itch to be scratched by fanworks instead, because these ladies aren't that type.
They are powerful; they are determined; they balance and complete each other; and most importantly, they are so head-over-heels and experienced in their love for each other that it took one day for Charlie to deeply consider everything and fully reconcile with Vaggie, who never doubted her even for a second. Their relationship isn't just established; it's stable, and I love to see that for a wlw couple. <3
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olibensstuff · 7 months
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they can’t stand eachother they told me
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melodicwriter · 2 months
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When you read a fic so good that you’re beside yourself and don’t even know how to function
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tarantula-hawk-wasp · 3 months
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Obviously you might have varying opinions for specific fandoms but generally if you think across many of them which do you prefer?
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rawrsatthetree · 5 months
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Tired: Tav that’s good for Astarion cause they play therapist and give him support and space to heal
Wired: Tav that’s good for Astarion cause they’re such a disaster he has to get his shit together cause gods above one of them needs to be a functional adult
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Eddie's porn stash is a pretty conventional one. An 'if you've seen one stash you've seen them all' type. It basically only consists of skin mags, some of them kinky but most of them vanilla. Normal stuff.
The oddest thing in it is a two-year-old calendar. You know those sexy firefighter calendars? Usually a charity thing? A hit with the housewife crowd? Yeah. Except this calendar decided to branch out and include a bunch of sexy men from a bunch of sexy professions.
So, in this thing, joining the sexy firefighter is a sexy doctor, a sexy construction worker, a sexy police officer (whose month Eddie tore out and burned because fuck cops but don't ever fuck cops), a sexy librarian, and so on. They're all really good-looking, but none of them hold a candle to the paramedic.
It's weird. Paramedics aren't normally part of the traditionally sexy professions. It's messy and sometimes tragic, but lacks the high-paying glamour that doctors and nurses enjoy. Eddie's had his fair share of fantasies, and none of them involved fucking a paramedic.
Until two years ago.
The guy in the calendar simply is that hot.
There's not even anything risqué about his picture. None of the pictures go beyond "this dude is chiseled and shirtless", because veering even slightly past the softest softcore territory would scare off the little housewives or something.
(Eddie is actually pretty fucking sure it'd increase the sales, but hey, what does he know.)
The point is, there's nothing that obscene about the pic. Just a guy kneeling in the back of an ambulance, first aid equipment scattered between his powerful thighs, shirt open to reveal his sculpted torso…
Dark hair spanning across his pecs, over his abs, vanishing down his tight tight tight pants. Hips canting upward, bringing attention to the size of his bulge beneath the zipper. Broad shoulders, ripped arms and large hands, veins protruding across the back. A pretty yet masculine face, with a strong jaw and a straight nose, full lips, a smattering of moles going down his biteable neck. Voluminous, golden brown hair swooped away from his twinkling eyes.
He's got this look in them, this slant to his mouth. Like he knows he's the hottest guy in the calendar.
The one month everyone will go crazy for.
Eddie has become intimately familiar with that look. No joke, in two years it's made him crack his marbles more than anyone else has done in his quarter-century lifetime. When all else fails, November-paramedic has his back. It's basically his longest relationship to date, which sounds a lot sadder out loud (and it sounded fucking sad inside his head, too).
You might wonder why any of that is relevant now, as he sits on the curb outside of The Behemoth with blood trickling from his temple, his band giving their statements to one cop while another hauls away the snarling douchebag that clipped him. How does it play a part in this god-awful night out, you ask?
Well.
"Sir?"
Eddie startles, too caught up in the thudding inside his head, made worse by the buzzing crowd, to notice the man approaching him. He looks up, his gaze gliding past uniformed legs, muscular forearms, a curved neck and honeyed eyes appraising Eddie, and oh.
Oh God.
Eddie's breath sticks in his chest and his tongue becomes a cognate to sandpaper, because it's the paramedic.
It's the paramedic. From the calendar.
He's hallucinating. He has to be. He collapsed on the sidewalk, and now he's having one last weird sex dream before his brain finishes seeping out and he fucking dies.
November-paramedic crouches in front of him. Eddie continues to gape like he's getting ready to catch the peanuts no one is tossing at him.
"My name is Steve. I'm with the ambulance," November-paramedic says. "What's your name?"
Eddie makes a noise incomprehensible to most Earth cultures before his brain registers the meaning of the question and stutters out the answer.
"I- Uh- E-Eddie. It's, it's Eddie."
November-paramedic – Steve – smiles kindly. Heat prickles across Eddie's cheeks and neck. It's not the same as the cocky, sexy smile he's got in the calendar, but still. He's smiling. At Eddie!
"Hi, Eddie." He nods toward Eddie's temple. "That's an impressive cut you got there. May I take a look at it?"
"Yeah? Yeah. Um, g-go ahead."
As Steve sets down his bag and rummages through it, Eddie scours his face to confirm that it really is the guy from the calendar. To his chagrin, it is. There's no mistaking it. Those eyes, like liquid gold. That jawline, a weapon in its own right. Those moles, applied so skillfully it must've been by an artist's hand. That hair, coming straight out of a commercial for luxury shampoo. It's lying flatter than in the calendar, either lacking product or having sweated it out, but it's still glorious.
Steve, having finished washing his hands, tugs on a pair of disposable gloves. The plastic snaps against his wrist, sending a shiver through Eddie. It centers between his legs. Shit, if he pops a boner now…
"I'm going to ask you some questions, okay?" Steve says while pressing a square piece of gauze against the cut. "Do you know what day it is?"
"Eh, Thursday?"
"Do you know where you are?"
"The Behemoth."
Steve nods and, with a lopsided smile, asks, "And are you a patron or did you and your head injury just wander onto the scene?"
Eddie laughs. Loud, merry, and verging on too long. It wasn't even that funny. Steve seems pleased his joke was a success, though. Unless his smile is the uncomfortable kind that one wears when faced with the unhinged. Eddie isn't sure how much blood he's lost.
"No, I, like, my band…" he says, stammering like talking isn't what he does best. Jesus Christ, it's just a hot guy! Eddie has made a fool of himself in front of those plenty of times – no need to get flustered about it. He clears his throat. "We had a gig and, after, at the bar, some guys got into a fight. Got ugly, so we tried to leave, but… alas!" He makes a dramatic sweep of his arm, nearly clocking Steve. Steve expertly ducks away without lessening the pressure on the wound. Eddie soldiers on, not daring to pause lest he lose his steam. Hopefully his burning face is enough of an apology. "Fucker wasn't even aiming for me. He missed his intended target and struck me instead."
"Right. Did you lose consciousness after he hit you?"
"Nope."
"Good. Did you drink tonight?"
"Half a beer, at most."
"Do-"
"Eddie!"
Gareth's nasally voice cuts off Steve's question. The next second, he's materialized beside them with a slightly alarmed expression. "Dude, are you…!"
He trails off, eyes growing into dinner plates. There isn't that much blood, is there?
Steve looks Gareth up and down, a crease between his brows. "Is this your friend?"
"My drummer. Gareth."
Eddie half-expects Steve to demand Gareth leaves so he can do his job in peace, but nope. That kind, calm smile is back. He even gives him one of those little upward-nods 'cool guys' like to do.
"What's up, Gareth? I'm Steve; I'm with the ambulance. Just making sure Eddie won't keel over later tonight."
"Uh huh…" Gareth kneels opposite Steve. He's smiling too, but his is shit eating. Eddie frowns in confusion, because what does Gareth have to be happy about? He was freaking out right after Eddie got hit, but now he's staring at Steve like-
Oh.
He's staring at Steve.
No. Noooooooooo! Oh shit! Oh fuck! Oh why, why has he kept his porn stash in a drawer without a lock all these years?! He can't recollect the reason Gareth opened that particular drawer on that particular day – all Eddie remembers is how Gareth, Jeff, and Marv snickered when he explained the inclusion of the calendar.
That was it, though. They moved on. Sure, there has been the occasional roasting after the fact, but it's not like he hasn't also mocked them for their weird shit. But that's not the point. The point is that Gareth is staring at Steve like he recognizes him.
Gareth's attention flicks toward Eddie. Eddie shakes his head as subtly yet pleadingly as he can. Gareth's grin gobbles down another turd. Eddie makes a valiant effort to explode Gareth's eyeballs with his mind.
"Say…" Gareth turns to Steve. "Have we met?"
"I don't think so. Eddie, do you have a headache?"
"Yeah, man," Eddie says, voice trembling. "Hurts like hell."
"I could've sworn I've seen your face before," Gareth says. "Like, I'm 100% sure."
"Are you dizzy or nauseous?" Steve asks, ignoring Gareth.
"Um, a little dizzy but no nausea?"
"Hmm, okay. Blurred vision or uneven numbness?"
"No."
Steve nods, glancing at his watch. Then, to Eddie’s dismay, he looks at Gareth. "I've never been to this bar before."
"Nono, not here. Somewhere else…"
Steve's lips purse and his brows knit into the most adorable thinking-face Eddie has ever seen. His heart skips a beat, then skips two more as Steve's free hand gently cups Eddie's cheek. The skin catches fire where Steve's gloved fingertips touch it.
"Let me have a look at your pupils…" Steve says, guiding Eddie's face and, holy shit, leaning in close for a better look.
Eddie gulps, half his blood rushing up and the other half down; he squeezes his legs together to prevent the little guy from saying 'hello' to everyone present. His eyes rove over Steve's face. His lips are chapped and the skin on his nose is dry. The nose itself is somewhat crooked. Did he get into a fight between the calendar photoshoot and now, or did they make the nose straighter for the photo? Why would anyone think it necessary to edit a face like this one? Even with its imperfections mere inches away, it's still the handsomest Eddie has seen.
Steve hums. It's a perfectly preserved vinyl. It's a metal festival. It's Eddie's new favorite song.
"Same size but pretty dilated… Keep your eyes open, please." He shines a tiny flashlight into Eddie's eyes before nodding, satisfied. "All right, looks good."
He leans back out of Eddie's space, returning Eddie's ability to breathe, and removes the gauze. His smile tells Eddie that the bleeding has stopped. As great as it is that he won't hemorrhage to death, it also means their encounter is approaching its end.
"You might've seen me at the university campus?" Steve says, fiddling with some plasters; it takes Eddie's horny brain five full seconds to deduce he's talking to Gareth again.
"No-" Gareth freezes, mouth hanging open. His smugness has evaporated. "Actually, I might have? You're a student?"
Steve chuckles as he patches the last of Eddie's cut. "No, but my friends are. None of them own a car, so I end up driving them everywhere. Right, Eddie, I think you're good to recover at home. Unless you feel like you should head to the hospital?"
Great question! Does he? On the one hand: riding in the ambulance with Steve, ensuring a few additional minutes of his lustrous eyes and smooth voice.
On the other hand: hospital bills.
"… no."
"Okay. Do you have anyone who can keep an eye on you?"
Eddie shakes his head. "I live alone."
"Then maybe Gareth could hang around for the next 48 hours?"
"Sure can," Gareth says without hesitating. Eddie's heart swells with affection for him, despite his (failed! Hah!) plot to mortify Eddie to death.
Steve is already packing his medical bag.
"I want you to rest and avoid stressful situations," he tells Eddie. "No alcohol, no recreational drugs, no driving, and no working until you feel completely recovered. You may take tylenol, but not aspirin or ibuprofen. And if your symptoms worsen or you develop new ones – seek medical attention. Got it?"
The last part is sterner, reminding Eddie of every male authority figure he's strived to disobey during his teenage years. He has no such desire this time.
"Got it."
Steve raises his eyebrows as if to say 'have you really?', and Eddie has to wonder if it's he who seems contrariant and/or stupid enough to ignore the medic or if this is something Steve does with every patient. If it's the former, he mustn't seem that contrariant, because Steve's features soften into trust. He stands, brushing dust off his knees.
"Great. You boys take care now. Have a nice night."
"Yeah, you too, man," Eddie calls after him weakly as he retreats to the blinking ambulance. "Thanks…"
He keeps his gaze on the broad expanse of Steve's back, soaking in the rippling of his muscles as he walks and, oh would you look at that, his ass is as nice as the rest of him. Eddie's been wondering for two years now…
"Dude!"
Eddie jerks toward Gareth. Did he say that out loud? Did he drool? Is his boner showing? But no, Gareth isn't disgusted or disturbed – he's excited.
Shit.
He'll never hear the end of this.
"Don't!" he hisses.
Gareth just laughs, eyes twinkling.
"That was-"
"Don't!"
"I can't believe it!"
"Gareth-"
"You are so red right now!"
"For Jesus fucking Christ's fucking sake-"
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Dedicated to @rougenancy for always listening to and encouraging my various thoughts, opinions, and ideas (they are constant).
Part 2
AO3
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imfinereallyy · 1 month
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some of us, and I’m not naming names, need to start being properly tagged on fics.
Angst: Is it me?
No.
Unhappy Ending: Is it me?
……it’s not Angst.
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 10 months
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Get Souped!
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waitineedaname · 10 months
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everyone likes to characterize shou as the one climbing through ritsu's window uninvited, but I think it's important to remember that when he showed up at the kageyamas' house, he knocked on their front door like a normal person. ritsu however broke into kamuro's dirty fuckin room, presumably through the window, for no reason other than to intimidate him and be an asshole. and he still had the good etiquette to take his shoes off, while being a dick. I think we need to reevaluate which one is more likely to exhibit unhinged behavior and break into someone else's house between ritsu and shou
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