#it actually grinds my gears and makes me cringe so bad

[sampilled]

I AM FORCIBLY REMOVING THE WORD GIRLHOOD FROM YOUR VOCABULARY!!!!!!

#ohhhhhhhhh my god #it actually grinds my gears and makes me cringe so bad #you guys know I’m a swiftie but Taylor you will pay for this

[bythenineshards]

What Tamlin retcons are there, exactly?

@worldsnotsaid has excellent and incredibly detailed essays about this topic. I'd advise going to their blog and reading their stuff.

Recently, someone made a post (I don't remember who, but after I get done with this post I'll find it and mention them in a reblog or comment or something. But in it, they mention that any and all of Tamlin's behavior could be classified in the same boat as the behavior of all the Fae Males (cringe) in this series. He's not human and more animalistic. So something like Tamlin losing his temper when Feyre's wellbeing is threatened and threatening violence is pretty on par for the Fae. Cough cough Rhys loses his temper when Feyre's wellbeing (aka the ignorance he placed her under) is threatened by Nesta and he does what? Threatens to fucking kill her. It's all just Maas deciding whatever Tamlin does is bad but if Rhys does the same thing for the same reasons, he's good.

But you asked about recons.

I'll give you one that really grinds my gears. Tamlin's behavior Utm. A lot of people, Feyre included, like to twist what Tamlin did into something that it wasn't. And Maas thinks we're too stupid to notice. In Acotar, when Feyre shows up Utm, Tamlin has no power and is subservient to Amarantha. He is literally the same as everyone else (except Rhys). While Feyre does the trials, Tamlin is emotionless. Right? He gives Amarantha nothing. Thus keeping Amarantha from finding ways to hurt Feyre to get a reaction from Tamlin. He is saving her from torture.

Something like this sorta happens in PotC 3, don't judge me, but it shows what happens when you fail to deceive your opponent. Elisabeth and Barbossa go to Singapore to enlist the help of Sao Feng. While debating the situation, Sao Feng reveals he has Will. Barbossa pretends they don't know him. Sao Feng calls their bluff and goes to kill Will. Elisabeth gasps. This gives Sao Feng the upper hand. One tiny noise and favor falls to Sao Feng.

Tamlin holding this act for three months is actually a super effective action to show the reader that Tamlin cares. He knows this is going to be bad as is. He doesn't want to make it worse for her. In Acomaf, this is twisted as "He did nothing to help me" which is utter bs. The motive was clear in Acotar. No matter how much Maas wants you to believe this new angle she's pulling out of her ass.

The next part of this retcon is the last night before the final trial. Feyre complains in Acomaf that Tamlin did nothing to help her Utm and all he wanted was to fuck her. First off, shut up Feyre. In Acotar, she was down to clown. In fact, it's been a while, but I'm pretty sure she initiated it. He had no power Utm until Feyre solved the riddle. He had no idea what the trial was. And why would he do something as selfish as to leave everyone there to suffer? Why would he start asking a bunch of questions? It would draw attention to Feyre. You know, that person he's trying to protect by pretending not to care? Wouldn't anyone get sus that he's asking about that human he supposedly doesn't care about.

Also, within a book like this, it's pretty common to reiterate to the reader and MC what they are fighting for right before the climax. In Feyre's case, it's freeing the love of her life. So the reminder for Feyre of her goal before the climax is a climax (...sigh... Even I'm not proud of that and I'm an unabashed monster fucker). Having her get one final moment with Tamlin the night before the last trial is a reaffirming of her goal. Was it dumb in that situation? Yes. If this was a was a movie, I'd be sternly saying how stupid they are. Should it be twisted to make Tamlin look bad? No. Realistically speaking, with everything we know about the situation, it's unlikely he had anything to offer her other than to show her how deeply he cares for her. To show that despite pretending not to care, he does love her. I'd also point out that Maas never really has any other...methods of showing love other than sex. Her relationships are as shallow as a kiddie pool in July.

It can also be interpreted that he has faith in her to finish the trials. Which is refreshing and funny, considering if she didn't literally have the answer handed to her in the second trial, she and Lucien would be dead, and the Courts would be trapped forever under Amarantha. Honestly, besides the Wyrm, she's basically handed everything. But I digress.

I hope this was enlightening.

#anti sjm #anti acotar #anti sjmaas #sjm critical #ask holly #thanks anon! #anon asks #answered asks

[writebackatya]

🍲🍢🥮

Sorry for the delay, Shy! Let’s do this

🍲 When did you start writing and why?

Pretty sure they made us write in school and if I didn’t I would fail.

But honestly, I feel like before I got where I am today I was off-and-on when it came to writing. I think the first fanfic I ever wrote was some Sonic crossover fic that I wrote on Deviantart when I was going through a bit of a Sonic phase. (Not so much a Sonic fan these days, but that series will always have a weird spot on my heart). It has a few chapters and then I just stopped and gave up on it

A couple or so years later when I was going through my Brony phase (yeah, looking back there were definitely a lot of bad people in that fandom but I met a friend in that fandom that I still talk to to this day so I don’t regret that. The show was also pretty good and has some cool people in the fandom these days) I remember writing a couple of fanfics during I think when the show was on its third season. Mainly one shots. I think the last thing I wrote was going to be a multi-chapter I wanted to do, I wrote one chapter and that was it for that writing phase

Flash forward to 2021. I finally watched DuckTales and wanted more stories featuring these characters. Especially Della Duck. I start looking into fanfiction. I find there are plenty of writers in the fandom that write her really well. That inspired me to want to write my own DuckTales fanfiction because I realized I too had a lot of ideas of what happens next for this family. Still not motivated to write because I just don’t know where to begin

Then one day. Me and my bro were high. We do what usually do ever since we both watched DuckTales; we started making up different DuckTales jokes/scenarios. One of which was what if Della Duck was caught by the boys while smoking weed. I remember I was like “The boys would all be cool about because Dewey and Louie would be all ‘Cool! That means we can smoke now!’ and Huey would be like ‘Oh so you found out that marijuana is legal now’ and then Della would be like ‘Weed’s legal now? That’s cool.’”

But then immediately my mind was like “No she wouldn’t! She’d take the situation about more serious because this is her boys we’re talking about here!” And then from that moment I guess I just knew I had to write that story

Moral of the story. Any time is a good time to start writing. Even if you have a past that kinda makes you cringe when you think about those works. It’s all part of the growth you’ll make as you write on

🍢 Have you ever gotten hate on a fic?

Oh yeah. I got that one Della Duck hater who made a comment on a couple of my fics. Clearly commented to try to grind my gears. It didn’t work, I found it funny. They did leave one comment on Indi-Quack! that I deleted because it was a joke made in poor taste that had nothing to do with the fic or any of the characters in it

And one time I got a comment accusing me of using one of those AI writing programs. I swear I’ve never used any of those AI writing programs for any of my fanfics. And strangely enough the comment itself felt like it wasn’t written by an actual human

🥮 Do you have any writing milestones you’re working toward?

I guess finish one of my multi-chapter/story stories: Indi-Quack!, The Three Caballeros (and Della)!, or The Iron Duck of Steel: The Gizmoduck Movie, Part I! someday.

None are close to being finished but I do have a general idea on how I will end them

#fanfic writer ask meme #shychick 52 #writebackatya

[gyuswhore]

There are so many tropes that i hate but i can't remember most of them at the moment. I hate when the mc is a pushover like when they let the obvious bad people do things to them just cus they love that person 🙄

I am seriously done with the one bed trope. It's too overused and i will skip the fic if it's all that there is.

When they don't let the other person explain the situation. Like take a breath and let them talk for a sec. That alone would make the whole situation better. This always makes me wanna give them a good old smack.

When its enemies to lovers but it's so obvious that they like each other. That's not how it works. When it's etl i want them to hate each other for real, not secretly in love with each other.

When they add random korean words in the fic. Like the endearment terms and all. That's kinda cringy not gonna lie.

When they make the girlfriend of the male lead a meanie even if she didn't do anything bad at all. Like why is the man falling in love with the mc when he's already in a relationship with someone nice. That's basically cheating and it shouldn't be glorified. This happens a lot with the bestfriend to lovers trope. It's such a turn off for me. Like stop villainizing the gf.

Dude i feel so bad for saying all these. I hope no one gets upset over this. You can write whatever you want ❤️

tell me about tropes you dislike (or like!!), or send an ask about it!

I got so excited when I saw how long this was kjfnsnk

about the mc being a pushover I can definitely see that being annoying, ive read a couple fics (mostly in my 1D wattpad days rip) that had mcs like that and it made me wanna punch their face or stop reading altogether. In books too, ive seen it becoming a more popular trend to make one of the main characters rude asf but then expecting the readers to forgive them bc of what they are to the protagonist, ive dropped so many books bc of this exact reason.

WTF I LOVE THE ONE BED TROPE 😭😭😭😭 its overused and borderline cringe but its just so good I love the cliche

OH MY GOD I HATE MISCOMMUNICATION SO MUCH and this is in every aspect in books, in fics, in real life all of the above. the thing that irks me most is when the miscommunication is drawn out for a longer period, if its a shorter fic I can read it but the second I realise this is a major plot point in a larger story im out. it grinds my gears so bad fr. side note, but that thing they do in sitcoms where the miscommunication starts with the person NOT interjecting with the explanation is the absolute worst.

Honestly, I feel like it becomes really hard to shield when you pretend to hate someone even when you like them so it turns into not-really-enemies anyway, so yeah that becomes more like rivals (?) to lovers.

OH THE RANDOM KOREAN WORDS DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED im super grateful it isn't that big of an epidemic on caratblr but ive seen some shit in other fandoms its actually horrible.

The last one is only acceptable when the dude figures his shit out before it becomes actual emotional cheating. also about the gf thing, it totally depends on what she does as a character but it gets annoying when the entire plot of the story is just the gf as the villain.

#side not: just because we dislike certain tropes does not mean they shouldn't be written or they're bad #ive seen people write some of my favourite fics with some of my most hated tropes. sometimes its about how you write it #this is friendly discourse pls don't be upset about minor disagreements!!!!! #on another note this was rlly fun hehe #em.talks #em.anon

[andypantsx3]

if i could keep cool | 1

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 20,322 words / 6 chapters

summary: A villain attacks Shouto Todoroki’s apartment and kidnaps what he apparently believes to be Todoroki’s secret lover. The bad news—for both you and the villain in question—is that you’re just there to clean the place. That’s how it starts.

tags: romance, reader-insert, accidental sugar daddy shouto, misunderstandings

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

You’d been alone inside Shouto Todoroki’s apartment when the villain attacked.

In your defense, you were supposed to be there. Twice a week, for three hours apiece, you turned up to clean the place, dusting, remaking his bed, and scrubbing down the modern kitchen surfaces that you were fairly certain were going unused in the first place.

You weren’t actually supposed to know who owned the high rise, but the personal effects he kept around hardly made any secret of it--a few simply framed photographs of him with his siblings and his friends at school dotted the shelves in the living room, crates of fan mail were often delivered to his door during your shifts, and you’d seen his hero costume dumped in a hamper on more than one occasion.

You’d been excited to find this out at first, as you were just as much a hero fan as the next girl--particularly heroes who were as handsome and infinitely memeable as Todoroki--but you’d tamped down on your enthusiasm in order to keep things professional. It would kind of suck to be a celebrity and find out that some rando fan let themselves into your apartment on the regular and could help themselves to your stuff if they really wanted to.

You had almost considered asking your manager for reassignment when you’d first figured out just whose apartment you were cleaning, in order to keep things purely professional, but Todoroki’s schedule worked well with your own class schedule, and the money didn’t hurt either. The tips either he or his manager left for you were pretty hefty, and it was nice to treat yourself to groceries that weren’t ramen. He was keeping you in fresh vegetables and a Netflix subscription, so in the end you didn’t ask for reassignment--you were a college student, not a saint.

In retrospect, though, maybe you should have. Because one afternoon in late September, the large wall of windows that looked out into the city shattered with violent force, and a huge figure landed in the living room, glass crunching underneath their heavy boots.

You’d just barely managed to catch sight of a wicked looking scar twisting half of the villain’s face before you’d thrown yourself behind the kitchen island you’d been wiping down, landing heavily on your shoulder. That hadn’t saved you, though. You’d been hauled out across the scattered glass, the shards scraping through your clothes to tear at your back and elbows, and looked up into the face of the furious-looking man.

You hadn’t had time to scream, or beg for your life, or whatever other insanely embarrassing thing you might have done, before a fist connected with the base of your skull, and you were falling into darkness, the man’s features and the clean lines of the apartment around you slipping into black.

Now, you awoke in the dark, a musty scent like dust and slow decay pressing into your nose like a heavy rag. Your eyes flickered open, but the world seemed just as dark as behind your eyelids. In the dim, you could just barely make out cement floors studded with dirt and debris, and gaping cutouts in the wall across from you, pitch black with shadow. They were rectangular in shape, and huge--truck ports, maybe? Were you in a warehouse?

You made to move, but something tugged at your wrists, and you realized with a growing sense of horror that your arms were bound behind your back with rough rope, looped through slats in the chair you’d awoken in. Your head whipped up, and the back of your neck screamed in protest, sore from what had likely been hours of you lolling unconscious.

The thin, wavering sound of something like a radio static filtered from somewhere over your shoulder, and you could just make out low tones of a radio broadcaster: “Pro hero Shouto Todoroki’s apartment was broken into early this afternoon...the perpetrator of the crime is still at large…”

That’s right--Todoroki’s apartment. Your heartbeat instantly kicked into high gear. Where were you? Why were you here? Who was that man in Todoroki’s apartment? Had he taken you here? But why?

A boot crunched in the dirt behind you and you stiffened.

“Awake now?” a voice spat, laced with pure malice. The tone sent shivers down your spine.

The pair of boots crunched towards you, rounding the edge of your chair until you could look up into the face of the villain from before, the man with the horrible scar. It twisted and warped the skin over half of his face, the flesh melted into itself like he’d been held down against a hot stove. An equally horrible grin cut into the harsh line of his mouth.

“Who are you? Where am I? Why am I here?” you demanded. Your voice came out high and quavery, and you could have cringed at how absolutely terrified you sounded.

He raised an eyebrow like you’d just asked the dumbest series of questions he’d ever heard.

“Oh, I think you know why you’re here,” he sneered. His eyes were dark, almost black in the gloom of the warehouse.

A twisting wave of frustration washed over you. No you didn’t know why you were here. You’d been wiping down a fucking counter one minute and the next you’d woken up in some creepy warehouse with no idea of where in the world you might be.

“I don’t,” you said, frustrated. “Please, I don’t have any money. Whatever you want, I can’t get it to you.”

He stared down at you impassively, the radio static crackling in the background. “I don’t want money, you fucking brat. I want revenge.”

You stared at him. Revenge? You’d never even met this guy before, what the hell could you have possibly done to him that he would need revenge on you? The extent of your crimes against anyone, as far as you knew, only included arguing with people on twitter and once--drunk at a bar--peeing in the men’s room before you realized it wasn’t the ladies’ toilet. Gender was a social construct, anyway. It wasn’t that bad.

Your blank look seemed to irritate him, and he placed a booted foot on yours, deliberately grinding his heel down on your toes until you felt your bones creak. You bit down on a yelp.

“Don’t play stupid, you little shit. I know he’ll come for you.”

What? Who would come for you?

The radio signal seemed to catch again, and the newscaster’s stately voice reported from over your shoulder. “--Hero Commission received a message from the villain that they are holding Todoroki’s secret lover hostage. We’ve received comment from a PR representative at the Todoroki agency--”

Your stomach dropped in horror as you considered the smug expression that twisted the villain’s face. Oh no.

No.

No way.

Did he think you….?

Dread coiled into a hard pit in your gut. Oh, you were so absolutely fucked. Shouto Todoroki had never so much as heard of you, nevermind invited you into his bed. As far as you could tell, he had no current lover, as his apartment had only ever evidenced the single occupant.

He’d been linked in the media to a couple models and an actress, but it seemed unclear if that was any more than speculation. In the year you’d worked at the cleaning service, there’d never been anything like an extra toothbrush or an abandoned pair of underwear to give away another person’s presence, though you had sometimes seen evidence of his friends; things like a forgotten All Might sweatshirt that clearly belonged to notorious fan boy and current number one hero Deku, or a neatly prepared container of soup you’d seen in the fridge once with a note that read eat this you fucking fuck and if you get me sick I’ll kill you that you strongly suspected came from the foul-mouthed hero Ground Zero.

So unless those were to be taken as signs of a blossoming romance, there was nothing that strongly hinted at the presence of a lover.

You were frankly flabbergasted that this villain had assumed, just because you’d been alone in his apartment at the time, that you of all people could have been that to him.

And you were even more concerned now, as there was absolutely no way Shouto Todoroki was going to come haring in to save someone who did not exist.

What was the villain going to do when he realized that no one was coming for you? Or worse, when he realized you were no one to anyone, and your presence would hardly be missed? Was it better to try and clear up the misunderstanding now? What would he do when the dots connected?

The villain smirked, mistaking your horror. “That’s right, brat. He was supposed to be there, but you'll do just as well. He’ll come for you, and when he does, I’m going to do to him exactly what he did to me.” He gestured to the scarred side of his face and you winced.

So it hadn’t been a hot stove.

“I think you have it wrong,” you said a little desperately. “I’m not--I don’t even know Todoroki. I’m a cleaning lady.”

He rolled his eyes. “Nice try. I’ll just let you walk free then, shall I?”

Your fingers dug into the rope behind your back. “Um, ideally, yes.”

He bit out a harsh laugh, that horrible smile cutting into his features again, and knelt down in front of you. He was close, too close, and you could smell something sour on his breath.

“I’ve just had a better idea,” he said, leaning into you. “What if I do to his precious lover what he did to me? Your face can be the last thing I let him see before I kill him.”

Your stomach turned and you forced yourself as far back in your chair as you could get. Oh fuck. “No, please, you have to listen!” Your voice was growing higher as you spoke. “I don’t know him. I’m his fucking cleaning service. You can call them and ask--just ask!”

The villain didn’t listen, digging around in the inner pocket of his jacket for something. “No skin off my nose if you are or aren’t. But I think we both know you aren’t.”

You could feel your heart climb into your throat as he pulled out a lighter and a small, metal can that smelled sharply of gasoline. Lighter fluid? You started struggling wildly in your bonds, feet straining against the floor to push your chair back from him.

He let out another laugh, uncapping the fluid. The acrid smell sharpened, burning in your nose. The radio let out another burst of static in the background, a high whine that set your teeth even more on edge.

“I’ll let you pick the side, brat,” the villain said, smiling.

“I pick neither,” you managed around the lump in your throat. Your eyes were locked on the can of lighter fluid, like you could will it away from you with the sheer force of your panic alone.

The villain scowled. “Be difficult then,” he said, and moved to pour it over you anyway. You felt the first splash of fluid on your cheek and closed your eyes. That acrid smell got stronger, and the villain let out an excited breath.

Then the wall blew out.

A wall of freezing air rushed over you and the can of fluid dropped from the villain’s grasp, spilling sloppily down your clothes, before clattering to the floor. The villain swore and whirled, grabbing a fistful of your hair and wrenching your head back. You peeked open an eye.

A huge slab of ice had blown open the side of the building, and the silhouette of a man was outlined against the evening sky. It was hard to make out his features in the dim light, but that mop of red and white hair was so distinctive, you would know it anywhere.

A shivery frisson of relief went down your spine at the sight of a familiar figure, but confusion mounted in the back of your brain.

What the hell was Shouto Todoroki doing here?

There was a flinty noise and then a small flame flickered in the corner of your eye. You stiffened--the lighter was still in the villain’s hand, and you were entirely covered in lighter fluid.

“So nice to see you again, Todoroki. Any last words to your little girlfriend?” the villain spat. His gaze was fixed unblinkingly on Todoroki.

You strained against your bonds and his tight grip on your hair. “I’m not his girlfriend! Todoroki, tell him.”

You could barely see his features but you thought you caught Todoroki’s eyes darting over you curiously, like he was trying to figure out who in the world you were and why anyone would mistake you for a love interest of his. Your eyes met briefly. Then the fingers on his right hand pressed forward just the slightest bit, and a huge cascade of ice like an avalanche was rushing you. You closed your eyes, ready to be impaled.

There was a grunt and the villain’s hand was ripped out of your hair, taking a fistful with it. A sudden, suffocating silence pressed down on you, and an icy burn stung at your lungs when you inhaled.

You blinked your eyes open, only to come face to face with a wall of ice mere inches from your nose. Cold pressed in on you everywhere, biting at you through your clothes--it seemed Todoroki had formed some kind of protective shell over you as he forced the villain off of you. You exhaled and sank back in the chair with shaky relief.

More crackling echoed from outside your cocoon, muffled through the thick slabs of ice, and a bright jet of orange light lit up the crystals around you. You tracked the sound and the movements nervously. There was a moment when a body slammed into the ice behind you, cracking it a little, and you tensed, but then whichever of them it was rolled off and was gone within moments.

Over the course of a few minutes, the sounds of their battle and the flickers of light started to fade off into the distance, and you wondered if Todoroki was trying to lead the villain away, or if the villain was leading him somewhere he had planned for. Your fingers found the bindings at your wrists again, and you scrabbled desperately at them with your nails.

If the villain came back for you, you needed to be disconnected from this chair and out of the ice prison ASAP.

You had just managed to work your chair backwards and get a good angle against the rough ice, starting to work up a friction between your bonds and the ice when muted footsteps approached and a hole began to melt in the side of the ice wall. Your eyes snapped to attention and you leaned as far away as you could get.

It was Todoroki who stepped through, however, lifting an arm to melt away more of the ice over you. He looked a little mussed from combat but otherwise unharmed, and in good shape to get you out of here. You breathed a heavy sigh of relief, muttering, “Oh, thank god.”

He fixed you with a weird look, leaning over you when he’d melted enough of the ice to get to your bonds. A hot hand at your wrists burned ropes off of you easily enough, Todoroki careful not to singe you with his flames.

An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you as you pulled your arms back to yourself, shaking them out.

“Uh, thank you,” you said, watching nervously as those distinctive two-toned eyes flicked over you.

He helped pull you to your feet, and gestured you towards the hole he had blown in the side of the warehouse.

“This way--there’s an ambulance to check you over,” he said evenly. His voice was low and smooth, even deeper in person than you’d heard it on TV. His whole presence seemed a lot sharper, larger even, than was communicated via the media.

You followed his broad back out into the evening air, noting that you were on a somewhat crowded street, likely somewhere still within city limits. Several rows of similar warehouses lined the streets, and an ambulance and several police vehicles had pulled up onto the sidewalk closest to you.

An EMT ran over to you, helping you over to the ambulance and immediately setting to the task of checking you over. She asked you a series of questions including your name, what year it was, the prime minister’s name, and a slew of probing queries about your injuries. She concluded a concussion seemed unlikely, but produced an ice packet for your head where the villain had struck you, and cleaned your wrists where the rope had cut into them, smoothing on aloe and wrapping them up in gauzy bandages.

While she worked, you watched Todoroki as he spoke in quiet tones off to the side with a group of policemen. Eventually, however, the conversation seemed to die out, and he came padding back over to stand in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest. You tried not to focus on the swell of his biceps through the fabric of his hero costume.

“What you did was very stupid,” he said, his eyes narrowing.

That tore your attention away from his arms, and you paused, staring up at him in confusion. Did all civilians get a lecture like this fresh off of being kidnapped?

“Excuse me?” was all that escaped you.

That grey and blue gaze raked over you. “You’re lucky I was able to rescue you. You risked your own life and invaded my privacy while you were at it.”

A mixture of confusion, exhaustion, and anger welled up inside of you. You had just been fucking kidnapped and he was lecturing you like a toddler who’d gotten into a box of crayons while her parents’ backs were turned.

“You think I fucking wanted to be kidnapped?” you demanded, sliding off of the back of the ambulance to take an angry step towards him. “You think I wanted any of this to happen?”

He held his ground, hardly threatened by someone who barely brushed his chin and had needed his rescuing only minutes before. You gritted your teeth.

“You are not welcome in my apartment,” he said firmly, something like suppressed anger flickering in his own gaze.

Your temper flared even hotter than his flames. You clenched your fist, the words bubbling up before you could even think to stop them. “Great. Clean it yourself then, you huge fucking asshole, if you don’t want someone else there.”

His eyes widened the slightest bit, but you weren’t done.

“I get kidnapped because some crazy douche wanted to settle a score with you, and you dare yell at me for doing my job? Because what, it’s shameful for you to be accused of having a secret lover and now you have to do PR? Grow the fuck up. That’s your fucking job.”

You turned on your heel, setting a beeline for the police officers where they had turned to watch you, mouths gaping.

“Do I have to give a statement right now or can I come into the station in the morning?” you demanded of the nearest officer.

“We recommend you give your statement as soon as possible, but you can delay until tomorrow if you’re, uh, in emotional distress,” the officer said, staring at you.

“Oh I am,” you intoned loudly. “But not as much emotional distress, apparently, as someone who's been mildly inconvenienced by a media narrative. You'd better check on him, he's the real fucking victim here. And I’ll see you in the morning instead.”

You stalked off towards the street, hardly caring where you were headed or how you would get home from here. You would figure it out and find your way, and it was better than standing around and being berated by some asshole hero who thought himself so wildly inconvenienced by saving you.

“And Todoroki, you can go fuck yourself,” you threw over your shoulder as you disappeared into the dusky maze of city streets.

And he could.

You hoped that was the last you’d ever see or hear of Shouto Todoroki.

[lunarliza]

JJ Maybank Must Die | Chapter 1: Popsicles

fuckboy!JJ x Reader 

series masterlist

JJ Maybank is the island’s most infamous fuckboy- not that you ever cared. But when a group of tourist girls come to your surf shop crying to you about him, you agree to help them plot revenge. Sabotage is all fun and games, until you find that the playboy you were sworn to ruin happens to be falling head over heels for you.

Yes, this is based on John Tucker Must Die lol

note: so this is my second JJ fic! I’m so excited for ya’ll to read it. it’ll be more light-hearted and shorter than DLS :) 

“Come on... come on! This one right here let’s go!” you yelped. The crowd behind you was practically chattering on their fingernails. 

The seven year old boy in the water paddled as hard as his lanky arms could take him towards the daunting wave. 

“Now Gavin now! Stand up!” you shrieked as the boy hurriedly went through your instructed steps, tucking his knee, and thrusting upwards as the wave got close. Then, before he even realized, he glided rigidly along the wave as the board carried him across the water. 

“Hooray! Awesome job Gavin!” The flock cheered and rushed to pat the boy on the back, his dad lifting him up in his arms. 

The child scuttled towards you and threw his arms around your neck. You chuckled delightedly. “Alright everyone! That’s it for our surf lesson today. Be sure to check out the gift shop on your way out!” 

You waved bye to the guests as they made way to return their boards to the hut, some handing you rolled up cash, with thankful smiles. 

Once the coast was clear, you jogged back to the hut only to find Sophia, your best friend and lazy co-worker, lounging with her legs stretched on the checkout counter of the tiny surf shack. She hung a lollipop in her mouth while her eyes glued to her phone screen. 

“You know, when you asked me to find you a job, I actually thought you meant one where you actually work.” 

Sophia popped out the sucker and threw you a glare. “I did work! See!” she pointed her hand at the sign hanging beside the door that read ‘OBX Surf and Sports’, “I put that sign up this morning.” 

“It’s crooked.” 

“Bleh, bleh, bleh,” she mocked, “Nothing I ever do is good enough.” You chuckled and shook your head at her. 

You peered out the giant window at the front of the store, surveying the empty beach. This was going to be the rest of your summer. At sixteen years old, you were one of the Outer Banks’ surfing all-stars and spent your days working as an instructor for the second year in a row. 

Customers loved you and your ability to work with all ages rendering you the title of ‘Top Instructor’ at the shack- which didn’t mean much seeing as 90% of the employees were amateur teenagers. 

Nevertheless, you were determined to keep that title, as whoever brought in the most satisfied customers by the end of the summer wins a $5,000 scholarship. And you needed that money bad in order to attend your dream school: UVA. 

Along the beach, you caught a glimpse of your competition, Cody, and instinctly groaned. 

On any other occasion, you really didn’t care about what people did with their lives, but something about your arrogant, sleazy, five-foot-seven co-worker grinded your gears. 

He was always man-splaining to you and the other girls at the shack or kissing ass to your boss. And you knew well he was after the scholarship too- your scholarship. 

“Look at him,” you sneered to Sophia as she joined you at the window to death-glare the boy. He was prepping his group on the sand for their session and looked absolutely despicable in his shorts that were inches away from exposing his little one. Emphasis on the little. 

“Ugh, he’s making them do jumping jacks again,” Sophia pointed out, crinkling her nose, “God that poor old lady. Can he be any more extra?” 

“I need to look away, I think I might vomit if he ever flashed me.” 

Your best friend snickered at your hatred as you waxed down your board for your next lesson. “Did the group of girls check in yet?” you asked. 

“Yeah, they’re sitting and waiting at Eye Sickles,” she informed, referring to the popsicle food-truck next door. “I can’t believe they really signed up for the month-long surfing program. I didn’t know people actually paid for that.” 

“You’d be surprised. These tourists will buy into anything, trust me,” you said before heading out the door. 

You walked up to three tourist girls lounging on the fold-out tables and chairs at the food-truck. They were mindlessly typing away on their phones, looking as bored as ever. 

“Alright, do I have Annalise, Maia, and Arabella?” you announced with your work-smile on. They peered up from their phones and nodded with blank faces.

“Awesome,” you continued, trying to maintain your enthusiasm, “I’m y/n, I’ll be your instructor! I see you guys signed up for the month-long pro-boarding program which is great. Have you guys ever surfed before?” 

“Nope,” a blonde girl replied, “Our parents found this online and said it’d be good for us to learn while we’re here. We’re from Richmond, Virginia.” 

“Oh cool!” you jeered, the fake zeal was oozing at that point. “Well, I’m happy to be spending the summer with you guys. I’m going to have you guys grab a board and we’ll head down to the sand to go over the basic motions.” 

The trio followed you into the hut and picked out a board from the beginners section. You noticed the blonde one giggling with Sophia at the stand for a bit before joining you on the sand. She had a leader-like quality to her while the two other remained quiet but friendly. 

“Alright so, just for formalities, who’s who? That way I can identify you better,” you asked as the girls situated their boards along the shore.  

Not shockingly, the blonde extended her hand to you first. “I’m Annalise,” she greeted a little sullenly. You shrugged off her attitude, attributing it to her being a bougie tourist. 

“I’m Maia,” a tall, jet-black haired girl said next. She had a very athletic body and came off as the quietest one of the group. 

“And I’m Arabella,” the last one chimed in. Her hair was a fiery orange and she had piercings run along her ears and nose. 

“Alright cool! So now, we’ll start off with the movements you’ll go through once you hit the water. You want to start off flat on your stomach and paddle towards the waves. Make sure you have full control of your board at all times,” you began as the girls copied your demonstration on their own boards. 

You heard sniffles come from the group, but ignored it to continue your spiel. You could hardly read any of their expressions through their giant, bug-eyed sunglasses. 

Just as you were about to explain the importance of balance- you favorite part of the lesson- you saw the blonde sit up on her board in irritation and start sobbing through her glasses. 

“Annalise come on, it’s not worth it,” the tall one, Maia, reasoned as the Annalise shook her head furiously. 

“I can’t do this right now,” she cried before bolting back towards the shack. 

You watched her in utter confusion. “Was it something I said?” you asked the remaining two. 

The orange one shook her head and gave you a sincere look through her glasses. “No, she’s just really upset about this guy,” she turned to her friend, “Come on, let’s go check on her.” 

At that point, you had no choice but to follow the group towards their distressed friend. This was definitely coming out of their session time. 

The three of you plowed up the sand to find the girl, Annalise, sprawled on Sophia’s shoulder at the tables as she cooed her like a baby. You wanted to cringe. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s a piece of shit anyways! Trust me, he did the same to me too,” your best friend comforted and petted the stranger’s yellow hair. 

“What’s going on?” you questioned at the scene. Sophia glanced up at you with a pleading look. 

“It’s JJ.” 

Oh brother. This dude again. JJ Maybank was the Outer Bank’s most infamous fuck boy. Him and his friends threw parties all the time at the Boneyard- ones you have yet to attend- and he effortlessly earned his reputation by sleeping with any girl he could get his grubby hands on. 

By this point, he’s broken half the hearts on the island with girls moaning and groaning about him left and right- Sophia included. You remembered her wailing the day he ghosted her after they did the nasty. It wasn’t a pretty day... or week for the matter. 

You didn’t understand what the big deal was with the guy. You’d gone to school with him since the first grade and he’d always been that guy that rolls in the mud during playtime in elementary school. And he still was that guy to this day.

You heard all the cringey lines he’d pull on girls at school that would get them swooning and you swore he was running a voodoo business because no one in their right mind could fall for that. 

But everyone did. Except for you. 

“What? Did he ghost you too?” you gestured towards the wrecked weeping girl.

She nodded and blew her boogers into the tissues Sophia brought out. 

“I-I, well, we met him at a party this weekend and he took me to this little hideout on the beach. He told me that he never met anyone like me before and said all this other shit. Then we had sex there, which I never do in public, and he said he couldn’t wait to see me again. And he never called me after!” 

Though you thought her public display was a little too... public, you did feel sorry for her. The guy was a tool, and these tourist girls, especially, didn’t know any better. 

“Don’t worry,” Sophia assured, resting a hand atop hers, “he did it to me and everyone at school. We all fell for the trap.” 

Maia and Arabella joined the sitting girls in a piled group hug as the ones in the center sputtered in tears together. You couldn’t bear to watch, but for Sophia, you awkwardly joined in anyways. 

The rest of the surfing session consisted of the girls pulling up their own chairs and  bad-mouthing JJ, along with all other men, as everyone licked their popsicles. 

You sucked on your mango one, not minding the little break as it was the easiest $150 you ever made. The girls weren’t as hoity-toity as you first thought. They apologized for wasting your time and promised to leave five-star reviews about you. Even better. 

As evening rolled in, you found yourself laughing and joking around with your new-found friends. They told you wild stories of their private school shenanigans back in Richmond while you and Sophia filled them in on life at the OBX. 

“This day was incredible,” Annalise beamed, dazed after her fourth popsicle. “Can’t believe we all bonded like this over a guy,” she chuckled, “I just... gah, I wish we could get him back somehow. Make him feel how we feel!” 

“You should,” you agreed, “Why don’t one of you guys go to the parties and try to seduce him and then leave him hanging? The trick with men is to withhold sex from them and they’ll be helpless.” 

Everyone’s face lit up in excitement at your idea. “No, totally! We could definitely do that!” Sophia exclaimed with wide eyes. “So who will it be? Who’s our hamster?” 

“Not me,” Maia objected almost instantly, “I have a boyfriend back home so no seducing will be done on my part.” 

“Arabella then,” Annalise suggested, nudging the girl beside her. 

“Alright...” she agreed, fiddling with the string of her bathing suit, “I guess I could take one for the team.” 

“There we go!” you cheered, “You just march straight into that party, grind on him a bit to leave him hanging, then proceed to embarrass the shit out of him! Problem solved!” 

-----------------------------

note: do not worry! more drama to come 

chapter 2

#outerbanks #outer banks #outer banks imagine #rafe outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #john b obx #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #obx #jj obx #jj x y/n #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n

[fanfalc-616]

The Rights Of A Nindroid

Chapter Twenty-Two

(Previous Chapter Here)

Apparently this chapter is too long for a singular tumblr post so I’ll post this and then reblog it with the rest-

Also watch me beat canon to death with a stick lol

Kai slams open the door to the bridge. “I have a new idea!” He proclaims. “I’m going to become the Emperor.”

He receives a bunch of blank stares at his statement.

Finally, after a long pause, Nya speaks up. “You’re going to what?” She demands in disbelief.

He can feel the wide smile forming on his face. “There’s an election coming up, and I-“

“Since when is that an electable position?” Jay blinks, his confused expression so intense it’s almost comical.

Nya opens her mouth to answer, but Kai keeps talking.

“Not sure, but it is. I did my research! Anyway, I’m going to become the Emperor and then order them to free Zane.” He explains. Honestly, he can’t believe they didn’t think of this sooner! The election is only seven months away, and it’s a great backup plan for if nothing else works.

Nya stares at him in shock. “I can’t even begin to explain how horrible of an idea this is.”

“I mean… it might work.” Jay defends. “There’s no harm in trying, right?”

“No. No, we are not doing this. Cole, Lloyd, back me up here.” Nya looks over at the two.

Cole looks up from his phone. “I’m already filing out the forms.”

“Wh- no!” She stands up abruptly. “No, this is a horrible idea! Do you realize how many things could go wrong here? We could-“

“You’re right.” Jay conceeeds. “With his recent arrests, Kai isn’t the best choice for this.” He winces as he looks over at the brunet, and Kai grimaces as he accepts the point.

“It should be Lloyd.”

The green ninja snaps to attention. “What?” He demands. “I- you- you guys don’t want me to be in charge, I- I wouldn’t be a very good leader!”

Cole shrugs. “I mean, you kind of already are.” He points out.

Kai comes over and sits on the table in front of the blond. “Look, either you do it or I do. What do you say?”

Cringing, Lloyd seems to be weighing his options, ignoring the shocked and upset look Nya has.

“... alright. What paperwork do I need to fill out?”

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

Zane grimaces as both he and Cryptor are taken to the training room. When both of them are brought, it means only bad things.

After being chained down, Zane recognizes Kyle standing there. With a glare, he decides to cut to the point.

“I’m not going to say it again.” He snarls. “I am equal to any human.”

Kyle sighs, rolling his eyes. "Get off your high horse, Original. That's not why you're here."

From beside him, Cryptor seems to be thinking about speaking, but instead glances over at Zane.

Very well. He can do the speaking for the both of them- and as of now, that will be expressing his confusion.

“It’s… not?”

"No. You're here because…" He starts to circle them, surrounding them like a predator analyzing its prey for weaknesses, his cold tone matching the action. "...Because you two have been keeping secrets. From me, from the facility. Isn't that right?"

They- they have not discovered his Falcon, right? That- no. This must be bluff of some sort! And Zane will just have to call him on it.

Silently wishing he had a faceplate to allow him to better express himself, he sighs. “You monitor us day and night. What could you possibly think we’re doing?”

The sly smile Kyle gives him is unnerving. "I don't know, you're gonna tell me. Aren't you, General?"

Cryptor suddenly tenses, and Zane looks over at him as his breathing picks up. The other nindroid is clearly scared, borderline panicking.

“I…” Cryptor trails off, but Zane realizes that he should speak before Kyle manages to convince Cryptor to tell him what he wants to know.

Forcing confidence into his voice, he stares the blond down. “No one is telling you anything- because there isn’t anything to tell!”

Kyle seems almost amused. "Oh, really now?” He walks back over to Cryptor and taps on his eye scope, the action clearly a threat of some sort.

Zane internally winces at the way Cryptor horribly fails at hiding his fear and the way he flinches back. “We… it- it wasn’t… yes. Yes, Ma-“ He cringes, cutting himself off. “... we’re hiding something.” He miserably admits.

Wearing a sarcastic smile, Kyle looks back over to Zane. "Wow, didn't see that coming." He mocks.

Annoyance creeps into him as he glares at the other nindroid. “Cryptor!” He quietly hisses out the name, staring in disbelief.

The blond shakes his head. "Not its name. It won't answer to that, anymore.”

Zane glowers at that, but Cryptor doesn’t deny it, which only serves to fuel his annoyance.

Kyle continues. “But what it will answer to is this-“ He pauses a beat before dropping his voice into a dark threatening tone.

“What are you hiding?" He snarls.

After hesitating a beat, Cryptor answers the blond. “... do I have to?” He tries weakly.

Kyle arches an eyebrow. "Depends, do you remember who's physical and mental integrity depends on you cooperating?"

Taking a deep breath, Cryptor seems to struggle for words. Finally, in a choked voice, he gets out, “You didn’t hurt him. You- you lied. He’s fine.”

A weak laugh escapes him as he ducks his head, and Zane frowns- or he would, if he had his face- as he watches him. Still, Cryptor continues.

“And… I- I know that because we were hiding a way to-“

Sucking in a deep breath, Zane realizes that- that Cryptor is actually going to tell him. He’s actually going to explain the Falcon?!

“No!” Zane interrupts him before he gets the chance to continue. “Cryptor, stop it!” He demands.

Still seeming amused, Kyle continues prompting the other into speaking. "A way to communicate, I presume. What might it be…?" He takes on an exaggerated thinking pose.

While his voice is shaking, Cryptor does try to answer him. “Zane has a-“

Panic taking over, Zane shouts out, “Do not!”

Who knows what they’ll do to his Falcon if they capture him! Likely cause horrible harm, if not taking him apart!

The excitement Kyle shows is terrifying. "Do it!"

“He-has-a-Falcon-its-mechanical-we-can-connect-to-it-digitally-and-“ Cryptor speaks rapidly, getting the words out fast enough that Zane doesn’t have a chance to stop him.

Fear sets into him once again. “No, you can’t just…” he trails off. He can’t argue, not now that Cryptor has already told him.

"That's enough, General.” The blond gives a gentle smile. “Hush."

Zane glares at the other nindroid as he nods and lowers his head. He knows that Kyle had made some form of threat before, but this level of obedience? It’s absurd!

The blond paces around as he speaks to Cryptor, ignoring Zane for the moment. "Since you were pretty obedient today, you're not gonna get punished for this." He stops, staring menacingly at them. "But to follow what you told me about him being fine- He's not hurt yet. And now that you won't be able to talk to him, you won't even know if he is."

Cryptor opens his mouth as if to speak, but seems to think better of it and looks away, pointedly avoiding Zane’s death glares.

He doesn’t have the words to describe the emotions building inside of him. Cryptor had- he had told Kyle! And so easily! He had barely tried defying him at all!

The blond redirects his attention to Zane."And you…" He pauses a moment as he glare. "Congrats."

Zane grinds his teeth, desperately trying to think of a way to divert Kyle’s attention and possibly save his Falcon. He can’t… while a simple design compared to him, that bird is all he has left of his father. He can’t let any harm come to him!

“Disconnect me, then.” He snaps. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll find another way, another plan. I am not your slave, not a mindless drone! I’m not this ‘Original’ that you try to make me. I am Zane Julien, the white ninja. And that, you will never take from me.”

Kyle arches an eyebrow. "...Nice speech.” He pauses a beat. “I'm disassembling the Falcon."

Every circuit and wire he has is suddenly tensing up as he processes that. “What for?” He demands. “If I can’t connect to him, he poses no threat to you!”

"But you care for it, don't you?" Kyle smiles, an unnerving smile that carries a threat to it.

Zane can feel his power source heating up as he tries desperately to come up with a way to convince Kyle to leave him alone. “I- he’s a bird. That’s- that’s all.”

He takes a moment to breath and think before continuing. “Leave him out of this.” He snaps. “A- a bird is of no threat to you. Unless, of course, you and your organization is so weak that something so simple could stand in your way.”

Perhaps trying to bait someone as irritable as Kyle into becoming upset isn’t a good idea, but he’s hoping that maybe, just maybe, he can trick the blond into leaving the Falcon alone.

The blond snorts. "Uh-huh, yeah, I see that. But I raise you this. If it's truly 'just a bird', then you shouldn't be trying so hard to make me leave it alone. Why should you care if it's just a useless communication device?" There’s a taunt to his voice, but before Zane can think of a comeback, Cryptor is speaking.

The other nindroid’s voice is quiet and regretful. “His father made it, it’s all he has left of him.” He explains.

Zane can only stare. Why is Cryptor doing this?! He- Kyle did not even directly ask him about that! He had no reason to share that information! Now- now Kyle may-

A satisfied smile is on the blond’s face. "Now that changes everything. Congrats again, Original. You and General just won front row seats to the disassembling of your Falcon."

Beside him, Cryptor tenses up. “Me too?” He seems surprised and afraid, but at the moment, Zane is too upset with him to care about his fear.

"Yep.” Kyle smirks. “Have fun."

Feeling himself trembling, Zane speaks up, desperately trying to find a way to stop Kyle… but coming up empty.

“W- wait!” He chokes out. “You can’t- no, no, you…” He’s trembling, knowing that he would be near tears if he were human, fear taking ahold of every gear and circuit he has as his voice starts to break with his words. “... please, don’t…” He trails off.

“Don’t hurt him.”

His voice is nothing more than a broken whisper.

The blond has the nerve to laugh. "Why not?” He questions amusedly. “You clearly haven't learned your place, and this kind of punishment seemed to work on General. I don't see a single good reason why I shouldn't."

There’s a pause as Zane collects his thoughts.

His voice is quiet as he begins to speak. “Why not.” A weak, broken laugh escapes him. “Why not, you ask me.”

He looks up from the floor in order to look Kyle in the eyes as he speaks, voice beginning to rise in volume. “I have a better question.” He spits out.

“What the hell do you want from me?!” He shouts out the words, screaming them. “You take us here, you torture us, you try to convince us that we’re lesser, and for what?! Revenge?” He laughs a little, feeling his patience, his sanity, on the edge of breaking entirely. “This solves nothing! You fight fire with fire, you choose to cause suffering as though- as though that will bring back the ones you lost! I never meant to harm anyone! I was built to protect! And-“

Kyle’s voice is dangerous in a way that Zane has rarely heard, even in the voices of his most threatening opponents. "Shut the FUCK UP." The blond demands.

Zane glares with as much malice as he can muster. “No.” He snarls. “I wasn’t finished. You-“

"Close your fucking mouth.” Kyle snaps. “Was I not clear? You're asking me what I want from you, why I do all this? I'll tell you."

Zane scoffs. “Please, do!”

"I hate you.” The blond says simply. “And I want you to suffer. Yeah, it doesn't bring my lost ones back. But when I remember the terror on his face as he died in my goddamn arms, I feel really good about all this." His smile is threatening, a menacing expression that makes fear pool in his gut.

He stares for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond. What does he even say to that?

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

He waits only a moment before continuing.

“But if put in the same position…” Zane stares Kyle dead in the eyes as he speaks. “I would do it again. More lives were saved then lost, and I would have to be a fool to be willing to let so many suffer for your sake. Because it was never about him, was it?” He scoffs. “It’s about you. He’s not here anymore. What happens now has no effect on him. You use his death as an excuse to cause misery. You-“

“Zane?” Cryptor mutters, catching his attention. “Shut the hell up.”

"...You killed him.” Kyle’s voice is quiet, but no less threatening. “You killed so many people. Maybe even as many as you saved. And you never faced any trial."

Zane shakes his head. “The Golden Master would have killed everyone.” He argues. “I did what I had to do.”

He can feel Cryptor’s internal screaming at him, but he ignores the other in favor of staring down Kyle.

"What you had to do was to protect.” The blond snaps. “And you couldn't even do that right."

He- what?

Zane finds himself struggling for words, attempting to find a way to defend himself. He- he knows that he had failed, in a way, by...

“I protected as many as I could!” He shoots back, trying to keep his voice steady. “I was willing to die to protect those in danger!”

Kyle scoffs. "Being willing to die for something doesn't mean anything if you don't value your life enough to begin with. That's why you were the one to sacrifice yourself, right? You thought that, as an android, you were more expendable than your human teammates?"

Fear takes a cold grip on him as he processes the words.

“I- I am not-“ With shock, Zane realizes that… he doesn’t have a good argument.

His voice is quiet as he tries to come up with one. “I am expendable because the others have more use. It- it is not because I am a nindroid, it’s…”

He… doesn’t know what to say. How to defend himself. The- the others are more important than him, but- but that doesn’t mean that Zane is… that he’s…

Kyle shakes his head. "For something to have more use than something else, that other thing must be lesser. It's just logic.” He shrugs. “You said it yourself."

Zane finds himself looking down at the floor, breathing ragged, as he tries to come up with a way to deny the words. “No.” He chokes out. “No, that’s not what I…” He trails off, unsure of how to continue.

The smile he gets isn’t angry this time. No, it’s… almost comforting. "Think about it, alright?” His voice is reassuring, soothing. “You can't argue against logic."

Zane can feel himself shaking, his voice quiet and near breaking as he tries to say otherwise. “I’m not lesser, I’m not, I’m- I’m equal, I…”

Something seems to break inside of him as he realizes that it’s not Kyle that he’s trying to convince.

"Don't worry.” Kyle assures. “The confusion will be over soon."

Wordlessly, Zane gives a weak nod, not even sure what he’s agreeing to.

He’s not- not lesser, he’s just… sure, the others are more valuable, more skilled, more- more everything, but…

Kyle calls in some guards, but Zane can barely hear him. "Take them back to their lockers.” He instructs. “Someone will come fetch them when we find the bird."

Cryptor speaks quickly, clear fear in his voice. “It’s connected to us, I- I can call it.”

Zane can hear their voices, but he’s unsure of the meaning behind the words. He can barely process his own thoughts, much less the world around him.

#the rights of a nindroid #trauma #psychological torture #torture #ninjago fanfiction #ninjago zangst #zangst

[tricksterreformed-a]

✩  INTERVIEW WITH THE MUN  ✩

➊ How many ships do you have on this blog?

          I don’t know, let’s count! I’ve been writing some super fun GabrielxBobby stuff with @multimuse-rp, and that good (complicated) GabrielxDean shit with @awaywardboy-andhisangel and actually... that’s all the canonxcanon ship stuff I’m writing right now for some reason. But that’s not all the ships!  Fulfilling a years long dream (for me) @daedaluscried and I are writing GabrielxAri and she has also indulged some excellet (unrequited) GabrielxEve content, @thxwxlf and I have dabbled in some GabrielxKekipi, and @inferniangod has been kind enough to write GabrielxIfrit with me. 

          I’ve discussed, but not actually written GabrielxSam with @smmie, and I think @hellsmother and I are on track to write some GabrielxRowena (but if I’m not sure I should probably check, whoops).  So that’s six total, eight if you count these last two.  Plus a handful of others where Gabriel is just flirting at people and waiting to see what happens.  Nothing has to happen, he’s just like that.  But something could happen with any of them.

➋ Have you ever roleplayed with someone that just left an unforgettable impression on you?

          Of course!  I’ve been doing this for 10+ years and people have made all kinds of impressions, some amazingly good and others downright awful. I can roll through some nicknames/first names only and proably only Anti will know who I’m talking about because a lot of them are from our shared history on gaiaonline!  I could go on and on about every single one of these people but here’s a quick ‘n dirty list instead: Noir, Kathy, Mariah, Moose, Lyss, Berry, and @daedaluscried!  I’m still occasionally in touch with three of these people (one more often than the other two) which I think is kind of wild all things considered. There’s also some not so good impressions, like guy-who-started-nice-and-then-harassed-me-for-nude-pics and the-person-who-broke-my-trust-and-caused-me-to-stop-writing-smut, but i have put them far far behind me.

➌ Which of your ships on this blog is the fluffiest?

          The fluffiest is probaly Gabriel and Ari now that we’ve gotten into the emotional core of the relationship on both ends.  Which isn’t to say that it’s not a spicy ship with a helping of angst, but... I’ve written more hand-holding with them than with any of the others and I guess that’s my definition of fluff. Also I suspect the gratuitous hand-holding will continue even once they’re past the language barrier. So... FLUFF.

➍ Would you say you’re a decent role player or do you have any self doubts?

          I think I’m a decent writer but my roleplay skills vary depending on the day.  I understand how to set a mood and (usually) how to string a decent sentence together but sometimes the craft that goes into bouncing off of another writer and giving them something to bounce off of in return eludes me.

➎ Have you made lots of friends on this blog?

          More than I expected too. But when I set this blog up I thought ‘those days are behind me now’ so... one would be more than I expected.

➏ What’s the one thing you especially love about roleplaying your muse?

          WRITING THE JOKES!  And not just the verbal jokes he makes, I love writing jokes into my narration! Meta jokes! Dick jokes! Bad puns! All of it! I love it!! I also enjoy the way Gabriel interacts with the world around him.  He rarely just stands in a scene and talks, he’s always moving and gesturing and doing stuff. I also love writing his dialogue, even when the things I write make me squinch my face up with shame. He just says stuff sometimes. 

➐ Are there any people you’ve been to afraid of approaching?

          NOPE!  I’m not afraid to reach out. Approaching people is the easy part. You send a meme, you make an ooc comment, you tag them in something, you hit them with an ask or an IM or whatever.  And if they don’t answer that’s a-okay!  Their choice, I’m not hurt or personally offended. What I’m afraid of is what happens after that part if they do answer.  I can usually BS a thread until I find the point of the thing but IMs and asks? Y I K E S ! Now there’s an expectation for me to be cool and witty and have good ideas instead of just mediocre ones. Very scary. The reason I don’t send IMs.

➑ Give us a rough estimate: How much time have you spent on your graphics? (icons, theme, banners, promos, etc)

          My icons/graphics are a visual representation of me learning to use G.I.M.P. and I think you can... very clearly see the learning curve.  More effort went into those old fuzzy icons I have than the new, crisp ones. Plus moodboards and other stuff?   My guess is 40+ hours.

➒ Got any memorable threads on here? Care to mention a few?

          Well now I wish I had thread tags.  Thread tags would be a lifesaver right now.  Anyway, I am once again shouting out @awaywardboy-andhisangel and our original GabexDean thread that has since spiraled and gotten very, very interesting (it’s not over, I just like it).  And @divinitatemxsanguis who has allowed me to indulge in writing Gabriel with Loki post all the betrayl and murder. They have a special place in my heart so thanks for not judging me! I’m getting ready to write the conclusion/endcap to a sad thread with @isclcphobics involving Talia, Gabriel, and a grave. Plus the thread with @downwillow where Gabriel is human and Micheal has forgotten him. And a shoutout to @daedaluscried for our thread series that I have affectionately dubbed the ‘The Nanny’ series ft. October and Gabriel.  Every thread has been a delight.

          I also have some stuff I’m really looking forward to getting into, specifically with @hellsmother​, @cursebcund​, and @magaprima​.

➓ What were some of the most frustrating moments you had with your muse’s interaction with another muse?

          One that’s on me: sometimes I know that a moment in a thread calls for some emotional vunerability, and often when those times roll around the Gabriel voice I use to write dialogue goes all quiet and resistant and just wants to make jokes.  And either one of two things happens, either I write the joke and cringe because I know now the thread is going to go way off track because obviously the other character won’t be thrilled/is about to shut down and shut up. Or I force some emotional vunerability out of him and it never quite sounds right to me.  Sometimes it’s natural, but sometimes he just won’t do the thing and it frustrates me!

          One that I’ve encountered from someone else: sometimes people will try to force a certain motivation or trait on my Gabriel based on their perception of canon/a past interaction they’ve had with another Gabe as portrayed by another RPer. This really grinds my gears because if you want a Gabriel with that motivation to critique/praise/fight with then go find one! I garantee someone out there plays him that way! There are a lot of us out here doing this! I’m not going to change my portrayl for you!!

#ooc: it's math not magic #about the mun #(( i took this from awaywardboyandhisangel #and if you want to fill out a version you should )) #long post

[gohnnyjuitar]

20 OTP Questions

tagged by @sunset-cassaparilla ( i am in love with myra & danse’s dynamic btw wow) this took me so long bc my little brain was like Hm.. make pic for them........

i’ll tag uhh @benny-gecko-official, @saddeniq, @theartofblossoming if you haven’t already!! otherwise i mean if you see this just pretend i tagged you bc i’m bad at tagging hlhlfh

anyway, here’s Anthony and Deacon bc i’m Hopeless!! under the cut this time bc i talk a lot jfkgfj

1. Who can out-drink the other?

Deacon’s by no means a light weight, but Anthony’s got that patented Prewar Liver™ and some fancy Vault Tex nanites cleaning up his blood.That being said, they’ve never actually attempted to get drunk together; they’ve had a few beers together, sure, but they’re usually too busy or too antsy to get drunk.

2. Who says “i love you” more?

Deacon, and usually in private. They both know all too well that the Wasteland can take just about anything from you if you aren’t careful, but Deacon especially. After Barbara and working with the Railroad- the Switchboard- he wasn’t even expecting to get close to anyone like that again. Now, he won’t let himself take that for granted. They do pick up kind of a “code” when it comes to wanting to say it in public.

3. Who has trouble sleeping alone?

Anthony’s had issue with this since leaving the Vault. Not only was he used to sleeping next to someone, he was used to sleeping in a room with three other people.Travelling on his own is the only time it gets really bad. Nightmares come more often and, at its worst, insomnia. If he’s having a particularly bad day, he likes to tuck his head under Deacon’s chin and press his face into his shirt as if to reassure himself that there is another presence there.

4. Who swears more?

Deacon does. Anthony was usually in sight of a camera prewar so usually had to watch how he acted and what he said. He’s so used to it, that when he does swear, it catches him off guard a little. Always gets a good chuckle out of Deacon, too, who usually threatens with a swear jar.

5. Who does more of the housework?

Got me thinking of them settling down now oof.. I think it would end up being both of them pretty equally. Anthony did his own housework when he lived in his own apartment prewar and Deacon just doesn’t like Mess.

6. Who forgets their anniversary?

Deacon takes pride in being able to remember, well, a lot. Anthony insists he’s been around long enough that things tend to blur together. Deacon will tease Anthony about it on different days, but they don’t really take the whole ‘anniversary’ thing too seriously. What’s one day matter when the next could be your last in the Wasteland?

7. Who steals the duvet in their sleep?

Deacon, absolutely. Anthony’s always run pretty warm and doesn’t usually go for a blanket unless he’s sick or it’s actually cold out. When winter rolls around, it wouldn’t be uncommon to see Deacon wrapped up in whatever blanket he could find with Anthony all but draped over him.

8. Who keeps the other awake at night with their snoring?

Deacon will never admit it- and Anthony will never tell him- but he snores whenever he’s actually sound asleep. Anthony thinks it’s endearing, not to mention he lives for when Deacon gets some actual sleep. He’ll take watch all night if it means the poor man gets some rest.

9. Who finds stray animals and begs the other to let them keep them?

Anthony is, unfortunately, allergic to pet dander so Deacon knows better than to hold onto a stray dog or cat. That definitely didn’t stop him from presenting Anthony with a pristine Deathclaw egg and nearly killing him on the spot.

10. Who usually makes dinner?

They take turns! When they can remember whose turn it is, anyway. Sometimes it’s decided with some good ol’ fashion rock paper scissors. Neither of them are terrible cooks, but it’s always better than some of the prewar food left behind.

11. Who plays their music out loud?

Anthony carries around an Elvis holotape that he likes to play whenever he finds an intact holotape player. Otherwise, it’s not uncommon for him to end up humming a song that might’ve gotten stuck in his head when visiting say Diamond City. Deacon doesn’t mind. In fact, sometimes it helps lull him to sleep at night.

12. Who hogs the bathroom?

Listen, a man’s got to know just how well a disguise works. Deacon only hogs the mirror whenever he’s putting on a disguise and Anthony usually couldn’t care less. He likes to make sure his hair doesn't look absolutely disgusting, but he can usually get enough space to do that while Deacon’s changing. It has ended with an elbow to the ribs or stepping on feet in smaller bathrooms, but they end up with a good laugh if that’s the case.

13. Who gives the most compliments?

Oh, they’re obnoxious. They like to shoot increasingly dramatic or outrageous compliments at each other whenever they’re somewhere safe and around others. Especially at HQ. It grinds Carrington’s gears and they think it’s hilarious. The more sincere compliments are said only when it’s just the two of them. They’re said with soft smiles and gentle voices and they’re as sincere as could be do not attempt to fight me on this.

14. Who usually starts/causes arguments between them?

That definitely depends on the argument. They’re both generally pretty laid back dudes so not a lot gets them really heated like that. When they do argue it’s usually a brief, angry thing. They have to find separate corners of HQ or even go a couple days with radio silence before they come back together and apologize. It’s never words intended on hurting, it’s usually concerning the other’s well being.

15. Who isn’t afraid to embarrass the other in public?

Deacon is really good at that. He can do something completely asinine and still keep a straight face. His favorite thing is to say something incredibly specific and a reference to something only Anthony would understand in front of him and whoever he’s talking to. Anthony will embarrass unintentionally, usually by way of complimenting Deacon to someone else like Desdemona or Carrington while he’s in earshot.

16. Who gives the other cringe-worthy pet names?

File this under one of the things they do to get on Carrington’s nerves.’Stars’ and ‘Deeks’ are the go-to nicknames, but man can they get creative if they’re bored enough. Deacon leans towards the more outrageous, ‘that’s not even a real word’ names while Anthony will absolutely break out the prewar slang. If Carrington has to hear Deacon be called ‘one chrome-plated pussycat’ one more time, he’ll lose it.

17. Who fusses over the other when they get sick?

Anthony doesn’t get sick often at all, so when he does it’s usually pretty bad. The  Vault Tec nanites in his blood can work to clean out his system, but that can mean Anthony’s body going comatose while they do their job. The first time that happened since coming back to the Commonwealth, he’d contracted Vault 81′s Molerat disease and given the cure to Austin. Deacon, who didn’t know much about his nanites at the time, was absolutely beside himself when Anthony suddenly just dropped.

18. Who finds it impossible to stay angry at the other for long?

They’re both, as mentioned, incredibly laid back about most things. Deacon can manage to stay ‘angry’ longer than Anthony, given the reason. Anthony’s attitude leans towards ‘I don’t know what’ll happen tomorrow, so let’s fix this before then’. Deacon has the potential to ‘stay angry’ longer simply because he can avoid and throw himself into work if he really wants to.

19. Who clings to the other for comfort when they’re sad or scared?

Anthony’s more likely to actively seek out comfort when he’s upset. He’ll end up in a funk for a day or two, realize he’s Upset, then go find Deacon and pull him away for a hug. Sometimes he can get away with just being near Deacon and listening to him just talk, other times he likes to be Held.

20. Who is more ‘physically passionate’? (hugs, kisses, or maybe more…)

Probablyyy Anthony, if only because Deacon’s more of a private guy so only displays affection when there aren’t any prying eyes. I like to think that eventually, in places they’re both comfortable, they’re more likely to be seen holding hands or lingering touches. In times of celebration, Anthony has the potential to get carried away and Scoop Deacon up into a big ol’ hug.

#fallout #20 otp questions #oc; anthony rosario #deacon #otp; thick as thieves #my doodles #it is Soft Hours fellas

[riderdrauggrim]

Day Tues Oct 20, 2020.

So! On uh. ... Other day... (they blur together, what is time, hrgnn) I made use of Toad Rock's repair shelter and put the bike up on the stand (with some help because Am Smol) to try and get the horrible slack out of the chain.

I'd known it was getting time for a new one before I left, but I'd always assumed the occasional clattering as the sprockets spun the chain around was my eternal foes; negligence and rust.

Hence me installing the CameleonOiler automatic chain oil dripper prior to departure: It meant I didn't need to risk lugging around a pressurized spray can, and the dripper would keep the chain tended for me.

Or so I thought.

That reads wrong. The CameleonOiler does exactly as advertised, drips a sticky spider web like dot of oil every three minutes and change, which keeps the chain happy. It wasn't until the reservoir ran out of the custom goop that the noise returned. I had only brought one jug of the oil for backup, and I was due those new tires, so I decided not to refill it and get everything gunky gross slimed for the poor shop guys at Riverside.

Once the tires were done, I refilled the tube; noise went away.

Friday night the noise came back with a vengeance, and the bike seemed to jerk and stutter when I accelerated. I was shifting through lower gears than I normally do, as I was both in the rain, at dusk, and on a twisty mountain pass I was unfamiliar with.

My natural instinct was "reservoir must be empty again, and all the rain washed whatever was on the chain away."

So. The other day I went to check the slack and it was so bad it was easily over 3". NOT good. Poking around a bit and the left swingarm end cap plate was loose. Okay, new theory, they'd cleaned and greased things when they replaced the tire... Perhaps the axle had jostled out of place when I hit a pothole or a rut or nearly wiped out on thay icy bridge. That would explain the loose plate, and the chain sag.

So it's on the center stand and I wrench things around and that's when I realize it ISN'T just stiff and rusty links. The Master Link and the two links beside it are outright LOOSE. Like, get them on the rear sprocket and then lift them off it a quarter inch LOOSE.

Which created a new problem.

If I tightened the chain slack while those links were on the sprocket, once they were off the sprocket they would relax, and that's where all the horrible sag was coming from. It also probably was what made the cringe worthy snapping sound, as they were suddenly drawn taut with tension from the opposing sprocket.

However, if I tightened the chain while the loose links were -between- the sprockets, it would cinch everything TOO tight once they revolved back onto the teeth.

Well. Shit.

On a whim, I decide, maybe if I can get a new chain, I can swap it myself.

Problem 1) The current chain has a rivet style master link, after a freak failure of a newly installed clip link years ago, we'd swapped to rivet style for security.

I do not have the tools to grind rivet heads off with me.

Problem 2) The place a half hour up the road DOES have a chain that fits. Except it had more links than I need.

And I do not have a chain breaker with me.

Solution 1) Said Honda place up the road, Main Jet Motorsports in Nelson, B.C. DOES have time this afternoon to pop the chain on for me. On one hand, saves me buying tools I don't need. And saves me from getting overwhelmed if I mess up. Let's do it.

And it's a good thing we did.

Service fellah comes to find me with an odd expression. I know what this means.

"What have I messed up and broken now," I sigh, because that's generally the case.

"No, it's just. Your wheel bearings are worn. Like. Badly worn. Like letting you leave with them in is a health and safety concern."

Wheeeeeeeeeee.

At the very least, it's not something that I would have known to look for, and it's apparently impossible to "tell" with weight on the wheel. They took me down and showed me how the wheel slightly wiggled side to side if you grabbed it and applied lateral pressure.

"And that's bad," I presumed. "What would happen if I kept going like that?"

Well, the wheel could straight up seize and stop spinning.

Okay! How do we fix it!

It became a good news/bad news afternoon.

Good news! We have replacement bearings in stock!

Bad news! We only have two of three.

Good news! The carrier bearing generally takes less wear than the other two, so we can probably leave that one in, just replace it asap when you get back.

Bad news! Your bearing seal is also shot, and we don't have any in stock.

Good news! It's not THAT horrible, we'll just grease it to heck and you get a new one when you get that third bearing swapped.

-sigh-

SO.

New chain, two out of three new bearings, and I'm good to go. Super thanks to Main Jet Motorsports!

-----

I also feel horrible because a woman came in who had bought a KTM 390 two years ago and had only put 500km on it because the damn KTMs are TOO FUCKING TALL and she wasn't confident when she had to stop and put a foot down.

That is the STORY OF MY LIFE, so of course I perked up. She'd done dirt bikes a bunch when she was younger. She liked riding. She just needed something she fit on.

So the... Six foot + sales guy and her are looking at the... Rebels?

What?

I'm like. Does he even understand her issue?

Sure, she can touch ground on the Rebels, but.

That's a totally different ride style?

Not AS Lazy-Boy recliner as a cruiser, but still. Nothing like the "feet pegs in line with body" of a dual sport, adventure, or sport.

If she has a dirt background, and wants to build up more confidence off road. You don't put her on a retro cruiser thingy.

I swear. All shops should have a sales person UNDER 5'4".

So I basically hijacked his sale.

And I feel bad for it.

But I talked up the CB500X, or even the CB500F like I used to have. I showed her how her posture on the Rebel would impact her spine if she wanted to off-road it, which she hadn't considered. Sure, it feels great in the show room, with both your feet on the floor. But go a few hours down a fire road, unable to stand and see what's ahead, the rake and trail all sluggish for quick corner input.

And it was one of those moments where I was ::aware I should just shut up:: but also felt like...

Responsibly motivated to make sure the lady got what she was actually looking for by pointing out pros and cons she maybe hadn't considered? As one short rider to another?

She seemed to REALLY be grateful for the advice and input.

The sales guy seemed annoyed as he glared at me and then growled he was gonna go photo copy something until I "was done talking".

I mean. Yah. I was all for Honda, and like, "these are both great machines, I recomend either, get what you feel comfortable on!" Like I wasn't at all like "no lady, what you want is to go somewhere else and buy a different brand".

But the dude didn't even get her copies of the full colour glossy product books, and I was kinda like...

Maybe he didn't take her seriously.

I mean most motorcycle makers and gear manufactures don't seem to give a shit about people under 5'4", there's barely any clothes that aren't too long or too tall. I've got to soften suspensions or put lowering links on my rides. I've got my pant cuffs rolled up three times like I borrowed my big brother's space suit.

Plus she's a GIRLLLL. Oh yah, companies make riding gear FOR GIRLSSS. It's pink, and shows off your hourglass figure, and has silver sequined butterflies. Or the Klim Jacket that had the cell phone pocket DIRECTLY over the left breast, so the device would get painfully mashed into the tissue if you tried to zip up. Almost as if they didn't actually have any girls on hand to trouble shoot the product.

HHHGGNNN.

Anyways. I hope that lady finds a nice Honda she likes and has fun on it.

I'm sorry to the sales dude for stepping on your toes.

And I love the heck out of the service guys for looking after me and catching that huge safety concern and getting me back on the road super quick.

Now I just need it to STOP RAINING.

[eurosong]

ESC 2018 vs 2019 - Semi-final 2

Good afternoon, folks! A few days ago, I took a look at the songs of Eurovision 2019’s first semi-final, comparing them with songs from the same countries in 2018 and sharing my verdict on which year was better and why. Now it’s the turn of semi-final 2! Again, I try to see as much good as possible in each song and I mean no offence to anyone who disagrees with these opinions. 

·        Albania – 2018 – Albania had always been a bit of a bête noire for me at this contest, because they would so often pick fabulous songs at their long-running Festival i këngës national final, only then to completely mutilate them musically and (with the help of Bing translator, lyrically) in the revamp. Last year, that trend hopefully came to an end in the most glorious fashion when Eugent Bushpepa didn’t make any major change to Mall, one of the songs that most impressed me in this era, a soaring, moving, poëtic cri de cœur of a song. This year, they have also opted to neither translate nor musically mutate. I like their 2019 song a lot, but it’s a Scafell Pike to last year’s mighty Everest.

·        Armenia – 2019 – as a glossophile who always advocates the use of national languages over English, I have some respect for Qami, the only song Armenia ever sent entirely in their language. Respect, but no love, because I found it merely ok and rather repetitive. I thought this would be a second year in a row that I’d be underwhelmed by Hayastan, but whilst this year’s offering cannot shape up to the majestic Fly with me, it’s become an earworm and I enjoy the fiery defiance of Srbuk’s lyrics and the incorporation of traditional instrumentation into something otherwise decidedly contemporary.

·        Austria – 2018 – I seem to be one of very few people rating this year’s gentle, stripped-back but impassioned Austrian entry. It more than tilts its cap in the direction of Kate Bush, but I am down with that. However, it would really take some doing to beat last year’s Austrian song, Nobody but you, in my estimations – a worthy winner of the jury vote and probably the ESC’s best ever gospel-infused song for my money.

·        Azerbaijan – 2019 – I’m not as won over by this Azeri effort as many people that I know. I was expected something rather different from their snippet (a word I wish I will never hear again given the amount of them this year). It’s not bad by usual standards though, and is certainly a class above Delete My Heart and its bizarre computer-generated lyrics last year.

·        Croatia – 2018 – Last year’s Croatian song was a rather lame reimagining of Sam Brown’s Stop. I didn’t like the original and I sure didn’t fancy the semi-skimmed version that much either. Having said that, Franka, all is forgiven. Your song is a delight compared to the demonic screeching of this young budding ego ironically wearing (fluffy) angel wings. I thought Jacques Houdek had unleashed enough hell with his Maa fwenn/Moy frennddd but it was nothing compared to this abomination. It’s so bad that it almost scares me how bad it is.

·        Denmark – 2019 – Another one where I go against the grain is Denmark. I never got the hype for Rasmussen, whose song sounded like a soundtrack for some 90s direct-to-video movie about Vikings. The only thing is that they managed to make even Vikings feel lame. It all seemed a little OTT and gimmicky to me, and the amount of repetition and the cliché pitch shift both annoyed me. On paper, this hyper-sweet Danish song should also grind my gears, but in a subpar year, I’ve actually grown a fondness for it. Maybe the Frenchness of it all was what won me over. I hope they’re not actually going to sway side to side on a big chair in the actual final, though.

·        Ireland – 2018 – Two decent songs in a row from Ireland and it’s difficult to choose between them, even though neither set my world alight. I still think the staging of last year was rather cynical – two enamoured lads who had little to with the song about heartbreak, but did seem to win over some folk who otherwise would have dismissed it as a boring ballad. Seeing it live, it was quite moving, and I was able to put this incongruousness out of mind. This year’s entry has rather less artifice and a low-key charm, but I have to go for ’18 as having more depth as a composition.      

·        Latvia – 2018 – Despite never having reached the heights of Aminata who pulled them up from the non-qualification doldrums, I’ve enjoyed every subsequent song from Latvia, even though the standards of Supernova have dropped since the Riga Beaver stopped delighting us in the ad breaks. This year’s Latvian song is delightfully low-key, the kind of thing I imagine hearing on the radio late at night, driving in the rain. At the minute, though, I have to say I still prefer the sultry, tempestuous Funny Girl – though Esam­iba would have topped both.

·        Macedonia – 2018 – Macedonia, perhaps the country at the contest who least has received their dues despite some excellent songs, is a perfect illustration of how difficult these 2018 vs 2019 choices can be. Their entry this year, “Proud”, is touching and impactful on first listen, but I’ve seldom sought out to listen to it much since then. On the other hand, I was absolutely obsessed with last year’s “Lost and found”, bewitched by its changes in style and tempo. Unfortunately, the live version of 2018 was an absolute clusterfuck; it felt as though someone had been deliberately tasked with ruining their qualification chances, and that casts a shadow over the song in retrospect. I wouldn’t be surprised if 2019 is a more effective song on the stage, but for the time being, I prefer 2018 musically.

·        Malta – 2019 – There is absolutely no contest here for me. This is the first song sent by Malta that manages to hold my interest since “Tomorrow” way back in 2013. It’s more daring and contemporary than I ever imagined would be their choice. In a different universe from the screechy “Taboo.” It’s also refreshing to have a Maltese song that doesn’t try to get brownie points from their message.

·        Moldova – 2018 – A truly plague vs cholera choice. 2018’s bizarre Kirkorov-spawned ode to the ménage-à-trois versus this year’s painfully, painfully dull ballad-by-numbers with rhyming-also-by-number (rhyming say with stay, never with forever. Troolee jeenyuss.) I have to go with 2018, which creeped me out, but at least was kind of interesting in its own weird way, and its staging showed ingenuity despite limited resources.

·        Netherlands – 2018 – I’m sure for a lot of people, this choice is a no-brainer, but for me, it is very much a difficult choice. I really loved “Outlaw in ‘em”, Waylon’s country style is up my street and, whilst I still think “Thanks or no thanks” would have been a cannier choice, I appreciated one of the few moments last year in which one could rock out. “Arcade” is a different beast entirely, so comparisons are odious. Both are stirring, but OIE is riotous and defiant, whilst Arcade is poignant. It’s hard to choose just one, but I have to go for the one I’m more likely to have on repeat, last year’s song.

·        Norway – 2019 – Oh, Norway. For a few glorious years, with Margaret Berger, Karl Espen and then especially Mørland, they were the coolest thing going out of the Nordics – but how the mighty have fallen. I haven’t really liked a single one of their entries since then and once again, I am faced with a choice between two unsavoury options. Their entry this year sounds like Aqua went into the woods for a spiritualistic retreat, came back, wrote a shitty b-side about the experience and then decided not to release it, only for some Norwegians to find it about 20 years later and pass the song off as their own. Everything about it makes me cringe on an almost existential level. It appals me that the “come on barbie, let’s go pardy”-style joiking is being compared to JHF who actually representing joik in a classier way. I say all this, and yet, this year’s offering is still not ás bad as 2018’s “That’s how you write a song”, a “children’s TV show theme” song whose cosmic irony would be funny were it not so tragic.

·        Romania – 2018 – I didn’t think this would be such a tough decision when I found out the results for Selecţia Naţionala, and was absolutely amazed that the public had only 1/7th of the result, and that the juries had catapulted a song that only picked up 3% of the televote (Laura Bretan, the televote winner, got a 42% share, in contrast) on the back of a rather dubious live performance. I’m still not sure why Ester puts on a vocal affectation that makes her sound like she’s having a tantrum, but somehow the song’s dark ambiance and the hilarious video won me over. It still can’t compare to last year’s emotional, underrated effort which brought to mind departed friends.

·        Russia – 2019 – Sergey’s return is a little pompous and will certainly be wrapped up with unnecessary staging frills; that being said, it’s a decent song, which is more than I can say about the truly ghoulish “I won’t break,” whose only virtue for me – being slightly better than the hideous and ungrammatical “Flame is burning” – was removed when I saw that impossibly bad staging, confining their singer almost embarrassedly into the background.

·        Sweden – 2019 – For the first time in a few years, Sweden have sent an artist and song that I don’t find completely objectionable. That isn’t to say that I don’t find any objection at all – soul is not really soul when it is so heavily manufactured, and I cannot help but feel that they’ve taken more than a fair amount of inspiration from both Austria of last year and Bulgaria of 2016. Nonetheless, I can bear it a lot better than Dance you off.

·        Switzerland – 2018 – For once, I actually had a little bit of hope for Switzerland, who have been going through the motions with some turgid fare for the last number of years, with the only exception for me being Hunter of Stars. Going internal made me feel they had something exceptional, and I guess they thought they did, but for me, instead they brought a thinly veiled male take on Fuego and little more. Last year’s effort also didn’t impress me much, a dirgey bit of trust fund faux-rock (frock?), but I’ll take it over the Chernobyl levels of radioäctive smugness exuded by this latter Swiss attempt.

And as for the automatic qualifiers:

·        Germany – 2018 – When I heard that Barbara Schöneberger, she of the eyes that are bigger than Lake Baikal and seems permanently traumatised, was coming back after a year’s absence as host, I joked that I was amazed she was given back the gig given that every year she’s been in charge, there’s been an abject failure and the one edition where she was absent, Germany managed to get a fantastic result. I feel they’re back to their losing ways with Sister, a song performed by a group called S!sters who have only known one another for a few months if that. It’s one of many songs this year with decent verses but a horrible chorus. It’s supposed to be a celebration of sisterhood, but it feels moreso like these two want to scratch the other’s eyes out whilst they stand there, wailing at one another. There were things that annoyed me about last year’s German entry too, particularly the large section in which he merely said “whoahaoaoaoa” as if he’d run out of ideas for lyrics, but it was otherwise a stellar, well-written effort. In another league to these imaginary sisters.  

·        Italy – 2019 – Italy is one of the very few countries where I prefer 2019 to 2018, 2018 to 2017, 2017 to 2016 and 2016 to 2015! They just get better year on year. I adored “Metamoro” and still consider their song a huge highlight, one of the best of last year and of recent years. It’s incredibly difficult to choose between them and Mahmood’s Soldi, but he somehow managed to win me over even more with his anthemic, autobiographical song which has a contemporary edge but also the timelessness and quality of San Remo orchestral compositions. My number one this year so far.

·        UK – 2019 – Eurovision: You Decide got even drearier than usual this year. Whilst other countries like France increased the number of songs from which their viewers could choose, BBC cut their choices down to three, got two sets of people to perform each song in a different style pastiche and then didn’t even allow the viewers to choose which rendition they preferred. We ended up with a bog-standard “X factor winners’ single”-style song that SVT told John Lundvik not to perform for them. It has the edge because it at least “hey muvva, bruvva” lyrics or random Casio noises in the background like Surie’s song. She really deserved more.

#esc #eurovision #esc 2019 #eurovision song contest #opinion #eurovision 2019

[jaythelay]

Please for the love of god all “viewers” just fucking have some standards for who you watch

There are creators out there who’s whole purpose in life is creation, and Some Fucking How, it’s nothing but the least effort, most unedited content I’ve ever seen getting anywhere.

Ironically while animators may complain that because their content is too short nobody watches it, I can confirm like many, my least effort video with less than 3 minutes to it’s life, will have more views than any of my 20-30 minute heavily edited over nearly a year or more videos will ever get.

But you know what really grinds my fucking gears? Not that my best work is NEVER promoted, not that what is actually relevant to my channel anymore is NEVER promoted, but that mother fuckers uploading unedited content, or livestreaming, and saying literally nothing for hours, has any form of following.

There are so many near suicidal creators needing a fucking boost of morale that POUR THEIR LIVES into their work-

and ya’ll fuckbois watch these fucking 10 minutes of effort 5 minute cringe compilations that do nothing but make you radical or angry as fuck for the rest of your fucking life. Which is their only purpose anymore.

There are people, RIGHT NOW, making some genuine works of art for something you actually care about, that they actually put in the research, effort, and love into. That make you respect not only the topic they’re covering, not only their passionate works, but creators as a whole, that set standards for yourself to watch from there on.

And no, it’s this right wing propaganda that ends up all the fuck over my page. You say ONE THING (Alot actually, but far much worse for the right) BAD ABOUT THE LEFT ON TUMBLR AND YOUTUBE GOES “OH HE MUST HATE HUMANITY!” FUUUUUCK ME.

#youtube

[comradecowplant]

WELL it was an easy read and I finished the book already. I gotta do a classic Dani Vents About a Story post that will include significant spoilers, so be careful if you are reading/want to read The Mercies by Kiran Millwood Hargraves. I’m about to bitch about it a lot, but overall it was an interesting book that I’d still (mostly) recommend if you have an interest in historical fiction surrounding the Norwegian witch trials.

Most of it was really good, although a few theme threads and character arcs completely fell apart in the final act. I knew it was going to be dark-- again, 17th century witch trial shit-- but the actual “murder my favorite characters” bit thankfully didn’t begin until pretty late in the story, which lets the focus remain more on the lives of the women vs their horrific deaths. The author does a (mostly) great job at creating interesting characters you fall in love with, and succeeded immensely at bringing the landscape and village of Vardo to life.

BUT 

IN THE LAST LITERAL FOUR PAGES, THE NARRATIVE TOOK ALL THE MEANING THAT THE PROTAGANISTS HAD CREATED OUT OF THEIR HARDSHIPS AND THREW IT OVER A CLIFF (LITERALLY! & EACH USE OF THIS WORD HERE HAS BEEN THE PROPER USE. although i guess a fictional event cannot be truly ‘literal’ BUT WHATEVER I AM NOT GETTING LOST IN THE WEEDS WITH PEDANTICS). I am so fucking mad, and it serves as a reminder to why I typically don’t read/watch many period pieces these days, unless it is a period setting in a fantasy/sci fi world. So many people think that in order to bE rEaLiStIc when writing about periods in history, you simply MUST be as grimdark as possible, especially with conclusions, but I find that perspective boring and uncreative as hell. Bitch it’s already fiction! it’s already lies! you are god in the universe you write, have some courage and don’t concede to established tropes that center on garish suffering to define the experiences of historically (& contemporaneously) marginalized people! At least in a medieval-set fantasy story, you get the vibes of the historical setting, but also your friends can swoop by on a dragon and rescue the innocent pants-wearing fisherwoman who is about to be burned alive by the racist woman-hating church.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love a story with a messy & unhappy ending. I even love an occasional grimdark story! But as I get older, I see & feel more the evils which inspired these historical events and how they still burden our world today, and I do not enjoy spending my free time reading/watching movies that are centered on suffering for suffering’s sake-- if I want a story about senseless violence & the underdogs who never win, I will just turn on the fucking news. SO, for me, the dark stories I do enjoy cannot just be traumaporn in a difference shell, the darkness has. to. make. sense. You can’t spend 300 pages on a woman overcoming her grief of losing her brother/father/fiancé/half her village & learning how to be a #StrongIndependantWoman, then have her just kill herself on the last page. It just isn’t narratively good, it just isn’t! And to be clear, the author could have gone WAYYYYYYYY darker in many places throughout the book & did not even come close to going full grimdark. I think overall she greatly succeeded at balancing hope & hopelessness. It was done so well in fact that I was lulled into a false sense of security that maybe just maybe there might be a way out for our ladies, a conclusion that didn’t end with the kind of complete misery that historic fiction tends to skew towards. But there is this overwhelming sense in the final few pages that, probably due to the aforementioned loyalty to perceived “historical accuracy”, she hadn’t included enough suffering (even though there is PLENTY of tragedy to go around by that point) & she didn’t know how to finish the story. So when in doubt, kill 👏 those 👏 gays 👏 (although we don’t know the fate of the other woman, who has entire chapters given from her perspective, but Meren just says bye & we never hear about Ursa again 😤)

Which brings us to, yeah, it did have gay shit like I thought, and up until the garbage of the last four pages, it was a very touching romance. But it too concluded in a way that is only satisfying if you squint, and adds to the inconsistencies that I mentioned above. I’ve never in my life said this before, and it makes me ill to even type this, but, *sob* it probably would have been a better story if the two women had remained platonic friends and no touch-a the booba. I know a lot of people think I’m One of Those cringe queers who will read/watch absolute garbage just if there is a queer person (which tbf I definitely also do sometimes, & it’s actually very valid of me, thank u very much), but if that were true I would have finished that awful Warming Trend book that I blogged about like 2 years go, or read any of the hundreds of stupid “subtext” trash that folks like to recommend, or ship Supercorp (no offense to anyone who ships them, I get it, Katie McGrath is hot, but come on, there is a perfectly good lesbian already on the show), or watched Glee. No, I do actually have some standards--  Are they super high, as a love-starved reader/viewer who uses romantic fiction as a primary means of escapism/coping with my shitty life? No, lmao. But as a writer, and as a queermo, nothing grinds my gears more than a badly executed lgbtq+ storyline.

Anyway, I just finished the book an hour ago so my crankiness & disappointment is raw and thus I am all over the place with this rant. I hope I’m not coming off as being too hard on the author, because despite it’s flaws, I am very glad to have serendipitously found The Mercies, and I look forward to checking out KMH’s other works. It’s been a long time since I’ve dug into a book and read it in just a few sittings like I did this, repeating “just one more chapter” for hours until it’s suddenly 3 am, and despite the fuckery to my sleep schedule it contributes to, the feeling is good-- it brings me back to simpler times when I actually was able to experience an ease from the constant uneasiness I always carry in my chest. Idk, moral of the story is that reading is fun, & when I get stuck in my Bad Turns & don’t read for months, it becomes easy to forget how much solace can come from a mid-quality but seductive (not in a horny way. but sometimes also in a horny way, lol) novel. Like, most of my reading these days is miserable 20th century theory or other academic/non-fiction writing related to our depressing capitalist hellscape & impending climate disaster, and The Mercies helped me remember that my roots lie in fiction. It also has me inspired to revisit a couple of historical fictions projects I have laying around, aND MAKE A WOMAN-EMPOWERMENT, ANTI-RACIST, QUEER AS HELL PERIOD FICTION PEICE THAT DOES NOT END IN COMPLETE GARBAGE! And in the meantime, I shall be revisiting the works of Sarah Waters, the only bad bitch I know of who writes queer historical fiction without relinquishing her characters solely to the suffering they experience ✌ 

If anyone has read this far and has any books/authors to recommend (wlw focused preferably, historical fiction or any genre as long as the story itself doesn’t rely on the tropes I touched on, recently published also preferably bc I have a long list of older books/authors but i don’t keep up with new releases like I should, & a lot of the ones I know are white & cis so PLEASE send reccs for more diverse stories/authors if you have them) 

#dani talks about books

[jossujb]

Who ever was in control of last editorial decision in Supernatural this season deserves a butt kicking tho.

I don’t even remember such bad decision in a long than the changed background music from the Bring ‘em Back Alive trailer vs. the actual episode, followed by that fucking cringe internal monologue in Beat the Devil between Gabriel and Rowena.

Seriously, I just watched the Gabe/Rowena scene sound off and it both looks better and I can kinda get into the ship too when it’s not embarrassing as fuck. Plus the punchline of them fucking behind the bookshelf is funnier when the whole scene isn’t stupid. Maybe I would have cut the actual heard dialogue as well and jumped from the eye-fucking straight into boning - it might not have most eloquent sex-joke keeping the full context in mind - but sure would have had sharper punch to it.

Usually when SPN fucks things over, they’re already fucked in the scripting, so whatever. These two things though are explicitly editorial fuck ups that just annoy me. I rather understand when things the muddier over the production, cos making competent TV ain’t easy. But like, making bad taste decision at the last possible minute on a superficial layer grinds my gears.

#jossu's random ramblings #spn

[crimson-of-the-earth]

Why I (Don’t)... [A New Annoying Series] Actual Title: Why I Don’t Take Commissions From Strangers Anymore

Hey, guys! So I’ve been in a sort of rant-y mood lately and I’ve just posted a vent a few days ago about why I train for mat wrestling instead of going to wrestling school.

I thought that since I’m probably gonna be posting a lot more of this kind of rant/vent posts, I figured I’d make it a series where I can:

Rant/Vent about certain topics

Answer asks regarding said topic or

Give my thoughts and opinions about certain stuff

Under the cut will be the actual rant so if you’re not into these sorts of posts, either ignore this or blacklist the words ‘rant’ and ‘vent’ so you won’t have to see further installments of this series.

Why I Don’t Take Fanfic Commissions From Strangers Anymore

You guys probably didn’t know this (that’s on purpose since I don’t think my work is good enough. and besides, i don’t have a paypal account) but I take fanfic commissions from either my friends, my family, my classmates, my professors; Basically anyone who is willing to shell out money for my work.

I originally posted my commission prices on my class’ (or ‘block’ as we refer to it here) group DMs. I did the whole 9 yards; I posted to the PE Group, the Western Cuisine Group, the Bar and Beverage Management Group; I posted that commission list to every school/class related group DM I had, and I’m sure I pissed off a few people because most of them were in all of those groups as well so they’d seen the same list over and over again. Sure, my commission list was pretty full, but none of the works I was working with were like more than 2,000 words so I was finishing them rather quickly.

The way I do these commissions is through Google Docs or MS Word and send through e-mail, but the payment has to be handed to me in person the day before I start the commission, either half or full price upfront depending on the trust I have with the client.

Now, it may seem like I’m rambling but all this will make sense in a second.

So, a lot of my clientele (if you could call it that) are people from my friends circle, or people who have the same major as me, same classes as me, or basically just people I interact with on a daily basis and/or know on a basic level. 

I keep this business a secret from my family because I’ll admit it: I don’t like sharing hard-earned money unless it’s important. I know that makes me sound horrible but what I do with the money I’ve earned is treat my mom or my sister or both to go to the mall, maybe buy a few nice things for them to kinda...give back to them. Sometimes, I even tell my mom to just not give me lunch money on certain days because I can buy food for myself, saving her money to treat herself with. If they knew about my “job” as a fanfic writer, they’d constantly borrow money from me that I could’ve spent giving my mom and my sister gifts.

Now that that’s outta the way, onto the actual rant.

Like I said, I take commissions from my classmates who I have the same classes/major with or professors with whom I have classes with. So I know everyone who commissions me in the event of a discrepancy, regarding either the agreed-upon word count, confusion about prices, wanting refunds, etc., etc., they could easily approach me for it or leave a note in my locker with their name, commission details, class/subject we both have, and any concern they might have. (It’s very detailed for a fanfic commission, I know. It would’ve been easier if this was all done digitally but just like with everything else, I need receipts in case of any mishaps that might happen.)

Since I use the same format for new commissions, someone from the IT College (mind you, I’m an HRS/Hospitality & Restaurant Services major) submitted a request note saying that they would like to commission me for a 10,000+ word, multi-chaptered work, and told me to meet up at the school canteen later at lunch that day to discuss details. 

I was already cringing at that point because, let’s face facts here: College students don’t really have any money to spare unless they’re either really rich or they have a part-time job. And the fic they wanted was going to be at least $105 (₱5,600 = $38 + my time [$10] + the extra details they wanted [which estimated around $20 since they asked for basically purple prose descriptions] + the prologue [which costs exactly the same price for a one-shot, 1,000< word fic $5) and I know they aren’t gonna have the money to pay upfront.

When we met up, he told me all the details, that he wanted the prologue to be more than 1,000 words, and I immediately warned them that that would cost extra since the price for a standard, 1000< fic would be $5/₱300 but they still wanted it so their total was now up to $110. 

I know that sounds like an absurd amount of money to charge a college student but mind you, they wanted at least 30,000 words spread throughout 5 chapters, excluding the prologue which was about 2,500, and they wanted it to be as descriptive as I can write it. And also, this was the cheapest I could go for such a lengthy piece, given the client’s situation and my time and expertise. Which means that I have to either rush out other commissions or tell those clients that their commission would be finished at a later date, both of which I didn’t want to do because if I rush a story, it’ll end up not being worth the money I was given. And I don’t want my clients to wait any longer than, say, a week for a 1,000 word fanfic. Fics of that length shouldn’t even take me a week, I finish those in like 1-3 days depending on how many commissions I have, or my personal situation.

Now, back to the absurd commission. I calculated the price right in front of him so there would be no further questions or complaints as to how the price was how it was, and I had them make a recording on my phone saying that they agree with the price, again another safety net for me should anything go wrong.

Now, since the price was a certainly beyond what he could’ve had as his lunch money at the time, I decided to make the mistake decision to let them pay half when I send them the WIP screenschot of the prologue and the rest when it’s done. That way, they’d have more than enough time to save up some of the money since it’d taken me 3 weeks to finish that. I also made him record himself on my phone saying that he agreed to this payment method.

Cue the day I send them the screenshot of the prologue (which was well over a week after the price agreement) and told them “alright, like in our agreement, we can meet up at school so you can pay half like we agreed, then I can finish the entire thing.” Lo and behold, they reply to me with “oh, I don’t have the money yet. It’s been a rough couple of weeks, I had to spend a bit of money to help with tuition and bills and stuff.”

Now, I get it: Life can be a surprising bitch and it’ll spring up awful situations when you least expect it, especially when you’re in college like we were. So, against my better judgement, I let them know that they can pay full price once I’m done, which they again agreed to. I have the screenshots but for my and this client’s privacy, I won’t post them here. (and because I’m too lazy to block the names out of the screenshots)

Well, 3 weeks later and the fanfic was finally done and out of my hair, I asked around the IT professors if the client was one of their students. Guess what? 

Turns out they fucking dropped out of the school one week prior. So I messaged them, politely and professionally, to remind them of the fic they commissioned and they had the fucking balls to say, and I quote:

“Can you just fucking leave me alone? That commission was a prank and you fucking fell for it, loser. Do you actually think that people want to pay for stories? Fuck, I can write the story myself and it would be 10 times better than the commission I had you make for me. Good luck with your failing business, bitch.”

After that, I just...I ripped that asshole a new one, saying that if they could make a better story, why commission for it, even if it was just a prank, bro? I said a lot more but I don’t want to remember that time. It was a bad time for me because it was so upsetting wasting precious time, energy and skill, only to be scammed out of an insane amount of money.

I already knew, even before I started my commissions, that fanfic commissions were gonna be a niche market since, y’know, people already don’t want to pay for a fucking “art piece that I could’ve made myself”, so I prepared myself for the backlash I’d get from outraged people who would complain about me being a “selfish bitch because you charge for a bunch of words on the internet”.

But to be burned this bad is just so upsetting. I literally cried in the bathroom that day because I just felt so stupid for making that one mistake of letting someone outside of my usual clientele circle to not only request a commission but not letting them pay upfront like I always do with other commissions.

Since then, I’ve never let a stranger commission me ever again because I was just so traumatized by it that I don’t want to feel that way again. I never want to feel stupid because I did something out of the kindness of my heart. I don’t wanna be made a fool simply for being nice to someone. 

This was a very long one because it’s such a personal story of mine that just really grinds my gears everytime I think about it.

To the people who do commissions of any kind, (whether it be art, adoptables, fanfiction, YCHs, or whatevs) NEVER BREAK YOUR BUSINESS MODELS LIKE I DID. Especially your payment conditions. I was stupid to do so, so please

Don’t repeat the same mistake that I did.

#text #Personal #Rant #Vent #Why I (Don't)... #series #Why I (Don't)...Series #commission #commissions #commission horror story #commission story #fanfic commission #fanfiction commission #fanfic #fanfiction #art commission #adoptable #adoptable commission #ych #ych commissions #PSA

[imaginekpoplikethis]

Mixing It Up - Troublemaker! Min Yoongi X Reader - Part 5

This update actually came on time (or maybe even earlier lol idk) !!!

Lmao just wait till you read what happens.

Love for everyone 💖

Preview  Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5 - Here  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11 - Final

A week after your ‘speech’ in the lunch hall, it had come to your attention that many people seemed to be whispering more when you were present. What the topic of discussion was about wasn’t a surprise. Of course it would be you. The most common gossip circulating was about the rumour of your bad temper being true. Apparently, it was that much of a revelation that it needed to be spread around like wildfire.

Along with rumours being proven true, new ones were born. You almost choked when you heard the second most discussed topic.

“So apparently you and Yoongi are a thing now. How long has it been?” Jimin teasingly poked you as he walked down the corridor beside you, attempting to lighten the mood. It worked somewhat but that was mainly due to the fact that you couldn’t bring yourself to dampen this adorable boys mood.

“A thing? Which idiot came up with that rumour?” Just as Jimin opened his mouth to answer you, Taehyung’s voice caught both of your attention.

“Hey! I’m not an idiot!” You weren’t sure if Taehyung intentionally sold himself out or if he was that dim. Both options had an equal chance of being true.

“You’re one of the few who know better than anyone there’s nothing going on between us. What was the use in creating a stupid rumour like that?” He merely grinned at you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

“This school needed some sort of romance going on and there’s no better duo than you and Yoongi. Arguably the most troublesome student with possibly the best.”

Your hands clenched into fists whilst you had an Internal debate over whether or not you should punch Taehyung. Jimin seemed to sense this as he began speaking calming words.

“H-hey! Don’t worry about him he’s just joking! Yoongi says he was born half idiot so it’s within his nature to act like this.”

“What do you think this is Taehyung? Beauty and the beast?” His arm fell from your shoulders and he hopped a few steps in front of you.

“No way! Yoongi is way more scarier than a beast. Anyway, don’t pretend like you don’t like the idea of you two dating. We all know you have a thing for him.”

It’s like he was asking you to gut him. He might as well have been.

“Kim - Tae - Hyung. Would you prefer to be castrated or gutted?” He frowned at your words, eyes moving towards the ceiling in a thoughtful manner.

“Castrated...? Wait - castrated! Hey! Don’t you think that’s a bit too much!?”

“Gutted it is then.”

“No - wait-!” Instead of waiting to receive the consequences of his words, he sprinted down the hall and took a sharp left around the corner.

Preparing yourself to go after him proved futile as Jimin grabbed your arm, holding you back.

“Don’t worry about him! I’m sure Yoongi will deal with him later...”

The name that rolled off Jimin’s tongue successfully snatched your attention.

“Where is he? Is he okay?”

Jimin let his signature smile, that you could only describe as ‘squishy’, break out on his face over your inquiries.

“Yeah, he’s at home. They suspended him for the time being since they haven’t actually concluded the investigation. He’s lucky that they’ve decided to investigate more though I’m not sure why...”

You breathed a sigh of relief.

So all hasn’t been lost with Yoongi.

“Jimin, can we go visit him after school?” Just as your question left your mouth, the school bell rung, alerting you that your next lesson was going to start soon.

“Sure, we’ll go together from class. If that’s fine with you?”

Nodding your head vigorously, you grabbed his arm and began rushing to class.

“That’s perfect! Now quick or we’ll be late for our next lesson.”

-

Staying true to his word, Jimin walked alongside of you after school, guiding you towards Yoongi’s home. You felt nervousness bubbling inside of you and with good reason. It wasn’t often you went to a boys house let alone someone you were evidently crushing on. If that wasn’t enough, you were sure he had heard about the scene you caused at lunch and alongside that the rumours Taehyung had started.

“You know Jimin... maybe it would be better if I came another day.”

Said boy raised an eyebrow in amusement at your sudden change of heart.

“And postpone seeing Yoongi? I’m sure you wouldn’t want that. In fact he wouldn’t want that.”

To say your heart skipped a beat at his words would be an understatement. You were sure it stopped long enough for death himself to prepare to come collect your soul.

“That’s... somewhat reassuring. Why?”

He didn’t reply but instead let a small smile spread across his lips before stopping in front of an apartment complex.

“We’re here.”

Glancing up at the ten storey complex, you absentmindedly wondered which one Yoongi resides in. 

“The fourth floor.”

“Huh?”

Jerking you out of your thoughts, Jimin smirked at you.

“You wanted to know what floor he lived on.”

Blushing profusely, you mentally smacked yourself for not being able to stop yourself from voicing your thoughts out loud.

“No- I just-“

Jimin stepped up towards the bell of the complex and rang Yoongi’s door bell, leaving you a stuttering mess.

“Whaaat?”

The immense annoyance Yoongi was harbouring was flowing out through his voice, so much so that you were sure your mood dropped the slightest bit.

“It’s Jimin. Let me in.”

Yoongi grumbled something along the lines of ‘not being able to escape even during suspension’ causing you to stifle your laughter. Only moments later, the door buzzed and opened. Jimin ushered you through before following behind and calling down an elevator.

“I wonder how he’ll react when he sees you? Maybe he’ll-“

The ding from the elevator made him jump and you let a giggle slip out as his cheeks glowed red with embarrassment. You both entered the elevator and Jimin pressed the fifth floor button.

You both stood in silence as the elevator slowly moved up towards your destination. Contrary to popular belief, there was no calming  elevator music flowing out of speakers. Just the typical sound of gears grinding or whatever may be contributing to the movement.

Before you knew it, the elevator came to a stop and you both exited it. Jimin bounced up towards a door labelled four c and you nervously followed behind.

“Hey! Yoongi, open the door!”

Seconds later, the door was ripped open so hard you were sure it would have flew off its hinges if Yoongi’s hand hadn’t been there to stop it from doing so. A gust of wind accompanied the opening of the door, tousling both your hair and Jimin’s as well as moving your skirt slightly. Luckily, you were not part of an anime cast. You were sure there would have been an unnecessary panty shot if you had been.

All was silent for what seemed like a good five minutes before you decided to break it.

“...I think we should leave...”

“Why? You just got here. What, scared I’m gonna eat you or something?”

How he could switch between vexation and playfulness in a millisecond was beyond you.

“Well with the way your acting, yes. Yes, that is exactly what I’m scared of.”

A light chuckle escaped him and he stepped aside to let both you and Jimin in.

“Maybe later...”

You sincerely hoped that was not a hint of seriousness you caught in his tone.

“Do you live alone?”

Your question bounced around the walls of his corridor and you cringed at how nervous you sounded.

“No, I live with my parents. They’re just working. They should be back soon.”

You arrived in what you assumed to be the living room and Yoongi motioned towards the sofa that Jimin threw himself upon.

“Make yourself comfortable. I don’t want to have to deal with the awkward shit that comes along with an uncomfortable guest.”

Wow. How... considerate.

Plopping yourself down beside Jimin, you couldn’t help but inspect the unexpectedly tidy room.

Yoongi just seemed like someone who would be too lazy to clean after himself.

“So what’s up? Did you miss me too much?”

“Something like that...” He caught your murmur and a smirk grew on his face though he didn’t say anything else.

“So I assume you’ve been okay.” He leant back on the wall across from the sofa and shrugged his shoulders.

“Yeah, I’ve just been sleeping.”

You sighed at his obvious answer.

“I meant for the whole week.”

He seemed slightly confused at your words.

“I know. I’ve been sleeping.”

Wait... he-

“The whole week?!”

You didn’t bother to hide the shock in your voice. Sleeping a whole week was impressive. They should give out medals for this sort of thing.

“Yeah. What’s wrong? Worried I’ve been seeing other girls?”

“Yes, I’ve been spending day and night worrying myself over the fact that Tammy might snatch you away from me.”

“Who’s Tammy?” Jimin piped up from beside you and smacked a hand to your face.

“It was sarcasm, Jimin.”

He let out a quiet ‘oh’ under his breath and you couldn’t resist the urge to pinch his cheek. He was too adorable for his own good.

“A-ah! What are you doing.”

“Just checking if angels can feel pinches.” The most precious giggle slipped out of him causing you to almost lose all of your composure.

“If you’re done boosting his ego I’d like to get back to the conversation at hand.”

“What’s wrong? Getting jealous?”

His typical straight face did not budge when he answered.

“Yeah. I am.”

You did not see that coming. Before you could think of a suitable reply, the sound of the front door opening caught the attention of all three of you.

“Yoongi! Are you still sleeping?! Get up and do some school work or something!”

A woman’s voice travelled through the apartment accompanied by the sound of footsteps. When she arrived in the living room, she was rummaging through her purse.

“Hello Mrs Min.”

Both you and Jimin jumped to your feet to greet the lady, who was still preoccupied with her bag.

“Ah, Hello Jimin. How are you?”

“I’m great!”

Deciding against being rude, you quickly greeted Yoongi’s mother.

“G-Good afternoon Mrs Min...”

Her head snapped up at the sound of your voice and her eyes were widened to an extent you thought impossible.

“Oh! Good afternoon...”

“I’m a friend of Yoongi’s. My name is Y/N.”

“Ah, Y/N. Sorry, I wasn’t really expecting a girl to be here. Yoongi never brings girls around.”

He threw a lazy look in his mother’s direction, annoyance clearly displayed through the twitch of his eyebrow.

“I thought we were closer than ‘friends’.”

“Wha-“

“Oh my, you’re dating my son!? Are you sure you want to do that? A lovely girl like you seems like the type to be dedicated to her studies, you wouldn’t want a boyfriend to ruin that, would you?”

You blinked once. Twice. Thrice.

“I- uh... I’m not dating him.”

What seemed like disappointment flashed through her eyes before she smiled at you.

“Ah, don’t get me wrong. I would love for you to be his girlfriend. You seem like a very sensible girl. Maybe you can even set him back on the right track because...”

She whipped her head to the side to throw a glare at Yoongi, who brushed it off with one of his own.

“...his student record is not the best. He’s suspended often but I’m shocked at the reason why this time. Setting fire to a classroom!?”

You felt as if you were interfering in a family lecture and stood awkwardly beside Jimin who was, surprisingly, grinning.

Good to know someone isn’t feeling awkward.

Just as you were going to excuse yourself, Jimin’s phone began to ring.

“It’s my mum... ah, I’ve got to go!”

Seemingly being reminded of a commitment he had made, Jimin quickly said goodbye before dashing out of the apartment.

“I-uh-“

“Min Yoongi, I hope im not wrong in believing you did not cause that fire.”

Her tone was strict and serious but her expression revealed he true thoughts. She knew her son had not caused the incident.

“Yeah, believe what you want. They hate me so even if I am innocent, I’ll still get in trouble anyway. I don’t really care at this point.”

He threw himself on the sofa and glanced between you and his mother, boredom evident on his face.

“Yoongi! How can you say that!?”

He shrugged his shoulders before grabbing a packet of crisps from the coffee table in front of him. He picked a crisp out of the bag, inspecting it before placing it into his mouth all the while watching your face.

“W-what?”

“I thought I told you I don’t like that uncomfortable shit?”

“Yoongi!”

His mothers reprimanding voice made you jump and you decided to take your leave.

“I need to get going... I guess I’ll see you whenever? Thank you for having me Mrs Min.”

She softly smiled before returning your farewell.

“Wait, Y/N! Yoongi stop being lazy and walk your girlfriend- I mean- friend home!”

As she said this, she grabbed a stray slipper and hurled it in Yoongi’s direction, hitting him square on the head.

“Hey! Watch whe- okay, okay I’m going.”

As he began to argue, his mother threateningly lifted the other slipper.

“And change out of those sweatpants. I’m sick of seeing those.”

Ignoring her demand, he grabbed the matching jacket for the tracksuit he was wearing and threw it on.

“Come on.”

Slipping his shoes on and grabbing your hand, he led you out of his apartment.

“So where do you live?”

He asked this whilst pressing the button to the elevator and you took a moment to recall the answer.

“You don’t even remember where you live? How am I going to take you home?”

You couldn’t resist the urge to slap him and he let out a whine of pain.

“Wow, you have a manly hit. Are you sure you’re a girl?”

Lifting your fist, he flinched back all the while grinning at his joke. At that moment the elevator arrived and you stepped in, Yoongi following behind.

“I came all this way to be insulted and called a man. I shouldn’t bother next time.”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘insulting’, just teasing.”

“That’s not how I see I-“

The elevator suddenly shook before coming to a stop. You pushed the ground floor button a few times until you realised that it had completely stopped responding.

“Ah, fuck. Not again.”

“Again?”

You raised an eyebrow at this.

“This happens regularly.”

Regularly?

“Why would you make us take the elevator then!?”

Sighing, he sunk down to the floor, rubbing his forehead.

“Just had a feeling we should.”

Great.

Stuck in an elevator with Yoongi. You were sure god was laughing at you right now.

You decided to wait it out. That only lasted five minutes before Yoongi rained on your parade.

“You should sit down. We won’t be going anywhere for at least half an hour.”

Purposely sighing heavily, you too sunk down to the floor, staring straight ahead.

“Is it really that hard to look at me?”

Forcing yourself to stare at Yoongi proved harder than you thought as you struggled to maintain eye contact with him. He seemed to notice this and smirked.

“Ah, So it is. Nice try though.”

“Hey! If you think it’s that easy to maintain eye contact without it being awkward, go ahead and try.”

“Okay.”

Bringing his face as close as possible, he stared straight at you, through your eyes and through your soul, maybe even through the other side of the elevator.

Who knows?

The point is, he didn’t stop staring.

“Okay, you’ve proven that you can hold eye contact for a creepily long time. Happy now?”

Your heart was racing at the close proximity and the fact that he wasn’t making any move to retreat made your face heat up.

“Is it bad that I want to kiss you?”

Your eye twitched.

He did just say that, right?

“Huh?”

That sounded extremely intellectual to your ears.

Sarcasm.

“I want to kiss you.”

You weren’t sure why you said what you did but there was no way he wouldn’t be put off from it.

“Go ahead, if you want to kiss a man.”

The joke sounded way better in your head as did everything you had said prior to this moment.

You could practically see your opportunity to kiss Yoongi skip away into the sunset.

“I mea-“

Soft lips being pressed against your own shut you right up and completely took your breath away. You forgot how to breath, no, you forgot how to function as a whole. You just sat there whilst Yoongi continued to kiss you, apparently not minding your lack of reaction.

It wasn’t until around a minute later, when he pulled away, that you took in discreet breathes of air.

No wonder he had a ‘feeling’ to take the elevator. Sly boy.

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