#their whole blog is nothing but stolen content | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kenphobia · 1 year

Note

Hellooo, therapy is expensive but reading your stories about silly puppets it's free.

So, I was wondering if I could ask for some imagines of Wally Darling (yeah, again, sorry 😭) with a s/o whose love language is giving gifts? Like, they love to shower Wally (and their other friends) in all kind of gifts no matter the time or place.

I hope that wasn't too confusing and I hope both sides of your pillow are cold.

KINDERGARDEN GAMES!

"T-a-n-g-a ka talaga, Wally." "... What—"

summary. wally is a puppet who loves his neighbors equally and cherishes them in many ways. but when his lover does gift giving more than him, he gets a bit competitive. ( headcanons / 0.9k wc / read end notes )

contents. general fluff, straight up romantic dynamic, implied filipino!wally, bits of playful Wally slander ( nsfw blogs dni )

✦ It started simple, nothing too big or fancy. When you brough him those oil pastels Wally had been eying for a while, he couldn't help but feel flustered. It's not like he haven't received gifts before, few of his neighbors love to give him little presents too, but it was different when it comes to you.

✦ Of course, he accepts with a smile and a slightly flushed face.

"Thanks, (Name)! I really, really appreciate this." Wally paused, switching his gaze from the oil pastels to you in a nervous manner. "I, um, I'll make sure to make great use of it."

You smiled, patting his hair carefully as to not accidentally deform the pompadour he spent half an hour styling and 5 whole bottles of glue. "Well, I'm glad you liked it! I have to go now though, Sally needs me with setting up her stage for tomorrow's play. See you later, Walls!"

Wally waved you goodbye, watching you leave and your figure getting farther and farther, completely disappearing as you turned a corner. He finally focused his gaze to the box in his hands, a gentle smile caressed his face.

For a short moment, He remembered how your eyes twinkled and reflected the warm light. Wally's gaze softened, humming as he went inside his house. He has an idea what to do using the oil pastels you gave him.

✦ It was sweet, Wally would say, but he wouldn't admit how he had dreames of the whole thing several times. Or well, daydreamed since he doesn't sleep. Home had a couple of incidents and scolding Wally for letting his paintbrush go and getting paint on the carpet.

✦ Wally didn't think much of it though, but appreciated it finely. That is until he received some homemade mint chocolate cookies at his doorstep. Eddie had given it to him, informing him that it came from no other than the lovely you.

✦ (Wally doesn't miss Eddie side-eying though. Sadly, not everyone can appreciate mint chocolate like Wally does.)

✦ It didn't just stop there, no, why would it? From cookies to handcrafted beaded jewelry of his favorite colors to little letters and poems to cute little doodles of you and him being pinned on his fridge everyday— Your gifts were endless and Wally wonders how could you make so much in just a span of an hour.

✦ He doesn't have the right to judge you after making multiple portraits of you and sending some of them immediately to your home. It was a lot, but after all of you wonderous gifts that kept him awake and thinking at every hour, your front porch became bombarded with many paintings.

✦ Wally started doing art in other ways too. Pottery, watercolour, jewelries, etc. He even sent a whole basket of (definitely not stolen) apples to your door! The whole gift giving suddenly became a war between who could show their affection more than the other.

✦ Eddie had to intervene because he had been delivering gifts to both your houses every single day. Doesn't bother Wally though, it gives him the advantage of simply entering your home with a key he secretly copied and stuff all of his heartfelt gifts.

✦ You did caught him one time in your room, hanging up pictures of you, some of them were mainly focused on your eyes. You aren't exactly sure how to feel about it, both the paintings and the crime he had just committed.

Arriving to your humble abode, you furrowed your brows upon finding the front door unlocked. You quickly entered inside, trying your best at staying quiet while you put your stuff down on the sofa and wanderes around your home for the intruder.

The neighborhood isn't exactly a crime-filled place, but you still can't shake off the feeling of dread bubbling in your stomach. You gripped the house keys in your hands so firmly that you swear the plastic could cut through your palm.

You neared your room, breath hitching at the sound of shuffling and murmuring. You squinted through the darkness, seeing your bedroom door wide open and the lights turned on. Quickly, you rushed closer and hoped that the intruder wouldn't hear your panicked steps.

"Oh... That wouldn't work at all. Let's try this position." A voice suddenly pierced through the silence. It was soft, warm and awfully familiar that it made bits of your dread disappear slowly.

You leaned against the wall, turning your head and peeking from the doorway. Immediately, you locked your eyes at a portrait of you sitting idly on your bed and then to the blue cardigan the stranger was wearing.

Wait a second, That's not a stranger. No, that's—!

"Wally? What are you doing here?" You voiced out, walking in as your boyfriend turned to face you. His eyes wide in surprise, nearly dropping the painting. You found yourself deadpanning at what was on the canvas, it was a painting of you and Wally unsurprisingly.

Wally smiled, albeit nervously. "O-Oh, *Mahal! You're home earlier than I expected."

You hardened your gaze, squinting at his form as you crossed your arms. "Wally, why are you in my house?"

"Well, you see, Mahal..." Wally began, putting down the painting and making it lean on the wall. "I— I will explain it to you tomorrow. Byee!"

You didn't have a chance to say anything before Wally ran up to your window and jumping out, breaking plastic glass and leaving your room in a state of disaster.

That noseless bastard.

notes. did i completely forgot abt the other neighbors? yes. do i regret it? no. sorry, howdy 😔 but yaya!!! another wally fic, turned out a bit shorter than I like and more crackshippy but that's fineee

i hope you like it tho!!! this was fun to make and i rlly tried racking my brain for any creative juice.

inbox is always open, so come on by again for more wally slander /lh

*mahal - love in tagalog

#writing log!#welcome home x reader #wally darling x reader

347 notes · View notes

lorelune · 1 year

Text

good soup

|| childe x reader || M || yandere tartaglia + force feeding || wc: 2.9k || ao3 ||

Tartaglia brings you a meal and you must choose if you'll yield.

minors, antis, and ageless blogs dni

a/n: sometimes. sometimes you title a google doc ‘good soup’ and the rest comes after <3 💕 i don't think i've ever posted a fic quite this dark so tread carefully and enjoy!!

CW: dark content, yandere tartaglia, force feeding, force drinking, restraints, threats of suffocation, violence, kidnapping, references to non-con

Tartaglia stares at you like he wants to eat you whole. Swallow you down, grinding bones with his molars and clawing you until you’re nothing but a bloody heap. It’s in his stare, the lack of light that reflects in his eyes. There are pools of something worse than human behind his irises, and around you, he has no reason to mask it.

He’s something awful, incarnate in flesh and all yours.

“Eat,” He urges, crouched down in front of you. He nods to a steaming bowl between you on the floor. A deep, wooden spoon rests on the edge. “I can practically hear your stomach growling.”

He gives you a smile that’s all teeth. You curb the urge to flinch forward and knock a few of them out.

You are hungry. Famished and parched, you can see a flask of water tucked into Tartaglia’s waistband. The thought of a proper, hot meal and a full mouthful of water feels too indulgent, despite the reality that’s laid before you on the dirt.

You adjust, trying to prop yourself up higher against the wall you rest on. Your hands and forearms are bound in leather and chain, held against your lower back. It forces you to keep your spine straight, and rag-covered chest bared but doesn’t restrict your blood flow and you still have ample room to squirm. You hate him for it, Tartaglia’s uncanny ability to keep you on the edge of discomfort and pure suffering. You know he revels in it.

You swallow your dry tongue, refusing to look at him, and instead fix your gaze on the thick soup. You can see chunks of carrot and fowl, topped with Snezhnayan snow pepper. You know it's his mother’s recipe and will warm you up from the inside out.

It’s horribly tempting, and you jerk against your binds without thinking.

“Careful there,” You can hear the smirk in his voice. Tartaglia snatches up the bowl and stirs. “I’m sure you don’t want to get any more bruised up, do you?”

You bite your lip, holding back a quip that you’re sure will end any chance at a peaceful mealtime. He’s not wrong— there are abrasions and deep, dark wounds on your wrists. They’ve been there since Tartaglia first took you, though the chill tends to help with the ache of it.

You’re aware of your circumstances— not even the cold can chase that away.

You know there are two options in your situation. Go hungry, or ask Tartaglia for help eating. He relishes the opportunity, and you hate giving it to him, but it’s been far too long since you’ve last eaten. At least a day or two. Despite that, the idea of debasing yourself further, even in your bound (and kept, and stolen) state makes your skin crawl.

You can feel Tartaglia’s stare. He plays with the soup idly, humming under his breath.

“You know how this works, sweetheart,” He finally says.”There’s an easy way or a hard way.”

“I’m aware,” You reply through clenched teeth. “I’d prefer if you’d, I don’t know, untie me and allow me to feed myself.”

He laughs and shakes his head, and you want to punch him. Knock him to the ground and bust his skull on the pavement.

“Maybe one day! That’s a privilege you gotta earn,” He laughs, scooting even closer; your knees touch. “And you’ve done absolutely nothing to warrant any favors, my dear.”

You mean to curse at him, but you don’t get a chance to. Tartaglia’s gloved hand grabs your jaw, rough and hard, and holds you steady. You jerk against your binds, and strain your neck. Anything to get away from his touch.

“Tartaglia—”

He cuts you off, swiftly and easily, “You had your chance. Now eat, and enjoy, I made this, especially for you.”

His thumb hooks on your lower teeth, and pulls. You know better than to bite him, or snarl, or do anything other than shoot him the most venomous glare you can muster.

There had been a learning curve when Tartaglia had first stolen you away. You’d only known him as a charming patron of the tea house you had been employed at. He’d always leave a generous tip and good words with you. In retrospect, far too much flattery, but you’d always justified it. ‘He was like that with all of the servers,’ you had told yourself. His easy smiles and lingering chats were just unfamiliar Snezhnayan niceties and nothing more.

You were so fucking stupid.

You have too much time to think about it, really. You’re rotting in some tiny cabin in the bitter tundra and your only company is your captor. You’ve had an obscene amount of stew. Lamenting with your regret. Guilt, even.

Maybe, if you listened to your coworkers when they said Child was getting too friendly.

Maybe, if you declined his advances more firmly—.

Maybe, if you never got into the habit of letting him walk you home.

Maybe, if you never went out for those drinks.

Maybe, if you knew that the sedatives he slipped into your drink had the slightest, salty taste, you would’ve been able to do something—

Tears begin to bead at your water line, and your squeeze them shut and try to force yourself to relax as Tartaglia heaps the spoon with soup.

A moment later, he presses it past your lips, hard against your tongue and brushing the back of your throat. You gag for just a moment, before he lets you close your mouth around the spoon and swallow down the soup.

It’s delicious. It’s warm and spiced. Creamy and thick with small chunks of meat and veg, you can tell it’s been simmered for some time. It heats you from the inside out and it’ll keep you full for hours.

You lick your lips as Tartaglia pulls away. He beams you a smitten smile, scooting closer and stirring the steaming contents of the bowl.

“See? That’s not too hard.” His tone curls against you, raising the hairs on the back of your neck. It is hard to give in to him, it’s as uncomfortable as the binds on your arms do, but you find yourself crumbling.

Cold and hunger will do things to anyone, you suppose.

He taps your chin with the spoon, and you open up with only brief hesitation.

How many times have you shared this song and dance? How many meals have you had in this little cabin, cold and near-starving, fighting so hard, and breaking regardless? You feel haunted by the questions.

You’re tired. Maybe.

Tartaglia feeds you another mouthful, just as intrusive as the last. You only swallow once he’s pulled away, horribly aware of the tears beginning to spill over your waterline. Despite all of the times Tartaglia has fed you in such a way, your body refuses to become accustomed to his methods. The prodding at your throat always yields tears and a broken voice for a few hours. Sometimes, Tartaglia brings you ginger tea and honey to soothe it, but only if you’re good.

You hate smiling for him and pretending that what you’re going through is anything other than torture. But to act like what you’re experiencing is torture, you only suffer more. Tartaglia likes seeing you put on a show. You’re sure he knows you’re lying when you speak sweetly to him and show any softness to him. But, that doesn’t seem to matter. The sentiment is hollow, what he really enjoys is when you squirm in your own skin, rife with discomfort.

Thinking about it, all of it, too lucidly makes your head spin. Wires crossing, eyes burning.

So, you quiet your thoughts. You focus on the action of opening your mouth, swallowing, and fixating on the dusty, wooden floorboards of the cabin. Tartaglia speaks, now and then, as he finishes feeding you your meal. Perhaps it’s praise, with the saccharine smile he still wears. With such an expression, it’s just as likely he’s being cruel. He loves his thinly veiled insults, crafted specifically to get under your skin and make you writhe.

Regardless, you don’t listen to him. Can’t, even. His words sound like static and aether. Everything other than the thick soup in your mouth feels fuzzy.

You fixate on the food. It’s a meal. A communion. Something you used to enjoy sharing with others. It’s one of the reasons you enjoyed your work at the teahouse. You didn’t mind the service aspect of it; seeing patrons enjoy tea and cakes while indulging with loved ones, companions, and acquaintances alike had made you so happy.

(It had been so nice to be invited to tea yourself, back then. ‘Childe’s invitation had been a welcomed surprise, and your first meeting over sweet breads and black tea on the docks of Liyue harbor had been nothing but pleasant.)

(It’s a bitter, poisonous memory.)

“All done!” Tartaglia exclaims as he shoves the last bite into your mouth. You feel warm and full, and you try to sit with the feeling as he fiddles with a clasp on his belt. The sound makes you freeze, going taut in your shoulders and drawing back against the wall.

Tartaglia raises an eyebrow.

“Sweetheart, settle down,” He pulls the flask from his belt and settles on his knees in front of you. Without any distractions, you feel forced to fully regard him, disgust swirling in your gut. He gives you a toothy, sly smile. “You don’t have to get anywhere near my cock if you can indulge me a bit.”

“... Indulge you how?” You ask, voice cracking, rough from its earlier treatment. Your cheeks heat.

Tartaglia tilts his head, “Well, Dottore was going on about something he tried with one of his little lab rats and it sounded like fun. Nothing painful, nothing that will bruise your knees... well, any worse than they already are.”

Tartaglia uncaps the flask of water and swishes the liquid, side to side.

You glare at him, still back against the wall.

“You’re thirsty,” Tartaglia muses. “And I’ll be giving you some water. Don’t bite me or I’ll ‘forget’ to bring firewood for the next week, ‘kay?”

You want to question him, but don’t get a chance to. He grabs your jaw in a calloused palm and holds you steady. You bare your teeth, flinching, but there’s no room for you to back up farther. Your knees press against Tartaglia, who widens his own position to cage you with his thighs. You’re trapped. And you don’t know what the fuck is spinning around in this fucker’s head.

“Don’t look so scared,” Tartaglia pokes your ribs. You wince. “Maybe, you’ll even like this.”

Tartaglia takes a swig of water, going fat in the cheeks. You open your mouth to question him, but what his ‘fun idea’ is dawns on you at that moment. Your thrash against your binds fruitlessly.

Tartaglia slams his mouth into yours, rough and with enough force to pin your skull to the brick behind you. He tugs at your jaw, forcing your jaw to unlock and lips to part just barely. He takes the opportunity and hooks a few fingers over your bottom teeth, holding your mouth wide.

And he spits the mouthful of water into your own.

Oh, the fucker.

Though Tartaglia’s forced you to eat every meal he’s brought you in the same way, he’s never tried this shit. Water was something he tipped into your mouth from his flagon or made you lap out of a bowl if he was in a particularly vile mood. Fucking demoralizing, sure, but this? This—

You gag, choke on the liquid and try to spit.

Tartaglia doesn’t give you the chance, he’s fast and predicts your reaction perfectly. He shuts your mouth with a snap of your teeth that rattles in your skull. He slaps his hand over your mouth, wrapping his grip around the lower half of your face.

“Swallow, dearest.”

Archons, you hate him.

Bile builds in the back of your throat. You don’t swallow. Rather, you meet Tartaglia’s gaze, level with him, and refuse to look away. It’s a stupid decision, you know, it’s fucking fruitless to go toe-to-toe with him. But you can’t swallow either. Your pride has been in shambles for as long as you’ve been in this cabin since Tartaglia dragged you from Liyue by your scruff, but all the same, you can’t let him have this—

(You have to try, don’t you? Just to say that you did. Even if you know how much easier it would be to give in.)

It’s uncomfortable to be this close to him and see him. More than uncomfortable, even. Revolting, maybe. Like this, you can’t avoid examining your captor. You hate sinking into the color of him. A blue so deep and vast that it feels almost void.

(You noticed it back at the tea house too. The first time you really looked at him as he walked you back to your apartment. You stood on your stoop to thank him and your words died in your throat.)

(You saw something so hollow about him. Like he’d been carved out and replaced with something eerie and wrong. He hid such a condition with a charming smile, glowing personality, and more mora than you thought an individual person could conceivably have.)

(At the time, you dismissed the feeling. It was too uncanny to indulge. An error in your intuition, perhaps. You were just paranoid, right?)

Tartaglia pinches your nose shut and his smile goes dull and his words grow sharper, “You’re not breathing until you swallow.”

(Your move.)

When you’re unbound, you’re going to maim him. You’re going to shove Tartaglia into a snow bank and give his broken body to the Snezhnayan tundra. You’re going to ruin him, and then you’ll back to Liyue, see your family, friends—

(You feel light-headed, fuzzy around your edges. Your body aches from strain. A sob cracks from your throat and you choke on it.)

And you fucking break.

You swallow, gasping as Tartaglia removes his hands from your face. Tears bubble over your water line and you cough around lungfuls of air. Tartaglia croons something sweet to you — “deep breaths now, go slow”—

Every time this happens, that you yield to him, you feel something in you shatter. Over and over again you squirm and thrash under Tartaglia’s thumb but the outcome is always the same. It’s humiliating and inescapable.

You wilt over Tartaglia’s lap.

You fall into your captive and can’t bring yourself to fight the gentle hand that begins to stroke along the back of your neck and shoulders. You don’t resist your restraints. You fall into them, and let them hold you up despite the pain that tears up your arms and back. A cry rips from your throat and tears dribble down your cheeks to your jaw. Snot bubbles at your nose, but Tartaglia doesn’t seem to mind.

Tartaglia is patient as you fight your own cracks and wounds, letting you cry and half-wretch in his lap. He remains silent, only petting you like a house cat.

You have half a mind to bite his thigh and tear out a chunk.

(You don’t.)

(You’re so tired.)

Your chest aches with each sob. Your back is painfully arched so you can smother your face into Tartaglia’s pants. You’re uncomfortably close to his half-chub bulge and you swear it twitches when your breath hitches with sobs. You should move or at least try to, but you can’t make yourself.

You wallow.

Eventually, Tartaglia loosens one or two of your restraints to give you more slack. He pulls you to rest against his chest, tucked under his chin and with your cheek nestled against his collarbone. He runs his nails along your jaw, squeezing the nape of your neck between your hitched breaths. It’s comforting, it’s comforting— and recognizing that only makes you feel dirty. He radiates heat that sinks into you, and god, you despise how much you relish it.

(Even more, you hate how you need it.)

The familiarity of your thoughts almost physically hurts, and you muffle another wail into his skin. If you could use your hands, you’d be clutching at his shirt and trying to drag him closer despite it all.

(How many times must you shatter? When will he be satisfied? When will you give up?)

Tartaglia hushes you. He whispers another sweet nothing like the sentiment is real.

He lets you rest against him until your breathing evens out. With enough petting and placating, you’re nothing but a tear-dampened lump against his lap. He doesn’t seem to mind. He coos and keeps you close, lets you settle and you know that if you dared to look at him, you’d see nothing but adoration in his eyes.

(This is the moment he covets.)

He eventually disturbs your brief ‘peace’, as he always does.

“Dear,” He says gently, like a lover. He kisses your forehead. “You have to drink the rest of the bottle just like that. Then you can sleep, and I’ll hold you. How does that sound?”

(Awful. Revolting. You don’t want any more of him near you, let alone in you. You can’t—)

You fight back something between a scream and another round of wailing. You give him a misty nod.

You suppose, the warmth of him and the soup in your belly will make the experience tolerable. Biting the hand that feeds you when there’s not another meal on the way seems like a poor decision.

You give in, and let yourself sink into the depths with Tartaglia. And, ever dutifully, he catches you.

#lore writes #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #yandere childe #yandere childe x reader #a lil yan childe snack 💕#tw yandere

652 notes · View notes

ponderingmoonlight · 3 months

Text

Since I was bombarded with anon statements about me using AI again, I'll say it here on last time: I see and understand where artist come from, I get the frustration over "artists" claiming AI work as their own, selling those pics and getting quite some fame for it.

But accusing me of stealing because I let an AI software turn me and readers into jjk or demon slayer style pictures is a little insane, don't you think? Especially advicing me to just use pictures on Pinterest or out of the manga. I don't want to hurt or trigger someone, but isn't that exactly what stealing is out of your context as well? Isn't using screenshots of jjk anime or manga "stealing" as well? And don't get me started on using random pics on Pinterest where you simply can't find out who's the original artist anymore. The argument that AI gets feeded countless pics on the internet and consumes artists hard work in the process sounds absolutely depressing and I'd be pissed as well.

But when I thought about it more...When putting your stuff on the internet, you deliver it to basically the whole earth. Damn, even my fics were found on some Russian site translated and without stating I was the one writing it. I get the frustration, I get the hate! But at the same time I feel like you aren't im charge for what happens on the internet anymore. As soon as you publish your stuff on literally ANY site (since all of them are collecting your data like Thanos anyway), it will get feeded into that system. Who knows how many of my countless essays already landed in there and are a part of someone's work? Who knows how many phrases of my fics I would be able to find when searching with ChatGPT? This isn't talking your concerns down or explaining myself, but rather showing that it's literally ANY artist out there getting affected by AI. You could just search for a fic with Gojo and boom, ChatGPT delivers way faster than me.

But why are you still here, then? Because NOTHING compares to original art!

Like I said over and over, I'd love to collab with artists. But much to my understanding, a lot of them work for MONEY and since my content is FREE, I'm simply not able to pay for the sheer presentation. Also, when looking at my blog, you'll see that I'm using like 70% of anime screenshots by now.

Let me take this opportunity to ask: are you even familar with how generating pictures with the help of AI even works? To make it short, the ML algorithms get "trained" with a huge ammount of training data (we are talking about like 1 billion pics here, depending on the AI). Yes, that data is sourced from the internet. Yes, that data will most likely include the content of artists on the internet without consent (which isn't fair). BUT that art doesn't find direct use in the later generated pics. It rather helps training the algorithms in order to "learn" aspects and characteristics of the imagine in correlation to the picture you want to translate into a certrain art style (like in my chase) or based on the described properties that the image should have (e.g. Bing AI). To translate that: You don't type in "blonde girl with blue eyes" and the AI just shows you a stolen picture online that fits into that description but generates its own version of it based on the pictures it got trained with before. Of course, it surely depends on the AI you're using and it is your responsibility as a consumer to think about ethical correctness here. But same goes for the people simply hating on me over the fact that I'm using AI and accusing me of stealing while this is definetely not the chase.

I won't change my blog because of you, I will continue putting a pic here and there into a fic because not only I find it cute from time to time, but the people who request are thankful more than once because I'm able to make "their" fic feel a little more personal. I get this is controversial and that some people won't feel comfortable on this blog because of it, which is sad but life. I can't even count how many times I've got rude messages because the jjk screenshots I've took myself out of the anime are someone else's artwork, because the manga panels are also artwork and I'm stealing them for my own content. I feel like I'm always in the wrong here, so I'll continue what I'm doing and what makes me happy.

Also, let me get this straight: I'm a writer who uses AI generated pics from time to time in order to spice up a cover and you're able to see that in the very first entry on my blog. It's really not that deep over here.

Have a nice day everyone

33 notes · View notes

kitconnor · 1 year

Text

to sum up what i’m going to say in short: stop gif reposting because oh my god you cannot justify it, excuse it or whatever you’ll try to say to shake it off.

in the past MONTH ALONE i have encountered THREE REPOSTERS. until this year, i hadn’t encountered ONE. now as much you thirst over notes and want to popular or whatever, you are damaging a rather integral part of this site !! i don’t know about other creators but i’m personally feeling a little bit disheartened about creating atm bc not even watermarks are stopping reposters anymore. you just act like a bitch whenever you’re confronted.

so, without further adieu, let’s look at who’s trying to destroy gifing right now !

CONSTANTLY-TRAGIC

reposted wednesday gifs of multiple users

as well as reposting miscellaneous gifs in personal posts.

BLUMENCIA (og callout here)

reposted addams family gifs

reposted wednesday gifs

reposted gifs WITH A WATERMARK

as well as reposting miscellaneous gifs as ‘aesthetics’. this user claims that as long as the gifs are on the internet, the gifs are supposedly “everyone’s”. COMPLETELY missing the point that gifmakers individually create, colour, crop and make their OWN GIFS.

THAT-BI-MULTIFANDOM-MESS

reposted marvel gifs

reposted x-men gifs

reposted marvel gifs

i’m actually only linking three examples, because that shit goes ON AND ON. that entire blog is a collection of stolen gifs from so many people.

i really don’t care if i sound like a fed-up, annoying gif maker rn because this shit shouldn’t even have to be said. gifmaking is NOT a hard thing to learn ! you don’t HAVE to have photoshop - there’s free alternatives ! if you want to make gifs, cool, fine !! that’s encouraged !! find your resources, ask your local gifmaker and they’ll help you get started !! but this whole business of right-click-save followed by upload-post-claim-i-made-these and then having the AUDACITY to get mad when a gifmaker responds with justified anger is so fucking LOW like we KNOW they aren’t yours !! stop trying to pretend they are !!

so, that’s that. there’s really nothing more to say. just. don’t repost. don’t steal shit. don’t steal art, or edits and especially not gifs. everyone who creates visual content of any kind owns that shit. you don’t have the rights to walk in and take it from them now or ever !!

don’t !! steal !! gifs !!

#important #lucie.txt.#i've said my peace now i hope it shuts all those reposters the FUCK UPPPP fr

334 notes · View notes

ughgoaway · 11 months

Text

i hate matty healy- chapter 4

content warnings: 18+ (mdni), smut, fingering, swearing, drinking, drinking games, a secret is revealed... (its not that dramatic but shhh) and possibly confusing plot! word count- 3700-ish

a/n: All the chapters are back up now!! a little message to tumblr to say I hate you give me my blog back. all the boys are featured in this chapter, I struggled to make them sound like real people, so if the characterisation sucks... don't tell me!! I'm not sure if I hate this chapter, or I've just read it too many times, but here you go!

prev chapter next chapter

The sound of its only living echoed through your ears, or was it UGH! ? You honestly couldn't tell, you were busy being laser-focused on Matty. Ever since your strange silent conversation at the club, he was all you could think about. If anyone told you a week ago all you would be able to think about was Matthew Healy, you would've laughed in their face. But suddenly you felt tender around him, but not in a loving way. The same tenderness as a bruise. A painful tender that hurt every time you touched it, yet you always poked it over and over to see if the hurt had changed. If it had evolved. Every stolen glance felt as if someone was pushing on that bruise. You felt inexplicably closer to him but what was that phrase? Keep your friends close but your enemies closer? You were closer than friends. You are enemies linked together. The same sin binds you.

His actions on the stage tonight have caused you to roll your eyes and scoff more times than you could count. How could anyone believe this stupid rockstar act, let alone be attracted to it? All you saw was the same drunk 18-year-old who tried to chat you up at a party. The same asshole who has done nothing but torture you for the past decade. You could admit he was talented. He was also unbelievably difficult but fuck. He was talented. But he wasn't worth this. People fell over themselves to get close to him. Screamed, pushed and shoved just to touch him. His little act never impressed you, not when you were 17 and certainly not now. But if it didn't impress you how would you explain the growing need in your stomach with each song? And the way you tensed your thighs at every one of his ridiculous hip thrusts? And it certainly would be difficult to explain the wetness between your legs, practically dripping down them.

Before you knew it the boys were coming off stage, and the aura of ego surrounding Matty made you roll your eyes. If ego could be personified, it would be Matty Healy. His ever-present cockiness caused many of your arguments over the years. Mixed with his stubborn attitude it was one of his worst attributes, aside from his grating personality of course. Yet lust coursed through your veins at the sight of him. A bead of sweat dripping from his mess of curls down his neck and chest was the final straw. You lunged forward as soon as he handed his guitar off to someone and gripped cruelly around his wrist. Moving and weaving through the hoards of people you managed to escape without the other boys seeing you run off together.

Matty didn't need words, he could feel you staring at him through the whole show, even playing it up a bit to make you even more desperate. He loved being able to see his effect on you, after years of nothing but unimpressed glares the sudden looks of hunger were like catnip to him. If anyone saw the look in your eyes and the sly smirk on his face they would know exactly what you were up to but both of you knew in that moment that didn't matter.

Stumbling down the hallway with Matty in tow you quickly dragged him into the first empty room you saw, not caring who could walk in. You didn't have a single thought other than him. Time slipped away the moment his hand grasped yours, the small contact is almost painful as if you were pressing on that same bruise. You both knew what was happening but you were still apprehensive, not believing you were about to beg Matty Healy to touch you again. Not that it would take you begging but you knew if it came down to it you would.

Shame washed over you only to be quickly replaced with want when you saw what was written all over his face. “I need you” and god you hated how much you need him too. Shutting the door you spin around to face Matty. His hand quickly meets your neck, gripping slightly flaunting his dominance over you. A breathy moan escapes your lips and your eyes roll into the back of your head as he pushes you against the cold brick wall behind you. The chill almost brings you back to reality only to be dragged back by the words spilling from Mattys’s mouth.

“Oh, darlin’ what's got you so worked up? I can feel how wet you are already” Matty teased whilst his hand slithered down from your neck to tease his fingers up your clothed core. The slight contact left you breathless. “You” came your meek reply. A wide smirk grew on Matty’s lips, “What about me darling? You spend all day with me and you're not normally this needy, or have you always been this wet around me huh?” Matty's hands move up and tease the band at the top of your underwear, his calloused fingertips softly dipping just below it; brushing just above where you need him. His other hand gripping your waist so tightly it would leave marks. Hearing you be so honest and tell him how fiercely you need him causes his breath to hitch. Soon his head of curls is pushed into your neck leaving delicate kisses, his slight stubble tickling your neck. Each time you shiver, his smirk grows against you, so pleased he could get you this worked up from his featherlight kisses.

An impatient whimper leaves your lips and you grab his wrist trying to forcefully push his hand where you desperately need it. He smacks your hands away and tuts, coming up from your neck with a filthy look on his face. His eyes were swirling with desire and dominance, the usually chocolate brown iris’ now deep black. He wanted you to use your words, tell him how desperately you need him. Beg for him.

You immediately gave in to his silent demands and began desperately pawing at him and babbling in his ear, “I need your fingers. Seeing you play that guitar for the past hour was driving me fucking crazy, please-” your desperate pleas were cut off by a loud moan as he simultaneously sucks your neck and slips a finger past your underwear and into your wet cunt. Swiftly, you shoot your hand up to cover your mouth in an attempt to silence yourself, muffled noises coming from behind your clenched fingers.

Your head was spinning as you tried to control yourself, but there was no use because Matty quickly plunged a second finger in and spoke in your ear. Between clenched teeth he whispered, “Oh so it was my guitar playing that got you this worked up? You weren't even listening to the performance, were you? You slut. Only focused on me fucking you with my fingers afterwards. God, I love how much you want me. How much you need me.” his words only made you wetter, your slick dripping down his hand and coating your thighs. “Yes yes, need you. Only you do this to me, oh my god shit-” you breathe out. Matty chooses to ignore this startling admission, not willing to unpack why he felt his dick twitch as you pleaded for only him. He hated the possessive feeling he had over you, knowing he had no right. But hearing you so needy for him caused images to flash through his mind of you on your knees, almost crying begging and pawing at him.

The large hand that was gripping your waist was quickly yanked away almost causing you to fall but you caught yourself just as Matty began circling your clit with his fingers. The others pumped into you at a furious pace. He was hooking his digits causing him to hit a spot that had you seeing stars. Your hand was doing very little to muffle the sound of your moans as they had quickly devolved into screams of pleasure. You can't breathe. Can't talk. All you could think was “Matty” over and over.

Peeling open your eyes you were met with pure lust in his. His mouth open, in awe of you. Wild sweaty curls stuck up in every direction. The black vest he was wearing showed his tense arms, muscles straining to keep you close and to keep driving into you at an unrelenting pace. Despite not having been touched he looks fucked out, “You're so tight shit- so good for me baby.” His touch was so much better than your own, the nights you spent trying to recreate how he made you feel were futile compared to the real thing. Long fingers hitting spots in you you couldn't imagine, causing your thighs to shake with each thrust.

His lips crash into your own for the first time since you began, he licks into your mouth furiously. You hungrily reciprocated groaning into his open mouth, the force he’s kissing you felt as if it would leave your lips bruised and broken. He tasted of something completely unlike anyone else, yes the usual cigarettes but also something uniquely Matty. His lips against yours were the last thing you needed to push you over the edge. Your arch into his fingers, and suddenly everything is coming to a head. The high you've been desperately chasing is crashing down with no warning. Desperately grinding your hips onto his hand chasing the feeling. White flashes behind your eyelids and your legs begin to go numb. Shaking limbs struggle to hold you up.

The hand covering your mouth shoots to grasp at Matty's forearms in an attempt to get him to slow. He continues to push into you marvelling at your face twisting in pleasure. “Ahhhh” you whimper out clenching your thighs together, the feeling being too overwhelming. Too much. Matty gets the message and slows, staring at your closed eyes and smiling. “Baby, can you hear me? You okay sweetheart? You're shaking like a leaf”, all you can manage is a slight nod letting your head lull back against the cold brick wall. The warm tone coming from his mouth is unusual for you, usually, you were lucky if you got more than grunts from Matty. But here he was whispering praise in your ear, “Good girl I'm gonna pull out now, okay.” You go to nod again but Matty quickly adds “Need to hear you, sweetheart, gotta make sure you're with me” A feeble “yes” slips past your lips which was enough for Matty. He takes his time whilst he pulls out. Using one hand to support your waist. His warm touch began to bring you down to earth.

Slowly your eyes open and a large smile breaks out on your face, staring into Matty's eyes. “Hi baby” he sweetly says, still fuzzy you reply “Hi. Wow. that was nice” A beat of silence falls over you but was soon broken by a throaty chuckle from Matty, “Just nice? I thought that was some of my best work!” your voice is airy as you giggle back “No I'm sorry, let me try again” you fake clear your throat “it was amazing. Best I've ever had, would recommend to a friend” with a small smile you reconnect your eyes and tilt you head “better?” you ask teasingly. “Oh much better thank you darling, now if you think you can move again we really need to get to the bus. I think George will kill me if I'm late again.” Reality came crashing back and Matty saw your features harden. He didn't know why it made him feel odd. Almost disappointed. “Alright, alright. It was good it wasn't immobilise me good. Cocky fuck.” you pause briefly and straighten your posture, “Let's get going because despite me wanting to see George kill you, I would like a shot a lot more right now.”

Luckily you caught Jamie and Waughy walking back to the bus at the same time as you and Matty meaning you wouldn't have to walk in together and answer questions about where you were. Unceremoniously falling on the black leather seats as you came in caught the attention of your brother, causing him to shoot you a questioning look from the other sofa. You quickly shook your head indicating that it was nothing.

If nothing meant thinking of how incredible it felt to fuck his best friend of nearly 20 years and how badly you want to do it again then yeah, it was nothing. Catching onto the fact that it was something but that you didn't want to talk about it Ross announced something he hoped would make you feel a small bit better, “right!” he started “I don't know about you all but I need to drink a copious amount of alcohol tonight so what do you all say about a game of never have I ever?” A resounding yes came from the group, including you. This was your opportunity to tease Matty, after what he pulled on stage tonight he deserves it. Game on.

On one sofa were Ross and George both sitting with one leg crossed over the over with beers in their hands, Adam was sat between the two men with his arms outstretched behind them both. A small pillow sat on his lap, a present from Carly to remind him of home whilst on tour. The other sofa was you and Matty, up until 10 minutes ago Jamie was acting as a barrier between the two of you but he left stating he was “too fucking drunk” and leaving you alone next to Matty. Traitor. Before you could obsess over being sat next to Matty alone the game continued.

Giggles fill the air of the stuffy tour bus after you watch George drink for the question “Has a girl ever called you daddy in bed?” you filed that away in your mind under questions to ask Charli when you saw her next. Everyone knows every game of never have I ever always turned into people admitting weird sex stuff they've done, which might sound odd considering you playing with your brother but you elect to just not look his way during those questions and he does the same to you. The last thing he wants to know about is your sex life. In fact, he couldn't think of anything worse. As George was the only one to drink it was now up to him to come up with the next question.

“Never have I ever kissed a member of the band?” George drunkenly slurred out, smugly you lift the beer to your lips, taking a long deep sip. A drop of condensation rolls from the lip of the bottle down your neck and settles into the hollows of your collarbone, momentarily distracting Matty from your startling admission. A loud guffaw from the man who asked the question and a groan from the other two men quickly snapped Matty back into reality. His head flicked back to George who is looking back at him. Soon a silent conversation was happening between the two men.

Matty's hand points accusingly at George as he mouths “You?” Quickly George replies with an assured shake of his head, copying the curly-headed man he mouths back “You?” George soon realises his error as Matty shoots him an incredulous look, he accepts Matty’s answer not knowing how untrue it really was. Not knowing how just 4 hours ago he was desperately pawing at you and groaning into your mouth while fighting your tongue, desperate to keep the sweet taste of you close. Matty shook his head trying to rid his brain of the thought of you. He knew you would never admit to kissing him to anyone, let alone the boys. You were talking about someone else. He flicked his head in the direction of Ross, the same action rapidly being copied by George. Out loud the men say “gross” in unison.

Suddenly a wave of realisation falls over them both and they turn and stare accusingly at Adam. A different sort of silence takes over the room in the wake of the realisation. A low voice breaks through it, “Hann… you didn't…” Matty said quietly almost as if speaking too loud would make it true.

“y/n whyyyy?! We managed to keep that from those two idiots for nearly 10 years!” Adam groaned. The low voices were soon replaced by chortling laughter, “HANN YOU DOG!! OH MY GOD” George cackled out in that high-pitched laugh you loved. Matty looked remarkably less impressed by this admission, even rolling his eyes at his taller friend's reaction. “Oopsie sorry!” you drunkenly giggle back. You were definitely not sorry. Especially not after getting the reaction you so desperately craved from the man next to you.

Realising there had been a suspicious amount of quiet from one person, Matty glanced over to Ross. He was met with Ross’ head thrown back and a loud groan from the man, “Don't remind me. Please.” Once George's chortling calmed down, he had one question on his mind. “Oh yeah” he began, “Adam how in the world are you still alive and walking? I would've bet good money on Ross killing you as soon as he found out.” A smirk broke across Adam’s features, looking slightly unusual on the normally quiet mans face, “trust me. He tried.” He began to quietly laugh but promptly stopped as Ross glared at him. He had the good grace to look sheepish in the wake of Ross’ unforgiving stare. Ignoring the tension between Ross and Adam, George began hounding you for details.

“Let me set the scene” you began to say, gesturing widely with your hands to lay the groundwork for the story. You left a beat of silence in an attempt to build tension, but that was soon ruined when the clearly very drunk Adam and George began giggling like teenagers. You loved the boys when they were pissed. “Oh my god, you make it sound so theatrical” Ross groaned, “it was a game of spin the bottle like 8 years ago, I was feeling generous and let Adam walk away unscathed because it was just a peck. Nothing more.”

A glance was shared by you and Adam and soon enough more laughter came out of the two of you. “Well since this is a game of honesty I will finally tell you the truth Ross” Adam began, “It was just a peck… or it started as just a peck but after the game wrapped up we made out on the sofa for like an hour” Adam was sat next to Ross smiling at the memory until he met Ross’ eyes and swiftly ran to sit on the other side of George, using him as a human shield.

Any residual laughter was cut short once Adam had revealed the truth, “what is he talking about.” came Ross’ scarily calm response. You knew he was anything other than calm by the look in his eyes as he stared into yours. “Okay. so we lied. BUT you can't blame us Ross you are ridiculously overprotective! And anyway, we only made out, it's fine!!” Before Ross could react, Adam chimed in again “You were in my lap though and-” he stopped abruptly once he realised what he was saying, shrinking into himself and looking anywhere but Ross’ direction.

George tried to come to Adam's defence but before you knew it a very loud conversation was happening between the three men, you would've been listening but you felt a large hand grip your leg. A familiar hand. You turned to look at him but were soon interrupted by a whisper in your ear. “Keep your head forward darling, don't want anyone seeing us this close do you?” Matty drawled out, “It's amusing to see you vying for my attention with your cute little stories. A blatantly obvious attempt to get me jealous, but I'm never going to be jealous. I know I have you wrapped around my finger. Have done for a long time, one kiss ages ago isn't going to change that.”

A scoff left your lips in response, you threw his hand off of your leg, a dirty feeling sat where his hand was. Maybe it was the drinking or maybe the shame from what happened earlier but you couldn't let him speak as if he owned you, “I don't know who you think you are but you are nothing to me okay? Don't act as if you know me. You don’t. You were simply the closest warm body. Now you can either sit here and act like a good boy or storm off to your bunk. But do not think I'm ever doing anything to get a response out of you. I'm not.” venom dripped from your voice. Matty leaned away from you, his hands lifted in mock surrender. You saw his jaw tick before he simply said “Fine. But next time you come crawling back to me you'll have to beg on your knees. And we both know you'll be back will sweetheart.” before you have a chance to snap back he got up and stormed to the back of the bus.

The other three finally focused again when they saw Matty leaving suddenly, not knowing what caused his rash actions but they looked over at you and saw you glaring in the direction Matty left in. They chalked it up to another one of your petty arguments, not realising it was not just another usual fight. The game stopped abruptly after that, the remaining boys all following Matty's lead and storming to their beds. You knew they would all be over it tomorrow, no doubt they would be hugging and making up before breakfast as they always did. But Matty's comments sat uneasily in your stomach.

This had to be the end of whatever the fuck you were doing with him, you would never get on your knees and beg for him like he suggested… you were sure of it.

(note- this is a repost, tumblr deleted my old account so this is a new one! I'll add this note on each reposted chapter)

#matty healy #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 fanfic #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #i hate matty healy series #finally reposted everything #tumblr hates me but im back #matty healy fic

79 notes · View notes

tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 2 months

Text

In the last few days, I've made two long and rambling posts about Cowgate, a short incident from 2003 that haunts my nightmares. I think people should know that when I make posts like that - the ones that go way too long about something entirely niche - I am operating under the assumption that absolutely no one is reading this bullshit. Even the small handful of people who read this blog regularly, I assume you skip over those ones.

That's not just a hypothetical assumption, I make writing choices accordingly. I assume the only purpose of this post is to give me somewhere to put the hauntings besides my nightmares, and therefore, it doesn't matter if it's readable. I know that my whole blog is full of errors, but on posts like that, I get especially lax with things like editing. I go really deep on things where on a different post, I might think - okay, that's far enough. Because no one is reading this.

I have now been proven wrong several times about those couple of posts, which both mildly embarrasses and delights me. First of all, I got this great comment from @beastlyanachronism, which is now how I love to picture myself:

Then, the wonderful @lastweeksshirttonight proved that they'd read not only the posts but the comment, by immediately messaging me a corresponding picture. I replied that I love the image, I will definitely start my post with that image the next time a new Cowgate-based detail is found and I need to write about it. I didn't expect that to be soon, though. Breakthroughs are few and far between.

But then, I got another message, proving that at least three different people have read my post (actually four, if you count the very kind British man who read my post and then sent me a message to explain the nuances in the expression "bottle it"). And that last message is the reason for this post. Because, I can't believe I've been given cause to use this image so soon:

Further content behind the cut, because not everyone needs this content all over their feed.

This relates to the message I got last night, from the extremely helpful @linkeightvideo, who not only read my posts, but joined the cause and did his own research. And came up with this link:

The Metro cow is a thing!!! I knew the wording of that YouTube comment was weird (calling it "the Metro cow", rather than something like "a cow that said Metro on it"), suggesting that this was a specific and recognizable instillation. And I was right! But I cannot take credit for figuring that out, all credit goes to @linkeightvideo, who is the best.

The above link is to an archived version of an article from August 5, 2003, about three weeks before Cowgate occurred (which was August 26, 2003 - fun fact that has absolutely nothing to do with anything because to the best of my knowledge he wasn't there or anything, but that was also Nish Kumar's eighteenth birthday). The article is from the Edinburgh Fringe website. It's short enough so I'm just going to paste its text in full:

The Fringe was hit by a bunch of cotton-pickin', rootin-tootin' cattle ruslers in the early hours of Saturday night. The almost life-sized, bright blue and red Metro bull was stolen from outside the Metro Fringe Box Office. Metro newspapers are appealing for its safe return before the police are called and urge anyone with information to come forward. Metro Fringe Box Office Manager, Gillian O'Connor said: "We're distraught to have lost such a valuable member of the Box Office team! Please bring him back." The bull had just completed a secondment outside London's Victoria station, where he stood unmoved for a month. Yet after only a few days on duty with the Fringe he has gone missing leaving today's Festival Cavalcade a bull short of a procession.

That's it!!! That's the one! It was blue and red! I know it was blue and red, because Adam hills shouted "it's got red horns, it's all the rage". And it was almost life sized! And it said Metro on the side! Further research - also done by @linkeightvideo, he deserves all the credit in the world for this - finds that Metro sponsored the Edinburgh Fringe Festival that year, and also directly sponsored the Gilded Balloon venue.

So, the company called Metro had a large cow that was used in advertisements, and for one month in the summer of 2003, it was in London, outside Victoria Station. Then it was brought to Edinburgh, because they were sponsoring the festival and running a box office. They put it outside that box office, and it got stolen within "a few days" (which makes sense, as August 5th is a few days into the festival). It was meant to be part of the Festival Cavalcade, but couldn't be due to thieves.

Then, three weeks later, it spends all night on stage during a late-night comedy show in an Edinburgh venue that Metro sponsors, where it gets taken apart. How do we get from one state of affairs to the other? I don't know, but I'm a hell of a lot closer to understanding than I was yesterday. If the cow was somehow recovered, it would make sense from them to move it indoors, where it can be guarded better (again, credit for this idea goes to @linkeightvideo, and I think it makes sense). I mean, it can be guarded from drunk thieves in the middle of the night. Apparently the stage of the Gilded Balloon is not a good place to guard it from (shockingly) sober comedians in the middle of the night.

This made me try searching again for the specific words "Metro cow", and I found this article from December 12, 2003. It's a list of people who are involved with whatever organization this is, I'm not really clear on that. But it includes this one guy named Stephen Auckland. He's from the North of England, and as of when this was written, he was listened as the managing director of Metro. The bottom of his profile says:

An able sidekick to Associated Newspaper's Mike Anderson, even when it came to keeping up appearances following the disappearance of Mootro, Metro's cow mascot, from the Edinburgh festival. Auckland offered to dress up as a pantomime version. Luckily, they found the cow.

Guys! Guys! It has a fucking name! The Cowgate cow has a name! It's named Mootro! Now that I think about it, I actually can't believe I've never named the thing, given that I named the event (Cowgate), and giving the cow a name is the sort of thing I'd do. But I don't have to, because apparently it's named Mootro.

And the story has an update. It was stolen by August 5, and then it was found at some unknown point, and by August 26 it was in the Gilded Balloon. And then it got taken apart on stage.

I think this brings up one obvious question, which is: if this thing was important enough for its theft to be reported on the Edinburgh Fringe website, how come they were allowed to destroy it? The obvious answer would be that it was specifically made for just that one Edinburgh Festival, and was meant to be destroyed at the end of it anyway. But why did it spend a month in London right before that, then? And why would they do that anyway? Surely it's not efficient to make something like that for only a month, you'd think they'd plan to have it last a while and move it around based on where they're sponsoring things.

I can't believe this. This is the biggest revelation since I figured out who the fuck Karen Koren was, the woman referenced in Adam Hills' song, after after ages of Googling comedians named "Erin Coren" (finally worked out that she was the venue owner, which seems obvious now but it hadn't occurred to me at the time, when I was expecting it to be a reference to another performer). Actually, this is a much bigger revelation than that one, which just explained a couple of Adam Hills' lyrics. This is the biggest revelation in all the Cowgate research yet. The two main questions at the heart of the Cowgate mystery are: "Why did you do it?" and "Where did you get the cow?" And now one of those questions has been answered! It has a fucking name!

That second article referred to it specifically as the Metro "mascot". I guess a company is going to make more than one version of a mascot. But still, I don't think you're allowed to just destroy a sponsor's mascot. Maybe that mascot was at the end of its life anyway? Maybe Daniel Kitson just doesn't give a fuck? Maybe Daniel Kitson stole the cow in the first place. There's a whole new question. Who stole the cow? How did they get it back? How did it get from there to its whereabouts on August 26?

I know it wasn't on the Gilded Balloon stage every night of the 2003 Edinburgh Festival, because there's no sign of it in this montage, from Late 'n' Live on August 19, 2003 (also a fun video and great snippets of Chocolate Milk Gang history, if you can get past the second-hand embarrassment of Kitson trying his rap battle thing with an actual musician, and the presence of an actual musician makes the whole thing seem less ironic and therefore harder to watch - but you do get to see David O'Doherty beat up Jason Byrne and that's hilarious, also it's very funny to watch Daniel Kitson do something as out of character as brag about "nearly" winning a Barry Award and having a girlfriend from Australia, especially given how the latter turned out):

youtube

So it wasn't there on that night. Also, it just couldn't have been there every night. The Gilded Balloon is a proper venue that has proper shows during most of its time, it couldn't just have a large cow on stage for all of those. Also, in the beginning of that montage video from August 26, you see Kitson talking to the audience about the cow, and it sounds like he considers its presence as much of a novelty as they do. I mean, he's making fun of them for thinking it's a novelty, but he doesn't seem familiar with it, it seems like something he has to address:

youtube

This is the main reason for my theory that they didn't plan it beforehand, the montage shows the audience giving Kitson challenges for easy things to do with the cow, he asks them for more difficult challenges and then the video cuts, but I think the audience then asked him to tear it apart. It's a theory that makes sense based on some circumstantial evidence, but it does open up other questions. The main one being whether you can get permission to destroy a company's mascot between the beginning and the end of a comedy show, especially a comedy show that takes place entirely in the middle of the night. It doesn't seem likely. It also opens up some smaller questions, like what they were planning as the end of the show - the finale of the last night of Late 'n' Live, so you'd think they'd have something - that got bumped for this.

This reminds me that I had some further thoughts on the other mystery, of what actually went down on the night of August 26. I was thinking of the somewhat blue sky theory of there being two previous. Evidence for this: Adam Hills referred to "three chances", they were able to pick up chisels off the ground that seemed to just be lying around (possibly having been discarded after previous attempts), and Kitson in that video does have their air of someone who's already watched this go wrong and is really determined to make sure they get it fucking right this time. Evidence against: I'm not sure that works from a show planning perspective. What if it had worked on the first try, then what would the finale have been? If they'd watched it fail twice, would they really have made it the finale, knowing it may well fail a third time and that would be a shit ending? Though this could possibly be explained by the presence of the pipe that someone runs on stage, significantly increasing their chances compared to any attempt where that pipe was not in play.

I thought of something else today: the cow was already down when they started that video. Earlier in the night, we see comedians sitting on the cow, it's standing up. But at the end, when those guys run out to try to take it apart, they don't have to knock it down first. It's already lying on its side. They could have knock it down just before starting the song, but why would they do that? Surely knocking it down would be a fun dramatic moment, so if this were the first time they'd messed with the cow, they'd leave the knocking down to be part of the process. Unless this weren't the first time, and they had dramatically knocked it down before starting to try taking it apart, but this one done at some earlier point that the video didn't catch.

Anyway. That's the revelation. Along with some further thoughts on theories, but the main thing is the revelation. Massive breakthrough, and I need to thank @linkeightvideo one more time for research that he was under absolutely no obligation to do, but he came through anyway. What a legend. Am I using the British expressions right? What a solid gold legend.

#Youtube

18 notes · View notes

faulty-writes · 5 months

Text

[ Hello my dear followers and or fans. I present to you, a Tensei series. This was originally going to be a one-shot, but yeah, it ended up being 40+ pages long so I turned it into a series. A Christmas/Holiday series at that. Guess this makes up for the lack of Tensei content on my blog. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the first chapter! I’m tagging @ladycoleigh since I’m sure they’ll appreciate some Tensei content. ]

[ The two of you had been friends since your early days of Yuuei and since Tensei’s abrupt retirement, you have been learning how to be the new leader of Team Idaten and every good leader knows how to throw a holiday party. Unfortunately, shortly after Tensei’s arrival duty calls and he has to find something else to preoccupy his time until you return. ]

A sense of warmth lingered in the air, in addition to the soft festive glow from the twinkling fairy lights that adorned the ceiling, casting a golden radiance over the room and the people who stood in it. Strings of bright green ivory with touches of vibrant red and gold within their small branches decorated the doorways and windows.

The scent of freshly cut pine and cinnamon was strong, and several tables were lined with traditional holiday fare. The succulent aroma of roasted meats and sugar-coated cookies accompanied by the scent of spiced cider created a comforting blend that was usually associated with the festive season.

The gentle hum of holiday music echoed through the joyful chatter between the guests that were seated around the various tables provided, their faces illuminated with merriment. Overall, the room exceeded exactly what you were going for. Enchanting yuletide charm and holiday season magic.

Of course, you had your reasons for trying to impress. After your closest friend, Tensei, was injured by The Hero Killer: Stain, he insisted that you lead Team Idaten. It came as a shock, and thinking about it still filled you with an indescribable rage.

Tensei out of all people didn’t deserve to have such a fate and for his pro-hero career to be abruptly stolen from him. Yeah, maybe those were the risks of being a hero. However, some might argue that death is better than watching your life’s work shatter into nothingness overnight.

Although a bit rough at first, Tensei remained positive throughout the whole ordeal. In addition to trusting you to lead his agency, he entrusted Tenya, his little brother, to carry on his hero name. In that sense, you were almost certain that Tensei only chose you to be leader until you deemed Tenya ready to take over in your stead.

So, in retrospect, it was more of a temporary promotion if anything. Still, you couldn’t deny Tensei, and it wasn’t just because he was your closest friend. There was another reason, but it was one that you didn’t dare speak for fear of ruining what you had created with him over the years.

Yet it seemed that you were constantly faced with moments like these, where love and devotion were highest and begged you to just confess already. Valentine’s Day and Christmas seemed to be primary holidays where this overwhelming feeling was the strongest, yet every year you did nothing.

Apart from fearing that someone else would take him away from you, that is. What a life. Anyways, the reason you had rushed to put together this elegant little shindig, a day before Christmas Eve no less, was because Tensei had thrown a holiday party every year to celebrate his team and let them know he appreciated them.

Furthermore, it allowed the team members who couldn’t make it home for the holiday to at least feel like they had a family at Team Idaten. As such, you wanted to make sure everything was perfect and that your unofficial guest of honor, Tensei, would be amazed when he stepped, or uh, rolled through the doors of his former agency.

When that moment finally occurred, he glanced around the room, taking in every little detail while grinning ear to ear. “Wow, you guys went all out,” he turned to look over his shoulder at Enigma, one of his former sidekicks.

She had a rather unique appearance, with long black hair styled into two braids and straight-cut bangs that rested against her forehead. Her eyes, be them a tad creepy, were oval-shaped and completely blacked-out. No pupil or iris to be seen.

In contrast to her rather dark appearance, she wore a festive dress colored red with a string of lights encircling her body that flashed various hues of green, yellow, and blue. She looked at Tensei and nodded. “That’s awesome!” He declared, looking around the room again. “I can’t believe Y/n organized this,” he said, chuckling softly.

“Hm…” he turned his wheelchair, facing Enigma. “I was stoked when I got the invitation, and I thought-” Well, he thought you would be the first to greet him when he arrived. Then again, he bore the weight of his former agency on your shoulders when he was forced to retire, so it was understandable that you were too busy to greet him.

Still, that wouldn’t stop him from asking “Where is Y/n?” Enigma tilted her head before pointing across the room. Tensei knitted his eyebrows and turned his wheelchair to see you engaged in conversation with someone else. Maybe another hero or the newest addition to the agency that he hadn’t met yet.

Either way, his stomach churned, and the faintest frown spread across his face. The two of you had been friends since your Yuuei days, you shared countless memories and struggles. You helped him pick his hero alias and were the first person to support his idea of creating an agency solely out of sidekicks.

He was grateful to you but never knew how to show you that. But one thing was always true, nothing separated the two of you, at least so far. It was funny to think that he had been more worried about losing you than his own life or career when Stain rendered him...useless.

At least temporarily. But in the end, everything worked out. Well, almost everything. As he stared at you, a longing sigh escaped him. He knew the holiday season was usually filled with miracles, and boy could he use one to finally capture your heart.

“Mmhm, yes, and I-” you paused when you happened to glance across the room and noticed Tensei. Your body stiffened and your heart immediately skyrocketed, pounding against your ribcage erratically. Shivers ran through your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake and your hands feeling clammy.

You tried to steady your breathing which had become shallow and heavy. “E-excuse me,” you said and quickly walked across the room. It was unbefitting for a leader to appear nervous or uncertain, but as far as you were concerned, your feelings for Tensei were well hidden underneath the facade that you two were nothing more than friends.

Taking a deep breath, you flexed your fingers as if trying to get rid of the nerves and smiled at him. “Hey, I’m glad you could make it!” You exclaimed, leaning over to hug him. His embrace, as always, was loving and gentle despite feeling the curve of his muscles as he curled his arms around you.

His musky earthy scent filled your nostrils and reminded you of the crisp outdoors. You hoped that he couldn’t feel the fastened pace of your heart, but even if he did, you could always make up some excuse for it. Even if you detested lying to the person your heart yearned for.

“Sorry I haven’t kept in contact, it’s been a little crazy lately,” you explained as you leaned back and crouched down, laying your hand on one of his armrests. It was then that you examined his outfit more closely. He was wearing a sharp, tailored blue suit accompanied by a white shirt underneath it.

This created a striking contrast to his overall polished but casual appearance. A silk tie colored midnight blue hugged the collar of his shirt, and polished dress shoes adorned his feet that remained on the footrests of his wheelchair and completed his ensemble while instilling a touch of the famous Iida charm along with it.

He smiled at you, that same gentle smile you had fallen in love with over the years. “That’s alright,” he replied, his eyes beaming with happiness. “Actually…I know this is short notice but…” he paused and rubbed the side of his neck.

“Would you like to join my family for Christmas Eve dinner?” You tilted your head, surprised Tensei hadn’t asked you that sooner. “My mom’s been asking about you, and she’s also a little worried given how busy you’ve been lately.” You couldn’t help but smile. Yeah, that was Mrs.Iida for you.

Although you had gotten to know his family well over the years, it was a surprise that they hadn’t proposed that you marry Tensei. “Sure, it would be an honor,” you replied before the sound of the front doors and a loud “Yeeeeah!” drew your attention away.

The first one that caught your eye was a short boy with a messy crop of green hair, freckles colored his cheeks, and he was wearing the standard gray Yuuei uniform. Next to him was a familiar face, that of Tenya. He looked as he usually did, with his hair combed and neat and polished glasses on his face.

He, too, was wearing his Yuuei uniform. Between them was a face you hadn’t seen before, however. A young girl with long, white hair that was pulled back and separated into pigtails. Her eyes, colored bright red, were wide, and a small amount of fear or maybe social anxiety filled them.

You quickly assumed she wasn’t used to attending parties thus she was a bit shy when it came to crowds. In addition, you noticed that a small horn poked out of the right side of her forehead. She was wearing a fuzzy red Santa hat, which matched the red dress with the white trim she wore.

On her legs were black tights and white trim also lined the boots she was wearing. She glanced around the room once more cautiously stepping behind the boy with green hair. “Hey, it’s o-okay Eri,” he said, looking down at her.

She returned his gaze but said nothing. “I agree!” Chimed in Tenya, his hand chopping through the air at rapid speed. “There is very little to fear, for you are surrounded by the best-known heroes!” He announced, causing a few heads to turn his way and Tensei to chuckle.

“That’s my little brother for you,” he said in a soft tone, and a smile on his face. It was nice to see that he was proud of Tenya regardless. “I-it is?” Eri asked, looking at him but seconds later, she jolted involuntarily when Hizashi laid his hand on her head, affectionately ruffling her hair.

Despite being raised by several of the teachers, plus Mirio and Izuku for a few years she was still getting used to a kind touch. “There’s nothing to worry about!” He announced with a big wide grin, letting his hand fall to his side.

“It’s true, you’re surrounded by the coolest kats. Don’t worry now, Aizawa put me in charge, ya dig?! I wouldn’t let anything happen to ya!” he said, trying his best to encourage Eri. Although he hadn’t spent as much time with her as Mirio, Izuku, Shota, or Toshinori had.

He continued to try and make a connection with her. She needed as much comfort and love as she could get, and well, he couldn’t just sit aside and ignore her. Still, she seemed to have enough sense to believe his words.

“Mm, o-okay,” she replied but only grew more anxious when you walked over with Tensei rolling close behind you. “Hey Tenya,” you greeted happily, and he bowed in respect. “Good evening, Y/n!” He declared, once again chopping his hand through the air.

“Thank you for the invitation, we are very honored to attend such a festive celebration!” He stated. “Oh yeah?” you replied before glancing at the green-haired boy who looked just as nervous as the little one. His posture stiffened and he bowed.

“H-hello!” His voice fluctuated and that stutter didn’t help. “M-my name is Izuku Midoriya! I’m in Y-Yuuei’s hero course, C-class 3-A!” he announced, and your eyes sparkled with recognition. “Oh yeah, I’ve heard of you.” Turning to Tenya you said, “Is this the Midoriya you talked about before?” He nodded.

“Yes! Midoriya has been a wonderful example of a hero student and has inspired me to become a hero I can be proud of!” He announced, causing Izuku to flush furiously. “I-Iida I d-don’t think I mean…I j-just try my b-best and…” you chuckled.

“Well, sounds like you two are good friends,” you commented, and Tenya turned to Izuku and Eri. “This is Y/n, my brother’s closest friend and leader of Team Idaten,” he explained and felt some amusement when Izuku’s eyes lit up.

“W-what? N-no way, y-you’re the leader of…I h-have so many q-questions!” He blurted out, causing you to snicker. “I’d be glad to answer your questions…another time, tonight I’d like you to enjoy yourselves as guests of Team Idaten,” you said before looking at Tenya.

“Also, you forgot to mention one thing,” he looked at you with knitted eyebrows, he was certain he had not forgotten anything when he introduced you. “I’m only the temporary leader of Team Idaten, when Tenya is ready, he’ll become the new leader. Until then I’m going to be pushing him,” you said, punching him in the shoulder.

“He’ll get there, don’t worry,” Tensei chimed in, rolling closer to his brother to lay his hand on his arm. Tenya stiffened, it was still a little hard for him to see his brother in this state, even years after the fact. He took a deep breath and laid his hand over Tensei’s.

“T-thank you, brother,” he replied and while they were having a family moment, you looked at Hizashi. “So, Aizawa couldn’t make it?” you asked, and he shrugged. “Nah,” he said, waving his leather-covered hand through the air.

It seemed that he didn’t want or didn’t take the time to dress up for the party considering he was wearing his usual hero attire, complete with directional speaker encircling his neck. “Said he was busy with something else, so I’m covering for him,” he explained.

“Hm, okay so…” you glanced down at Eri who shivered when she locked eyes with you briefly and shyly looked away. The corner of your lip curled into a smile. She reminded you of yourself, at least until you met Tensei who helped you come out of your shell.

You placed your hands on your knees and leaned toward her even though she remained hiding behind Izuku. “Hi,” you said in a soft and friendly voice, but she continued to look away. “What’s your name?” you asked. Yes, you heard it earlier, but might as well be polite.

“U-um…I…” She latched onto her lip, chewing it nervously. “This is E-Eri!” Izuku said as he placed his hand gently on her back. “It’s okay, Y-Y/n is a hero too!” he reminded her. “Eri is a wonderful name, a pretty name for a pretty girl,” you said, hoping your compliment would butter her up enough to at least speak a few words to you.

“Uh, mmhm,” she replied. Well…that was better than nothing. “Heh,” you continued to smile and slowly stood up before looking at Hizashi again. “Well, I hope you guys enjoy th-” You paused when you heard someone calling your name.

Sighing, you muttered, “What now?” under your breath. Turning around, you saw Onemu Shiny, another member of your team running up to you. She was a short woman with equally short hair that fell to her ears in gentle curls.

She also had two distinct horns on the sides of her head. Her usual cheongsam mini dress and domino mask were replaced with a tight-fitting, maroon-colored dress. The front of it was adorned with sparkles that reflected the light in the room.

The air around her seeped with thick tension and you heard her catch her breath before speaking. “Explosions are occurring in the city district of Naruhata, several are injured, and four separate villains are on the loose.” That thick tension increased, almost suffocating you and silence fell over the room.

Your heart raced and the weight of everyone’s eyes fell on you, the leader. The one that would now call the shots, and how the operation of this mission would go. You glanced at Tensei, who was wearing a stern expression, Tenya who stood next to him mirrored it.

There was no longer any merry chatter echoing, and several guests were looking at you with interest. There was a mixture of curiosity and judgment in their gazes, and it caused a small amount of anger to brew inside of you. Who were they to judge you anyway?

The corner of your lip turned up, and a disgruntled smirk followed. It was amusing to think that before you would have cowered to others like them, those who thought you couldn’t properly fulfill your duties as a leader. But just like back then, you were ready to show everyone you had what it took.

Your hands curled into fists, and a sense of determination washed over you like a violent wave attempting to sink a ship in the middle of a thunderstorm at sea. Then your voice pierced through the air, “Team Idaten!” Like a well-oiled machine, the members of your team formed three lines in front of you.

Each line represented their role on the team. The first line was those that would stay at the control center of the agency, monitoring everyone’s actions and relaying messages and instructions back and forth between Team Two.

Team Two, as you can imagine, were the members that made up the front line. They would be the ones facing, fighting, and apprehending the villains in question. On occasion, they’d help Team Three with support and damage control.

Team Three mainly specialized in evacuation and tending to the injured, however. A sense of pride filled you. In moments like these, you were reminded how much you loved being a leader, working together as a team, and most of all, saving people.

After receiving instructions, the teams hurried to their designated stations, and you were about to run off as well. But a strong hand pulled you back causing you to stumble in response. You turned, ready to yell at the one who dared hold you back.

Instead, you latched onto your lip forcing your momentary anger down when you realized it was Tensei. His eyes locked with yours before speaking. “Take care of yourself,” he said before looking at Hizashi. “Do you want to take your students on this mission?” he asked, and you glanced at the man in question.

“Why yes! I believe this would be a wonderful opportunity to display the heroic skills that our prestigious school has taught us! We are licensed heroes, and it would be an honor to work alongside Team Idaten!” Tenya announced much to your and Hizashi’s dislike.

So much for being guests and enjoying a relaxing festive evening. He placed his hand on his hips, sighing. “Yeah yeah, I guess that’d be alright,” he replied before looking at Tenya and Izuku. “But don’t ya guys mess up, ya dig!?” He shouted, his voice vibrating off the walls and causing the tables and chairs to tremble.

The guests immediately covered their ears, hissing in response to the hero’s quirk. However, Hizashi seemed to ignore this given he was far too used to people, mostly students, reacting to his quirk in such a manner. Instead, he pressed his hands against his chest. “I’ll supervise ya alongside Y/n,” he stated with a large grin.

Tenya nodded while Izuku looked uncertain. “Well,” he said, placing his hand on top of Eri’s head. She looked terrified, more than likely because she didn’t want to be left alone in a strange place. “What…a-about Eri? W-we can’t just leave her an-” Tensei slowly inched over to the two of them and looked at Eri with a smile.

However, that terrified look remained on her face, and he partly understood why. Tenya had shared a few details about her previously and he knew that while it was okay to be afraid of the world, you relied on heroes to make it just a little less scary.

Like many others, Tensei, despite being retired, had the heart of a hero and even now, it continues to shine fiercely. At that moment, he wanted to be Eri’s hero and if he made her feel welcome and safe, then he had done his job. “I’ll watch her,” he insisted, and Eri looked at him in disbelief.

“B-but…M-Mr. Deku…” she said looking up at him, but he smiled and crouched down beside her. “It’s okay, I-Iida-san used to be a h-hero. One of the g-greatest heroes, and y-you can trust him!” Tensei nodded and grinned as he extended his hand out to Eri.

“What do you say? We can have fun together until my little brother and Midoriya come back,” he suggested. Eri once again looked at Izuku before stepping toward the man in the wheelchair. She looked at it curiously. “W-why are you in a chair?” Tensei kept a smile on his face and rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling softly.

“That’s kind of a long story,” he said and one he didn’t feel like sharing, at least not to her. There’s a chance it would frighten her and well, he couldn’t have that. Not when he was trying to make her feel safe and gain her trust for the time being.

So instead, he grinned. “Hey, I have an idea!” He said, rolling his wheelchair back an inch or two. “Why don’t I give you a tour of the agency? You can sit on my lap while I wheel you around, it’s the best seat in the house!” He joked, smiling yet again.

She tensed up a bit, unsure of his request until she felt a gentle hand on her back. “Huh?” She turned, seeing Izuku smiling down at her. “Go a-ahead,” he encouraged her and though she bit her lip in response, she stepped forward and awkwardly sat on Tensei’s lap, her hands fisted into the front of his suit.

“Don’t worry, we’ll have an awesome time,” he assured her, and you couldn’t help but smile. Tensei was very kind, and he extended that kindness to strangers and children alike. “Ready?” He asked, keeping one arm draped over her shoulders while he turned his wheelchair around and began rolling toward the nearest hallway.

Eri looked at Izuku who waved her goodbye as she left the room with Tensei. In a way, it was probably best that she be separated from the party given her shy nature. “Alright, come on,” you said, clapping your hands. “There are people in danger, we cannot waste another moment,” you instructed and Izuku tensed up.

“R-right!” he exclaimed, and Tenya nodded. “Apologies! Let us proceed without delay!” he stated and Hizashi grinned as he walked past them. “Time to get to work, kiddos!” He announced. Crime stopped for no one, and villains didn’t care what day of the year it was, they would do what they pleased.

Fortunately, their rein was about to come to a screeching halt thanks to the efforts of you, your team, and of course, the extra help provided by Hizashi, Izuku, and Tenya. “Heh, sorry this must all be new to you, right?” Eri paused and looked at him, a small pout decorating her lips.

“Have you ever been to an agency before? Heh, they’re pretty cool. I remember when I first opened mine.” A smile came to his face when he thought about you. “I had doubts about it, I spent a lot of time worrying if I’d be a good leader, but Y/n always put those doubts to rest,” he commented, getting a dreamy look in his eye.

“I don’t know what I would have done withou-” he paused when he noticed the look Eri was giving him. “Oh right, sorry,” he chuckled. “This is about you,” he continued rolling down the hallway which, much like the main room where the party was occurring, was lit up with festive lights that flickered.

The sound of the holiday music was faded but still audible. “Hm…” he came to a stop in the hallway. “What can we do…” he needed something to distract Eri and tapped his lips a few times before inspiration struck him. “I got it!” He announced, pointing his finger toward the ceiling.

He grinned at Eri who had gotten startled by his sudden outburst. “Why don’t you write a letter to Santa?” he chuckled. “I’m sure that’ll pass the time until everyone returns,” he suggested. Eri’s reaction wasn’t what he expected, however.

She frowned and looked away from him. “I…I don’t know what I want…” she said, even years after being free from Kai’s clutches she remained with emotional scars and those emotional scars often made her reluctant to receive gifts or to ask for anything.

Tensei furrowed his brow, but after a moment, he smiled. “Yeah, that’s hard to decide sometimes, especially when you feel like you don’t want or need anything,” he commented, placing his hand on top of her head. She trembled and looked at him even as he continued to smile at her.

“But sometimes you have to remind yourself that you deserve a gift too,” he said before lowering his hand. “Santa is the one person who won’t judge you no matter what you ask for,” Eri knitted her eyebrows. “…Santa?” She repeated. “Yup! I’m sure he visited you last year,” or so he assumed.

“He visits everyone and leaves them gifts, and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you wrote him a letter telling him what you wanted,” he said as he resumed rolling to the end of the hallway where your office was. After carefully opening the door and rolling inside, the room was illuminated with light and a sense of nostalgia washed over him.

He couldn’t help but look around, and though it may sound selfish, he was happy you hadn’t changed anything. You could have done anything with it, painted the walls an entirely different color, or replaced all the furniture. Instead, you left it alone.

He wondered if that was because this used to be his office and you didn’t have the heart to change anything. All the walls were white, except the furthest left one which was adorned with framed calligraphy of the Team Idaten logo which resembled what Tensei looked like in his hero suit encased in a circle.

Underneath it, the words ‘Representative: Turbo Hero Ingenium’ were displayed. “You can sit at the desk, I’ll go find some paper and pens,” he replied, Eri hesitantly slid off his lap and cautiously approached the large wooden desk that appeared polished and had a stack of arranged documents on the far-right corner.

It rested in front of a large window that overlooked the bustling city below which was illuminated against the dark evening sky, causing various colored hues to peer in through the window. The smell of freshly cut pine and cinnamon was now replaced with a faint aroma of green tea.

The source of this was the small hot water dispenser, with delicate teacups, that sat on a low table in the right corner of the room. Zabuton cushions surrounded said table and its main purpose was for last-second meetings, usually informal.

Most of the time you found yourself using it to get a moment of peace when you felt overwhelmed by your workload and needed some freshly brewed tea to keep going. Eri carefully pushed the chair back and climbed onto it, laying her hands on the cool surface.

The sound of several drawers opening and closing echoed through the room as Tensei searched through them. He managed to find a few blank pieces of paper, and while he had found some pens, upon second thought, crayons would be more appropriate for Eri to use.

“Ah!” He exclaimed when he finally found some buried at the bottom of one of the drawers. Although they were broken in half, they were still usable, and he smiled before placing the items on his lap and rolling over to the desk.

He placed the papers down before sliding one in front of her and placing the crayons on top of it. He offered her a smile in response to her confused expression. “Mm…” she looked down and grabbed a red crayon, tapping it absentmindedly against the paper.

“Heh,” Tensei continued to smile, and waited a few minutes for her to begin writing but alas, she only wrote ‘Mr. Santa,’ and nothing else. He assumed she still didn’t know what she wanted to ask for this year. “How about I write a letter too?” he suggested, maybe if she saw him writing one it would inspire her.

He smiled and took another piece of paper before grabbing a blue crayon. “Hm,” he tapped it against his lips a few times, he knew what he wanted but how could he write that when Eri was watching him so intensely? Then again, honesty was best.

If he didn’t wish from the bottom of his heart, how could he be a good example for her? The only problem was how to convey what he wanted on paper…to Santa. Well, the only way to find out was to do it. So, without delay, he began writing his letter.

[ Chapter II ]

#tensei iida x reader #tensei x reader #tenya ida x reader #iida x reader #iida x male reader #iida x you #iida x y/n #tensei iida #tensei ida #bnha x female reader #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x male reader #bnha x fem!reader #faulty writes: tensei iida: holiday series: 23 #faulty writes: tensei iida: 23

44 notes · View notes

bleachbleachbleach · 6 months

Text

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you to @recurring-polynya my beloved for the tag!

I tag everyone who writes fanfic who hasn't done it yet! because I love reading these kinds of things

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

203, 11 under bleachbleachbleach.

2) What's your total AO3 word count?

827,868

3) What fandoms do you write for?

I currently write for Bleach!

4) Top 5 fics by kudos?

I use a site skin that hides kudos/comment count/bookmark/hit data on all of the fics on AO3, because they make me feel bad about myself.

5) Do you respond to comments?

Yes! I post my fanfic on the Internet because I want to talk to people about these characters and these stories. Of course I’m going to take the opportunity. If someone comments on a fic of mine, chances are I’ve probably re-read the whole fic before replying, because, again, I’m going to TAKE that opportunity.

6) What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

All my fics are fairly dour the entire time, but I don’t think they tend to end badly. I’m most interested in the afterwards of something having ended badly (and/or something that is probably going to end badly, but hasn’t yet and maybe it won’t).

7) What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

All my fics are fairly dour the entire time (she says, again), but happiest overall and happiest ending is probably Some Things, because nothing hard is obviously about to happen right after it ends (e.g. Aizen, the Winter War, the rest of TYBW, etc.).

8) Do you get hate on fics?

Hate, not usually. Passive-aggressive dismissiveness or unsolicited critique, yes.

9) Do you write smut?

I’ve written sexual content, but idk if it’s technically smut? In that the point of it is often not arousal. Like, I’m not expecting anyone to want to read it because it promises to be sexually satisfying and scorching hot. Usually the characters are Going Through It and either the sex is incidental or it makes everything worse. I love either an inconsequential bathroom fuck or sex that exists somewhere on the spectrum of Weird. All of which can be kink in itself, yes! But I’ve never written anything and thought, "yeah, THIS, this is gonna make someone nut."

10) Do you write crossovers?

No, but if I did it would be about Iba being great friends with King from Run with the Wind. This is THE crossover canon of all time, mark me.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

I’m not sure? I’ve had people offer, usually never to be heard from again, but I think it may have happened once, a long time ago.

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, but I didn’t really enjoy the process. Or didn’t *get* it? I guess I don’t really understand how it works? I barely understand how RP could work, lol.

Obviously we run this blog in tandem, and have co-written posts. I regularly hop into docs with multiple authors for things like abstracts, copy, organizational statements, etc. But fanfic is, to me, a completely different creature. That’s between you and the characters.

14) What's your all-time favorite ship?

I don’t think I’ve ever thought about a ship in this way. This is not about fandom or fanfic, but I will say I’ve reliably cried about David/Patrick’s wedding (and entire courtship) EVERY time I’ve watched Schitt’s Creek. S-tier.

15) What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

I used to be someone of many fics and many WIPs, but in Bleach I am someone with one WIP and a selection of other posted fics, all of which have been pinched off of my one WIP, like little spider plants.

16) What are your writing strengths?

My strength is that I enjoy the process of writing fanfic. Like, obviously it’s frustrating when something isn’t coming together, or is just bad (though sometimes it’s still enjoyable even when I know the product itself is bad). Sure, it’s often DISTINCTLY UN-FUN if this is happening while the fic is on deadline, but overall I like writing fanfic, and I find I don’t relate to most "writers avoiding writing" memes I see. (Well, with work writing, I find them highly relatable. I’ve heard there are people in my profession who enjoy work writing. COULDN’T BE ME.) By god, I did not wrest away this time to write fanfic, only to NOT enjoy it!!

Product-wise, my strength is that I know my taste, at least, so I usually like the things I post, even if I don’t think they did everything well. Craft-wise, my personal favorite trait of my own writing is the rhythm and repetition, and the layering of metaphor that results.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

How badly I want to hear from people after I have shared something. My father once told me (not about fanfic lol) that "not everything requires a response" but man, if I’m going to put my heart on the line, my heart requires one, regardless of whether the greater balance of the universe does.

Craft-wise, I think my weakness is sometimes leaving too much to implication (and the opposite, overwriting or overmechanizing, executed out of fear of leaving too much to implication).

18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language?

For Bleach, I consider all dialogue as already in-translation, even though the only language these fics exist in is English. Depending no how important I think the dialogue is or how well-versed I am in how the character speaks in Japanese, I will sometimes spend a lot of time thinking about how the scene would go in Japanese, and what the best translation would be for that in English. I’m nowhere near fluent in Japanese; I just really like translation theory. In practice, the way this works is like, I’ll have a certain grammatical construction in mind, or an order of phrases in mind, and then I spend a lot of time deciding if what I want for the scene is a "Nabokov does Onegin" translation (literal, "pure," estranging), or a "Pushkin does Shakespeare" translation (in the artistic idiom of the target language). This kind of playground is one of the things I love most about Bleach, and one of the reasons I started writing for Bleach in the first place. I really enjoy it!

I am not fluent enough in any language other than English to want to write dialogue in it. I think all of you who write fanfic outside of your primary language(s) are phenomenal.

19) First fandom you wrote for?

Online and disseminated to others? Inuyasha, back when you had to also build the website to host it. (We discovered FFN later, lol.)

20) Favorite fic you've ever written?

I really like most of the fic I’ve written, to be honest. I think that’s probably less true of things pre-2009, but probably some of that stuff, too. Some are more take or leave, but of everything I’ve written in the last five years, there’s only one where I looked at the title just now and thought 'ehhhh.'

On this blog, I try to avoid talking in the specific about things I’ve made that aren’t for Bleach, but How Many Thousands is my top favorite. It was written for one of my best friends in the world, before we were actually friends. I consider it my love letter to her.

For Bleach, it’s probably my East Rukongai Soul Train fanfic, which I have read more times than the entire rest of the planet combined. I have read it many times. Thank you to those of you who also read to the end, because you are one of the highlights of my entire 2023!

#writing #meme

13 notes · View notes

sweepseven · 7 months

Text

20 Questions for Fic Writers!

Another post in a seemingly unending series of posts in which I talk about writing to make me feel like I've accomplished any actual writing. Results so far are middling.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

53! How and when?? (The answer is "Kà and a pandemic.")

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

228,456

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Just Cirque du Soleil at the moment, but a long running rp is soaking up the majority of my creative thoughts just now. That's its own whole thing with a blog and fics and AUs upon AUs.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Wing Dust (Miraculous Ladybug, T, perpetually bemused that I wrote this in the first place and yet here it is at number one)

Downpour (Mad Max Fury Road, G, my first for a fandom that did so much for me as an author)

War Song (Mad Max Fury Road, T, strong contender for favorite fic I've ever written)

Idle in Neutral (Mad Max Fury Road, G, I forget I wrote this one all the time and whenever I get kudos for it I'm like whom??? I love that it has a life all its own.)

Mantle (Mad Max Fury Road, G, another one I continually forget about lol)

That's the curse of writing for tiny fandoms! The ones I have loved most, that have mangled my brain for months on end are destined to have like a dozen readers total. On the other hand it's very gratifying to know I'm writing for a small handful of people extra extra psyched to find content. And in the meantime I have these, many of which I've let myself forget, that have found their audience anyway. It's a very rewarding feeling, like I could make the effort, move on, and still leave people happy years later.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Most times yes!! And I'm so so lucky to get the most thoughtful comments of all on my most niche fics. Makes it all more than worth it.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Walkabout and I love it. Cirque du Soleil Kà, T.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Tea Series by a mile. Didn't know I had it in me until pushed by @studiokawaii , and I'm so glad they did. Cirque du Soleil Kà, T.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Honestly so few people are aware of them that it's not really a risk. What is hugely embarrassing is the confirmed knowledge that Cirque artists know about and have read some of them. But there's nothing I can do about that, lol.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes! Somehow I feel like I'm always writing it, and then I look at my total body of work and am like "...where is all of it." Historically it was mostly M/M, but Kà got me actually writing F/M for the first time. Most common themes are experience vs. inexperience and tense power dynamics. I'd love to write more dub con.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Only ever one. Decree, another for Mad Max Fury Road, in which the Vuvalini are each granted one single potentially worldshaping wish à la Puella Magi Madoka Magica. I know why people don't click on it, but I'm fond of it!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No and tbh I can't imagine anyone would bother.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No but I'd be open to it if anyone cared to take on the project! I love translated fics. What a nice thing to do, granting someone else's work the opportunity for new eyes.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but again @studiokawaii and I have had some great fic/art collaboration in the past couple years with inspiration coming from both directions.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Snape/Harry. I never talk about it, I've never written it myself (I think?? maybe in high school I did), but honestly it's been so long that I think there's no unseating it now. The amount of care, dedication, creativity, and talent coming from that group, even after so long, is truly unique and remarkable. All time favorite ship to write has been Counselor's Son/Twin Sister by a landslide.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

It pains me, but I think I'm kidding myself if I try to claim The Shape of Things To Come doesn't qualify. I love the idea, I know exactly where I want it to go, but something about the enormity of the ground that needs to be covered in order to get there has spooked me.

I also have two highly embarrassing WIPs - one for Shadow & Bone and another for fucking Teen Titans - that I doubt will ever be finished. I just adore both ideas and it's fun thinking they've at least taken some kind of shape somewhere, even if they never make it out into the world.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Creating believable characterization and distinctive voices from very sparse source material. At least that's what I've been told, which I take as an immense compliment. I also think I write tension rather well, whether it be sexual, conflicting emotions, or threatening hostility.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Well right now my ability to finish anything feels pretty fuckin weak. I struggle with action scenes, like physical fights or scenes in which a lot is going on in multiple places at once. Hitting a natural rhythm with them is very difficult for me. Pacing for longer fics doesn't come easily to me either, and I always worry if my longer work reads like a bulleted list of stuff I knew needed to happen rather than an actual story with a true and natural flow. That's part of what's bogging me down with Shape of Things.

I also love commas too much.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Depends. You can't just throw it in there imo - it's a great opportunity for mindful characterization and shouldn't be treated like checking a box, or worse, a reminder to your audience that the source material doesn't match the language you're writing in. I'm not multilingual so the most you're likely to see from me are vague hints at certain dialects and accents in Kà, for instance, since they're not speaking any real language anyway.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Teen Titans. It's still out there somewhere, likely a somewhat embarrassing blip on the radar of some long forgotten LJ community. I got some early encouragement there that put me where I am today. Nurture and welcome new writers, people!!

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Borderline Suspect. I put so much into it. It was a real milestone fic for me, unlike anything I'd ever written before, and it stands so apart in my memory that I just can't choose any other. At the time I thought it was everything I could possibly want to say about Ka and CS/TS, but when it was through I found myself more motivated and inspired than ever.

Some of the most valuable and rewarding feedback I've ever gotten came from this fic, and the intensity of the response, however contained by the size of the fandom, has made me feel incredibly lucky. People came out of nowhere to talk to me about it, send art for it, push me through writing lulls with comments that turned entire days around. I made new friends because of it. I don't see myself writing anything quite like it ever again. Even if I did, I couldn't dream of a more gratifying response. Cirque du Soleil Kà, E.

#these were funnnn other writers pls pick up

6 notes · View notes

huasahyo · 1 year

Text

I finished reading Yuwu! (Spoilers ahead!)

OKAY, YUWU WAS PAINFULLY AMAZING. I still don't get the lack of content for this fandom??? In comparison to 2ha, Yuwu fandom seems way smaller and THAT'S UNFAIR. This story is so well written, the plot meticulously tied together and the characters are complex and very interesting. In a personal analysis, I liked the plot in Yuwu better than 2ha, cause I feel like in Yuwu, the main characters are closer to and are more affected by the plot? But 2ha stills pulls at my heartstrings more, in fact, every time I read the word Haitang in Yuwu, I GOT TRIGGERED, the trauma is real. AND THE FACT THAT MURONG CHUYI IS AN ACTUAL CHARACTER IN THIS??? At first, I thought that was simply kinda weird to have a character so similar to Chu Wanning in this (given that this is a prequel to 2ha, so couldn't be a reincarnation thing) but I changed my mind throughout the book and really enjoyed the reason for their similarities (the one stated at the end).

The whole Yue Family plot was really painful. In fact, one of the points I disliked is that my boy Yue Chenqing gets the Xue Meng part in the ending: he ends all "alone"! Like, can't Mo Xi send him a letter in secret or something... at least so he can know that everyone he cares about didn't die?

Also, why does everyone despises Jiang Yexue so much? Alright, him being sort of a villain caught me off guard but taking a look at the whole story, Yexue was a really good person until he infected by demonic qi. And remember, he got infected while saving Yue Chenqing (that at this point had unknowingly stolen everything from him). As Yexue fought the demonic qi, he was all alone, so he just stopped fighting... all of his actions after were probably inducted by the qi.

If there is someone really despicable in the story, that is Yue Juntian. A literal rapist who treated his children like mud. Terrible.

And also, the emperor Murong Chen was a great manipulator, props to him. In order to achieve the control of the whole world he was willing to fool everyone. I just thought his motivations were kinda weird, his ambition came sort of out of anger of being in the position of a ruler, seen as nothing more than that. I genuinely believed he wanted a better world in that scene where he plays the Xiao for the 70 thousand souls.

AND DAMN GIRL MURONG MENGZE... I wasn't expecting the last turn of events about her. At first I suspected her, then I thought she was a nice person and felt bad for suspecting her and at the end... lmao. But I enjoyed her character, she is a evolved version of her older brother. To be a knowledgeable ruler, she was willing to manipulate and kill, but also willing herself to go through some shit. Of course I was mad at her for putting our main characters through suffering but when she abolished slavery and shown herself to be an actually great ruler who cares about the country, I was sold. My girl (should I still use she/her pronouns on her? Idk!) is a baddie. (And poor Zhou He lmao I thought he was kinda hot, it's a pity he died)

And was not expecting another shizun fucker in this. Hua Po'an being the shizun fucker then... that was surprising. When he was first mentioned I was 100% on his side: A slave going against the country that enslaved them? Totally reasonable. The part that sucks it's that he used a lot of our poor Butterfly Boned Beauty Feasts to achieve his goals and that he was clearly a madman. But that 9 eyed qin was badass, when he uses it to conjure past general Gu... CHILLS, LITERAL CHILLS.

And poor Jiang Fuli... this was another surprising character, I thought he would be just a side character and a reference to Jiang Xi. I couldn't predict how involved he was in the plot, wow.

AH LET ME TALK ABOUT MURONG LIAN. In this blog we do not tolerate any hate towards our Wangshu-jun. He is definitely my favorite character out of everyone. At first I thought he would just be our regular annoying villain, and I was pretty angry at how he treated Gu Mang. But as the story progressed his presence made everything funnier (that one scene where he saves Gu Mang from having wine thrown at him LMAO) and when he tries to save Gu Mang from being taken by Zhou He LIKE HIS LIFE DEPENDED ON IT... I was like: okay that's suspicious.

I originally didn't like the plot of Gu Mang being actually a noble. But as we read we understand that this doesn't change the fact he lived most of his life as a slave.

The whole Ximang relationship was cute and painful. Seeing our (debatable) cold Mo Xi fall in love with someone he thinks doesn't love him back and then this person backstabs him. This person comes back and doesn't remember anything from the past. And then he discovers there's more to the backstabbing story! He has to endure watching said person struggle A LOT omg... I cried with him in a lot of moments.

Oh, and I really liked the spiritual weapons in this! Really cool! Tuntian was a very interesting twist and I liked how that explained Mo Xi being so strong.

THE PLOT TWIST ABOUT THE LITTLE SACHET (I have no idea what that thing is called in English, but you know what I am talking about) ???? THAT WAS... I was speechless.

About the ending, I actually thought it would be a reincarnation open ending and was kinda meh about it. But then, our savior (mysterious dude that kinda looks like Xie Lian??? Idk about yall but I was picturing him inside my head) appeared and gave us a miracle! Very cute ending <3

BY THE WAY, I finished Yuwu mid January and just finished writing this now, at the end of February lol

Hopefully I will draw some content to this fandom in the future, while trying to convince people to read it.

Also, as of now I have just finished the second volume of Qiang Jin Jiu and booooooy I have a lot to say about this masterpiece, just wait for my review. (Or no? No one reads these anyways lol).

#yuwu #nana rambles about novels #danmei #book review

24 notes · View notes