#depending on if i get hate for 'daring' to be critical

[trexiejan]

My thoughts: Barbara/Dickbabs fans love to accuse Starfire/Dickkory fans of misogyny and ableism yet here's Barbara mistreating other women.

Reading comments from dickbabs shippers is so scary. you're not allowed to simply dislike Barbara anymore without Barbara fans and Dickbabs shippers jumping on you and accusing you of ableism/misogyny..

So preferring another woman over a woman is misogyny?

So you hate disabled people now if you don't prefer Dick with Barbara?

or maybe some people just simply don't like Barbara and i think that's totally fine. Not everyone has to like what you like.

You can't ever say your opinion about their favorite character and ship without getting personally insulted and attacked by them and If you dare simply criticize some of barbara's bad actions and their ship's awful writings they'll talk about you in their private groupchats nonstop and convince the others to harass you too. It's not normal being scared and being threatened just for saying you don't like a certain character and prefer a character with someone else.

They treat Barbara like she's some sort of untouchable goddess who everyone has to like and worship even though she herself has done awful things to other people, she slutshames and degrades women when she gets jealous like she was so harsh and mean to Kory just because she has a romantic history with Dick.. She mocked Kory's looks and refused to help her on a mission where thousands of her people were dying and all she could ever think about was "is she going with Dick?" like girl wtf. be professional. 🤦‍♀️

She also slutshamed Helena and called her night with Dick "a cheap meaningless one night stand" despite the fact Dick told Helena he doesn't do casual sex, also it was not her place to reveal to anyone that Helena slept with Arsenal like how would you feel if one day you woke up and you found out that your coworker told everyone in your workplace that you were sleeping with a guy behind your back . She has no respect for a woman's privacy and mind you she did it out of spite cuz she was jealous again that she's not the only woman Dick loved.

and here's another thing, her fans love to accuse starfire fans of being ableist towards her but it's funny how Babs herself was ableist to Cass aka a female character who has dyslexia. She called her stupid just because she doesn't know how to read.

Also none of them spoke about women's rights when official comicbook writers slutshamed and mistreated the other women in Dick's life just to uplift Barbara and definitely none of them cared when their favorite dickbabs writer aka Tom Taylor liked a pro-barbara comment bashing Starfire but when someone says a single thing about Barbara it's World War 3 for them 🙄

They even created a picture where they said A real dickkory fan doesn't hate on Barbara I'm sorry but not everything depends on Barbara. A person can be a real dickkory fan while not liking Barbara at the same time. Let people dislike Barbara in peace! It's not anyone's fault that you Barbara fans are a bunch of triggered insecure buttthurt entitled brats who can't accept the fact not everyone likes Barbara Gordon! Also there's no need to be hypocritical. I've seen hundreds of you defacing and slutshaming Starfire too for years!!!

You guys act like a hypocritical totalitarian regime controlling people and censoring them left and right. It's really scary and also pathetic at the same time. You can't force people to like her and your ship. Sorry your feelings got hurt but there's nothing that you can do to change other people's minds about Barbara. They can dislike her and say why whenever they want. It's called freedom of speech and personal preference. They don't owe you anything for you to act like they should submit to your demands. If you can't accept that then that's more of a You problem. You guys need to work on your insecurity issues cuz it's higher than the Mount Everest at this point!!

[prlssprfctn]

"So OOC! This issue is crap"

And if I say you are reading it wrong, and this page actually makes total sense?

I saw people bashing the writer for a while on Twitter, and I couldn't help but bring this page there to discuss all criticism and explain what Jason had meant because hate comments towards Jason is insane and FOR WHAT, too! So, let's go through some points I had already heard on the Internet during this week.

1) "How dare Jason speak for other kids?"

Let's start with the most important point there: Jason does not necessarily actually want to talk about his siblings. He generalises the whole thing because it is his way to communicate about his own feelings. It is the same thing Bruce does through some comics — he puts his own feelings into a loud "we," even if the narrative doesn't always fit. People historically do that quite often when they need to feel more sure and secure in what they are talking about.

2) "Jason doesn't care about Gotham? Insane ass take"

It is not about his general feelings towards Gotham! It is about the Robin mantle and the intentional motivation to get into vigilantism. Jason loves and has always loved Gotham, and it is proven by some runs that he always finds a way to help his town, even in no capes!AU.

But this is a thing. In a perfect life scenario, Jason cares about Gotham by donation and some other charity stuff, by specfic profession, even. Not by jumping in suits. He loved Gotham, but not with the same self-sacrificing agenda with suits and fake identities as Bruce — he originally became Robin for him. To be loved and accepted. The magic the mantle gave him was family. Family and the safe place to live in.

It doesn't mean that he didn't enjoy his Robin days before the shit hit the fan. It doesn't mean that he doesn't love Gotham. Come on.

Bonus points that are very biased: funnily enough, I think he is not entirely wrong in general narrative. Most of the kids didn't start doing what they are doing now for Gotham specifically. Some of them didn't give much thought about this TOWN at the beginning of their journey. Some of them had different motivations and reasons, or circumstances. And that's OKAY. It doesn't mean that they don't care about Gotham now. It is about the original intentions and thoughts on that matter. They got attached to this city somewhere along the way, and it is beautiful and symbolic.

And yeah, they didn't jump into suits and mantle for Bruce's love as Jason did, but somewhere along this way, they also become depended on his approval and love. You can't deny it.

Here, I said it.

[niallerspayno]

I Like Your Style (Niall Horan x reader) - Fic Request

Anonymous request: hey love, if you’re up for it i would love to read an enemies to lovers imagine with Niall and the reader. maybe he often flirts with her but they still really hate each other, until she one day snaps and they make out? just if you feel inspired, love your profile!!❤️

Tags: enemies to lovers, angst, fluff

Masterlist

You still remember that night—the night everything started. It’s burned into your memory, every detail as vivid as if it just happened.

The award was for Breakthrough Artist of the Year. A career-defining moment, they called it, and you had fought tooth and nail to get here. Months of relentless touring, sleepless nights in the studio, and navigating an industry that always seemed just a little more skeptical of you. But the competition was fierce.

There were four nominees: a critically acclaimed indie darling, a viral TikTok sensation, Niall Horan—former boyband star turned solo artist with an already massive fanbase—and you. The underdog.

You had convinced yourself you wouldn’t win. How could you, standing next to names that practically guaranteed success? Even as they called your name, you sat frozen for a moment, your brain struggling to catch up with reality. The applause surged around you, bright and overwhelming, as the cameras captured your stunned expression.

You stood, smoothing your dress with trembling hands, and made your way to the stage. The trophy was heavier than you expected, cold and solid in your grip as you delivered a speech that you barely remember now—something about gratitude and hard work.

But the real drama started after.

Backstage, you see him almost immediately.

Niall.

He’s leaning against the wall in the press area, his signature grin plastered on his face as the cameras crowd around him. But his eyes—his eyes are scanning the room, and when they land on you, that grin shifts. You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t something magnetic about it, something that tugged at your gut. It’s as if he knows exactly how to get under your skin.

He strolls over to you with that swagger of his, the one that drives you crazy.

“Hey, congrats on the win, darlin’,” he says, his voice so casual you almost miss the way it sends a spark of irritation through you.

“Thanks,” you reply, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

But Niall doesn’t miss a beat. His eyes rake over you in that playful way that makes you want to shove him away and lean closer all at once. “I’ve gotta admit, you do have your own... style,” he says, leaning in just a little too close, his breath warm against your ear.

It’s the way he says it—the style part—that makes something cold snap inside you. Like it’s not a compliment at all. His eyes glint with amusement as if he’s daring you to react.

You clench your jaw. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” you ask, keeping your voice level, but your pulse betrays you.

Niall just shrugs, the grin still playing on his lips. “Could be. Depends on how you take it.” His tone is light, but there’s an edge to it, something that only adds fuel to the fire already burning between you two.

Before you can say anything else, the press swarms you both, and Niall steps back just enough to let the spotlight shift. He’s still watching you, though, his gaze never leaving your face as he answers a few questions.

“She’s got a good look, doesn’t she?”

“You mean her style?” A journalist teases.

Niall chuckles, giving a lazy nod. “Yeah. Something about her vibe.”

You feel your stomach churn. The comment wasn’t just a dig at your style—it was a jab at your talent. You can hear it in his voice, the way he downplays everything. The worst part? The media eats it up. The headlines the next day are brutal.

“Niall Horan Throws Shade at Breakthrough Artist Winner?”

“Pop Rivalry Turns Icy After Award Show Win.”

“Niall Horan’s Casual Dig: Is There Drama with the New Star?”

It all spirals out of control. The press turns a single comment into a full-blown feud, spinning a narrative that’s hard to escape. Niall’s flirty remarks become more frequent, more blatant, each one adding a layer of tension. The more he flirts, the more you want to tear your hair out, especially when it feels like he’s teasing you on purpose—like he knows exactly how much it annoys you.

But even as the rivalry intensifies, there’s this lingering question in the back of your mind. Is he playing a game, or does he mean something else entirely?

And now, here you are—seated next to him on The Voice, the cameras rolling and the entire world watching. You both grin for the cameras, but the tension between you is palpable. Flirting aside, it’s clear: this competition is no longer just about talent. It’s personal.

...

The studio is alive with electricity, the anticipation hanging in the air as the next contestant steps up to the mic. You’re perched on the edge of your seat, already tense, because you know this is the moment. You can feel it. This contestant is exactly what you’ve been waiting for—a voice that could break through the noise, something unique.

But of course, Niall is sitting right next to you, not even pretending to be subtle. He’s leaning back in his chair with that cocky grin plastered on his face, practically vibrating with excitement. You can’t not notice him. He’s always been like that—loud, insistent, trying to make you feel something, anything.

You know what he's doing.

"Bet you a tenner I get this one," he says, his voice low but not quiet enough to escape your hearing.

You glance over at him, your gaze narrowing. "Keep dreaming, Horan. You couldn’t pick talent if it slapped you in the face."

He raises an eyebrow, that grin of his only growing. “Is that right? You might wanna watch this, then. I’m about to claim them.” He leans forward, eyes burning into yours, and for a second, there’s something in the way his jaw clenches that makes you feel… something. It’s not a nice feeling, though—it’s the kind of frustration you get when someone knows exactly what they’re doing.

You lean forward too, but you don’t let your gaze linger on him. You can’t. You have to stay focused. This contestant could be yours.

The music starts—a soft, melodic intro that gradually builds—and the voice that fills the studio takes you by surprise. They’re good. Damn good. The rawness, the power in the notes. It’s clear they have something special.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Niall mutters, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he eyes the contestant. “You sure you can handle this one, love?”

His words come out playful, but there’s a distinct edge to them. Like a challenge. And you hate it.

You’re not backing down. Not now. You press your lips together, forcing yourself to stay calm as the voice soars higher. You’re ready—so ready—for this. You need this.

Kelly Clarkson leans forward, clearly paying attention, and her voice rings out. “Ooooh, I’ve got a feeling about this one. You two might actually be in trouble.”

Blake chuckles beside her, enjoying the spectacle. “Looks like our two favorite coaches are about to go head-to-head again. Good luck, kids.”

You throw Blake a sarcastic grin. “I don’t need luck, Shelton.” Then, without looking at Niall, you add, “I’ve got skill.”

Niall just chuckles, and the sound grates against your ears. “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve got plenty of skill. But it’s me who knows how to make people shine.” He winks, obviously trying to get under your skin. And damn it, it’s working.

“You keep talking, Niall. Eventually, you might convince yourself,” you mutter, your fingers itching over the button.

You know he’s close to hitting it. You know he wants to press it as badly as you do. And there’s no way you’re letting him get away with it. Not this time.

The contestant hits a perfect high note as the song ends, and it’s your moment. Your hand slams down on the button, and your chair turns with a satisfying whoosh. At the exact same time, you hear the sound of Niall’s chair whirring around too. You both know. It’s a race now. The stakes are higher than ever.

The crowd erupts in cheers, the audience clearly buzzing with excitement over the fierce competition. The contestant stands there, wide-eyed, unsure who to choose, and you can feel Niall’s presence just inches away. His gaze locks with yours, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“You know I’m the better choice,” he says, leaning forward just enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of him. There’s a hint of something in his voice—something more than just a game. Something personal. And you hate how much it affects you.

You turn to the contestant, keeping your voice smooth and confident. “Don’t listen to him,” you say, flashing your most charming smile. “I’m the one who’s going to take you places. I’ll give you the chance to be exactly who you’re meant to be.”

Niall’s eyes flick to you, but his expression shifts, something colder lurking behind the cocky grin. “Oh, I’m sure you will. But here’s the thing—I’ve got experience. I know what it takes to make it. You’ll be in good hands with me.”

You can feel your heart rate picking up. You’ve been in enough of these situations to know what’s at stake, and this time, you can’t let him win. You won’t.

Blake’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife. “Well, well, well, looks like we’ve got ourselves a little showdown here. I don’t know about you, Kelly, but I’m loving the drama already.”

Kelly grins, clearly entertained by the back-and-forth. “I think they’re both ready to throw down. Should we get the popcorn, Blake?”

The contestant steps forward, clearly uncomfortable with the mounting tension. “This is... tough. I’m really torn.” They glance between you and Niall. “You’re both amazing coaches…”

You smile a little too tightly, your patience fraying at the edges. “I’ll give you everything you need. We’ll win this, together.”

Niall leans even closer, his voice softer, more persuasive. “I won’t let you down. You’ll be in the best hands with me. Let’s make this happen.” He says it like a promise, and you can’t stand the way it makes your heart skip.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the contestant steps forward. “I’m going with... Niall.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You feel the weight of them, the finality. Niall grins, standing up and reaching out to give the contestant a high-five. “You made the right choice.”

As Niall celebrates, you lean back in your chair, forcing a smile you don’t quite feel. You can feel the heat of Niall’s victory like a brand against your skin.

He glances over at you, eyes gleaming with triumph. “Better luck next time, sweetheart.”

Blake snickers. “They’re definitely not over this rivalry. This season’s gonna be fun to watch.”

You can barely keep the snarl from your lips. “Oh, just wait, Horan. The season’s just getting started.”

You stand, tension crackling between you both as you watch Niall walk away with his new contestant. You know it’s only a matter of time before you get your turn. And when you do... it’s going to be your victory.

...

The stage is set for another Blind Audition, and the energy in the studio feels electric. The previous battle was a tough one, with Niall swooping in to steal your contestant, and it’s been eating at you ever since. You will get one back from him. You’ll make him regret thinking he’s the top coach on this show.

You’ve been watching Niall closely, and you know he’s itching for the next powerhouse vocalist to walk through those doors. He’s sitting back in his chair, relaxed, like he’s already got the next contestant locked down. But you’re ready to ruin that plan.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, your fingers hovering over the button. His cocky smile, the way he leans back so casually—he thinks he’s got it in the bag again. Not this time.

The next contestant steps forward, a powerhouse vocalist who hits that first note with so much raw emotion that it sends chills through the room. You’re instantly invested, nodding along to the beat. There’s something special here.

You can feel Niall’s eyes on you as the voice fills the studio, and you see him twitching, clearly ready to slam down his button the second he feels the connection. You don’t even give him the chance.

Without thinking twice, your hand moves swiftly, slamming your button down and blocking Niall from turning around. The bright red light flashes above his chair.

“No!” he shouts in disbelief, sitting up straight. “What the hell, you can’t be serious right now!”

Your smirk is all too satisfying. You stare at him, keeping your voice cool, though there’s a playful edge to it. “Oh, I’m serious. I’m not letting you take this one from me, Horan. Not this time.”

Niall glares at you, his frustration clear. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You blocked me?” He laughs in disbelief, his voice dripping with irritation. “That’s low, even for you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Low? I’m just playing the game, Niall. You’re the one who’s been stealing from me all this time. Now it’s my turn.”

Blake chuckles from his chair, glancing at Kelly. “Well, well, well. Looks like someone’s finally getting a taste of their own medicine.”

“Guess it’s just what happens when you think you can take everyone,” Kelly adds, teasing Niall in her signature way.

You can’t help but let out a small laugh, enjoying the chaos you’ve caused. Niall, though, is seething. You can practically hear him grinding his teeth.

“Well, let’s see how this plays out then,” he mutters under his breath, clearly fuming.

You keep your eyes locked on him for a second longer, enjoying the tension that’s now simmering between you. You’ve managed to outplay him for once—and it feels good.

The contestant finishes their performance with a final, dramatic note, and the moment of silence feels like an eternity.

Blake is the first to hit his button, and then Kelly does the same. But you’re waiting.

As soon as the contestant finishes, you hit your button again, and the chair spins. You watch the contestant’s face light up with excitement as they see your chair turned, and your heart swells with satisfaction.

But Niall’s chair remains turned away. You know he’s struggling to hide his annoyance.

“Well, looks like you’re stuck with me,” you say, your voice almost a challenge as you look over at him.

He meets your gaze, his jaw clenched, eyes narrow. “You’ll regret that,” he says under his breath, but loud enough for you to hear.

“I highly doubt it,” you reply, turning your attention back to the contestant, ignoring Niall’s glare. You’ve just taken something precious from him, and it feels good.

The contestant steps forward, looking between the coaches, clearly thrilled by the attention they’ve just received from all of you. But you know this is where it gets tricky. You’ve got the advantage—Niall is blocked, and now you have to convince the contestant to join your team.

“Listen,” you begin, leaning forward slightly. “You’ve got a voice that can move mountains. I can help you take that talent to the next level. I know exactly how to guide you to success, and I’d love for you to be on my team.”

“You made the right choice,” they say with a smile, stepping toward your team.

A rush of triumph fills your chest as you give the contestant a big smile. “I won’t let you down.”

Niall, on the other hand, is trying to keep his cool, but you can tell by the way his shoulders are tense and the way he’s not looking at you that you’ve won this round. You couldn’t help but enjoy it just a little.

...

The moment you step backstage, the adrenaline from the Blind Audition still courses through your veins. You’ve just blocked Niall, taken a contestant right from under his nose, and it feels damn good.

You pull your jacket tighter around you, your mind racing with the satisfaction of winning this round. But just as you think you're in the clear, you hear a voice behind you—low, smooth, and unmistakably Niall's.

"You think you’ve won, don’t you?” His voice is laced with that teasing arrogance that always makes your blood boil.

You turn around, your heart racing at the sight of him, standing there with that smirk plastered across his face. His eyes narrow as they meet yours, like he's trying to read every thought behind your cool exterior. But you can’t let him get to you. Not now.

"Won? It’s just a game, Horan," you reply, your voice biting. "But I guess that’s a concept you wouldn’t understand, considering how you’ve been playing this entire season."

Niall takes a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. His cocky grin remains, but there’s a tension in his posture that you can’t ignore. "I don’t need to play games when I’ve got talent on my team," he says, his voice low and challenging. “You think you’re so clever, blocking me? But it’s only a matter of time before I take it all back. You can’t keep this up forever.”

You lean against the nearby wall, crossing your arms and letting out a sharp breath. "You’re all talk, Horan. And honestly? I’m getting sick of hearing it. You’ve been stealing from me every round, but you can’t take a little competition?"

Niall smirks, clearly enjoying the way your frustration is boiling over. "You’re cute when you get all fired up, you know that?" His voice drops an octave, and you can feel the shift in the air between you. His words hang in the space, almost like a dare.

You roll your eyes, refusing to let him get the best of you. "Cut the crap, Niall. This isn’t about flirting. It’s about the competition. Keep it professional."

But even as you say it, you can feel the heat radiating from him. The way he’s standing so close now, his presence filling the space with an intensity that’s hard to ignore. His scent, that mix of cologne and something undeniably him, seems to invade your senses. You try to ignore it, but your pulse betrays you, speeding up in a way you can’t control.

He steps even closer, his hand brushing against yours as he reaches for a bottle of water on the counter, his fingers grazing your skin just long enough to send a jolt of electricity through your body.

The contact is brief, but it’s enough to make the air between you both thick with something unspoken. The sexual tension is palpable now, hanging between you like a storm ready to break.

"Keep telling yourself that," Niall murmurs, his eyes flicking down to your lips for just a moment before meeting your gaze again. His voice is soft, almost teasing, as if he's savoring this back-and-forth. "But we both know there's more to this than just the competition."

You can’t breathe for a moment, your mind racing. You hate the fact that he’s right, that you feel something when he’s near. Something more than just professional rivalry.

But you won’t let him see that. You won’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing how much he’s affecting you.

"Just keep it up, Horan," you bite back, pushing off the wall and standing straighter, trying to compose yourself. "You might be cute, but I’m not here for games. You’ll see. I’m not the one who’ll be standing alone in the end."

Niall chuckles, that wicked grin never leaving his face. “Oh, I’m not so sure about that.” He leans in just slightly, his lips almost brushing your ear as he whispers, “I can be very convincing when I want to be.”

The heat of his breath against your skin sends a shiver down your spine, but you refuse to show it. You grit your teeth, stepping back and putting some distance between you two.

"You’re delusional," you snap, fighting to keep your voice steady. "If you think I’m falling for your charming act, you're sorely mistaken."

Niall stands there for a moment, his eyes flicking to your lips once more before he straightens up and steps back. "Maybe I’m not trying to charm you." His gaze hardens as his smile turns into something a little darker. "But keep pretending that’s not exactly what’s happening. It’s cute, really."

You can’t stand it. You’re done with him. “You’re so full of yourself,” you mutter under your breath, turning away to gather your thoughts.

But Niall isn’t finished yet. "I’ll leave you to your delusions, sweetheart. But just remember this—no matter how much you try to block me, I’ll always find a way to get to you." His voice is thick with meaning, like he’s daring you to challenge him.

You turn back just in time to catch the glint in his eyes, the fire still burning between you. For a moment, neither of you moves. There’s a beat of silence, heavy with the unspoken words and emotions that have been building since you walked into this backstage area.

Then, without another word, Niall walks away, leaving you standing there, heart pounding in your chest and a fire raging inside you that you can’t quite extinguish.

...

The air backstage is filled with anticipation as the Battle Rounds approach. The tension between you and Niall has only grown over the course of the blind auditions, and it’s now time to take things to the next level. Every coach knows this round is critical—not just for the contestants, but for their pride.

The producers have a surprise in store for everyone tonight. To kick off the Battle Rounds in a spectacular way, they’ve asked the four coaches to perform a song together as an opening number. After a brief moment of surprise, all of you agree to the idea, knowing it’s a perfect way to set the tone for the intense competition ahead.

The air is thick with anticipation. The studio lights blaze above, casting a bright glow over the stage. The live band hums behind you, ready to bring the rhythm to life. You’re seated in one of the ornate chairs, feeling the weight of the competition settle on your shoulders. You glance around the circle of coaches—Niall is sitting next to you, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. He shoots you a half-smile, the kind that holds a hint of something else, a little too playful. You catch his gaze, but you refuse to acknowledge it for too long, focusing instead on the task ahead.

Blake and Kelly are to the other side of Niall, both chatting lightly amongst themselves, their voices floating over the murmur of the audience. Blake is already making faces at the crowd, showing off for the cameras, but Kelly’s gaze keeps flicking between you and Niall, like she’s sensing the tension brewing between you two. You know she’s not blind to it—neither is Blake, for that matter.

The band strikes up the first notes of Can't Take My Eyes Off You, and the audience erupts in cheers. You lift the microphone, feeling the weight of it in your hand, and your nerves dissipate into the music. The competition has officially begun—this performance will set the stage for the battle rounds, and every word you sing feels heavier now.

You glance over at Niall, your heart giving a small jolt as he leans slightly toward you, his voice low but unmistakable. He’s waiting for the right moment to take the lead, but you’re not going to let him have it that easily. You shift in your seat, ready for the challenge.

The first verse starts, and you sing, your voice floating smoothly into the air.

"You're just too good to be true Can't take my eyes off of you"

You feel Niall's presence beside you—his attention unwavering as he follows your lead. But there’s something else there, something beneath the surface. His eyes flick to you as you sing, the playful challenge between the two of you still palpable. He leans closer just as his turn comes, and you can feel the air shift.

"You'd be like Heaven to touch I wanna hold you so much"

There’s a subtle tension building between you, an invisible string connecting you both as your voices harmonise. The entire moment feels charged, as though you’re both competing for the spotlight, even though you’re supposed to be collaborating. You can’t deny the heat of his gaze as it lingers on you, something unspoken between you, neither of you willing to break it.

The song swells, and you take your turn with a bit more flair, your eyes locking with Niall’s.

"I love you, baby And if it's quite alright I need you, baby To warm the lonely night I love you, baby Trust in me when I say"

The two of you are side by side, but it feels like you’re worlds apart. You can sense his smirk before he even opens his mouth, and when he sings, his voice smooth and teasing, you can almost feel the challenge in his words.

"Oh, pretty baby Don't bring me down, I pray Oh, pretty baby Now that I've found you, stay"

You fight to keep your composure, your voice strong, but it’s hard to ignore the silent battle unfolding between you two. He’s playing with you, pushing you, and you won’t back down.

You both reach the final chorus, and there’s a shift—a spark that ignites between you as you sing in tandem. The energy is electric, the entire performance now feeling like it’s not just about the song, but about proving something. To each other. To the audience.

"And let me love you, baby Let me love you"

The crowd’s roar rises as you finish the last note. The music fades, and you both hold your microphones, your breath heavy from the performance. You steal another glance at Niall, and this time, his smirk is gone, replaced by something else—a quiet recognition. His eyes linger on yours, and for a moment, there’s an unspoken understanding between you.

The applause is deafening as the coaches exchange looks, Blake already grinning and giving you both a thumbs-up, while Kelly gives you an approving nod. But it’s Niall’s gaze that sticks with you—the challenge is still there, unspoken, but clear. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms, his eyes still on you.

You can feel the tension between you like a string pulled tight, waiting for the next move.

...

The applause still rings faintly in your ears as you make your way backstage. The buzz of the performance is dulled by the swirl of thoughts in your head—mainly, Niall. The way he leaned just a little too close during the song, his voice dipping in that teasing way he knows drives you mad.

And maybe it’s the heat of the performance or the months of frustration bubbling over, but you’re done. Done letting this hang over you, done second-guessing every look, word, and touch from him.

You spot him by the craft services table, casually leaning against it like he doesn’t have a care in the world, laughing with some producer. His easy charm grates on you, pushing you to stride over, your steps fueled by determination and anger.

“Niall,” you say sharply. He turns, his brows lifting in surprise. “We need to talk. Now.”

“Alright then,” he drawls, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Didn’t think you’d be so eager for some one-on-one time, love.”

“Save it,” you snap, your tone brooking no argument. “Somewhere private.”

His smirk falters, curiosity flashing in his eyes, but he shrugs and follows you into the quiet hallway. The air between you is already thick, and as soon as you’re out of sight from the crew, you whirl on him.

“I’m not playing games anymore, Niall,” you say, your voice taut. “What did you mean at the awards show? The comment about my ‘style’—what was that supposed to be?”

He blinks, caught off guard. “You’re still hung up on that?”

“Yes, I’m still hung up on it!” you snap, your frustration boiling over. “You made me look like a joke in front of everyone. So, explain. Was it a cheap shot, or were you just being your usual, arrogant self?”

Niall exhales, dragging a hand through his hair, but his playful smirk doesn’t quite disappear. “You really think I’d waste my time taking cheap shots at you?”

“Don’t act like you’re above it,” you fire back. “You’ve been throwing jabs at me since day one.”

“Because you make it so bloody easy,” he counters, stepping closer, his voice low and laced with that maddening charm. “You walk in with your head held high, acting like you’re untouchable. It’s…endearing.”

“Don’t you dare patronize me,” you say, pointing a finger at his chest.

He grabs your hand before you can pull away, his grip firm but not harsh. “I’m not patronizing you,” he murmurs, his tone dropping. “I’m telling you the truth. You’ve got this fire about you that makes it impossible not to push your buttons.”

You snatch your hand back, your pulse racing for reasons you’d rather not admit. “So, that’s what this is? Some kind of sick game to you?”

“No,” he says, his own frustration flaring now. “It’s not a game. But maybe I said what I said back then because I was jealous, alright? You’ve got this incredible career, this talent I can’t help but admire, and I—”

“Jealous?” you cut him off, your voice incredulous. “That’s your excuse? You made me feel small because you were insecure?”

His jaw tightens, and he steps even closer, his blue eyes blazing. “You don’t get it, do you? It wasn’t about making you feel small. It was about getting your attention. And, for the record, I’ve got a lot of respect for you, even if you refuse to see it.”

“Respect?” you laugh bitterly. “Is that what you call constantly flirting and turning everything into a competition?”

“Would you rather I ignored you?” he shoots back. “Because I don’t think you’d like that either.”

His words cut through you, your heart pounding as the tension between you reaches a breaking point. His gaze is locked on yours, and for a split second, you think he might close the distance between you.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, stepping back to break whatever spell this is.

“And you’re infuriating,” he retorts, though there’s something softer in his voice now. “But admit it—you’d miss me if I stopped trying.”

You hate how your cheeks heat at his words, how your anger feels tangled up in something deeper, something you’re not ready to name.

“Forget it,” you say, shaking your head. “This was a mistake.”

You turn and walk away, not daring to look back. But you can feel his eyes on you, and his words—sharp, teasing, and maddeningly honest—linger long after you’ve gone.

…

The Battle Rounds are behind you now, but the tension between you and Niall hasn’t eased in the slightest. If anything, it’s only grown sharper with every exchange, every offhanded quip, and every side-eyed glance from him that lingers just a beat too long. The audience eats it up, of course, but for you, it’s exhausting. Weeks of sniping at each other on live television have done nothing to resolve the resentment simmering beneath the surface. Now, it’s the Knockouts, and fate—or maybe just some cruel producer with a sense of humor—has pitted your contestant against Niall’s.

You sit in your oversized chair, trying to project calm confidence, but the energy crackling in the room feels like it’s working against you. Niall is close enough that you can hear him tapping his foot against the base of his chair, his arm draped over the backrest in that infuriatingly casual way that makes it seem like he doesn’t have a care in the world. His contestant is up first, and when the cameras cut to you both for reactions, he leans toward you with a grin that’s all smug mischief.

“Hope your kid brought their A-game,” he murmurs, his voice pitched low enough that only you can hear. “Mine’s about to blow the roof off.”

You don’t bother looking at him, keeping your gaze fixed on the stage instead. “Confidence is cute, Niall. Overconfidence, though? Not so much.”

He chuckles, the sound warm and maddeningly unbothered. “We’ll see how cute it looks when I’m walking out of here with another win under my belt.”

The lights dim, signaling the start of the performance, and Niall leans back in his chair, still grinning as if he already knows the outcome.

His contestant delivers a near-flawless performance, commanding the stage with an undeniable presence and a pitch-perfect rendition of a current pop anthem. The audience is eating it up, cheering and clapping in all the right places. You can’t deny the talent—it’s impressive. Annoyingly so.

When the performance ends, the applause is thunderous, and Niall is on his feet, clapping like a proud parent at a school recital. He glances at you as he sits back down, his grin sharper now. “Tough act to follow, eh?”

You finally meet his gaze, matching his smirk with one of your own. “Oh, don’t worry. My contestant knows how to make an impression.”

And they do. Your contestant strides onto the stage and delivers a performance brimming with raw emotion and artistry. It’s less polished than Niall’s act but undeniably heartfelt, a stark contrast that resonates with the crowd. By the time the final note rings out, the audience is on their feet again, their applause just as loud as before.

You glance at Niall, satisfied to see his expression falter—if only for a moment. “What was that you were saying earlier?” you ask, your tone sweet and pointed.

But Niall recovers quickly, leaning closer as the audience noise fades. “Not bad,” he says, his grin returning. “I’ll give it to you—your kid’s got heart. But sometimes heart isn’t enough, love.”

The final decision is made, and when the host announces Niall’s contestant as the winner, he explodes out of his seat, throwing his arms in the air with exaggerated enthusiasm.

“YES!” he shouts, turning to you with a laugh that’s equal parts giddy and teasing. “Told you, didn’t I?”

You stay seated, forcing a tight smile as the cameras cut to you. “Congratulations,” you say through gritted teeth, though your eyes narrow as he takes his sweet time basking in the moment.

As the stage clears and the contestants exit, Niall plops back down in his chair, still buzzing with energy. He leans toward you again, his voice a soft murmur so only you can hear. “Don’t take it too hard, love. You’re still my favorite rival.”

You glare at him, your composure slipping for just a second as your frustration bubbles over. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“And yet, here we are,” he says with a wink, clearly relishing every second of your irritation.

The cameras cut to a commercial break, but the tension between you remains.

…

The day finally comes to an end, and the air backstage is charged with the hum of crew members packing up, the chatter of contestants celebrating or consoling one another, and the occasional burst of laughter from Kelly and Blake somewhere nearby. You’re standing at your vanity, wiping the last of your makeup off, your reflection staring back at you with tired, frustrated eyes. It’s not just the long day weighing on you—it’s him. Niall.

The Knockout rounds have been a whirlwind, but tonight felt like the final straw. His cocky grin, his teasing, the way he gloated about his contestant's win—it’s all too much. You’re still stewing over it when you hear his voice from the doorway.

“Burning a hole in the mirror there, love. What’d it ever do to you?”

You glance at him in the reflection. He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, his tie loosened and his shirt untucked like he owns the damn place. His hair is a little mussed, his grin infuriatingly lazy, and yet your stomach tightens in that traitorous way it always does when he’s around.

“I’m not in the mood, Niall,” you say flatly, turning back to the mirror.

He steps inside anyway, the sound of his boots soft against the carpet. “Come on, don’t be like that. It’s not my fault you can’t handle a bit of competition.”

You spin around, unable to stop yourself. “Competition? You mean you strutting around like a peacock and rubbing it in everyone’s faces every time you win? Yeah, real classy.”

Niall’s eyebrows shoot up, but there’s amusement flickering in his eyes. “Strutting like a peacock? That’s rich coming from you, miss ‘watch my contestant steal the show.’ You’ve got the whole humble act down, but we both know you love being center stage.”

Your pulse races, your hands curling into fists at your sides. “God, you are so full of yourself. Do you even hear the things you say?”

“Oh, I hear them,” he says, stepping closer. “And so do you. That’s why you’re always snapping back, isn’t it? Admit it—you love our little game.”

“I—” you start, but the words die in your throat because he’s too close now, his scent—clean, woodsy, with a hint of something darker—filling your senses.

“You want to know what really gets to you?” he murmurs, his voice dropping low, his eyes locking onto yours. “It’s not my ego. It’s not the teasing. It’s the fact that you feel something when we’re going at it. Admit it. You hate how much I get under your skin because part of you likes it.”

Your heart is hammering now, and every nerve in your body feels alive, sparking with frustration and something else, something hotter. “You think you know everything, don’t you?” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“I know this,” he says, his hand brushing against yours, his fingers curling lightly around your wrist. “If I kissed you right now, you wouldn’t stop me.”

And there it is—his challenge, his dare, hanging in the charged air between you.

Your breath catches, and before you can overthink it, your free hand grabs the front of his shirt, pulling him down. The moment your lips collide, it’s like a dam breaking.

The kiss is fire and electricity, all-consuming and frantic, mouths clashing as though you’re trying to prove something, trying to win a battle neither of you truly wants to end. His hands are on your waist, pulling you closer, his grip firm and possessive. Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging, eliciting a low growl from him that sends a shiver down your spine.

The world fades away—the noise outside, the glaring lights, the rivalry that’s defined your relationship. All that exists is the heat of his mouth on yours, the press of his body against yours, the way his hands roam as though he’s memorizing every inch of you.

His tongue slides against yours, and the sensation pulls a soft gasp from you. He takes advantage, deepening the kiss, his teeth nipping lightly at your lower lip before soothing it with his tongue. You press closer, your back hitting the edge of the vanity, and he groans against your mouth as his hands grip your hips tighter.

It’s fiery and desperate, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ll lose yourself completely in him. His lips trail along your jaw, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin as he murmurs, “God, you drive me mad, you know that?”

The sound of his voice, rough and breathless, snaps you back to reality. You push against his chest, not hard enough to truly separate, but enough to remind yourself where you are.

“Niall,” you whisper, your voice shaky.

He pauses, pulling back just enough to look at you. His pupils are blown wide, his lips swollen and pink, his chest rising and falling as he catches his breath. “Say the word,” he murmurs, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

You don’t say anything for a long moment, your mind spinning, your body still thrumming from his touch. Finally, you exhale, your voice trembling but steady. “This doesn’t mean I like you.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up in a smirk. “Sure, love. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

And just like that, he’s backing away, leaving you leaning against the vanity, your lips still tingling and your heart racing. As he walks out, he glances over his shoulder, his smirk still firmly in place.

“Sweet dreams, darling.”

You’re left alone in the quiet room, the ghost of his touch lingering on your skin, and you know—this changes everything.

...

The following morning dawns crisp and bright, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions that marked the Knockout rounds. The studio buzzes with its usual pre-show energy, but you feel strangely detached, your thoughts replaying the night before on an endless loop. Niall's words, his touch, his kiss—all of it lingers, pulling your focus no matter how hard you try to shake it off.

You’ve managed to avoid him all morning, diving into rehearsals with your team and keeping your interactions limited to polite nods when absolutely necessary. But as fate—or that same meddling producer—would have it, you find yourself alone in one of the empty sound booths just before lunch, reviewing notes for your contestant. And then, like clockwork, he’s there.

“Running away from me already?” His voice is light, teasing, but there’s a hint of something deeper beneath it, something uncertain.

You don’t look up, pretending to be engrossed in the clipboard in your hands. “Not everything’s about you, Niall.”

He leans casually against the doorframe, a familiar grin tugging at his lips. “Last night felt pretty personal, though. Or am I imagining things?”

Your cheeks burn at the memory, and you finally look at him, your expression carefully neutral. “If you’re here to gloat, don’t bother. I’m not in the mood.”

His grin falters slightly, and he steps inside, letting the door click shut behind him. “I’m not here to gloat,” he says softly, his tone a stark departure from his usual bravado. “I’m here because we need to talk.”

You set the clipboard down, crossing your arms defensively. “About what? How you can’t seem to go five minutes without trying to get under my skin?”

“About why I do it,” he counters, his voice steady, his gaze locked onto yours. “Because I can’t seem to help myself when it comes to you.”

The confession hangs in the air, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. He takes a tentative step closer, his blue eyes scanning your face like he’s searching for something—permission, maybe, or understanding.

“Do you even know how this started?” you ask finally, your voice quieter now, almost tentative. “What you said back then—about my style. It felt like you were tearing me down, like you didn’t think I deserved to be here.”

Niall winces, his jaw tightening. “I know. And I was a right idiot for saying it like that.” He rubs the back of his neck, exhaling heavily. “But it wasn’t what I meant, not really. I said it because… hell, because I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” you repeat, incredulous.

He nods, his expression surprisingly vulnerable. “You walked into that room like you belonged there, like you were untouchable. And I—I hated how much I noticed. How much I admired it. You had this fire, and it scared the hell out of me, but it also drew me in. So, yeah, I made that stupid comment, and then the press ran with it, and before I knew it, we were enemies.”

You stare at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “You could’ve just said that.”

“I didn’t know how,” he admits, his voice low. “Still don’t, half the time. It’s easier to tease, to rile you up, because at least then I get a reaction. At least then I get to feel close to you, even if it’s in the middle of a fight.”

Your heart pounds, your defenses crumbling as you take a shaky breath. “Niall…”

He steps closer, his hand reaching for yours but stopping just short. “Tell me I’m not the only one feeling this, love. Tell me I didn’t ruin us before we even had a chance.”

For a moment, the room feels impossibly small, the air between you heavy with unspoken possibilities. Then, slowly, you take his hand, lacing your fingers through his. “You didn’t ruin anything,” you whisper. “But you’re damn good at making things complicated.”

He laughs softly, the tension in his shoulders easing as he pulls you closer. “I’ll take complicated if it means I get to keep this—keep you.”

And then his lips are on yours again, softer this time but no less consuming. The kiss is a promise, a new beginning, and when you pull back, your foreheads resting together, you know there’s no turning back.

“Well,” you murmur, a small smile tugging at your lips. “This should make the live shows interesting.”

His grin is back, full and unapologetically cocky. “Oh, love, you have no idea.”

The rivalry isn’t over—it never will be. But as he holds you close, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand, you realize you wouldn’t want it any other way.

...

The finale of The Voice is a spectacle unlike any other. The stage is a kaleidoscope of lights and sound, the energy in the room electric as the final contestants prepare for their performances. Months of hard work, endless rehearsals, and nail-biting eliminations have led to this moment—and while the focus is supposed to be on the contestants, the coaches’ chemistry has become just as much a part of the story.

Specifically, yours and Niall’s.

The once-infamous rivalry has evolved into something else entirely, leaving fans, contestants, and even the production team buzzing with speculation. You and Niall are still competitive, but the edge has softened. He cheers for your team members, and you’ve been caught smiling—smiling!—at his. The biting comments have turned into playful banter, and there’s a lingering warmth in your interactions that has everyone guessing.

“Okay, spill,” Kelly says during a commercial break, leaning over the arm of her chair to give you a pointed look. “What is going on with you two? First, you’re at each other’s throats, and now it’s like... I don’t know, some rom-com in the making.”

Blake chimes in, arms crossed and smirking. “I don’t know about rom-com. It’s more like a Hallmark movie—predictable as hell. I mean, just kiss already.”

“Will you two stop?” you hiss, glancing at the cameras, but your flushed cheeks give you away.

Niall, sitting in his chair with all the confidence in the world, just grins. “Don’t listen to them, love. Let them speculate. It’s more fun that way.”

Kelly raises an eyebrow. “See? That. That right there. The way he calls you ‘love’ like it’s no big deal. You’re not fooling anyone.”

Before you can respond, the host’s voice fills the arena, announcing the night’s first performance. The conversation is tabled—for now—but the tension lingers, amplified by the way Niall’s gaze keeps finding yours, even when the cameras aren’t rolling.

...

The finale flies by in a whirlwind of stunning performances, heartfelt speeches, and a palpable sense of anticipation. The votes are tallied, and the stage is set for the big announcement. You stand with the other coaches, your heart pounding as the host begins the dramatic countdown.

“And the winner of The Voice is…”

The crowd erupts as the host calls out Niall’s contestant’s name. Confetti rains down, music swells, and Niall throws his arms up in triumph. He’s grinning from ear to ear as he pulls his contestant into a celebratory hug, but his eyes flick to you almost immediately.

You clap for the winner, genuinely happy despite the outcome. You’ve come to respect Niall’s coaching style, even if his ego sometimes gets in the way. He’s good at what he does—annoyingly good—and you can’t help but admire him for it.

As the chaos dies down and the cameras cut back to the coaches, the host turns to you and Niall, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Now, before we wrap up this incredible season, I think there’s one question on everyone’s mind.”

Your stomach drops. Oh no.

The host gestures between you and Niall. “What’s the deal here? First, you’re rivals, then you’re besties—what’s really going on?”

The audience roars with laughter and cheers, and you’re about to brush it off with a witty comment when Niall steps forward, his grin turning downright devilish.

“Well,” he says, his voice carrying easily over the noise, “I think it’s about time we clear the air, don’t you?”

Your eyes widen. “Niall, don’t you dare—”

But he does. Before you can stop him, he strides over, cups your face in his hands, and kisses you.

It’s not just any kiss. It’s a moment. The kind that steals your breath and melts your knees. His lips are warm, firm, and utterly consuming as he pulls you closer, one hand sliding to your waist as the other cradles your cheek. The crowd goes absolutely wild, screaming and clapping, and you vaguely hear Blake yelling something like, “FINALLY!”

For a second, you forget the cameras, the audience, everything but the feel of Niall’s mouth on yours and the way he holds you like you’re the only thing that matters. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his grin as bright as the stage lights.

“Guess the secret’s out, love,” he murmurs, his voice just loud enough for you to hear.

You blink, your heart racing, and manage to mutter, “You are so dead.”

He just laughs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he turns to the audience. “Thanks for a great season, everyone!”

The cameras capture every second, and by the time you make it backstage, the internet is already exploding. #NiallAndY/NFinale, #VoiceCoupleGoals, and #EnemiesToLovers are trending worldwide, with clips of the kiss going viral in real time.

Kelly and Blake are waiting for you in the green room, both grinning like Cheshire cats. “Well, that was dramatic,” Kelly says, sipping her drink. “Even for you two.”

Blake claps Niall on the shoulder. “You’ve got guts, Horan. I’ll give you that.”

Niall just shrugs, looking completely unrepentant. “What can I say? I like making headlines.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. As much as you want to throttle him for the public spectacle, there’s no denying the weight that’s lifted now that the truth is out.

Later, as you sneak away from the chaos for a quiet moment, Niall finds you leaning against a backstage railing, staring out at the city lights. He slides his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Not bad for a season finale, huh?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear.

You tilt your head back to look at him, your chest tightening at the softness in his gaze. “You really are insufferable, you know that?”

“And yet,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple, “you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And maybe, just maybe, he’s right.

...

Part 2

[davekat-sucks]

rizolda74: The day people stop calling marvus and other clowns predators is the day I rest because wtf is wrong with yall

yeah yeah, how dare i call a fictional character a crazy asshole.

i don't get you clownfuckers, i truly don't. why not admit you like villains, why try so hard to justify and deny all the fucked up shit they do, or like, attack anyone that dares criticize your pookies. why deny reality so hard.

how the hell are they NOT predatory?

marvus chucklevoodo'ed his audience/followers to shit themselves just for a laugh. chahut has weird undertones with amisia and takes advantage that people think she's hot to kill trolls for her. kurloz gaslights and demeans meulin, mindcontrols her, forces her to repeat what likely is his clown cultish religion phrases and puppeteers her to do tasks for him to help LE exist and kill everyone without her knowing. he hurt both her AND mituna to the point she went deaf and mituna got brain damage. kurloz also doesn't give a shit about how he hurt meulin, because despite mutilating himself " cuz he felt SO guilty :'( ", he can and clearly willingly speaks, he just doesn't do it in front of her and plays innocent on purpose so he's not found out.

look, he's literally mock-reverent about their deaths, because to him they are simply offerings to caliborn.

KURLOZ: THERE IS NO NEED TO APPROACH THE YOUNG MISGUIDED EMPRESS KURLOZ: SHE REMAINS BLISSFULLY UNAWARE OF THE MACHINATIONS WHICH TRANSPIRE BETWEEN THE HEROES OF RAGE KURLOZ: LET HER TRY TO RAISE HER PATHETIC ARMY OF SOULS. SHE WILL BE DOUBLE SLAIN BY OUR LORD LIKE ALL THE OTHER MIRTHLESS HERETICS KURLOZ: HONK KURLOZ: *HONK*

KURLOZ: OUT LORD AWAITS YOUR SERVITUDE AND TUTELAGE AT ONCE KURLOZ: WE SHALL NOW BUST OPEN THESE BITCHIN ELIXIR FORTIES KURLOZ: AND POUR SOME SWEET SWILL OUT FOR THE SOULS WHO SOON WONT BE NO MORE  #:o) MEULIN: (=^･ω･^=) < HE'S B33N VERY EXCITED LATELY. HE F33LS THAT SO MANY OF HIS SPOOKY RELIGION'S PROPHECIES ARE ON THE VERGE OF COMING TRUE, AND THE STARS ARE COMING INTO FELINEMENT.

motherfucker literally said "let's toast for the soon-to-be-executed! praise be the obliteration of the unbelievers!" he thinks it's justified, a prophecy, because it's the death of "mirthless heretics", people that do not share his beliefs. he's fucking crazy and cultish.

and what do religious cultists do? they PREY and TARGET the vulnerable to indoctrinate.

coincidentally, mituna and meulin are lowbloods. and thanks to him, disabled and dependent on him.

what do you think purplebloods are supposed to do? they are *subjugglators*. they subjuggate, they control and make lowbloods subservient. that's literally their fucking job in the hemosprectum. to make lowbloods *OBEY* no matter what they want or think, because that's what HIC wants. they literally have MIND CONTROL powers that make them completely lose their victim's agency.

the ONLY one i will give you weirdos is that hs2 ruined gamzee completely by retconning him into a disgusting fucked up ntr fantasy that also sexually harasses an underage vriska and maybe tavvy.

...but gamzee still took advantage of equius' vulnerability as he was choked to death, because he knew equius was so pathetically subservient to the hemospectrum he would never disobey a highblood and was even turned on by it. gamzee also took advantage of terezi's vulnerability and abused her, isolated her, and manipulated her to the point he made her dependent on him and their fucked up relationship.

purplebloods are shown constantly to prey on the vulnerable, highbloods do that because their alien society is fucked up.

look at meenah, she is also a predator. she point blank said she targeted damara to bully because she was "meek and weak", and groomed vriska and karkat, and pointed out how she took notice of their age difference and still went for it to date them.

Here is the source of the transcript from Openbound for those who want the source. People in this modern age really hate villains and antagonists, yet treat them as either Draco in Leather Pants, woobify them that they claim they did nothing wrong, or for the female side like Chahut and Meenah, think they are like girlbosses because feminism. If my fave character is a racist asshole, I love him being a racist asshole. If he's a greedy bitch, let him care about money more than love and people.

[thequietkid-moonie]

HIIIIIIII, can I request tbhk characters x gyaru S/O who get made fun of for their fashion taste?

Lots of love<33

Gyaru S/O is constantly made fun of

[ HEADCANONS ] [ Tsukasa, Yako ]

[ Toilet Bound Hanako-kun / Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun ]

× Gyaru is a japanese fashion style, it a little complicated to explain so i recomend to search about it

I have to admit that i have mixed feelings for the gyaru fashion style, there are some outfit that i think are reaaaaally cool but there are others that i find weird, haha but anyways, this was quite interesting to write! hope you like it!

Tsukasa Yugi

Tsukasa can be quite violent but that doesn't mean that he doesn't love you, because when he does fall in love he is really serious about that love and has no problem with expressing how much he loves you with everything he has and with whoever is in front of him (as if it wasn't obvious with how clingy he is)

Tsukasa tends to do as he please and what he wants so he doesn't really has filters when speaking, he will tell you from the start that he find your fashion style weird, but he mean it in the best way posible, no matter how much he insist on saying that is weird he also find it fascinating and pretty funny!

Tsukasa is quite mesmerized by your style and with each day that pass it just become part of his day greeting you at the first hour of the day (or when you came to school depending on that if you are human or supernatural) and taking a moment to apreciate your outfit, always giving you a compliments along with a big hug (most of the time he repeat the same compliment but his big wide smile shows that he is being sincere)

He totally loves your style, he find it quite funny and actually love playing with it a lot, is not rare for you to have him clinging onto you while playing with your clothes and accesories (with time he just learn to don't be too harsh or even try to steal it so you don't have to be without your precious clothes or accesories)

In all honestly, Tsukasa just loves you so much that he loves talking about you with Sakura and shows you off at every chance he has, and your beautiful fashion style only gives him more reasons to show you off, insisting that you have to show your amazing outfit to everyone in the broadcasting club whenever you are wearing something that he finds specially cute or mesmerizing

Tsukasa is so in love and even proud of you and your relationship that it will be a surprise when he find out that there are some people that tend to make fun of you because of your fashion style, and this isn't a pleasant surprise, he is mad at whoever dares to say something bad about his precious partner and he will make sure they don't say something like that about you ever again (there is no way he will let them go away with making fun of you and the more hurt you are the more harsh he will be with them)

Yako

Once Yako falls in love she does it really hard, it take her a while but once you get right to her heart it is going to be quite obvious how much she cares for you and likes you (mainly for the obvious soft spot she has for you)

Yako can be a little blinded by her love for you, finding all about you quite interesting and mesmerizing (specially if you are a human), so you having a gyaru fashion style is something that she will love and hate

It makes you happy and she feels intriged by it, by how much accesories and colors you use, she will give some criticism coment about your fashion style, mainly in hopes to help you improve it and make you look even more beautiful (mainly when she thinks is too much or that it doesn't suit), but also you can heard quite a lot of compliments about your style

Yako won't really be too willing to try an outfit with your style because she has her own style, however it isn't imposible and she would be willing to try a not too exaggerated or extravagant outfit (just let her make it), still she is more than willing to use a single garment or accesory if you ask her, something that matched her own outfit (although, if you gift her an accesory is more probably that she doesn't use it often because she prefer to keep it somewhere safe as her little treasure, but don't point it out or she will get defensive over the fact)

Over all, Yako likes quite a lot your style and is really supportive over it, besides, if it makes you happy then she doesn't see why not just be yourself, thats why she doesn't tolerate other people talking bad about you or your style, most of the time she doesn't do more than scolding (more like insulting) whoever had say something bad about you and tell you to don't listen those idiots

But getting to know that you are being made fun of because of your style make her furious, no one should made fun of you just because you are just being you, she is going to be back and forth from angrily rant about how mad she is with those idiots and trying to comfort you, she is quite protective over you but reminds as calm as she can because she doesn't want to cause problems, however if the bullies came to physicaly atack you or say something that really have hurt you then she will take the matter into her hands, it doesn't matter if is a supernatural or a human she will teach them a lesson (even if she have lose part of her power already that doesn't mean she isn't still powerful, and she will make those idiots regret even just thinking bad about you)

[tabsters]

the thing about writing is this: I am a good writer. objectively speaking, I am a good writer. I know this as indisputable fact. I have spent years honing my craft. I know I have worked hard to get to where I am now. and yet, I am unable to accept this fact as reality. in my eyes, I have not grown past the little kid who nearly quit writing because their ‘friend’ criticized them too harshly. I may have surpassed them, but that is only because they have stopped trying. that will be me one day. I will collapse from exhaustion, I will have peaked, and there will be nothing I can do as the next best author comes along, stepping on my corpse as they walk past. I may say pretty words, but I cannot tell if there is any intent behind them. the audience says there is, but is there really? I am the author. I should know my writing as well as my own soul, and yet I don’t. I do not know where I crossed the threshold of needing an audience to read my soul. I do not know when I depended on an audience’s words to fill the void where my soul once was. and the audience mocks me. they say, ‘I like your writing’. ‘which part?’ I ask. ‘I couldn’t choose,’ the audience choruses back. ‘all of it. all of it is good.’ how dare they, to lie so brazenly to my face. nobody is perfect. always, something can be improved. did they even read it to its fullest? how can they blindly like everything I create? it is because they know my soul, and it is because they know me. the audience is biased (but that’s why they came to my show). and I am there in the center, in a cage, on my hands and knees like an animal, begging for the details the audience refuses to share. what did they like? what did they dislike? what did they love? what did they hate? what can I do better, because I will change every bit of it to satisfy you? anything for you? the audience refuses to answer. some will. some always will. how I wish they would continue. I subsist solely off of their honeyed words. and yet, those who do supply me with sustenance do it behind a mask. I know not of their true identities, their true intent. maybe this is better. it is better because I can be sure that they are not saying slander just to soothe me. it is those who I am closest with, those who let their masks down, who do not wish to offer anything up. what are they afraid of? is it because I am standing in front of them, hungry for attention? are they afraid of their words being like poison? I wish they wouldn’t be; I can take anything they throw at me. at least it is something. their praise still feels superficial even when I know it is a hundred percent genuine. ‘write more,’ they say. I write more. more and more and more until I am drowning in my own words. I am not a robot. I am flesh and blood and bone. and I am doing all of this by myself. read my work. please. please, do it for me. please. I made this for you. please. look at me. please. tell me how much you love it. tell me how much you love me. please. I am withering away in this cage. and the thing about being a writer is this: I am wise enough to know that I made this cage with my own hands, clever enough to make a key to set myself free, and foolish enough to want to remain in here forever. I am a writer. I know my soul well enough to know I am never going to get out.

[naitfall]

character headcanon generator — 10 headcanons ! Generate 10 headcanons and share whether they're true or not. Repost, don't reblog.

Levi is not good with social cues. – False. If there’s something Levi’s brilliant with, it’s reading people. I remembered this quote a mutual tagged me in: ‘They call me observant. That’s not particularly true. People are so easy to read - we bleed emotions even in the way we drink our coffee. No one seems to notice though. They’re all too busy drinking their own damn coffee.’ The behavior of people, the slightest change in the way they carry themselves, every tiny detail— he’s aware, for he pays attention to everyone. He understands human behavior no matter how complex, as if it’s nothing. Not understanding Erwin, an exception, led him to follow him, and to their co-dependent bond.

Levi doesn't know how to say they're sorry. – False. There’s no doubt he’s a man who doesn’t let his emotions show. He chooses his words wisely, which means he won’t be ‘wasting’ words associated with deeper meaning (‘Sorry’, ‘Thank you’, ‘Please’ etc.) when the occasion doesn’t really call for it. But he will apologize, he will feel sorry, and he will be open about it, if the timing is right. A time I can clearly recall where he has apologized, was when he apologized to Hange for getting their soldiers killed during his first battle with Kenny. And even if he doesn’t say he’s sorry, he will apologize in his own way. For example, after beating Eren in court at the beginning of the story, when he approached him asking if he hated him.

Levi forgets to eat sometimes. – False. Despite his sickly appearance, and the fact he may be considered underweight (he’s all muscle, there’s almost no fat in his body), Levi won’t skip meals or avoid eating. He takes good care of his body and values his health. As much as it is important to exercise and stay in shape, it’s important to eat, and to eat well (as much as soldiers in the Survey Corps can). He doesn’t have a special relationship with food, nor does he have an extreme appetite, but there’s no excuse for him not to eat.

Levi can't handle criticism. – False. Just because most don’t dare to criticize him, it doesn’t mean he isn’t receptive to criticism. Levi’s well aware of his flaws, of all the things he could be criticized for. Does he work on improving himself? Depends. There are parts of himself he can’t change. Parts he wouldn’t rather change, survival tactics that help him deal with reality. He will accept criticism, if there’s something needed to be pointed out, or if there’s frustration needed to be released. But not if the intent is to insult him. When younger though, it is true he wouldn’t take criticism from anyone.

Levi is great with kids. – True. Children love him. It’s grown-ups who fear him. Children often have natural instincts to understand the essence of a person, right? This is why despite his unfriendly attitude, children actually really like him— adore him, better say, for they can see past his armor. I think it is also stated in a semi-canon story that children in the underground followed him because they liked him. And in return, he’s very kind and attentive to any child. A real caring parent figure. 

Levi is the gay cousin. – True. If only he had a family. If Mikasa is considered the cousin (even though technically, she’s the aunt). If by gay, we mean the absence of all sexual attraction, not knowing what romantic attraction is but yearning for being close to certain people of the same (or the opposite) gender. In some crack setting though, he’s definitely the gay cousin. 

Levi's favourite subject in school was Science. – False. First of all, Levi didn’t attend school (except from my headcanon/semi-canon he spent some days sneaking into a class in the short time he escaped from the underground). But if did attend school, even though I believe he’d be excellent in science and relevant studies in general, his favorite subject would either be history or literature. Both stories, of real and fictional people. He doesn’t keep an eye on everyone around him for no reason. He’s interested in humanity, rather than the universe. And this is also the reason, I have a modern universe for him where he’s a literature professor. 

If someone they knew committed a crime, Levi would cover for them. – True. Ahem. Look at him. He’s a war hero, a soldier, but also a former thug in the underground. A man who once led his life by stealing. And a man who actually murdered others. Not out of self-defense, not to survive. He did kill people for personal reasons (see when he killed those who messed with Isabel in the no regrets manga). Even though he may not be that man anymore, he remains a man who sticks to a moral code of his own. And don’t forget, he remains a man who may still commit other crimes. If one he knew committed a crime, he’d help them take care of the consequences before he searched for any justifications, simply because, he will care for those close to him, no matter what they’ve done. He’s the perfect person to look for, when something’s gone incredibly wrong. 

Levi has not showered in two and a half weeks. – False. An insult. How dare. This obsessive clean freak? Levi showers at least once a day, sometimes more than once if it’s summer, or if he’s been training, or doing any physical activity, unless they’re on an expedition beyond the walls. 

Levi believes in Santa. – False. Santa as a myth doesn’t even exist in the time he lives in. Plus, even if he did, he would have grown out of it when very young (he didn’t have a childhood). BUT! He’s Santa. If you force him to dress as Santa to entertain the kids. He will. He will complain. The kids will wonder why Santa is so short. But he will come, bearing presents. 

Tagged by: @hisinfinities (thank you so much, I really wanted to do this!!) Tagging: @vonbirden / lausticzt , @gyofukuki , @songcurse , @tvsglow , @dutyworn , @viitlumi , @ofcrossroads , @childoflegend @somairle @eatenword and anyone who will see this, tag me!

[blackbullet99]

Some ZKs are pretty upset with that recent post you made about them, namely sokkastyles and eponastory and some one guy called broadwaybalogna. They’re saying stuff like you’re encouraging bullying, you’re respect for them is dependent upon their opinions about fictional characters and one of them took offense that you said they downplay genocide, saying their ancestors experienced it and Bryke are white or something (along with Aang being a Gary-Stu McGuffin).

These are the posts, what do you think?

https://www.tumblr.com/broadwaybalogna/756326576927440896/is-it-bad-to-say-i-chuckled?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/eponastory/756307670306308096/well-i-guess-im-going-to-have-to-address-this?source=share

Honestly, not to be dismissive, I ain’t gonna bother reading those links.

Of course those losers are gonna be upset, I told it like is, calling them out on their stupid (and downright offensive in some cases) takes. They’re seething and coping, but the truth hurts. I don’t even know how they found these, one of these crybabies blocked me, so they’re obviously obsessed with me and can’t get by without stalking me anytime I dare to criticize their idiocy.

For the record, I never told anyone to bully these people. I don’t condone it, that’s on whoever reads this, but these people have a victim problem, seeing as ZKs constantly go into the wrong tags, call out anyone who disagrees with them (plenty do so by name) and spend of their time hating and whining about a show they claim to love. But suddenly I’m the big meanie-weenie because I hurt the feewings.

One final thing, I ain’t gonna go and act like Bryke are the best writers ever and should never be criticized, cuz they should, they made a great show, but said and did some pretty stupid stuff too. If anyone’s ancestors experienced genocide, I feel for you. But as a person of color myself, who’s ancestors I know where killed, enslaved, beaten and colonized among many other things, I called out these people because their opinions on serious subject matter such as genocidal trauma and how people (fictional or otherwise) was downright vile and insulting regardless of your own situation, A:TLA, may be fictional, but their issues towards such serious subject matter is callous, vile an reflects their crappy personality. I take issue with these idiots dismissing issues such as genocidal trauma, imperial propaganda, comparing a genocide survivor to a literal colonizer, invalidating the trauma and feelings of a colonist survivor (Katara) and adultifying her (in the Kataang tag no less).

Not to mention this rancid colonist take.

Need, I mention this, as a person of color, this makes me physically sick. They’re either unempathetic to a character who suffers from genocide, invalidate someone who experienced colonization and only care for the character who initially perpetuates imperialist antagonism, who did genuinely learn from his mistakes, but even those they always excuse.

In conclusion, screw these guys, it doesn’t matter what the vocal minority of toxic ZKs think, they can play the victim all they want, but their opinion means nothing, they downplay the effects of genocide and colonization trauma, because they don’t care, about the issues about the characters, it’s all to make a Wattpad middle school ship look better, because evidently they think it’s too weak to stand on its own and really clinging on to a fanon ship is all they amount to.

[pissmoon]

IF INSTAGRAM BITCHES STILL WANT TO DISCOURSE 'PICKMES' IN MF 2023 OK HERE WE GO. I have many thoughts about how 'feminist' criticism of 'im not like other girls' is centered around the idea that the only reason why a teenage girl could ever feel like this is being motivated by 'male attention' alone, and never ever because, at that age they dont have much better language to describe the feeling of alienation from the gender roles and expectations on what it means to be a 'girl'. If u throw the term 'internalized misogyny' around so much it should not be hard for you to understand that women and even little girls are socially conditioned to reinforce the patriarchy, women are the guard dogs of the patriarchy actually. Like this is 101 shit to anyone that thinks they get to call themselves a 'feminist'. Little girls who are raised to believe that 'girls' should always be put together, not act up, obsessed with their looks, have to like pink and 'girly' stuff and its abnormal if they do not will often bully and ostraticize girls who dont conform or care about this type of social expectations and standards (depends on your environment, maybe you were lucky enough to not go to school with such girls, but it doesnt mean they dont exist). Like you are 6 years old and everyone ever gives you all clothes everything ever in pink like other colors dont exist - some kids have a very strong gut reaction to being told they 'have to' like something which is why so many girls had a long phase of hating the color pink. 'You HAVE TO like it as a girl' 'no, the fuck, i dont' is a reasonable reaction. These girls are told they are weirdos for being 'not like other (REAL) girls' because they dare to not like wearing hair in braids and skirts feel uncomfy to them since the beginning but if they choose to reclaim it and take pride in the fact they can just be themselves without caring what they are supposed to be like as 'girls', its them who have an internalized misogyny problem, never the girls who bullied them for being bad at makeup, right? 'Its not that all girls are this or that' they are fucking kids and teenagers and society was telling them all girls are this or that since day 1 and they ended up believing it, boo hoo. Performing feminity is unrealistic and hard enough for children that they feel alienated from the idea they are a 'real' girl. This brutal enforcement of 'feminity' which is an abstract concept as default in women and girls causes so much needless division between girls/women, it all causes needless polarization over the fact that we are human beings with different aesthetics, fashion, hobbies, temperaments, interests, personalities. We are made to feel like we dont belong, like we are freak abomitations who will never be 'real' women if our hair is messier and we dont care about having our nails done. How about that, how is none of that ever a part of the discussion. And some will say oh these girls were probably lesbian/bi/non-binary/trans dudes, but like my point here is that this shit is 100% alienating for cishet women as well and it doesnt make u inherently trans or something to not like pink and makeup lmfao

[blazehedgehog]

(Not a bait question, I hope!) Is it me, or is the hatred towards Game Journalists the result of the Alt-Right's Anti-Intellectual "philosophy" infecting the gaming community? It feels like ANY intellectual reading of gaming is hated unless it's "non-offensive" (i.e. doesn't mention politics). Journalists get the brunt of it for daring to criticize gaming on the daily, even if they agree with gamers. (I.E. BG3's rave reviews being ignored in favor of a single article about it being too hard.)

I mean, depending on the read, that's where it started, with Gamergate in 2014. The whole thing was about "ethics in game journalism", remember, which mainly existed to drive a wedge into the community in order to create a smoke screen to harass minorities and women.

A campaign to make people angry about something, but when you tried to clearly define what that something was, nobody could agree. This tied into the general idea that "gamergate had no leader" -- it was a decentralized campaign of hatred that basically let you make up whatever you wanted to be mad about that day. A blank check to gatekeep and be a bigot in subtle (and not so subtle) ways.

A lot of what became the ("alt-") right wing extremist playbook had its first dry run with gamergate. And a lot of GG's hardest core members seemed to transition over pretty smoothly. It was the birth of the "angry white man" that is maybe a little too obsessed with whether or not Brie Larson should be Ms. Marvel. People who willingly slid down the slippery slope and went "weeeee!" as they dove.

And, for the record, I'm sure some people in gamergate were feeling valid unrest about a variety of different topics. But it has become clear to me that a lot of people make assumptions about things they do not participate in, nor understand, and that those assumptions are often wrong. So even the people inside of gamergate, with real valid fears about actual journalism ethics were probably afraid for the wrong reasons about things that might not have even been real problems -- and fearmongers ended up exploiting that to fuel the movement.

That campaign of misdirected fear and hatred is exactly what the alt-right movement was, and to some degree, continues to be. Shut-ins who don't understand how the world actually works, chasing their own tails over self-made anxiety and paranoia, in it so deep they don't even remember which direction is up anymore. And they're angry about it. So, so angry.

[marta-bee]

I learned two things about Donald Trump this week.

First: he specifically sicced the 1/6 mob on Mike Pence in response to his certifying the 2020 election results. When Pence refused to certify them, he "warned" him hundreds of thousands of people would hate his guts, then immediately reminded his supporters to come down to the rally. That's not even stochastic violence, that's calling in a mob hit. (Rachel Maddow discusses the timeline here, at about 5:30 in.)

Second: back in 2018, he refused to declare a natural disaster in the California wildfires because he didn't think California had enough of his supporters. He only took action after his staff showed him that Orange Co., one of the most affected areas, actually had voted for him quite heavily. (Source.)

Seriously, in light of what he's said and done about Helene: fuck this guy.

I'm truly sorry those of us who have problems with some of Harris's policies don't have the luxury of voting or not voting based on that. Those disagreements matter, and I'm absolutely not saying we can't be critical of her once she's elected. Politics is about more than just voting. But if this news shows anything we didn't already know, it's that Trump is utterly transactional in how he relates to other people. He's incapable of public service. It's not different values or different approaches, truly; it's whether he needs you or if you help him. Absent that, he just doesn't care.

You can probably still register to vote if you haven't already, though deadlines are fast approaching and depending on where you live you may need to do it in person. And if I can help with logistics or anything, my ask box is open.

Fingers crossed America can get past this man and actually have the luxury of normal political disagreement and (dare one hope?) common action. What a wild thought. But we've got to get past him first.

[jenevawashere]

Writers Truth & Dare Ask Game

🎱 ⇢ post your AO3 total stats: how about no

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?  I wanted Wanda Maximoff in the X-men movies. I had a vision for it and I might revisit it someday...

🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6mwovYLQUxzDlP3bR1L5GS?si=baa885e9c42c4fc9

🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that? seven. It has become more enjoyably as my writing style has changed. I edit as I go because I write in chunks, then go back and edit when I hit a metaphorical wall.

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis: ok! good luck decoding this shit: 📍🛑🔩👁️🍫

🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help? none of them are on here that I know of but Q and S. Maybe G depending on who...

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love: I have a whole list. So instead, here's a shit ton of my bookmarks. https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendofthePhoenix1234/bookmarks

💌 ⇢ how many unread emails do you have right now?  5 in the main

🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis: How do you tag on here? Seriously, not a joke I have yet to learn that skill.

🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both? Original or existing characters.

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before: I'm allergic to watermelon. No idea how the fuck that is possible but it happens.

🎲 ⇢ what stops you from writing more in your free time? Short answer? Life. Long answer? Also life. And procrastination.

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favorite ships or pairings: uhhhhhhhhh NEXT!

🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual? shit if I know. Just hang out and say hi every once in a while. If we share fandoms, then cool! *shrugs in idk*

🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now: finally having a job, a few projects to switch through, and my cat.

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app? fic notes. See previous wip related question to try and figure that out

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character: I'm gonna have to come back to this one. Brain overloaded when this question came up

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project? recently? (more on a personal level in terms of weirdness) a bunch of information on science related topics. I was the arts kid in a stem class so you can imagine how weird searching for that stuff is.

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on: "Be the kool aid man."

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best? My doctor who fics and literally anyone else that isn't me and has a much better understanding of the whoniverse.

🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity: there's no advice from me. It happens, sometimes for months on end and it sucks.

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh: Oh boy! We have another list! "Burn it. Burn the jacket." "A fire? At the sea parks?!" "Hamburger (the H is silent in this context)" "Surprise harmonica" and I'm going to stop listing things now...

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work? ANY! Seriously, even if it's a single emoji, please say something. Kudos can only do so much, and that's assuming I count them.

🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate: I just spent a good five minutes trying to remember what character I hate. I think I've blocked them out in all honesty.

🥝 ⇢ do you lie a lot? what's the most recent lie you told? I have the memory of a goldfish, you expect me to remember that?

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately: I hate Hate HATE gathering basting stitches SO MUCH 

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing? Music.

🍅 ⇢ give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing: what you think is bad, someone else will think is good. What you think is good, someone else will think is bad.

🐚 ⇢ do you like or dislike surprises? depends on a lot of factors here. Need more specifics.

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here: *panics* Have 58 instead! *awkward jazz hands*

Lars had forgotten his keys at work. He had made it all the way to the door before he realized he couldn’t get into his flat - apartment according to Americans. He still called it the “wrong thing,” no matter how many times he was corrected. 

“Of fucking course.” He rolled his eyes as his shoulders slumped in defeat.

☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username? X-men fan. Jean Grey is a favorite. That's where all the Phoenix stuff in my original username came from. The one on here is a pseudonym.

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them: I ask again. HOW DOES ONE TAG?

🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them: Cat and no. You don't deserve picture of my baby floof.

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it: ...am I allowed to say a whole book? If yes, then the Scarland Art Book that was literally just announced.

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately? Stuff I don't like.

[adhdnojutsu]

Who hired a circus?!

So there's a call-out post about me, yay, I made it ig.

About both being a pro-shipper and being Israeli. I won't dignify y'all yapping about how I make pixels kiss, because I just returned from a flea market and have had my fill of screeching babies for the day.

But the Israeli part? Here's the short version.

NO MATTER HOW PROBLEMATIC a person's literal country of birth is, you are INSANE for judging that person for being born there, since there was no in-utero option for foetus-me to research my preferred country of birth and text my mother about it.

You are INSANE for judging me for not wanting my literal family, my friends, my 26 flings including Palestinians*, and everything I've come to call home, to burn. Like, imagine taking issue with that. Do you hear yourselves? And you are flaming hypocrites for singling us out to hate for our country, when a bunch of you are Americans and people aren't hating on y'all for your government laying waste to Iraq, Afghanistan etc (also, did you read your country's origin story and when are you headed back to Europe?). I'm not judging Yemenites for hailing from a country whose babies are being starved by the Houthis and whose country decimated Jews. I'm not judging random Palestinians for Hamas murdering my aunt, an innocent old lady who never served, on October 7, fck you very much.

I am 100% judging you for the insanity of picking and choosing whose life & attachments are valid depending on what side of a fence they're on, since 2 million Israelis are Arabs aka Palestinians... who also get bombed by Hamas, Iran, and Lebanon, btw you absolute circus.

Judging anyone for (not hating) their origin, is insane and racist.

I'm very critical of a lot of what Israel does and I left for a reason, not to mention I never said a word of support for what's happening in Gaza (not that I hear y'all calling out Hamas who knew this would happen), but don't you dare judge me for not hating my home, especially if you're the descendant of Europeans and who pitched your tent on the mass graves of the true indigenous folks your ancestors butchered to make room for slave plantations. Oh, your ancestors did no such thing? Great, mine didn't either, they were refugees fleeing Islamic violence against Jews that started centuries before 1948, and who UNWILLINGLY returned to the Judea they retraced our personal lineage to, because of the exact social/political climate y'all are currently rebooting for Jews in diaspora.

Now go f* yourselves with a Sabra, and if you have to google what a Sabra is, you really don't get to speak on the issue. PS Arabs are indigenous to the Arabian peninsula, Islam originates from today's Saudi Arabia, Jews from "Canaan". Temple of Solomon: Jerusalem, 957 BC. Al Aqsa Mosque: on said temple's ruins, 685 AD. Your "they were there first, you wretched colonizer" math ain't mathing. Learn what you're disrupting universities about, well, at least until you break down because you saw a banana or weren't sent an ambulance to change tampons in. The people y'all march for have more dignity than that.

PS2 since y'all love to make this about race for obscure reasons, friendly reminder that the vast majority of Israelis is brown and optically indistinguishable from Arabs because we are, brace yourselves, not from Poland.

*those not radicalized by Hamas et al are not nearly as hysterical about Israel as you kids are, and that's funny actually; the ones I met cared way more about my Israeli tzitzim wrapped around their massive.... anyway, gotta go feed the chickens.

[sadistpet]

UNTITLED HEADCANON QUESTIONS.

@mechahero: What would make your muse consider someone as their enemy?

honestly ... if you Exist in a way that bothers him. but in more classic terms of an "enemy", harming him or anyone he cares about or anything he stands for is enough to make him think of someone as an enemy. being part of the military, he has a kinda. strict perception on who and what is The Enemy in militaristic terms, but on a personal level, yeah, anything that typically harms him or those he cares about will make you an enemy to him.

he considers big boss, eva, and revolver ocelot to be his only really true enemies for their parts in volgin's death. hell hath no fury than a feminine boy scorned

What would be your muse's reaction to criticism?

depends on a lot of factors ; who it's coming from, how he's feeling at the time. for the most part, he can brush it off without much of a care -- he does get annoyed, but more at the audacity of someone daring to criticise him than anything they actually say. he has a somewhat stable sense of self esteem due to his position as a major, but if he's not doing particularly well, it's more likely to hit him harder. any insults to his appearance tend to hurt him too, and any of those ones that are like ykno. a deeply cutting and revealing psychological reading. he hates that shit. unlikely he'll get upset, at least in front of others, but he will get angry because he does NOT enjoy being psychoanalysed like that.

@bladeinstinct: Does your muse have a morning routine after waking up, a night routine before going to sleep, or both? Describe it. / YEAH????

YES TO BOTH BECAUSE HES SO ANNOYING &lt;;/3

morning routine starts with him taking far too long to get out of bed because he's sleepy and comfortable. and lazy. but when he finally does, he probably brushes his teeth, has a shower, dries and brushes his hair which takes the longest time because he brushes his hair 100 times, does his gay little skincare routine ( which isn't much more than like cleanser and moisturiser because that's how it was in the 60s, ) puts on the small amount of makeup he wears, gets dressed, and then he has breakfast probably at like literally 11:59 because that's how long it takes him to get up. he's so silly

his night routine is probably more variable ; he does his rounds in the evening before heading to him and volgin's room, which is the only really consistent part, but it differs from that point on depending on whether or not the colonel is there. he is a busy man, after all. so raikov's night routine either starts with some much-needed intimacy, or with him whining and huffing and being lonely because he has the separation anxiety of an oupy dog. if volgin is away from groznyj grad at the time, i'd imagine they'd call each other to talk before bed and ivan hates having to say goodbye because he's dependent like that ^-^ he has a very vague routine of eating, cleaning his makeup off, and getting undressed before bed ; but oftentimes he ends up falling asleep without much else, whether it be from exertion or exhaustion. though when volgin isn't there, it's a lot harder for him to fall asleep and stay asleep. he passes the time by reading :3

i have conveniently omitted the amount of hardcore electro sex from his routines because it would turn this ask meme into a novel but his night routine w/ volgin is genuinely like. has sex. has sex. has sex. has sex. reads a book for 5 minutes (during sex). has sex. falls asleep. wakes up in the middle of the night to scrounge for food like an animal. has sex. goes to sleep

What is your muse's favorite art medium, if they have one? Why?

depends on what you'd define as an art medium ! in terms of like traditional art i'd imagine he wouldn't be too fussed about any of them, but he seems like the type to enjoy oil paintings and watercolours the most. marble sculptures, too, and art through fashion are things he'd be super interested in as well. the latter because... look at him. the rest because they seem very ethereal and dreamlike, almost fairytale, and we all know he loves those.

in a more general sense though, his favourite art medium would be dance, specifically ballet. he was exceptionally drawn to it as a child, particularly the way of how stories and emotions are expressed through the body alone. the amount of physical work that goes into it, the literal blood, sweat and tears of it all, is something that only deepens its meaning to him. there's something very sacrificial about it.

oh, and torture, of course. blades and chains and wire and such. but like... obviously

[raisedbythetv89]

Keith Mars in You think you know someone:

Veronica I am so shocked and disappointed that you’re acting weird and not at all welcoming to me dating the closest thing you have to a therapist from the school who’s been nothing but cruel to you! You’re usually so warm and welcoming to new people! And this one is gonna replace your still missing mother whose disappearance is still a mystery! And this woman is clearly extremely desperate for your acceptance and approval making literally everyone extremely uncomfortable with her desperate plays to gain favor with you putting all sorts of weird pressure on you and was careless enough to call the house and leave a message which is how you found out which isn’t traumatizing for you at all!!

Like bro forgot who his daughter was and what her life has been like for the last year for a whole episode.

And the way he yells at her??? calls her snotty and is basically all HOW DARE YOU and claiming they considered her feelings when they absolutely did not 😹 they kept springing Mrs. James on her first at work and then at her house where she was just by herself for Veronica to find?? Basically just being like BE COMFORT WITH THIS BECAUSE WE WANT YOU TO BE. Only to end things after all that! Making Veronica feel INCREDIBLY guilty and like it’s her fault for taking happiness away from her father when he is the one who handled things horribly just like he did with Lilly’s murder investigation.

I genuinely CANNOT listen to him interviewing jake and celeste 😭 he’s being SO WEIRD and creepy and uncomfortable. Like bro there are about a billion better ways to handle knowing they’re lying that aren’t terrorizing powerful successful suspected murderers who just lost their daughter 😭

The older I get the less and less I like Keith Mars and the more I connect his behavior to making Veronica’s life so much worse

The show is all about criticizing the wealthy elite yet Keith Mars every chance he gets is pushing Veronica to become one!! “Got to and ivy league school and get a high powered corporate job and never think about private investigation again in your perfect life”

First of all thinking her life will be perfect just because she has a well paying job is CLOWNERY. Her best friend was murdered and her alcoholic mother abandoned her in the same year and she lost all of her friends because of how poorly Keith went about investigating said murder AND she’s sa’s twice in the same night once by her ex she gets back together with and a future mass murderer. Those are not the usual childhood things to happen to a person and a high paying job isn’t what’s gonna magically make her happy and give her a good life. It’s so frustrating that we get “oh my god they care more about spring break business than saving lives that’s soooo fucked up” yet Keith is like YOU MUST PLAY THE CAPITALISM GAME AND WIN OR YOUR LIFE IS A FAILURE every chance he can.

And when he finds out she helped Duncan kidnap his daughter and he’s like “I wouldn’t survive if you went to jail or something happened to you” ummmmmm codependency with your child much???!!!!?!?! Again SO MUCH PRESSURE ON HER telling your child can’t live without them is so inappropriate on so many levels because you’re literally saying my well-being is tied to yours which is literally the definition of codependency. So he forms this codependent relationship with his daughter but then is sooo disappointed with her that she wants to stay in Neptune and work with him like the mixed messaging is INSANE.

And while I don’t really view Lilly as the good person the show paints her as she was really good for Veronica because she helped her push back against a very overbearing, overprotective father which is really important for childhood development.

It’s another reason I HATE the finale of season 4 so much. She is literally EXACTLY back where she started in season 4 including being overly dependent on her dad while losing the only person who she cared for more than pleasing her father because she knew he didn’t want her to be with Logan but she did anyway because it’s what she wanted. She didn’t want law school, she didn’t want New York, she didn’t want Piz. Those were all to make her dad happy after everything that went down at the end of season 3. The movie was her finally, after NINE YEARS forgiving herself or at least letting herself off the hook for her mistakes and letting herself live her life the way she wanted again. She lived a life she didn’t want for almost a DECADE purely to please her dad.

I mean the fact that she never tells her dad about being sa’d, especially after Lamb doesn’t believe her - not because she can’t talk about it but because she’s afraid of what he’ll do/how he’ll react - that’s BAD. That is a sign of TERRIBLE parenting mistakes that your child feels the need to protect you from the awful things that happen to them.

I still don’t hate Keith and I do enjoy their dynamic a lot of the time still but Oooooooh does he piss me off especially when he’s adding to Veronica’s guilt or burden, usually in a very hypocritical way.

[swordsandarms]

Ask game : 1,5,7

1. the character everyone gets wrong

Every time someone tries to tie canon characters in any way to the show counterparts an angel dies in Heaven. Which happens with... plenty of them, and it's probably one of the biggest source of getting most characters wrong. Not to be a snob, but watch something good for a change.

5. worst discord server and why

Not currently on discord, and I've seen some petty drama on some when I was. But what this question makes me think of is that one time I glimpsed a post in between folks who had an anti Targs discord or something like it, and other than the losercore of having a discord to be an anti in, there was some inside joke about being a "Tywin fucker" and I am just happy I would never be there.

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

Can't deal with a lot of characters that attract too obnoxious stanning, but it depends on how much I care on whether I take the "these people can pry them from my cold dead hands" or "not worth the trouble" stances. Jon catches shitty dudebro or shipping strays but he's in the first category and I'm pulling hard on my side of the rope. Characters like Sansa and Catelyn could be interesting in the complexity of being good aligning characters that are also meant to be critically appraised for gender and class scrutiny, and sometimes I attempt to touch them with a pole, but you dare even mention it and you get the "how dare you?" - not worth it ("Catelyn would be Leslie Knope if Martin let her HOW DARE YOU POINT OUT EDMURE CARES MORE" ok). I'm also trying to come back round to Dornish characters who unfortunately attract unsavoury crowds weaponising their ambiguous race for clout and online harassment apologia - the women in particular are worth it. I also used to love Brienne|Jaime|Braime but long story short here I wouldn't even care to get back. So not worth it.