#This is unedited and stream of consciousness so enjoy everyone!

[erisenyo]

I very much agreed with @lizardlicks that this post had Sokka vibes and then a fic somehow happened. Enjoy!

“—So when you lost consciousness and fell down like an overwhelmed Victorian woman—”

“I fell normal!” Sokka protests, trying to get off the ground and allowing the EMT to stop him. “I fainted in a normal way!”

“You put the back of your hand to your forehead and spun around,” the EMT says, dry, snapping a fresh pair of latex gloves onto his hands.

Yeah, because Katara’s cut suddenly started spurting when the other EMT pulled off the flannel she’d been using to apply pressure, like they’re in some kind of 70s samurai film and apologies if Sokka didn’t think it was cool and neat like everyone else— “That never happened,” Sokka protests, feeling his face coloring despite himself. “I fainted in a normal or maybe even masculine way.”

“A masculine faint,” the EMT repeats, raising his eyebrow—only one, with that scar, but Sokka is more trying to get another look at his eyes without being obvious about it because in the light of the streetlights above them they looked almost gold, and maybe Sokka did hit his head on the way down…

“Yes,” Sokka insists, refusing to cringe like part of him wants to because god, he can hear himself, alright? He knows. “A very masculine faint.”

“Masculine faints, Victorian woman faints, that from your fancy med school, Sozin?” the other EMT suddenly calls from where he’s finishing bandaging Katara’s arm, and Sokka feels himself flushing even darker at the words. “I must have missed that one with my plain ol’ technical year.”

“Yes, Jet, you must have, thank you for pointing that out yet again,” the EMT—Sozin?—says, giving his colleague a look just this side of a glare.

The other EMT just grins—smirks, really—the toothpick in his mouth somehow accenting the gesture.

“Sokka, just let the man look at you,” Katara huffs, rolling her eyes. Like Sokka is the one bleeding, like Sokka is the one who got bumped by a stumbling fair-goer and who even knows what she slashed her arm open on but it was probably rusty and full of tetanus and why is everyone else acting like it’s no big deal. “It’s not a big deal,” she says, giving him a knowing look. And then giving her EMT—Jet? Is that his real name?—a very different kind of look.

“Alright,” Sokka’s EMT says quickly, catching the look Sokka is giving Jet. “Let’s just focus over here for a moment, okay? Do you always faint at the sight blood?”

Sokka sighs, reluctantly setting aside Jet and his worry for Katara and the huffy feeling in his chest over Sozin’s choice of words to describe. Which regretfully only leaves the fact that his EMT is hot. High cheekbones and thick, shaggy hair and warm golden skin and a scar that only makes his face more interesting and that Sokka thinks bleeds into a tattoo around his collar and making that polyester uniform look better than it has any right to.

And he just saw Sokka fucking swoon like some Regency romance heroine.

“I didn’t faint,” Sokka insists, quickly closing his eyes so he isn’t staring at the guy from not even a foot away, which somehow makes the sensation of Sozin’s fingers testing for sore spots, gently and confidently running up the back of his neck and over the curve of his skull, that much sharper.  

“Sure,” Sozin says, the raspiness of his voice even more apparent when Sokka doesn’t have anything else to focus on. And so clearly humoring him. Sokka feels something longing twist in his chest even as he tries not to visibly shiver. “Do you always decide to take a break at the sight of blood?”

“I didn’t,” Sokka repeats, unsure why he can’t let it go. It’s no like he would think poorly of someone who did faint over blood. It’s supposed to be inside, it’s suddenly on the outside. He hunted with his dad every winter he can remember up until they moved, but he gets it. It can be unsettling.

And normally Sokka wouldn’t care what some random person thought about him, not even a cute guy. But Sozin is hot, and he and the other EMT and future-neurosurgeon-pediatric orthopedist-gynecologist-she-has-to-decide-one-day Katara didn’t even bat an eyelash when she suddenly started gushing blood. And Sokka…did.

“No pain, that’s good,” his EMT says, fingers disappearing. “Any headache?”

“No,” Sokka sighs. Though he’s sure he’ll be banging his head against his headrest once they finally get to the car enough to fix that.

“Hm. Open your eyes for me?”

Sokka does, caught somewhere between reluctance to admit this is all happening and wanting to stare as long as he’s going to get the chance to because god, those eyes are definitely gold. “Do you wear contacts?” he blurts before he can catch himself.

“No,” his EMT says after a pause, giving him an amused look. “Do you?”

“Uh, glasses, sometimes,” Sokka says. “Not all the time, but for like, reading and stuff. Not like, I don’t need them need them,” he adds quickly, thinking of Gran Gran’s reading glasses. “But like, sometimes when the print is small and the contrast isn’t great and your eyes just strain?”

“You wear glasses,” Sozin finishes for him. Definitely amused, but Sokka didn’t tell any jokes, and…shit. “So if I ask if your vision is blurry…?”

“It’s fine,” Sokka says quickly, straightening and glancing around for something to read. The side of the ambulance—no, that’s huge. The make and model off a car? But he could recognize that by sight. A license plate! He can read out a—

“Good,” Sozin says, apparently happy to take his word for it which…shouldn’t leave Sokka feeling quite so deflated. “And can you concentrate on the end of my flashlight here—” He carefully moves the little penlight left to right and up and down, Sokka diligently tracking its movements and blinking but holding still for the quick flash of the light into his eyes, trying to look into the middle distance and not just lose himself in his EMT’s impossibly gold eyes because he doesn’t need the man to think he’s any weirder than he probably already does.

“I really am fine,” Sokka says as the penlight disappears into Sozin’s pocket. “Not that I don’t appreciate the little head massage and checkup, but—"

“I’m glad to hear it,” his EMT says. Back to humoring him. “Any nausea?”

“Because vomiting on a cute guy is just how I need to cap off my night,” Sokka says before he can catch himself, freezing when he belatedly registers the words.

Sozin pauses, lips pursed, before continuing to rummage through his medical kit and Sokka just…dies a little bit inside.

“Can we just…forget I said that?” Sokka says, squeezing his eyes shut again as the hopeful flutter in chest wilts. Fuck he just…really is trying to face plant in every literal and metaphorical way he can right now, isn’t he.

“Generally I do need to keep track of signs of confusion or repetition, so sorry. Gotta remember that one.”

“Got it,” Sokka says, slumping and scrubbing his hands over his face. “Makes sense. Look, Sozin—”

“Zuko,” his EMT interrupts, Sokka dropping his hands to give him a blank, confused look. “It’s Zuko,” the man repeats, tapping the nametag on his chest that…does not say Sozin. “Sozin is my last name.”

…Right. Right. The nametag has great contrast and giant letters, too. Fuck.

“Look,” Sokka sighs, tugging on his wolf tail, “I didn’t faint, I just—Katara is my only sister and we basically raised each from when she was like, ten years old and I was twelve, okay? And she was hurt, and we handled it, and you guys got here, great, awesome, she’s in good hands. But then, you know, the whole spurting blood thing and it got worse and…”

Sokka trails off, trying to find the words, some part of him hoping his EMT—Zuko, his name is Zuko, and he isn’t Sokka’s anything—will be able to fill in the gap. But Zuko is just quiet, rummaging in his bag far more than he probably needs to considering he isn’t pulling anything out. Probably just looking for something to do with his hands so he doesn’t have to look at Sokka rambling and making an idiot of himself and humoring him, again, but fuck, Sokka is going to try to explain it anyway because he didn’t faint, okay, he didn’t.

“Look, people can take turns for the worse, okay?” Sokka says, hearing himself fast and clipped and aware that he’s being cryptic and hoping this doesn’t get him another check in the ‘confusion’ column like his fucking contacts question probably did. “It can all seem fine and like you don’t have to worry anymore, but then you do. It happens, okay? So it was just—it was a lot. Emotionally, I mean. But I didn’t faint, I’m not—I wouldn’t lie about something like that,” he says, the heart of his frustration finally spilling out of him. “It doesn’t—I wouldn’t care, I wouldn’t try to make your life harder like that, I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t lie,” he repeats, feeling himself running out of steam when his—the—EMT still doesn’t respond. “I wouldn’t,” he finishes softly, frowning down at his sneakers against the asphalt. “I’m not like that.”

A long beat of silence except for the faint murmur of Katara and the other EMT’s voices, the fair behind him, the distant sound of cars along road, until finally Zuko stirs, the rustle of his uniform overly loud between them. “What’s your name?” he asks, glancing up, and Sokka sucks in a quick breath.

“Sokka,” he says, something hopeful trying to root in his chest again. “It’s Sokka.”

“Sokka,” Zuko repeats, nodding a moment before suddenly rising smoothly to his feet. “Let’s do your balance check.”

Sokka closes his eyes a moment, letting the fluttering edges of a new crush truly wisp away before he rises to his feet, carefully following Zuko’s instructions. His eyes are more on the pavement still than anything else but he can say that’s just for balance, just for focus as he obediently stands on one foot and then the other, touches his nose, leans to the side, feeling like he could jump and spin just fine, throw in some fancy footwork no problem, but just…not wanting to.

“Everything looks good,” Zuko finally says, and Sokka lets his arms drop, nodding.

“Yeah,” he says, mustering up a smile and glancing over to see if Katara’s ready, too. “Thanks, man.”

“Hm.” A considering look as Zuko peels off his latex gloves, then, “Are you sticking around for the rest of the fair.”

“If Katara can,” Sokka shrugs. “But I know, none of the crazy rides, take it easy, don’t stare at screens, if I feel a headache coming on don’t push it. I have been concussed before, I do know what it feels like.”

Zuko purses his lips, carefully balling up his gloves. “From fainting?”

Sokka pinches the bridge of his nose. “Hockey.”

Zuko nods, carefully checking over his kit before zipping it shut, all studious, careful focus and Sokka is trying to decide if maybe he can just…melt back from the edge of the parking lot to exit this situation when Zuko suddenly says, “I was actually going to say that Jet and I are working for the fairground. Not like, as city paramedics.”

“Okay,” Sokka says after a beat. Is this—are they going to get billed, or…?

“Which means we’re on shift at this location.” Zuko’s eyes flick up, his voice almost diffident. “My shift ends in two hours. If you’ll still be around.”

“Oh, that—” Sokka blinks, making himself actually replay the words. “Oh.” Is that—is Zuko--?

“I could check on your symptoms,” Zuko adds, glancing up again and…definitely looking through his lashes. Oh. Oh. “Test your hand eye coordination, make sure it’s still good? I hear ring toss is good for that.”

“Yeah, that—yeah.” Part of Sokka is still a little bit disbelieving, but Zuko is still looking at him, holding eye contact, lips curling at the edges, small and shy and pleased and cute, cute, cute and yeah, Sokka is going to let himself belief it. “That would be nice. I’d like that.”

“Me, too,” Zuko says, hefting his bag as he stands again, all easy strength and grace and he’s a few inches taller than Sokka and Sokka has the feeling he’s going to like looking up into his eyes. “Meet by the Ferris wheel?”

“Absolutely.” Hopefully there aren’t two of them here. Sokka and Katara barely got to explore before she got hurt.

“You should practice your ring toss in the meantime,” Zuko says, serious and grave and teasing, definitely teasing, and Sokka can’t help but grin in answer.

“I don’t know, I gotta keep it a fair competition when you show up,” Sokka says, buffing his nails against his shirt and teasing back and his entire body feeling light when Zuko’s eyes crinkle in the corners in response.

“You better practice, then,” Zuko says, all confidence and challenge and Sokka thinks he if does end up feeling faint tonight, or dizzy, or weak in the knees—hopefully not nauseated—that it is very much going to be Zuko’s fault.

He can’t wait.

--

“…Did you just pick up your paramedic?”

Sokka gives her a sideways look. “Did you?”

“…Let’s go get funnel cakes and not talk about it.”

“Great idea,” he says quickly. He has a feeling they’ll both get their answer in one hour and fifty-eight minutes and counting, anyway.

[barlupiins]

MY THOUGHTS ON BSD CHAPTER 105

The newest chapter released a few days ago or so and I know by now that releasing something is going to be considered late, however it takes me a while to wrap my head around things so I’m approaching this chapter now with the intent on reifying and grounding my thoughts regarding it. If you have anything else to add on and etc, I would enjoy reading it. My thoughts are very whimsy and I believe that how I interpret things is pretty loose, but solidifying it helps concrete everything for me so I am able to process more of the nooks and crannies of BSD content. 

Warning: Do not claim this as an official, edited analysis essay. This is a stream of consciousness with vague, bone-like structure. Unedited. 

The quality of the chapter despite the paucity of pages we received:

I’m impressed with Asagiri and Harukawa’s writing abilities to compact a considerable amount of details within perhaps the shortest chapter released within the franchise. I don’t have much to comment on it, however, considering that I am writing something out like this should speak within itself. So many layers and I’m looking forward to how this chapter will serve for the snowball of events I am expecting to come. (And an out of topic comment, I wonder how the Haikyuu fandom dealt with their monthly chapters. I read somewhere in which they were waiting every month for a singular receive? Man.)

Atsushi’s Hallucinations: 

[First and foremost, Atsushi. You need help. Here we have Atsushi having a complete mental breakdown and then we cut to Dazai and Sigma playing silly rounds of paper, scissors, rock. While I do appreciate and find it wonderful that Atsushi’s hallucinations are shifting from the orphanage director who abused him to Dazai, having hallucinations is still not exactly healthy! Anyways.]

One can interpret Atsushi’s sequence as two different things—whether this is Atsushi assorting through his external environments plethora of possible decisions or in an overwhelming influx of such that it’s less of him thinking of these possible decisions, but rather, a degrading chastisement with the paranoia of disappointing those around him and of being judged. For this thought dump, I’m going to be preening through these two possibilities and leave it up for personal preference of interpretations as I haven’t really thought about it any further to come to a solid conclusion behind the scene itself. I am open to any thoughts, objections, or anything please don’t consider this as a solid analysis LOL. 

The variety of characters featured within this chapter coming to Atsushi in characteristic advice is striking with the seemingly random appearance of Fitzgerald, however I would like to believe that this is a sign of growth for Atsushi’s character, despite how miniscule it may appear at first. This variety of seemingly out-of-nowhere characters (in order: Ranpo, Kunikida, Kyouka, Fitzgerald, Akutagawa, and Dazai) reminds us of the detail in his character that he is still learning how to think on his own, rather than having morals and decisions established and preset for him. Perhaps this could also stem from his fear of disappointing others and his lack of self-development, therefore, his reliance on other people as it would at least give him the security of structure. 

A human trait we do is copy and absorb, whether it be in the form of donning traits from parental figures, friends, our environment, etc, learning how to evaluate how we arrive at certain decisions. While everyone critically assorts through various conclusions and frameworks of thought borrowed from our objective relations to a rudimental degree, it’s especially imperative for Atsushi’s character development in order to flourish from his black-and-white morals that have been beaten into him by his abusive orphanage director. In this arc, instead of having the decisions and morals chosen and concreted for him, Atsushi has been isolated from the rest of the cast—ultimately stripping him of the structure of other people and completely bare on his own. Therefore, if this possibility is proven true, this organisation and evaluation of thoughts help give him more structure and certainty in his personal decision making in the long run.

Though, regardless of whether this scene was this or that, it’s good to perceive this arc as one that has been challenging Atsushi’s schism-like morals; tracing back to when Nikolai explained the genesis behind the reason as to why he kills at the beginning of the arc; learning and adapting to live in a realm of a grey-reality. It’s just a matter of time to see how the following events will impact Atsushi and how he continues to grow throughout the rest of this narrative which would also link with my following observation/food for thought in terms of Akutagawa’s role in Atsushi’s hallucination serving as a state of clairvoyance by voicing Dazai’s intentions (perhaps a resemblance of how Dazai is usually the mechanics and theory behind the action), paired with Dazai pointing outside who Akutagawa orientates Atsushi’s attention to with words. 

Akutagawa appearing to Atsushi, and not coming forward as the volatile murder-on-my-mind Akutagawa in which Atsushi perceives, could serve as a resemblance for the subtle shift of perspective on Akutagawa. And perhaps Akutagawa appearing after Fitzgerald’s hallucination is resemblance of shinsokokou’s first villain in which they took down as a team. I have not really expanded my thoughts on this--I am definitely coming back here to edit, but I’m very glad with the execution of this segment of this chapter. 

Dazai’s transparent behaviour with Sigma: 

In contrast to perhaps the pinnacle of Atsushi’s decision making (or maybe the first of many to come) in the previous panels, the chapter cuts to Dazai and Sigma playing rounds of paper, scissors, rock where poor Sigma keeps failing to win. Meanwhile, in the unforeseen background, Chuuya and Fyodor are drowning. Nikolai’s location remains unknown. Lovely. While it is a rather more calm situation than we expected, there are still enough tid-bids to pick here and there to develop some thoughts on. 

Once Dazai reveals that the game is no more than silly little ordinary tricks of time and tension, Sigma comedically (and rightfully lol) comments how they are glad that Dazai is not a guest at their casino (we adore you, Sigma. Number one priorities while Dazai is trying to hint his true intentions! [Affectionate]).  

Dazai’s transparency and semi-candidness with Sigma—or rather, tracing back to when Dazai chose Sigma as his ‘weapon’ for the prison game, really—has been intriguing me since. This entire section has allowed me into a spiral of the intangibility of Dazai’s character, however, that…discussion is for another day.

Considering Dazai’s style of manipulation (if you will), it’s a plausible probability that Dazai is going to utilise Sigma for a bigger-picture-plan that is yet to be revealed to us while simultaneously offering Sigma the chance to make a choice. In retrospect to Dazai’s previous techniques, in comparison to Fyodor, he always offers a sense of free will and individuality. While Dazai is highly likely doing some kind of manipulation tactic paired with this, it’s still a valid detail to take note of when contrasting the differences and similarities between Dazai and Fyodor. I had to reread a couple of general Dazai analyses posts throughout the internet to confirm my thoughts, and I do agree with the aspect that his style of strategy is a mixture of gambling (bearing similarities to Fyodor and Mori, a reflection of his days in the Mafia) as well as a lackadaisical-esque ‘trust’ (and if we are perceptive enough, trust is akin to gambling, really) in those around him to execute his plan which is simply his innate preference in terms of planning and strategizing. I theorise that a part of the choice Dazai will offer Sigma will concern The Decay of Angels and Fyodor, and the motive behind their goal of wiping out all ability users. 

What I am looking forward to, if this possibility proves true, is seeing how Sigma would react and come to a decision through this decision, as Chuuya had once quoted that you cannot necessarily decline Dazai in those kinds of situations (I will look for this specific quote and return to this little post once I rekindle with BSD in its entirety). And perhaps a little bit of a stretch, but I won’t be surprised or taken aback either if Dazai is also intent on recruiting Sigma into the Armed Detective Agency, as he is resembling someone who is in need of saving in one way or another, therefore executing a sort of ‘killing two birds with one stone’ strategy because that is Dazai—the current Dazai who still carries the downpour of his Mafia days as well as the light leak of influence from Oda who took him by his shoulders and perceived him as no more than a human beneath Dazai’s Demon Prodigy persona.

I had to reread a couple of general Dazai analyses posts throughout the internet to confirm my thoughts, and I do agree with the aspect that his style of strategy is a mixture of gambling (bearing similarities to Fyodor and Mori, a reflection of his days in the Mafia) as well as a lackadaisical-esque ‘trust’ (and if we are perceptive enough, trust is akin to gambling, really) in those around him to execute his plan which is simply his innate preference in terms of planning and strategizing.  If we compare Dazai to Fyodor, Dazai has a very human approach to his style of manipulation, which brings me to my next point. 

It’s no doubt that Dazai and Fyodor were posed as foils ever since the two were introduced—right down to the colour palette of their character designs and their relationship being a direct reference to the conversation between Horiki and Yozo in No Longer Human in which Yozo comments on Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment. With that literary detail in mind, it would be interesting if how Dazai perceives Sigma contrasts to Fyodor’s perception of Sigma, as well. I have not looked too much into this, but I will perhaps come back with a few extra thoughts to offer in addition to this possibility. 

[saebyeog-i]

soft | njm (m)

genre | office romance au / slight humor, smut lol

rating/warnings | stream of consciousness bs / alcohol consumption / semi public sex {oral, m receiving; mentions of breathplay} / slightly unedited whoops

word count | drabble! 2.1k because I don’t know how to shut up

pairing | IT Worker!Jaemin x reader

—

When you start your new job, you realize pretty quickly that Jaemin from IT wears sweaters all the time in the office. Even in the summer. Even when it’s 95 degrees outside, because he gets cold easily and they always blast the AC too much indoors.

He’s a very soft and unassuming character, and he’s the youngest person on his team by at least ten years, and during your first meeting when he’s getting your work station set up in your office he tells you he just likes that he gets paid to play around with computers all day and that’s why he keeps the job.

“Couldn’t you be a software engineer or something? Make far more money and not have to answer dumb computer questions all the time?” You ask offhandedly, and then realize you’ve insinuated that he’s paid poorly. You attempt to back pedal your statement, but he’s not the least bit offended.

He chuckles, eyes crinkling and he shakes his head. “I get paid plenty well for this job, and besides, I never have any tight deadlines or work overtime. I don’t exactly dream of extra and strenuous labor.”

He wears sweaters that are two sizes too big for him, made up of bright obnoxious colors and gaudy patterns that would usually make you fake vomit at seeing them on a real life human. But he makes them look charming, somehow. Grandpa sweaters, you call them, even to his face, with patterns that just make you gag. Never a sweater vest, mind you, only ever a full pull over knit sweater, with the occasional cardigan over a long sleeve turtleneck. Over time, you see a variety of patterns and colors, and you think he must have an endless supply of them.

You’re not bad with computers by any means, but you do like to bat your eyelashes and have other people do things for you when you can. You’re admittedly a little bit lazy, not stupid, and besides, he’s much faster at fixing any issues than you are, why waste time trying to figure it out yourself?

You think it’s cute, the way he smiles with his eyes and chuckles quietly whenever he comes to your office to fulfill a help desk ticket. You like the way he smiles at you and the way he’ll compliment your outfits, how soft and unassuming his words always are, and never cringe worthy like that older man in marketing who thinks he’s being nice but is in fact just being slightly creepy. When you tell your roommate about Jaemin from IT complimenting your new dress in the kitchen as you made your morning coffee, she asks if you have a thing for him because of how often you bring him up in your stories from work.

“Oh, no, definitely not— he’s soft, but a little too soft, you know? Need me a bit of a freak, someone who wouldn’t be opposed to like, I dunno, choking me if I said I was into that,” you sigh, trying to imagine the soft and pixie-like Jaemin from IT with his hands around your neck. It doesn’t compute. “Besides, I think he puts like, eight shots of espresso in his coffee, his cum probably tastes like battery acid,” you sigh into your yogurt as your roommate crinkles her nose one morning before you both depart for work. You move on from the brief idea, and think you’ll stick to just enjoying sweet and innocent Jaemin that wears oversizes sweaters from afar instead.

On anyone else, the fashion sense would be annoying.

But not on Jaemin.

He’s soft and squishy and kind of adorable with the way he scrunches up his nose when he laughs, and the endearing way he explains to the older company employees how to run the Microsoft Office automatic software updates to get the latest version of Excel and PowerPoint. He does his best to teach them how to do it on their own to give them a sense of accomplishment and understanding of the technology they rely on but seem to have no hope at operating beyond the basic level needed for their jobs (but still doing it for them anyways, with patience and a smile and never a complaint).

It’s an attractive quality, you have to admit, and if he wasn’t the walking embodiment of marshmallow fluff you’d think more about him. But he is, so you don’t, and instead sigh out loud as you watch him huff and blow the fluffy bangs out of his eyes as he’s crouched under your desk, re-running the wires for your office phone.

You’ve always had a bad habit of mumbling your thoughts out loud when you’re distracted, and sometimes he’ll catch you cursing out the equipment or your supervisors for not knowing the difference between something you’d deem as basic for your department or field. He finds it charming, thinks it makes you more candid and honest and it’s a different side of you than the one who bats her eyelashes and files help desk tickets when she could easily do something herself. You’re taken aback by this comment, because you didn’t count him for someone that would keep track of something like that, which you admit to him in slight disbelief.

“Oh believe me, I’m more observant than you think I am,” he chimes mysteriously as his fingers glide across your keyboard, entering his admin password to run another round of program installations and software upgrades.

You don’t think much of it when he’s the only person who fulfills your tickets for six months straight.

Not until the holiday party, anyways.

At the holiday party, it’s an open bar and everyone is dressed UP up. You expect to see Jaemin in another grandpa print sweater two sizes too big for him— that is, if the soft boy shows at all. Company holiday parties like this don’t scream ‘Jaemin from IT’ at you, given that from what your more seasoned coworkers have told you about years past, after tonight you can expect at least one person to end up suspended or fired for behavior; that and the Company President gives everyone an Uber code for a free ride home since they already know how absolutely wasted everyone plans on getting.

To your surprise, Jaemin from IT does in fact show up at the holiday party. You spot him as soon as he enters, about an hour into the party itself, and he slips into the crowd and makes his way to the bar. You were expecting a tacky Christmas sweater on him, but instead, he’s dressed in the exact opposite.

Instead, he’s got his hair styled up (a first, and you never realized how badly you wanted to see his forehead before) and instead of a gaudy array of colors and patterns, he’s wearing a nicely tailored suit in a rich wine color with a black button down underneath.

When he waves from across the room and approaches you just to be friendly and say hi, you’re definitely caught off guard enough that you don’t realize you’ve mumbled out “How is that fair? How can he look like THAT outside of a sweater and then not let me just suck his dick right here?”

Jaemin blinks for a moment, taken by surprise, when he realizes it’s that same candid habit of yours and you haven’t realized you’ve said it out loud. His mouth curls into a smile and he presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek and gets nice and close, close enough to flirtatiously whisper “Well if you insist, though I’m sure we could find somewhere a bit more... private.”

And then you’re so caught off guard by confident sexy suit wearing Jaemin you think he’s read your mind for until you realize what you said out loud. But he’s into the idea given the fact that he doesn’t run in fear from your words and fuck it, so are you, and he’s not just cute and squishy anymore he’s fucking hot in that suit and with his dark hair styled just so, so you feel flirty and courageous when you say “You know I think I like the suit over the grandpa sweaters, but I think I’d like the suit even better on the floor.”

After the way his mouth ticks upward in a smile, the movements are all a blur that you can’t quite separate out into discrete events: downing you drink, linking hands with him, scurrying off towards the single occupancy restroom furthest from the dance floor and bolting the lock so you can be sure as shit that when your lips crash against his and then your knees hit the floor there will be no interruptions.

“Funny,” you say, trailing kisses down his throat after a moment, “Never thought I’d see you as anything but soft.” The admittance and double entendre are entirely intentional and you know that he knows.

“Seems like now’s a good as time as any to pay back all those superfluous ticket requests,” he breaths out, and your lips curl into a grin as your fingers find their way to his belt and tug his dress pants down.

“If you insist,” you tease back his words from earlier, sinking to your knees all too happily.

You take him into your mouth easily, relishing in the groans and shaky exhales that comes from his perfect lips as his fingers thread through your hair and his grip tightens. A fire deep in your belly ignites at the noises, enjoying how easily you can make the man you thought so soft and unassuming fall apart at just a run of your tongue and a hollowing of your cheeks.

“Fucking shit don’t do that unless—”

He’s cut off by his own groan as you run your tongue along his slit once before taking him as afar back in your throat as you can manage, then he’s cumming in your mouth with a high pitched shaky whine.

When he’s finished, you make an obscene show of his cum in your mouth for him and curl your tongue back as you swallow, wiping away the excess saliva with the heel of your palm. “Pay back enough?” You ask surreptitiously as you rise back to your feet, dusting off the skirt of your cocktail dress.

Jaemin from IT digs his fingers into your hips and pulls you close to him, a growl deep in the back of his throat before his lips clash against yours, “All that and then some.”

His fingers link with yours after as he hurriedly drags you from the bathroom to the exit of the venue, waving haphazardly at his team members before launching the ride share app and tapping in the provided code for that free ride. “I meant it when I said your wardrobe is both flattering and professional,” he hums, “But out of respect for your sense of style, I’ll refrain from tearing any garment off of you and provide a hangar for it instead. Deal?”

The words are so forward and presumptuous. You can’t help but feel a little turned on by the action, however, and find yourself scoffing as you smile and stick a hand out for him to shake, “Deal.”

So even though you’d maybe been hoping to get a bit more free alcohol out of the company holiday party, you’re celebrating some much better company some thirty, forty minutes later, once you’re out of the car and your bare back is pressed against the locked front door of his apartment as Jaemin from IT fucks into you in a way that is the absolute opposite from soft, just as he’d promised. And when you’d moaned it out and asked, he happily agreed to (delicately, tenderly) lay his hand on your throat and apply pressure.

Your expensive cocktail dress rests on a hanger on the coat rack in his living room, just like he’d promised. You don’t put it back on until the following afternoon. And then again a year later, when you enter the company holiday party arm in arm with Jaemin from IT— Na Jaemin, you’d finally learned and committed to memory his last name after that first night, who was now your boyfriend.

“You know I didn’t take you for an outfit repeater,” he teases, this year arriving on time (at your behest) and wearing an all black suit save for the glittering of the jeweled pinstripes on his jacket.

You roll your eyes and tug him towards you by his neck tie. “Who’s fault is it that not enough people got to appreciate this dress last year, hm?”

He looks up in thought playfully for a moment before answering, “The sweaters?”

You press another kiss to his lips, this one a little less aggressively and a little bit softer (like you liked him, you’d come to find out) and reply, “Yeah, definitely the sweaters.”

—

author’s note | I originally wrote this in my dm’s to Clover half asleep at 6:30 in the morning on a Saturday and she told me she’d sue if I didn’t post it, so, here, lol have the expanded version that I wrote after chugging a glass of Reisling and a shot of Jameson at 10pm last night.

[usagichronicles]

What some of your best memories in the RPC?

Hmm... I’ll put this under a read more, since I’m in a self reflective and stream of consciousness mood. So this will be entirely unedited, and way too long.

I think some of the early happiness was the reception I got when I first started, about four years and ten months ago. People were excited to RP with me, glad I had decided to finally get involved.

At first I intended only for Cafe, and I put in a ton of work to get her set up. But by the end of my time writing KanColle, I had a lot of shipgirl OCs, and I mean a lot -- Trench Cafe, Spirit of Fire, Ohio, Atlantic Conveyor, Pilar, Houston, Langley, Gangut, Manila, New Zealand, Georgios Averof, Neptune, Leander, Achilles, Kiwi, Tui, Moa, Lanikai, Kirkwall, Jewel of Windsor, Emma Williams, Aotearoa, Helle.

A lot of the best early memories come from Cafe and her storyline. And I must admit, out of the above 24 characters? Cafe, Spirit of Fire, Manila, Kirkwall, Emma Williams, New Zealand, and Aotearoa got a lot of development. But satisfaction in how their characters developed? Only in Cafe, Emma Williams, and Aotearoa.

Cafe and Manila were the only characters who got endings. They were both happy endings. But only Cafe got one I am happy with. 

That being said... I really enjoyed writing HMS New Zealand. I think she was one of my first ‘complex’ personalities, with a storyline that I really tried to plan a bit. It didn’t work amazingly, there was a lot that got derailed, but I enjoyed her.

Aotearoa is a happy story of missed chances. Her personality wasn’t quite so complex, but I thought enough of her, I converted her into a different format and wrote a CYOA novella, rewriting an RP arc that didn’t go the way I wanted it.

There is one other... But I’ll bring that up later.

Moving on from KanColle...

I did a lot of faffing about with Strike Witches. I had four characters. Adeline Kain, Rebecca Moore, Tui Gray, and Helen Clapham. One of those names might be familiar. This... is where Helen Clapham originated. Strike Witches being Strike Witches, there was no active RPC for the setting, and I don’t blame anyone for that. I convinced three others to write it, among them Kako, and we did a brief thing together. 

I stuck with it longer than the rest; I still had my SW characters kicking about by the time I shut down the old blog, and elected not to bring them to this one.

Rebecca Moore was a favourite of mine in that time. It helped, however, that I wrote her with Kako. She had a more sophisticated story than the rest, and on top of that, she had a storyline. She showed up before, she helped Kako’s character, she helped another person’s character who affected Kako’s character -- and though her story ended before I really wanted it to, in a way she also got a happy ending. Still fighting the war, even after she was ordered to go home, helped by Keiko. Pulling her weight.

I’ll skip my attempts at Halo. They had some fun times, but not enough to really bring up. My attempt at Girls Frontline was stillborn. 

Strike Witches is where Helen Clapham got her start (originally with UMP40 as her FC). The Agency version of her started off as an AU, of Helen Clapham, the ex-witch bomber pilot. An AU where she never became a bomber pilot, and fell into another world. Three years later, Helen Clapham the bomber pilot no longer exists.

Agent Helen does, and she’s been a bundle of happy memories. I’m genuinely proud of how she’s developed over time. She’s the muse I’ve stuck with the most, the one who’s seen the most, who’s had the longest storyline. One that sees little sign of ending. Through thick and thin, she’s brought me to tears, she’s brought me to hugging my pillow and giggling to myself. Always with the satisfaction and cheer of writing a character I really, really enjoy. Those tears were not of frustration, and though they were shed in reaction to parts of her storyline that sadden me, they aren’t tears shed because I don’t like it. So I think she’s a big one there.

Victoria Collet deserves a spot here, but she should really be above with KanColle. She got her start back then, after all. She’s ‘Jewel of Windsor’ in the list. She is the only character from the KanColle blog, who survived the transition to other areas of writing. I think she was one of the characters I absolutely loved writing, even back then. Her origin story comes from H.G. Wells’ War of the Worlds, which is a semi-annual obsession of mine. Though that origin no longer exists, her current form is quite lovely. I always have a goofy smile on my face when I think of her, and her travels with Maria and Kazuko. She’s just a good bisexual girl who’s massively confused by her friends, a lesbian who commonly crossdresses as a man, and a boy who lives as a girl. 

Fubuki has been a story of indulging myself in a guilty pleasure, and genuinely enjoying writing her own stories. A kitsune, a samurai kitsune, an Oda samurai kitsune, a shrine maiden samurai kitsune, it’s indulging in a lot of stuff I like but hadn’t wanted to write before her, due to some embarrassment over the subjects. But encouragement from friends, particularly Kako, saw Fubuki come to be -- and I’ve enjoyed much of her.

Tikva got off to a rocky start. I originally conceived of her as a way to keep writing Cafe, during a moment of weakness where I was lamenting how some things had gone. She was going to be a carbon copy, Cafe’s AI turned human. But the RP partner I was going to write that with stopped writing, and honestly, in Tikva’s case it was likely for the best. 

Tikva’s story is far different to what the original thing was going to be. Who Tikva is now, is very different from who Cafe was, and she’s far better off for it. I am extremely grateful to Kako for helping me with everything with Tikva.

Okoori was my first foray into Touhou RP, and Kako helped immensely in her creation as well. She’s a bit of another self-indulgence. A woman who lives to make people happy, someone who wears elegant cloting, a bit of exposed skin, a youkai concept (yuki-onna) I really like. Writing her helped me get confident enough to adopt Aya as a canon muse, and have Fubuki chase a demon into a magical land.

Grani. Grani Grani Grani. I will be the first to admit, I’ve latched on to her very, very hard. I’ve made tons of headcanons, spend tons of time thinking about her, discussing her, looking at art of her. Thinking of her makes me smile, and writing her doesn’t often cause me to pause and have to think. I can fall into her mindset rather easily. 

Some people say I’m a lot like Grani myself; I’m short, excitable and generally cheerful, I have a strong sense of justice and desire to help others. My only worry sometimes is that my own sense of self might bleed into Grani, but all of what we write has something of ourselves in them. I try not to worry too much. 

There’s far more I could say. 

I could go through each and every single one of my current muses, and I could likely find something good to say about them -- even Chloe, who I haven’t written in a long time. I am very, very happy with my characters. 

Roleplaying is my main hobby, and has been for more than two years now. It’s a passion that I don’t want to lose anytime soon. I put a lot of effort into it, because I love writing with everyone, and I love it when a thread goes well.

So I guess I can say that, many of my recent RPC memories have been happy memories.

It’s likely best if I end it there, rather than continuing. After all, this reply is up to 1,400+ words.

[dutten-does-the-fanfic]

Uploading schedule for “Something Great”

Hello, and welcome to a rant that neither of us had expected me to make today - or, any day, really. It is also unedited and not read through even once, because I’ll start to second-guess myself if I have to read through whatever my fingers have decided to spit out on paper. You will, however, have to suffer through my stream of consciousness. You’re welcome.

In case you were unaware, I recently started uploading an Evak fic (link: tumblr, AO3) “I Want You Here With Me (Is It Too Much to Ask for Something Great)” - it’s an AU that I’ve been working on since before I finished the third chapter of “Beat that Record” back in 2018.

Because I had the most inconsistent uploading schedule with BtR (and it was only three chapters back then) when I started working on “Something Great”, I’d decided I wanted to finish the entire thing (not aware of just how long it would end up being) and then start to upload it on a weekly schedule.

I’m a very impatient person - whenever I’ve finished writing something, I’ll be all like, “Right! Let’s edit it immediately so I can upload it!” I’m just always so incredibly excited to share the stories I’ve worked on with other people, hoping they’ll experience the same joy and love for the characters and story as I have for however long I’ve been working on it.

Honestly, writing like this for “Something Great” has actually been a really cool experience. I thoroughly enjoyed it. It gave me a lot of liberty so that I could write just because I wanted to write and I could write whatever part I wanted to write, I didn’t have to work chronologically because I had to have the next chapter ready. I got to jump around all over the place, I got to go back and edit already finished chapters because I just thought of that one thing that would be really cool. Honestly, I’m pretty sure that if I ever do multichaptered fics again, I will do it like this - just write all of it before I start uploading anything.

And now moving on to the actual point: A major reason why I wanted to have everything done before I started uploading, was so I could start uploading at a regular schedule, where you guys would know when to expect the next chapter. So I’ve been uploading “Something Great” on Fridays these past three weeks, and I’m just... not sure how I feel about it.

I’ve been considering making the uploads bi-weekly instead, and then I’ve spent a lot of time just going, should I shouldn’t I. I think one of the reasons why I’ve thought not to is because I’m only three chapters in and these are the shortest chapters (minus the epilogue) in the entire story. After chapter 5, there are no chapters below 10k, and some of them are closer to 30k at that. A bi-weekly uploading schedule would mean putting out close to 22k a week, which I don’t know if it’s too much? I also feel bad about changing it to bi-weekly, because a part of me feels like it’s defeating the purpose of spending literally two years working hard on something.

But at the same time, only uploading once a week is really stressing me out - I just don’t care much for it, especially not that the last chapter will first be uploaded at the beginning of September. If I change it to bi-weekly now, it’ll be finished at the end of July, which feels like a much more manageable timeframe for me personally. Also, because I’ve been stressing out, actually getting to finally upload this story that I’ve spent literal years falling in love with just... hasn’t been as exciting as uploading past fics have felt. And that’s a goddamn awful feeling, to be honest, especially when thinking back on just how fun it was to write and all the things I’d do to get in the mood of writing - I’d listen to music, and I’d do my spreadsheets like a nerd and I’d do these little doodles and drawings about the pivotal plot-things that would happen in each chapter’s present/past. I’d fall asleep at night thinking about what I wanted to do for a scene or run through my favourites, just because. I actually started to look forward to spending between one and two hours just sitting on the train five days a week, because that was my writing time, that was my me-time where I didn’t have to think about anything but the story and what the characters would do and what was happening to them - other than stare out of the window occasionally and see the odd fox and deer and pretty views to further dream myself away in.

And now when I’ve finally gotten to the point where it’s all done, it’s written and edited through, and I’ve actually been able to upload it, I’ve just been feeling sad and anxious about how much I’ve been stressing over only uploading on Fridays, and as I’ve been so excited about writing the story that I’d literally count the seconds until I’d be able to or I’d set of time on entire evenings just so I could work on it, it feels like something pure and dear to my heart is a little ruined because of it.

That sounded a little dramatic - it’s not that bad.

Honestly, what I’ve been trying to say, I think, is this (ooh, let’s do bullet points, because spreadsheets weren’t bad enough, y’all):

Uploads would change from only Fridays to maybe Tuesdays and Fridays?

And maybe just general thoughts? Like, what do you - either as a reader or as a writer - think about uploading schedules? Either about my fic in specific or other fics in general - I doubt people are going to be sad about more content during the week, but I don’t know. Is once a week preferable? Do you refuse to touch a non-completed story (that hasn’t been abandoned and is finished and regularly updated)? Do you have a preferable timeframe for uploading/receiving uploads? I’m just feeling a little at a loss, here, so it would be nice to hear back what you guys would like :)

and also just thank you to everyone who’s been reading and commenting on any of my stories, to be honest. Getting your feedback has always been such a cool experience, and all of this ranting has absolutely nothing to do with any of that - it’s still just as much of a joy getting to read your comments or go through your tags and just hearing about what you’ve thought of the chapter or the story in general, so the biggest thank you to all of you for being the most awesome and kind-hearted people in the entire world. You deserve it.

[transfemlogan]

👀 first i wanna respond to your response! thank you for correcting me about aspd, i appreciate the correction as well as taking me in good faith. that was definitely me phrasing stuff badly and not being up to date with the terminology (which is my own fault, so i appreciate you addressing it so graciously)

yeah, the pof episode makes me so uncomfortable all around. aside from that fun little ditty at the beginning, i can't stand to watch/listen to it bc i disagree with most of what they talk about (which is why it has two points i've been wanting to talk about lol)

and you're so right!! you should still be kind to ppl, even if you don't care about them! it's just a decent thing to do.

;alkjsdf also yeah, thomas needing to empathize with a homeless person so he can decide if he want so to help,,,that's a Big Yikes there.

and another good point!!! there are situations where you literally incapable of empathizing with someone, so it does no use to base how much you're willing to help them off of that.

-

you have chosen...

3) my criticisms of thomas's pof/svs:r video, specifically focusing on the mentions of charity

i had always had a problem with the way helping the homeless and helping solve homelessness was discussed in pof. mainly around the idea that "if everyone chipped in 1 to 2 dollars (or insert your country's currency here), you could end homelessness!" or however he says it in the ep

and i couldn't fully explain what bothered me so much abt that sentiment until my friend introduced me to the quote, "charity is no substitute of justice withheld." which, ironically, was said by a saint. saint augustine, to be specific.

and what this means is that charity should not stand in place for justice. poverty, and so many other things, is caused by systemic issues that cannot be fixed by charity.

i can only speak for usamerica, but poverty is built-in to the very foundation of our country to oppress black and brown people (but many people are affected by it). charity is not going to fix that. charity will not fix such an abhorrent injustice to those who have suffered and those who are currently suffering under poverty.

what would actually solve this problem? taxing billionaires and large corporations! that tax money could actually go toward helping solve poverty, helping infrastructure, raising minimum wage; we could have free healthcare, better education for everyone, free college!! if we stopped putting so much money into our military, we could use that to fund all kinds of scientific research! we could make the research open source, so it's less insular and more open to the public!

(this isn't to say that there are other things influencing these systemic issues and injustices, bc all the other systemic issues in usamerica is intertwined with each other. but taxing billionaires and big corporations and putting that money to good use, i.e., not the military, is certainly a start)

[again, more stream of consciousness, unedited, so i hope it's coherent]

-

where to next, adventurer??

1) my concerns for the writer's room bc of specific segments in the five year anniversary episode

2) my criticisms of c!thomas's (and presumably thomas's) view on empathy

3) my criticisms of thomas's pof/svs:r video, specifically focusing on the mentions of charity

4) my criticisms of janus's line in svs (just realized i didn't expand on this lmao. my beef is specifically with his line abt why thomas should have to do whatever through the guise of a lie bc societies are fake or whatever)

(also gonna go to sleep after this, but i look forward to your response and answering the other two points tomorrow! thank you so much for letting me write these in your ask box!! ^_^ i'm glad you enjoy the choose your own adventure aspect, too!)

THAT IS SUCH A GOOD POINT. I didn't even think of that. Ur exactly right.

Capitalism strives on having poor people. The only way it exists is through poverty. It's very... naive 2 assume that you can fix what's happening while keeping capitalism. That's not how capitalism works, it is an inherently bad system.

I don't have too much to add-on, because you already listed everything out.

I am going 2 go w/ 4! I am ... confused on what line you mean & I have a sneaking suspicion we hold the same opinion 4 number 1 <3

(Also, of course. I like hearing people's opinions regardless of if they are like mine or not & I know not everyone has a place 2 infodump or vent or whatever word i am thinking of rn)

[acabloe]

Soon Goodbye, Now Love.

bechloe angel/soulmate/ I don't even know how to describe this but beca is a sort of magical angel reincarnation being that falls from the sky and Chloe is a struggling human so,,,yeah,, find out more as u move along.

edit: here is a better synopsis: a year and a half ago, Beca saved Chloe's life with payment of eternal commitment as a guardian angel and removal of all of Chloe's memories of their long and close friendship together before Beca’s reincarnation. After her training in heaven, beca manages to hijack the system to allow her to guard Chloe, but has to hide that she knows her n is SAD abt it.

inspired by this song

tw’s: death, mentions of sex, mentions of starvation/hunger, depression.

angst/fluff/whatever the poetic deep category of fic writing this fits into.

there is a death but like its not really death more like birth u know bc reincarnation also its the basis of Chloe and becas relationship or something

hella slowburn js but its totally worth it.

status: ongoing 

Chapter one: Soon The Air

She stood peering over the edge of the cloud, still holding her breath in anticipation. She stepped back in hesitation for what felt like the hundredth time, but the soft voice that had been with her the whole time overwhelmed her and she knew her decision was clear. She leaned forward, letting her chest be the point of her weight, and dropped.

She was everywhere. 

She was every salty, misted breeze that passed under slabs of rock staggering into the ocean. She was every drop of sweet nectar that passed down a hummingbird’s tiny vibrating throat. She jumped and soared through the atmosphere, catching in the wind and quickly slipping out of view over and over as she felt every spark ascend towards the darkness of overhanging branches in a thick, dark forest. She was every elated yell of pure joy, every unedited and genuine laugh, every deep and racking sob of hopelessness. She shared every desperate, torturous thought of guilt, every static pang of anxiety. She heard shrieks of pain and fear, she heard hundreds of voices singing together with all the emotion they could muster, and she heard the quiet and hidden weeping of loved ones from another room.

She felt the vibrations in her feet as bells tolled for newly-weds and she felt their heart pumping rapidly in their chests at the prospect of eternal life with the ones they loved. She felt the heat of scalding water as someone begrudgingly stepped into a shower at 5:00am, and she felt the tingling and raw sensation in every palm from clapping so rapidly and loudly for the performance of something that had just changed lives. She felt the racking hunger of someone who had not eaten in days, and the heartwarming reward of appreciation from something given.

She felt everything, everyone, everywhere, but she heard and saw absolutely nothing. She could feel no containment of a living body, and, although she felt every emotion, her mind was blank of personal state. She did not remember, and she had not the want to. She had not held knowledge of time or how it passed and the feelings that she witnessed and experienced could have been observed as lasting neither millenniums or milliseconds. The life of every human channeled violently through her consciousness, but she was not awake, neither was she asleep.

But then,

It was all gone. And all that Beca perceived of anything was cold, wet dew and rough, pungent grass against her cheek.

-

Chloe slowly brought in another aching breath and let it out heavily for what felt like the thousandth time that night. She walked over to the window but the sky was a dark colorless cloud, blocking her view of the stars. She wished she could see the moon and she sighed again, regretting it as her jaw and lungs complained from the aching sensation of being overtired and sleep deprived. She twisted the plastic handle of the wooden frame and pushed outward until she could feel the brisk and refreshing draft of cold air wash over her. She closed her eyes and took another deep breath, this time, she hoped, for the last sigh that night, and held the cool in her lungs for a count of seven, letting it out as slowly as she could. She savored the temperature difference on her flushed and heated cheeks and listened to the distant white noise of the city stretching beyond. 

She considered that a walk would be the worst thing to do in her situation, and the thought of leaving her house for the first time in three days for an occasion other than work made her frown to herself, but she soon found her hands tugging on a pair of boots and a rain jacket over her pajamas. 

Her sleep schedule had become less of a schedule and more of a caffeine-dependent, never-ending cycle of work, eat, dreamless sleep, check her phone, sleep, work, and so on. She had actual little work to do across a deceivingly long amount of time, and for the most part they were simple tasks, but Chloe found it near impossible to force herself to work longer than a couple quarter hours at a time, quickly losing motivation and switching at dangerously close intervals of working and staring at her phone. Her little office job was dull and unfulfilling, but she forced herself to put away those thoughts and not take for granted her not-very-well-earned-salary. Her PhD in biomechanics seemed but a distant memory of possession, and she had yet to use a majority of the material she had worked so diligently and painfully to acquire.

As she stepped out onto the sidewalk of outskirt-New York city and locked her door, she felt herself dreading the next day and the following weeks of the same routine she had been slowly falling into. She placed her headphones over her already cold ears and played shuffle on an album she hadn’t listened to in a few years. She turned down the volume significantly, as although her neighborhood was relatively quiet and restful, she had an unease when out at night. As the soft rhythm and peaceful melody filled her ears she felt a wave of a distinct set emotions she had not been accustomed to for a few weeks; longing, loneliness, and a sort of grievance she could not put her finger on. It took her aback, but she allowed the emotions to expand and radiate through her mind, welcoming the prodding of new and deeper thoughts than she had allowed herself in her recent routine.

Chloe was naturally a very friendly and outgoing human, the kind who would strike up conversation at most given opportunities, but she did not necessarily consider herself in want of returned validation in a closer and more intimate relationship. She spoke often to her colleagues at work, and she attended their infrequent events, but she could not recall sharing a close friendship with anyone for the past three years after graduating. She kept an online familiarity with the girls from her college a capella singing group, but she had not seen them personally since their only reunion a year ago. She had really enjoyed the event, but it had made her melancholy for the past and the carefree nature of attending school and singing with her friends. She had her family that she talked to often and visited some weekends and most vacations, and she sometimes ate lunch with the barista in the Starbucks at her office. Sometimes she did ponder, however, if her lack of closer relationships maybe factored in her recent slump of unfulfillment. Maybe she was feeling it now, she thought. Was this loneliness that was disturbing her mental plain, or something else? Whatever it was she continued embracing it, relishing the refreshing and self pitying relief it gave.

She stopped walking abruptly when she realized that she has been so deep in reflection that she had not been concentrating on the path. Her aimlessness had led her to a road she wasn’t familiar walking and after a moment of hesitation, she continued forward. She used google maps infrequently, however she was confident that it would not be hard to find her way home later using her phone. The road she had taken had turned narrower and become dirt and rocks. To right of her was a high wall of brambles and behind, a tiny, unseen trickling stream. To her left, there were more high brambles, but beyond that she couldn't see or hear anything. After a few minutes of the path veering gradually right, the brush slowly shortened and eventually reached low enough for her to look upon a large, untamed field. There were no nearby light sources, but what she could make out from the dim light of the overcast sky, there was a very thin sheet of slow-dancing mist, and what seemed like a very old rusty tractor on the north-east corner. She continued walking as she looked out, and eventually the path finished its right-side veer. She began to make out a small dark figure walking at a regular pace about fifty feet ahead of her and her over-active imagination triggered a growing feeling of anxiety fueled by the dark and lack of other viewable life-forms. In the spur of the moment she compulsively called out a greeting to the stranger, hoping that a short interaction would calm her hyperactive mental state.

“Hello!” She realized that the greeting would seem a little awkward if carried out so far apart so she jogged a little to catch up with the other strolling (she hoped) neighbor. The person turned, clearly stunned by the sudden shout but seemed to relax realizing the approach was not aggressive. It waved and turned back forward until Chloe reached them at a distance of around six feet. She observed the stranger to be a short small framed girl of around her age, maybe younger. Her outfit was odd for the cold weather, she thought ( a pair of sweatpants and a spaghetti strap tank top) but she let it go to focus on her conversation.

“Hi,” The girl’s voice was clear and short. 

“It’s so chilly for this time of year, I don’t even usually come here while on walks. The mist is so spooky!” She turned and smiled at the face next to her to see tears rolling down the girl’s face.

“Yeah. Super spooky,” wavered her voice.

[xcatarsibenedetta]

I don’t know

Everyone wants to understand. Everyone wants to be there for you and just understand. Or at least thats what they think. They want to hear what you have to say and try to find solutions until you start sharing. You share your raw, unedited stream of consciousness with them.

Until it becomes too much. It becomes too dark. It becomes too real for them. They start taking things personally. Every other word is “Yeah? Wow,”. They ask you to stop sharing. It’s making them upset now. They don’t know how to handle the information. They ask “How can I help?” when at first they ‘knew that they had a solution’. You don’t know what to say.

You apologize. You shut it away again. You don’t feel like sharing with anyone ever again. You know that you didn’t even say anything morbid or harmful. You barely gave that person a glimpse into your mind. They didn’t even scratch the surface. 

Sometimes you meet people with the gall to try to compare their diseased mind to yours. What they don’t understand is that this isn’t a competition. This isn’t something that I wear on my sleeve. This isn’t for social media or entertainment. This isn’t a party game or a joke. This is real life, every day hurt. I am lucky enough to be functioning. I go to school, I get good grades. My illness is silent in the face of many, even those who are ‘close’. 

Skeptics are everywhere. People want to know so badly that I’m sick all the time and some even try to analyze it and look for patterns. “Oh, she was upset all weekend but she smiled on Tuesday. Wonder why,”. Your suspicions mean nothing. You are searching for an algorithm that doesn't exist. This isn’t calculated. This isn’t even textbook. Everyone is different. My trigger has yet to be identified and it has almost been a decade. I’ve tried everything. I haven’t given up. This is my life. I get to decide what I want to do and how I get help. Right now, I am trying to just figure it out and work to pull myself out of my own ditches. 

It isn't that I don’t want to be happy. Or that I’m not trying to be happy. Or that I’m not laughing enough. Or that I’m not smiling enough. I don’t need your unsolicited lifestyle advice, as if the way that I am living is horrible and a detriment to my physical health. I’m young. I am allowed to try things. I am allowed to want to figure things out on my own. What works for you may not work for me. I am independent. I am strong. I am fearless. I yearn for the ability to travel any day I want. I want to write in my journal more. I’ve started eating better (aside from my double offense of Nutella and wheat thins. and cheese balls). Sometimes people need to be left alone to grow. And that’s okay. I don’t want people in my face every day suggesting what I should do. Telling me who to pray to and what to eat etc. At this point I don’t even want people to understand. This is my own personal strife. Let me be. Let me find my own peace. Peace is priority. I know these things. I have every intention to live in the light, but sometimes it gets really dark. But I’m not afraid of the dark. I’m comfortable in it. I’m learning about it. 

There is nothing wrong with help. It works for most people. I’m not opposed to therapy or medication as valid methods of treatment for mental illness. I’ve just found that in my personal experience, I’d like to try other things. Creating connections with people. Creating experiences for myself. Indulging in self care. Spending more time with family. Being alone with my thoughts and figuring out why I feel a certain way about things. Learning about what I like and don’t like. I enjoy solitude. 

Intelligence is both a curse and a blessing. Others (including therapists) think that I’m too smart to be severely depressed, so I must have it under control. Others think that there is no possible way that I can feel sad because i’m smiling at school, maintaining my grades, and my family loves me. This is a topic for another day. If one’s life is so base and monotonous that all you need to be happy is a smile, family, and good grades, then they are not living. I want more. I want to see more. I want to learn more. I want to study planets, the stars, life on Earth, culture, food, music, literature, language, plants, love, chemicals etc. But I digress -- this is for another day.

[darrellkmartin]

Scams, subscriptions and chat bots: How one German fauxporn Youtube star tricks her fans

Videos boasting risqué titles, thumbnails teasing gobs of bare skin and steamy sexual indiscretions—all of which end up being more hot air than hot stuff.

Katja Krasavice has teased, baited and badgered her way to a huge fan base: 800,000 Youtube subscribers and 200 million views. The aspiring sex star has milked the shady practice for everything it’s got—and moved to other platforms in increasingly dubious ways.

Three years ago today, Katja Krasavice launched her Youtube account and first made her way in the German digital consciousness. She has since filled it with 133 videos, all of which follow a very similar MO: go heavy on the sexual innuendo, use thumbnails that double down on the double Ds and insert titles that get a rise in expectations. For example, there is “NACHTS Allein Zuhause (Home ALONE at night!) | Katja Krasavice”—a 4-minute clip about how she likes to unwind after a hard night of partying. Five million people have tuned in to keep her company. Another 4.5 million people watched Katja in “PETTING with Lucycat! 😛 | Katja Krasavice.” Even if the content turns out to be disappointing for viewers, the click rates show just how effective the teasers can be.

Leveraging lusting fantasies

She polarizes and provokes, teasing her viewers and stroking their sexual fantasies—a proven recipe for success. In addition to successfully producing her brand of content, Katja Krasavice also engages in cross promotion and does a host of guest appearances. Two years ago, she made an appearance with Aaron Troschke, the CEO of influencer marketing platform Reachhero and former candidate on Who Wants to be a Millionaire with his own organic reach. The video shows the pair dildo shopping; a couple of months later they shot part two. Then in early 2016, she made an appearance on a German Youtuber’s channel. Seen simulating oral sex, and then engaging in cheap pillow talk about said opening scene, the clip has generated 4 million impressions, and also plugs the link to the opening scene in its unedited full length.

In spite of her massive reach, it’s impossible not to notice that her videos do not use any of Youtube’s available marketing options. There are no video or display ads embedded in her clips—which is probably not by design. Since Youtube adopted stricter advertising guidelines in September 2016, Krasavice’s content was no longer deemed ad-friendly. That meant she had to scope out other ways and channels to monetize her reach, like live-stream portal YouNow. Katja Krasavice has been active on the portal since March of 2015, totaling 18 million views in the process.  Here, users can purchase ‘Bars’ that they can then donate to their favorite streamers. Especially successful YouNow stars are rumored to net revenue in the six-figure range.

15 euro a month for what? A pair of “hot” snaps.

Her success is hardly limited to Youtube and YouNow. With 928,000 subscribers on Instagram and 185,000 fans on Facebook, Krasavice’s popularity has spread to every major platform. She even has 56,000 followers on twitter —pretty good for a twitter desert like Germany. Snapchat (katjakrasavice) is no different. Although follower figures are not publicized, she seems to be killing it by offering paid content.

On her second account (krasaviceprivat) she recently began publishing “exclusive snaps,” as she teases on Snapchat and on other channels. Her less-than-subtle teases can be worded as “I get so w*t when I look at all these naughty girls.”

What does any of that have to do with paid content? That’s easy: the supposed hotter, more x-rated Snaps can only be seen by fans who take out a 30-day subscription for €14.99.

Standing to profit from the subscription is not Snapchat itself, but an entity named Centro Publishers Limited from the British Virgin Islands. There are dozens of mostly female “Premium SnapCentro Influencers” listed on the domain snapcentro.de. They are sorted by name or category, including general descriptions like athlete or blogger, or the more specialized descriptors like erotic model, exotic dancer, nude model or porn star.

If you search for the names of the “premium influencers” directly, the first search results lead you to the corresponding porn site. Krasavice also pops up on the list. She describes her account as a place where “you can see all the hottest snaps no longer allowed on my public account. Here, I’ll answer everyone and even send a couple of naughty snaps in a private chat. Come to my hot Snap zone not everyone can see.” She also ads that “if you are a member, I’ll do just about anything you want.”

Ok, so what content can a successful female youtube star charge money for exactly on Snapchat? To answer that we decided to misappropriate company funds and subscribe to the pay service. What won’t we do for science…

Soft-core porno for dummies

Signing up is pretty standard: enter our Snapchat user name and email address, and then confirm that we are, in fact, of age, and that we are aware that snapcentro.de is unaffiliated with Snapchat. Information on our person entered and confirmed, it’s time to pay up either via credit card or direct bank transfer—both of which go to a Cyprian company called  CentroBill (Cyprus) Limited.

The founder of both companies, snapcentro.de and CentroBill, plus the affiliated porn hub adultcentro and an affiliate influencer platform modelcentro, is a fella by the name of Stan Fishkin. On Twitter, he’s just a man named “standaman69,” posing in front of a Ferrari. A real salt of the earth type guy.

If you’re still in need of convincing, a cursory Google search for “centrobill warning” reveals that neither he nor his company are the most scrupulous of enterprises. After completing the payment process, a landing page tells us just how we can follow Katja Krasavice’s private account.

Basically, she’ll start following us after our payment, including our user name, has been confirmed. We are then granted access to her premium snaps for the duration of our subscription.

If you were thinking that the €15 monthly subscription would get you access to some serious nude content (as the teasers on Snapchat, Instragram, etc. would lead one to believe), we’ve got some bad news: The Snaps from the private account merely featured the scantily clad Krasavice and never in the buff. In fact, there is hardly any difference between the private and public Snapchat account that would justify any of her fans to pony up for the pay version.

Despite promises to the contrary, content is not available round the clock on the premium account. Shortly after we completed our subscription, Krasavice posted a content schedule. She said that while she “takes hot snaps every day,” sometimes she won’t post because “she wants to enjoy her life” or because “she’s only human” or because “she’s got the sniffles.” Or because it’s Monday—her day off. We’ve also not yet received an answer to our private message despite the promise of a “super hot chat.” Disappointment for €15 a month.

Just how many of her followers on Snapchat, Youtube subscribers or fans on other platforms have paid for Krasavice’s private Snapchat account, is unclear. However, because she followed us as a premium subscriber, we can see how many private snaps she has posted: 426.

Genuine testimonials or an army of bots?

The premium Snapchat subscription isn’t Katja’s only dubious source of income. In a video marked as product placement dated February 14, 2017, Krasavice can be seen plugging a flirt app and stating that she’s got a “really hot profile with private pics,” which you of course can only see once you’ve installed the app and signed up. She’s also giving away her private cell number, a video of her pleasuring herself with a heart-shaped sucker (the “goods” are blurred in the short teaser) and a private date, “maybe even with a happy ending.”

All you have to do to enter the sweepstakes is install the app and sign up (“guaranteed for free”) and then send Krasavice a message. In the Youtube video she promises that the first couple of messages are free and that “if you are really interested in me, then you’ll do it. I also really want to get to know people.” At the same time on Snapchat she says, “Writing me there costs hearts, which cost money.” On which platform and when she intends to announce the winner, she doesn’t say. Maybe on Instagram or Snapchat, but she’s not exactly sure when. “But I will definitely do it, so be sure to follow me.”

Although the giveaway is over and done with, we still wanted to have a go on the flirt app Katja was plugging.

Through the katja-hautnah.de domain, we are redirected to landing page for  an app called Yoomee. The page, mostly in German, proclaims that “Yoomee presents Katja Krasavice,” that “YouTube star Katja Krasavice is waiting for you” and promises we can “experience Katja up close.” Right after creating an account in a fake name and without a profile pic or any interests, Krasavice, err “Krasavice,” checks out our profile. We only have to wait a couple of minutes, before she sends us her first message: “Happy you’re here. How do you like my pics?” We’d love to answer, but we have to first buy some hearts for €6.99.

Our spidey sense is now tingling. Could there be an automated system in play here, exploiting Krasavice’s Youtube reach to pull users into the app and convert them into paying customers via fake messages?

To check—because, hey, science—we create another account. Shortly after our account is live, here comes “Krasavice” again, checking out our completely bare profile and then soon after writes the exact same message, down to a T.  In the meantime, our first account has received some more action—three direct messages within 90 minutes: “Hey, feel like writing?,” “Which do you prefer? Day or Night” and “Have you been around here for a while?”

Katja’s flirt with Yoomee sees a sharp increase in app downloads

The app landing page lists Mobil Trend GmbH as the proprietor of Yoomee, which lists Christoph Matthiesen and Jannis Kiesow as CEOs. Mobil Trend’s director of sales, Benjamin Marquardt, responded to our request for comment. He told us about the campaign with Krasavice, saying that they “happened upon Katja by chance and booked her through her management. The collaboration runs through April 14.”

In reference to the misleading claims in the Youtube video, especially the free messages, he says that “was indeed somewhat unfortunate and it was briefed otherwise. We only saw the video shortly prior to publication, otherwise we probably would not have accepted it in that form.” In spite of that, he said that there are also ways to acquire hearts without paying and thus send her messages for free.

However, he did say it was part of the business model that users are not made aware of that immediately. “Obviously, we want to make money with the app. Competition is intense and monetizing users is becoming increasingly difficult. Still, we allocated free hearts to disappointed users so that they could have a chance to chat,” says Marquardt. In the app’s general terms and conditions it says that: “Yoomee engages professional animators and operators to animate and entertain, who are not labelled as such by the system. A real-life meeting with such individuals is prohibited. Users may only send messages within the portal.”

App-stat tool Priori Data recorded a major surge in Yoomee downloads after Krasavice’s video appeared—to the tune of 20,000 downloads from Google’s Play Store and 10,000 in the Apple App Store within a week. The surge didn’t last. “Two weeks after the campaign start, we had downloads in the mid-five-figure range. A return to the mean is completely normal. All things considered, the campaign was a success. Even if Krasavice is not the cheapest testimonial, we recouped our costs,” says Benjamin Marquardt.

According to him, however, the –acquisition of user data is more important as it will be used to further develop the product. “The app had only launched a couple of weeks before the video went live, and would never have been able to collect that much data in that time frame otherwise.” He added that the team is “now looking for more reasonably priced influencers.”

Is Katja swapping Youtube for Youporn?

The line Krasavice toes between provocative entertainment and full-blown pornography requiring age restrictions continues to tighten. She regularly mentions how she loves being on camera, but isn’t sure if she’s ready to do everything publicly. One sign that she may be entering pornoville is a recent cooperation with erotic portal fundorado.com. In a Youtube video from February 1, 2017, Krasavice mentions an “extremely hot private video” making the rounds that you can only see on katjakommt.de (katjacomes). The domain redirects to fundorado.com.

Katja Krasavice has engaged in additional paid co-ops  in the past, for example with Quizpanda and SMS service Bongo, each of which turn out to be scams (link in German). Additional income sources include a club tour that she has been plugging for months— for example with a video purportedly showing her kiss a fan—and through sales of her own perfume on katjakrasaviceshop.com.

This article originally appeared on Online Marketing Rockstars.

Photo credit: Screenshot/YouTube/Katja Krasavic

from Startup Tips By Darrel http://theheureka.com/scams-subscriptions-and-chat-bots-how-one-german-fauxporn-youtube-star-tricks-her-fans-20170410