#and also like it kind of makes content and trigger warnings pointless

[babyjakes]

dear fellow writers please for the love of god put cuts in your fics

[brandonxdylan]

Ranking the GAY EPISODES of Beverly Hills, 90210 - Part 1

Pride month may be coming to a close, but I didn’t want to let it slip by without doing a little something special. I thought it would be fun to do an overview of all of the gay-themed storylines from the series. There were quite a few of them over the years (although not as many as there were seasons of the show, which perhaps is saying something), especially considering for a show that didn’t have any significant queer content on a consistent basis, and certainly no gay regulars to speak of. These episodes run the gamut from throwaway fluff to pretty dark and heavy, and I’m going to rank them in terms of how effectively I think they handle the “gay” element (spoiler alert: not well), as well as how satisfying they are in terms of soapy drama.

I really tried to give these episodes a fair shake, knowing that it would be pointless to judge them for not delivering deeply nuanced takes in an era where we simply were not getting that on prime time network television. I feel like they still mostly fall short, but there’s enough good stuff in here to warrant some genuine consideration.

A couple of caveats before going forward. First of all, some of these episodes deal with some serious themes (AIDS, suicide, gay bashing), so consider yourself trigger warned. Secondly, this post is all in good fun, so lets not take it (or my hot takes) too seriously.

#8.) Crimes and Misdemeanours (Season 8, Episode 19)

Kicking things off, in dead last we have this dud from season 8, which has precisely one, single joke to offer, and still manages to screw it up. Steve runs into a woman at the Peach Pit, and while flirting with her, makes passing reference to Brandon, his “partner.” Obviously, he means business partner, but when she invites Steve and his “boyfriend” Brandon to lunch with she and her “girlfriend,” she clearly means it, and Steve somehow doesn’t think anything of it, and is all to happy to report to Brandon that he snagged them an awesome double date. At lunch, the two “couples” somehow get through the entire meal just beating around the bush, with the women (obviously lesbians by this point) clearly referring to Brandon and Steve as a couple, but these dummies of course don’t pick up on any of this out of sheer dimwittery and, I don’t know, super thick hetero-goggles or something. No, it’s not until Steve and Brandon are invited to the women’s apartment for dinner (which Steve expects to be an orgy, because of course he does) and they’re literally staring at the one bed shared by both women that either of them start to realize what’s really going on. Gay panic ensues, and the whole thing is played for laughs (not that there are any). I’m a sucker for these ridiculous sicomy setups involving misunderstandings and misplaced romantic interest, and this show can occasionally do them well (the luau episode from season 10 is a fabulous example of this, and also has some fun gay content - more on that later), but the problem is none of this is funny or surprising. Neither is it insensitive or exploitative. It’s just kind of stupid. The reveal can be seen coming a mile away, and the whole episode is just buildup to what I’ll generously call the punchline. A better show would’ve done a lot more with this, maybe playing with the concept of Steve seeing heterosexuality as the default, and being blind to other possibilities. Ideally, it also would have had more than one joke.

#7.) Comic Relief/Santa Knows (Season 8, Episodes 13-14)

David takes a job at a car wash, where he notices a bunch of his coworkers making very boring and unimaginative gay jokes about a young male employee named Ben who lives in the garage’s office due to the fact that his dad kicked him out for being gay. David confronts Ben’s parents in the hopes of getting them to see the error of their ways, but the interaction ends with Ben’s dad choosing to declare that “I don’t have a son,” rather than accept Ben for who he is. It’s really harsh, but in dad’s defense, David has very little tact, and it’s really none of his business considering he met Ben five minutes ago. In spite of this, Ben still holds out hope for a reconciliation. While his mom is somewhat more receptive than his dad, she still tells Ben that it’s for the best that he give his dad time to cool down. David once again intervenes, asking Ben’s mom - a woman who is very clearly deeply torn between her love for her son and her need to grant her husband the authority he commands - why she can’t just explain to her husband why taking Ben back in is the right thing to do, as if it’s just that easy. And that’s really the problem with this storyline. It deals with some really dark and emotionally complicated subject matter, and it’s just so glaringly obvious that telling this story from the perspective of a detached outsider is not the best way to approach it. Especially considering it’s David, whose track record for empathy and compassion is fucking zero. Give this to someone like Steve, which would allow him to experience some emotional growth alongside Ben’s parents, or Valerie, who has her own history of familial turmoil (though she does pop up later in this episode and isn’t much more helpful than David, so maybe scratch that one). All of this proves to be too much for Ben to take, and David discovers that he plans to slit his wrists. This is where Val gets involved, as she and David basically just berate Ben into not hurting himself, with Val insisting that she understands Ben’s particular struggles more than she actually does or possibly could. They both give him the “tough love” treatment which, hey, is maybe not what this kid whose parents openly hate him actually needs. Still, it all ends up somewhat happily because of course all Ben and his parents really needed was for someone from the gang to show up out of nowhere and yell at them a bit in order to figure their shit out. This is a story worth telling, but coming at it from the perspective of someone who has nothing to do with it doesn’t allow for much depth. And it really doesn’t satisfy as a soapy plot line either. Even that would require more of an investment from the viewer, and we simply don’t have time or reason to suddenly be all in on this character who comes out of nowhere for two episodes and then disappears forever. Ultimately, this story is just too bleak and depressing to be much fun, and too shallow to be emotionally satisfying.

#6.) Summer Storm (Season 2, Episode 3)

This isn’t ranked low because it’s a bad episode. On the contrary, it’s actually a pretty good episode from one of the show’s best seasons, and builds on one of the show’s most iconic storylines - namely, Brenda and Dylan. However, that doesn’t really concern us here. What does concern us is the B story, about how Kelly meets a cute volleyball player named Kyle. They flirt a bit and eventually go on a date, but when Kelly starts putting the moves on Kyle, he suggests they cool it. Spoiler alert, it’s because he (sort of) comes out as gay later in the episode. But even if he didn’t, Kelly’s reaction to this is really weird. She takes it oddly personally that he doesn’t want to get naked with her on the first date, and gives him the cold shoulder the next day. I haven’t watched these early seasons in several years now but I guess Kelly’s always been a pouty drama queen. Anyway, Kyle does eventually confide in Kelly, telling her that he’s tried to be into girls, and that he genuinely likes her, but that he knows they can’t be more than friends. It’s kind of cute, and Kyle’s conundrum is a pretty common one. Though it’s definitely possible to assume he doesn’t come out as fully gay because the show didn’t want to go too far, it’s also kind of nice to get a portrayal of a character in the process of figuring out his sexuality, without any clear resolution. That is how it works in real life sometimes after all. But considering this is such a minor storyline and the queer content is pretty tepid, it’s hard to rank this any higher than I have it.

#5.) Baby, You Can Drive My Car/Family Tree (Season 10, Episodes 8-9)

Dylan meets with a guy named Andrew, who is one of the directors of a local community centre for kids, in order to discuss making a hefty donation. Andrew makes passing reference to an ex-boyfriend, which prompts a discussion about how Andrew has to remain closeted among co-workers out of fear of losing his job. He knows that there are some bigots out there who would have some not-so-great feelings about a gay man working with their kids (that old chestnut), and his co-director is apparently one of them. Dylan tries to reason that “hey, it’s the 90s,” and that Andrew shouldn’t have to be closeted for those reasons. Andrew, of course, knows better, and while he agrees that no, he shouldn’t have to, the fact remains that he does. To demonstrate that at least he accepts Andrew for who he is, Dylan puts his arm around him in a playful (yet platonic way). Unfortunately, this happens in a dark parking lot and within the presence of a group of homophobes whom proceed to attack Dylan and Andrew with a baseball bat. While Dylan manages to wrestle the bat away from one of the guys (sure) and escapes with just a few bumps and bruises, Andrew doesn’t get off quite as easy. Dylan’s eager to spill details to the cops, but Andrew refuses, on the grounds that he not only doesn’t want to drag this whole unpleasant incident out any further, but he also doesn’t want to draw any more attention that might put him (and his job) at further risk. Andrew’s fears prove to be perfectly justified when, through circumstance, his co-director, Patsy, finds out anyway, and suggests Andrew take a (permanent) leave of absence. As is always the case with this show when there’s a Gay in trouble, a member of the gang makes it their problem to solve, and so Dylan confronts Patsy about Andrew being let go. Although Andrew specifically tells Dylan that he doesn’t want his help, fearing that pushing his luck with Patsy is just going to make things more public and humiliating, Dylan says that he can’t justify donating to a bigoted organization, and he threatens to pull his funding if Patsy doesn’t agree to hire Andrew back. She reluctantly relents, allowing Andrew to return to work, but she pulls her son from Andrew’s basketball team, and soon enough, more kids start to drop out for the same reasons. As things escalate, Andrew decides that if his presence is going to detract from the mission of the centre - to provide care and support for kids - then he should quit. However, Dylan swoops in with one more ace up his sleeve. He talks to Patsy’s son directly, and gets him to question whether he really is uncomfortable with Andrew, or if it’s just his mother’s influence that’s making him think that way. This works, and all of the kids who had previously dropped out assure Andrew that they not only want him there, but they need him there. All in all, this is a decent storyline, but it does engage with a few tropes that rub me the wrong way. First of all, it’s never not at least a little annoying to watch straight characters sanctimoniously decide that doing their version of “the right thing” is more important than respecting the wishes of the gay characters whose safety and livelihood is what’s actually at risk, and this storyline is a pretty egregious example of that. It also follows the usual 90210 pattern of having characters just badger others relentlessly until they conveniently get their way. Granted, this case gets a bit of a pass in that regard, because the tirade that Dylan fires at Patsy is kind of satisfying, and Luke Perry is a good enough actor to make it feel properly motivated and believable. We do love an ally king.

Watch for Part 2!

[maiz-of-light]

Rant about ableism and censorship beneath the cut, also slight TotK spoilers, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Seriously, if you look beneath the cut and proceed to get offended, you did that to yourself. This is my blog and I will share my thoughts if and how I want.

Hi! In case it isn’t already obvious, I’m annoyed, and I’m about to go into why. Recently, with the release of the Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom, a post has been circulating accusing the game of being “riddled with ableism” for its depiction of “body horror” and “medical trauma” - that is, at the very beginning, Link is attacked in such a manner that his arm becomes infected and he loses consciousness. When he wakes, he has a sci-fi, kind of steampunk-y, fantasy arm in its place that was grafted to him while in his coma because, as is explained, the infection was spreading and his life was at risk. Or, in summary, a dead arm was grafted to him without his consent.

When you put it that way, it sounds pretty dark - and fuck, I’m not arguing that, at all. What salts my onions, lads, is that the game is being described as “ableist” for not containing specific trigger warnings.

Guys. What the fuck.

For starters, have you not seen the trailers? The demonic mummy with the glowing red eyes? The animation of Link’s sword arm wreathed in what we now call “gloom,” followed by footage of him examining that same arm and it is clearly not the same? Goddesses help me these were the earliest fucking trailers, too. If you’re not smart enough to put two and two together then chances are you were never smart enough to enjoy a game created to challenge your problem solving and puzzle solving skills in the first place.

If, on the other hand, you hadn’t watched the trailers beforehand, and got triggered by some unmentioned content afterwards, that’s your problem. You are responsible for your own triggers - for knowing what they are and for scanning content prior to engaging. You don’t click on a fic with mention of alcoholism, skip over the CW in the notes, then harass the author when you stumble upon the line/scene/paragraph containing said alcoholism-centric content. Creators are not obligated to tiptoe around you. In other words, if you have bad triggers, consider not playing a brand new video game before you have any idea what it’s about.

Before you call me “ableist” or “insensitive,” let me tell you a story. I won’t mention any details, as trauma dumping is not something I do, but I will state that I have an official, professional diagnosis of PTSD. I have triggers, specific ones, that send me spiraling into severe panic attacks if I don’t catch them in time and deal accordingly. And do you know who’s responsible for that? Me. I don’t get to police content creators, what they share and how they share it. I am responsible for curating my own media experience, and if someone isn’t comfortable accommodating my specific triggers, preferences, etc., I can choose not to engage. Nothing, nothing bothers me more than when people appropriate my disability, either to get their way somehow or to score brownie points and make themselves look “considerate.”

As for Link’s little fantasy medical procedure - yeah, he lost a limb. It happens. It sucks, and for some it can definitely be triggering - but like I said, all the signs are there. Complaining that all the trailers, leaked footage, advertisement, etc. somehow wasn’t enough is whiny and annoying, and entitled, and as I’ve mentioned feels like it’s mostly coming from non-disabled individuals shooting for a “woker” image. Get therapy and let the rest of us enjoy this awesome new game and affiliated content without having to hear a bunch of pointless, wannabe-woke carping.

[overanalyst556]

Love Never Lies: The Weirdest and Horniest dating show.

Yes, you read the title correctly, Love never lies: Destination Sardina is undoubtedly one of the weirdest shows I have ever watched. I don't even know what was the point of this show aside from sex and lap dances! What was the point?

Now some of you might be thinking "Why are you making a review about this dating show that absolutely No one has heard about?". Well, since I want to try to review pieces of content that I like and ones that I hate(I did mention that in the rules) I figured that this would be the best place to start with.

Think of this as a placeholder or some kind of mini-rant before we get to the actual quality review that you guys voted on which was the Korean War.

Also before we start, I'm aware that there was a love never lies before this one with the same host but with different contestants and a different location. I watched and it was fine. Despite me hating Monica, Other than her and the stupid lie detect thing, It was fine. Not good, But decent enough

So strap In, Put on your hats, and join me as we dive into this mess of a show.

Trigger Warning ( Mentions of Sex, Nudity, And other stuff that will probably get me in trouble.)

The Rules and How this show works.

So here's a brief description of how this show works. Love never lies features six Spanish couples who are separated and sent to two different Vilas. They compete as they struggle to trust their partners., who are distracted by sexy single men and women.

All the while, having to be wary of the Eyedect( yes that is the name) which helps the contestant determine whether or not the partner is truthful or not. The prize for the winner is a cash prize of 100,000 euros( European currency), Which goes up or down depending on the contestant's honesty.

Yes, this is a Spanish show, Created by Spain and put on Netflix. The host and the contestants are Spanish. Now I'm Latin American or at least of latin american descent and I can tell you right now that this sucks. First off, The two Villa system. Now, Having two villas isn't that bad. But It really is bad when the contestants are separated from each other.

It would have been more entertaining if the couples were not separated and yet the singles showed up anyway. That would make for some interesting drama and conflict between the couples. But no, instead we have to separate them to make it more interesting (It's not). What's worse is that they show you what their partners are doing in the villa.

You have to pay some of your prize just to see some premium version or extra footage of your partner, Which really wasn't worth anything, other than to reinforce the fact just how horrible these people are.

But the worst part of the rules is the Eyedetect itself. This machine is basically a huge screen with a virtual eye in the monitor. Basically, this decides and tells who's lying and who isn't. It does not matter what you say or what you do, You are not safe from that eye. Green is for when someone tells the truth, and red is when someone tells a lie.

Not gonna lie, This thing fucks everything up from the get-go. Why In the name of God would you have a machine that is made to detect lies in a show where you have to trust your fucking partner? Doesn't this break the motive of the show and what it's trying to do?

What is the point of trying to trust your partner and believe in them when we have a machine to tell you the truth? This makes the whole thing of trust pointless if you have that there. I can't believe nobody at the production thought this was a bad idea. It just amazes me.

But yeah, The rules and how the show works suck ass, But you know what also sucks ass? The host and contestants themselves.

The Cast ( And why they suck)

Love never lies: Sardinia has an intriguing cast of characters here. and when I say intriguing, I mean that they are without a doubt some of the most horny, Hypocritical, and generally toxic people I have ever seen on tv. There are ways of making a cast of trashy human beings enjoyable to watch( Are you the one? for example). Love never lies does not accomplish this and proceeds to make the cast perpetually horrible.

Let's start with the host, Monica.

She's supposedly 48 but she looks like she's in her 60s or early 70s. Monica is without a doubt one of the worst hosts of any program I have ever seen since the Monokubs! Throughout the entire show, Monica is a sadist to the core. Pretty much she has a smirk whenever a truth or lie is going to be exposed. It's like she relishes torturing these people.

And yet she acts like she cares for them by comforting them when they're broken despite the fact that just a minute ago she was showing you clips of your partners fucking and pretty much doing it with a smile-like smirk on her face. Yet they somehow still worship her and thank her, like just stop with that shit, Please.

Also, her hosting skills are terrible, as she constantly has the need to interject with her narration, making you suffer even more. Also, the theme song is awful I have a feeling she sang it since she is a singer, which in any case Monica, You did an awful job.

But enough about this host sadist, Let's talk about the contestants. None of them ( With the exception of 2 or 3 people) are likable in the slightest. They are either horny, Self-righteous, or Hypocrites that just want sex.

Forgive me if you don't see photos of the cast, It's because Tumblr's uploading system is a fucking piece of balls. Here is the link to an article about them so you can see it.

Let's start first with Imma and Vicky, The first couple. Imma is just in her own league of bad where she cheated on Vicky before the show with this girl called Ceila. Turns out that Vicky and Celia were friends once before they met Imma, they spilt eventually over, so Imma pretty much fears Celia as does Vicky. But because things suck, Celia is here as one of the singles to take Imma away and stuff.

Imma just goes along with it for a bit until this dude called Juanlu shows up and she falls for him despite being a lesbian while Celia fades away in the background . Yeah,' Imma's just a mess. Vicky is somewhat better than Imma at first until they swap places and Vicky pretty much falls for this dude despite being a lesbian as well.

Pretty much, these two do nothing more than just betray each other( Although Vicky was faithful to Imma, Just the fact that Imma completely cheated on her).

Next is Irene and Asier

Asier is an absolute weirdo in the case that he just stands there with a worried and expressionless face most of the time. Yet somehow he gets three girls to fall for him, Two of which are fellow contestants. The dude doesn't even look like he wants to be here, let alone in a relationship with those people, Yet he somehow encourages it and pretty much just goes along with it, even allowing someone to lap dance on him. What the actual fuck? the dude's just bland and boring.

Irene is pretty much the only sane contestant in this show, Being one of the only logical ones in the game aside from Vicky( before she went with the dude) As well as she completely believes in Asier, which is why? I would have left the guy after he allowed a girl to do the lap dance on him. She does have her moments with another guy who I can't remember his name but other than that she's probably the best out of all of them.

Then we have Miguel and Alejandro.

Miguel is just something in the fact that he wants to believe in Alejandro despite Alejandro not giving a fuck. At first, he's optimistic in the fact that he sees Alejandro and the single having no chemistry to speak of, But then when Alejandro's new suitor Angel comes and goes in the bed with him, The dude just breaks into tears and has his optimism smashed. So Miguel doesn't trust Alejandro and moves with another guy, Raul(With who he has better chemistry by the way).

Alejandro is just like Asier except slightly better though not by much. He generally does not look like he wants to be here ( Which can be said about everyone in this show) . Count how many scenes the guy is in and he just has the same bored expression. Pretty much think of what I said about Imma and Vicky earlier except they are boys and they have had no best friend drama in the past.

Up next, Maria and Javier ( or Javi). This is when things start to go to shit fast.

Maria is just a mess. She starts off with some drama with Javi before they were on the show that he cheated on her. Then the Eyedect exposes the fact that Javi slept with three girls, and Maria is rightfully pissed. However, this is where things go downhill. Maria pretty much looks like someone straight out of mean girls. She's no Heather but she does really have the moments which make you think why we should care. She Hates javi, but by the end, she wants him back despite everything he did to her and the fact that she hates him. What?

It gets worse with the fact that once she sees Javi going at it with another girl, She has a mental collapse and is pretty much crying all over the place. Like this girl is mentally unstable. Ethier that or she's a really terrible actor. This is the same dude that does not give a fuck about you, so why should you care?

Javi is just as bad. He starts off with some drama with Maria due to him cheating on her with another woman. Then eyedetect reveals that he did the unforgivable sin of sleeping with three girls. Yes, you heard me, Three. While the act is horrendous itself, What this does to Javi is just as terrible. The show tries to give Javi a redemption arc and fails miserably at that.

They want to say that he's changed when he really didn't. All he did was just react to Maria's shenanigans in the villa, did sex with another girl and that was it. He did not change much aside from the fact that he wants to meet new people and stuff, and I was sitting there, wondering why I don't care. Yeah, these two are shit.

Then we have Lucia and Antonio, which ay Por Dios.

Let's start with Antonio. The dude is pretty much the most sympathetic guy in this whole show. He gets verbally smacked by Lucia and is treated like an attendant despite the fact that he cares for her. It wasn't until Antonio was shown footage of lucia falling for other guys and being a toxic person that Antonio just snaps. It's so bad that he didn't even want to see the premium version ( Which is when most of the contestants' optimism are broken), He just breaks down crying.

Eventually, though, He comes to hate what Lucia has become (despite her being this way from the start) And decides to go for his friend Julia. When Juila is around, Antoino becomes this absolutely horny as fuck dude that just enjoys having sex with Julia, who feels the same way. Calm the hell down Antonio! Control your damm hormones. Although that can be said for all of these people, they just want to sex someone and just party around and do lap dances. like this happens about every episode, with most of them doing sexual stuff way too often.

Lucia is just a massive bitch. She constantly puts down Antonio for the smallest of things, verbally abuses him, and at one point was even looking forward to leaving him. Her ego is so off the charts that she called him a hick. Yeah, she called her own boyfriend a hick on tv What the hell? Yet when she gets blame put on her, she refuses to say she was in the wrong and gets mad at Antonio for fucking Juila when she was literally doing the exact same thing. Just a shitty person in general, I feel for Antonio, man.

Last, but not least we have Sara and Gulliem who are the worst couple aside from Lucia and Antonio. I will try my best to get this over with because fuck, I want to get this show over with so I don't have to see it again.

Gulliem is just a rageaholic. He has so little trust in Sara, due to her doing some stupid stuff in the past. While that becomes justified ( Sara was a massive bitch) It is downright impressive how much Guillem made things worse with him sleeping with another girl in the villa( Who also conveniently happens to be named Sara as well, Just a 19-year-old one while Guillem is 25. Let that sink in). This pretty much causes Sara( the original one) to snap and after Guillem sees her going after Asier along with a dude called Aitor at the same time while also stomping on his jacket and doing lapdances to the guys, Guillem loses it and calls it quits with Sara.

I mean, Guillem was certainly in the wrong for sleeping with teen Sara, but it's not like Sara was faithful to him either. Pretty much both were in the wrong here.

But it's Sara herself who takes the cake as the worst contestant in the show. Not only was she doing lap dances, twerking, and cheating on Guillem constantly, but she's also a hypocrite and pretty much claims that it wasn't her fault to Guillem's face. Like hell, you didn't do anything work, he saw you from the villa. And she tries to go for Asier of all people. Yep, she falls for Asier, the most blandest and boring dude in the show. Also, Lucia falls for him as well, so fuck. Get fucked, Lucia and Sara, You absolute putas.

Overall, the contestants just suck. With the exception of Antonio and Irene, most of them are fake, hypocritical sex addicts. Almost all of them are shit or boring as hell and the host herself is a sadist.

Enough of this let's just get to the ending so I can spare you all the agony of this show.

The finale to a trashfire

The finale sucks, let's just get this over with. With Maria and Javi gone as well as Sara and Guillem after the girls decided to quit the show due to the fact that they can't handle those two having a good time without them( What absolute cunts they are). Sara and Guillem, in particular, make up after all of the drama that just happened and are back together, which why in the hell? These two were nothing but toxic to one another and yet they make up and put aside the beef they have against one another? What the fuck?

At least Maria and Javi had the decency of not making up with each other. In fact that goes for the entire finale as well, Everyone just makes with one another despite the absolute shit show that just happened. This is toxic and awful. Remember guys, If your romantic partner cheats on you and calls you a hick, The best thing to do is to talk it out and forgive them, what a great fucking message "sighs".

Imma and Vicky also have a marriage proposal that was obviously fake. Still, I don't know why the show decided to do that, possibly to boost ratings. But yeah, fake way of doing a marriage proposal about a couple that I don't care about.

But then we get to the winner of Love never lies: destination Sardinia and it's none other than Lucia and Antonio.

Yes, you read that correctly. Lucia and Antonio, the most toxic couple left in the villa, somehow win the season. This was the worst scenario to happen, Like why couldn't you guys pick Irene and Asier or hell, even Miguel and Alejandro would have been a better choice than Luica and Antonio. I'm so sorry you had to suffer like this Antonio, you deserved so much better than her.

Monica congratulates them and sheds some happy tears as if she helped them all, which is a pathetic sight in all honesty. And the show ends with everyone taking a dip on the beach and Monica teasing ta new season of love never lies. What a shitty end to a shitty season.

Conclusion

So that was love never Lies, destination Sardina. What a mess of a show, can't get anything right. never watching this mierda ever again

So that's it, Um I don't know how to end this. I wasn't expecting to do a review on this show honestly. Just felt bored and wanted to do something. Wanted to see if I could review another topic other than history and I think I did well. Honestly, I don't care really that I took this long, I just wanted to get this stupid show over with.

Actual quality analysis of the Korean War coming this weekend so keep an eye out for that. Thanks for reading and I will see y'all next time.

[dasboligrafo]

TheatrePass Diaries: A Little Life at Brooklyn Academy of Music

Heh. Yes, bitch. I saw this one. I have so very many thoughts about this (probably?) good play about a bad, bad book. This placeholder post on the play the Post deemed "the most torturous New York theatre experience ever" to be completed during my next pointless conference call...

Placeholder no more:

First a tally of whats wrong with this play: it's based on a very bad book: it's very, very long; it's stomach-churningly violent; it's so long and violent that it's eventually deadening. It has moments of utter discordance, even cringe, and not just (I think) from adhering to its source material (which, did I mention, is very bad?) The casting occasionally felt like a very large pebble at the bottom of a really hard shoe. There are few (no?) moments of simple pleasure. Some of the audience maybe hadn't read the book and were clearly not sufficiently trigger-warned 😬 The start time did not allow enough after-work hours to get in the right amount of prophylactic drinking (infinity hours?!); I understand why you can't have infinity long intermission, but same. And -- perhaps more seriously than some of these jokey/obviousy grievances -- some of the van Hove choices felt a bit played out.

And yet....

So, one of the reviewers panning the play (lol, all of them) published last month argued that the play was bad bc it kept none of the things they loved about the book, the things that made all of the horrible parts of the story bearable. Straight off, thats a red flag for me. I have trouble imagining any sort of critical reading of this giant WOOF of a book that could be uncomplicatedly enjoyable. The "enjoyable" parts of the book (the non-torture porn parts, I take it), presumably the fucking endless descriptions of the gorgeous, talented (Mary Stu) MCs and their perfect New York lives -- it all reads very much like wealth porn. Without turning this note that's supposed to be about the play into a comprehensive take down of a book I obviously despised, I won't speculate here about the motives of the author (who is not a gay man) in writing a kind of reverse fairy tale with the trajectory of a romance (but no HEA) about the lives of post-AIDS New York gays performing aesthetically flawless lives while awaiting the too-punctual arrival of the reaper. Like, given that they all fucking die at the end whats the enjoyable content here -- descriptions of the natural stone kitchen island countertops they got to use first?!

Van Hove's adaptation dials all that shit way down, reducing it to mostly plot turns (the really gay one has a painting in the MOMA!) and mildly annoying/ridiculous exposition ("Oh my God, Jude [played by an actor on the wrong side of 40s], your sylph-like beauty!"). What he doesn't fucking dial down like at all is the violence, taking it brashly, unflinchingly, to a cartoonish, cringeful nadir -- the scene when Dr Evil runs over Jude's legs with his car, depicted on stage by a sort of comically large headlight-style lamp and Jude's gratingly childish screams.

Thinking about the assemblage of directorial choices, I can't help but conclude (hope springs eternal?) that van Hove found this book as weird and problematic as some of us. Like, I don't think van Hove doesn't know what a hot dude is. Ffs, I don't even think they were wearing boxer briefs in the sex scenes! (you know exactly what I'm talking about.) I don't think van Hove thought playing an Arcade Fire song as a moment of joyous, fun catharsis wasn't weird and jarring. I don't think he thought his play wasn't sheer fucking torture without a moment of pleasurable relief.

Because his critics are right, you know. The book has parts in it that are fun, even enjoyable to read, and I think that's absolutely crazy! It's the ultimate authorial gotcha, making you like reading about bougie shit to the point you forget about child sex slavery, and this author is no Nabokov.

There's also the matter of precedent: van Hove's adaptation of The Fountainhead, an equally immoral/boring af veritable tome that simply nobody should read, ever. That play was 3+ hours long and featured, in its closing act, an on-stage clock measuring the excruciating duration of Howard Roark's final monologue (15+ minutes that might as well be 1,000 after 3 hours).

Sidebar -- a finance bro type got an usher to demand *in the middle of the play* that I show my ticket to prove I was in my right seat. I never forgot my bitterness over this; I stopped donating to BAM beyond the basic member level after that. Like, did you even watch the play?! (@ the usher, I know the bro definitely enjoyed the book.)

I gotta wrap this up I guess. A Little Life the play is not boring -- though this being my 7th or 8th van Hove, the giant on-stage Box of Doom didn't surprise quite as much as it might have. Yet-- even though I wasn't surprised, its descent, like a giant, gliding bell jar, in the play's final act, was still devastating. I wept disconsolately, slumped in my seat, through the final 5 minutes and the awkward standing ovation. I asked myself why I bought tickets to the torture show about a book I hated. I guess if i believe my theory that van Hove also hated the book, I'm at least not alone. Is that good theatre?

And -- it's possible that I don't get this book and van Hove actually liked it. I know a lot of people (including, notably, several gay men) who unironically enjoyed -- even loved -- this book. I accept there's a dimension of melodrama/stigmata-passion play pastiche that resonates with certain gay audiences that I don't find personally accessible.

If that's true, then the play was a failure, because you hate every second of it, and then there's no thought experiment facet to analyze after the fact to palliate the horror.

But is it, nevertheless, good theatre?

[madam-agony]

The Exaggeration of Problematic Ships

WARNING: Mention of Abuse, Death Threats

Hello! In this post, I will explain my point of view on this whole thing about “problematic ships”.

The reason why I decided to discuss about this kind of subject is because I’m completely tired of seeing people throwing hate and bullying other people over something so harmless.

By the way, excuse me if there will be any grammar mistakes.

First of all, I will explain what “problematic ship”, “pro ship” and what “anti” means

“Problematic ship” means a ship between two or more fictional characters, regardless if they’re abusive, age-gapped, blood-related, or just considered wrong in general. (examples of proships: Sebastian x Ciel, Hisoka x Gon, Endeavor x Todoroki, Bakugo x Deku, Illumi x Killua, etc)

“Pro ship” means to believe it’s completely fine for people to ship whatever they want, even if it’s a problematic ship.

“Anti" means to be against pro shippers.

Now, I will explain why being a pro shipper is completely normal and deserve respect just like all of us.

Never compare fiction with reality. It’s dumb and makes no sense when you compare these two different things in a case like this.

A problematic ship would be bad in real life because it does harm someone. Though, in fiction, nobody gets hurt.

We can do whatever the hell we want in fictional world and no one can tell us what to do, and that’s the beauty of it. We can do whatever we want without caring about anyone else. Telling someone to stop fantasizing about something just because you find it wrong is pointless and dumb

Fiction doesn’t affect reality. At least, not in the way to be considered as dangerous. It’s silly to blame a video game for a person’s actions, the game has no fault. An adult is completely aware of what they are doing, so they should know that any action they take has consequences they must consider. If it’s a child or a minor, then it’s the parents’ fault for not checking up on them and not taking enough care of them.

I understand that it may trigger you and may be a sensitive topic, but it’s not our problem. I don’t want to sound rude, but it’s honestly not our problem. We can create, post, and discuss about whatever we want as long as it’s not harming anyone directly. If it makes you uncomfortable, just block us. It is not up to us to create content that you find enjoyable or at least decent. It’s our posts, our accounts, our lives. We don’t hurt you on purpose.

Don’t say “but it teaches children to behave badly because they saw in a fanfiction it’s okay to be abusive or be fondled by adults!” just no. As I said, the parents should be more responsible with their children and check up on them whenever possible (not as in “spying your child every time you’ve got the opportunity” but you get my point). Also, if you really need to believe that everything displayed in fanfictions is normal/healthy, then you should get proper education.

I am myself a pro shipper, and while I’m not that hardcore of a fan, I still had previous experiences with angry and frustrated antis.

I know it will make me seem like I’m complaining or anything, but this will be an easier way I can guarantee you that people like these exist, since it was in my own experience.

I once wrote a fanfiction that implied pro shipping. I did put warnings in the description and before the story began, but I see that it was useless because people prefer to get triggered and shocked than read the description and pay attention to the warning so they can insult the living shit out of me later on. The next day, I woke up with 20+ hate comments and death threats in the comments.

All of them were horrible, it made me feel like shit and made me wonder why people are like that. Luckily, after a hour or two, I calmed down and realized that I shouldn’t stress on people like these so much. I should take this bad experience and make it something good to teach other people, something that I can give to other people so they can learn from my experience. I was stronger than before. (as cringe as it sounds lol)

At that moment, I realized that people like that barely even care about the real “issue” here. They only see it as a chance to bully someone without looking bad in front of other people. They are so sucked up in their own mind that they think what they’re doing is right.

People like that are the worst. Their morality is corrupted.

Because, their morals is like: it’s not okay to write things like that, but it’s okay to send death threats and bully them”

Don’t get me wrong, it’s completely fine to dislike a ship! I dislike some ships too, but that doesn’t give me the right to go and jump on them like a wild animal.

Not all antis are mean, but most of them are like that. It’s okay to not like something, but don’t make a mess out of it.

Now here are a few examples of frustrated and crazy antis.

Hell, they are so annoying when they put heart emojis at the end of their comment so they can make themselves look quirky and cool. Disgusting, that’s all I have to say about this kind of people.

If you really believe someone is doing something wrong, approach them in a gentle manner and talk respectfully towards them.

I’m sorry if I sounded rude in this post, and remember that you should look in other perspectives too, not in only yours. Even if someone does something wrong (but pro shipping is not the case), then explain to them what they’re doing wrong, not fuck them up.

Thank you for taking your time to read this.

If you have any questions, just comment on this post or message me privately.

(Yes, I edited this post because I have mistaken the difference between “problematic ship” and “pro ship” and fixed a few typos. Don’t worry, my points in this post are still the same and I fully mean them.”

[rookie-ramsey]

Last Night Alive (Ethan X MC)

Description: What if Ethan was in that room? AU to chapters 10-11.

Warning: Major character death(s).

Rating: T

Word count: 4,687

Art by @churning-the-sea-of-milk

“Stand back! I mean it!”

Travis’s voice echoed in the room, making everyone freeze in their steps.

From the bed, Ed spoke up. “Travis, please… think about what you’re doing…”

“It’s not over… not yet…” Even as Travis’s voice lowered in volume, it did nothing to lessen the threat of the situation.

Olivia found her voice, willing herself to sound more confident than she felt. “Killing Ed won’t bring your brother back.”

Travis turned his icy glare on her. “You think I don’t know that? I tried to move past Johnny’s death for years, but it destroyed my family. My parents. Me.”

“Travis, let’s talk about this…” she urged, taking a deep breath and keeping a stoic expression plastered on her face.

Travis shook his head. “There’s nothing to talk about. If I leave this place, I’m going to jail. So I might as well die and take Ed with me.”

Olivia’s pulse quickened with panic.  Her eyes glanced to the canister in the aide’s hand. “Travis, what’s in that can?”

“Justice,” Travis snapped. His arm trembled as his finger tightened around the canister’s trigger. Slowly, he lifted the can.

“Travis, for god’s sake!” Ed interrupted. “You’ll get someone killed.”

“Like you got my brother killed?”

“What…?”

“My brother is dead because of your cost-cutting, backroom deals. He was just a kid-- I went to sleep every night for years dreaming of how I’d make you pay… I planned this for years.”

Olivia gasped when he whirled around to face her. His steely eyes met hers as his face curled into a scowl.

“It didn't have to be this way. You could've just let him die. You heard his phone call. You knew what kind of man he was.”

“I’m a doctor, Travis. I had to do my job.”

“Olivia is right, Travis. Come along with me. Let’s end this thing.” Bobby reached for Travis. Travis’s finger squeezed the trigger, releasing a spray directly into the security guard’s face.”

“No!” Olivia knelt next to his side and pressed her fingers to Bobby’s neck. “Travis, this has to stop now. He’s going into cardiac arrest!”

She reached for the defibrillator, but Travis raised the can again. Rage contorted his features as he aimed the nozzle directly at her.

“It didn’t have to be this way.”

Before his finger pressed the trigger, strong arms pushed her out of the canister’s direct line of fire.

She heard a hissing sound as the can’s contents deployed into the air. In the commotion, the door slammed shut as Ed fled the room.

Olivia felt a light mist land on her hands. A second later, her skin tingled and the smell made her throat tickle. Olivia raised her head to meet Ethan’s eyes. Her stomach dropped when the light reflected the clear oily sheen clinging to his skin.

“Ethan… what do we do?”

Ethan returned her worried gaze. “I don’t know.”

At his words, her stomach churned. She coughed, trying to ease the itch in her throat. The canister sputtered as the last of its contents spilled into the air. Her eyes travelled, falling on Bobby’s fallen form.

If the can’s contents had triggered immediate cardiac arrest, she couldn’t fathom what was inside it. Her only reassurance came from the fact that she and Ethan were younger and not exposed to a full blast straight to the face, but there was no denying the severity of the situation.

“All I know is we can’t leave or open the door. They’ll need to have this floor evacuated and the vents sealed.”

“Right.” She nodded tightly and stole a glance through the window, where a crowd already gathered. She pressed the button on her pager, gripping it tightly to stop her fingers from shaking.

A minute later, Baz and June worked through the crowd. Ethan held a hand against the door.

“Travis released some sort of chemical into the room. Get every patient moved off of this floor. We also need to call the CDC and Naveen. Nobody can come in or out until we know what this is.”

“Oh god…” Baz blanched. “How are you two?”

Olivia stood next to Ethan at the window. “We’re fine right now, but Bobby took a full blast to the face. Whatever’s in that can triggered cardiac arrest. All we know is it’s dangerous. We didn’t get as much on us, but it’s in the air.”

“We’ll get the patients taken care of and make those calls. You two hang in there.”

Olivia nodded and stepped back. She glanced across the room, where Travis curled up on the floor, shaking. Glancing away, she turned her focus to the window and watched as every staff member on the floor helped in getting patients moved.

A shaky smile crossed her features. “Not how I planned on spending a Friday afternoon.”

Ethan gave a tight smile in return. “Me neither.”

She took a deep breath and reached for his hand. After a couple of seconds, he returned the grip. Left with nothing else to do, they let quiet fall between them as they waited.

XXXXXX

Olivia had to glance at the clock on the wall to remind herself it had only been a little over an hour.

They’d since changed into hospital gowns. Olivia scratched at her wrists, trying to rid herself of the itch that wouldn’t leave no matter how many times she’d scrubbed her hands.

Her eyes drifted, fixating on the spot where Bobby’s body had lain. The CDC had removed Bobby and Travis, but it didn’t make the room feel any safer.

A lump formed in her throat. She swallowed hard and looked away. She stopped pacing a few feet in front of Ethan and glanced at him.

“Are you having any symptoms?”

“No.” Ethan shook his head, but his hesitation betrayed him. Olivia narrowed her eyes at him and he sighed. “A sore throat, headache, and mild nausea.”

“I only have a sore throat. You were exposed to a lot more of it.” Her worried expression gave way to an accusatory frown. “What were you thinking?”

Ethan hesitated. He inhaled sharply and ran his fingers through his hair. “I saw that he was aiming for you and I did what I had to lessen your exposure.”

“And by doing that, you put yourself in danger!”

“Once they determine what this is, they’ll know what antidote to use. You’re….  We’re going to be fine.”

The worry didn’t leave her eyes. “I thought you didn’t believe in false hope.”

Ethan fell silent for a long moment. His hand found hers and squeezed lightly. “I don’t. But right now, I’m choosing to believe that they can figure out what this is. My symptoms aren’t severe, at least not yet.”

Olivia’s eyes wandered, focusing on their hands. She laced her fingers through his. “I just hope you’re right.”

“I hope so, too.”

She fell silent, unsure of what to say next. For now, all they could do was wait and hope that there was an answer.

It was just a matter of time.

XXXXXX

Night fell and they were no closer to having an antidote than they were hours ago.

All they knew was they’d been exposed to a deadly maitotoxin with no known cure, and the clock reminded them of just how fast time was running out.

Olivia stifled a cough and glanced over at Ethan. He didn’t announce when new symptoms started, but he didn’t need to tell her for her to know that the effects were progressing.

A slowly tightening pressure weighed on her throat and chest in addition to the painful pulse in her head. Ethan tried to keep his discomfort hidden, but she saw through it. With the amount he’d been exposed to, his symptoms were inevitably progressing faster than hers.

“How are you feeling? And don’t try to make it sound better than it is to avoid worrying me. I’m way past that point,” she cautioned.

He leaned heavily against the window, gazing into the night. “It’s… uncomfortable. Very much so,” he admitted, his voice hoarse with the hints of a wheeze.

Olivia slipped her hand into his. She bit her lip as she looked him up and down. Even in the dim light, she could make out the paleness of his skin and his red-rimmed eyes. Beads of sweat clung to his forehead even as a chill coursed through his body.

A glimpse of her reflection in the window told her she didn’t look much better and she tried to crack a smile. “Deadly poison isn’t a good look for us. We look like we haven’t slept since 2009.”

A somber smile curled his lips. “I don’t have any arguments against that.”

“You? No arguments?” She shook her head and tried to laugh, but it fell short. She joined Ethan at the window and tentatively rested her hand on his arm. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood. I know it’s pointless.”

Ethan turned to face her. Her heart skipped a beat when his eyes softened, gazing at her with eyes more tender than she’d seen before. He hesitated before speaking, his voice low.

“I… I don’t know how this is going to work out,” he agreed. The affection in his eyes flickered into wistful yearning, along with fear she knew he was trying to mask. “And I want to say I’m glad you’re here, but if you weren’t, you wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“I was here first. You didn’t drag me into this. It would have happened to anyone who was in this room today.” Her voice quavered and she took a deep breath to steady it.

Wordlessly, Ethan settled his hands on her waist. He closed the distance between them and silenced her with a dizzying kiss. Olivia paused for just a moment before she gave into the longing and cupped his face in her hands.

Her heart skipped when Ethan deepened the kiss. His hands gently tugged her closer until their chests touched. After several moments, their lips parted and she touched her forehead to his.

Olivia opened her eyes to meet Ethan’s. She shivered at the longing he didn’t even try to hide. “Ethan…?”

He took her hand into his and squeezed tight. “I… I felt like I needed to do that.”

Hearing the unspoken reason, Olivia tightened her grip on him. She brushed her thumb against his stubble. “Promise me something.”

“What is it?”

“Promise me you’re not giving up. Promise me we’ll do that again. Please?”

Ethan’s throat tightened. He didn’t respond right away. His jaw clenched as he glanced away, blinking his eyes against the threat of tears. How could he make a promise he wouldn’t be able to keep?

“I can’t do that.”

Olivia shook her head. “Ethan, promise me. Even if you feel like you can’t mean it, I need to hear it. Please?”

He returned his focus to her. His expression faltered when he took in the pleading in her eyes. “I… I promise,” he relented, the lie making his chest constrict with guilt.

Nodding shakily, Olivia leaned up and kissed him again. Ethan closed his eyes and sank into her, taking solace in the tenderness even if he knew the comfort wouldn’t last.

“You… should lie down,” she whispered when he leaned into her. “You need to rest.”

Before he could protest, she took his elbow and gently steered him toward the bed. Olivia urged him to lie down and pulled the thin blanket over him. Her hand brushed against his clammy cheek.

“Here.” Ethan edged over and patted the empty space next to him. Without hesitation, she occupied it, turning onto her side and lying next to him.  

“Are you sure you’ll be comfortable this way?”

Ethan nodded. He shifted onto his side so they faced each other. He leaned closer and cupped her cheek in his hand.  “I’m sure. If this is my last night alive, I want you next to me.”

Tears threatened to fill her eyes, but she blinked them back. “I’d want the same.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but there was a sadness to it. His fingers laced through hers. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

“Mm hmm.” Nodding, she touched her forehead to his. “I… I hope we have more time.”

“I do, too.” Ethan let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “But there’s no antidote. If they find one, it might not be soon enough.”

She shivered at the weight of the truth behind his words. There was no cure for the toxin, and even if some medical miracle led to one, it almost certainly wouldn’t be in time for either of them.

“I know I should try to think of something happy, but all I can think about is what I should’ve done differently. Things I didn’t do that I should have.”

“Like what?” Ethan’s thumb brushed a stray tear from the corner of her eye.

“I should have travelled more. Loved more. I spent a decade of my life focusing on my grades, on my job. I turned down opportunities so I could study. I kept my heart on guard because I never knew if I’d be in the same city the next year.”

Ethan nodded softly and gently smoothed his hand over her hair. “Since we’re sharing regrets, do you mind if I share one of mine?”

“Go ahead.”

He bit his lip, hesitating. “I wish I hadn’t asked you to stay away.”

“You do?”

“We’ve wasted so much time.” Ethan paused, shaking his head to correct himself. “I’ve wasted so much time. I should have held you in my arms every day and told you much I… how much I care about you.”

Her eyes softened with affection as she took in what he left unspoken. “I… I always thought we should be together,” she admitted.

“Yeah?”

She nodded. The genuine happiness in his eyes made her eyes blur with tears. Her smile trembled as she wiped them away.  “Even though I was… am a colossal pain in the ass and I like to get under your skin, all the time we’ve spent together… it just made me want to be with you.”

This close, she could feel his chest rumble comfortingly when he let out a quiet laugh. The worry in his eyes faded, giving way to something sweeter.

For the moment, Ethan let go of the magnitude of their situation. He smiled gently. “The feeling was very definitively mutual. When… if we get out of here, I don’t want to waste more time.”

She chuckled, blinking back fresh tears. “If we survive, I’m holding you to that. I expect a romantic date and everything. No changing your mind.”

Ethan let out another laugh, this one weaker. He blinked, forcing his eyes to stay open against the heaviness of his eyelids. “I wouldn’t. Not again.”

“I know.” She fell silent. Then she looked up again.  “Ethan?”

“Hmm?”

“You mean a lot to me. In more ways than one. You’ve helped me become the doctor I am today.  I just want you to hear that.”

His expression softened. “I know.”

“I came to Edenbrook to work under you. I never thought we’d fall for each other. But then I met you and even though you were an ass sometimes, I still fell for you. I never thought you’d reciprocate it.”

“I did.” Ethan’s voice softened. “And I hope that you know I’m sorry for being an ass when I first met you.”

“Well, you did teach me a lot. If you’d coddled me, I wouldn’t be the doctor I am. Was. I’m still not sure about that part.”

Ethan’s smile faded into a sad one.  “I’m not, either. But what I do know is that if some breakthrough happens and they find a cure, even if it’s not in time for me, you’ll do great things. You’ll far surpass me.”

Her eyes glistened. She wiped her hand across them and forced a watery smile. “And if a huge breakthrough happens and we both get out of here alive, I’m going to steal your job the day I finish my residency. So watch out.”

Ethan chuckled wistfully. “I don’t doubt that at all.”

Olivia bit her lip and furrowed her brow in thought. Her smile faded as she remembered that could have been wouldn’t happen. The reality gripped her heart painfully, and for a moment she couldn’t find the words to say.

“I just… I just wish we could see it happen. I know we won’t be making it out of here.”

He didn’t respond right away. Ethan had known for hours that they wouldn’t have enough time, but hearing the words out loud magnified their gravity. He swallowed hard and nodded slightly.

“I… I think you’re right.” Ethan wanted to will himself not to believe his own words. He couldn’t, not anymore. Time wouldn’t slow down to allow a medical miracle for a toxin with no cure.

All they could do was delay the inevitable. Until now, Ethan hadn’t recognized the cold enormity of his own words. Now time was running out and he realized how little the words helped. Life didn’t follow a set of rules, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that everything did.

When he met Olivia’s eyes again, her stomach twisted at the sight of tears. Ethan cleared his throat and gently tilted her face toward his. He brushed his lips against hers, the tenderness of it making his heart ache with longing he should have acted on sooner.

When their lips parted, his eyes brimmed with tears. His arms looped around her and drew her closer. The walls he’d spent years building fell as he took in the warmth of her body next to his.

His words rolled off his tongue before he could talk himself out of saying them.

“I love you.”

The words hit her with the force of a tidal wave and she inhaled sharply. “I.. I love you, too.”

The tension Ethan didn’t know he was holding left his body. He sighed shallowly. Whether it was from relief or fear, he didn’t know. Maybe saying the three words meant admitting defeat, but he’d be damned if he didn’t let himself say them before it was too late.

“I...I needed… wanted to say that. I wanted to make sure you heard it.”

“I know.” Olivia rested her head on his shoulder. Ethan kept one arm circled around her waist. His other hand gripped hers, their fingers gently intertwined.

Sleep clouded his mind. Refusing to close his eyes, he tightened his hold on her hand.

Olivia smiled wistfully. “You can sleep… I’ll keep an eye on you. I’ll slap you if I think… you know.”

He managed a small chuckle. “I’m trying not to.”

“I know.” Olivia rubbed his hand with her thumb. Taking comfort in the touch, Ethan brought her hand to his lips and lightly kissed her knuckles. He blinked against the weight of his eyelids.

Ethan fought the urge as long as he could, but soon the ache in his head won and he slipped into sleep.

It wasn’t much longer before Olivia felt sleep threatening to take her. She refused, not taking her eyes off Ethan’s sleeping form. She rested her head against his chest, taking some reassurance in the gentle rise and fall as he breathed.

She wasn’t sure how long she stayed awake or when she closed her eyes, but some time in the night, or maybe it was early morning, she startled awake when Ethan coughed roughly.

Dizzy as she lifted her head, Olivia leaned closer to him. When his eyes opened, she heaved a weak sigh of relief.

“Hey…” she greeted quietly.

Ethan turned his head toward her. The cloudiness and pain in her eyes made her freeze, ice gripping her heart. For the longest moment, neither of them spoke. Finally Ethan coughed and spoke up, his voice rough.

“How long have I been out?”

“I don’t know for sure. I fell asleep.” Her eyes stung and she blinked. “I… I know it’s been a while. I was starting to think…”

Ethan’s thumb brushed against her cheek, wiping away the tear that escaped. “Shh…”

Olivia covered his hand with her own. Haunted by how far he’d declined in those few hours, she closed her eyes for a second before opening them. She gently ran her hand over his hair and forced a tired smile.

It left as Ethan’s eyelids fluttered shut, a weak breath passing his lips.

“No, no... don’t close your eyes. Ethan!” Her voice trembled as the plea barely escaped her swollen throat. Panic tightened her chest when his eyelids fluttered. “Look at me…”

A sharp gasp jolted his body. His lungs tensed, struggling to inhale. Olivia grabbed his hand and squeezed tight.

“Ethan…”

His fingers curled weakly around her hand. Pain twisted his features as another gasp clenched his chest. Even with the oxygen cannula aiding his breathing, his lungs tightened with pressure. His vision clouded, leaving his surroundings a blur.

“It’s… happening...”

Olivia’s heart froze. Anxiety gripped her lungs, sending a tremor down her spine. The unspoken meaning of his words made her heart slow to a crawl. As she tightened her grip on his hand, her head spun.

Wordlessly, she wrapped her arms around him. She gently guided his head to her shoulder and combed her fingers through his hair. “I’m right here…”

His chest trembled with sporadic breaths. The pained wheeze behind the ragged gasps clenched her heart. Olivia rested her hand on his chest and rubbed gently. Tears pooled in her eyes. She didn’t try to stop them from escaping as she tightened her hold on Ethan’s weak form.

“I’m right here,” she whispered again. “You don’t have to say anything. Just… just try to relax.”

Ethan tried to contain a shudder. His lungs burned, fighting against his attempts to breathe. Darkness fogged the corners of his eyes. His breaths escaped in short, shallow gasps.

“Shh…” Tightening her arms around him, Olivia squeezed her eyes shut. Tears still slipped through as she continued stroking his hair. His lips parted, but no words formed.

His eyes closed as a weak breath escaped his lips. When he went still in his arms, Olivia froze for several seconds. Her heart pounded against her ribs as her fingers lightly touched the side of his neck, feeling for a pulse. She felt nothing and in that moment, time seemed to hold still.

Her heart beat violently, then slowly. Then the reality hit her all at once and a sob took her breath away. Her body trembled as she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut. It wasn’t enough and tears flowed freely.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

She was supposed to spend her day treating patients. She was supposed to end the day at Donahue’s with her roommates. Another tremor wracked her body as she reminded herself that she couldn’t predict the future, that life had a way of crashing down in a moment’s time.

Olivia’s hand trembled as she reached for her pager. She pressed the button and tried to blink back a fresh wave of tears. Her head ached with dizziness as she tried to take a deep breath.

How was she supposed to tell Alan his only son died doing a job that should have been safe?

The thought stopped as soon as it began. All it took was a pained gasp to remind herself that she wasn’t making it out alive.

She wasn’t sure who came into the room or what they said to her. Her surroundings blurred, the voices near her nothing but incomprehensible, distant whispers. When Ethan’s body was removed from the bed, she cried out and buried her face in the pillow, letting her surroundings fade into nothing.

When the door closed, she wasn’t sure how much time passed before it opened again. It could have been minutes, an hour, or several hours; she didn’t know.

“Olivia?”

Through the haze, she faintly recognized Jackie and Sienna in hazmat suits. They sat on either side of the bed.

“Hi,” Jackie greeted softly.

“Hi...” Olivia whispered. Her eyes stung, dry but red and swollen. “Ethan…”

“We heard.” Sienna grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly.

She coughed, wincing when it sent a sharp pain through her chest. “I’m dying…”

Jackie’s face fell. She nodded slightly and blinked back tears. “We tried everything…”

Olivia shook her head. “Don’t blame yourself. Please…”

Sienna’s eyes glistened with tears. She bit her lip and leaned in, gently hugging her. A moment later Jackie joined in and Olivia leaned into them. She squeezed her eyes shut and felt her eyes sting at the realization that this was the last time she’d hug them, that she wouldn’t be going home to their apartment after this was all over.

“We love you,” Sienna whispered, burying her face in her best friend’s shoulder.

“I love you guys, too…”

Jackie sniffled and hugged her again before she pulled back. She cleared her throat and let out a shaky breath. “We… we just wanted to see you. I think the scalpel jockey wants to see you, too.”

“Send him in…” Olivia released Sienna, feeling her heart twist painfully at the tears in her eyes. Jackie put her arm around Sienna and led the way out of the room.

A few minutes later, the door opened again.

Olivia groggily as someone else made their way into the room. As her bleary eyes adjusted, she made out Bryce’s features through the plastic hazmat helmet. “Hey…”

“Hey.” Bryce leaned over the bed and hugged her as tightly as he dared. Then he grabbed a chair and moved it closer to her bed. He sat down in it and gave her a grin, but she could see the sadness behind it. “I thought you might want some company.”

“I do…” she murmured, nodding shakily. A rough sigh escaped her when her throat swelled. “I… I don’t wanna be alone right now.”

“We can’t all come in here at once, but everyone’s out in the hall. If they had enough hazmat suits, we’d be surrounding you.”

She laughed quietly. “I’m sure… I just hope everyone knows… how much they mean to me…”

“Yeah? Tell me your favorite thing about everyone.”

Olivia thought, the pain leaving her eyes for a second. “Jackie’s the toughest woman I know. She may like to compete with me at everything, but… she always has my back. She’d throw hands for me any time…. any time I needed it.”

He smirked. “That sounds about right.”

She continued, grateful for the brief distraction. “Aurora is the friend I didn’t know I needed… selfless, caring… Elijah and Sienna are the sweetest people I’ve ever met…”

“Am I chopped liver or something?” Bryce teased.

Her lips flickered into the ghost of a smile. “You’re okay, I guess... a little dorky, but you’re one of the first and... most loyal friends I’ve met here. You’re always there when… I need a friend… or an accomplice.”

“That’s better.” Bryce paused, trying not to let his smile fade as he extended a gloved hand toward her. Olivia took it, weakly curling her fingers around his hand.  

A sharp pain shot through her stomach. Olivia winced, a gasp catching in her throat. Her weak grip on Bryce’s hand tightened almost unnoticeably. The pained breath she released made her lungs wheeze as the pressure worsened.

“I’m… I’m glad you’re here…”

Bryce nodded, his eyes glistening. “You’re my best friend. I wasn’t about to let you be alone right now.”

“Thank you…” Her voice lowered to a whisper, almost lost in a cough so strong it made her head spin. Bryce’s face blurred out of focus and moments later she felt numbness pushing the pain from her body.

Her breathing shallowed to weak gasps. As her eyes slipped shut, she didn’t feel afraid anymore. Surrendering, she let out one last breath.

Note: I’m still not sure how satisfied I am with this. I love writing angst but I feel like it’s not my strength because I don’t know how emotions work. Feedback, please! I may end up deleting and re-writing.

Tags, part 1

@princess-geek / @lapisreviewsstuff / @msjpuddleduck / @silverlitskies / @paulfwesley / @dr-brianna-casey-valentine / @junehiratas / @choicesstanblog / @trappedinfandoms / @justanotherrookie / @bellcat2010 / @desmaranj / @lion-ess24 / @nooruleman / @caseyvalentineramsey / @xee-na / @edith-eggs1 / @oofchoices / @schnitzelbutterfingers​ / @tefigranger​ / @jlynn12273​ / @laceandlula​ / @crazy-loca-blog​ / @somegdchoices​ / @sanchita012​ / @forthebrokenheartedthings​ / @lilyvalentine​ / @parkerattano​ / @drramseysownsme​ / @misswhit12​ / @drethanfreakingramsey​ / @juneiswriting​ / @macy-ray85​ / @swimmingauthordreamerbonk​ / @myusualnerdyself​ / @siaramsey​ / @takemyopenheart​ / @queencarb​ 

[princess-of-inarizaki]

It’s okay, you say you didn’t do your research and I used to listen to her audios too so I hope it’s okay when I explain why you shouldn’t support her :D

1. 18+ audios about minors and she didn’t age them up before people told her and a few weeks ago there still existed 18+ audios about them (like karma who is 14 or tanjiro who is 13-14) and yes fiction affects realty

2.she did yellow face (thats when a non Asian person tapes or makes their eyes with an app look more Asian) wich is extreamly disrespectful

3. she once compared black people to „demons“ in her todoroki demon audio

4.she groomed a minor

5.she made sero Hispanic in her audios (Thats Not actually the problem) but she used racial stereotypes in it and Hispanics also said that this makes them really uncomfortable

6.she romanticized sh and ed in her audios

7. made multiple adults + minors audios

8. romanticized r@pe in her audios and played it of as „sexy“ like in a terushima Audio the plot was terushima sexually harassing listening and basically kidnapping her into a love hotel , she made him say that he’s basically molesting the listener rn and I don’t kink shame you if someone is into that okay I don’t care but she didn’t put a TW in there I listend to it and the „trigger warning“ was „its really 18+ so be careful“ that’s not a clear warning.

9.like I said she romanticized r@pe a lot like in a shigaraki audio where he without given consent touched the listener and recorded them and he said he’s going to show it their parents. Again without a TW

10. she made a incest audio

11. the Voice actor of Hawks confronted her and asked her to stop with the hawks asmr videos because it’s makes him really uncomfortable and he doesn’t wanna be sexualized and she just ignored and blocked him

She did many other things too but the point is people shouldn’t support her and I hope I changed your mind about her and if peopel still wanna listen to her audios just do it on SoundCloud where she doesn’t get credits for it

btw I‘m not trying to start a fight I just wanted to educate y‘all about this

Hello anon!!

Sorry it's taken me so long to respond to this, I needed to do my own research too hehe (I've been so disconnected) + it was a busy day.

Firstly, I'd like to thank you for stating everything so informatively for me. It helped a bunch, especially for me to see the severity of this whole situation. I literally only thought people were unhappy with her patreon audio at one point (the Todoroki one?? but I heard she deleted and apologized) So this was all very new, but I thank you so much for taking the time to educate me (and hopefully all my followers who read this) at the same time.

I barely keep up with internet drama (because oftentimes I find it pointless and a waste of time) but the fact is that some things do need to be addressed. And most importantly, everyone needs to be equipped with knowledge to ensure nothing like this ever happens again.

Essentially, you also asked me if I support her, in your second ask; and while that's a worthwhile question and I definitely do not condone her actions, I don't have it in my heart to say anything bad about her. She's done bad things, I agree. But cancel culture is literally the most toxic thing on the internet today, and it only brings forth a cycle of hate (which is the last thing the world, or Cece needs at this time). I understand that she's aware of her mistakes (at least, according to the stuff I've read. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong), and I think people need to understand she's also a human being, and let everyone learn from their mistakes.

Sure, she's a big content creator and therefore everything she does is magnified by her thousands of listeners/fans, but that doesn't mean she's any less prone to making mistakes along the way. It just becomes more of a scandal because she's popular; and of course, fame has two sides to it's very shiny coin.

Which is why I'd appreciate it if all my followers went about this (or similar situations in the future) like this anon here. Educate, don't insult. And most importantly, BE KIND.

Lotsa' love from me. Stay safe, you guys <3

[chibinekochan]

You are attacked by a demon and die *or not*

I might add the other requested people later since this already took me too long to finish. 

*Lucifer`s part can be found here*

 Requested by @nyx-daughterofchaos98

Angst, Pain and Triggers: Violence,Mention of Death and Blood/Injuries.. 

Happy endings????Maybe, just a warning that there might be no saving the Mc/reader*

Asmodeus

You look so great, he has to show you off to everyone.

Asmo invites you to a hot club, you two dance, have a drink and just have fun.

He lets you have the spotlight for a bit, while getting some attention from an admirer.

When he looks back at you, you are in the middle of having a demon touch your neck.

Asmo thinks this is going far enough and is starting to go to you.

Then suddenly the Demon has an icy glare and snap a loud sound.

Asmo goes pale, with horror he sees that the demon has just snapped your neck.

Amos's heart stops.

He turns into his demon form, killing the demon with a few swift moves.

It is a terrifying sight.

Every other person leaves the club.

Leaving you and Asmo behind.

He sinks to the floor next to you.

Asmodeus checks your pulse, nothing. He checks your breathing, your heartbeat. Nothing at all. You are dead.

Asmo feels tears on his cheek but his heart is frozen. 

He thinks about what options he even has. 

Asmodeus isn't as powerful as Lucifer, but he has connections. 

Mostly people that adore him and want a good time. 

Would any of them be able to resurrect you? 

He is desperate enough to try. 

Asmo calls and texts demons, wizards and everyone else that might be powerful enough to do something like this. 

He gets rejected by most people. 

Asmo grows more and more frustrated, knowing that your soul has already left your body. 

He tried to sell his body multiple times. 

It's no use. Nobody is able or willing to help him. 

Even Solomon rejects him. 

Asmo has never felt this desperate in his entire life. 

You are probably being judged right now, and knowing the system your soul will be sent to heaven. 

Asmo clutches your dead body. 

There isn't anything that he can do. 

He was kicked out of heaven a long time ago, until this day he never once looked back at it. 

Now he feels remorse. 

He is frustrated and he feels so lonely. Everyone has abandoned him. 

He never thought that even you would leave him. 

Asmodeus closes his heart off from anyone. 

He gets cold, the Avatar of Lust is nowhere to be seen. 

Asmo grows distant and cynical. 

He tries to get some information about your soul, and if you might become an angel at least. 

The angels refuse to give him even this little bit of hope. 

This is the final straw for him. 

Asmo leaves the Devildom, waiving his title as Avatar of lust. 

There is no lust left in him

Beelzebub 

You are in the middle of your sports class. 

You are outside running laps. 

Beelzebub is already done and cheering you on, from the side lines. 

Then suddenly something bright hits you and sends you basically flying. 

Beel does not care much about who shoot you. 

He rushes right away over to you. 

He is in a big panic and then he arrives. 

You are severely injured. 

It's plain as day that you will not survive this. 

Beelzebub is not willing to accept this. 

He screams and tries everything to save you. 

It's too late. You are dead. 

Beelzebub is destroyed. 

He holds your lifeless body and tears run across his face. 

Beelzebub screams when they take you away. 

He hasn't talked to anyone for a few days. 

Beel is not eating or sleeping or anything. 

He is just sitting in front of your room in disbelief. 

Beel blames himself for this.

When Lucifer comes to pack your things Beel is begging him to leave everything as it is. 

He just can't accept it. 

Your family wants your belongings but Beelzebub just can't let it go. 

In the end he is allowed to keep a few of your belongings. 

Beelzebub keeps them all hidden in a box, much like his own heart. 

Beel is never the same again, and he will never let anyone else use your room. 

He still has nightmares to this very day. 

Satan

You are at school. 

It is a very ordinary day, with some rather boring studies. 

Satan tutors you and has a bit of mercy with your tired face and gets you both a demon latte. 

He is almost back when he hears a huge commotion. 

Satan finds a demon shouting at you. 

He instantly turns into his demon form.

He yells at the demon, hurrying towards you. 

That is when the demon starts to attack you. 

Satan manages to stand in the way, and takes the most of the damage. 

Sadly he didn't notice that the demon had a tail. 

That has hit you. 

You scream from the pain. 

Satan finishes the demon off with one more blow. 

He doesn't care about his own injuries. 

Satan runs to you. 

You are on the floor, holding your side. 

The floor is covered in blood. 

Satan uses some magic on your wound, to seal it off. 

It's not that effective on humans it seems. 

Satan regrets that he didn't learn any magic to heal you. 

How could this happen to him? 

Satan has no choice but to carry you to the nurse's office. 

He is careful but Satan still runs at full speed. 

You are losing blood and slowly getting weaker and weaker. 

You are barely alive when Satan kicks the door to the nurse open. 

The nurse also has no idea how to treat humans. 

Satan is running out of time. He doesn't want to lose you. 

Out of desperation he uses a forbidden spell. 

This saves your life, with the price of Satan's life force. It links both of your lives together. 

You wake up a while later. 

Satan has been punished, thanks to Lucifer he only got suspended from school and removed from student council. 

He doesn't even care about that. 

At least you are safe, whatever that means for his own life doesn't matter to him. 

Satan is deeply traumatized by this whole experience. 

He regrets that he left you alone. 

Satan is hardly leaving your side after this day.

Leviathan 

You are very good friends, play games, watch whatever anime is on right now. 

You got him to open up more and cosplay together with you. 

He made the outfits himself. 

You are very proud of him and many pictures were taken. 

You go to a big convention and even enter a cosplay competition. 

It's a lot of fun. 

Then suddenly someone gets too offended by you being there and being a human. 

You try your best to calm the demon down. 

It seems to work and they leave. 

Then suddenly the demon attacks both you and Leviathan with a lightning strike. 

It's not doing too much damage to Levi. 

You, on the other hand, are human. 

The attack strikes you down to the ground. 

Leviathan goes pale. 

He is not saying a single word and just stands there frozen. 

Levi does not remember much after that point, he was later told that he ran over to you and then destroyed the entire convention hall in a storm of rage. 

Someone had to call Lucifer and calm him down. 

By the time Levi returned to his senses you were dead. 

He was told that the attack killed you right away but Leviathan does not believe that one bit. 

To him it's his fault. 

He should have protected you, saved you, kept you out of danger. 

Levi should have stayed in his room with you, there you would be safe and sound. 

Leviathan will not leave his room after this. 

Everything he has loved so far now seems pointless and empty. 

There seems to be nothing good left in this world for him. 

He knows that you wouldn't want him to die, but he can't live like this either. 

You were his whole world. 

The best friend he ever had. 

Leviathan finds the only solution he can think of. 

A VR game of the cursed kind, one where he can summon the soul of a dead person into and then shut himself in it. 

He could beat the game to escape, but he doesn't want that. 

Here inside this game he has everything he wants. 

That is you. 

You don't even know that this is a game. 

With some rather convincing lies he makes you believe that you are in the devildom and that accident was no big deal. 

His brothers try everything to get Levi out of the game but it's no use. 

They not only lost you but also him.

Check my Obey me! Masterlist for more content

[kaiunkaiku]

Do I have requests in my inbox? Yes. Did I write this instead? Also yes. In my defense this was like 95% done because I actually wrote this in 2016 right when the dorms were introduced but then I just never published it lmao.

Fandom: BNHA

Summary: "His whole body aches with ghosts of healed bruises and scrapes, reminding him of how easy he actually got away while the heroes got beaten and slain and half of them are still lying in the ICU and it’s all his fault for getting kidnapped, for being so careless even when they were under an attack and for being so goddamn weak that he couldn’t even get himself out of there and his hands won’t stop shaking."

Warnings: Nightmares, panic attacks, vomiting, the usual post Hideout Raid arc KiriBaku shenanigans

Ao3

Enjoy!

Katsuki jolts awake with sparks at his fingertips, whole body dripping cold sweat onto his clean sheets. His black tank top clings to his back and chest, rustling lightly to the rhythm of his harsh breaths he's desperately fighting for. He looks around in a frenzied panic and for a moment he has no fucking idea where he is, because even though the room seems theoretically familiar with the posters, color scheme and sheets, it's not his room because there are things in weird places. The door is supposed to be ways to the left, his windows are smaller and he doesn't even have a desk like that – Until his brain catches up with reality and he realizes that this, in fact, is his room and that he actually does have a desk like that.

Because he's currently living in a dorm because he was kidnapped by the guys who went on and beat heroes after heroes and sent them to the hospital and All Might was defeated and Katsuki clenches his fists to stop them from shaking. His eyes start to slip closed but behind his eyelids is a den of villains, oceans of blood and cities of dead people, civilians and heroes alike, and Shigaraki Tomura's eerie voice whispering in his ears; become a villain, join us, how about that, you'd be great, you like winning too, huh?

A shiver travels up his spine and he forces his eyes open as he pulls his knees closer to his chest. His hands are still shaking and he can't seem to stop it, just like he can't seem to get his breathing in check. The nightmares blend together with the recent events and make a nest at the back of his mind and refuse to leave him alone. The darkness of the room feels oppressive, almost, and he reaches for the lamp on the nightstand before realizing that his lamp broke while being transported and thus he does not currently have a lamp.

The room feels cold and Katsuki shivers again. His whole body aches with ghosts of healed bruises and scrapes, reminding him of how easy he actually got away while the heroes got beaten and slain and half of them are still lying in the ICU and it’s all his fault for getting kidnapped, for being so careless even when they were under an attack and for being so goddamn weak that he couldn’t even get himself out of there and his hands won’t stop shaking.

He draws in a breath. It’s as shaky as his hands and noticeably difficult and he takes another one, and another after that and it doesn’t get significantly easier. In theory, he knows that he’s probably having some sort of a panic attack, but the knowledge does nothing to help him – on the contrary, knowing what’s happening sends his thoughts into a new spiral of calm the fuck down and start breathing you fucking idiot and fucking hell if I can’t even control my own body. His hands feel numb, his face feels numb and his skin is crawling and he feels like he might throw up. His chest feels hollow and cold, his ears are ringing and there’s Shigaraki’s voice again, black liquid crawling up his throat and swallowing him up and Katsuki scrambles up and makes a dash for the bathroom door. He doesn't even bother to turn the lights on, doesn't have the luxury of time to hit the switch before he's hacking up the measly contents of his stomach. He hasn't eaten properly in a few days, hasn't really had the appetite to eat anything.

When the nausea finally passes after a good five minutes of dry heaving, Katsuki is drenched in sweat and his hands are still shaking. He still can't breathe properly and he feels lightheaded. Rationally, he knows he has to get himself to calm down, but actually doing it is a completely different thing. He tries to think about anything else, but his head keeps repeating and going through the events of that god-awful night. Eventually though, his mind provides him with an image of Kirishima reaching out to him, Kirishima with his ridiculous spiky red hair and sharp teeth calling for him, and Bakugou remembers a blast and then Kirishima’s hand was holding his. Kirishima's hand was warm and felt like safety and at that moment Katsuki didn't give a single fuck about Deku or anyone else.

There are sparks at the tips of his fingers again. He notices them a second too late, and one triggers an explosion in his sweaty, shaking hands and he’s back in the loop with Shigaraki’s voice floating around his head.

 XxX

Eijirou wakes up to the sound of an explosion. It takes a few disoriented seconds for him to realize where he is, and then he's out of the door. At his left Shouji stumbles into the dark hallway as well, looking exactly like Eijirou would expect anyone to look at what-the-fuck AM. He himself doesn't probably look any better.

It's obvious that the sound came from Bakugou's room. They both stay quiet for a short while, listening for signs of a struggle or a fight, but the hallway stays silent. The boys share a confused look, with no small amount of concern mixed in, because if they both heard the explosion then it was not a dream and there's something wrong with Bakugou. Not that Eijirou hadn't noticed something off before, but this is a surefire testament to wrong, loud and clear.

"I'll go check on him," Eijirou says quietly, glancing at Bakugou's door. Shouji nods and retreats back to his own room. By now, the whole class has pretty much understood how the main aspects of Bakugou's personality work – question his pride, ask if he needs help and be explodo-killed. Eijirou seems to be an exception to this, though, so it's an easy decision.

Eijirou watches as Shouji's door closes and takes a deep breath. Bakugou hasn't told him much about... that, though Eijirou suspects he knows more than anyone else. Sure, the police and the professional heroes know the cold, hard facts, but Eijirou knows Bakugou's personal perspective. Not everything, not even close, and he's not about to force anything out of his friend, but there's one sentence, though downplayed from what Eijirou could conclude from a shaky voice and gritted teeth, that chills him right down to his core.

 XxX

It's been two days since they rescued Bakugou. It's been two days since Japan lost its symbol of peace. Bakugou is under strict orders from the police not to leave the house under any and all circumstances, so when neither one of them is being interviewed by the authorities and Eijirou’s parents aren't demanding their son home, Eijirou has taken to spending time at Bakugou's. He's learnt to read the other boy well enough to realize that being alone isn't the ideal state right now, even if Bakugou would never say it out loud.

Eijirou fills the silence with pointless chatter. Though there is music playing, it feels important not to let Bakugou forget that he isn't alone, so he talks about TV shows, games, comics and gossip, never mentioning heroes or school or God forbid news. It works between them just fine. Bakugou isn't really talkative, not to mention that he's tired thanks to the crowding, endlessly curious officers that won't stop asking the same damn questions, thanks to being treated by Recovery Girl and thanks to the nightmares, so he lets Eijirou handle the talking and settles for reacting to stories and grunting answers to questions.

It's been two days and Bakugou has persistently refused to meet any kind of a shrink both the police officers and the doctors have recommended. It's been two days and Eijirou knows about the nightmares even though he hasn't been explicitly told, and he's worried about his friend. So it's been two days when Eijirou finally asks the question.

"Are you okay?" he asks in between two silences, voice soft in order to not freak Bakugou out. Bakugou tenses up, shoulders rising to his ears, fingers and toes curling up.

"Perfect," he mutters through gritted teeth, after a slightly-too-long moment of hesitation. He's lying, obviously, and Eijirou, perhaps against his better judgement, decides to push one step further.

"Do you... wanna, you know, talk about it?" And it's that single question that sends Bakugou teetering over the edge. He scrambles up from his bed and right to his feet, stance defensive before he's even standing.

"The fuck do you wanna know?" he snarls, voice threatening, but there's a shaky undertone. He waits for a blink, eyes wide, and then he loses all sense of an inside voice. "THE FUCK DO YOU WANNA KNOW? WANNA KNOW WHAT THEY DID? WHAT THEY SAID? HOW I FELT WHEN EVERYTHING WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FINE AND THEN WENT TO ABSOLUTE FUCKING HELL? FUCK YOU, FUCK YOUR QUESTIONS, FUCK ALL OF THIS FUCKING BULLSHIT!" Bakugou stops screaming, panting. His shoulders hunch, but he regains his stance the second Eijirou moves to stand up from the beanbag he's been nested in. "What do you people want?" Bakugou then asks, exhaustion setting in.

Eijirou takes a step forward, keeping his hands in front of him. Bakugou looks ready to fight.

"Just what you're ready to tell me. That's all I wanna know, okay? Nothing more." Eijirou keeps his voice steady as he takes another step forward. Bakugou stares at him and lets his shoulders down again, and then he drops his whole weight back onto the edge of his bed. He squeezes his eyes shut and drops his head, too, as his nails dig into the mattress. Eijirou crosses the distance between them in two steps and settles next to his friend.

"I was scared," Bakugou whispers, voice shaking and breath hitching and he sounds so angry at himself. "I was so goddamn scared." And Eijirou knows he was probably terrified out of his mind, but it doesn't matter. What matters right now is that Bakugou is squeezing his hand for dear life, and Eijirou has no intention of letting go.

 XxX

Eijirou stands in front of Bakugou's door for a moment, hearing Bakugou tell him "I was scared" over and over again and he wants nothing more than to keep Bakugou in his arms forever and ever and protect him from everyone and everything. He takes a deep breath and knocks.

"Bakugou? It's Kirishima," he says. There's a distinct possibility that Bakugou has absolutely no intention of opening the door, but Eijirou hopes that maybe, just maybe it's different with him.

Footsteps approaching the door tell him that he's right. He takes a step back and waits as the boy on the other side fumbles with the knob. Eijirou briefly thinks that maybe he should have pulled on a shirt or something, but then again he's been out of bed for less than a minute and he doesn't really care, and he's pretty sure Bakugou doesn't either.

Finally the door is yanked open. Bakugou is wearing shorts and a tank top, and he looks awful. He's shaking all over, face pale and eyes rimmed red even in the darkness. He's not breathing properly.

Eijirou surges in and closes the door behind him because this is a sign of trust, might be the biggest indication of trust he has ever been given, and he is not about to ruin it by gaping openly at his friend, let alone keeping the door open for the whole world to see, even if it’s in the middle of the night and there's no one to see – no one even awake, besides them.

(He hopes, at least.)

Bakugou's room is just as dark as everything else in the building. Bakugou himself stands in the middle of it, fighting for every short breath he takes and shaking like a leaf in a storm. Eijirou stops on his tracks and tries to look as non-threatening as possible, because Bakugou, in addition to looking absolutely miserable, also looks like just about anything could throw him over the metaphorical edge of his sanity and plunging right into the cold embrace of his fight-or-flight response, and Eijirou seriously doubts Bakugou has a flight option even programmed into his brain.

"Bakugou, I'm gonna turn on the lights, okay?" Eijirou says as he fumbles for the light switch without turning his back to Bakugou. Handling him is kind of like defusing a bomb, Eijirou thinks. Bakugou  flinches when the lights flicker to life, and now Eijirou can see how pale his friend really looks, how his shirt clings to his chest with sweat. There's a terrified look in his eyes, but he stays still as Eijirou walks to him slowly.

"What happened?"

 XxX

"What happened?" Kirishima asks. His voice sounds soft and like he really, truly wants to help, and it takes all of Katsuki’s self-control to not reduce himself into a sobbing mess. He doesn't  do  that.

Katsuki is still getting dizzier by the minute, because he still can't breathe and his hands are still shaking and he still feels like if he closed his eyes he would be back there. He feels something brush the back of his hand and then Kirishima is standing in front of him, silently asking for permission to take his hand. Katsuki complies, reaching for Kirishima's hand, and then Kirishima intertwines their fingers and Katsuki finally finds it in himself to shake his head to the still lingering question. Kirishima seems to get this, because he changes his approach.

"What's wrong, then?"

"Can't breathe," Katsuki chokes. He feels like he's drowning, has felt like he was drowning since the minute he woke up and he has no idea how long it has been. The room is swaying, or maybe that's just him, but Kirishima's hand holding his is anchoring him to the present and that's probably good, he thinks.

"Okay, we're gonna take care of that first. I count and you breathe, yeah?" Katsuki nods and the next thing he knows, Kirishima has maneuvered both of them to the floor. Kirishima counts in intervals of five, emphasizing the numbers with first Katsuki’s fingers, then his own and then Katsuki’s again, and not once does he let go of Katsuki’s hand.

In minutes, Katsuki finds himself breathing easier. The tremors traveling up and down his spine and limbs slowly come to a stop. Kirishima is endlessly patient, rubbing Katsuki’s knuckles with his thumb and keeping up the count until Katsuki can do it himself. Kirishima's voice distracts him from the ringing of his ears, and the light chases away the eerie whispers throwing themselves around in his head. He's tired, exhausted, and he finally lets his eyes slide shut as he rests his head on Kirishima's bare shoulder.

"You okay now?" Kirishima's voice wafts softly to Katsuki’s ears. He nods slowly, hesitant, but in the end maybe he is, now that he can breathe again and doesn't see blood and death when he closes his eyes.

"That's good," Kirishima sighs, sounding relieved. "So, uh..." He starts drawing circles on Katsuki’s back. Katsuki lets him. "What happened?"

Katsuki tenses up at the question; his heart skips a beat and he stops breathing for a second. He can't. He can't, he can't go over this again, not right now, not when he's still scared as fuck and it's so stupid, he's supposed to be a hero-in-training and here he is, helplessly clinging to a friend because of a nightmare. And Kirishima is so fucking understanding and so fucking emphatic and –

"Just what you're ready to tell, yeah? Just what you're ready to tell."

– so fucking comforting.

"Nothing," he growls in response, because Kirishima can be anything he likes but he's still not going to start talking about his feelings. "Absolutely fucking nothing."

 XxX

Absolutely fucking nothing, my ass, Eijirou thinks. Bakugou is still sweating, and it doesn't take a genius to put the puzzle pieces together – Bakugou was obviously having something akin to a panic attack when he came in, and Eijirou knows about the nightmares. He doesn't want to force anything, doesn't want to pressure his friend to go through whatever-the-hell happened in his head again, but Bakugou's lie is so painfully obvious that he can't just leave it at that.

"I heard an explosion. Shouji heard it too," Eijirou tells, pulling away from Bakugou so he can see his face. Bakugou isn't looking at him.

"It's stupid," he mutters. "Forget it."

Eijirou takes a deep breath and prepares for the shitstorm his next comment is bound to cause. He doesn’t know when he became such a goddamn masochist.

"It's not stupid if it makes you upset." The moment the words leave his lips he realizes how incredibly cliché he sounds. Bakugou's face scrunches up and he lets go of Eijirou’s hand as if the contact suddenly burned.  

"It is," Bakugou hisses back and stands up. "It fucking is because I'm supposed to be in control of my fucking quirk and then I have a fucking nightmare, a bad fucking dream and I'm exploding all over the fucking place like a fucking pre-schooler and I am so fucking tired of things not going how they should go!" Bakugou is rambling now, pacing, with his hands nervously messing his hair up further. Eijirou doesn't try to stop him, because at least he's talking now.

Bakugou is a perfectionist by nature, Eijirou knows. He's scary smart, too, and not just by his grades – he makes calculations and constructs scenarios in his head even if his actions don't always look like it, so he can't be too accustomed to things sliding out of control as badly as they did at the training camp, let alone during the rescue operation. Eijirou also knows that Bakugou has been praised as a genius his whole life, so the expectations must be huge. Even overwhelming, at times like this, no matter how he appears outside.

And now he's allowing Eijirou to see past his shell.

Eijirou gets up, too. He has no idea of the time, doesn't know how long he has been awake or how many hours he still has left until morning, but the relevance of time has figuratively flown out of the window by now. He crosses the distance between the two of them. Bakugou is still pacing, looking like stopping isn't an option anymore, but Eijirou reaches for his hand anyway.

He's fully expecting Bakugou to bat his hand away, so his surprise nearly sends him reeling back when Bakugou comes to a stop and actually lets him take his hand. Eijirou gives a tentative tug, soft and barely there and he’s not really expecting it to do anything, but Bakugou practically collapses right into him. His head falls on Eijirou’s shoulder again, forehead on bare skin and soft hair tickling Eijirou’s ear and cheek. There’s a shuddering inhale and a huff of hot air, and for a moment Eijirou forgets how to speak. How to move. How to think.

It suddenly occurs to him that he’s pretty much naked, in the middle of the night, in Bakugou Katsuki’s room. He doesn’t know what they are, exactly, but he does know that he’s wanted to kiss Bakugou for a while now (his original plan concerning his personal life, when starting high school, was to kiss as many cute guys who were also interested in kissing guys he could find. That plan hasn’t existed since late April. He really hopes Bakugou is interested in kissing guys). This is a terrible and very inappropriate train of thought right now. He’s holding Bakugou’s hand. He’s holding Bakugou’s hand.

Mentally shaking himself, Eijirou brings his free hand, the one that’s not holding Bakugou’s hand between them, to the back of Bakugou’s head. Bakugou’s shaking fist clenches on his shoulder.

“You’re okay,” Eijirou whispers to somewhere between Bakugou’s hair and the still air of the room. Shifts his head so he can repeat the words into Bakugou’s hair. It’s ridiculously soft.

Somehow, at some point, they end up sitting on the edge of Bakugou’s bed next to each other. Bakugou has calmed down significantly, but the panic definitely left with a price – he’s starting to look like he’s going to crash any minute now. It’s like he barely has the strength to keep his head up, and even that’s propped on his hands, which in turn are supported by his knees.

Eijirou watches him for a moment, one he could measure if time had any meaning right now, and wonders if he should start heading back to his own room. He doesn’t know if he wants to leave Bakugou alone, though.

“Do you wanna go back to sleep?” he asks eventually; quietly.

Bakugou heaves a sigh. “Fuck no,” he says, tone exhausted, and presses his knuckles to his eyes.

“Okay. You want me to sit with you for a while?”

Bakugou turns to look at him.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, okay.”

And if Bakugou's hand finds its way back to his, well. No one needs to know.

[gallickingun]

gallick’s blog writing rules

Hey guys, gallick here! As I expand my writing parameters, I thought it would be good to make a rules post. I ask that you please read this prior to requesting, because it has my preferences, request status, and content info included. 

Please be aware: I reserve the right to delete any and ALL requests/asks that do not conform to my rules. 

My inbox is always open for thirsting [defined below], questions, conversation, venting, and advice. See the remaining rules below the cut ―

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙   ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙   ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙   ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙      ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙   ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

【CONTENT INDEX】

what is a... ✰ 『thirst』this is usually when you send in your thoughts on a certain character in a certain situation. My responses can be anything from a jumbled up paragraph to a full on thirst drabble (~250-500 words), depending on whether I’m on mobile vs. desktop, as well as if I jive with your thirst. That being said, don’t ever feel ashamed of the thirst that you want to send in! Even if it’s not my thing, as long as it’s not on my no-no list [see below], I’ll at least post it with some sort of response! See examples of thirst «here», «here», «here»,  and «here». Thirst can sometimes turn into full on fics depending on how I feel about it!

✰ 『drabble』this is a “fic” that is generally more in depth than a thirst, but not as plot-driven as a full on one shot or fic. I usually keep drabbles between 500-2,000 words. They are normally given their own post instead of replying to the ask itself, but I will respond to the ask with a link to the drabble once I’ve posted it. 

✰ 『fic』this is usually a one-shot piece, which means it is a stand-alone fanfiction work. These are at least 2,000 words in length, and I do not put a limit on them as I have no self-control and will write huge fics with no regard to my personal sanity. These will always be posted as their own text post, and will more than likely be {sporadically} uploaded to my ao3 account as well. If the fic is inspired by an ask, I will answer the ask with a link to the fic once I’ve posted it.

✰ 『multi-chap fic』this is usually a piece that spans at minimum two parts, connected via the plotline that runs consistently through them both. As of now, I do not have any multi-chapter works, but I do have a couple planned for the future! These will always be posted as their own text post, with links to the prior part as well as the future part, once it has been posted. 

【WRITING RULES】

✰ All characters are aged up to at least 20 years of age no matter whether the situation is sfw or nsfw. The only times I will write “high school” types of works will be in flashbacks, not full length fics. I always try to explicitly state within the work that they are of age - whether that’s referring to them a Pro Heroes (BNHA), Pro Athletes (Haikyuu!!), etc. If I ever discuss “dorms”, I am always talking about college dorms/apartments. 

✰ This is my blog, and therefore I get to choose what I do and do not want to write. I apologize if that means I have glossed over your request, but I cannot force myself into writing something I do not feel like I can do, because then it’s not genuine and even though it gets the content out, it’s not content I’d be proud of. 

✰ I do NOT close my requests. I feel like it’s pointless, given a lot of people don’t pay attention to the open/closed titles anyway. With this being said, I do receive a lot of requests. If you feel that yours has gotten buried, eaten by the tumblr ask monster, or ignored, please feel free to send it in again. Also keep in mind that I might have deleted or ignored your ask in favor of another that sparked more inspiration. That doesn’t mean I won’t come back to yours later. Be patient with me!

✰ Please be kind. I don’t ask that you fawn over me when you send in a request, but be courteous when you send me an ask. If you just send me a blunt ask, I might not understand what you’re really asking for, or what you actually want, which can stunt the creative process and possibly end up with me deleting your ask. I understand that not everyone speaks English well, so I try to be patient with the more forward requests. Just be aware that I am not a writing machine here for your pleasure. This is a hobby, a fun way of escapism for you and me both. The moment it feels like a job, I will stop.

【DO’S AND DON’T’S】

『 My writing is usually male character x female reader, unless specified otherwise. I do accept female character requests, though. As I do try to keep my appearances of reader relatively neutral, I know that is not always the case. I am constantly trying to learn and evolve my writing, but reader content can be difficult to nail down with all the scenarios that I’m writing or requested to write, given that they are very specific in nature. Please be kind and constructive if you choose to criticize, but criticism is always welcome. 』

『 I always put warnings in my tags above the fic post, so please read the warnings prior to diving into a piece. As stated below, sometimes I will use kinks or tropes or categories/genres that make people uncomfortable or triggered, and I want you to keep yourself safe rather than reading my writing just because it’s mine. I use warnings, tags, and a read more on my posts - if you choose to read the post anyway, then that is your own responsibility and I will not respond to any asks shaming me for what I have written, or blaming me for you being triggered. Please let me know if I have not correctly tagged or warned a post and I will make corrections as soon as possible. 』

― The CHARACTERS I prefer, and who will get priority over others are... My Hero Academia ✰ Bakugou Katsuki ✰ Kirishima Eijirou ✰ Tamaki Amajiki ✰ Todoroki Shouto Haikyuu!! ✰ Sugawara Koushi ✰ Bokuto Koutaro ✰ Kuroo Tetsurou ✰ Oikawa Tooru ✰ Sawamura Daichi ✰ Kageyama Tobio Dragon Ball ✰ Vegeta ✰ Piccolo ✰ Gohan ✰ Trunks

― The GENRES I will write... ✰ Angst (mostly happy endings bc I’m a sap) ✰ Fluff ✰ Smut ✰ Alternate Universe  ✰ Hurt/Comfort - this can include things such as anxiety, depression, etc. but will always end with the comfort in mind.  ✰ Alpha, Beta, Omega dynamics (bare with me, I’m learning)

― The CONTENT I will NOT write... ✘ Suicide (reader or character)  ✘ Minor x Adult ✘ Vore, Gore, Intense Violence ✘ Piss or Shit Kinks ✘ Incest, Pseudo Incest, anything relatively familial in nature. ✘ Ass Play (in detail - i.e. pegging, fingering, etc.)  ✘ Cheating ✘ Crack Fics (i.e. overly humorous or satirical content) ✘ Character x Character - this is a loose rule, but currently I don’t have any CxC ships that I am writing for, or feel the need to write for. ✘ Poly relationships - this is another loose rule, but I am not overly well-versed with polyamorous relationships, so they can be difficult for me to nail down. If I feel inspired, or if I open poly requests, I will let you guys know.

【TAGS】

『If there is any type of content you do not want to read, I ask that you please blacklist it. I will do my best to tag all asks/posts accordingly, but I am only human and might miss one here and there. Feel free to send me a quick message letting me know that I have missed something, but please be kind.』

『I believe it is your responsibility to monitor and improve your online experience. If you don’t like Bakugou, please blacklist my Bakugou tag(s). If you are a minor, and do not wish to interact with my nsfw content, please blacklist my smut tag. I will not be tagging things directly as “nsfw”, because this can get you taken out of the tags entirely, and I do also write sfw pieces in addition to my nsfw pieces.』

『I do NOT tag generic posts unless they are triggering. This includes all reblogs - graphics, fics, etc.』

『Here is how to blacklist tags on desktop and mobile.』

『I always use three versions of the “character” tag(s), with their surname only as well as their given name, and then their full name. I.e. bakugou x reader, katsuki x reader, bakugou katsuki x reader.』

― Writing Tags ✰ #character x reader ✰ #character smut ✰ #character thirst ✰ #OC: Belle Marie Sinclair - (Bakugou OC) ✰ #OC: Lilith - (Kirishima OC) ― Trigger Warning Tags ✰ #tw: dubcon ✰ #tw: noncon ✰ #tw: suicide ✰ #tw: self harm ✰ #tw: degredation  ― Personal Tags ✰ #morgan.txt - my original text posts  ✰ #morgan-gets-mail - answered asks ✰ #morgan-has-friends - mutuals interactions ✰ #morgan-does-commissions - commission-related posts ✰ #morgan-has-a-patreon - Patreon-related posts ✰ #morgan-says-read-it - Fic recs ✰ #morgan-says-look-at-it - Art recs ✰ #morgan-says-listen - Audio recs

【FINAL THOUGHTS】

I reserve the right to delete any of the asks sent into my inbox. This includes... ✘ Hateful Asks ✘ Baiting/Leading Asks ✘ URL referencing Asks (i.e. “I heard gallickingun did....”) ✘ Rule Non-Conforming Asks 

【LINKS】

✰ desktop masterlist «here» ✰ mobile masterlist «here» ✰ general writing tag «here» ✰ archiveofourown «here» ✰ wattpad «here» ✰ commissions interest form «here» ✰ ko-fi «here» ✰ patreon (coming soon!) «here» ✰ bnha bookclub (discord server + fic archive) «here»

This is all subject to change, hence the read more.

© all content belongs to gallickingun 2020. do not modify or repost.

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙   ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙   ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙   ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙      ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙   ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ 

[prettywordsyouleft]

Just An Hour More

Prompt: #128 + #133 for @stutimenon​ – “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” + “I’ll never forget you.”

stutimenon said:

128 &133 for jungkook. Can you make it fluffy and angsty,?

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader

Genre: idol au / angst / a little fluff

Warnings: Mention of death and heavy content, may trigger some readers.

A/N: This story is intentionally written to be staggered, to cover the time that it does. It’s also not going to have a happy ending, so don’t come for me since I warned you all.

Stutimenon, I know you asked for fluff and angst and that’s what I hoped to achieve with this, in that order. Admittedly it ended up more on the angst side.

Word count: 1741

No one gets into a relationship knowing there’s an end date. At least, you had never heard of anyone who intentionally set out with the conscious notion of the end being discussed at your first meeting. It seemed pointless to do so, to fall in love only to know that affection would be short-lived, an impending date hanging over both your heads every day. And yet, you didn’t dislike the situation you were in either. You knew you only had a limited time to experience it all – the initial flutters of attraction, the nervous dates that soon led to comfortable time together. You wanted it all, and knowing you could achieve it together didn’t make it pointless at all.

Because you had planned it all from the start.

“Are you sure you can do this?” Jungkook questioned, hesitant to accept your previous answer. It had rolled off the tip of your tongue too easily, the fact that you could date him for a short window of time knowingly made him cautious. He had used it as his safeguard all this time, openly telling any women who advanced his way that they could only be together for four months. It was never enough time, and those who actually agreed to it soon realised that dating him was a nightmare and not at all what they had expected.

But you were different and that’s what made him consider not squashing down the feeling in the pit of his stomach. It didn’t matter at the end of the day how he felt about people. He would always be the bad guy who could never lend you enough of his time. Dating him would be painful at times, and the last thing he wanted was to know he could be the reason someone could cry behind closed doors.

It didn’t matter if tears fell from his own eyes. He had chosen this career and to be the international star that he was came with a heavy cost towards the average guy who lived inside him. He wasn’t just a member of BTS, but a twenty-two year old as well. He had desires just like anyone else did.

He knew better though. Dating or having anything substantial with someone would lead to troubles in the future. Four months seemed to be a perfect window. It was enough to satisfy his need for something more than singing about love. The odd hook-up never fully pleased him, Jungkook wanting to spend real time with someone. He wanted to experience the new feeling in the beginning of a relationship and the learning of their personality. The physical aspects were great but so was getting caught up in a movie marathon or being equally indecisive over what to eat for dinner.

He longed for the companionship that came from dating.

“Of course,” you confirmed and Jungkook tilted his head to the side. His attention made you falter, and he couldn’t help but smile a little at how adorable you looked right now.

He was certain he could do it all with you and more.

“I can’t do any longer than four months, Y/N,” he repeated and you recovered from your bout of uncertainty. It made Jungkook curious, why would you accept something so risky? What did you see in him that he couldn’t?

“That’s fine, who knows, we might not even get that long. But it’s worth trying, don’t you think? We both liked each other when we chatted online and meeting you in person hasn’t put me off either.”

He smiled. “Really? You didn’t know I was kind of famous until meeting me in the flesh. Does that not show up red flags?”

“Everyone deserves to experience feelings of love, Jungkook. You included.”

Jungkook blinked slowly, trying to take all of you in. He should have realised then to ask why you were so open to dating him for such a short period of time.

Perhaps then it wouldn’t hurt as much as it did now.

You smiled more each day. Jungkook was dorkier than you expected and that made you laugh a whole lot more than you had all year long. You felt confident in his company, and that didn’t just come from the fact that falling in love with him was all too easy. He made sure you felt cherished every day and that gave you the boost to feel more in charge of your own body.

You would dictate how you felt now.

“Where did this come from?” he murmured, holding up your arm and pointing to a decently formed bruise. He fingered it cautiously, heaving a sigh.

“I had to have a blood test today.”

“Really? Are you okay?”

“Well, I won’t know until I get the results but it’s nothing to worry about. All I care about is you and me in this moment.”

Your smile was forced then, desperate to keep the knowledge to yourself. There were still two months left of your loving and you were more than capable of making it to the end.

“As long as you’re okay,” he agreed, leaning in to kiss your bruise softly, his lips trailing back up until he found yours.

You were unlike anyone else Jungkook had dated before. In the past, dating felt too restrictive, too difficult. There were always arguments, and the question of is it me or your job you love more thrown his way countless times. Jungkook had chosen his career every time.

He wondered if he could do the same when it came to you.

The agreement of your relationship was drawing to an end, and with a lot of overseas promotion, he was eager for more time together. Just an hour more. An hour of your comfort. Of your love. He didn’t care what you did in that hour; you could even sleep it away nestled in one another’s embrace. Jungkook just wanted more.

It made him aware of the desires within to keep this continuing even past the date you both agreed upon in the start. He didn’t want to think of a time in his life without you at his side.

This was a love he hadn’t expected to overwhelm him.

And that was why it was shocking when you called him to end it a week earlier than planned. “Wh-what?”

“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” you shakily admitted, and he could tell you were crying on the other end of the call.

He cursed, knowing that if he had been in the same city, he would have rushed over right now to confront you with his feelings, to beg for you to hold out a little longer.

Just for one more hour.

But he was overseas promoting. Another thing taking him away from you.

“Y/N, listen. We have time. I’ll be back tomorrow and-”

“I don’t want any more time. I don’t have any more to give.”

“What the hell does that mean?!” he blurted out, raking a hand through his hair. He realised he was crying and angrily pushed the tears aside with the back of his hand. “Did you plan to drop me just like this?”

“It was always in our agreement to have four months.”

“We haven’t had that four months though!”

“I know,” you breathed noisily, choking on your tears before clearing your throat. “I wanted it too but we’re better off separating now.”

“Not without saying goodbye in person,” he bartered and you began to cry harder. It dawned on Jungkook then, the signs he had been trying to ignore. The extra bruises, the exhaustion. Your pallid skin tone the last time he saw you.

You weren’t choosing to leave him either.

“Give me some time, please,” he begged. “Y/N, tell me where I can meet you. I’ll get on the first plane back now. Just, give me that time.”

It was sunny outside. The birds were chirping in the trees next to the café and it almost made you laugh. How could everything continue when you felt as if time was slowing down for you? And when you saw Jungkook’s dishevelled appearance as he rushed down the sidewalk, you sighed. His appearance didn’t fit in with how beautiful the day was.

It didn’t matter how he looked though, your heart still sang out to him, still raced when it took in his sleep-deprived state. You scowled. “Look at you!”

“Me?” Jungkook cried incredulously, shaking his head. Still, he attempted to smooth down the clothes he had clearly flown in. He then smiled. “Look at you.”

“Startling, aren’t I?”

“Beautiful as always,” he corrected, and you smiled back at him.

“I’m not going to say sorry, because I’m not,” you announced once your orders arrived at the table. You glanced over at him, watching his hands shake a little as he picked up his coffee cup. “I got to experience everything I hoped to with you and more. Loving you was the best thing I’ve achieved.”

“I don’t want an apology,” he agreed, though he wasn’t nearly as convincing. You were too calm for him right now, and that came with the knowledge. You had known for far longer about your health concerns than he had. “I just want more time.”

“Don’t we all,” you lamented, sipping at your tea. You then shrugged. “This is all we get though.”

“No, we can have more and-”

“I want to die without you. I know that’s not what you want and it’s selfish of me. I want you to remember me like this. Before it gets to the point where I’m indescribably unwell and suffering. I want you to remember my smile, not my pain.”

“What about me? Don’t I get a say?”

You faltered, surprised by how affected he was. Despite the watery eyes, Jungkook was determined. “I’ll remember your smile. Your laugh, your little ways you made me feel special. I’ll remember it all, Y/N. I’ll never forget you and how you made my life magical.”

“I just-”

“I want to be there,” he persisted, reaching for your hand. You trembled, the strong barrier between you being swept away with the touch of his hand. He was much too warm and you were far too cold.

Nodding once, you moved so he could take you within his arms, comforting you completely.

You clung to him with all your might, praying for just one hour more with him.

_________________

All rights reserved © prettywordsyouleft

[Drabble Game Masterlist] | [BTS Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

[cinnbar-bun]

Undead Chaos (Vampire!Beelzebub x Reader)

Vampire! Au

Summary: Beelzebub had escaped from Pandemonium, but found that he can’t properly sustain himself as he once could in the dark hellhole. Needing a new way to continue existing with his new powers, he decides to test some theories. How unfortunate you were one of the pests he decided to choose. 

Warning: Contains possible spoilers, as well as lots of things based off on theories since cygames never really talked about Bubs did. Possible triggering content such as kidnapping and stalking. Please take caution before reading. Slightly spicy stuff happens. Reader is also GN

Note: this is a short one tbh. It’s not much. It’s not that romantic. It’s just you for you bubs fans who get off to being called worthless humans. I respect your dedication.

He licked his lips as he peered out of the dark alleyway. His red eyes flickered from person to person. Unlike a certain fallen angel, he knew to stay hidden. He hated to admit it, but he wasn’t at full strength yet. He had much to do before he could fully showcase himself as king to these worthless insects. 

A young woman. Cute, he supposed. However, he stopped when he saw she embraced a young man and laughed with him. They were together, he assumed. She was not an optimal victim. 

A large man. He was bulky and ripped, and Beelzebub wondered just how much blood was in his body. If he could just- 

He spat. He was losing control. He needed relief soon. The man was carrying a young kid on his shoulders and Beelzebub felt himself growing more faint and impatient. 

There had to be someone. 

Someone alone. 

Someone who others wouldn’t notice would be missing. He bit his nail and watched as a person he hadn’t seen before in his stay on this island. They did not talk to anyone. They did not do anything but walk quietly, a bouquet of flowers in their hands. 

No one said anything to this person. Their eyes were sullen and they looked as if they had not slept in days. It wasn’t the most ripe of meals, but he supposed it was better than nothing. He smirked and slunk back into the alley, following them in the deeper parts of the island until they made their way to a graveyard. 

Ah... so they are grieving a lost relative. 

He refrained from laughing at how pathetic they were. How unlucky they were to look so helpless in front of him at such a time. 

Truly, they were the most cursed being here to be seen like this when he was starving. 

He scoured the entrance to the graveyard. No one else seemed to be there, minus his next victim. They walked far into it, so he followed behind closely, careful to not make a sound and reveal his presence. 

At last, they stopped in front of two graves, placing the flowers in the middle of them. 

He was too far away to read the names on the graves, and he wondered about their relationship to his meal. 

“Father, mother...I am here.” They quietly spoke, their voice rasping, as if it hadn’t been used in a while. 

Their parents. He mused. He inched closer. 

“I...I uh...I brought your favorite flowers. I know you two liked when I grew them.” 

Pointless. They die anyways. Humans waste time on the dumbest tasks. 

“Ah...how long has it been since you two have been gone? I kinda lost track of time.” 

He could smell them now. 

Closer, closer, closer. 

“I forget to take care of myself. I can hardly eat or sleep.” 

Closer, closer, closer. 

“I...I wish I was taken too...I can’t handle this loneliness...”

Closer, closer, closer. 

“I hate existing! It’s unfair! I hate this!” They cried. He couldn’t control his ragged breaths. The crying, the screaming, the hunger. It all blended in his mind until he leaned over and extended his claws towards them. 

I’ll eat you alive, pathetic human. 

With a simple swipe he had covered the mouth of his victim and watched as they struggled helplessly in his arms. 

“Sh. You said you wanted to cease existing. Allow me to grant you your wish.” He smirked as they looked at him with fearful eyes. It only spurred him on further. They were shaking, frozen as he revealed his fangs at them. “I like when my meals are afraid. I think you’ll taste good enough.” 

Their face paled before they passed out in his arms. 

“Tch.” He sneered. “Pathetic.”

He leaned down and examined their neck, feeling the hunger in him rise to its peak as he barred his fangs to finally get the chance for a meal. As his fangs grazed the surface of their skin, he smelled another presence nearby.

“Hey! What are you doing?” A man yelled. Beelzebub glared and quickly huddled the person under his cape, before he dramatically swiped it and used his magic to teleport.

It would drain a lot, but since he had a guaranteed meal, it wasn’t so bad. He couldn’t risk causing much of a scene yet with the village. He needed to lay low.

The figure in his arms was still passed out, sleeping peacefully as he eyed their face. They were tired, and if what they said was true, they hadn’t done much to care for themselves.

As much as he hated doing so, he was going to have to freshen his meal up.

~

You awoke in a dark and musty room, one that smelled of mold and rotting wood. You coughed at the dust surrounding you as you attempted to look at where you were.

This wasn’t home. In fact, what happened before you-

Before you could think about your day, you stared back into glowing red eyes. Those eyes... those were the last things you remember seeing before you passed out.

Your heart raced as you backed up to the furthest corner of the bed.

“S-stand back! Stay back! Don’t touch me!” You yelled.

He let out a sound of disgust and stepped closer.

“Don’t be full of yourself. I’m not here to touch a worthless roach like you right now.” He snapped. “Know your place, mortal.”

“M-mortal? What do you mean?”

“Do you not have a brain? It means you are beneath me.” He replied sharply. He tossed an apple at you. “Go. Eat.”

“W-what, I-“

“I said eat.” You nervously took a bite of the apple and he watched you with an intense frown.

You awkwardly chewed the fruit and tried to eat it as fast as you could for fear of how he’d react. He tapped his foot impatiently and watched you, and you felt yourself shaking under his gaze.

You finished the apple and within an instant he slammed a glass of water in front of you.

“Drink. I need you to be hydrated.” Due to the anxiety and nervousness, you chugged the class of water. Despite the situation you were in, you exhaled in relief as your body felt rejuvenated.

“Thank you.” You quietly said.

“Should you really be thanking me?” He sneered. “I’m not doing this out of kindness.”

You knew that. And yet, despite all that, you couldn’t care.

“So, are you gonna kill me now?” You said.

“So ready to die? Do you accept your fate so easily.”

“It’s just like you said earlier. I can’t fight you. I can’t possibly escape from you.”

“You’re not gonna even struggle?” He chuckled. “Giving is so easily?”

“I guess.” You sighed.

“Enough chatter. I’ve wasted enough time.” He said.

“What are you-“

You couldn’t speak before he quickly pinned you down with one hand, and the reality of it all rushed over you. He bared his fangs at you, the sharp canines glistening and his mouth practically drooling.

You knew what you said before.

But why did you suddenly care now?

You bit your lip and whimpered pathetically as he grinned maniacally at your now panicked expression.

“Do you now understand the situation you’re in? Do you truly get what I’m about to do to you?” He cackled.

“W-Wait-“

“I’ve waited long enough.”

“But! Wait! Why me?” You yelled. At the very least, if you were to die here and now, you would at least know why you were the one chosen.

“‘Why me’, you ask? Why you? Easy. Because you’re nobody.” His words cut deep into you like a knife. “You’re a nobody. You have no one. You’re pathetic, you’re all alone and no one cares for your existence.”

“But I know someone will! Someone will-“

“Who’s going to come for you? You were practically catatonic before I decided to take you. Do you think a waste of life like that is useful? Do you think you’re special? Do you think you offered me something of value besides being my next meal? Don’t think too highly of yourself, fool. You are nothing more than a blood bag. You are nothing to me.” He stated.

You could only stare back at him. What was there to say? He was right. You weren’t special. Moments ago you had professed you didn’t care about your own life. You closed your eyes and leaned your head to the side, giving him more access to your neck.

“Oh? What’s this? Have you already lost your will to live?”

“No. I’m afraid. I’m... really afraid. So I... I wanna offer you a deal.”

“A deal? Do you really think now you should be bargaining?”

“I got nothing else to lose.”

“Hmph, go on.” He raised an eyebrow. “You have a few moments.”

“How many other people have you done this to?”

“You’re supposed to make a deal, not ask a question.”

“I want to know.”

“Fine. I can entertain your dumb thoughts for a bit. I have done this to about... seven other people.”

“And what happened to them all?”

“I drained them of life. They’re all dead, probably feeding the termites below.”

“Then allow me to remain as your sole blood donor.”

“And why should I agree to that? What makes you so special that I should keep you alive?”

“People are going to get suspicious after a while. You killed seven people already. And I’ll be a constant meal for you, so you have me whenever you wish. It should be simple for you to get.” You don’t know where that last sentence came from, but you were determined to not roll over and die.

“Hmph. And you’re willing to remain here on the offhand chance I don’t drain you?” He asked.

“Yes. And I don’t care what you think of me. I don’t wanna die by your hands like this so... I’ll do what it takes to live.” You stated. The newfound acceptance for life made you want to clench to that feeling forever. “So, do you accept my deal? You don’t kill me, and I’ll stay here for you to feed on.”

He hated the fact you were right. It was an obvious choice, really. He couldn’t continue snatching more people up. Having a constant supply versus hunting at the last minute would perhaps heal him faster. He pursed his lips.

“Fine. But don’t think I’ll go gentle on you.” He leaned down and you felt him press his fangs into the flesh of your neck. The teeth broke your skin, and you covered your mouth with your hands to refrain from crying in pain.

He hissed as he tasted the blood from the wound he punctured on you. It’s been so long. And he was so damn hungry.

He placed his lips around the mark and sucked the blood inside. You bit your lip at the odd sensation. The pain had melted away and was quickly replaced with a euphoric pleasure, one that you were incapable of describing.

You’ve never felt this relieved, scared, enthusiastic, and excited as you did now. All your emotions swirled in you as he continued to lap at your blood with his tongue. You couldn’t think straight, merely acknowledging the feeling of him on top of you and the desire for more.

More of what? You couldn’t tell. Only that you wanted more of this euphoria, this pleasure, and this feeling that was so much more special than anything you had ever experienced in your entire life.

You dug your nails into his shoulder blades, and he didn’t seem to feel it as he continued drinking from you.

“Please-“ you struggled out. Your breath was uneven as you threw your head back, giving him more space for him to access.

“Shh... you make too much noise...” he mumbled before he continued.

It was quiet, all except for your ragged breaths and the sound of his mouth on your neck. You felt the high of this new feeling before he pulled back and left you struggling to catch your breath on the mattress. You almost missed when he was sucking your blood, funnily enough.

Beelzebub seemed to have a hard containing himself too, given his heavy breathing as he wiped his mouth of whatever excess blood there was.

“Is that... what it’s supposed to feel like?” You stammered.

“Apparently so. My victims had all responded positively to the bite. I guess it has a sort of euphoric reaction to you humans. I should test that more with you soon.”

You nodded yet flustered at how embarrassing that was. This man kidnapped you yet you were lying helplessly asking, begging, craving more.

Foolish. This was absolutely foolish.

You placed a hand where he bit you and winced at the slight burn you felt. It would probably take a while to heal.

“Now, mortal-“

“I have a name.” You cut him off. He glared.

“Don’t get cocky with me. You’re lucky I spared your life.”

“I’m just saying, since we’re gonna do this for a while, the least you could do is call me by my name.”

“Insolent... then what is your name?”

“It’s (Y/n). And what is yours?”

“Beelzebub. Beelzebub of the Astral High Council.” He stated.

“Huh? An astral? I thought you guys were gone...” your eyes widened in shock.

“Did you really think you pathetic humans could rid of us so easily? How amusing.”

He stood up and walked over to the door, his massive back facing you as he paused when he gripped the handle.

“Night is upon us. Rest now. I will have you in the morning before I sleep. You are not allowed to leave unless you have my express permission. And if you dare reveal the truth about me or our deal, I will kill you and everyone else on this pathetic island. Don’t test me. I don’t have the patience to deal with a good-for-nothing pest.” He threatened. He opened the door and slammed it behind him as he walked away.

You processed his words and were reminded that once again, you were not in your old home. This was your new home, one where you would be under his command. You feared the future, yet strangely were looking forward to a visit from him. Perhaps your once dreadful life could have some use and purpose again.

The thought relaxed you as you closed your eyes and huddled closer to yourself in the bed. Whatever you were getting into, it wasn’t going to be easy.

[cristalknife]

On Comments, feedback anxiety on both the writer and the reader’s side

 If one could look into  my WIP draw, or take a glance at the fics I’ve actually posted, it becomes clear misunderstandings based on miscommunication is something I seem have a thing for. In all honesty is more of a lifelong study and recurring theme I keep stumbling on or consciously walking into. Preface: I am only human and mistakes can happen, but usually I try to handle the detailed label (also referred as Read the Tin or as written on the tin) of major warning with my writings that is usually missing in any other aspect of life, sort of a lovely user manual/preview so one could know to walk away before getting invested or worse triggered. 

Or at least know exactly what they signed up for.

Is it perfect? No but at least it’s there, as a writer I did all I could to avoid unpleasantness, the rest it’s up to the reader’s discretion. Which leads me to the heart of this post: comments, feedbacks, criticism, politically correctness, manners and the anxiety they produce in both the writer and the reader. 

The picture is big so I’ll divide in sides, but remember that people are made of multiple sides, and sometimes those sides are at odds or outwardly warring against each other. That’s pretty average for any irrational human being with emotions.

From the POV of an overthinking anxious writer:

1)  Ao3′s Kudos are sort of like a watered down thumbs up, after about 4-5 fic posted (or ~15K words of stories out there to be consumed), they became the kind of anxiety triggers feeding thoughts of why so many people/guests left a kudo but the story wasn’t good enough to warrant the time of a comment/review 2) Comments are lovely reminder someone found something in your words that made them react so strongly they felt like sharing that reaction with you was worth their time. 

2.1) Comments are also the cause of anxiety about their content before you have the courage to read what they says...

3) Criticisms and feedbacks can be a wonderful tool to improve your writing for the next story. But not if they are laced with insult, personal attacks in that case they are the kind of black hole that pushes people to stop writing all together, or at least stop sharing what they write. 

4) single emoji (♥), 2 char long (<3) comments takes years of effort and a lot of conditioning to remember to slip in reader mode and appreciate the effort it took to stop and do even that, instead of allowing doubts to gnaw at the back of your head with waaaiiiiit that’s all? was it good? was it bad? arrrghhh what does it even mean??? 

5) Statistics and numbers, those are the evilest of the most buggering things and the most vile tempters that will push you to compare your stories against others (a futile exercise in frustration and pointless reason to shred one’s own self confidence to the tiniest of pieces for literally nothing)

5.1) Especially when you have two writing mind frames: 

 writing the stories you want to read (and usually it is either a niche where you’ve already consumed all you could find so you write it because duh, more content might ignite back the fire please, or you haven’t found yet someone to say it how you want to read it) vs what I simply call 

 exorcism writing (the kind of free therapy exercise when something is bugging the heck out you and not leaving your mind so you put it down to words and then let them fly free, instead of trapping them on a diary you’d just return to read and start the vicious cycle all over again)

5.1.1) and your exorcism stories become more popular than the stories you want to read, because at the end of your raw ranting exorcism you managed to write something that would end up falling within mainstream tropes. Which just makes you sad because those were not the result of love and planning and endless hours of writing and editing that you put in your other stories.

6) I’m not writing fan fiction to be an educator, it is possible that my day job is being an educator, but unless I’m there writing textbooks, as a writer it is not my responsibility to teach the reader something that has to be authentic, realistic and a good practice. I’m just here to tell a story.  Or are you really telling me that you watch superheros movies and series and expect them to appear outside your window? If you just laughed then why are you looking at fanfic smut with the expectation of finding a more interesting and alternative way to have a sex ed lesson? If you subscribe to the school that a story has has to make sense... Let me ask have you ever read some of the greatest literature works like Frankenstain, Moby Dick, The Hobbit, Journey to the center of the Earth, Alice through the looking glass, Aeneas, if you did and subscribe to “fiction as to make sense” then please please enlighten me I’m rady to sit back and hear all the points you can make how any of those are realistic representations of how things go. If you  says that those are just stories told oh so long ago... Lets pick more recent ones, the Harry Potters books, Goosebumps, Twilight, The Shadowhunters Chronicles, 50 shades of , all those are listed as fiction  which yes sadly too many used as a portrait of theme touched in there as realistic because the story was not set in a fantastical world and made the mistake of treating a work of fiction as a documentary... Sorry people I’m a writer, choosing the right words matters, words meanings and definitions matter please  learn to think critically, and learn your words, there is a difference between fiction and documentary  6.1) At the same time it might be that I am the kind of writer who loves to add factually authentic things in my writings, someone who actually had spent hours and hours on research to make sure that what they have been writing is not utter and complete made up rubbish, and that’s ok too. I do not expect readers to assume it is correct or that it is purely made up, and if someone is curious they could use the comment to ask a question, I’ve never turned out a curious question, even when it was difficult to answer it

7) Just because I am writing about something, it doesn’t mean I support it...  Again those are stories, not a scientific report on a lab experiment, I can write about abusive relationships, doesn’t mean I support them, I could write about self harm or depression, doesn’t mean I am encouraging those behaviors, in fact those usually come with a Trigger Warning, why? because a reader should have the option to walk away from what should be just a moment of pleasure and relax, not finding themselves triggered because I didn’t want to spoil the surprise of what was going to come in a story posted on the internet... 8) This far I’ve personally chosen to not push for comment, no beg necessary, I decided years ago to be the kind of self centered bad ass who writes for themselves, who’s not going to dangle the promises of more chapters in exchange for comments, I dislike the practice, and I find too exhausting shouting left and right hey hey I’ve written this read it read it... So I do get why my stories do not have such a large audience, it doesn’t help I’ve actually posted way less than what I’ve written over the years. I do welcome comments, though I have no clue on how to respond to short ones, or a single emoji/<3 to all chapters to those I end up answering only to the most recent one of that person and thank for their support. Longer comments are easier to answer because it gives me something to say back or comment/thanks for, though it becomes weird for me when someone speculate on future developments in what they wish to see, and since I’ve recently adopted the policy of posting only completed stories (even for the chaptered ones that will not be posted at the same time, the number of total chapter is not an estimation it is exactly the number of files I’ve divided the story into for reasons) because I do know whether something of that sort will happen or not, and I don’t want to put someone out of my story if they are too invested in see what they imagined happen... Though as I do write stories I’d like to read I’m quick to encourage aspiring writers to feel free to take that what if and work with it, just to please mention that my story inspired theirs and that I’d love to see what they come up with. Constructive criticisms, I do not have a beta for most of my works, I do not work too well depending on other people’s time, I confess even in the past I received criticisms that were not constructive if we push the boundaries and call those criticisms rather than just plain old complains, which is sort of the reason why I stopped explicitly encouraging communication. Because I do expect respect, you don’t know anything about me or what I believe in, you might make some guesses from my profile because I haven’t been shy and pretty open on them, but I won’t accept being personally attacked or talked to in a disrespectful manner just because you didn’t like what I wrote. I have no problem accepting criticisms, as long as they are criticisms and not just whining. You cannot come to me with “I hate your story” and leave it at that, you already took the time to express your opinion instead of simply walking away, the least you can do is explaining why... Otherwise I seriously don’t get why you wasted both of yours and more importantly my time and energies... From the POV of a spoonie reader who barely has the energy to read: 1)  Ao3′s Kudos are a life saver that allows you to show your appreciation (even if you are allowed only one as registered user) with only a click (and some times even that click takes so much out of you) instead of relegating you to invisible reader, barely visible number (*coughs*ff.net*coughs*)  or forcing you to make a story a favorite/followed 

2) Comments are the source of anxiety, because you might want to show support but would they get that or would it sound strange? will the author understand that a a ghsafdgsakdjfh (read: key smash) happened with excitement and love and you’ve no other words to express it? 2.1) also trying to put your support in words when you are in your pj cozily being a blanket burrito and reading from your phone in bed because there’re no more spoon left for the day it’s hard 

3) The author asked for R&R, or welcomes comments and constructive criticism. You loved the story enough to spend energies to

point out things that were plain plot hole or downright inconsistency or lose ends, pointing out botched translations from your own mother tongue and offering correction that were not google translated, in ao3 case pointing out lack of some appropriate tags, which would have 1 improved your story’s visibility and 2 allowed the reader to choose whether they wanted to read it or not both points that would have benefit you as author...

Only for the author to react: 

- badly with a why are you such a nitpick hadn’t anyone told you that you should just stay silent if you have nothing nice to tell me? - Excuse me you’re the one asking for my opinion not my adoration, I gave you exactly what you asked for, if you cannot handle your work being nitpicked or the holes in your plot being publicly poked then there’re fabulous people called Beta reader who will give you the needed dose of though love in private get one..

- badly with a don’t like don’t read -  legit reader’s counter point is  I wouldn’t have read it if you had given me a way to know then what I discovered now  [personal addendum, on a not that well low energy day it takes me less about 3 mins and half to read 1.5K words don’t came at me on your 1k long story and tell me I could have stopped reading when I noticed it wasn’t that good for me...I was done with it before I could get any warning]

- dismissively because a meet cute  clearly is an AU  - Bless your heart if you need me to point out to you that there is a difference between an Alternative Universe (AU) and a Canon Divergence and the fact that   meet cute is a trope  which in fandoms usually implies different circumstances within the fandom’s canon world  of the first meeting between the characters in the main relationship but doesn’t automatically include different premises for the character example: 

in canon: characters from a magical supernatural fandom one a wizard with magic, one a fighter with superhuman speed and holy weapons, in their first meeting the fighter saved the wizard’s life. 

in a meet cute:  a wizard and a fighter with superhuman speed and holy weapons meet in the middle of the forest where the fighter was hunting for food failing miserably and the wizard took pity on the fighter and offered to share their dinner, if the fighter dared to step inside the wizard’s home

in a No Power/Human AU meet cute: where there is no magic, one of the two is a barista who uses flirty coffee jokes lines to call the other’s person order, and finally discover they are an accountant so instead they start using math puns to get the accountant’s attention. 

Those are all valid stories but as an author don’t came at me believing that just because you mention a trope that is enough to distinguish between the 2° and 3° examples, or that having mentioned the trope gives you the standing to look down at me if I do have my own reasons that you do not know about  for wanting to read only stories like the second pitch and get upset but still tell you in a polite way that there are missing tags in your story, especially when you’ve falsely advertise your 3° like pitch as if it was a 2° one and I get upset and let you know about it and do so with the curtesy of signing it with my name rather than leave an guest/anonymous comment 

- shrugging off issues with the tags with a Oh but I’m bad at tagging  -

then I have 3 things to say to you buddy one) that’s not an excuse if you haven’t learnt how to do it yourself get a beta, get a friend, read more and compare what your story tells with a similar one and how that one is tagged, there’re ways Ignorance is not an excuse; 

two) you can’t claim you’re bad at tagging but then refuse to listen when someone is pointing out to you more tags for your story, dud learn how search engines work, searching by tag is basically having a filtered search, the more tags your fit your story the more venues your story can appear in reader’s search for something to read... which means visibility for your work, are you really telling me that you dislike to have that and would prefer less people reading what you post? then sorry but I think you’re doing it wrong and should get a diary instead, not post them on the internet.

addendum: still claiming to be bad at it after having posted over 40 stories and all posted in recent times in the span of a couple of months, just suggest you lack the intelligence to learn how to do things. Which only encourages me to never ever get close to your works, certainly to never promote or share them if not actively discouraging my friends from spending their time on them.

three) and guess what?  there is a frikking I'm Bad At Taggingtag for that too!!!

As a reader I might be ranting in this post, but the long effect of those is a growing apathy and increased unwillingness to spend my energies for commenting unless I’d really really really really liked or loved a story, or I have something more than a one liner to share, which while I intellectually know it might be unfair to let the whole pay for the disrespect of few, my own survival instinct is glad I’m not spreading myself even thinner...

truthful disclaimer: in all fairness it has been my experience, that those reactions usually come from authors with already quite few stories or a decent word count out there. 

New authors are still very much enthusiastic and happy about even the smallest crumbs of recognition or encouragement, which in return is lovely because it recognise that my own time and energy as reader are worthy, that it does take effort to share an opinion or encouragement or suggestion.

4) The author might never know how that day I posted that single emoji, or two character <3,  it was one of those bad days when even opening a small water bottle to swallow down the painkillers was too much, when using a finger to scroll down the page to reach the end of the story had wiped out more energies than I could really afford and yet I still pushed myself to leave a sign that I was there and appreciated their story

5) readers should be allowed to have the “if you thought writing was hard, try commenting other people words” tag...  because sometimes especially on older platforms (yes ff.net I’m looking at you) as a reader I can’t find the energies to wipe up something to say so I become a silent invisible reader. And sometimes it’s really that I am able to stand only stories with certain characteristics, personally for example I do not have the emotional fortitude to read more a certain amount of Work In Progress at the same time across multiple fandoms because my brain can’t recall all the details and I might not feel to rereading the story from the beginning every single time there is a new chapter... 6) Maybe it’s because I’m way out of my teens, maybe it’s because even in my teens and before stories were my safe place, my escape, I do not expect things to be factually correct in stories, but I am a logic driven person, I will see those plot holes and I might even poke through 'em if I find your story good enough that I feel it would be a pity not pointing those things out. You cannot tell a classic vampire story (not the twilight kind of sun sparkling vampires but the sun burn me to ashes kind) and have your group of vampires prancing about at noon of a clear summer day without some sort of reason for that to work. I promise you, I’m not picky, I will accept ridiculous reasons like they were standing under and umbrella covered from head to toes and none of their skin was exposed to the sunlight, but do put the effort to give me a reason why I should believe it was intentional, or do not cry and complain if I do decide to point out dude you’ve normal vampires that are sunbathing and did not become piles of ashes that’s not plausible... 7) Stories are just that, something to listen to, they don’t have to have a moral for them to be worthy of being shared, they don’t have to be a mirror  of your thoughts, or they could be a mirror of your beliefs, and if I am commenting on them I’m commenting on the story itself not your connection to it. And I do need you to advertise in advance if there’re things that might be triggerish, because what might be  just a mental exercise of stepping outside your shoes, if not done might result in me walking into a panic attack while maybe I was just recuperating for one and trying to find comfort or a distraction. While I as a reader cannot know you author and where you come from, unless you want to make an ass of u and me do not assume you know where I am or what path I’m walking in my life as a reader.  8) I despise people telling me what to do, especially if I didn’t ask for an opinion... If someone (who doesn’t have an economical or authorative position over me) demands me to do something the chances I’ll be do it, especially if I was going to do it before, become nil instantaneously. I’ve been running and lurking in writing circles and fanfictions for closer to three decades at the time this is being written, and from the very beginning I found disgusting and deplorable the practice some authors adopted of bargaining reaching certain numbers of comments/kudos in exchange for the next chapter. I can respect an author saying I don’t want to get this or that, but the final result is that most likely I would walk away without commenting even if it would have been a story I would have otherwise supported. There’re few authors I do know personally, at least superficially through other channels, that have this kind of disclaimers and I still comment. But that’s because I have an appreciation and will to support the person themselves who also happened to be authors. 

[sweetteaanddragons]

How to Train Your (Evil) Dragon

A/N: I’d been wanting to write this for a while, and the five sentence prompt I recently wrote finally pushed me over the edge. Definite thanks is owed to the actual HtTYD.

Also, fair warning, this gets progressively crackier as it goes on.

. . . 

Dear Mother,

Someday, I’ll find a way to actually send these to you.

In the meantime, interesting news continues to accumulate! We ran into an exciting new creature on patrol this morning that looked something like a lizard, if a lizard happened to be the size of a horse. I’d include a sketch, but I’m afraid my drawing skills are as dismal as you remember.

My skills with the sword, however, are better than ever - I was able to drive the beast off before anyone was more than slightly injured! I think it may lose one leg entirely. Unfortunately, our pursuit failed, and I was not able to finish it off, but there is another patrol planned for tomorrow; perhaps I can find it then.

There is still no news from Turgon and Aredhel, but as I recently assured Father, that is no reason to fear the worst. If the worst had come to past, surely the Enemy would have found some way to taunt us with it.

I wish dearly that Father would let me go in search of them, but he insists he needs me here. I confess, I feel better keeping him in sight as well  - 

In better news, Maedhros’s letter has arrived after all; later than I expected, but the news in it is good, and my fears are much allayed. We are holding the line, and that’s the most important thing.

I hope you don’t worry too much.

All my love, 

Fingon

. . .

Dear Mother,

I have found the beast! A minor rockfall down by the river pinned its tail and has kept it trapped. When I found it, it had given up hope of pulling itself free and was sulking about it. It looked rather more like a cat than anything else, and I almost laughed.

. . . Which brings us to my next point.

It just looked so helpless, lying there like that, and I’d gotten a bit separated from the rest of the patrol - don’t look at me like that, I was perfectly safe - and it just felt, well, wrong to kill it. When else will we have an opportunity like this, to see if we can save one of the beasts Morgoth has corrupted? Don’t I have a duty to try?

And no, before you ask, this has nothing to do with the whispers I’ve been hearing about thralls -

I promise this will end better than the bear cub I brought home in Aman. And the fox. And that hawk.

This time, everything will work out perfectly.

I’ve started by feeding it fish.

All my love,

Fingon

. . .

Dear Mother,

Day Three of my new project! I am now almost certain that my new friend is male, and he has stopped hissing at me when I approach. Admittedly, this is probably because I continue to bring him fish, but still: progress!

Between the need to actually fish for the fish, for lack of a better phrase, and my attempts to train the horse-lizard (definitely need a better phrase), this has been taking up a larger portion of my time than is easy to conceal from Father. He has been starting to make jokes that are not actually jokes about my riding off into the unknown like Turgon. I’m not sure what to tell him. I want to be further into my project before I try to sell him on it.

So I tried to drop hints that I was actually sneaking away to have the kind of assignations that might eventually end in grandchildren, which successfully distracted him.

If this continues long enough, I might actually have to find a baby somewhere.

I can picture you laughing at me. I wish you were here.

I will try to come up with a better name than lizard-horse soon. I also need a name for this specific lizard-horse, which I admit is harder than I thought it would be. Maybe I can come up with a sneaky way to ask Maedhros to ask Maglor. Celegorm might also be of some help - with the training, not the naming - but I’m pretty sure he still isn’t speaking with me. According to Maedhros, this is because the last time they met, Aredhel wasn’t speaking to him, so now that she’s disappeared, I have to fill in as a proxy.

No, it doesn’t make sense to me either.

All my love,

Fingon

. . .

Dear Mother,

Day 12 of my project! I am spared of calling my new friend a horse-lizard by the wit of one of the people who was on patrol with me; she has taken to calling it a dragon, and I like the sound of it so well that I’ve decided to adopt it. My particular dragon I have decided to call Glaurung.

He gave me a bit of a fright today when he unexpectedly breathed out sparks while I was doing my best to mend his leg, but there was no true harm done, and I think he looked a bit sorry afterwards. He is beginning to look genuinely happy to see me when I come, and I harbor some small, probably foolish, hope that it’s not just excitement for the fish.

Father has begun to poke around to try to find out just who I’m having assignations with; I might actually have to start courting someone to satisfy him.

Or I could come clean, I suppose, but my other idea sounds easier. No luck finding a suitable and available baby to claim so far, but my efforts continue unabated!

All my love,

Fingon

. . .

Dear Mother,

Glaurung can talk! He said his very first word today! It was “fish.” I am very proud and am now attempting to get him to say my name. The first letters are the same; how hard could it be?

I stay longer and longer to sit and talk with him now. Hopefully it will help him learn to speak. Once he can actually hold a conversation, I feel I can present him to Father. 

I’m more hesitant than ever to do so before I can be sure how Father will react. He would be perfectly right to be cautious, of course, but I hate the thought of having to see Glaurung dead. I feel responsible for him now, and I want to protect him if I can, as ridiculous as that may seem directed towards a being that successfully started a fire for me yesterday.

In other news, Glaurung apparently now prefers his fish cooked.

All my love,

Fingon

. . .

Dear Mother,

I have finally freed Glaurung from where his tail was pinned. I confess I had some lingering fear that he would attack or at least wander off, but now that I see the damage, that concern has lessened greatly. He will need a good deal of help before he is ready to do that.

Please don’t worry. I’m being very careful, I promise.

In unrelated news, I discovered dragons can purr if you pet them just exactly right.

All my love,

Fingon

. . . 

Dear Mother,

Glaurung did a bad thing today.

He has been growing at an incredible rate, and I’m afraid my fishing skills are struggling to keep up with him. Today he wanted more fish when all I had left was the one I had intended for my own lunch. When I told him no, the strangest look came over his eyes, and suddenly I found myself bringing him the fish anyway despite my intention.

Fortunately, I snapped out of it before I could actually give him the fish, and I suppose no great harm would have come of it even I had, but the incident still alarms me. His fire is getting stronger. What if this does too?

Well, hopefully I can train it out of him. Immediately after I snapped out of it, I poured the bucket of water I’d brought him over his nose, and he reacted exactly as a cat would, sputtering and indignant, so that will be my new strategy: All misbehavior will be greeted with a liberal application of water. Perhaps I’ll see if one of the artisans can create something a little more manageable for the task than a bucket.

On the bright side, his language skills are improving! He asked for that fish in a full sentence. I’m very proud. Is this what parenting feels like?

Meanwhile, I think Father has questioned every eligible Noldorin woman in Hithlum. Presumably he’ll move on to the Sindar next; I don’t know what he’ll do when he runs out of those.

Possibly I should have come up with a different excuse.

Maedhros’s next letter has arrived, by the way. I referred to my project very discreetly in my last to him, but apparently it was not discreet enough, because he sounded rather alarmed. I’m torn between telling him the whole truth and obfuscating so he doesn’t feel the need to lie to Father on my behalf. 

I’ll just tell him I’ve gotten a cat. A very large cat. That breathes fire.

Maybe not that last part.

All my love,

Fingon

. . .

Dear Mother,

I now have a special bottle that sprays water when I push a little trigger at the top. I like it very much, and after extensive and absolutely necessary practice on various rocks, I have taken to carrying it with me when I go see Glaurung. Unfortunately, this has proven necessary. Twice more he has attempted that eye trick, both times in attempts to get more fish, but after the last attempt he seemed resigned to failure. I also take heart from the fact that he is now fully healed and could easily leave to survive on his own, but instead he has stayed here, seemingly perfectly content to stay with me. In fact, I’ve had to use the spray bottle once or twice to keep him from following me back to the fort.

(I am getting increasingly tempted to use the spray bottle on Father whenever he brings up the woman I am supposedly seeing, but I doubt I would find as good a result. In hindsight, I really should have found a different excuse to use.)

In cheerier news, I can have full conversations with Glaurung now! His own contributions remain simple, but he is improving greatly.

I also have a confession to make: I told you that I was teaching him to speak. I did not tell you that I was teaching him Quenya.

Keeping that secret from you of all people was spectacularly pointless, I know, seeing as you aren’t actually reading these, but I was afraid to commit the words to paper in case these were ever found.

You have to understand, it just seemed so natural! I was alone, doing something secret, so naturally I would use -

Well. I suppose when Father finds out, the sticking point about the dragon will probably not be what language he speaks. On the other hand, when Thingol finds out . . . 

Maybe I should start teaching him Sindarin.

All my love,

Fingon

. . .

Dear Mother,

I have a baby!

Admittedly, I’m increasingly concerned about the provenance of said baby, but Caranthir’s not talking, and Father’s already seen the baby, so it’s too late to back out now.

. . . Though maybe I should back up just a little.

You see, a few letters ago, I’d mentioned to Maedhros that I needed a baby, mostly because I was too tired to think about what I was writing, and then the messenger took it before I could -

Anyway. Maedhros, being the supportive cousin that he is - and also, notably, having survived Feanor’s determination to have 49 grandchildren at minimum - assumed that I had legitimate reasons to want said baby: Namely, Father pressuring me to get to work preserving the line of Finwe by providing more heirs.

Which shouldn’t be necessary but given that we still don’t know what happened to Turgon, Aredhel, and little Idril - 

Which, to be fair to Maedhros, was much more sensible than what was actually going on.

In my defense, I didn’t actually expect Maedhros to - to do whatever it is he did. I thought he would commiserate a little, maybe, and that would be the end of it.

But no. Caranthir is here with the horses he wants to trade for some of our stock, and he brought with him the tiniest, most perfect baby I’ve ever seen.

I’m going to call him Gil-Galad.

I know, I know! I shouldn’t be naming the baby before I’m sure I’ll get to keep him, and I shouldn’t decide I’m going to keep him before I can get Caranthir to cough up more than, “Don’t worry about it,” when I ask where he came from.

But Caranthir managed to smuggled the baby into my arms right before Father walked in, saw it, and jumped to the obvious conclusion, so if I do end up having to give the baby up, I’m going to have a lot of explaining to do.

Actually, I already have a lot of explaining to do because I might have panicked a little bit when Father saw me with the baby.

And by ‘panicked a little bit,’ I mean that when he said, “You have a baby?” I may have, possibly, blurted out, “I also have a dragon.”

So, as I write, Father’s getting kitted up to go meet said dragon.

Do you think Gil-Galah’s too young to come along?

All my love,

Fingon

[loopy777]

Almost forgot, did you like the Wandavision finale? I found it to be a little underwhelming, though not without its moments. I’m a softie, so the moments that were intended to be moving hit their mark for me.

Yeah, I overall agree with you. The big emotional moments worked great, but it was a bit prosaic compared to how it started, and I do have some quibbles with the series as whole now that we have the whole picture.

SPOILERS FOLLOW

First of all, I do have to register some disappointment with the final battle. There have been some grumbles online about it devolving into a typical super-hero fireball-tossing tussle, but I had specifically been thinking how appropriate/cool it would be if the final confrontation actually involved all the sitcom elements from the rest of the season. Like, Agatha would turn Wanda into the 50s housewife in order to limit her powers to cheap special effects, but then Wanda hits Agnes with an 80s makeover that blinds her with the big perm-wig spilling over her eyes, and then Wanda transforms herself into a 70s outfit with such big sleeves that she can fly with them as wings, etc. You know, go all out with rapid-fire sitcom homages, straight down the camerawork changing to match the era with each magical spell. But that was just my own vision, and it would probably be too big-budget for a TV series like this, even a streaming headliner. But it would have been a really great capper for the series, right?

But, as I think we’re both alluding to above the spoiler warning, the goodbye between Wanda and Vision and the kids was exactly as painful as it needs to be.

And what was absolutely perfect was the confrontation between Vision and Cataract. It started as a cool battle, and then the whole "Ship of Theseus" conversation was perfect in content and staging. It probably helped that I'm familiar with the concept, although I like the "Grandfather's Axe" version from the Discworld books best. It works great for the character, and I like how it leaves open how Vision might come back, and that we won’t ever get the Vision who died in Infinity War, but even his future transformations will remain true to the spirit of the character.

I do appreciate that they also didn't shy away from showing that Wanda had been inadvertently torturing the whole town, and that in the end she had to walk away without a chance of forgiveness like Zuko in 'Zuko Alone.' I think the narrative could have condemned Wanda a bit more, although I honestly don't think the overall effect would have amounted to much. I don't think Wanda belongs in jail because- well, what would the point be? Wanda is already cutting herself off from everything, living alone in a place where she can reform and master these dangerous new powers she has. What more would jail do to/for her? As a punishment, it seems like nothing compared to giving up Vision and the kids. I think that’s what Monica’s clunky dialogue was meant to convey, that the townspeople don’t understand that there’s no further punishment that can affect Wanda at this point.

On another anti-jail point, the SWORD leader guy shouldn't have been sent to jail. He was completely set up for a full-on horror-movie death-ending. Sending him to jail is weaksauce. He's the one who instigated this whole thing by triggering Wanda with a show of her lover being dissected with hand-saws. If that's not asking for a horror-movie death, especially in a show with witches involved, I don't know what is. Dude should have melted or been transformed into a bug that gets eaten by a scary rabbit or turned into a commercial in a TV that gets destroyed, etc.

Speaking of SWORD, we definitely needed more Jimmy, Darcy, and especially Monica. Monica should delivered a climactic speech to Wanda about coping with grief and not letting it turn you into an abusive monster, which then empowers Wanda to defeat Agatha and end the Hex. I also think the way Monica randomly develops super-powers from the Hex is really hacky. I hope whatever movie she appears in retcons things so that she already had some kind of potential or latent mutation.

However, what really struck me as a bit hollow (as I thought about things later), is the point was of all the mystery in the series. Yeah, it was fun to speculate through the run, and I enjoyed the whole "What's going on?" feel of the beginning, but by the time we got SWORD's POV of everything, that should have been the end of it, and that episode shouldn’t have climaxed with Monica announcing Wanda’s control like it’s supposed to be a revelation to the audience. That, by itself, created suspicion, because it’s not a revelation to us. We had all speculated that it was really her from the very beginning, complete with the common guess that she probably grew up watching old American sitcoms, so the fact that the storytelling made a big deal about the revelation was suspicious, and then Agatha’s reveal turned it into a whole back-and-forth fakeout that was super pointless.

Saving the confirmation for the second-to-last episode was stretching things unnecessarily, and the tease about whether Agatha might have been the one behind it all was misdirection for its own sake, just distracting from the focus on Wanda and Vision. If the series wanted to be a season-long mystery, it should have been from Vision's POV. If it wanted to be focused on Wanda, then it should have clarified things starting with episode 5. The surprise of Agatha could even be preserved, but without the teasing about Wanda not really being fully in control. I think this will make rewatches of the series fall a little flat, and I think is also responsible for a lot of the disappointment that people are feeling about the finale, since it doesn't live up to the 'momentum' of the all the questioning that the rest of the season had been encouraging.

To clarify, I don't mean that all the little details and teases needed to add up to anything- I'm boggled that the internet seems to think this series would be a way to work X-Men or Fantastic Four into the MCU, that Mephisto would ever be a thing, or that Jimmy Woo's witness-protection dude was ever anything more than an excuse to involve him, etc. But the big question about how in-control Wanda is of the Hex is something that really didn't need to stand as long as it did, especially since the answer winds up being so straight-forward. Trim the mystery and the twists from the back-end of the series; they don't need to be there, and just distract from the character arc.

That said, I do think the character arc is ultimately good and the story more-or-less servicable to it. And I really enjoyed the 'stylings' of doing the whole sitcom format. So overall, WandaVision gets my thumb's up. But it could have finished stronger.