#every day i tag 1000 stick figures

[doinkmaster5000]

i blacked out and suddenly there was lore

[faebaex]

Tangled in Wonderland - Faebaex's 1000 Follower Event!

Hello, hello! This weekend I hit 1000 followers and I was so surprised! I never thought so many of you would enjoy my writing so much that you'd want to stick around to see what other crazy ideas pop out of my head! Firstly, I want to say thank you for all of the support, and know that I read every one of your comments, tags and DMs (even if I am really bad at responding ;-;)

Without further ado, let me tell you what I have planned for the 1000 follower event!

Event: Tangled in Wonderland

Reader has suddenly been transported into the fictional world of their favourite mobile game, Twisted Wonderland, in the place of the often unlucky main character. Knowing everything about the events of the game and the characters within it, Reader now has to figure out how to navigate this situation, ideally without getting dragged into overblots and the like!

How It Works

Each day, I will put up a poll for a certain dorm, and the winner of the poll will star in a fic with Reader. Depending on the popularity of the event, I may do more polls for the characters who did not win their initial polls.

And kicking off today's poll is...

Heartslabyul!

[russilton]

Hi, I hope this isn't weird, but as I see this kind of discourse from one of my favourite author I just wanted to check in if that's a kind of thing you're dealing with too. Without any judgement to anyone. Is it really that important to you guys that we leave comments? Aren't kudos enough? And do you agree that writers have to answer to comments?

It’s alright anon I figured I might get a message like this and I do appreciate having the chance to share my piece because I utterly agree with Susi on every part.

Something that’s worth understanding is I do not have a single artist or writer friend who doesn’t face this issue. Every single one one them, without fail, puts their heart on the line to create and share fan work, and all of them, myself included, struggle with a lack of response. Every gif maker, writer, artist, edit crafter, web weaver, all of them live for the positive comments we receive, the praise. I don’t know a creative without a praise kink, frankly.

This has been true for every fandom I’ve been in since I started posting art online in 2011, and fic in 2017, but it is ESPECIALLY present in F1 RPF because the space is so small, and usually people are so used to clinging to anonymity that the space feels even smaller.

Long discussion under the cut, because I wanted to try and honestly explain the mental process behind why authors and artists ask for a comment.

Speaking from my own experience now (that I’d still put money on being a similar experience for others), posting work of any kind online is a bargain. Yes you do it for yourself in part, but if it was just for myself I wouldn’t post it. When you post, you make the mental deal of “am I willing to accept potential hate or disinterest in this, for the chance to receive love and praise on it”. If you’ve been here a while you’ve seen the anons I’ve received at times; transphobic, homophobic, or just plain hateful. Some were too hateful to even post. I have had an Instagram page make a collage of my art just to laugh at it. But I keep posting, because for me, the joy and community I receive from comments and tags on my work make it worth that bargain. There’s some work that isn’t worth the potential backlash to post. That’s why any of the nsfw art I draw never leaves my close mutuals. I’m not willing to share it online when the result of it would pale against the risk.

Creative work is a deeply personal and heart baring process. It cannot be done easily some days. Yes it’s fun and funny and entertaining at times, but most times when I’m writing, I end up stood utterly alone in my own mind with myself. I cant write if I’m too depressed, because that experience of being alone with myself is too painful. Even on a good day it can be hard. So when I choose to go to that place, remain alone to pour my mind into something I write or draw, it is an exhausting labour of love. It takes hours, I’m not a fast worker, some people are faster than me, some are even slower. I’m alone for all of it.

And so when you put that all together. The work, the creative process, the editing, the cleaning, the preparing for posting, the process of tagging and sorting work so it’ll be seen, then self promoting… the least we can ask for in return is a comment?

You have to understand, kudos or likes are great, but it’s a hand sticking out of the void and giving you a thumbs up. It’s silent, faceless, impression-less. Imagine sending your family a deeply personal message and the response you get is just “👍”. Yeah it’s technically a response, but it’s disproportionate to the Labour afforded beforehand. People posting online are seeking a human connection, that little snap of closeness all human beings through history have craved. A kudos doesn’t really satisfy that craving. I would rather get 20 kudos on fic, but every single one has a comment, than 1000 silent ones. It’s just a number, it takes half a second to press that button and move on. It makes you feel like a cheap commodity that’s consumed and spat out, and that doesn’t even speak for the shame of a thousand eyes looking at your work and saying nothing at all.

When you comment or leave a tag, it shows me you took a second to absorb what I’ve showed you. It slowed you down, made you pause or take a breath, it DID something to you, just like it did something to me to make it. That’s a connection, that snap of a bond. Myself and that commenter now share something, and usually it’s a simple act of gratitude that you see all the work I’ve done to give you something, even if the comment is just “I really liked this!thank you for writing it”. It’s a paltry amount of work compared to what happened to get us there. But I feel less alone for just a little while, just like that fic did for you.

I understand that is still hard to do on occasion. You may be tired, you may feel over exposed or sick, but again you have to remember how hard that creative worked to give you something. On tumblr at least you can still reblog without a comment and increase the chance of someone else doing so. Ao3 doesn’t have that. Even when people filter by kudos they still have to be looking to read something with those tags. It doesn’t do much for the author who is sat faced with numbers. Their work made you feel, think, or just escape your own mind, by commenting, you are giving them the chance to have a moment of the same.

I have a screenshot folder full of comments that have made my day. It’s packed with the words that kept me going, when I doubted I could write at all, when I wondered if my art was good enough. They make a meaningful impact on my life the way I hope my work does for others.

And then you have to understand how… ungrateful it seems, to have people go “well you don’t reply fast enough, so I’m not going to comment.” I understand we all want that connection again, of a reply, and that’s why most authors TRY to do so!

But that author or artist has spent hours creating something for you, they have emotionally laboured and worked and bared themselves, asked you just to say something as your payment, and then you have asked to be paid for that honour? That’s like going into a store, paying for something, and then going “because you didn’t give me an extra gift for paying rather than stealing, I shall simply steal it in future”. That’s kind of insane right? Especially when the work you receive was hand made with love by the person sat in front of you.

I don’t know a single creative person on f1blr I haven’t seen go “I don’t know if posting this is worth it”. And that should worry people. If you come online and devour content without return, you are going to see people stop posting and walk away. I’ve seen it happen over and over and over. This isn’t the hungry hungry caterpillar, you aren’t 5, you don’t get to have your cake and eat it too if you don’t pay the baker who made it. In this case nobody in fandom has the incentive of making a living to continue. I can’t buy things for myself with comments. We don’t get paid. Instead they’re just going to stop sharing and return to only giving cake to people who respond. I’ve got art and fic I wrote only for my friends, because I wanted a reaction and giving it to them was a sure fire way to get it, because I trusted them.

If it becomes more effort to post than it does the return, I simply just won’t. I owe nothing to a faceless void, and so said void should try being less faceless. That’s all people are asking for.

[swingstep]

i’ve been trying to figure out how to say it for days, and hopefully this will do, but... i recently passed 1000 followers on this blog!! and thats!! Bonkers!! i sincerely didn’t think we’d ever reach this point ever since i started several years ago, so i sincerely want to say: thank you all so so so much for your support!!!

unfortunately, i’m just a bit too frazzled at the moment to properly celebrate like i want to, (even my little daily doodles are keeping me busy..!) but i didn’t want to go too long without acknowledging it! i definitely want to put up a raffle or something once i can (maybe we can do an ask/art game in the meantime..?), but until then... for every interaction, every nice tag or comment, and every flip-flop of my silly little fixation brain: thank you for sticking with me! have a lovely day, folks!! <33

[what-the--curtains]

In a Week

Part 1/4 - A storm blows into town

(Frankie “catfish” Morales x f!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: a drive down to a friends wedding gets complicated when you fail to head a warning.

Authors notes: Hello! Another fic cause it keeps snowing here and I’m SICK OF IT but wouldn’t mind it if I was stuck with Frankie💕. Anyways hope you enjoy as always comments are welcome but be nice!

TW: mentions of dead sibling (war related), swearing, mentions of a toxic relationship (based off of personal experience)

Tagged list: @agingerindenial

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~There was nothing worse than a February wedding, well at least one that took place in the frigid northern temperatures you were currently residing in. So you were eternally grateful that your best friend Stella had chosen to have hers down in sunny south Carolina where she had just accepted her first permanent hospital position. She was marrying her first love, a fact you’d usually cringe at but, they were extremely cute together. Stella had met Genevieve through her brothers Will and Benny, well more specifically Will, who had drunkenly run his head through a window one night. This incident resulted in two things, first a nickname that would stick with Will for the rest of his life and a late night call to Stella asking her to come down to the hospital to pick him up. The boys had put Stella down as their emergency contact in an effort to keep their antics hidden from their parents who they knew would only worry. The nurse patching up her idiot brother was none other than Genevieve who was working through her university's clinical course, and the rest? Well, the rest was history

You’d met Genevieve, as well as Will and Benny, sporadically throughout the 8 years you had roomed with Stella, first during your undergraduate degree at Boston University and then again at Stanford while attending medical school. You’d choses Stella as a roommate without much thought, but after just a few weeks together you were inseparable up until the day that you were assigned to your residency. You were slightly jealous when you found out that she would be spending the next four years in the warm embrace of Carolina (and Gen) while you would be living alone throughout the freezing Chicago winters. The pagne of jealousy didn’t last long though, Chicago med was your first choice after all. So here you were, in the last year of residency and in the middle of a brutal -20 degree winter, preparing to drive the 13 hours down to watch Stella get married. You’d considered flying but you knew how fickle airplanes could be in the winter and the last thing you wanted was a delayed flight because a door had frozen shut. Your friends had tried to convince you that driving down alone was far too dangerous a venture and none were more concerned than Santiago Garcia.

You’d known Santiago your whole life. Him being your brother's best friend resulted in him spending a lot of, some may argue too much, time at your house throughout both your childhoods. Your brother, Parker, was 8 years your senior, an age gap that often resulted in an argument over which one of you was the accident. An argument which usually ended with an agreement that in all likelihood you both were. Every summer from before you were born to the time they left for the military the two boys were a constant presence in your life. Hell, even after he left you’d watched him grow as he passed through your household over Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks. One thing was for sure, if Parker was there Satiago Garcia wasn't far behind. He was also there the day you received the news that your brother had gone MIA and he was by your side at the funeral, as you watched the commanding officer hand your mother the flag your brother had died for. After the funeral, life continued to move on around you as did everyone else. You always found it funny how quickly you were supposed to recover from loss, apparently a week was long enough to get over it. At least according to the university and your employers who had started calling with empty condolences that quickly led to the real reason they were calling. Always wanting to know when you’d be coming back. After your brother's passing, Santiago took over his role of big brother to you. He read over your med school applications, scared off potential boyfriends and got all the embarrassing video footage of you at your graduations. He was a permanent fixture in your life, one you hoped you’d never lose. Even now as he continued to blow up your phone in an attempt to sway you from driving up alone, you were thankful for him. Over the past 5 days he sent you lengthy lectures in the form of voice messages and a slew of articles detailing the statistics of winter related accidents. His name pops up on your screen as does a picture you’d taken one night after he'd passed out drunk and you’d stuffed cheetos up his nostrils, an act he has yet to forgive you for. You contemplate ignoring the call, but knowing you were about to go radio silent for the next 8 hours you decide to pick it up.

"Hey Santi what’s up?" you ask, as you half heartedly spread cream cheese onto a poorly toasted bagel.

"Have I ever told you how much I value your friendship?” Even over the phone you could hear the layers of charm he was currently plastering on.

"What do you want?" you say, tossing the knife into the sink.

"Hey! Who says..." he starts, but you don't let him finish.

"Santi I've known you long enough to know your ‘please I need something’ tone by heart" you laugh.

"Okay well I still value you, but ya I absolutely need a favour" Santiago admits.

"Shoot." you say taking a bite of the bagel.

"I need you to pick up a friend of mine, his flight got cancelled. He's in Chicago at the moment, can you drive him down to the wedding?"

"Ughhh are you kidding me Santi? I’m just about to leave" you say through a half chewed mouthful.

"Please! He’s a great guy, Gen wants him at the wedding, he was in basic with us, so a frequent visitor to the hospital. He's usually pretty quiet so you won’t have to spend that much time making small talk, which I know you hate." He pleaded. For anyone else a last minute change like this would have gotten a laugh, and nothing more, but this was Garcia, and you knew he’d do anything for you, so you’d do this for him.

“Fine” you begrudgingly agree “text me his number, I'm heading out in 40 minutes so he'll have to wait at the airport for a bit" you say, finishing your breakfast.

"You’re a godsend! Seriously, what would I do without you?" He chuckles.

"Nothing good i'm sure, besides I figure I probably owe you like, 1000 favours after you

know....'' the phone goes quiet. Five years later and it still stung like it was yesterday, for you both. He was your family, but he was Santiago’s best friend, you knew the loss was equally as devastating for him. You also knew he'd been having a particularly hard time recently, after what he termed a mission gone wrong a few years back. Every time you'd ask about it he’d shut you down harshly refusing to share any details with you.

"You don’t owe me anything. We're family. Thank you for driving him. I owe you a drink at the wedding!" He responds, back to his chipper self. If it wasn’t for the silence he may just have convinced you that he really was doing fine. You toss the phone on the counter and rub your temples mentally rearranging your entire itinerary for the day. You'd already rifled through the gym bag that was constraining way more clothes than you’d need for the week. Everything you needed was there from bathing suits to your wedding outfit to the special lingerie you’d packed in case you ran into an old flame. If by in case you meant, for when you ran into him. You don’t know how but he’d gotten invited to the wedding reception. Stella hated the guy, so it must have been through Genevieve who likely would have felt bad excluding him, even if he was only a friend of a friend.

You’d met Jonathan in your undergrad and you had been together throughout various points in your life, though never in any official sense. He’d made that evidently clear to you at any opportunity he got. He kept you on a short leash, a retainer if you will. Only coming to you between relationships with women that he deemed worthy enough to be his girlfriends. You knew it was toxic, and your friends constant reminders of how unhealthy it was didn’t fall on deaf ears. The way he would use you and lose you always ended with you being an unstable and emotional wreck, only solidifying his claims of you being crazy. You hated it, the way he made you feel so small, but he held this strange power over you. A power not even you could explain. His redeeming qualities could only be found in the bedroom, he was the best you’d ever had, so you forgave his shitty personality. Always gravitating back towards him, restarting the cycle. You knew what it meant to do the same activity over and over expecting different results, but this was different. At least that's what you told yourself, as you’d traced your hands over the lingeries lace that morning, knowing it was bought for a man who would never appreciate it.

Brushing all thought of him aside for the time being you grab the duffle off the floor and sling it over your shoulder. Walking out into the cold February air you watch as your breath transforms into a small cloud in front. Your chest hurts and nose hairs freeze as you inhale, tossing your bag into the back seat before leaning into the car and starting it up. The engine sputters for a moment before breaking out into a loud rumble, maybe it was a good thing someone else would be in the car with you after all. You jog back inside to your townhouse and grab the cooler where you’d stored the snacks and sandwiches you’d prepared for the road, now realizing it likely wouldn’t be enough to feed two people. Tossing on your winter jacket you lock the door behind you and slide your sunglasses down over your eyes shielding them from the afternoon sun as you make your way into your car.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You pull up to the departure gate still cursing at the idiot who had almost smashed into you while they were going the wrong way down a one way street. You hated driving in the city and you couldn’t wait to get out on the open road, even if it was going to be with a total stranger. You find yourself second guessing your decision to drive down state with someone you’d never met. In all reality, even if Santi was vouching for him, he could be a serial killer, plenty of people had nice things to say about Ted Bundy before he got caught.

You shake off the nervous feeling taking over your body, deciding to put your faith in your friends judgment, at least for now. Worse comes to worse you had a pocket knife stowed within reach. As long as he didn’t complain about any playlists or podcasts and understood your need for complete silence from time to time, you’d get on just fine. Besides it was only a 13 hour drive, and you could put up with anything for 13 hours.

You open up your phone and pull up the conversation you and Santiago had been having, scrolling up until you see the contact he’d sent you which read “ Catfish”. You click on it hoping to get the guys real name as a result but no luck, you should have asked Garcia for more information about this “Catfish” guy. You click on the number opting to call, not wanting to waste time wondering if he’d gotten the text you’d sent. The phone rings a few times before you hear someone pick up.

"Catfish?" you say, less confident in yourself than you had been dialing.

"In the flesh, who's this?" the deep voice responds.

"Your ride, Santiago’s friend" you offer, hoping that this wasn't some elaborate prank.

"Oh shit ya, Pope told me you’d be later than you said. I'm still downstairs" he says.

"Of course he did the little shit" you mutter, causing Catfish to laugh "Im outside now, departures second floor"

“I'll be out in a second" he says, hanging up the phone before you can say anything else.

You plug your phone back into the aux setting it back to the playlist you’d made last night during another bout of insomnia. You're checking your email to see if anything came up from the hospital when a tap at the window causes you to jump. As you look over you see the man who must be “Catfish” gently tapping on the glass. You unlock the door, popping the trunk as you slide out the driver's seat.

“You can put your bags back here. Fuck!" you exclaim when you trunk won’t open, likely having frozen shut again.

"Here" he says dropping his bag on the salted pavement and heaving up on the trunk freeing it from its icy constraints with a relative ease causing him to smile down at you.

"I loosened it" you say defensively, as he tosses his bag in the back still grinning when he

slams the trunk shut.

"Fransico Morales, though most people just call me Frankie" he says as you sit back down in the driver seat rubbing your hands together to warm them and applying some chapstick.

"Y/N, nice to meet you Frankie, seat warmers are here, use as your leisure. There are snacks in the back, but no touching the phone.” you rattle off.

“Aye aye captain” he responds, saluting you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Santiago was right, Frankie was quiet. He offered you little in conversation or any noise at all really. You’d only heard him laugh maybe twice, once while listening to a podcast episode and then again when Britney Spears made her appearance on your soundtrack. "What? She’s America's sweetheart" you say trying to sound offended, but smiling when you notice his lopsided grin. You’d attempted to open up a dialogue with him a few times, but his one worded responses told you all you needed to know, so you stopped forcing it. It wasn’t a hostile environment, it was more of a comfortable silence one that you usually only found in people you had known for years. The silence gave you an opportunity to study the man’s features, glancing away from the road every now and then to slowly piece together his profile. You had pegged him as attractive the second his face had appeared in your passenger window, but it wasn't until now that the details that made him so could be seen; relatively tall, tanned skin, soft curls, deep brown eyes. Glancing over again you notice a concerned look spread across his face.

"What?" you ask, nervous that you’d creeped him out with your excessive, and not so subtle staring.

"Storms coming our way" he says, nodding up at the darkening sky.

"We’re not supposed to get snow for another week, I checked” you reassure.

"Things change" he says

" Sky’s clear, so we don’t stop for another 3 hours" you say, definitively.

" Your funeral, well mine as well I guess" he chuckles, earning him an icy glare from you.

“It's nothing, trust me” you affirm, confident in your ability to read a weather app.

" No one likes a know-it-all" he mutters still grinning.

"Could you help me with something" you ask smiling sweetly

"Sure" he responds, eager to help.

"Pull up the map and show me when I asked for your opinion"

"Eyes on the road” he says, causing your grip to tighten around the wheel.

Well crow wasn’t your favourite food to eat, but here you were eating it. Turns out Frankie was right. A storm was heading your way and it hit hard and fast. You’d managed to make it to a hotel off the freeway just as it came into full effect. What had started as a very pleasant road trip had quickly soured when you refused to apologize for not heading his warning. This paired with the 6 hours you had already driven had left you both irritable so much so that Frankie was now refusing to be any use in respect to figuring out what your next move was going to be.

"Hi" you say to the equally tired looking receptionist. Apparently, every other person travelling through Illinois had also missed the memo about the storm and were now all stuck at the same hotel.

"Hi, so sorry for the wait" she says, forcing a smile in a way that you recognized from your retail days.

"No need to apologize! What are the odds you have any rooms available?" you ask rubbing your eyes in an attempt to keep them open.

"Let me check, we have one... suite left on the... fourth floor” she says after a few moments of typing away into the computer.

"Perfect we’ll take it." you say, tapping your credit card to the machine. You walk back over to Frankie who was sitting with the bags and hand him a room key. He exhales deeply, not looking up from his phone as he takes it from you.

"There was only one room left so we’ll have to share" you say.

"Fine," he says, standing up, grabbing his bag and heading over to the elevator not bothering to wait for you. You watch as the elevator doors open and close behind him. Sure maybe it was your fault that you were stuck in this situation, but that was pretty rude. You push your way into the room after struggling with the key for a moment. Frankie must have been eager to get to sleep, or at least eager to not converse with you as he’d wasted no time in unpacking his bag and getting ready for bed. Your eyes move from the clothes on the floor, to the suit hung up in the closet, to the closed bathroom door. You hear the toilet flush and watch the door open as you drop your bag down onto the living room floor, grabbing the toiletries out of your bag's side pocket. You were far too tired to wrestle down to your pyjamas so you opted to stay in the leggings and sports bra you’d been wearing all day. Yes it was gross, but you couldn't be bothered to change at this point. Your eyes follow Frankie as he exits the bathroom in a green cotton t-shirt and a pair of plaid boxer shorts. You continue to watch as he plugs his phone in and shifts beneath the covers. Guess you were on the floor then. The couch was far too small, and you really weren't trying to break your neck sleeping on its arm rest.

"Pass me a pillow" you huff, as you grab a glass from the nightstand, turning back around to fill it up with water from the sink.

Why?" he asks, watching you take a sip from the overfilled cup.

"So I can sleep on the floor." you state, as if it was obvious.

“No, I’ll do that, you can have the bed" he says shifting up and pushing the blankets off himself. He hadn’t realized you were so averse to sharing a bed with him, but you had just met so he guessed it was fair enough.

"I’m not the one with the bad back old man" you state, the words sounding a lot harsher than you’d intended, but you were younger and thus more likely to recover.

"Fair point, but you’re not sleeping on the floor. Santi wouldn’t allow it. We can put up a pillow barrier between us if that would make you feel more comfortable" he offers, any hostility you had felt from him earlier now turned to tenderness. In all honesty, you hadn’t realized that sharing the bed was an option.

"I need two to sleep with so no point in making a barrier" you say, begrudgingly placing the glass back down on the nightstand "Shift" you say, fanning your hand.

"No" he says looking you dead in the eye "I got here first" he’s grinning slightly, further indicating he’d gotten over his anger from earlier. You could have just walked around to the other side, but for some unknown reason you don’t. Instead, you swing your leg over him pushing yourself up onto the bed, straddling him for the briefest moment before rolling over to the other side.

"Couldn’t have just walked around?" he chuckles

"Couldn’t have just shifted over?" you parrot back, moving onto your back, closing your eyes and dozing off.

[janellion]

“beat me and maybe i’ll tell you”

pairing: daichi x gn!reader

genre: fluff, meet-cute

wc: ~1.5k

summary: you completely turn daichi’s day around when you interrupt him at work

note: written as part of an event with @savvamuraz for @ceo-of-daichi. i hope you enjoy this, lydia!! 💓 happy birthday to daichi!!

daichi groans rubbing his hand down his face as he glances at the clock on the wall across from him. he leans against the counter, bins and containers of colorful prizes filling the shelves beneath the glass, as he leans his head in his hands.

he’s interrupted by his meticulous counting of every passing second by a quiet “excuse me?” that floats across the counter, causing him to direct his attention to the young girl in front of him, a fistful of tickets clutched tightly in her small hand, eyes wide and a shy grin on her face as she looks up at him before her eyes dart to the variety of prizes displayed beneath the counter and on the wall behind him.

after helping her find the perfect prize, daichi smiles as he watches her run off, the satisfaction of seeing another happy person filling his chest before his eyes are drawn back to the clock and he feels himself groan again as he sees he has another 5 hours left of his shift.

just as he’s about to lean his head down on the counter for a brief moment of relief, he’s interrupted by a stifled laugh, and he begins to feel his cheeks warm as he lifts his gaze up.

from the glass counter to meet the source of the sound.

“tough day, huh?,” you tease, voice gentle, delighting in the way his head shoots up to meet your gaze.

his eyes widen as they meet yours, the smile on your face and the shine in your eyes enough to send his heart racing in his chest and stir butterflies in his stomach that he didn’t even know were there to begin with.

“i— um,” he starts, standing up straight as he reaches a hand back to rub at his neck, a soft chuckle falling from his lips. “yeah, something like that. sorry you had to see that” he says, sheepish smile on his face as he leans back on his heels, hands shoved into his pockets.

“what can i get for you?”

you take a step forward, eyeing the man in front of you with a smile, watching the way he nervously bites his cheek, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite himself, his dark eyes soft but surprised as he takes in the way you watch him.

you laugh softly at his question, leaning against the counter as you place the large handful of tickets in front of you. your eyes scan over the prizes on the wall behind you, finally landing on exactly what you’re looking for.

you lean back, your eyes finding the name tag of the man in front of you, who’s now watching you with an eyebrow quirked in curiosity and a soft smile playing on his lips.

“i think i’ll take those ones,” you point at the large pair of stuffed golden crowns hanging behind the counter with a poorly concealed grin on your face.

daichi’s smile grows, though his look of curiosity remains. he turns around, stretching up to grab the two crowns, before sliding them both across the counter to you.

you grab one, but shake your head as he begins to speak. “that one,” you smile, pushing the other crown back toward him, “is yours”

with that, you’re placing your own crown on your head, and looking from him to the crown on the counter expectantly, your smile only growing as you see daichi’s widen as well.

having fought an internal battle with himself over the few seconds you were watching him, daichi shrugs his shoulders and laughs, before grabbing the crown from the counter and placing it on his head. despite how silly he knows he must look, he can’t help but feel like there’s been a weight lifted off his chest as soon as he feels the light weight of the crown on his head.

looking over at you, that weight is replaced by his heart racing even faster as he takes in the matching golden crown on your head and wide and excited smile on your face.

“how do i look?” he asks, voice light, a sheepish smile on his face.

you smile back at him, one infectious enough to eliminate his uncertainty and have him smiling back at you in full force.

“you look great,” you say, your own heart pounding faster in your chest than it was a moment ago as you take in the bright smile of the man across from you. “it suits you”

daichi laughs deeply, unrestrained this time, his head thrown back, as a hand goes to steady the crown on his head, a “thank you” slipping out between chuckles as his laughter tapers off.

“hey,” he starts, uncertain at first, but his confidence and smile grow as he sees the hopeful and excited look in your eyes as he speaks. “i have a break coming up soon, if you want to stick around? because there’s a pair of matching capes that would look great with these crowns.”

“that sounds great to me,” you smile back at him, already nodding as you take a step toward the counter, now close enough to see the light flecks of gold that color daichi’s eyes. “but there’s no way you’re beating me at skee-ball,” you tease, heart racing as you see the competitive glint in daichi’s eyes at your words.

“you’re on,” he returns your grin, leaning forward to meet your gaze from the other side of the counter.

the moment is interrupted by the sound of an alarm ringing from daichi’s pocket. he startles, reaching back to turn it off, before glancing at the clock in surprise. “it’s that time already? i guess time flies when you’re having fun,” he glances over at you, with a smile.

“i’m daichi, by the way,” he says, extending his hand as he makes his way out from behind the counter.

“i know,” you laugh, pointing to the name tag pinned to his chest as you take his hand and give it a shake before turning and heading off in the direction of the games.

“wait!” he calls after you, feet frozen in place for a moment as he watches your retreating figure before he takes off behind you, long strides catching up to you after a few moments.

“you never told me your name,” he smiles over at you as you hand him a skee-ball of his own.

“beat me and maybe i’ll tell you,” you grin at him, before tossing the ball down the lane.

daichi doesn’t even know how many points you got from that toss, because his eyes are glued on you. the way the neon of the games lights up your skin and reflects in your eyes, the way you smile at him like he’s the only person there despite the challenging and teasing twinkle in your eye. he’s speechless, despite the competitive side of him that can’t help but be stirred by your words.

“you’re on,” he grins as his grip tightens on the ball in his hand, returning your competitive gaze with one of his own.

as he turns to toss his ball down the lane, fingers crossed behind his back for the 1000 point ring and a smile on his face, he can’t believe that not long ago he was counting down the seconds until he could leave. because right now? here with you? he can’t imagine anywhere else he’d rather be.

a/n: thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed this! daichi has always been one of my faves, and was the first character i ever wrote for, so he rly holds a special place in my heart 💓 HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAICHI !!!

general taglist: @oyakags @cosmictooru @over5feettall @churochuu @achoohq @ush7jima @anianimol @strawbirb @spriteandnicotine @megalodon-writes @meronuki @savvamuraz @miel-meraki @deadontheinsidebut @strawberriimilkshake @madskaay @zoppzoop @chunhua-s

writing taglist: @sugacookiies @yams046 @well-imnotdead-yet

(pls lmk if you’d like to be added or removed!)

[evilsilence]

The Emergency! Fandom Intro Meme

Rules: Not much to say here! Copy-paste this into a new post (and feel free to link back to this one if you’d like) and answer the questions as you see fit if you’d like to tell the rest of the fandom a bit more about yourself. This meme is generally tag-free and open to everyone who wants to do it (but feel free to informally tag people you’d like to know more about). You can tag your reply as “#E! intro meme” if you’d like.

How’d you find this show and the fandom? How long have you been here? Yeah, so funny story, I’d known about the show as far back as 2014 or 2015. My parents used to watch it a lot when it was on MeTV but I figured it was just another cheesy old show, so I didn’t pay any attention to it. By late 2016 I decided to finally pay attention. At first I sorta just laughed at the aforementioned 70′s TV cheesiness, but after awhile I realized it wasn’t all that bad and I wanted to dig in deeper. Unfortunately, Netflix was removing E in January of 2017 which only left me around a month to watch whatever I could binge during that time, so I found an E! board and asked for episode recs. That was my first true fandom experience, and honestly, at the time I thought it was amazing that board still existed and was semi active. I figured that beyond that board there was probably no active fandom. During my month of binging those recs, I also decided to see if there happened to be any old fanfiction for the show left, of course not really expecting anything, and was shocked to see FFN wasn’t dead at all. This led to reading a ton of E fanfics before I even had a solid grasp on who the characters even were, which idk, that probably wasn’t the best idea but it WAS fun so whatever. So technically I suppose I was “in” the fandom in late 2016, but I didn’t really actively search out the fandom, beyond that board, until late 2017 (which led to a not so great experience on a certain bird app).

What made you stick around? The fanfiction, mainly. I noticed right away how this fandom loves whump, especially Johnny whump, and that really interested me (I’ve always had a thing for whump). Otherwise, besides a few bad apples, there are a lot of really great people in this fandom and I want to be part of that.

Who’s your favorite character? 1000% Johnny. He’s the sole reason I started paying attention to the show to begin with because holy shit how is he so cute???

Are you a shipping kind of person? If yes, what are your favorite ships? I LOVE shipping. Definitely Johnny x Roy and Brackett x Dixie, but I also ship Dixie x the administrator from “Foreign Trade”.

Favorite moment/scene/quote? Yes, you can pick more than one. I’d have to say my all time favorite scene / quote is in the pilot movie when Johnny tells Brackett “To hell with the orders” and shuts off the biophone. I love sassy Johnny. I also really love the scene at the end of “Rip-Off” where Johnny still thinks he hears a rattling noise coming from the squad and Roy says “Maybe it’s the loose seeds in your gourd”. Those two have a lot of great comedic moments, but that one sticks out to me for some reason.

Do you have a favorite episode? Feel free to pick one per season if you can’t decide. My absolute favorite episodes are the major Johnny whump ones. But I also love “Frequency”, because it shows Johnny all emotionally hurt and vulnerable and questioning his own mortality and ugh so good. I also like the episode “The Exam” because of the scene where Johnny admits that he doesn’t wanna have to go back to the engine if he fails the paramedic re-certification exam. I love those small moments of vulnerability from Johnny because it’s a side of him that we don’t see much. “Isolation” is also a great episode imo, just because the scenery change is nice. And “Details”, because it’s just typical Johnny to try to rush into something without all the information.

Most underrated character, either among the fandom or one the writers never utilized to their full potential? Morton, Stoker, and Marco.

One thing you’d have liked to see more (or less) of in the show? As others have said, it would’ve been nice to have seen more of Student Nurse Sharon and Nurse Carol. It also would’ve been nice to have seen more of Morton as he grew as a doctor.

Do you have a fanwork recommendation for us? Fic, art, video, whatever? @johnnys-green-pen, @hitchcock-winter, @madilayn, and @thebeatlesqueenie1212 all write greats fics. @andtheywerelegends makes good vids. Otherwise, I’ve been enjoying “Hunted” by mta797 and “Off Road” by Closet Scrawler on FFN recently.

Any fanworks you’d like to see? I know it’s definitely going to be an unpopular opinion, but I’d like to see more fics that explore darker themes. Not every story needs a happy ending or a miraculous recovery. Sometimes bad things happen, things don’t go as expected and there’s no miracle at the end of the day. I want to read more about that.

Any favorite headcanons you’d like to tell us about? Johnny being neurodivergent is probably my favorite. And definitely that Johnny and Roy have not so secret feelings for each other. I also heard a headcanon ages ago that Johnny is probaaably a virgin and I can totally see that, given the way he constantly strikes out.

Free space! Anything else you’d like to mention? I owe this show the revival of my interest in writing. Prior to 2017, when I started my first E fic, I hadn’t seriously written anything since 2010. Writing is so incredibly therapeutic for me and always has been, even when I was a kid writing dumb stories with my friends that made absolutely no sense. Back then, writing was such a big part of who I was. And to find that missing piece of myself has been everything.

[sunscreenstudies]

hey ik this is random but I was scrolling thru the leaving cert tag and saw your post abt your results. Firstly congrats (even if it is 3 years late haha), secondly I’m currently in 6th year and was wondering if I could ask for some English advice? I’m looking to go up a grade (h3->h2) and was wondering if you have any particular tips for studying english, the exam, technique, or for literally anything relevant to the subject. There’s no pressure to answer this, ty either way :)))

Hey! Thank you so much for the ask and i am so sorry i’ve only gotten round to it now XD

LC English tips below!

Okay so it’s been a while since I did the LC but if things are more or less the same, then you’ve got your three texts to answer a question on.

Tip #1: Even though there is an awful lot to learn, you just need to remember key words, and you’ll sail through! 

In the comparative, you need to compare your texts in every. single. paragraph. You could write a fantastic essay, but if you don’t say “In comparison to this…” “Text 2 however differs from this…” “Similarly…” “The two texts are different in the sense that…” etc. you will get zero marks at all.

When answering your poetry question, you need to keep referring to the style of the poet. Every past poetry question can be broken down into two simple questions: What did the poet write about? and how did they say it? If you can answer both these questions on every poem you learn, you’ll do great! 

Also, do not learn any more than 5 poems per poet and don’t learn any more than 5 poets to begin with. This covers you completely no matter who appears on the day!

Tip #2: Please please pleaseee remember that for the comphrehension section, you must answer one question A and one question B from two different texts! If you answer from the same text you will get 0 and worse than that, this section is worth 12.5% of your total paper which means you will be down an entire grade immediately.

The length of your answer needs to correspond to the marks going for that question. In question A you usually have three parts, worth 15m, 15m, and 20m. Your 20 mark answer must be longer than your 15 mark questions.

For every 5 marks a question is worth, you need 1 A4-page pararaph. Unless you’ve got tiny writing, this is usually 5 to 7 lines of the page.

Your teacher has undoubtedly told you all about timing and “don’t spend any longer than 40 minutes on your question A” and yea they have a point, to an extent. I spent about an hour answering my question A and then sailed through question B because for me, I found the second question a lot easier to answer. Don’t panic if you don’t stick to the “recommended time” because every single person is different and what you find easy might be difficult for someone else.

In saying that, if you are spending loadsss of time on one particular section and you can feel the clock ticking, then move the heck on. Take a deep breath, leave a blank page for yourself to come back to that question later, and start your next part. Every question has a finite amount of marks, so no matter how brilliant your 20 mark answer is, you can only ever get 20 marks for it, and if that answer came at the expense of not getting question B done at all, then you’re down a grade already.

Tip #3: They want your opinion. Let me repeat that. They want your opinion. No matter what the heck they ask you, whether it’s about poetry or your novel or a Shakespearean text, the examiner will be checking to see what you thought of the text. I know firsthand how weird writing things like “In my opion...” or “I believe that...” but this is how you get the marks. Don’t lose the H2 you’re aiming for cause you’re feeling a bit awkward. After the exam, that feeling will never matter again, but your grade will!

Link every single paragraph in every single answer. This doesn’t have to be complicated, you don’t even need to write an entire sentence. Just start every new paragraph with phrases like “However...” or  “Therefore...” or “In contrast to this...”. If you don’t link your paragraphs, the examiner will think that you don’t know what you’re talking about and that you have no opinion of your own (see Tip #3) so use those joining phrases!

Tip #4: For that letter/article/diary entry question B, make sure that whatever part of it you answer, you know the layout for that style. Reports must have a title, introduction, work carried out, findings, suggestions, recommendations, and conclusion sections. Essays need to have a clear introduction, 5+ paragraphs, and closing. Even diary entries should begin with ‘Dear Diary’ which physically causes me pain to write, but it’s what gets you the marks!

Letters are the most asked question B but the most diffuclt to get good marks in. First things first: Figure out if it’s formal or informal. Formal will be editors, principals, government, or anyone that you would address as “sir” or “ma’am” in real life. Informal will be your friends, close family members, penpals, or anyone you’d hug goodbye and laugh with in real life.

Formal letters begin with your own name in the right hand corner of the page, with your own address directly below it. Skip a line, and then write the date below it, always in the format of “01 January 2020″ and be sure to check the question for any hint about what this date should be. If you’re writing a letter to your boss asking about organising a staff barbarcue for staff morale, then you wouldn’t date it in the middle of December, right? Sign off with something professional like “Kind regards” or “Thank you for your time”

Informal letters begin with your own address on the top right-hand corner of the page but do not write your name! It’s an informal letter to your friend; they know who you are.  Skip a line, and then write the date below it, always in the format of “01 January 2020″ and pay attention to the time of year again. Sign off with something casual like “see you later!” or “talk soon!”

Tip #5: Section 2′s composing section is worth an entire 25% of your paper. If you want to get a good grade, you need to get a good grade in this. If you’re aiming for a H2, then you need to get a H2 in this section minimum.

Your essay  should be between 4 to 6 pages, or 1000 to 1250 words. At least.

Always open with a quote, a rhetorical question, or a shocking statistic. I went online the night before my Paper One exam, and wrote down 10 quotes from well-known people about the most popular topics in life, eg. Education, Love, Money, Travelling, Death, Youth & Aging, etc. and just learnt them off in half an hour. I ended up using three of them on the day, and you have no idea the relief you feel when you’re guaranteed that at least one thing in your composition will get you marks!

Take an entire A4 page and plan your essay before you start. Not only is it just common sense and super helpful to get all your ideas down before you forget them, but if you run out of time for whatever reason, then the examiner will be able to see what you were planning to write, and will give you an extra mark or two. Your plan doens’t have to be complicated and you definitely shouldn’t spend any longer than 5 minutes on it. Just throw down a few words, organise them based on paragraph, and then start writing.

And finally (i’m so sorry that you had to read all that) remain calm! No matter what happens, whether you get a H1 or a H7, as long as you do your best then no one can say anything to you! You are more than your grade and you are more than some English exam that won’t matter in ten years anyway. Stay calm, always put your mental and physical health first, and remember that this paper is not the end all be all of anything. You’ve got this.

[peachdoxie]

Hey, so, I see you tagging a lot of posts as "mistborn" and "stormlight archive" and I'd never heard of either of them before but they seem interesting. What are they about?

Okay, so the first thing you should know is that I experienced a significant amount of unfettered glee at receiving this ask and knowing that you, my friend, have absolutely no idea what can of worms you’ve opened with this ask.

Mistborn and the Stormlight Archive are two book series written by Brandon Sanderson. Mistborn currently consists of six books and several short stories, with at least seven more books planned. Stormlight currently consists of three books and several short stories, with the fourth coming out in November and a total of ten planned. They are both bastions of epic original fantasy, especially Stormlight, whose third book had to be edited down because its original length was too much to physically print on commercial printing presses. These books, in hardback form, are the types of books you use as door stops and murder weapons.

Mistborn is the older of the two series, and is actually in two trilogies known as Era 1 and Era 2. The magic system essentially boils down to eating metal = Mistborn superpowers. In Era 1, we get Vin, street urchin and arguably the most powerful Mistborn on the planet, who ends up assisting Kelsier, #1 Bastard Supreme™, take down an immortal God King who has ruled for 1000 years with an iron fist (almost literally). This has unforeseen consequences. Era 2 is set 300 years later after the fallout of said unforeseen consequences. No longer feudal-era pseudo-France in a world dominated by ash and mist, but instead the hero of a Western transplanted back into a city on the cusp of an Industrial Revolution, dealing with like eighteen Mafia families and secret societies all trying to reap the benefits of said unforeseen consequences from Era 1.

The Stormlight Archive takes place on a planet where magic takes the form of Stormlight, which people then breathe in and get superpowers. There’s a war going on over giant magic crustaceans, which eventually transitions to fighting the embodiment of hatred. Featuring such topics as: philosophizing about leadership and morality; rebellious slaves somehow finding the will to not die; debates on scholarship and the value of the arts; sticks; dealing with the effects of colonial conquest; damn good representation of mental illness and physical disabilities; gay crushes. Meanwhile, there’s a massive hurricane every few days that always follows the same direction across the single continent on the planet. Also, giant anime swords that glow!

These are vastly over simplified descriptions of both series, but I don’t want to spoil what happens because there are so many great plot twists and also summarizing these books would take days.

Now, you may go, “But Peach! Why do these keep getting tagged together if they’re two different series?”

Well, my friend, that’s because Brandon Sanderson is the type of madman who is not satisfied with creating multiple works of epic fantasy. No, he has decided to make them interconnected in the same magical universe (literally, the planets are in the same galaxy) that hint at an overarching plot that’s going on behind the scenes of Mistborn and Stormlight. The magical world that Branderson has created is known as the cosmere, which you have also probably seen me talk about, and it’s up to each individual reader to decide if they just want to focus on what’s going on in the main books OR if they want to jump down the rabbit hole of trying to figure out what the fuck is going on with Hoid, aka the Stan Lee of the cosmere and also the #2 Bastard Supreme™.

The cosmere consists of Mistborn and Stormlight, its two main series, and standalone books Elantris (and several short stories) and Warbreaker (sequel in the works), as well as multiple short stories set on other planets in the cosmere galaxy, AND a graphic novel series called White Sand that Brando Sando wrote but did not illustrate because he’s too busy writing 19,000 words in 13 hours.

 Overall, if you like the following:

Super duper complex magic systems with actual consistent metaphysics

Fantasy that sophisticatedly deals with social issues like racism, classism, sexism, colonialism, ableism, mental illness, and many others

A shit ton of gods in various shapes and forms and theologies

Worldbuilding out the wazoo

Well-researched worldbuilding inspired by multiple non-European cultures

Plots that involve doing historical research in order to find out what the fuck happened in the past that led to the shit you’re dealing with in the present

Scenes that put the “epic” in epic fantasy

Dozens of the most fascinating, complex, unique, dynamic, batshit insane characters ever

Infinite meme material

No sex scenes

then I highly, highly recommend you read the cosmere. There’s no set reading order, but I personally recommend Mistborn Era 1 as a way to get into it and a good feel for Branderson’s writings. The general consensus, though, is that you should read most of the other books in the cosmere before starting Stormlight (especially Stormlight 2 and beyond) in order to get the best out of it. Some characters in the cosmere are able to travel between planets and will make cameo appearances in other books. (That’s right: there are technically aliens in the cosmere but no one ever acknowledges it.) Stormlight 2 is when the worldhopping really starts being relevant, and if you are familiar with the other characters in the cosmere, it will make certain scenes make way more sense than they would on their own.

Also pls read cosmere stuff the fandom on tumblr is fairly small and always hungering for new blood.

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh Ep 31: Oh. It’s Just a Duel for a Whole Episode

Full disclosure: I’ve been...putting off this particular project--not burned out on Yugioh or anything--just been overwhelmed with other things that have been somewhat unavoidable. And then I was like “I need to do something for tomorrow Rach,” so I turned on today’s episode thinking “well...gonna be a week before I finish this one” and it was entirely a duel.

This is great for me! I don’t cover duels here!

And then I did it and let it just sit in my drafts for nearly a week. Ahhhh this year.

Normally I’d just put this combined with another post, especially since we’re SO CLOSE to finishing this season, and I want to finish it before 2020 ends. I want to have one single good thing come out of this year. (lol prior to 2020, I would have finished this well within a month, RIP my productivity)

So enjoy these...I think there’s...9 caps for this episode? Amazing.

First off, this was originally going to be the only cap for this episode.

Because I kept thinking, as I was scrubbing through, that Raphael lost. But then he just...kept going. He in fact never dies this episode. I was wrong. Wishful thinking. What actually happened was a little bit different.

Bro note (The wiki has Raphael listed as both Raphael and Rafael. The Yugioh style guide must be wild.)

First off, the crew are having just the time of their life cheering for Yami in this end of the world very terrifying situation. But this is sort of their zone all the time. Just like me every day of fire season.

I’mma fight you, Quarantine 15.

Currently losing, PS I am very much gaining 15 lbs. But at least I’ll have so many opportunities to do so many V-ups in the process.

(read more under the cut)

And also, this happened.

This voice actor just delivering the line “MAGICAL PIGEON!!!” As metal as he possibly can. This show. This show just goes 1000% ham and that’s what makes it Yugioh.

Magical freakin pigeon.

This episode was mostly Raphael being a total hypocrite.

And like...maybe Raphael’s just speedrunning. You gotta break game logic to speedrun. You gotta play fast before the world ends. That and like...he’s totally done this before, it’s just that this time, Raphael went hella evil to do it, vs every other time he’s done this.

...I’m pretty sure Raphael had a big hand in murdering Yugi and abducted Mr Hawkins for a full day but youknow...NOW he’s really evil. I guess...every other time he was only “slightly less than hella evil.”

That and he was protected by his mom-card that he worships, and when Pharaoh deleted it from the field, Raphael just went dark.

Which honestly--that’s some wild Yugioh religion just now. Worship this card, make it your Mom--it will protect you from the most evil spells. Even protect you from this insane Pharaoh King of Games. Damn. Imagine that?

Like, Imagine if Yugi had just worshiped a card, then he’d be totally solid right now. He’d be totally normal and not cursed and probably attending High School like a normal kid because cards can just DO that.

And like this is reaching, but like...are we saying Seto hasn’t worshiped that dragon wife this whole time? Like he’s not just worshiping that, he’s straight up shipping that, so like...is there just endless power with Dragon wife? So when’s Dragon wife finally going to protect him from going completely evil? Never, right?

Like...I barely remember...but Seto was never given the option to use Orichalcos right? So we never found out if the Dragon wife would have protected him from it’s all engrossing power. But assuming he had, would it have had a consequence because he loves his Dragon so freakin much?

Man, quarantine did a number to my brain, disregard that fanfiction I just thought up just now, I’m just trying to figure out...the Raphael canon here. He’s like...Seto problems of card obsession...but somehow weirder. I didn’t think it could get weirder but...It did?

Anyway, while Yami does what he can to not think about how much time Raphael just spends vibing out with his cards, Pharaoh remembers a conversation he had with Yugi. Well...not so much the conversation...

...as it was the massive fireball he shot at his better half.

So Yami realizes “Well if I destroyed Yugi to heal myself, then clearly I can destroy Raphael and heal him, too” which sure was a conclusion he drew!

So Yami decides to do what he does best, which is mind games that make you doubt your entire identity.

Like maybe he leveled up his fog when he visited Yugi in Hell--but Yami can do this now. Honestly I think he could have done this the whole time, but just lacked confidence without the Yugi half of him.

And Mokuba, witnessing this grand force of darkness and magic is like “NOT TOURNEY LEGAL OMG THIS IS WHY YOU HAVE NO SUBSCRIBERS” just like a true Kaiba.

I guess it gives them time to break out a snack pack for Mokuba while he mourns the fact he can’t record this or profit off of streaming it in some sort of way. And...maybe it’s time for them to put Joey down? Maybe take some nice photos from the sweet view off the side of this huge building? I mean you got Seto now and he’s got two selfie sticks for arms and no one is like “hell we can finally fit everyone into the group shot”? No?

Just gonna keep staring at that orb huh?

Straight up I haven’t seen any modern Yugioh, but I hope they do address game streaming at some point and I hope that they reveal that Mokuba would end up with his channel locked and banned like every other day for so many TOS violations. (And so would Joey Wheeler but for completely different reasons)

These kids have just...they’ve just seen so many evil orbs and are so over it.

Anyway, here’s a link to read these recaps in order if you just got here.

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

And, my God, please vote.

[medicinemane]

"Earn 1000xp to get a limited time badge"

"Keep learning to go up in leagues"

"New advanced learning games we'll keep telling you are ready for you, but cost gems to do unless you subscribe"

"Oops, you made a mistake, you lost a heart but you get unlimited hearts if you're a sub"

Listen... I get it, I really do. I don't know if it's just you're worried about going under, or if it's a matter of shareholders wanting you to squeeze maximum profit out of things, but you know all the little mobile game things to get people hooked and coming back for more

Here's the thing though, those games have whales, people who will spend ungodly amounts of money in a short amount of time so even if they burn out it's a huge profit

You guys can't have whales, in fact your whole model is wanting to get people to come back month after month, and this stuff? This stuff leads to burnout

I've got over 1000 day streak, and here I am writing on tumblr cause I'm pissed instead of doing my lesson. I've got an hour and a bit left to do it, and it's been like 20 minutes of decompressing because... you're just pissing me off

I walk away from so many lessons these days annoyed now. I log in and it feels like a grind when I see you want me to churn out a huge amount of experience for this limited time shiny meaningless thing I feel obliged to get because it's limited and I'm a collector

I'm consistent duolingo. I've got a real big streak cause I figured out how to come back every day. Despite the crippling depression, here I am nearly every single day (though how long till you do something like take away streak freezes, so now when my power goes out cause I get hit by a big snow storm I'm out of luck?)

Trust me, the moment I have the spare stable monthly income, I want to support you, but... you make it so the only reason I'm sticking around is cause I want to learn this, not because it feels like you're a great platform with a lot to offer

I can't speak for anyone else, and you know... it's not worth making a forum account to say stuff I'm sure you don't care about and would be ignored. There's probably no reason for you to change your model

I'm tired of this though. I'm tired of this service I actually really like letting me down (cause I'm not even gonna get into here, but it also includes how badly supported Irish is compared to even Scottish, you don't even say half the sentences). Duolingo is a great platform, I've learned a lot, in spite of everything I'm saying I'd still recommend it

I don't know, I'm just... I actually am just tired enough of all these changes being made that I'm actually going to tag this "duolingo". I literally don't know if anyone uses that tag, if this somehow is rude to do I'm real sorry, I'm not really active with duolingo in anyway other than for my own use

But I'm tired enough, I'm not gonna say this on the forum, or in a app review or whatever. I was writing this here for my own person use anyway, I'll throw one tag on it in case... I don't know, either some how the message gets through, or maybe other people who like duolingo are feeling some of what I'm feeling

I love you doulingo, but maybe if you're not gonna update the lessons... maybe you could just leave it alone and make things worse

I better go do my lesson. I hope whoever had this really long post pop up is having a good night

[sweet-little-nerd-writer]

1000 Light Years Away Part 2

 Hee hoo part two. the song casey sings is 1000 light years away by chelsea lee greenwood, support the artist.

link to part 1: BONK

Casey fiddled with the tag on her guitar. This was going to be her last concert on Earth.

No one except for her and the 7Zee Corporation knew that she had a one way ticket to The Far Far Range launching tomorrow. She peeked out and immediately her heart dropped. There had to be millions of people out there. Usually, she loved big crowds. More people to see and meet. But today was different. She had to tell millions of fans that she wasn’t going to be making anymore music and instead becoming a slime rancher. 

But she was going to have to do it. 

She stepped out on the stage, and wave of cheers that washed over her was almost deafening. 

She sat down on the lone stool and set up her guitar. 

“This concert is special because it’s gonna be my last.” The crowd was almost silent as she spoke into the microphone, all staring at her. “I’m going to be moving to The Far Far Range tomorrow, to start a life with the girl I've been infatuated with for more than a decade now. This is for you Bea.” 

The crowd quieted as she strummed the first notes to the song she had written for that exact person.

“Oh please don't say that'll you'll go My heart can't bear the news Just knowing that you'll be a thousand light years away If you do...”

She had memorized the song long ago. 

“And will you know when it's through When you find what you're looking for Will you know what to do A thousand light years away when you do Oh when you do...”

“And I should've said it before you were gone Because I'm kicking myself for waiting oh so long And I should've held you near Every time I fear Somehow you just wouldn't feel the same...” Casey always almost cried at this part, because it was true. She had waited till a few hours before Bea left for The Far Far Range. SHe never got to do anything with Bea after that.

“So please don't say that'll you go My heart can't bear the news Just knowing that you'll be a thousand light years away If you do Oh if you do...”  

“Oh I'm just sitting here gazing up at the stars Let's say we pick one out and call the whole thing ours.”

Casey looked up at the starlit sky of her and Bea’s hometown and smiled. Bea was out there somewhere, and Casey would soon be out there with her.

“And even though that light we see Ain't the same for you and me Well you know when I know That you and I can even be a thousand light years away And I still love you Oh yes I do.”

“I love you.”

She strummed the last chord and fell silent, before a rush of cheers and  (hopefully) happy sobs. She lifted the guitar strap over her head and propped it up on the chair. 

“I’m giving out signitures if anyone wants them.” She pulled a marker out from behind her ear and popped it open. 

The first thing offered was a small stick figure drawing of her and she looked up. A little girl was holding it, eyes shining. “I wanna be like you someday! I wanna ranch slimes too!” 

“Maybe we’ll meet again when you get older, then.” She said and signed the paper. She ruffled the girl’s hair and the girl grinned, showing gap teeth and scrambled off back to her guardians. 

The girl wasn’t the only remarkable person asking for a signature, though. As the outdoor concert hall got emptier and emptier, the line dwindled as well until there was only a thin boy left. 

“Hey Casey.” He said, seemingly unsure of himself. 

“Hey Jace.” She smiled at her younger brother and hugged him. Jace had distanced himself from her, for a reason Casey didn’t comprehend, but she still loved him. He was her little brother after all.

“Look, I know I’m only making amends with you right now but-” Casey cut him off.

“The fact that your trying to make amends at all is all I need.” Casey smiled at him and booped him on the nose. “What do you want me to sign?” 

Jace fished a small folded up piece of paper from his back pocket and unfolded it. It was a small sketch of her and her guitar, meticulously shaded and to real life like standards. “I was hoping you’d sign this for me.”

She took it lightly from his hands and signed it. “If you don’t mind...” She jumped back up onto the stage and grabbed her guitar. “Could you sign this? It’s your work after all.” 

The designs on it were his handiwork, meticulous roses all over it. She handed him the marker, and he uncapped it. “Of course.” With a little flourish of his hand, he signed it near the bottom corner. “I’ll miss seeing ya, Casey, but I can tell you’re serious about her. Go get her.” Jace pulled her into another hug and Casey hugged him back. 

“Thanks, Jace. But we’ll still be able to starmail and stuff. We can still keep in touch.” Casey got back on the stage and grabbed her guitar case. “I’ve gotta go pack.”

Jace smiled and exited the stands, while Casey packed up her guitar and ran back home.

————————————————————————————–

The next day.

————————————————————————————–

Casey got hug after hug from her parents and grandparents and her cousins and all her siblings. Some of them were crying, some of them were smiling, but all of them had to say goodbye. 

She was gonna get on the shuttle in a few hours. In a few hours, she was going to be blasting off at lightspeed to be with Bea. 

After everyone had said goodbye, She walked out and walked straight to the boba place. She got her tea, and walked to the hill overlooking the field with the old tree on top. The picnic blanket she and Bea had used was still there, stuffed into the tree hollow, along with the gift bag. Both were still intact, and she grabbed both of them.

And so she enjoyed the few hours, watching the sun set and drinking boba tea. 

“I’m a coming, Bea.”

[organabanana]

Writeblrlifeweek Day 3

Strengths, weaknesses, and strategies

Strengths

I'm a stubborn little Aries, so while I'm not naturally disciplined, I will get shit done. I may not do it in the most efficient way, but dangit, it will get done. I stick to deadlines and (almost always) finish what I start.

I'm creative. I have new ideas for stories and characters and universes nearly every day, and they're all written down in a little notebook waiting for me to properly tackle them at some point.

I guess this is a sort of consequence of the first point, but I have a pretty good output, wordcount-wise. Some days are better than others, but I've trained myself to get up early and spend a set amount of time with my butt on the chair, and I almost never let myself skip a day.

I think I'm a pretty funny lady. I don't know if it always comes off in my writing, but I think it's a strength anyway.

Weaknesses

Because English isn't my first language and I've never lived in the US (where most/all of my stories are set) I don't think I'm very good at writing dialogue that sounds as natural as it should. 

I have a ~style~ and it is not a good style. I know I overuse adverbs and mess up my dialogue tags more often than not, but if I try to Do The Right Thing and tighten up my prose it just reads off and not like me. See also: stubborn, Aries.

Brevity is a gift and I have none of it. I'm long-winded. I over-explain. It's a whole thing. It's also a lost battle.

I'm a bit of a space cadet. If I was actually productive for the whole time I spend "writing", I'd be pumping out one novel per week.

Strategies

Outlining, outlining, outlining. I admire pantsers, but I meander enough  with an outline so without one I'd just be writing 100k-word chapters about a random side character someone saw sitting in the subway. I plot out the whole thing first, including characters, then do a chapter-by-chapter outline. And then when I sit down to write each chapter, I outline that too, scene by scene. I don't stick to it religiously or anything, but the outline keeps me from wandering too far from the point, which is absolutely something I do.

Routine. I get up at the same time every day, rain or shine, weekday or weekend. I make a cup of coffee, sit my bum down, prepare my journal page for the day, and enter Writing Mode. It doesn't always mean I'll start writing right away, because sometimes I get sidetracked by answering emails or checking sales or whatever looks shiny at the time, but I am on Writing Mode and even those distractions are related to writing (either my own stuff, or the stuff I write as a job). It helps a ton.

Figuring out my daily cycle. Is that what it's called? No idea. ANYWAY I spent the better part of my life thinking I was a night owl and struggling to get things done by staying up until the wee hours of the morning. The biggest breakthrough for me was realizing I'm actually far more productive if I go to bed early and get up in the wee hours of the morning instead. Game changer. I'm up at 4AM and write to my caffeinated heart's content until it's time to go to work.

Reward system and obsessive tracking. This is probably just me, but I track everything. How many words I write, how long I write, how many hours I worked that day, etc. I then make little graphs because I'm a big ole nerd. And then I reward myself for being a good girl, because my monkey brain responds to treats better than my dog does. I keep a physical journal, and I 'give' myself one sticker per 1000 words so I can look at the row of little stars or glittery cupcakes or whatever next to that day's date and marvel at my productivity. I also love the absolute h e c k out of the 4thewords website and do all my writing in it so I get to battle monsters and buy pretty clothes for my little avatar lady while I work. Win/win.

[ofisolaticn]

A BROTHERLY THREESOME REUNION

featuring: henrik mikaelson, kol mikaelson, niklaus mikaelson. tagging: @troubleson @aregentsruin summary: renuion(s). warnings: attempting formatting. v v v v long. 

KOL MIKAELSON

He's been going in and out of it, he has no idea how to stop this-- Or if he even wants to at this point. Has the curse gotten ingrained into his brain? No, no. If it had, he knew he would have done so much worse. Hurt someone he didn't want to hurt. He had managed to stay away from Davina just fine, hadn't seen her in what felt like ages. Now, he was nothing but FERAL. Like an animal lurking in the shadows waiting for his next prey, hour after hour. It was a good thing there were more than enough people trapped, right? A heartbeat picked by his ears, and his mouth watered. Throat aching for the quenching of his bloodlust. Just a second later, he showed up right in front of the unlucky guy of the night. "Having a nice night?" He wasn't a complete animal. Still holding back enough for small talk, go figure.

HENRIK MIKAELSON

It was like a ghost of a memory. Henrik remember quiet nights when his big brother Kol would make them loud. He remembered loud nights, with lots of smiles from Rebekah, Klaus, Elijah, Kol and a disapproving Finn. He remembered piggy back rides and forts and his elder siblings being--- well, amazing. But then, they were vikings. And sometimes Henrik couldn't help but wonder, had that been real? There were times he was so sure it was, then sometimes he was so sure it wasn't. This was one of those times. Because Kol looked not a day older then he knew of him. The same exact face as he wore when Henrik was only a child (1000 years ago? Didn't feel right but it was) but while Henrik had aged it seemed a moment hadn't passed for Kol. Different hair, different clothes and different way of looking at him. "Kol?" Henrik exclaimed, familiarity clear in his tone.

KOL MIKAELSON

There is something on this guy's face, an expression that Kol can read as surprise or confusion. Naturally, he wouldn't give a second though, especially not now. It would be the usual reaction of someone who just had a stranger show up in front of them at the middle of the night. In other cases, the fear kicked in the very first second, but he hadn't done anything yet. Still, there was more to just that-- It seemed like he recognized. "Am I supposed to know you?"  Thick eyebrows gathering in a small frown. There really isn't much for him to think. He'd lived for a long time after all, some people became distant and faded memories they no longer mattered. "I happen to forget people who don't cause an impression."

HENRIK MIKAELSON

"Of course you don't know me." It was said, more to himself them to actual Kol. It made sense, actually. Perfect sense. Plus, out of all his siblings Kol was usually the slowest to catch onto these things ( he was faster though, with things like pranks and magic. Faster then Henrik had ever been. ) "You would tell me stories of goblins and monsters and you used to scare me and I'd keep you up all night and you used to give me rides and-" Oh wow, he should most likely start with his actual name. "It's me--- Henrik. Hey." He spoke, anxious but all the while HAPPY to set eyes on Kol. "I know I don't-- I'm not ten years old anymore. So..." His eyes connected to Kol's. "I know it's hard to believe." And he wouldn't be surprised if Kol didn't. "Sometimes I barely believe it but.... yeah."

KOL MIKAELSON

His mumbling didn't go unnoticed, yet the only reaction Kol gave was a slight narrowing of his eyes, especially as he started talking as if they were long lost friends. Kol would remember a friend, even in this state, but he didn't remember him. As far as he could tell, his memories hadn't been tampered, and as he continued telling him stories of a life that seemed so far away, there was a brief name slipping in his hazy head. "Henrik." The name drawing out and matching the reveal, a shake of his head and a scoff. "That's impossible. " Would it? When people were returning from the dead? When he'd done so more than once in the past? When Klaus and Elijah were alive and as well as they could too? "Even if it were-- you'd still be a kid." The love for a younger brother wasn't lost, but it had been so long ago. Henrik was nothing but a memory now, especially as his blood smelled so sweet from here. "Are you expecting a parade? Welcome back party?" Did he meant to be this rude? Maybe not-- But he was so hungry, and his sanity continued slipping by the second.

HENRIK MIKAELSON

He said his name, didn't mean he believed him but it was something. "I think so too--- thought so," He said, slipping tenses and grimacing at his own self. "It feels impossible all the time. I mean, we were vikings and mom was a witch and there were werewolves and they-" A flinch, and then a pained look touched his gaze at the memories of that horrible night. Of their teeth in his skin--- ripping him apart... "Sorry," Henrik apologized for his abrupt departure from actual speech. "Oh, well," Here goes nothing. "I was brought back 16 yearsish ago. By mom. She put me with a family and then she yeeted." Would Kol even know such a word? Henrik didn't know his brother's story after all, what he'd been up to. If he was new to this world or old to it. "She just... never came back." Then the not nicest stuff happened, but that didn't need to be said in this moment. He fought a frown and instead his lips pursed. "I don't know what I was expecting, it wasn't those things but I-" A sorrowful look. "I kinda thought you all were dead. So...." He hadn't been expecting anything.

 KOL MIKAELSON

This was not a good time for reunions. Would it ever?  Henrik talked, but despite being mere steps away from him, his words sounded like an echo. The sound of his heartbeat, beating against his chest, pumping blood through his veins. The blood he's been indulging himself with at every given moment, the blood he needed. Kol tried, he did, to make sense of his words. To make sense of the situation. "She died." Not before he'd died first for a second time. A shake of his head-- Had he been brought back along with him and Finn that time? "How do I know you're not working with her?" Was she also back? His head was spinning, was this him or was this the curse that made him sound like Klaus. He wasn't the paranoid brother. Against himself, he'd taken some steps closer, for a moment the veins under his eyes popping and darkening. "You should go." Stay away from all of them, stay away from him in this precise moment. In any other moment, it left room to think-- Would've he welcome him with open arms? Or think that he'd go the best end of the stick. Definitely the better end of the stick. "LEAVE."

HENRIK MIKAELSON

"I kinda figured it was something like that." It was casual in his words, because of course Henrik mulled over the thought before. How could he not? But it didn't change the fact she left him with strangers to begin with, it didn't change that she wanted to force his siblings to change and only be a family in her way. None of it changed the fact that she left him. "Didn't you just say she died?" He frowned, confused. "plus I haven't seen her in over a decade." Still he remembered her face so clearly, just as he did the rest of his family. Faces so important, faces so clear and unforgettable. Something--- something was wrong though. He should have seen it before but had been lost in his excitement. "Kol...?" Veins. What the hell? Henrik stumbled over his own feet as he pulled himself away, he had to run. As much as he wanting a touching reunion with his brother he had died before and wasn't wanting to do it again. He wanted to say something good like 'I'll find you again' or 'Wel'll figure this out' but nothing came out. Instead he ran like hell.(edited)

KOL MIKAELSON

There was a scoff, clearly he didn't know all of their mother's ways. Or theirs. Each one of them with several chips at their shoulders. His words started to mean nothing. This could be a set up. Juat like how Esther did with Finn. This could be Finn. That bastard-- Kol only wanted to see him back to give him a taste of his own medicine. Maybe it could be now. No. Put yourself together, Kol. There wasn't clarity-- His thoughts starting to fuse up, what was real? What wasn't? All that mattered was to fill his   cravings. Who was this again? Henrik? Finn? A simple stranger on his final night? Oh yes. His name was called, as his eyes darkened again. Part of him, the smallest rational part of him, screaming to stop himself. The sole of his shoe giving a slight brush back, as if it was trying to pull him back yet-- He ran. And with that, his resolution shattered to pieces. Like a fox dashing behind his prey.    All it took was a second for him to catch up, and pull at his shoulders with such strenght. To push him back at the wall and let his fangs pierce through his neck like a starving animal. How good it felt to finally quench the thirst.

 KLAUS MIKAELSON

Late night streets and alleys enveloped in the enigma of moonlight. It's the perfect hunting ground of the nocturnal predator, even when so long ago they befriended the sun again. Klaus Mikaelson may not actively seek out to prey anymore, but he does thrive off the unsettling serenity of late nights. Plus, it's a morbidly perfect time to tend to business. A lot more DISCREET. And this is usually the case. No one around to meddle with his duties, no one with prying gazes to dodge. And, yet, here he is, ceasing his motions as a distant rumbling grows closer. Running. That is the sound of rushed footsteps. He doesn't move. He knows the trampling being is going to get to HIM first. And that's exactly what happens. A young man turns corner, bumping right into the Original Hybrid's chest. It's so quick it's almost instantaneous, but... it's enough. Klaus catches a glimpse, a very brief glimpse, a frozen second when he looks at eyes that peer back at him with a familiarity that swallows his chest and renders it the size of a flea. No time for developings, though. Surprise, surprise --- KOL rushes in to ruin it all and he cannot help but notice the painfully obvious WRONGNESS floating in the air. A flash of vampire speed and the hybrid forcibly removes his brother from the victim, giving him a mighty shove into the ground. "If I hadn't known any better, brother, I would have been tempted to say you have forsaken all your manners. Have you been watching too much National Geographic lately?"

 HENRIK 

He was running--- running as fast as his legs could take him. Something was wrong with Kol--- that was obvious. Kol would never hurt him, the brother he remembered didn't even like to hunt. He preferred tricks and traps  and laughter. Something was beyond wrong and Henrik didn't have the time to even ask. He'd been ripped apart once before and he would rather it not happen again. He was running and running and then--- damn. He only caught a glimpse of their face--- of Nik. Niklaus. The brother who was full of smiles, the one who took the brunt of their faces abuse yet would always still fight. The brother who was by his side that night before the wolves came after them, before they tore him apart. "Nik-" He began only to be cut off by the event of Kol--- KOL ripping into his neck and fuck that hurt. It really did. Henrik hadn't known pain alike this since his initial death so long ago ( though he did know other variations of pain, none of them else involved teeth ). Then Nik--- Nik was ripping him off (and the short hair suited him, Henrik couldn't help but note). He almost fell to the ground in pain but fought against the impulse, instead remaining on his feet even if the world was a bit drowsier now. "Nik?" He questioned again, this time louder and less coherent then prior.

 KOL

Kol had never minded an audience as he feasted-- What were they going to do? He was an original vampire, it was like the title already brought in the narcissistic tendencies in their genes. (To some siblings more so than the others). Henrik stopped-- and in that moment, he wasn't his brother the one he was viciously gripping and tending his hunger from. No, Henrik was his prey, and it didn't matter that only for a fleeting moment, a tiny instinct within Kol tried to stop it. The blood was all that mattered. All he NEEDED. Until, his meal got literally interrupted by a pull and push-- Frenzied look against the one who interrupted; such a laughable surprise to see Klaus of all people. Klaus who he'd resented for centuries-- The one who stole years from his life, over and over. The one who did the same things as him, or worse, and still it was Kol the brother who often got neutralized and tossed inside a coffin.  "Nik--" he growled out, a surge of anger coming through him as he pushed his arms away from. NO. The clarity tried to claw itself from the surface. Kol had decided, after his death, that he should bury those resentments-- But how hard it was. It wasn't just Kol acting, it was the curse that so freely brought back and magnified those grudges. Nik. Henrik's voice drew out through the air-- Henrik. Their younger brother.  The one who at the moment he wanted nothing more but to drain the blood from. Oh, what a crusade this was-- Between wanting to fight his older brother, and wanting to kill his younger.(edited)

KLAUS

Nik. A nickname. But more than a nickname. A name. But more than a name. It's the line between a time long lost and what is in the now. It's the remnant of a time before he decided he no longer wanted anything from Mikael, name chosen by him included, and before he turned himself into Klaus Mikaelson, the nightly terror dreaded by monsters themselves. So few still hold those remnants in their hands. Few enough to actually reel a reaction out of him. Very small, but something far from indifference. It stirs a brief recognition, petrifying as the young man with those familiar eyes gets dragged away and feasted upon. One issue at a time, however. And, in his mind, the most immediate one is the one involving the brother he does know and view as a certainty. "While I'm aware you have never been the most cordial of fools, it appears that I have stumbled upon one of those instances when you truly manage to outshine yourself." He's still speaking to Kol, back turned to the one that continues to call his name ( that particular name ), pretending that if he just elects to ignore the other, he won't have to wheel around and face a figment of his imagination or a painful remnant ( both options are equally bad ). "Don't tell me." He holds a finger up, "That haywire trail of forlorn bodies making the scenic route all the way here. Your doing?"

HENRIK

His neck hurt like hell and ya know, maybe he should run. He should probably run, Henrik knew. Yet his feet refused to walk, not even drag. Eyes too intent on the two men right before him that he thought to be long dead. "Kol. Henrik whispered, wanting nothing more then to understand what was wrong with his brother and maybe help him if he could. Then, his attention fell to Niklaus. Nik. The one who took his hand and lead him away to his death. The one he loved, and would continue loving, despite that. Nik was speaking but it was different then Henrik too, different in mannerisms and matter. Even tone. More guarded, perhaps? Not the same brother he once knew, but rather fragments of him. Remnants of the malice he endured. He was, oh he was ignoring him. "Seriously?" He expressed, words falling under his breath. "Could someone tell me whats going on--" Or should he run? He really should. Henrik did value his life but.... he valued his family too. "Please... whats going on?"

KOL

The struggle was, to put in few words, real. The rationality within Kol's mind flickered. He was trying to stop this, to stop himself, to realign his thoughts into what truly were at the time being. He was Kol Mikaelson, the wily troublemaker, the happy homicidal maniac-- but even with those titles-- Kol Mikaelson was not a man with a lack of control in himself. So he tried, he pushed himself for clarity. Forcing himself to listen to Klaus' voice instead of the rapid heartbeat coming from behind him, or the smell of blood lingering in the air, or the aftertaste on his tongue.  Words fight against him, wrestlng each other in what could be a cry of help or a cry for war. To push his ego down or to make it go head to head against Klaus. "I was cursed." Yes, the answer was yes, and oh how much he's done while cursed, he can't think at the moment. "He's--" A swallow, throat dry again despite having the crimson liquid still fresh on his lips. "Henrik."  Words short, rapid, chopped. As if he was running out of time, because... quite frankly, he felt like he was losing it again, especially as the brother in question spoke again. Why was he still there? Kol pushed himself against the wall, he was losing again, ready to lunge at their younger at any given second. Instead-- "Stop me." Words let out in a heavy breath, hands clasping Klaus' jacket as he looked at him, baring his teeth. The telltale sign of the darkening veins pointing on what was about to happen for another time.  A last beg for Klaus to do what he knew best-- And in another time, Kol would think that if he ever asked for something like this to anyone, he'd would've lost his mind. alas.  "DO IT."(edited)

 KLAUS

Kol speaks ( or something close to speaking, as much as he can seem to muster ). HENRIK. Henrik? The same kind of Henrik? He knows a brief bolt of bewilderment strikes his features, but one question topples into another as Kol clutches the rims of his jacket and does something he can't say he's ever seen him often do. There's hesitance, as well as confusion. But... But... He knows this is a race against time. No answers will come from his brother, not like this. He swallows up the surprise, the confusion and only offers a certain nod, a silent assurance in his eyes as they lock with the other original's, as erratic and drowned in bloodthirst as they are. It's the last thing he does before his hands speedily rise -- and twist his neck until his own brother's body falls limp to his feet. "Slumber well, Kol," he mutters, silently, letting his gaze shortly linger on the vampire. And finally, finally, he turns to his next immediate issue. Silently. Stiffly. A hardened glare sits in his eyes, as jumbled pieces come to form a puzzle. What does he know? So far, only what he could see: Kol, cursed and tormented, and this person, with the claim of kinship on his lips, smack in the middle of it. His vampire speed lunges him at the young man in the blink of an eye and, just as fast, Klaus has his hand coiled around his neck and him pressed to the wall, lifted just slightly off his feet. "You have precisely ten seconds to explain what you have done to my brother and why you dare parade yourself as Henrik Mikaelson," he drawls, readjusting his fingers as to allow the other to speak, "lest you would rather I leave you and your gashing wound to the mercy of vampires, the same way I would hurl a lamb to the slaughterhouse."

HENRIK

Kol was begging Niklaus to stop him--- *Kol believed him. * Then, Niklaus twisted his neck. Henrik couldn't help it. He let out a scream watching Kol's body hit the ground with the next twisted. Eyes became glassy at the sight of it, the fear of it. "Is he dead-- Oh my--" He looked to Niklaus, knowing he could do nothing against someone who could twist anther's neck with their bare hands, let alone his big brother whom he loved. "He's dead." Then Niklaus turned to him, and Henrik expected something. Not sure what it was. Sure wasn't such fast speed directed at him and a-- a hand against his neck. Not choking him, thank god, but still threatening nonetheless. "There is no parading!" He began with. "And I haven't done anything to him--- I found him and I recognized him-- even with the new haircut!" His neck did hurt, still. The wound was still prevalent. "Vampires." He repeated, his face twisting into an anguish of emotions before finally landing on pure relief. "So that mean's he's still alive then? --- undead? And you--- are you-" Are you a vampire too? He took a deep breath in, and then, he spoke. "I could--- I could rattle on this whole list of memories and things and so many facts but I don't think--- do you want to believe me? Because I have this--- this feeling, if that's not what you want than nothing I say with change it. Will it?"

 KLAUS

There are times when the fact that his world is not necessarily others' world basically eludes him. That not everyone is just used to seeing necks being snapped and expecting everything to be fine and dandy. This is one of those times. "Relax," he proclaims, a small curve of his lips and a raise of an arm that points toward Kol's uncoscious body, "he's only napping. Much to your benefit, I would argue." After all, wasn't Kol munching on him just moments before? Either way, Klaus has his focus on Henrik-- the alleged Henrik, countless scenarios whirring in his head, very few ones that would see this reality as a TRUTH. Explanations, explanations, and he makes sure to listen carefully, to the heartbeats. He makes sure to envelope his eyes in a coating of bright golden, dark veins rooting into his cheeks - just as little extra step of intimidation. "You are even more clueless than you appear," he remarks. "I suggest paying less mind to Kol's otherworldly whereabouts and more to your own current predicament. It can so easily end unwell." And then the other says something that makes his eyes narrow. He's silent for a moment. Considering. Pondering. Remembering how he ruined everything with Freya, at first. "Henrik was a child," he begins, lowly. "I wasn't aware death also causes growth spurts."(edited)

HENRIK

It would be easy to say something snarky in retribution to such word as relax. The best response, Henrik could think of at least, was simply how.  "Napping?" He repeated it, wondering if thats what vampires always called it when their neck was snapped. It for sure sounded better then 'temporary re-dead'. "Something was wrong with him." Henrik noted, concern evident on his features. "He came after me but he didn't want to I saw it on his face. He didn't want to." He was sure of it, without hesitation saying it. Then. WOAH. Henrik blinked his eyes as he watched Niklaus' turn golden, almost sun reflected. "That's not..." He was fairly sure normal vampires couldn't do that. He was confused. "How--" Oh that wasn't nice. Even if it was fairly true. "How?" He couldn't help but ask. "I-- I don't plan to fight you or have any motives, I don't---" Would Niklaus truly just kill him on a whim? Would their 'unwell' ending be because he sneezed in the wrong direction or stumbled wrong? Then there was silence and Henrik felt his heart, in his chest, hammering. Not fear, necessarily. Just anticipation. "I uh, it doesn't. I came back-- " What was the exact years?  "A while ago." He didn't remember. "Mother, she brought me back as I was. She said- she said some stupid crap about changing everyone and she'd come back for me. But then uh, never did. Just said 'yeet' I guess." He spoke, attempting for a bit humor to lighten their atmosphere. "And so I just... bounced around I guess."  He was sheepish as he spoke, as he explained. "Now I'm here."(edited)

KLAUS

Truly, for someone like Klaus Mikaelson, every draining second is a race against time - for whoever is unfortunate enough to be his PREY in that very moment. He doesn't like circling the drain. He doesn't like those moments of uncertainty. He's not a patient person. Can you tell? "Do you usually find yourself at an inability to properly string together a sentence or should I blame it on the slight stress currently bestowed upon you?" In other words: say what you have to say already. And, at last, the other does. He listens, eyes narrowing slightly as he makes sure to analyze every single word, every single letter. He can't help but remark that the bit about Esther's desire to 'change everyone' seems to largely match up with what was the truth. "A fine tale," he concludes, appearing to retreat just slightly, only for his grip on the other's throat to lower itself toward the collar, tossing him on the ground in a move of pure impulse. "However, even if it turns out it does prove your identity, it does little to vouch for your intentions. As we have it, you are not the first grazed by mother's so called generosity, with all your predecessors being siblings she has turned against the rest of us in order to conduct her evil schemes."

HENRIK

"Well..." He grimaced, knowing the answer he had was not what his brother was looking for. ( his brother his mind reiterated to remind him how special and momentous this occasion was). "I was never good in English-- grammer class." He confessed sheepishly, knowing it would make no differance but still having that yearning desire to talk about a normal topic with his brother (his brother !). And then, well, ouch. It'd hardly be the first time Henrik was manhandled to the ground, not the first time in a bad way (though he'd had experience with the good way too) and so he was fast to recover. Flinching but not mewling over the injuries. "What intentions do I have I mean--- you're a vampire, right? You-- you both are. Can't you hear my heartbeat and see if I'm lying? And for pete's sake what reason would I have to lie? Before I saw Kol I thought each of you were dead." He confessed, the sorrow in his tone unyielding and without intention. Just pain from the fact he'd thought them dead when they were right before him now. "Did you just say evil schemes?" He exclaimed, be founded. "What--- I mean, I could for sure see mom as the evil villain type but-" Right now you're not seeming all too heroic. A sigh left his lips. "I'm not gonna beg on my knees for you to believe me or- or anything like that. Honestly, in this moment," His voice broke, just a bit, as he went on. "I'm just really happy. Even with all the blood and bites and shoving--- my brothers are alive. I'm just... I'm happy."

KLAUS

The heartbeat. True, a valid point. He often uses the thumping noise as his own personal lie detector ( he elects it's not the place or time to correct the other and mention he's not a vampire ). But, then again, anyone vile enough to have vile intentions often knows how to bypass this check-up. The other talks and Klaus' mind gets frayed, spiraling into an ocean sprung only the moment he'd welcomed a daughter into his life: reason. Or, maybe, a particular kind of weariness. The one that screams he's tired of fighting against everything and everyone. Would it truly be so terrible to have their family truly and fully whole? It's a thought. But it's clouded by other, darker, rumbles. "Evil schemes, abhorrent deeds, contemptible ploys," a raise of his arms, "name it whatever you wish." A proper deflection of the real topic at hand, Klaus. He's looking down at this person, this person who claims himself to be his brother. He's different, obviously, but it's hard to deny there's a certain familiarity. It's different from Freya. He'd never known Freya. He had known Henrik, whose eyes he had to watch fade into a lifeless darkness as he gave his last breath in his arms. For a moment, that memory alone rattles him and he needs to drag his gaze away, with a conflicted clench of his jaw. "Why now?" His voice is small, a mumble of paranoia. "Why would you show up now? Why would mother-?" He's getting angry again, though he wagers it's a result of his flurry of confusing emotions. "Henrik or not, I would not rush to rejoice if I were you. Your presence here alone can only be a harbinger of terrible things to come. This is the only way our joyous familial rekindlings have unfolded."

HENRIK

"Those names are awfully cartoonish." Henrik couldn't help but remark. "Reminds me of that show-- Phineas and Ferb. Curse you Perry the Platypus." He mimicked the accent of Doctor Doofinsmirth, almost butchering it. He grimaced, watching Niklaus' reaction. "I uh," He swallowed, suddenly feeling even more sheepish. ( small too, oddly enough. being around his big brother, brothers, made him feel small and Henrik didn't know if it was a good thing or not. ) "I lost my-" God, should he even be saying this? It wasn't necessary but it was already slipping from his tongue. "I lost my accent growing up. Discarded, I guess. Just made things easier." He admitted, not diving into how so ( Nik didn't need to hear hat crap, and Henrik didn't like to go into it. He made points not to with his kids, friends, or other people. It was easier that way, wasn't it?). "I got trapped in the city." He said simply as answer. "I came here trying to help Lisa-- she's this little girl and her... her parents died recently. So I took her to her big sister in the city and then I got trapped." He confessed. "It was total accident. Honest. I never even knew you guys were alive--- sometime's I'd even think that I made you all up." He admitted grimly. "I was so young when everything happened and then I was brought back... it was hard to believe sometimes." Her pressed his lips together, listening to his brothers words. "It doesn't... it doesn't have to be. If it has happened before I'm sorry but I'm not--- I'm not that person. I won't bring terrible things, I won't be a harbinger. I'm not interested in seeing anyone hurt, vampire or not. I just want some answers, and frankly... I want a chance to know my family too."

[sternenteile]

★*･ questions addressed to your muse.

▌What is your real name?  

❝ you’re gonna wanna stick with geno. trust me. ❞

▌What is your /real/ name?

❝ ... heh. okay, you asked for it. ♡♪!?. can’t say i didn’t warn you, so don’t give me that look! ❞

▌Do you know why you were called that?

❝ i think... that merle believed i was something special. no, he knew i was, that something else was written in the stars for me. it’s really cheesy, but it’s why he decided to go with ancient star language for my name instead of a regular english name. that language isn’t really used much in the modern day, not even by my own elders, so, uh... they tend to just call me starlight. i try to convince them to call me geno, but... that’s... kind of a long story. ❞

▌Are you single or taken?

❝ hah! wouldn’t you like to know? ❞

▌Have any abilities or powers?

❝ oh, plenty! i’ve got a whole eye full. ever seen those transforming toys that can turn into cars and stuff? well, this guy can turn into a cannon. i’ve got a lot more up my sleeve than that, but nothing beats the looks i get when i transform. it’s priceless. ❞

▌What’s your eye colour?

❝ kind of a... burgundy? maroon? let’s just go with dark red instead of getting all fancy. ❞

▌How about your hair colour?

❝ i, uh... don’t normally have any! the doll’s got ginger hair. it’s kind of more like ribbons, but... you know. it’s close enough. ❞

▌Have you any family members?

❝ heheheh. what would you say if i told you i have thousands and thousands of siblings? ... make that face, i guess! hahahahaha!! i’ve also got my mother. needless to say, she’s always got her hands full! ❞

▌Oh? What about pets?

❝ okay, luigi’s awesome. he gave me this light blue yoshi egg, and ever since it hatched, i’ve been tending to the little guy ‘til he’s ready to leave the nest. his name is boötes after a constellation. he’s kinda chubby and drools a lot, but he’s my round puddle of drool. ❞

▌That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me about something you don’t like.

❝ thinking about things i don’t like. how’s that? ... hey, that totally counts! ❞

▌Do you have any hobbies/activities you like to do?

❝ uh... geez. gaming? playing with my friends? reading? sparring? doing things on my phone? i’m on, like, video 789 of 1000 on this bunny playlist on beantube. i’m making good progress. ❞

▌Ever hurt anyone before?

❝ yeah. it’s kind of part of my job. ❞

▌Ever killed anyone before?

❝ ... it’s —— part of the job, too. ❞

▌What kind of animal are you?

❝ stars are animals now? i mean... i guess it’s better than being called confetti by your huge, hulking koopa king friend. what’s that? passive-aggression? never heard of it. is that some kind of cereal or something? ❞ ;)

▌Name some of your worst habits.

❝ not... sure why you want to know that. i guess sometimes, i get a bit too gluttonous for my own good, but it’s not like i have a ‘figure’ to keep up or anything. we stars use all of the energy we can get, so it’s more of a benefit. depriving other people of food isn’t a good thing, though. people need it more than i do. ❞

▌Do you look up to anyone at all?

❝ my mother and mario are two people i can’t help but admire. her excellence —— my only real guardian —— is just... incredible in every single way. she’s nurturing and kind, but she also knows how to have fun. she knows how important freedom is, and she looks at every star like an individual. i don’t know how she manages to take care of all of us day-by-day... but it has to take a lot of patience and gumption.

❝ as for mario... he’s just the most human guy i know. he’s got his flaws, sure, but while most people see that as a detractor, i think that’s great. he isn’t just a perfect goody-two-shoes like people seem to think he is. he’s got a heck of a temper and a sharp tongue to boot. he can be kinda bull-headed and do some stupid stuff, too... but that’s not to say he’s dumb. he just lets his bravery get to his head, you know? he’s so humble, though, and so kind. i, heh... i could go on. ❞

▌Gay, straight, or bisexual?

❝ can’t say i’m any of that in particular? ❞

▌Do you go to school?

❝ stars don’t need to go to school, actually! we’re very intelligent beings and are kind of... born with a lot of innate knowledge. on top of that, we get guidance from our elders, meaning they’re... i guess you could call them like our ‘teachers’ to begin with? it’s a constant thing. ❞

▌Do you ever want to marry and have kids one day?

❝ uh... h-heheh... pass? ❞

▌Do you have any fanboys/fangirls?

❝ bowser is my biggest fan. hey, it’s true. don’t let him convince you otherwise! ❞

▌What are you most afraid of?

❝ ... i’m... gonna have to pass on that one. too personal. ❞

▌What do you usually wear?

❝ i usually stick with the doll’s clothes and wash them every morning, but i like to change it up sometimes. i have different kinds of capes, jackets, sweaters... and even a dress or two. sometimes, i just feel like shaking things up. ❞

▌Do you love someone?

❝ h- haha... private. ❞

▌When was the last time you wet yourself?

❝ ew. can we not? stars don’t even do that. ❞

▌What class are you?

❝ depends on your definition of class? if you’re meaning some kind of caste system, pretty much all of us stars are working class except for the higher star spirits, of which there are seven. some are entrusted with more than others, but... that’s about it. ❞

▌How many friends do you have?

❝ plenty of casual friends with a few very good ones! i would protect them all with my life. ❞

▌What are your thoughts on pie?

❝ which one? are you asking because you have a little somethin’-somethin’ for me? ... no? aw. well, i like all kinds of pies, just saying. ❞

▌Favourite drink?

❝ soda. it’s literally like liquid candy that fizzes. i can’t not. ❞

▌What’s your favourite place?

❝ here. this planet, this is my home. ❞

▌Are you into someone~?

❝ didn’t you already ask something like this? geez... ❞

▌Would you rather swim in the lake or in the ocean?

❝ i can’t swim at all, so... how about swimming in a sea of blankets? that sounds more my style. ❞

▌What’s your type?

❝ type of what? what are you even talking about? ❞

▌Camping or indoors?

❝ either has its advantages. i’m cool with both! ❞

...

❝ sooooo. do i get some of that pie now or what? ❞

tagged by:  no one i stole this like a lil snot tagging:  @masterprotector @burstbombbitch @bowserful @regionalcoins @hecried @nakotnes and! idk! you!!

[anthonylora]

Flash Fiction Friday 29 - Golden Rings

This week inspired another standalone piece associated with my Catchers serial. This time I wanted to have some fun with Reba, the resident empath, and Eran Volos, the lizardman engineer. And you can’t have a good multiverse if one of the worlds in it isn’t loosely based on Sonic the Hedgehog a video game where you collect rings, right? Tagging the awesome @cawolters and @inexorableblob

Title: Friendly Competition Word Count: 1000 (love straddling that line)

This mission was downright insulting. Eran watched as his partner, Reba, jumped onto a colorful trampoline, whooping and hollering as she was propelled through the air. She reached out and grabbed a set of golden rings before sticking her landing on the small platform that was hovering above them. She turned around and held her arms out, her smooth almond skin lit up by the glow of the three rings around each of them.

“Your turn, E-man!”

Eran looked up at her and shook a clawed fist at her. “I told you not to call me that!”

Reba laughed. “You don’t like E-man, Scales, or Big V. What can I call you?”

“My name would be a nice start,” he muttered. They’d been sent to this world to catch a target that had spread these odd golden rings all over the lands. The locals started finding them and upon learning of the power they imbued, split into factions and fought over their possession. This odd industrial area with floating scaffolding was their first stop. Their secondary objective was to actually collect as many of the rings as possible and bring them back to HQ, a goal Reba seemed happy to fulfill.

“Whatever, just get up here already,” she said. “The view from up here is pretty good! I see another clump of rings for us to get!”

He rolled his eyes. “Just tell me where they are and I can retrieve them.”

“Do you see how many platforms and buildings there are to climb around here? It’s parkour central! We need to take advantage of it. It’ll be fun!”

“I don’t do fun!”

“Oh come on, we both know that’s not true. That stick up your ass isn’t nearly as big as you pretend it is!”

She wasn’t wrong, per se. Eran did enjoy the thrill of tripping someone in battle with his tail and the rush of endorphins whenever he figured out how to combine technologies from different worlds into one weapon. This carefree rushing from one place to another like a blithering idiot on too much caffeine? This was more Reba’s thing. No offense meant, of course. He was told he needed to be nicer. “My way is more efficient! We’re already behind schedule.”

Reba pouted. “Oh fine, be that way you party poo— oh shit, what’s that behind you?” She pointed, eyes blown wide open.

Eran turned quickly and pointed his stun gun ahead, taking the safety off. Approaching him was a slow-moving, four-legged robot, that at best, reached his knees. Assuming it was capable of jumping, it would likely pose a threat, but its chassis had a cutesy lady bug pattern and that did nothing to make it seem intimidating. Then he noticed on its back was a small bullseye and he immediately imagined someone, probably Reba, jumping onto that exact spot to squash and decommission it.

He sighed. Absolutely not. He refused to honor the rules of a world where the robotics engineers created weapons that could merely be stomped on to death. He looked over at Reba who was grinning down at him. “Stop pretending this world is anything other than joke.” She only laughed in response. He turned back around and fired three shots at the machine. The arcs of electricity trailed across its body, causing it to stop in its tracks and short circuit. It wasn’t long before it fell completely apart and two rings popped out of its remains.

“Nice! The bad guys drop them, too!” Reba yelled.

“Great,” Eran said. He stepped forward and reached for the rings, which expanded just enough to wrap their way around his wrist. He gazed at the rings, admiring the way they brightened his own scaly green arm. Just as he was about to look away, the rings blipped and a small number “200” appeared. The reports did say that the rings created some sort of “scoring” system to indicate who had the most power. A sense of pride and achievement churned in his stomach and he couldn’t help but wonder where the next set were.  He looked back up at Reba and for the first time noted the “500” that glowed above her head. He squinted in her direction. Not fair! He could have gotten more points if he wanted! In that instant, he realized his mistake, and quickly pushed down the feelings of agitation.

“Haha! I saw that!” Reba pointed at him. “You’re feeling competitive. You want a higher score!”

“What? No! Me?” He was so glad that he couldn’t blush. The stammering was probably not a good look thought. “This is your doing!”

“Sorry Scales, you know I can’t do shit to you from up here. This is all you, babe!”

Ugh. He looked at the trampoline and sighed. He ran forward and jumped onto it, feeling the rush of air as he shot up and landed next to Reba. “Whatever, just show me where the next ones are so I can show you how it’s done.”

He could imagine the smug grin on Reba’s face, so he did his best not to look at it. She pointed to a rooftop just past several more floating platforms. “There. A bunch of robots, too. They look bigger than the one you shot. Must’ve been a prototype. That or it’s to compensate the fact that we’ve—”

“Please don’t say ‘leveled up.’”

“Gotten more badass?”

“Only a little better. Let’s just go ahead. We don’t have all day for me to beat you.”

“Ooh,” Reba said as they both took off running. “I was going to be nice and give you a head start since I’m already ahead, but now you get nothing!”

Eran remained silent as he jumped onto the first platform. He pulled his gun out and started firing at the bots. He’d beat Reba and then get her to admit that he was right and none of this was fun. And he’d enjoy every second of it.

If you enjoyed that and want to read the actual serial, you can do so here.