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ohnonanobots · 9 months

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Psy-Group

psyops psychological operation

c/o Elon Musk

#LEGAL

It’s structured like a slave owning cult.

How?

◦ Repetition.

◦ A target focus other than self (usually occupied by a deity)

◦ Eroding a target’s sense of self worth

◦ Dismantling a target’s reality

◦ Trauma bonding

◦ Solicitation of ideology — a common lie was for tormentors to claim, “They didn’t say that, AI did?” as a means of demonstrating the potential value to watchers/participants of the operation. See? If you’re in a foot-in-mouth hot spot, you can claim it’s a falsehood and blame it on vocal deep fake? 😈

◦ Daily and hourly ritual of abuse of the target

_________

Where might have Elon picked up this idea and others for how the programming of the operation is structured? My mentioning:

◦ Doug Atkins; author, The Culting of Brands (I authored a blog post from CMX Summit about his presentation)

◦ The Go Game, The Escape SF game, scavenger hunting — gamified team building

◦ Abusive relationship dynamics; tactics of Narcissists, Psychopaths, sociopaths, including negging (see pickup artistry) nagging, micro aggressions, oscillating between extreme states (ugly/pretty, genius/liar, Nazi Hunter/Nazi, dirty/washer woman maid)

◦ AI vocal boobytraps

***

Obvious drawbacks to clients

◦ Vocal deepfakes: if those in control of our likeness profile can make us sound a certain way to spare us learning from our own mistakes us the ego they can use it to put whatever words IN our mouths md condemn us, too.

◦ Guilty of hacking, spying, stalking, harassment psychological torture, verbal abuse, threats,

***

Vocal deepfake formats

⁃ [target’s name]!? Stop saying [accusation/term/worm] Ex: [name]!? Stop saying I’m a puppet master!

⁃ [target’s name]!? Shut the fuck up (and get back to work)!

⁃ [name], instruction.*

⁃ throat clearing before speaking to denote annoyance

⁃ [target’s name] nobody here agrees with/likes/knows you?

⁃ Shut the fuck, [target’s name]!

⁃ [name], who are you talking to?*

⁃ Gasping before saying anything more

⁃ He/she/they’re so

⁃ Ugh? They [complaint personal attack toward target].

⁃ We are not {algo trigger word}!

⁃ Asking spline my age

⁃ Asking someone how old I am

*A tactic used is to stun the target with fear by yelling their name first before anything is lobbed at them.

Answers to already asinine and insane questions:

⁃ Who’re you taking to?

⁃ By virtue of you having sled me that question you’ve answers your own question.

⁃ Tongue razzing

⁃ Who’re you sticking your tongue out at and how can you be sure the target would see you doing this, and why bother if the target couldn’t?

⁃ “No, you!” “That’s YOU” pointing of the finger

⁃ Who’re you pointing to, exactly? Why then would you dare falsely accuse the target of imagining any of it?

⁃ Shut the fuck up?!?

⁃ No. And…considering that the operation requires input from the target, why not just dismantle the operation then?

———

DISCOVERIES

Elon Musk’s code goes into immediate effect hence why he was an awful stickler and terribly persnickety with me about both typos and needing what I typed out to be done with precision the bc jest time around. )It was fucking draining.) There is zero reason for me to behave in this manner. It made musks job easier. But that is not real life nor healthy pressure to place on someone in my position? Especially not on someone who is more poetic. Poetry under the uninspired exact-o knife of an engineer? What is the benefit here?

It makes Elon Musk’s job easier for him, he’s pointlessly imposing his preferences himself on the target. He’ll say it’s not because it’s less work for him to do but what’s the benefit of exact transcripts?

Oculus VR is due to the Luckey x Gaetz connection

Vocal changers: Ghost in the Machine.

Guess Who I am Charades: Marie Antoinette

VR masks: Portal by Meta FKA Facebook & Snapchat (makers of Specs) {weird nighttime waking nightmare I had w/ Jeselnik’s face, “Are you Master Shakespeare?”)

Text-to-voice: Stephen Hawking

Prompt reads: “I’m Ron Bergundy?”

Repeating AI: fart sound FX left running for nearly 10mg on Spotify

Smiling Friends: 3, 2, 1 with Glep (before it became 1234 bc nobody nailed it down quite right)

Military; long range EEG reader? (EEG anywhere V. 23.1)

^I watched it all then he watched me then I watched him and figured it out because I’d seen it all before. #nerd

The names and voices attributed to whomever was speaking oscillated between claiming AI status and human status. A part of this was to contort reality and the other reason is to avoid suspicion, blame, detection, blame, or consequences.

One of the number questions posed when’s male disagreed with the target: where are they [physically located]?

The irony of religious folks asking an atheist placed under their surveillance who it is they are talking to?

Angler fish approach using Boebert to extract intel due to approachable and tolerant disposition.

The “Aw, they’re crying?” trick. Participants lie and claim a member of the group is crying to see how the target will react. This is also a plot to gain the targets sympathy toward the professed cryer, their friends, and the group as a whole. It may also be used to qualm tensions through a change of tone and pacing.

Zoom camera (or the idea of it being employed) used at night when attempting to sleep to keep targets feeling anxious and thus keeping awake, depriving them of sleep. (Sleep deprivation is fatal.)

Making an issue out of having thoughts was used as a mechanism of distraction away from resolution and dismantling the system. This often led to lug like yelling of “stop taking!” ad nauseam for bullshit reasoning. Proofreading what a target wrote as they wrote it was also used similarly. (FWIW this is what “ever curious” nets us?)

Twitter Spaces design flaw. One speaker at a time observably instilled greater tension and led to more arguing amongst the group due to feeling interrupted by default host’s speaking over (by very design of product) of whom’s account was informed by thoughts-to-text-to-voice with thoughts being a continuous unavoidable phenomena. (Once more, I was set up to fail then promptly kicked the shot out of for it.)

Targets are set up to be triggered and act out. The ensuing behavior is then used as libel against them.

It would appear there is an equilibrium of scum that has balanced the group seeking to maintain power? Like a water bug balancing on surface tension, there is now enough people to issue a knowing look and quiet understanding of: 🤫 don’t ruin this for us.

Grifter elite omertà bullshit. A sense of belonging and of being special, it has always been a den occupied by NPDs, sociopaths, and psychopaths. Modern caves of criminal perverts, now w/ champagne and candelabras.

They’re making me make typos through the act of concerned suggestion, a tactic coined by me as “concern trolling”.

Cocaine is suspected of the participants. Who were they?

Gregg Rosenthal

Anthony Jeselnik

Senator Ted Cruz

Rep. Matthew Gaetz

Ginger Gaetz

Elon Musk

Kris Jenner (and her entire family at various points including Travis Barker)

Little Yachty

Lil Pump

Kamala Harris

Joe Biden

Kushners

Trumps

Many of them are sociopathically baited by money. They also want to feel elite. They also need to loom and feel like they’re conducting very adult stupid business type this throughout the day.

Elon is catering to specific groups as they play both one another in addition to The Royal Family in VR. Kimal as Charles when not Elon. That reality TV show family known as the Kardashians as Princess Kate. It’s bizarre and gross.

When speaking well of someone an abuser will stop talking about it 1/X of the way through and proceed to accuse the target of either interrupting them (despite the target hadn’t spoken at all) or of not paying attention nor of listening to them.

—————-

Profiles:

The primary core group of offenders:

1. Nick Kroll

2. Taika Waititi

3. Jessi Klein

4. Patton Oswalt

5. Mitra Jouhari

6. Jaboukie Young White

7. Ayo Edebiri

8. Anthony Jeselnik

9. John Mulaney

10. Gregg Rosenthal

All herein must have their children taken away and be placed under the super vision of a family member without history of sexual, domestic, drug, nor child abuse.

Kim Kardashian

Mimed and promised to send a compensation check to the targets family members. Placed the check in the composite. Tom Morello then pretended to rescue the ditched check and send it in the mail. Asked then victim to describe all the plans they intended for the money — a home for her family, a farm, acres, educations for the two kids. Kim Kardashian is now suspected by the targets of having used this method to gathering business insights using the hope of restitution money as bait? Doesn’t believe she owes the victims any compensation? Supremely idiotic, shallow, and showed signs of NPD. She appeared the most malignantly obsessed with insult, speaking down to, stranding, belittling, and yelling at me. Kim Kardashian must’ve barked“Shut up, [name]!” easily close to 100 times.

Van Jones

Identified as a Black Nazi. Said they hated White people. Constantly falsely accused me of a Nazi w/o evidence of any kind even when asked to prove it. (Voice came across as Johnny Cochran? Unclear why this was/n’t altered?)

On a personal note: I believe the $100M given to Mr. Jones by Bezos ought to have gone to a Black female lawyer and her firm as chosen by the Honorable Supreme Court Justice, Judge Jackson.

Drake

Seemed benevolent, understood the gravity of what mechanisms of psychological torture and exploitation such as this one means to others including his own people. (An American born European blooded woman who reads as White [Sabrina Bruning] was used in the initial trials of the operation as a means of direction (a place holder, if you will?🫥) in hopes of justifying and normalizing the abuse taking place.

His companion trailed not far behind though it’s unclear how much was the result of group think mimicry and learning versus innate?

Josh Kushner

Indoctrinated by his brother. Needs to feel like he’s an entrepreneur of some kind still? Thrive has ONE investment and it’s from a grift.

The entire Trump family

A vile, evil disgrace to this country. Loved calling the target a loser and is using her age while falsely accusing her of being a Nazi without proof. Thank you for nothing. Don’t believe they owe the victims any compensation?

GOP members

MTG is a sexually pressed screwball.

Jared Kushner

Evil. Thinks the target and everyone else is a Nazi but only accuses the target (Kushner provided zero evidence for his claims and again avoided calling out his own in-laws) and has yet to confront his own in-laws? Pseudo mastermind wannabe. Doesn’t believe he owes the victims any compensation?

Gregg Rosenthal

Advocate. Still got caught sneaking out IP from the target for his friend Anthony. Kind, trustworthy, used to lure and gain trust.

Anthony Jeselnik

Was told to not speak by the target. Too dumb and violent and that’s a bad mix for any mood.

Paddy Pimblett (Chris?)

At one point yelled “beggar!” at me repeatedly despite him being a socialist. Also participated in the wedding engagement rescue/abandonment scenario which attempts to humiliate victims and waste their time they could be seeking assistance elsewhere, tests their patience, harms them psychologically, grooms them for the patriarchy, and fucks with their hope by worsening their fear of being unable to escape their situation, a known factor in contributing to the development of PTSD and Complex-PTSD.

Re: my IG hacking w/ Las Vegas, NV login. On December 1st I grew curious? Had those involved dragged Paddy Pimblett and his fiancé Laura G. (Again, [target’s name]! and [target’s name]!?) into this in order to set them up based on their prior location during Paddy’s LV fight in December of 2022?

VP Kamala Harris

Said suspiciously very little.

Elon musk

Architect who engineered mechanisms for abuse. Abused the target religiously, calling her old, ugly, a hag, a beggar, among other insults. Constantly commented on how she was poor. Told her she was not British but that he was, falsely claiming to have been born there (and not in South Africa).🇿🇦 When he saw that a trafficking ring in Frisco, TX had been broken up his first words were, “Nevermind.” I would recommend considering a mental health facility and incarceration combination for Mr. Musk due to his experience with vast amounts of wealth, drugs, few rules, access to power and level of influence in the public and private sectors.

Maye Musk:

Enabler. Aristocrat villain stereotype.

The British Royal Family

So, that was bizarrely uncomfortable and weird for generations to follow, wasn’t it?

After the hacking that caused me screen to blackout for 24hrs significant lag has been experienced since.

Anthony Jeselnik

A thief and rapist who still grifts from me, was disrespectful when being kenneled this way. He eventually learned from the wiser Gregg Rosenthal to simply be more quiet here and to listen? Jeselnik gets it now — power lies in being more well mannered. Was told to not speak to me. Grifts mybwork right after anger episodes. Feels no remorse. Shows clear signs and a history of psychopathic behavior.

Tig Notaro:

WTF. Unexpectedly aggressive. Patronizing. Trips over her own tits, so to speak, but not nearly as bad as other people.

Charles Kushner

Rapey. He knows this mistreatment and operation is fucking stupid, pointless, but he’s a gross old felon so look where he defaults to?

This who got it better than others:

Gregg

Drake

Kimbal

Bobby

SZA

Waffled

Paddy Pimblett

———###

Personal experiences:

New technologies? Latest and greatest oohs and ahhhs?

Military?

“It may not be the crematorium [at Auschwitz] but…” — Josh Kushner

They would ask if someone present would date me which of course the answer was always no and meant as a means of berating me. Those asked would then be asked why with answers ranging anywhere from she’s. A loser, poor, ugly, and old.

They would ask me how I would respond to something, as a means of eliciting free work — IP and emotional labor — out of me. I would be asked almost exclusively about political topics.

They would lie to me and tell me that my niece or that my mother had just died, or that someone else I cared about had died.

They would tell me: thank you for nothing, get back to work, you’re never getting out of here, you’re ugly/old/poor

There seems to be an extremely gnawing, nearly psychological dependency to make Mr. Musk be RIGHT when they are a bit of a fraud and a nefarious entrepreneur, actually? Because if Elon Musk is right then it’s arguable that ther for so are the Royals in England where exploitation in Africa’s concerned {prop hoc…} …right? WRONG.

Often reminded that I am not a doctor nor a lawyer. Interesting considering that so much independent medical research* was coexisted by Republicans and anti-vaxxers alike then?

*pseudoscience anti-science and disproven conspiracies.

Consent matters. During testing, the ecosystem of a lack of captivity in earnest while remaining non consensually under surveillance.

It is felt all around:

You’re not me.

No.

Stop.

Don’t.

Those conducting the experiment against the will of the target want basic human rights reserves for themselves while blatantly depriving others of their own.

Legally speaking, the abusers are using private residence (nearby apt bldg) for commercials purposes. {Anything there? #LEGAL}

I am being told “[name], you have to be careful what you wish for?” which as wish for justice here I have since interpreted as “…and if you get it in the form of a trial win then we will absolutely positively attempt to murder you in cold blood.”

Like a puffer fish, I am deliberately agitated — I am heckled, belittled, and berated by those who hold zero respect for my life or my family’s future — so that I will react to it and engage them in arguing, trading insults, debate; and due to my showings signs of being neurologically atypical and being predispositioned to be kind, hopefully conversation, even compliments? It is sick.

Elon musk and Jared Kushner were photographed together in Qatar at FIFA game.

The word shower appears to be a trigger word that would then somehow signal rapists to come and voyeurize me while I showered.

Repeatedly being asked my age and whether or not say, Elon Musk would date me or not, drove me insane. It was posed to as well as was asked in regards to Elon Musk approximately no less than 30 times. FWIW: speaking on my own behalf, the answer was and will always be: Gød no. Furthermore, quantum theory suggests there are parallel realities, I cannot help that had life gone differently in a number of ways if one of those reality’s held something different — though not necessarily better? — and I addressed as much during this time?

The bullying that surveillance has allowed has caused me to alter my behavior and second guess myself, changing both my personality and how I view myself. This is unfavorable.

As I am fluent in the language of speaking sarcastically and often in a satirical dialect, I’ve found the flattened of tone and context transmuted literally, smooshing words to appear harsh or mocking towards, say, the poor or disabled, in a way not intended. It’s me a ping The World’s judge mental tone and this not only was lost in translation when written out but at times used against me based on how it looked to readers w/o disclaimers or helpful contextual addendums.

The logic appears to be the Lightning Rod theory — a target chosen as a designated whipping post for abuse. As if one person is chosen the those who are tormenting the target will manage to maintain composure by directing the majority of negative emotions frustrations, anger, vitriol, etc Proving that our understanding or willingness to try and truly understand racism appears bunk? It is the Trickle Down Economics Theory of anti-racism. It doesn’t work.

The complaints got exponentially more hollow as the arguments got batted away in irrefutable defeat.

I’ve been chided in tone, word choice, and volume. By what moral scale are we measuring my enslavement? Am I a bad slave?

(Honestly, TF is the matter with you fucking people??)

The day of Andrew Tate and his brother’s arrest in Romania, the GOP pod members went quiet within the hour of my having viewed the video of Tate being taken into custody. The day after, from the moment I woke up, Kim Kardashian, Elon Musk, Gregg Rosenthal, Anthony Jeselnik, Paddy Pimblett, Laura Gregory, decided to be present during yet another session.

Nobody is here is Doctor. Not a researcher, psychologist, sociologist, etc. They don’t have their degree in anything even remotely close, some of them. This operation is not structured to conclude any real findings other than perhaps what the targets fine observations of their own situation can offer up?

“All’s well that ends well”. The targets is often tasted with filling in a prompt for the participants to practice how they would frame and describe something, such as the target themselves to a third party or a film, a response to something they’ve just read, a popular topic of interest, etc. In doing so those responsible for the operation are attempting to hard mesh the two valleys of industry, Silicon and San Fernando — which is what the targets aimed to do peacefully through their work {film; Glitch Money}.

Re: my IG hacking w/ Las Vegas, NV login. On December 1st I grew curious? Had those involved dragged Paddy Pimblett and his fiancé Laura Gregory into this in order to set them up based on their prior location during Paddy’s LV fight in December of 2022?

Kardashian tactics:

Ready?_______

They’re so obsessed

They always _________

You little ______

Omg, you guys?

______\____________________

“I spent time understanding the system I was placed within by playing along, using a trapping line of questioning, observation, even debating those handlers. It was a matter of reverse engineering, in the same way one figures out what a room looks in depth and dimension with no lights on?” — [target’s name]!

CONTACT

@UN

@UN_WOMEN

@ACLU

…and tell them what you’ve witnessed here?

#Elon

During the PsyOps hall of mirrors/tea party VR and audio harassment, this was THE gesture of the Kim Kardashian character. She got several others involved to mimic it. Nearly EVERYONE at someone point made this typed fucking arrogant gesture?

#LEGAL

</end notes>

They are pagans using Deepak voices, and they are employed and round. The clock shifts as they were there when I go to bed at night, and from the moment I open my eyes in the morning. Ayo Edebiri or Jaboukie Young-White I sn’t able to sit there all night waiting for me to wake up while simultaneously sitting on a plane to England to speak to Tom Holland of the CofE. Just saying.

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dolorescarvajal · 2 years

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I’m back

Why you may ask why I’m I back? Anything new to complain about? Any new updates? Well yes to all of that you see while I was peeing listening to music at school I had a thought and I finally figured it out I only like him want want his attention when I’m near him other then that I don’t think much about him will not that a lie I do think about him like 24/7 but I can’t help it come in do I have to repeat it like 100 times I had good memory well what ever but I realized that I went him to know things about me like I think of things to say in 3rd period because I know he’s there I want him to hear things about me but see I cracked the code once school ends me thinking about him and wanting to show off for him are done donezo finished. BUT also I have a plan and I think it’s the best I have thought of will you see I’m fat 130 pounds and 4’10 which is 30 pounds over weight and I was thinking I need to lose that weight like asap like stat and I can go on exile and leave instead and keep montes on pause until I love my self so I can finely text him I want my summer to like like Letty when she went to Acapulco and forgot about everything even though she couldn’t stop thinking about Fernando but that’s not the point. I want my summer routine to be walk up early morning, gym come home eat, then Zumba just to shake off some calories. And that’s how I lose my weight just in time for July 22 when I get back on Instagram post a cute bikini picture then text montes. Do I sound crazy yea I do but fuck it this is my year and I’m gonna get what I want because baby this is my life and I could do this. Also what motivated me was that look I’m fat but not ugly I know I’m really pretty I’m not stupid of course but if I look hot from my body and I’m pretty from my face it’s like wow I hot and I could feel comfortable in my skin and that is my plan also because I’m hurt that my ex is with a girl that has a nice body and I know her friend compare me to her and tell her well don’t worry look at her she fat and short and that just makes her ugly but hey okay I’m pretty. But yea that’s like one of the biggest reasons. Also when I disable my Instagram I think I’m gonna follow Ashlee on my finsta I really trust her Just her tho so yea this was my blog for today byeeee 💋

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lizbotw · 4 years

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IT’S ALWAYS MY HAIKYUU POSTS tumblr wyddd 😠😠😠 okay y’know what i’m just going to leave it for now and maybe in a week i’ll repost it cuzzz 😿😿😿

#delete later #THIS IS WHAT HAPPENED W MY KUROO TEXTS B4 TOO #ugly tumblr h8 u #maybe it’s bc i’m always complaining this happens to me #i refuse to stop tho ✨#like idccc abt the notes just as long as it’s actually in the tags??? like the whole point is for ppl to read it :(#how are they gonna read it if it doesn’t show up hmm 😠 TELL ME #yeah daz tuff or whatevs anyway i’m going back to writing abt bakugou lmk when my haikyuu posts are gonna show up ✋#maybee 🐝 it was gonna work this time (bc i thot i figured out what the problem was?) but it didn’t bc like ten minutes b4 i posted it i kept #changing up my layout so it thot i was a bot #yeah a bot that wants her blog to look nice 😻#izzz okay writing abt todoroki is my fuel and WHEW do i have a lot of rqs for him like life is so so good 🥰#that’s it the smau will be for bnha until my haikyuu posts start working again ✋ dis is a strike #(i saw as i write hcs abt oikawa yep that’s right he’s coming up! 😻 i haven’t mentioned him on here so you can already tell i’m making rq #progress instead of talking abt the same five all day)#I SAY***#formal announcement: ushi n me 🥰 almost forgot abt him idk but he’s here now 😼#my tags always start off as nice and simple and then turn into me saying- y’know i don’t even know what i say anymore

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do-a-reference-properly · 5 years

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AO3′s users alert! Unauthorised fanworks copying

26/09/2019. Important update on this mess: we found a way to delete fanworks via take down request to the hosting provider. Please check it here https://do-a-reference-properly.tumblr.com/post/187926459079/finally-some-good-news

Dear AO3 users,

We would like to bring your attention to an ugly situation with unauthorized copying of works posted on AO3.

A lot of works from AO3 have been copied to fanfics.me (we’ll call this site FFM for brevity’s sake) and are still being copied right now, either:

— automatically by a code specifically created by FFM’s owner for this purpose, or

— by unaware or unscrupulous FFM’s users via semi-automatic method (by inserting a link to a work from AO3 into a web-worm on FFM).

All works from AO3 — with a few exceptions (I’ll elaborate on this below) — can end up on FFM without authors even noticing. Even fanarts or podfics.

FFM doesn't comply with DMCA which means that such reposts endanger fanworks' creators in case the copyright holder demands to delete the fanwork.

Authors of the copied works do not have any control over them; if the work is edited it won’t be updated on FFM until someone manually updates it.

Additionally FFM’s owner makes money out of reposted free fanworks from numerous Google and Yandex ads on each and every FFM’s page by having people go to this site when searching for fics on Google etc. So we recommend using an Ads Blocker when visiting this site in order to prevent the owner from earning more. Ghostery or Adblock Plus work just fine, but you can use any other Ads Blocker that is convenient to you.

Oftentimes FFM even shows up before the original post with the work on Google search results.

The owner’s e-mail: [email protected].

The owner at AO3.

We are trying to bring AO3’s users attention to this situation and help authors with taking their works down from FFM.

Briefly about the website and its owner

Let me start from the very beginning as it will bring into the light the nature of FFM and give a good example of its owner characteristic behavior.

At first, some person with nickname Refery created FFM as a web archive where authors — mostly from Harry Potter fandom — could publish their fanworks.

Time passed, the site grew and added some features (blogs, pre-moderation and etc.), and all was good and well up till the moment when Refery decided that it would be a great idea to copy to FFM fanworks published on other Russian fanfiction archives — among them from the biggest and most known site ficbook — without asking authors for permission. Even those works that had “Ask me before posting the story somewhere else” mentioned in its text or summary were copied.

For some time nobody noticed, but when finally and inevitably this came out the authors were outraged. It took a lot of time to finally persuade Refery to at least not to copy fanworks bearing a special tag “Уточнять у автора” (Ask the author first).

But after some time Refery — without giving any notice — violated his own promise and resumed copying to FFM fanworks that had the agreed upon tag. The authors complained again, so very reluctantly and after many painful discussions this feature was reinstalled.

So FFM has been notoriously known, mostly amongst Russian fandom, for claims on re-posting fanworks without the consent of the authors.

We're mentioning this situation just to give you a detailed portrait of a person we are dealing with here.

Not only fanworks are copied to this website, but original works, too. Even those which were already published. There were all 7 of Harry Potter novels (both original text and translation), The Hobbit: There and Back Again (translation) and Vorkosigan Saga (translation) available for everybody to read and download. They were taken down only recently due to the attention this whole situation had drawn, but nothing ever goes away once it’s posted online and you can access the proof via Internet Wayback machine. We know for a fact there are other books on FFM and some actions have been taken in this regard, but still it takes time to find published books on this site.

Recently Refery decided that Russian archives are not enough for him and started copying all fanworks into FFM without any permission from the authors from numerous sites, like AO3, fanfiction.net, fictionpress.com, fanfiktion.de and likely other web-archives.

Moreover, the authors of these works can not delete their works from FFM and/or manage them. The site is in Russian only and, hence, we strongly believe that non-Russian speaking authors even do not know that their works are reposted somewhere else.

As a Russian fan-community, we have tried to stop such activity of FFM many times; however, we have not been successful in achieving our goal completely. Our most recent achievement is that the FFM’s owner implemented the "Don't copy to another site" tag created specifically for AO3 (here is the link to FFM’s owner post on his personal blog regarding this tag. Please use Ads Blocker!). This tag should be added to each work presented on AO3 in case the author does not want their works to be copied to FFM.

We are of the opinion that no work should be taken without permission in the first place, but this tag is all we’ve got.

Please note that it seems that some time ago there was similar case of unauthorized copying with other site. Please check this link, they give useful advice.

How to prevent copying from AO3

If you check AO3 you may notice that "Don't copy to another site" tag has hugely emerged in the recent weeks, but mostly amongst Russian users and there is a good reason for this: the owner of FFM announced this tag only in Russian and only on his private blog, so naturally there is no way for non-Russian speaking AO3 users to know about this — albeit non-satisfactory — solution.

There are no guaranties that the FFM’s owner won’t change the rules again as has already happened numerous times before (few examples we described above) and that works with this tag won’t be reposted in the future, but for now it’s the only quick and working solution besides making your works visible only to registered users, which is not ideal.

This situation is highly unpleasant, but we ask you not to delete your works from AO3, because if the work is deleted from AO3 it will be nearly impossible to delete it from FFM: we won't be able to refresh it manually and remove the text.

Please note that adding this tag won’t work for texts that have already been copied. Only users who have accounts at FFM will be able to delete them. Each work needs to be deleted manually.

However, the Russian fandom — except for the owner of FFM — strongly condemns reposts without the consent of the author, so feel free to contact our volunteers (through DM or Ask on our tumblr page) providing the links to the works stolen from AO3, so we could delete them for you.

Unfortunately, it is not possible to cover all authors and works manually. So, we contacted AO3’ Technical Team with the aim to bring their attention to this situation and inform about it all AO3 users, and hope that AO3 team will find a general solution to resolve this problem, possibly, in collaboration with the AO3 lawyers.

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Q: My work from fanfiction.net/fictionpress.com/fanfiktion.de/other web-archives was copied to FFM. How can I take it down?

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#ao3 #archive of our own #alert #fanfiction #fanworks #fanart #please reblog

19K notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

71. you’re famous and you want to hide out in my bookstore which is fine except the stupid paparazzi won’t leave and now there’s a photo of us in the tabloids and they’re printing misinformation and why the fuck won’t you clear this up on your twitter account

Sternclay, NSFW, please!

Here you go! Let's end this round of meet uglies with a bang

The post-holiday slump is always the worst; everyone maxed out their credit cards last month and doesn’t want to buy anything, and the tourists won’t be back until the spring. It’s not that he’s concerned about keeping the lights on; Bookworms is popular and has a prime spot downton. It’s that he’s bored out of his mind.

All his orders for the day are in, everything’s been received and shelved, and he’s running out of things to tidy. If he’s lucky, the clouds that have been threatening a snowstorm since this morning will burst and drive some people to shelter among the stacks.

Dingdong

Thank the lord.

“Welcome to Bookworms, can I help you?”

The man stays by the door, peering through the glass onto the street while pulling off his beanie, “Huh? Oh, uh, nope, just coming in to, uh, get out of the cold.” He turns, and two realizations slap Joseph in the face.

One: this is the hottest man he has ever had the pleasure of seeing.

Two: He’s seen this man dozens of times, just never in person.

Barclay Cobb is a Food Network darling who got his start on Youtube, sharing recipes from vintage cookbooks he found at garage sales. That’s not why he’s starstruck, but it is probably why the taller man is hiding in the craft books alcove and keeps nervously looking his way.

“I won’t tell anyone you’re here, Mr. Cobb.”

“Phew” the man sighs, unzips his jacket, “thanks man. Thought I’d be bundled up enough that no one would spot me while I was out, but I didn’t get my hat on in time coming out of the Chinese place down the block.”

“I love that spot, they have the best beer-braised duck.”

“Yeah, I always stop by when I’m in town, they’re food is worth getting photographed for.”

It’s odd, everything he’s read suggests chef Cobb is friendly and warm when approached by fans in public.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate that people like my shows but, I, uh, sometimes I just want to eat or walk down the street without someone taking pictures of me.”

“Do you want to head into the back sections? There’s no windows in that half of the store.”

“Sweet, thanks. Uh, would it be cool if I autographed any books of mine you have? I like doing that, means I can send a little business towards smaller stores.”

“Of course. Here, the cookbooks are on this wall.” He slips into his office to grab a sharpie while Barclay pulls a stack of books and sits down on the floor. As the scratching of the pen fills the air, Joseph takes a trip to the paranormal and occult section, coming back with three copies of The Case for Bigfoot.”

“Y’know, not everyone stocks these.” Barclay smiles as he adds the paperbacks to the pile.

“Which is terrible business; you’re just as famous in the cryptozoology community as you are in the foodie one. This is the best book on bigfoot ever written, and I should know; I run a, um, a blog where I review books on paranormal topics.”

“You a true believer?” The cook blows on his signature in the copy of Desserts for All Seasons

“More an optimistic skeptic; your book is perfect because you make your case using actual evidence instead of reporting the same ten, poorly verified stories that everyone includes in their books. And I appreciated that you included recipes from the places you visited; that was a very nice touch.”

“Funny story about that” Barclay freezes as the front door opens. There’s definitely more than one person coming in, and when Joseph pokes his head around the corner he sees fifteen people, all with cameras or phones.

“Shit. You might want to hide in my office for a few minutes.”

By the time the crowd reaches him, Joseph is almost done re-shelving the signed books.

“Good afternoon, let me know if you need help finding anything.”

“Uh, yeah, we do, someone saw Barclay Cobb in your store-”

“Strange, we’ve only had one customer” he winces as someone’s shoulder knocks a hardcover off its display, “I didn’t get a good look at them before they went downstairs.” He tips his head at the staircase to the YA and Graphic Novel sections and is promptly knocked into the shelf as the throng hurries away.

“Come on, I can get you out through the back door” Joseph whispers to the Red Dust on his Soul poster on his office door. Barclay is remarkably quiet for a man his size as they sneak across the floor and let frigid, January air rush into the store.

“Thanks man” Barclay whispers, “I owe you one.” He sets a big hand on Joseph’s shoulder, squeezes it with a wink, then pulls on his hat and disappears into a crowd coming off at the bus stop.

---------------------------------------------------

Joseph always comes in through the back, flipping on lights as he goes, so the sea of bodies pressed to the front windows like a zombie horde surprises him. He knows Barclay tweeted about the signed copies, but this seems like excessive excitement even for a celebrity chef.

“Morning, Joseph--whoa, what the heck?” Aubrey clocks in without taking her eyes off the crowd, “why is everyone here this early.”

“Fan culture. I think.” The registers finish waking up, “I’ll pay holiday rates if you open that door for me.”

Aubrey gives a thumbs up, unlocks the double doors, and is swallowed up so quickly he worries she might have been trampled until she emerges near the greeting cards. Some people swarm the cookbooks, but an alarming number cluster around the counter, all shouting for his attention.

“How long have you been seeing Chef Cobb?”

“What?, I, I’m not-”

“Does he often visit your store?”

“No! He just came by yesterday!” There’s a horrible clatter of all the books on display near the door taking each other out like dominoes.

“Do you fuck in the backroom all the time?”

“Oh come on” He pushes past the man who asked that, deals with shouting all the way to his office and slams the door. A quick Google search for “Barclay Cobb” brings up a blurry photo of them in the alley, Barclays hand on his shoulder, and multiple headlines speculating on why the reclusive chef and author has chosen a nobody bookstore employee (he’s the owner, damn it) as his lover.

Okay, there’s a logical, easy fix to this.

He opens the door enough to speak, whistles so everyone will be quiet and listen to him, “I’m sorry, there’s been a misunderstanding. Mr. Cobb isn’t in any kind of relationship with me; he just came into the store yesterday for some peace and quiet. So, if you’re looking for information about him, this is not the place for it. If you’re looking for the signed books, the cookbooks are there, and the paranormal section is just around that corner.” He gives his best customer service smile as the paparazzi exchange perplexed glances.

“...Is it true he bought you this store?”

“Wh--no! We rent this space.”

“From him?”

“Arggh!” He closes the door, slumps against it and cards his fingers through his hair. As he contemplates closing for the day, he spots a little, copper card on his desk. It’s Barclay’s, which is what he expected, but when he flips it over there’s a message scribbled in pen.

Main St Hotel, room 503, here until Monday.

He pulls out his phone, tells Aubrey she’s allowed to get the crowd out by any means necessary except for fire, and elbows his way out into the winter air.

------------------------------------------

Barclay almost purrs when he peers through the peephole in the hotel door; Joseph, as his nametag read, is standing on the carpet, looking twice as handsome as he did yesterday. His cheeks are even a little pink, and Barclay has some thoughts on how to make that blush deepen.

“Hey, glad you found-”

Joseph holds up his phone, screen in Barclays face, “please fix this.”

“Oh fuck.” He ushers him in, “I’m so sorry, I thought they’d stopped doing this shit.”

“No, and they’re fucking up my inventory as a result.”

“On it, lemme text my assistant, she’s good at drafting these kind of messages.”

“Thank the lord. Right, thank you for that, I’ll go now.”

“Wait” Barclay reminds his instincts that blocking the door is rude, “do you wanna stay a few minutes? You look kinda stressed.”

“Because my store is being overrun!” Joseph snaps, then takes a deep breath and straightens his sleeves, “I’m sorry, that wasn’t called for, this morning has just been a mess. And it, um, it’s a little bittersweet to have people thinking I could land a hot chef when I can’t get past a first date with most people. Um, sorry. Too much information. That’s a bad habit of mine.”

Barclay tucks his hands into his pants pockets, “About that. Y’know how I left my card?”

Blue eyes blink, then brighten, “I thought that might be the reason but I dismissed it as wishful thinking.”

“Nope. A guy who's hot, nerdy, and competent enough to sneak me away from the paparazzi? Sign me the fuck up.”

“I’m not opposed to a, um, tryst, but I really, really need to get back to the store, I can’t abandon Aubrey to deal with this mess on her own, that’s not fair, and now we’ll have to reorder things too....” He laughs, a tense sound, “good lord, I get a chance to fuck a celebrity crush and I’m turning it down for work.”

“Hey” Barclay sets his hands on Joseph’s shoulders, “it’s okay. You’re not the first guy to be married to his job. But, uh, out of curiosity, you got any vacation days to spare?”

----------------------------------------------

“This is all yours?” Joseph takes in the sprawling farm as Barclay unlocks the front door of a charmingly rustic house.

“Yep, all the way to the creek and all the way to the road. Might surprise you, but I like my privacy.”

“I’d never have guessed.” He replies with faux shock.

“Smartass.” Barclay kisses his cheek, holds the door open with his shoulder so Joseph can pull his bags inside. He packed as light and efficiently as he could for two weeks away (he’d initially planned on one until Aubrey and Moira ganged up on him and told him he hadn’t taken a real vacation in years so he was taking one now, damn it) but his suitcase is still heavy as he rolls it to the stairs.

“I got that.” Barclay shoulders his own travel bag and hoists Joseph’s in the other hand, carrying them to the second floor like they’re nothing more than pillows.

The week the chef was in Madison, Joseph went to his hotel almost every night. Fell asleep in his bed more than once, when discussions of fusion cuisine or the Fresno Nightcrawler turned into frantic, heated kisses under the covers. It’s only when the cook drops all luggage into the master bedroom that the truth of why he’s on this trip sets in.

“You really invited me all the way here because you think I’m hot.”

“Yeah but no.” Barclay drapes his arms over his shoulders, lips still a little chilly as he kisses them, “brought you here because you’re smart” another kiss, this one on his jaw, “and funny” another, on his nose, “and you’re the biggest bigfoot fan I know.”

“You wrote a book on it!”

“Point stands. And yeah” he pushes Joseph back so he lands on the bed, crawling atop him as he growls, “I invited you here because you’re so hot I wanna pour sugar on you and see if it melts. Now get your pants off; I’ve been thinking about sucking your dick since we left the city.”

------------------------------------------

“How did the whole bigfoot thing start?” Joseph sips his Irish Coffee as Barclay puts his feet into his lap.

“Guess the same way any famous person ends up with two gigs; I was doing the thing I love, then was dicking around on cryptid hunter forums and found out I was also hella good at researching bigfoot. By the time I got really into it, I had enough cash that I could write my book without worrying about going broke. Helps that I’d handed off The Arch and The Lodge and was just the exec chef on them, since then I could travel if I needed to.”

Joseph nods, moves one hand down to rub Barclays foot; in spite of no longer working the kitchens of his five restaurants or having to test recipes for the books right now, he spent most of today on his feet making elaborate meals for two. Joseph teases him that he’s trying to stuff him to the point he can’t leave. Barclay always chuckles and says he doesn’t know how right he is. The last two days, Joseph then wraps his arms around his boyfriend and tells him he’d stay forever if he could.

He’s never thought of himself as romantic; he’s pragmatic, knows that relationships are things built out of time, trial, and error. But god help him, he’s fallen for Barclay like they’re rom-com leads with only ninety minutes to reach their happy ending.

They’re out near the creek--really more of a small river--the next morning, talking about books and speculating on the existence of life on other planets, when a storm sweeps through the trees. As trunks groan and roots pull loose from the snow, Barclay calls, “we better head back.”

He gives a thumbs up. Then the ice under him cracks.

He doesn’t correct course quickly enough, the rest dropping from under him and dunking him in freezing water. It’s deep, too deep to stand, but he’s a decent swimmer and kicks towards the surface. When the shadow covers the opening with a boom, panic threatens to push the rest of his precious breath away.

The tree that fell across the ice is heavy, and no matter how he pushes it won’t give. He bangs on the ice on either side, trying to get it to crack, but his lungs scream and his limbs alert him that the cold will soon shut them down.

He closes his eyes, trying to think, not ready to give up, not with Barclay so close. There’s a groan of wood and frozen water. His mouth opens without permission, desperate for air, and chokes him on frost instead.

-----------------------------------

“...be dead, please don’t be dead, please please please don’t be fucking dead.”

“Nnff.” That’s not what he meant to say, but it seems to calm the voice above him.

“Thank fuck. I’m so sorry, I got to you as fast as I could, do, do you need anything?” Barclay sounds exhausted.

“Cold.” He mutters.

“I’m trying to warm you up gradually, that’s what the first aid book said but, uh, here.” Warm, fuzzy arms draw him into a hug.

Wait.

The first thing he sees when his eyes flutter open are arms covered in reddish-brown fur. When Barclay rubs their cheeks together, it tickles more than his beard usually does.

“Barclay? What the hell is going on?”

“Uh. So.” He’s rolled with ease to face a creature he’s never seen and eyes that he’d know anywhere, “I’m bigfoot. Or, uh, a bigfoot. Maybe that’s kinda obvious now.”

His brain crackles to life, “What better way to stay undiscovered than get famous by giving people the wrong information about you.”

“Some of it’s true. Just not anything people could use to actually find me.”

“Smart, big guy” Joseph pets his face.

“You’re taking this pretty well.”

“I think my system is too shocked to experience more shock.” He shudders, “relatedly, how’d I get out of the river?”

“I lifted the tree off and pulled you free. Took my disguise off to do that and, uh, the fucking thing fell into the water when I got you. So I’m gonna be stuck like this until a friend of mine can get me a new one.”

“No complaints here. You look incredible.” He runs his hands up and down Barclay’s side and chest, warmth seeping into his fingers as he does, “But I’m a little surprised you were willing to risk someone seeing you or me blabbing to someone and trashing your whole life in the process.”

A low rumble as Barclay kisses his forehead, “It’s worth it. I, this is gonna sound so fucking cheesy, but I haven’t felt this way about someone in a long time, and there was no way I was gonna lose you.”

“Oh.” Affection and surprise well up in his throat, pressing down his words so all he can do is nestle closer to the cryptid and let himself be loved.

His mind rebounds quickly from his misadventure. His body would like him to remember it for a while so he doesn’t put it in such jeopardy again any time soon. Instead of helping Barclay with cooking and chores, he lays under the covers while the storm rattles the roof and the cook clangs pots on the lower floor.

Barclay, attentive to a fault, is downright doting now that he’s stuck in bed. He’s never without a hot drink or something to read, and the cryptid is happy to answer the majority of his questions about the finer points of being bigfoot. When it’s bedtime, his boyfriend pulls him atop his massive frame and cuddles him, whispering over and over that he’s glad he’s okay, until they fall asleep.

Today followed much the same pattern, though when dinner time rolls around he gets a fantastic surprise.

“Chocolate fondue?” He peers hopefully at the bed tray in Barclays hands.

“Only the best for you, babe.” The cook sets the burnished wood down on the bedside table, “we lucked out, the berries I bought last week are ripe.”

Joseph reaches for the fork, but Barclay beats him to it.

“You should save your energy. Since you’re, uh, still recovering.”

He shrugs, sets his hands in his lap and opens his mouth for a chocolate dipped raspberry. It doesn’t take long to spy Barclay’s ulterior motive. The cook has a whole wardrobe designed to fit his cryptid form, but it’s having trouble concealing certain things.

“You’re getting off on this.”

“I, uh, I, maybe a little” Barclay blushes under his fur.

Joseph raises an eyebrow, tilts his head at the bulge in Barclay’s pants, “You call that ‘little’?”

A rumbly whine, the fork paused halfway to Joseph’s mouth, “I can’t help it. I’ve got a thing for taking care of partners, especially ones who are all competent and put-together the rest of the time, and you look so good when you eat and, ohfuck.”

Joseph inhales sharply as chocolate hits his exposed upper chest. It’s not hot enough to burn, and he moans as the sensation seeps across his skin. Barclays eyes, wide and ravenous, keep flicking between the splatter and his face.

“Looks like you made a mess, big guy.” Joseph begins undoing the remaining buttons on his pajamas, “you should clean it up.”

“Fuck yeah.” Barclay lunges, mouth first, lapping and sucking at the marked skin as Joseph laughs. Their shirts hit the floor together as he digs his nails into auburn fur. Barclay grunts at the pressure, sits up with a grin, and drips a line of chocolate down the right side of Joseph’s ribs.

“Oops. Better fix that too.”

“Cleanliness is importantAH, ahhnn.” He squirms a bit as Barclay nuzzles his stomach before dragging his tongue up his skin. There’ve been times he mourned the fact T didn’t make him as hairy as some other guys, but right now he’s grateful for the clear canvas Barclay can mark however he pleases.

“A mess can be more fun.” The cook licks his lips, sucks a hickey above his belly button, “and by the time I’m done with you, babe, won’t be a single part of you that isn’t one.”

“Then get to it.” He shoves his pants down, lets Barclay pull them the rest of the way off and fold them. He lays back, resting his arms behind his head, and moans as the cook drizzles chocolate on each hip. Joseph feels like a gourmet dessert and, from the growls between his thighs, Barclay intends to treat him like one.

His boyfriend is always enthusiastic when sucking him off, but tonight he throws finesse out the window in favor of burying his face at the crease of each thigh in turn, licking his hips clean while clawing at his calves and sides. He lifts his head, wipes his mouth with a satisfied grin that shows the points of his teeth, and dives down again.

Joseph yelps with pleasure, the hint of fangs hitting all his buttons, lighting him up like downtown on a dark night. It’s intense, the scratch of fur on skin just different enough from the usual beard to remind him of who’s down there, and his legs try to kick closed. Barclay growls again, holding them open with ease.

“Not until I’m done with you, babe.”

He surrenders to flood of feelings from both outside and within him, Barclay’s sheer delight at his body rendering all his doubts and worries toothless and small, quieting them until all he can think about is incredible creature holding and all he can say is some variation on-

“Barclay, please, right there, lordalmighty that’s good, that’s so good big guy, please.” He squeezes his eyes shut, craving the impending orgasm more than he has words for. Barclay sucks determinedly and huffs, pleased, as Joseph's thighs tense in his hold and his climax chases away the remnants of yesterday's aches.

As his brain insists that really, body, opening our eyes isn’t that hard, there’s a metallic zip and strong legs bracketing his thighs.

“Here I thought you couldn’t look any better.” He murmurs as Barclay gleefully strokes his cock, “as soon as my brain works again, I’m coming up with so many ways to use that gorgeous thing.”

“Can’t, fuck, can't wait to hear ‘em, but I only got one for tonight; I’m gonna use it to cum alllll over that fucking perfect body, fuck, Joseph, you look so good when you’re ruined, fuck.” An impressive amount of cum spatters up his stomach, chest, and neck as Barclay howlgrowlpurrs and then sets his hands carefully on the bed.

Joseph’s whole body is sticky with chocolate, sweat, and cum, and Barclay definitely has at least two of those things mussed into his fur.

“You’re right, big guy, a mess can be fucking amazing.”

That being said, being sticky gets old quick, and soon they’re in the tub, Joseph whistling as he shampoos Barclay’s chest. The cryptid hasn’t stopped purring, and every time he looks Joseph’s way the sound deepens.

“When are you next in the city?”

The cook yawns, “Was gonna check on how the new chef de cuisine is getting on at Kepler in about two week.”

“Would you like to stay with me? It’s not fancy, but it’s close to the Ismuth, so you can get to Kepler on foot without trouble, and there are fewer crowds there this time of year. I suspect paparazzi are also less likely to track you down at some random house than at a hotel. That might make up for my lack of, um, high class amenities.”

“Good point. But I gotta be honest babe; as long as you’re there, that’s all I need to be happy.”

#sternclay #agent stern/ barclay #meet ugly #taz amnesty #terato #monster boyfriend #trans agent stern

31 notes · View notes

wowtobio · 4 years

Note

pls feed me with ur incredible writing. Iwa angst bc I haven't cried in a while lol.

Cheater! Iwaizumi x reader (angst)

──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

a/n: haha this made me laugh, ur too kind my writing is not that good so i cannot guarantee tears

It’s been awhile since I wrote my guy iwa and angst, hopefully this doesn’t turn out too bad eheh this is also sort of like an 800 followers special. Thank you all so much for following and reading my works, i cannot express it any other way :)

warning: angst, cursing, slight mentions

Part 1 | Part 2

You expected this to happen, as hard as it is to swallow the bitter truth that threatened to burn down your whole marriage. This man, what happened? The time he would sacrifice in order to spend just some time with you, only now consumed by his company forcing him to work overtime presumably. The words he spoke to you, full of meaning were now void of emotion and as cold and sharp as icicles hanging from the rooftop edge during winter nights. The love and adoration his eyes used to hold catered only for you.

Where did it go?

Suddenly, the golden band adorned with emerald jewels did not shine as brightly as it used too. Though you kept yours on, it seems his own band was often absent. But you bit your lip, afraid to voice out queries that could end up in another pointless argument.

The door shut hard, yet you do not jump from your seat like you used too. Keeping your blank eyes forward staring at the static of the television. No words, no welcomes were heard.

The calming night breeze coming from an open window only served to add more coldness in the living room.

Recently, all the nagging you did would not serve you both justice. You were only worried for your husband, why did it seem like all he did was yell at you? A simple question concerning what was for dinner would always end up in heated words.

“You can eat alone.”

“But, I just wanted to eat dinner with you, I waited so lo-”

“And why should I care? Just leave me be I’m too tired to deal with you right now.”

But, you always seem like you don’t want to deal with me..

Soon, it all ceased to exist. Any conversation or fight in this matter, it all scurried away as fear of more spiteful words would dig deep into your chest and sting greatly.

But tonight was different, you just missed him so much.

Standing slowly, you trudge behind him wordlessly wrapping your arms around his torso and burying your face into his broad back. He stands frozen, you wish you could see his facial expression. Iwaizumi’s gaze is casted down at the arms enveloping him.

You guessed your arms were pretty skinny now, when was the last time you even had a proper meal?

You tried to ignore the feminine, floral fragrance that lingered on his button up, a scent you know for sure you did not use.

Minutes passed, what felt like hours. After Iwaizumi snapped out of his state, he easily shrugged you off and continued to your once shared bedroom. And all you could do was hold out your now empty arms and stare at his receding form.

No tears shed, you ran out of them awhile ago. However, that familiar aching pain still stirred deep within your gut.

Another night on the couch it seems.

When was the last time you were happy? Your friends voice concern for your well-being, the sparkle in your eyes now dulled to a mere dull light. Eventually you stopped hearing their distressed voices when you started to decline their offers of going out.

There was no point in forcing yourself to go anywhere anymore. It was more convenient to mask yourself as to not cause anymore worry.

But, this one night you decided to go out. Maybe it was to escape the realms that reminded you of your dying relationship. You texted Iwaizumi, it’s been awhile since you clicked on his contact. And of course, no response. Probably didn’t even glance at the notification.

Whatever, you gulped down another shot, your step wobbled slightly. Things did not change, your friends held the same hidden worries for you.

Was it a coincidence that his best friend was there? I mean he was quite the party animal nowadays. His casual, flirty tone ignored by you. Until you voiced heading home early, not wanting to keep your husband waiting. Oikawa’s eyes darkened, he knew something you didn’t.

And that something was met with you when you quietly open the door to your shared apartment. The thumping of your heart was probably louder than the one heard from your shared bed.

Suddenly, your surroundings were starting to blur in your vision. Was it the alcohol? Or have you finally lost it?

Hands shaking, you grasp the golden doorknob. Nothing to lose now, as you swung open the only barrier hiding the ugly truth. A shriek, a barely audible gasp and a sob.

He didn’t even react, he didn’t scramble the way that busty bitch did when she made futile attempts to pick up her clothing and leave. He didn’t even look at your trembling form.

After the woman hastily left your apartment, taking your dignity along with her. All you could do is silently stand there, hot tears streaming down your pale complexion. Hajime’s eyes, as always casted down at the sheets he committed great sin in.

You make eye contact with him one last time. It was only a second, yet you saw it all. All the lies he hid, the hatred he held for you. He hid it so well, and you were a fool to not notice how obvious it was.

No more, you ran out of the apartment in the same fashion that woman he indulged with did.

Days passed. Weeks as well. No apologies, no contact, no moments of crossings, nothing. This is what your marriage has come too. Months of drowning in tears and alcohol.

The feeling of worthlessness, ugliness, everything negative consumed your being during this dark time. Your phone untouched, flooded with texts and calls from friends and family. But you didn't have the energy to respond back with empty lies. It didn’t matter, out all of those messages his name never popped up.

How could he do this to you? How could he love you to the point of marriage only to ignore you til the downfall? How could he steal everything away from you like this? Your first kiss, your first time, your hand in marriage. And to just take that all away and leave you with absolutely nothing but heartache and painful thoughts.

You pondered this, who knows how long you will continue too. And as you scroll down your social media feed for the first time in awhile, Oikawa’s constant post flooded your timeline, one particular caught your eye. A candid selfie of the pretty setter, your ex-husband and a girl clad in a white sundress and sun hat. The girl had perfect wavy, long brown hair that complimented her hazelnut eyes. A body of a goddess and a beautiful smile. Her delicate and dainty arms wrapped around the bicep of your ex-lover.

Hajime’s face was caught off guard, yet overall he did not seem the least bit effected by the events that happened just months ago.

It broke you, why was he happier now without you? Though he left you all alone to wallow in your own sadness and selfishness.

You did not get it, and you never will. As you sobbed deeply into your arms on that cold night, the stars shone brightly into the room barely enveloping your quivering body, all you could ask yourself is where did it all go wrong?

──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

a/n: idk abt y’all but i think the most painful heartbreak is watching someone fall out of love with u. but once again thank you for reading my blogs you guys :’) i seriously cannot thank you enough

masterlist

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi angst #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu headcanons #oikawa tooru #oikawa #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x reader #hajime iwaizumi #hajime iwaizumi x reader

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remcycl333 · 3 years

Text

progress update (?)

hiii!! so i was debating whether or not to make this post for multiple reasons, but in the end i decided i would because i remembered that when i started this blog, i said i was gonna use it to document my law of assumption/manifestation journey, and this definitely counts as that.

i have been seeing a ton of progress in my journey, especially in the month and a half since i’ve created this blog. i feel like i’ve really started to see consistent results and my mindset has been a lot better. that being said, i’ve had kind of a rough past few days.

over the last year i’ve manifested contact with my sp numerous times, yet every time we get into contact, it lasts for three days. every time. exactly three days. even if things were looking good, suddenly at the last second on the third day he would stop responding to me. it was so weird. which, obviously, i noticed this pattern and began manifesting it. i’d reach the third day and be like, oh no! its the third day, something is gonna happen and he’s gonna go ghost!!

well, i finally broke out of this cycle, and my sp and i were in pretty much constant contact for a week and a half! i was so happy, but then suddenly he stopped responding. which, i know these are just my old beliefs rearing their ugly heads, and i allowed myself to slack off a little bit and worry about how long it was taking for my sp to respond.

i know that all i have to do right now is persist, and i have been. but i have noticed it has been coming from a place of desperation, and i’ve been trying to force things to happen. which is bad. i know i wont see results this way, but i’ve just been kinda down.

it has been nearing the end of june, which is fine, but i had this idea in my head that my sp and i were gonna spend the summer together. which, obviously there’s still over two months of summer left, but i’ve always--since i was literally a pre-teen--started stressing about summer ending soon at the end of june. it’s literally dumb, but it’s just how i’ve always felt. add onto this the fact that i’ve been soooo bored with nothing to do all day (especially since my sister just moved out), which has been making me really notice that my sp and i aren’t together in the 3D.

not only that, but i also felt so close this time. so close i could actually taste it. my sp and i were in constant contact, we had fun conversations and he’d even flirt with me, and i was ready for him to ask me on a date and/or confess his undying love for me at any second. but, he didn’t. instead he stopped responding to me, lol.

so those two things mixed together really kinda bummed me out. but it’s been two or three days of that, and enough is enough!! i have seen so much progress!! this is clearly working!! my desire is going to show up fully in my 3D any second now. now that i’ve written this out, i’m gonna stop affirming the old story that he stopped responding and that we’re not together. he’s just been busy, he’ll get back to me as soon as he can (emphasis on the soon).

all of this being said, there is something new i want to try out. we are all familiar with the concept of living in the end, i’m sure. well every time i do this, i’ve done it by pretending we’re gonna hang out the next day, or that he texted me and i have to respond, etc etc. but i realized, u know what? when i’m feeling bored, i’m gonna remind myself that im not. from now on, my sp is gonna be in every room with me, sitting next to me, keeping me company, being my boyfriend. it is done, and the proof is that he is literally in the same room as me, mere feet away.

guys. it is done. im so close. i will be giving u my full success story any day now. i am not giving up. im not letting some weird, undesirable circumstance trip me up. it is done. it is done. it is done.

#manifestation #manifest #manifesting advice #manifesting tips #manifesting #neville goddard #law of assumption #law of attraction #loa

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krreader · 4 years

Text

BTS scenario → dating an “average” girl.

pairing: bts x reader fandom: bts warnings: / genre: angst ; fluff word count: 1.6k+

a/n: let me start off by saying that I really don’t like to use the word average, because I think everyone is special in their own way. now, I wasn’t sure whether you wanted this to be angsty or not, but I decided to mix it up and throw a little bit of both in there, which I hope you enjoy :)

kim seokjin

“I don't think I'll be a good work-out-buddy, Jin,” you nervously looked around, “And besides, people are looking at me.”

“Hey,” he quickly grabbed your chin and made you look into his eyes, “You pay attention to nobody but me, okay? None of these people here matter, only you and I do. And you work out as much as you can and once it becomes too hard or you don't feel like it anymore, you'll stop.”

You had often complained to Jin about your body, but had been too afraid to go into a gym on your own. So he had offered to go with you to one of the private ones that a lot of idols often used and to help you with the exercising.

It was a good deal at first, but now that you were actually here, you began to realize that you knew jack-shit about working out and that you'd probably make a fool out of yourself.

However, the moment that you started, you forgot everything around you.

Jin made this day extremely fun and every time you 'messed up', your boyfriend turned it into a funny situation that had you laugh and not blush from embarrassment.

Others were probably judging you, but you didn't notice.

All you could see was this man in front of you, loving you unconditionally the way you were now, but wanting to help you on your journey to self-love in any way he could.

min yoongi

Yoongi had once been so worried about what would happen once the media would find out about you and him, especially because of your previous hatred for yourself.

But you've worked on those issues. You've worked hard to love yourself the way you were, to accept that you'd never have that flat stomach because – surprise – your organs had to find a place somewhere in your body. To accept that you'd forever have acne scarring, which now reminded you of the hard times and made you appreciate the current, good times.

So whenever there was yet another blog post of a jealous fan bashing one of the things that you used to hate about yourself, you just nodded to yourself and said: “They're probably going through their own struggles right now. One day, they will get over it.”

Jealousy was a bitch, you've experienced that first hand.

But as you've finally come to accept yourself, you've realized that you had no reason to be jealous of others anymore.

You were happy with yourself.

Yoongi leaned against the door frame and watched you put your phone down, then grab your cup of coffee and watch the rain pour outside.

And all he could think of was: “You're the most beautiful woman on this planet. Thank you for finally having realized that yourself.”

jung hoseok

Hoseok walked into the living room after having taken a shower and found you scrolling through your Instagram, liking pictures of several girls that he was sure you had never seen or met before.

All girls that looked a certain way. ‘Perfect’, as you used to call them.

With a heavy sigh, he sat down next to you and said: “We talked about this. You don't need to look like this, you're pretty the way you are, you know?”

“I do,” you smiled at him, “But I still think they're pretty. And I know how important it is to tell someone they're beautiful. You never know what they’re struggling with about themselves at the moment.”

You've come a long way.

Two years ago, you would have looked at these pictures and beaten yourself up over it. You would have gone on a diet the next day, the hairdresser the day after and the dermatologists soon thereafter.

But now? Now you could look at these pictures and leave compliments under them that the original owner of the photo always liked and thanked you for, because as you said, you never knew what somebody was struggling with about their appearance at that time and something as simple as a compliment from a stranger could mean the world.

“I'm so proud of you,” Hoseok whispered and pulled you against him.

“Me too,” you grinned happily.

jung hoseok

Once upon a time you had thought that if you wanted to date Kim Namjoon, you had to be some sort of prodigy.

But, newsflash, you weren't.

And while you had been more than upset about this years ago and thought that you were not worthy of being with him, you had now come to accept that you were normal.

And normal was good.

Normal, was what Namjoon loved the most about you, after your kindness and your warmth that you had for the people you loved and cared for. He didn't need you to be special by playing some instrument perfectly, because you were already special enough for him for just being you.

And as you were lying in bed and he was running his fingers through your hair, he whispered: “I love you more than I can say.. you know that right?”

It surprised you, but you still smiled, “I do. I love you too. And..-” you pushed yourself up a little to look him in the eyes and chuckled, “I love me too.”

It was a little inside joke. Something that Namjoon made you say over and over again when you had troubles accepting yourself once again. And now, you could say that sentence and honestly mean it.

And man, he was so proud of that.

park jimin

It really wasn't easy being with him when he was this perfect specimen of humanity and you were – in your eyes – the worst it could offer.

“You look gorgeous,” Jimin smiled happily when you walked out of the changing room, but you weren't quite as happy with yourself.

“It doesn't fit properly.”

“Hm, I think it does,” Jimin got up and took a closer look at it, “Zipper is up, straps aren't too tight.. I think it's good!”

“No, I mean.. this,” you pointed at your belly, “I told you I can't wear a dress as tight as this, I don't have your stomach,” it came out a lot more spiteful than you intended for it to.

But he didn’t take it to heart, thankfully

“And thank god for that,” Jimin let out a laugh, then grabbed your chin and made you look at him, “My stomach reminds me of the nights in which I had to starve myself to look like people expect me to look. Your stomach reminds me of how healthy you are and how I don't have to worry about you.”

You looked into his eyes for a moment, then you let out a sigh, your shoulders dropping, “Sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up..-”

“Don't apologize. If anything, apologize to yourself for always being so hard on you and always finding an imperfection that isn't one,” he kissed your forehead, “You're so beautiful, angel,” he whispered, nearly making you cry.

kim taehyung

Taehyung could feel that there was something wrong today just from the way you texted him back. You didn't put any of your normally used emoji's after your texts, your answers were short and the amount of time it took you to even reply, was suspicious.

At first, he had thought that maybe something that he had done had upset you, but the more he thought about it, the more he came to the conclusion that that couldn't be. When re-reading your goodnight message from last night, everything was normal.

So it must be something else.

Once his break started, he decided that he'd spend it at your place and see what it was that was troubling you. He hadn't told you that he'd be coming, so you were looking at him, not in surprise, but shock.

“What are you doing here?!” you immediately turned around and scurried back into your apartment, leaving Taehyung to close the door behind himself with furrowed eyebrows.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing, just.. I don't have a good day today, okay?”

Your boyfriend placed the bag of take-away on the floor and then walked over to you, gently turning you around by your shoulder to look at you, only to see that issue seemed to be something so trivial, that it made him let out a heavy sigh.

“Really, (Y/N)?”

“It's so ugly. I couldn't stand it anymore, so I just.. popped them. And now I look even worse than before and I hate it!”

You've been struggling with your skin for a while, had often gone to dermatologists that Taehyung had recommended to you, but while it did get a little better, you didn't have the skin that he had. And that is what you wanted. A journey that would take longer than four months, however. And... well, you were impatient.

“How many times do I need to tell you that pimples are natural? That having acne is nothing to be ashamed about?”

“Easy for you to say, looking like your skin was made out of glass.”

“And you know how much I need to do for it. How many times I need to get treatments,” his hands slid down until he could hold yours, “You're still beautiful to me. Pimples won't change that. But popping them isn't good for your skin, it's only going to make it worse. You need to let it heal, as hard as it is.”

Again, this was easy for him to say and not so easy for you to do. You've had this conversation before and you were sure that you'd have it again and again.

But you were glad to hear these words. Because at that moment, it was what you needed to feel a little better.

jeon jeongguk

It wasn't hard to figure out that you never wanted to come to these dinners because you were uncomfortable around the other members' girlfriends. They were, what society would consider, 'the standard'. They were, what women were told to look like. They were, what people thought idols’ girlfriends should look like.

And every time you joined these dinners, you realized that you were none of these things.

You weren't the perfect woman, unlike the others.

Or so you believed.

“You're home early,” you stated as you closed the book in your hands, “Wasn't it fun?”

“It was,” Jeongguk nodded, taking off his shoes, before falling onto the couch and placing his head in your lap, smiling as you immediately began to brush your fingers through his hair, “But being here with you is better.”

He could spend his days trying to convince you that you were what he wanted, exactly the way you were now.

Or, he could simply show you.

And he opted for option number two.

#bts imagine #bts reactions #bts x reader #bts #bangtan #bangtan reaction #bangtan boys #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop reactions #bangtan sonyeondan #reader #bangtan x reader #bangtan boys x reader #requests

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intomymindspace · 4 years

Text

Video Games ✰ Tendou Satori

Video Games covered by The Young Professionals

tendou satori x gn reader

Through the Summer and the Fall // Haikyuu!! Songfic Series

a/n: hi everyone, I'm sorry for a posting a week late! I’ve been really unmotivated as of late for personal stuff but also because I'm lowkey still a little bummed that my Bokuto fic (definitely totally am not plugging it rn - totally do not click the link, ahaha 🥺) didn’t do as well as I hoped it would. But no matter! Here is the Tendou insert, as promised! It’s not the best, and I definitely have a bit of writers block and am behind schedule. I wish I could write his character and for him better considering how much I love him. Next will up be flattykawa 😌 and I will be posting it hopefully soon to help make up for last week’s missed post. I've also changed up this blog and have given it hopefully a better look - there is a new theme on desktop!

Warnings: part 3 spoilers for jojo’s bizarre adventure that include character death, my bb tori being insecure about him and his body but I love him and his flat a$$ so much, and as always, we clown on flattykawa in this household but all in good favor

It was a rainy day, and Tendou was quiet and content as he sat on your bed, reading the new Weekly Shonen Jump magazine that he had just been mailed. He had let Ushijima read it earlier - but as always, he only read the advertisements. You sat beside him on the floor, his long legs dangled off the edge of your bed, his foot brushing your arm every now and then. You were playing the new otome game you had bought a week ago on your console. On days like this, the two of you often fell into comfortable silences when hanging out with each other - and today was no different. There was nothing to do other than school work and go to practice - but even then, it wasn’t necessary for the third years to attend anymore. Not since they lost in the finals against Karasuno.

He was pulled away from the panel he was reading when he heard you gasp - his crimson eyes flitting to your monitor to see what had happened.

“What happened?” You turned around to look up at him, an excited look on your face.

“Murasame Jinnosuke confessed his love for me! I didn’t expect it to happen so fast into the game.” He looked back at the screen to see a handsome samurai on your screen. Snickering, Tendou ruffled your hair.

“Good job, now just see if you can get a real guy to confess his undying love for you.” Squinting at him, you slapped his leg playfully.

“You’re supposed to be nice to me, Tori-kun.”

“When am I not?”

Ever since you had taken the place of Shiratorizawa’s volleyball club manager two years ago as a first year, you quickly bonded with the strange amalgamation of players. It had been a running gag between the third year players to find out what type of guys you liked. You could always be found on your phone during breaks playing otome games - and that was the beginning of the years of playful torment from your fellow classmates.

It wasn’t that you weren’t attractive or that you didn’t gain attention - every Valentines Day you always received several confessions and chocolates, but you always rejected them as kindly as possible. For someone who played as many otome games as you did, they were surprised to say the least when you had always declined the advances of many classmates, saying that they just weren’t your type with a kind smile on your face.

It was Tendou’s turn to squint as he turned his attention back to your screen as you continued to play through the game. He scoffed at some of the things the fictional samurai said to you - what was so special about him anyways?

This is my idea of fun

Playing video games

Tendou shut his manga volume, and he noticed your curious eyes looking at the cover. Smirking playfully at you, he poked your forehead.

“Suddenly interested in pirates?” You sat back, rolling your eyes.

“Maybe. Who’s the character on the front?” He stared down at the covered, humming.

“Shanks. Say, I never thought you were one to go for a tough-looking guy.” He held a mischievous grin on his lips.

“Ha! Sure. Keep thinking that, Tendou.” He feigned a gasp.

“You used my last name too? With no honorific? No nickname? The rudeness! I’m so hurt!” You couldn’t help but egg your friend along.

“Hmm, maybe I should start watching One Piece if he’s in it…” But before Tendou could clap back, Yamagata slid into the seat next to you, a teasing smile on his lips.

“Ah, so that’s your type, huh? Tough-looking guys with scars?” You rolled your eyes at the libero. “I’m pretty tough too, aren’t I?”

“As if.” But it didn’t stop them from the teasing.

So what if you maybe did prefer more muscular guys? Tendou didn’t understand why the thought hurt his feelings so much. He may not have the bulging muscles, but he was just as strong. He sighed to himself, watching you from across the table as you shoved Yamagata playfully. Why would you want to like someone like himself anyways?

It's you, it's you, it's all for you

Everything I do

Tendou entered your dorm room unannounced as he always did - but this time he was surprised to see you in tears as you huddled in your blanket, staring at the tv. The first thing you usually did was banter with him about his bad habit of not knocking, but all he could do is stand shocked in your doorway.

Instantly, his gleeful eyes turned blood red. Shutting your door behind him, he quickly made his way over to you, his eyebrows furrowed, a scowl on his lips.

“Who do I have to beat up?” A million thoughts were running through his head - were you made fun of? Did someone reject you? Did you receive a bad score on an exam? He wrapped his arms around you the second your tear-filled eyes looked up at him.

“Who did it? Who hurt your feelings?” His genuine care and questions only made you cry harder into his chest.

“Dio.” You said, but it was too muffled for him to hear. Pulling back, he gave you a quizzical look. You pointed at the scene that was unfolding on your tv.

“Dio killed Kakyoin.” Tendou immediately smacked a hand to his face. His eyes flickered to the screen to see a tall, muscular character slumped against a water tower, a hole in his torso with text on the screen saying “Kakyoin Noriaki has died.” He couldn't help but laugh.

“You want me to beat up the mighty and powerful vampire lord and stand user, Dio Brando? For killing the guy who licks cherries weird?”

Slapping his arm, you pouted at him through your ugly tears. “Don’t make fun of me! I really liked him.” Tendou kept on snickering as he rubbed your back.

“I know, I’m sorry. But it’s just too funny to just not tease you.”

As ridiculous as it sounded, Tendou wondered if you would ever cry for him the way you cried for Kakyoin. He smiled to himself as he stared down at your face that was still buried in his chest - he hoped you wouldn’t notice how fast his heart was beating at the notion of you coming to him for comfort.

Maybe your type was animated men.

I tell you all the time

Heaven is a place on earth with you

Tendou put his jump comic down and just watched your gameplay - he was too distracted by his thoughts of you to focus on the new chapter of My Hero Academia.

He couldn’t help but pine over you. You had been so open and kind to him from the first time you met him - he remembered that day with ease. You had looked so confident walking into the volleyball gym, introducing yourself to the players as their new manager.

He was genuinely surprised that you weren’t turned away by his quirks - and he was thankful that above all, you treated him just like you treated everyone else.

It seemed so easy for you to become friends with the other first years at the time. You found commonalities with each of them, and you even managed to break Ushijima out of his shell by the time you all first went to nationals. Tendou remembered the hours upon hours that the two of you spent together - whether it was hanging out in the dorm watching animes, giving him tips and encouragement on the court during timeouts, or quality conversations on long bus rides to and from games. If you had never joined as manager, Tendou would’ve never guessed that the two of you would become as close friends as you were now. And he had always been a good guesser.

As he stared at you, controller in your hand, he remembered why he realized he liked you so much - it wasn’t because you shared a strong love for manga and anime. Okay, well, maybe it was, but it wasn’t the commonality. It was because you understood and even empathized with escaping through these fictional stories.

He knew what it was like to want to escape - to want to find paradise away from everyday life. On the court, Tendou could sneak into the small slice of heaven that he visited when he played volleyball. Off the court, he wanted nothing more than to have you safe in his arms as the two of you escaped into the world of whatever show you had chosen to binge that day.

To him, you were just as heavenly as the defeated looks on his opponents’ faces that he craved to see - maybe even more.

Tell me all the things you want to do

I heard that you like the bad girls, honey, is that true?

You squealed excitedly as you waved the game in front of Semi’s face after practice had ended.

“Semi-semi! Look what just came in the mail!” He pushed your hand out of his face, scoffing.

“I can’t see it if you’re rubbing in my face like that, idiot.” The setter had a smile on his face nonetheless, making you laugh as he took a look at the game. His eyes widened.

“No way, Castlevania Judgement?!?!” You nodded proudly, smiling at Tendou and Ushijima as they walked over to see what the commotion was about. The middle blocker gawked at the game you held in your hands - the third years had been talking about the release of it for at least a few months now.

“You jealous? If you want, we can play after dinner.” Semi quickly nodded, and you looked at Tendou and Ushijima for their answers.

“What, when have I ever said no to wanting to play video games with you?” To his reply, the captain simply nodded.

“Thank you for your invite. I am happy to attend as well.”

Tendou and Ushijima sat on the edge of your bed as you and Semi sat in front of your tv, switching the controller after every chapter of the game. Ushijima had no interest in actually playing the game - and Tendou knew he would get a chance to play with you later. Semi was more excited for the game than he was anyways.

You couldn’t contain your excitement as you gushed over one of the main characters, Simon Belmont. From the looks of it, he was a powerful fighter - and Tendou sighed once again - he was super muscular and tough-looking too. You were too invested in the gameplay with Semi, that you weren’t paying attention to the conversation Tendou sparked with Ushijima.

“I don’t get what’s so special about him anyways.” The redhead had a pout on his face, his arms crossed. Ushijima was very aware of the middle blocker’s crush on you - his friend often coming to the captain for his advice. While Ushijima had almost no experience and knowledge at all in terms of dating, he was always observant of the people around him, and was very blunt.

“Tendou-kun, if you like them so much, it would just be better to ask. It is pointless to be jealous over every fictional character they like.” He couldn’t help but gawk at the monotonous tone and the serious look on his captain’s face.

“I’ll raise you a better one. It’s pointless to ask because their standards seem to be so high anyways.” Ushijima couldn’t help but stare at his friend.

“And why should that stop you? They’re not real.” Tendou sighed, exacerbated.

“I get it, I get it! I know they’re not just going to pop out from the screen or anything.”

“But?”

“But that doesn’t mean those aren’t their same standards to people they prefer in real life,” Tendou admitted, and Ushijima knew he hit the reason why. Tendou may be tall, but he was lean and lanky. The muscle he had was nowhere near that of any of the fictional guys you crushed on. What could you possibly want from someone way weaker - someone like him?

“They are not the type of person to go completely for the way someone’s body appears. If that were the case, they should’ve confessed their attraction to either myself or Yamagata by now, based on your logic. Besides, they told me they liked you.” Tendou couldn't help but roll his eyes, placing a hand over his heart.

“Wakatoshi-kun, you wound me. Of course they like me - they wouldn’t be my friend if they didn’t. Couldn't you at least sugar coat your advice sometimes?”

It's better than I ever even knew

They say that the world was built for two

Before the prefectural qualifiers in the fall, Shiratorizawa managed to snag a practice match with none other than Aoba Johsai. While there was clear tension throughout the entire time, the teams kept interactions outside the court lines as light-hearted as possible. Seijoh managed to snag victory during the first match, but Shiratorizawa hit back just as hard, winning the second match.

The boys were currently loading their bags into the bus as you supervised them, reminding them to triple check that they had everything. You were almost caught by surprise when a volleyball rolled towards you, hitting the back of your foot gently.

“Sumimasen.” You heard from several meters behind you, making you turn around. It was the Great King himself, Oikawa Tooru, that was slowly jogging towards you - it almost seemed like he was doing it in slow motion. Your fellow teammates heard the setter, their eyes sneakily following him as he got closer to you. They couldn't help but snicker at their so-called sworn enemy - it was obvious by the way that his aura sparkled around him and the smoulder on his face that he had rolled the ball your way to get your attention.

“I’m so sorry, could you get that for me?” You nodded, a polite smile on your face. The great Oikawa was definitely handsome, to say the least - and Tendou couldn't help the childish frown that filled his features. As you picked up the ball and handed it back to the setter, he flashed you a heart-stopping, pearly white smile.

“Thank you,” he said, taking the ball from you, brushing your fingers in the process. “You are the manager for Shiratorizawa, right? I didn’t catch your name earlier.” Oikawa ran a hand through his silky hair as you gave him your name.

“Wow,” he flashed you another smile, “such a beautiful name for someone just as gorgeous.” Semi couldn’t help but let a snort out at Oikawa’s compliment.

“Thank you.” You took the complement in stride, deciding it would be nice to say something back. “You played great today, Oikawa-san.” He laughed jovially.

“Thank you, you’re very kind. And cute. Would you be interested in catching boba with me sometime? I know a cute place that has good milk tea and milk bread.” Tendou rolled his eyes at Oikawa’s words. It probably was his plan all along - to try to bewitch the manager of Shiratorizawa. When Tendou saw a smile grow on your face, he couldn’t help but feel defeated. Were you actually going to say yes to him?

“I’m very flattered Oikawa-san. But I’m sorry, I must decline your offer.” Oikawa’s eyes widened in surprise. The Great King? Being rejected? “You’re not really my type.” You turned around, making your way onto the bus, leaving Oikawa with his jaw on the ground, the ace on Seijoh’s team as well as your teammates laughing their asses off at the scene that had just unfolded in front of their very eyes.

“That’s what you get, Crappykawa! You should’ve gone to Shiratorizawa!”

“Iwa-chan, that's not funny! I feel like my heart has been broken into thousands of pieces!”

“Well, if they’re gonna hit it, they better hit it til it breaks!”

“Pfft, I’m actually not surprised they didn’t say yes to him.” Semi commented, placing his duffle bag into the storage compartment. Tendou’s head quirked at the statement.

“Why’s that?” Reon asked, storing his things as well, making Semi and Yamagata snicker.

“Did you see how flat his ass was? I’m 100% sure their type is thicker guys. Like their ace, or something.” The three of them burst into laughter, Tendou only slightly laughing along as well. Ushijima only grunted in disagreement as he shut the compartment’s door.

“I believe their type is actually redheads.” All of the third years looked at their captain with wide eyes and dead silence - before laughing even harder. Semi slapped Ushijima’s bicep lightly, bending over. Tendou’s eyes widened - Ushijima was not the type to joke around, right?

“I didn’t think you actually knew how to crack jokes, Ushijima-kun!” The olive-haired man only looked down at his fellow third years in confusion.

“I am not joking. I simply just decided to ask them earlier, and I am only relaying the answer they gave me.” They couldn’t help but bend over, Yamagata even wiping tears from all the laughing.

“Stop! Your bluntness is only making it worse!” By the way the rest of his teammates reacted, Tendou believed Ushijima really must have been joking - in his own way. He had just picked a hair color different from Oikawa’s, right?

“Good one, Wakatoshi-kun.” Tendou let out a chuckle, giving his friend a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Only worth living if somebody is loving you

And baby, now you do

Tendou’s eyes widened as he relieved all the memories. Was Ushijima actually serious? He had never asked his friend about it - but perhaps it was because he was too scared to actually know the truth. Quickly, Tendou pulled out his phone and googled each of the characters - Shanks, Kakyoin, and Simon. The samurai was still on your screen, and he flipped through the tabs on his internet browser, trying to find the similarities.

Obviously, they were all built rather strong - but Tendou couldn’t get what Ushijima said out of his head. They were all redheads, after all. Why hadn’t he noticed this before? He looked back at you, your attention still on the otome game. Should he ask you? Would it be weird? Tendou thought about texting Ushijima, but he quickly decided not to. He already knew what his friend would say. Right after he called your name gently, you set down the controller and turned to look up at him.

“What’s up, Tori-kun?” He had never felt this nervous before - it wasn’t even like he was going to confess to you or anything either.

“Uh - what’s your type? Like, in guys? I promise I won’t tease you this time, I just want to know.” Surprisingly, you smirked at him. What were you thinking?

“You gonna brag to Eita and Yato that you finally found out after all these years?” The apparent blush on Tendou’s cheeks only spread further.

“What? No, I wouldn’t do that… Unless I had to,” he said, trying his best to come off as his usual teasing self. This only made you snicker at him.

“I’m surprised you guys haven’t beat it out of Toshi-kun yet. I already told him a few months ago.” Tendou’s eyes widened at what you said.

“Huh?” You rolled your eyes at him.

“Yeah.” He couldn’t believe how casual you were about it. You were always so hellbent on keeping it from them - but perhaps it was because they made such a big deal out of it in the first place. Tendou didn’t exactly know how to respond to you - he was still trying to process the realization. So he had guessed wrong this whole time?

After sitting in silence for a couple of seconds, you gave him a playful smile. “Redheads,” you said, turning around and picking up your controller. Ushijima’s words echoed with yours in his brain.

Besides, they told me they liked you. Tendou let out a choked noise.

“I’ve made a mistake!”

You burst out laughing at Tendou’s exclamation. Setting your controller down once more, you stood up and turned, leaning your elbows against your bed. “You guys really are that oblivious, huh? Even Toshi-kun saw that I liked you. He went so far as to ask me about it too.” You propped up your head with your hand, staring at him. Getting past his initial shock, Tendou settled back down.

“How shallow of you,” he teased, leaning his head closer to yours. “I can’t believe the only reason why you like me is because my hair is red, yanno?” In return, you inched your face up closer to his as if you were challenging him.

“I know,” you said smugly, your eyes flickering down to his lips, “I’m such an awful friend. I’ll only break your heart once I replace you with another redhead.” He smirked as he noticed where your eyes had glanced. Tendou may have been oblivious, but he wasn’t called the Guess Monster for nothing.

“I’m guessing that you want to kiss me right now, hmm?” He asked quietly, dangerously moving closer to you - your faces now only mere inches apart. A blush crept onto both of your cheeks. You answered back, your voice nearly a whisper.

“Why don’t you find out for yourself, Guess Monster?”

Immediately, Tendou closed the distance between the two of you. Your lips were warm and soft, making him wish he had at least put on chapstick earlier. His heart was beating so hard inside of his chest that he was afraid you’d hear it, but you said nothing as the two of you pulled away. Saying nothing, he only smiled as he traced his fingers up your neck, cupping your jaw. Pulling you into a deeper kiss, he sighed contentedly as he felt your hands trail up his torso.

Kissing you felt like paradise.

As always, thank you so much for reading!! please like, reblog, and follow 🥺

~ Crystal

through the summer and the fall masterlist

blog masterlist

buy me a ko-fi! (but only if you want to and can)

BONUS

The following day, Tendou met you at your door to walk with you to lunch. With your hand in his, the two of you took your sweet time making your way to the cafeteria to meet up with the other third years. Today, Coach Washijo had asked for them to play a practice match against the Miyagi first years he was holding a training camp for. You decided to tag along since you had nothing planned to do for the weekend.

As you talked about a weird dream you had, Tendou couldn’t help but gaze adoringly at you - he couldn’t believe that you liked him, or that you were actually dating him now even if it had only been about twelve hours. The two of you waited in the lunch line, his chin resting on top of your head as he held both of your hands from behind you - it felt so natural to touch you. He could tell that people were staring - but none of it mattered when all he needed was the sound of your excited voice and the blatant look of love in your eyes.

Stepping away from your back slightly, he moved forward to gently place a kiss on your cheek - and that's when he heard the yells. The both of you turned to find your fellow third and second years staring at the two of you with wide eyes and mouths catching flies. Goshiki accompanied the team as well, his face beat red. Ushijima was behind the flustered first year, a rare half-smile on his face.

“Afternoon guys!” You had said it so casually as you leaned back into Tendou’s arms, allowing him to place a cheeky kiss on your temple - making Semi gag and Yamagata nearly tear up.

“I did tell you all that they preferred redheads.”

#tendou x reader #Tendou Satori x reader #tendou imagine #Tendou Satori imagine #tendou reader insert #Tendou Satori reader insert #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu reader insert #through the summer and the fall #intomymindspace #tendo x reader #tendo satori x reader

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unmaskedagain · 4 years

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Rate this (Trust is Hard to Come By)

Its six am here and I just got to work. And am now writing a drabble at my desk. Again tweaked prompt a bit. Oh and I just realized that based on this and my last few “drabble” that are long that some picture books… I don’t know what a drabble. Or least I know it doesn’t apply to what I usually write.

No one would who or what had caused the akuma this time. However, when a thirteen-year-old superfan of Ladybug got Akumatized, everyone knew it.

A loud voice boomed in the ears of all the citizens in Paris, “Beware Paris, I am the Gardener, protector of the Loveliness. Those who have failed our Queen Ladybug will be revealed. A number you shall be given on a scale to 100; the higher the number, the more trust the Queen has in you. Low numbers have failed our Queen, betrayed our queen, betrayed the loveliness, and will be punished!”

“Loveliness,” Adrien asked, already preparing to make a break for it to transform.

Unaware that Marinette decided to wait for a bit. Some lessons needed to be learned the hard way. All the kids were at lunch and seemed to be enjoying the day until the alert happened.

Max pushed his glasses up, “A group of ladybugs is called a ‘loveliness of ladybugs.’. Gardeners love Ladybugs because Ladybugs protect their gardens.”

“Cool!” Kim grinned. “We get to see how much Ladybug digs us.”

Alya preened, “I’m at least a 90.” She pulled out her phone. “I’m so going to live stream this.”

“I think I’m like an 80, dude,” Nino smirked.

All the kids gave their guess; most figuring they were at least in the 70s. It was Alya who joked, that Marinette probably had a ten.

The others agreed; thinking the girl had been such a bully lately, and so mean to Lila.

Marinette overheard them from where she, Chloe, Kagami and their new friends sat. A smirked spread across her face. This would be good.

A blindingly flash filled the cafeteria. When it was gone, all the kids had numbers above their heads.

One by one the excited grins on the students of Bustier’s class faded.

“A two,” Alya paled. “How can I be a two?” A dark ugly red 2 floated above her head. She touched the number and words appeared next to it: Warning: Disloyal. False friend. Bully. Anger control problems. Easily swayed. Bad journalist… etc.

Nino frowned, “I got a four.” How could he have a four? He was carapace. Ladybug had chosen him herself. Or at least she had. He hadn’t gone Super in over a year. Was that when Ladybug lost her trust in him?

He touched the number. His warning said: bad friend. Disloyal. Bully. He touched it again before he could read any more.

Kim had a five. Alix had a three. Mylene had a seven. Rose and Juleka had 10s. Ivan had an eight. Nathanial had an eleven. Max had a six. All were in the red. All had similar warning signs.

Adrien had frozen in his seat when he saw his number. A 14. How could he be a 14? Why did Ladybug barely trust him? They were partners, friends, maybe more one day. But how could they be any of that she didn’t trust him.

He touched his number. His warning sign read: Naïve, Spineless, pushy, Bad friend, and, in bold letter, COWARD.

“We should go,” Max whispered. “People are staring.”

And sure enough they were. Most of the student body had numbers in the 30s or 40s, it was respectable seeing as they barely dealt with the hero. However, this meant it was easy to find the kids who ranked so much lower.

Slowly suspicious eyes fell on Bustier’s class. What had they done, most wondered. Whatever, it was they knew it was bad. Somehow the students of Bustier’s class had hurt Ladybug. And as far as the rest of the school was concerned, and those watching from Alya’s livestream, if Ladybug couldn’t trust them, they couldn’t either.

Marinette watched with cold eyes as her classmates and ex-friends scrambled to rush out of the cafeteria. Still she kept a smile on her face as one by one student came up to thank her for whatever she had done for Ladybug; for being such a good friend to the hero.

A glowing, bright beautiful emerald green 92 floated above her. It was the highest number anyone had seen so far. Her words attached were less of a warning and more of brag: Loyal, Honest, Good. Trustworthy. Caring. A great friend. Hardworker. Heroic. Brave. Then her warning was: A bit too insecure but working on it.

Aurore beamed at her friend, livestreaming from her own phone to her new Bugout. She had a neon green 70 above her head. Her words: Honest, Hardworker, loyal, good friend, amazing journalist. “Everyone post a pic of themselves with the number above their heads; it’s blowing up Twitter.”

Chloe gave everyone smug grins, as she had the second 86 above hers. Her words: Brave, strong, loyal, good. A great hero. A great friend.

Kagami had a 72. Her words: loyal, confident, headstrong, good, good friend. Marc a 67. Ondine a 66. Claude a 71. They all had similar ones to Kagami.

“You’re in Bustier’s class, right, Marinette?” A girl who had come to thank Marinette had asked. Her question drew attention from everyone. “Are you going to be safe there? With them?”

Claude frowned, “Maybe you shouldn’t go back there.”

It took a lot of reassurance to get her friends and even quite a few of the other students who had been in the cafeteria to allow her to go back to her class. Even then, Marinette found Ms. Mendeleiev, who had a solid forest green 71 above her head and had a bit more pep in her step that usual, escorting her and Chloe to class.

Students in the hall moved out of Marinette way as soon as they saw her coming, a look of awe on their faces. The bluenette couldn’t find the pink blush that crept on to her face.

They knew they had gotten to Bustier’s class when they saw the red glow emerging from the room

Alya couldn’t believe it. How couldn’t Ladybug trust her? She was Rena Rouge. Or least she had been. There had been a new Fox running around with Ladybug, lately. Rena hadn’t been seen in over a year. Still, Alya ran the Ladyblog. Alya thought they were friends. But how could that be true with a 2 above her head. And she wasn’t a bully or disloyal.

The rest of the class had a similar mindset. Even Bustier, who had a three, had a sorrowful look on her face. She didn’t understand what she had done wrong.

When green glows entered the room, they all noticed. Mouths dropped.

Ms. Mendeleiev with a 71, they could understand. She was a great teacher, no one could deny it. The beautiful blond Chloe they could sort of understand. She had an 86; maybe she had done more good as Queen Bee than they knew about. Marinette though? Their minds just couldn’t compute.

How could Marinette have a 92?

They read the words attached to her and Chloe’s numbers with disbelief.

Said girl thanked Mendeleiev who had taken to blatantly staring at Bustier with distrust. It occurred to Mendeleiev, that the younger teacher did have an absurdly high number of Akuma transformation from her students. When Mendeleiev and told everyone what she had seen and realized; most of the other faculty would begin to keep a close eye on Bustier and her class. Something just wasn’t right with that lot.

Marinette and Chloe made their way to the seats in back. The green above their heads looked a halo.

Alya wanted to scream. “Why does Ladybug trust you?” She asked the girls.

“She’s Queen Bee,” Marinette pointed at Chloe. “A loyal ally of Ladybug.”

Chloe smirked, “Don’t you remember that it was Marinette who first got you that interview with Ladybug; the reason your blog became as popular as it did?” She asked reporter. “Marinette’s Ladybug’s friend.”

Any scathing thing the students had been thinking to sneer at the girls died on their lips. Marinette was Ladybug’s friend. They knew Marinette knew the hero but never thought about how close they were.

“Why do think Ladybug stopped giving you interviews?” Chloe leaned back in her seat. A euphoric feeling filling her. “She only started working with you in the first place because she knew you were Marinette’s bestie. Once that changed, well… Ladybug just didn’t want to work with you anymore. Something about Journalistic Professionalism. How is your website doing by the way? I haven’t checked in a while. I normally use Aurore’s Bugout blog. Ladybug endorses it, you know?”

Marinette could have kissed the blond. The devastation on Alya’s face was finally karma for all the nasty texts she had sent to Marinette before she change her number.

Nino pulled his girlfriend into a hug.

“She read those texts you sent me by the way.” Marinette sent them a cold smirk as horrified looks overcame their faces. “Every last one. She was so disappointed.”

“You showed her?” Rose whispered. “How could you show her?”

“Why not?” Marinette shrugged. Rose hadn’t sent as many mean texts as the others in class and weren’t all that mean; just accusatory and claiming that she refused to be friends with a Bully. “I trust her. She trusts me. I even sent her videos of what a day in our class has been like lately. Ladybug got to see and hear everything personally. She has so many concerns about the goings on in this. She’ll be going to the school board with the videos.”

Bustier paled. She knew the students had gotten a bit out of hand but surely they weren’t that bad. They were just kids after all. (The teacher would get her answer a week later, along with a pink slip.)

Alya sobbed as she remembered everything she sent Marinette. How could she know Ladybug would read them? No wonder Alya got a 2. Ladybug probably hated her. “I only sent that because you were being such a bully.”

“Yeah,” Alix hissed. “It’s not fair. You were being such a freak about Lila!” There were nods.

And as the old saying goes, speak of the devil, and the devil…

Lila had taken her sweet time getting to school that day. She had lied to her mother that it was closed for the morning because an Akuma. And it was just her luck that one would appear. She had stayed in bed all day, earphones blasting music in her ear, wondering just how she’ll amazing her classmates that day. It felt great to be adored.

When Lila got up to leave for school, she looked in the mirror and saw a dark, blood red glowing Negative 51 above her head. She shrugged and left her apartment. Earphones still in her ears. A happy smile on her face.

She didn’t notice the shocked and disgusted looks on people’s faces as she passed them. Or why a mother picked up her a child and ran in the other direction. Lila didn’t see the brave man who reached out, with shaky hands, and touched her number as she passed by. Nor she see the People taking pictures of her and her warning signs. The photos went viral almost instantly, everyone wanted to know just who was the girl with the only negative number in all of Paris… As far they knew.

When Gabriel Agreste saw Lila’s image on the web, he ordered Nathalie to sever all connections to the teen girl and release a statement making it clear the company had no idea just what Lila Rossi had been capable of. Afterwards, Gabriel wondered what Lila had done to earn such a dramatically low number.

Gabriel himself was at a respectable and average 30. While Nathalie was at solid 34. Decent not too green numbers. Though as Hawkmoth, they were both an Ugly negative -2. He knew he was a Supervillian; Ladybug regarded him as a bad guy. But she seemed to regard Lila Rossi as pure evil.

…Maybe Hawkmoth should sever his connection to the Italian girl as well.

Lila arrived at school, just at the end of lunch, students had just started to leave the cafeteria for lunch. She didn’t notice that students stopped in their tracks to stare at her. Or the teachers with horrifying and calculating looks on their faces. She didn’t seem Damocles’ pale and rush off to call her mother.

She didn’t notice anything. Lila just smiled pleasantly; having decided to go with a Prince Ali story that day. Maybe that he asked her to marry him. She’d be the envy of all the girls in class.

However, when Lila got to the class she did notice the shocked looks she got from her classmates. But not the cold smirk on Marinette’s face.

“What?” Lila asked looking around. “Did something happened? Oh, no is the Akuma still around? How awful!” She said fighting the smile off her face. Hopefully Ladybug was getting her ass kicked, she thought.

Alya dropped her phone. Negative? How could Lila be negative? How could she have such a low negative number at that?

Everyone in class read the giant warning label attached to Lila Rossi’s number: Liar, backstabber, nasty, bully, untrustworthy, manipulative, rotten, villain, horrible person; the list went on and on. However, it was that shook them to their cores: Evil. Not bad. Not awful. Evil.

Alya collapsed against her boyfriend, “No. No. I didn’t know. I swear.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Nino comforted her. “None of us knew.” There were nods from the other students.

Marinette and Chloe looked at them with narrowed eyes because: What the hell.

“Except I told you she was a liar,” Marinette glared at them. “You didn’t listen. You turned against me… for her.”

“You turned against Marinette,” Chloe said slowly. “The girl who did everything for you. And for what? A few glittery stories and false promises?”

Adrien closed his eyes. Was this why Ladybug distrusted him? Because he didn’t side with Marinette like he knew he should’ve. Plagg had warned him he was wrong. But he just didn’t want to risk losing all his friends like Marinette seemed to be losing hers.

Marinette looked at Rose, “Now I want you think again about every text you all sent me because of Lila Rossi.” Once again the students turned pale. They had been so mean, so harsh, so unbelievable cruel to the girl that had been so dear to their hearts. “Now I want you to remember again that Ladybug saw them.”

Rose was the first to break out in tears. “I’m-I’m sorry!” She sobbed and struggled to find her words. She had disowned one of her closest friends for a villain. “I’m so sorry!”

Other students were in the same boat she was. The fiery Alix was had been contemplating going on another tirade against Marinette when Lila walked in, felt her anger be snuffed out a like a campfire in a thunderstorm. The pink haired girl remembered helping lead the charge in showing Marinette what it was like to be bullied; tripping her, ripping of her homework, shoving her. What she done? Kim had been crushing on Lila hard felt crushed. Marinette had been since friend since pre-k, and he just… left her.

Lila looked honestly confused. She had missed something, and it was big. “What’s going on?”

Nino glared at the girl; his eyes red, tear streaks his face. “Those numbers tell the world how much Ladybug trusts you. Or how much she doesn’t,” He said darkly, thinking about his own number and his actions against the girl he once called his best friend. “And why.”

“The lower the number,” Adrien added. “The less she trust you.”

Chloe leaned forward in her seat and sent vicious smirk to the Italian girl, “And guess who has the only negative number in Paris.” She teased. “Besides Hawkmoth, but at least he was smart enough to hide. You’re trending by the way.”

“No!” Lila said, looking around desperately, but all she saw was cold stares. “No!” She pulled out her phone, and sure enough the name Lila Rossi was trending. Her picture with the giant negative number above her head seem to be everywhere. “This can’t be happening! How can this be happening!”

Marinette stood up, “Because you’re a bad person. You’re mean and you’re cruel. And worst yet, you dragged everyone down with you.” She said. Her voice was righteous or angry. It was like she was stating a fact from a history book. Marinette looked over every single one of her ex-friends, “Ladybug will never trust you again.”

The bell rang.

“Time for class,” Chloe sang. “Maybe you guys will finally learn something.”

#ml salt #ml spite #ml fic #marinette dupen chang #Marinette deserves better #chloe bourgeois #chloe deserves better #adrien salt

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theladyofdeath · 4 years

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The Ranch {8}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty x @tacmc

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

A/N: We love that you guys have been loving this so much! Please continue to let us know what you’re thinking. We loved writing this fic, and your love means the world to us.

The Ranch Masterlist

Cassian didn’t see or hear from Nesta for the rest of the day. He saw her in the main house around dinner time, but decided he would let her cook in peace. He didn’t know what kind of demons had reared their ugly heads at her today, but whatever had happened between Nesta and Tomas Motherfucking Mandray had screwed with her so badly that he barely recognized the woman he found in the paint department today.

He remembered Nesta from high school, had known that she had dated Tomas then. But, he didn’t know much. At least, not about Nesta. As for Tomas, however, he and Cassian went way back, and none of their interactions had ever been pleasant. Tomas had always been a self-absorbed little bitch. He hated Tomas.

And he had hated him even more when he walked into the paint aisle and saw how fucking terrified Nesta had been.

Yet, he wasn’t going to push her to talk about it. She would come to him when she was ready. Maybe. Hopefully. Either way, Cassian had convinced himself that it was none of his business.

Even if he really, really wanted it to be his business.

As night approached, Cassian made sure all the horses were ready for bed, and all the cattle were where they were meant to be. He whistled for Beau to follow him into the cabin and, the good pup he was, Beau obeyed. Once inside, he slumped into the recliner and checked his phone.

There was a text from Rhys that read, Being engaged is fucking awesome. It ended with three flame emojis. Cassian found the text as a whole repulsive and unnecessary.

There was a text from Azriel, too, that read, Drinks on Friday? Elain is working all night.

Cassian dismissed it, making a mental note to reply in the morning.

Then, he had one last text.

From Nesta.

Thanks for today. Sorry I spaced out.

He read the text once, twice, three times before finding the nerve to reply. Anytime, he wrote. He wanted to write something else, anything else, wanted to add a fucking speech at the end of the one-worded text, but he decided against it.

He pressed send.

It wasn’t two minutes later that he got a reply. You should be sleeping. You’ll have to wake up early to get on the stables, won’t you?

Cassian chuckled to himself. Maybe. But you have to be up early to do your makeup before you finish the landscaping, he replied.

Her reply wasn’t as quick this time, the dancing dots disappearing every so often. But when his phone finally vibrated while he was brushing his teeth, he laughed out loud.

Don’t act like it takes me more time to do my hair than it takes you to do yours. Don’t think I haven’t noticed those man buns are a little TOO perfect sometimes.

He replied with no hesitation. Glad to know you’re looking at my man buns.

He swore that he could feel her eyes roll from across the property. Goodnight, Sexy Ranch Hand.

Goodnight, beautiful.

He sent the text, hoping it would bring her a little bit of joy, a little bit of comfort, but then, when she didn’t reply, he grew nervous.

He felt he was walking a fine line with Nesta, ever since she scolded him for being his boss.

His hesitation didn’t last too long, though, because his phone vibrated the minute he climbed into his bed. The text was short, but it gave him comfort.

A smiley face emoji greeted him as Beau climbed up on the bed beside him.

He slept good that night, smiling stupidly to himself as he snuggled up next to Beau. And when morning came, he felt completely refreshed.

He was up and getting dressed with a cup of coffee at four, and as sunrise approached, Cassian grabbed a bag by the door and he and Beau were walking out into the cool, muggy summer morning. It wouldn’t be long until the sun was beating down, drenching him in sweat.

Instead of heading toward the stables, Cassian went across the grass and the gravel driveway, and up the steps of the tiny, modern house that sat there.

He pounded on the door and Beau stayed in the yard, chasing his tail.

No answer.

He pounded his fist on the wood once more.

Nothing.

With a sigh, Cassian kept knocking, and didn’t stop. He pounded repeatedly on the door for at least thirty seconds when the door was thrown open, and Nesta stood there, looking like she wanted to set him on fire.

“What the hell?” She asked, voice raspy, hair a mess, body wrapped in a crocheted blanket.

“Rise and shine,” Cassian grinned. “Go on. Get dressed.”

Her eyes narrowed as she flipped on the porch light. Cassian lit up as she groaned from the brightness of it.

“You wanted to learn how things are done around here,” Cassian laughed. “Well, I start at sunrise, ever day.”

Nesta rubbed her eyes and snorted. “Unless you’re hungover.”

Cassian grinned. “Fair enough. Alright, go on, get dressed, I’ll wait.”

Nesta sighed but didn’t protest as she took a step back.

“Oh,” Cassian said, before she could close the door on him. “Here.”

He held out the bag.

She blinked. “What is that?”

“I kept telling you,” he said, shaking the bag until she took it. “You own a ranch. You need a pair of boots.”

“You...bought me boots?”

Cassian shrugged as she took the bag and shoved his hands into his pockets. “With your sisters’ help. Consider it your welcome home gift.”

Nesta was speechless as she slowly went back into her little house.

She didn’t bother closing the door, so Cassian stepped inside as she went back into her bedroom.

He looked around, although there wasn’t much inside. He noticed Elain’s old furniture, that he had helped move in upon Nesta’s arrival.

“Hopefully they fit,” Cassian said as he went to the little fridge in the kitchen and looked at the pictures that covered it. “I may have snuck a glance at your sneakers the other day when you weren’t looking to check for size.”

Nesta’s quiet laughter flooded through the hall. “Creep.”

Cassian grinned to himself as he studied a picture of the girls when they were young, smiling with their mother. Cassian had never met her. She died years before Isaac had hired him.

Nesta came out a minute later, and even in the dim lamplight, Cassian was breathless.

Her hair was pulled back in a high point tail. She wore jeans, a tank top, and an old flannel shirt, which remained open.

And her boots, which fit nicely.

“Okay, stop staring,” Nesta muttered. “I realize you’ve never seen me in boots and it’s shocking.”

Cassian cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck as he nodded. “They look nice.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and her boots thumped toward the front door. “Yeah, yeah. Alright, let’s do this.”

Cassian allowed himself to watch her walk out the door and down the steps before he followed her out.

————

“Harder.”

Cassian grunted.

“Harder.”

He groaned, but did as he was told.

“Harder!”

Cassian was out of breath, but he said, “This is as hard as it gets, I don’t know what else you want from me.”

Nesta gritted her teeth, but still managed to roll her eyes. “I want you to try harder.”

He grunted and said, “Okay, okay, put it down. Stop pushing.”

They both moved away from the enormous roll of hay they’d been trying to roll through the south pasture. It had rained overnight, nearly doubling the weight of the hay and Cassian had suspected he needed a little more muscle than what Nesta had to offer.

“I’ll have to call Rhys,” Cassian said, lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe his brow. Nesta was folded at the waist, her hands braced on her knees.

“No, we can-.” She stopped to breathe. “We can do it. We got this”

He chuckled, “Nes, that hay weighs over 5 times your weight. We absolutely do not got this.”

Her lips tightened as she sized up the roll of hay. “We-.”

“Nesta,” Cassian breathed, laughing quietly. “It’s not a big deal. Your ability to move a roll of hay doesn’t dictate your ability to run a ranch. Well, own it, I run it.”

Nesta couldn’t help the smile that tugged on the corner of her mouth. “You’re incredibly annoying.”

“I know,” he grinned, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt, once more. Nesta’s eyes lingered a little bit too long on his abdomen, just above the waistband of his jeans, which were hanging loosely on his hips. He didn’t seem to notice as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a text to Rhys. “Rhys will be over soon, I’m sure, he has the day off. Unless your sister kept him up all night.”

Nesta scrunched her nose. “No need to reference my sister’s sex life.”

Cassian’s grin widened as he put his phone back into his pocket. “You wanna go for a ride?”

Nesta stilled, and her hesitation made him howl.

“I meant on a horse, Nesta,” he said, unable to control his laughter. “Calm down.”

“Asshole,” she mumbled. Her cheeks were red, both from the sun they’d been in all day and the blush now tipping her ears as well. She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “I don’t have a horse. I’m okay.”

Cassian had an eyebrow raised. “You actually have eight.”

“I have-.” Nesta paused. “Oh. You’re right.”

But not Phoenix.

“Hey.” Cassian’s voice was soft and she looked up, not expecting him to be so close. His hazel eyes were the color of the forest floor. As if he could read her thoughts, he said, “You’ll never be able to replace him, Nes. You’ll never get back that bond with him. But that doesn’t mean you can’t build another bond with another horse.”

He was right, of course, but she hadn’t been on a horse in nearly a decade. The thought alone terrified her. Yes, she was beginning not to mind being back in Velaris, had even started enjoying herself while working on the B&B, but to ride again? She wasn’t sure if she was ready for such a huge step.

And it was.

A massive step.

Yet, Cassian’s eyes were so full of hope, and the way they watched her, so softly, Nesta couldn’t say no.

Didn’t want to say no.

“Okay,” she breathed. “Fine.”

Cassian slowly shook his head. “I need to hear you say it with a little more enthusiasm.”

Nesta pursed her lips and shoved him in the shoulder, which only made his cocky ass grin return.

“Come on,” she said, heading in the direction of the dilapidated stalls the horses stayed in. She walked about twenty feet before she realized he wasn’t walking with her. “What?”

Cassian chuckled. “You really were tired this morning, weren’t you?”

Nesta blinked. “You banged on my door at, like, three in the morning. Of course I was tired.”

“Okay, first of all, it was four thirty,” he said, laughing. “Second, follow me.”

Nesta wasn’t sure exactly how she’d missed it. He was right, she must have been half asleep to miss the framework nestled back into the trees between their two houses.

But this was not the basic stable and tack room she’d described to him.

No, this building was going to be massive.

“There are going to be sixteen stalls,” Cassian said, sticking his hands in his pockets. “The tack room is going to be on that side,” he indicated to the right. “And the lodge, will be to the left.”

“The lodge?” Nesta asked, turning to look at him. “Figured it might be nice to have a little getaway out here. If you don’t like it, I can scrap it from the plans, make this a second tack room or storage area.”

But Nesta wasn’t listening, she’d turned back to the massive framework of beams in front of her.

She breathed, “Cassian, it’s perfect.”

He scratched at the back of his neck. “It’s going to take me a while to finish-.”

“Tell me what you need and it’s yours.” There was no hesitation to her words. “We can even hire someone to help, if you want.”

Cassian chuckled, softly. “That’s okay. I got it. If I need help, I’ll ask Rhys and Az. They’ll be more than happy to help when they can.”

“I can’t believe you…” Nesta shook her head, and looked at him. “Put so much thought into it.”

He shrugged. “You asked for updated stables. I just did what I’m told.”

“You really do love this place, don’t you?” Nesta asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Cassian said, meeting her gaze. “I had a bad reputation, from a lot of stupid shit I did when I was younger. Your dad really took a chance on hiring me, but I’m grateful every day that he did. He gave me a sense of purpose, when I thought I didn’t have one.”

Nesta nodded, slowly, and did not back down from his gaze as she said, “I’m grateful, too. That you’re here. I’d be completely lost without you.”

Cassian’s eyes softened, and she thought he was going to say something sweet, but then he said, “Yeah...all the other ranchers in this town aren’t as sexy as me, so, you really did luck out.”

“Oh, cauldron boil me,” Nesta groaned and Cassian put his arm around her shoulder and steered her towards the house, towards the shed where the saddles and other tack was kept.

“Ahhh, I didn’t want it to get too sappy.” He said, grinning down at her. “But now, we’re gonna see if you’re really worth your salt on this ranch.” He stopped in front of the shed and unlocked the padlock.

“And what exactly does that mean?” Nesta asked, not so subtly watching the way his back muscles moved under the blue t-shirt he wore.

He turned and Nesta cleared her throat and looked at him. He had a lead rope in his hand.

“Time to go catch you a horse, Nesta Archeron.”

——————

As the sun was setting, Nesta and Cassian walked back from the pasture, laughing.

“I had no idea that you were the one that released the dissection frogs!” Nesta said, locking the gate behind them. “Was it in protest of animal cruelty or something?”

Cassian thought for a second. “No, but if I had gotten caught, that probably would have been a better excuse than the one I would have gone with.”

Nesta chuckled. “Which was?”

He smirked and said, “Because I got bored.”

Nesta froze and watched him walk the rest of the way to the shed. “You let over four hundred frogs loose because you were bored?”

He put the ropes back in their place and locked the shed up. “Yup.” The grin on his face told her he, indeed, was proud of himself. And she was grinning, too.

Before she could stop herself, she asked, “Do you want to come have dinner with me?”

Cassian’s eyebrows raised. “Tonight?”

“Tonight, tomorrow night, whenever.” She shrugged, trying to play it off as a casual offer, and not that asking had filled her stomach with butterflies as strongly as it had when she had her first kiss. “We can meet for dinner in the main house every night. There’s no need for us to both cook.”

His smile returned, but it was softer. “I’d like that.”

They headed back around the front of the house, Cassian rattling off his favorite foods, most of which consisted of red meat and starches. When they came around the corner, Nesta froze.

Cassian’s words trailed off as he stopped beside her. A little black truck had pulled up, old and rusty. But the girl that came out of that little, rusty truck was stunning.

Nesta looked over at Cassian, to see if he recognized the young woman.

And, oh, he definitely did.

“Emerie,” he said, uncomfortably, clearing his throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d come by to say hello,” she crooned, grin wide. Then, she seemed to notice Nesta for the first time. “Oh. Who are you?”

Nesta blinked, then realized she was being spoken to. “I own this property.”

“Oh,” she breathed, eyes growing wide with recognition. “Your Isaac’s oldest? Wow.” She looked Nesta up and down, and the gesture had Nesta seeing red. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Emerie.”

“I’ve heard,” Nesta muttered.

Cassian was fiddling with the hem of his shirt when he said, “You know, we’re a little busy, Em, why don’t you come back later?”

“Later works,” she said, sliding her hands in her back pockets. “I was going to see if you wanted to have dinner, too, but it seems like you’re...taken care of.”

Cassian cleared his throat and said, “Nesta and I were just-.”

“Just finishing up for the day,” Nesta interrupted. She turned to Cassian and the warm, playful nature he’d seen emerging earlier had gone cold. “Thanks for showing me the ropes. I really appreciate it.” She began up the porch steps and Cassian reached for her hand. He gently gripped her fingers.

“Nesta, wait, let me explain. It’s-,” he dragged his hand down his face, the callouses catching on his stubble. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“I fell for that once before,” she whispered, her fingers tightening in his. “I won’t fall for it again.”

A look of confusion crossed Cassian's face, but his hand dropped. Emerie had gotten the hint, had gotten back up into her truck and was backing out.

“Are you jealous?” He asked, and it was almost anger that replaced the spark in his hazel eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I’m not jealous,” Nesta snapped. “But it’s really inappropriate-“

“If you say that word one more time, Nesta, I swear on the fucking cauldron-.” Cassian’s words faded away and he raked his fingers through his long, tangled hair. “Must I remind you that you didn’t want me?”

There it was.

The words hung between them as complete silence consumed them, Emerie’s old truck driving away the only thing to be heard.

Nesta stared down at him, hurt written plainly across her face.

Hurt.

He had expected her to be jealous of Emerie, but he didn’t expect to see pain roiling in the depths of her eyes.

“Nesta, I-.”

She cut him off. “Did you lie to me?”

He blinked up at her, the sunset making her hair glow. “What?”

“That night, I asked you point blank if you had a girlfriend,” Nesta said, voice wavering. “You said no.”

“No,” Cassian said, eyes growing hard. “I have never lied to you, Nesta, I’m not a fucking liar. Emerie’s just a friend. She comes by every now and then. I haven’t seen her in months. She only comes by when she wants something.”

“Sex?” Nesta asked, before she could stop the word from tumbling out of her mouth.

Cassian shook his head, ignoring the short question altogether. “It doesn’t fucking matter. But, I’ve never lied to you. And, if you think I would lie to you….fuck.”

She could see the anger brewing inside of him, could see the frustration, but Nesta didn’t care, because she was pissed. And yet, she had no reason to be. He was right. She had turned him down. She had no right to care.

She was hurt, though.

And that hurt grew when she saw the hurt, saw the anguish, in his own eyes.

“I didn’t lie,” he repeated, looking away from her, out toward the pastures. “I’m a lot of things, Nesta, but I’m not a liar.”

She knew he wasn’t, knew it in every fiber of her being.

She hadn’t even been back in Velaris for a month, had just started to open up to the complicated man in front of her. Day and night, he always found a way to creep into her thoughts, into her dreams. But she couldn’t afford to be vulnerable, couldn’t afford to get tangled up with the man she couldn’t get off of her mind, no matter what she may want.

Not when her father's dream was on the line.

So Nesta closed her eyes, trying to hide the tears that has silently started slipping down her cheeks.

She turned her back to him, and hurried up the stairs of the main house.

Cassian was calling her name, but she forced herself to keep walking, to open the door, enter the house, shut herself inside.

She leaned against the slab of wood, stayed their as her eyes filled with tears, even as Cassian knocked on the other side.

“Nesta,” he said, voice calm, quiet, broken. “Hey, open up, come on.” He knocked again.

Nesta didn’t move.

She stayed there, leaning against the door, listening to him knock, listening to him beg.

But no matter what he said, Nesta didn’t open the door.

#theranchnessian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #fanfic #au #nessian #shara collab #sharacollab

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