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ladyhindsight · 2 years

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Clare’s revisionism and the little care she had for Alec or Magnus in the early days comes all the more apparent in this chapter. It’s awkward and terrible and I can’t believe The Red Scrolls of Magic actually exists after reading this crap again.

In the end of the previous chapter, Magnus has reveal that Camille is her former girlfriend. Alec is astonished by this fact despite that he supposedly was aware of this.

Let’s take a look at this quote from TRSoM:

Leon glanced around, then said rapidly, “I mean, we’re both bisexual. Interested in men and women.”

“Oh,” said Alec. “I don’t know a lot about that, but again, good for you.”

Alec knew Magnus was the same way. He had begun to learn that there was a whole world he had been entirely cut off from, words like ‘bisexual’ and ‘pansexual’ he’d never really known.

[…] In the dark small corners of his soul, Alec worried sometimes. Why would Magnus choose him if he could choose a girl, a woman, an easier life? He thought of how terrified he’d been once of how he would be judged.

There is no way to combine these two scenes and say that Alec did not know that Magnus would’ve also dated women. Underlining “girl” shows Alec is astonished that Magnus has not dated solely men, although according to Clare’s revisionism, Alec knows this.

Also because of this Alec characterization is also in complete shambles. In TRSoM, Alec is understanding and does not pry, yet here, in CoFA, he is demanding that knowledge in front of other people, because Clare has always treated them as a spectacle than give them one-on-one scenes.

Alec, read the fucking room.

Me neither.

It does no favors to write Magnus like this, pitifully staring after Alec who has just acted immaturely and out of jealousy, because he is of great age, because it all the more heavily underlines what a terrible basis their relationship has. The imbalance of power, the difference of age, Alec being incredibly young and inexperienced, Magnus essentially withholding his life and anything about him from Alec. It’s bad and incredibly disturbing.

We cut back to Clary and Jace as if it makes anything any better.

As if it is solely Clary’s responsibility to take care of Jace and Jace’s self-imposed problems, when all of this could’ve been solved if Jace was actually honest and cared about other people more than wallowing in self-pity and imposing his own suppositions on others instead of communication.

The plot is trying to happen, but it is buried underneath all this Loves Me, Loves Me Not.

No, it is not strange. This has been regurgitated over and over how Jace still thinks that, in some ways, Valentine is his father, and Clary, who has never knows Valentine, does not. This is nothing to point out anymore. This is a nonissue. Scrap the whole highlighted part and we can move on from these idle thoughts.

Jonathan/Sebastian goes through his name transformation in this book. But Jace never likes when he is called Jonathan, because he is Jace. Not liking to use a name because it’s same as yours is just dumb.

→ He doesn’t want to call him Jonathan either, Clary thought, though it was evident from Jace’s words and should not be underlines gazillion times that this book does. “Sebastian is dead,” she said, a little more...

We cut to Magnus’ PoV where he’s talking with Camille and are served with The Infernal Devices references.

After this, the story goes wild with TID references. Not really, but it stands out when the first half of it the amount is zero.

I can’t deal with all this frivolous drama prodding when there are other underlying issues that just Alec resembling Will and Alec being subsequently jealous about it because Magnus refuses to disclose anything.

Magnus and Camille don’t talk about anything Alec should not, under any circumstance, hear. This, again, should be another nonissue. Acting as if you have something to hide rarely builds up trust additionally refusing to tell anything about your life.

Cut back to Clary and Jace. They talk, they figure things out.

We love moments of self-awareness, though the downside is that it never leads to anywhere. Will Clary stop being so Jace-centered? No. Will she become more aware of other people around her? Also no.

So, what I have gathered:

→ Pregnant human injected with demon blood: Stillborn devil baby → Pregnant human injected with demon and Shadowhunter blood: Stillborn devil baby → Humans injected with demon blood: Death → Human impregnated by a demon: A warlock → Pregnant Shadowhunter injected with demon blood: Devil baby → Pregnant Shadowhunter injected with angel blood: More angelic baby → Shadowhunter and a demon: Unable to procreate → Unmarked Shadowhunter impregnated by a demon: A unique warlock

Clary and Jace agree that Jace is being beckoned by demonic powers, so they leave for Silent City in order to ask help from the Silent Brothers. The Silent Brothers look into Jace’s mind in order to ascertain what is the problem with him.

Clary, knowing full well how secrets only hinder and hurt things, still refuses to fess up.

It is not solely on Clarissa Morgenstern to tell the truth. Jace is equally culpable for keeping his death a secret. Also, Jace is so cool and sympathetic because he doesn’t care about dying.

Clary is also incredibly indifferent about her Shadowhunter name.

Hi, Jem. 👋 It’s a shame you weren’t there because Hodge didn’t know that kids have faces.

Here Brother Zachariah calls Jace with the name he goes by, Jace Lightwood. But as it is, everyone in this book is insistent on calling Herondales Herondales whether they want it or not.

There is no sense in this. It is Zachariah that continues talking. He called Jace “Jace Lightwood” and then immediately after goes “Jonathan Herondale”, like why?

What is this magical age eighteen? Why is it eighteen? Why does the magic work like that and stop working at eighteen? Alas, the book refuses to answer.

Clary reluctantly leaves Jace in the Silent City so the Brothers can take care of the consequences of keeping Jace’s death a secret. We cut to Simon and Jordan. Someone has delivered a newspaper under their door. The newspaper features an article about a girl who has been found murdered. This girl is Maureen, the girlfriend the tracksuit gang was trying to use to extort Simon.

This is the only thing I think is done well in this book. Maureen being the “girlfriend” is such a side note to everything going on, and the story leads you to believe that the threat must be about Clary, Maia, or Isabelle, especially when it is Clary who is at the time making her way to the address Simon was extorted to go as well.

This was a well-executed diversion, and the only positive thing I have to say.

#Magnus Bane #Alec Lightwood #Clary Fray #Jace Herondale #Simon Lewis #Camille Belcourt #City of Fallen Angels #CoFA Chapter 13

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wheresmybuckyhoes · 3 years

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Game Night

Summary: Bucky and you are basically enemies. That’s the only word you can think of to describe it. What else would it be?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, unprotected sex (do not do this irl), smut, slight angst

I really love a good enemies to lovers at the moment and wanted to give it a go. Let me know what you think. As always, enjoy! xx

‘How about truth or dare?’ Wanda suggested innocently, earning her a series of exasperated groans. You threw your head back in playful annoyance, a drawn out ‘Wandaaa’ leaving your vodka - tasting lips. ‘I meant more like monopoly, or something a group of horny teenagers wouldn’t play’ Tony sighed, throwing back the last of his whiskey, followed immediately by ‘Steve it would mean so much to me if you would get me another bottle of this’.

Meanwhile, you noticed the one and only piece of shit Bucky narrow his icy blue eyes at you from across the table you were all crowded around. You mimicked his expression before turning towards Wanda as you rolled your eyes. You could practically feel his eyes delving deep holes through your back. ‘I say we play. I’ve had at least...’ at this point you held up your hands in front of your face as you counted on your fingers like a dumb child, Wanda raising her eyebrow. ‘...like at least, enough shots to be drunk so I won’t remember this anyway’ you shrugged as you reached for the bottle of vodka only for Sam to pull it just out of your reach. ‘Sam...’ you tried to bargain but Tony’s loud voice cut you off as he spoke, cradling his 4th glass of whiskey delivered so gracefully unto him by a frowning Steve.

‘As the leader of this group of fucks, I decree that I go first. Capsicle, truth or dare’ he asked pointedly, gesturing to Steve with his glass. ‘You guys are so immature...truth, if I must’ he replied gloomily, taking a tender sip of his orange juice. ‘Are you a virgin?’ he simply asked, earning an uncontrollable giggle from you and Wanda. Before Steve even opened his mouth, Tony added quickly with a smirk ‘a virgin is someone who has never fucked anyone, by the way. Oh, and fucking is what you want to do to y/n. I know you don’t always know all the current lingo, old man, but...’ Steve answered quickly before Tony could continue embarrassing him, and you choked on the wine that had magically appeared in your hand. ‘No, Tony. I’m not, and I’m going to bed’. Steve got up and straightened his shirt, placing his glass gently on an Avengers branded coaster, heading out for the night to his floor of the compound. You didn’t notice the slight frown which flickered over Bucky’s face as you kissed Steve on the cheek as you said goodnight. But you also didn’t notice Tony and Sam fighting over the last bottle of whiskey, so who can blame you.

You played a few more rounds of truth or dare as the night grew dark and the others grew tired. After the first few rounds Sam and Tony got up and left, soon followed by Wanda who was drunk beyond words. You hugged her affectionately before helping her to the elevator and going back to sit down. You forgot Bucky was there.

You groaned dramatically as Bucky smirked at you, collapsing dizzily onto the leather couch and tipping the last bit of vodka you had retrieved from Sam’s grasp down your throat. ‘Fuck off, Barnes’ you seethed. ‘Don’t you have some people to kill?’. He chuckled to himself, pushing himself up from the floor to stand up and cross his arms. ‘Don’t you have some validation to seek from literally everyone?’ he taunted, staring your right in the eyes. You looked down. The bitch knew very well you only wanted validation because when you were trained in an abusive institute not so different from hydra, the only thing that kept you alive was their validation, and he knew that he could get under your skin with ease. But you refused to show it. You looked up and found his opal eyes again.

‘It was my turn, wasn’t it? Truth or dare, asshole?’ you asked, chucking the empty bottle of vodka at him. He caught it swiftly with his vibranium arm, walking over to you and leaning down to place the bottle beside you on the couch, face inches away from you. ‘Dare’ he whispered, leaning back and moving to stand in front of you. He smelt like burnt marshmallows, fiery whiskey and rain. You mentally slapped yourself and reminded your brain how much you hated him.

‘I dare you to stop being such a little bitch’ you stood up, staring up at him with flames in your eyes. ‘Maybe if you didn’t act like such a brat all the fucking time, I wouldn’t have to be’ he mocked, tilting his head to await your reaction. The sheer amount of hate your felt for him at this moment, together with the large quantities of alcohol running through your veins, gave you a dangerous confidence boost. ‘Maybe if you weren’t a little pussy who lost his arm and sanity to some weird scientists because he fell off a train, knew how to fuck let alone talk to girls and didn’t make every single person who he meets want to run away and scream, I wouldn’t act like a brat all the fucking time’. Well shit.

You were breathing raggedly, chest rising rapidly up and down, hands balled up in two tight fists by your side. Bucky’s eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open, a flicker off hurt passing over his handsome features. He shook his head and sighed. ‘Shouldn’t have said that, y/n’. ‘What do you mEEEAAN’ you yelped as he moved to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, as if you were weightless. You kicked him in the chest, hard. ‘Put me down right the fuck now Bucky before I...’ he reached his room and threw you down on his bed, shutting the door behind him. ‘Before you what, hm? Because let me tell you something, darling. I think you don’t hate me. No, you just know I don’t want to sleep with you unlike Steve, Sam and Tony and it hurts. It hurts your precious little ego. But if it stops you from acting like a little bitch all the damn time, I guess I can fuck the bitch out of you’ He climbed onto the bed, as you crawled back, until your back was against the headboard and you were cage in between the wall and the super soldier in front of you. ‘Would you like that, doll?’

You gulped nervously, averting your eyes only for Bucky to grab your chin both roughly and gently at the same time and lift your head up so you were staring him in the eyes. ‘So now you go all quiet on me’ he taunted. You could hardly breath. Your mind was telling you that you hated him with all your heart, but your heart was telling you to get this man’s dick inside of you. Before you could silence the tell - tale beat of your heart, Bucky leant in and kissed you roughly. Your body relaxed into the kiss, and your hands subconsciously flew up to tangle in his chestnut locks. He was actually a really good kisser. You pulled away. You reached a hand out to unbutton his jeans, but Bucky caught your wrist. He chuckled to himself, metal hand gently wrapping around your throat. ‘So now you want me to fuck you? Thought you said I didn’t know how?’ he asked as a small whine escaped your throat, feeling your core burn in desire. You furrowed your brows and frowned at him. He squeezed at your neck. ‘Use your words, doll, or I’ll just leave you here as the pathetic mess you are’ he threatened, eyes clouding with lust and desire.

‘Holy shit Bucky, just fuck me already or fuck off’ you cried out. He didn’t need telling twice. He released your throat, using both hands to undress you in an instant before removing his own shirt and jeans. He hooked a finger in the band of your panties and slid them down your legs, over your heels and onto the floor behind him. He took a moment to gaze longingly at your naked and vulnerable body, muttering an almost inaudible ‘beautiful’. All that was left between your pussy and his dick was the boxers he was wearing. As soon as he took them off, your eyes widened, and you felt your cheeks redden. ‘That’s not going to fit’ you said, a sort of breathless whisper.

Bucky leaned in, kissing you deeply and sliding his tongue into your mouth. You almost screamed when you felt his fingers encircle your clit, moaning into his mouth. ‘I still...fuck...hate you’ you grumbled as you felt his hard on brush against your inner thigh. He rolled his eyes as you did earlier, dipping his head slightly to kiss your neck, expertly sucking on your sweet spot, marking you up with hickies. He slowly inserted a finger, followed shortly by two. They only slightly stretched you out, and you clawed at his back as he moved them faster and faster, curling them slightly to hit your g - spot. ‘B...Bucky, I’m gonn... gonna cum’ you moaned, pulling his head eagerly as you kissed him desperately. Bucky kept up with his rapid pace, bringing you right to the edge. You felt the pleasure build up and up until you were ready to cum, and that is obviously when Bucky decided to pull his fingers away completely. ‘What the FUCK’ you screamed, sitting up in surprise, legs squeezing together from the sudden lack of friction. He covered your mouth to silence your cries, and leaned in real close. ‘If I give you the most mind blowing sex of your life, and I stop treating you like a piece of shit, will you stop acting like a bitch?’ he asked, pushing you back down onto the bed, removing his hand when he was done talking. ‘For fucks sake Barnes, yes. Fucking yes. Now please fuck me’. you whined.

‘It would be my pleasure’. He slammed into your now lubricated pussy, stretching you all the way out. It burned, but at the same time it felt like nothing you had ever felt before. Not a single man you had ever been with had been this big, but you wouldn’t want Bucky to know that.

He moaned in your ear, causing you to clench down hard, and Bucky started to thrust quickly chasing his own orgasm. He continued to circle your clit with his thumb as he slammed into you over and over and over again until he had you chanting his name like a prayer along with a generous string of obscene curses. He lifted your legs onto his shoulders to angle himself so that he was repeatedly hitting your g spot and your orgasm finally hit you like a truck. ‘oh SHit Bucky fucking christ holy fucking shit’ you gasped out as Bucky thrusted deeply into you, cumming deep inside. You felt your legs shake as your eyes rolled into the back of your head in ecstacy, Bucky’s hand finding your mouth to at least try to quiten some of your moans. Although he had stilled inside of you, filling you to the brim, he continued to rub at your clit as he worked you though your orgasm. Your mind was filled with ecstasy and you could see stars. You both came down from your high eventually, Bucky collapsing in a sweaty heap beside you.

He pulled you into his body protectively, feeling his softening dick rest against your back. His arm was secured tightly around your waist, and you felt your heavy eyes shut as his warm breath on your neck comforted you. ‘Still hate me now?’ he asked, kissing the top of your head gently. ‘I’ll consider tolerating you for now. Ask me again tomorrow night’ you giggled sleepily in response. ‘Why tomorrow night?’ Bucky whispered as he also felt his own eyes close, a wave of exaughstion sweeping over his muscular body. ‘After we fuck again, of course, and again the night after that, and the night after that, and every night after that.’

#bucky barnes smut #Bucky Barnes #bucky fic #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #bucky x reader #marvel smut #tony stark #Steve Rogers #wanda maximoff #falc #falcon and winter solider series #white wolf

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hopeshoodie · 4 years

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I can’t believe it took me until part 8 to do my favorite boy but

Here are the pros and cons of dating

Noah

Cons

Noah is really non confrontational, so he tends to let issues fester. It’s not that he’s trying to let things build up, it’s just that he doesn’t think they’re important enough to bring up. He won’t start a fight about them when they’ve built up, but if MC is angry about something he’ll mention that there’s a bunch of things he’s let go but not have specifics. It ends up coming out like ‘yeah well what about all the other things?!’ ‘what other things!?’ ‘I don’t remember!!’. He’s not actively keeping track of all her mistakes, he genuinely does forgive and forget, but then when tensions come to a boil he needs to point out that there has been conflict that he just ignored. He’s not trying to guilt or gaslight MC, but sometimes it feels like it. If she thinks especially little of his intentions, it feels like he’s just pulling things out of thin air to be mad instead of focusing on the issue. That’s not what he’s doing- he just doesn’t address little things until they feel like big things. But of course he hasn’t done the introspection to truly understand how doing this is hurtful or articulate that he doesn’t mean it to be.

When he and MC disagree, he lets things go wayyy too easily. This is fine if MC is a really mature, self-reflective person who can see that she’s crossed a line after the fact. But if MC is a little more selfish/immature, like Lottie, this is a huge con because he doesn’t give her accountability that would help her grow. We saw this with Hope- she wasn’t able to recognize how harmful her temper was when she was dating Noah because he never pointed it out, he just rolled over. If there’s a genuine problem- financial, emotional, logistically, he’ll ‘let it go’ until it’s a way bigger problem (and much harder to solve).

Sorry that most of these cons are about how he fights with people, but that’s what we saw in-game lol. I’d love to know more about how Lucas or Rahim fight with their partners. But when you’re arguing, Noah tends to focus on really little details of what you said instead of listening to the whole thing and getting a sense of the bigger picture. So let’s say the issue is ‘Noah, I need you to tell me when you’re borrowing my car because you took it to the gym and then it went from having enough gas to get me to work in the morning to being on empty. This morning I had to stop for gas and that made me late.” The issue there is actually ‘please tell me when you’re using my car”, but he fixates on the gas part and says “well fine I can fill up your tank”. So he focuses on little details that he can fix instead of acknowledging the actual problem.

He internalizes things so fucking hard. Yes he intellectually knows that when MC gives him feedback on things she’s talking about his BEHAVIOR and not him as a person, but he definitely feels like shit about himself if he makes a mistake and MC calls him on it. He’ll definitely beat himself up about things for weeks after it happens, and his internal dialogue in general is pretty toxic.

I can see him being a bit of a workaholic. Not in the same sense that Camilo is in Boat Party, but Noah definitely will go into the library on a day he’s scheduled to be off if he has projects to work on or will stay late because he got engrossed in research. Same thing now that the library’s closed because of COVID- it takes him two times as long to put everyone online and work from home, so he’s spending more time working than ever. He views it through the lens of the ‘greater good’- getting that display set up for the patrons is more important that seeing his wife two hours earlier because many members of the community outnumber one person. Plus he just cares so much about his work that he has a hard time seeing it as an inconvenience to other people.

He loves his family so much. Even when MC and he get married and have kids, he struggles to prioritize them over his siblings and parents. So if his little brother Arlo needs money, Noah won’t hesitate to give him a loan even if he and MC are struggling financially. If his aging mom or dad can’t live alone anymore, Noah will invite them to move in with his family, even if their house isn’t big enough to accommodate more people. I can see this being a huge point of contention, especially in that second scenario where MC would have to take on a caretaker role as well. Noah just wants to help people so bad and has a hard time saying no, so that can sometimes impede his partner.

He’s really used to living on low income, and so he has a lot of frugal habits and concessions that he thinks are normal that someone more middle or upper class might find irritating. These are all coming from my experience and things partners have complained about- but think things like only eating out once a month or refusing to turn the heat on until it’s dangerous or making his own laundry detergent. He grew up doing them out of necessity (and still does, student debt on a public librarian’s budget? I couldn’t do it), so he doesn’t realize how strange or frustrating his habits might be to someone who isn’t used to it. He also has a really hard time justifying spending excessive amounts of money, so if MC has lavish taste there’s going to be some conflict.

He doesn’t like initiating anything. Conversations, activities… you know *smirk emoji*. He will, but the ratio of when Noah suggests something to when MC does is like 1:8

My boy is beautiful, and his clothes look lovely, but he has 7 outfits that he rewears all the time. The closest thing to fashion is him putting a different button up shirt underneath his vest. It’s definitely a joke at work that he wears the same sweater, button up, and quarter length shirt just in different colors. You know that vine where the teacher walks into the room wearing the same shirt in different colors, saying the same ‘hello’ for like a million days. Noah’s coworkers remake that with him, because that’s exactly what he does.

He’s a bit of a homebody, and loves routine. For me, massive plus, I love that. But for someone who wants to party regularly or be spontaneous, I can see constantly changing plans and going out with people being really draining to Noah. He has a small group of close friends, so he’d struggle to remember MC’s friends' names if she has more than five. Don’t get me wrong, Noah will take MC to galleries and dates at least three times a month, but it has to be discussed and scheduled in advance.

Pros

Honestly, what isn’t a pro about him? Noah is a steadfast, thoughtful, and kind person. His politics are about taking care of people, providing them dignity and respect, and building community. He loves his family and is incredibly patient. He’s incredibly smart but not at all classist or condescending about it. I know this is supposed to be about how the islanders affect the person they’re dating, but oh my god he’s such a good person I love him. Let’s just say the pro for this is his positive aura.

He’s really good at group dynamics and listening, so he goes out of his way to make everyone feel heard and valued. If someone says something and no one acknowledges it, he’ll specifically engage with them so they’re not left hanging. If someone’s trying to get a word in but can’t, he’ll get everyone’s attention then say ‘so and so had an idea’. He’s not one to boisterously laugh in group settings, but he always makes eye contact and smiles if you make a joke that flops or say something he agrees with. If people are teasing about something, he picks up if it’s gone too far really easily and will gracefully change the subject/tell them to knock it off.

He’s super conscientious about respecting boundaries and ensuring the people around him are taking care of himself. If MC and him are long distance and texting after 10pm, he’ll be like “I love you, but we’ve both got to sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow”. He’ll always check and make sure people have eaten when meeting up with them, and if they haven’t he’ll insist they get food from somewhere. 100% gives you his jacket, brings you water bottles, in general just wants you to take care of yourself.

Above all else, Noah just always ensures the people around him feel safe. The last thing he’d want to do is make people uncomfortable, so safe driving, safe spaces, safe sex are all musts. He’s really good in crisis situations because he can calm people down and encourage them to think critically.

Building off of that, he’s really aware of how much of the housework is being done by who and always tries to ensure he’s doing his part. I bet that was a big thing he ripped on Rahim for- Rahim expects his woman to clean up after him and do the bulk of the domestic work, and Noah knows that’s bullshit. I think Noah likes cleaning, anyways, and will usually take laundry/disinfecting bathrooms/cleaning dishes over cooking or running errands. But the mental load of keeping track of recipes/groceries that need replenishing and keeping up with kids needs, he’s aware of the imbalance and does his part. Obvious plus, because it sounds fucking exhausting to date a man. He fucking hates vaccuming though, and will splurge on a roomba.

He has a dry sense of humor that’s very based in puns and hyperbole. Sometimes it’s hard to know when he’s joking or not, but he never makes you feel bad for missing a joke or dwells on something for too long. He absolutely subscribes to the Mcelroys’ No Bummers rule, there are some things you don’t joke about and he’s happy to shut down inappropriate comments or ‘jokes’. He definitely prefers physical gaffs and dumb ways of saying things, so his favorite comedians are John Mulaney and Chris Fleming. While humor isn’t an important part of how he relates to other people, Noah enjoys being around funny people and won’t shut down their energy like Rahim, Marisol, or Hope.

This is just me projecting again but Noah is generoussss. Even though he doesn’t make a lot of money at the library, he still has a ‘mutual aid’ budget each month (and goes over it often). He’s the first one to give money to panhandlers, donate to gofundmes, and give friends/family personal loans. That definitely gets him into sticky situations sometimes, because he has a hard time saying no and can get taken advantage of, but ultimately I think it’s a pro because he’ll never forget where he came from and always prioritize helping other people.

He has a really pretty, deep singing voice and this is a pro to me because fuck I meltttttt.

The shit he says to his partner or spouse? THE most romantic thing in the world. You think Mr. “you’re made of stardust” doesn’t shower his lover with the most meaningful lines at random times? You think he’s not quoting sappho and jane austen when he’s at a loss for words? You think he’s NOT going to turn over in bed on a lazy Saturday and say ‘this is the most perfect my life will ever be’? It’s not even prompted either, yes he’ll compliment Bobby or MC when they get all dressed up for date night, but more often he’ll profess his adoration in the middle of dinner, then take another forkful of food.

Fantastic with kids, and this is a huge pro because people who can work with kids and be patient/positive with them make me so fuckim soft. But if/when (hopefully when because if MC didn’t want kids I don’t think it’d last) they had kids, Noah is happy to be on bottle duty, wake up early to the baby, and generally be a really involved parent. He’ll take a big chunk of paternity leave, and generally be there as much as humanly possible. Even when they have multiple little tyrants running around, he always makes time to be alone with MC and make sure she’s not taking on too much.

He’s basically a lesbian, which is definitely a reason I love him so much. Hear me out- loves milfs, loves 80s music, communicates affection through meaningful glances and playing with hair but will die before explicitly saying any of it, crushes on his best friend for the longest time but never makes the first move, puts way too much emotional meaning and personal metaphors into objects and then presents them as gifts, is into fandoms and actively collects pop figures, is attracted to assertive/powerful women, wears beige skinny jeans, wears VESTS….. That’s a lesbian. He’s a bisexual man, but he’s also an honorary lesbian.

A really good confidant. Noah’s an amazing listener and never judges people harshly- his life philosophy is as long as you’re not hurting anymore or yourself, everything else is details. So you can definitely tell him secrets and confess regrets to him and he’ll listen with those soft eyes and gentle nods. Talking to him about mistakes always feels like unburdening yourself. And he’d never tell your secret to anyone. Doesn’t matter if you cheat on him, lie to him, or die, he’s never going to tell anyone your secrets.

#litg #litg noah #pros and cons

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nostuntmanneeded · 3 years

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I agree with the whole thing about not engaging, I repulse her and find her and her friends stupid, annoying and irrelevant so I don't even want to bother paying attention to them. I understand that some people can't help but snoop and monitor their accounts for updates but sometimes it gets too much, they'll make a big deal out of things that shouldn't even be a big deal and come up with unecessary theories. Ngl, I found the whole fuss about the throwback picture pretty ridiculous, regardless if the guy "lied" (which I'm pretty convince he didn't), I don't get how it's relavant at all and it was also kind of unsettling to see that a lot of people specifically knew that it was an old picture she posted in 2019. Some folks really need to minimize the amount of time and attention they give to this attention seeker. If you can't help it, maybe at least try not to engage? The same thing goes for Jon, Toby or any other leeches, we already know they're doing it to get attention, so why give them that? No offense but I find the whole commenting back to celebrities or just people we dislike in general immature and I'm sure a lot of people do as well. Comments like these are one of the reasons why people who are not aware of how shitty they are refuse to take us seriously and thinks that we are just being petty and to be fair, I do think that engaging with them when you don't even have anything decent or reasonable to say is indeed petty. We have these blogs to discuss about these things, no need to visit their accounts just to leave petty comments. No matter how shitty they are, it's still petty because we should be more smarter and reasonable than that.

Right!

I don't think the photo theories were completely dumb, though. I just think that people were wondering why he'd post a picture of her, maybe knowing people would bring up her unresolved controversies. It's also common for people to question something when they may not understand something like the photography industry.

I do think that interacting with these people and replying to the people who clearly want something out of this relationship can do more harm than good. Remember that these people love the attention, so replying and interacting with them is only giving them what they want.

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taeyong-bububu · 4 years

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Haunted, h.r.j pt. zero

Genre: “Horror”, mistery, kinda, supernatural, I wrote this for fun

Warning: As much as I don’t want to write about things that I don’t have enough knowledge on, there are mentions of things that I myself am not willing to try. I am a believer in the paranormal and most of the things that are going to be mentioned here, and don’t encourage any of you to try any of the things mentioned. I always write with mentions of alcohol, drugs and cussing.

Plot: Huang Renjun, the biggest skeptic alive, as he called himself, realizes there’s more in this world than what we can see. After a streak of bad luck, he founds out that someone might be haunting him, and he wants it to stop now

Huang Renjun had never been the kind of person that believed in demonic things, or ghosts and entities, or whatever they called them. He told himself from a very young age that if those things were real, they would have better things to do than messing with humans, so he was never afraid of ghosts stories, or haunted houses, or cursed games, and scary movies.

He remembered very well playing the ouija with his friends at summer camps, and trying to summon the dead. All of his friends were always scared, but he was never, not because he was brave, as everyone said he was, but because he simply never believed.

For some time he thought that not believing was some sort of shield, and that was the reason why he never feared the paranormal. On addition, he thought that people who did, were delusional, dumb and immature, and he had never wanted to be labeled as any of that.

His friends, on the other hand, were the biggest cowards on Earth. Every single one of them believed in ridiculous different things, like Tarot, some of them based their lives in the Zodiac, some of them were too terrified of spirits that when they heard a noise slightly unusual, they’d start praying at whatever was in Heaven to keep it away from them.

He had participated in an innumerable amount of rituals that in the end couldn’t even make him shake on his seat. Even if he had Satan sitting right infront of him, he would still doubt his existence, probably making Satan doubt about himself, too.

It was a Friday night, he had been invited to a sketchy bar to see his friend’s band perform. The place was bigger than what they were usually performing in, and the crowd was much larger than what they usually had. He was happy that his friend’s talent had finally been attractive to people.

He sat in a table as close to the stage as he could, hoping that they would see him among all of that people. When the waiter asked if he was ready to order, he asked for a glass of vodka with juice, and french fries. He came back with his food after too long, but just on time before the band came in. Not only the bar itself was sketchy, but the people in there were too. He asked for two more drinks, before the waiter even had the time to ask if he needed anything else.

The sound was as awful as usual, the guitars louder than the voice of the singer, the drums were kinda off and the bassists couldn’t care less about what was going on, but he knew that’s how all of his performances went.

The feeling of being watched gave him goosebumps, but it was a bar after all, and even if someone was staring at him, it was probably normal and nothing to worry about, unless it was someone tipsy that wanted to talk, in which case he’d pretend to not speak the same language and play dumb until they left.

He couldn’t concentrate in the song playing at all, feeling like this time he was being watched by more people. He panicked that there was something wrong with him that made everyone stare, this thought made him anxious, and unable to handle it, he rushed to the restroom, pushing people out of his way. He checked that nothing in his appearance was off, he washed his face and hands to calm down, and when he did, he went back to his table, hoping that his friend didn’t notice he left.

On his way back, trying to walk as calmly and confident as he could, he noticed a girl in a short black dress, she wore a red leather jackt and really tall shoes, he felt like she was calling him with the look of her eyes, but he rejected the invitation, turning his head back to his spot.

He sat and finished his drink in a single sip, feeling the alcohol hit as he did, his legs feeling warm and tingly, making him giggle a litte.

The stares continued but now he was too tipsy to do anything about it. Suddenly, he felt that someone was too close to him, surprised to see it was the girl he saw before.

“Is this seat taken?” she asked, her voice strangely clear, as if she had a better microphone than the singer did.

“Not exactly” he replied quietly, but she was able to hear him, too.

“Can I stay with you?” Renjun was too sensitive, he could feel people’s aura, even though he always brushed it off as a coincidence and denied his sixth sense, but he had learned to trust his gut a little more, and this time, it was saying that he shouldn’t trust her at all.

“Sure, but I’m leaving soon”

“Oh, don’t lie, it’s okay if you don’t want me here” she giggled an a flirty way “should I leave?” He noticed an odd glow in her eyes that made him shiver.

“I mean, you do you” he had a special talent of pushing people away, but he felt like this time it was not working at all “I’m leaving with the band, and they’re about to finish”

“Well, it’s a shame, I thought that maybe you’d ask me to go to your place if I was persistent enough”

He wasn’t sure if it was because of the alcohol, but suddenly he felt too tired, the rush the vodka gave him totally gone, he felt wasted and sick.

“I don’t do that, sorry”

The band thanked the audience and he knew it was his chance to leave such awkward moment.

“Well, there goes my friend, I have to go”

“I hope to see you again, Renjun” as she said his name, he felt dizzy and like having a fever. He couldn’t even speak, so he didn’t ask, he could only nod his head, he ran to his friend that was seeing the scene waiting for him.

“Woah, little Renjun got a girl, huh?”

“She was just asking if I knew the song, you were amazing tonight, man”

“Yeah, it was pretty cool, right? I got nervous, i forgot most of my parts, I’m glad nobody noticed”

He and the other guys used to drink before going on stage, something very on brand for his band, of course he thought nobody noticed.

They left in some guy’s car, they drove him home, after refusing to go with them to have some drinks, he usually agreed because they always payed for him, but he wasn’t in the mood to have more alcohol.

He went to bed with his shoes on, amazed that he could be so tired, he couldn’t remember if he locked the door, he felt like he fainted before his head even touched the pillow, he knew he’d have the worst headache the next morning.

He heard a knock on his window, but he couldn’t get himself to look, his body completely disconnected from his brain. A fire could start at any time and he wouldn’t be able to move, he considered for a moment that he was dying, and that thought gave him confort to let go completely.

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A.N: So I finally got myself to write this, I’m really excited. Because this is a new blog, I am worried that you guys won’t like it as much as what I wrote at @crappygenius so I would REALLY appreciate if you let me know what you think of this. Thank you so much for reading if you did, I hope you have a nice day/night/afternoon/morning.

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zachnovak · 4 years

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So I don’t normally log onto this account much so I haven’t seen any of the many messages and such I’ve been getting on recent posts concern some dumb drama. In a nut shell, some adults who act more like immature children from the Mean Girls universe love to make crap up and I was the current target as I.... was breathing? I dunno. Apparently I’m the anti christ or something and they haven’t gotten over that their attempts to cancel me and even cause me to commit acts of self harm with continued targeted harassment and involving me in drama I know nothing about have all failed. Frankly, it’s because I literally don’t give a shit. I come to tumblr to RP, make my posts, and then hop on my PS4, switch, class work, gym time whatever. I don’t care about drama or what’s going on in the RPC as I know it’s a shot show filled with drama and people trying gossip girl type ‘takedowns’ of others just for breathing in when they were suppose to breathe out.

Because of that crap I literally just sign on to in the RPs I’m in then close the tumble tab. I do not have a personal, I do not check out any tags other than for the face claims I use to get pics or gifs, and I go out of my way NOT to know anyone’s personal blogs or their aliases. If we talk on discord great, if not, great as well. I do occasionally make my own group and put my current one on hiatus as the recent drama turned me off but going to reopen it soon. I’ve just been part of a couple of groups since and currently. However, since some people are interested in my past here because of the nonsense, here we go.

I was on an RP called alegendreborn which was one of my first RPs on tumblr. It seemed great and welcoming. I picked one of their skeleton canons and was happy to be there. I got along with people but didn’t know how to reblog properly as I was new to tumblr and three way posts were extreme confusing. Apparently my inability to properly reblog them pissed off some of the members. Because of that I only really talked to one person in the RP who helped me learn how to reblog correctly. Also, my character had a pre-established connection to another as a ‘best friend’ so we had a couple of threads. However, I quickly noticed the min of that character could go 3 weeks to months without posting but pass all activity checks and would focus on bubble RPing with the same three muns. When this person ignored our thread for weeks I sent them three messages four days apart each that reminded them of the thread which I was told they’d post. On the last message I told this person I was ending our thread and requesting that staff change my characters group in an event they were running as they put our characters in the same group and I no longer trusted this person to post in a timely manner to me. I was quickly ‘invited to leave’ and had multiple members message me on Skype to basically tell me I was shit and an awful person for trying to get a reply I’d been waiting 2 months to get. So I left and never looked back.

I later joined an RP called warofthenewage-rpg which again seemed friendly but much more basic lore wise than the previous RP. I quickly noticed a character who was almost EXACTLY like a skeleton canon I had on an RP I made on a jcink forums RP two years before. I messaged the player of that character asking if he knew of my RP he said he did but before I could presue anything he instantly wanted to plot my character with his. I did message the main about it but was later told they ‘never got it’. We plotted our character as a couple as the chemistry they were displaying in our first few threads was very apparent and we loved posting together and could pop out paragraphs of posts minutes after the other just posted. Eventually, that min begun to became very controlling of how and what I was posting. If my character had a thought of his that wasn’t postive or lovey, he’d berate the hell out of me on Skype and threaten to end our plot. Apparently he had also been complaining the his friends in the RP and told them I posted ‘too many actions’ and that it made him feel forced to react in specific ways. That telephoned to other members and morphed into I was forcing him to do exactly what I told him to post and poweplaying/god modding him. Now I come from forum RPs and there to post A LOT and you progress the thread with each post. This is done so you’re not 30 posts in and you’re characters are still at the door that one of them knocked on in the very first post.

Eventually, most members begun to refuse to speak to me because of the complaining he did which they’d snowball into some out of this world epic drama. The staff even begun to be hostile, use the gossip blog to belittle my character, and would pretend not to receive my applications when I tried for additional characters or my wanted ads but use the info to create a very similar character or ‘update’ an existing one. Well, about 2 months of members ignoring me or belittling me followed, staff made it worse and the mun I had a plot with decided to when not telling me I suck and no one liked me, he’d say we still had our plot but then took my character out of the equation and made another character take his place. Naturally I was upset as I had been through months of harassment, belittling, and treated like crap by everyone in the RP because of this guy only to in the end be thrown away. I resolved to move my character on. I only spoke to him and two other people in the RP and one of them had a character that was insanely into my character. However, the guy I had the plot with was insanely sexually attracted to the face claim so when my character and this new one had threads, he tried to tell the RP and even the other mun that I was forcing them into posting and into smutting which was engaged by the other person in one of our threads. I was harassed by that guy for days until I dropped that plot and basically used a ‘reset’ option for my character. However, that pissed off the guy and I again was relentlessly attacked by him on Skype. After months of the members ignoring me for (to my knowledge, no reason as I never spoke with 98% of the RP) or insulting me and out right telling me to kill myself, an attempt was made and I was effectively gone for almost two months for recovery.

Almost a year later I came back and begun to remake my old jcink RP here on tumblr. It took me about 5 months to do and I dug up codes from codepen and codrops to use in the theme. I also copied the aesthetic from the jcink RP’s theme and brought it over. The RP was very popular and seen as one of the best designed and story driven ‘mutant’ type RPs around. However, an admin from another RP became very bitter at it and me. This admin ran an RPH and had their own RP in the same genre in the past. They were revamping it and noticed our RPs had a similar aesthetic, apparently monchromatic themes AKA a them that uses shades of white, grey, and black for most of its coloring was only allowed to be used by that admin. The admin attacked my RP and claimed I had stolen their theme and coding and even went so far as going into my coding and pasting selective bits of it. I was asleep when she made the original post and woke up to dozens of anon messages ranging from calling me a thief to demanding I kill myself. All my members were harassed in the same way and she had contacted all the RPHs I had asked for a shoutout or was on their spotlights of to ‘inform them’ and then openly attack them if they didn’t remove any mention of my RP and signal boost her post. She even went so far as to harass and threaten RPs I was on, that I was one, or that had a character that sounded anything like any of mine. I even had an affiliation thing started but many of those I had been added to messaged me that they were being harassed and I told them to pretend they didn’t know what was going on. I’d take the hit for them and spare them farther harassment and leave their RPs if they wanted as I was on most of them.

During this time I was recovering from everything I was being slammed with be anons and the RPs previously mentioned going off as well in some pity attempt to get revenge for... not being liked on their RPs three and two years previously? I also was collecting evidence that many of the codes this RPH claimed she made and in stole were in fact on codrops and codepen. A good amount I made myself but a large chunk were from these resource sites with some heavy edits so they’d work better on tumblr. I even had evidence that many of her own coding templates had codes directly from these sites and others with no credit given to them and her claiming she created all the coding on her own. I submitted it to many RPHs and many of them saw the error and how this person was very toxic in the community and was making more drama than helping it. Some ignored it outright as she was popular and I was just a nobody. It took 3 years to recover from it in terms of my reputation and I again shut down my RP for a bit as I had made another attempt on my own life as that person and her friends continued to harass me and attack me on their personal or RPH accounts.

The last bit of drama came when I joined an RP called Corinth Bay. At first there wasn’t any and I had long since adopted my, sign on just to post and then bounce method of being on an RP. I eventually got to know one member named Shane. @inthenamexofthemoon I think we became pretty good friends as we talked everyday for basically the whole day. We had plots, enjoyed posting, and just chatting. I noticed that RP was heavily cliquey and wasn’t aware that Shane was a part of the admin’s clique. This group had multiple issues with member complaining their characters were being ignored and people were bubble RPing with the same people over and over. I myself had to constantly ask people if they wanted to plot or just post and even the main had to post up announcement about ignoring starters to make closed ones and expanding who they post with. I also had questions on much of the lore of the RP as other than the origins of each supernatural species, the lore was very generic and vague. I asked around and got a lot of different opinions on what could or couldn’t be done by each species and just went with what was common among them all. Shane himself helped me a bit and I went with his suggestions which apparently were completely wrong as the staff had to talk to me on ‘breaking lore’.

After that, I expressed openly how I felt the staff didn’t like me and my concern that given how cliquey the place was, if the staff didn’t like me I’d probably be ‘exiled’ from the group as a whole AKA no one would post or talk to me. Which did happen with the exception of Shane. Others I had spoken to had long left and told me stories of the awfulness of some of the members and staff. So I begun working on an RP of the same genre that I had half finished years before. Shane was kept in the loop every step of the way and pinned and loved all the lore I showed him which I did to ensure it was both in-depth and easy to follow but also wasn’t ‘bad’ IE, offensive if certain things are mentioned. He loved it and ensured me it was great and pinned everything I showed him so he’d reference it when making his characters. Eventually I worked on it so much that I kept only the bare minimum activity requirements for Corinth Bay but obeyed the rules of activity to the letter. However, the staff ultimately removed me despite even admitting that they knew I still had a couple of days before failing the activity check and had actually ‘not counted’ a couple of posts I made for an event going on as I should have replied to starters for it first but it wasn’t a requirement. Also they used a blog to post up starters as many RPs like to do now only they were also slow to reblog them and never used the starter tags so they’d get buried quickly on the dash with everyone posting picture posts and what not.

Ultimately I gave up on that RP, didn’t need the toxic environment and finished mine. Shane got very quiet though and didn’t reply to my discord messages for a couple of days. When he did he suddenly got a bit hostile and everything in my RP WAS ‘problematic’ and because of that he wouldn’t be joining. I had no idea what he meant as before he said it was perfect and awesome so I asked what he meant specifically. Eveutally he told me a little of what he meant. Apparently there was racism as In the witch’s page mentioning that voodoo and other cultural magical/practices was a form of magic some witches practiced was both racist and cultural appropriation. Although voodoo was indeed a magical/belief practice used as a magical practice I decided to just remove its mention in the end. He also didn’t like that in the lore, there were female characters that were ‘bad’ and that was sexist. This I choose not to change as it’s sexist to say women can’t be villains and felt as just an excuse. Especially since my lore included many powerful women, men, and gender less entities that were villains, heroes, and neutral parties.

Eventually after opening, I decided to message the people I had previous posted with telling them the RP was ready and I’d love for them to check it out. Those from Corinth Bay I messaged were either aware I was making one and wanted to see it or were people Shane and I hinted to it being made and they had at least a slight interest in it. Admittedly, I also messaged blogs that came on the ‘recommended blogs’ part of the dash. Only those that were inactive according to the last few IC posts that were showing in their blogs. I know this gets a mixed reaction from some as some view it as a horrible thing even if the blogs are inactive but many MANY people also appriecate it and the fact that someone read their blog and was very impressed with their writing ability and character. I myself receive many of these messages on my retired blogs and don’t see an issue with it myself. Even if I did I’d just block the blog that sent it and never think of them again like a normal person.

One of the members I DIDN’T even know who they were apparently didn’t like this and decided to make drama over it. To this day I don’t know who this person even is or was when I was on that RP and still don’t as everyone drops and makes new characters when bored on there. Shane went fully 180 on me and turned vile and petty which is clearly to save face with the people on that RP. He knows me from all our talks and that the bullshit he spreads is itself false but still was a bit of a pity bitch for a while. Apparently the friend @stephwuzhere @loganlcrmans of the admin that tried to cancel me also wanted to rehash that old drama but was quickly shut down. I had no idea who this person even was at first as again, I don’t follow any tags and go out of my way to avoid personal blogs and ones like RPH, RPT, and whatever unless just asking for a quick shoutout to my RP. I had no idea that this person was also very toxic and involved in targeted harassment, grooming, and identity theft of various people in the RPC just because she didn’t like them at the moment.

I have decided to stay away from this shit storm despite some of these people still trying to drag me into it even though I literally haven’t thought about them for months and barely even remember they exist. I’ll be reopening my RP soon and hope that these people who live their privlenged lives will eventually get over themselves and do some growing up. I say their are privileged because you must be if you can harp on drama for months and keep dragging someone you have no connection or knowledge of. The rest of us, adults, have things like work, bills, school, friends, and trying to destress from watching our bank account get more and more empty to care about pity immature online drama. Especially when it’s bullshit like ‘he dared to remind me he exists’. Please, grow up and do better people. There is life outside of the internet and when you get too old to be in the RPC which is apparently a thing now, you’ll see just how stupid you were to make so much drama for no reason other than being pity, stupid, immature, brats.

#inthenamexofthemoon #stephwuzhere #loganlcrmans #psa #usersteph

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stellar-imagines · 5 years

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SCENARIO REQUEST: ❝weight doesn’t define a person.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki, Todoroki Shouto ]

「Scenario of Midoriya, Bakugou and Todoroki with Chubby S/O who acts confident, thoughtful and kind to their friends but is actually bothered when someone makes fun of her weight.」

MIDORIYA IZUKU

“They’re pretty much trash! What kind of dumb ass wouldn’t like you? Come on, you’re pretty, smart and nice! That guy is missing out!”

Midoriya had spotted you walking down the hallway with two of your friends, engaged in a rather serious conversation. He was in the middle of running an errand for Aizawa when he saw you. Being in the Support Course meant you both have different classes but with the same break time, you would have lunch together with him. But you always split your schedule, making sure that you have time for your friends too. The thought of you made him sigh dreamily. You were a considerate person, always thinking about others and looking after them. That personality of yours was what drew him to you in the first place.

He stepped into the teacher’s office to hand his homeroom teacher the papers before excusing himself again. When he closed the door, he could still see you talking with your friends. It was faint but he could tell that you were consoling them for something. Your friend was in tears while you patted her on the back, offering her some tissues as you spoke kindly to her. The other guiding the two of you to the Mess Hall to have lunch together.

“Now, now, let’s go before [Favorite Dish] sells out. I’m a little hungry after skipping breakfast so I’m gonna have some [Favorite Simple Dessert] along with it.” you said, lining up behind a few people. As soon as you said that, a few familiar faces passed by and scoffed at your words.

“Heh, even skipping breakfast won’t make you lose weight if you eat a lot for lunch. Are you always hungry 24/7?” one of them spoke cockily.

“Oh, congratulations on achieving your degree in Master of the Obvious. Do you want me to process the paperwork?” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at the male who instantly stayed quiet, walking away from you.

“I swear.....they’re always so immature. [First Name]-chan, you don’t have to listen to them!” it was your friend to pat you on the back.

“It’s stupid anyway, we need to eat to live anyway. There’s nothing wrong with eating.” you grumbled before pulling out your wallet to pay for your meal.

The viridian haired male found himself smiling, you always held your head up high, dismissing other people’s comments about you. Midoriya had always admired you from a distance and now that you were both in a relationship, he didn’t stop doing so. He was aware that there were people who made fun of your weight but you would usually brush it off, replying with a snarky remark that would shut them up in an instant.

“Midoriya-san, you’re here for [First Name]-chan right? She just finished her shower but she haven’t had dinner yet even. She texted and told me that she’ll have it later but its been an hour since.” your friend told the 1-A student. Midoriya thanked them before heading up to your room. A few knocks to the door and he let himself in. You were used to him coming into your room before curfew.

He was surprised to see you sitting on the bed, sniffling softly with your back facing the door. Your laptop was on, sitting atop your bed while you cried. Midoriya had never seen you cry before, other than tears of joy. But judging from the dimly lit room and the way you curled yourself up in your blankets, hands holding onto your phone. Midoriya had dropped the box of cookies before padding over to your bed, eyes filled with concern.

“[F-First Name]! Are you okay?” he sat on your bed, hands hovering near your body, unsure if you would be comfortable to be touched at this moment. He didn’t say anything after that, hesitantly rubbing your back until your sobs died down.

“Izuku.....Am I really that fat? There’s a lot of people out there who are far more skinny and beautiful. I mean, I understand if you decide to break up with him after realizing how fat I am.....” you muttered, putting down your phone to rub your eyes.

Midoriya was wrong to assume that comments and teases direct that you didn’t faze you at all. You might always put on a face in front of others and act like it means nothing but it couldn’t change the fact that those words will stick around and linger for a while.

“Appearance doesn’t matter to me. You’re a great person, [First Name]-chan. Maybe you think that you’re fat or whatever but you should know that appearance alone doesn’t make who you are. I will still love you no matter how you look like.” he held you in his arms, patting your head gently, whispering into your ear as he tightened his arm around your waist.

“Really?” you asked in a hopeful tone.

“Of course.”

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

“What did you get today, [First Name]-chan? You’re always so adventurous when it comes to food.” one of them said, eyeing your tray. As your friend begin to drool at the sight of your well prepared meal, you separated the chopsticks and offered them some of your food. You had underestimated the portion so you saw no harm in sharing some with your friends. As you were about to dig in, a familiar group passed by you.

You recognized them easily. In your class, most people had grouped themselves up and refused to mingle with the rest. While you were lucky enough to have two loyal friends by your side. This certain group of people were always making rude comments about your weight, you weren’t used to it but you didn’t want to give them the satisfactory of getting into your head.

“Look who it is. A pig eating more than she should have like usual? What is that? A set meal consisting of rice, beef, saba teriyaki, miso soup and pudding?”

“Hey, if you keep on hanging out with her, you’re gonna end up just like her.” one of them laughed out obnoxiously.

"Oh? Is this what you do now? Point out something so obvious that doesn’t really need to be said out loud when you have eyes to see? Get a proper job.” you said, sipping on your green tea. The group left you and your friends alone afterwards and you were able to eat in peace.

“What, those idiots messing with you again?” Bakugou asked, stopping right behind you, holding canned tea over your head. With a small smile, you took the can from his hands. The ash blonde glanced at the group who left the cafeteria after exchanging words with you earlier.

“It’s nothing [First Name] couldn’t handle though!”

“Bakugou-san. Are you alone today?” your friend questioned. The two of them had managed to befriend the explosive ash blonde but they told you that it was mostly because of you. Bakugou probably wanted to leave a good impression on the people who you’re always with. Bakugou soon excused himself when he heard Kirishima call out to him, an annoyed expression crossing his features as he left you and your friends.

On the way back to your apartment, you had stopped by to buy some ingredients to make dinner. After making your payment, you left the supermarket and looked through your bag to think about what you’re going to make for dinner. There were more than enough ingredients for tonight’s dinner, actually enough for an entire week. You put your hand in and began to feel a What you didn’t expect was to have a run in with the same group who messed with you earlier.

“Oh? Look who it is? Fatty is here buying a huge amount of unnecessary things.”

"Leave fat people alone, they already have enough on their plate.” you muttered before readjusting the plastic on your hands, walking away from them and pretending that they weren’t there in the first place.

“Hmph, that boyfriend of yours is probably dating you out of pity!” those words made to stop for a while. You heard their footsteps slowly fading away and you decided that it was time for you to move as well.

Once you reached home, you forgot about cooking dinner and went into your room. The ingredients you bought were left on the table and the place was dark with the lights were left unlit. You even forgotten the fact that Bakugou was coming over and closed yourself in your room. When Bakugou finally reached your house, he was surprised to learn that you weren’t in the kitchen cooking something. He found you inside your room. The sight of you on the bed and trembling made him worried.

He turned your body and pulled your hands away from your face. His body tensed up at the sight of your tear-stained cheeks. You looked away again, rubbing your eyes.

“It’s nothing, Katsuki. Just crying over something sad.” you tried assured him. Bakugou glanced at the articles you had opened up. There were a few tabs and he could see the website title. Easiest way to lose weight, One week diet suggestions, Lose weight by doing these exercises. All of them were related to losing weight.

“Hey.....what’s the meaning of this, [First Name]?” Bakugou questioned, turning his attention away from your laptop.

“I’m not slim or pretty and my stomach is plump and has more fat. There are so many girls that are much skinnier than me too.”

Bakugou felt disgusted at himself. He was stupid to even believe that those people who made fun of you for being fat didn’t faze you at all. But seeing you reduced to tears and worried about your relationship with him.

“I don’t care bout all that shit. You can stuff your face with whatever damn food you want but that shit isn’t gonna change my feelings for you. I’m not some damn guy who judges people by appearance.” Bakugou knew he was bad with words but he did what he could. He wrapped you in a tight hug, leaving no space between the two of you, chest pressed up against one another’s.

“Fat? It’s just a damn word some idiot created in the past century or whatever. You’re fucking perfect. Don’t worry about a damn thing, you idiot.”

He might be bad with words but he’s the type who would say things like this when necessary.

TODOROKI SHOUTO

“.....eating again before training, huh?” a voice stopped you and your friends. You rose a brow, finishing off your bread before you made eye contact with them. You couldn’t really recognize them that well, so you assumed that they were from another class. But there was one of them you were familiar with.

“You’re right. She stuffs her face before a training session. What a glutton. Heeey~If you wanna lose weight then drop the bread!”

“Hey, you guys. If you keep on hanging around her, you might catch what she has. An incurable disease that prevents you from slimming down. Or are you guys just stupid or something? Hanging out with a fatty like that, maybe your brain cells are dead. ” the girl who often insulted you was from your neighboring class and she was talking to the two girls who befriended you despite your difference. They remained silent, too timid to speak up. You sighed.

“Blah, blah, blah. You guys sure are noisy. Are you guys seriously making fun of someone when you’re supposed to be doing something?” you walked past them, your friends following you.

“You really saved us there, [First Name]!”

“I don’t really care if they talk about me but they don’t have to say those kind of things to you guys when you did nothing wrong.” you said, stopping in front of the doors of the changing room.

“Oh.....[First Name].”

“Shouto-kun? What are you doing here?”

“I had Hero Lessons and we finished a little bit later so.....” he motioned towards his friends who were waiting for him and talking about how they’ll be late for their next lessons. You smiled and gave him a wave before joining your classmates.

He had been there when a group of girls talked about your weight. Todoroki had always seen you protect your friends when they were being made fun of. You were the type of person who was confident and spoke calmly despite being ridiculed or being made fun of. He was a little worried when he heard that there were people who were picking on you for being fat. But after seeing you so confident when speaking and shutting up the group of girls, he was a little relieved.

That night, he decided to drop by your place for it is Friday. He made sure he had your favorite snack inside his bag when he left school. Even if he forgot it, he could just head to the nearest Family Mart or 7-11 to buy it. Once he reached your apartment, he rang the doorbell and waited outside. After what it felt like minutes, he pulled out the keys you had entrusted him with. He excused himself in, taking off his shoes as he looked around. The place was unbelievably dark and it was hard for him to make out the furniture.

But when he finally reached your room, he decided that the darkness didn’t matter. He gave a few knocks before twisting open the door. He could hear you sniffling and noted that your laptop was on.

“[First Name]? Were you watching something that made your upset?” he asked, slowly stepping closer until the screen of your laptop came into view. He found himself reading out loud whatever was the screen.

“How to lose weight safely and naturally?” Todoroki stared at you as you continued to sob away on your bed. He didn’t know what to say. The fact that you were even searching about this proved how bothered you were with your weight. And Todoroki failed to notice that confident persona was merely a mask to assure everyone that it didn’t bother you at all.

“Shouto.....don’t you want a skinnier girl?” you suddenly muttered after your sobs died down.

“You’re handsome, charismatic, kind, sweet and talented. Why did you even bother with someone like me? I’m fatter than most girls, sometimes I’m rude―” Todoroki didn’t let you finish, pulling you closer to him and planting his lips on yours.

“Even if you gain more weight or lose weight, I’ll keep on loving you. I don’t care how you look. But there’s one look I can’t stand.....” Todoroki wiped your tears away for you and cupped your cheek lovingly.

“And that is the look of you crying in front of me. I might be handsome, kind and talented like you said. But at the same time, I’m clueless, selfish, greedy and aloof. We both have imperfections but that won’t stop me from loving you.”

Total: 2495 words Published: 31.03.2019

Thank you for requesting! (ㅅ•᎑•) It’s like 1 AM here??? We sort of rushed this because it had been sitting in our inbox for a damn long time. This scenario was a little too relatable for someone like me who’s a little bit chubbier than most girls. I’ve gotten immune with people making fun of me because I always kind of tell myself that I’m fat and chubby;; Anyway, to those who’re chubby out there! Please don’t think that you’re inadequate! You’re pretty and amazing! A happy stomach is a happy life! ― author Lou

Thank you for requesting! I drank 3 cups of coffee for this, hope you enjoyed it anon. Anyway, I want to tell those who gave us replies through our posts, thank you. This is a secondary blog connected to Lou’s main account, so we;re unable to reply as this blog. ― author Natsuki

We opened up an ask meme [?] If you’re interested please have a look here

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

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gayovwimagines · 6 years

Note

Hi!! How would you feel about a dub con request for Y!Moira finally cornering her smol!obsession and getting them worked up and flustered before just having her way with them?? I just... Oh goodness I want that woman to pin me down and do terrible things to me and leave me overestimated and just craving her constant touch. Unnff 🤤

Notable tags! Dubious Consent and Yandere!Moria. Dubious consent is due to sex mist. Oh, and Blackwatch!Moira.

“Hello there~ Do come in.” Moira spins around on her stool. Nonchalant. As if she had naturally noticed you walk in. Not eagerly watching the door, both her hands curled into a fist on the counter. Work in front of her, work all around her. Moira can’t pay any of it any due attention. Absolutely was not carefully monitoring the surveillance cameras on her personal holopad, clearance she isn’t authorized to have. Watching you walk down the halls, stopping to chat here and there. Moira made spiteful mental notes of the people daring to keep you from reaching her at the agreed upon time.

“Hey!” You greet her back with a nervous grin. “You need me for some testing?”

“Yes, that is what my voice message conveyed.” Moira motions you over to her station with one elegant swoop of her hand, her slender fingers curling in elegantly, one after the other. She points to the stool to her left. “Have a seat.”

You plop down on the seat, as commanded, and patiently wait for Moira to tell you why she has called you here. You joined Overwatch a few months back. Agreed to test some of Moira’s… tamer creations and experimentations. In exchange for a more than just a decent amount of extra cash.

Moira has no problems with prolonged silence. Almost never feels the need to rush anything. She takes her sweet time poking and swiping at her holopad. Making doubly sure the doors to her lab are locked, and her work status is set to ‘do not disturb’, for any of her fellow peers who may feel the pressing need to bother her while she’s in the middle of snaring the only thing she’s been able to think about lately.

Moira’s cool, collected. It takes a lot to make the woman sweat. You, however, are already squirming around in your seat. Her vibe is palpable, you can’t make heads nor tails of it. Your gaze darts to her lap when she cocks her head to the side, assessing you unlike any other specimen she has gotten her hands on. It’s a look that makes your spine tingle. Gives you an abysmal feeling, like you’re about to be taken down by a predator peeking from the tall grass.

“Alright.” Moira puts her holopad away. Her tall, slender legs easily allow her to stand gracefully from her stool. “Allow me to check your vitals first, then we’ll get started.”

Moira’s no medical professional, though she could be one if she found any real interest in the practice. Smart enough and educated enough as she is.

She takes an old-fashioned stethoscope from one of her many neatly organized drawers, an ear thermometer, and a blood pressure cuff.

“Why am I here today?” you ask nervously, such an easily spooked girl you are.

…Because I want you here. I desire you unlike any other. Because my fantasies of you have kept me up at night. I can’t stand it any longer. I need to know how soft you are, what you smell like during the throws of passion, what your lips taste of.

“I have a mist that needs testing.” She walks over to you with the blood pressure cuff in hand. Gestures to your arm and you offer it up to her.

“Oh…” Moira catches the visible lump and hears your audible gulp.

“Never fear.” She rubs your thigh assuredly, lingering longer than what is appropriate. Goes back to gingerly wrapping the cuff around your arm. Presses a button and it begins to tighten. “It’s simply a new version of an already existing and thriving product.” She rolls her ‘r’ and it sends a cascade of tingles down your spine, causing you to shiver like a cold gust of wind had run through you.

“Oh, okay.” Nothing about your tone says that you trust her reassurance. “Was it developed by you?”

Dumb question. Coming from you, Moira answers nicely. “Of course, who else?”

You shrug. Moira carries on. Noting that your blood pressure is a bit higher than it should be. It doesn’t take much to understand why. She stands close. And holds onto the back of your neck firmly in her hand, while she takes your temperature. Finds it to be satisfactory. She moves onto your heartbeat. By far her favorite part. Getting that near to your chest, makes her feel young again. Like a horny, immature teenager getting so very close to something that is titillating and intimate and secret. You’re obviously a person who feels your body is something to be covered, and not something that is shared with everyone. You refuse to even change in front of fellow agents in the locker rooms…

…It’s maddening.

She’d know. On a day, about a month back, she looked forward to casually finishing her workout at the exact same time you finished yours. Casually she followed you into the locker room, hoping. Hoping to get a glimpse of the body she’s been building up in her dreams. Only for you to remove your things from your locker and head into a curtained shower to change. Leaving Moira disappointed and heartbroken, robbed of her chance to take in you in all your bared glory.

Moira slips into the neck of your t-shirt. Presses the cold round hearing piece against your equally as chilly skin. Goosebumps rise on her arms before she even hears your heartbeat, added icing on the cake. It’s hypnotizing, the steady drumbeat of your heart. She closes her eyes feeling her own heartbeat rise just as yours too picks up its pace.

“Moira?” you whisper, alarm apparent in your tone.

When she opens her eyes, she finds that she’s leaning for forehead against your temple. Her hand and slender fingers dancing along the line of your spine. The air in the room has become thick and stagnant. And the listening piece has drifted downwards, along with her hand that is still holding it. Her pinky grazes across your nipple, Moira’s core jumps at the contact.

You gaze up at her with glassy, fearful eyes. Cheeks painted a rich hue of red. Heart hammering away at your ribcage.

Moira removes the stethoscope. “My apologies, my head took a sudden leave.”

Giggling nervously, you shift. Squeeze your thighs together and readjust your t-shirt attempting and failing to hide how hard your nipples are now. “That’s okay, it happens.”

You’re perfect, despite the high blood pressure, and ready to get started. So is Moira, she softly claps her hands together. “Up on the examination table.” She points toward the usual room.

You hop up. Follow Moira to a separated examination room within the lab. The walls are made of smart glass; will darken and make the room private upon request. Not something that should be necessary today. But most definitely has been helpful, and will continue to be so in the future.

As you climb onto the examination table, you trip over the stirrups. Moira adjusts the back until it’s just shy of a ninety-degree angle.

“Comfortable?” Moira drawls.

You nod. “Yes, thank you.”

Moira leaves the room momentarily to retrieve the aforementioned mist from a securely locked holding cabinet. She may have told you a small fib. The mist is not new, nor recently re-engineered. No need to fix what isn’t broken. It’d be illegal, if it were to ever get to the government. The public’s opinion would be sour on it. Moira supplies it to clients mostly by word of mouth that runs rapid in the type of social groups this kind of mist is most popular in, with a substantial price tag.

“Alright,” Moira says as she reenters the room. She pushes down on the cap, twists and the cap is released. “Take a few breaths in through your nose,” she commands, enjoying the way your chest rises as you breathe. Her adrenaline drip switches on as she hovers the bottle over your face. Heart racing. Can’t wait to witness the effects. She may be starting to sweat. “On a count of 3, take a big breath… 1… 2… 3…”

She pushes down on the nozzle. A dense mist escapes, blanketing your face as you inhale through your nose. Moira’s whisks her face away. Realizing that, in her excitement, she forgot to be thorough. With no mask on her face, she risks encountering some second-hand side effects.

With the knowledge that the mist should be taking its course quickly, she recaps the bottle and stashes it away inside her lab coat pocket. She grips each of your legs individually, rolling her shoulders as she goes, fingers digging. Gradually she leans into your personal space, pupils blown. “Tell me,” she croons. “How are you feeling?”

You gulp, darling eyelashes fluttering as you try and remember how to speak. “Ah, um.” You lick your lips and now they’re shiny, and all Moira can stare at. “Hot… I feel hot…”

Moira hums so low it sounds like a purr. “Tell me more. Be descriptive.”

“I—I… um…” You look down your body but struggle to get past the embarrassment of what’s happening to you there.

“Don’t be shy.” She leans in more. Her hips wedge between your legs. The closer she gets, the farther your legs spread. “Remember, I’m a professional.”

You grasp onto her coat as she aligns her crotch with your own and presses firmly. You throw your head back, gasping for air. Hips rolling into her own. Not even aware of it. “Oh God, I’m so hot,” you whine pitifully.

“Allow me to help you with that.” Moira snakes her hands under your shirt. Follows the unique curve of your hips all the way up into your waist, eventually pulling your t-shirt over your head. All with you mewling with every inch of skin that she caressed. She steps back, in order to rid you of your shoes and leggings. Stumbles over her own foot, the misstep making her realize just how much her head is spinning. Just…

…Look at you. Already living up to and far beyond her fantasies. Cold sweat trickling down your temples. Looking at Moira with two of the prettiest fuck-me eyes she’s ever seen. You can’t seem to stop biting your lips, so they’re starting to swell; two puffy kissable buds. Dainty hands opening and closing, searching for anything they can cling to. Hips, on the constant move.

“Exquisite,” she purrs.

Your underwear is nothing special. A run of the mill bra with sensible multicolored cotton panties. But oh– are those panties soaked and is that bra just a tug away from revealing the heaving breasts beneath it.

Nestled back in between your legs, Moira throws off her lab coat, and drapes herself over your smaller stature, completely engulfing you. You cling to her, desperately wanting her weight and her warmth to envelop you. Thinks on saying something that will keep up the façade, but decides that the situation is well beyond pretending now. Instead, Moira decides to give that busy mouth some attention. Licking, biting, gasping, leaving it wide open— baby girl clearly has an oral fixation.

Slowly she feeds you her fingers. You close your lips around them, sucking while Moira moves them in and out languidly. She dives in a little deeper, causing you to gag. But with the gag, comes a full body moan. So, Moira keeps on doing it. You close your eyes, really getting into it. Cradling and curling your tongue around her fingers. Eagerly take another finger into your mouth. It stretches your mouth open in a lewd way and gives Moira’s core something more to get jumpy about.

The sight is lovely and the sounds you’re making are musical, but she needs to taste that slutty mouth. She slowly removes her fingers, trailing lines of saliva down your chin and down into your neck where she holds you down. When she kisses you, it’s consuming and a lot all at once. But it is just what you need right now. Tender pecks wouldn’t be satisfactory to you, something she can heap upon you later. Here and now, she invades your mouth with both her own moans of pleasure and her long, skilled tongue. Sucking and nipping at your lips that are so clearly unused to having so much devotion.

Still holding your neck firmly, Moira slips her other arm between you. Down into your underwear, flooded with your arousal. You stop kissing her, but that doesn’t mean she stops kissing you. Your breath stolen away by how relieving Moira’s touch is, simply resting on top your engorged clit. Your eyes glaze over with an impeccable stupefied sheen. She rolls her fingers over your highly sensitive nub, as you seize up, latching onto her shirt dangerously tight. Seems pop, she swears she hears something tear.

When you finally get your breath back, your ministrations are weak to the ears but consistent. A small choked whimper with every breath. A few curses sprinkled in between your attempts to keep kissing her back. The overwhelming sensations take you away every time, and even manage to steal your lips away from her. You throw your head back, hands lurching to grasp onto the sides of the examination chair, back arching more than it ever has.

A problem, with a simple solution. She’ll just have to ravish your neck then.

“I’m gonna—” You stop to catch your breath. “I’m gonna cum!”

“Go on then,” she states coolly. Moira latches onto your neck, treating the soft skin there just as rudely as she did your delicate lips, and rubs your clit with new vigor.

You go silent for a moment before it all hits you at once. An orgasm that you feel all the way from the top of your head to your curling toes. Unable to comprehend that you are experiencing the best orgasm you’ve ever had. All consuming pleasure that leaves your body weak. Complete satisfaction takes over for a blissful, precious few moments where you can catch your breath and maybe have a chance to think a little clearer. But it’s gone in a flash, all that agonizing want and desire comes back full force. And your body is in desperate carnal need once again.

Once your body stops writhing, Moira rears back. Somewhere amidst all the commotion, your bra straps fell to the wayside. She grabs it at the middle and gives it a good tug. It slips down with no problem, exposing your breasts to Moira’s mercy. You will be leaving this room with both your nipples thoroughly abused and your breasts marked. She must know, if, in your current state, she can make you cum, simply by overstimulating them. But… for now… she has other curiosities that are pressing.

Moira leaves you for a moment. Having a destination, a… drawer in mind. But needs to take a moment just to fall back against the counter, housing said drawer, so she can shove her hand into her own underwear, and give her throbbing clit some of the attention it’s been urgently screaming out for. You pout when you see it, jealous of the attention you’re not getting.

Moira nods towards your crotch. “Don’t leave yourself wanting.”

Your eyes light up, suddenly remembering that touching yourself is a thing. Immediately you dive between your thighs. Rub your clit and grasp onto a breast. Groping the meat of it and tweaking your nipple rudely.

“Look at me,” Moira demands. The way you snap to her attention does something to make her weak in the knees. Your eyes were trained on your own nipple rolling between your fingers. As nice as that is, she wants to look you in your eyes while she gets herself off.

It happens for her faster than it typically would. It must either be you, or she got a small dose of that mist. She clings to the counter for purchase, leans all her weight back into it as her knees threaten to buckle. She moans lowly, falling silent in the moment when the pleasure crashing through her is too much for her to be able to breathe at the same time. “Yess,” she hisses, as the intensity in her body starts to dissipate. She milks her orgasm of every last little pang and shock it had left, softly rubbing until she was finally satisfied. Removing her hand for her underwear, she spins around, leaving her pants undone and hooks a finger under the handle of the drawer she had in mind.

“How long does this… this…” You gasp, struggling to find a word to describe what is happening to you. Sex mist, plain and simple. The best on the market. “…Mist usually last?”

Moira’s taken aback. You managed to form a coherent sentence. Shocking. “The effects typically wear off within 4 to 6 hours.”

“Oh my God,” you gasp.

“Don’t worry,” Moira assures as she pulls open the drawer she had in mind, it slides open smoothly. Neatly lined from front to back with medical grade dildoes of various sizes. She ponders on which one she should use on you. Looks back and once again lays eyes upon your dripping cunt, turns her attention back to the drawer and grabs, not the biggest one, but one that would still be described as “huge”. She grasps it at the base, takes it out, and shoves her hips against the drawer to shut it. Showing you what she has in store for you she croons, “I’m here for you, acushla~”

#moira x reader #yandere!moira #yandere overwatch #dubious consent #overwatch fanfic

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nightcoremoon · 5 years

Text

for the record I'm not actually upset over the comments people are making. I've been doing the internet fight thing for 15 years. but here's an anecdote.

a couple years ago when Discourse™ first got its start, I saw a post. it said "saying 'my dude' is antiblack racist because it's just a watered down way of saying 'my n*gga'" except he actually said the word because op was black. and I was like. what the fuck am I reading. I check the notes and he's all like "if you're white you're not allowed to disagree with me". I'm like wha. granted there were a bunch of people who had said "I'm black and you're an idiot" and it died out and lo and behold if I say my dude I don't get crucified by black people so it's clearly not racist.

then a meme surfaced. you start ranting and raving in a really long sentence or something that's usually directed towards people who do or say bigoted things and then ending it with a comma and a soccermom name, KAREN. it was used pretty much everywhere by everyone. but then one strangely peculiar thing happened.

people started sending anonymous suicide baits to people who used that meme, because "that meme was created by black people so it's culturally appropriating black culture to use that meme if you're white". including one trans kid who was like 14, living in an abusive and homophobic household. he used it in a vent post. and in the notes at least three people were harassing him about it. he deleted his blog. I worry he might have killed himself.

the people who were sending the messages were in their early to mid 20s. to a 14 year old kid. because he used a black created meme. to vent about his abusive household. I shouldn't have to explain how fucked up that is.

anyway I'd come to his defense and made a post about how it's ridiculous to cyberbully a child because he used a meme he didn't have the license to use. and tumblr flipped out. I had hundreds of messages from people calling me a nazi. yeah sure a disabled mentally ill queer trans leftist is totally a nazi. right. they said I was racist, they said I was homophobic to gay black people, they said that I was a liar who fabricated that story I told earlier about that kid because by the time people were asking for receipts the post was deleted. I got suicide baited, threatened, the whole shebang.

I didn't care. I was just irritated by the huge influx of messages. it was an inconvenience. after the life I lead, mean words on the internet from a spineless coward hiding behind the veil of anonymity are water off a duck's back. yes I might use fuckin profanity or italicized fonts or CAPITAL LETTERS for emphasis, but it's because I'm a wordsmith. language is an art form. a keyboard is my brush. I'm proud of my ability to harness the english language and twist and contort it to my own specifications. I can use it for great good, in helping people through tough times with inspiring words that incite courage, for great funny, in jokes that might take some thinking and context to really understand (especially puns), for great sexy (talking dirty basically but only with certain people and when the time is right), or for insulting people. anyone who knows me knows that I'm a good person and that the only people who ever know what it's like to receive a tongue lashing are the ones who fucking deserve it. not the people who see a single text post taken out of context as a basis to judge my entire character on. but I enjoy it. I enjoy using words as weapons on the battlefield of discourse. it's because I'm good at it. beyond the abilities of most opponents which is unfortunate because it just sails right over their heads most of the time but still, my fellow intelligent company is able to grasp the meanings and intentions of both sides. I excel at this. and the fact that I don't take things personally (I'll certainly pretend to when it'll gain me the advantage) is just icing on the cake.

there is just one problem though.

I'm autistic and possess hyperempathy.

"what does that have to do with this?"

see, here's the thing. if some random person makes an offhand comment intended as a joke but didn't really have the "correct" amount of blatant humor injected into it, and you are the type of person to then go to them and tell them they'd be better off dead, they're just a retard who should stop posting, nobody cares about them, whatever, you are NOT the type of person to think "hmm this person's only 14, maybe I should reconsider the choice to send them a death threat" or "oh hey this person has depression, perhaps I'll remove that suicide bait part and replace it with rainbow lollipops and unicorn stickers :3". you don't give a fuck about all that. you just wanna reap destruction and watch the world burn. you wouldn't give a fuck if that kid commits suicide because you don't have any compassion or empathy. if you would send the kind of shit you sent me to anyone, and I had the chance to meet you in person, I'd make you swallow your own teeth.

these anons don't care how old I am. they don't care what my mental state is. they don't care about any of that shit. they only care about inflicting pain, deserved or not, and all over dumb shitposts. over "lmao if you break up over mario kart you're kind of immature and should work on your relationship skills :P". over saying Karen at the end of your sentence. over greeting a friend with "my dude". over liking steven universe. it doesn't matter what the topic of the day is. any excuse will do to go for the proverbial jugular.

the existence of these people is what pisses me off more than the actual things that they say. how dare you exist. how dare you spread hate. how dare you not be a paragon of human decency. if someone says something racist or homophobic or antisemitic or misogynistic or body shaming or pro fascist or bootlicking or genocidal or anything contributing directly to harmful actions towards people based on their demographics rather than the choices that they make, fuck 'em. you lost my compassion for you. you're a piece of old chewing gum under a table. you're a little chunk of dookie that didn't get flushed. you're a moldy apricot pit at the bottom of an unlined trash can. you made a conscious choice to be a bad person. if you are a literal nazi, I'd remove your bones and then put them back in the wrong places without any anesthetic. if you are bigoted because society brainwashed you, I'd call you character into question and point out your hypocrisy. if you made a dumb joke on a shitpost I'd just scroll past because I'm not gonna waste my time on you. but if you would tell a kid to kill themself, you bet your ass I'll tear into you like hungry wolves into a deer carcass with zero remorse or sense of your own feewings. if you want me to care about the feelings of terrible people, you have another thing coming. if they would hurt people who don't deserve it, they're on the shit list.

and I refuse to be told that I'm a bad person because of that. severe, yes. ruthless, maybe. evil? that's pushing it a lot. a little unhinged? I've not been hinged since I was 3 years old. an asshole? I vehemently disagree considering the people i'm rude to are themselves assholes; this isn't some edgy friedrich nietsche quote taken out of context. merciless? okay I'll give you that. but a bad person? fuck that and fuck you.

you don't get to judge my character because I'm ~mean~ to dickheads.

in fact I'm somehow more pissed off at those people than the people sending the shitty messages in the first place. lashing out I can understand because that was me once upon a time. but passive neutrality under guise as absolute good? you're attacking the reaction. you're centrists attacking antifa. you're part of the problem. especially when you use sneaky tactics that take advantage of good nature, "heyyyyy buddy, let's talk about your anger issues, are you okaaaaaay, taaaaalk to me, you need to apologize to the people who want you dead because you were mean to them and that means you deserve it". literal cult tactics. evil. actual legitimate active performed evil. or just an ignorant misguided fool that thinks he's the dalai lama. but... pride is a deadly sin after all.

anyway tl;dr i don't give a shit about the actual things you say to me. the only thing that pisses me off is the fact that you'd say those things to another person completely unprovoked, no matter who that person is.

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bottomdiluc · 5 years

Note

you are everything that is wrong with this fandom. fuck you for running out one of the nicest, sweetest artists that remained for some fucking fluff fanart that you took exception to. i hope one day when you grow up you'll realize the extent of the damage you and your anti kind have spread.

oh, you’re talking about that one sheef artist who told me that they don’t care if their actions hurt people, they’re gonna do what they please?

alrighty, lemme explain you something.

i don’t really care if you read this cause more than likely, you’re not gonna and you just wanted some moral superiority high out of this, but i’ve lost interest in this whole fiasco cause someone acted like getting criticized was the equivalent of death threats. i don’t have any sympathy for people who act like someone being uncomfortable is oppressing them and that really hurtful actions that are perpetuated is just the hurt person overreacting.

i sent that person 7 tweets in a convo they initiated, asking why people are upset at them drawing a canonically gay male character with women. they asked why their sh///llura doodle garnered such negative attention.

and here i come cause i had been considering following them cause i had seen their art around sometimes so i periodically check on blogs that i am considering following so i can scope out their opinions and make sure they don’t produce content i don’t want to see. i won’t excuse a person’s pretty content if they have terrible opinions.

so, here they are, saying their instagram, which i don’t have one, is a mess with people calling it gay erasure and homophobia, and they said they didn’t know why people were calling them homophobic for it. so, i had the idea in mind to approach them and tell them that yes, there are people who find it abhorrent to see people place gay or lesbian characters in m/f relationships. they have the right to feel uncomfortable and their personal reasons are valid.

i wasn’t really a fan of how they were reacting to the criticism and yeah, perhaps people were going overboard and being really rude, but the general consensus was the same and perhaps if it was stated calmly and differently and without “u deserve to die for drawing this i hope u get the electric chair” or “you should have been aborted” that usually accompanies those kinds of tweets.

so, this is what i told them:

see? that’s the first reply

i understand that people are less willing to listen to you when you come at them screaming and calling all kinds of insults and that your lack of civility will turn them off from wanting to read what you have to say.

in it, i addressed that yes, what you’re doing is engaging in harmful content and creating harmful content.

unfortunately, i can’t gather their response to show you, but i’m pretty sure you can go back through their replies and see what they told me.

they had said that it was censorship that people were imposing. they also remarked that they drew m/m content such as sh///nce and sheef, and that there isn’t any way they could be homophobic for drawing that

this is what i told them:

in their response to me was basically “i’ll do what i want, idc if people get upset at what i do, they can just block me and move on.”

and this is my response and the last time i engaged with them:

and here is basically me saying, “hey, don’t be upset if people are uncomfortable with what you’re doing and the depictions you’re creating”. i didn’t kick and scream and cry and call them all kinds of deplorable and terrible names, or @ them constantly and tell them to die or some shit like that.

this is all due to them being unable to handle people being upset at their actions and criticizing them and acting like people approaching them civilly is akin to sending death threats. y’all really need to stop thinking that your actions are free of criticism and consequences.

people are are affected by another’s actions, esp a minority group, expressing that they’re uncomfortable and hurt by what you do, and being told in the end:

and you know what? it’s not my fault or my problem that they’re acting childish and blaming people being upset and uncomfortable on them and brushing off any valid concerns.

i don’t give a fuck that they’re leaving, i don’t give a fuck that they blocked every single person that was telling them respectfully why they’re uncomfortable and acting like they were bullying and oppressing them. refusing to see what people have to say when they’re affected by your actions and perpetuating something that they have to suffer for in real life without care or refusing to take the steps to make sure you they cultivate it with concern and caution is pretty immature and dumb as hell.

i have no sympathy for someone who cries and whines about people being uncomfortable about their actions like biphobia or racism or misogyny, actual actions that are legit harmful and not “they like a ship i don’t! this makes me so mad!” kind of bullshit fandom has been producing and creating false dog whistles, who wants to participate in gay erasure and homophobia and then gets upset at others for their reaction to it.

like i said, i don’t care anymore, they can leave, they can take their sensitivity and thin skin somewhere else. it’s their problem that they don’t want to handle the backlash to their actions, esp ones that hold a heavy weight, for a situation that they created and decided that they couldn’t hold the power anymore and ran off cause it became too much.

fandom doesn’t absolve you of your behavior and people with hefty followings need to realize that their actions are going to reach a large audience. people with big followings tend to use those followings to garner sympathy and paint themselves as a victim of a situation they created and are looking to be excused and that their following can forgive them without doing anything to make up for their behavior.

you perpetuate hurtful behavior? you’re going to get people who won’t be intimidated by the amount of followers you have and and confront you.

i never harassed, bullied, or tried to do what i can to run them off; they chose to overreact to people affected by their actions and blame them for it. it’s not my fault that they’re upset about it, and i frankly don’t care that they didn’t like it.

like i said, this is the first and only time i’ve ever talked to them in 7 tweets, and somehow, that counts as bullying and trying to run people out of the fandom.

but hey, they should get a pass for their gay erasure and admit they know they’re doing it and that they’re gonna continue to produce content that is hurtful to others, and having no problem with seeing a gay character and deciding they don’t have to respect them or the audience it was intended for. all because they’re an artist and people wanna bend over backwards to make sure that assure that person that their hurtful actions are soothed.

but hey, poc or lgbt expressing concern over someone’s behavior are always seen as the aggressive ones out to ruin people’s fun cause they want people to “stop having that fun” cause the fun they’re having is hurting people.

and that is exactly what this artist is claiming, except knowing that their following is gonna believe them regardless of how in the wrong they were.

also, y’all really gotta stop acting like “anti” can be applied to every little situation that causes you infractions. someone letting you know that hey, this action hurts me and i’m concerned about your willingness to engage in it? not an anti. it’s not “anti-like” behavior to want respect and for your boundaries to be respected. it’s not anti behavior because they want you to stop perpetuating the very things that hurt or have hurt them.

yes, i can recognize an anti’s behavior because they use false narratives to push their agendas and will witch hunt people who engage in content they don’t like and will result to drastic measures to make sure someone doesn’t do that. anti behavior is misusing and abusing social justice language to paint their narrative as righteous regardless of what the situation is.

someone telling you that you’re erasing a canon gay character (you want all the interviews, podcasts, and gifs of them calling shiro “a gay man” and that his lack of reaction to women was supposed to be a hint at his sexuality? i can give you all of them but most of y’all a”ct like you can’t fuckin’ read any of the interviews since sdcc came out) and that it makes them uncomfortable? not an anti, but y’all are are acting like you’re being oppressed for people being upset about shipping a gay man with women. stop acting like the homophobia you’re engaging in is just some small, quirky thing you can ignore and that it’s okay to use because your interests need it to make it happen.

#askbox for ts #long post for ts #anywAYS idc about this cause it was dumb at the start #Anonymous

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d0gdaze · 7 years

Text

The body swap au a surprising amount of people asked for, actually.

Read on AO3 / Summary

Pairings: Eddie Kaspbrak / Richie Tozier

Warnings: swearing, sexual references

Chapter 4/?

Prev | Next

Word Count: 4885

Eddie’s playlist

((this chapter was co-written by @themobileappsucks, thank you Li for your help!))

Thump.

Eddie had never had detention before, and he wasn't really sure what he had been expecting. Sure, he had seen The Breakfast Club – scratch that, he had been forced to watch The Breakfast Club with Ben, who felt it necessary to add his own commentary the entire way through. Honestly, who gives a damn that the dance scene wasn't scripted? –, but considering the only person in the room other than Richie was Greta Keene, who had her headphones on blasting music loud enough that he could hear it across the room, he was pretty confident that his afternoon wouldn't be spent getting high and bonding with his classmates over their mutually shitty family lives.

Thump.

The teacher had fucked off at some point, mumbling something about having papers to grade elsewhere, but not before telling them “not to talk – or else”, as if he would know if they did. So it was just Richie and himself (and Greta, but she honestly looked like she was asleep on her desk), and he had spent the past half an hour trying to concentrate on his english homework, and desperately fighting the urge to glare at Richie. He could see him out of the corner of his eye, could see him staring, eyes narrowed, that dumb smirk on his face, leaning back on a precariously balanced chair with his stupid combat boots propped up on the table.

Thump.

Richie knew what he was doing. He could see the way Eddie's eye twitched whenever he brought his heel back down on the desk, resulting in the resounding, rather irritating thud. He knew he could make him snap, if he just kept it up. Judging by the way Eddie shifted in his seat, breath coming in sharp inhales and exhales, he was pretty close to achieving his goal.

Thump.

Eddie wasn't stupid. He knew he was getting toyed with. If he snapped, that would mean another victory for Richie. And he was not getting beat three times in one day. All he had to do was wait it out, ignore it, distract himself with his work. He could do this. There was thirty minutes until the end of detention, surely Richie would give up eventually. Right?

Thump.

Richie had no intention of giving up. He would have sat there and tapped his foot on the table for an entire day if it had even the slightest chance of pissing Eddie off even a tiny bit. Not out of pettiness, of course. He wasn't petty, he was determined. Big difference.

Thump.

Okay, distracting himself with schoolwork wasn't helping. Maybe meditation would work. Think calming thoughts. Sunsets. Vanilla scented candles. Sunday morning jogs. Uh, Waterfalls. Etcetera. That's what people usually think about, right?

Thump.

Eddie had screwed his eyes shut. Richie's smirk grew. He was on the edge, not long now until-.

Thump.

Fuck, now he needed to pee.

Thump.

Break, damn it, break.

Thump.

Screw it.

“Would you quit that already?”

Touchdown.

“Quit what?” Richie asked, feigning as much innocence as he could manage – which really wasn't much.

Thump.

“Fuck off, you know what I mean,” Eddie kept his voice down, trying to appear like it wasn't affecting him as much as it oh so clearly was.

Thump.

“Sorry,” Richie continued, tilting his head to the side, “you're gonna have to specify. Quit what?”

Thump.

“I swear to god if you don't-” he forced himself to take a breath, fingernails leaving crescent shaped marks in his palm from how tight his fist was closed around the pen he was holding. He exhaled slowly. “Please, just stop.”

Richie cocked an eyebrow. The begging was unexpected, but welcome nonetheless.

Thump.

“I really have no idea what you're talking about. I'm not even doing anything.”

He could physically see Eddie's jaw tighten; his leg started bouncing under the table, stare practically burning a hole in the paper on his desk. He looked positively livid. Richie was pretty happy with himself.

Thump.

“You're so immature,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, voice barely above a whisper. He hadn't dared to look up from his homework, knowing seeing the smug look on that mother-fucker's face would undoubtedly set him off, past the point of no return.

“Oh, am I now?” Richie replied.

Thump.

Eddie wanted nothing more than to storm across the classroom and rip Richie's legs off his body. He buried his face in his hands, letting out a quiet, muffled cry, fingers gripping at the hair falling slightly in his face. Richie revelled in the sight.

Thump.

“Don't you get tired of being such a massive douche all the time?” Eddie asked, sounding slightly exasperated, still refusing to look up.

“Nope.” He popped the 'p' sound. “Do you?”

Thump.

“This is all your fault, you know. You couldn't just leave it at the shit you pulled this morning – which was so out of line, by the way. No, you also had to make it worse by dumping your fucking lunch all over me.” His eyes flashed down to the dried out orange stain down the front of his shirt, and he had to repress a shudder. Ben had helped him try to wash it out in a sink in the bathroom, but it still looked like he had puked all over himself.

“Oh come on, I already said that was an accident.”

“And I already said that was bullshit.”

Thump.

“You're the one who fucking overreacted and landed us in detention,” Richie's grin lowered, replaced by an expression of annoyance. “I had to miss a play rehearsal for this.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, very much exaggeratively.

“Oh poor you, missing out on practicing for your stupid shakespeare play, big deal. I'm supposed to be at a track meet right now. You know, something actually important.”

“What the fuck do you mean, actually important? It's fucking running around in a circle. You can literally do that whenever the hell you want! I can only go to rehearsals once a week, and if I don't show up then it throws everything off.”

“Because you're so damn special, right?” Eddie laughed, though it was unbelievably dry and sarcastic. “I'm Richie Tozier! I think I'm hot shit because I know how to memorise a fucking script,” he paused, pretending to gag, “get over yourself.”

“Get over myself, are you for real?” Richie dropped his feet to the floor, sitting fully sideways in his chair. Eddie looked up, finally, brow furrowed at the other's sudden seriousness. “You're so fucking uptight you could put coal up your ass and shit out a diamond. You walk around acting like you're better than everyone else and like you couldn't care less about what people think of you, but you know what? If you really didn't care, you wouldn't be putting so much effort into your appearance every day, and you wouldn't give half a shit that your shirt got a little dirty.”

“Fuck you, you don't know anything about me!” Eddie scoffed, sitting up straighter in his chair.

“I know you iron your jeans,” Richie sneered, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, “and that says plenty enough, sweetheart.” He made a mental note to let Beverly know that hell yeah, he did get to say it.

“At least I don't walk around looking like I just crawled out of a dumpster. I mean, do you even own a bar of soap? Or do you just spend all the time you're supposed to be showering jerking off to the sound of your own voi-”

“So, do you think about other people's masturbation habits often? Or just mine?”

“Get fucked, you're disgusting.”

“Oh sure, call me disgusting. And you say I'm the immature one.”

“You know what?” Eddie huffed, pushing his chair back from the desk and standing up. Richie mirrored his actions almost immediately, nearly falling over himself to meet him in the centre of the classroom. Both of them were absolutely seething, starting to square each other up. Richie thought, briefly, that Eddie was genuinely going to punch him in the face. It excited him, in a way. A strange, twisted way. “You have it so damn easy. Everyone at this school thinks you're so great, 'Trashmouth Tozier gets off another good one! Alert the FUCKING press!'” His hands flew up as he spoke, gesturing wildly. “But really you're just a moronic asshole who apparently can't even dress himself. I don't know how people even tolerate being around you without ripping their own hair out.”

“You don't know shit, short-stack. You think I've got it easy? You've had everything handed to you on a silver platter your entire life. Everyone knows your mother still does everything for you because you're too much of a priss to get a job.”

“Don't you dare,” Eddie's tone turned ice cold, spitting words like poison through his teeth. He took a step forward so they were only inches apart, poking a finger at the centre of Richie's chest. “Don't you dare talk about my mother.”

“Why?” Richie leaned closer, so his lips were so close to Eddie's ear he could feel his breath against his skin, smirk slowly returning to his face, “she told me all about it last night, when we were fucking in her-”

Eddie shoved him away with a surprising amount of force, red-faced with anger, the ferocity of which he was pretty sure he had never experienced before. Richie stumbled back a few steps, before regaining his footing, shaking his head with a dark laugh low in his throat. He felt like a bad comic book villain. The Evil Doctor Fucked-Your-Mom.

“Did I strike a chord there, Eds? Don't like hearing me talk about fucking your-”

“I'M LITERALLY GOING TO MURDER YOU, I SWEAR TO GOD RICH-” “HEY.”

Both of their heads snapped towards the front of the classroom. Greta was turned around in her chair, headphones around her neck, chewing on a stick of gum and looking impressively unimpressed and unfazed by the scene playing out.

“Would you two shut the fuck up? Jesus.”

Eddie's jaw went slack, staring dumbfounded at her, as if he had totally forgotten she was in the room – well, he had, but that wasn't the point. Richie looked somewhat similar, except his lips were pressed into a fine line. He nodded at her, rather frantically, but didn't say anything. She looked back and forth between the two of them, undoubtedly thinking something along the lines of 'what a couple of total whackjobs', smacked her gum, rolled her eyes, and slipped her headphones back on. Eddie dropped back into his chair, making a point of angling himself towards the wall. He heard Richie's sit back down as well, chair scraping loudly against the floor as he did.

They both sat, silently fuming, the quiet being interrupted only by a very muffled David Bowie song coming from Greta's headphones and the tantalisingly slow ticking sound from the clock hanging above the chalkboard at the front of the room. Eddie glanced up. Twenty four minutes to go. He sighed, resigning to rest his head on his desk. The paper from his open notebook was cool against his forehead. He could still faintly smell the cheap pasta sauce on his clothes.

Thump.

“I hate you.”

Thump.

“Ditto.”

Thump.

Detention came and went. The teacher reappeared sometime during the last ten minutes, at which point they had all but passed out from boredom, and had let them off early. Probably more for his own benefit than any of theirs, they figured. Greta left quickly, standing up and making her exit without even so much as a backwards glance to check if she'd left anything behind. Eddie unceremoniously swept his belongings into his backpack, while Richie stretched his arms above his head with an obnoxiously loud groan.

Upon actually leaving, they realised pretty fast that they were, in fact, going to have to walk the same way home.

Eddie tightened his grip on his backpack straps, pulling the bag closer to his body. He walked quickly, determined to just get home and out of Richie's sight for as long as he could reasonably manage. He also, for some god-knows-what reason, felt the need to get home first, as if winning an imaginary race would make him feel better about everything that happened that day. It would, because that's the kind of person he was, but still. Unfortunately, Richie Tozier was a fucking giraffe, and only had to take one step where Eddie took two, which only fired him up more. What's more, he apparently picked up on Eddie's intentions, and he wasn't willing to end his winning streak just yet.

“Why are you following me?” he spat, about three steps outside of the school building. It was a dumb question that he didn't actually care about the answer to, but Eddie, if it wasn't already clear, thrived on confrontation.

“I'm not following you, dipshit. We live next to each other,” Richie returned with just as much venom, side-eyeing him with a scowl, “or have you forgotten about that? Has the sound of your mom's headboard banging against the wall every night done something to your memory?” He paused, then pitched his voice up an octave, “Oh, oh Richie, yeah, fuck me good, yeah baby, ohh~”

“Go to hell, man, you're not even funny.”

“Well I think I'm pretty damn hilarious.”

“Hop off your own dick, Tozier.”

“Only if you remove that stick you lodged up your ass.”

Eddie rolled his eyes so hard they could have dropped out of his head.

“Ha, sure, I'll let you know how that goes,” he replied, completely deadpan, picking up his pace to the point where he may as well have been jogging, effectively putting an end to the argument that he instigated. Richie debated with himself if he should try and keep up, but knew it was altogether pointless. He was already starting to get out of breath and the soles of his feet were aching, and he had no doubts Eddie would start running if he was pushed to do so, and he wouldn't have a sliver of a chance then. Better to forfeit now than embarrass himself later, he figured. He watched him walk away, with his dumb backpack and dumb tube socks and dumb red shorts with the white hems that were riding up his thighs and drawing way too much attention to certain, uh, areas.

Not that he was looking, or anything.

The sun was already on it's way down by the time he rounded the corner onto his street. He didn't even notice the metallic blue Buick parked in the driveway until he was practically standing next to it, but the sight instantly relieved some of the stress weighing down his shoulders. After everything, at least he wasn't coming home to an empty house again.

He swung the front door open with purpose and walked inside, carelessly flinging his backpack to the floor and toeing off his shoes – or rather, hopping around on one foot as he tried to wrestle his shoes off his feet and nearly face-planting directly into the corner of the hallway cabinet instead of just untying his shoelaces like a normal person.

“The prodigal son has returned!” he called out, discarding his footwear inside the threshold before strolling into the kitchen. His mother was standing over the sink, scrubbing out a tupperware container with two others sitting in the rack, water and dish soap dripping off them and onto the bench. She looked back at him over her shoulder, flashing a tight lipped smile before returning her attention back to her task.

“How was school?” she asked, almost hesitantly, like she had to think about the question for a bit.

Richie moved over to the fridge, clicking his tongue as he pulled it open to see that it was still empty. He pretended to look through it as if it wasn't.

“Eh, same old. Kicked ass, took names, etcetera etcetera. How was work?”

“We had Thai,” Maggie answered – but didn't really answer –, placing the container alongside the others and pulling the plug in the drain, “there's some leftovers in the microwave. You can just heat it up for a few minutes.”

“You're not staying for dinner?” Richie asked, hoping it sounded more curious than disappointed.

“It's Tuesday, honey,” she picked up the towel sitting on the island counter and dried her hands, “book club's on Tuesdays. You know that.”

“Oh,” he closed the fridge, pushing it shut gently, “right. Book club. Gotcha.”

Maggie dropped the rag back on the bench and moved into the living room. Richie hesitated for a moment before following.

He leaned against the archway, watching as she stood in front of the bookcase, fingers tracing over each spine as she muttered something to herself that he couldn't hear.

“What about dad?” he asked, feigning as much casualty as he could.

“I think he picked up a late shift,” she answered, pulling one of the books out from the shelf – a very worn paperback copy of Pride and Prejudice, go figure – with an almost silent 'aha!'. Richie chewed on the inside of his cheek. “He should be back around nine. Maybe.”

“Cool,” he sighed, “cool cool cool.”

Maggie picked up her handbag – an ugly beige thing that she was gifted forever ago and wouldn't get rid of, Richie had an odd distaste for it that he couldn't quite place, because who knew why he even cared enough to dislike it, but he did – from where it had been thrown on the couch, sliding it onto her shoulder and slotting the book inside. She took one last sweeping glance around the room, as if she might be forgetting something, then nodded to herself and turned to Richie.

“I have to go,” she took a step towards him, reaching up to touch his shoulder, a proper smile on her face, teeth and all – straight and perfect, something Richie didn't inherit. It was a rare gesture, and he couldn't help but return it. “Get your homework done, okay?”

“Ugh, fine,” he rolled his eyes, but his smile didn't falter. She breathed out a laugh, then dropped her hand, turning towards the door. “Love ya, have fun!” She waved over her shoulder before pulling the door closed behind her. He listened to the car engine start up, smoothly, a stark contrast to Mike's clunky sounding crapbox.

“Love you too, Richie” he whispered to himself, once he heard the car leaving the driveway. He stared at the closed door for longer than he'd ever admit before moving upstairs.

He flopped ungracefully onto the bed, face up with his arms and legs spread out like a starfish. The mattress springs squeaked loudly under the impact. There was so much uncomfortable frustration building up in his gut he thought he might explode. He inhaled sharply through his nose, held his breath for as long as he could, then exhaled heavily. It didn't help, so he resigned to grabbing the pillow and holding it down over his face, and screaming into it. It helped, a little bit.

“Am I a bad person?”

Eddie was lying on his back, his head nearly hanging off the foot of the bed, ankles crossed over each other and the house phone sandwiched between his shoulder and his ear. His hair was still damp from the shower that he had made a beeline for as soon as he got home. He had been so eager to rid his skin of the filth that he hadn't even spent his usual three minutes adjusting the temperature, nearly burning himself under the stream of water as he scrubbed his skin to the point of irritation, but damn it if it didn't feel good. He washed his hair twice, used up half a bar of soap, and even brushed his teeth for good measure – despite knowing he would do it later anyway – all in the span of twenty minutes, (the maximum amount of time he knew he could get away with before his mother was knocking at the door asking what was wrong).

He scratched at the skin around his fingernails, something his mother called a 'bad habit', but what he called a 'perfectly healthy coping mechanism'. He couldn't actually say what it helped him cope with, though. Maybe stress, or something. He used to say it was boredom, but Ben had been quick to point out that 'I don't think you can have coping mechanisms for being bored, Eddie,' so that answer had dried out.

“Yeah, you're the w-wuh-worst,” Bill's voice came from the other end, through a laugh. Eddie exhaled sharply, lips tugged into a lopsided smile.

“Gee, thanks,” he replied, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Why are you suddenly wuh-worried about being a bad p-puh-person?”

“I dunno,” he winced as he snagged a bit of skin a bit too hard, “I just feel kinda shitty for some reason.”

“Well, you d-d-did call someone a d-dickwad today, and got detention.”

“Hm,” he rolled over onto his front, propping himself up on his elbows and repositioning the phone on his shoulder, leaning his head more to the side so it wouldn't slip. His feet kicked absentmindedly in the air. “So I should work on my insults? Is that what you're getting at?”

“Maybe muh-more along the lines of not insulting p-puh-people in the first place?”

“Sounds boring.”

“Well, it's a start. If you w-wuh-wanna be a better person.”

“I really hate how logical you are sometimes,” he groaned, “I need to start calling Ben more often. He doesn't try to use his common sense against me.”

“Yeah, he's a keeper!”

Eddie snorted out a laugh, and Bill giggled on the other end. It was cut off by muffled yelling in the background, and Bill sighed heavily.

“I gotta go, mom n-needs the phone.”

“Lame,” Eddie huffed, “fine. See you tomorrow.” “See ya.”

The hang up tone sounded, and he tossed the phone on the bed beside him – except it landed on the floor with a loud thud, and he swore and scrambled to pick it up and check for damages. There weren't any – to the phone, at least, but he did fall pretty hard on his knees. He cursed again, loudly, then instinctively whipped his head up to check to make sure his mother wasn't standing at the door. He may have sworn like a sailor around friends, but he did have a reputation to keep up around his mother. He was a good boy, as far as she knew, and 'good boys don't cuss, Eddie-bear'.

She wasn't there, probably too invested in whatever uninspired cooking show was playing on the food network downstairs. He sighed, clutching the phone in his hands, rubbing his thumbs on the smooth plastic.

A good boy, but a bad person, apparently.

Neither set of curtains was pulled back that night. It felt kind of foreign to Richie – to not check in on the other before hitting the hay. It was part of the routine; homework, dinner, toss a few insults at your neighbour, brush your teeth, go to bed. But then again, he figured they had probably both had enough of each other that day to last an entire week, and he wasn't too fussed about sticking to a routine anyway.

So he left the curtain closed, even when he could hear music coming over from the other's bedroom; not the same songs from their morning fiascos, it was something different, less ear-bleed and more toned down, laid back, almost nice, even, pop music. The usual singing didn't come with it, either, nor the deafening volume. He could have ignored it, if he wanted to, grabbed his walkman and his headphones and drowned it out, but of course that would mean going through the whole ordeal of untangling headphone cords and picking a CD and actually finding his walkman under the pile of mess on his desk and a whole bunch of other reasons he would convince himself of instead of just admitting that maybe he did like one or two ABBA songs.

So he hit the light switch, jumped into bed, put his glasses on his nightstand and closed his eyes, the lyrics to Fernando aiding him in his attempt to blank-slate his mind and fall asleep.

Eddie was going blind.

His mother had warned him about not using the reading glasses he was prescribed, and he hadn't listened because he thought they looked ridiculous and he thought she, like the optometrist, was just overreacting. He hadn't worn them, and now he was going to be blind forever, and he would have to get a guide dog – he didn't even know how to act around dogs – and he would have to wear tacky sunglasses everywhere and go to school for blind people, and he would never be able to watch a movie again, or read a book, or see his friend's faces, or go to an art gallery, or anything.

He really regretted not watching more sunrises.

He blinked rapidly, nose wrinkled as he raised his hands in front of his face, only to see two vaguely hand-shaped blurs in their place. He let out a concerned whine as he sat up, squinting around the room. He couldn't make out much, but it felt off, somehow. He was pretty sure his bedsheets were grey, not red, and if the thing in the corner that looked kind of like a desk was in fact a desk, then it had been moved overnight from the opposite wall. And if he remembered correctly, the window had been on the left of the room, not the right.

Was he dreaming? A dream where everything was backwards, inside out. Bill would say inverted, but Bill was a pretentious dick who got an A+ on his art history paper, and now Eddie would never get an A+, or even his shitty C- again because he was blind and he'd never be able to write again.

He reached for his nightstand, fumbling around for the pair of bifocals that he kept there for the sake of making it seem like he used them. Miraculously, he made contact with what felt like spectacles, albeit seemingly more thick framed than what he remembered his to be – briefly annoyed by the fact that they were face-down, and the lenses would be scratched, but willing to brush it off considering his list of other concerns that seemed slightly more pressing. Pushing them onto his face, Eddie looked around once more, vision now restored to it's usual clarity.

And unless a literal tornado had managed to make it's way inside the Kaspbrak residence overnight, this was definitely not his room. The décor was, in a word, fucked, there were so many items of clothing littering the floor that he couldn't have told you the colour of the carpet if he tried, there were glow in the dark stars covering the ceiling, and the door and windows were opposite where they usually were. Eddie felt like maybe watching Alice In Wonderland at 3 am at Ben's last week combined with the cold he had gotten yesterday after Tozier's little stunt, was giving him an interesting, if slightly mundane, fever dream.

And so, convinced he was still asleep, he got out of bed.

Turning left in the hallway, he shuffled to the next door along, peeking into his mother's room, or at least, what should have been his mother's room.

“Momma, I'm not feeling too-”

The cold of the tiles stopped him in his tracks, as he looked around the bathroom, far messier than usual, in confusion.

“Okay Eddie, it's fine, don't worry,” he said, approaching the mirror slowly, “you're going blind, and crazy, or maybe your mom's gone crazy again, and wrecked the bathroom, and your voice has dropped becau-”

He stopped in front of the mirror. After a brief fit of surprise-induced giggles, Eddie Kaspbrak locked the bathroom door and climbed into the bath, content that if he was going crazy, at least it was consistent. He hadn't imagined that his neighbour had such bad eyesight, but apparently his subconscious had, because right now, his subconscious had decided that instead of showing him his own reflection, it would show him that of Richie Tozier's.

After getting over the initial shock and downright hilarity of the situation, he decided it would be best to wake himself up. It was just a dream, after all. A sick, twisted, horribly realistic-feeling nightmare. He pinched the skin on his forearm, resulting in a mild sting that, to his brow-furrowing confusion, didn't do the trick. He repeated the action, harder this time, but again to no avail.

He bit the inside of his cheek. This wasn't working.

He tried a few more times, working himself into mild hysterics as his pinches became harsher and more painful, leaving reddening marks on his skin yet not having the required effect of waking him the fuck up.

In a last ditch attempt, he slapped himself across the face as hard as he could.

“Fuck,” he rubbed the aching, slightly tingly skin on the side of his face.

This wasn't a dream.

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh fucking hell shit no.

Tag list (bolded won’t tag): @fanficisgoodforthesoul @i-is-gazebo@dandeliontozier @panicatbakerst @howellhxlic@musicalsaftermusicals@bernaynay @bust-a-move-bev @reddie-to-go@richietoaster@omgboiledcabbages @reddietofall @flowersiren@lousytrashmouth @get-fcking-reddie @finnwollfhards @bjrdies @steve-harringtwin @thecastlebyers@books-and-donuts @valenschmidt@grasshoppper @80s-trashmouth@beepbeeprichiellc @little-miss-hellraiser@okay-i-get-it-alreddie @finn-trashmouth @welctothelosersclub@kaspbrakseggo @lolahood @sad-synth @turtleneckrichie@reddieforanything @vitomire @its-stranger-than-you-think @spooky-risley @ohheydatsme @hoteltozier @holystanlon @apatheticphotos @dewdropseddie @ill-float-too @peterparkerwithoutacause @sir-furry

#writing #vice versa fic #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie fanfic #reddie fanfiction #richie tozier fanfic #eddie kaspbrak fanfic #it 2017 #it 2017 fanfic #it 2017 fanfiction #in which i fuckin died writing this chapter but li saved it with their brilliance

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credence-needs-a-hug · 6 years

Text

So i made the mistake of watching a specific YouTube video and here is the results

I got all sorts of fired up and here i am.

This could trigger some people, as their are allusions to parental abuse, there is transphobia, and homophobia and misgendering, suicide and more.

This was a cringe video. I know it was dumb of me to click but i fell down the YouTube rabbit whole and ended up in FULL FLEDGED ANGER

Basically, the video started with a note from the creator saying that people should stop being so sensitive about their videos and that they had to redo their video THREE WHOLE TIMES OH POOR BABY. They said they aren’t transphobic and that the video wasn’t about making fun of the genders of the people in the videos.

But i have never seen something that catered to transphobic people more in my entire life.

The video was composed of mostly children-CHILDREN-making jokes about their sexuality and gender, little things showing the awkwardness of someone asking whether they were a girl or a boy, people calling trans folks by their wrong genders, and gay people being told they were hated by God, all the classics.

I sat through the entire video watching these BABIES talking about their genders and sexualities, and thought to myself, isn’t this supposed to be a cringe video? Where is the cringe? I just see kids sharing experiences with each other over the internet to make themselves laugh and so share in a common struggle.

Not to mention, some of the people in the video were actually giving good advice about things like binders. They were saying not to use bandages and all that stuff.

Now, i made the mistake of looking at the comments.

And that is where THE RAGE FILLED ME.

I’m being a little dramatic. It was more like i was in awe of the utter IGNORANCE of the people in the comments section. And it was curable ignorance. It wasn’t like they were saying stuff that someone in the right position couldn’t explain to them.

The first comment that kind of stood out to me was a girl noting how the kids in the video were whispering so their parents couldn’t hear. This was that big of a deal to her, she probably thought it was funny. And I’m not angry at her for not understanding why this isn’t very funny at all.

In reality, those kids could have been whispering because, if caught, their parents would flip their lids and maybe, just maybe, the kids didnt want to be torn down by their parents. One kid literally said that they were sitting in their transphobic parent’s kitchen, hoping to avoid waking them. How said is that? These kids are scared to be attacked for not understanding who they are, or maybe for knowing who they are and trying to be themselves!

Another thing i noticed was the amount of people commenting that these kids were stupid and immature. One person said that they cant imagine people like this in a position of power.

WELL NO FUCKIN SHIT YOU BALL BAG THEY ARE CHILDREN THEY ARE ALLOWED TO BE IMMATURE WERE YOU DOIN FUCKIN TAXES AT 12 YEARS OLD, OR MAYBE RUNNING A COUNTRY I THINK NOT

The thing is that they were saying that these kids shouldn’t be messing with gender identity because they were too young. How the hell else are they supposed to figure themselves out? We cant condemn them for wanting to try new labels and things when they are young because it gets a lot harder to expiriment when you’re meant to be in a stable job with a job and family.

I only have one last thing to comment on because if i go back and read anymore, I’m gonna throw something or reply in a very mean way.

Also, I’m writing this on tumblr because all of these comments on this video were written months ago, and it feels pretty stupid to dredge up past drama for the sake of reliving my own frustration. Why rock the boat for these people who are obviously so passionate about staying ignorant?

Anyways, that other comment i was going to comment on was one where someone stated that they refused to call someone by they/them pronouns and that they would only refer to people by their biological gender.

First of all, looking down someone’s pants will get you arrested.

Second of all, whom the fuck doth thou thinketh thou are?

What gives you the right to decide who gets what gender pronoun? Who gives you the right to decide that? Because it wasn’t god, you fucker.

Another thing. People were saying that the kids were being dramatic about the fact that people were misgendering them. What they dont understand (and what ill never understand fully because I’m not gender queer or trans or anything like that) is that there is pain attached to old pronouns. It hurts to be reminded of a time where you were miserable, and a lot of times, people who are trans were very miserable with their old pronouns.

They also mentioned that the suicide rate amongst trans people being high AND IN THE SAME COMMENT said they wouldn’t respect a trans person’s pronouns. They act as if “tough love” will get a person out of being trans but-and i know I’m pulling up a dead horses ass here- IT WONT FUCKING CHANGE ANYTHING. THIS ISNT ABOUT YOUR ABILITY TO PARENT OR TO BE A GOOD FRIEND OR TO UNDERSTAND. IT IS ABOUT A PERSON’S RIGHT- THEIR ABSOLUTE RIGHT- TO CHOOSE WHO THE FUCK THEY WANT TO BE AND I DONT FUCKING UNDERSTAND WHY THAT IS SUCH A FUCKIN MYSTERY TO SOME PEOPLE. TRANS AND GENDER QUEER AND GAY AND ALL THE OTHER TYPES OF PEOPLE IN THE WORLD ARE TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHO THEY ARE AND THAT MAKES THEM THE SAME AS ANY OTHER PERSON IN THE WORLD.

This is all useless because all of the things i have just ranted about have been said about twenty million fucking times and if it hasn’t caught on by now, it never will. But i have been holding all of this in for some fucking long. I’m just shocked. I am never not taken by surprise at the level of ignorance some people have.

Also i have a genuine question for people who decide gender based on reproduction (which was what someone said on this fucking video). What do you call someone who’s infertile? What gender do they get? Because they dont fit your high and mighty standards. I’m genuinely curious.

In conclusion, stop attacking children for expressing themselves. Stop playing god and telling people who and what they are. If you do these things, nothing i can say will stop you from doing them, but I need to make myself clear.

Wouldn’t it just be so much easier if we respected people?

#trans #transgender #gender #gender queer #nonbinary #transphobia #homophobia #lgbt #ignorance #rant #im very angry right now but im colling off #im taking deep soothing breaths #lets all be calm and respect other people

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frozs · 7 years

Text

Kakuzu discover's Hidan's backstory and its actually really disappointing and a bit shit

Part 7 of the Kakuzu and Hidan are very Australian dickheads series.

Read the rest of the shitty fics on tumblr or AO3.

Warnings: Woolworths, Orochimaru making his terrible appearance, kakuzu noses about, no punchline, something gay happens

Note: Set before Kakuzu and Hidan marry. The event where a rat climbed up the sewer drain and died, and had to get rid of using a pasta spoon and a stake happened to me three days ago. It was traumatising. 0/10 don’t recommend. Special shout out to @thatshipcat, because we were on voice chat on discord while I was driving and I asked her to go on this chapter and add a few things in for the chapter for me because I can’t write and drive at the same time. 10/10 do recommend.

Orochimaru was a plastic surgeon infamous for fucking up his face enough to be stared at in the street. He was also Kakuzu’s former college, and happened to be in town this week.

Kakuzu had discovered this when Orochimaru texted him out of the blue, asking why Kakuzu was with ‘one of those Jashinist weirdos’ and wearing the Commonwealth Bank uniform. Apparently, Orochimaru walked past the bank, spotted Kakuzu as he exited, holding Hidan at the scruff of his neck, and depositing him on the side of the road to hopefully be run over.

Because Kakuzu noticed that Orochimaru knew Hidan was a Jashinist, he got a bit curious. Orochimaru must have been acquainted with Hidan sometime ago. He was certainly weird enough to be associated with Hidan. He was also knowledgeable enough that he would likely know a bit about the strange cult with the follower who was an immortal asshole.

So Kakuzu responded to the message, asking Orochimaru to meet him for drinks at the tavern near his townhouse. Even if he had no answers, Kakuzu expected it to be entertaining enough.

While normally Kakuzu didn’t really give a fuck about reconnecting with old coworkers, Orochimaru was an exception if only because the man was so ridiculous that he amused even Kakuzu.

Case in point: The last time he saw him was around ten years ago at a conference at the Medical Union meeting in western Sydney. Orochimaru had split his tongue in half, demanded he was to be only referred to with genderless pronouns and had put enough lip fillers in his lip to make them explode. Kakuzu remembered having a bit of a smirk at that.

As Kakuzu was preparing to meet Orochimaru, however, Deidara rang him about a rat in the toilet. He immediately texted Orochimaru to tell him he would be late.

According to Deidara, the toilet rat came in from the sewers in their current place. He had refused to go anywhere near it, and so did Sasori and Hidan. A week had passed, and now the rat was lying dead in the loo, passed out from a bottle of disinfectant being poured over it to get it to stop scrambling. Deidara sat on a kmart beanbag and stared at his phone for a few hours until Kakuzu arrived and got pissed about the messy bathroom and the rotting animal. In the end, Kakuzu used a pasta spoon taped on to a wooden stake to get rid of it.

“How old is Hidan?” Kakuzu asked Deidara afterwards.

Deidara squinted at Kakuzu. “He’s like… twenty five, yeah? He was three grades above me at school.”

“...So he’s not old?”

“What do you mean?” Deidara wasn’t exactly dumb but he didn’t understand Kakuzu’s question at all.

“How long has he been able to not die?” Kakuzu clarified.

“Hmm….” said Deidara, pausing. He put a strand of blond hair behind his ear and then he said, finally, “I dunno.”

Kakuzu sighed. “You’re not very informative, you know that?”

“And you don’t really ask questions.” At least Deidara had the correct social skills to realise he was fucking about with Kakuzu. Sasori and Hidan on the other hand could not act normal around anyone. “Hidan was a nerdy religious asshole in high school. He hasn’t grown up, and never will. Argumentative as fuck, immature, and thought that putting a javelin through his leg on sports day was art. As an itty bitty year seven, seeing a year nine do that to themself… was pretty fucking cool, yeah.”

Right. So he definitely wasn’t someone who had stopped aging. “So how come you know still know him?”

“Saw him at orientation day at the University of Canberra. He’d been kicked out and was arguing with security. He said UoC was shit because you can get the same info from Wikipedia, and that they discriminated against him because of his religion, yeah. The next day, I saw him on Gumtree looking for a housemate, so we moved in together with Sasori. I decided to never go to university - fuck HECS.”

Deidara smirked and turned back to his phone. Kakuzu tried again.

“I’ve just been in contact with an old acquaintance,” Orochimaru wasn’t exactly a friend. He was more of a science experiment from back in the day. “He knows Hidan. The name is Orochimaru. A plastic surgeon.”

“You mean Orocunt?” said Deidara, not looking up, fingers flying over the screen of his phone. “Hidan calls him Orocunt, yeah.”

“How do you know him?”

Deidara held up the stump of his arm, which had been covered in tattoos since it was blown off in an explosions accident several years ago. “Hidan recommended him as a plastic surgeon. He made my remaining arm look like an amputated arm, not like a mangled blown off stump it was with muscle and bone everywhere.”

“How does he know Hidan?”

Deidara shrugged. “I dunno.”

Deidara’s answers weren't exactly riveting or informative, but Kakuzu knew that asking Sasori would be a waste of time, he would be even vaguer.

“I’m meeting him in an hour,” said Kakuzu.

“Cool,” Deidara muttered, staring at his phone. “Hidan or Orochimaru?”

“Orochimaru. I try to avoid Hidan any day of the week.”

“I’d also avoid Orochimaru any day of the week. That MJ look was scary. It isn’t art, yeah. Good luck and don’t split your tongue in half.”

***

At the local mall where Konan’s floristry was, there was also a tavern opposite Woolworths where gambling addicts played their day away. It was a bistro with faded yellow brick walls with large pieces of ugly decor art hung up slightly crooked. It was quiet for the time of day.

While most people were fashionably late, Orochimaru arrived several hours early to any event. He was waiting for Kakuzu when he entered the tavern, looking like he did a decade ago: black straightened hair down to the waist with no gray in sight, high cheekbones and eyes slanted from several botched eye lifts. He couldn’t seem to smile like he used to, as the amount of botox he used permanently froze his face. In short, he looked more like a snake than ever. He was holding a handbag, putting something pink away when he looked up to see Kakuzu.

“Kakuzu,” he said warmly. Orochimaru refused to shake hands, as he claimed it was unsanitary. Which was no big deal, as Kakuzu didn’t exactly want to touch Orochimaru, either. “It’s been a while. I knew it was you with Hidan at the bank. What happened to your face?” He nodded towards the scars where Hidan had slashed him with a knife several years ago.

“Hidan.”

“Ah.” Orochimaru yellow eyes trailed down Kakuzu’s tanned arm, where there was a burn mark. “And what happened to your arm?”

“Hidan.” The mark was from New Years when Hidan and Deidara put fireworks in a drum in his courtyard, and Hidan’s hand was sliced off and Kakuzu had to stitch it back on together.

“You aren’t going to get it covered?”

Kakuzu shrugged, and took a laminated menu from the plastic holder. “Nobody asks.”

“I can’t imagine anyone asking you anything to be honest,” Orochimaru said. He didn’t even touch the menu, but then again Kakuzu had never seen Orochimaru eat, so he must survive on air. Kakuzu put the menu back, deciding to only get a lemon and lime bitter. “I’m surprised you have changed careers. Was being a heart surgeon too hard for you?”

Kakuzu shrugged. “Different career. Bored of the hospital. I’ve only been out of there for four years.”

“Yes, being a surgeon is ever so boring,” said Orochimaru. Kakuzu forgot how strange and sly Orochimaru’s voice was. It was like being lectured and being treated like a child all at once. He clicked his tongue, which was still split in two. “Nowadays, I go mostly on holidays around the world with my sons, Mitsuki and Mitsuki.”

“Why are they both called Mitsuki?”

Orochimaru lips struggled to smile, but didn’t say anything. After an awkward silence, Kakuzu decided to get to the point of what he really came to see Orochimaru for. “I need some information on Hidan. You are, as I remember, very good at knowing other people’s affairs.”

“Do you have to pay me to give you information?” Orochimaru raised his eyebrows at him. Kakuzu glanced around before leaned in a little. He wasn’t planning to give any money to Orochimaru, and he knew Orochimaru didn’t care about money, so it didn’t matter. “What do you want to know?”

“The other month Hidan chopped his own head off and I had to reattach it,” said Kakuzu, crossing his arms and leaning back. “How can he do that? He claims it comes from his God, Jashin. Orochimaru, I have seen him do things nobody should be able to survive.”

“I actually met Hidan several years ago on my travels in Europe with Mitsuki. I believe it might have been Croatia - they film Game of Thrones in Dubrovnik. Probably why he was there.”

Kakuzu knew that Hidan’s Game of Thrones obsession was borderline crazy, but didn’t realise that Hidan had actually gone overseas just to go on a set tour. “Croatia? Why Croatia?”

“I think he’d been all over the world, searching for Jashin. He was a backpacker who had dropped out of high school, who was staying in the same hotel as me and my sons - a six star hotel with golden floors and lavish marble ceilings.”

That didn’t exactly sound like a place Hidan would go. It was definitely somewhere Kakuzu would go if he had the chance, but Hidan was more of a hostel type of guy.

“I met Hidan in the lobby. He was drunk at the time, but managed to tell me many things; that he was traveling the world searching for his god, who he called Jashin; that he dreamed of him every night since he was a child; that, no matter where he went, he could not find any information about his faith or proof of his god’s existence. It drove him insane, poor thing. He must have been only 16?”

“He still is.”

“No, he has seemed to have grown down instead of grown up,” said Orochimaru.

“After a series of visions of hooded men in a golden hotel, Hidan went on Tripadvisor and looked at pictures of hotel lobbies. He then found himself in Croatia.” Kakuzu rolled his eyes at this, and Orochimaru smirked and carried on. “I’m not sure how he was able to afford the hotel - but he told me that he had been staying there for a while, watching, waiting.”

“While we were talking, these men in black hoods went down the stairs and he rushed away, ranting that these they were the people he was looking for. I did not follow him, but as I myself am interested in immortality, I took a video from the hotel security footage.”

Orochimaru took out his iPad, one of those large inconvenient ones from his handbag. As he unlocked the ridiculously huge tablet, Kakuzu noticed his wallpaper was of Itachi Uchiha from the police force.

Hidan’s hair was shorter, and sticking up at the back. He was literally dressed in - Kakuzu recognised the outfit - singlet and shorts. The Jashinist circle was drawn in white on the lobby floor - everything was golden, like Orochimaru described. People wearing summer clothes were crowded around, silent and watching the bizarre scene in front of them. Four tall figures wearing black robes hoods had circled Hidan, which seemed weird as it was June on the timestamp, and he was shouting at them in another language.

“Is he speaking Croatian?”

“No, most likely gibberish,” said Orochimaru. “Hidan is very good at shouting in gibberish.” This was true. Occasionally, Kakuzu heard Hidan ramble nonsensically, though he could never make sense of what he was saying. He returned his attention to the iPad video.

Suddenly, Hidan shoved one of the figures away. The four of them threw him to the ground, and two pinning him to the floor and the last -

“Is that a syringe?”

Orochimaru nodded. A bellowing scream, raw and loud, erupted from Hidan, and the crowd around him scattered in fright. It was truly something Kakuzu had never heard before from anyone he had killed. It wasn’t pleading, and it didn’t seem to even sound like Hidan. He could only compare it to the wretched wailing of a thousand souls… The hooded figures disappeared, leaving Hidan on the lobby floor, mouth open and body still.

The video cut off. Orochimaru put the rather large tablet back in his purse.

“The Jashinist cult mixes serious religion with illegal experimentation,” said Orochimaru. “After this video, Hidan was pronounced dead. I was the one to call the police to take the body away.”

“How long was he dead?”

“Until the cremation, so two weeks,” said Orochimaru. “No parents, a foster kid out on the streets. They put his body into the oven… and he jerked upright and ran away. He came back to me to get his passport, covered in soot. Didn’t even say thank you.” Orochimaru flicked a bit of imaginary dust off the table.

“Since when do I ever say thank you?” A large hand clapped on Kakuzu’s shoulder. Kakuzu didn’t even turn around as Hidan sat down next to him, reached over and drank the entire contents of Kakuzu’s glass. He was wearing a fluro yellow work shirt, which was part of his medical courier uniform.

“How’s it going Orocunt? Not well I hope. I heard from someone that you were trying to get information on me. I won’t name my source, but let’s just say his name rhymes with... Gay Bara .” He turned to Kakuzu. “You could have just asked, Kakucunt. I'm an open book.”

“What’s the fun in that?” Orochimaru asked. “You aren’t known for your straight up answers.”

“True.” said Kakuzu.

Hidan shrugged. “So what are you doing here? Last I heard you were in Chile doing…South American things. Whatever people do in South America. Latin ballroom dancing and praying to statues of the Virgin Mary in back gardens.”

“What’s wrong with seeing an old friend?” said Orochimaru.

“Since when does Kakuzu has friends then aren’t money?” asked Hidan. He smirked. “Did you know Kakuzu sleeps with money under his pillow,” he voice lowered to a whisper. “ The Tooth Fairy spoils him .”

“I do not.”

“Oh, me and Kakuzu go way back,” said Orochimaru, sipping his water dainty, with a pinkie out. “Around the time of medical school. We usually partnered up with experiments, and worked on cadavers together. We also did other experiments outside of medical school, too.”

“What sort of experiments? Like on other bodies?”

“Don’t say it,” said Kakuzu.

“Say what?” Hidan replied almost instantly. “Come on, tell me the goss on good old ‘Kuzu. I’m sure Snakepants here has plenty of boring experiments to tell. Are you single and looking to mingle? Kakuzu’s your man.” Hidan nudged Orochimaru and winked.

“I’m married to myself now,” Orochimaru pointedly informed Hidan, watching his face go from interested to a slight cringe. “But back in the day, as two medical students, we slept together for a science experiment.”

Kakuzu could have facepalmed hard right now, and Hidan looked like he was either shocked or trying not to laugh. “You fucked Trump’s wife?”

Now Kakuzu was trying not to laugh at Orochimaru’s almost offensive look. Hidan looked from Kakuzu to Orochimaru. “But he’s old?”

“I’m old,” Orochimaru pointed out. “We’re the same age.”

“I forget you are even more immortal than me,” said Hidan. “I thought you would have to cut off Kakuzu’s dick to see the rings to see how old he is.”

“He is rather well endowed,” Orochimaru noted with a smirk, “but not quite the size of a tree, I’m afraid.”

“What, like Hashirama?” Hidan joked. Then his face went a bit white. “Hang on… I’ve known you for four years, Kakuzu. I thought you were ace as fuck, and you're not!?”

“Can we not discuss my sexuality?” Kakuzu was feeling a bit pissed now, because he had been forced to opened up when he didn’t want to. Kakuzu made himself uninteresting on purpose: After all, it would be incredibly inconvenient for anyone to go sniffing around in the private life of a serial killer. Besides Orochimaru, he had only ever slept with one other person - but that was a detail that he did not want Hidan to pester him with. “I have better things to do then talk about people I've slept with.”

“People?! Not just Orocunt?” mocked Hidan. “No wonder I've never seen you remotely even be interested in someone.”

“I am certain that Kakuzu is a sociopath, Hidan.” said Orochimaru. “I believe the only person he ever dated was Tsunade. What was the reason you broke up with her, again, Kakuzu?”

There it was. The one detail that he did not want Hidan to know.

“Gambling addict,” he neutrally replied, staring at the sugar packets on the table as he resisted the urge to strangle both his partner in crime and his former colleague.

“Man, Kakuzu,” Hidan clapped his hand on Kakuzu’s shoulder. “I've learned more about you today than I ever wanted to know.”

Orochimaru frowned. “I was under the assumption Hidan was your husband,” he said. “Gay marriage is legal after all.”

“I’m only gay for Jashin, you know.” Hidan kissed his pendant and happened to glance at the time on his fitbit.

“Anyway, this is the shittest conversation I’ve ever had in my life,” he said. “I was supposed to deliver a fetus to the other hospital around two hours ago. See you later, Kakucunt, Orocunt.” He stalked off, knocking over someone’s water on purpose as he left the tavern. Kakuzu watched Hidan undo the leash of his dog before driving off in his car.

His head whipped toward Orochimaru, expression furious. “Thank you for telling Hidan that,” Kakuzu hissed.

“No problem,” said Orochimaru lightly. “Thought he might have needed to know you aren’t as boring as you actually are.”

“I prefer being boring,” said Kakuzu. “I think I may go now.”

“Hang on.” Orochimaru rummaged around in his handbag. “I have done what I can with this.” Kakuzu opened his hand, and Orochimaru deposited a small volumetric flask in his palm, with pink liquid, the colour of Hidan’s strange eyes. “It is leftover materials from the syringe.”

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

Orochimaru shrugged. “I don’t know. According to my analysis, it is solely composed of dihydrogen monoxide.”

“Also known as water.”

“Clearly… there is more to it.”

With that, Orochimaru left, taking out a large pair of sunglasses to cover his frozen face, handbag swinging away. Kakuzu stared down at the small flask, shimmering liquid twirling from moving so much. He didn’t know what to do. Too much information, too much nosing about, but this? He wasn’t expecting this. Now, he possibly held the secret to immortality in his hands.

He put the flask in his shopping bag, and went to Woolworths. He tried not to think about what Orochimaru had told him, but it seemed there was more to Hidan then he really wanted to know. Hidan possibly wasn’t as dumb as he seemed. He got some sushi for dinner, as being with Orochimaru for too long made him hungry. He received two texts from Hidan.

HIDAN < 6.45 PM >

Kudos fr getiing.the.rat out fo the.toilest. shit was gros

HIDAN < 6.47 PM >

Got.th dog.

Instead of taking Taki for a walk, which was his usual routine, he sat down outside in his courtyard for a smoke, staring at the bottle of moving pink liquid Orochimaru gave him. He took the flask and put it in the bin along with his cigarette.

That night, Kakuzu dreamt of only one picture: The triangle encased in the circle. He could not get rid of it, and struggled to wake up from it. Finally, his unconscious brain got rid of the image, which he felt thankful for.

Until the next thing he saw in his vision was a car hurtling full speed in him.

Kakuzu woke up with sweat all over him, jerking upright, his alarm clock screaming away. He rubbed his eyes and turned to the clock, about to turn it off, and he froze.

The shimmering pink flask had returned - and it was on his bedside table. It shined mockingly with the light of his phone, buzzing with incoming texts.

HIDAN < 8.14 AM >

stupid fuckn roommmate.found another pest - a snake in the garden

HIDAN < 8.19 AM >

cme over.nd.help me get.rid.of.it

HIDAN < 8.22 AM >

bring the ricin.

#australian dickheads au #my fic #hidan #kakuzu #fic #deidara #orochimaru #theres no punchline in this one im very sorry #YEAH FROZS NOBODY CARES

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ticklishhpickle · 6 years

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Worth The Whisk (4/?)

Summary: When superhero Dan Howell gets paired up with fellow hero and arch nemesis Phil Lester for an important mission, he’s pissed beyond belief. But as the two are forced to work together to take down the evil Dr.Bickletwist, Dan finds Phil might not be as awful as he first thought… (Phan superhero AU)

Previous Chapter

Ao3 link

Dan was walking down the hallway with Tyler, dreading the mission ahead of him. He’d spent the whole weekend studying the papers the commander had given him and it was safe to say he was extremely well-prepared for the mission of hell with a certain black-haired man. Phil had interrupted him many times too, turning up to his and Tyler’s dorm, obviously in a panic and asking Dan about the tiniest , most insignificant details about Dr.Bickletwist. Dan was all for being well-prepared for the mission, but being enemies with Phil, it was just annoying.

The last time Phil had ‘visited’ Dan had kicked him out abruptly, slamming the door in his face seconds before hearing Phil swearing his revenge on the boy. Dan guessed it was kind of his fault for doing that, it would just serve to make the next day, or days, or weeks- however long it would take to defeat the villain- even more awkward.

“Excited for your mission, whiskorino?” Tyler chirped, in a suspiciously happy mood considering his best friend was leaving on a potentially life-threatening mission.

“No. To the nickname and your question. Of course not. Phil and I had another fight yesterday so it’s going to be even more awkward now! I literally cannot wait until this whole thing is over and Bickle is behind bars where he belongs.” Dan huffed, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, why are you in such a good mood? Aren’t you gonna miss me?” Dan asked teasingly, though secretly he was insecure about the fact that Tyler might not miss him as much as he was going to miss Tyler.

“Oh, of course I’ll miss you. I’m just really happy you’re gonna get to go on this mission of a lifetime! You’re gonna go down in history, Dan! You’ll be as well known as the Ocean Liner himself!” Tyler exclaimed, his blue eyes lighting up excitedly.

“Yeah, as if. No way someone like me could ever be as good as the commander. But I appreciate the sentiment, Tyler. I’ll try and make you proud.”

“Well I think not, but okay. And you will make me proud, as long as you try.”

The two friends walked for a couple seconds in comfortable silence, finally reaching the spot Dan was meeting Phil and the commander before Tyler stopped suddenly and grabbed Dan’s arm.

“Wait! Before you go, I have something for you. The first, is a piece of advice. Don’t let your hatred for Mr. Sunshine get in the way of the mission. There’s no way you’ll be able to do this alone, as great as I think you are. You have to work together.” Tyler said, all traces of the usual humour and jovialness gone from his face.

Dan sighed and rolled his eyes. He’d heard this a million times before, it was getting old and no one seemed to understand that Phil was well, kind of an ass.

“No, Dan. Listen to me. I don’t want you to ignore me on this, I hate being serious almost as much as you do but you need to take my advice.”

Dan looked at his friend’s face, feeling ashamed of his admittedly immature behaviour.

“Alright, fine. I’ll keep it in mind. And what’s the second thing?”

A huge grin spread across Tyler’s face, replacing the stern look that was previously occupying it. His hands twitched in excitement.

“Oh ho ho, mister Howell. You’re gonna love this.” Tyler reached into his pocket, felt around for a few seconds and extracted something small that he kept covered with his hands before bringing it to Dan’s face.

Tyler opened his hands like a clam.

“TA-DA!!!” he giggled, studying Dan’s face intently for a reaction.

Dan’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor and his eyes widened in rage or shock- he wasn’t really sure which, probably a mixture of both. Insider Tyler’s soft baby hands lay a teeny-tiny whisk on the end of a thin silver chain, shining innocently in the bright lights of the corridor.

Dan looked at Tyler with a face straighter than Tyler (and Dan’s) sexuality. He took a deep breath in to calm himself, and then breathed out. He looked at the ground, refusing to meet Tyler’s excited gaze.

“Tyler, you’re literally half a whisk joke away from me leaving your gay ass behind and getting a new best friend.”

Tyler scoffed.

“Yeah, good luck with that one, your equally-as-gay ass is as intolerable as mine. And I promise you this whisk-lace is not just for aesthetic appeal. It has a function too.” “I’m actually bi but whatever… Tell me what the function is then, if you want me to actually keep it.”

“All I’m gonna say Danny, is that they don’t call me the Flame-ingo for nothing. And you’ll regret it if you don’t bring it with you, trust me. But only use it in an ABSOLUTE emergency, you hear me?” Tyler poked Dan’s chest sternly, smiling gleefully.

“Ugh, fuck it. I’m already going on this stupid fucking mission with Lester, could wearing this whisklace really be any worse than that? I managed to escape one shitty name from hero school, I guess the universe wasn’t kind enough to let me escape my actual hero name.” Dan sighed and took the necklace from Tyler’s hand, making sure to put it on backwards so that it would be hidden by his cape.

“Oh, you mean ‘Dani snot on fire?’ I remember that! No one even said it correctly by the third week of year eight! Who even thought of that dumb name?”

“Uhm, it may have been me…” Dan admitted sheepishly.

Tyler nearly cried out in shock and delight, but Dan quickly put a hand over his mouth to stop any sound from escaping.

He looked around before lowering his voice to a small whisper. “Look, I don’t tell a lot of people, or anyone really, this. But as you know, my lesser known power is that I’m immune to burns and fire, so I thought it would be… cool to, you know, call myself ‘Dan is not on fire’. It was an ironic thing, really, and I was twelve but it took so damn long to shake off that name. It still haunts me to this day.” Dan cringed at his old self.

“Anyway, you are never to speak of this to anyone. If anyone asks, you still have no idea who thought of that dumb-ass name.”

Tyler was red in the face, clearly trying to hold back a dramatic fit of giggles. “Mm-hm!” he squeaked out, his voice being muffled by Dan’s hand.

“Now swear you’ll never speak of this to anyone. This is my darkest secret. I memed myself over.” Dan looked Tyler in the eyes sternly and lowered his hand off Tyler’s mouth cautiously.

“Okay, whisk-o. I won’t. But you can’t forget about the whisk. Just promise me that, okay?”

“Okay, I won’t. Thank you Tyler, for everything really. And if I don’t come back-”

“No! Don’t say that, you will!” Tyler rebuffed dramatically, not wanting to believe it.

“Tyler, it’s a possibility. If Dr.Bickletwist twists me over, just know that I appreciate everything you’ve ever done for me, despite your excessive whisk jokes. Thank you.” Dan smiled at Tyler before putting the code into the door and walking out.

“You’re welcome! Come home soon, I’m nothing without my number one whisk-a-roo!” Tyler joked, but Dan could see the tears welling in his eyes.

Dan quickly ran back to his friend, wrapping him in a hug. “This is stupid, we know I’ll be fine. I’ve been on so many missions before. I’ll come back soon, we’re being ridiculous. That bickle is no match for me.” He squeezed Tyler tighter in the hug.

“You’re right, I’m just really emotional because I think Louise’s period is coming soon and-”

Dan looked at his friend quizzically.

“You know that shouldn’t really affect your body, right? Just Louise’s.”

“O-oh. Um, I knew that.” Tyler sniffled.

“If you say so, Tyler. If you say so.” -

It had taken Dan a good few minutes to pry the flaming homosexual off of him, causing him to be a little late for take off. The commander was not happy.

“Daniel, I hope you know this is your second strike for tardiness. When i set a time for you to leave for a mission I expect you to be there at that time, not fifteen minutes after.”

Dan shrunk into himself, embarrassed that he’d let it happen again. It wasn’t his fault though, Tyler was literally clinging to him like a limpet.

“Sorry, it won’t happen again. Tyler had a little trouble saying goodbye… he’s very attached.” Dan said sheepishly.

“Well you and your boyfriend are going to have to find a way to be apart for a couple of days if you actually care enough to defeat Dr.Bickletwist, Dan.” Phil spat out saltily, particularly enunciating the word ‘boyfriend’ with venom.

Dan narrowed his eyes at Phil for what was probably the billionth time in his existence. “He’s not my boyfriend and even if he was he’s allowed to be upset that I’m leaving for a while even if it’s not going to be that long.”

Phil opened his mouth to retort but the commander stopped him.

“Daniel, Philip, I think it’s time you two stopped acting like children and starting acting like the heroes I’ve trained you to be. We don’t have time for your childish bickering.” The commander’s voice was sharp and cold, shutting the both of them up immediately.

The commander smiled when the silence was sustained after a few seconds. “Good. Now take these. They have everything you need in them.” The commander handed Dan and Phil identical compact purses. They did look small, but Dan knew they would probably carry fifty times the amount they looked like they should. The Ocean Liner was good at what he did.

“Don’t complain about the design. It looks great and you know it. Now off with you two.”

Dan awkwardly stuffed the purse into his pants, making it look like he had a hernia. He didn’t bother to fix it, today was already way too long and tiring.

The two men walked to the take off zone as slowly as the Ocean Liner would allow, which was not very slow at all. Dan looked down at his feet, up at his commander and finally directly at Phil. He exhaled slowly before hovering in the air. This was going to be his longest, hardest mission yet. An indefinite amount of time spent with his enemy was the last thing he wanted, or quite frankly needed at the moment, but he was going to have to do it. It would be worth it. Worth it for justice.

Next Chapter

#phan #phanfiction #enemiestolovers

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