#this blog looks so barren its bothering me so bad

[sunno-bunno]

Man I'm trying to stop myself from reblogging things on this blog but I don't know what to do with this emptyness while waiting to be able to draw shit

[mittensmorgul]

For anyone interested in long-term residence in the supernatural fandom, please have some observations I’ve made over the decade I’ve been here. Take it or leave it as you will, but I’ve found all of this info useful over the years I’ve been here.

I wrote this yesterday, and it achieved its mission of identifying the sort of folks who would react negatively to it (i.e. a lot of block lists have been updated), so now that it’s been edited for content, it’s going under a cut (because that is how we do things on tumblr in general, unless we have a deliberate purpose for annoying readers with excessively long text posts) for the sake of people who actually do care about the fandom and its history. If that’s not you or your reason for being here, then keep on keeping on with your own thing, I guess. For those who are interested, there’s a lot of fandom resources some of us have been building for years that you might enjoy knowing about.

First off, I’ve been informed by a few friends who’ve read through this for coherency’s sake that it sort of reads like a *shakes cane from porch* fandom grandma complaint, but honestly... I earned this rocking chair and goshdangit imma rock now. So apologies for any “back in my day” vibes or faint aroma of tiger balm this post might give off. Then again, it’s loosely based on a similar post from 2012 so like... time is a flat circle anyway I guess.

1. There is no such thing as “tumblr famous,” unless you’re referring to the hilarious and delightful fic of the same name (please go read it, you will cackle). Posting Hot Takes for imaginary Clout™ on this site is kind of pointless in the long run. Sure you can post solely for the sake of stirring shit and getting notes, but the majority of the folks who do aren’t long term residents of the fandom. They’re just tourists moving through our little beach town for spring break. If you’re actually intent on moving to this corner of the fandom for an extended stay, please bother to really feel out the permanent residents and understand the culture and general mood of the neighborhood. It bears no resemblance to whatever’s going on across town where all the bars and beach parities are happening, and those loud, drunken revelers are, again, gonna disappear back to their regular lives or on to the next party eventually. That doesn’t mean the fandom is dying, it’s just evolving.

(funny how I had several comments implying that I’m just trying to keep the fandom from evolving with this post, because I sincerely do want the fandom to continue on for years to come, and that is impossible without evolution. We can evolve without self-immolating, though. mostly i included point 1 for an excuse to push ancient but hilarious fanfic on you.)

2. Once you post something here, it’s been unleashed to the fandom winds. You never know where it will end up, or who will comment on it or add to it. Remember that time Misha tweeted the link to the Epic Cockles Love Story post? No? It was wild. That was 2012. They all know we’re here, and how to find us if they want to. Please don’t take it to their doorsteps.

Obviously if someone is being a dick on your posts, please feel free to block them, but the whole entire point of this site is to engage people with your posts. Being big mad that someone reblogged your post with comments or supporting evidence, or happy headcanons or “HECK THIS IS GREAT BECAUSE (insert personal story about their experience or whatever else made them Feel Things about your post)” is frankly ridiculous. If your goal is to avoid any sort of engagement with your posts, then maybe try instagram instead. From what I understand, there is a SPN fandom presence there, and nobody can tarnish your original posts with unwanted commentary. But the ability to reblog with additional commentary is a FEATURE of tumblr that builds community through conversation. Otherwise we’re all just talking to ourselves in a vacuum, and that’s what actually kills fandoms.

(and for the folks who just want to blog how they want to blog and don’t want people to engage on their posts at all, please feel free to block anyone you want, as well... nobody wants to step on your toes, but most of us also don’t want to walk on eggshells wondering if this post is one of the “do not add comments for any reason” sorts of posts, either. This is a huge fandom and most people can’t even begin to keep track of every creator and their url du jour, and what their personal rules might be regarding interaction with their content. Including a “please don’t add comments” note at the bottom of your posts-- and not in your tags that won’t even show up on reblogs, but in the actual body of the post-- would sincerely help avoid any awkward or unwanted interactions, too. At the end of the day, you are in control of your own fandom experience and the block button exists.

For the record, I block zero fandom blogs (which is why I posted this, I wanted it to reach a wide scope... refer to the opening paragraphs as to why).

3. Since this post was partly inspired by a tag I left on that post going around about how “previous tags” mean fuckall on this site (which you can read here), just a reminder that if you like someone’s tags or feel they add value to the post, part of the Peer Review structure of tumblr encourages you to PASTE THEM INTO A REBLOG. If you do this, then at least credit the person who actually wrote the tags! Don’t just copy someone else’s tags into your tags on your reblog of the post without credit either. They were not YOUR tags. (I have had this happen to tag rambles I wrote and someone else got credited with them on a subsequent reblog and it is FRUSTRATING). Just... don’t even bother to write “previous tags” because WHAT PREVIOUS TAGS?! Nobody is gonna bother to chase back the chain of reblogs trying to find where the mystery tags came from, friendos. That way lies madness.

(for the record, since some folks seemed to focus on this point solely, writing “previous tags” on a post isn’t inherently a BAD thing, but for anyone who actually is here for more than one-off shitposting, then it’s sort of a pointless thing in the long run. This wasn’t intended to suggest people who ARE here for one-off shitposting are bad or “doing it wrong,” but for people who might actually want to preserve that hilarious joke or insightful comment. People delete posts and entire blogs all the time around here. Links break. I get that the upcoming generation just shrugs at that and moves on with their lives, but heck... you don’t have to accept that all entertainment is disposable if you don’t want to. There’s a bizarre sort of nihilism plaguing us all about the impermanence of pretty much everything that feels like something we should be fighting against rather than buying into wholesale, even in our escapist entertainment. I’m just exhausted by the complete loss of joy in community.

*shouts from the peanut gallery* IT AIN’T THAT DEEP, JUST GET SOME FRESH AIR AND LOOK AT A PUPPY OR SOMETHING

Yes... yes it isn’t really that deep, but bigger picture in the state of reality we’re all entirely disillusioned with, are we supposed to just give up on everything, including the things we cling to because they bring us a tiny spark of hope that we’re not all just trapped in this dystopian nightmare and things might actually be worth living for?

*peanut gallery clinging to burnt husks of peanuts in a barren peanut field* but this is how we have chosen to cope

Okay... you do you... I feel bad for you but if that’s the case then this post is NOT FOR YOU. AND THAT’S FINE. I honestly do not care if you don’t care! I mean, I’m sorry anyone has to live in a world that drives them to that mindset, but I understand. This post is for anyone who might look at their lives and their choices and think “no wait, I unironically enjoy this and want more from the experience of that enjoyment than I’m currently feeling.” Everyone else can continue with their lives as usual.)

4. CONTENT THEFT IS NEVER OKAY. PERIOD. Things like “credit to the artist” or tagging gifs or images you found on pinterest as “not mine” isn’t actually credit. If you can’t source an image or gif set, DO NOT POST IT! We don’t REPOST (i.e. save an image and then create a new post with it as if it was our own creation). We REBLOG (click the little square arrows and reblog from the actual creator). That goes for gif sets, fanvids, screencaps, meta, fic... everything.

(hopefully everyone here already understands this one, but I felt compelled to include some “these are stupidly obvious” reminders anyway, since this is ostensibly some sort of advice column. This is the equivalent of the warning label on your toaster reminding you not to use it in the bath. Like... duh...)

5. Close kin of item 4 is SOURCE YOUR SHIT. 

(for 100% disclosure purposes, I specifically discussed this one in this specific way because of an influx of anon ask messages I received in the wake of the finale. Literally the inciting incident for creating this entire post was what I can only assume was a joking ask about a comment Misha made at a con years ago. Someone actually bothered to take the time to type out those sentences to me. I have no idea what they were expecting in reply, or what could possibly motivate them to send this comment about something so entirely random from, again, several years ago. Just a joke? No idea, but whatever... it got me thinking that there might actually be people who are new to the fandom who MIGHT actually care about the fandom history, and maybe they just don’t know where to go for that info, or how to even begin searching through 16 years of history for things they might actually find enjoyment in, rather than just hauling random out of context garbage out on main and pointing and laughing about it now. People are actually allowed to care about things. It’s not cringeworthy to actually care about things, and you are not alone in actually caring, and there’s this whole big room over here full of people who are thrilled to share in that with you. This post is intended FOR THOSE PEOPLE SPECIFICALLY, so if that is not you, please just continue walking by.)

Yes, I know lots of y’all are new around here right now, but dredging up stuff from years ago that fandom has completely debunked and presenting it as TRU FAX again is just exhausting. We’re not trying to be party poopers, but seriously, we have seen it all and are mostly done with extinguishing bags of flaming dog poop on our front porches for the umpteenth year in a row. I’ve seen a lot of posts that have the same tone as “I saw Goody Proctor dancing with the devil” or “I heard kylo ren has an eight pack” and just... the information is there for anyone who cares enough to find it.

This goes double for “why is nobody talking about this thing I just discovered while watching the show for the first time?!” And, oh hon, we have talked it all into the ground over the last fifteen years. We’re happy you’re discovering it again, but I promise we talked about it plenty when the episodes originally aired. We have such a rich meta history that lots of us have worked really hard to preserve. I encourage you to seek it out, if nothing else than as historical artifacts. The way we have discussed the show has been a 16-year evolution. People have written literal doctoral dissertations on this show. Your shitposts are fun! We love reliving our own experience through fresh eyes, and seeing your wonder at experiencing it all again for the first time! But y’all didn’t invent this fandom in the last six months, either.

Meta Sources and Minerals provided by our friendly neighborhood fandom archivist, @lets-steal-an-archive

Academic books and articles about SPN 

A collection of Meta Essays going back to s1 and organized by topic (all of this has happened before, all of it will happen again)

SPN Heavy Meta Archive (s1-3)

Mel’s Dreamwidth archive of meta (s1-12)

Oranges8hands Dreamwidth archive of meta (s1-15, with many similar entries to Mel’s... though ymmv on viewpoint in a lot of these too)

Anyone remember Fandom Wank? Not the concept but the actual LJ... No? Okay have a link to SPN topics that ended up there. Through 2013. We have seen so much... including several fandom containment breaches.

for all your art sourcing needs, please see @theroadsofararchive, the repository for so much fandom art.

need to find a gif of something? canonspngifs is a vast repository of gifsets of the entire series. If the gif you want to use in your post happens to be the first gif in the gifset, in the tumblr gif finder thingy just paste the permalink to that post from canonspngifs (which is easily searchable by episode, character, location, situation, quotes, and sometimes even color and clothing items the actors are wearing... it’s really well organized, especially for tumblr >.>) and the first gif will be automatically linked with credit to the gif creator attached. It makes life easy that way. It’s also convenient when trying to remember something specific but can’t remember what episode it’s from. I’ve used the site to jog my memory before going to the superwiki armed with more specific search results to find episode quotes and references. Or sometimes I just scroll through all the nice gifs for fun, too.

Need a screencap of something and know exactly which episode it’s from? Try Home of the Nutty. You might not find the exact screencap you’re looking for, but they have a complete set of caps of every episode, and it’s an incredibly useful resource for quick reference checks and the like. Just give pages a chance to fully load before clicking on the next one. The site is easily overloaded, but it’s still free to use (and again, with credit... Pretty much every screencap on my entire blog is from HotN unless otherwise credited).

As you can see, this is a fandom built on preserving our history. You absolutely are not required to engage with any of this if that’s not of interest to you, but I can only assume that there are people who would be interested in it if only they knew it existed and how to find it. Well, now they do.

6. A few more notes on tags, and how they work on tumblr. The first 20 tags on your ORIGINAL posts are searchable sitewide, so if you want to be able to find something again, tag that thing first before going on general tag rambles. The only place tags on reblogs are searchable is on your own blog. So you don’t have to put 50 tags trying to get a post seen if it’s a reblog. You’re just spitting into the wind at that point. If you have a filing system for finding things again, then by all means add those tags (again, in the first 20, so they’re searchable), but you don’t need to tag a reblog “destiel” and “deancas” and “dean” and “cas” and “dean x cas” or whatever. Pick one for your personal blog’s filing system, that’s all you need.

(this was only added because tagging and searching on this site is so very broken... I get that a lot of folks don’t care about ever searching their own blogs again for anything, so this one only really applies if you do often find yourself trying to find old posts. If not, then it’s not really relevant.  It took me years to work out a decent tagging system, and at the beginning of my time here I never thought I’d end up camping out here for a decade and falling this deep into the fandom, and I regretted my lack of consistent tags only years later when I realized I actually wanted to be able to go back and find specific old posts again. So... for anyone who wants to err on the side of caution, working out a sensible tagging system really helps if you’re here for the long term. I personally tag content by episode, because some of my other general tags are so large as to be practically useless as a search term. But whatever system you choose to file stuff on your own blog, it really only has to make sense to you. And again, if this is pointless advice for someone who has no intention of settling here for the long term. Please feel free to ignore it. I just wish someone had explained it this way to me ten years ago and saved me the hassle of retroactively tagging something like 30k posts... especially now that using the mass tag replacer is the fastest way to get your entire blog deleted... oops? so yeah, don’t use the mass tag replacer either >.>)

7. Tags on Tumblr DO NOT WORK LIKE TAGS ON TWITTER. If you @ someone in the body of the post, it will show up in their notifications (if they’re the sort of person who even checks their notifications... not all of us do. For the record, I generally don’t...), but putting actor or ship names in the tags on a tumblr post does absolutely nothing. It’s not the same as tagging the actor’s twitter account in a tweet. Nobody’s getting notifications about you tagging a post about Jensen here as “Jensen Ackles.” There is a difference. Please learn it. (and don’t take headcanons and ESPECIALLY RPF or otherwise explicit art or fic from tumblr to twitter and tag the actors in it. That’s just... not okay.)

(I have seen the pearl clutchers getting all in a huff about the mere existence of RPF or even explicit content of fictional characters if it doesn’t meet their purity standards, but tagging those things allows people who don’t want to see it to actively avoid that content here. Nobody has a right to tell people their fictional content shouldn’t exist at all, or that creators of that fictional content somehow deserve harassment or threats for having dared to create such “immoral” content, won’t somebody PLEASE think of the children... and no... you do not do that here. Don’t be the problematic behavior you wish to ban from the world. Learn to use tags to protect yourself from, as i have attempted to emphasize here, fictional content you are personally upset by. That’s a you problem, not a problem for the creators of potentially upsetting content that they tag appropriately for.)

8. General formatting stuff: If you’re writing long text posts, visually break them up so people aren’t faced with one long wall of text. The enter key is your friend. Also, if you put long text posts under a Read More break and send people to your blog to finish reading, please ensure that your blog is actually visually accessible (tiny text, or light grey text on a dark grey background, or a visually busy background might be aesthetically pleasing to you but nobody can actually read it. Loads of folks won’t even try. Which is great if you don’t actually care whether people are able to appreciate your content or not, but something to at least consider if you *do* actively want to encourage engagement with your work. Confirm how your blog looks on both mobile and desktop and make sure it’s actually functional in both, too).

And since I mentioned that most of my experience on fandom tumblr has been in the SPN fandom, here’s a bit of a reminder for folks who are new around here. With the reminder that I have been here more than a decade and still feel like a newbie myself sometimes...

This is an OLD FANDOM. There are many, many people who have been at this longer than some of you have been alive. The average age for creators in this fandom is older than you think (I think of my friends in their 30′s as young’ins okay? okay). With that understood, you are responsible for the content you consume and are exposed to. Curate your experience. Ship and let ship. YKINMKATOK. Don’t deliberately expose yourself to content you find upsetting for whatever reason. Tags and warnings are your friends, not targets for you to attack in some sort of purity war. People will ship things you do not like (or in specific ways you do not like), will say things you do not agree with, and will find their happiness in things you abhor. That is not your concern. Find what you do like, and support and engage with it, and ignore (or block, or unfollow) the rest. Tumblr has a feature that lets you blacklist tags so the content you’re trying to avoid won’t appear on your dash.

Remember the paradox of tolerance.

It is not your job in fandom to police how other people enjoy the fandom. It’s not *my* job to police how *you* enjoy the fandom, UNLESS your enjoyment is in actively harming other real human beings in the fandom. If you don’t like their take on the character or the show or the plotlines or their ships or anything else, you don’t need to engage with their posts at all! The necessary corollary to this is that clarifying misunderstandings or correcting factual misinformation is not “policing.” 

(this is where the peanut gallery reminds me it ain’t that deep, and I plead with them to put down the social media and find just one (1) thing to actually believe in in this godforsaken life, find something other than disdain and cynicism and spite to live for. If those things motivate you to find a larger cause for yourself, then great, use them to your advantage, but use them to find something that makes you a better person or brings you a modicum of joy and connection to your fellow human beings despite living in a dystopian hellscape of a world)

I have seen a lot of posts lately that are founded on the sort of authority that comes with “I watched through tumblr for a few months and then watched the last three episodes of the series” and as such are just... missing the larger context of the entire show, and are unfounded entirely in canon. I 100% appreciate the new enthusiasm for the fandom that we’ve been living in here for years, and it’s wonderful to see new people enjoying the thing we love. Your headcanons are valid, you are valid, but recognize that your headcanons aren’t canon. All of us finale denialists have accepted this in some measure, so we feel you. We truly, truly feel you. But regarding actual canon, we have a resource for that: the Superwiki. Learn it, live it, love it, as Metatron would say.

(which you could discover he said in 10.17 Inside Man, thanks to the superwiki! accept no substitutes!)

(and again, there have been people who have been involved in fandom for years who haven’t engaged with canon in years, either! You can play in this universe however you choose, BUT FOR PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT CANON AT ALL, WHICH I AM AGAIN POINTEDLY SAYING MIGHT NOT BE YOU, READER, AND I’M NOT SUGGESTING YOU ARE WRONG FOR NOT WANTING TO ACTUALLY ENGAGE WITH CANON, but if you DO want to engage with canon, please have some useful resources. Why do people feel personally attacked by being presented a list of helpful resources? Absolutely baffling.)

(also: words have definitions. “Canon” is a specific thing, meaning in this case “the finished media product that aired on television.” Anything beyond those limits is secondary canon (think: john’s journal, which is not canon but canon adjacent at best...), word of god (i.e stuff said by the writers and showrunners), or headcanon (which includes actor commentary-- they may have helped create the show with their acting choices and whatever, but they are not in control of the story overall). If there’s something you dislike about actual canon, you can reject it and supplement it with your own theories or preferred outcomes-- that’s basically what fanfic is-- but that doesn’t make your theories canon (much to all our dismay, that’s just not how any of this works. This is not to invalidate how anyone engages with the show or the fandom, just trying to clarify what seems to have been a source of unintentional misunderstandings. Your theories do not have to be “canon” to be legitimate interpretations.)

***I am setting this section apart, and did make a separate post of just this following information, because this is where we go from being relatively chill about different parts of fandom choosing to interact in different ways and you do you and blog however you want, to “hey can everybody please understand that the way you are interacting with this specific material might be harmful for specific legal reasons, and stating that you do not care about the consequences of your actions does actively make you the asshole here...” Okay, now that we have that understood:

The spnscripthunt collective has been steadily acquiring new scripts (which are posted in full on the superwiki for everyone to enjoy, for free). The language around how some folks are talking about these scripts is... concerning. For very real legal reasons, actually, and not because we’re feeling precious about the collection and don’t wike it when meanies use them in shitposts.

-First off, these scripts are not “leaks.” They are all verified and legally purchased (or gifted, in some cases, but still acquired entirely above board. we didn’t whack anyone over the head in a back alley for these scripts, or swipe them out of someone’s trailer on set).

(in case anyone was unaware, these scripts are the copywritten protected property of Warner Brothers. So yes, how we use them and share them with the fandom could have legal repercussions. We present them as a collected resource of fandom history which SHOULD fall under Fair Use doctrine, but this is untested legal water. Insinuating that the scripts are somehow not entirely legally obtained, or that posting them for public access involved less than 100% transparent and entirely legal transactions is incredibly concerning.

Once again for the peanut gallery, if you don’t care about any of that and are just having a good time with it, at least be mindful of the work and expense a large group of people have gone through to acquire and present the content you’re all too eager to exploit for cheap thrills. Some of us do actually care and are not exactly comfortable with the fact that others don’t seem to care about burning it all to the ground. We can’t force you to listen or behave as we’d hope you might, but at least be aware of the potential consequences of your actions. All we’re asking is for you to not be the douchebag who sets the whole neighborhood on fire with your illegal fireworks display. Is that too much to ask for? more on that in a second, first... a psa)

-If you see a script for sale and are unsure if it’s legit (or believe it might already be freely available in our collection), please feel free to ask us for advice. Our goal is to make as much of our fandom history available to the entire fandom, and we absolutely do not want anyone shelling out money for stuff you can already find for free.

(seriously, we’ve seen a bunch of resellers cropping up selling printed versions of the scripts we bought and uploaded for everyone to enjoy free of charge, or scripts that are otherwise of dubious origin. We’ve been at this for years now and know what’s actually out there. We don’t want anyone to fall for a scam if we can help it)

-Also, the usual reminder that the scripts we acquire ARE NOT NECESSARILY THE FINAL SHOOTING DRAFTS. In fact, the majority of scripts in our collection are NOT. Changes are made daily to scripts, even during filming. Comparing a Production Draft (white pages, effectively the first “final draft” of what usually becomes a series of drafts before filming wraps) to a much later revision (say... green or goldenrod revisions, several of which we DO have in our collection for comparison) and how those earlier drafts often differ wildly from the aired version versus how similar a much later green draft is to the aired version, for example, can teach you a lot about the television writing process. The link above to the superwiki scripts page has a nice little explainer about how this process works.

Differences between our posted scripts (many of which are white drafts, aka FIRST complete drafts, which will likely go through multiple rounds of revisions before filming even begins) and the aired version of the show are not all “acting choices” or a director or editor just cutting whole scenes on a whim. It’s insulting to everyone involved in production to suggest that’s the case.

(and yeah, fine... whatever, make any sort of posts you like regarding how those changes came about, but at the very least understand that it’s not actually the truth about how any of this works. Don’t care that that’s not the truth and want to make the posts anyway because shitposting is fun and that’s the extent of your sense of humor? FINE! You’re entitled to do that! But at least you DO know the truth now, and hopefully so do the people who engage with your posts. Deliberate ignorance isn’t cute, smooth lions notwithstanding)

There’s probably a whole other post to be made on fandom tagging etiquette, but again I don’t really use the tags enough to know what’s going on with that whole situation. I’ve also probably left a lot of stuff out, so please feel free to add things I’ve overlooked.

Thanks also to @trisscar368 and @thayerkerbasy for help compiling this, too. They were kind enough to escort me through the park to feed these pigeons. Now I need to take them out for ice cream. :’D

So I guess welcome to the neighborhood. Make yourself at home, but like... try not to trash the place while you’re here. Some of us live here by choice, lol.

[random-mha-thoughts]

Cabin Fever (Dabi x Reader)

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Genre: Fluff, pwp

Prompt: Winter with Dabi, sweater, flannel

Summary: Dabi and you get away on a mini vacation in the mountains and end up inside due to the snow.

Word count: 1,384

Tags: @rintomoj @yamichxn @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog @bunnythepipsqueak

a/n: My winter entry for the Seasonal Love Event being held by my Discord server!  This is just fluff without too much plot, but I hope you guys enjoy the little bit of coziness it might give you~  Stay tuned for the other entries by my friends!

Seasonal Love Event Masterlist

"I hate to be that kind of boyfriend, but what's the point of this?"  Dabi trails behind me, boredom visible in his entire expression.

"Because it's our anniversary?"  My eyebrow quirks up.  "Don't be rude."

"Right."

His last word earns an elbow in the chest from me.  "I thought you would've liked spending time all alone with me, considering you're always complaining about your friends constantly butting in."

"Yeah,  but did we have to go all the way into the mountains?"  His eyes dart around cautiously.  "It's a little too secluded for my taste."

"What, are you scared you might cause a fire?"  I unload more of our bags out of the trunk.  "And as long as we're laying out gripes, it's not fair that you can be out in winter in just that stupid flannel and not be cold."

The man glances down at his black and blue flannel shirt, unbuttoned to reveal just a white T-shirt, a stark contrast to my coat-and-beanie attire.  "You can thank my quirk for that."  His long arm slithers around my shoulders, his natural warmth a welcome hug to cut through the cold seeping through even my heavy winter coat.  "I could share it with you, maybe in more ways than one."

"Ugh, you and your greasy comments."  I shove him away, before quickly pulling him back in when the warmth regretfully withdraws. "You can't go a day without making an innuendo."

"Isn't that why you're with me in the first place?"

"No, I'm with you despite that."  I hit his chest and carry the bags into the cabin in front of us.  "Hurry up and help me take in the rest of the bags, we have a lot of unpacking and stuff to do.

Eventually, we get ourselves settled into the cabin.  My uncle usually rents these cabins to other couples, but I asked him when it was available for us to get away from the city for a bit.  Work was getting a bit hard for both of us to take - obviously Dabi's work is much more demanding on him - so we needed to get away.

"It's a pretty small place, cozy I guess."  He came back after touring the small cabin in its entirety.  "Big enough for just the two of us."

I'm unpacking some of the plastic utensils and plates we plan to eat using.  "Yeah, my family sometimes vacations here.  There were nine of us the last time, so some of us slept on the floor."

"Well," his scarred limbs slither around me again, "At least now there aren't seven other people to bother us."

"Dabi, I swear, do you have anything else in your thick head?"  I hit him with a plate and shove him away.  "There's a grill and fire pit in the back, we could probably have a little barbecue to ourselves tomorrow night."

His low voice hums right next to my ear.  "I don't know if you checked the weather, babe, but apparently we're due to get a lot of snow tomorrow."

My jaw drops and I whine out, "You're not serious!  Damn it!  Well that plan's down the drain now."

"And we'll have to do something else to warm ourselves up..."

"GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER ALREADY!"

His raven hair shuffles as he throws his head back in a throaty laugh, leaning back against the fridge to look down his nose at me.  He's enjoy this teasing a little too much.  It's normal for Dabi to be a flirty little shit, but he must be more charged up at the thought of us being all alone in a house in the mountains together.  Where no one can probably hear us.

Now that I think about it, that makes sense.

"If I knew your hormones were gonna go into overdrive being alone, I wouldn't have planned our weekend like this, we could've gone to an amusement park or something."  I move away from him into the living room.

"It's not such a bad thing though.  Might as well take advantage of our situation, right?"

"Dabi!"

~

The next night, the two of you were stuck in the cabin, the snow storm outside raging on despite your vacation plans.  Wind howls outside as it rushes through the swaying trees.  It was a good thing my uncle left a few decks of cards and some board games so we wouldn't be terribly bored out here, probably for when he rents them to others.

"Your turn."

I look up from my phone and down at the board game.  Gathering the dice in my hand, I make my next move.  "I took some nice pictures today, wanna see?"

He scoots next to me, his pinky finger catching onto the long sleeve of my sweater as I flip through my gallery.  "That one's nice, send that to me."

"I really like that one too," I smile gleefully.  That picture was actually my favorite; it was one I took at dawn while Dabi was still sleeping.  The barren trees glistened in the approaching golden light of the rising Sun.  The entire sky and lake reflection was bathed in a marriage of pinks and oranges, fighting the dark blue at the edge of the photo while the ice on the branches twinkled as if stars.  "I think it's gonna be my new phone background for a while."

"Or you could sell it and make some money off it," Dabi suggests, picking up the dice from where they landed after my toss.

Usually, I would rebuke him for such an idea, but the thought of making a few bucks off my amateur photography is tempting.  "Maybe, I'll think about it.  Or I'll just print it out to hang in the apartment."

I notice Dabi had left his thick flannel draping over the couch messily.  For the love of everything good.  "Babe, at least hang your stuff up in the closet."  I pick up his clothes and hang it in the closet by the door, retrieving my own jacket from there to hang over my shoulders.  My fingers were a tiny bit cold from the weather outside.  Although the heat was on, it wasn't up to my standards as someone who's generally always cold.

"You still have that?"  It's almost teasing, but there's the slightest bit of pride and affection behind his teal eyes resting on me.

"Of course, you never let me return it," I bite back in a similarly playful manner before snuggling back next to him on the floor.

Dabi and I first met by chance in the city, waiting for the bus.  I was probably shaking like a leaf next to him, to the point where I knew I was becoming a minor annoyance to him due to my chattering teeth.  To my surprise, he shed his down jacket and draped it around my shoulders.

I was quick to protest and refuse it.  "No, it's okay, I don't want you to be cold like that."

That day, he was wearing just a black hoodie.  "Nah, it's fine.  I'm hot blooded anyway."

Ever since that day when we started talking, I realized this man didn't wear a jacket at all, not even in the dead of winter on the most frigid days.  When we would go on dates, he would wear one just in case I got cold.  It warms my heart to this day that he would even think of such an affectionate gesture.

Dabi's bare arms wrap around my body.  "If you were cold, you should've told me, I would've warmed you up myself."  His head rests on mine as he says innocently, "In more ways than one."

"Get away."  I shove his chest, but he remains strong.

"You wouldn't push away your human heater, you love me too much," he chuckles, placing a kiss on my temple.

I hum, simply basking in his warmth.  "Isn't it funny how you ended up dating someone who's perpetually cold?"

He casually shrugs again.  "At least my quirk has a non-destructive purpose, I guess."

Although he says it so uncaring, I know his own warm affection blooms in his chest at the thought of us being matched because of our opposing qualities.  "Opposites attract, huh?" I breathe, tracing the staples on his hand as he pulls me closer into his space, eliminating any distance between us.

"Not really. You do have a fiery temperament, sometimes when-"

"Shut up!"

[glitterge1pen]

Tired

Iwaizumi Hajime x reader, sfw, word count 1,424

You were so tired. Tired in your bones, in your eyes, the heaviness of your hair on your head. Your entire being was exhausted. You had work, and projects, and due dates. Friends that needed help, family that called you one too many times. It had been this way for weeks. The work kept coming. It didn't stop. There was always something to do.

Even in the late hours of the night when you found moments of free time, the things you enjoyed didn't seem fun. You didn't want to draw, or paint, or play video games, even watching the tv felt draining. You were so utterly exhausted that it hurt.

But it was Friday night now, and you had nothing booked. You had ignored the few texts on your phone. Turned off your notifications for work emails. You trudged through your front door. Not bothering to kick off your shoes and coat. You headed straight for your bedroom, landing on your bed with a thump. It was 6:30pm and you were going to sleep. You were going to sleep forever you decided.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　

At 7:00 Iwaizumi appeared at your front door with two boxes of takeout. You had been really busy lately and hadn't had time to hang out with him. But you had said Friday was free, that he should come over. He stood there for a couple minutes after he had knocked and rang the doorbell. He texted you again but no answer. He wondered if you were home. He couldn't see if any of the lights were on, you weren't answering.

Maybe something had come up?

Then he got concerned. What if something had happened? He hadn't heard one peep from you all day which was a little odd, you weren't one to blow him off without at least sending a text message either. He checked social media, trying to see if you had posted anything but you had been radio silent on all platforms for the day.

He looked this way and that. Not sure exactly what he should do. He decided that he wouldn't be able to eat all this take out. The best option would be to go inside, spoon some out into a container, put it in your fridge and then leave.

And he was curious.

Iwaizumi went to your mailbox. He stuck his hand inside, grazing his palm on the inside of the mailbox until he found the extra key you had duct taped there. He had seen you do this on many a drunk night.

He unlocked the door quietly. Even though he wasn't doing anything wrong it felt strange to be in your home without you. He crept into the kitchen, setting the food down quietly. Before he got to banging open the cabinets to find a container, he wanted to look around.

All the lights were off so he flicked the hallway switch on. He poked his head into your bedroom. There you were. A lump amongst the blankets and pillows. Laying face down, fully clothed, you hadn't even bothered to crawl under the covers.

And your room. God it was a mess. Iwaizmumi felt bad for judging you on that. But it was really messy. Then it struck him. How busy you said you were, how you haven't hung out as much, how you were texting and calling less. You must have been so fatigued.

He quickly went back to the kitchen, putting the food in the fridge. Then he found a trash bag from under your sink and got to work. Back in your room he tossed away crumpled receipts, some food wrappers, an empty amazon box, junk mail that had piled up next to your bed.

He thought it might be creepy what he was doing. Especially because he kept looking at you to make sure you were still asleep. He wasn't sure if he could handle the awkwardness that would be you waking up to him sorting through your trash.

He moved so quietly, stiff and still. He could hear your breathing. The lull of it made himself sleepy. He thought about what it would be like to lay with you. He noticed your feet hanging off the bed, he wondered if he should push them onto the mattress. You’d be terribly sore if he left you hanging off the bed like that. But he was much too scared of waking you to do so. He’d look at your resting face, see how empty and overworked you were, and start cleaning in vigor again.

Iwaizumi hung up jackets and cardigans. Turned away as he tossed a pile of t-shirts and bras into a hamper. Lined up your shoes into proper pairs in the closet. Straightened up the books, stationery and knick-knacks on your desk. Rid the nightstand of dirty glasses of water. Ran a rag over your lights to get rid of the dust. He even swept the floor.

The only thing he couldn't do was make the bed. He felt proud himself as he scanned the room in its new state of perfection. But that feeling faltered when he thought of what Oikawa would say in this moment. There would have definitely been some heavy teasing. It didn't matter. If you weren't going to take care of yourself, Iwaizumi would do his best to pick up the slack.

In the kitchen he took some of the food for himself, and left the rest for you. Leaving the extra key on top of the container in the fridge. He wrote a simple message on a sticky note. Tacking it to the food. Before leaving he gave the place one more scan. Making sure his presence was not there at all.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　

Saturday morning you woke up feeling as if you had returned from vacation. It was as if you hadn’t actually been in your body for a while. You were also unusually optimistic for just waking up. This good feeling wore off fast. The waves of exhaustion had ceased their attacks, but your body was sore. Specifically your legs. And you were hot, sweaty from sleeping in your clothes. Your face felt dirty. Mouth gross and dry. You had skipped the night routine.

Rolling over onto your back was when you noticed. Your room was spotless. You definitely had not cleaned last night. Or at all in the past few weeks for that matter. Suddenly you felt uneasy.

Had some creep broke in? Was this going to be one of those bizarre news articles about a girl getting murdered in an elaborate way? You glance around for your phone. You thought you had tossed it next to you upon getting home but found it on your nightstand plugged in.

You snatch it up, surprised that it is already 11:45am. There is a missed facetime call from your best friend, a couple instagram notifications, and then a small barrage of texts from Iwaizumi.

“Oh my god”

You say out loud. This was definitely the work of Iwaizumi. Then the rush of guilt flooded into you. You had completely forgotten about him. You winced and then flopped back on the bed. Even worse was that he had seen the total wreck that was your room. It wasn't usually so unkempt but you hadn't had the time or energy to clean at all.

Unsure if this was a calling or texting matter you push it aside for the moment. You needed food. As if on cue you felt how barren your stomach was. You could text Iwaizumi back after you got at least a slice of bread.

Your heart dropped off a cliff when you saw the takeout. It was your favorite, you knew just from the box. In Iwaizumi’s long precise handwriting was his very curt note.

Came with food. Cleaned.

-Hajime

You didn't even warm the food up. Just started eating. You felt as if you should cry. He hadn't even woke you up. You were so overwhelmed by what he had done. It was so much, he had just brought over food and tidied up but it was so much. You laughed at what his reaction would be, if you called him with tears pouring down your face, trying to eat. You were so happy that he had done any of this for you at all.

Phone in hand you hovered over his contact, hesitating. But you know you have to call.

“Hey, you're awake”

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　

A/N: I've never posted writing on Tumblr before so tell me how this goes? I'm working on making some navigation for the blog, hopefully that stuff will be here by the end of the week.

In the meantime feel free to request some haikyuu related things. Drop anything in the inbox, if I write it I do, if I don't I don't.

[trixcuomo]

The Sig Nicious Affair

((Next on Desperate Alt's Lives... Rustic Night Elf Sharpen tries to fix Trixany. Ho boy.))

Trixany: I didn't mean for me losing my Kaja-Cola Girl status to come out this way. What am I gonna do now? I've just been... trying to stay calm and quiet, until the Daily Mail Org drops its final bomb on me by announcing everything to the whole of Azeroth, like one big, giant ker-splosion, my whole life up in flames. And trust me, I did not handle it well, back at HQ. There's bound to be footage. I'm sure my press-on nails are still in President Glim Poprock's grimy little green butt-cheek.

Sharpen: That sounds like a creative injury to get in a Goblin-style corporate office brawl.

Trixany: *smiles slightly* It was one of my better ones. Ugh, now I'm finally done. I don't know where to turn... Usually, I just grab another scandal to stuff the bad news down under something new. But a lot of people have quietly withdrawn their contracts, stopped associating with me. Sharpen... I think. I think I'm socially dead? I mean, it's not a real kind of dead. But. *winces, clutches the front of her shirt over her heart* It still hurts, kinda? *sobs, her little elf voice squeaking* Oh gods, my social life dying is giving me actual, physical pain. How pointless have I become??

Sharpen: *sadly sips his coffee while Trixany gives over to dramatic Blood Elf-style crying* Yeah... We need to get you re-connected.

Trixany: I know! Why don't you lend me one of your used BOY TOYS, Sharpen!

Sharpen: Not Haris Pilton right now. I'm really not.

Trixany: Sorry, when I'm in pain like this I just see her everywhere, in everyone. *spirals back into wild crying* Oh gods, I just insulted my poor, poor Sharpy. He's just a hopeless himbo, it's not his fault.

Sharpen: *sighs at her* Hold on. Hrm. Well, that's not too far off of an idea, you know. *he sits up* Why don't I come up with a way to get you involved with someone that'll knock your rivals' teeth out? Then, they'll have to re-connect with you. That's how it works, correct?

Trixany: You're practically a lumberjack, Sharpen. I don't want to date some she-bear you passed over the last time you visited the watering hole. Not even a cute he-bear. *tears up once more* And bears are so fuzzy and sweet with their big brown eyes. What is wrong with me? Why am I insulting bears now? Ugh...

Sharpen: Yeah, you're bitter. Give me a day or two, then we'll talk again. I'll figure a way to get you hooked up and clear out of your slump for sure. And then you can stop trash-talking everything that breathes.

Trixany: Oh, Sharpen. I don't know, maybe you shouldn't bother. Maybe... Maybe my friends, and Sunthraze of all people, and even Lady Liadrin are right. I admit that it's just possible this vapid lifestyle of mine has come for me in the end. Me chasing something that isn't even real--what is celebrity anyway? What existential pain am I trying to ameliorate by pursuing a fantasy life that could never, ever sate me, fill up my soul, precisely because it is so false? I am a Blood Knight. I serve the Light, an all-loving, humble, selfless power. But I have been so heartless, haven't I? I've only made myself into a walking contradiction at long last. *looks away, dramatic* Oh, don't cry for me! I will repent. I will go now to Light's Hope Chapel and finally make good. What a reckless ride it has been. What scars I've rightfully earned. Good bye, Trixany Cuomo. Me and my stage name had some great times together, but now I know the truth. I shall never again see thee--

Sharpen: Two words. Sig. Nicious.

Trixany: Shut-up.

Sharpen: But that's the good kind of 'shut up' right?

Trixany: I could never, ever date Sig. Not even get near him. You think I haven't low-key tried before? Nobody dates Sig. I mean, he's available, he does date people, but he's the ultimate mysterious band guitarist. Listen, not even Haris ever bagged him. He's far too careful about who he spends his time with. You're talking about catching a tiger in a soda bottle, socially. And, you're in the Alliance, how could you even manage it? Sharpen, you're crazy! Why don't you just let me go and be normal at long last? I'm sure there are lots of people out there who want that. They're unfollowing me right now. That's what social death is, Sharpen. I should go with it, being normal. Give in. *winces* It'll be fine. Tomorrow, I'll blog about how well I enjoy the cherry grog at the Tail and then complain about the price of spikes on the Orgrimmar auction house or something, like every loyal Hordie. Nice, predictable.

Sharpen: Excuse me, my lady. But did you forget that -you- are Trixany Cuomo, and I am an expert hunter? We just need to set Sig Nicious a good enough trap. Let's see...

Trixany: I can't believe some nature-loving Night Elf is about to give me socialite advice. Sharpen, let's quit while we're ahead. Or far, far behind. My whole career may as well be beneath Deepholm.

Sharpen: I know. *snaps fingers* Start a rumor that you're already dating Sig.

Trixany: And then I get sued.

Sharpen: No. Then you hold a press conference with the Org Daily Mail or something to allay the rumors. Throw water on the fire you started. Claim that you're flattered, but then graciously say you've 'honestly never even considered it before, though he does seem nice.'

Trixany: I don't understand. I'm... turning Sig Nicious down before I even meet him?

Sharpen: No, you're not following me. Trixany, he'll rise to the challenge. Come on, trust a man's perspective. A man who's an adventurer like me? Sig's bound to be a thrill-seeker, he's in a rock band. And if it works out, the two of you will be perfect--he performs, so do you. You both live in the spotlight. All the glamorous do's, the nice three-piece suits. We could match. And he has great hair. You know, the height difference isn't so bad either.

Trixany: What height difference, I mean it's not too drastic. We're both Blood Elves? Oh, I see. *eyes him* Look, you need an off-switch for your libido, Sharpen. It was fun when you and I first met, but now you're ruining it.

Sharpen: Right--heh, sorry.

Trixany: But what if he's already dating someone that the world doesn't know about? What if he's not interested?

Sharpen: Trixany. Don't tell me you'd want a guy who isn't interested in you. That's a moot point. But it -will- stick in his craw and if there's any chance you two are genuinely compatible, then it'll be in his nature too. Sig will go for the bait. And what guy wants to be called 'nice'?

Trixany: Well, some guys are just... you know, nice. *green eyes look up, thinking about this* Oh.

Sharpen: Like I said, he'll attempt to prove you wrong.

Trixany: *leans in* This is sinister. This isn't... something I'd expect someone in the Alliance to come up with.

Sharpen: *points, knowingly* And that's why you all lost the Southern Barrens.

Trixany: Damn. Touché.

((oooh this is getting crazy, I'm so excited! LOL))

[vemodalarna]

The Glacier House

Characters: Fire Spirit Cookie & Sea Fairy Cookie (mentioned: Moonlight Cookie, Angel Cookie, Devil Cookie and Peppermint Cookie) Ships: none Word count: 1892 Description: Fire Spirit visits his sister.

wow! this blog has been seriously inactive, huh! here’s a fanfic i found on my phone and finished at 2 AM the day before the last day of school this year. not really edited but i love FS + SF content so it was just a matter of time that i posted this anyway. cross-posted on AO3!

-----

Magic was an odd concept, even for deities like himself. How air could be filled with its properties, morphing and affecting everyone within its range was a mystery. Simply using a spell took a large toll on the sorcerer that cast it. It would drain one both physically and mentally, to the point where they would turn delirious. Only a few prodigies and masters could use spells safely. 

Fire Spirit, even though he was made from a spell so powerful it could take down an army, felt these limitations too. The fire underneath his skin would bubble aggressively and he'd feel the ground spiral beneath him.

It made Sea Fairy's final creation all the more impressive.

His fingers ached and each time he moved them they groaned and cracked. Despite being made from ashes, forged by fire and nursed in its flames, Fire Spirit could feel the creeping cold crawling up his back.

The more he thought about how much turmoil Sea Fairy must've felt and how the magic must have started to seep out of her cold, fragile skin, the more bitter he became.

Sea Fairy was barely younger than him. When he started terrorizing the lands under the orders of the Witch, the silent woods and crashing ocean grew anxious. After many moonlit nights, the sea emerged and the forest joined shortly after.

Wind Archer never paid him much attention. The guardian was busy tending to the small villages of the first civilisations of cookies. The destruction Fire Spirit had caused was tremendous; almost no cookies had survived.

The guardian made of sand and water, however, was quick to join Moonlight's side to defeat Fire Spirit and his realm. She had no emotions in her eyes when she first struck at him, her mind was somewhere else when she had him pinned to the grass under him.

He remembered the sharp pointed edge of her crystal sword and the fear he felt when she stared into his eyes. His arms felt scratchy when he remembered the water of her hair hitting his skin, his burning arms turning solid and dark.

Sea Fairy was a deity filled with justice and wisdom. When they first met, she had only existed for a year or so, but her posture and speech made her seem like she was a millennia old.

She was the only reason the fire legend even betrayed the witch. Her hidden kindness and passive interest in his well-being made Fire Spirit realise how pathetic and unhealthy his intentions were.

Their relationship kept on blossoming afterwards. Sea Fairy taught him justice and peace, while Fire Spirit taught her how to let herself feel and disconnect herself from her duties and destiny.

She eventually started falling apart. Fire Spirit could do nothing as he watched his friend- no, sister- desperately long for something else. Being a woman of few words, she never told him what bothered her so.

It only made the sour feeling Fire Spirit had in his stomach worse.

Could he have prevented this? It had been so long since he heard her voice. Where did his morals that she taught him so lovingly go?

Fire Spirit was a prankster. Nobody trusted him; not even his own people. They'd sacrifice things- belongings, money, food, or even other cookies- to keep him 'entertained'. He was a seducer, a gainer. Not someone to trust.

He had pushed away Moonlight when she came to console him. Fire Spirit was a shell of his former self and when he saw Moonlight's concerned eyes, he couldn't feel any pity. Just anger and sadness towards his lost family.

Shaking his head, he dragged his hand against the cold wall of her tower. The frozen bricks sizzled under his hand, but it didn't melt or deform. The enchanted ice was unbreakable, and he wondered how she managed. Just moving a simple flame for a longer period exhausted him- how had this spell not been broken yet? It had been centuries. Her power must surely have run out.

His heels clicked as he briskly walked upwards in the frozen columns. When she first froze all those hundreds of years ago, the tower wasn't a tower. It was merely a swirling wave, connecting at her waist. He vaguely remembers Moonlight making plans in Sea Fairy's honor, to make her final statement to this world a beautiful one. Fire Spirit just thought it was rude.

Grumbling, he grew impatient. Tapping his staff twice, he blasted up the halls, not wanting the lingering guilt to grow any larger.

He landed roughly on the glass surface at the top. Staring down at his reflection, Fire Spirit braced himself.

All around him was an even circle of sea foamed colored blue ice, mirroring the night sky above him. It was barren, nothing misplaced because there was nothing, except her and the small gifts placed around her from cookies brave enough to climb the tower. Enchanted flowers, potions and vials, and conchs and shells.

Frozen and destroyed she stood in the middle, her anguish and exhaustion written as clear as day. For anyone else, Sea Fairy would look longing and mysterious, but Fire Spirit knew her too well.

Her hands were reaching up, her back arched and her long pointed ears pulled downward. The moon shone bright, its light bouncing off her in waves. Sea Fairy seemed almost translucent in the soft light.

The edge of her sword was burrowed into the glass. It stood tilted, as if it froze mid throw. There were no cracks or unevenness around it; the plane stood untouched.

Fire Spirit had many times tried to pull it out- to feel it's comforting weight in his hands and give his beloved friend her life-line back. No matter how hard he pulled or how much he tried to melt the ground around it, the sword would not budge.

Tears were molded into her cheeks, a permanent sign on the aching in her heart. Despite the rumble of grief seeping into the air, her face was gentle and accepting. As if she had no regrets about giving up her life for the moon whom she loved, as if she knew this was the end of her pain.

Fire Spirit swallowed the clump growing in his throat as he looked at the familiar scene in front of him. "You... You idiot," he muttered, no malice evident in his voice. "You really went and did it this time, huh?" The fire deity chuckled, his mouth tasting like ash.

Sea Fairy did not respond. Obviously. Nothing but the waves could be heard, and Fire Spirit peered at his hands to avoid staring at the unmoving face of the individual he considered a sister. The fire under his skin bubbled in shame, and he could feel the weight on his shoulders pressing him down.

"... Actually, I'm the idiot here, right?" Fire Spirit squinted. "I haven't visited in so long, at least a couple of decades. Time flies by so fast when you're busy protecting the world, I guess. Yeah, if anyone's a fool, it's me.

"So much has happened since I last spoke to you- uh, Moonlight rebuilt her tower! Y'know the one... I knocked down- accidentally! But you probably know that," He could hear the sheepishness in his own voice and he cringed. "I have kids now- twins, actually. Devil and Angel cookie. They just showed up and slotted themselves into my life, which is saying a lot- I never was the father type," He smiled despite himself. "You'd like them. I know you always had a soft spot for kids. Even though my kids might both be tiny demons in disguise."

The moon shone quietly above them, luminating her face. Fire Spirit bounced impatiently on his feet as he looked anywhere but her almost closed, melancholic eyes. He hated this. Hated seeing her like this. He knew there was nothing he could do, not really, but the pain latched onto his core and would not let go.

"There's a new kid on the block, too. Pep- Peppermint? I believe? They're a good kid, very quiet," he chuckled, looking at the small blue conch at the bottom of her dress. "They hang around Moonlight a lot. Barely looks at me, but once they looked me straight in the eye and, uh... They have this conch, right? Pretty blue thing, they play tunes on it when they think nobody is around, and- yeah. Anyway, once they looked at me and took our their conch, and said that- ..."

Fire Spirit looked out at the horizon, watching the shores move softly. The moon shone and dispersed among them, and the fire deity couldn't help but feel nostalgic for something long, long ago. Sniffing, he forced himself to look back at the very cookie he considered family and look at her soft, clear eyes.

"... they got it from the sea," he smiled softly, feeling gushy. Stressed, he scratched his pointy ear. "Guess you don't have anything to do with that, huh? Of course you don't."

His feet clinked on the ice below him as he carefully strode closer to the statue. "But, if you do," he mumbled, stopping right in front of the statue. Hesitantly he wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling his face into her cold shoulders. It wasn't very comfortable, but his eyes stung anyway. "Can you at least give me a sign? Don't tell anyone, but by Moonlight, I miss you so much, Sea Fairy. I really do."

And so he cried. Warm drops of lava flowed down his cheeks, and slid down to the icy body he held. Despite his destructive tears, Sea Fairy's shoulder remained as still and as cold as ever. Fire Spirit still felt bad though, the twisting warmth of guilt pooling in his stomach. He could feel the orb at his very center cooling down, shifting uncomfortably.

He had no idea how long he stood there, weeping. He did not know whether he was weeping for her, her faith, or what she could have been, or if he was weeping for himself. For what he is, or what he could have done, or what he should have known. He swore he could feel her breath, feel her tears on his back, feel her cool presence drilling into his very soul.

When the sun was rising, he decided it was time to leave, before his surrogate children woke up to find an empty house. But he found as he tried to pull away, that he was locked in a close embrace. His swollen eyes glanced down at the shoulder he was resting on. It was no longer clear or shining by the sun, but rather warm and freckled like the beach. With a shaky inhale, he felt hands grabbing his arms gently, pulling him back.

And there she was. Her blue eyes alive, golden spots reflecting the yellow hue from the rising sun. Her freckled cheeks were peachy, her smile was small and her tears flowing. And before Fire Spirit could try to shake himself awake from this cruel dream, only to find himself alone in his home far away from his family, she spoke. She spoke in that voice he never could replicate in his mind, the voice that was the first thing to get lost to memory.

"Hello, brother."

[minimickzy]

Yeah, Cool || Richie Tozier

Request: Hi can I get a Richie imagine? Kinda based of the song My Kind of Woman by Mac demarco. Where he’s so surprised that no matter what you’ve always stuck by him. No matter how many jokes he masked about you, offensive or perverted, you always know he’s joking. And he’s just in awe cause of how strong you are and YOU choose HIM to stick with through everything. He just utterly adores you and he doesn’t realize you adore him to until he realizes how long you’ve stuck by him. Thanks! Love your blog💛

 +Hi okay so could you do a Richie x Reader where He likes the reader but the losers say that she's to innocent and completely opposite of him but goes for it anyway and him and the reader end up having a happily ever after?

Characters: Reader x Richie Tozier, the losers club 

Word count: 2924

Warning: swearing, mentioned underage drinking, kissing (ew!)

a/n: This is a weird style that I tend to write in, I don't know if y’all are gonna like it so please let me know. this is also extremely long. please let me know what you think! also let me know if you want to be added to any tag lists!

Oh baby, oh man

You're making my crazy, really driving me mad

Summer 1988

From the second Richie saw you he knew you were meant to be. Richie wasn’t one to be sappy but when it came to you his heart melted in his chest and his head spun around with thoughts of you.

You moved to Derry in the summer before junior year. Your mom picked everything up and brought the family to this small shitty town. There was nearly nothing to do here. You’d go on walks looking for something, anything to preoccupy yourself with, but your searches went on and on.

You didn't notice the group of kids that would follow you around every day. The losers club was intrigued by you. They never saw you talk to anyone, you’d just walk around and look at the world around you. They all had the filling that you were one of them. Every few days you’d go to the park and sit against the sand pipe and read a book.

There was a boy who always seemed to be hanging around with binoculars and a little book. He seemed to be birdwatching but you never thought of a boy his age being into such a adult thing.

One day, after a rainy night you decided to sit on the bench instead of the mushy ground. It was a quiet day, near the end of august, a gentle breeze blew your hair against your cheeks as you engulfed your mind in your book.   

You nearly jumped out of your skin when someone sat down at the other side of the bench. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.” You saw the bird boy looking at you with a apologetic but slightly annoyed look, after all you were in his spot. “Oh, It's no trouble, sorry for taking your spot, the ground was just… dirty.”

“It's fine.” He turned away from you and to the bird fountain. You went back to reading your book but couldn't help but feel the awkward tension rising in the silence. “I’m (y/n), I just moved here a month ago or something.” You put your hand out for him, He turned back you and gave your hand a tense shake, “I’m Stan. I’ve seen you around alot.” 

“yeah, I’ve just been looking for something to do.” He nodded, “Well, maybe you could come to the Barrens later, its where me and my friends hang out.” You smiled, “yeah, that sounds cool. You're the first person I’ve talked to here.” he laughed, “that's Derry for you. Do you have a bike?” You shook your head. “I guess I can give you a ride on my handlebars.” He started to get up, you stayed sitting not really sure if you should follow until he turned around a few yards away and looked at you expectantly, “coming?” “Oh, yeah! Sorry.” You stood up and rushed to join him.

That's alright with me, it's really no fuss

As long as you're next to me, just the two of us

Spring 1989

Richie had fucked up and he knew that. His trashmouth had gotten both the losers pissed at him and his parents to kick him out. It wasn't on purpose. He didn't tell anyone but he had a run in with Bowers on the way to school. He was to embarrassed to say anything and His blood with boiling from how weak he felt after what had happened. He wasn't sure if the losers had told you what happened, or what you would think of him if they did. Spring was here and Junior year was coming to a end.

He didn't bother to come up with a story to tell, he just walked up to your door and knocked, your parents car wasn't there but the lights were on so he knew you must be home. When you opened the door your eyes widened with shock at the sight in front of you. “Richie..” He looked so broken. His eyes were red and puffy, magnified by his coke bottle glasses. The goofy grin that was nearly always plastered on his face was gone and his body was trembling in the cool night air.

“I really fucked up.” You nodded, “yeah, Stan told me. Listen, I don’t thin-” “They kicked me out.” “what?” “My par-parents, they kicked me out.” He sniffed and you thought your heart may as well have just fallen on the ground in front of him. “Why?” “I said something and my dad, he just-” Richie couldn’t get the rest out, instead breaking down on your poach, his head held in his hands as the tears slipped from his eyes and splashed onto his glasses. You didn't waste any time to hug him. He was shaking. You held him as tight as you could, you whispered soft words into his ear and let him nuzzle his curly hair into you neck.

You're my, my, my, my kind of woman

My, oh my, what a girl

Summer 1989 

It took the loud honk of a horn to knock Richie out of his tance. You laughed as he swore under his breath and pressed his foot down on the gas pedal sending the car forward. Richie had been staring at you, taking the chance as you were looking out the window of his beat up car on the way to pick up Eddie and then meet up with the rest of the losers. A year later and you still didn't have a bike. He didn't know the reason was because then he’d have to give you ride.

Richie and Mike were the only ones with cars, you lived down the street from him and Eddie lived 5 minutes from there and then everyone else lived on the other side of town by Mike who would pick them up in the back of his old pickup he got from his dad.

When Richie pulled up to Eddie’s sidewalk the boy who wasn't much bigger than when you had first met him came beelining out of the front door. He hopped in the back and took a puff of his inhaler, sure enough his mom came out right after and started to yell something but Richie pulled away before you could hear any of it. “What was up her ass Ed’s?” Richie asked, Eddie groaned in return, “She said I had a cold or something because I sneezed, and how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that.”

You laughed lightly and placed your hand on Richies on top the stick shift. His stomach did flips and his brain went just a little fuzzy. You didn't take it away until he parked outside of the movie house where everyone was waiting. Eddie jumped out and then you but Richie didn't move a muscle. “Richie?” you asked leaning down so you could see him, “You coming?” “mhm, I just- need a second.” “are you okay?” “yeah, I'll be right in.” “cool.” “yeah, cool.”

You're my, my, my, my kind of woman

Summer 1988

Stan pulled up to the barrens and let you hope off of his handlebars, there was only another boy and girl there already, sitting on to rocks with there hands interlocked. “Thats Bill and Beverly” he pointed before they saw you. You nodded and your nerves started to get the best of you. What if the only people you talked to in Derry didn't even like you? Stan started walking towards them and they both smiled and waved to him. The girl, Beverly, was the first to notice you, taking a double take and then elbowing Bill who stood up immediately.   

“This is (y/n), I said it was cool if she'd hang with us.” San introduced you as you gave a little nod. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.” Bill smiled and stuck a hand out to shake, “you t-too.” You smiled back and shook his hand.

Bill and Beverly told you about the losers club and how they’d been seeing you around town. “We Thou-thought you m-m-meant be one of u-us.” Bill said and you laughed, “A loser?” Beverly shrugged, “It's not too bad.” You nodded, “so who else is in it?” Bills face brightened up again as he started to tell you about each member in the group, “Well the-there's Mike who...

And I'm down on my hands and knees

Begging you please, baby, show me your world

Fall 1988

“What a babe.” Richie fawned over you as you walked away. The rest of the losers laughed or sighed at the pathic doe eyes Richie wore whenever he looked at you.

You were the innocent of the group, Richie was not. Every sentence that he said included swears but one had hardly ever touched your lips. He wore black and punk band tees and you wore pastels and sweaters. He used to call you Betty Cooper when you first started hanging out with the losers as a joke and you’d always call him Jughead in return. You always chuckled at his jokes even if you didn’t get it which was most of the time. It was just the giddiness and rush you got whenever you were around him that really got the laughs going.

“Richie, she’s so out of your league.” Eddie deadpanned patting Him on the back. “And whys that?” Richie asked in a pissy tone. “B-b-because she’s innocent R-Richie, and your N-not.” Bill said, “Yeah, and she's smart and attractive. Two more things you lack.” Stan smirked. Richie huffed and stood up from the rock he had been sitting on. “That's bullshit.” They all looked at him with scartic looks. “I can tone it down.” “yeah right.” Eddie laughed, Richie furrowed his eyebrows and started to walk away.

“I’ll show you fuckers!” He started his way to you house jogging in order to catch up to you, “Hey (y/n)! Wait up!” he yelled down the street causing you to turn towards him. You shot him a sweet smile, “What’s up Richie?” He stopped to catch his breath and rubbed his hands off on his hawaii shirt. “I-I just wanted to ask you something.”  You cocked an eyebrow, “and you couldn't use a phone?”

He shrugged and played with the dirt on the ground with his foot, “What do you think of me?” He was no longer making eye contact with you which you were silently thankful for, “what?” His question had blindsided you. “Like, What do you think of my jokes and how I act or whatever.” “Oh, I think your great- I mean I really like your jokes and you glasses and your hair and and how you sometimes smile with only one side of your mouth and- Your really cool Rich.” You just needed to get yourself to shut up. “So you don’t mind my dirty jokes or swearing?” “No? Why?”

“I just thought they meant be much for you.” You laughed, “You could never be too much for me Tozier” He smiled brightly, “Cool.” “Yeah, cool.”

Oh brother, sweetheart

I'm feeling so tired really falling apart

And it just don't make sense to me

Spring 1989

You told Richie he could stay at your house as long as your parents didn't catch him. You gave him some food and he told you about Bowers, He told you about everything, His cheeks were a dark shade of red, you were the last person he wanted to know. But you understood, you didn't tell him but as soon as he fell asleep you called and told Bev everything and then she told everyone else, they all understood just as you had and Bill was going to talk to Richie at school.

Since the day you met Richie you felt connected with him. You hadn't thought twice about holding him as he cried or playing with his hair when he talked. You weren't going to deny you held a liking towards Richie, There was no question as to if you were head over heels for the boy.

You thought he was too but neither of you ever dared make a move. You told your parents you were sick in the morning and bought yourself a few more hours alone with Richie before you’d both go in for the later half of your classes. You gave him breakfast as soon as your parents left.

He didn't say much. He couldn't believe he had told you everything, the stuff that he even hid from the rest of the losers. As he ate you watched him from across the table eating your own breakfast. You found his leg with your foot under the table. “Richie?” He looked up to you, “yeah?” “Why’d you come to me? Why not Eddie or Stan? Why me?”

His eyes got a little wider and his cheeks burned a soft pink, “I- I guess, I trust you.” You smiled, “Really?” You started to take a sip from your water “yeah. I really do. Your so nice and I really love you.” You choked on your water and some of it sprayed out of your mouth, onto the table as you coughed. “I’m sorry- I just-” Richie said rushing to apologize as soon as he realized what his big mouth had said. “No, Richie- I love you- too- Don't be- sorry-” you said between coughs.

He smiled. “Cool.” You smirked “yeah, cool.”

I really don't know

Why you stick right next to me or wherever I go

Summer 1990 

“Richie this is ridiculous!” you yelled, he jumped back at your outburst. Richie and you had been a thing forever and respected it as dating behind closed doors. You wanted it to be official, you wanted to know you weren't going to lose him. Richie wanted the same thing, but as long as he had you he didn’t want to do anything to fuck that up. But you were fed up so when he met you at the barrens, just the two of you, you jumped right into it.

“What?” you groaned, “you have to let me know what we are, where is this going? I need to know Richie, I have to go to college and you, you have to go somewhere!” He frowned, “I’m going wherever you go.” “what?” he shrugged, “There's nowhere else I want to go.” You looked at him with  melow shock. You thought he just didn't want to commit, you didn't know in his head he already had.

“Oh. So we’re dating?” “That's what I thought, If you don't want me to-” “No! I mean no, that's what I want, If it's what you want!” the tension was high, “What if I want something more!” The two of you yelling a bit softer each time, “Then let's make it something more!” he stepped closer to you, “We’re 18!” you stepped closer to him, “yes!” He took your hands in his, “We could be engaged!” you nodded your head, “yes!” he gave you his goofy grin, “Is that a yes to 18 year olds can be engaged or me asking you to fucking marry me?” “both.” He kissed you sweetly “fuck” You kissed him, “shit.” “that's what I want.” “then that's what you get.” “Cool.” “yeah, cool.”

You're my, my, my, my kind of woman

My, oh my, what a girl

You're my, my, my, my kind of woman

Fall 1989 

The first the two of you kissed was at a party where you both had been a little tipsy. The only reason it didn't go further was Beverly busting in and freaking out. She didn't tell anyone, and neither did you or Richie.

But Richie couldn’t live with just a taste of the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with and who he’d been drooling over for more than a year. He tried desperately to get you to kiss him again, but the time was never right. One day Richie Tozier had enough, He was driving you home from a meetup with the losers, the windows were open and the radio blasting. Everyone had went out to Castle Rock for a carnival but the rest of the losers decided to stay after you and Rich left.

You laughed at something he said and when that sweet sound touched his ears he quickly turned off the road and onto the shoulder. “Richie? Whats up?” “I need to kiss you.” he said it so calmly it almost frightened you. “What?” “I’ve liked you since the day you moved here and at the party it was like a dream and I need to kiss you.”

You shrugged, “Okay.” “really?” “yes.” “oh my fuck, I didn't actu- fuck. Okay.” “are you going to or…” He nodded and turned quickly, capturing your lips with his. You couldn't help but smile as you pulled away. He smiled and turned back onto the road. “cool.” You laughed, “yeah, cool.”

And I'm down on my hands and knees

Begging you please, baby, show me your world

Summer 1987

“...Yeah, he g-go-goes on about b-b-being sick but hes st-still cool, and then th-theres R-Richie-” “Thats my name don't wear it out Big Bill.” you heard someone laugh from behind you. You turned to see two boys, one with Red shorts who was smaller and then a tall boy with wild curly black hair, thick glasses and a devilish grin. “He’s Well, Ri-Richie.” Bill shrugged as the boys joined the small circle.

“Whos the babe?” Riche laughed and you chuckled slightly, “I’m (y/n), I’m new around here.” He smirked, “cool.” “Yeah, cool.”

tag list 

@thekidsofneibolt

@mcheung0314

[eimagines]

spare me // tate langdon

pairing: tate langdon x reader genre: angsty and a little fluffy summary: pre-dead!tate makes a friend during a very dark time. warnings: potentially trigging content and possibly romanticises self-mutilation. word count: 4600

a/n: I wrote this in 2014 so it is a bit shit and problematic and by a bit I mean a lot but I wanted to post something to start this blog. expect better.

You ran hazy-eyed into the men's bathroom, tears discarding your vision. With trembling knees and shaky hands, you managed to find yourself locked in an empty stall, unaware of the blond boy smoking you passed by beforehand. You brought your legs right up to your chest, your tears draining from your eyes and toppling over your reddened cheeks.

The bullying had always been there for you, it didn't always bother you and you never tried to answer back, choosing to ignore them and carry on with your day. However, today had gotten violent and you had tried with all your might to fight them off, only there was three against one. Very brave of them.

Unable to stop yourself you took out a blade from your pocket. You didn't know why you had brought it to school, but you felt better with it, almost as if the blade gave you a sense of hope and shielded you from the unwanted taunts. 

Pressing the blade deep into your arm and moving it across multiple times, you sucked in a staggering breath, watching as the blood from your arm slid down in smooth maroon lines and splashed creating a small pool of blood on the dirty toilet floor. Looking at all of that blood was like a small dose of Heaven for you; a euphoria painted from blood within your own veins.

"Y'know you shouldn't do that in school." You heard a voice say from outside the chipped green coloured door. You were startled at first but soon realised it was a bathroom, and people did need to do the ‘do’ here. Before you could process his words and reply the stranger spoke again. "You wanna come out?" His voice was soft and calm, unlike any you had heard before. You saw a glimpse of his combat boots from under the gap in the door and felt very intrigued as to who the stranger was.

You unlocked the door slowly, leaving your sleeves of your dark green jumper to fall down by themselves and your blade to be abandoned on the floor. Making sure your legs were steady, you emerged from the stall. The stranger was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you, a cigarette in his mouth and a box of matches in his hand. You had to admit, as much as you were wary of the stranger, you were very interested in him.

His blond curls fell into his dark brown eyes that looked as if they were searching your soul for an ounce of something that interested him. To your surprise, he didn't speak, but stood and turned on the tap from the sinks behind him. His cigarette remained unlit as he continued his task of dampening some paper towels and cooing you towards him. "Let me see them." He stated as more of a command. You had never shown anyone your self-harm scars and cuts before and you stayed where you were. The stranger noticed how wary you were and smiled in a much more understanding way than a pitiful one and you appreciated that.

Looking closer into his eyes, bags marking them as there own, you thought he looked as though he had carried a great deal of shit on his back lately. He took your arm and pulled up your sleeve, stained blood littering your arm and jumper. You winced as he pressed a damp paper towel across your wound. "You wouldn't want it to get infected." You wondered why he was helping you but before you could speak up he spoke again, in a much cheerier tone than his last, "I'm Tate. Tate Langdon."

You smiled at him the best you could. You'd heard his name before. Apparently, not a lot of people liked him around here which was utterly a mystery to you because you thought he seemed like a lovely boy. "And you are?" He asked as he finished cleaning your arm for you and lighting his cigarette. "I-I'm [Y/N][Y/SN]." You replied in a much more nervous way that you had hoped you would. "Well, [Y/N], cutting in school isn't the most sensible thing to do." "Neither is smoking." You replied sassily taking him by surprise. You thought he was going to think you were horrible after that but he just smirked and sat up on the sinks. You followed suit. "To be honest, I don't really care if it was sensible or not. Cutting isn't healthy in general. In school or not." "So why'd you do it then?" Tate asked, passing you his cigarette which you took a drag on thankfully. "I'm not entirely sure." "I understand. I did it too. It's sort of as though when you do it nothing else matters but all that blood y'know. You can forget about all the other shit." You nodded in agreement, taken back by how you managed to connect with his words.

He passed you a cigarette of your own and you took it with a nod. "Why did you help me?" You asked suddenly, breaking the silence between you two. "Well, for one, I couldn't just ignore a crying girl slicing her arm open in the men's bathroom whilst I contemplated my sanity. Two, I heard a lot of shit going down in the hallway before and I know how you feel and three..." You almost laughed at his ability to be so straightforward until you realised he had stopped and was staring at you. "Three?" You asked, eager to know. "You're really cute." He replied, smiling revealing his dimples. It suddenly dawned on you how attractive he was and you blushed at his compliment. "Thank you, you're not too bad yourself." You smirked and sighed. "You wanna get outta here?" Tate asked you suddenly. "As in the toilet or school in general?" You smiled, jumping down from the sinks and wiping your tear stains you assumed were there from your face. You thought of how kind Tate was for complimenting you, even when you were a wreck. "School? I think you mean shit-filled Hell-hole." He laughed, giving you concerned looks at your still bleeding arm and your look of shame as you walked away from the blade you had abandoned. "You shouldn't feel ashamed." Tate advised you, somehow knowing exactly what you were thinking, "Everyone deals with pain in different ways. And that's okay." "I know, it's just...God," you sighed, "I never wanted to be the girl that depended on someone else to take care of her mental stability. I didn't want to be a victim and to try and make that somehow a positive by getting a cute boy involved." Tate smirked at this. "You ain't a victim. You're a human." He smiled as you both ventured out into the school halls.

The bell had already gone, leaving the school halls completely barren, the usual daunting sounds of pale grey lockers slamming and endless bickering silenced by the welcoming sounds of birds amongst the outside world. You weren't new to skipping school due to fake sick days, however, you had never simply walked out before. It gave you a sense of pride to be able to leave willingly with a cute boy by your side.

Just as the feeling of doubt set in you noticed a group of kids who looked older than you; the rowdy popular footballing type. You prayed that your school skipping would be easy enough but it obviously wasn't that simple. As the guys started to shout things at Tate, heading straight towards the both of you, you rolled your eyes, gaining a little confidence by telling them to shut up. They ooo'd sarcastically at you, unable to focus their tiny minds on how annoyed Tate looked. It scared you a little. Tate thought it was nice you had tried to stick up for him considering you were a little shy, and carried on away from the group of idiots, hoping if they were loud enough eventually a member of staff would find them. The group didn't follow you and Tate off Campus which made you feel a little bang of rebelliousness bubbling inside you.

The walk Tate was taking you on was unfamiliar and you couldn't stop your eyes from taking in its beauty. Fields of green separated neatly with dried muddy paths that were lined with colourful flowers, butterflies and bees buzzing brilliantly, swimming in the sea of colour and pollen. It was cold yet the Sun still shone brightly, light hitting yours and Tate's face, making you focus on his features. Your eyes raked across his tall form. You knew not a thing about this boy but his name yet here you were, strolling along like you'd known him for years. The realisation of him being a stranger filled you with a dangerous feeling that you liked and you didn't understand why. Perhaps it was because of who the stranger was.

Soon enough you came to a small clearing where the grass was cut shorter in front of a huge willow tree, its vines long, almost touching the green of the floor's surface. Tate guided you amongst the vines of the tree, swaying past them swiftly and planting himself down beneath them. You joined him, taken away with the peace.

"How did you find this place?" You asked, taken aback. "Skipped school one day years ago and found it. I come here when I need to think." He said simply smiling sweetly at you. You returned the smile and continued, "So why did you bring me here?" "Because you need to think." "About what?" "About why you do that to yourself." He pointed to your arm, "What do you get out of it? Why? Can you stop? If not, why? Y'know. It's not a nice thing to do. I know it isn't. It isn't the only option." You did think. You thought for a while. And after a long time in blissful silence, you turned to Tate, finally fixed on how you were to turn your life around. To your surprise, Tate was sitting cross-legged picking up daisies and looping them through each other.

"Uh, Tate?" You smirked. "What?" He laughed, sensing your smile. "Nothing." You shrugged, instead, collecting yourself and sitting in front of his frame, helping him complete the end of his daisy chain and tying the ends together. "It is complete!" Tate raised his voice in a strange accent which amused you as he placed the daisy crown he had made onto your head, fixing your hair perfectly behind your ears. You smiled awkwardly, wondering how you could possibly feel so open around someone you just met.

"You like Kurt Cobain?" You ask, noticing his similarities to the nirvana member. Tate looked happy to answer the question and you both spent the afternoon joking around under the tree, singing and talking about what you each liked to do. You found out that Tate actually ran track at school and you both enjoyed reading. It seemed you had finally found a friend.

Pretty soon, however, the darkness began to fall and the moon persuaded the sun to fuck off and make some room. "Where do you live?" You asked Tate as you both proceeded towards your own home. "939 Berro Drive." Tate replied awkwardly. "Murder House huh?" He nodded in reply, "Cool. You got any siblings?" "Yeah, I have three." He continued to tell you about his siblings. About his father abandoning him. His mother's neglect and his constant fear of tipping over the edge and losing his mind. You were speechless at first of course but reassured him none-the-less. "You shouldn't stress yourself, take a break from the shit, get your mind away from your troubles." You smiled. "You're right. I did that today actually." He smiled at you. "What do you mean?" "Your pretty face distracted me." He chuckled and you shoved him, finally appearing at your run-down home.

It was much different than Tate's. The house was small and dirty with a tiny garden that was overrun with towering grass. The windows were hazy and the painted wooden window ledges were chipped and falling apart. You sighed in annoyance as you had to say goodbye to Tate and unlocked your rusted metal gate to make sure your father hadn't killed himself from alcohol poisoning. "Hey," Tate held your arm as you began to walk away from him, "I'll see you round okay? Tomorrow I'll take you for pizza on the beach?" "Deal." You smiled, leaving Tate with a kiss on the cheek and a whispered 'thank you'. You were content with the goodbye but hurt at the look in Tate's eyes.

You could not sleep that night as you tossed and turned to the sound of your fathers’ snores which gradually got louder; your scrap metal of a bed creaking as you impatiently awaiting what could possibly be an okay Saturday for once. Your mind drifted off to Tate. Tate Langdon. He was, well, wonderful. There was something about him however that worried you. The look in Tate's eyes when you said goodbye was sad, but it hinted something else. Something dark and menacing and you wondered why? It's not as if that sweet charm of a boy could do anything menacing, could he?

-

The weekend, of course, went fantastic at first. You didn't think you had ever been so happy. You and Tate spent Saturday trying to skateboard in the local mall and messing around together. You both ended up getting kicked out after taking stupid pictures together wearing silly hats and moustache's which you hadn't paid for, even though you were still in the store that you found them in. It was very amusing to you both. As agreed, you both went to the beach with pizza and sat yourselves in front of a burning hot fire as you talked endlessly about meaningless things.

"Oh, I forgot to give you this." You said as you bit into another slice of pizza and dug through your bag to pull out a little black and white bracelet. It was leather bound with a "T" engraved. You handed it to him nervously. "I know its weird since we only met a while ago but, you helped me a lot and I don't think I've ever had a friend before and, well, I couldn't remember how to smile until I met you." Tate looked shocked, which made you nervous, "I just wanted to say thank you. You don't have to wear it or anything if you don't want to I just thought that-" "I love it." Tate cut you off smirking, "I really really love it." He pulled you into a delicate hug, his arms caressing your form lightly as you relished in the comfort. He smelled like cigarettes and peaches and you smiled into his chest. "You're adorable, but I feel bad for not getting you anything." He said once the hug was over and done with. "You dork, do you not understand? You did give me something...you gave me happiness." You smiled shyly at him.

In that moment you wanted nothing more than to just kiss his perfect face, but it ended all too soon when Sunday came.

You had agreed to meet Tate at the mall at 12, yet you sat waiting alone until 1. You had bought cookies and a slush to share, but the person you were to share them with was nowhere to be seen. You didn't want to leave in case Tate turned up. Even if you did, you wouldn't know where to go and home was not the nicest of places. You thought calling him would be a good idea, however, without a phone or a number it was impossible. As it got close to 3pm you had no choice but to leave and sit in the library.

Books were your escape. You had to admit, you were worried. Worried in case Tate had gotten hurt, worried in case the bracelet and hug you shared had creeped him out and he would not go near you again. You forced the thoughts out by reading. Alone. Silent. Without a care. 'I shouldn't worry,' you thought, 'Tate will be fine.'

Except, Tate wasn't fine.

-

It was Monday morning and school was just another obstacle in your seemingly drastic life but you pushed on through. It seemed like a regular Monday, other than the fact you had a horrible feeling in your gut. The feeling only grew stronger as your first lessons had begun. The only thing you could think about at this moment was Tate. Would you ever see those ocean deep brown eyes, those perfect blond Cobain styled curls, that dorky little smile? Yes. You would. But in completely different circumstances than you originally thought.

As you tapped your foot in time with the clock on the wall, 11:30, ignoring the paper being thrown across the room by a kid called Kevin and the teacher attempting to calm down your class of fifteen. All too quickly had things changed from fun and games when a loud bang was heard outside the closed classroom door. Your heartbeat raised ecstatically as another bang erupted from outside in the hall along with the screams of pupils. Over the screaming pupils and shouting teacher, you didn't know what to do. As loud as everything was, all you heard was silence as a third shot rang out and the person behind it all stepped into view.

Tate.

He wore a Prussian blue American Civil War Union soldier coat and held a shotgun tightly in his hands. His face was plain and held more sorrow than you had ever seen before. He did not look sorry, he did not look scared, he did not look like anything. He was just...there. He pointed the gun at one student and pulled the trigger, blood amidst in the air like snow in the winter. The fact he had caused four deaths didn't seem to have bothered him a single bit. He continued around the class, a frenzy of bullets, screams and blood followed. A couple of students managed to escape as he continued his massacre. This could not be the same boy you had been friends with, could it?

"Please, stop this!" "What good are you doing!" "Why are you doing this!" The voices were endless and every one of them ended with a shot. The screams soon withered away and Tate caught your eye. He couldn't, could he? He raised the shotgun towards you, his lips pressed tightly together and his hand trembled. You did not blink or close your eyes, you did not beg or plead with him or question why, you simply looked into his eyes and gave him a weak smile. "Tate." You started, however you were unable to finish. His grip on the shotgun loosened and fell. He did not speak or explain. He just left.

You looked around at the blood covered classroom and tried to ignore the remains of your dead classmates as you stood up wearily and followed Tate threw the school. "[Y/N]," the voice of one of your teachers quietly spoke out to you, "Follow me, we can get out of here!" "No." You replied simply and followed Tate's footsteps quickly.

It wasn't quick enough. After the shots of six bullets, you walked into the library to find five bodies and one unconscious teacher. The blood never normally bothered you but right now it really did. You walked out of the exit Tate had gone through and followed him quickly, picking up your pace as you sprinted towards him. "Tate!" You shouted, not knowing why you weren't afraid of being potentially killed amongst the presence of him. "What!" He shouted back, coming to a holt on what you assumed was the way back to his home.

He wasn't himself. You knew that. Something had happened to push him over the edge. He had no empathy or regret in his voice. He did not look scared or sad. He was giving off signs of a full mental breakdown.

Once you reached him you didn't ask him anything out of courtesy, but chose instead to wrap your arms around his form and pull him into a hug. This was when his emotions finally gave into him. His tears fell from his eyes and did not stop for a long time. The shotgun he once had was now abandoned on the floor and he cried into your neck. Your ripped up baggy jeans were covered in blood as were Tate's. You caressed his hair lovingly and held him for a while. As he had done to you.

"I'm sorry." He sobbed. He attempted to ramble out an explanation for why he did it but you could tell whatever had happened was sure playing with his mind because he still didn't seem the same. "I don't care why you did it, Tate. Okay? We need to get you out of here, the cops will come and then- then-" "Yeah, I know!" He shouted through his tears, "Just leave okay? If they come they'll arrest you too. Just go!" "No!" You shouted back, "Why did you leave me? Why didn't you shoot me like everyone else?" You asked, your voice more delicate now. "Because." Tate replied. "Because what?" "Because nobody has ever been as nice to me as you before. Nobody I've ever known has listened to me ramble about stupid things. Nobody I know likes Kurt Cobain like you do. I like you, [Y/N]." I wiped his tears from his face and hugged him close. "I like you too. Maybe not at this point entirely but, I like you too. Dork." You smiled sadly, knowing the fate Tate had chosen.

It was silent between you both for a long time until Tate had to physically remove you from him to go into his house. "Wait!" You shouted, running up the path to where he was stood, shotgun in hand. You moved a strand of blond hair out of his eyes and stood on your tiptoes, pressing your lips against his gently. Tate was not at all surprised and kissed you back immediately. You don't know what overcame you. Perhaps you knew that you would most likely never see Tate again. Perhaps it was just because you craved the familiar taste of cigarettes and peaches. Even though it lasted shorter than you would have liked, it was the best damn kiss you ever had. It sent sparks flying up your spine and your heart did little flips.

With a tight squeeze of your hand, Tate said his goodbyes. His final goodbyes? It was never spoken between you two, but you knew it would happen and you had to come to terms with the fact you would possibly never see him again. You only allowed the tears to fall once Tate was officially out of site. Tate died later on that day. He was shot and killed by the SWAT team.

-

You had never met Tate's mother, but you thought to bring her flowers was the best thing to do. It was a week after Tate had died when you knocked on the door of the famous Murder House and you had become nervous. The door soon swung open revealing a distressed looking blonde woman. "I told you to leave me alone!" She almost screamed, looking shocked to see you standing at the door holding flowers. "Sorry, I don't mean to intrude, I just brought you some flowers." "Do I know you?" She replied, rudely, although it looked as if she didn't mean it offensively. "No, sorry. My name is [Y/N], I was a friend of Tate's." You explained, nervously. "Right, come in." You were stunned by how beautiful the house was and took everything in in a state of awe. You noticed tonnes of boxes piled sky high and dared not to ask. "Would you like a cigarette? Tate told me you liked them." "He spoke about me?" You asked, taking one thankfully and allowing her to light it for you politely. "Only once, but he seemed very fond of you." She spoke with a smile. You didn't find it hard to believe how she neglected Tate.

"I am sorry for your losses. I wish none of this would have happened." You spoke after a minute longs silence. You, by all means, hated what Tate had done. It was not an okay thing to do, however, you did feel very sad. Sad because you knew Tate didn't just do it because he could. He had a reason in his own messed up mind. A reason that was probably overlooked in the end. As much as you tried to fight the guilt, it was still there. You felt awful for not seeing that something was wrong, for not doing anything to stop Tate from falling over the edge. It was too late now though.

"Why? Everyone seemed so adamant about thanking the lord that the world was ridden of him." She replied, it was obvious she was hurt, after all, she had lost two of her children and people had been overjoyed about it. You thought about how the public had obviously had backlash at what Tate had done, yet you vowed to forget about what had happened. "Because. Tate was my friend. And, in my opinion, nobody deserves to be treated the way you and your family are being treated because of what happened." You avoiding eye contact as you took a drag of your cigarette. "I should be going, if you'll excuse me I-" "Thank you. For the flowers. And for your kindness." Tate's mother spoke, still seated at the table the both of you had been chatting at. She looked at you with a hopeful expression and a weak smile, her eyes welling up. "No problem. Thank you for your time, and the cigarette." You smiled back, making your own way out of the house, not for one second expecting her to see you out. She was grieving and you appreciated this.

As you stood facing the huge house. You smiled. You smiled in memory of your first friend. Your first real friend. The first person to have shown you any compassion, any humour, any kindness, any love in your entire lifetime. The first person to make you feel content with life. You vowed not to cry and to move on with your life as you fiddled with a leather-bound bracelet around your wrist than had the letter "[first initial of your name]" engraved on it. It matched the one Tate had. You kept the smile on your face as you turned your back towards the house and collided with a fast and hard object, sending your lifeless body into the air and smashing back down against the hard sidewalk.

The images that flashed before you were confusing. Screams, blood, sirens. Everything seemed confusing and before your eyes completely closed, they set themselves on a blond-haired figure leaning up against the familiar brick wall of the Murder House.

As your last breath left your body and your spirit was dragged into an eternity of trapped housing, you wondered what was exactly in store for you. The first image you saw when you awoke in a seemingly dark cement walled building was a red ball rolling past your head and the familiar voice of a certain Kurt Cobain looking teenage boy telling you that you looked like a dork when you died.

'So it wasn't a final goodbye after all.'

[nathandgibsca]

Stop All Social Media Activity (Organic) | Solve For A Profitable Reality

Life is short.

It is time to point out an ugly truth, and to be the brave person that you are, the intelligent rational assessor of reality that you are, and kill all the organic social media activity by your company.

All of it.

Seems radical, but let’s take it one step at a time.

To give you a sense of the depth and breadth of ideas I’ll cover today, here are the sections in this post:

+ The Promise of Marketing Utopia. + The Broken Promise of Marketing Utopia, Implications. + The Broken Promise of Marketing Utopia: Examples. + Win Big: Stop Posting Content for Organic Reach On Social Channels. + Is the Huge Audience on Social Media Platforms Completely Useless? + Is the Idea of Marketing Utopia Permanently Dead? + Bottom-line.

I urge you to have an open mind. My plan is to challenge your critical thinking skills, and share lessons that will apply broadly across the professional effort you put day in and day out. Most of all, I’m excited to frame an important problem, and present solutions that will transform an important part of your marketing strategy.

Let’s go!

The Promise of Marketing Utopia. 

I hate pimping (what marketing has come to be). I adore building meaningful relationships – the kind of long-term connections where a brand truly gives a f about their customers, and gives something of value in exchange for their attention. I LOVE brands that can pull this off, and support them with my un-asked-for evangelism and precious $$$s.

Hence, you can imagine how gosh darn excited I was at the advent of Facebook and Twitter (first real social networks). There were a billion people there, spending a meaningful amount of time on these wonderful platforms. Excitedly, brands could have a presence (a "page") where they could contribute meaningful updates (info-snacks) in order to be a part of the organic conversations people were already having by the tens of millions.

Daily meaningful brand connections would be converted into brand familiarity, shifts in brand perception, feeding brand loyalty. #orgasmic

If you were a travel company, meaningful would now translate into helping feed wanderlust. The company could contribute info-snacks about where people should go, exposing the coolest places in the world, helping people travel better via tips, pictures, videos… you know… communicating travel love. The one thing a travel company would have in common with travel customers. The most imaginative travel marketers could even extend this opportunity to helping connect the purpose of their existence, selling tickets and hotel rooms, to helping people create moments of happy by crafting day/s of escape from the rough and tumble of life.

Glorious, right? If you work at Expedia or Cathay Pacific, does that not make you want to come to work and, for at least a part of your employment, create meaning? How rare is that!

If you were Cisco, meaningful would mean sharing info-snacks whose entire purpose could be to get Engineers promoted. Share tips, ideas, schematics, usage shortcuts, creative implementations, solutions to top problems that hold Engineers back… you know… understanding your audience deeply and give them something of value in exchange for their attention. The most imaginative B2B marketers could even figure out how to be a part of solving some of the deepest entrenched problems in the industry (STEM education, equal opportunity, + +) and in turn add an entire value-system to their brands.

Amazing, right?

Marketing based on something real, rather than a coupon or company brochure.

The Broken Promise of Marketing Utopia, Implications. 

None of the above transpired on Social platforms.

Businesses of all types, including Google (SMB, Main), got on amazing platforms like Facebook (and Weibo, Instagram, Pintrest etc.) and started pimping. All that their collective imagination could manifest in a Utopia-possible environment was: LOOK ME I AM SO PRETTY!! BUY NOW!!!

Stuff that is a turn off.

Consider the Google’s first FB page above, it is a complete disaster with not a single post in the last six months being of even five seconds of value to any small business. That page, or the main one, is not an overt Buy Now, but if you think critically like the tough Marketer I want you to be you’ll have a hard time finding a single post that’s solving for Google’s human customers. Almost every single one is pimping Google (or pimping random research Google has commissioned – to pimp Google!). The non-value is so transparent, yet they post every single day something that basically is solving for Google (although only God knows what that is). If someone bothers to interact with the post, the posted comment is a spam or totally useless. Yet. They keep posting. Polluting utopia.

Google is not unique in not understanding the promise, checkout your company’s FB page.

This strategy by businesses lead to what I now call the Zuck Death Spiral. ZDS.

Real humans on Social platforms quickly got turned off by these low-grade Social contributions/posts by companies. That meant humans (us!) refused to engage with them. This was noticed by Team Zuck, who started to slowly turn down the presence of company posts in User feeds. This lead to less Reach for brands. Which in turn lead to even fewer customer interactions for content posted by brands. Which was duly noted once more by Team Zuck. Which… you know where this is going, tightened the screws on organic Reach even more. And, here we are in a barren desert for brands on FB.

Most brands get less than 1% Reach via their organic contributions on social platforms. And, less than 1% engagement of any kind from that less than 1% reached (identified using the best social media metrics: Conversation Rate, Amplification Rate, Applause Rate).

ZDS is solving for FB, as FB should, and it is an attempt to solve for FB’s users.

So… If all you can do is overtly or covertly pimp… And, pimping is not cheap (that Google page, and your company’s page, has pictures, videos, an agency deployed, internal company employees with a “social media execution checklist”, senior leadership time committed, and more)… And, all it does is get you 1% Reach, max, with almost no engagement… Why do you still have an active (organic) social media effort?

Why is this reality not smacking some sense into your marketing strategy?

The Broken Promise of Marketing Utopia: Examples. 

Is it difficult to check if your brand is caught up in the Zuck Death Spiral? No.

Do you have access to any data to measure how deeply non-impactful your organic Social Media efforts are? OMG, yes.

Everything you need, data and information, to do an audit is public.

All you have to do is visit your company’s Facebook page (or Instagram, LinkedIn, Pinterest, etc. presence).

Let me show you what to look for. Let’s start with Expedia. They have 6.4 million Likes as of today. Go look at any post on the page if you are an Expedia employee.

First thing you’ll look at is the Applause Rate (likes, other emotions, you’ll see it right under the photo). That number is 75. Divide that by 6,462,977 (potential audience size today).

0.00113%. That’s a painful stab in your heart.

Next Conversation Rate (comments, you’ll see a total at the end of your posts). 7. Divide that by 6,462,977. A sad 0.00011%.

Finally, my favorite sign that you truly added value to a human rather than pimp, Amplification Rate (shares). 3/6,462,977. At this point you are weeping with me: 0.00005%.

To give you some context as to how insanely lame these numbers are, Expedia.com received 59,400,000 Visits in May 2017. This post accomplished 75+7+3. More people walk into the Expedia lobby in Bellevue, WA, every second of every minute.

You might be screaming that is not fair Avinash, the Zuck Death Spiral ensures that a tiny fraction of 6,462,977 are seeing Expedia’s posts! Very fair point. But, is the Social Media Budget at Expedia not justified based on the potential from 6,462,977? Would Expedia commit it’s multi-million-dollar budget to Social Media based on the potential to engage 75+7+3 people on Planet Earth?

One final point. Brand destruction.

Pretty much every single comment on pretty much every single Expedia post is a complaint about how horrible Expedia is (from personal experience I know this is not true). If your Facebook presence is solely to inspire people (see Trish Sayler above) to create clever rhymes about how bad you are… Why are you on Social Media?

Ignore the active smearing of the Expedia brand, let’s go back to data: Is it worth have 75 | 7 | 3 as the value delivered from an organic Social Media strategy for a company with 54,900,000 Visits?

My answer is an emphatic no. Expedia should immediately cease 100% of its organic Social activity.

1/100th of the Social Media budget could be spent on any other random digital strategy to get 75+7+3, and have zero brand destruction!

Oh. And while I’m focusing on Facebook for the sake of simplicity, everything in this post applies to all other Social Media channels. The Utopia failures. The lack of imagination. The small numbers. The uselessness.

Here for example is a post on Twitter by Expedia:

The numbers: 9 | 2 | 2. Divided by 391,000 (followers).

You can do the math and assess dent in the universe this content contribution from Expedia is making.

Almost nothing. Technically, perhaps less than nothing.

I hate making recommendations based on outliers, please know that Expedia is the norm. Hence, the title of this blog post.

Here’s a B2B example, a company I think well of… Cisco.

Go through the same analysis.

Your numbers are 31 | 1 | 3. Divided by 845,921.

Would you spend a single hard-earned Cisco router and switches dollar to get this as the return from a multi-million dollar Social Media budget?

Like my company, your company, and Expedia, Cisco gets no value from their organic Social Media efforts. Technically, Cisco is getting negative returns once you account for the people, process, tools, agency, leadership investments.

Let’s switch gears and look at a B2C company with a massively positive opportunity to leverage the word Social in every way on these platforms… Chick-fil-A.

Better numbers, as you might expect.

1k | 89 | 73. Divided by 7,775,155.

Consider it. Chick-fil-A could buy the most remnant TV inventory on a channel least watched by humans during the middle of the night and get better Reach. And they can also measure how many of them walked into a Chick-fil-A in the next 12 hours.

Does the above number justify custom videos, images, active posting by Click-fil-A on Facebook?

One final example to bring this home.

ProjectManager.com is a lovely tool. It is wonderful that they use folks like Jennifer Bridges, Susanne Madsen and others to create very helpful Project Management videos on YouTube. It seems they are a medium-sized business.

Here’s their Facebook page:

69 | 0 | 25. Divided by 62,951.

Pound for pound, better performance than all three (four including Google) companies above. Shame on them.

Still. Are the resulting Applause Rate, Conversation Rate and Amplification Rate enough for a smaller business to use it’s precious marketing dollars on this Social Media strategy/impact?

Consider this as well for all brands… There is no native discovery model on these Social channels. Your content will live for 20 minutes and then it is dead. Not just because of ZDS, but also because there is no Search behavior by users or a method that would deliver Serendipitous Discovery of content you post.

Unlike say on YouTube, or your Blog, where your Subscribers will see the content right away, and then through Bing and Yandex and YouTube itself people will find your content when relevant and keep viewing it. Your content there has a live beyond 20 minutes.

Win Big: Stop Posting Content for Organic Reach On Social Channels. 

Given the numbers above, and be sure to check any other Social Media channel your company is actively investing in, I hope you have the input you need to apply your critical thinking skills.

Let me give you one final push: You have better alternatives to drive short and long-term Profitability for your company (rather than investing in organic Social Media).

Here’s an example.

I write an insightful newsletter with the singular aim of improving your salary. The Marketing < > Analytics Intersect. You should sign up. It is a companion to this blog, I write once a week there and once a month here.

One year into it’s existence, TMAI has 21,246 Subscribers.

Measuring Open Rates for email is difficult (the tiny pixel ESPs use to track opens are not executed by default for most email programs). Even with that flaw in reporting, TMAI has Open Rates of around 9,000 (9,895 precisely for the last one).  Around 1,000 people (912 for the last one) take an action that is of value to me.

A random person, me, can get 9,000 opens of my content, at least a thousand active engagements with my brand whenever I want. I have over 1,000,000 Social Media followers across the five platforms (Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn, Google+, Instagram). I can’t even get 1/100th the impact.

My simple unsexy email newsletter strategy crushes the on paper potential of one million Social Media followers.

And, beyond the impact… I also directly own the relationships with my 21,246 Subscribers, I own the data, the relationship exists on my platform, and I can use it as creatively I want to use it with no limitation on type of content (text or video or dancing penguin gifs).

Why should your company be on Social Media 5x per day to get a lousy 20 interactions with your brand? How is that acceptable ROI from your investment in a 5 person Social Media team, a Social Media Agency, a Social Media analytics tool, a Social Media auto-posting tool and more?

Could you not get 100x ROI from the 0.25 person that's running your email newsletter?

Could you not just take all that Team, Agency, Tool, money, throw it into AdWords or AOL Display Ads and not get massively higher ROI, of any kind, in 10 minutes?

Could you not get better ROI taking all that money and buying remnant inventory on your local Television channel?

Could you not get better ROI if you just took that money and bought free lunch for the employees in your building every other day?

OMG, you most definitely can.

So. Why are you on Social Media?

Is it fun to shout in a vacuum?

Why does it not feel dirty to go waste your shareholder's money?

Stop it then.

Welcome to the world of higher standards for impact delivered. Feel cleaner and prouder coming to work every day as a Marketer/CMO.

Is the Huge Audience on Social Media Platforms Completely Useless? 

NO!

There are a couple of billion people on Facebook (and billions or hundreds of millions on other Social channels). From an advertising perspective, that’s still an audience that might be of value to your business.

Kill your organic Social strategy completely, switch to a paid Social Media strategy.

Buy advertising from Facebook. I’ll make it easy, click this link!

Buy advertising from Twitter. From Snapchat. LinkedIn. Oh and WeChat and Line.

This simple switch from the fuzzy Organic goals to concrete Paid goals will give the one thing your Social Media Marketing strategy was missing: Purpose.

It is now easy to define why the heck are you spending money on Social Media? To drive short and medium-term brand and performance outcomes.

Fabulous.

Set aside the useless metrics like Impressions and 3-second Video Views. Set aside hard to judge and equally useless Like and Follow counts. Measure the hard stuff that you can show a direct line to company profit.

Define a purpose for the money you are spending.

For the clients I’ve worked with across the world, expressed behavior of the users suggests that the largest cluster of intent is See. There is a little bit of Think and a little bit of Care. (This is why Social marketing strategies that target Do intent yield extremely poor results.)

[Bonus Read: See-Think-Do-Care Business Framework]

If the purpose is to execute See and Care intent marketing strategies (in the old world sometimes incompletely referred to as brand marketing), you can use the following amongst my favorite metrics to deliver accountability:

1. Unaided Brand Recall 2. Likelihood to Recommend 3. Lift in Purchase Intent 4. Shift in Brand Perception (negative to neutral, neutral to positive, positive to proactive evangelism) 5. Lifetime Value

Humans have measured these using primary and secondary research methods for 3,500 years. Quite easy to do the same for your newly focused paid Social advertising efforts.

[Bonus Read: Brand Measurement: Analytics & Metrics for Branding Campaigns]

If on the other hand the purpose of your paid Social advertising is to target Think and/or Do intent, you should measure the impact using the following across your digital – and pan-digital presence:

1. Recency & Frequency 2. Loyalty 3. Task Completion Rate 4. Assisted Conversions 5. Macro-Outcomes Rate 6. Economic Value

We have measured these for a long time on the web. You can use your quantitative tools to measure most of these (Google Analytics, Adobe, True Social Metrics). And. You can measure these for your ecommerce, non-ecommerce, B2B, B2C, pure content, non-profit, or whatever else kind of delicious business you are running.

Now, you’ll hold your agency and employees accountable for delivering business profitability for your Social efforts just as you do for any other advertising effort – Search or TV or Email.

Just as you would do in all those other cases, do more paid Social advertising if the metrics show a business impact and improve/eliminate your paid Social efforts if they don’t.

It will mean a different Social content strategy, different targeting strategy (leveraging rich Social signals), and a different landing page/app strategy. Proper end-to-end user and business optimization. Nirvana, delivered by that magical word… Purpose.

The path to your salary and job promotion is also now crystal-clear. Right?

Is the Idea of Marketing Utopia Permanently Dead? 

I’ve seen the near-future, and I believe we’ll get to Utopia Marketing.

The fact that companies don’t know how to be human, how to take even 20% of their people plus budget and invest optimally in understanding humans and deliver something of value to those humans is deeply heartbreaking.

Yes, I can blame the short-term quarterly focus of the CMOs and the SELL, SELL, SELL MORE incentives they create for you to earn your bonus. But still, how heartbreaking is it that not even 1% of us could convince our CMOs to allow us to do what Social was actually good at? How sad is it that we have such little influence? I blame us.

Still. I am optimistic that Marketing Utopia, as I’ve imagined it at the top of this post, is not dead. I think the solution will be to get rid of the humans from the process!

What? Human marketing by getting rid of humans?

Yes. Hear me out.

I think AI/Machine Learning will solve this problem.

Today, humans and their limited ability to process data, and the finite incentives in place, are the reason we burned Utopia to the ground. We simply can’t process billions of signals across tens of millions of touch points across millions of people, and figure out the best message at every moment and its short, medium, and long-term business value.

Current advances in ML already give me hope that algorithms will understand intent a billion trillion times better than your current employees AND these algorithms will have the inherent capabilities to process billions of data points to truly understand complex patterns of user behavior and a robust understanding across all that to know exactly what delivers business profit.

Companies can then take the equivalent of their Brand and Social budgets and allow smarter algorithms to deliver the right message to the right person at the right time across all clusters of intent. All the while, optimizing for long-term business profitability.

It will help that Machine Learning is not embolden to trivial company politics. :)

[Bonus Read: Artificial Intelligence: Implications On Marketing, Analytics, And You]

Bottom-line.

While I’m recommending you stop doing something, hearing no is not super-inspiring, I hope you’ll see that my goal is help you think more critically about where you spend your personal time and your company’s money.

I also hope you’ll see how the shift in strategy I’m recommending brings Social in line with your other advertising efforts, allowing for a ton more focus on your Social efforts and a billion times more accountability.

Finally, I hope you feel optimistic that around the horizon lurk technological solutions that will allow for the manifestation of the beautiful humanity that exists in your company (even if we have to take human employees out of the equation to get there – don’t worry, they’ll still, for now, be responsible for the novel elements required).

Demand more from Social, because Social can deliver more.

As always, it is your turn now.

If you’ve achieved sustained success from your organic Social Media content strategy, would you please share your example? If you disagree and believe Marketers should invest in organic Social despite poor Reach, ApR, CoR, and AmR, would you please share how you see value/impact? If you’ve successfully dumped organic and pivoted to paid Social, please share stories of your victory. Are you as optimistic as I am that Machine Learning based intelligence will solve optimally for the Utopia opportunity?

I look forward to hearing your smart perspectives and cogent challenges.

Thank you.

Stop All Social Media Activity (Organic) | Solve For A Profitable Reality is a post from: Occam's Razor by Avinash Kaushik

from SEO Tips https://www.kaushik.net/avinash/stop-organic-social-media-marketing-solve-for-profit/