#what i use the most is discord because its the most convenient place for me to brainstorm | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jinxhallows · 1 year

Text

ɪᴄɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴋᴇ | ᴊᴀᴄᴋsᴏɴ ᴡᴀɴɢ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☾ -- ɪᴄɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴋᴇ

ᴊᴀᴄᴋsᴏɴ ᴡᴀɴɢ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴇxᴘʟɪᴄɪᴛ, 𝟷𝟾+, ᴀʟᴄᴏʜᴏʟ ᴜsᴇ, ғᴏᴏᴅᴘʟᴀʏ, ᴇsᴛᴀʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ

ᴡᴄ: 𝟸.𝟹ᴋ

So I wrote this originally in a discord brainrot with @gdragonsideburns (who ALSO WRITES INCREDIBLE SHIT) because although I am a smooth 30, I'm currently driving this song into an early grave and it made me think of Jackson Wang in the jungle? Do Jackson Wang fics even exist on here? Well, here's one.

"Dearest old man, on this most joyous occasion of your birthday, I bring forth a small token of my affection."

You call out teasingly in an over the top accent, and carefully place the delicate porcelain plate onto the table, adorned with a magnificent gourmet cupcake, a tropical wonder, complete with a sparkler glowing brightly at its center. The chocolate syrup on top of the plate spells out a heartfelt message from the resort staff,

"Happy 29th Birthday, Jackson Wang from China."

His face lights up with an infectious grin as he reads the message out loud.

"Ah, that's definitely me," he exclaims, reaching out to blow the sparkler out like a candle. But to his surprise, it doesn't extinguish. He shakes it slightly and turns to you.

"It burns for twenty-nine seconds, because that's how old you are," you quip with a mischievous glint in your eye.

He looks at you in wonderment, his brows furrowing in confusion. "How do they get it to last exactly twenty-nine seconds?" he asks, genuinely curious.

You chuckle, knowing he's fallen for your playful trick. "They don't," you say, picking up the remaining sparkler and pushing the plate towards him. "You just believe anything I tell you."

He rolls his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Now that's a lie. I don't believe 99.9% of what comes out of that pretty mouth of yours." With a cheeky grin, he dips his finger into the icing and taps your nose, before bringing it to his lips to savor the delicious taste.

“Thanks for thinking of me, baby.” he murmurs in a gentle tone, his eyes fixated on the delectable dessert before him.

The soothing sound of the rain pouring down through the dense Amazonian trees provides a tranquil ambiance. The floor-to-ceiling windows showcase the lush rainforest, with mist creeping up from the warm forest floor. You observe him as he peels off the cupcake paper, sinking his teeth into its side. The coconut shavings crumble onto his exposed tattooed torso. He brushes the crumbs off his skin, just below his navel, where his gray sweatpants meet his briefs, emitting a soft rustling sound. Tilting his head to the side, he takes another bite, letting out a satisfied "mm" at the delectable taste.

He glances over at you, oblivious to how enraptured you had become with his reaction. "Wanna try?" he offers, extending the cupcake towards you. However, you wave your hand, declining the tropical delight.

"I hate coconut flavored stuff," you make a face in distaste.

"Really? Since when? Why didn't I know that?" he queries, taking another bite and shaking his head to brush away the strands of chestnut brown hair from his face.

“Because thankfully, you’ve never fucked up royally enough to get me coconut flavored anything; and I love you all the more for it.” As you rise from your seat, you feel the cool, marble floor beneath the balls of your feet, and make your way over to the Bluetooth speaker. The room is sparsely furnished, and the sound of mellow Afrobeat mixed with R&B piano and the soothing notes of steel pans fills the air.

Suddenly, you feel something cold and flat pressed against your lower back, just above the curve of your hips. You look up at his reflection in the mirror, both of your gazes locking before your eyes fall to the bottle of patron silver he was conveniently using you as a table for; oh but Jackson’s a gentleman, he’s got himself pressed up against your ass, and your ample thighs; he’s keeping you nice and steady while he expertly pours a shot, which he sets down with a satisfying "clink" on the nearby table.

Jackson's second attempt at pouring is a bit messier, causing droplets of the cool liquid to splash against your warm skin, and you slightly jump at the feeling. It was the way the bottom half of your cheeks jiggled from underneath your shorts, however, that earned you a firm grasp and smack as he throws his shot back, relishing in the sight of your body responding to his touch. With a mischievous grin, he leans down to lap up the stray droplets from your lower back as you blissfully sigh from how good he was pressing all your buttons.

“Take your shot, I wanna test somethin’.”

He takes a step back, and you slowly stand up, tossing back the tequila before turning around to face him.

“Hear me out, try chasing with it.” He walks over to the table, and you admire the flexion in his back muscles as he moves. He picks up the cupcake, undeniably sexy as he licks it off his finger. He can tell he’s got you right where he wants you, your eyes never leave him.

“Chasing tequila, with a coconut cupcake? You’re gonna have to show me, ‘cause it’s not sounding too appealing yet.”

“I’m glad you asked, lie down for me sweetheart, let me show you exactly what I mean.”

As you crawl onto the plush mattress, Jackson follows suit, climbing on top of you. The sight of him, flushed from the drinks he had earlier, is enough to make your heart skip a beat. He chuckles at your confusion, but how could you not be confused? He's holding a half-eaten cupcake in one hand and a bottle of tequila in the other, straddling your body. But despite the mischievous glint in his eye, you can't help but find him utterly irresistible. In this remote, remarkable place, far away from the rest of the world, he has you all to himself, and he's clearly up to no good.

"Hold this for me," he says, handing over the cupcake. As you take it, he takes a thick swipe of icing from the dessert. He pushes the bottom of your tank top up just enough for the bottom of your breasts to peek out from under the black, scrunched fabric.

"Jackson, what are you--" you start to ask, but he interrupts you as he paints a straight line of icing down the midline of your stomach, stopping right at your navel. His eyes hold your gaze captive as he slips his finger with the remaining icing between your lips.

As you obediently suck on his finger, feeling the curve of his knuckle and the lines dividing his long digit into printed pads, he lets out a satisfied laugh and proudly declares,

"I thought you hated coconut flavored shit?"

You take his finger further into your mouth, coaxing it in with your tongue. Despite your initial reservations, you can't deny the pleasure you feel from this. He pulls his hand away from your oral fixation with a scoff and a smirk. Taking a swig of tequila, he looks down at you like you're his next biggest conquest.

Aries men have a thing for that – a conquest.

He dips his tongue into your navel, licking the sweet trail all the way up to where your shirt is bunched up. You gasp, propping yourself up on your elbows and looking down at him knowingly. "You know exactly what you're doing," you say.

"I'm teaching you how to broaden your palate," he responds smoothly, wasting no time in taking the cupcake back from you and exchanging it with the bottle of tequila instead.

The cool air circling in the room feels extra sensitive on the wet skin of your stomach, and it turns your nipples into erect, sensitive nubs, poking proudly through the thin fabric of your tank. You push yourself up a little more, so you can sit up straight.

You look up at him as he holds the cupcake out for you to take a sample from. You swipe your finger in the thick, buttercream icing, and your eyes dance down his chiseled torso, deciding where you were going to take this experiment.

Your body is trembling with anticipation as you slide your fingers over the waistband of his briefs, feeling the heat radiating from his body. You lean in closer, the scent of his cologne mixed with the faint aroma of tequila and cupcakes filling your senses. Your tongue traces the trail of soft, delicate hairs leading down from his belly button, savoring the sweet taste of his skin.

You slowly trace a thick line just above his navel, reveling in the way his muscles twitch under your touch. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, his skin flushed and warm from the tequila. You trail the icing down his smooth, taut stomach, disappearing into the waistband of his briefs.

You can't resist the urge to pull them down just a little, just enough to expose the tempting V-line leading down from his abs. With a steady hand, you spread the remaining icing right where you want it. Jackson watches you with dark, intense eyes, his breaths coming in ragged.

Jackson’s eyes flicker with surprise and desire as he helps you by tugging at the sides of his pants, pulling them down even further. The sight of his hardness tenting the front of his sweatpants, the print pushing through the slate grey of his briefs, is almost too much for you to handle. He's always had an aura of mystery and excitement about him, and the way he's looking at you now only adds to his allure.

He sets the cupcake aside and lifts your face up to meet his gaze, you can feel your cheeks heat up under his intense stare. His hand under your chin is firm, holding you steady, but his touch is gentle. You can see the lust in his eyes, but there's also a hint of tenderness there.

"Give me the tequila, baby," he says, his voice low and husky. You hand him the bottle, your fingers brushing against his as you do. His tongue darts out to swipe over his lower lip, and you feel weak in the knees.

With a little squeeze of your chin, he prompts you to open your mouth, and you do so eagerly. You can feel the warmth of his body as he moves in closer, his hips tilted towards you. He's always found you uniquely stunning, in a way that appealed to him on a primal level, and right now, it's as though he can't resist the urge to explore every inch of you.

As you wait, your breath catching in your throat, Jackson's gaze flickers over your face and down to your lips, before he takes a long swig of the tequila first. He swishes it around in his mouth before swallowing, and he pours a stream of it into your open mouth, letting go and allowing you to cringe as you push it down your throat. You quickly stick your tongue out, desperate to get rid of the alcohol taste. You grab his pants, pulling him closer and licking the buttercream trail from his skin. You pull his briefs down, maybe a little too enthusiastically, to get to the rest, and his stiff cock springs out. The head is red, smeared with clear pre-cum that had oozed out while he was toying with you earlier.

As soon as you felt the cool liquor pass your lips, your mouth began to water. You take him in, savoring the feel of him filling your mouth. His substantial length stretches you, and you wrap your lips around him tightly, feeling every ridge and vein as you slide him deeper into your mouth. As your tongue flattens against the bottom of his cock, he hisses at the sensation, his brows knit together in pleasure. His eyes close, and he accidentally holds his breath, lost in the feeling of your mouth on him.

"Damn, babe," he groans, his voice thick with desire. You can feel him growing harder inside your mouth, and you can't resist sliding your hand down to his base, following the thick curve of your lips with every suck. "Keep doing that, God, it feels so good," he pleads, his hips thrusting gently towards your mouth.

He probably shouldn’t, but he takes another shot anyway. He really does want to set the bottle down, but he can’t peel himself from between your pretty lips just yet. The way your intensity climbs as the liquor kicks in, you take his balls gently in your hand, using all the saliva that had pooled as lubrication to massage them.

His moans of pleasure fill the room, each one more intense than the last. With his hand covering his face and his other tightly gripping the tequila bottle, it was clear that he was completely lost in the moment. The air was thick with a heady mix of profanity, grunts, and gasps, all signaling his overwhelming pleasure.

“H-Hold on, hold on—” Jackson somehow finds the inner strength to breathe, to stop you from taking him directly off the edge a lot sooner than he had originally planned. He drops his hand, revealing his handsome face again. He stares at you with a look of utter desire and adoration, his eyes glazed over with pleasure. Beads of sweat drip down his forehead, his hair mussed and sticking to his skin in all the right places. His lips are parted, panting softly as he struggles to regain control of his senses.

His body is a work of art, every muscle defined and chiseled to perfection. The veins in his arms and neck pulse with intensity, a testament to the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. He looks like a god, a vision of pure masculinity and strength.

You can see the raw passion in his eyes, the way they fixate on you with such intensity that it makes your heart skip a beat. It's a look that says he wants you more than anything in the world, and nothing else matters in this moment.

“I wanna fuck you,”

He breathes out, pointing to the oversized window across from the bed.

“In the rainforest.”

☾ -- fin

#jackson wang #jackson wang x reader #jackson wang fic #jackson wang smut #got7 smut #got7 fic #jackson wang fanfic #jackson wang from CHINA #WHY DID I GO FERAL AND WRITE THIS OUT OF NOWHERE #i blame gdragonsideburns

380 notes · View notes

chingyu1023vick · 2 years

Text

Functional Lot Traits / Challenges

A pack of 22 Lot Traits/ Lot Challenges with actual game effects but no annoying visible buffs.

** Maxis-Match icons

** All my Traits Packs are compatible with any other mods.

** They are all base game compatible. No other requirement!

Provided with Lot Traits and Lot Challenges versions that can be mixed and matched to be used together

Advanced

This Lot has the most efficient furniture to lock your Sims' motives.

Airless

It is difficult to breathe on this Lot. Sims on this Lot are easier to get Dazed, have faster Energy decay, and have bad performances.

Always Jog

Sims on this Lot would always jog regardless it is indoor or outdoor.

Boring

This Lot lacks interesting details. Sims on this Lot are easier to get bored, have faster Fun need decay, and perform less fun social interactions.

Clean

This Lot is spotless. Sims on this Lot tidy up much faster.

Comfortable

This Lot is physically relaxing to stay in. Sims on this Lot have their uncomfortable buffs go away faster and all their motives decay slower.

Convenient

This furnished Lot helps Sims on this Lot to speed up their skills gain with its amenities and complementary facilities.

Cozy

This Lot has a cuddled-up vibe. Sims on this Lot are less stressed and have their relationships decay slower.

Cramped

This Lot is full of clutter. Sims on this Lot are almost impossible to move and they are slow to gain physical skills.

Dim Light

This dark Lot is not the best place for painting or photography and causes uneasy feelings.

Luxurious

This extravagant Lot is for the most wealthy Sims. Sims on this Lot no longer have their fame decay which boosts Sims' confidence.

Noisy

This Lot is not good for studying or reading activities. Sims on this Lot are more irritable and all that noise makes it hard to concentrate.

No Mean Allowed

Sims on this Lot are more peaceful and rarely get into arguments or fights.

No Mischief Allowed

Sims on this Lot are less irritating because they do fewer autonomous mischief interactions.

No Outdoor Run

Sims on this Lot never run outdoor.

No Romance Allowed

This Lot does not set the right mood for romance. Sims on this Lot do fewer autonomous romantic interactions and are hard to build any romantic relationships.

No Walkstyle

Sims on this Lot would always walk in the default walkstyle.

Social Failure

This Lot is not for social. Sims on this Lot are less friendly and they are hard to build any type of relationship.

Spacious

Sims have more personal space on this Lot. They are calmer but their friendships decay faster from being distant.

Stylish

This unique beautiful Lot gives a feeling of satisfaction to all Sims.

Thermostatic

This Lot has a central air conditioning and heating system. Sims on this Lot don't need to change clothes to adapt to the weather.

Welcoming

This is an inviting Lot that every Sim wants to spend time in. Sims on this Lot won't be considered inappropriate for doing daily activities.

👑 Full Mod Detail HERE

Download on Patreon HERE (Free)

🔹 Links to ALL My Traits, Game Mods, and CCs

🔹List of IDs for creators who want to refer my traits to their own mods

🔹 List of Chingyu’s CC Traits Name and Descriptions for mod users

🔹 Check Mod Status after a patch & Compatibilities

👁‍🗨 Learn how to install a mod & FAQs

👁‍🗨 Terms of Use

👁‍🗨 Ask Questions/ Suggestions/ Bug Reports on Discord

▶ I need to see a screenshot or LE report to help you figure out what’s wrong!

👁‍�� My Official Site

👁‍🗨 Follow me on Twitter

👁‍🗨 Follow me on Tumblr

3K notes · View notes

hiccupmistress · 11 months

Text

So earlier today, everyone on twitter got all confused because everything was showing a “rate limit exceeded” error message with no further clarification whatsoever. Then, some hours later, Mister dumb-dumb claims its “totally deliberate u guys” to “address extreme levels of data scraping”, and limiting people to seeing 600 posts per day. That might sound like a lot, but the way Twitter loads its feed, that basically means you get about 30 seconds of usage.

So basically, Mister dumb-dumb spent an unearthly amount of money to buy one of the biggest, most relied-upon social networks in the world, fired all the people who actually worked there, changed the verification badges so instead of confirming celeb accounts are legit, they instead mean “my cult is paying me $8″, claimed an adjective is a slur and is now massively restricting people using the service.

He does claim this is “temporary”, but given this idiot’s track record, he probably doesn’t know how to fix it. Especially since he laid off most of the actual software engineers.

Twitter has, for years, been a primary platform for both communities as well as keeping up on news. If people can barely see any tweets per day, that all goes right out the window.

Twitter got so big largely because it was convenient to get those things on one feed. Netflix got big when it started because it was convenient to have everything in one place, it reduced the amount of piracy that was going on for film/TV because it was easier and more convenient than the old torrenting services of the day. Now, every last studio wants to cash in with its own streaming service, and people are going back to piracy because its more convenient that having 500 different monthly subscriptions. This is the social media version of that. Mister dumb-dumb took one of the most convenient social media platforms and utterly mangled it, so user retention is understandably going through the floor.

Anyway, that means a lot of the communities I’ve been a part of are splitting all over the place to countless third party platforms. I’m not 100% sure yet, but I might be making more of an effort to get used to Tumblr. I’ve never quite felt confident posting here, but its currently the best alternative; Reddit is also going down the toilet with their API changes, Facebook is more built for people you know IRL rather than fandom communities (I never particularly liked the groups systems there), Discord is utterly alien to me and I simply cannot learn how to make the most of it and stuff like Mastodon or random-twitter-knockoff-that-my-mutuals-aren’t-bothering-to-tell-me-what-it-is are too niche and a bit weird.

So yeah, this feed might become more active with videogame screenshots, Star Trek episode thoughts and opinions, neurodivergent ramblings and whatever else, idk.

EDIT: News article with a bit more detail if you want

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/technology-66077195

#twitter ded #mister dumb-dumb broke twitter for good #social media's gone all weird #i just want my online community spaces #i need somewhere to talk about my hyperfixations #trust your software engineers #i'm still not entirely sure how to use tumblr

19 notes · View notes

wardenred · 8 months

Text

Sapphic September 3: 3 AM

Pretty much a free writing exercise, I guess.

The familiar ringtone I haven't heard in six months rips through the silence of my apartment. Shabby, my ancient cat, twitches an ear in her sleep and stretches, pushing the phone off its usual charging place on the edge of my mattress. On the floor, it continues singing the song of the past, and I should really pick it up—the phone, not the call, any wise person would simply ignore the call—but I'm frozen.

"Meow," Shabby says. Her eyes are still closed, but her annoyance is apparent. I nearly fall out of my desk chair as I scramble up, then down on my knees. I stare at the phone screen. The initial followed by a sparkling heart emoji blinks back at me. I remember changing that heart to a broken one on the evening of our oh so amicable break-up, then deciding I was being too dramatic and refusing to save the change.

The song goes on and on, an old melancholy tune with a trace of hope in it. Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You. What did I ever expect, really, with a song like that to serve as our romantic theme? She all but warned me on the very first night when I heard her sing in that dumb karaoke bar for the first time.

Behind the paper-thin wall, a neighbor coughs. I draw a breath. The last two brain cells I possess vote unanimously for tapping Dismiss, and like the fool that I am, I go for Accept instead.

"Yes?" I've got the perfect excuse for my shaky voice, for how long it's taken me to respond. Just look at the time!

"Hey you." She dares to sound just like herself, like all these months of distance have never happened, and I think I'll never breathe again. Consider me dead. "So what are you doing awake at 3 AM for the fifth night in a row?"

"How do you—"

"I can see you online on Discord. And Facebook. And basically everywhere."

Oh. Right. We're still friends on basically everywhere. Messengers, socials, she's on every contact list I have. I'd lie if I said I don't still waste unreasonable chunks of time just staring at her userpic, the same across all of the Internet. A photo I took with a filter she applied. Except I don't see her online all that often, and when I do, it's always with some stupid red status icon. Busy. Away. Do Not Disturb.

"I ran into your friend Maggie tonight," she continues,as if this was a perfectly normal conversation. "She said you’re dating her brother."

"Uh." That's not quite true. John and I have agreed to go on a date. Next week. It hasn't even happened yet. In truth, I'm not sure I want it to happen. Maybe I will conveniently get sick right around Friday evening. Or there might be a food poisoning. Or a sprained ankle. Normally, I prefer excuses focused on last-minute work projects I couldn't say no to, because I have this stupid conviction it makes me look like a responsible adult. Alas, those don't fly so well on the weekends.

"Don't do that," she says. "I don't want you to."

Such a simple request, worded so confidently, like she has any right whatsoever to dictate what happens in my life. The life she's no longer even a part of.

I can't help but laugh at the sheer audacity. Shabby opens one yellow eye and peers at me in such abject displeasure I am forced to reach out and give her all the pats to compensate for the inconvenience.

In a certain light, her eyes look yellow, too, though they never lost their green. Like an autumn lake with golden leaves floating over murky waters, illuminated by the last rays of sunset.

"So?"

"So?.." I repeat after her.

"You won't do that, right?"

"Darling," and I meant to use her name, I swear I meant to, but the usual endearment flows way too easily of my lips. "I don't think you get a say in what I do or don't do any longer."

"Well, no one else is running an intervention, so I kind of have to!"

"What on earth makes you think I need an intervention?!"

"Duh. You own stupid plan? Come on. You don't even like guys most of the time."

"Some of the time I like them just fine," I counter. "And it's John. He's—he's sweet."

"If you ever liked John that way, you would have both gone for it a long time ago.”

He likes me that way, though. He has for a while. And that's why I should feel guilty for how the chances of me getting food poisoning on Friday are plummeting down. I kind of want to go out with John now. Just to give her an excuse to run more interventions.

This is reckless. Twisted. Not like me at all.

All the things she's always brought out in me.

"You won't go, will you?"

"Why are you up at 3 AM on the weekday stalking my socials?"

Neither of us gets an answer we want.

#warden's random scribbles #sapphic september 2023 #sapphicsept2023 #my writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #original fiction #flash fiction #snippet #3 am feelings

5 notes · View notes

renardtrickster · 11 months

Text

The following is a conversation longpost I had on a Discord chat group with some friends. In it I discuss moral luck, the idea that your average person if they were transported to the Salem Witch Trials would support it, moral nihilism, and cleaning your room.

There's a sentiment I've observed a couple of times right now that's odd to me. Because on one hand, the arguments being made are extremely coherent, and I even agree with some of it. But on the other hand, the act of giving the argument itself makes me deeply skeptical. And the sentiment is the fact that if we were around during the witch trials. You, me, everyone, we wouldn't be the people standing up against the witches. We would be the ones cheering at the gallows. The discussion started in a blogpost about the nature of a "medieval setting", and an objection to someone describing the medieval nobility as "insane". The crux of the matter was the simple fact that the difference between us and the medieval people was not intelligence, really.

The medieval people were as smart as us, same construction for the most part, but they do not have the information we had, and they were taught different things from us. We have been educated from birth to use science, look back at history, and employ rationality, but their history was mostly myth, folklore, and word of mouth. The idea that flesh and stone are made out of the same thing (atoms) is bizarre and unfounded. Spirits and gods control the weather because it's unpredictable and seems to move at its own pace. And this applies to morality to. We have foresight to look at witch-burnings and say "ah, this was just killing women for no reason", but if you were raised to believe that demons are real and people can invoke them and that's why a litter of pigs were stillborn, then you would be more inclined to do so. Especially if you were raised to believe that men and women are different (and have different lots), don't regard or even consider fundamental human rights because such a paradigm does not work in this society, and that objective good and objective evil both exist and if you're not aligned with one, it's with the other. Furthermore, being able to conceive of resisting the system you've been taught is true is one thing. Actually doing it is another. Doing that stuff risks your life. People today have difficulty placing the moral good over personal safety, it would only be harder if your view of the moral good was synonymous with bowing your head down. I think in a vacuum, all of this is fully understandable. I struggle to think of someone who would object, or what arguments one could make against this. My problem is more along the lines of this. What point are you trying to make? What underlying truth are you trying to reach by arguing that the difference between being a civil rights activist in the 1960s and a Klansman was just a matter of luck as to where and when you were born? Because I think my underlying issue is that it suggests a sort of convenient nihilism that begets convenient apathy.

Like, you guys know why Jordan B. Peterson's "clean your room before you change the world" is shit, right? "Clean your room" is a metaphor for having a good fulfilling life. Fix yourself before you fix others. But it's deeply, deeply flawed. Putting aside the fact that JBP himself was addicting to benzos as he became a conservative pundit, it ignores a few truths. First is that sometimes, you cannot be fixed unless the world is fixed. If you're stuck in poverty that forces you to choose between a life of crime or a short but honest one, and things are so unbearable that succumbing to alcoholism is more mentally healthy than living as you do currently, and the system you live in is constructed in such a way your poverty is either guaranteed or nigh inescapable, then "fix yourself first" feels more like a dismissal of problems than earnest self-help. Second is that the cleanliness of a room is subjective. JBP implies pretty hard that the act of being dissatisfied is a personal fault, therefore any desire to change the world is evidence of an unclean room. And third is that people have changed the world with unclean rooms. The Founding Fathers were pieces of shit whose guiding ideals of equality under God were hypocritical because they denied women the right to vote and black people the right to be human, but I'd say that the founding of America was overall a good move. Democracy. Mahatma Gandhi was a piece of shit to his wife and sussy around children, repelling Imperial Britain from India was still good. People keep harping on about MLK cheating on his wife and fucking prostitutes. Do I think that's true? I dunno, didn't look into it. Would I still say he was one of the most important figures in American history even if it was true? Absolutely. In a broader sense, "fix yourself before you fix the world" ignores that humans cannot be fixed.

So in this sense, I think "you and I would have burned the witches, would have jeered at slaves, would have ratted out our Jewish neighbors to the gestapo", hits on a similar negative note. Because as a screed against moral luck, I like it. I detest moral luck. There are people who hold objectively correct positions and believe all the right things, but were never tested on it. They were born into it, or followed the social trends around them, or otherwise had those positions handed to them on a silver platter. And they disgust me. Partially because a lot of them are abusive pieces of shit who were taught "be good" without being taught how to do that, and partly because they sneer at people who spent portions of their lives as reactionaries when they themselves were one thoughtless night of browsing twitter away from being neo-nazis. So in this sense, I think you should be wary of moral luck. Look out for it, recognize when you're taking your beliefs for granted. Maybe walk yourself through your own positions, explain to yourself why you hold them instead of just saying "well it's the right thing to hold". And recognize that other people have had to work to reach the point you spawned in on. We're deeply lucky we grew up in a culture where equality is a basic ideal held by one of the predominant political parties and that we are taught to hold science and rationality as axioms. The people at Salem did not get this. So rather than sneer at them, construct a belief system that would hold up to these rigors. Don't think "if I were transported to Salem, would I have stood up", think "if Salem were to happen right now, how would I react, how would things change to be more palatable to me, would I continue to oppose a witch trial if the witch trials were against people I despise like nazis or pedophiles or League of Legends players, and do I practice these principles in my current day to day life".

But instead, I don't think this talking point manifests in this way. It instead manifests as a sort of apathy, or condemnation. Like, "hey, if you were born in Salem you would think you were right, so why do you think you're right now". Not as a call for introspection, but as an indictment against outrage or conviction. You may recognize the Third Reich was bad, but only luck prevented you from being a Hitler supporter. You may be calling that man a fascist, and you may be literally correct because the parallels are true, clear, and easily defensible, but it's still a manifestation of the indignant belief that you're right and smart and better than some other you measure yourself against. It seems to be skeptical of the idea of holding beliefs, I think. There also seems to be no way of escaping it. In my earlier screed, the most innately condemnatory I got about moral luck was "you may be lucky, you may be unlucky, as long as you take the time to walk it through and earn it then it's okay". Here, moral luck seems to be inescapable. You were born with the moral luck of being in the 21st century, you can't surmount this luck, accept that you are as much of a dog as a medieval noble enslaving a peasant man, because the only meaningful difference is circumstance. I don't think it's a coincidence that this sentiment was written upon at length by Christian bloggers, or bloggers linking to these Christian blogs. It takes on a character indistinct from Original Sin. But I also said it was convenient, and it's in this same "everything is the same" defeatism. Because the medieval peasants who believed that women were of a lesser type of being, more akin to dogs than to men, thought they were right, and they reached that through the axiomatic tools of their time. And you believe you are right, which you reached through the axiomatic tools of your time. So do you think that in a hundred years, historians will look back upon pro-choicers with the same scorn they will look upon the nazis? Have you not considered, that as times change, our ideas of racial equality will be just as, if not more, derided than the ideals of the KKK? Do you not salivate at the thought that transgender people will occupy the same footnote of historical perversion as the pederasts of Ancient Greece?

It's not even moral antirealism, it's moral nihilsim I think. It just throws its hands into the air, says "well I guess it's impossible to determine what's right or not, because MLK and Stalin could have been the same guy with a twist of fate", and then imagines a world where this is true. Or implicitly prescribes the idea that it's pointless to hold or make beliefs other than The Ones I Like Personally. You can kind of see where I'm coming at, right? It kind of reminds me of progressive (read morally lucky "progressives") who have some fetishistic fascination with implicit bias in this weird, inborn way. Like, feminists who care more about hating men and reminding men who support feminism that they're taught to believe rape is cool from birth and thus are consigned to performing "lesser feminism" or are incapable of being feminists, rather than actually doing feminist stuff. Except in this case the cringe feminists still have the upper hand because they still believe in the idea that you can believe things and defend believing them.

#oh no renardie is posting #infoxicated #also it's important you know that the chat this was from is called Weeb Squad

4 notes · View notes

reinedescauchemars · 10 months

Text

on colonialism, imperialism, and racism

this is just kind of the culmination of a few days' worth of anger at the world for being the way it is, and especially towards people like me, since i feel like a lot of the time desi (south asian) people aren't considered to be victims of anti-black (because if you're from the north, you're probably too pale for that) or anti-asian (because people where i am seem to take "asian" to mean "east and southeast asian") racism, but desi people are victims of racism, and also of imperialism and colonialism

i think a lot of people fall into the model minority myth trap when thinking about desis. they think we came to the west for opportunities because we're highly educated tech workers, or because we're gas station or small shop owners who pulled ourselves up by our bootstraps. there is a literal stereotype that gujaratis are convenience store owners. and when the model minority myth is used, it erases the impacts of colonialsm and imperialism and racism on us, because we can't be doing great financially (desi americans earn more on average than white americans) if we've been oppressed, right? wrong

and then there's also fucking modi and hindu nationalism and that makes some non-desi people think that oh, india's always been like this, a hotbed of sectarian violence, but it wasn't always like this

and then there's the non-desis who go off to their yoga classes and talk about aligning their chakras and appropriate desi culture without even thinking about it. i'm supposed to just be okay with people divorcing meditation from the underlying buddhist philosophy because meditation is trendy but being buddhist isn't, and honestly i don't think you can divorce yoga and meditation from the religions that created them, especially since yoga isn't about stretching but about finding peace with yourself and being able to handle all the life throws at you in a calm way

anyhow. that's the first bit of anger out of the way

this all started with me trying to fill out a form for school and i saw that it had autofilled my ethnic background as pakistani, which is wrong. i'm punjabi, my mother was born in india, and my ancestors were sikh. most pakistanis are muslim; there's a small sikh minority but most sikhs got the fuck out of pakistan during the partition

sikhism originated in punjab, which was a large area of land named after the five rivers that run through it. punjab now is an indian state and a pakistani state, separated from each other by the radcliffe line that set the india-pakistan border. the combined area of both states is smaller than the actual punjab region. so there's sikh holy sites in what's now pakistan, a muslim country known for its intolerance of religious minorities, including sikhs. the holiest site in sikhism is in amritsar, a city right on the border and just barely in india

i say i'm punjabi before i say i'm indian because to me, being from that region is more important than saying what country my mother was born in. punjabis are indian and pakistani. punjabis on both sides of the border dance bhangra. punjab used to be a fairly tolerant place of different religions, with hindus, muslims, and sikhs living side by side. it was never perfect, but it used to be a heck of a lot better than it is now

in 1947, east and west pakistan (later renamed to bangladesh and pakistan, respectively) were created due to the british-supported muslim nationalist movement. yep, that's right: the british sowed discord in the citizens of the raj, turned a prominent political figure into a muslim nationalist, and then drew borders based on outdated census data that forced millions to move across the two borders. that line is called the radcliffe line

that was the partition. it was brutal, it was violent, the true number of dead are unknown but there was so much death. there were sectarian massacres and murders and rapes. and partition tensions have never really calmed down: there's still the question of kashmir, which both india and pakistan want

i blame the british government for the rise of modi. i blame the british government for the generational trauma that my family has suffered through. i blame the british government for exploiting sikhs during wwi, in which they were underpaid for wartime service and farmers were underpaid for their grain, and i blame winston churchill for the preventable deaths of so many bengalis during wwii. i blame european imperialists for destroying the economy of bengal and making bangladesh one of the poorest countries in the world

i blame colonialism and imperialism for fucking up the indian subcontinent and screwing over desi people

and what else do i blame imperialism for? making calling myself indian virtually impossible without having to explain that i don't mean that i'm native american, because i'm not, i'm punjabi

in 1492, christopher columbus sailed the ocean blue and brutally exploited and murdered taino people when he discovered that he'd landed on an island with gold, not realizing that there wasn't actually that much gold, and the gold the taino had had been painstakingly collected over generations. columbus thought he'd reached china. but what did he call the taino? "indians". and that term stuck, so now all indigenous peoples in the americas were called "indians" and that somehow stuck around in the minds of most americans

i call myself indian and then realize that almost nobody around me understands that i mean to say my ancestors were from the indian subcontinent. i say i'm indian american and then get asked if i mean "american indian". i tried to change my ethnic background on the form to indian or punjabi or even desi, but the form had none of those options. instead, it had "asian indian"

this term pisses me off because first off, no indian person i know would call themselves that. we're just indian. and secondly? almost every time i see a survey that asks for race, indians are excluded from the asian category

here's a little fun fact that's not so fun at all: punjabi people were, for a long time, classified by the us census as white, but denied the same rights as other white people because their skin was "too dark". (punjabi people are pretty pale in the grand scheme of things.) a wwi punjabi sikh veteran, bhagat singh thind, who fought for the us was denied citizenship (by the us supreme court) because of this in 1923

here's another not so fun fact: sikh people, especially men, have been targeted in islamophobic attacks in the us because they wear turbans. most muslims don't wear turbans, but because pop culture says than anyone who wears turbans is muslim, this has resulted in violence against the sikh community, who are more than 90% of the turban-wearers in america

but back to the form: the fact that the survey split up the desi mainland ethnic backgrounds into asian indian, bangladeshi, and pakistani makes me annoyed. the borders between bangladesh, india, and pakistan were meaningless until 1947, because they didn't exist. bengalis and punjabis, to name but two ethnic groups, live on both sides of these borders. i'm more similar, from an ethnic background perspective, to a pakistani punjabi than i am to an indian bengali, but because of the borders, i am in the same "ethnic background" group as the indian bengali but not the pakistani punjabi. indians have all kinds of ethnic backgrounds, but i very rarely see that reflected in western society

i have a lot of anger on how colonialism and imperialism and racism have hurt people and this is just the tip of the iceberg about this, but i'm sick and tired of my culture and heritage being misrepresented and oversimplified and appropriated and so i'm going to end this here, having burnt off some steam but before i start boiling with rage about this again

1 note · View note

rocorambles · 4 years

Text

Perfect

Pairing: Akaashi x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Yandere, Toxic Relationships, Manipulation, Non-Con/Dub-Con, Forced Impregnation

Prompt: “I told you to stay still”

Summary: The perfect couple always has children. Multiple children. A full family. A house full of laughter and home-cooked meals. And you two are the epitome of a perfect couple. So why are you still so hesitant about taking the next big step?

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this spicy prompt. (Masterlist goes live Tuesday 6th October 11:00pm U.K. time!)

Akaashi’s always been an overthinker. He can admit that. He knows it’s a flaw he’s always had and could never seem to shake off. But just because he realizes it doesn’t mean he does anything about it. And the overwhelming pressure he places on himself in everything he does only fuels the suffocating thoughts until they’re screaming in his head. Unfortunately for you, his sweet darling wife, that only means terrible things for you and suddenly every move you make is alarming, every word you say is suspicious, every breath you take painstakingly monitored.

Akaashi just wants to be the perfect husband, the perfect lover, the perfect provider. He wants the two of you to be the perfect happily married couple, to live the perfect domestic life. So after years of playing house, of devoting all his attention and love on you, of spoiling you rotten with everything you could possibly want, when you tell him you aren’t ready to have children yet, he feels his cool facade slip and the incessant thoughts begin to drown him.

The perfect couple always has children. Multiple children. A full family. A house full of laughter and home-cooked meals. And you two are the epitome of a perfect couple. So why are you still so hesitant about taking the next big step? Are you tired of him? Do you not want to have kids with him? Are you planning on leaving him?

You nervously shift from foot to foot, intimidated by the chaos you see in blue eyes and you tentatively reach out to your husband, trying to understand what’s wrong, but you sigh in relief as he jolts at your touch, staring blankly at you before setting his face back to its usual serene countenance, slightly smiling at you as he nods in understanding and affectionately kisses your forehead. This is the Akaashi you’d fallen in love with and you happily sigh as you wrap your arms around his waist, letting yourself be rocked in his arms in a warm embrace, ignorant of how his face hardens as soon as his chin is tucked above your head, eyes thoughtful, mind scheming.

It takes some coaxing, some patient conversations during your most vulnerable moments when you were still groggily rubbing the sleep out of your eyes or yawning as you lay your head on the pillow to sleep at night, but he finally gets his answers and he smiles in endearment as you worry about whether or not you’re ready to be a mom. Would you even be a good mom? Oh. He’s sure you’re going to be the perfect mother and he makes a mental note to prove that to you until you see it for yourself, but he’s grateful for the darkness that hides his grimace when you go on to talk about how you also want to focus on your career for now. It’s not that Akaashi is against women working. He doesn’t hate how happy and fulfilled you feel as you ramble on and on about work, about your coworkers, about your salary and title. He just thinks you’d be even more perfect as his pretty little housewife and he quietly plans and strategizes as your breathing gets heavier and heavier until you’re fast asleep besides him on your shared bed.

He waits until your chest rises and falls in even rhythms before reaching over for your phone. You’ve always been so trusting, probably too trusting of him, but that works in his favor now as he flawlessly types in your password and dives into your alarms and work emails. A swipe there, a deletion here. He meticulously combs through your phone turning off your alarms, deleting important meetings, getting rid of urgent emails waiting for your response before he quietly places your phone on the nightside table by you, pleased with his work and he closes his own eyes, a small smile on his face as he peacefully sleeps.

Luckily, he leaves for work much earlier than you, so he’s out the door before you can even realize the messy day you’re about to have and he can’t be blamed for not waking you up when your alarm doesn’t go off. He patiently waits and waits, glancing at his phone every now and then, waiting for the onslaught of panicked and distressing texts he knows you’ll send his way as your day gets progressively worse and worse. And sure enough, his phone vibrates over and over again as you send a flurry of texts steeped in negative emotions and like the perfect husband he is, he sends the consoling and comforting notes you need. And when you call, crying and sobbing about being yelled at, about how awful at your job you are, he’s there to soothe you.

“Don’t cry, love. It’s not your fault. You’re an amazing woman. Maybe this just isn’t the right job for you or the right company for you.”

He plants the seeds of doubt in your mind and you let them be watered by the sweet suggestions he sprinkles on you. And with just a few more flicks of his wrist in the middle of the night when you’re asleep, ignorant of your phone being used without your knowledge, and a little bit of time, you’re finally fired and he’s there, rushing back home to wrap you in his arms. But he smiles when instead of being distraught, you merely sit there quietly as you tuck yourself against him.

“Maybe this just wasn’t the right job for me, Keiji.”

He encourages you to take some time off from the workforce. You had worked so hard for so long. You deserve a break. And you mindlessly nod along to his silky voice. Relaxing does sound nice. You had thrown yourself into your job so much that you’d forgotten what it was like to have so much free time and you begin to excitedly ponder what hobbies you could pick up to fill the days, what projects around the house you could finally get done.

Akaashi sighs when his alarm goes off the next morning, but he sits up in confusion when the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the air and he blearily turns to your side of the bed, freezing when he finds it empty. But his groggy mind begins to put two and two together and he rushes towards the kitchen where he feels like his heart might burst at the sight of you humming, an apron daintily wrapped around you as you pour a generous amount of dark caffeine in his favorite mug. And he can’t stop himself from closing the distance between you as he tenderly wraps you in his arms, turning you around until you’re face to face as he captures your lips in a good morning kiss. He wants every morning to be like this, he thinks, as he mentally captures the image of you smiling and waving goodbye to him from the apartment door. The perfect loving wife seeing her husband off.

You spend your long days at home tidying up the house, decorating spaces in the house you’d always wanted to spruce up but never had time to before, spending hours in the kitchen cooking and baking everything you’d always wanted to try. It’s nice to fall into a domestic rhythm with Akaashi and work is far from your mind as you cheerily greet your husband when he comes home, as the two of you pleasantly chat while he eats the piping hot delicious meal you’ve prepared for him, as he hand feeds you the brownies you had made as the two of you sit on the couch and watch a show together.

But as time goes on, you find yourself twiddling your thumbs a bit with just a little too much idle time on your hand now that the interior of the apartment is exactly up to your dream standards of cleanliness and decor. And you can’t help but wonder how nice it would be to have a small child running about the place, keeping you company while Akaashi is away at work. You freeze when the thought crosses your mind and your brows furrow in confusion. Where had that thought come from? You’d never wanted kids before. And yet...You quickly shove that fleeting idea to the back of your mind as you refold laundry that had already been handled, throwing yourself into anything that could distract you from the strange desires plaguing your mind.

Little do you know how much Akaashi has influenced you in the time you’ve been stuck at home. Little do you know that the daily evening walks he takes you on after dinner are always purposefully done around the nearby children parks. Little do you know that the little comments and remarks he makes about how adorable that child is, how silly this child is aren’t as offhand as you think. They’re strategically strung together words just for you and he slightly smiles when he sees them weaving through your mind as your eyes soften and a longing smile begins to tug at your lips when you turn to look at what he’s talking about. Little do you know that it’s no accident when the two of you go shopping and find yourselves passing aisles of children’s toys and clothing. And Akaashi feels his chest tighten with affection when you unconsciously skim your fingers over the tiny shoes and onesies, asking him for his opinions.

“Aren’t these cute, Keiji?”

And he nods his head as he reaches down to hold your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours as you continue perusing.

He knows he almost has you right where he wants you. He can almost see the cogs turning in your head, see you imagining a life with him and a family...your own little family. It’s time for the final step and he secretly keeps tabs on the convenient period tracking app you have on your phone waiting and waiting until your next ovulation period and when it comes, you squeal in surprise when he impatiently whisks you off to your shared bedroom and presses you down onto the bed as soon as he steps into the house after work.

His movements are so hurried, so rough, so unlike how Akaashi normally is, but you eagerly reciprocate, excited to see this side of your husband and you’re a moaning, writhing mess as he bites and sucks every inch of your skin, a trail of red skin following in his wake as he marks up your neck, collarbones, and breasts. You’re already dripping wet by the time he finally reaches down to rub your clit and slip his fingers inside of you and your hips buck up into his touch, urging him for more. Your head is swirling with lust and you whine when he briefly slips away to guide the tip of his cock against your leaking hole and you shudder in desire when you feel him running his tip along your slit. But even in your dazed state, you feel yourself hesitate a bit when you see that he isn’t using a condom.

“Keiji, I’m ovulating. You need to use a cond- AH!”

You’re cut off as he slides his cock inside of you, your slick walls greedily sucking him in with little resistance and you try to muster up the words to repeat yourself, but you can’t articulate anything as he leans down to suck a perky nipple as he begins to thrust in and out of you in a sensual, but thorough pattern, making sure you can feel every inch of him rubbing against your clenching walls, making sure you can feel him sink balls deep inside of him, making sure you can feel him stimulate the spongy spot inside of you that has you seeing stars. And you give up, trusting that he’d at least pull out before he cums, and you lose yourself to the feeling of being so used and filled, feeling the coil in your stomach grow tighter and tighter, and when blue eyes gaze down at you and he hungrily leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, you fall over the edge, your pleasured wails swallowed by your husband’s lips as he chases his own end.

You lay there in mind numbing bliss as he continues to sink in and out of your tight heat, letting out little mewls of overstimulation, but when you feel the erratic rhythm of his thrusts and you see the telltale look on his face as he closes his eyes that indicate he’s close and he makes no attempt to pull out, you weakly shake his shoulders, squirming and wriggling your body from underneath him as you try to pull away.

“K-Keiji, NGH you can cum on me. Okay? AH B-but, you can’t cum inside me.”

You scream when large hands roughly grab your waist in a bruising grip and forcefully pull you down until he’s fully inside you once again.

“Stay still.”

You whimper, trying to be good for him, but anxiety is beginning to cloud your pleasure and you struggle once again, pleading with him and telling him you don’t want to get pregnant. But you keen when that only spurs him on to fuck you rougher, harder, deeper and your eyes roll back as you try to register the almost painful overstimulation you’re going through.

“I told you to stay still.”

And this time you do stay still, unable to do anything else but lay there like a good obedient wife as he pistons in and out of you, your mouth open in a persistent silent scream as your hands desperately scramble to find purchase in the rumpled bed sheets and you brokenly moan when he finally shoves inside of you with one final thrust and your stomach feels hot as spurts of liquid spill inside of you.

You’re in shock as he stays buried inside of you, trapping your body with his as he lays down on top of you, nuzzling and kissing the crook of your neck as he keeps his cum inside of you and you’re not sure how much time passes as you just lay there, mind blank as you try to come to terms with what had just happened. But when you feel his cock begin to twitch and harden inside of you once more, you frantically try to push him away from you, try to separate yourself from him.

“Keiji, stop it! I need to go get Plan B or something. I-”

Your mind is a chaotic swirl as you try to figure out next steps to avoid this unwanted pregnancy and you think you might throw up at the idea of being pregnant, having a child, all so suddenly, so fast.

You’re not ready. You’re not ready. You’re not ready.

Your thoughts are shattered to pieces when you’re shoved back down onto the mattress and you loudly wail when Akaashi begins an unforgiving pace once again, brutally slamming his hips into yours, his cum acting as lubrication, making it easier for him to plow into you and take you over and over again. And the last coherent thought you have is that you were such a fool to not realize just how much stronger, how much larger Akaashi is compared to you as your attempts to shake him off are easily ignored by the man above you.

You don’t know how much time has passed. It feels like an eternity and you’re not sure how you’re still conscious as Akaashi breeds you over and over again. Your mouth is open in a persistent silent scream, your eyes are rolled so far back in your head you can barely see, tears and drool mar your face. Everything feels so good, too good, and you can’t stop sobbing from the overwhelming pleasure you feel as Akaashi keeps on spilling load after load of sticky white liquid inside of you and you curl into Akaashi’s body instinctively for comfort when he sinks down on top of you, exhaustion finally catching up with him. And the two of you just lay there, chests heaving as you both heavily pant, his flaccid cock still buried inside of you, plugging his cum inside of you. And even though you want to yell at him, to be angry at him for forcing this on you, you’re so spent, head empty of anything except for Akaashi that you let yourself be maneuvered until you’re both on your sides, facing each other, your lower bodies still intimately connected.

You let out a little whimper when you feel a large hand gently stroke your cum-filled stomach, but you can feel your face and body grow hot when his other hand gently nudges your chin up to look at him and you see the look of pure love and adoration in his eyes.

“You’re going to look so beautiful with your belly bulging with my children, our children.”

You let out a breathy gasp when he teasingly fondles one of your pebbled nipples and palms your fleshy mound.

“You’re going to look so beautiful when these swell up with milk. I wonder if our children would be willing to share some with their father.”

Sweet word after word spills from his lips and you listlessly lay there listening to him go on and on, painting a picture of what your future lives together would look like, and before you can catch yourself from falling deeper into his trap, your mind betrays you and images flash across your vision and you unconsciously draw even nearer to Akaashi, cuddling into his body affectionately as picture perfect scenes of you braiding a little girl’s hair while Akaashi teaches a little boy how to play volleyball flicker across your imagination. And when Akaashi feels you gently place your hand on top of his hand that’s still cradling your stomach practically sloshing with the amount of liquid he’s gifted you with tonight, he knows he’s got you hook, line, and sinker.

That night the two of you fall asleep, dreaming about the perfect life you’re going to have together.

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu yandere #yandere haikyuu #akaashi x reader #yandere akaashi #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: manipulation #tw: yandere

2K notes · View notes

17tetsuro · 3 years

Note

could u do fake dating headcanons where they slowly fall for u w atsumu, kenma & oikawa,, gn pronounces are fine :)

haikyuu boys slowly falling for you (fake dating edition) (gn!reader)

feat: atsumu, kenma, oikawa

warnings: fake dating, abuse of cliche tropes and commas and question marks, timeskip setting because im anything but creative, swearing

requests are open!

a/n: thank you for requesting this!! i hope you like it :D

atsumu

* you’ve been friends with him ever since high school and you watched his career grow

* youre both equally proud of each other n your friendship is built on mutual respect, trust and love

* you basically live in his apartment, with how much time you spend over there

* he would complain 24/7 about not having anyone to go to events with

* at one point you wanted to strangle him for never shutting up about it so you propose you go with him from time to time

* atsumu: “yeah, that was a setup”

* he KNOWS you’re drop dead gorgeous and everyone will be jealous of him that you’re with him (and you also look very good in formalwear, which he very much enjoys)

* and you get to have free food and drinks and also wear immaculate expensive clothes

* so,, you became his regular date for sponsorship events and stuff

* and you never really outright said you were just friends?? so you’re used to the media portraying you two as lovers but your close circle is aware that your relationship is platonic

* everything was going great until one of his sponsor company’s heir started hitting on you

* atsumu saw you flirting with the person and his mind went blank

* he,, he didn’t understand why he wanted to commit multiple crimes on the spot

* bokuto conveniently showed up next to atsumu at that moment

“hey, atsumu? why is your date flirting with them?” bokuto asked, suddenly appearing next to atsumu, which startled the latter out of his thoughts.

a better question would be why atsumu saw red at the thought of you getting friendly with anyone but him that night. he tried his best to keep his composure, but it was hard when you rested a hand on the heir’s shoulder, leaning your head back while laughing.

“atsumu, are you not going to answer me? your lover is-“

“my what?” atsumu asked, attention now completely off you.

“your lover? is that a term you don’t like? i could say partner... significant other... or anything you want, really,” bokuto answered, apologizing.

“you- you think me and (y/n) are together?”

“aren’t you? what, with the way you look at each other i was convinced you two were like... high school sweethearts or something, who hate pda,” bokuto explained, while atsumu’s eyes trailed back to you.

“you think... you think they’d wan’ me?”

“are you blind, buddy?”

you must have sensed their gazes, because as soon as those words left bokuto’s mouth, your eyes snapped towards atsumu and bokuto. the latter started waving with a cheerful smile while the former just stood, entranced by you and your presence. atsumu noticed traces of confusion appearing on your face, and watched as you excused yourself from the conversation you were previously interested in.

“‘tsumu, are you alright?” you questioned, approaching the pair. bokuto grinned and left, which made you even more confused.

“yeah, i’m fi- fine. hey, uh, (y/n), say... do you- why did you offer to come to these events as my date?” atsumu asked, eyes dead set on yours. you cracked a confused smile. you seemed to be capable of nothing but confusion at the moment.

“because you’re my best friend and i hated to see you so down because of your loneliness at these gatherings,” you replied, holding his gaze. “why didn’t you oppose it?”

his eyes studied you and when he saw nothing but sincerity, he let out a loud sigh. this was all very new and confusing to him. it’s like bokuto calling you atsumu’s lover set off a bomb inside his head that instead of causing a mess, made everything fall into place; why his gaze seemed to linger on you more often than before, why he was so eager to choose your outfits for these events, why he went to parties he didn’t even have to attend, why he got so jealous and angry when he saw you with the cute heir.

“holy shit,” he breathed and ran his hands through his hair, letting out a nervous chuckle and lowering his gaze to the ground. “holy shit.”

“you look like you’ve been enlightened, and i love that for you, but ‘tsumu, i’m still very confused.”

“i’m in love with you,” he said in disbelief, and quickly snapped his eyes back to your face when he realized he said it out loud. “i- i mean- i’m not in love with you, no way in hell, you’re- you’re my best friend, you- you smack my head whenever i say somethin’ inappropriate, you keep me from underminin’ myself, you always lift my spirits and for fuck’s sake, please, stop lookin’ at me like that because i will be getting hopeful and if you’re just joking, i will never hear the end of it and-“

you finally hd enough of his rambling and cut him off with a kiss. at first he froze, but seconds later he melted into your embrace, hands sneaking around your waist, pulling you closer.

when your lips separated, atsumu gasping for air after his word vomit and the long kiss you shared, you spoke up. “miya atsumu, you’re a real dumbass, you know that?”

his breath hitched and you kept quiet for a second to let him suffer a bit.

“but you’re my dumbass. i love you, you absolute piece of work.”

atsumu honest to god giggled and leaned in for another kiss, which you gave him without hesitation.

somewhere in the room, bokuto was collecting the money sakusa promised to give him if he got you two to kiss.

kenma

* kenma and you are both twitch streamers with similar content so you knew of each other but weren’t properly introduced

* until one of your mutual friends invited you both to stream among us with them

* you obv accepted

* so during the 3 hr stream, you and kenma were imposters together a lot and had the biggest, most twisted imp plays

* a friendly competition broke out at one point, too, trying to see who exposed the most impostors between the two of you

* your fans ate your dynamic up

* from then on, you two interacted more and started to appear in each others’ streams

* kenma even invited you to his minecraft smp

* you became besties basically

* SO

* all fun and games

* and then a huge sponsorship opportunity rolled in

* and the people at the company assumed you were dating

* uh oh

* you couldnt just tell them they have it wrong bc the whole thing depended on your relationship

* so

* big brain kenma suggest you two start to “date”

* you were against deceiving your followers but kenma assured you you could have a public breakup and tell everyone you were better off as friends

* so you reluctantly agreed

* it was only for two months anyways, what could go wrong?

* both of you, on week 3, in separate discord calls: uh oh, im in l*ve

* you both tried to cope (read: repress everything) but the realization on both of your parts threw your dynamic off a bit and fans have noticed

* so you had to do something abt it

* so kenma suggested you try your hand at a minecraft challenge together

* it was all fun and games until it wasnt

* you somehow ended up flirting back and forth ????

* chat was goin crazy, even in sub only mode

* both of you: ha ha im in danger

* when the stream ended, you stayed on call, because that was a routine you stuck to no matter what

“so... how are you doing?” you asked kenma, trying to clear the awkwardness from the air.

“good.”

maybe you should have taken kenma’s refusal to talk about anything into account when initiating conversation.

kenma, on the other end of the call was anxiously playing with his fingers, trying to figure out if his chat was right, and you were indeed flirting with him. and him with you. god.

“hey, y/n,” kenma said after a while, “were you flirting with me?”

his bluntness startled you and you had to mute yourself for a few seconds while you collected yourself.

“is there a correct answer?” you asked hesitantly.

“yes.”

“oh... uhm, maybe? it wasn’t intentional. or maybe it was, subconsciously, i don’t know,” you admitted quietly.

“good. it was intentional on my part, i think,” and okay, that was not the reply you expected to hear.

“really?”

“yeah, i- i like you i guess,” he said, sounding more confident by the minute. “do you like me too?”

“i- yeah. i do. i like you, kenma,” you replied, sighing a breath of relief. it felt good to admit it aloud to him.

“do you- would you maybe want to come over?” he asked sheepishly, which made absolutely no sense because he sounded so confident a second ago. “we could play mario kart?”

you let the beaming smile you were holding back take over your face. “i’ll be there in 10, kenma.”

“i’ll be waiting for you.”

oikawa

* on god mans hated your guts

* like,, okay, you were iwa’s close friend but you were so annoyingly honest all the time

* it drove him mad

* what also drove him mad is the fact that you loved to tease him

* no matter what the circumstance, whether he was in japan or in argentina, you always found a way to make him blush

* okay so maybe hate is a strong word, because he kind of thought you were pretty, but in a platonic way

* dumbass

* iwa always give both of you shit for not liking each other

* so you came up with a big brain idea

* you: ”oikawa! we should date!”

* oikawa: “what”

* after you explained the concept of fake dating to him and its benefits (which included a staged dramatic breakup, giving you both a reason to hate each other without iwa complaining)

* he was totally down

* iwa, when he first saw you holding hands: “i knew it”

* SO!! thus began weeks of pretending to be in love with each other for the sake of iwa

* which turned from pretending to not pretending real quick for your liking

* falling in love with oikawa was not a plan of yours

* (falling in love with you wasn’t his, either)

* with iwa’s constant nagging of “i knew it, you both were head over heels for each other from the moment you met”, the time for the breakup came quicker than expected (maybe you both had enough. so what.)

* you agreed to do it in front of iwa so he could see it happen

* you chose a mcdonalds parking lot, because then you could storm off and iwa would follow you to make sure you were ok and oikawa could go home and sleep

* maybe winging it was not the best idea

“babe,” you said with venom, “haven’t i told you a thousand times that i do not want to hear about your exes? seriously, it’s like the only thing you talk about,” you complained, as your fake-boyfriend took a sip from his drink.

“well, babe,” his tone matching yours, “i would shut up about them if took the hint sometimes. maybe i don’t like going to the movies as much as you seem to, it’s boring,” he rolled his eyes, subtly glancing at iwa, who looked very uncomfortable third wheeling your argument. good

“jerk. i don’t even want to go to the movies that much, asshole,” you spat, crushing your empty cup in your hand.

“oh, you want to go to the movies plenty. face it, (y/n), you’re boring. no wonder you didn’t have a boyfriend before me,” he replied and his words, even though you knew were fake, still hit hard and you couldn’t help the tears gathering in your eyes.

“okay, then, thanks for these wonderful past few weeks, so glad you decided to take pity on me.” you tried to keep acting, encouraging yourself with the fact that if oikwa meant what he said, you wouldn’t have to talk to him if iwaizumi finally saw you two break up.

you expected a lot of things, but genuineness in oikawa’s eyes was not one of them.

“(y/n), i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it like that,” oikawa pleaded, clearly forgetting about your mutual goal.

with a mumbled whatever, you started walking home, letting the sunset wash over your face. when you knew you were out of sight, you sat down on a bench and just started crying.

you don’t know how much time passed, but you heard a voice behind you speak up.

“hey (y/n).”

“what the fuck do you want, oikawa? to rub in the fact that my first boyfriend was just faking it so his best friend would get off his back? leave me alone, jerk,” you said, trying to wipe your tears away.

“i- i didn’t mean it like that, please, believe me,” he replied, taking a seat next to you. you scooted away from him. he sighed.

“why would i believe you? why do you want to make up, anyways? this fight was pretty real, no way iwaizumi didn’t believe it,” you sniffed.

“because maybe... maybe i was very happy about the fact that i could be your boyfriend, even if it was fake. maybe i’m in love with you,” he said softly, leaning towards you.

“please, stop playing games. it’s over,” you replied, trying very hard to ignore the raw emotion in his voice as he spoke.

“i really am, (y/n). i wasn’t at first, i admit it, but now i am. i love you, please, believe me,” he begged and you finally made eye contact with him. eyes were mirrors of the soul, after all.

you studied his face for a few minutes, looking for anything that could indicate he was trying to pull a shit prank on you, but you found nothing.

“asshole. maybe i’m in love with you too, what would you do if i said that?” you asked, wiping your nose with your sleeves.

“kiss you.”

“do it, then, i guess. but you’re still not completely forgiven.”

“what do i have to do to earn your forgiveness, (y/n)?” he asked and you sent him a mischievous smile.

“take the blame for this whole fiasco with iwaizumi.” he froze at your words and visibly gulped, but nodded nonetheless.

“okay, i will. can i kiss you now?”

you rolled your eyes. “yeah.”

and he did.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #oikawa x reader #atsumu x reader #kenma x reader

167 notes · View notes

a-dragons-journal · 3 years

Note

Hello again. This is the 5-part anon from earlier. I wrote a long response to your post and I think it’d be more convenient to dump the text in a pastebin than split it into asks. The link is going to expire in a few months, so I recommend copying the contents into its own post rather than posting the link: pastebin. com / 2r49iein

I had, sorry; you've just caught me in the lead-up to and midst of finals week, so I haven't been answering asks as quickly as usual, especially ones that will take a significant amount of time and energy xD (No worries about checking in, though, Tumblr does have a horrible habit of eating asks and it's good to check! And also my ADHD no-object-permanence ass will see an ask, go "I'll respond to that later," and then forget it exists sometimes with no Tumblr interference necessary, so good to check for that reason too xD)

Hello again. This is the 5-part anon from earlier. Thank you for your thoughtful answer. First off, I want to apologize to anyone who may have been hurt by my words on the topic of otherheartedness, copinglink, etc. I did not mean to in any way minimize the importance of these identities for others. Because I felt I didn’t have the "right" to claim a "full" otherkin identity, I felt like I had to settle for something that simply didn’t fit my experience, which led to my frustrated, generalized words.

With that out of the way, I’ve been giving what you said some thought. I have to admit I never really participated in otherkin communities, only watching from afar. It’s good to know that I "qualify" as otherkin, but I wonder if it’s such a good idea for me to identify that way. I have so few experiences in common with most otherkin that I would probably feel *more* alienated by calling myself that, not *less*. In my experience, forcing myself into an identifier that is technically correct but feels wrong/bad is not the way to go. At any rate, I’ll describe my feelings in more detail, just because I’m really curious to know if you’ve ever heard of anyone similar, or if this reminds you of anything. I apologize if some of it is repetitive or if it jumps from topic to topic without making much sense.

Some parts of otherkin… culture, I guess? Baffle me. For example, needing to narrow down one’s exact species or the cause/origin of one’s identification as nonhuman. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying it’s not valid; just that I don’t personally see the point? All the rules about who gets to call themself otherkin feel constraining to me, because I guess there’s not really any other term that fits, but even that one doesn’t fit that well, so I’m kinda stuck between a rock and a hard place.

So I’m more inclined to just say, yeah, I’m a bird. Do I behave like a bird? Do I have bird instincts? Not really, but I’m still a bird. Adopting an otherkin identity throws a wrench in that, making me feel like a failed nonhuman, because it’s *hard* not to feel invalid when everyone else seems completely different from you. If anything, I feel more valid doing my own thing! I didn’t come to this bird identity because I felt like I was Different somehow and needed to find an explanation for it (been there, done that with the autism, lol). Instead I came to it because it felt good, and right, and it made me happy.

You say since I don’t know if I chose this or not, it’s unlikely to be voluntary. I guess I just… feel weird about this? I don’t really have words to describe it. Maybe it boils down to "does it matter?". And I know when it comes to the term "otherkin", it *does* matter, which is kind of one of my problems with it.

I looked at that daemonism post you reblogged and found myself relating to the way Rook described Tukuxa: "She lacks a shark’s instincts, fears and drives - but her core is still shark." I wouldn’t say I *lack* these things, just that I simply don’t have them. Do I have a human mind in a human brain? Sure, but that doesn’t mean I have to be a human, nor does it make me any less of a bird. It makes me happy to conceptualize myself as a bird, to design my own appearance as a bird with qualities that can’t physically exist in this world, to daydream of flight. Is that such an uncommon experience?

I have a headmate who is a dragon. She was born as a dragon, she looks like a dragon, she simply Is A Dragon. She’s not dragonkin, she’s not based on any fictional dragon, she just… is. (Not to say that dragonkin folks aren’t dragons, just that she doesn’t identify as dragonkin.) But she doesn’t have any of the typical dragon traits you might expect; like me she has a "human mind" in a "human brain", and yet she’s just a dragon. I guess it’s sorta the same with me.

I just feel like it’s better for me to say "I’m [X]" and keep the specifics to myself. Despite these asks, I have no intention of holding my identities up to the scrutiny of others. If I say I’m a thing, I could mean it in a number of ways. Total or partial identification as/with, or even just a passing attachment. Ultimately, it’s my business, and trying to define it beyond just "I am this thing" or "I relate to this thing" or "This thing is me" feels sort of obnoxious? (For context, I do have nonhuman identities other than a bird, I just used that one as an example/shorthand.)

I guess that about covers everything. What do you think? If your followers/anyone who sees this wants to chime in, I’ll be looking at the notes. Thanks again!

(Regarding the 'hearted/'linker stuff, I figured that wasn't what you meant in your previous asks; I just wanted to bring it up because it's a conflation that gets made a lot, accidentally or on purpose.)

Honestly, these are all incredibly valid points, and if you just want to call yourself nonhuman or bird but not otherkin/therian then that's entirely up to you. If the label doesn't work for you, then it doesn't work for you! You are not obligated to use every label that you technically fit under (gods know I don't), and I didn't mean to imply so - just to make it clear that it's available to you if you do want it. I can see now that I probably kind of missed the point in that response.

And you're right that frankly, even though there is a wide range of experiences under the otherkin umbrella, there's also a set of common experiences that almost everyone seems to share at least a few of, and when you don't share those I can imagine it makes it kind of hard to connect with others in the community. Unfortunately, like I said, I don't know that there's a way around that other than trying to host a platform for those atypical experiences to speak, which is a good idea but probably not very effective in practice because of the sheer numbers game.

So you've decided you're probably better off not trying to make the "otherkin" label or community fit, and that's entirely valid - I guess the question is, what now? If you're wanting to find others with similar experiences to you, you still need somewhere to look, and it seems like this isn't it.

You might want to look into other nonhuman terms - "nonhuman" and "transspecies" come to mind, and while neither of these might fit you, they do collect different subcultures that might be less alienating for you or easier to find others with similar experiences within. The broader "alterhuman" label may also be useful, though that can be a bit like trying to find a needle in a haystack just because of how many things are included in "alterhuman" and I don't know that you'd have any better luck than with "otherkin".

Or you might want to try older platforms, if you haven't already - forums, IRCs if they still exist. The community wasn't always as focused on some of the things you noted as it is now (pinning down a specific species, voluntary vs involuntary, etc.), and platforms with a population that trends toward people who've been around longer sometimes still have more of that culture than Tumblr and Discord tend to, though they come with their own problems of course.

Ultimately, if "I'm a bird" is the easiest way to communicate your experiences, then that's that on that. These words only exist because people find them useful - if you don't find them useful, don't feel like you have to use 'em. As far as finding community when so much of the otherkin community feels alienating to you, I'm afraid that's all I've got - y'all got anything for anon?

#otherkin #alterhuman #nonhuman #transspecies #rani talks #community talk #asked and answered #anonymous

24 notes · View notes

jokertrap-ran · 3 years

Photo

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 3-1: 海水与火焰 Seawater & Flames Translation

“The flames of the sunset flicker within your orbs; and the leaves flutter, falling upon the water surface that is your soul.”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *CG Image used with permission from 蓝咕咕 ☆ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

Brother Mao: It's soooo god-damned hot out today! A new coffee shop opened down the east street with huge grand opening sales. Come on, come on, everyone grab your share!

Brother Mao had just returned to the office after completing his out of office assignment. He didn't even have a minute to spare to put the bag of goodies down, only wiping his sweat before giving said goodies out to everyone.

MC: Thank you, Brother Mao!

Brother Mao waved his hand in dismissal and threw the neatly folded plastic bag into the bin, only for his eyes to suddenly stop on the handle of the door. He incredulously widened his eyes.

Brother Mao: Since when did our door handle get all fixed up?

Li Man'man: No idea. It was already fixed when I came in in the morning.

Hao Shuai: Sister Zheng Lin, did you nag at the administrative department for this?

Zheng Lin: She fixed it. I saw her fiddling around with it when I clocked in this morning.

Zheng Lin retrieved her documents from the photocopier and jerked her chin at me.

Brother Mao: So this is our beloved heroine of the day! Do humbly pardon me!

MC: I'm the one who broke it after all. Plus, it didn't take that long to fix anyway.

Brother Mao poked his head in front of me, curiously twirling the sleeve of the formal dress I was currently fixing up and doing corrections on.

Brother Mao: You're changing it up that much again? You don't have to reply to me, but you're adding these butterflies? That's real creative! ...And they're all made of twisted metal wire?

MC: Yeah. I started out using soft tulle mesh, but it was all droopy and didn't seem very nice for wings that are supposed to look powerful and lively.

Brother Mao: Now not only does this give it a dynamic feel, but also brings about a romantic yet cruel one!

Brother Mao: Not bad, not bad! Keep at it, and you'll definitely be able to finish fixing it up before next week!

MC: But the Deadline got brought forward… She's going to be doing the fitting tomorrow morning, so I have to finish it by today...

Brother Mao: No way! Don't tell me it's that agent again...

He glanced around, checking that no one had their attention turned to us, before leaning down to my ear.

Brother Mao: I asked around about it earlier, and I heard that the agent has a pretty foul temper.

Brother Mao: Not just to the staff, but her daughter as well. She'll start scolding people at the drop of a hat, even if they did nothing!

It felt as if I could hear the piercing and horrid lashing from that day resounding in my ears again. Her words had been ingrained into my very brain like a needle stuck into a pincushion.

Brother Mao: Geez, Lin Yao's such a brilliant kid. What's there for her to be so unhappy about?

Brother Mao: My mom always told me not to blame myself, and that health always comes first, whenever I fail the promotion. She even said that if I couldn't make it big, then I could just go back home and she'd raise me.

MC: I don't know either. Maybe all these feelings we take for granted come on a conditional basis for her, I guess.

He'd stared at the table and spaced out for a long while. It was almost as if he'd retreated into his memory palace as his expression turned a little sad.

Brother Mao: I'll help you twist them into shape too. Just treat it as my way of thanking her for helping us get out of the pickle we found ourselves in that day.

MC: Okay.

Time passed silently, and it wasn't till nightfall that we finished our work. The office had already cleared out a long time ago, and sporadic stars glimmered in the ink-blue sky up above.

Brother Mao: Done!

I nodded at him in gratitude and kept the now completed dress away. That was when a message notification popped up onto my phone screen.

Housing Agent: Miss (Y/n), don't forget that we're supposed to sign the agreement today at 8 PM. Be there or be square!

Brother Mao: What's wrong?

MC: I'm supposed to go check out the new apartment I'm getting with my agent at 8 PM today, and sign the agreement if all goes well.

And the time displayed on my phone right now was… 7:28 PM.

MC: I should run! Thanks for today, Brother Mao! I'll treat you to food next time!

Grabbing my bag and my work ID, I made a mad dash downstairs.

❖☆———————————★❖

I thought that I'd make it there right on the dot if I'd left now, but who knew that the taxi-hailing app had 80+ people waiting in line! Seeing as how the app wasn't an option anymore, all I could do was to run to the nearest taxi stand.

MC: Why's it not here yet…?

I paced back and forth at the stand, but no taxi ever made an appearance. Just as my anxiousness was about to reach a tipping point, a black sports car drew to a stop before me. The car's windscreen slowly rolled down.

MC: ...Evan?

Evan: Waiting for a ride? Headed somewhere?

MC: Yeah. I'm going to take a look at an apartment. The place I'm renting right now is too far from here, so it isn't terribly convenient.

Evan: Location?

MC: Guangqi-Century City.

He slightly inclined his head, glancing at his watch before getting out of his car and opening the door to the passenger seat for me.

Evan: Get on. I'll send you there.

★Night Choice: Turn him down

MC: No need. I'd be causing you too much trouble.

Evan leaned his arm atop the door of the car, beaming as he looked at me.

Evan: Not at all.

Evan: Besides, I don't have anything on tonight. On the other hand, you seem like you're in quite the rush.

Evan: It'll be bad if you end up late for it because you dawdled here.

His eyes were filled with such sincerity that it made me feel like I'd be doing him a disservice if I refused.

I eventually nodded, seeing as there was no way I could shimmy myself out of this without feeling bad about it.

MC: Thanks.

☆Light Choice: Accept his offer

I glanced back at the taxi stand. It didn't seem like a taxi was coming anytime soon. And I'd really be late if I didn't get a suitable ride soon…

MC: Thanks. Don't mind if I do then.

8 PM, right on the dot. We reached the entrance of the housing estate where the agent was already waiting.

MC: Here it is. Thank you for this! I'll treat you to a meal someday!

Evan: Sure.

❖☆———————————★❖

I hurriedly got out of the car as the two agents quickly rushed up to me upon seeing me.

Agent A: You have a good eye, Miss! This apartment's a hot favourite! 10 over people booked slots to come check it out the moment the listing went up!

Agent B: We've kept this apartment for you till now since you seemed especially keen on it!

Agent A: Let's get the contract agreement signed tonight if there are no problems lest it keeps you up at night!

MC: Sorry, but I'll still have to confirm with you again later. Let's go check the house out first.

Both agents sidled up side by side, enthusiastically explaining and introducing things to me on either side as they urged me forwards.

Thud.

The sound of a door closing behind me made me turn, only to see that Evan hadn't left, and had gotten out of his car.

MC: ?

Evan: I'll go with you.

The agents continued their endless stream of marketing chatter as they pointed out every selling point of the apartment.

Agent A: —And that's all from us. If you sign the agreement contract today, then we can persuade the landlord to give us a little discount...

MC: Okay, then I'll-

Evan: Sorry, but we'll think it through a little more. Could you recommend us some other apartments as well? Sorry about that.

I looked at him in surprise, but he gently shook his head. Hence, I calmed my initial excitement down and turned down their request to have the contract immediately signed.

❖☆———————————★❖

The night was already deep into the throes of darkness by the time we returned to the car park.

The riverbank was coloured with streams of yellow light from the streetlamps above in picturesque disorder. I could smell the refreshing scent of blooming greenery that hung in the air.

MC: Was something wrong with the apartment earlier?

Evan: I don't think you'd like to stay in an apartment filled with construction noises, yes?

MC: But I didn't hear anyone renovating anything?

It was only after the words left my mouth that I realized something.

MC: Oh, right. It's nighttime right now, so all the construction workers should be off work by now… Still, how did you know?

Evan: I noticed that there were paint stains at the edge of the neighbouring apartment's door frame upon entering, and it looked rather fresh too.

Evan: Plus, that housing estate was built 10 years ago, yet the elevator has its interiors boarded up with temporary protective boards.

Evan: So, I'd garner that the neighbouring apartment's most likely, not the only one undergoing renovation recently.

MC: I'd never have realized if you didn't point it out…

Evan: And adding on to that, I observed the surroundings a bit when we entered the housing estate and the security personnel stationed nearby seemed rather sparsely spread.

Evan: So it wouldn't be too safe for you to be staying here alone.

MC: Yeah…

Evan continued talking about the pros and cons of the apartment as the enchanting lights from above reflected in his eyes, melding into the smile that wavered within.

MC: You're so knowledgeable when it comes to this. Did you rent an apartment before?

Although, for someone with his family background, he shouldn’t ever need to rent an apartment on his own.

However, Evan nodded, affirming my suspicions.

Evan: I’ve rented a couple of places for my company back when I was in university.

MC: You mean, the company you founded back when you were studying in Lordton?

Evan: You know of it?

MC: I’ve heard of it before! It’s truly a legendary tale!

Evan: Looks like I’ll have to personally clear up the rumours for you then. It wasn’t exactly a smooth experience.

Evan: I, too, encountered a great many difficulties that I hadn’t thought of before during my first time renting an office.

Evan: For example, unreliable agents. The relevant renting procedures never came to pass for a long time due to that.

Evan: Hence, the office wasn’t ready even if all the employees were already in place.

Evan: And another example would be poor property management, with robberies aplenty as a result.

Evan: Also, I had no choice but to take drastic action and relocate the entire office to a new location since I hadn’t initially considered office expansion.

MC: Wow, I never knew that starting a business would be so hard. You’re amazing to have done it!

❖☆———————————★❖

Suddenly, my phone vibrated.

[Guangqi Rental] Whole apartment for lease. Felin Avenue, 199 Street. 1 bedroom and 1 living room. [Guangqi Rental] Whole apartment for lease. Changle Heights. 1 bedroom and 1 living room.

It was the agent, recommending me a couple more apartments.

[Guangqi Rental] How about any of these?

MC: Now that's way too many…

Evan: You can forward them to me if you don't mind. I can check them out with you.

Evan: I might not be very experienced in this, but nothing will go wrong with having another person to think it through with.

MC: Thank you, Evan.

The night breeze blew past, gently ruffling the loose hairs that had fallen out of place in front of Evan’s forehead.

Evan: We've been talking for so long that I forgot that it's already 9 PM. Are you hungry? Do you want to eat anything?

MC: I said I'd treat you! How about we do it now?

MC: Is there anything you'd like to eat?

Evan: Just pick anything you want to eat. I'm fine with anything.

MC: Don't say that! I'm going to need a proper answer from you today.

Evan: Alright then. I'd prefer for it to be something cooling, if possible.

MC: Hmm… Something cooling?

I glanced around, my eyes sweeping past the signboards of teahouses, food stalls, fast food outlets… until it finally stopped on an old and aged sign that stood not too far away.

MC: I know! Wait for me for a while!

❖☆———————————★❖

MC: Auntie! Can I get two servings of red bean ice and two servings of fruit soup?

Many customers surrounded the small shop. The owner stirred the pot of soft red beans, filling the air with a delectably rich scent of sweetness.

Due to the auntie being the only one manning the store, the demand for the red bean ice far exceeded the available supply. Hence, I had to wait for quite a while before my order finally got done.

Just as I happily took the icy delights from her, the pitter-patter of rain sounded from behind.

The rain came down hard and vicious.

The raindrops that pelted against the roof were akin to silver metal wires, trapping me within the confines of the narrow eaves.

With no other option in sight, I held the two cups of icy treats to my chest using my wrist and freed a hand to shoot Evan a message to inform him of my predicament.

However, before I could fish out my phone… a silhouette had come to a stop before me. He put the umbrella away.

MC: I was just about to ping you. What are you doing here?

Evan didn’t say anything, only smiling gently as he took the icy treats from my arms, quietly standing by my side.

Evan: The rain should cease soon. Let's wait together.

MC: ...Okay.

The curtain of rain secluded us in our own little world, and the puddles, reflecting the neon lights of the signboard above, rippled from the night breeze of summer.

And like a domino effect, this soft and gentle ambience made our moods calmer and much more relaxed in turn.

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 2-24 Light) / (Chapter 2-24 Night) | Next Part: (Chapter 3-3)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #萧逸 #Osborn #齐司礼 #Sariel #陆沉 #Evan #查理苏 #Charlie #夏鸣星 #Jesse #For Light and Night

29 notes · View notes

dinopopduck · 3 years

Text

Ezekiel Only Being Unaffected By Certain Kinds of Magic

Let’s just start with me saying this isn’t exactly a new theory. It’s the demigod thing, and it’s a fairly popular one. If you haven’t heard of this headcannon, I put as much as I can find here. If you have, I found a bunch of new stuff that I haven’t seen anyone else mention, so reading this isn’t a complete waste of your time, I hope.

I tried to keep this from becoming wordy, but it got really long anyway, because there was a lot to talk about here.

Ezekiel being unaffected by magic is sort of an ongoing thing in the show. He is influenced by it much of the time, such as by Santa’s Hat, Pan’s Flute, Prospero’s spell, lycanthropy, etc. When it comes to the stuff he was seemingly completely immune to, there is one link that connects them all.

Apple of Discord: Everybody knows this one. The Apple is a Greek artifact, meant to turn you into the worst version of yourself, and Ezekiel was only one completely unaffected. It’s blamed on “he’s already the worst version of himself” or whatever.

Zeus Lightning Bolt: the episode where Ezekiel ends up decked out in Greek armor, and is sent to pick up Zeus’ Lightning Bolt, which was freaking out and zapping everywhere. He picks it up just fine, and he’s then able to hand it off to Flynn. It may have been purely because of the Greek armor he was wearing, but Flynn did not seem so sure about that working.

Cindy’s Love Potion: Ezekiel is able to be near the potion without becoming obsessed with Cindy. At first, it’s blamed on him being obsessed with himself, then later Jacob tells Ezekiel that he was already in love with Cindy. It was an obsession, not a love, potion you literally spent the episode proving that blah blah, he didn’t even recognize her at first blah blah, anyway, I have a better reason.

There are two Greek mentions in this episode. First, the potion project itself is called Project Aphrodite, a Greek goddess. Second, the sunflowers; when asked, Jenkins mentions how sunflowers are a Greek symbol of unrequited love. In addition, “love” potions may have originated in Greece, or at the very least, were common enough to have multiple sites claim that, lol. At the end of the season, where each librarian uses their gifts to turn Apep mortal, this greek potion is what Ezekiel ends up using.

See a pattern here? Everything that he was completely unaffected by was Greek in some way. So, he has an immunity to these kinds of artifacts, but why? I vote demigod.

Anyway, moving on.

Here’s some magic he could have been immune to, or could not have been. Its pretty debatable.

Fortuna: Technically a Roman Goddess, but the show does acknowledge how similar they are to Greek Gods. He may have been affected by the spell, but broke out of it pretty quick. Some think he may not been affected at all; slot machines aren’t exactly fair, especially in a casino that exists to cheat completely. As for Ezekiel getting so upset over losing, what he says, “Not the guy that loses, I’m the guy that wins” sounds very similar to what he was saying in Point of Salvation, but that’s a whole nother topic.

Alternately, he was affected and this point shouldn’t be here. I don’t know, I’m not the writers.

Libris Fabula: He was a little bit affected, just far less than the others, as he acted pretty much the same. He did get a barely noticeable clothing change, became luckier than normal, and was just able to cast a spell for some reason? Speaking out that spell, it froze the guy, and a certain Greek God does have the ability to put people to sleep. Not really the same thing, but worth thinking about. Maybe. More on that later.

Most people think he was immune, but he could have just been similar enough to the character he was portraying that he didn’t need to change a whole lot.

These ones are barely worth mentioning, because have other reasonable (though I guess your definition of reasonable may be different from mine) explanations, but you could see them as magic immunity as well:

Silver Screen: Ezekiel gets into character the least, while Cassandra and Jacob are out singing and calling people by their character names. Maybe less affected, maybe just a spoilsport. Probably the last one.

Point of Salvation: Was the only one able to remember previous loops. Since they were in a video game, it’s explained that since he was the first through the door, he became the player while everyone else became NPCs. I mean, sure.

Christmas Thief: Saint of Thieves only used his truth telly power on Ezekiel’s mother, not him. Ezekiel did not feel obligated to say anything. Could just be that the guy wasn’t talking to Ezekiel. Or, earlier in that episode Ezekiel tells his mother he doesn’t steal anymore (at least for anything other than the Library, I assume, cause he still kinda does) and therefor that made him immune to the spell, since it only works on thieves.

Image of an Image: Both Cassandra and Ezekiel got their pictures taken, and Cassandra was the only one affected by the transfer spell. However, Ezekiel wasn’t one of the “chosen ones” because he snuck in, and jumped in front of the camera while Eve (one of the “chosen ones”, who was later able to be affected) turned away. Either that, or he just didn’t have time to feel the effect, since his picture was taken after Cassandra’s, and Eve’s was placed in manually.

That’s all the possible instances of magic immunity I could think of.

Next, we have some other stuff that is relevant to this point, but wasn’t necessarily artifact/magic immunity.

Prophecy Cube: Created by the Oracle of Delphi, who is from Greek mythology. This isn’t about whether Ezekiel was affected by something, as he was still able to use the prophecy glass/get stuck in the cube. Rather, it’s about the Zeus Challenge in the cube. They probably would have died in there, but luckily, Ezekiel had just happened to steal, and keep on him, the exact thing they needed to get through– a bunch of golden coins, and a prophecy that ensures at least one coin can’t be destroyed. Luck? Prophecy? Divine Intervention? Plot convenience? Okay its probably the last one but STILL

Also, Ezekiel getting pissed at Zeus.

Zeus’s Bolt (again?): There is a promo image I think for season 4? that has each of the Librarians holding their tools. Jacob had his axe, Cassandra had a notebook, Flynn had Excalibur, all normal, except for Eve and Ezekiel. Eve had this big staff thing I didn’t recognize, and Ezekiel had Zeus’ Bolt for some reason?

Lightning, just, in general: If there is wild electricity in an episode, Ezekiel is probably around.

Examples:

City of Light: Gets shocked and knocked backwards into Jacob by a very electrified fence, gets up right afterwards and is fine.

Broken Staff: The Zeus Bolt thing, you get it.

Image of an Image: Ezekiel electrocutes Jacob. Jacob was not really fine. He lived, though.

Point of Salvation: Ezekiel electrocutes Jacob part 2 Electric Boogaloo, but this time on purpose. He was not fine. He died. But don’t worry, he lived.

Self-Fulfilling Prophecy: Mentioned a little bit above, Ezekiel, Jacob, and a student get stuck in the Zeus Challenge, and Ezekiel uses some coins he just so happened to steal recently. Throwing them on tiles shows whether or not lightning will strike if it was stepped on. Seriously, why is it ALWAYS Jacob?

The Dark Secret: Ezekiel is the one sent to wrap a cord around a lightning rod constantly being struck by lighting. “Why am I bloody doing this”, he asks? I mean, Zeus probably isn’t going to kill his descendent(?), right?

Werewolves: Have you heard of the Lycaon of Arcadia? It’s a Greek myth. Basically, this dude named Lycaon wants to test how smart and all-knowing Zeus is. To do so, he kills his own son, cooks him, and serves him to Zeus to see if he notices, ya know, no biggie. Zeus was like “wtf man” and brings the son back to life, and turns Lycaon into, you guessed it, a wolf. So, Zeus creates a werewolf of sorts, maybe one of the firsts. In Fangs of Death, Ezekiel just so happens to be the one (main) character to be turned into werewolf. So, if he was a descendant of Zeus, imagine how big of a “fuck you” that was to the god. That all being said, Ezekiel was turned by an Egyptian god, so that might not have been intentional. Also, they may have just been avoiding turning Jacob, because there is already a werewolf named Jacob and they didn't want another Twilight reference in that episode.

Family/Name: Ezekiel is adopted, and his adoptive mother mentions how she took him in off the streets. Because of that, we don’t know who his birth parents are, and whether or not he, or anyone else, knows is unknown. Soooo, we can take some creative liberties as to who his parents might have been.

As for his name, it carries some religious connotations. It should be remembered though, the meanings I’m talking about here are Biblical, not Greek, so again, might mean nothing for this argument. “Ezekiel” is “God’s Strength” or “God will Strengthen”. Jones might also be something like “God is gracious” or “God has favored”, thought different sites say different things. However, I’m pretty sure the name Jones came from his adoptive mother, and apparently Jones is a common last name in Australia. His first name is more relevant, because all of his siblings have themed names; Mercy, Charity, and Honor. So, either his mom named him differently because she knew something we don’t, or he already had the name before she adopted him. Either way, this probably means absolutely nothing. But what are we here for? To analyze a dead show like an English teacher analyzes the color of curtains in an 100 year old text. If it wasn’t for all the other stuff, I probably wouldn’t think about this too much.

Okay. So Greek stuff, lightning, and Zeus himself come up a LOT when it comes to this guy. So is Ezekiel the son of Zeus? Possibly, but a more popular theory is that he’s Zeus’ grandson. Because Zeus’ son just so happens to be Hermes; god of things such as luck, travel, money, trade, and most importantly, thieves. Oh, and animal husbandry/shepherds and sleep, I don’t know how much those apply but I will try.

Time for some comparisons, honestly most of these don’t even need to be explained so I’ll keep it short-ish, cause this shit has gotten way too long already.

Luck: Ezekiel, especially in the first season, likes to rely on luck, and tends to be very lucky in general. Examples where this is mentioned include Fables of Doom and Apple of Discord. “Smarter to be lucky then lucky to be smart!”

Travel: We can assume that he ended up traveling in his previous job (that being heists all over the world) fairly often, even before the Library. Becoming a Librarian with a teleporting door increased that of course.

Money: Steals very high-value items to sell. Also apparently likes to take money from his coworker’s wallets. And probably everyone else’s.

Trade: The aforementioned high-value pieces he steals are traded/sold for money. In Christmas Thief, we find out he kept none of the money or items, giving it away to others who needed it. That kinda fits this category, I think.

Thieves: I really don’t need to explain this. Unless you haven’t seen the show.

Animal Husbandry/Shepherds?: Basically the care of animals. Um, well he doesn’t keep cows or anything, but he has a tendency to “adopt” magical creatures that need help. Stumpy, Nessie Jr., maybe Frankenstein’s Monster as well?

Sleep: I mentioned earlier how Ezekiel froze a guy (not really in an icy way, just couldn’t move) by hitting him with his coin. Hermes is able to send people to sleep with his Caduceus (the snake wand thing). Yeah, it’s not really the same thing, though you could consider being frozen a kind of sleep. He could have just been lucky enough to find a magical coin, and lucky enough to figure out how to use it at the exact right time without even knowing what it did. It’s a stretch either way, really, and was never explained in the episode at all. Yeah, I can't find anything else that fits.

Hermes is considered to be a thief and trickster, and a lot of the things he is god of are Ezekiel’s main occupations. With all those similarities to Hermes, frequent events related to lightning and Zeus related things, and immunity to Greek artifacts, we can conclude that he is perhaps the son of Hermes, taking after his father in abilities and getting visits from grandpa.

Alternatively, his somehow IS Hermes, but I doubt that. He’d probably be way more powerful. He was also able to see the future with Prophecy Glass, which Jenkins claims is impossible for immortals to do (although in that case he was talking about a Prophecy Cube, but close enough). It’s more likely that he is a demigod.

Okay, that is all I can think of that is relevant. I binged the series about two months ago, and have been thinking about this theory. I went ahead and re-watched the episodes that I mentioned in more detail, as well as parts of others that I remebered. The reason I bring this up is because I may have missed things. I did not rewatch a majority of the episodes, more that I looked at a list of episodes on wikipedia and tried to remember what happened in them, watching clips and episodes if I needed to.

The show was cancelled, so we’ll probably never get a confirmation as to who Ezekiels’ birth parents were, and as such, you can’t prove me wrong! That being said, if I got any facts incorrect in this, please tell me so I can fix it. I’m not well versed on Greek Mythology, in fact I know basically nothing, and did the research as I went along. So again, there could be more. This is just what I found in like, less than a day of searching.

Join me next time on “How is Cassandra magical, where’d she get it from? Also, were we ever gonna meet her parents?” And “In the first episode of season 3, Jacob is just able to hit a heavy punching bag of its chain, across the room, at bullet speed, just because of a shift of his wrist, and later in that episode do the same thing to Apep, and it’s just…never addressed or spoken about again? Like wtf man?”

I'm probably not doing that

If you managed to get through all of this, thank you, and I hope this wasn’t too painful to read.

#the librarians #ezekiel jones #greek #hermes #zeus #this took so long #magic #magic immunity #theory #headcannon #demigod #curse of cindy #apple of discord #broken staff

32 notes · View notes

jilljoycearts · 3 years

Text

About the situation with the previously mentioned reposter, reposts in general, and the fandom. This is mostly about the russian part of the internet, the dark and fearsome place.

This post is very long, so I’m hiding it under the cut.

To sum it all up:

If you see drawings (fanarts) for the game Enderal and for the rest of the SureAI games on the russian social VK, published not by the authors of the drawings or not by their art groups, pages and communities, then they are placed against the will of these very authors.

About the rhetorics (mostly for the Russians that stumble upon this post): what people on VK call repost (share button) is an actual reblogging or retweet. In fact, a repost is re-uploading something not by its owner. Now let's start. The retelling is quite detailed. Also, a warning: although I can retell this whole thing in english from scratch, the post is translated from russian with the help of almighty google. I don't want to bother much with this and spend my energy on it. Most of the mistakes I still fix, but the sentence structure and phrasing might seem weird.

The man (hereinafter "character T"; we do not mention his name because he is only interested in your attention to his person) took under his wing a long-abandoned community (Enderal themed), asking to be a moderator. For several months he was posting stolen drawings (without permission and credits), until his vanity drove him into a trap: with a request of "reblog for reblog" (wanted to promote his own fan-creation) he messaged a small russian community of artists interested in the SureAI games. Naturally, seeing his reposting activities, everyone was utterly indignant. He was incredibly lucky that my drawing was the last one published on the dash of his community. Again, no credit. I left a comment urging him to remove the stolen things and explaining the common truths. To which no one answered, but suddenly a link to my tumblr appeared. I wrote another comment telling to delete again, and again no one answered me. When he had to start talking to me, Character T decided that it was a good idea to load a girl (who was so lucky to know both of us a bit) with the work of a negotiator. I leave it to you to judge the "honor and dignity" of this character and his decision. I scroll forward: he agrees to delete my work, while rolling out a post consisting of articles of the civil code, in which he puts the meaning “I reposted, am reposting and will continue that, because the law allows me”. At the same time, the negotiator girl gets tired of working as his secretary. I already intend to contact him personally, but I find myself in his blacklist. It would seem, "Well, calm down, hedeleted yours." But his intention to repost further stunned everyone. Naturally, the time has come to inform the foreign authors about this chronic stealing.

A new location was unlocked in our amusing adventure: a server of the game developers SureAI on Discord. There, one of the artists from whom he stole called him out, without mentioning the names (yes, the character T was active there, whilst annoying the local inhabitants). He responded after a while, again rolling out his cart of articles on the legality of reposts. He also managed to threaten me personally with something. In general, he was kicked from the server of the developers for lack of culture and propaganda of copyright infringement. Further, another foreign author tried to contact him personally, but in the same way received a cart of laws. In the meantime, the English-speaking part of the fandom artists decided to write an official letter of complaint, attaching all links to posts to be deleted, and listing the authors with whose content the character T is strictly prohibited from interacting in the future. This letter was tried to be sent by a German artist, who specially registered there, but she stumbled upon some tech difficulties. Firstly, she was blocked by the owner of the stealing community, where the character T was appointed as the moderator. Her page was empty, the name was not Russian - he thought it was a bot, I can understand that. She then dropped the complaint letter to the support of VK social itself. Even tried to message the stealing community specifically but another lag made it impossible. (and this was required according to the new "rules" of the character T, according to which it was decided to play. "So that your complaint was considered ..." and so on.)...

Sensing something is wrong, character T made an attempt to contact some Russian-speaking authors himself in the meantime. And they told him the same -- that he steals, and not “shares” for some “purpose”. And here comes an interesting thing: the phrases "well, something needs to be posted to fill the community" and "but I am not on their Facebooks, I found it on Yandex"(that's russian google). That is, our drawings turned out to be just a filler, because something needs to be posted. Searching by image is difficult, but he still has to post! Something. Anything. What for? I have an explanation and an answer to this, but since this is the purpose of the character T - to draw attention to his fan-creation, I will not mention it 👌🏻 Another of his phrases was that due to the increased attention to his community now he HAS to credit the authors 🤦🏻‍♀. In general, he banned the Russian-speaking artist, whom he contacted and received a well-scented bucket’s content on his head (and well-deserved of course).

Now let's return to the official letter of complaint from foreign artists, which never reached the stealing community, and after all it was sent by the Russian-speaking author L. This time the character T was able to read it, but as expected, he refused to remove reposts, said that the artists were arrogant, accused of gatekeeping and again expressed his intention to repost not only without permission, but also against the will of all these fandom authors (38 people). After all, he has a great goal - to popularize games and the universe in the ru-segment.

The same or the next day the owner of the stealing community contacted me (who had previously lost interest, abandoned it, and a year later gave it to the character T). The owner asked what was happening, I explained, and passed on the letter of complaint from foreign artists, which the German artist could not send because he blocked her. That I explained to him too and he unblocked her. No reaction to my explanations abot the character T followed, but we’ll come back to that later.

And now we decided it’s time for our last resort -- we contacted Nicolas (the main screenwriter, the owner of the rights to this universe and the main figure of the fandom as a whole). Here I will digress from the main line and note that interested people have dug out both the provisions of the Berne Convention and the laws of the Russian Federation, which the character T chose to ignore in his activities, hiding behind only those that are convenient for him. Now let's return to Nicolas, who had to take a break from vacation because of this circus. As it turned out, character T, sensing the smoke, came running to him first. But alas, Nicolas was on the side of the authors (who would have thought). As a result, we almost decided that hurray, it helped, because posts with pictures disappeared from the wall of the stealing community, and character T even disappeared from the list of moderators (I will return to the stage with the owner of the community: I assume it was his work). But it was clear that it was too early to celebrate the victory.

Change of location: again the server of the developers on Discord. After the kick of the character T, three days later, a brand-new account appears, which broadcasts about the character T in the third person using Google translate “ if he had not been pressed upon, he would repost peacefully in his community of a thousand subscribers. And now he will attract some audience of a dozen more groups and will repost there too”. Naturally, without direct evidence of the second coming, no one have kicked him yet.

On the same day, the VK support told me that the most effective weapon in our case is the DMCA form. This is inconvenient, but it works. Moreover, the stolen has already been removed from the stealing community.

Then people came across the news - the stealing community advertised a new community of the character T, which was shaped exclusively for reposting other people's drawings (and there were already several works, including mine). The adv post called to support the character T “and his work”. Naturally, in the comments, I and other people urged not to support this. We even managed to explain the situation to some random person. After that the post was deleted. We don't know who deleted the post (still the character T or the community owner).

At this point, I ask Nicolas to message the tharacter T again using the simplest words that reposts cannot be allowed without permission. At all. Even with links attached. Doesn't help because the main now-not-stealing community shares a new post of the new one stealing community again. That is, even the main copyright holder and owner of the entire thing is not a figure of authority for the character T. Summing up -- “I will “popularize” your fandom against your wishes. The laws allow me. "

But after a while, the reblog from the new community is removed from the main one.

And again, the change of location: to the discord of the developers, where the character T himself comes back and writes something (under the new name ofc as his old account is banned). He declares that he will now repost to some huge audience of 300k people (before that there were 200, and even before that 100, yeah), he is outraged by the complaint letter from the authors with the ban on reposting, he will deliberately not credit, and also he wants to reupload my fanfiction somewhere. After that, he was kicked again 🥾.

Naturally, the entire audience is shocked, the character T literally became famous and crowned himself with a clown wig in just a few days, and now the entire fandom and the informed ru-segment hates him. The retelling is over.

Almost. Now I thank google translate for the help above and I'm gonna retell even more without it as this information is rather new. He wrote his own “explanation post”, where he somehow found relevant addressing the sexuality of one of the authors who called him out, called Nico indifferent and passive regarding this situation, insulted literally everyone but him, the white knight, whom we all should be grateful to for his will of promoting our content. I facepalm very hard. And he reposts art to some small communities but no one gives a shit (surprisingly so, huh?). He adds the links to the authors. Now I don’t want to give him any attention anymore, I have some work to get done.

Here comes the part about the and for community itself (google translate helps me again):

For the artists:

For the people registered in VK there is a "Nemesis" algorithm (dropdown - report - copied content). It will want a link to the previously published content on the VK as a primary source. Its effectiveness is still in question, but if someone tried it, then share your experience. For the rest, there is a dmca form that wants passport data (the only one I know of that asks for it), which I personally do not want to share, but in general... It's up to you to decide. Advice: Include readable text with @ of your page, community or yourself in your watermarks. Thus, an adequate person will always see where to go for the primary source.

For the readers/viewers:

Fandom existence is based on respect for other people's work. This work is the reason fandoms exist. If you like the drawing, then praise the author, support them in accessible ways (like - comment - subscribe - send a link to a friend(reblog the thing) - give some moneyz). People will be pleased, honestly. And if you disagree with something or you go "Ew" for other reasons, then just walk by. This is, in fact, all that you can do. If you have ambitions, ideas and “I need to fill my dead community with something” (you are considering taking the author's drawing and placing it somewhere yourself), then you ask for permission and accept any answer. There is no other way. Otherwise it's a violation of the law.

Why reposts (= re-uploads) are harmful I think there's no need to mention, but still:

First of all, it drives away traffic from the authors. It doesn't matter if fanart can be monetized or not (spoiler alert: it can). Example: If a figurative reposter hadn't taken away figurative content, then a potential viewer interested in this content would go to search for it himself. And would have found it posted by the author. And then it is already possible to take a closer look at the other work as a whole, and even give the author money so that they draw something personalized for this viewer personally. That’s an example. It seems to be clear. Artists on the Internet care about their traffic, which is responsible for audience growth and all subsequent opportunities. This is the basics.

About monetizing fan content.

It depends solely on the developers / authors of games and books (original owners of all rights). Sometimes the ban on monetization hangs for some time after the release of the game (as was the case with Hades), sometimes you can sell keychains / posters / whatever with fanarts on them right away. And sometimes you can't, everything is individual here. Again, I think it is clear that if a viewer finds the original image posted by the author themselves, then this viewer has more chances to buy merch with this image. After all, the author will definitely add that the drawing is available as a merch. Reposter -- never. He does not know that, he found it on Yandex/Google.

Specifically about me and my community:

You know that my main audience are not russians. I have already abandoned my russian community once. Would I want to disappear from there again? So far, there is no such desire. People I have there are nice and friendly, despite the small number. How much do I really care about reposts of drawings on an objectively dying or already dead fandom? I'll leave it to you to decide. I have been here since the 2016-17, with me the fan activity started, and with me it will end. Everyone who is interested in SureAI games knows me. And although I have the permission from the devs to monetize fanart and fan content in general, it is obvious that $20 from posters and magnets every few months is not my motivation. I am here because I love the game universe and its characters. I make my own thing, quietly rejoicing, and I don't look around much. Reposts are evil on a different level, and not on this one. Does T's intention of re-uploading my fanfiction or even rewriting it somehow thrills me? I don’t care at all. Let him read a well edited and thought-through text for once. But I doubt it will help a little.

In general:

My subscribers / readers / followers know where to look for my updates. A thinking person that sees a repost will go and find the author themselves. Be it pictures that they see, text or something else. Those people who don't think are obviously not interesting for me as an audience. Other authors share this position.

Finally, end of this text. It has taken me 4 hours to write this all in russian, maybe another one to edit the google output and add more things AND almost one week of my time to deal with this all (and don’t forget other authors involved, they spent a shitload of time on it too). From now on my position is “time is money” and if the character T resurfaces he’ll have to pay me for the attention he seeks, lol

#enderal #sureai #art theft #reposters #5 pages on google docs #goddamnit #nehrim

22 notes · View notes

theres-no-protocol-for-this · 3 years

Text

Two Journalists and a SecUnit

As tends to be the case, this was discussed in the Murderbot Discord server. Which, if you need a link to it, let me know. It’s an awesome place to hang out.

And this isn’t going anywhere. I just had this moment in mind.

Danny and Kat are literally breaking the law.

Not that it's any of my business. I'm contracted to protect them regardless of how stupid and reckless the two journalists happen to be. So, I'm standing in full armor next to a local corporate office in the middle of the night, watching two people fail to pick a lock that I'm pretty sure is already open because it's broken and sending off error messages left and right.

Danny glances in my general direction and then whispers to Kat, "I think it's judging us."

"It's most certainly not!"

I am, in fact, judging both of them. What I'm not doing is recording their every conversation to hand over to the security company for review and data mining. And the only reason I'm not doing this is because journalists from non-corporate polities are shielded from this behavior through some kind of agreement that I don't care to understand.

It's hard not to get passionately angry when the humans you're supposed to be keeping alive are doing everything in their power to make themselves firmly dead. These two are reporting on the supposed criminal activities of whatever company owns this office. I don't know what those are and, honestly, don't care.

I only care that, if the two idiots in my care die, my governor is going to do much the same to me. So, their continued existence is vital to my continued existence. Yes, it fucking sucks.

"SecUnit, is everything all right?" Kat asks.

She's now fiddling with the depressed security system that runs this place. I've already cozied up to said system -- SecUnits come with all sorts of useful codes for talking to security systems -- and let it know that we're totally supposed to be here. It's in a believing mood, or maybe a little too down to care about intruders, so it's ignoring my two idiots studiously.

And I have to give the system some credit because these two are hard to ignore. They're loud and excitable, and so very human. And now Kat looks worried as she stares up at me, and it's hard to stay angry at these people.

"Yes, ma'am, all my readings remain within normal error margins," I answer, looking at diagnostic reports and scans of the area.

She gives me a look. I have no idea what look it is, with the furrowed brows and the half-formed frown, but I've seen it before. And it usually means she's not going to let it go. Danny tugs on her arm loosely and points to the door.

"I think I've got this," he whispers excitedly. That's the only way he ever whispers.

"Great. Come on. Let's go."

Kat yanks open the door and practically stomps inside. I think her entire experience breaking into buildings comes from entertainment media. Danny's a little bit wiser or more cautious and he looks around first before following his partner in crime. If either of them notice the cameras in the narrow corridor, they don't pay much attention to them.

I have a few choices to make, and I don't like any of them as I follow my two humans into the three-story building. I can ask the security system to stop recording and turn off its cameras for the next hour, but my governor isn't going to like it -- and there's only so much convincing I can do before it zaps me for disobedience. Alternatively, I can let the cameras go and hope the journalists don't end up in jail -- or worse.

I go with option number one and mute my comms just in time. Because, fuck, that hurts. I stumble briefly and Kat turns to look at me. This time, she doesn't even ask if I'm OK. She just walks over and grabs my armor-clad hand.

"You did something stupid, didn't you?" she asks.

Who, me? Nah! I just want to still be alive come tomorrow morning, if that's alright with you two idiots.

"All readings within acceptable parameters," I say because it's a convenient canned response and it's technically true. "My apologies for the unexpected interruption."

"It's no trouble."

"We should hurry," Danny whispers from just up ahead. "Before anyone notices."

The security system doesn't care enough to let anyone know about these intruders. It doesn't even think they're intruders at this point, although it does wonder what's the matter with the humans. It thinks this about most of its humans, though, so I'm not all that surprised.

Kat tugs on my hand and pulls me along, forward, into one of the archive rooms that the company keeps in this little excuse for a building. By now, I'm kind of used to it. Kat has stated that she thinks constructs are basically sentient. She used it as an argument against bringing a SecUnit when her job required her to allow some kind of security along on this trip. And, she's said it to Danny at least half a dozen times now, usually after he says something she deems mean.

"Be nice to the SecUnit," is her mode of operation.

"OK, let's see," Kat says now as she looks around the room. "So, these will be old records. Not old enough to have any hard copies, but the systems they're on should be way out of date. That's what the informant said, anyway."

"And how do you expect to tell the difference?" Danny asks.

"They'll be dustier."

Oh, for fuck's sake.

I poke at the nearest one, which is connected to the feed and absolutely modern. Its interface asks what I'm looking for. Since I have no idea, I ask it where it stores its oldest files. It tell me outright that there are some ancient databases in one of the other data clusters.

Then, I point to the cluster in question and say, "The results of your location query may be available over there."

Danny jumps a foot in the air. Oops.

"Thank you," Kat exclaims and walks over to see if she can connect to the cluster in question.

She spends the next twenty minutes nodding at one of those old-fashioned displays where she has to touch the screen to scroll through the pages. Danny’s taking notes. I’m standing here, reading over her shoulder and making a running recording that I think Kat might like to see later.

Because, like them or leave them, these two are my humans. And I want to protect them. And maybe even help a little.

#SecUnit #murderbot #fanfiction #journalism is dangerous

62 notes · View notes

honey-makki · 4 years

Text

Irreconcilable

Characters: Asahi Azumane X GN!Reader

Summary: Asahi’s mental health can be debilitating sometimes. Taking a toll on himself and relationships with others, but how far will they go to help him?

Warnings: depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts

Song: this is me trying- taylor swift

Genre: angst/comfort

Count: 2k

A/N: please head the warnings. this discusses and is an explicit portrayl of anxiety and depression with references to suicidal thoughts. it isn’t “fun” but nevertheless i think its good. at least it felt good to write,

Asahi hasn’t left his bed yet today, rather listening to the rain and staring up at the ceiling, wondering how long it’ll be before he can fall asleep again. This isn’t an uncommon situation for him, his figure shrouded in darkness and enveloped by the blankets on his bed. The occasional buzz of his phone goes unnoticed.

The darkness of the room shifts throughout the day, casting heavier shadows on his bed in the afternoon, shadows that he can feel the weight of on his chest. They mirror the heavy feeling in his heart and the discontent in his head. Would sorry have made any difference? It’s just a word, a word I would have struggled to even say.

The passage of time seems like its just a theoretical concept until the gnawing pain of hunger starts to peek through. He’s not hungry per se, but his body is telling him that three days without eating is way too long. The tinge of pain is a welcome feeling, no matter how fleeting.

It would still be a few hours before Asahi made his way to the kitchen, long after his flatmates are asleep, hoping to avoid an uncomfortable conversation. There isn’t a reason he can articulate for the way he looks, hair messy and unwashed, deep circles under his eyes despite sleeping most of the time, and his thinning frame drawing in his seemingly oversized old volleyball jacket.

He doesn’t even think he would try to come up with an excuse should they see him, the effort seeming monumental for little to no reward. He’s gotten to the point where he isn’t hiding it, any actions to make it easier to deal with, like using the kitchen sparingly and only at odd hours, are just due to convenience not fear of response.

Holding a bowl of cheese puffs and a long-forgotten packet of Takenoko No Sato Asahi makes his way back to his room, each footstep silent. Sitting in his desk chair he pops something in his mouth, not really sure if it was sweet or savory because to him they all taste the same, something akin to cardboard, or wood chips uncomfortably dry in his mouth.

The milk carton he grabbed out of the fridge doesn’t taste much better. It feels thick, so much so that he isn’t sure he will be able to swallow (or stomach) it. He might as well be drinking a bottle of unscented lotion, and even then that might be better.

He isn’t sure how long has passed since he keeps zoning out, but the bowl of leftover puffs look about as appetizing as styrofoam peanuts, and he knows that if he doesn’t get them out fo his room, he might be sick. Being sick is a lot more effort than sneaking to the kitchen, that is as long as it’s late.

He finally checks his phone after what has been, hours? A day? Maybe three days? It’s not the brightness of the screen that hurts, or the way all the notifications make his heart race, its the background picture that makes it nye impossible to use. Its you.

Seeing your smiling face next to his, he recognizes every single square millimeter of your face, long ago committed to memory. He could paint it blindfolded if he needed to, but the person next to you? He doesn’t see himself looking back. The clear skin, the glow, the beaming smile, the light in his eyes. Maybe its liveliness, maybe its adoration, maybe its gratitude, but regardless, he doesn’t retain nor deserves any of those emotions.

It’s his fault he’s here alone in his room staring at a bug climbing the wall. step. step. step. Each leg of the ant moving in unison, carrying it to some future that it can imagine. How depressing is it that an ant has a brighter future than I do? Every second he spends looking at the ant is one less second he is being drawn deeper into the tumultuous whirlpool of dread in his head.

The buzz of his phone clacks against the ceramic bowl, discordant in the otherwise silent room. The noise acts as a life preserver he feels oddly obligated to take out of the water, looking down to see your name across the screen. For the second time today, he feels something, earlier it was clearly defined and compartmentalized hunger, now? It’s a ceaseless swirl of resigned hopelessness, despair, anxiety, irritation, and a deep sense of being unworthy of all of these feelings.

Its easier when he isn’t reminded of you.

He doesn’t plan on responding to your simple ‘hey.’but the follow up of ‘dai said you aren’t well, let’s talk’ still everything but his mind. He can’t breathe in, he can’t move his thumbs to lock his phone or reply to you, all he can do is think about is how this could only go horribly wrong, but that you cared, at least cared enough about him to check-in. Even after everything he did.

Asahi: We can talk on the phone later I guess, y/n

Y/N: i’ll be over tonight at 7, i still have a key.

7pm. That’s 6 hours away according to his phone. The concept of time mattering feels foreign, should he nap? Take a shower? How long are normal showers? Should he clean his room? Does his room even need to be cleaned? Wash his sheets? Before long he finds himself on the floor, head in his hands with tears streaming down his face. He doesn’t recall getting there or starting to cry, it feels like the tears have always been there, each tear track carving out a trail in his skin, creating invisible canyons. They’re always there, maybe invisible or dry, but the tear tracks are still there.

The faint thud of his pulse ringing in his head is one of the only things his dulled sense can take in. he can’t place if he’s developed a migraine and the thud is twangs of pain or if he’s just, not here. Living what can only be described as the inverse of an out of body experience, everything else around him fading out into black, leaving him alone in an infinite black universe.

The weight of something on his head brings him back to earth. His head leans up and out of his peripheral sees your knees as you sit on his bed. A small whine leaves his throat as you begin to scratch and massage his scalp. Asahi can’t remember the last time he was touched by another person, and he doesn’t know how he lived so long without it. Your fingers are massaging fatigue out of his bones, undoing tension he’s caring in his shoulders.

It’s illogical that the light touches from each of your fingertips on his scalp can undo so much damage to his body, but that’s a skill you honed over time, and you can visibly see him become grounded.

“Asahi you know I can’t keep doing this. I would do this every day for the rest of my life if asked because I know it helps, but I hate seeing you like this. I’m scared that one day I’m going--” your chocked sobs are finally audible enough for him to perceive, “that you are gonna be too far gone. I wouldn’t be able to take that Asahi. Life without you is hard enough, I don’t want to imagine a world without you.”

He knew his mental health issues affected you, its the whole reason he left you in the first place, feeling guilty for you having to take care of him and him not making any progress. But he didn’t realize how scared you were. That he might just wither away, or suddenly not be here anymore. It would be a lie to say he hadn’t thought about it more than once, but never taking any tangible steps forward.

He still hasn’t said anything, but after a few minutes of you both crying, he just nods his head. You aren’t exactly sure what that means, but his voice croaks out, “help. I’ll get help.” The admission wasn’t something you expected but the hoarseness of his voice from crying or nonuse makes it all the more real. That maybe you were right to worry, and you were right to set this ultimatum.

A few hours later, you leave Asahi’s apartment, he fell asleep after you helped him bathe and changed his sheets. You left phone numbers of multiple psychologists and therapists, and an offer that you would make an appointment if he couldn’t find the willpower to do so. You have a cup of tea with Daichi before you leave, telling him about Asahi wanting to get help. You ask him to try to make sure that Asahi is doing at least the bare minimum or eating real food once a day and showering. Small steps eventually add up to a healthier person.

Months pass, where you and Asahi exchange a few text messages, detailing about he found a therapist, and his journey to find a medication that made him feel better and not worse. The conversations are long, but they always leave you hopeful about his progress.

You expected the knock on the door to be your take out but instead are looking at the chest of a much taller man. You look up to see Asahi’s face, a nervous smile looking down at you. His skin looks healthier, not as pallid or marred with deep sleeplessness, his hair is up in a bun, but you can see how much healthier it looks. The most notable change is that you can see light in his eyes. There’s something in there, hope maybe or just contentment with his growth. But there’s something, something that he made on his own and can hold onto.

Sure there are still signs that he isn’t fully back to the Asahi you met a long time ago, his hair is still thin, his frame is still not as filled out as it once was, but is definitely in a healthier range, his smile isn’t 100% confident and doesn’t seem to fully reach his eyes, but he looks good. And if he’s here, he must be feeling good.

“Hey y/n, I’ve been doing a lot better recently and my therapist said I should come and speak my mind. First, let me give you the most genuine and heartfelt thank you I can muster. If you hadn’t said what you did that one evening, I would never have gotten help and I honestly might not be here.”

His words are confident and sincere. They sound a little rehearsed, which is endearing. Asahi was never the most eloquent or poised person when it comes to feelings, but his declarations of love were always true in the deepest sense of the word. You couldn’t contain the smile on your face even if you wanted to, not when he’s done so much, not when he’s trying so hard.

“I might perceive the world as darker and more hellish than it actually is sometimes, but I’m gonna try again and again to soothe my heart and pick the flowers growing in the midst of hell. You are one of those flowers, a light in the darkness that motivates and assures me that all is well. If you would like, I want to grab coffee with you, like old times.”

Your bodies are bathed in golden sunlight from the window behind you, giving your nod a lucent halo. The halo fades as you step out and close the door behind you, but the glow doesn’t, it’s part of him, part of you.