#any shitty comments will be deleted and blocked
Text
god made his strongest soldiers autistic only children of narcissistic parents
#autism#actually autistic#actually autism#actually neurodivergent#actually neurodiverse#neurodiversity#actually nd#surviving narcissism#narcissistic parents#empath#actual empath#actually empath#empath problems#autistic woman#autistic problems#autistic adult#adults with autism#do not fucking come at me playing the victim#this is only for autistic trauma survivors#any shitty comments will be deleted and blocked
195 notes
·
View notes
Text
Warning people in the Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss fandom of the shameless art thief @horrorlover1 (funnily enough they tried changing their URL because they got called out, I assume they don't realize that old URL @'s still take people to your updated URL 🙄) - They've been reposting people's art with the excuse of "Oh, well, I don't know where they came from, I just find them on Google UwU Credit to the artist tho lol" and when told directly where somebody's art came from, their response was to delete the replies, block the person, restrict replies on ALL their posts, and btw, STILL did not actually credit the OG artist.
So, safe to say, it's abundantly clear that this human trashpile doesn't actually give a shit about the original artists of these works. I'll be tagging all the OG artists I can find and link to the stolen posts so that y'all can report this person (I will also @ some of the well-known fandom artists who might not've been hit yet so that they know to block this person and report them if they are able. Also, I don't have Twitter, so if somebody could let the Twitter-exclusive users know of this to also report this person, that would be dope. (Maybe post in the replies if you're going to do that though, so that people can see if it's already been done and the artists don't get spammed about it.))
This art belongs to @marukmpos (Twitter link)
This art belongs to @bluestripedrenulian (dA link)
This art belongs to rinna_hel
This art belongs to Tunyeta
This art belongs to @mellemoondraws (Twitter link)
This art and this art belongs to @gensubart (dA link)
This art belongs to thatboni and @notherpuppet (Twitter link)
This art belongs to TheOGFazFilms
This art belongs to Cessy_Janea
This art belongs to cocodar
This art belongs to Sooelliee and Alkar_tar_art (whose profile SPECIFICALLY says not to repost their art btw)
This art belongs to Thea Yildirim
This art belongs to @pleasantlypony (Twitter link)
This art belongs to Serped3ra
This art belongs to @frenchiefie / @frenchiefieart (Twitter link)
This art belongs to ArtyDemon
This art belongs to SuamyArt
This art belongs to @sadelionne (Twitter link)
And some Hazbin/Helluva artists I'm tagging mostly just warning to block this person so their art also doesn't get stolen/reposted: @kandavers @smilezandmics @greykolla-art @triona-tribblescore @alymccart @noramiamere @adyophene @diabloku @applepartysins @captainsaltypear @scruplepossum (Again, I'm not in the fandom, so I don't really know who all should be tagged and I don't want to make this post crazily long, but yeah, I guess if anybody else in the fandom knows of who might wanna be given a heads up, they'd know better than me lol)
I'm not in the HH/HB fandoms, I was just shootin' the shit with a friend yesterday (the one who initially commented about crediting artists on their posts) and they mentioned this situation to me, and since art thieves like this are massive fucking shitbags that just wanna get clout off of other people's work, figured I should at least credit some ACTUAL artists. Even as an outsider I know that stealing/reposting is a MASSIVE problem in that fandom, and the art fans have got to stop letting people get away with it. Don't like/reblog from assholes like this, support the ACTUAL artists, dude. Stop letting these leeches get away with stealing from legitimate content creators.
If anybody recognizes any of the other stolen art that I might not've found the OG artists for, please let them know so that they can also report their stolen artworks.
Moral of the story: It's not that fucking hard to find the original artists of things online. Don't be a shitty art thief like @horrorlover1 and at LEAST give PROPER credit if you're going to repost something. :/
Edit: Just editing to add that I find it kinda funny how they claim I made this post to try and boost myself when I said multiple times that I'm not even in the Hazbin/Helluva fandom, lmfao. Like, who tf you think I'm boosting myself to??? I don't even make content for this fandom. Also they changed their url to @thecatgirl-luvmyrocky but the original @ link still works, too.
Editing to add their apology, but I am still keeping the post up so that people can decide for themselves if they want to block or not.
Stop reposting things with no credit, and if any artists reach out to you about taking down their posts or anything like that, then listen to them. Artists deserve respect, they deserved to be RECOGNIZED for their hard work, and not giving credit is a HUGE slap in the face to them. Do better.
#Hazbin Hotel#Helluva Boss#Vivziepop#Anyways new AMV coming out today or tomorrow#Another random spur-of-the-moment one because my ADHD brain is a menace to society
257 notes
·
View notes
Note
Omg can you please do an Alastor x reader (gn + platonic)
Basically where readers ex won’t leave them alone (always stalking their socials and goes around asking for them) so Alastor steps up and helped the reader. Would be greatly appreciated 😭🙏
·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ ex’s and oh’s
·:¨༺ platonic!alastor x reader ༻¨:·
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
summary: in which alastor puts your obsessive ex back in line
cw: cussing, violence, obsessive behaviors
a/n: JSBNJDHS THANK YOU FOR 120 FOLLOWERS OH MY GOSH??? also i hope this is good, i dont usually write for alastor😭
you frowned at your phone, a notification from no other than your ex being the cause.
"thought running off to some shitty hotel would keep me away from you?" the message read. it was the third time you'd had to delete one of their comments. honestly, it was getting tiring. you'd moved on weeks ago! every time you'd block their account, they'd just make a new one. you sighed, deciding that putting down your phone would be the best option.
your peace lasted about five minutes before charlie called you downstairs. "uhm, [name]? there's someone down here who'd like to meet you..." she said, suspicion evident in her voice.
you made your way to the railing of the stairs, before stopping abruptly.
your ex was right outside the hotel doors, looking in every direction frantically. hoping to catch sight of you. "why is-" charlie pulled you aside before they noticed you. "we tried sending them away," she sighed, "but they wouldn't budge!" "charlie, it's alright." you reassured. "just tell them i'm not here." she gave a curt thumbs-up before retreating downstairs.
———————————————————————
“of course they’re here, the little shit’s probably just hiding,” your ex spat. they’d been arguing with charlie for the past half hour trying to get to you. alastor’s smile grew irritated at the sight.
“well-“ “i’ll handle this one, my dear.” alastor interrupted. charlie gave him a nervous nod before letting him drag your ex by the collar.
the hallway lights flickered as alastor forced your ex into a corner. “what the fuck do you think your doing?” the smaller demon protested.
“you’ve been causing disturbances in my hotel. i can’t allow that.” alastor snarled, voice dripping with poison.
your ex scoffed. a mistake. “the fuck are you gonna do about i-“ they were cut off by a hand to their throat. with alastor’s free hand, he grabbed your ex’s arm, locking them in place.
“here’s whats going to happen.” alastor deadpanned. the lights were flickering more fervently now. “you are going to leave this hotel without any complaints.” his antlers grew as he continued, eyes darkening. “and if i catch you bothering my dear friend [name] again,” alastor leaned into the trembling demon’s ear. “i’ll rip your insides out and broadcast your screams for all of hell to hear. you’ll set a prime example of what happens to pathetic wretches who dare cross my path. do you understand?”
your ex’s lack of response displeased alastor. alastor’s nails dug deep into the demon’s arm, drawing blood and emitting a loud cry from your ex. “i said, do you understand?” he repeated darkly.
“yes, yes—fuck! get off of me!” the demon cried, hand clawing around their neck in hopes to loosen alastor’s grip. which was unsuccessful. “glad we both can settle on an agreement.” the lights went back to normal, and alastor went back to his usual calm and collected demeanor. he discarded his hands from your ex and wiped them on his coat.
your ex flew out the hotel doors in less than 30 seconds.
———————————————————————
few hours later
“hey, charlie, how’d you get my ex to leave?” you questioned. “yeah, that bitch was NOT going nowhere,” angel chimed, eyes still glued to his phone. “how’d you even survive dating a fool like them?” you sighed at his comment. “well, they’re an ex for a reason…”
“but back to the main question. how DID you get them to leave?” charlie gave you a nervous smile. “well…”
“i handled them myself.” alastor quipped. “it was quite easy, might i add.” his grin sharpened, as if he was proud himself. he was, and for good reason! angel cocked a brow. “yeahh, we’re never seein’ them again, are we?”
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor x reader#adam hazbin#charlie morningstar#hazbin hotel adam#hazbin hotel lucifer#angel dust#hazbin hotel husk#x reader#platonic#emily hazbin hotel#sir pentious#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin hotel x you#vaggie
252 notes
·
View notes
Text
don't hold hands, m | myg
pairing(s): yoongi x reader
summary: You're fucking your ex-boyfriend's ex-best friend. You also now own a condo with him and owning this condo has made you house-poor. Yeah, it's not the usual love story and it's not going to be one. Not until you paint the walls black, that is.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mostly conversations and feels tbh; minor smut (fem reader, marking / scratching, m-receiving oral, doggy, penetrative sex); non-idol!AU; guitarist!music producer!Yoongi x novelist!reader - fwb / roommates-to-lovers
just a story about two people who shouldn't fall in love falling in love, I have plenty of nasty smut so this is a different beat for ya lmao
--
“Is it fun being tortured?”
“Not really, no.”
It wasn’t fair to be this critical but, as long as you didn’t let these words travel outside this room, it was fine, right? At least, you kept telling yourself that. Delusion at its finest.
“It’s so stupid that people enjoy sticking their nose in drama that doesn’t involve them only because their lives are too boring to have any,” you sighed, tossing your phone across your desk, letting it skid into a pile of post-its covered in scrawled notes. “All because I deleted some photos.”
Notifications were now blocked.
“Some people mistake privilege with right.”
You glared at your phone even though the contents were the offender and not the device. Rolled your eyes, knowing you would be coming back to a shitstorm, but you couldn’t take it anymore. There had to be a limit. And the voice beside you had been telling you to put the damn thing down and stop deleting comments one by one, but the stubborn ram in you thought you could just headbutt through the bullshit.
And that imagery was gonna end there, thank you very much.
Your forehead found the palm of your hand and you sighed again, suddenly feeling the weight.
“I’m never doing that again.”
“You don’t have to.”
Minutes passed.
Silence never felt so serene.
Then it was cut through by steady, slow acoustic guitar, the notes drifting out from behind you. It almost made you feel more guilty. Almost. How fucked was that? You, sitting here right now, staring at nearly bare walls and a table covered in notes and your trusty laptop, almost feeling guilty for the guy that had backed out of the joint loan for this condo in the city that you didn’t even fuckin’ want, but you had been too far into the process to not lose a whole lotta money and too angry to let yourself lose.
How ironic, feeling guilty for the guy who cheated on you.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” was the guitar player’s response. “And you shouldn’t be either. For anything.”
You knew you shouldn’t apologize. It just felt like the thing to do, because you hadn’t been wholly right either and, even if you weren’t more in the wrong, you were still wrong, and wasn’t that fucked, putting levels of blame on a situation that, at the end of the day, was all said and done and left everybody bitter and full of scars.
The shitty part was everyone was on your case now and blaming you.
This was what you got for dating the lead singer of a punk band that skyrocketed to popularity on social media. Looked all elegant dark romance on TikTok and Instagram, just screaming and hate-fucking behind closed doors. Constant content to cover up the toxicity. And maybe it was your fault too, letting it get to your head that maybe you really were the beautiful, mysterious muse that the followers painted you out to be. You glossed over red flags – late nights, drugs and drinking, sleeping in rooms of girls that called themselves fans – all part of the industry. Nothing happened. Honest. But the greatest mistake was letting him tag you on Instagram. How cool was it that you were an author?
This bastard.
Not only had you given him some of your best quotes for his lyrics, but now you couldn’t publish those words as your own because this bastard would fuckin’ sue you for plagiarizing.
The guitar continued behind you, on the mattress on the floor.
So, not only were you getting crucified on social media at the moment because he had called you a backhanded bitch in his Instagram stories but also because you had deleted all photos of him on your profile and said fucking nothing. Silence to be polite and all that. He cheated on you, he was leaving you for some whore you had plenty of suspicions about, and, worst of all, he waited until you and him were finalizing the down payment for this expensive-ass-fuck high-rise condo – that money was out of your own pocket, not his, how convenient – and backed out of the loan for the mortgage. His reasoning?
You cheated on him first.
Hello?
With his former guitarist.
Hello?
Your ex-boyfriend had fired his former guitarist ages ago because you and him had gotten too friendly.
Alright, man.
You liked the guy, sure. Talked to him when he was in the studio and found you had a lot in common. Plus, he was crazy talented. Made most of the melodies, self-produced a lot of the songs for the band so they could save money, even contributed to lyric writing so they didn’t have to spend on that either. He even had a good voice, although sadly the band rarely used it. Your art of words paired with his knowledge of music made some viral hits. But then tensions rose between him and your ex when they started butting heads for no reason (there was a reason and it was ugly jealousy). Then arguments rose between you and your ex, but instead of breaking up, you buried yourself into writing your next novel to let the situation cool off.
Sigh, okay, call a spade a spade.
You were avoiding the confrontation.
He fired his guitarist and got a new one.
Then things were good.
Until they weren’t.
Of course, they weren’t. You didn’t solve shit, and he was fucking every girl that threw themselves at him behind your back. Good thing you had strict rules about condoms, otherwise you would probably have some lasting consequences right now. So, when the ground cracked and split apart from under you, what did you do?
Yup, this was the part that made you no better.
You found that former guitarist and fucked him.
Word travelled around. Word also travelled around that somehow you got someone to be part of that insane loan you got talked into. And, oh, shit, did things get messy once a certain someone knew who it was.
But here you were.
Feeling guilty.
You probably couldn’t publish for at least six months to a year because, harrowingly, your demographic was young adult – you had even relied on social media for self-marketing, fuck – and the half of a novel you had now had to be scrapped considering that so many of the quotes were now distressed in dark venues by the lips of an egomaniacal dick that you allowed into your pussy far too many times. Once was already too many.
Fuck.
You didn’t even want to live in the city.
It’ll be so much easier for me to get bigger opportunities. Don’t be a selfish bitch and only think about yourself.
You wanted to scream.
You wanted to throw your laptop into the wall and break it into smithereens, but you didn’t because this piece of technology was currently your only chance of making money. Fuck. Me. Always talking about himself like he was only important member of the band, even though it was the other guys who wrote most of the music and lyrics. No one sided with you, obviously. This was their job and technically not their romance. They were sympathetic but not empathetic to the point of jeopardizing their jobs. Obviously, you hadn’t signed any contracts for royalties or credit. This was supposed to be your soulmate.
Soulmates weren’t so generous to give you pennies.
You’re being greedy and self-important. Oh, so you’re only in the relationship for the money? I’ll give you money once we make it big. Once we get it all, I’ll buy you everything you want. But you gotta help me out now. We’re starving artists, ya know?
You should have asked your parents for monetary help, but you didn’t. Your pride didn’t want to hear the told-you-so speeches for dating a guy they didn’t choose for you. You also didn’t want the arranged marriage appointments back in your life either.
So.
Trapped in white walls, post-its of false starts, and impending doom.
Dramatic, but you were a writer.
“Come here and sit down with me.”
Some part of you didn’t want to face him. It was really dumb. He was your new roommate now. You were fucking him when you were too sad to avoid it, and it was pretty obvious he knew. You were living off his money. Sure, he only paid for half the rent but then food mysteriously appeared in the fridge, bathroom necessities were stocked when they were running low, cleaning supplies neatly sorted into the closet, and all that other shit. None of that wholesale stuff either, but the nicer things normal households could afford.
It wasn’t an exaggeration that you cried into the soap during your shower last night.
All because you finally acknowledged it wasn’t one of those shitty bars that made skin feel like plastic but actually fragrant lathering liquid that you could put on the dense, not-falling-apart-in-one-use loofah that you hadn’t bought. You would have been satisfied with cutting coupons and living on the dregs of the bare minimum, but someone cared enough to not let you do that, and you currently couldn’t do anything to contribute and probably couldn’t for a while.
And that made you feel undeserving.
Maybe you were only fucking him because that was all you could offer.
Pathetic.
The guitarist called your name softly.
Like a beaten dog, you got up and sat down beside Min Yoongi.
He continued to play a melody you didn’t know on his black acoustic guitar. He hadn’t moved in all his instruments and equipment yet. You had told him he could have the whole living room for his studio. He had asked if you were sure and you responded that you were sure that you weren’t going to have anybody over ever so, unless he wanted a living room space, you didn’t want one.
“Shit always happens, you know,” the deep voice reminded you.
“This happening was of my own doing and now I’ve ruined my own life,” you muttered, bitter over a boy and hating that you were bitter over a boy.
A small chuckle. “You have to admit you had help.”
Stupid boy.
“Can’t be helped. Humans are animals of regret.”
It stung to regret.
The guitar playing stopped and now you were met with silence.
Don’t cry.
But it was so tiring to be angry. So easy to be sad. So easy to think, my fault, for being swept up in what he was but not who he was, for believing that you knew what was best when clearly it wasn’t, for being spiteful on purpose. For avoiding looking at Yoongi in the face because you were too ashamed to acknowledge what was going on here.
For being too afraid to ask what he thought of it.
“I regretted not stealing you from him sooner. Thought you were too fuckable for that loser from the first day we met.”
A strange feeling.
Skin prickling, glancing the that pale hand of graceful, callused fingers simply resting on the neck of that guitar, not looking at Yoongi’s face even though you knew it quite well in profile.
“That’s one way to make me feel better,” you replied.
“I’m not trying to make you feel better. Just being honest,” he replied, tapping his fingertips on the wood. “You are ten times too talented and a hundred times too pretty for a guy like that.”
You twitched. “Are you shitting on my standards?”
“Back then? Yeah, I am.” A calm hum, setting aside his guitar and placing his elbows on his sweatpants-covered knees, charcoal gray and worn. “Pretty clear you went full desperado for a guy that didn’t deserve it. Also, he ain’t hot shit like he thinks he is.”
Ow and what the fuck. “Fuck off.”
You felt movement and tracked his hand raising, spinning a finger around his temple. A brief glance and the details sank in. Long, windswept black waves, light cream skin, pointed gaze directed forward and not at you, pensive slight frown of pink lips. You looked away again, past his loose white t-shirt and to your hands.
You used to be proud of them.
They used to be able to type prose like no other.
Now they were twisted in an oversized, olive-green sweatshirt that you picked up from the sale bin of the convenience store for dirt cheap and they didn’t write jack shit.
You also hated olive-green.
Nothing personal. It just wasn’t your color.
“You’re a psycho bitch to put up with him,” Yoongi commented.
He wasn’t wrong. “I’m a psycho bitch all the time.”
“Yeah, and I don’t date crazy.”
You thought you would feel insulted, but you were past the point of caring. Also, there was something about the way his calm voice said it. Like he knew what he was doing. Huh. That was a silly thing to think. Of course, Yoongi knew what he was doing. He did it. He let you in his studio when you tracked it down and camped out until he showed up. He had listened to your psychobabble and didn’t back away when you pinned him to the wall.
This wasn’t dating.
“At least, I thought I didn’t,” Yoongi added, not touching you.
He fucked you too. He wasn’t a starfish in bed, that was for sure.
“I wanted to get back at him too, you know,” that deep, hazy voice murmured beside you. “That bastard turned my friends against me, stole my mixes, and cut out all my connections. Made me start from the ground up, alone.”
Yeah, you did know that. You helped badmouth Yoongi. In the name of love.
Shit.
“Sorry.”
“You’re not sorry.”
Ouch.
“And you shouldn’t be, ‘cause what’s done is done and being sorry isn’t going to change anything.”
You untwisted your hands from each other, realizing your knuckles were white from anxiousness, and relaxed them on your bare knees. Best you could, anyway.
“Yeah,” was the best response you had. This fucking boy ruined your life and stole your eloquence too, apparently. Motherfucker. “You’re right.”
Neither you or Yoongi said anything.
Minutes passed.
Another night in the condo and both of you were sitting on a mattress with a single blanket, deflated pillows, and a box of condoms on the floor.
You touched his forearm the same time his hand moved to grip your thigh.
And then it was the don’t-look-him-in-the-eyes challenge, and he was doing the exact same thing, eyes averted, black hair over them, lips grazing your jaw. Breath against your ear. Hot. His neck under your lips, flexed, fair skin with remnants of bruises, and your teeth sank in, making new ones, listening to his hiss and feeling his hands slide under your sweatshirt. Weighted palms and blunt nails. Digging in.
“Harder.”
He scratched you up as you climbed into his lap, tasting flesh.
Those firm hands gripped your hips and forced them down. Grinding. Softness to growing hardness, unhooking your bra, hands all over like you had lost your mind, your thighs squeezing his sides, yanking his shirt collar down and licking up his collarbone, dripping spit, shivering as you saw it glisten over his marred skin.
Clothes coming off, thrown aside. Guitar sliding to the hardwood floor as bodies tumbled. Your hands on his chest, your hard nipples pressed into the sheets as Yoongi slipped his hand into your hair and shoved your head down. Mouth open, tongue curling around. Moan striking the air, echoing in the nothingness.
Hard, hot, now wet.
Up, down, hitting the back of your throat, unable to choke in the adrenaline of lust, in need, in desire for pain, rubbing your tongue all over as Yoongi face-fucked you hard and fast, thick cock swelling in your mouth, your lips grazing the swollen head and making him shudder, saliva slipping down your chin that was smacking into his balls.
Was it shameful that you were good at it?
Sex solved nothing but you sure had a lot of it as if it did.
A sharp gasp and salty cum filled your throat, drinking, swallowing with effort and the burning sensation of your locked jaw, maintaining the soft tightness. Tongue tracing the contours, keeping him hard, hearing the rip of a foil packet above your head.
You hadn’t even realized that Yoongi had let go of your hair, letting you lick him all over at your own pace.
“What position?” Yoongi panted, husky and breathless in the mostly empty bedroom.
Mattress, chair, desk, laptop. Oh, and guitar.
Bodies on the floor.
You didn’t say anything.
You just turned around and slid down, elbows on the bed, knees spread, ass up.
“Alright then.”
You bit your lower lip.
You almost turned your head, almost looked back, just to check, right, just to check he was okay with it, and then strong hands gripped your hips, lifting them, sliding in, condom on and stretching you out right away, his knees pushing your knees apart and forcing you to arch your back for the angle.
No chance to look back.
You gasped, gripping the sheets, blinded by pleasure and the fading resonance of pain.
Hard.
Deep.
You pushing back, deep not deep enough, hitting your preferred depth and letting your eyelids flutter, veins burning with the repeated ecstasy. One of your hands lifted and reached back, squeezing his hand on your hip, and the grip became tighter, fingertips digging in, smacking his hips into your ass, and your body threatened to throw him back, carnal power meeting his every thrust, clenching around his hard length, and you could hear Yoongi growl your name, low and deep and voracious.
Somehow, his name fell from your lips too.
Rough and sinful, no better than an animal.
His nails dug into your back and dragged down, burning lines into your skin.
Your head tipped back and you moaned, a clear, shameless sound that would become familiar to this ceiling. Pooling wildfire, tightening muscles, wasted nectar sticky between joined thighs, surge after shivering surge of orgasmic apex stinging your veins as you barely registered Yoongi’s shudder and blissful groan, feeling the pulse inside you made than hearing the sound.
The rush of blood roaring in your ears was far too loud for you to hear anything.
Your face felt hot, so hot.
Gripping the sheets, twisting them, pulling them off the edge of the bed.
This moment.
Very few things were as intense and exigent as an orgasm. Fleeting, but a violently memorable. Pure nothingness of soaring high. You chased it. Again. And again. And again, your fingers tangled in Yoongi’s dark hair, pulling it over his face but he didn’t look at you anyway, eyes closed and teeth trapping his lower lip, breath trapped in his chest, driving his hips into yours again and again.
You both kept going until the limits were reached.
The darkness willingly swallowed you up.
-
Min Yoongi always considered himself a rational person, which was precisely why he found himself entangled in the break-up between his former best friend and the only woman he ever considered committing a felony for.
Yeah.
He also didn’t believe in love at first sight.
She was still way too hot for that idiot though.
His eyes could communicate well enough with his dick. The short skirt and exposed thighs didn’t really help either. Still, Yoongi had let it be. Respect was keeping his distance despite racing heartbeat and keeping calm despite shaking hands. He got used to it once the late-night talks about music and wordplay became a regular thing. Sometimes they talked about general life and were surprised on how well they aligned. Still, she never spoke poorly about her then-boyfriend even though there was plenty to talk about.
Scorched earth was their sacred ground.
It was painful to witness.
Yoongi regretted valuing the friendship, mostly because it didn’t mean jack shit at the end of the day. He regretted believing in the elegant, age-old saying.
Bros before hoes.
Tch.
But mostly, Yoongi regretted pretending like nothing was wrong.
He would see the pain in her expression and not say anything. Watch her pack it all away and greet him with warmth that he didn’t deserve because he had a racing heart and shaking hands every time they met. He would watch his former best friend disappear into hotel rooms without explanation and Yoongi knew damn well it wasn’t right, but he kept his mouth shut because he was a coward, something he figured out later.
He could have washed his hands clean of that shitshow, but instead his hands had held her shaking shoulders and watched her struggle not to cry on that cold night.
Yoongi considered himself a rational person, but never a good one.
Too many ways to judge, and her lips had already connected with his as soon as his shoulder blades hit the wall. He didn’t stop it. Maybe it was bitterness. Vengeance. Hate.
No, it wasn’t any of that, actually.
He didn’t know exactly what but, in that moment, Yoongi knew that he would murder that asshole if he saw his former best friend’s face right then, ready to commit a felony all because those beautiful eyes couldn’t look at him, closing instead to blink back the tears that bastard didn’t deserve.
That meant something, all right.
He knew it could take a long time. He knew it would almost certainly be hopeless. He knew he would probably end up with a broken heart and broke as hell. He knew it was a bad idea and he knew it was going to tear him up, this spiral, but when he found himself looking up to the ceilings of these mostly empty rooms, this condo he now half-owed with the woman that was formerly his best friend’s girlfriend, and Yoongi found he didn’t know and he didn’t care what the future held.
She had trouble sleeping.
Less trouble after exhausting themselves.
He had trouble sleeping too, but that was because he was staring at the ceiling and wondering just how rational he really was. One hand behind his head, under the pillow. The other resting on the blanket, on the curve of her hip, feeling the steady hum of her breathing.
She never cried in front of him.
He knew she did cry, because he heard her in the bathroom sometimes. But never in front of him. Showed anger, yes, but never acted helpless even though it was perfectly reasonable to feel that way after everything that happened. Living on the least for his sake, even to the point of skipping meals and spending all her time trying to write, trying to get back to her livelihood, trying to get past all the false starts. Personally, Yoongi felt that she should give up for now and heal herself, but he also knew how it felt to feel stubborn and useless.
Hah.
It was weird, being so close and yet so far away.
He felt it most in the nighttime, even though that was when he was closest to her.
He was never going to be the same. He knew that. He already wasn’t, surprising himself with his own recklessness, and for what? He didn’t even know what she was capable of reciprocating after receiving all those scars. Didn’t even know if he was the right one, if he was better or worse, if…
If he was believing in something that wasn’t there.
Yoongi closed his eyes and went to sleep.
-
Livid.
It was weird. Feeling it. In the past, you buried it, numb, and promptly lived in delusion. But now you could feel it. What was more, you let yourself feel it. There wasn’t anything to stop you except for the occasional mental peanut gallery of you’re a bad person if you feel jealousy, but anger could overtake anything if you let it.
You stared at the scene before you, several meters away.
Seething.
It felt good.
Mostly because it was honest.
It surprised you. You hadn’t expected to feel anything. Sad, maybe. You had already been cheated on, so naturally you assumed the cycle would begin anew, just with less promises and in the gray area of uncertainty. But, no, instead of being distraught and delusional, you felt maddeningly, viciously, nearly on-the-edge of making a fist and dislocating Min Yoongi’s jaw from his skull because he was speaking to a female-presenting human at the entrance of the building that housed his and others’ music studios.
Did you lack context? Yes.
Would that get you arrested? Yeah, probably.
Would that probably not get your laid anymore and label you as an unhinged psychopath? Without a doubt.
But would it feel good?
Don’t know.
You had never punched someone before, although maybe you should have practiced on your ex-boyfriend. He was probably a more deserving candidate. In any case, you remained frozen in perplexation at your willingness for violence because you were pretty sure your… relations… with Yoongi were nothing more than a lonely bitch and a spiteful silver tongue executing revenge, so the amount of fucks you should give about Yoongi speaking to any human being – other than the obvious health and safety precautions – should be zero.
None.
Basket of fucks empty.
And yet.
Clearly wasn’t since you were mentally calculating the angle and force for jaw dislocation while having zero experience in doing so. In any sort of non-virtual manner, that is.
Hm.
Your hands were firmly in the pockets of your black cargo pants. The hip ones, although you had plenty of choice. You kept them there for the safety of passerby or, maybe deep down, yourself. This caused your jacket to fall open, the outlines of the sew-on patches and thick, bunched-up black denim crowding the space between your forearm and waist, your black cropped tank exposed to the chill evening air. You used to wear a plethora of band t-shirts, but, well, those were probably in a landfill or rotting in a secondhand shop.
You figured you would be cold. Unsurprisingly, the anger kept you warm.
Huh.
You thought about turning around and just straight up leaving, petty and picturesque of course, and then Yoongi seemed to sense your projected violence, looking up from the conversation. Dark waves over his cheeks, striking body line, backing away, hiding his eyes for a moment, not that you could see them that well from this distance. You twitched.
The girl reached out.
Yoongi simply bowed, out of reach, and pushed the glass door open.
Honestly, her role in this moment was so miniscule that you completely ignored whatever she did or possibly could have said to Yoongi’s retreating back. Sharpened gaze, and then he crossed the street with the crowd, walking past oblivious bystanders who may or may not become the harrowed audience of the next thirty seconds.
He stopped before you. Bomber jacket, white shirt, black track pants. Monochrome elegance.
You looked up at him, saying nothing.
Over one shoulder was his usual guitar bag that held said instrument and his yellow notepad sticking out of the pocket. He used it to jot down whatever came to him. You almost said something. Almost. Then you remembered that if this, this between you and Min Yoongi, if this was supposed to be nothing, then weren’t you supposed to do nothing but voice your casual annoyance for making you wait rather than, well.
Admit insecurity?
You looked away quickly.
No, it did not matter how reasonable it was, you didn’t like knowing that somehow you had been weakened by an ex-boyfriend, barely a man, no, a mere locust at best, so it was better to not say anything and accept that this was–
“Sorry, I got caught up with the staff about ending my lease.”
Compromised.
You didn’t look at him. “What?”
“Gonna end my lease this month and move my studio stuff to the condo. I can’t afford both.”
He had told you this already. It had been your idea. You already knew you were overreacting to a situation that you created in your head rather than reality. And, yet, the best your mind would allow was uh huh, a plausible explanation, sarcasm included.
“Ah. Right,” was your sharp, mildly frigid reply.
“I can’t read your mind.”
Do you intend to be exhausting?
Your mental peanut gallery was super annoying.
You breathed in. Cool, crisp air. The sound of cars and people bustling in and out of stores. You breathed in again. Did you really intend to be exhausting, irrational, and, worst of all, dishonest? Really, after all that had happened? After getting here, standing here, arriving to pick up Yoongi at his request to do the grocery shopping together?
You turned back to look right into black-brown, piercing orbs.
“I just realized that I have the ability to be jealous,” you exhaled, draining your lungs. “It’s unpleasant and not nearly as delightfully pivotal as the media makes it out to be.”
Something fluttered in those orbs.
Or maybe it was the wind catching his bangs, drifting black strands over his eyes shadowed by dark circles.
Yoongi half-smiled.
“Makes for good songwriting material though.”
There was an air of helplessness to his words. A tone you couldn’t define, except for the understanding, which left you both baffled and with a sense of guilt. There were emotions in that barely-there smirk on those familiar lips. Relief. Maybe a slight bit of shame. A shadow of guilt too. You realized people were glancing at you and him as they walked past, wondering why you both were at a standstill on the sidewalk. Yoongi seemed to not notice them or care.
You pulled your hands out of your pockets.
“Come on. We should go before it gets dark.”
Before you noticed it, your hand was rising.
You pulled it back, but not fast enough.
Yoongi’s free hand reached out and grasped around yours, strong fingers enclosing. Sliding up, calluses on your palm. Your hand lowered, slowly, your eyes moving in the opposite direction. Lips parting. His hand was colder than yours.
You stared at Yoongi.
He looked back, expression unreadable.
“I don’t hold hands,” you said, suddenly breathless.
You tightened your grip.
“Neither do I,” Yoongi replied, taking a step, on the cusp of walking past you, his hand around yours. “I simply just don’t like the idea of yours getting cold when I can do something about it.”
Previously, when you held hands, it was always with a purpose of showing public affection. The look-how-real-this-is-because-there-are-clear-witnesses show. Front row tickets nobody asked for. But this.
This.
You blinked hard and the sting was inside.
The sting of wasted time.
Your name in that raspy, soft voice. Familiar. You looked up, not saying anything and hoping the eye contact was enough. All Yoongi did was smile lightly and tug your hand.
“Let’s get take-out and shop tomorrow. We have plenty of time to eat healthier.”
-
“You can cry in front of me.”
Min Yoongi heard her breath hitch and still.
Seconds that felt like hours ticked by. It was the dead of night. Or maybe one could call it the time when honesty came to life, if the conditions were right. He knew this time well usually with a drink in his hand, but this time he was laying on his side with bruises of bites and carnal memories lingering on his fingertips.
“I wasn’t crying.”
Her voice was thick and strained from trying to keep it even. Her moment of jealousy had happened days ago. He had recognized it right away. Call it personal experience. He also recognized that she didn’t like to feel that way. It was obvious from her torn yet furious expression. It confirmed a lot of things for him. Still, she seemed pleased to help him move and set up his things in the bedroom. They found the living room to be a bit too echoey due to the large space so they switched the two, pulling the mattress to the living room and setting up his equipment in the center of what was formerly the bedroom.
He told her to paint the condo.
She had mentioned in passing that someday she would like to paint her entire living space black. Not this place, because he owned it too, and you probably think I’m crazy for wanting a dark space, huh, Yoongi? He asked her, why wait? No one lives forever. We’re just passing through.
She had given him a weird look.
We own this condo. Paint it.
There were cans of black paint waiting.
Yoongi had intended to go visit his family over the weekend. His parents and his brother who had recently been promoted to head chef at the classy restaurant he worked at. Someone in the family needed to have prestige. Well, that was his own personal feeling. Surprisingly at this point his parents had even up on telling him to get a higher-paying job. They told him to simply be happy.
And get married.
Yeah, about that.
He was still trying to get used to the music producer thing, for fuck’s sake.
“Are you afraid I won’t understand?” Yoongi let himself say, not turning around yet.
Sometimes, people didn’t want you to see them weak. He could understand that.
Call it personal experience.
A shuddering sigh. Deep breaths. Words bogged down, drained.
“I can only be so pathetic before I lose my mind recalling the past,” she mumbled. He felt her weight deepen on her side of the bed, as if she was trying to melt into the mattress. “I made things hard for myself. For you. It’s pointless to cry about it anyway. In the end, it only makes me look ungrateful.”
Yoongi thought about it.
“It’s true that you probably shouldn’t have involved me.”
He shifted, laying on his back now.
“But I’m not a good person either. I agreed, after all,” he murmured, his skin tingling with bruises and carnal memories. “Hm, to be honest, he was always a dick though, from high school till now. Always will be, I fear.”
“You’re easygoing enough not to be affected by his asshole behavior.”
“Not my job to change people. I leave that to parents and clueless fools.”
A pensive silence. Surprisingly not an irritated one. She seemed to accept it.
“Why did you become his friend?” she asked, staring at the ceiling with him.
“We just happened to like the same thing. Music.”
“I’m lucky you decided to become his friend.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “I’m lucky that somehow he managed to bamboozle a hot and clever girl, two things he’s obviously not.”
She almost laughed. Almost.
“Who the fuck uses the word bamboozle?”
“You had to admit you were bamboozled, because you sure as hell weren’t dick-drunk.”
“Oh? You think you’re that good, huh?”
“No, I just know he’s that much worse.”
The faintest of chuckles.
“You… You get better every time,” she admitted. “I think I just caught you off guard the first time.”
“Firstly, I don’t like wasting time and, secondly, I had given up for a while before…” I met you. “Romance seemed like an expensive, worthless distraction when I could be using that time and money trying to push the band forward,” he pivoted, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes. “Then that went to shit.”
“Sorry.”
Automatic.
He chuckled darkly. “I’m confident I got the better deal.”
A trembling pause.
“Why do you think that?”
He reached over and placed his palm on the top of her head, lacing his fingers in her hair. Messing it up.
“Tell me the truth. Was he good at sex?”
A burst of laughter. “Really? Alright. No, he wasn’t. He sucked. Thought he was a piston of a muscle car instead of a human being. Oh, and once he fell asleep on top of me.”
He cocked an eyebrow. Turned his head and forced hers to turn as well.
She was smiling.
Yoongi found his chest tight and breath shallow.
“And you didn’t leave him then… why?” he pressed.
She winced, albeit playfully. “I yelled at him. A lot. I don’t know, maybe he was tired.”
“Not an excuse.”
“I know, I know…” Sigh. “I… I didn’t want to believe I made the wrong choice.” Her eyes shifted, but her body was still turned to face his. “I… It made my entire family angry, dating him. Especially my parents. They would never forgive me and hold it over my head forever. I had to make it work. I thought, if only I worked hard enough…” Another heavy breath, squeezing her eyes tightly. “I know it was pride, but I wanted to prove to them and myself that I could do anything. Bad choices? Maybe. But they were mine. I don’t want my life decided by what is best for me. If I suffer for it, those are my consequences.”
Her eyes opened, but barely.
Yoongi kept his hand on her head, running his fingers through her hair.
“I… I feel like shit because now you’re stuck in my mistakes,” she breathed.
He liked to touch her hair. It felt comforting.
“You know what your problem is?”
She glared under lashes and dared him.
Undeterred, he continued. “You blame yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened.”
A disapproving frown. “Hah?”
He tapped her forehead. “You think it’ll bother me if you cry, but what truly bothers me is that you cry alone.” Pushed back the strands, and now he was closer, sharing breath. “You think I’m stuck in your mistakes. Mistakes don’t inherently have only negative consequences. They almost always exist in a gray area.”
“I... I know that,” she grumbled, face against his chest.
“I did say you were clever.”
A drifting, drowsy silence.
“I’m not clever,” she whispered to his skin, pulling her body closer. “I just like you.”
Yoongi felt himself losing to sleep.
“I’ve always liked you, since the moment I saw you,” he muttered into her hair, breathing in the familiar scent, so quietly that he wasn’t sure if he said it at all.
-
“Ah? Yes? Sorry about that. Oh, yes, uh, I’m painting. Everything. Yes, I’ll be sure the keep the windows open. Thank you.”
You closed the front door of the condo. Well. You had expected nervousness, but somehow the conversation between you and the downstairs neighbor had been very calm. Apparently, he worked from home and wasn’t expecting the loud crash of the ladder from your unit.
In your defense, you hadn’t expected it either.
Thankfully, you hadn’t been on the ladder, only trying to figure out how to set it up. It was one of those compact ones that saved space but required some innovative thinking to get the taller height you needed. One crash and a YouTube video later, the ladder was now secure, and then came the knock on the front door.
The thoughts flew by – I don’t belong here, I can’t do this alone, they’re going to scold me and I haven’t even done the upper half yet – but the guy just seemed curious and confused. Didn’t even comment on your awkward outfit of navy boys’ basketball shorts and ill-fitted gray sports bra. Both on super sale. You were still wearing your bra because of the incorrect size, so the gray blob was bordering on ugly-ass tank top.
Look.
Some people had clothing they didn’t care about to paint in and some people had to dive in sale bins because they left behind most of their wardrobe and, with the clothes, their bad memories.
That was the intent.
Things rarely go as intended.
For instance, you thought you were going to feel imposter syndrome for a neighbor knowing that you were painting your own goddamn walls. You turned away from the door after you locked it, frowning. That’s right. Like it or not, bad decisions and minus an ex-boyfriend later, these were your walls. You looked up, out the large, floor-to-ceiling living room windows, and saw the sunlight sparkle over the sprawling city, walls painted half-black and half white surrounding you, and you could say that you never wanted to be here, but.
It was a sick view.
We own this condo. Paint it.
Your muscles were sore from the repeated swiping motion of the paint roller, but there was still this inexplicable energy coursing through you.
“What if it doesn’t look good?” you had asked Yoongi.
He had shrugged. “Then we paint it again.”
“It’ll be dark.”
“Wow, really? I thought black was supposed to be bright and cheerful,” was the sarcastic quip. “Just believe you have good taste and paint the damn walls.”
This condo was an investment that made you poor.
That was the truth you needed to face.
You have good taste.
You scrunched your face slightly as you remembered Yoongi’s facial expression. Was he… praising you or himself? You squinted. This guy. Picked up the paint roller again and saturated it with ink black, making crispy crinkly sounds as you shuffled over the plastic. Good taste. Well, that was relative, wasn’t it? Everything was at the end of the day. You climbed onto the ladder and began the repetitive, monotone motion once more but at a higher elevation. You should have put your music back on. Your phone was on the plastic-covered mattress and you were not about to go back down until you finished this section or ran out of paint. This was going to be a long process, but you had several days and too much time as Yoongi had already left to visit his family.
Now you were alone with a lot of paint and mind-numbing fumes.
Shit, you should have opened the window.
You would have to paint a second coat anyway. Who cared if the first coat was shitty?
Sigh.
Climbing down and doing your due diligence before returning to your post.
You had forgotten once again to put your music back on. Hah. Well, that was fine; you had yourself. You didn’t mind being alone. Heh, sometimes it was better to be alone. You continued rolling away, hardworking in the consistent rhythm. Thinking about it now, this might have been the first time in a long time that you were okay with being alone. Before, you had felt guilty whenever you weren’t thinking about your relationship. Huh. Odd. Was it some kind of mental self-reassurance when you knew something was off? It was hard to tell, but possible.
Everything was off about that relationship. You just had too much pride to admit it.
You sighed, climbing back down to reload.
Wait a second. Was this why there was that wider step towards the top of the ladder? You poured some more paint in the tray and carried it up with you. Oh shit. Wow. Innovation. You coughed and went back to a different patch of wall. No one saw that. See, perks of being alone.
Well, you didn’t hate Yoongi being here.
You stopped painting.
You didn’t just think that.
You went back to painting. Shut up, nagging feeling. You furiously painted on, ignoring your soreness, telling that little voice in your head to shut up, because there were plenty of reasons not to think stuff like that. Firstly, you weren’t ready to think stuff like that. And what if it was only hopeful transference rather than genuine feeling? Asshole or not, your ex-boyfriend’s betrayal of trust was not something so easily overcome. It wasn’t fair to Yoongi either, pretending to like him if you weren’t sure.
You liked Yoongi before you broke up, too.
Wasn’t that fucked up?
You sighed and came back down, careful to scoot the ladder without spilling and causing a mess. Back up and at it. Of course, it was fucked up. And you knew it was, which might have been why you let it get that bad. Might? Was why you let it get that bad. Two hypocrites were meant for each other. You huffed, puffing your cheeks. It wasn’t enough to hold the ticking grenade; you had needed confirmation it was a, in fact, a bomb.
Maybe even hoping it would end you.
It didn’t.
For some reason, you thought Yoongi could see that in you.
Damn, he’s really living in your system, hm?
You frowned.
Your phone rang.
You almost jumped, startled at the sudden sound of an old song you used to enjoy. Back when you were a teenager, and the memories came back as you climbed down. A kid who just really liked rock’n’roll, and parents who did not, but that kid didn’t care, annoyingly setting it as her ringtone on her shitty flip phone. Couldn’t you be her again? Before you had time to ponder, you checked your hands for paint and picked up your phone, answering it.
“Hello?”
“Did you eat?”
You blinked, sitting down on the crinkly plastic upon hearing that deep, raspy voice. “Uh, no. I was gonna stop by the convenience store when the first coat was done.”
“No, you weren’t. You were gonna skip a meal,” Min Yoongi tutted. “Because you don’t want to be a nuisance and use the money I had left you.”
Damn. He knew you, all right.
“If I forget, I forget,” you grumbled.
“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, pick up the food order from the front desk when it comes. They told me about thirty minutes.”
“You don’t have to order food for me. I’m not a kid,” you hissed.
“It’s the pho spot you like and if I don’t put food in front of you, you won’t eat. You intend to do all that hard work without some fuel?” A pause. You made a disapproving noise. “And I know you’re not a kid. By the way, what’s your waist measurement?”
You remained a grump. “Why?”
“I’m here, so I’m going to buy you some clothes.”
“Don’t buy me clothes. Don’t spend money–”
“You need things,” Yoongi cut you off. “Unless you want to come with me? You don’t trust me?”
“That’s not it and you know it,” you snapped back. “It’s not worth–”
“Of course, it isn’t. It’s vain and silly and superficial. And I’m still going to buy you things, so tell me your waist measurement.”
“Yoongi, this is your hard-earned money,” you puffed out, exasperated.
“Yeah, and I make money to provide you with a good life because I think you are the most important person to me. So, do you want me to guess with my hands or are you going to meet me halfway?”
Dead silence.
He called your name, softly.
You told him in centimeters.
“Got it. Don’t forget to check the front desk in thirty minutes.”
-
“I love you.”
His hair was stuck to his face due to sweat. “What?”
“I said I love you,” she said, staring right at him, their chests shuddering from exertion.
Yoongi couldn’t believe it, but also he wasn’t surprised. The room still smelled faintly like paint. The windows still had no curtains or blinds. They were still fucking on the mattress in the center of the living room and he was holding the used condom when she said I love you.
The walls and ceiling were all black, covering them in darkness as the city below glimmered with light.
“I love you,” was his reply.
It startled him, the suddenness of his response. He knew he did. Of course, he did, and he turned away quickly, making his way to the kitchen and throwing away the condom, skin tingling, cheeks aflame, and he was startled by the feeling that remained. He hadn’t expected those words to come out of her mouth even though he was sure of his own feelings. Yoongi had resigned himself to not hear it from her lips. He also didn’t need to hear it to know that it was true.
He saw her head to the bathroom.
Time was funny sometimes.
Suddenly they were both staring at each other on the mattress, the usual ritual completed, and the moment suspended.
“You didn’t have to say it,” he finally said. “For my sake.”
“I didn’t.” Her hair curled over her shoulder, caressing her curves. “I said it for my sake.”
Blankets and pillows and questions.
“I wondered about the validity of it,” she admitted to him. “Been wrong before and all that. Might still be wrong. So, I said it just to see if I regretted it.”
“Ah.”
They stared into each other’s eyes.
“Do you?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No.”
He half-smiled. How very simple yet complicated. He understood. “All the paint fumes really got to your head, huh?”
She looked up at him and he realized with a start that she, too, was half-smiling.
He reached out, smoothing her hair.
“You have a pretty face, Yoongi,” she teased, eyes sparkling.
He raised an eyebrow.
“I thought it would be too cliché, you and me,” she continued and the tone was different now, softer and more serious. “I thought you would get tired.”
She meant, of me.
He had thought this was cliché too. Cliché didn’t mean worthless though. His hand fell, and rested over hers without a second thought. Warm and against the sheets. “If I felt that way, I would have stopped speaking to you long ago. You could take care of yourself too.” Not safely, but could. “Except for money.”
She smirked.
“So you’re saying I need a suga daddy.”
Yoongi twitched.
“Part of me wanted to sell the condo as soon as possible,” she went on, casually glossing over the comment. “But the realtor said it would be a bad idea. I wouldn’t have any buyers without a minimum of six months or a year. Too many superstitions. Part of me thought I should…”
She looked up to the ceiling.
It was a high-rise, after all.
“All the reasons to move here were his. More convenient, better opportunities, owning rather than renting for the investment… I believed in it, more than myself.”
He didn’t say anything. Couldn’t because all those things had benefitted him already. He didn’t only agree to move in help her out. He was still a working music producer. But she didn’t seem to be saying it to condone him.
“I didn’t really think this place was mine until I painted the walls.”
Yoongi thought he should at least confess this part. “That’s why I told you to paint them.”
A small laugh. “You don’t like it, huh?”
“Don’t you remember the walls of the old studio were dark gray? That was my doing. I always resented the last place I rented because they didn’t let me paint the walls.”
“Ah… He painted over the gray.”
“I bet he did.”
They had fallen to the bed now, side by side.
“I didn’t think this would work out,” she breathed.
“I thought it might,” he hummed.
“Why?”
“You’re hot and clever and I wanted you from the first day I saw you.”
A warm chuckle. “Just like that?”
“Well, you had to give me a chance. Couldn’t make the first move due to the circumstances.”
“It was a convoluted and confusing one.”
“Eh, life’s unfair.”
-
“Your husband already paid.”
Your what?
“What?”
The cashier waved you away. You shuffled back, dazed, seeing Min Yoongi emerge from the bathroom in the corner of the restaurant, tucking a bit of his long black hair behind his ears and finding you in front of him.
“The cashier just called you my husband,” you declared.
He shrugged.
“Surprise.”
You blinked at him.
Patrons chatted and laughed as if this was a normal day. The music was horrendous covers of cheesy 2000’s pop. It was very strange, but the pho was good and well-priced, which was why Yoongi and you came here often after his meetings with music companies. Popular talent was in high demand.
He ticked his head to your outfit. “I know you like this dress I bought you, but you’ve left your coat at the table.”
“Oh, shit.”
“You’ve been scatterbrained ever since you started writing again.”
“Shut up.”
--
masterpost
811 notes
·
View notes
Text
I am speechless.
My post about hateful AO3 spam comment bots is barely 2 days old and then I find this in my inbox.
I'm pretty sure this too is a bot, but just in case there's any sort of human being involved in this: I am not interested and do not consent to any of my works being made into NFTs or, while I'm at it, fed into shitty AIs or anything of this sort. If any of you use my works for such purposes, you are doing so against my explicit wishes and without my consent that you need in order for it to be legal. You have been warned.
To my fellow fan creators: Do not respond to such messages. Report, block, delete.
NFTs have been a complete and utter failure, and many people have lost tons of money - a truth that even the most deluded optimistic NFT fans have had to accept. If you need further information on this, I recommend this video by Folding Ideas on YouTube.
#nft#nfts#fuck nfts#bots#spam bots#what the hell is this#psa#warning#writeblr#writers on tumblr#fanfic#fanfiction#fanfic community#first ao3 and now this#fuck off you greedy bastards#if anyone monetizes MY WORK it will be ME and I DON'T WANT TO and have DELIBERATELY made it so people can't#because this is my fucking hobby#and my joy and passion and creativity are not subject to this dystopian capitalist hell
106 notes
·
View notes
Text
You know what?
I am SO TIRED of being told I have to be nice to people who come into my askbox and take shots at me. When I got on this stupid website literally TWO WEEKS ago and B E G G E D people to be understanding because I was drowning under pressure and I needed to take a step back so I could remain in the fandom and ya'll liked it and said, "of course- take care of you!" without mentioning the addendum "unless it's the thing I enjoy reading".
So it's okay for people to come into my askbox on anon and tell me I'm a shitty person for not engaging with them the way they want to- to send MULTIPLE anons about it.
To come into my askbox and take shots at my perceived religion, a fact I've never shared widely on this app, and demand to know if I wasn't updating because of my "high holidays" which. Ok.
To log out of their profile not even 24 hours later and leave a rude comment on that same fic demanding I update.
And then to have people I consider friends VAGUE me (WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?) about how I need to be nicer to people who you ADMIT were entitled and RUDE. Because fundamentally a lot of ya'll do not see me as a person who should be allowed to feel anything but gratitude.
I didn't do anything. I didn't chase someone off- people own their own actions. I have spent enough time being kind to this fandom that frankly, just does not deserve the constant benefit of the doubt. People have routinely stolen my stories often word for word and I've told my friends to keep from putting them on blast and worked it out privately or just swallowed the frustration. I've deleted and blocked COUNTLESS anons, more than you can EVER count, and still they return, lessons unlearned. I've been the subject of the dumbest harassment from people I didn't know even existed.
I'm just trying to have a modicum of fun. I am just begging people to offer me the smallest amount of grace as I am SCREAMING that I!!! AM!!! STRUGGLING!!!!!
To show up- as someone I considered a friend, and write a post that I needed to do better in the face of what was objectively both shitty AND unfair, is just a wild take. You could have messaged me privately. ANY OF YOU COULD HAVE, including the original person looking for an update and this was the route you all chose instead.
Why don't you guys, for once, take some responsibility for your own actions? And leave me the fuck alone.
112 notes
·
View notes
Text
In light of tumblr shooting itself in the foot, I've been thinking about what I should do with my art from now on. Obviously, deleting my old posts off here isn't gonna do shit, it's essentially locking my door after my house got emptied out by burglars. Especially with my old rp account I no longer can log into, they're just gonna steal and sell my old art that I posted there and I can't even flip a questionably-affective toggle about it.
Thing is, I dunno how many people are gonna actually leave. I'm not even sure I will, since I have a lot of friends here... And after so many shitty updates a lot of people are just hanging on out of spite at this point.
That said, I'm considering that for art posts and stuff, maybe I'll post them elsewhere and just link to them here so they're not on tumblr's servers? Idk... Tumblr tends to kill the visibility of links but I'm not really sure what else I can do.
Also, there's the question of where to actually post new stuff. Bluesky seems the most active but I dont know if old posts cut off after a certain amount of posts like twitter does, in which case that would not be a good archive in the long run. xnx
Cohost is functionally pretty close to tumblr, but ngl it seems super isolated on there bc of its commitment to not showing any likes on your posts. I get that its to combat the social media numbers game, but the downside is that it looks like nobody's even seen your work. If people like something of yours there's no way outside of notifs to see it, so scrolling down on your page and seeing only zeros after zeros of comments on stuff (comments are the only visible number), it's easy to feel like you're just posting into a void.
Pillowfort is pretty good, and they just added tag blocking and the ability to queue/schedule posts. Still kinda quiet and invite only, but if you sign up for the invite queue you can get one pretty fast. Also i probaby have a ton of invites sitting around if anyone wants one. I wish it had an app, but mobile web version works well enough I guess, and I'm already used to doing that with sheezy and newgrounds, so I just have those open in mobile tabs together.
Speaking of, Newgrounds has been pretty good, but due to the nature of the portal system and stuff you're more encouraged to post only your better-looking stuff there. You CAN post doodles if you want, but only outside of the portal, which limits their visibility. Kinda like dA's scraps system I guess.
Sheezy looks super promising customization-wise so I'm thinking of posting there more when it opens up to more peeps.
Toyhouse also looks really good for OC and story things too, and also has a good degree of customization.
There's probs options I haven't even thought about, but its good to know there ARE options. I may post in several of those places for now and see how it goes. Test the waters a bit.
If you're thinking of moving your art elsewhere lemme know where, I'm curious to see where people are going :o
Especially you moots, i need to refind my pals in these other places!
43 notes
·
View notes
Note
Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing?
with the understanding that no advice is universal of course
28. Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing?
So I have a ton of stuff in the Pia on Writing tag that goes into a lot of detail but (with the caveat to ignore anything that doesn't work for you):
Learn to love your mistakes, because you must make a lot of them to get good at writing, so if you hold back because you're worried about your writing being bad, your shooting yourself in the foot. Your writing HAS to be bad for it to get better. Or: You need manure/shit (bad writing) to grow a really good garden (good writing). You want a good garden? Start shoveling the shit in, lol.
Clever marketing won't solve not putting the hours in to hone your craft.
In fanfiction, make sure it's fun. That doesn't mean it can't be hard sometimes, that you can't dread editing sometimes or drafting, that you can't have sadder times, but make sure that the overall net is always positive. Otherwise, take a break.
In professional writing, learn how to stop waiting for inspiration to strike, and learn to turn up on that dance floor on your own. Inspiration is a fickle dance partner, it often won't turn up unless you develop the discipline to turn up first.
Sometimes the writing you absolutely slog through that feels stilted and bad is some of your best writing. Just because it feels clunky when you're writing, doesn't mean it reads clunky. Just because it feels smooth when you're writing, doesn't mean it reads smooth. Your emotional state at the time of writing does not determine the quality of writing. Feeling good while you're writing =/= good writing. Likewise feeling bad while writing =/= bad writing.
You do not need a daily habit to be good at writing. Develop one if you want one, but personally I don't have one and I'm super happy that way. Take your weekends, have your leisure time, goddamn it, don't be a terrible boss to yourself.
Writing can be both lonely and exhausting - make some non-douchey writer friends (or artist or creative friends), and make sure you take breaks. Because writing is so cerebral, you'd be surprised how much physical activity can help with recovery, like stretching, gentle walks, workouts, etc.
Eat brain food. Snacking during writing is actually normal. I have nuts on hand for protein boosts, but I'll also eat chocolate or snack on quick energy boosts.
Stay hydrated.
Ignore any writing advice that goes 'you must do this in order to be a writer' or 'you have to do this one thing to be successful.' They're wrong. There is no one-true-path in writing with the exception that you do have to write in order to like...be a writer, imho.
You are going to want to compare yourself to others, but be very aware of who you're comparing yourself to. If you're new, why are you comparing yourself to someone with 10-20 years of experience? If you're disabled and fatigued, why are you comparing yourself to able-bodied writers? Stop competing with people outside of your metaphorical weight class, they're not your competition. I'm not going to tell you not to compare yourself to others, but be very careful of how you compare yourself to others. I've had new writers be like 'I could never do your wordcounts (so I'm not as good of a writer)' and like, no friend, neither could I 10 years ago. This is literally a decade of hard work and practice. Some skills really just come with time. (Also most writers are more successful after writing less words than me so y'know lol).
If you get shitty comments/critiques, remind yourself that if you wouldn't take personal advice from a complete stranger like this (and you wouldn't), then their shitty comments/critiques aren't worth your time either.
On AO3, the delete, block, moderate comments function and mute buttons are all free. USE THEM. Don't bother giving haters airtime on your fics. Elsewhere on the internet, as much as you can, try and ignore review sites. Like seriously.
Learn your writing style. Practice planning, plantsing and pantsing! Practice writing one thing or more than one thing at a time. Practice different genres. You might be surprised at what fits you as a person! Think of it like being a musician, you're not trying to be a band that already exists, you're trying to be your band and you're trying to find your sound.
You're probably very good at noticing your weaknesses, get good at noticing your strengths, and use those to shore up the places where you're still building skills.
Do writing prompts. I cannot stress this enough, but learn how to write settings. Describe the dialogue of a friend. Write a character dossier on a television character. Practice worldbuilding, practice character building.
Fill the well. Read broadly across many genres. Watch many different types of media. Listen to many audiobooks. The best way to not sound derivative of a particular order is to saturate yourself with inspiration from hundreds of different places.
That's probably enough! dklsjfdas
~
From this meme!
#asks and answers#pia on writing#memey goodness#idk advice is hard honestly#learn about good story structure#write down the things you love and don't love in your favourite novels and fics#do the same for your own works#be compassionate to yourself#don't be an asshole boss to yourself#administrator gwyn wants this in the queue
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
4/27/23 EDIT TO ADD: I'm disabling reblogs on this part of the post as per the advice of someone in the tags to prevent it from going around and getting out of hand but obligatory disclaimer that this is NOT an accurate post to my current state of mind. In absolute simplest terms: I'm both physically disabled and ND, and the past 2 years have been a very shitty time for me with a lot of trauma and ableism etc. etc. BUT which ultimately helped me to grow into a more emotionally mature person who absolutely would not have said these things. It's not an excuse but it is context, and if I had known (didn't remember I queue'd this and the first I knew it existed was when I woke up and checked this tumblr for the first time in almost 3 weeks and I had almost 100 notes on a single post LMAO) it was there, I would have deleted it before it got posted. I've made another post in a reblog chain >HERE< that goes into this but this is like a TL;DR if you will. You can also find a stand-alone post with the copy-paste of the ammendment >HERE< or in my pinned post (I'll leave it here for a while and take it down later once this blows over)
EDIT #2: currently trying to figure out how to disable replies but can't seem to so I'm putting this at the TOP of the damned post instead because there's still a handful of people that think it's appropriate to make nasty comments without actually READING the ammendment, I'm sorry if I sound cranky it's been a long day, I am v tired & running out of ways to say the word "sorry" lol
The thing that gets me about the "oh wanting a cure for the incurable disability that ruins my life is not ableism ACSHUALLY!!!" crowd is
Yes babes, yes it is. That's a lil nugget called ✨internalised ableism✨ and ya know something? ITS STILL ABLEISM
You can put a pretty red bow with polka dots and frills on a pig as much as you like but it's STILL A FUCKING PIG and NOTHING You do will change that
But most of yall aren't ready for that conversation ig.
It's hard. It's a very hard thing to confront, realise and accept but it IS. and ableists EVERYWHERE will use that as a pro-eugenics gotcha. You're not just hurting yourself you're hurting other disabled people too.
ABLE BODIED PEOPLE DO NOT ADD ANYTHING TO THIS POST. YOU ARE NOT DISABLED AND YOU ARE NOT QUALIFIED TO TALK ABOUT WHAT IS OR IS NOT DIFFICULT FOR DISABLED PEOPLE. Able bodied ND people may add stuff if you want but be aware if you try to derail physically disabled additions w/ "buh muh ND ish awso a disabiwity" I will straight up block you. Yall ALWAYS do that and I am tired of it. Just don't be an asshole about your additons if you're going to make any or stay quiet too.
#the queue is strong with this one#elven rants#actually disabled#tw: ableism#tw: internalized ableism#ya know what im tired of being quiet about this#it needs to be fucking said#and realising this on my own journey was a huge hurdle for me to get over so trust#*me i KNOW. and i KNOW some of u are gonna read what ive said here and immediately get mad#but take a step back for a second...and ask yourself WHY youre mad
126 notes
·
View notes
Text
okay listen I'm so tired lol
I am a fandom old. I've been around the freaking block like eight dozen times. I'm at the point in my life where I enjoy media because it's FUN and ENRICHING for me personally, rather than something I base my identity on. I adore the community that happens in fan spaces (mostly).
here is why I never trust an anon that's clearly just being a dick: I've been in way to many scenarios where people who aren't even invested in the thing just think it's so fucking funny to watch segments of a community fight with each other. it tickles some part of their lizard brain. their mom never taught them not to be an asshole to strangers. idk.
there's a political term that you may or may not be familiar with called astroturfing. it's frequently used in marketing and politics to falsely create the image of vast public support for something that doesn't actually have all that much natural support. for example, people who don't especially have strong feelings about trans issues being encouraged/paid/instructed to respond to any and all trans support a certain way. responding to blogs, sending letters to the editor, posting on message boards, etc. their goal is to create a broad public perception that most people are anti-trans (untrue).
and it works. entire fucking laws and legislation and protests and fearmongering come out of that shit. people make up FAKE PROBLEMS (cis men dressing up like women to go be pervy in public bathrooms???) and spread the word via bad actors and controlling the public discourse. the media conglomerate that gamed Facebook to disproportionately support asshole authoritarian alt-right clowns and got them elected was EXCELLENT at it.
a similar thing can happen in fandom, ESPECIALLY when that fandom is a haven for women, POC, queer folk, and other minorities. you guys might remember GamerGate and SadPuppies? yeah all those fuckers are still active and still purposely being shitty at every given opportunity because they think it's funny to make the "libs" fight amongst themselves.
look up #yourslipisshowing if you're not familiar. it was a movement by Black Twitter (specifically Black WOMAN Twitter) to expose bad actors who would create accounts posing as Black woman activists, learn the surface-level terminology, and just purposely cause discord in leftist spaces under the ever-familiar activist method of "being morally pure is a thing that can exist."
anyway: any time I get an ask or comment without a name attached that is very obviously intended to poke me in a sore spot, I delete that shit and assume it's some fucker trying to start fan drama for kicks. even if I'm wrong, I still don't need to feed into that shit. this is my fun, happy space. I'm an activist and do activist shit and get angry at the world in real life, I don't need it in my little fandom corner of the internet too.
which is not to say that shitty fans and shitty fandom takes don't really exist. they very much do. but I don't give them much air unless there's an actual name attached. and even THEN it can be hit or miss because people can and do create fake accounts if they're especially dedicated to being a shithead.
so: if you're minding your business and some goober comes into your ask box with shit that's clearly intended to push a button, give it like 24 hours to cool down and decide if it's actually worth it to respond. for me, most of the time I determine that it's not.
don't get me wrong. calling out bad behavior in fandom IS IMPORTANT and SHOULD BE DONE. I just also think it's important to try and find the joy and camaraderie in these spaces as much as possible and that people who try to disrupt that for jollies suck real bad and give a disproportionate perception of "what X fans are like."
in summary, my philosophy is be the best person you can be, be as kind as is warranted, focus on the parts of your fandom that make you happiest, and carry a big stick for when the jerks won't take a hint.
also like. shitting on other characters to prop up your fave is such a freaking middle school move. are you in middle school? if so, I'm sorry. if not, I'm still sorry, but for a different reason.
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
11. Filthy suit
Previous / Masterlist / Next
Written chapter under the cut! (Make sure to read the pic too)
Word count: 1,1k
Warning: Contains SMUT (MDNI). Dry humping. Biting kink.
Sadie's note: Okay, it's been more than a month since the last update, I'm sorry for not updating I just had writer's block and honestly I felt like everything I wrote was shitty so :) that's why I didn't update. BUT now I'm back so get ready for more updates, hope you guys keep reading my smau and please leave as much support as you can<3 Luv y'all.
Taglist: @donghoonie-3 @jayhoonvroom @sunshinesquokka (If you want to be added to the Taglist send an ask or comment! Make sure that your age is visible in your profile and please remember to give some feedback or you'll be deleted from the taglist🫶)
After hearing three knocks on your window, you paused your show. You jogged to the window as you saw the familiar red and blue suit, smiling at him as he said hi, jumping into your apartment. The boy smiled under the mask before he groaned, walking straight to the couch.
“Are you okay?” You asked worriedly as you saw him flopping on the sofa. You followed the boy, sitting next to him as you looked around his body, trying to find any visible wounds.
“I'm okay, just had a rough day,” Sunghoon started talking as he looked at you. A smirk appeared on his face as he saw you staring at his body, “how was your day though?” He asked, trying to forget about the pain from the punches that he received earlier.
“It was good,” you smiled at him, “do you want anything to drink?” You bit down on your lip, staring at the superhero as he shook his head.
“I'm fine, thanks…” He answered, stretching his arm and resting it on the couch, “did you have fun with Pinkie Pie?” He asked, feeling the jealousy invading his body once again. He couldn't help it, not when he felt like he was losing his second chance with you.
“Hey!” You laughed at the name, “don’t call him that, he's my friend!” You punched his arm playfully. “Did you really get jealous?” You curiously asked, moving closer to the boy as you arched your eyebrow.
Sunghoon felt the blood running to his cheeks, he quickly captured his lip between his teeth before releasing it. “Yeah, I was jealous,” he nodded, “because we've been flirting for a long time now and...” The boy's words made you blush as you tried not to smile. Sunghoon moved closer to you, “I like you.” As the boy talked, you couldn't help it but lean closer to him.
“You got jealous because you like me?” You asked dumbfounded, your hands moving up to rest on each side of his face. The boy silently nodded, staring into your eyes through his mask. “Can I?” You asked, earning an affirmative sound from him. You started to roll up his mask, revealing his sharp jaw, followed by his mouth. His lips were so red and plump, making you want to kiss them almost instantly, the combination with his white skin made him look gorgeous.
The little voice inside your head kept telling you that you've seen those lips before, along with his sharp jaw but you couldn't remember where. The boy's words pulled you out of your trance. “Why did you do that? You just wanted to see my lips?” He mumbled in a teasing tone as he smirked. His mischievous smile made you feel like you were melting as you noticed his fangs showing. You've definitely seen that smile as well, but you couldn't remember where or maybe your brain was playing with you since you realized that he could be anyone in Seoul.
“No,” you quickly replied, trying not to sound nervous. “I wanted to do something but I don't know if you'll be okay with that.” You talked as the boy took his hands to your waist, pulling you closer to his body.
“I'm more than okay with that and you know it,” he mumbled, leaning closer to your face until his lips were brushing against yours, “but if I'm not wrong, I know you were going to do this.” Without hesitation, Sunghoon crashed his lips against yours, moving them slowly as you kissed him back, cupping his cheeks. The boy smiled into the kiss as one of his fantasies was finally becoming true. The superhero tilted his head, deepening the kiss as he rubbed your waist with his thumbs, drawing invisible circles on your exposed skin. The kiss was full of passion and lust, Sunghoon bit down on your lower lip, pulling on it gently as he pulled you onto his lap.
You straddled him, feeling the growing bulge in his pants against your core. Your tongue poking at his lower lip, asking for permission. The boy parted his lips, sliding his tongue into your mouth and earning a moan from you as your tongues fought for domination. Sunghoon thrusted up, rubbing his clothed cock against you. His movements made you whimper against his lips as you felt your panties getting wetter whilst you started grinding on him, trying to earn moans from him. The boy's hands traveled down as he grabbed your ass, controlling your pace as you kept grinding against him.
Sunghoon felt his cock throbbing, his tip leaking precum and staining his underwear and suit but he didn't care. He didn't care about your wet panties making a mess on his suit either, he just wanted to cum and make you cum. The boy's thrusts got faster, making you pull away from the kiss as you moaned loudly. Sunghoon took his chance, hiding his face into your neck and kissing your skin, leaving gentle bites on it from time to time.
You rolled your hips, matching his thrusts until you came with a loud moan. Your sounds drove him crazy, making Sunghoon cum almost instantly, making a mess in his suit as he felt the warmth of his cum getting everywhere as he bit down harder on your skin, leaving a mark.
“F-fuck,” he stuttered, trying to catch his breath, “are you okay baby?” He sweetly asked, pulling away from your neck and looking up at you. You nodded at his words, leaning closer and kissing his lips again.
“Did you just cum in your suit?” You asked him, trying not to laugh. The boy sighed, looking down at his suit before he smiled.
“Guess I did, but you came in your panties, pretty girl,” he said teasingly before kissing you. You kissed him back, feeling his hand moving back to your waist. You both pulled away after a while.
“Do you want to get changed?” You offered, “I have some spare clothes that my brother left on his last visit.” You smiled at him gently, earning a nod from the superhero. You got up, taking his hand as you guided him to your bedroom. Once you were there, you grabbed your brother's clothes from a drawer. “Here,” you placed the clothes on the boy's hand with a smile. “And I'll show you the bathroom in case you want to um.. you know, get cleaned…” you mumbled, walking towards the bathroom and opening the door for him.
“Thanks, princess,” he smiled, leaning closer to peck your lips. “Can I cuddle you after changing my filthy suit?” he teasingly asked. You felt your cheeks burning as you nodded, smiling at him. “Cute~” he cooed, smiling as he shut the door.
#//your flirty neighborhood spiderman//#enhypen sunghoon smau#park sunghoon smau#sunghoon smau#park sunghoon au#sunghoon au#enhypen sunghoon au#sunghoon x reader#park sunghoon x reader#sunghoon smut#park sunghoon smut#enhypen sunghoon smut#sunghoon fic#sunghoon fanfic#sunghoon hard thoughts#sunghoon hard hours
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
about jjk leaks (latest chapter)
so i got leaked... not by my own account, a friend told me. and im actually on a jjk hiatus since july ish. which means i dont consume any jjk stuff nor do i draw them.
but the leak my friend told me is just something i cant ignore, so for the first time i drew something (the latest shoko related drawings)
even when i got leaked early and drew something early i still try to post it after official release, which.. after months of not thinking abt jjk i misremembered as being minggu malem (the night of sat to sun) but its actually malem minggu, (the night of sun to mon) its a language thing and im generally bad at remembering
so i posted the stuff like 18 hours early, by mistake
aaaaand i got hate comments, again, from japanese people of the fandom. like even when i say i didnt get leaked on my own accord and it was an honest mistake that does nothing does it? bc they just wanna harass people. and if i have to 'delete' it to make it up to them, why? why cant they just block me, ill be honest and i dont wanna lose the comments i already got.
idk coming back to the jjk fandom esp on twitter was a mistake, i can stop ppl from commenting but not qrt.. unless i privated my stuff, but i already blocked that person. like i already admit i was in the wrong why the fuck do i have to do stuff on my profile when you dont even follow me to cater to your needs when you can just fucking block me?
ill reiterate what i said on my previous post regarding the same topic. if you wanna complain on your page thats fine, you do you but to think you have the right to do that on someone else's?? gurl...
sorry i just needed to vent, i know the internet is a shitty place lol
41 notes
·
View notes
Note
Based on a convenience sample, my side blogs with like zero human followers are getting the most porn bots following them; my main still gets a ton, but slightly fewer; and my side blog with the most followers hardly gets any. If this trend holds, it seems like the porn bots are targeting less known blogs, or blogs that have gotten fewer interactions with other blogs, possibly hoping they are too desperate to increase follower count to block bots. Maybe they don’t target you cuz you’re too big.
i feel like i've seen some popular blogs dealing with a ton of spambots, and others like me that barely seem to get any, so i'd be fascinated to see some kind of stats. like... is there a pattern at all? is it random? are they deliberately targeting less active blogs as being less likely to notice new followers? mysteries!
a while back after the porn ban i noticed that a lot of posts originally made years ago with a high number of notes were getting porn infestations. i don't mean bots, i mean that people running porn blogs full of stolen gifs would find an old+popular post and reblog to stick a gif under it of hardcore porn. because the OP had deactivated about half the time, and even if they hadn't they wouldn't see the gif addition in their activity, it could fly under the radar. because old posts get random surges of notes all the time, it could avoid being noticed by the OP right up until a porn blogger who didn't get the memo added some kind of weird comment that only makes sense under a porn gif. so the blogger who added the porn gif could accumulate followers without any regular tumblr users noticing that they were a porn blog and reporting them. also, reporting a specific image and requesting it be deleted instead of reporting an entire post (that you made!!) was a fucking ordeal. i don't know if that's improved at all tbqh.
as far as i know the porn blogs doing that at the time were actually people being shitty, which made them much better at being strategic and pulling that sort of shit. i don't know if the current spambots have any actual thought put into who they follow. for all i know they're just following as many people as possible with as many bots as possible trying to get lucky with at least one able to blend into the ecosystem with enough regular interactions to hide the bot interactions or something. who knows. it's weird as hell.
i just checked and i only had a couple spambots in my last hundred followers so i still seem mysteriously safe from the plague.
#original#i don't know if they ever deleted that fucking reverse cowgirl gif lmao#i filed so many reports linking to it directly like 'if you just delete this from your servers my entire problem will go away please'#but no dice
90 notes
·
View notes
Text
TW- Transphobia.
Hey guys, recently I've gotten an ad a few times on youtube for a documentary called 'Gender Transformation: The Untold Realities". Huge TW for transphobia, I've tried my best to both flag and report it. This kind of thing should absolutely not be broadcast, and I am disgusted that Youtube allows this to be advertised on their website.
It's just a bunch of transphobic doctors and people who have de-transitioned trying to fear monger and spread anti-trans propaganda. It tries to push the idea that being trans is just this new age trend and it's fucking disgusting.
If you're sensitive to this, please skip the ad and try to flag if you can.
My trans followers, or just any trans individual reading this, your identity is VALID. You are safe and loved on this blog. This is and always will be a safe space for you.
ANY TRANSPHOBIC COMMENTS OR REPLIES WILL BE DELETED, BLOCKED, AND REPORTED. NOBODY WANTS YOUR SHITTY OPINION.
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
Entitled AO3 Commenters
Fam, we really need to talk about the toxic behaviour that's going on in AO3 comments these days. I know there's a lot going around about how people just want to consume, consume, consume, and move onto the next thing, and most don't even bother to kudo or comment, which is pretty heartbreaking as it is.
But sometimes, I think the folks that *do* comment, but do so in a shitty, entitle way, are even worse. Because it's like wow, you put in the time and effort to make a comment, but you were an absolute douche about it. Now, in some of these cases, I wonder if it's just young people who are new to the world of ao3 and just don't know better. Maybe they honestly don't realise what's wrong with the things they've written. So let's look at a few examples of shitty comments, and talk about why they're shitty, and what could be done to make them more acceptable.
I'm giving people the benefit of the doubt here, even when it's difficult to do so. I'd like to believe that it's just a difference in age and how we've learned to communicate with strangers online. So please, if you're guilty of these things, instead of getting angry or hurt seeing this, just think about how to do better?
So a lot has been said about the "when are you going to update again/I'm desperate for an update/" or even the *shudder* "since you haven't updated in x, I'm going to put this through an AI engine to finish the fic!" comments:
Setting aside the fact that this fic is 44 chapters and over 180k words in length, and this person never left a single comment on it or any of my other fics to tell me they enjoy my work, and how shitty it feels to know your work was apparently loved and appreciated, but not enough to actually *say* that except to demand more of it, sooner... AND the fact that I have long notes on the fic and the series about why the parts are being written and posted in the order they are...
Let's talk about why these comments aren't helpful, and in fact can often have the opposite effect of what you're hoping. Authors are already likely feeling crummy about their writer's block or real life circumstances getting in the way of working on that WIP, and these comments compound the guilt we feel, which makes it even more difficult to work on. It can make us want to avoid even looking at/thinking about that WIP, no matter how well-meaning the comment.
Fic writers are real people with real lives. I only have a couple hours free time to myself everyday, and a lot of times I'm so tired I just want to do something that's mindless fun. Most nights, however, I forgo a movie or video game (IDEK the last time I played a game! and I love gaming!) or reading to work on my WIPs. Even so, these comments are a reminder that to the people reading, that's not enough. They will consume my story, not bother to thank me for it, then demand more.
Often times, you can leave the same comment going on about how much you love it, just delete the parts asking about updates and/or assuming the fic is abandoned, okay?
Next we have the 'did not bother to read the tags and/or author's note' commenters:
The problem with this comment is that this fic is tagged as "no archive warnings apply" which means there is no underage content. Furthermore, while his age isn't explicitly stated in the fic, I have made it clear he is an adult, in college within the text of the story. I have the following in my author's notes at the beginning of the fic: "Tom Holland is my Spider-Man, but I have aged him up here, as he's in college, so. Feel free to imagine whichever spidey floats your boat"
If I'm going to give this commenter the benefit of the doubt (something that is increasingly difficult to do with anti culture), then at best, they do not read tags, summaries, or notes, and expect to be able to ask an author prior to reading their works to answer a comment that is already addressed multiple times.
If you're honestly worried about being triggered, or reading content you don't want to read, then I suggest just straight up avoiding fics that aren't clear enough to you from the tags/summary/notes. If you've read all those and it seems ambiguous, just skip it. Or if the story still sounds good, then maybe just skim the beginning of the story, even. Context clues are your friends, my dudes. If the character is a college student, chances are good they're adults.
The 'lacks reading comprehension' commenters:
Is it wrong to ask questions of an author when you don't understand something? I actually think it's a great way of interacting with authors and can lead to better understanding and appreciation of the work. However, there are a few problems with *how* you ask a question.
First of all, the problem commenters have not previously left a comment of any kind, and don't bother to include any sort of positive feedback along with their question. They just rock up to your inbox demanding an answer to a question they have, that makes you realise they weren't even really paying attention to your work (or the source material for that matter.)
In this case, smartphones don't exist in the canon work, and only exist in my fic because the characters have suddenly been thrust into a different universe. Klaus doesn't understand smartphones because he grew up with them. He is able to quickly adapt to the new technology of the world, while others, like Viktor, are confused by it. This is all explained quite thoroughly in the text.
The 'doesn't know how to google' commenters, who might also be the 'disingenuous question' commenters:
Again, going to give this commenter the benefit of the doubt that they aren't just an asshole anti. So you don't know what Thorki is, but you're on AO3, home of All The Relationship Tags. Even if you didn't think to search it there, google exists, and is your friend. Type Thorki in there, and it's not even like you've got to narrow your search or add 'ship' or anything. The top result is the Thorki page of shipping wiki, and the next several links are photos of Thor/Loki. There is literally no other result given on the first page of google.
But LBR, this is likely an anti trying to subtly shame me for shipping Thorki. In which case, I'd invite you to look at my author page and see the types of fics I write regularly, and maybe just take your nonsense elsewhere.
The 'why are you here?' commenters:
Again, it's not like there's anything wrong with this kind of question! I too have seen PFPs of people on AO3 and been curious myself. The problem is, once again, coming onto one of my works and, without acknowledging the work that I've put so much time and effort into the thing they're commenting on, they just demand an answer.
What's particularly bewildering about this is that it isn't even in the 4 most recent works I've posted. So instead of just seeing my PFP and clicking on the first thing they see and asking there (still a little rude, but maybe more understandable??) it seems they were here to look at my work, and in doing so saw my PFP, and decided to ask.
Look, there's a way to ask these kinds of questions, young folks, and so I present to you
The proper way to ask a question commenter <3 :
Look at that! The commenter was able to get their question answered, and I was delighted to respond to them, because they took a few lines to tell me that they'd appreciated the work it pertains to. Honestly, I don't even need that much, although it's sincerely appreciated and makes my day. But even a simple "Loved the story, it was a lot of fun. BTW--that house..." would be cool.
We've all had those times when we get a burning question reading the fic--
"Is it possible they were referencing those lyrics??? I mean, it's not a very popular song, but it seems so obvious!!!" (probably, and the author is likely gonna be super excited you know that song, too)
"Did that line mean to insinuate what it did? Is that foreshadowing? Are those characters secretly screwing?" (the author may play coy, or they might be super excited you picked up on the thing they were hinting, or maybe they'll be annoyed you ruined the surprise?? but that's on them being brought up in the Marvel era of no spoilers)
Or indeed the questions about PFP or what house/city/clothing you used as reference.
But unless you're a regular commenter, popping up with just that question is abrupt at best, and shows a lack of common courtesy. Like, okay. Imagine running up to your favourite actor/singer/author in public and instead of saying "I'm a huge fan/I loved X/you're an amazing author/lyricist/actor/etc", you just immediately start bombarding them with questions "When are you going to write a new song/What did you mean on page 126 when you said/why did you decide to write these two characters together/etc etc."
Just imagine that you are addressing a living person with real human feelings, and ask yourself, if I were talking to them face to face, would this be an acceptable way to address/open a conversation with a stranger.
15 notes
·
View notes
Note
What do know of some Star Wars fan already sending out the mean and tasty comments about the three new movies that were announced today
Depending on your state of mind and the level of nastiness--if they're too harassing, sent a report on them to tumblr, if they're garden variety shitty but not harassing, then respond with, "I'm so glad you asked about how excited I am for the upcoming project!" and put in a bunch of excited gifs. Or just delete the message or answer it genuinely in a "this is not okay to send me" kind of way. Whatever you will, in a week from now, look back on and be glad you reacted in the way you did.
I haven't seen any of these yet (I just got home again) but whatever is or isn't out there, that's generally how I handle stuff like this. I do a lot of judicious blocking, I evaluate what kind of mental space I'm in, and I think about what I'll be glad I responded with, when I'm out of whatever mood I'm feeling in the moment.
It sucks that people want to go around raining on others' parades (this is about those who are sending things directly to you, but if you just mean people who are writing things on their own blogs--vent to friends, but leave them alone in public, they have a right to their posts just as you do, we must grudgingly admit ^_~) but you can only affect your response to them.
A week from now, what will have made your life better to have posted about? A week from now, I hope I have a bunch of silly, happy shitposts to look back on, personally! But that's me, figure out what will make you in a better space. <3
35 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
knife-to-see-you
Dogs, Puns, and Dragons
memesandmagik
Your Must Have Furniture
smokinstimsk8r
Lips On The Pipe
straykidsl
straykidsl.76