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#it's not about any mutual. i blocked the person in question.
slttygeto · 4 months
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HEART TO HEART : GOJO SATORU
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what is heart to heart? a show in which we bring two people who have history together to ask them a couple of interesting, heartbreaking questions.
today's episode: 27 year old Gojo Satoru broke up with his girlfriend 4 years ago, yet he cannot move on. does she feel the same? and does a person really not move on even after four years?
note: i started this…without a second thought. i dont know where its going or if its gonna do well. but i enjoyed it very much
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a cold room, a white set, two chairs and a table—satoru gojo knew that the point of this very simple and minimalistic set was to make him feel vulnerable and uncomfortable, but a tiny vase would’ve been appreciated.
“why did you two break up?”
the ivory haired man leans back in his chair with a dry chuckle, fingers drumming along the surface of the wooden table.
“I was insecure,” he admits rather bitterly. “I just had a lot of things to work on, and letting go of her seemed like the right thing to do.”
“do you miss her?”
“oh, absolutely,” there’s a smile on his face when he says that, and sits up straight with his hands clasped together (an indicator that he was most likely anxious to be asked such vulnerable question). he goes on to squeeze his hands a bit and his lips are sealed shut for a bit before opening them again. “I thought to myself that I wouldn’t find love for a while after her—but it’s been four years, and I cannot get myself to move on.”
“has she moved on?”
“maybe? I’m not sure,” he lets out a nervous laugh and looks away from the camera before holding his head in his hands, there was a mental battle going on inside his head—before he finally decides to speak again. “I actually stalked her instagram account last week through a mutual friend and… I didn’t see a man on any of the pictures. she could just be super private.”
“was she private about being with you?”
“she would post pictures here and there, we didn’t like to keep our relationship a secret.”
gojo is handed a blindfold and he neatly wraps it around his eyes and waits, heart thumping loudly in his chest.
when you were asked by a friend if you would do this interview, a part of you was a bit hesitant just because you weren’t sure if you wanted to air out your love life like this and have to deal with the consequences of a potential future lover being upset about it—but when you were told that it was gojo satoru, your ex-boyfriend whom you dated for 3 years and were planning on building a future with—that is until it abruptly ended with no warnings whatsoever. perhaps you ignored the tornado warnings? were there even any to begin with? you will never know because you blocked him everywhere on social media. from instagram to his phone number. you couldn’t deal with the fact that he existed around you, near you yet you couldn’t have him.
four long years of not having seen him took a toll on your heart, as it sure gets excited the moment you spot white strands on top of a head that is laid out on the table. his sense of style is still so casual and laid back, but not in a cocky way. satoru has always been about feeling comfortable in your clothes but you notice his tense shoulders and his foot tapping and can immediately tell that he is anxious.
you silently pull the chair back facing him and he lifts his head off of the table. your hands rest on top of the surface and the producer finally asks gojo to take off the blindfold.
when he does and you two lock eyes, you both start smiling big but you can’t help the little tremble to your lips before you look away from the camera to wipe a few emotional tears.
“sorry,” you whisper but your mic was able to pick it up. almost on instinct, satoru reaches towards you and squeezes your arm reassuringly.
“when was the last time you spoke to one another?”
“four years ago.” you are the one to answer the questions now and you keep avoiding satoru’s big blue eyes.
“was it hard having to walk away from a long term relationship?”
“It’s always hard when you thought there was a connection,” your emphasis on the word “thought” makes gojo look down at his lap almost in shame. he had no time to explain himself or what he did, yet he couldn’t help but feel that this interview was going to be like a second chance to explain himself and perhaps give a proper apology.
“you had no closure?”
“nope.” you both answer at the same time and it feels as though feelings of resentment are starting to resurface as your demeanor grows cold around him and you pull your hands away from the table.
“why do you think you broke up?”
“you said you couldn’t really see us together anymore,” you were now speaking to satoru directly and he gladly took the heat of your words. “you said…that us being together was just a waste of time and that one of us has to walk away,” you were clearly hurt by his words, even four years later. the breakup took a toll on you both physically and emotionally. you were incapable of going on dates for a painfully long period of time that your friends had to drag you outside to meet some potential new partners—but none of them felt like satoru. you resented him for crawling into your heart and finding a safe space there, for settling down and building a warm house inside only to tear it down and leave as quickly as he came.
“I wasn’t… sure what I wanted to do at the time, I was confused about my future,” satoru admits for the first time ever. “I thought it was so unfair to drag you down that hole with me when it was so clear to you that you had a plan in mind—a secure one so I just-“
“left.” you finish the sentence for him and he lets out a pained laugh.
“yeah, I left. and when I realized that you had blocked me, I knew that there was no going back and that I actually did it. yknow, like, it wasn’t this bad dream where I would wake up and you were still beside me—you were actually gone, I made you leave.”
there was a long silence after this and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, not after that confession.
“did you miss me?” gojo takes the initiative to ask this question instead of the producer but they don’t complain, watching carefully as you look back at your ex partner.
“I did,” you say again in a whisper, almost scared that you coming to terms with this horrible realization was going to hurt you further.
“do you think that…we could’ve worked out had I been honest at the time?”
“satoru, I would’ve never left you as easily as you did,” you knew that it wasn’t easy for him, but you want him to know that your love for him was bigger than he ever thought.
“would you like to try again?”
you two stare at each other for a bit and you sneak your hand towards his huge palm, resting your index finger there and tracing soft circles.
“yeah… I want to. do you?” you look up at him through your eyelashes and gojo’s heart feels as though it is about to burst.
“I would love to.”
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zanarkandskylines · 10 days
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What if reader was a new classmate and months went by before bakugou even noticed them? Maybe noticed them for the first time while training one day or something and he became infatuated with reader (NSFW please! I <3 your writing!)
oooooh this is a great prompt, thank you for sending it in!! and thank you so much, it makes my day when someone compliments my writing! 🔥✨
Cruel Compulsions
『 ♡ 』  k.bakugo x fem!reader ꒰ senior year of UA | aged to 18 | infatuated & pining bakugo ꒱ ⇢ as a new transfer from a neighboring hero academy to UA, class 3A welcomes you with open arms. you fit in with the class seamlessly, with the exception of one person - katsuki bakugo. he doesn't give you the time of day, ignoring you any chance he gets since he views you as an "outsider." at least, that's what he projects and not how he truly feels.
꒰ tags & warnings ꒱ 18+ MDNI Smut; masturbation, dirty/lewd thoughts, wet dreams, first-time handjob, first kiss (bakugo) | obsessively infatuated, mutual pining, hidden feelings, avoidant but horny bakugo, mean/aggressive toward reader's attention, awkward confession, sexually-forward and comfortable reader, friends to friends with benefits, fluffy ending ꒰ cross posted to ao3 | wc; ~2.4k ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist
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Bakugo's in the school locker room after the day's training sessions, left forearm against the wall of the shower to hold himself upright with his head hung under the water's stream. His mind is swimming in a sea of dirty thoughts as his right hand fists his dick - your body floating in the aforementioned sea.
He couldn't help it, you're gorgeous and beautiful spank bank material without even trying.
───
You surprised everyone when UA announced your transfer so late in the hero course. He immediately had judgements before meeting you. How did you manage to transfer during senior year from another academy? Would you need special privileges to catch up to the classes' progress? You were probably some rich bitch who had daddy's money buy your spot in the program.
That all crumbled the moment you walked through the door of class 3As homeroom, Aizawa introducing you to the class on a random Wednesday in the summer.
"Treat her with respect. She's a top student from her previous academy and can kick just as much ass as the rest of you."
Bakugo's heart stuttered in his chest, hypnotized by the way your bare thighs complimented the uniform skirt you're forced to wear. Your button up didn't leave much to the imagination in terms of your luscious figure, the front buttons ever so slightly strained over your chest to contain your breasts. His face was hot as he ogled you, unknowingly drinking in your features to commit them to memory. The feeling was foreign as he'd never been so attracted, let alone infatuated, with anyone.
It had been months since your transfer and Bakugo couldn't bring himself to have a conversation with you without wanting to explode, no pun intended. His palms would drip with sweat, ready to ignite at the slightest touch if you asked him a question or greeted him in passing. He'd gotten into the habit of averting his gaze, turning his back to you or simply removing himself from your space if you got too close.
"Don't worry about him," Midoriya commented regularly about his best friend's behavior towards you. "He's not much of a people person. He'll warm up to you when he's ready!"
Months of endless wet dreams, steamy thoughts and longing stares. Wherever you went, you clouded his vision and blocked out the rest of the world. He didn't understand why he was so enamored with you. He just...was. He kept telling himself it wasn't an obsession, just a stupid ass crush that will pass with time.
News flash - it didn't.
He - the Katsuki Bakugo - didn't have the courage to ask you out.
───
The training period was at the end of the school day, thankfully, and most of the others preferred to head back to their dorms to shower, leaving Bakugo alone in the locker room. He was free to moan and groan in peace, the steam of the hot water only adding to his shameless delight.
"Nngh, it's...not...fair," he moans to himself, barely above a whisper. His grip tightens around his cock, hand slipping and sliding at a brutal pace, eyes screwed shut to watch the raunchy movie play in his mind. Your lying in his bed, remnants of sweat from sparring across your bare tits and stomach. Your UA track jacket is splayed beneath you, the only other article of clothing being a pair of pink lace panties covering your center.
Why pink? He didn't know, you just seemed like the kind of girl to wear lacy underwear - well, he wished you were the type of girl who wore sexy panties, especially if it was just for him.
Your lips were parted in anticipation, flush creeping up your chest and neck as it settled across your cheeks.
"Katsuki, please...," you begged, fluttering your eyes up at him. It didn't take much for him to crumble, swiping your panties to the side and thrusting deep into your soaked pussy.
Like clockwork, Bakugo explodes, covering his hand in spend before getting to imagine fucking you. He can never make it to touching you in any of his dreams, you're always just out of reach or he finishes, cutting the scenario short. He rinses the evidence down the drain and turns the water temperature ice cold.
───
The next day, Bakugo sluggishly made his way to homeroom, running a few minutes later than usual. He rounded the corner on the third floor when he practically bumps into you, startling himself.
"Oh! Morning Bakugo, how are you?" you ask, a pleasant smile gracing your lips. He stares at them, assuming you'd just applied lip gloss with the way they shine under the hallway lights.
"Fine." Bakugo turns his eyes to the floor, stuffing his hands into his pockets nervously. There's a pause between the conversation and his first instinct is to shove past you and bolt for homeroom, but he doesn't.
"Can I ask you something?" you say as you grab his forearm to take him away from the stairwell. He recoils at your touch, ripping his arm from your grasp.
"Sorry, I shouldn't...forget it."
You're turning to head down the hallway when his anxiety quiets for a split second, allowing him to speak to you for the first time in months.
"No, wait...'m sorry. What is it?"
Bakugo's eyes haven't left the tiles on the floor, but something is telling him what you wanted to ask was important. You don't turn to face him when your shoulders droop.
"You're always running from or actively avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?" There's a sadness in your voice that makes his heart drop into his stomach. He was an asshole for not thinking how his actions would affect you, too focused on running away like a fucking coward instead of treating you like a person.
"No. You didn't do anythin' wrong," he mumbles, tapping his foot restlessly.
"Then why the hell can you not even stand to be around me?! You're the only person in the whole class who acts like I have the plague."
'Shit, shit, fuck! What do I even say?' Bakugo thinks to himself, thoughts racing to find some kind of excuse. The words bubble up in his throat faster than he can stop them from spilling out.
"It's 'cause I like you!"
Uh oh.
You whip your whole body around to face him, eyes wide with an eyebrow cocked in confusion. "...What?"
His mind is screaming 'run!,' but his body won't move.
Shaking your head, you start to laugh, relishing in the ridiculousness of the situation. He liked you, but had a case of the "eww cooties!" bullshit? Oh, if only you knew.
"I'm not gonna talk about this here, I'll come by your dorm after classes today. Okay?"
Bakugo finally meets your gaze, gritting his teeth to prevent any other unwanted confessions. "...'kay."
You give him a wave and head off toward the 3A homeroom down the hall, leaving him with his thoughts.
───
After class, you keep your promise and head to the fourth floor of the dormitories to Bakugo's room. One tap of your knuckles and the door swings open.
"Hey, still free to talk?" You ask, giving him a second chance to shoo you away.
"Yeah, come in." It was taking everything in him not to dart into the hallway and run until he couldn't anymore. He shuts the door behind you quietly. The latch barely clicks when he feels your hand on his bicep, your grip catching him off guard and causing him to stumble into the wall. Your body is suddenly in his personal bubble, chest pressed against his when your lips crash on to his.
'Is this really fucking happening?'
A surprised groan escapes Bakugo between the kiss, his hands flexing at his sides to keep himself together. He can feel the excess sweat begin to stain his palms.
You pull back with a smack of your lips. "Better?"
His mind was completely blank while simultaneously running at mach speed. How do you look so...stunning, all the time? He could feel the stickiness of your lip gloss on his lips - it tasted better than he imagined it would, a faint cherry flavor dancing on his tongue.
"Earth to Bakugooo!" you call, waving a hand in front of his face.
Bakugo violently shivers, his nerves catching up with the emotions flowing through his whole body.
'Don't be a fucking coward, Katsuki. Just do it!' He screams internally, urging himself to make a goddamn move.
"Oh shit, was that your first kiss?!" you yell, not able to fathom that he had never been kissed. "I'm sorry, I assumed -"
He grabs the back of your head, diving in to capture your lips once more. Time slows to a crawl as Bakugo maps out every inch of your mouth, savoring every second of the moment. Your lips are much softer and plush than he dreamed they would be, and if you weren't holding on to him, he was convinced he'd float away into the stratosphere. You can feel the sweat on his palms drip against the nape of your neck, but it doesn’t bother you. It’s warm, a honey-like consistency seeping into the fabric of your uniform.
He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against your own.
"I would have assumed someone as hot as yourself would have a body count by now," you tease, tracing a light circle over his exposed collarbone.
"Shut up," he whispers shakily. "Was never interested in that shit."
"Fair enough, but right now, your body is telling me a different story."
You let your hand trail down his body, brushing against his clothed erection. Bakugo's entire body stiffens, all the muscles in his body turning to stone at the featherlight touch of your fingers.
"Tell me to stop and I will."
"No."
The answer is immediate, a growl swallowed by your mouths colliding once again. Your fingers trace the outline of the tent in his slacks a second time before mindlessly fumbling with his belt. His hands are occupied with grabbing your hair and waist to pull you as close as possible, all precaution on his side melting like putty in your hands. The adrenaline rush of it all was fueling the fire churning in his guts, practically high off your affection and you’ve barely touched him.
The belt clasp flops to each side as you maneuver your way through the buttons and zipper expertly.
'How the fuck is this happening right now?'
Your hand swiftly pulls at his slacks, enough to allow room to squeeze through the waistband of his boxers, your delicate fingers wrapping around his dick. It's throbbing, painfully so, and burning hot to the touch. Between sloppy kisses, Bakugo gasps as if it’s his last breath on earth, trembling beneath your palm. You thumb over the tip, using the pre-spend to glide your hand over his shaft. The moan that is coaxed out of him is deep and voracious, hungry for more of your touch. A lightning bolt strikes through your core, his ecstasy fueling your own desire as you continue to clash tongues with him.
“Your moans are so fucking hot, Katsuki,” you pant between kisses. “Way hotter than I ever dreamed they’d be.”
Oh god, you used his name. You’ve never said it before. And the first he’s hearing it is…like this? Bakugo’s rocketing toward orgasm at the thought of potentially hearing it again.
And again. And again.
Sparks are flying in his abdomen, an entire Fourth of July fireworks show erupting as he squirms beneath you. He’s interchangeably moaning and whining into your mouth, shuddering uncontrollably.
“Fuck, ‘m-mmph!”
He attempts to silence himself as he spills out all over your hand and in his boxers, endless ropes of white pouring out of him. You remove your hand from his pants, placing a peck to his cheek and walking into his bathroom.
What. The. Fuck!?
Bakugo’s in the afterglow of his orgasm, awestruck as he slouched against the wall trying to catch his breath. His chest heaved and thighs quivered - the fact that he was still standing was a miracle.
───
The two of you sat in silence on his bed, waiting for the other to start the conversation. He took a deep breath, turning to face you with blushing cheeks.
“I…never, fuck, sorry. I’m fuckin’ nervous,” Bakugo begins to explain, trying to compose himself. You tenderly slip your fingers in his, intertwining them in an awkward hold. It calms his nerves enough to continue.
“I didn’t understand this feelin’ at all. You show up outta nowhere and…knocked me on my ass. I’ve never experienced anythin’ like this and I…didn’t handle it well.”
“It’s alright, water under the bridge. For the record, I always thought you were hot,” you giggle, shooting him a wink. “You just kept running and didn’t let me hit on you.”
Of course Bakugo was his own worst enemy in this situation. He could see that clearly now as opposed to his previous blindness by a fierce case of infatuation. He smirked, finally letting his walls come down - brick by brick.
“I settled for kissing Kaminari one night instead.”
Your comment makes him choke on his own spit, sputtering out, “Y’kissed Dunceface?! When?!”
That gets you cackling, removing your hand from his as you fall back onto his bed. You’re holding your sides while Bakugo’s crossing his arms, nose to the ceiling at your reaction.
“Hah! It was months ago and only once. He cried after.”
Now he’s laughing, breaking his stoic facade. He’s somewhat taken aback by his own laughter, silently acknowledging how easy communicating with you turned out to be. You return to sitting upright and sigh.
“I’m sorry, too, for jumping you like that. We don’t have to talk about it, either.”
Bakugo fidgets with the hem of the comforter on his bed. “I said I didn’t want ya to stop, so don’t apologize.”
You smile, a rosy tint appearing on the apples of your cheeks. “I like you, Katsuki. I’m okay with doing this - no labels, fast or slow - while we get to know each other. No pressure, though. We could never talk again if that’s what you wanted.”
“I obviously like you too, idiot. Just be patient with me. ‘S all I ask of ya.”
“Deal!”
Bakugo leans over and kisses you, soft and slow, a way of him saying thank you. He’s unabashedly on cloud nine, glowing with newfound confidence, all thanks to you.
Did that stop his raunchy and taunting wet dreams in the coming months? Not even a little. He just has a better solution to his growing salacious appetite - you.
⋆ ˚ʚɞ — thank you again @bakubae-by for the prompt! 😊 tags; @slayfics
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qqueenofhades · 3 months
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Hi! This question has been noodling in my head for a few weeks, and I’ve been really curious to hear your opinion. I’ve appreciated your very thoughtful commentary on the ways the online left in particular have hurt the real and concerted efforts that have been made to navigate through the Gaza war in support of Palestine. I’ve seen a lot of outrage online about Biden bypassing congress in order to make another emergency weapons sale to Israel, which does indeed read as counter to helping to the Palestinians facing endless and indiscriminate violence. I understand that you might not want to answer this ask, because the work that you already do in your life offline and the work that you do here on tumblr to respond to and explain these issues is exhausting enough. Thanks so much for your time and your thoughtful contributions! It’s always really helped me remember to slow down and think critically about the media I consume.
Because you have asked this thoughtfully and in good faith, I will return the favor and give you a careful and extensive answer to the best of my ability. However, obligatory top-of-post disclaimer that I will disable reblogs at the first hint of any wankery in the notes and I will not answer any follow-ups or secondary asks at this time (unless I decide to do so, but I engage with this topic sparingly, judiciously, and only in small doses, so don't count on it).
First, let me say that the moment, I disagree with substantial portions of how Biden is handling the two main foreign-policy crises (Ukraine and Gaza). In regard to Ukraine, I think he's backed off, taken his foot off the gas, and otherwise given Republicans ammunition to keep delaying or watering down a new aid bill, is refusing to disburse military aid packages from the $4 billion of funding remaining that was previously approved by Congress, hasn't sent long-range ATACMS and other critical military hardware that might bring the war to an end sooner, and is not (as of the moment, though recent reporting suggests this might change) pushing hard enough for frozen Russian assets to be transferred to Ukraine for military and/or humanitarian financial assistance. However, I am also aware (unlike, it seems, much of the left-leaning internet) that I am basing these judgments only on my personal impressions, on what is reported (or not reported) in the media (which has plenty of its own problems) and otherwise what is formed in my role as an ordinary American citizen without any kind of special, classified, high-level, or government access. I know nothing more than any of you, and I also know that a lot of what goes on behind closed doors does not appear on Political Twitter and/or the Washington Post or the Guardian or Daily Kos or whatever other aggregate sources of information I or any left-leaning person typically consumes. So it's highly possible (and this is my cautious academic instinct speaking) that I do not, in fact, have a full picture of events. There are also contributing factors that Biden cannot simply handwave aside, even if he did, say, dip back into the $4 billion pot in the meantime. Congress will need to pass a new funding bill for Ukraine aid and the MAGA Republicans have been enthusiastically blocking it to the point where Putin's cronies on Russian state TV praise them effusively for it. We all know about the Republicans and Russia's mutual love affair. So.
The same goes for Gaza, and even more because we have already had reporting about how the Biden administration is walking a behind-the-scenes tightrope in a number of seemingly impossible tasks: keeping the war from spreading to a larger theater, pressuring Netanyahu to dial down, y'know, the rampant genocide (when Netanyahu notoriously doesn't like Biden, was very close with Trump, and would be happy to keep the war going in order to boost Trump's chances of being re-elected and save Netanyahu himself from his own criminal prosecutions), and pursuing a complex policy toward the state of Israel that does not follow the antisemitic Western Online Left's fever dream of "Israel suddenly disappears overnight and falls into the ocean and all Jews die or disappear." We have had multiple credibly sourced reports about this. Blinken is back in the Middle East right now trying to keep the war from spreading. The US under Biden has criticized Israel's essentially empty policy document for post-war Gaza as not being remotely feasible (because it's so vague) and gone so far as to voice support for a two-state solution with Palestinian self-determination (which is itself quite radically different from previous administrations). However, they have also vetoed UN ceasefire resolutions and other essentially meaningless political theater (the UN as a whole has been ruthlessly exposed in the last few years for being completely useless) that are easy to gin up outrage about, and that's what the internet focuses on, rather than any of the other complicated actions taking place.
All of this is to say that no, in fact, I don't blindly support everything the Biden administration is doing in regard to either Ukraine or Israel right now, but I actually have a sense of real-world perspective about it and understand that there are certain immutable realities that we are working with and which will not be erased by some absolute jackasses yelling at Biden in a historically black church at the commemoration of an anti-black terrorist attack. Likewise, as I've said it before and I'll say it again, and as plenty of other people have noticed and pointed out, the Western left is using this as an orgy of pseudo-revolutionary fervor that focuses on using Hamas as a proxy for their own fantasies of violent uprising against their own governments. Because while yes, anti-zionism and antisemitism are two distinct things and represent different aims and goals, it's become more or less irrelevant in allegedly pro-Palestine Western leftist spaces. It's just increasingly rabid, accelerationist, and nihilistic antisemitism all the time, or the obvious usage of "Zionist" to mean "Jew." It's not good. There is no concept of actual restorative justice for Palestinians or other people, such as Ukrainians, Syrians, Uyghurs, Taiwanese, etc, either undergoing genocide or facing the threat of it, because Western leftists have latched onto this cause solely as a stick to beat the Democratic Party with and have no actual moral interest or concern in stopping genocide elsewhere in the world or repudiating it as a method overall. They just want the state of Israel (which they characterize as a "proxy state for white western colonialism" despite the many, many things historically, religiously, and politically wrong with that statement, because it means it now Contains the Right Buzzwords to Oppose It) to be destroyed altogether in the name of "opposing colonialism," but it really seems to be all about opposing Jews. Hmm.
Simply put, Biden is not ever going to pursue a policy of "let's totally abandon Israel tomorrow, never sell it any weapons or allow it to defend its own civilians, and agree that Hamas is actually a good representation or advocate for the Palestinian people" in the way a number of Western Online Leftists seem to think he should do. There is still the fact that Israeli civilians do exist and that Hamas has continued to launch missiles at them daily, inconvenient as that fact might be for the Hamas fanboys (and fangirls) who now populate much of what passes for Western leftist discourse spaces. (Either that or they don't care, because in their view, Israeli civilians are fully acceptable collateral damage by virtue of simply living in Israel in the first place, which -- yikes. Fucking yikes. That is all.) The number of people professing to be lifelong leftists who are Just Shocked at all the antisemitism, or thinking that any and all antisemitism is just artificially introduced into leftist spaces by bad-faith right-wing/Nazi psyops either has not spent any actual time around leftists, or (more likely) simply does not listen to what they openly say. The antisemitism is virulent, constant, and only getting worse. On the most basic level, regardless of the other difficulties around the founding of Israel as a state in 1948 and the fact that doing so on some of the most bitterly religiously, politically, ethnically, and culturally contested territory in the world for over two thousand years was always going to be a massive clusterfuck, the fact of its immediate post-Holocaust creation simply cannot be ignored the way many Online Leftists do. Israel exists because of the worst antisemitic mass murder in recorded history (and that's a high bar). That fact must be incorporated into any actual discussions about its right either to exist or to protect its own civilians. But this gets turned into "Israel exists only as a puppet state of white western colonialists" which is just bad on so, so many levels.
The collective Western Online Leftist feeling seems to be that Hamas are innocent and wronged freedom fighters who are begging for a ceasefire and the cruel Israelis aren't granting them one. This is not true. Hamas has rejected multiple ceasefire opportunities, and continued to launch missiles and retaliatory attacks, because they are terrorists and they do not want or represent any serious opportunity to negotiate in the framework of western liberal democracy. They are treated as helpless woobified blorbos by much of the Western leftist-leaning internet. They are not. In that case, Biden bypassing Congress to sell Israel weapons (which was just something like 100 million of artillery shells, which is not nothing but still not a huge systematic thing like, say, Reagan's Iran-Contra scandal) is not great. I do not support anything Israel is doing to Gaza. It is abhorrent. However, there are reasons for Biden to provide some limited amount of weapons to Israel without congressional approval that do not automatically and mindlessly equate to BIDEN SUPPORTS TOTAL GENOCIDE IN GAZA!!!!!!1 Especially when as I've said, the Online Leftists only care about stopping genocide when it fits their political self-righteousness, and absolutely not at all the rest of the time.
This is representative of the fact that Western Online Leftism has now completed its all-out descent into blind Noam Chomskyism. Chomsky has never met a "leftist" or "anti-Western" genocide he couldn't deny, excuse, or openly cheerlead (going all the way back to the 1970s and Pol Pot/the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia and going up to the minute with Russia/Ukraine and Israel/Palestine). Noam Chomsky is the leftist Henry Kissinger. His ethics and morals are equally abhorrent, he's just as willing to justify total genocide in the name of advancing his preferred political ideology, and while there were (justifiably) celebrations and gloating memes across Tumblr when Kissinger finally bit the dust, Chomsky's beliefs are replicated with slavish adoration in many other Tumblr spaces and spread in some form or another to the rest of the website, which now takes them as leftist gospel (and let's not even talk about Twitter). This represents my absolute frustration with the fact that Western Online Leftism has devolved to such a degraded, mindless, useless, and malevolent level that "cheerlead for any anti-western/Leftist TM terrorist group or state" is taken to be the be-all and end-all of their moral philosophy. Someone remarked that ISIS peaked too early; if they were still at the height of their powers today, they would have a legion of devoted white so-called progressive Twitter users shilling earnestly and angrily for them, and Christ, isn't that the fucking truth.
I know we live in a hard, frightening, complex, and difficult world, and it's hard to sort out what our moral responsibility and action should be at any given time, especially since the answer is always so frustratingly partial and incomplete. Nobody of basic good sense and decency wants to see Gaza leveled while the Israeli state continues to apply a number of violently cruel collective punishments even outside the actual daily bombing of civilians. But for the love of god, let's get rid of the idea that the continued mindless violence doesn't benefit Hamas (because it does; unsurprisingly, sympathy for their cause has soared in Gaza) as much as it does Israel, or that Hamas is some kind of benevolent peacemaker that is being thwarted by the cruel imperialist US/West. And going back to the incident that prompted you to send me this ask: white leftists have often and repeatedly demonstrated their withering disdain for black people, Democratic voters, "mainstream" Americans, and anyone else doesn't buy into the twisted tankie fantasy land where getting rid of Biden would somehow be a massive coup for social justice (by getting Trump, now openly announcing at every turn that he will be a dictator, back into office! Very praxis, much justice. Wow.)
In short: if you, a white person, stand up in Mother Emanuel AME -- one of the most sacred sites for Black churchgoers, who are indeed often heavily Democratic voters -- in the middle of a remembrance service for victims of white supremacist terrorism, after the Black pastor has asked you not to protest inside the church out of respect for the Black community coming together to relive its trauma -- just so you can heckle Biden and feel good about yourself, then Jesus Christ. You don't care about restorative justice for people of color, or literally any justice at all, much less "stopping genocide." You just want to use them as props for your Chomsky cosplay revolutionary fantasies and your sense of self-righteous superiority over literally everyone else, regardless of the real-world consequences. So I have no hesitation whatsoever in telling those people to get fucked. Often and repeatedly.
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Warning about an account who may be a minor‼️
@/hongjoongswifefr on tumblr
@/wooyo_mine on twitter
You can read the twitter thread here
I was mutuals with this person, they are lying about their age. There’s no way of knowing if they are actually 23 or if they are a minor. After this thread came out about them they continued to tweet as if nothing had happened and then changed their bio to say minor while their tumblr bio continues to say 23. I wanted to make a post in case any of my followers follow this person. I have attached proof that the accounts listed above are theirs. I would encourage everyone to unfollow, report and block. If you have any questions please feel free to ask and I will answer to the best of my ability.
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UPDATE
They sent this message to someone on twitter. They are either lying about being a minor because they got caught saying weird stuff to someone underage OR they are a minor who lied and said they were an adult so as to get access to adult spaces. This behavior is very concerning either way and NOT okay.
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Do you know why it seems like people are interacting with blogs less and less?
Like, a few years ago, maybe like 6 at most, i would have days long conversations in the rb chains, i would send out a billion asks to my mutuals and blogs I follow and would get a billion asks back. It was actually fun to rb ask games and rb chain games because there was a near 100% guarantee that you would be included and interacted with
And now it's a gamble if anything you post will break 20, maybe even 10 likes
TL;DR: people are afraid of attempting interaction, because they are worried they will receive negative interaction in return.
A culture has been fostered where many tumblr users, especially in young fandom, expect and rightly assume that they will be critiqued and questioned on any piece of fiction or art that they interact with, by it's creator, and by their followers.
We talk a lot about the decline of comment culture in fandom spaces these days, and I recently saw a post that reminded me of my prevailing theory about why that started. I can't speak for everyone, but I know that I personally stopped commenting on people's art and fic on tumblr specifically when I saw the culture shift toward creators berating and publicly shaming the people who reblogged their work for any kind of comments or tags that the creator didn't like. I stopped commenting art when I saw prominent posts going around ranting about how awful it was to see comments like "I don't usually like x but your work..." and "don't ever ever compare an artist's work to another thing you like" and "don't tag as kin/don't tag as your OC's name." And then came the era of artists starting to investigate the blogs of people who reblogged their work, and shame/mock/harass/block anyone who reblogged their art who appeared to have a fandom opinion they didn't agree with. And I am not saying there were even a lot of artists, writers etc DOING this. But there was enough, and it was visible enough, to make the idea of commenting or leaving a tag on someone's work seem daunting. Because you never knew if that creator was going to explode on you for some harmless comment wanting to be nice and share your thoughts about it, or even just because you reblogged their art and they decided they didn't like you.
original post link
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ay0nha · 9 months
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Idle Hands | Chef Luca
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SUMMARY: Sometimes Luca wished he chose rivalry over admiration. But even if he had, you wouldn’t allow it. You would never go back to that world. It was far too demanding; you couldn’t thrive where you didn’t belong. 
PAIRING: Chef!Luca x f!reader
WORD COUNT: 1.4K
WARNINGS: mentions of eating/food, straight fluff, mutual pining, smidge of angst, Luca trying to poach reader for his restaurant, self indulgent, **I am not a chef nor a good cook** etc. 
A/N: I wrote this in one sitting on my phone, so mind the typos and lack of cohesion.  I didn’t think I would finish this, so also mind the rushed ending. Inspired some by things in Anthony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential (he’s my idol). I’m interested in writing more, send some thoughts my way about Chef Luca. Enjoy.
The fog seemed idyllic. It was dense with humidity and carried the dawn light over the horizon better than the days prior; the rain was starting to get to you. It punctured your routine with puddles that were unavoidable and time that allowed your items to go stale because of a slow-trafficked day.
What had gone unnoticed during those days, and frankly underappreciated, was the space the weather provided. You had moved so quickly, your keys almost slipping from your hands as you bustled into the bakery, trying to keep dry. Yet, now your steps were paced by your exhaustion, only stopped by him.
Luca.
He knew better than to bring you coffee, the gesture acting more as an insult to your sleep schedule than a remedy to your dark circles. Instead, he was early, leaning against the brick wall of the bakery, waiting for you. Punctuality was just shy of being an aphrodisiac.
The cooking life was like a long love affair, with moments both sublime and ridiculous. Yet, like any love affair, looking back, you seemed to cling to the happy times the best—the things that drew you in in the first place, the things that kept you coming back for more.
Luca understood this well. Conscious or not, it hadn’t mattered; he indulged just the same. It was why he set on the stoop, day after day, only skipping out when the weather begged him to. Regardless he returned to you, waited for you, and deferred to you, even when his purpose was to poach you.
“I’m starting to lose count—” You refused a greeting. He blocked your journey to becoming a morning person. “—how many days does it take to be qualified as a stalker?”
Luca tutted teasingly, pushing through to find your humor. “Not quite eligible yet.”
“Shame.” You hummed, your key cracking open the rusted door. The click was becoming too screechy to ignore. The rain only proved further repercussions.
Noted. Fingers crossed, a handyman would be looking for something delectable on their break. Just as Luca came to expect your dry humor, you learned his body language just as well. Holding open the door you just unlocked, he held back the offer to repair it.
“Rumor has it you found your sous.” Your voice carried well through the echoing building. It was a small place, barely worth what you pay to keep it open.
Your fingers were stiff from the cold.  You cursed the winter and how it made you physically fumble for the months it endured. It was as though your body rejected how it influenced you. Yet, once your fingers found the light switches, you retracted your afflictions.
“He’s temporary.” Always a man of few words. Pointed and punctual.
“And he knows that?” You scoffed, scarf still muffling your words ever so slightly.
Your back was to him as your question lingered. Luca’s gaze admired your routine, the one he memorized as if each layer of clothing was a recipe in itself. You always saved your scarf for last as if it the way it twirled was an old-fashioned caramel drizzle on a forbidden apple.
“Everyone knows I want you.” He said deftly. Even with your back to him, you were sure he could picture your flattered, flustered features. “...He’s good. Young.”
“Mmm…” You mused, facing him. A part of you was convinced Luca would stop coming by once he’d found his counterpart. But his dissatisfaction still radiated off of him. “How long do you think he’ll last?”
“Depends.” Luca matched your tone. Young meant talent, but it also meant naive. “When do you plan to join me?”
Your laugh was let out as a breath—its presence small but worth it. “Luca—
“I’ll give it a rest.” His promise wouldn’t last very long, but it would do.
Luca reached for the apron that he had donned as his own. He reached the shelves you struggled with, learning within days through observation where to place that for when you finally mosied over. He was envious of your movements, how you found joy in moving slowly, so unrushed and unbothered to the point of pleasure.
It was strange the routine formed. It was just as unorthodox as the relationship. But within the culinary world, nothing was off-limits. There was a vague beginning to the friendship, another fitting mark. You were a friend of a friend that knew a guy. And you were the one that’s rumors claimed you were better than him.
Sometimes Luca wished he chose rivalry over admiration. But even if he had, you wouldn’t allow it. You would never go back to that world. It was far too demanding; you couldn’t thrive where you didn’t belong. You liked when your hands were layered with flour to lay out your dough. To stir a glaze in just the right way so that there was enough for an extra taste. It was you and the stillness without the adrenaline-filled demands.
The quiet of working side by side, the soft clinking of metal sheets and ceramics, was the perfect white noise. The simple patter of packed flour being muddled with oil was far better than the tourists that invaded your senses. You couldn’t decide if it was a welcomed distraction.
“What do you think?” He respected hierarchy. It was perfect. But you valued the imperfections of each unique item.
“Hmm?” You looked to your side. Luca was close; the small layout allowed for it.
“Try it.” He slid the plate to you.
Routines were hard to break. Every morning you skipped breakfast, it wasn’t until your stomach rumbled would you realize you were hungry. Luca learned you loved things sickly sweet, just shy of making your mouth pucker.
You worked alone often; you hadn’t needed the company nor the help. However, the pair of hands that steadied themselves on your hips to pass by made you question your need. It made you question if the warmth that spread through your body was from him or from the oven pre-heating near your knees. It would have been easy to doubt it all if there hadn’t been a ghost print of flour on your black apron.
“Go on…” Luca returned, pushing a found spoon into your hands. “Give me your worst.”
You rolled your eyes. He knew it was good. You knew it was good. The first spoonful was annoyingly satisfying. You maintained your breath through the second bite. If you went for a third, you knew Luca’s ego would soar.
The extra hands were helpful, but you refused to let the aid blind his purpose. So, you deflected, pointing the spoon to him.“I’m sure it’ll sell.”
Luca’s lips played with a frown. You were good at reminding him that his so-called sweetness could cross over into becoming a chore. His thick skin was scarred, burned, and continually tested.  You had the skill to crawl under it and almost get to him.
Accepting the utensil, he tasted his own creation. “It’s missing something.”
“Yeah?” You weren’t shy about plucking your finger into the cream filling for another taste. “What are you thinking?”
There it was, his earlier promise broken. With just a look, you knew what he was thinking; you. It was a tacky way to beg again for you to work with him; it was why he only gave you a look. One that was brief and gone before you could say anything before returning steely.
“Increase the fat content.” You advised, breaking your gaze. It was a test, and you were well aware you passed. It was textbook. Again, you’d proven your mind was in tune with his. “Cut it with acidity.”
He nodded, inked arms crossed against his chest. Luca lacked  the asinine chef bravado. A welcome reprieve. Self-assured, steady, and strong. Your eyebrows pinched when he stumbled slightly, drawing in a breath to say something just to let the words die. It was out of character, a side to him you didn’t believe existed. He seemed nervous.
“It’ll be ready in a few weeks.” His words seemed to settle finally.
“Ah…” You wiped your hands on your chest, reaching for the next thing. The beauty in baking was constantly moving. Even when your patience was being tested while things rose, there was always another something to work on. “...I forgot how much modernist cuisine attracts attention.”
New items meant new clients. New reviews and new criticism. You continued to assure him, chatting softly of what snobs people could be when they were filled with only ignorance. You meant to ease his apprehension, but you realized it had nothing to do with hosting an event.
It had to do with the invitation that flew from his lips. “Think you’re free that night?”
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romanarose · 2 months
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Triple Frontier Write-A-Thon
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Hosted by @romanarose and @for-a-longlongtime
Hello everyone! March 13th of this year is the 5 year anniversary of Triple Frontier, a movie that was underrated but very precious to all of us. To me, it is a comfort movie and something that through fics and fandom has helped me process a lot of things. 
Charlie Hunnam announced recently that there is potential for a sequel and he is trying to get it in production and has signed on as a producer. Me and @for-a-longlongtime want to both drum up a little noise and celebrate this media we all love so much!
How it works
Write a fanfiction of Triple Frontier, following the content rules listed below. This is for both art and fanfiction. We encourage you to utilize twitter or instagram if you’d like to share either, and #triplefrontier or #triplefrontier2019 on any site you post on. If you don’t want to make art or write, we encourage you to use social media platforms with the hashtags to help make some noise.
We are highly encouraging LGBT themes and for you to think outside of x f!reader. 
All fics that fall under the rules are encouraged, so if you write Santiago Garcia x afab!f!reader, that’s great! But we’d like to take this time to encourage gay/bi pairings, trans readers, or even trans interpretations of the boys. Branch out!
When you post, tag @triplefrontier-anniversary on tumblr and we will reblog it there. We also may reblog onto our main, so consider tagging one or both of us so we know what’s up! Please follow that page to see what other people are writing! In the tags, please tag it triple frontier write a thon, just to make everything easily found.
If you want to post art that tumblr doesn’t allow like nude art, link the content in a tumblr post, like a twitter link, and we’ll reblog that!
If you exclusively write on ao3 or wattpad or other, you can either make a link on a tumblr post and tag us. Other option is to message me (RomanaRose) privately and I’ll make a post and link you and reblog it to the page.
Rules
We will run from March 1st to March 14th. Fics and art posted before or after will not be counted.
This is not a dark event, sorry! Some of us enjoy dark content but wanted to keep this particular event mostly non-dark. That being said, we will allow dub con in the context of mild alcohol use, power dynamics etc. Kidnapping/arranged marriage etc is fine as long as consent is given for anything sexual. Mostly we are looking to avoid non-con/violence. If you have questions, don’t be afraid to reach out to us!
All participants must be 18+, although smut is not required
No incest, including Millercest. None of the usual ‘no’s’, such as underage content apply in addition to no dark.
We have the right to exclude any fic that makes us uncomfortable. It’s our event.
However, we will NOT be excluding people for personal biases, unless it encroaches on our boundaries. I.E. If we have you blocked, please don’t try to enter the event. However, if we’ve had petty beefs or you and one of our mutuals don’t like each other, we generally will include your work. This event is to promote Triple Frontier, not about us.
LGBT themes are highly encouraged, not required.
Tom is allowed. We’re not gonna tell you not to include him if that’s what your little heart desires. However, we highly encourage that your work includes at least one of the usual 4
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Leave me alone I love Arrested Development, RIP Carl Weathers.
We hope everyone has fun and this drums up more Triple Frontier fics, in which we are severely lacking!
Remember to reblog and comment to support artists!
Please come to us with any questions!
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monmuses · 1 month
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a real quick short PSA but i've noticed this trend recently between folks in the RPC. not to nail specifically any other communities, but this is something that's noticeable regarding a rule that is often used in multiple rules pages and guidelines: "communication is key". while it's a great rule to have and to emphasize that you (the partner) are open about communicating, there is one thing that needs to be stated for this to work:
you, the partner, also need to communicate with your partners and others in your roleplaying community when you are uncomfortable or bothered about something.
you cannot preach for communication but turn around and block your partners or mutuals when something that bothers you is not mentioned or spoken about. not everyone will remember what your guidelines are on day one of being mutuals. you cannot expect everyone to tag what you have blacklisted; you have to ask. often times, you have to come out of your comfort zone and TALK to partners if something bothers you.
"what if i'm scared that they'll say something nasty to me?" do it scared. do it terrified but with confidence because you want to talk. if they react poorly, then they are not a suitable roleplaying partner to keep around. you will know your worth and your own personal expectations with what you want.
this also includes vague-posting; why do you think people get so upset when they see you post about them in a vague manner? it's disrespectful. have basic respect for your partners as they are human JUST LIKE YOU. communicating between one another like adults (because many writers in multiple roleplaying communities are adults) is important and you will learn to be more forward and open if you just ask and talk.
if you need something tagged? ask them! if there's someone they interact with that makes you uncomfortable? blacklist their tag! if you have issues or something that has bugged you in the past with that partner? talk to them about it! be open minded and give a benefit of the doubt.
i know that there are a lot of writers who are fucking terrified to do anything beyond their own choices. you own your blog - DO WHAT YOU WANT TO DO. talk to people! ask questions! that should be an expectation and be taught among communities to talk and be open! and if others can't return that respect to you? block them. you DO NOT deserve disrespect, no matter what people may say is "deserving".
tl;dr preach communication but also communicate. it's a job that requires both parties to do.
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morallyinept · 6 months
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HELLO & WELCOME TO THE PEDRO PASCAL FANDOM! 👋🏻
I'd just like to take a moment to say hello and a big welcome to all my recent followers & mutuals. How wonderful that you're here! So exciting!!
My name's Jett and I'm so happy that you're here in the Pedro fandom, and you're all so welcome here at my place too! 🖤
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I'd also like to share with you some hints and tips on navigating this fandom and Tumblr.
Perhaps this is your first time in a fandom, or using a site like Tumblr, and I can appreciate how daunting it can feel. I've been there. Trust me. 🥴
But don't worry - I've got your back. We all have.
I hope you find it helpful, and if you have any questions, or just want to say hello back, please feel free to reach out. 🖤
Fandom is a different experience for everyone. You get out what you put in.
What do I mean by that?
Well, fandom is an inclusive place, for everyone to come together in mutual admiration and respect for, in this case, Pedro Pascal. It's a hub to share, create and get excited about content, and to make new friends.
It's NOT a place for divisiveness, hate or toxicity, although sadly it exists here in small pockets, as it does in any fandom. 😑
The best piece of advice I can give to you, is to be respectful.
Be respectful in the way you conduct yourself. Be respectful to your mutuals and followers, and to the blogs you follow. Be respectful to Pedro. As much as we all write fanfic about his characters (and some choose to write about him; that's their prerogative, although I personally don't), he is a human being, not a piece of meat.
It's perfectly fine to get excited, to fantasize and daydream, we all do it. We all get thirsty, let's face it. That Pedro fountain is flowing. 💦 But be mindful about blurring the lines between fantasy and reality.
Have fun, that's why you're here. I'm not your mom, but always remember to respect each other. (I'm fairly certain your mom would have told you that, however.)
If you are subject to any negativity or toxicity whilst here - and hopefully you never will be as the majority of us in this fandom are friendly, approachable and lovely, if but a bit excitable - but if you do experience it, the best thing to do is to ignore it.
Block, delete and move on. Don't feed into it or be a part of the problem.
If you have an ageless or empty blog, chances are you will be blocked.
Tumblr has a massive bot problem. 🤖 Specifically a porn bot problem.
It's easy for us to spot a fake blog or a bot that follows us. They usually have an empty bio, no icon, or their icon is an AI generated image of a scantily clad female. We all block them. 🚫
Most, if not all, writers in the Pedro fandom (and other fandoms too) write smut. We love it. And we know you do too, it's probably why you're here. But we are responsible writers, or try to be as responsible as we can be, by ensuring that no minors under the age of 18, to our knowledge, are reading our smutty fics.
So, if you have a blog that doesn't have your age on it, chances are you'll be blocked. We're protecting ourselves and we're protecting you.
Unfortunately, Tumblr is working against new users of the site in the fact that they now ask you to follow a few blogs BEFORE your profile bio is able to be set up or edited. I know, counterproductive right? So chances are you're getting blocked even before you start. 😖
I'd urge you to add your age onto your blog at the very least. It's okay to have an anonymous profile if you want to, but please, please tell us your age. Otherwise we will have no choice but to block you.
The RE-BLOG button is the only button you need.
Look at this:
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The icon in green is the RE-BLOG button, the two arrows.
You'll find this at the bottom of every single blog post, including your own. Look at the difference in the numbers here. See how they differ from the RE-BLOG to the likes, the heart icon?
Yeeeeah. We don't want that disparity. We want that RE-BLOG icon to be the biggest number on our posts.
And here is where you can help with this:
PRESS THIS RE-BLOG BUTTON. DON'T STOP PRESSING THIS RE-BLOG BUTTON. LOVE THIS BUTTON. RE-BLOG EVERYTHING YOU LIKE!
Tumblr doesn't work like Instagram, Twitter/X or other social media platforms where 'likes' drive content to be seen. Here on Tumblr RE-BLOGGING is what gets our stories onto your home feed for you to see them and enjoy.
If you don't RE-BLOG, our posts get lost and have very little engagement, and that is why your favourite writers then stop writing and leave the site.
RE-BLOG, RE-BLOG, RE-BLOG everything you like and love. I cannot stress that enough.
Likes are nice, but they do absolutely nothing. Zilch. Nada. Bupkis.
Well, that's not technically true. Likes tell me that you've seen my post. That's it.
Annnnd what can I do with that info? Nothing. That's what.
RE-BLOGGING the post tells me however that you've enjoyed it, loved it even. That makes me very happy and inspires me to carry on writing fics that you'll (hopefully) enjoy.
Pressing the heart icon works like a bookmarking feature on Tumblr rather than a liking feature as you're probably used to from other social media sites. And the more things you like here, the more your older likes get pushed to the bottom of your epically long like list, to be forgotten about and will probably never see the light of day again.
Personally, I like to use the like button as a way of bookmarking something to come back to later and then I will RE-BLOG it once I've read it.
There is no limit to the amount of times you can RE-BLOG the same post, but you can only like it once. That should tell you that liking something here on Tumblr has no effect.
Tumblr is all about encouraging engagement through RE-BLOGS, the algorithm does nothing if you press the like button and move on.
By all means, give that heart icon a press, but please also RE-BLOG it at the same time. We will absolutely love you for it!
☝🏻And be mindful of going on a mass liking spree - Tumblr doesn't like that and neither do we. It's a quick way for you - and us - to get shadow-banned and Tumblr will think you're a bot. And being shadow-banned is incredibly annoying for everyone involved. Trust me. 😖
Talk to us. We love it!
We love getting positive/constructive feedback on our work. We love engaging or interacting with you. I certainly love receiving and responding to any comments, DM's or ASKS that I'm lucky enough to get.
But again, ensure you're respectful.
Tumblr has created an ASK feature where you can ask us a question, and you also have the option of asking us that question anonymously if you'd like.
If you do use the anonymous (anon) option on your ASK, be aware that we have the right to ignore or delete your ask if you're being a jerk. Don't be a jerk.
This feature is for someone to interact with us anonymously if they're shy. Not to be abused to send hate or negativity our way.
You'll find the ASK button on the main page of anyone's blog that has it activated, just below their bio.
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And Tumblr has made it easy for us now to see if you're a mutual of ours, even if you're asking on anon FYI. So we can narrow it down to finding you if you do happen to be a jerk... just saying.
Be respectful in your comments, DM's, ASKS and RE-BLOGS.
Yes, you can leave comments on your RE-BLOGS too. Another reason for you to press that RE-BLOG button.
If you use something, always give credit to the source/creator where possible.
One way to garner enemies in any social media space is to use something that isn't yours, without crediting the source.
Now, it's impossible to physically ask everyone if you can use their content, however Tumblr makes this very easy for you to do that in most cases.
Yep, RE-BLOG IT.
RE-BLOGGING leaves a clear trail back to the original poster for everyone to see.
Now, if you use something without re-blogging, which you can absolutely do when you create your own blog posts from scratch, you should give credit to anything you use in your post that is not something you have originally created yourself.
Perhaps there is a GIF you like, for example. You can post it, but you should absolutely give credit by tagging the blogger/creator who created that GIF. (Tumblr also has their own selection of GIFS you can use FYI, and when you do they automatically add the original creator's tag at the bottom of it. Easy!)
And this should be respected if you use another's person's art or writing too.
Now, I could quite happily sit here and tell you all about copyright law, but we'd be here forever and frankly it's a boring topic and I'd rather you get out there and read all the awesome fics you're going to discover instead.
But, in a nutshell, any picture of Pedro you post, does not belong to you, no matter how many times you write your user name all over it.
Look, we all do it; we all like to make our edits, our banners, our covers look wizard, and I do it myself. But what we can't do is claim ownership or copyright to it.
Some people will try; they'll get pissy if you use something that they claim they found first or is "theirs" because they plastered their user name all over it... putting your username on something does absolutely nothing FYI.
☝🏻No-one can claim copyright or ownership to any image of Pedro, unless they physically took that photo themselves and can back it up with evidence should they be challenged legally.
My advice here is to always credit the source on anything you want to use, i.e. where you found it and tag or link back to the original content creator where possible.
If you're unsure where it originates from, you can still use it, but just make a note in your post somewhere about not knowing who it belongs to etc... so the original creator can advise you later.
Again, it just all boils down to being respectful.
And if you're ever not sure if you can, or should, use something, reach out to that creator on Tumblr and ask. They'll appreciate it, regardless if they give you permission or not.
Hoo, we sure covered a lot here...
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I hope you've found this post useful at the very least. For a more extensive use of Tumblr you can easily use the search function, or via Google if there is a particular setting or something you need help with, or reach out and ask someone. This Pedro community is incredibly welcoming and helpful.
And if they're not, well you let me know and I'll send the Pedro Boys to sort them out. 🫡
If you enjoyed this, and did indeed find it useful, you know what to do:
RE-BLOG IT!
Now, get out there and have some fun exploring and reading!
Stay Kind. Stay Creamy. 🖤
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🖤
GIF of Dieter Bravo from @miguelo-hara 🖤
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jewish-vents · 14 days
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(Post this anonymously, please!!)
I am an artist with an 8k+ follower blog which I have been active on for over 12 years. I've always felt safe here and have considered it my internet home. After October, watching the amount of people in my fandoms and artists who I had admired and found community with who immediately went full-in on a very black and white, aggressively conspiratorial and antisemitic brand of pro-Palestine activism, my idea of community here and my place in it was totally shaken. It was like I had put on a pair of glasses that allowed me to see the latent radicalization that had been going on around me, and the pervasive antisemitism that exists, unacknowledged, in nominally pro-social justice leftist spaces.
The loneliest part is that it feels like, with few exceptions, only other Jews can see it. Even the gentile friends who i love most and who would unquestionably stand up for me are just not attuned to the dogwhistles enough to see 95% of it. It's like living in a bubble reality, unable to take these glasses off, while everyone else goes on as if everything is the same.
Yesterday, I logged in, and saw image attached from a gentile artist i'd followed for months, who had never before given me a reason to feel unsafe. Their tags read "don't come in my inbox to debate this, i have no interest and will not change my mind." I wanted to cry from frustration- this person likely has no understanding of how revoltingly antisemitic this post was because they have no understanding of the complexity of what "zionism" actually means, and, as they've made clear, they have no interest in learning or being told they're mistaken. There are so few of us (Jews) here- how the hell are we ever supposed to combat this? The worst part was that it had 98 likes, and zero replies suggesting that any of them saw a problem with this or disagreed.
I myself never really understood zionism before this- I am ashamed to say that I took a lot of the twisted definitions held by gentiles in my progressive social media spaces without question, and thought that because I believed in Palestinian self-determination, I must be an anti-zionist by definition. It took the "glasses" coming on in the time since October for me to fully learn and to understand that while the nuances of the term go deep, to the majority of my people, basic "zionism" means belief in Jewish-self determination in Eretz Yisrael, and that when many gentiles say "Zionist," they just mean "bad Jew."
In all of this mess there's one thing i'm grateful for, and it's that, even as i've lost community in unfollowing/blocking previous mutuals and acquaintances who've shown their incuriosity and prejudice, this shakeup has driven me to find community with other Jews on this site and a greater curiosity about and sense of belonging in my culture in the real world. I can't be mad that my eyes are open, because i've only lost community that wouldn't accept me as I am, and am gaining community that does, that shares my struggles and that sees the world in ways compatible with my values. When I look at my activity tab and see notifications from my mutuals now, I feel safe knowing that I have been honest, shared the truth of me, and that they have chosen to stick around, whoever they are. I love you all.
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jaslan4f1 · 11 months
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Love at 300 km/h LN4
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Masterlist
Warnings: friends to lover kinda thing, fluff
Notes: english is not my native language so this may contain consistency errors, i would really appreciate the corrections but please, be kind. feedback is also appreciated ♡
Summary: You and Lando are close but neither of you tried being more than friends. What happens when you both finally realize that love is right infront of you?
~ This is actually a story related to my own life right know. I have a driver friend that I’m crushing on and some events between us are in this story. Haha
You and Lando have been friends for many years. Both being introduced through mutual friends. For both of you it instantly clicked and you became best friends. You started hanging out with him every now and then. In the beginning it was clear that you were just friends but after a while you started to notice that he was checking you out. He also cared more about your dating life. Question like “Do you still have a crush on that boy from your university” were common when you were hanging out with him. At first you didn’t rethink it. I mean he was just a friend that checked on your private life…right? But then you started to notice his strange behavior towards you.
It was Easter break for him and Lando and your friend group decided to go to a club to celebrate your birthday. Of course you were all in for a good party especially after your stressful exam phase. Your friends started hanging out at your apartment in Monaco. All of you waited for the McLaren driver. This was typical for him. He was always late but you didn’t mind it anymore. The your phone ringed with that special ring tone you had saved for Lando. “Friday” by Riton. “Where are you you muppet” you asked him. “Open the door darling”. You walked to your front door. When you opened it you could see Lando because of a big red rose bouquet. After two seconds he showed his face. “Roses for my rose” he said with a big smile. You instantly started to blush. “Wow you look…” he started “incredible beautiful”. You laughed at him and took the flower out of his hands. “Ria can you help me with Landis present please” you called her. Ria came and took the bouquet from you to put them in water. Now you had time to look at your best friend. “Look at you Mister beard” Lando laughed at your comment. Then he hugged you tightly. “I think you missed me” you said. Lando stopped hugging you and looked you straight in your eyes. “You think? There is never a moment that I don’t think about you”. You were speechless. Where was this all coming from? After a while you stared to head to the club. You drove with Lando, Ria and Max and his girlfriend. Lando was the one who drove your car. You trusted him with your Audi RSQ3. He was a F1 driver after all. “Don’t give me any speeding tickets okay?” you warned him on the way to your car. He just laughed at you knowing he had to try his best for that. You sat between Maxs girlfriend and Ria in the backseat. You had the perfect view on Lando trough the mirror. You even catched him checking for you. A warm feeling entered your body every time he did that. You all arrived at the club and had a good night. Lando started racing with you before he became the DJ of that club. After all you had an amazing night. Lando even made the club sing happy birthday for you. Eventually you called at a night and all went to your places. Lando took everyone to their hotel before he took you personally to your apartment. “Do you wanna walk the last block with me?” you asked him. “Sure thing” he responded and parked your car. You instantly regretted your idea when you felt how cold it was. “Gosh are you cold? Here take my jacket” and with that he put his jacket around your shoulders. “You didn’t have to but thanks” you took his hand and walked to your apartment. It was definitely the alcohol that made you this brave because you wouldn’t have done this sober. Lando took you to your apartment and helped getting you ready for bed. “So you have everything? Your makeup is off, you are in bed and next to you is your rubbish bin…” you giggled “haha very funny cause I’m British I get it”. “So you can sleep know and I’ll head home” he started “Wait please stay till I’m asleep” you begged him. How could Lando say no to you. So of course he stayed with you and you talked about everything and nothing. Eventually Lando started to get nervous. “Hey uhmm I know this probably sounds weird but have you ever wondered if we could be more than…you know friends” he said and waited for a respond. Nothing, just silence. “Ok I get it you…” and then Lando heard a snore. You were already sleeping. “Great I missed another chance” he said and walked out of your bedroom to head to his own apartment.
~ 2 month later ~
Lando hasn’t said anything about his confession to you after this night. You were still clueless about his feelings but slowly you begin to feel something too for him. He was currently at a race and you stayed in Monaco due to university. But of course you watched his races. “I’m wearing your LN4 merch right now” you said teasingly. “God Y/n you can’t say that right before my race” he said. Both of you aware of the tension that has build up between you too. You missed each other so hard that it was killing you both. “If you finish P4 and you get a pic from me wearing it” you heard a laugh coming through your phone. “Deal but under one condition” you waited for his sentence to continue “let me properly take you out” he breathed out. “Deal” was all you could say before his team principal called him. “Have to go darling but I’ll hear from you after the race”, “Ok be carful” again you heard his laughed “you know I always am”
a/n; Hi guys, I hope you like this post. Should this be a Oneshot of a new story?
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I heard you like fandom-y/chronically online ones so heres a recent one from me
So i (21F) was very into a certain show/fandom when i was around 14-16. This show had a mostly male cast consisting of a group of teens aged 15-17 and a 25yo man who was very attractive. I personally live by the "ship the character youre most attracted to x the character you project the most onto" way of shipping, and in this show the character i related most to was a 15f like me and was very gnc and dressed and acted like me. As you may have guessed, i shipped the 15yo with the 25yo for some time. It didnt last long, the 2 characters didnt interact much after the first seasons so i just forgot about it and grew out of it. I honestly forgot i ever shipped it and now that im older id never think to ship this or any similar dinamic or age gap like this. Also no i have never been groomed or have daddy issues or anything theres no context or INFO there i just thought the guy was rlly hot lmao.
Fast forward to now, someone i recently started being mutuals with began stalking me and scrolled down through 7 YEARS of my tumblr and eventually found my posts from when i was in that fandom. They went apeshit and screenshotted everything and showed their friends who all started attacking me for shipping that when all the posts were from 6-7 years ago. They said that since the posts were still up that means i still support the ship.
The posts themselves were mostly me reblogging fanart of the ship (nothing nsfw) and the ocasional original post from me talking about a screenshot/scene in the show w both characters
If i could find the posts id just delete them and be done w it but the person just screenshotted the posts and didnt interact w them + the search function is shit so i gen cannot find the posts easily and i dont want to waste hours scrolling down my own blog. I tried explaining why i liked it when i was a teenager and how im nowhere near that same mindset anymore but they refused to listen and just kept attacking me until i blocked them.
Could i have handled this better? I didnt think i was TA for shipping it as a teenager but now im not sure. For now tho the AITA question would be
AITA for not deleting posts/reblogs from when i was a teenager that were about a rlly bad ship?
What are these acronyms?
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mshroom1e · 1 year
Note
Hi! Could i request Ortho finding out that Idia's online friend and eventually crush is the reader? And eventually he tries to matchmake them?
Hello!! Sorry for disappearing for a whole 2 weeks 💀 I've been busy with life and I ended up writing this fic way longer than I ppanned to. I hope you don't mind! Also, I got really stuck on some parts and wasn't sure which direction to go with the story. Apologies if it feels a little rushed.
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Pr0ject Cupid | Idia x GN! Reader
type: fanfic
Summary: A pair of painfilly awkward people get set up by a member of the said pair's little brother.
5.8k words
tags: silly fluff, mutual crushing
Warning(s): very mild swearing
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no way u acc saw me
bruh i couldve seen you with my eyes closed
you dumbass u just contradicted yourself
no shit
im gonna shave your eyebrows
...
Idia stifled a laugh and couldn't hide the cheesy grin that grew on his face as his eyes read over the pixelated letters on his monitor. About 3 weeks ago, he met you on a random server, and you instantly clicked. He wasn't one to form bonds with people so quickly, whether it was online or in person, but with you, how could he resist?
You got along like Q and W on a keyboard, plus you always reciprocated his nerdy comments and never got the wrong idea about any of his intentions. The only problem was, however, that you had no idea who each other were irl.
So, one day, Idia got curious about who you really were. He ended up searching for you on Magicam using the username he knew you by. There wasn't really much he was expecting as people usually used different names for their social media compared to the more nerdy online stuff.
Idia nearly fell out of his chair when a search result popped up, and a profile with quite a few posts showed up. It was you. There was no way it wasn't you.
His heart began beating faster than usual just at reading your captions, posts of your random thoughts, and the pictures you posted. You were definitely cute, maybe the prettiest person Idia had ever seen. Even though your facial features were pixelated, you somehow managed to make them look soft and warm, like an angelic version of yourself. There were also many pictures of foods you made in the Ramshackle Dorm, selfies with your friends, and a few pictures with Grim.
Okay, now Idia was panicking. He'd never felt the way he felt right now, but from the way his heart was running a marathon and he could feel warmth slowly creeping up his face, there was only one explanation. The description matched how the characters in dating sims would feel, and this was bad. He couldn't have a cru- no no no, a c-word. No way! He didn't even want to think of the word because it would only solidify his predicament in his head.
From his panic, his finger slipped and accidentally liked one of your posts. Idia's eyes widened as he saw the damage he'd already done as his brain went into full panick mode. There was no way to undo it, even if he un-liked the post. The notification must've already gotten to your phone and you would've noticed most likely and you'd block him, think he was a stalker and never speak to him again then he'd be become even more emo and-
He changed from his usual question mark posture in his chair to sitting in a fetal position in the corner of his room, hoping for the atoms in his body to slowly merge into the wall.
His phone in his pocket vibrated, and when Idia pulled out the device to see what the notification was, his heart nearly collapsed on itself. A flinch of his arm caused his phone to be launched across his room, and for some reason, he jumped to catch it, landing on a large, disorganised pile of manga with a loud crash. He hastily unlocked his phone to see what the alert was.
'Your EP has been restored!'
Damn.
There was a smooth sliding of the door to Idia's dorm room. Ortho stood? floated? levitated? at the entrance with a confused, yet worried expression in the visible part of his face.
"Idia? I heard a loud crash, and I was worried you got injured," Ortho floated closer to his brother.
"I'm f-fine!" Idia yelped.
'Hair tinted pink, increasing heart rate, flushed cheeks,'
Ortho's eyes drifted over to Idia's several monitors until he focused on a certain one.
"Yuu's Magicam profile?"
The little robot pieced two and two together before he said, "Oh, you like [Name], don't you?"
-
This was a really, really, really bad idea...
Idia's internal panick only escalated as he was dragged walking through campus with Ortho. Leaving his dorm room usually resulted in a one-sided fight for his life as every dialogue scene he had with another person besides his brother was set to hard mode by default.
Speaking with you in person was the best way to get to know each other better, Ortho would say. The problem was, Idia knew that you didn't know who he was, so it would probably be strange to suddenly have him speaking to you.
He was lost in his panicky thoughts when he felt someone bump into him, and he felt his body tipping back. (So unique and never seen before, I know.)
A hand quickly grabbed his wrist, hoisting him back upright. Ortho sent you a beaming smile with his eyes before quickly disappearing and leaving you alone with his brother, leaving the beanstalk to fend for himself.
Idia's heart nearly flipped in his stomach as he met your eyes. You let go of his wrist when he regained his balance, he almost fell over again.
"Careful," you smiled.
In his eyes, you looked like a panel from a manhwa where the love interest was introduced with flowers, sparkles, and glitter radiating around them.
"S-sorry," He managed to spit out, somehow sounding cohesive.
"It's okay, I just hope you didn't get hurt, I tend to grab onto stuff a little too tightly," you said with a sheepish chuckle.
Your laugh. Idia's ears felt blessed with such a delicate angelic sound. Like bells chiming in his ears, more harmonic than the songs from his favourite idol group's no.1 album. His heart was sent into overdrive, and he couldn't take it anymore and decided on the most rational option in his currently mushy brain.
To run.
So he ran.
You watched his retreating form with a fond look before you turned to face Ortho, who hid in a nearby bush and sent him a thumbs up.
This was progress, at least.
- A few days ago -
You had a crush on Idia. A huge one at that. There was no debate. You didn't even bother denying it.
You knew he rarely left his dorm room, so you barely saw him during the day. Seeing a flash of flamey blue hair dart around a corner just before you could fully get a look at the twitter logo-coloured candle always managed to make your heart squeeze and an undefeatable grin etch itself on your face.
Of course, a few days into talking to your new online friend, you already knew of his true identity but chose not to inform him of the fact. From what you'd seen on campus, he was the type of person to prefer engaging with others through the comfort of a screen rather than conversing face to face. And honestly, you couldn't blame him at all. It must've felt so stifling to always be conscious of the way you carried yourself, while choosing words carefully to not offend the person in front of you or make them think badly of you while simultaneously looking like a sane, functioning person.
So, you talked to him like an online friend would. After a few days of getting to know each other through public servers and direct messaging, you soon shared your interests and found common ground in a few of them. For example, you both were addicted to gacha games with diabolocal pity systems. He also started to open up to you, though you thought it was a little fast, but people tend to share a lot when speaking to someone through pixels on a screen as they felt more at home. He talked about his struggles when interacting with people and his constant anxiety about how people perceived him.
Being someone of minimal social intelligence, the most you could do was offer some general words of comfort about how everyone was different in their own way and some people are just more advantaged in certain aspects of life, social interaction being one of them.
As your feelings grew, you couldn't help but feel like your relationship was a little one-sided. You knew who exactly you were talking to, but as far as Idia knew, he was talking to and building a relationship with a person who could've been miles and miles away and he also barely knew who [Name] was.
Man, this really sucked.
- Yesterday -
Ortho was smart. It was only obvious since his mechanical brain had the efficency of a computer with infinite RAM. He knew his brother had met a new friend online, which explained his less gloomy aura and his anxious glances at his phone whenever they were in his room together.
It didn't take long for Ortho to learn that the person Idia was talking to also attended the same school. In his mind, he viewed finding out things about you as a way to further protect his older brother from harm.
Fast forward to later that day, Ortho cornered found you in the courtyard after you'd lost a bet with Grim and had to buy him a drink from a nearby vending machine.
He called out to you enthusiastically as he practically teleported to you, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
Long story short, Ortho figured out how you felt about Idia, and he was over the moon. His brother finally had someone who he could happily spend time with, and he couldn't be happier for him. He knew Idia better than anyone, and it was certain that getting close to Idia in face-to-face terms would take a lot for him to get used to and he decided it would be best to slowly ease your way into making conversations with him without being forceful or overwhelming him.
Thus began your joint conspiracy to rizz up get to know Idia better.
- Present -
It took about a day for you to come to the conclusion that you'd most likely never see Idia during school hours whether he was on campus or not. Your schedules were so unmatched that it was ridiculous. When you had a lesson in the alchemy labs, he'd be in a P.E lesson and when you were in the history of magic, he'd be in some classroom that might as well be at the other side of Sage's Island.
Luckily for you, Ortho informed you about Idia's current whereabouts. He was in the Board Game Club's classroom, probably playing- you guessed it- board games. It felt like some sort of secret stealth mission, plotting where to catch Idia with Ortho so sneakily. You just hoped that this silly plot would work.
Now that you were in front of the clubroom's door, you had no idea what to do. Your brain already left your body shortly after your heart that was beating a mile a minute and had long since jumped out of your chest to who knows where. You'd worked so hard to get to this point (not really) and now that you were here, what were you going to do?
Showing up at his clubroom unannounced totally sounded like stalker behaviour from some poorly written fanfic, and you definitely were not about that life. What if you just entered casually? Did you have a friend in the board game club? Probably not since you didn't even know the names of the people in your homeroom class, save for Adeuce and Grim.
Deciding to swallow your nerves and whatever other anxiety that was clogging your airways, you calmly slid open the door. Surprisingly, the club had quite a few members present, but it wasn't too densely populated. Your eyes immediately lit up when familiar floaty blue flames caught your attention. He was alone on a table next to one of the room's walls. His usual board gaming partner, Azul, was nowhere to be seen. It was safe to assume he was somewhere exploiting some poor unfortunate soul of all their mortal possessions with his buy-one-get-one-free pair of henchmen.
You approached Idia, more nervous than a turkey the day before Thanksgiving. He noticed you and almost jumped out of his own skin.
Was he dreaming? If not, why else would you show up at the board game club? Before he knew it, he started to sweat. Every step you took closer to him made his poor heart run laps. The confident (Idia's POV. This does not accurately reflect current events.) stride in your step, and the smile you gave him as you approached made his face heat up, and the tips of his hair grow warmer. His flight- please there is absolutely no fight- instinct almost took over as he considered running out of the room at full speed.
There was no Ortho to help him communicate if he ended up having to talk to you. He was all alone for this pop-up Pokemon battle.
A random board game caught your eye, and you picked it up, deciding to use it as a shield to not let your conversation get stabbed in the chest by the painful spear called awkwardness.
"Hi, Idia." You said casually with your usual grin. 'Great start'
You failed to catch Idia's mortified expression as it disappeared as suddenly as it arrived. He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't get any words out. To his surprise, you didn't seem to mind his silence and just sat down in the chair across from his.
"Sorry to bother you," you continued, "If you want me gone, just say the word." The second part was intended to be lighthearted as you let out a low chuckle after you were done talking.
He quickly scrambled into his bag and pulled out a slim, grey tablet, and began to type.
"I don't mind you being here at all, [Name]." A voice from the device's speakers that sounded too much like Idia's said. You weren't all too shocked since you'd seen him use it around school a few times and had even seen the thing floating around campus by itself. You'd just never have a conversation with "it".
"Woah, is that a voice program?Did you make it yourself? I've only seen it being used for vocaloids, and even those mess up a few times. Did you use a sample of your voice? Is everything prerecorded? If you-" You blurted out, quickly smacking a hand over your mouth to shut yourself up before you could ramble any further.
Great job, [Name].
Idia's eyes lit up with surprise at your words as he quickly started typing something on his screen. His features moulded into a proud smirk, "Yeah, it's made with a sample of my voice. I made it using a vocaloid as a reference."
"Really?!" You almost jumped out of your seat, eyes practically shining with stars. Gosh, he really was so cool.
He nodded frantically as the tips of his firey hair faded into a warmer hue. Students in his dorm had the same base interests as he did. However, he was almost always too nervous to initiate a conversation with any of them. But with you, the nervousness he felt didn't try to suffocate him for once and instead felt like a sweet, comfy flutter in his chest.
"I found this when I walked into the room, and it looked fun. Wanna play?" Your short exchange feuled you with a little more confidence as you built the courage to ask him to play a board game with you.
You hadn't even looked at the game's cover before picking it up. Imagine your surprise at finding out you'd picked up "Monopoly Bass Fishing Edition".
Great job.
Now, Idia probably saw you as some weird fish-obsessed kid (no offence to Octavinelle) who probably looked up how to make bass fishing bait in their spare time. The cover was hideous. A massive bass fish was in the middle, surrounded by loops of smaller bass fish all saying things in speech bubbles where the letters were modelled to look like bass fish. To top it all off, there was a massive glittery title in the colour of neon orange that said, "Monopoly: Bass Fishing Edition." Underneath in equally as eye tormenting sentence bordered off by a wiggly pink line that read "Get ready to be schooled!" Get it? Coz groups of fishes are called schools-
This was going to be painful.
You liked to think you knew all the rules of Monopoly by heart. Especially after seeing relationships crumble over the neverending board game.
Idia didn't seem phased, so you assumed he already knew the rules of the game, too.
You played for a bit, taking turns to roll a double to see who could start first. The first to roll a double was eventually Idia, so he took the first turn.
-
You knew Idia was competitive from the way he would obliterate the opposition during your online meet-ups in matches. What you didn't expect was to end up going bankrupt after only a few loops around the board. It took a while for you to accept defeat, but after seeing the small, triumphant smile that gently made its way onto Idia's face, any loss was worth it.
Now that you looked around the room, most of the board game club members had long since departed, and it was only you and your blue-haired friend left in the room. A blanket of quiet and slight awkwardness fell over the two of you as you both looked at anything but each other.
"We should uh, but the pieces away," you suggested.
He looked at you, a little surprised at your sudden breach of silence, before he quickly nodded. "R-Right."
After stiffly putting the pieces away, occasionally flinching when the tips of your fingers made contact as you passed some game pieces between yourselves, there wasn't much else for you to do despite twiddling your thumbs. From an outsider's point of view, the aftermath was painfully awkward as neither of you had anything to say. Sitting in silence wasn't always a bad thing, but come on.
Your brain frizzled as you tried to think of something, anything to say to start a conversation.
"Nice weather we're having today." So creative.
As if the universe was saying a big "f*ck you", there was a loud rumble of thunder outside the window before massive raindrops began to smack on to the grass and pavement outside, each with a louder 'plap!' than the previous one each time.
Idia giggled before trying to hold back a laugh, which eventually turned into even more giggles. You stared at him for a few seconds, stunned. You hadn't actually heard him laugh before as he always looked so terrified around you. Sure, he was laughing at your stupidity, but this was a start, right?
It didn't take long for you to join in, laughing at yourself too.
Maybe coming to his clubroom on impulse wasn't so bad after all.
-
"Sam's store is releasing this SSR-tier set of trading cards today, and I have to go get it," Idia muttered to himself as he scurried down a hallway of the Ignihyde dorm. "No one's gonna that early, especially since it's not gonna attract any normies-"
"But what if there's a whole mob of NPCs there? Worst case scenario is a few of them showing up to do some early morning shopping, so grabbing what I need and skidadling outta there is gonna be ez."
Ortho was most likely in his room resting at this hour, so Idia decided not to bother him. Besides, it was only a trip to the school store. He should be fine, right?
Wrong.
It was not ez peasy.
It just happened to be that the same day Idia's treasured ultra rare cards were released on the same day as Sam's new mystery drink that the whole school went crazy for. By the time Idia was about to leave the store after paying for what he came for, the whole area was packed, and it was almost impossible to move. Waves of students rushing to the till after grabbing a bottle of the new beverage washed over the store grounds.
People, people, people, and more people. Sweaty teenagers seemed to fight tooth and nail just to get their hands on a bottle. It was like the kids from the UK when Prime was launched. (iykyk) Everywhere he turned, he seemed to bump into another 3 people and get elbowed by another five. The sheer power of the crowd almost swept him off his feet, and he felt himself being dragged to the opposite direction from where he was headed. He reached his hand out to grab at something, while the other held his cards close to his chest, but there was nothing to hold onto for support. The only option was to become one with the crowd.
As he was about to give up and accept his fate, his outstretched hand was tugged on by a familiar, gentle yet firm grip, which felt like he was being pulled ashore after drifting off into the ocean. Idia's body was pulled upright and into a much less crowded space. A pleasant warmth spread across his chest as he saw the face of his saviour.
A part of him felt mortified while the other felt relieved. He was glad to have been pulled out of the sea of people, but he felt a little lame to have to have been saved by someone else, as if he couldn't handle himself. Another reason, the more obvious one, was because it was you. In his point of view, you always showed up at random times and ended up helping him without realising how much of an impact your actions held.
"I'm getting this feeling of deja vu," you smiled, leading Idia to a bench opposite the store.
"You helped me again-" Idia muttered, his eyes downcast.
You tilted your head, a little confused, "Hm?"
"N-No, it's not that I have a proble-" He cut himself off, "I, um-"
How did he manage to talk himself into a corner like this? Trying to talk to you felt like a puzzle with the myriad of emotions all rushing through his head at once, and he was bound to mess up somewhere.
"Don't sweat it," you responded. Your smile unwavering.
For whatever reason, Idia's anxious jumble of words never phased you. Your willingness to let him take his time when talking to you gave him a sort of confidence, and he could hope to speak with confidence that he didn't even know he was capable of.
A ray of reflected early morning sunlight that bounced off the shiny packaging of what Idia held securely in his hands and it caught your eye.
"Is that (insert game reference here)?!" Your voice cracked as you said the name of the franchise.
The mood was instantly lightened at your change in focus, and Idia felt himself get giddy. He was so happy to share a conversation with someone who wasn't a so-called "normie."
His excitement faded though, a bit, when he looked up to find that you looked slightly disappointed. You looked at Idia in confusion, but shrugged.
You sighed, looking away.
Why were you disappointed? Was it something he did? Oh no, what if you thought he was lame for getting trapped in a crowd like that, and you actually thought he was such a bother the whole time-
"I still haven't managed to get my hands in a copy," you frowned.
"Oh," He sounded stunned, which confused you. "Um, I-" He swallowed, fighting the urge to pull his hood over his head and hide.
"I mean-" Idia's eyes seemed to glance at everything and everywhere other than at you.
His breath caught in his throat, and the feeling multiplied by a gazillion when he saw Ortho watching him from behind a tree. He almost choked on whatever air he'd just managed to inhale into his trachea.
To make matters worse, Ortho held a cute but terrible made neon blue glittery banner that said, "Talk to them, Idia!!!"
Wasn't he resting?
The poor nerd (affectionate) wanted to evaporate on the spot.
"What were you about to say?" You asked, not seeing the silliness behind you.
Idia glanced back and forth between you and Ortho, wishing with every single bone in his body that the 50/50 gacha in front of him right now would go his way and you wouldn't turn around at all.
Imagine his horror when you followed his worryingly mortified gaze, and he saw our eyes widen a fraction, and you slapped a hand over your mouth.
"Ortho?"
He panicked for a good few seconds before he did what he did best and bolted away from you with a stubborn blush creeping up his neck.
"Huh?Wait up!" You called after him, but it was futile.
Ortho soon waved happily at you as he followed Idia back to what you assumed was the Ignihyde dorm.
-
"Where did you-" Idia began, speedwalking to the Hall of Mirrors with more agility than he knew his G-fuel filled body could possess.
"I did some research, and it showed that people your age have a 60% more chance at talking to someone they like when they're encouraged by someone else!" Ortho chirped with the certainty of the sun rising in the east.
"I'm not- It's not-" Idia couldn't find the words to use to retort at his younger brother. The way his sunny amber eyes shimmered with glee was enough to punch the words of protest that Idia could ever muster right down the drain. "J-Just tone it own a notch next time..." He finished with a small frown.
"Okay!" Ortho sang, floating into Ignihyde's mirror after the older Shroud.
Idia signed and pulled the strings of his hoodie tighter to conceal his face more. Now that you were somewhat aware of how he felt about you, he had no idea how to face you the next day.
-
It had been over a week, and you'd gotten no contact from Idia or Ortho. It was safe to assume that Idia probably didn't leave his room a single time in that time frame. A metaphorical banner was built between you as he had practically gone AWOL on everything you could use to contact him. So, you couldn't even talk to him with your online persona and try to understand how he felt by hoping he'd confide in his online bestie even a little. Not that you wanted to intrude on his privacy, but the fact that things seemed to be falling apart between you two before you properly even got to know each other hurt a lot more than th fact that you convinced yourself of- the fact that it looked like he didn't want to see you again. You sighed, closing your computer.
This was pointless. No doubt, he doesn't feel the same way towards you, and you really should start accepting it. Maybe he thought you were strange? Or it was creepy that you always seemed to be around when he was in trouble? Maybe he thought you were a stalker? He'd probably figured out your online identity and blocked you, hence the lack of activity on any of his accounts over the last week and a bit.
But you couldn't accept it. Not until you know more, and you don't think it'll help if you keep prying at the subject, especially since it won't do any good in the end. It was useless to keep trying. You grabbed your phone and checked the screen for any messages, but there were none. You put it back on the nightstand and turned on your side, burying your face in your pillow.
You lay there for what felt like forever and eventually fell asleep.
-
Morning soon arrived, and you woke up to a series of knocks at the main door of Ramshackle Dorm. The quick thuds of knuckles striking wood resounded throughout the whole bottom floor of the building, probably enough to alert your cat roommate out of his venture into Dream Land.
The perpetrator was definitely unexpected. It was a fine weekend, and you hadn't been expecting a visit from anyone at all, especially not the younger Shroud brother.
Rubbing your eyes and letting out a yawn as you opened the door, you had to squint to see something else other than a mop of flickering blue and a white block.
"Ortho?" You blinked. Your statement sounded more like a question to yourself than to the other party.
"Good morning!" Ortho said cheerfully, waving with one arm while balancing an assortment of books and various games under the other. He was carrying four plastic bags full of stuff, including a large bowl with some cereal, milk, eggs, toast, fruit, and orange juice inside it.
"Err..." you replied.
"We came to hang out!" Ortho cheered, which confused you even more.
"What? And who's 'we'??" You questioned all at once, not even knowing where to begin.
"Idia wants to apologise for running away from you for the past week. He said he's really sorry and did it because he was scared," he rambled on with his usual cheery tone and pointed to a nearby tree, "And we brought food!"
Behind said tree stood said Idia, holding onto the tree's bark with a grip for dear life while only the top half of his face peeked out.
What.
- Flashback to earlier -
"Now, what do I do? This is demon mode difficult- I'd rather fight Absolute Virtue from the original release of FF11 all over again for 16 hours straight than face them again... Can I get an F in the chat for this one..." Idia mumbled to himself in a string of incomprehensible gibberish as he sat in a fetal position at the corner of his room while his hood covered his entire head, and he rocked back and forth.
"This is the worst-"
"Cheer up, Idia!" Ortho handed him a charger, "You can always talk to them online if it helps!"
"At this point, they've probably forgotten about me. People's online friends get Men in Black'ed from their brains all the time. I'll just look like some weird guy that goes,'Hey kids!wanna to get free RAM for your computer?' or something-" his rampant thoughts only dug him further into his self-made pit of despair.
"Hmm," Ortho pondered, "Let's go see them!"
"Are you kidding?! No way!" He shook his head rapidly and started rocking himself even faster, "If they don't see me, maybe they'll even forget I exist and I can become one with the void..."
"Don't be ridiculous, Idia. We can go see them right now!" Ortho hovered around, gathering a bunch of gaming equipment and books, "Hanging out like friends will get rid of any tension in the air!"
"No!" Idia protested, but it was too late.
He'd already been picked up by a robotic arm, and off they went.
-
"That's pretty much what happened," Ortho recalled as you lead the pair the lounge.
"Right... But I still don't get how that means he's sorry..." You muttered.
"Why don't you tell them, Idia?" Ortho looked at his brother, "I'll leave you two to talk here while I make some snacks!"
The older Shroud twiddle his fingers and stared at the floor, his hood still covering his head.
It took a few seconds of silence before Idia began talking.
"Uh," he spoke quietly and cleared his throat twice before proceeding, "I was so stupid."
"Huh?" You said, gaping at Idia.
"I know I've done stupid things, but this was beyond stupid. Like, way too stupid! Noob at Subway Surfers level of stupid!" He babbled on, his voice cracking with uncharacteristic emotion.
He took a deep, shaky breath and closed his eyes, attempting to compose himself. His hair turning pink. "I kept telling myself it was okay for us to keep being friends online even though I found your Magicam page and accidentally liked one of your posts and knew who you were but you didn't know who I was and I felt guilty and then you suddenly showed up then I realised I l-l-like you and then that thing at the shop happened and you probably thought it was so cringe-"
Then it clicked. So he thought you thought he was weird? He didn't hate you.
It felt like a huge weight was lifted off your chest.
Then, you chuckled, snickered, giggled, then let out waves of laughter. Idia stared at you, dumbfounded.
"This whole time, haha, I thought I was the one who did something wrong."
"No! You didn't," He quickly jumped in.
"Wait, you just said that you like me...?" You pointed to yourself, and you felt your face grow warm.
Silence landed like a wall of pure steel between the two of you.
He gaped at you with wide eyes. Dang it! He seriously didn't mean to blurt that part out loud. Curse him and his tendency to blab everything he thought aloud as soon as he started talking!
Idia covered his reddened face with his hands.
"What a coincidence," you smiled, "Since I like you too."
You gently pulled his hands away from his face and gave him your brightest grin. He froze as soon as your skin made contact, and his breathing quickened, his hair turned a full, passionate pink.
"Ahahahaha...!" He stammered.
A sudden noise filled both the room, followed by a long silence, causing the both of you to turn towards the source. Your heads turned in sync to see Ortho standing at the door with a camera after it let out a painfully loud 'click!'
He gave the pair of you a huge smile with his eyes.
"For memories' sake!" He cheered.
-
Bonus
After you'd made breakfast together with the ingredients that the brothers brought, you, Idia and Ortho, sat in a triangle on the floor, while Grim watched lazily from the sofa. It was more of a joint interrogation performed against the little robot with Grim serving as an audience.
"So, Ortho, you knew Idia already knew who I was?" You raised an eyebrow, "And you knew about how he felt??"
"And you already knew that they liked me? And you knew they knew who I was and didn't tell me??" Idia squeaked, "And you told them to come to the store that day?!"
Ortho picked up a controller and was suddenly immersed in gameplay.
"Haha..." He sweatdropped.
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qqueenofhades · 5 months
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Maybe this is a controversial opinion, but its one that I've been reminded of in the few weeks since things have escalated so severely in Israel and Palestine-- I feel like the pressure for random, average individuals online to be vocally political is not only entitled and uncomfortable, but also just an example of misplaced priority.
Like, I have people on twitter right now that are flat out saying if you don't talk extensively about I/P you're truly, irredeemably evil. I've had mutuals say that silence means you're complacent in genocide, that you have blood on your hands (exact words). But it just doesn't make sense? Most of the people who I've seen being flat out harassed for being silent are teenagers who don't have money to donate, working class folks who don't have time to spare, and normal people who just don't have enough of a following online to even spread any word effectively. Of course, the ones doing the harassing are also poor/busy/not-popular, but they don't see the irony. (I've also seen them say that talking about war constantly is taking a toll on their mental health, saying they've cried, had nightmares, panic attacks, etc...but they also say that taking a mental health break from social media is "selfish" and genocidal, so.)
The whole interaction leaves me with so many questions. If stepping away from social media because politics are stressing you out (which they are known to do), are you obligated to use social media? Do you have to use twitter to be a good person? What does that say about people who can't afford a phone, or live in a country where it isn't quite possible? (Are homeless folks inherently genocidal, or is that an "obvious" exception that was never clarified because no one uses nuance anymore?) If you have to talk about world events, lest you side with the oppressor, at what point is something so catastrophic you *must* talk about it? Is there a number of lives lost that is low enough you can get away with being quiet, and a certain amount too high that you're obligated to talk about it? Is it your duty to have the news on 24/7 to make sure you don't miss anything and catch all the global disasters as they happen? How much do you have to talk about something for it to be considered "enough"? Is there a quota??
It just feels like a lot of people are acting as if people who aren't chronically online aren't 1. doing any activism, because the only important activism is social media networking (sarcasm), or 2. are inherently bad people for *not* spending 6 hours a day on their phones. Like, I had someone I thought was a friend say I was a bad person because I was trying to cut down my social media usage, because the timing was "too convenient"... as if that's a normal thing to say to someone, ever. Sorry if I went on a little bit of a rant, it wasn't my intention. I dunno, maybe it's just me; I've seen a lot of people saying this sort of stuff so maybe they are the majority. It just feels really weird to let people that are addicted to social media take charge of who online is "good" or "bad" based off their internet usage. As if we were all catholics or something. If I were to say that current takes on morality were very catholic-seeming, would you know what I mean?
As recently noted, I am myself on an embargo from answering asks related to this topic. I will make one exception because this is important. Please note that any wank in replies or reblogs will be instantly blocked (and I won't hesitate to disable reblogs if necessary). I will not be answering follow-up asks or getting drawn into Discourse. I do not want to do it and it will not be happening.
I have said it before, but it bears saying again: thinking that the only way to Do Activism is to be constantly on social media and immersing yourself in terrible things nonstop and then posting the Most Correct Opinions (and then viciously attacking anyone who is even slightly Not As Correct as you) is absolutely bullshit. If you're engaging with this content so much that it's giving you a mental breakdown or otherwise plunging you into a spiral of anxiety that you take out on other people who are just as far removed from actually doing anything about it as you: why? Do you really think that you and you alone, one random person on the Internet, are the only way anyone else is going to find out about these things? Or do you think you have to perform the Most Correct Opinions nonstop, viciously harass anyone who isn't responding in exactly the same way, and this is the sum total of what your response should be? Especially in a situation as bloody and complicated as this, dealing with reams of religious, social, cultural, and political history where the average commentator on this conflict knows only what's been fed to them by propaganda on TikTok? How the fuck is that useful or constructive for anyone, aside from perpetuating the idea that you have to be angry all the time on social media about things you essentially know nothing about? I can't see that it does.
What's happening to the Gazans right now is no qualification or equivocation, a genocide. It should rightfully be opposed and called what it is. But unfortunately, I have spent too much time around Western Online Leftists to believe they actually care a whit about stopping genocide as a fundamental principle, and only want to be seen to loudly care about what their Ideology has told them to care about. If it means hand-waving aside genocide and atrocities when committed by their preferred polities, so be it. Why haven't these same people been wall-to-wall up in arms about what Russia has been doing in Ukraine, or for God's sake Syria for the past ten years, if they're really concerned about the rights of innocent Muslim civilians attacked by a far-right imperialist power? Why not the Uighurs in China? Why not [insert the blank] of all the terrible things happening in the world as a result of far-right fascist genocidal imperialism? Why only this conflict? Why now? Why does it involve so much excusing of terrorism as long as it's committed for the Right Ideology? Why are some of the most loudly pro-Palestinian accounts on here also the most rabidly pro-Russian? How does that make sense? To put it bluntly, those genocides are being committed by nation-states that Online Leftists like for being "anti-Western," and therefore their activities are actually fine and should even need to be defended.
My point is not to say that what's happening to the Palestinians is not bad. It is. It is awful and inexcusable. However, I seriously doubt the motives and morality of those who are being the loudest about screaming on social media and attacking everyone else for not instantly repeating their views. I seriously doubt that the Online Left actually opposes genocide and accelerationism as fundamental principles, because they proudly demonstrate every day that they don't. Until those vast factors can be dismantled and shown for what they are, and this can be placed into its larger context, I don't buy it and I don't believe this wall-to-wall social media outrage factory is actually aimed at helping the Gazans or anyone else suffering the most as a result of this. It is just to show that they can be counted on to Perform Outrage and harass anyone else who doesn't do the same, and that does nothing for anyone whatsoever.
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bxbygxxsx · 7 months
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💘 pinned post, please read 💘
You MUST be over the age of 18 to interact with my blog. Do not follow if you are an ageless blog or a blog under the age of 18, you will be blocked and reported.
Hiii, I’m Goose. I’m a 23 year old bisexual and poly submissive ☺️ I’m from the uk and I use she/her pronouns.
I have a partner, I refer to him as L on tumblr and as stated previously I am polyamorous so I sometimes have other partners as well. Rest assured any and all my partners will know about my tumblr and I am free to message anyone I would like.
DNI - Minors/ageless/blank blogs, anyone who doesn’t agree with lgbtqia+ rights, sexists, racists, eating disorder blogs/if you post things that romanticise eds or anyone who’s going to be disrespectful to me or anyone else.
If you are an over 40 male, please don’t interact with my posts as it makes me super uncomfortable and I will block you.
Please do not add captions to my posts, whether they are text posts or photos. Keep any thoughts in the tags!
I’m not interested in sexting with random people, getting dick pictures of random people and having rape threats off random people, so my messages are for mutuals ONLY. Please don’t ask if we can be mutuals, I follow who I want to follow and that’s that. Saying that, just because we are mutuals doesn’t mean I necessarily want to interact w you in that way so please don’t be sexual towards me without getting my consent first.
My asks are on but as previously mentioned, I don’t want super sexual messages. Questions and compliments are all good but please don’t send me sexual scenarios etc.
If we’re mutuals feel free to spam me but if we aren’t pls don’t, it’s annoying having loads of notifications from one person only.
When I share a post/write a post and I talk about dicks I am 100% also referring to them being a strap/dildo :)
I add everything to my queue, mutuals if I spam you it’s more than likely me adding to my queue!!
I will try and remember to add to this if I remember something else.
⬇️ kinks below, tw for some rough ones⬇️
✨yes please✨ - praise, orgasm control, orgasm denial, overstimulation, squirting, anal, impact play, marking/bruising, cnc, somno, breeding, knife play, ddlg, degradation, creampies, blood, choking
❌limits❌ - shit, humiliation, feet, objectification, bimbofication, misogyny
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dolcezzzza · 1 year
Text
He Makes His Hot Roommate Suck Him Off!! ~ Eren Jaeger x Reader
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In which Eren Jaeger is a pretty scummy roommate...
. . .“I think watching pοrn on the couch is a reasonable thing to bitch about,” you snap. “And yeah. I don’t need to see your dick out on my pillows.”
“I put your pillows on the chair,” Eren says with a short nod of his chin towards the other side of the living room. “You sure, though? I’ve never heard any complaints about my dick.” . . .
version one (scummy eren) || version two (scummy reader)
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reader: POV second person, AFAB (*non-specified in part 1, will be specified in part 2), nongendered pronouns ⟡ content: modern AU, scummy sIutty roommate Eren, use of "bitch" as a verb, pοrn, oraI (male recieving), mentions of weed, mutual pining ⟡ wordcount: ~3.3k ⟡ ao3 link ⟡ recommended mood playlist: red velvet cake
ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴍᴅɴɪ. I have a very strict adult-only interaction policy. Ageless, blank, and clearly minor-run blogs that interact will be blocked. If you have questions about what that means, please read the byf in my pinned post.
Author's note: This is my first time trying an AU as someone who usually is glued to canon..! It's a fever dream that hit me drifting off to sleep the other night and has consumed me since. I almost wanted to make it so Mikasa and Armin are the pοrnstars he’s watching but I don’t want it taken as an insult to them (just a fun little hey-there) so I did not.
“Ah! Oh my god yes – fuck – fuck! ”
The sound of it is unmistakable, embarrassingly unmistakable as you stand frozen in the foyer with shoes half-kicked off. You squeeze your eyes closed and wordlessly thank whatever cosmic force gave you the good sense not to invite your friend into your home today. Because your roommate, Eren Jaeger, is slouched in the corner of the sofa watching pοrn on his phone. 
Normally, he’s just a kinda bad housemate. He isn’t the worst you’ve had. That honor goes to that girl from freshman year who puked in your closet and wasn’t shy about bringing home guys from the bar on school nights. But he’s comparable. Eren drinks the juice straight from the carton and puts it back in the refrigerator empty. He lets dirty dishes soak a day too long. He takes over the common area like a second bedroom, scowling at the television as his thumbs scuttle across the controller. He’s asked you to leave the small lodging on multiple occasions for privacy reasons. But, all of that being said, Eren pays rent on time. And, on those sheepish occasions you’ve locked yourself out, he only rolls his eyes when he opens the door and quickly goes back to muttering into his headset. 
And up until now, you thought he made up for it enough by being eye candy.
“Oh - mmm- fuck yes right there - ”
The back of his head is to you, hair slipping from his loose knot over his hunched shoulders. His elbow is pressed in the back of the couch in a way that must be uncomfortable, but it’s the perfect angle to pinch his phone in one hand and hold it up to his face. The other hand is out of sight from where you stand. The glare on the screen hides whatever he’s watching so avidly that he didn’t hear you open the door.
Unless he didn’t mind you opening the door.
“Dude,” you say, and your voice stutters. What the fuck can you even say to - ? Your mind goes fully blank. You try again. “What the fuck are you doing?”
That works.
“Oh,” Eren says by means of greeting without even turning his head. “I’m not gonna jizz all over the sofa, don’t worry. Nowhere close yet.”
You push your shoes to the side with your feet. “Better not,” you say, with all the disdain you can muster. “But man - come on. Are you… actually doing what I think you’re doing?”
He lifts his phone up and waggles it, the visual jostling before your eyes. 
“Why?”
“‘S comfy out here.”
You stay, bound by your horror, in the foyer. “Do you do - this,” you say, almost stammering over your words, “regularly?”
“I don’t have a set schedule,” Eren says. “But yeah, sometimes, if you’re out of the house for a while.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Your words are punctuated by tinny “mmm - yeah - ah!” sounds from the phone.
Eren sighs irritably, and finally turns his head to the side. His eyebrows are slack, his cheekbones only barely starting to flush as he fixes that heavy-lidded gaze on you. “Are you going to stand there and bitch all day?”
“I think it’s a pretty reasonable thing to bitch about,” you snap. “And yeah. I don’t need to see your dick out on my pillows.”
“I put your pillows on the chair,” Eren says with a short nod of his chin towards the other side of the living room. “You sure, though? I’ve never heard any complaints about my dick.”
It’s so absurd you snort. “Don’t be a dumbass,” you say. “Don’t joke around.”
“Not joking,” Eren says, and he lowers the phone. There’s a light clack on the screen as he mutes or pauses the video. He pushes his elbow further into the couch, angling to look at you straight-on past the thin slope of his nose. “C’mere.”
You realize you’re breathing out of your mouth.
This is not what you expected. Actually – it’s not what you expected now. Because the tension has been there. Of course it has been. Every time he slouches shirtless into the kitchen with a threadbare towel ruffling his hair dry over his shoulders, you pointedly stare at anything that isn’t the lean muscle of his stomach. At least once a month, he knocks on your door for a trivial manner when you’d pointedly announced you’re spending the night in the bubble bath. Sometimes girls stay over after house parties. You can’t deny pausing at the wall to hear how he groans. You wonder if the performance changes once you slam the front door shut on your way to seek refuge elsewhere.
All things you’d only admitted to your best friends over bathroom counters sworn to secrecy and vodka sodas. Things fantasized about in half-jokes, and nothing you would have thought come to fruition on this random afternoon.
Oh. He absolutely did this on purpose. You wonder what expression is on your face, because Eren just looks back at you with eyebrows lifting at the corner.
You’re padding across the carpet, stepping over the mess of his socks, the lid of the silver grinder. The rest of the contraption sits open on the coffee table with glinting spikes winking at you. You frown at the dirty pipe next to it.
“Oh, you’re just stoned,” you say dryly.
“I’m actually not,” Eren says, throwing your tone back at you in a mocking half-question. That’s another familiar little crack of tension – the conversations so automatically sardonic you can barely keep your thighs from trembling and lips from curving into a grin. You smirk back absently even now, despite the electricity shuddering through the room and you turn towards the couch.
Your eyes had been a little too fixed on the pipe, your brain chanting something about the ashes, the filth, the need to just soak the stupid thing in rubbing alcohol to get it back to whatever color it should be, and it takes a half-moment to register him. Eren’s hands are at the waistband of his forest green gym shorts. He looks up at you with those eyes deeper than a summer storm, a curve of hair falling in front of his forehead and joining those strands cascading around his neck as he hunches against the arm of the sofa. The hem of his black hoodie has scrunched higher up his stomach below his phone resting precariously, to reveal a snaking ribcage of hair branching down to where his thumbs meet the shorts. His forearms are tense, red aching at the tight cuffs of his rolled-up sleeves.
“Take it off, then,” you hear yourself say, and Eren’s lips twitch in a smile.
His thumbs curve, knees drawing up as he lifts his hips. He hesitates a moment, as if daring either of you to chicken out, and then it’s as if you imagined the pause because he’s pulling those green mesh shorts down. He kicks them off the cushions and you sway to avoid the motion as his heather grey boxes follow in a tangle. Eren pushes his hips down on the sofa, sprawling to take up the entire length. His foot braces against the back of the couch, and his other settles on the floor. He rolls his knee out, framing a perfect patch of rug for you to kneel on.
Well.
Your shitty roommate is right. Who could have any complaints about his cock?
Eren’s eyes burn on you as you hesitate between his sprawled legs, adjusting your knees on the carpet, your elbows against the couch. He doesn’t reach forward to guide you, to pump his already half-hard shaft in his palm. He shrugs his shoulders and picks up the phone again, tapping the screen again.
“Mmm- that feels so good, yeah!”
You lick your bottom lip. Eren has the phone lifted in a way that blocks his face from you, or yours from him. You pause another second and raise your hand to him.
When you wrap your fingers around his cock, the taunt muscles of his stomach tense. His Adam’s apple shivers in a swallow. Your fingertips squeeze at his firmness, your thumb slowly sliding hider as your fist rises up. You pause, running your thumb around the tip. A bead of slick precum slides where your skin meets his.
It’s that oily slip that makes this whole thing actually real at last, makes the breath hitch in your throat and makes some pressure beat hard bellow your belly. Your knees push into the carpet. You adjust your other forearm on the cushions for balance, leaning in closer as you flutter in a delicate circle again across his sensitive head.
“Fuck,” Eren says as if the word bursts from him.
“Ohh yeah!”
The air is cut with heavy breath and the cries from his phone.
Your hand is moving without thinking, your eyes hazy and locked on your first. His cock is actually fucking pretty, smooth, large, the vein fluttering under your palm rising with urgency. You bend into the couch, reaching forward with your other hand and stretching to support it, giving a brief dancing squeeze of your fingers. You withdraw your dominant hand and raise it to your lips, drawing a breath, and spitting messily.
“Mmm!”
“Oh – ” but the breath comes out of you as you bring your hand webbed with silver down to his cock again. Eren’s skin is silky under your touch as you smear up and down him, rubbing up to his head again and mixing your fluids together. And Eren groans, a low, musical sound that breaks at the end.
That’s an aching you haven’t heard behind walls and closed doors. You tense your hand and pump faster.
“Suck it,” Eren says suddenly in another strangled blurt, interrupting the moans of the pοrnstars.
You look up, and his phone has slipped in his palm, showing the darkening of his dilating pupils as he stares at you with a thirst. His cheeks are flushed high. Drool involuntarily pools over your tongue and you look down and hunch yourself closer, as his knee straightens on the floor besides you to open more space.
Kneeling before Eren, you can track the contours of his skin in a way more intimate than just roommates should normally know. His thigh muscles are taunt, strong, dusted with wiry hairs that gather closer and closer the higher they climb. The shadow of his hipbones flexes as he shifts into the couch. And you look up again, just as Eren reaches out with his hand not gripping the phone.
“Wow – wow oh fuck, I’m so close - !”
More hair has fallen loose from the bun, enough for his hair to be half-down and framing the strong angle of his jaw like a dark halo. His eyes are sunken deep, and staring at you, wide. You keep eye contact, leaning on your elbow, and sink your mouth onto his cock.
Eren’s hand closes at the back of your head, and your arm slides into his leg, a warm, strong barrier pushing your bodies together in this collapsed tableau of fallen angels. Your first stroke of your tongue is light and short, your second dragging a little longer, before your lean for the and take his head fully in a long, languid, slurping swirl.
He tastes sweeter, cleaner, than you would have thought.
The sounds suddenly cut off as the video ends, the last smack of your tongue loud in the abrupt silence. Saliva drips from your mouth as you drag your tongue down to his balls in a fat swipe, and back up.
“Fuck,” Eren mutters. His hand drops, shifts his back and hips rock into the couch as he takes the phone in both hands again. You adjust your fingers, sliding at his base and rubbing along the shaft neglected by your mouth.
There’s a muffled click-click-click and the volume rises. It sounds like he found a new video, this one full of a gruff masculinity and a gasping crescendo.
“You like that? You like how that tastes?”
“Ohmygod yes, yes, I love it mmm – ”
Your eyes slip down, demurely, and then with a breath squeeze shut and force yourself lower.
“Mmph,” comes from your lungs, and Eren moans in turn.
Your lips are dancing, tongue licking continuously in desperate sucks down his cock. Eren is breathing shallowly, little gasps coming from him. His elbow angles into the couch, dipping the cushion below you to the side, and you can hear the phone speaker almost directly above your head. He must be staring at the screen, his chest rising and falling rapidly that you can feel through him.
“Yes I love that - oh - fuck me harder - ”
And of your own body, cramped against the cushions and the couch frame? Every time you can tell Eren responds to your motions, you clench the delicate muscles of your cunt – and every time you can tell that he’s responding to the stupid video he’s watching, it makes you rush and pulse. Sweat prickles at your shoulders, across your forehead. Your body is tense with arousal, the groans slipping from your lips aching whimpers.
Actually, some of your sounds might as well be coming from the phone too.
Eren throbs in your mouth, and you force your head all the way down his cock. He hits the back of your throat and you clench your fingers into a fist that scratches at the rough cushions. You inhale, closing your cheeks into a hollow suck and bidding him further down your throat.
“Oh, oh – god damn – ” Eren says, and his voice is absolutely raw. “Oh, fuck.”
“You like that?” the man on the phone says again.
Eren’s thighs turn towards you as you pull yourself up, gasping for breath and trying not to cough. Water pricks at the corner of your eyes. His eyes are low, staring at the screen with a slack mouth and harsh breath.
You lean, lowering yourself again, running your tongue in light agitation over and over his tip again and again before widening your jaws and taking him in again.
“Mmmm,” you whimper in a suffocated tone around him, pushing your hips harder into the floor.
“Yeah, yeah,” Eren groans. “Yeah, right there.”
His other falls hand on the back of your head again – not to push, but, to brace, as you feel his hand steel himself. You take him fully out of your mouth again to lick his length and Eren’s hand moves with you with each dip and turn of your head, hesitating as you take another shuddering breath and then locking in again when you go back down.
You can feel it, you don’t need the cues of the video, or even Eren’s own beautifully desperate voice. He’s close, filling your mouth, your senses, as your hand slides up and over and over where your lips just can’t reach in these faster motions. Breathing is harder, the shallow reserves of air coming shorter and shorter.
“Fuck – I’m gonna cum – ”
The words were the woman’s, not Eren’s, but he groans a harsh, ragged, “fuck” in turn.
He tightens his stomach muscles, turning into a half-crunch as his hips thrust up pathetically, helplessly, in a primal attempt to fuck into your mouth. You’re so painfully aware of your own hips shifting in response, your neglected cunt wet in response as you choke and gurgle sloppily around him.
And then Eren cries out your name, your name so anguished on his lips –
So much sharper, so much louder, than anything you’ve heard come from his room –
The tears stream from your eyes as Eren gives one last thrust of his hips into your mouth. His hand is strong at the back of your head, the taste of him suddenly more and more bitter. It’s something you feel through him. You freeze, your hand holding him and lips sealed around as he comes, hot and sharp to the back of your throat.
“Mm,” you choke.
“Oh, almost, almost,” Eren groans, and tenses out another spurt.
His cock gives a last twitch in your mouth as your tongue gently washes around him as your lips release. You guide him out and swallow again, and again, every last bit of flavor dancing around your mouth.
“Fuck,” Eren says.
Your breaths are a cacophony together.
“Oh – oh – oh!” the artificial orgasm screams from his phone continuously. You clear your throat, and give an inadvertent cough. Eren hurriedly pushes at the screen until silence falls over the room again. He looks at you, and smirks his usual grin, but something about it lacks the familiar sass.
“You know, you look good down there,” Eren says.
A thrill goes through you, and you try to play off the shudder of glee.
“Ew. Cheesy. Stop watching so much pοrn,” you say with a not-too withering glare. You reach behind you, fumbling for his shorts to wipe your lips with one leg, your eyes with the other.
“No,” Eren says, and the word stutters short as he cuts himself off with a deep, sucking breath. You look up at him. And to your surprise he looks so kind somehow for a moment – some innocent yearning beaming in his eyes breaking down whatever walls he’s built around him; walls that you somehow hadn’t realized before now had been carefully kept high and strong.
“I. I want to – ”
And in that moment, the phone rings a shrill tone.
“Oh, shit,” Eren says, staring at it.
“Great timing,” you say as you feel your heart drop into your stomach. “Saved by the bell, you could say.”
“No, no,” Eren says with a sigh and a glare at the screen. “It’s my brother, and – I mean, if he’s calling, it could be important.”
“I get it,” you say, waving your hand and sitting back on the carpet, wrapping your arms around your knees and ignoring both the ache pushing at your cunt and adrenaline racing through your veins. “It’s okay.”
You toss the shorts in your hand at him, and Eren takes them in one hand, absently tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder. It nestles in his hoodie as he speaks a greeting into the phone, eyes settling somewhere in the middle distance. He sits up, feet on the floor, and begins to pull them on.
“Hey, Zeke. What’s up?”
You turn your head, giving him a moment of privacy that feels strangely appropriate, for all of that that just transpired. There’s a groan of the couch cushions as Eren stands. You see his boxers, abandoned on the carpet, and feel an involuntary grin break across your face.
What a turn of events.
You rock forward on your knees again. Eren walks behind the couch, his voice carrying the conversation into the kitchen. You reach forward on the coffee table, finding a mailer advertisement under the dirty pipe, a marker. Flipping the paper over to the blank side, you scrawl a quick message.
It’s harder to stand than it should be. Your bones creak as they unfold from that hunch into the sofa, your muscles and hips weak with desire. But you make it swiftly to the kitchen, where Eren has the fridge open. He leans on the door, phone still in the crook of his shoulder, one sleeve slumped down to his hand and the other still pushed up to his elbow as he unscrews a bottle of cranberry juice. He casts his eyes to you as he lifts the bottle to his lips and drinks, listening to his brother.
All you do is slap the paper to the refrigerator with the first magnet your fingers encounter, and walk to your room without a second glance back.
My turn next.
.
Author's note 2: So I actually wanted this to be MEANER! I wanted MEAN SCUMMY EREN! But I think it ended up being a little soft… and maybe for this, it worked the best? Please please let me know what you think!! If there's interest, I would absolutely do a part 2 in inverse where it's actually Reader being the naughty roommate? :)
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