#But a bad way with dealing with the problem

[tawked]

So I'm reading some posts that deconstruct Jason Todd through a classist lens, whereby the primary thrust seems to be that "they made the poor Robin the violent one." Sure, I agree.

But! I think this is kind of shunting the burden of the classism of the whole text onto Jason, though. He's become unfittingly symbolic of an issue that is intrinsic to the whole work, in a way that I feel is reductive.

The whole thing, all of Batman, is classist, ableist, pro-cop, pro-prison and pro-institutionalisation.

Yes, even though the cops are corrupt. Batman is not presented as a viable isolated alternative. He is propaganda from the opposite extreme, showing a vigilante as necessary but unable to do anything about crime on scale, hence his partnership with the police.

Yes, even though Blackgate and Arkham are shown as nonfunctional. They're presented as "an imperfect but necessary answer to a horrible and inconquerable problem." What do you do with bad people? You send them to a cage where they are victimized for X amount of years. You send them to Arkham where they can be pumped full of antipsychotics and we can all act shocked that this doesn't work. Better options are not explored or discussed often enough to become part of the fiber of the work. Batman is vengeance, he is not rehabilitation lol.

Yes, even though the Wayne Foundation is not shown as a viable response to proper social aide programs. We never see those social aide programs working out either, but the Foundation scores Ws, it kept Leslie's lights on back when she was an interesting character lol, and it's constantly mentioned whenever social programs in Gotham come up. The rich all congregate in Wayne Manor for the latest gala where they mull over using their fortunes to keep the welfare moving for another month. This is such a common scene that it's practically how Telltale Batman starts lol. This is Scrooge McDuckian billionaire idealism.

So it's kinda frustrating to me when Batman criticism treats classism like an issue localized to Jason Todd as a character like

as the snow flies on a cold and grey Gotham mornin a poor little baby child is born in the ghettooo (in the ghettooo) and his mama becomes an international criminal, stealing drugs from actual humanitarian aide in a veiled statement about their futility in the ghettooo (in the ghettooo) people don't you understand the child needs a helping hand, or he'll grow to be an angry young man some day. take a look at you and meee or are we too bliiind to seeeeeeeee

In a sense, yes, Jason Todd is a classist caricature, but that's a product of the whole Batman conceit being fundamentally classist down to her roots sis. Batman particularly reflects 1950s-80s liberal beliefs about a kind of capitalist noblesse oblige that was used at the time to justify not taxing rich cunts like Bruce Wayne. It's like, Rockerfeller shit basically. Y'know, Andrew Ryan shit. Atlas didn't shrug but he was the only one who could run welfare properly so we must destroy the government and give him all the money so he can do welfare properly, efficiently, with the cold and calculating eye for success inherent in the ruling classes lol. Crazy American nonsense.

Anyway I like Jason Todd and I like that he's an uplifted poor kid who was not provided appropriate support for his trauma because Bruce Wayne, a billionaire who's trauma is fundamentally different, does not understand what he's dealing with. It kinda cuts hard against the whole capitalist noblesse oblige, rich daddy knows best concept, doesn't it? Uncle Scrooge does not know what's best for them boys and sans a Donald Duck, he gets lil Huey killed by not knowing how to speak to him. Or rather, he gets his Della Duck stuck on the moon. The moon in this case being a warehouse crowbar clown boom.

Here:

Bruce's mom and dad died and he went home to his butler and his mansion. When he's bleeding out and he decides to become Batman, he's sitting in a chair worth more money than Jason has ever seen in one place, in a room the size of Jason's apartment. His parents' death carries a finality and his becoming Batman is in defiance of that finality.

Jason's parents aren't dead, they just fucked off, and Jason's downward spiral is characterized by that difference. Bruce is unable to understand that unlike Dick Grayson, Jason isn't defying an ending and becoming something new. He doesn't have their closure, he doesn't have their answer, and Bruce doesn't understand he needs one because Bruce is defined by his answer.

Jason has nonetheless built something for himself, an identity, in Robin. Bruce strips that away, leaving him with nothing but the mother he knows, unlike Mrs. Wayne and Mrs. Grayson, is out in the world somewhere. Worse, Bruce is telling him not to find a new identity in that fact, even after taking the identity of Robin away from Jason. That's the real meat to me.

It's not that he saw a man smoke a whole crack on the stoop and lost his mind with poverty bloodlust or whatever, and it feels reductive to layer that narrative with that concept. Y'know?

BUT

WITH THAT SAID

B O Y HOWDY there are some DC writers who wanna make that reduction bruv and I do not fuck with it even a teensy bit. I understand the reactionary frustration lol.

I just think, sometimes, we're missing the woods for the trees when we talk about Jason Todd as a victim of writers hating the poor.

[devswritingcornerorsmth]

Headcanons for Mitchell Linn and Stefan*Underrated Dateable* who are dating a Reader who a baker who often stress bakes dozen pastries and desserts to point of overstuffing pantry cabinets and fridge

stefan my BELOVED i would kill for mr cluckles rip freddy and cabrizzio tho

Stefan

= Stefan was never much for baking, but did enjoy it every now and then. He doesn't mind it at first when you first start to bake, ending up with a dozen pasties or so. And then the next day, and the next, then he realizes there's a problem.

= He knows you love baking, and it's your job, but there's this nagging feeling inside of him that something is wrong. Even this is too much for him.

= Cabrizzo ends up complaining to Daisuke, who now barely has enough room to even breathe due to all the tupperware being filled with sweets, bread, and other things like that. Freddy has had to "secretly" throw some of the sweets away after sitting for too long and going bad. They all go to Stefan since he's the one technically helping you make all the sweets. He, with some annoyance and encouragement from Mr. Cluckles, agrees to help.

= Stefan wants to give you the benefit of the doubt, telling himself you're just doing what you love, but clearly this is for your own state of mind instead of putting the pastries in your bakery, or bringing them to friends and family, you wrap them up and put them away for later.

= Stefan confronts you as calmly as he can next time you go to bake, asking if everything was alright and why you were baking so much, with the helpful supervision of Mr Cluckles. He understands how calming it can be to focus on doing something you love, hell, he's a chef and cooks to see people smile.

= If someone is causing you to do this, like a bully or rude relative, he takes a moment, looks to Mr Cluckles, looks back to you, and says that the person is lucky he's a stove rooted in place.

= If you tell him it's no big deal, he gets a little ticked off but quickly calms down. Stefan won't force anything out of you if you don't want to tell him, but he still tells you that he's worried... and won't turn on until you tell him. He quickly takes that back when he sees your face fall, trying to play it off as a joke. Stefan cups your cheeks and tells you that he's here for you when you're ready.

= When you do tell Stefan what's going on, he stays silent and listens while cooking your comfort food. Baking helps you focus, helps you get away, comforts you, etc. He understands all of that since he is a chef, but this is a little much, even for him. Freddy and Cabrizzio are worried about the pasties going bad and making you sick if you do try to eat them, and Stefan is worried for you in general.

= He tries to convince you to try and find another way to alleviate your stress. He suggested asking other objects for things to do or to hang out with a friend (or multiple) to get your mind off things. Stefan doesn't want you to give up baking altogether if it's your ultimate relaxer, but maybe take a small break to get your chicks in a row. And hey, he can always give you cooking lessons instead!

--

Mitchell Linn

= Mitchell only notices when Cabrizzo and Freddy start complaining about being overstuffed and uncomfortable. Also, the fact that he barely has any breathing room anymore. He's noticed you around Stefan a lot more and figured you were planning on moving your bakery here for him to review, or starting one! Mitchell quickly learns that's not the case when he sees Freddy throw out a few week-old pastries.

= He's quick to ask you about it, asking if everything was alright and why you were baking so much. He won't mind if you don't tell him right away, but he'll be worried about you and wonder what he could do to help.

= Mitchell tries to help you relax in his own way, taking you out to the few restaurants in the house to just relax, calm down, and talk. He doesn't jump to your stress baking just yet, listening to you talk about everything and anything until he places his hand over yours, unless you don't like physical touch, and clears his throat.

= He tells you that he knows you've been stress baking and that something is clearly stressing you out to the point you make so much so often. Mitchell has heard about stress baking and why people do it, but he wants to know why you're doing it. He won't force you to say anything or tell him, but it's clear he's expecting an answer and an honest one.

= If it's someone in your personal life bothering you, he advises you to try and limit contact with them or cut them out entirely. If/When he's Realized, he writes a horrible review of that person even if they're not a food critic out of spite.

= If it's personal things like mental health or something close to that, he offers to be a shoulder to lean on if you need it.

= Mitchell then offers to help you start a bakery here at the house for all the objects, so none of the sweets go to waste! He helps you go over a location, menu, style, etc. Even if he finds some things tacky, he keeps them to himself, just wanting to see you happy.

= The both of you are surprised when the bakery becomes a hit, objects coming in and out almost every day to try some of your baking. Even Rebel showed up and proceeded to steal a dozen or so sweets from you. Talking to them later, they admit to actually liking it... before calling you a few choice words and running off, embarrassed.

= Mitchell is happy that you're using your talents for good instead of stuffing them away to either be thrown out later or eaten by yourself. All the rest of the objects and Dateables are happy too.

----

stefan is underated and i love him and Mr cluckles his realized form was a jumpscare tho-

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Literary Tropes

Literary Tropes - time-tested methods of employing figurative language to enrich a written work.

Though the word trope has taken on a negative connotation in recent years as a signifier of an overused genre convention, literary tropes—including irony, hyperbole, and synecdoche—are tools you can employ to elevate your writing.

The word trope comes from Greek tropos, a turn or change of direction.

Critics and scholars from the classical era through today have taken up the study of tropes, though over time the definition has changed somewhat. Where in classical rhetoric, a trope refers to a specific figure of speech or literary device.

When you’re reading a work of literature and start to recognize that the writer is making similar “moves” over and over, you’re picking up on some of that writer’s favored tropes.

Modern Use of the Word Trope

Today, writers and critics frequently use the word trope to describe themes, motifs, plot devices, plot points, and storylines that have become familiar genre conventions.

Pop culture is full of readily recognizable tropes which function as a shared vocabulary for readers, writers, and critics.

For example, westerns typically include the trope of bad guys wearing black hats and good guys wearing white.

There are countless works of fantasy or science fiction that feature the "chosen one" trope, in which a main character is uniquely called to defeat the dark lord.

A romance novel might feature a classic boy meets girl scene and will likely employ a love triangle to complicate the plot before resolving into a happy ending.

Certain tropes are more strongly associated with particular genres, but all genres, including literary fiction, make use of tropes.

It’s in this modern usage that the word trope can take on a pejorative connotation, since an over-reliance on common tropes can be a sign of lazy or bad writing.

That’s not to say using tropes is a bad thing, but there’s a fine line between skillfully deploying a trope and overusing it to the point of cliche.

Tropes are one of the ways that readers can evaluate a writer’s skill with language and storytelling.

When a trope is used cleverly or subverted in an unexpected way, it showcases the writer’s mastery of the genre.

When used as a crutch, a trope demonstrates lazy writing and a lack of originality.

The best way to learn to use tropes artfully is to develop a deep familiarity with your genre, whether it's sci-fi, thriller, fantasy, or romance.

If you study the conventions of that genre, you’ll be better equipped to use its tropes to surprise and delight your readers.

Examples of Tropes

Writers and critics have been categorizing and studying tropes for millenia, which means the names of many literary tropes are taken from classical rhetoric. There are dozens upon dozens of literary terms that function as rhetorical tropes, but here are eight of the most common examples:

Metaphor is the art of describing one thing in terms of another. For example, “I have a bear of a problem” likens having a problem to dealing with a bear. A metaphor that is made explicit with “like” or “as” (i.e. “run like the wind”) is called a simile. 

Metonymy substitutes an attribute of a thing for that thing’s proper name—for example, referring to the executive branch of the United States as “the White House.”

Synecdoche is a special form of metonymy in which a part of something stands in for the whole. For example, referring to sailors as “hands” on a ship.

Hyperbole is deliberate exaggeration for effect. 

Irony involves a statement that has a literal meaning that is at odds with the underlying meaning. “We had to destroy the village in order to save it” is a classic example of irony.

Litotes is a form of irony in which a negative is used to affirm a positive, often through the use of double negatives—for example, saying “You’re not wrong” as a way of saying “You’re right.”

Antanaclasis is a kind of pun that uses the same word in two different senses. A famous example comes from the signing of the Declaration of Independence, when Benjamin Franklin is reported to have said, “We must, indeed, all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang separately."

Oxymoron describes a self-contradicting term that reveals some deeper truth or illustrates a paradox. For example, an underwhelming performance being greeted by a “deafening silence.”

Purpose of Literary Tropes

All writers manipulate language to create certain effects.

At the level of individual phrases and sentences, the skillful use of tropes is key to creating writing that’s fresh, memorable, and persuasive.

Poets might spend hours trying to find just the right metaphor to capture a mood or sensation, while marketers might use antanaclasis to create a punchy catchphrase for a new product.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[tang1blechaos]

Obsessive!murderer!Abby x reader i would say ghost face but there's not really any ghostface mention she just is ghostface.

LONG! also I have not written in a long long time and its not fully proofread so be gentle x

MEN AND MINORS DNI!!!!

Warnings: it's dark and kind of heavy, so please be conscious when reading. I am not promoting murder, I am just exploring the mind of a horny, validly misandrist lesbian murderer.

porn with so much plot murder, talks of hospitals, misandry, lesbian smut, mentally unstable Abby, desperate! subtop! Abby, sooo many l-bombs, fingering, oral, strap - referred to as cock/dick, scissoring sex, cannabis, reader experiences misogynoir from her adoptive brother - nothing physical or graphic but he does threaten her life and call her a statistic (dw reader is avenged)!!

Abby in scream AU. Set in Woodsboro, Abby and reader are above 22

⛧°.⋆༺♱༻⋆.°���⛧°.⋆༺♱༻⋆.°⛧⛧°.⋆༺♱༻⋆.°⛧⛧°.⋆༺♱༻⋆.°⛧

Abby couldn't take it. Every night in her mind's eye this stupid fucking dream had her waking in night sweats. The dream is equal parts gruesome and heated, lusty and frightful. In her groggy state, Abby can still smell the sharp scent of sex and blood in the room.

Of course, she finds the recent murders in her town distressing. Woodsboro hadn't seen this kind of activity in ten years, and since then, it's been a haven. But she can't control her mind. She sees you there, lying in bed with your hand between your thighs, wanton moans flooding from your lips.

The only thing between you and her is your asshole adoptive brother. He made your life a living hell, and you, you are all sunshine and cool like a spring day. Abby doesn't dream in colour. To Abby, Damon is the dark smothering your light, and she needs to stop him before he tries to snuff you out.

The kill is easy in her dream, like a knife through butter and warm. Your brother gurgling on death like an angel's choir in her sleep. Abby saunters toward you, wiping her hand on the sheets and trailing it down, down, down, playing with the hem of your panties.

She knows the dream is bad. She knows it's indicative of her shadow self returning, but she can't bring herself to report it. Her parents were finally happy; they were easing up on her and treating her like an adult. She didn't want to be back in hospitals - wires running through her, the headache and white light in her eyes, the sedation, the quiet.

Abby shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath. She lies awake, her sheets strewn across her. Her room is cool and still, silver streaming in through her lace curtains, casting sharp shadows on the walls. The moonlight is enough to make out the etchings on the bookcase beside her head.

Five. The tally marks were harsh and messy as if they were done in a rush. Abby's been sleepwalking again; the only thing that could explain the pains in her body, the scratches and bruises on her back, arms and legs. Abby hopes to god all she's been doing is running and tripping through the woods, although deep down she knows something is terribly wrong.

Her therapist says the sleepwalking is her way of dealing with stress.

When her father threatened to leave her mother, Abby slashed his tires in her sleep. Of course, Abby swore she was innocent because she was. But when her father woke the next evening to his little Abby staring at him with stony eyes he had never seen before and a small blade in her little hands, her parents understood they had a bigger problem. Abby's stress was manifesting through violence.

The ninth year of her life was spent in hospitals doing sleep tests. Trying to understand who woke up in the middle of the night. Who wore her skin and destroyed her things, lied and deceived.

It was incredible, the doctors had said. An entire alter ego developed when in distress. Abby's sleep self would lash harsh truths at her parents, claw at doctors and rip needles from her arms to stab nurses. All while in her wakeful state, she was docile, shy, and mildly sunny. Both sides of her are intelligent, secretive, and protective of herself, but Abby's shadow self moved more violently.

A year later, she was home with medical-grade sleeping pills, bi-weekly psychiatrist visits, and her parents had stopped fighting. That year forced them to confront their marriage issues and prioritise Abby.

Her blue eyes hardened at the tally on her bedside shelf. There have been five murders in Woodsboro so far. Abby shook her head. She had been a little violent when she was young, but that doesn't make her a murderer.

Still, even if she was. All the murders in town have been men, men who beat their wives, and steal and abuse women. Men who were known for getting away with bad things. Would it be so bad if she was the killer?

Abby would only be protecting all the innocent women around her. Mrs. Ebbs would probably thank her for getting rid of Ronny. Abby's breath hitches as she feels the ghost of the older woman's lips on her neck. The whisper of gratitude in her ear as a hand ghosts over her chest.

That's all she was doing with you. The dream was just her mind trying to take control of a stressful situation. Abby cared about you, and she hated seeing your brother bully you. That's all this is; she just wants to protect you.

Abby was sure you'd thank her too. She hoped you would let her kiss down your throat, grip your soft thighs and squeeze. Abby whines at the thought of your tits in her mouth, her hips bucking up when she imagines your breathy moans as she slips her fingers into your panties.

"Fuck," Abby groans as she rubs her fingers on her clit. The thought of your thighs clamping around her arm. Her fingers kneading softly inside you - god you're probably so fucking soft. Abby huffs, imagining you moaning her name, kissing her neck and whining in her ear.

"God, I need to come, please come with me," Abby mewls into the air, her hips bucking desperately as she gets closer to the edge, her eyes straining, even shut, she can see your breasts spilling out of your bikini top. "Fuck," she groans into the air and sighs deeply into her pillow.

Abby rolls over, taking advantage of the quiet in her brain and slips into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning, she's sitting in the park with you, a picnic laid out, soft music billowing from a speaker. Abby is beautiful in the sunlight. Her hair glows gold and her freckles are sprinkled so generously across her face, dotting her soft lips. You want to lean forward and press a kiss to her mouth. Instead you say,

"I painted something again the other day, and uno," you smirk as Abby looks over her cards thoughtfully.

"Can I see it? Pick up two,"

"Asshole, yes. Yes, you can see it. It's actually for you." You smile, putting your cards down and rifling through your backpack for the soft canvas scroll. Abby sets her cards down and sits up straight.

You unfurl the scroll and reveal Abby's face painted in a constellation. Her eyes soften, and her mouth drops slightly.

"Hey," she mumbles, tears welling in her eyes. She takes your hand and then the painting to examine it. "You're so talented," she says.

"It's easy when my muse is this beautiful," you whisper. Abby watches you bite your lip and wants to thumb it from between your teeth and taste it.

"Thank you," she whispers, kissing your cheek and putting the scroll in her satchel. "You're so welcome," you pull back, and this always happens. Abby's face is so close to yours. You want to lean up and kiss her mouth, cup her cheeks and tell her - "I love you, I really love you,"

You sit back and pick up your cards, and take a deep breath. Abby's eyes travel over you like she's hungry. "Are you still seeing that girl - Mary-louise?" you ask.

Abby scoffs and shakes her head. "Mary-lousie is fucking crazy,"

"Then why did you go out with her?" you laugh. Abby rolls her eyes.

"We didn't, she sent me like 600 messages in two days so I blocked her," Abby laughed as your jaw dropped.

"Well, I'm kind of glad, I was starting to get jealous," you tease, although you know you shouldn't. Deep down, you just wanted to know if there was a chance she wanted you in the same way.

"You have nothing to be jealous of, no one compares to you," She smiles, taking your hand and kissing the palm of it softly, placing it on her cheek.

⛧°.⋆༺♱༻⋆.°⛧⛧°.⋆༺♱༻⋆.°⛧⛧°.⋆༺♱༻⋆.°⛧⛧°.⋆༺♱༻⋆.

Abby loves spring; the revival from death in the seasons translates to warmer days with cool air. The wind stirs enough for the perfect music of trees, and of course, the excuse of easter weekend meant going away with you to her family's old cabin.

Neither you nor Abby particularly enjoyed the holidays. It was bittersweet for you to come together each year with a family you'd grown up trying to love and who only tolerated you in return.

Your parents, bless them, had tried their best to integrate you. They loved you, but they didn't think it through, adopting an African child to "heal" their racist family. Their ten-year stint in Limpopo bore you, but when your mother's father asked her to take over the company, there was no saying no. They'd since stopped trying to co-opt spiritual movements as allyship, but the adoption papers were signed, and they were in love.

Damon, their first son by three years, was at first quite pleased. You and Damon were close until you all moved back to America, and he started going to school at Whitmore. High school had torn you apart as you learnt about your roots. History class became your stomping ground. Damon, on the other hand, never wanted to face his political reality or "hear women talk about their periods".

You never could get him to pick up a book, and with every hangout with his new friends, the deeper he integrated into their high-society mentalities. He'd become your own personal bully, and an incel of his own making.

Your family at large were, well, much aligned with Damon's thinking. So, no, your parents did not force you to spend any holidays with them.

Abby didn't have any family outside of her parents, none that they actually spoke to. While they loved Abby, they also started to "date" again when Abby got better. This year, they were going to Easter Island for Easter weekend. Her father had made jokes about it all the way to the airport, where she dropped them off.

Finally, it was Thursday. Abby drove up to the cabin ahead of you to prepare it for the weekend, and unfortunately, your brother would drop you off because he wanted the car for the weekend.

Abby had stoked the fire because it got cold early in the woods. She burnt incense and lit a joint. Her shoulders finally relaxed as she exhaled. She's brought her steak to a low heat and was prepping dinner when her phone pinged.

"I hate Damon so fucking much," you had texted.

"I actually think he should be put down, I know he's my brother but incels are all YUCK."

Abby chuckles. She can see your dramatic frown and hear the passion in your tone. Although you hated him, Damon's actions don't hurt you as much as they used to; you didn't think you could rehabilitate him and trying wasn't worth the pain of failing every time.

Before Abby could ask for context, she could hear your truck engine rumbling and the tires crunching over the gravel in the driveway.

Abby ran outside to greet you, grabbing you up in her arms and holding you tight. She kissed your cheek and pulled back to nod at Damon.

"You two still haven't sealed the deal yet? What, no kissing? No scissoring?" he laughed and you rolled your eyes as he carried your bag to the door.

"I can take that in," Abby started after him,

"It's fine, alpha dyke," Damon mocks, "I have to take a leak," he skips into the house and dumping your bag on the living room floor. Abby muttered under her breath, stomping to your bedroom to put your bags down. You meet Abby in your room and stand in the threshold of the door.

"You can't let him get to you, Abs," you sigh. You can sense even the slightest tension in Abby, and as she stood in front of you, she was a brick wall.

"He cannot keep getting away with things like that." She huffs, you roll your eyes and shrug,

"I don't know he can get away with a lot -" you mutter, your eyes cast off dazed and dead.

"What does that mean?" Abby pulls you in, tries to catch your eye.

"Come out, freaks, I'm done." When Damon emerges from the bathroom, you and Abby meet him as he saunters down the stairs.

"I may or may not have shit on your floor," Damon laughs. It seems impossible, but Damon really is horrible. So, Abby pushes past him, taking the steps two at a time and you can't help the way your arm snaps forward, your open palm meeting his cheek hard.

"You fucking bitch, you know I bruise easily," Damon grips your upper arm, his teeth barred as he stares you down.

"Scared to say you got your shiner from a girl?" you grit, trying to pull your arm from his vice grip, but he pulls tighter.

"Listen, leech, I could make you disappear and no one would blink an eye. You're a statistic." He seethes.

Your smirk fades from your mouth, you'd never seen his eyes so void. He wasn't your brother anymore.

"No one would find your body," He whispered. Damon was a strange and suddenly terrifying white man.

"What did you just say?" Abby grunts from the top of the stairs.

"Stay out of this", Damon hisses, but Abby pulls Damon away from you and turns him, her other arm coming up to deck him in one fell swoop. Damon groans, falling to the ground clutching his eye, "you fucking bitch!" he cries out.

"You're on private property, now get out before I call the police."

Damon stands, fixing himself and spitting at Abby's shoe before rushing out the door. Abby blinks slowly, watching him move; he's not agile. Clumsy with his steps, he's not big either. She's mapping it out before she can stop herself. He'll be home alone tonight; Abby could check his socials for any activity, she could follow him while you sleep.

"Abby?"

Abby looked down at you and sighed. She blinked, and the thoughts were gone so quickly that she could barely remember them.

"I'm sorry, I spaced. How are you feeling? Does he say that shit often?"

You roll your neck and rest your forehead on her chest.

"It started like two weeks ago, like he's testing something out." You sigh, she can hear you sniffing, gripping tighter to her shirt.

"I've been looking for apartments near town,"

"What, do you really think he'd do something?" Abby can't hide the shock on her face; she holds you impossibly tighter and presses a kiss to your temple.

"I will never let him hurt you," she murmurs. It's a cliche sentiment, but Abby couldn't be more serious. You take a inhale and revel in the musk of Abby's scent, as she sways you gently from side to side.

"Distract me," you look up at her, Abby's hands press into your shoulders

"We could watch a movie? Smoke and eat some dinner?" She knows it's the right answer when your eyes roll back. She wants to see them roll back as she lowers herself down toward -

"I love you," you reply in awe, and Abby kisses your forehead distracted from the filth her mind wants to conjure up, "I love you, too. Go sit down,"

As you walk toward the living room, Abby has to steady herself on the kitchen counter. She's dizzy with your words, she's buzzing with anger. The combination makes her stomach turn heavy with butterflies. It's strange, and when she thinks about curing the earth of your brother, it's euphoric.

She swallows the feeling, knows it's dangerous, and yet she can't bring herself to feel guilty. Killing Damon would be a good thing; she would be protecting you. You would be safer in the world without him.

Abby's chest tenses, she grips the counter and tries to focus on dishing out food for you, but her mind is swimming with crimson anger and that sweet fucking lust. Abby's hips feel like a wind up toy waiting to be released. She takes a deep breath and centers herself.

When she brings your food out, Abby finds you curled in a blanket on the couch, your eyes light pink and low, a soft smile on your face.

"Hi Abs," you murmur as she sits down next to you,

"Hi baby, you feeling good?" abby smirks at your dopey smile, setting your food carefully in your lap.

"So good, god, this smells so good," you groan, moaning as you taste the food. Abby's laughing as she watches you indulge, the corners of your mouth turning sticky and brown with the beef sauce.

"I already want this weekend to last forever," you mutter, "If I didn't have to go home to Damon, I wouldn't be worried about anything else right now," you say, reaching for a glass of water.

"I mean, of course I would, but you know..." and Abby wants to listen, she does. But her mind is deaf to all else but this thought. You have given her permission. Her shadow self could exist as a service. To you, to women like you. She could make your lives so much better.

She can hear you prattling on about this movie, curls her arms around you and pulls you in, pressing a kiss to your forehead and then your temple, and then your cheek. And all the while she can feel her hands warm and sticky with Damon's blood. You turn to her and press your forehead against hers.

"I love being here with you," You mumble, your lips are so close. It's Abby, steady, kind, sweet Abby. You didn't want to ruin a good thing. The only thing you had in this town.

Abby can't take it anymore, she was going to explode if she didn't do anything, so she finally, finally pressed her mouth to yours. She melted into you as she tasted your sweet lips. You whine at the taste of her, your hands reaching for her and fisting at her shirt, gripping her arms as Abby handled you into her lap.

"Abby," you whisper against her lips,

"I love you, I want this to be real, please I - I need you," she whines, nosing at your neck and placing soft kisses there.

"I love you Abs, I want you to be mine," you groan as her hands encourage your hips to move against her lap. "I am, I am yours. Always," Abby whines, finding your lips and kissing you again.

You tangle your hands in the base of Abby's braid and tug softly, experimentally and still Abby whimpers, her hips bucking up. Your lover's hands travel slowly to your ass, groping and squeezing it as her lips suckle at yours.

"Please, can I taste you, baby, please," Abby groans, laying you on the couch and reaching up under your dress to pull your panties down. You huff as her warm, soft hands trail up your thighs and between them. Abby leans up to kiss your mouth, her hands circling your tits and pinching at your nipples. You groan as she sucks on your tongue, you're dizzy as she's kissing down your throat, between your breasts and sucking desperately at your inner thighs.

"God, fuck you're leaking for me," Abby moans, shes swallowing drool, her nose bumping your clit as she licks at you shyly.

"Please, please let me eat your pussy," she groans and it dawns on you that your poor, sweet girl is begging for permission to ruin you.

"Yes, be a good girl and eat me baby," you groan and Abby whines into your pussy, suckling your clit into her mouth and lapping at your pussy. Her tongue going to dip at your hole and taste your sweet source. Abby's hips buck into the couch as she swallows you down. Her mouth is attentive to every part of your pussy.

Abby brings her fingers to gently circle your entrance, taking them up to rub up on either side of your clit as she sucks on it. And then she's stretching you, her thick finger curling as your hips jump.

"Oh fuck," you sigh and Abby is in awe of how soft and wet you are, how your pussy swallows her in and moulds against her finger.

"Your pussy's so needy baby," Abby rambles, spitting on your clit and brining her other fingers to rub on your clit. "i can feel you clenching on me honey, god you're so tight."

You whine at the lewd action and then she's smacking your clit and you can't help the way you're yelling and squirming under her as she adds a second finger, budging her shoulders between your thighs and keep you open.

"I know honey, just take it yeah? Can you take another finger baby? Can i stretch you out?" Abby whines kissing and making marks on your thigh. You're blubbering "yes" and "please", tugging at Abby's braid and fucking yourself on her fingers.

Abby is mesmerized by the way you move, your back arching and your perfect ass pressing up against her forearm as you do so. Your skin is getting dewy and she needs to see you fucking naked and writhing in her bed.

"I need to come honey, I'll make you feel so good later but right now I need to see you come okay?" Abby pleads, her fingers inching down to the knuckles and your legs squeeze around her shoulders. Feeling the tips of her fingers on your g-spot as she smacked your clit knocked the wind out of you.

You're gasping for air and for her and for more. Until you're undone, body possessed by pleasure under her touch. Abby doesn't let up until you're whimpering and tapping her arm.

"Too much," you whimper and Abby gently withdraws, scooping you up into her arms and rubbing her hands gently over your body.

"I want to - I just," You sigh into Abby's chest and god does she want to continue, but she had business to attend to.

"I know baby," she cooes in your ear, kissing your temple, "just go to sleep, s'okay," and you do, dosing off in her arms, the sound of the crackling fire accompanying you into deep sleep.

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

Abby parked a street down in an alley before your house. She knows from your find my family that Damon is in fact at home. She knows he'll be drunk out of mind and his delirious fear would make this sweet.

The street is quiet, Abby slinks against the walls until she passes the broken streetlamp in front of your house. She could see the TV glowing blue through the front windows, and a shadow of Damon asleep on the couch.

The door is unlocked, she thanks whatever devil made Damon for his stupidity. Abby's steps are light as a feather as she encroaches on her prey, Damon seems sound asleep as she circles to face him. Her only regret about this kill would be the lack of torture before death. Alas this needed to be a robbery, and Abby's alibi only kept her in the clear for a few hours.

Abby unsheathes her blade and takes a deep breath, memorizing the way Damon breaths, his shit bleach job, the beer bottle he'd let spill on the couch. She thinks about how many times he'd made you cry. Thinks about what he said to you, about the permission you'd given her. She served as the hand of the angel of death. Abby's sure if he hadn't hurt someone already, this would stop him from every trying.

She places a gloved hand over Damon's mouth and nose. Places her knee over him and readys her knife at his abdomen. When he wakes from the lack of air, Damon is trashing and clawing at Abby's arms. His eyes widen when they adjust to see her.

She can see the way his eyes sink in disbelief, and then how they light up with fear. She can't hear him, but she's sure he's begging for his life, promising to be good.

"You are inconsequential," Abby shoves her knife into Damon's gut. "The only time you'll ever be mentioned again," she laughs against his struggling, stabbing him once more. "Is when someone wants to note a remarkable failure."

Abby stabs him again, she can feel his body loosening, can see his eyes going dull.

"You are nothing." Abby huffs, removing her knife when she's sure he's gone. She looks at Damon, the gashes are gnarly and they fill her with pride, Woodsboro has been scoured, washed clean and made new again with fresh blood. This was a new start for you. God, you would be so relieved and Abby has to contain her excitement, she cannot let you know.

Abby reveled in the sight once more, before ransacking your home, picking up gold pieces she'd admired. Saving your mother's most expensive pieces and once she's satisfied her work mirrors a burglary, she skulks out onto the street. She closes the door behind her, no one needed to know this weekend.

When she gets to her car, her heart is beating out of her chest. She checked every street twice and stayed mostly in the dark. There are no cameras on this lane. She'd really done it.

Abby changes in her car, managing not to make a scene and then uses the wet wipes she brought to remove excess blood. She eyes the clothing and wipes she folded into a plastic bag and noted to burn it later.

Now, she could finally go home and make you hers.

The drive back is serene, Abby has never felt more elated. Every light shines brightly, the air smells of fresh flowers and evening dew. She can't help the holler that leaves her as she speeds down the highway, back to you.

Abby finds you in your bedroom, freshly showered and cocoa butter rubbed into your skin. She swallows and walks you back into the bed, clambering over you as you make your way up the bed.

Abby's mouth meets yours feverishly, you're tearing at her clothes and she quick to whip them off, desperate to feel your skin on hers. As soon as she's naked, Abby's hands are exploring your body, squeezing and gripping at every part of you, her mouth kissing at your neck and making marks there.

"M'sorry baby I just - i need to fuck you," She groans, lavishing your chest in attention, nipping at your sensitive nipples and taking them into her mouth to suck on as your back arches into her.

You try to snake your hands down into her boxers but Abby pulls your hands up and presses them above your head.

"Just let me do my job tonight, yeah? Let me take care of you, sweetness," Abby sighs as her hand cups your mound, she kisses her way down your torso, whining all the way until her mouth is on your clit again.

"Look at you," Abby groans, spreading your pussy open, "so needy you're fucking leaking already," she whines, her thumbs gently stroking at your labia until your huffing and bucking your hips up into her hands.

Before you can pleas with her for more, Abby's licks up your whole cunt and then starts to lap at your clit, her tongue tasting you from side to side. Letting her spit and your wetness pool at her finger, so she can slide it home.

"God, Abs," you sigh, hips meeting her thrusts, Abby is so taken with the way you stretch around her fingers and -

"Wanna feel you with my cock," she groans, "please can I use my strap baby," Abby groans, she's about ready to hump your leg. When you nod and whine yes, Abby's sprinting to put it on like it's the biggest competition of her life.

You admire her in the dim light, her muscles straining against her skin and her hips flexing with against the straps of her dick.

"You're so beautiful," you sigh as Abby comes closer, pressing a kiss to your mouth as she comes between your legs.

"M'gonna fill you up, and then come inside you yeah?" you whimper at the notion and spread your legs for her. You jolt at the coolness of the lube dropping on your clit as Abby lathers herself and you in the slippery substance.

"You good baby?" Abby asks before pushing in and when you nod, she's groaning as you take every inch of her. Like she can feel how fucking tight you are. How needy you are for her to fill you up.

Your mouth widens at the stretch and your hips are immediately bucking against hers for more, "please, please Abby," you blubber, profanities leaving you with every thrust of her hips.

"I love you so much," your arms come to grab at Abby, nails trailing red fire across her back as she fucks you. Her thrusts deep and slow, every part of your body sizzling as the base of her strap rubs on your clit.

"You're so deep, Abigail - god please - i love you," you sputter as Abby's hips circle and your eyes roll back in your head.

"I love you too baby, I fucking love you, wanna fill you up, can i come inside you? Please please i need to," Abby grunts as you nod vehemently, your hips struggling to meet her thrusts, until she holds your hips down and thrusts down deep and hard, the sound of it echoing through the cabin. Along with your songs of praise for each other.

"Gonna come, please come with me, please come inside me," you plead and Abby's hips stutter, the base of her clit pressing so perfectly against her, smacking and grinding as she fucks you. Your pussy swallowing her so perfectly. The coil in Abby's belly snaps, the same time you boil over and you cling to each other as you come. Pants that come with declarations of love leave you. If these were your lasts breaths you would happily take them.

Abby gently pulls out and discards of her strap, kicking it to the bottom of the bed and coming to entangle herself with you. The bed is all limbs and sheets, sweat and sex and love.

Abby doesn't think anything will compare to this feeling. Her veins are on fire and she shivers as your fingertips graze over her bruises.

"Where did you get these?' you murmur against her skin and abby shurgs, "fell in some bushes," she chuckles and you're not in the mood to question. So you laugh and nuzzle your face in her neck.

"I love you Abby, really. Not just in a heat addled moment." Abby nods and kisses the side of your mouth. "I know honey pot, and I love you," she smiles lifting her head to peak at you. You're falling steadily into sleep and Abby nearly shushes your phone when it starts to ring.

Abby checks the notifications, An alert for the house alarm, from your mother and the neighbors. Abby rolls her eyes and turns your phone off. Gently and slowly Abby disentangles herself from you and makes her way to the kitchen.

She breaks your sim chip as soon as she gets it out and smiles at her handy-work. No more distractions. Abby leaves your phone in the kitchen and makes her way back to the bedroom where you're stirring without her. She creeps into the sheets and you attach yourself, kissing her neck and sighing deeply as her hand comes to knead at your ass.

"You're still needy?" she chuckles as she squeezes your inner thigh and you whine, "yeah? my lovely girl needs me?" you nod as Abby turns you over and slots her thighs between yours, separating your lips and hers and pressing down so your clits are bumping together.

"oh shit, you feel so good," Abby groans her breath hitching and as she moves against you, and your hips start to move too, so you're working in a perfect rhythm. It's quick and messy and hot, the way you're grinding against each other, chasing that last bit of pleasure until it crashes down on you both, your bodies shaking and pressed together.

You pull the blankets up over the both of you, and neither of you can help the dreamless sleep that takes you.

[softjeekies]

Waiting After The Rain - 10

Pairing: ot8!stray kids x pregnant omega!reader

Synopsis: An omega pregnant and alone after being kicked out by their alpha stumbles upon a pack willing to take them in and care for both the omega and their pup as if they were their own, because now they are.

Genre: strangers to lovers, angsty but lots of fluff to even it out.

Warnings: mentions of nausea but no vomit, a/b/o, past abuse physical and verbal, past sexual abuse(mentions of past non-con), mentions of past violence, trauma, self esteem issues, pregnancy, aftermath of abuse, panic attacks, anxiety, pack dynamics, angst but it will be okay, polyamory

A/N: oh this is a lil bit of a longer one compared to the other chapters, ended up at almost 4k words so i hope that’s okay ;)

previous chapter // next chapter(coming soon)

Minho is a lot of things. He’s a good cook, he’s easy to talk with, he’s a little weird, but he’s a good alpha. A lot of your time was spent watching the pack exist, it’s your way of getting to know them from the safety of your own bubble. It’s clear Minho is a very traditional alpha but not stereotypical, he doesn’t control, If anything the omegas control him, he’s wrapped around their pretty little fingers. He lives to provide for his pack, he frets over everyone and does everything in his power to keep everyone happy and healthy, if he were an omega he’d be the luna no doubt about it. Minho’s humor is dry and he can be a little snarky and playful but god does he melt for his pack mates. It’s endearing and draws you to him most days, so you found yourself nervously standing in the kitchen while he made breakfast. You’re now well into your second trimester, but you and your doctor are now certain the nausea was just something you’d have to deal with for possibly the whole pregnancy. You were in a way grateful though, after all the abuse and weight issues if the only problem you’d have to deal with this pregnancy was some nausea here and there you’d take it no complaints, okay maybe just a little complaining. Because you know the solution, your omega won’t let you forget it.

Need Alpha’s scent. Alpha will make it better.

The alphas had made it abundantly clear that they didn’t mind scenting you, no they wanted to do it, like really bad, their words, not yours. But the idea of asking for something like that outright, something so intimate made your skin crawl. You could often get away with standing closer to them or sniffing whatever they touched last. Nobody really noticed, until now. Minho doesn't mind your company in the kitchen, unlike Jisung who gets in his way, You are always to the side making polite small talk when you feel like it. Today you’re quiet and almost awkward. Minho can be a little awkward so he never bats an eye at your behavior but you were standing this time which really worries him. All of the boys are protective of you and want you to be healthy and rest well but Minho was probably the worst with this. If he had his way he’d hand-feed you every meal just so you’d really never have to lift a finger. Every few minutes he hears a sniffing sound come from your direction and once he realizes it clicks for him, you're looking for his scent.

“Are you not feeling good? Do you need me to scent you? I can ask Felix to finish cooking.” Your eyes go wide at his sudden voice filling the kitchen.

“No! I’m good, I can smell you from here.” Minho shakes his head and calls for Felix to come downstairs, Without question the omega appears in the kitchen.

“Everything alright?” Felix stands extremely close to you, he doesn’t think you notice but whenever he enters a room you’re in he stands close. You know this is equivalent to the way he holds Jisung from behind nonchalantly, but that much skinship was still a grey area for you guys and he respects that.

“Yeah I’m going to go sit with Y/N and scent her, can you finish breakfast?” Felix happily nods and guides you towards the alpha who takes you into the living room. He sits you both down on the couch and for a moment there’s only silence. Minho keeps his arms open, an open invitation for you to crawl into his lap and rest your head near the scent gland on his neck. After a few moments of silence, he thinks maybe words would be more encouraging for you.

“Please take what you need, kitten.” The pet name simultaneously shocks you to your core and turns you into a puddle. The alpha is already releasing more of his scent and it acts like bread crumbs leading you right to his lap. Your eyes close happily as you bask in his cinnamon scent, subconsciously rubbing your head on his shoulder scenting him as well. His hands don’t wander but they keep you secure in his lap, but not enough that you couldn’t leave if you wanted to. But something in Minho would rather you never leave, he loves all his pack members’ various scents but he knows nothing compares to a pregnant omega. Your milky sweet cherry scent is intoxicating, like a sweet drug he’ll be addicted to for life.

“Mhmm thank you for doing this Minho, Sorry I interrupted your cooking.” The alpha sighs at your apology. He's not mad at you, he’s mad at everyone before him who made you believe you aren’t deserving of this kind of treatment.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I want to be your alpha, and that means taking care of you. It’s my job.” Your brain feels fuzzy from the scenting, your lack of experience being scented, and your enhanced sensitivity to smells right now creating the perfect playground for you to spill stuff you wouldn’t usually say out loud.

“You’re a good alpha Minho. I wish everyone were like you.” Minho’s breath hitches at your kind words, he’s so pleased to hear he’s doing a good job but it hurts to know you weren’t always treated this way.

“I grew up in a very omega-centered pack. My mom is the luna of her pack and alphas are very rare in her family tree. When she found out I presented as an alpha she already knew she’d raised me well, surrounded by omegas being treated like the gods and goddesses they are but she made sure I promised her to always treat my omegas well. I always keep my promises.” As you melted deeper into the alpha’s embrace you felt it again, the feeling of another crack forming in the brick wall of protection you’ve built around yourself. This is nice.

The newfound intimacy leaves you feeling a little in your head for the rest of the day. If the pack is serious about courting you, should you be courting them back? How would you even do that? It isn’t lost on you that this is something you should already know. You’re still recovering from seeing your old alpha but when you told the pack about why it had put you into a headspace where you were scared of the alphas and omegas the two omegas had sat down with you and explained how important omega bonds are and how any omega who doesn’t look out for their fellow omegas is disgraceful. Felix and Han had put in so much effort basically teaching you how to truly be an omega, you’d even started to feel the closeness they’d talked about all omegas feeling with each other. They’d let you know you could go to them with any questions at all and yet it took a moment of hyping yourself up but you allowed yourself to gently knock on Felix’s door.

“Come in Y/N!” Felix’s voice is bright even through the door. You immediately enter, taking strides towards where he sits in his bed, but you're a little confused.

“How did you know it was me?”

“Well typically I can sense which pack member it is because we’re all mated, but since we’re not mated I can tell it’s you because I can’t sense it being any of the guys.” You stand there in shock for a moment.

“Oh, I’m not mated… I didn't know you guys could do that.” Felix takes note of your saddened expression and invites you into his nest where you sit together now.

“I’m sorry. You have a bite mark, we just kind of assumed.” Your hand makes its way to the scar on your neck, memories of the last few years replay like a horror movie.

“He never wanted me to bite him back, this bite only exists to warn others of his hold on me, no claim.” The omega looks at you with big sorrowful eyes, he still can’t fathom how much you’ve gone through. He pulls you to lean on him, and a gentle hand finds itself rubbing your back comfortingly.

“Don’t worry, you’re with us now sweetheart. Now what did you come here for? Not that I don’t adore your company but you looked like you had something in mind.” Felix gives you a smile for encouragement, taking pride in the fact that you sought him out for whatever you need.

“I guess, it’s kind of related. I wanted to know what I’m supposed to be doing, I mean I’ve never been courted. Do I court you guys back? How and when do I accept it? When is it over?”

“Of course you can court us back! The rest is up to you. You’ll get to let us know when we’ve won your heart and you want to be an official pack member.” The open-endedness of it all is unsettling, having this much control over the situation is a lot.

“I’ve seen courting in the movies but like what should I do? I can’t really get you guys gifts and stuff.”

“Well you don’t necessarily have to do anything, gifts are more given to show you that we can provide for you, we‘re showing you that we care about your needs and wants. You don’t have to give us gifts but you accepting the ones we give you is a part of courting, an important one too. Just reciprocate what we put out and you’ll be great at courting! You’re already doing so good baby, Minho hyung was telling me all about how well your scenting session went earlier. He’s been glowing all morning telling us about it.” Felix beams. His omega purrs at your efforts to let your guard down and accept the alpha’s help and affection. Out of all the pack, he’s probably the most nervous about the courting process, because the last thing he wants is for his pack to hurt you any further. The omega knows his pack sometimes more than he knows himself, he knows they would never purposely hurt you but he also knows how fragile you are, and he’d never forgive himself if you got hurt again. Someone barging into the room startles both of you but you settle once you see it’s Chan.

“Perfect! I was looking for you Y/N!” Chan smiles and walks towards Felix’s nest.

“For what?” Did you forget to do something? Is he upset that you let Minho scent you? Your scent sours and you’re hit with the smell of saltwater and warm sand, Chan clearly smelling how your scent soured and pushing out his scent to bring you back to reality.

“It’s nothing serious, we’ve just been talking as a pack and we’d like to get you a phone… if that’s okay with you? No pressure! We know you’re never really alone and you don’t go out but it’d maybe make you feel a little more independent and it would ease our nerves knowing you could contact any of us if you needed to.” The pack has had a lot of talks about you and how to handle all this, what they wanted, and how they should proceed. They never did anything without discussing it amongst themselves first, so the question doesn’t surprise Felix, he was expecting this talk with you to happen soon. Chan’s nervous smell makes you scrunch your nose but you can barely think about it before the anxiety settles in your stomach.

“That’s a lot of money, Chan. I don’t need a phone. I’ve never even had a cellphone before” Felix is the one who takes your hand.

“Come on, think of it as a courting gift! Remember what we talked about, sweetheart.” Felix’s big shiny eyes make you melt, he knows you’re eager to please and nobody can resist his puppy dog eyes.

“Okay, I’ll accept your gift.” You give Chan a nervous smile and he beams with satisfaction.

“Thank you! You and Felix go get dressed and we can go.” Your stomach dropping completely ruins the mood. You hadn’t left the house since the incident. Felix immediately takes note of your sour cherry scent and wraps his arms around you lovingly.

“I can’t go outside, he’ll find me again.” It’s clear you’re spaced out, possible scenarios running rampant in your head.

“No no, Baby he can’t hurt you. Especially not when we’re around. Do you want someone else to come with us? Maybe another alpha?” Chan suggests already thinking of other ways to ease your nerves if this doesn’t work.

“Can we ask Jeongin?” You mumble but luckily for you, Chan has no issue hearing your request, he hears it so well that he can’t help the blush that crosses his face at the idea of you wanting a pack member for protection.

“Of course, I’ll go let him know and we’ll head out of here as soon as you’re ready. We take this at your pace.” Chan gives you a comforting hug before rushing out of the room to find Jeongin.

“This is such a date,” Felix speaks matter-of-factly once you two are in the confines of your own room and you’re shocked your eyes don’t pop out of your head.

“What? No! Is that why you put on a cute outfit?” You let out a whine looking in your closet now deciding on a nicer casual outfit. Felix giggles at your obvious outfit detour due to his comment.

“So you think my outfit is cute?” Your blush makes the omega feel proud, Oh he’s never going to shut up about this.

“You’re always cute.” You can’t help but hide your face when Felix walks over to you and wraps his arms around your back, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. But you crave more. The pack had limited affection to hugs, cuddles, and touches that linger for just long enough to leave a warm blush across your face. But something deep inside you craves a kiss, just one, you’d never be greedy.

“I gotta be extra cute if I want to impress a goddess like you.” You’ve never been so flustered in your life, weaseling your way out of the omega’s grasp to finish getting ready.

The walk down to the front door feels heavy, your alpha waiting for you there does only a little to help ease your nerves. Jeongin knew you’d be nervous, he’d spent the entire time waiting for you to get ready, hyping himself up to be the best alpha he could be for you at this moment. When he sees you on the staircase he almost short-circuits and forgets everything he’d planned. His omegas were the most ethereal beings on this planet, There’s no one as lucky as him he’s sure of it, well besides his other pack members. He hopes they know how lucky they all are.

“Hi baby, you look so beautiful. Do you want me to hold your hand? I won’t let go unless you say so.” The warmth of the blush on your face grounds you a bit, and without a word you take Jeongin’s hand. Felix and Chan walk to the car first with Jeongin letting you take the lead. The first step out the door is the hardest but the alpha never rushes or scolds you, just encouraging whispers and his thumb rubbing smooth circles on your hand all the way to the car.

The walk into the mall is a whole different beast and this isn’t lost on Jeongin.

“Before we go in, do you want us to scent you? We’ll never leave your side but if you’re covered in our scent nobody will even look at you.” Your heart explodes at the prospect, nodding eagerly allowing the three men to douse you in their scents. On the verge of being scent drunk, your mind fuzzes ever so slightly, just enough to take the edge off.

In the store Jeongin stands with his arm wrapped firmly around your waist, his thumb generally rubbing the side of your bump. Chan decided to just get you the same phone most of the guys use since you don’t know much about phones but he’s showing you the different sizes to see what you like. Luckily the smaller of the two sizes feels more comfortable in your hands, since you noticed it was cheaper.

“Y/N! Look, this phone case has cherries and lemons on it, it’s literally us! You should get it.” The omega nods in your direction showing you the phone case in his hands. It is cute you’ll admit that.

“I mean you do need a case, why not get one that reminds you of Lixie!” Jeongin’s encouraging words are enough to get you to give in, that and Felix giving you those damn puppy dog eyes again.

You purposely zone out while Chan is paying, still feeling unworthy of anyone spending this kind of money on you.

“Oh this is going to be so much fun, I’m going to text you all the time you’ll be sick of me.” Felix is buzzing with excitement as you walk, so excited he begged for you all to go to the food court right now so he could get your phone set up and show you how to use it. You’ve seen cellphones before, in media and in real life, you’ve just never had one so it shouldn’t be too foreign for you but you wouldn’t dare ruin the omega’s fun.

“Felix we are home together almost every day.” Felix looks at you a little shocked for a moment before a smile covers his face.

“Home? You haven’t exactly called it home yet… I really like that.” At this rate, the whole mall will smell like warm lemon tarts with how much Felix’s sickly sweet scent has spiked.

“Oh, I guess I haven’t. Is that okay? That I call it my home.” You look between the men and they all look back at you with looks you still aren’t quite used to seeing, their eyes full of love and adoration for you.

“Yes! Of course, it’s your home now!” Chan pipes up and you take a deep breath, you feel good.

“You guys get the phone set up and I’ll go grab us some tteokbokki.” Jeongin runs his hand over your back as you sit down at the table, just to let you know he’s still there for you.

“Y/N doesn’t really like spicy food so make sure you get her the rosé one just like mine!” Your mouth gapes open slightly, completely shocked Chan remembered that, but before you can think too much about it Felix calls your attention.

“I put everyone’s number in here and added you to our pack group chat so you can text or call us whenever you want!” You smile as he continues to show you the apps he downloaded and how to do certain things.

“Thank you for the phone.” You bow your head to them, hoping they understand how appreciative you really are.

“Oh yeah of course! You need a phone so we got you one. It’s really no big deal, I’m glad you enjoy your gift.” Jeongin comes back to Chan looking at you so lovingly his heart is as warm as the food at this point.

As you eat, no, devour your rice cakes you feel a little sauce fall onto the side of your lip but before you can grab a napkin there’s already one on your cheek.

“Messy baby.” Jeongin giggles as he wipes the sauce from your face.

“Were you watching me eat?” You raise an eyebrow at him, you weren’t weirded out just confused. But yes, he absolutely was. The alpha started off just wanting to keep an eye on you and make sure you were eating and enjoying yourself but he quickly became enthralled by how content you looked. Seeing you enjoy the food he got you and looking so safe by his side just does things to him and his alpha.

“I like looking at my pretty omega, is that a crime?” Jeongin’s smirk alone has your omega doing backflips, and your mind swirls with thoughts of how attractive he actually is.

“Do as you please.” You brush it off and finish up your food. He doesn’t take any offense to this, he has no intention of pushing your boundaries so he doesn’t mind that you don’t want to keep the flirty banter going. Slow and steady, everything at your pace.

At home, the pack agreed to give you some space to play with your new phone. Jisung made sure to download the games he likes to play so here you were playing these silly games well into the night, well before your game time was interrupted by a knock on your door.

“Hi princess, I missed you today. Can I join you in your nest?” Placing the phone on the side table you nodded eagerly for Changbin to join you. Changbin knew you had such a good day and he wants you to keep having these good days so that’s why he had to follow through. With his arm draped over your waist, he thinks about how precious you’ve become to him in such a short time. It wasn’t the first time he fell fast, he could think of seven other times his heart wrapped itself around another wolf so quickly like this.

“You know I’d do anything for you two right?” Changbin’s words would have shocked you more if you weren’t already so sleepy in his arms.

“I think you proved that in the parking lot, Binnie.” Your mumbled response is followed by quiet. The alpha waits until he hears your breathing completely level out and he’s certain you’re safe and asleep before he gently slips out of your nest leaving you with a feather-light kiss to your temple before making his way to the front door.

“Where are you going?” Minho’s voice causes the younger alpha to pause for a moment.

“Finishing some business.” The older alpha tilts his head before walking towards the door and putting on his own sneakers.

“I’ll come with you.” Changbin is a little shocked. Does he know what he’s agreeing to? He has to. There’s something unspoken between the two alphas.

They would both do anything for you and your pup.

[hestzhyen]

On How Samura's Disability was Handled

I think there's good points to be made about how Samura overcame his disability and that it's pretty lame. It's something that's pretty common in fiction- when you make someone's injury/disability a metaphor for a character flaw, healing it to show they've overcome their issues inside and out gives you a sour feeling. Physical disabilities aren't something for someone to magic away! Nor are they indicative of someone being "broken" in the first place!

There's an example of this happening that turned me off from an entire book series I used to love. The Young Wizards series was generally excellent for me growing up, tackling heavy subjects like losing a parent to cancer and how to deal with younger siblings that are more talented than you, facing your own impending decline and how to manage it. It even has a gay-coded mentor couple that helps out the protagonists! And a Hispanic girl as a main character without relying on tired stereotypes! A guy and a girl working together as best friends instead of becoming a romantic duo! From as far back as the first book, which was published in 1982! It's a really really good series that I'm glad I read.

Until it came to the sixth book, A Wizard Alone.

The main character of this book is Darryl McAllister, who is autistic. So seriously autistic that he's in special education since he's non-verbal and prone to strong emotional outbursts. But I'll let the description speak for itself (with spoilers if you're interested in reading the series):

Hmm.

The universe-specific plot details aside, doesn't it feel kind of icky that someone can start to exhibit autistic behaviour themselves if they're with an autistic person too much? I know (or at least presume in good faith) that that wasn't the author's intent when she wrote this, but it doesn't exactly sit well. Especially since the book ends with Darryl quite literally leaving a trap for the Big Bad with his "autistic self" in a different universe and becoming a "normal" person in the narrative relevant one via being able to exist in more than one place at a time. Hooray...?

I would absolutely love to leave my disorders and body dysphoria behind and be "normal". I used to dream about it so hard I'd cry to myself all night. But life demands that I work through them all and find out what "normal" is to me, as frustrating and painful and goddamn awful it can be.

So yeah. Even when done with positive intentions, it can still feel really uncomfortable to see disabilities being treated like burdens and flaws that can be fixed or left behind somehow. As if anyone can be cured of anything short of death with enough gumption and the right kind of help. It... doesn't work like that. At all. Disabled people are perfectly capable of being whole with or without a permanent solution to their problems.

So with Samura's eyes being healed, I get it. He was blind and now that he's overcome the trauma holding him back, he's sighted again. Feels bad if we are looking for positive disability rep without the usual magical handwaving away to show someone becoming "whole". Does that mean I can never be whole in this author's eyes? Are all of us disabled people doomed to suffer feeling pain and lack of fulfillment all our lives since we can't be cured inside and out?

In this case, I don't think Hokazono meant it that way- and he deliberately went out of his way to say so.

Chapter 51

The key difference here is that Samura wasn't born blind and he didn't end up that way due to an accident or circumstances beyond his control. He blinded himself out of sheer guilt and anxiety. He chose his disability and only undid that when it was time for him to let go of the reasoning that led him to do it in the first place; gave him self a grave injury and handicapped himself to reflect what was going on in his head and heart. That's leaning extremely heavy on the metaphor instead of making wider commentary, I think. There's a bit more thought put into this situation than the one with Darryl in A Wizard Alone at least.

There's also other characters to consider. Chihiro's got a nasty scar on his face that he chooses not to heal (because he's also not letting go of the emotions/trauma it represents). If Hakuri has a ton of scars under his clothes, we know damn well why. Even Hiruhiko's flubbed backstory was treated with a modicum of care not usually given to other characters in his circusmtances- in a way, it's empowering for him instead of a full-on detriment to his character. Hokazono's not using visual injury and disability metaphors without thought here. He doesn't get it right all the time, but he's not doing it will ill intent either.

So that's why I'm not as critical of this trope being invoked with Samura as I could be- and would be under different circumstances. I don't know how to end things so... take care of yourself, inside and out.

[martindubuque]

I agree to a degree, Ai panic is often overblown, we should also give Ai another year or two to make sure we're not wasting our breath talking about the current metaverse or NFTs. Genuinely, what uses does this current generation of Ai even have beyond "customer service email" and "bad F2P Game stock art", and don't give me that junk about cancer detection because that's a whole other thing that existed way before this current Ai. The issue with a machine being trained off of all artist's work is that it's building a "tool" that can then be used to replace all artists, all the time, everywhere. I think people have a right to be mad about that, about their labor being stolen and then regurgitated by every corpo known to man, 24/7. If we lived in a socialist world this would be no big deal, but the fact that you, a leftist, brush this specific theft from labor aside is absolutely baffling, given they're the ones at the forefront of being replaced.

The poisoning of public sentiment towards Ai seems to be working somewhat, given how cautious certain corpos are in regards to Ai. That's really all we can do, to at least help artists and similar labor in similar positions from getting fired in droves. Also important to note how many Ai lawsuits are going in Ai's favor in regards to fair use, so I have my doubts about copyright being tightened. That being said, it is definitely a risk and wrong to cheer on the Mouse. Better to just view it as two monsters duking it out, knowing ultimately you'll likely to lose, but at least one will be worse for wear. If we really want a "leftist view of Ai", let's be honest about what Ai can actually do, what is "Ai" and what is actually useful ML. Right now the former is dominating all oxygen and financing thanks to conmen desperately trying to sell their next big thing by making false sales pitches about their product. This isn't automation that will actually help any of us in a socialist context, it's just shiny crap that barely works, useful only in a capitalist context so execs can do mass layoffs and replace them with a vastly inferior thing. Another cog for the slop machine! At least when a person was doing it they were getting paid scraps. The techbro right wants to make a big Ai daddy that will bring upon us a utopia by solving all our problems, do you actually believe them? That this will actually do that? Of course you don't. But yes, many of the anti-ai arguments don't hold much water, in the same way many pro-ai arguments don't hold any either. Fact is, Ai right now is being built by conmen, so it doesn't really do anything, once they evaporate real "Ai" can actually be explored or rather continued to be explored before the insane execs took over. I don't hate Ai because it commits copyright infringement, I hate Ai because it's being built by corporations off the backs of artists, who will promptly be thrown to the streets, replaced by an omni-present tool they non-consensually helped build.

Honestly, maybe I'm the uninformed one here, because like I said while I agree with you that the Ai panic is overblown, the rest of what you've said I do not get really. Did you watch that poorly researched Avila video too? Edit: I'm also curious about your statement about Ai performing tasks better and the "neo-conservative" thing about the soul. Are you actually referring to Ai art in this instance? That is nuts to say. Ai art is often soulless in the same way a lot of real art by real artists is soulless, technical ability does not equal "quality" when it has nothing to say. I'll even go a step further and say Ai art's hyper-polished work is almost fascist in it's appeal, Ai art is the antonymic answer to the Nazi idea of "degenerate art".

Worst part of popular left wing AI discourse online is that there's absolutely a need for a robust leftist opposition to use of cognitive automation without social dispensation to displaced human workers. The lack of any prior measures to facilitate a transition to having fewer humans in the workplace (UBI, more public control over industrial infrastructure, etc) is a disaster we are sleepwalking into - one that could lock the majority of our society's wealth further into the hands of authoritarian oligarchs who retain control of industry through last century private ownership models, while no longer needing to rely on us to operate their property.

But now we're seemingly not going to have the opposition we so desperately need, because everyone involved in the anti-AI conversation has pretty thoroughly discredited themselves and their movement by harbouring unconstrained reactionary nonsense, blatant falsehoods and woo. Instead of talking about who owns and benefits from cognitive automation, people are:

Demanding impossibilities like uninventing a now readily accessible technology

Trying to ascribe implicit moral value to said technology instead of the who is using it and how

Siding with corporations on copyright law in the name of "defending small artists"

Repeating obvious and embarrassing technical misconceptions and erroneous pop-sci about machine learning in order to justify their preferred philosophy

Invoking neo-spiritual conservative woo about the specialness of the human soul to try to incoherently discredit a machine that can quite obviously perform certain tasks just as well if not better than they can

Misrepresent numbers about energy use and environmental cost in an absurd double standard (all modern infrastructure is reliant on data centers to a similar level of impact, including your favourite fandom social media and online video games!) to build a narrative AI is some sort of malevolent spirit that damages our reality when it is called upon

It's a level of reactionary ignorance that has completely discredited any popular opposition to industrial AI rollout because it falls apart as soon as you dig deeper than a snappy social media post, or a misguided pro-copyright screed from an insecure web artist (who decries a machine laying eyes on their freely posted work while simultaneously charging commission for fan-art of corporate IPs... I'm sure that will absolutely resolve in their favour).

It would be funny how much people are fucking themselves over with all this, except I'm being fucked over to, and as a result am really quite mad about the situation. We need UBI, we need to liberate abundance from corporate greed, what we don't need is viral posts about putting distortion filters on anime fan-art to ward off the evil mechanical eye, pointless boycotts of platforms because they are perceived to have let the evil machines taint them, or petitions to further criminalize the creation of derivative works.

[lynxgriffin]

Hi! I'm going to say something that I was thinking of while eating (very precise). I was wondering why hasn't Toriel talked/called out Asgore about his behaviour? You know, the whole "giving you flowers+showing you awkward affection that you didn't ask for+hiding in the bush near the church like a creep". And before you say it, yes I know that he has to understand when to stop being a stalking weirdo, but people like that don't stop unless, and I quote Susie herself, "you scream NO to their faces", so why hasn't she done that already? And no I don't believe the only times he did this was in game, I think it lasts longer than this (for her sake I hope not, but for this theory let's admit that it does) The reason, is not only because Toriel is trying to be the bigger person, or that she doesn't want to make a scene in front of people (or Kris and Susie in Chapter 4's case), even if that's a high possibilty. I think she mostly doesn't want to confront him, and the past in some extension. In Chapter 2, when Susie comes to her house with Kris, she says that she's happy Kris made a friend. "MADE a friend", except that her of all people should know that Kris and Noelle are supposed to be friends since they are kids. And Toriel isn't aware of all of Kris' activities, even at School, so she wouldn't know that the two don't really talk as much as before. In Chapter 2 and 4, when Asgore arrives, she just leaves (and even thanks him in Chapter 4 for the flowers, which, by the way, made me sick. Because unfortunately for her, in Asgore's head, it's just an invitation to try again). Then you have the scene at the end, when she's dancing with Sans while drunk. In this scene, I agree with most that it's probably the happiest she's ever been so far in the game (and in a long time too), and I'm thinking the reason why is because she doesn't have to think of the past. She doesn't have to think about Asgore, she doesn't have to think about Dess going missing and the families being broken, she doesn't have to think about the dispute(s) she had with Asgore on the subject and their hard divorce, she doesn't have to think about any of that. The past is actively eating her inside, and it's hurting her so much that she would rather take Asgore's harassment and ignoring it, rather than talk to him and having to deal with it. And Kris' reaction would reflect this, since unlike her, they don't have a choice. They can't ignore the past, they can't ignore what happened (since they probably have been confronting for a while now). By the way, I'm finishing by saying that this isn't a jab at Toriel, at all. I'm simply theorising based on her reactions to Asgore's behavior, and came to the conclusion that the dance scene of Chapter 4 is litteraly her coping. And in conclusion: I hope she/we gets to beat up Asgore later. Have a good day!

Here's the thing: I think it's quite possible that she HAS given him some hard, strong NOs in the past, and we just haven't seen them personally. "The family's fighting again" from Tenna seems to imply that there have, perhaps, been some pretty bad shouting matches between the Dreemurrs in the past, and that could easily have carried over after they divorced, too. Asgore's problem is that he is still thinking of this as a misunderstanding, that if he just proves "what really happened" then Toriel won't tell him "no, leave me alone" anymore.

And if that happens often enough...if giving Asgore that firm "leave me alone" doesn't work, well, is it surprising that she'd stop trying? Especially if he does it in public, in front of other people. "I can't lose my temper in front of this funny skeleton I want to get to know better, so I'll be cordial." "I have to be polite with Kris here, and especially with their friend I invited to church." When you're in that kind of situation, you have to pick your battles. And if she knows Asgore is not going to get the hint no matter what she does, and people are going to just kind of brush it off...well, is it worthwhile to escalate the situation? Or is it better to just leave as quick as she can?

That said, I do definitely think that Toriel is desperate to move on to something better while Asgore is still stuck firmly in the past. And yes, Kris is in the worst position of all, with the past basically hanging like a millstone on their neck...they can't ignore it even if they wanted to. Toriel's desperation to move forward and ignore the past is a stumbling block for her in terms of helping Kris with this nightmare they're dealing with, but it's not shocking that that's her method of dealing with things when juxtaposed against how Asgore is treating her.

[mechncheese]

Brainstorm t-cog asker here! I did say I had more!

I feel like Brainstorm probably gets irritated over priorities. While everyone's trying to work they refuse to work with him for the most part. Plus Prowls. There.

With the obvious stakes of their situation, I imagine Brainstorm things they need to get their stuff straight. He feels like they treat limiting and further punishing him as far more important than their very survival. Kinda adds to his already poor view of those around him. Is that part of why he seems so angry all the time? I think it was a conflict between him and Prowl iirc.

Is it possible he also hopes that if he can prove his capabilities he might get some more freedom? When that doesn't happen will he want to stop helping or is the desire to continue working on something stronger than spite?

If I am right about any of this I can see why him and Prowl fight so much, they're similar but in all the ways that make them clash. Both of them hate not being listened to and think themselves the only ones fit to fix everything and are constantly fighting each other for control neither of them have.

Hell after the mutiny would Brainstorm try to use it as a way to be rid of Prowl? Or are they eventually going to be set straight?

Close ! It's a bit of the other way around, Brainstorm is selfish, egotistical, an opportunist who puts himself first. He's just a bad individual who thinks he's misunderstood. There are two main reasons the other scientists don't work with Brainstorm; Brainstorm thinks he can handle it by himself, he refuses help from others (he had this attitude towards Nautica, ended up pushing her away, and overall that hurt their friendship) and the other reason is because Brainstorm is overall untrustworthy and hard to work with.

He wasn't just imprisoned for his triple changer experiment and lack of scientific ethics, he has also committed treason (among other things) and is only out now because Prowl made a deal with Brainstorm in exchange for his (restricted) freedom.

Brainstorm's mostly angry because of the situation he's in, he's extremely restricted, surrounded by the scientists who he sees as below him, under constant surveillance, there's no opportunity for him to gain an upper hand over them and that adds to his frustration. Also yes his conflict with Prowl is another factor-- Prowl and Brainstorm have a problem of trying to be the smartest guy in the room at all times and because of their stubborn natures, they butt heads a lot.

The initial deal between them was that if Brainstorm fulfilled his job (bring the scientists home + help with the Cybertron dying situation) Prowl would grant Brainstorm full freedom, no collar, no prison, he would be a free bot. As Brainstorm makes progress, Prowl does get less strict on him, little by little Brainstorm gets his freedom back (giving Brainstorm periods of time where Prowl is not in the same room with him, letting him have his own side projects, eventually getting the collar off) it's Brainstorm's main incentive to continue working.

After Prowl's failed attempt to have control over Jetfire's team, they would compromise. They (Prowl and Jetfire) agree they won't get anywhere if they keep fighting so they have a begrudging mutual agreement but overall Jetfire gets to remain in charge.

[marlynnofmany]

Good Food and Bad Smells

My crewmates generally got along, which was why I was so surprised to hear the tones of a disagreement as I headed toward the exit. Most of the crew were out getting food at the spaceport; what kind of argument could be happening in the halls?

One related to food, as it turned out. I heard the personnel door close right before I turned the corner. Once there, I found Kavlae and Wio walking towards me.

“What’s up?” I asked, looking between the two pilots. They didn’t look like they’d been arguing with each other.

Kavlae waved her blue frills diplomatically and started with, “Nothing really—”

“Paint’s food stinks,” Wio interrupted, standing indignantly on tentacle-tips. “Had to tell her to eat it outside the ship.”

“Oh,” I said. “Why was that a big deal?”

Wio curled a tentacle. “Search me. Apparently she was surprised neither of us want that smell soaking into the air filters.”

Kavlae looked apologetic. “Even with a sealed package, eating it only in her quarters, we’d smell it all the way down the hall. I’m familiar with that Heatseeker delicacy; it’s almost a biohazard.”

I added, “Which probably hurt her feelings.”

Kavlae winced. “Probably.”

“I’ll tell her you’re sorry but haven’t changed your minds, shall I?” I suggested. “I was about to go visit the food stalls too.”

“Please,” Kavlae said with a nod and flap of her head frills.

Wio said, “Don’t let her convince you the door to her quarters would contain the smell. Those doors are designed to NOT be airtight, for safety reasons.”

“Righto,” I agreed. They walked past and I headed for the door to the outside. I was already breathing shallowly, braced for stench.

But the air outside was clean — well, spaceport-level clean, with tinges of exhaust and sun-warmed pavement. Other ships sat in their designated landing spots.

Paint stood a few steps away from the door, holding a small plastic tub and looking sulky. She lashed her scaly tail and glared.

“Hey,” I said, though she was already talking over me.

“They said it smelled bad!” Paint exclaimed, in the aggrieved tones of someone whose favorite thing had been deeply slandered. “This is the best smell of all foods ever! I followed it across town!” She waved the tub around, which was thankfully still sealed.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Geology cake,” Paint told me. “I used to ask for it at every celebration back home. It’s called that because of the layers.” She held the tub with one hand, using the other to gesture in horizontal slices. “Made with perfectly ripe bitterfruit, and fermented worm cream. Plus a few other flavors that I forget. I was never the one to make it back home. I’d love to learn how! Though SOME people would apparently have a problem with that.” She huffed and turned a lizardy glare toward the closed door to the ship.

“They say sorry for the offense,” I told her. “And you know, they probably like some foods that you think are gross too.”

“But it’s my favorite!” Paint said plaintively. She held the tub close like someone might try to take it away from her. “I’d eat it every day if I could. My parents never let us have enough; they said it was unhealthy to have too much.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve been there for sure,” I said. “It feels like all the things that taste the best are the ones that are bad to eat too much of. Which makes sense, I guess, since probably every civilized species figures out what flavors they like, then maximizes them.”

Paint nodded. “You told me about that aisle of salty snack food in your home store.”

“Right! Salt tastes good because we need a certain amount to be healthy, and in nature it can be hard to find.” I waved my own hands, warming to the subject. “But we’re not in nature anymore, and we’ve made tons of delicious things with more salt in a meal than we need in two days. Such a problem to have.”

“It’s unfair,” Paint agreed. She looked sadly down at the tub. “This really is my favorite, though. That’s important. Do you have a favorite food? Probably one of those toxic ones, right?”

I laughed. “Chocolate is pretty darn tasty, I won’t lie. I don’t really have one single favorite food, since there are so many good ones. I usually just say pizza.”

Paint nodded as if that was what she expected. “You told me about that. Every ingredient takes multiple stages of processing, and two of the most common ones will give most sentient species intestinal troubles.”

“Yeah, unfortunately,” I admitted. “I didn’t used to think bread stuff was strange at all until I got to space, to say nothing of cheese.”

Paint made a face and shook her head. “The less said about cheese, the better.”

“Did I tell you that some humans can’t digest it properly either?”

“Yes! Which makes it all the more baffling that it’s so popular in human spaces!”

I shrugged. “There are pills that you can take to help with lactose intolerance. It tastes good enough to be worth it. Especially with all the other ingredients.”

“Toxic ones. With blood-red sauce that causes organ failure.”

“Not for everybody!” I objected. “Some people can eat tomatoes. Just not everybody.”

“I am not about to try,” Paint said. She looked down at the tub again. “I am going to eat this, though, no matter what those two brainless noses say.”

I didn’t comment on the Heatseeker phrasing. I was curious. “Before I go get my own food, can I smell it? Will it put me off eating all together?”

Paint was delighted by this, and assured me that of course not, it was a lovely smell, the best around, etc etc. I just nodded as she opened the tub.

She held it out. “There! Isn’t that amazing?”

I only got a glimpse of beige frosting before getting nose-punched by an odor that was both sharp and rotten. I tried to keep a neutral expression as I stepped back, exhaling forcefully and hoping the stench wouldn’t follow me.

“Hm. Not for me, I think.”

“But it’s so good!” Paint repeated. “Where’s Captain Sunlight? She’ll back me up. Clearly all of you just have inferior noses.”

“Possible,” I allowed, breathing through my mouth. Ugh, I could taste it too.

“Wait, there’s Eggskin! They’ll like it!” Paint waved at the approaching cook/medic, who was also a small lizardperson with apparently horrendous taste in cake.

I tried to sound normal when I joked, “They’ll probably just caution you not to eat it all in one sitting.”

“They’d better not!”

When Eggskin got a little closer, I could see that they were carrying a bag that might have come from a food stall.

When they got a little closer still, the wind changed and I honestly almost threw up. “What is that?” I demanded, covering my nose.

Eggskin approached and sighed. “I probably should have just eaten this back there, shouldn’t I? The chairs were all full.”

I suggested, “Did you try waving that around and waiting? I suspect they would have cleared out pretty quickly.”

Paint just cocked her head curiously. “What is it? It smells familiar.”

Eggskin managed to look guilty. “Three-month pneumonia. It’s not the healthiest choice, I admit—”

Paint pointed. “That’s why it’s so familiar! It was my cousin’s favorite!”

“Three-month what?” I asked, certain I’d heard wrong.

“Pneumonia,” confirmed our ship’s medic. “Whoever invented it got creative with the naming. I would have preferred something less ominous.”

Paint hurried to explain it, waving the lid of her own still-open food around. “It’s knife-wing lungs! Filled with fermented greedbeast-fat sauce!”

Eggskin nodded. “And slug garnish.”

“Wow,” I managed. “That sounds special.”

“It is! A rare treat.” Eggskin turned to Paint. “Would you like some?”

“Oh, no thank you; I have my own food,” Paint said politely, finally putting the lid back on. “Also I can’t stand knife-wing. Sorry.”

I made a rather gurgling laugh and pointed toward the edge of the spaceport. “I think I see some empty tables over there. Maybe you two would like to eat and reminisce about parties and strong-smelling food?”

Paint perked up and followed my finger. “Oh! Yay!”

Eggskin gave me a knowing look. “You’re going to run off in the opposite direction, aren’t you?”

I was already walking. “I think I spy something promising way the heck over there.”

Paint headed for the tables. “Enjoy your toxins!”

“You as well!” I said. “I hope your biohazard is delicious.”

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[splonk-fox]

Monty's disability in Kindergarten and how it reflects the real world.

TW: Ableism and use of derogatory language towards disabled people. if that makes you uncomfortable I suggest not reading this post.

I find the Kindergarten series commentary on disabled people, specifically Monty, to be incredibly interesting and honestly kind of refreshing.

I feel that most media out there tends to land on opposite ends of the extreme when it comes to how it portrays disabled people. You either have them treating disabled people as somehow "worse" than abled people, or you'll see them treating disabled people as if they are somehow gifted because of their disabilities.

As someone who is both physically (needs glasses) and mentally (ADHD) disabled I can tell you that it is neither glamorous to deal with these things, nor does it make me any better or worse than anybody else. Which is also true for Monty.

Even after being crippled by the original janitor, Monty is still portrayed as incredibly competent and capable of pulling his own weight in spite of his disability, but we can also see how being in a wheelchair does present its own challenges such as no longer being able to use the stairs and, most egregiously, how others treat him.

Monty is constantly picked on by both kids and grown ups alike, whether it be having his wheelchair taken apart at the command of Carla, or being regularly called derogatory terms like "Invalid" and "Cripple" for literally no reason other than people simply not liking him.

This all leads to Kindergarten 3 where Monty finally gets the chance to fight back and prove his own worth.

One of the big reasons why I like Helicopter Parenting so much is because it highlights that ableism extends beyond simply being disabled.

Throughout the entire mission Felix makes his ableist worldviews abundantly clear, calling Monty terms such as "Incompetent, "Invalid" and "Cripple" and refuses to let him see his father not because of anything he actually did, but simply because he personally doesn't like the idea of his dad working with someone who he sees as lesser.

Keep in mind that Felix has literally no reason to dislike Monty throughout most of his mission. At the very beginning of the day we "fix" Monty by giving him the goo battery, restoring mobility in his arms. He's basically as "abled" as a physically disabled person can be at this point. So really Felix shouldn't have a problem with him, and yet he does. Because being disabled is never really the problem for these people, it's the fact that they're different. They're not seen as "normal" and so they hate them for it. Nothing you can do will ever satisfy them because they already see you as broken beyond repair. Which makes our ability to turn the tables on Felix at the end all the more satisfying.

After spending the whole mission being unfairly discriminated against, Felix finally gets a taste of his own medicine when Monty has his chopper shot down.

"Let's see how Felix likes being crippled for a change."

Some might read this as the game treating disabilities as a punishment for bad actions which is obviously a stupid mentality, but what we're really seeing here in my opinion is a classic case of laser-guided karma. Felix spent the whole mission bullying a disabled person purely out of pettiness, so naturally his punishment is being turned into the very thing he despises. Being disabled may not be in itself a punishnment, but for someone like Felix, it absolutely is. As sad as it may be, sometimes the only way to get it over someone's head that what they're doing is wrong is by forcing them to live out the exact same circumstances you did.

Now, do I think the Kindergarten games have perfect disability representation? No. There is definitely something to be said about the use of outdated terminology like "differently abled" that's present in these games, or how the series treats Monty no longer having to use a wheelchair or Nugget no longer speaking in the third person as "fixing" them, implying that being disabled somehow makes you broken.

At its core however, I believe the Kindergarten games offer some genuinely good insight on how disabled people are treated by the wider world and how they're often seen as lesser beings purely because they don't fit society's definition of "normal".

Kindergarten as a series is so chock full of social commentary that isn't immediately obvious to the average player that I honestly think I could write an entire essay dissecting each element of these games and what they have to say about the wider world, but I'll save that for another time. For now, I hope you enjoyed what I had to say in this post and I hope you have a good day/night.

[inky-sun]

You know why I really love Tumblr?

It’s one of the few social media platforms where the whole “influencer” culture barely functions—if it functions at all. There’s no real incentive here to build a brand around your personality, no pressure to monetize your every move, and no obsession with follower counts or aesthetic perfection. It feels like one of the last remaining places on the internet where people are just people. Where you can exist without needing to sell yourself, perform for strangers, or curate your life into a highlight reel.

Even celebrities don’t seem to dominate Tumblr the way they do on other platforms. Even if some have a Tumblr, it just doesn’t work. You’re not constantly bombarded with their extravagant lifestyles or luxury vacations or filtered snapshots of “effortless” beauty. It’s not about making you feel small or inadequate. In fact, it’s often the opposite, this place makes room for weirdness, creativity, honesty, and imperfection. There’s no polished algorithm trying to trap your attention by making you feel envious or not enough.

And that’s exactly the problem with Instagram, Facebook, TikTok, Snapchat. Those are designed to keep you scrolling, to keep feeding you content that triggers some kind of emotional reaction, usually envy or longing. You could have no interest in luxury cars, designer clothes, or plastic-perfect beauty, and yet somehow, those things still find their way onto your feed. The algorithm doesn't care what you want—it only cares about what keeps you addicted. And more often than not, that means showing you images and videos that make you feel like your life is lacking something, that you're behind, that you’re not doing enough or being enough.

You end up stuck in a loop. You scroll, you compare, you feel bad, and you scroll again, hoping something will make you feel better—but it doesn’t. It just keeps feeding you more of the same. More “perfect” people. More influencers selling products they don’t care about. More staged content meant to look spontaneous. More subtle reminders that you’re not living up to an impossible standard.

And the worst part? These platforms elevate people whose only talent is selling an image. People with more money than they could ever spend, who could actually change the world if they wanted to—solve hunger, fund education, provide healthcare. But instead, they hoard their wealth and chase more. More likes. More deals. More exposure. It’s a nonstop performance of greed and gluttony dressed up as aspiration. And we’re told to want what they have. We’re told this is the dream.

That’s why Tumblr feels different. It’s messy, quiet, thoughtful, chaotic in the best way. People here post what they love, what they think about at 3 a.m., what makes them laugh or cry or feel alive. There’s a sort of freedom in that. It’s not perfect—no platform is—but at least it’s not constantly trying to sell you someone else's fantasy.

Here, you’re allowed to just be.

[strawbairicake]

the brightest star- dr. ratio x reader

synopsis: your beloved husband bringing you some comfort after a rough day. hurt/comfort (i think?).

warnings: possibly ooc ratio, but i think he would be very soft and sweet to his s/o! so none!

word count: 545

author’s note: this is set in a modern au! hope you enjoy! <3

taglist: @axolotsofluv, @sqgeism, @vyyper, @your-sleeparalysisdem0n, @cmiru, @corvies, @sheyfu, @threnodians, @sswrillya, @strwbrydreamz, @chokifandom, @sillyseraphie, @riaruu, + @m1ckeyb3rry! lmk if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 

today could not get any worse. first it was spilling coffee on your shirt, then you got yelled at for something that wasn’t your fault. next thing you know, lunch rolls around and you forgot your lunch. whatever, the shitty day made you lose your appetite anyway. your husband typically messaged you during lunch, since somehow and some way you had the same lunch time. but he didn’t message you today. you couldn’t lie- it stung a little bit. surely it doesn’t get worse, right?

wrong.

following lunch, two coworkers snapped at you for no fucking reason. and because you were the professional you were, you kept your very not work-friendly retorts to yourself and just kept dealing with your day. and right before you left work to head home, your headphones died. and typically this wouldn’t be a problem, but today was just so overstimulating that this was the final straw. 

so when you finally reach your shared home, you’re a bit shocked to see Vertias’s shoes by the door. odd, he typically doesn’t arrive home before you. he’s in the kitchen, prepping your favorite meal. he turns around to face you, and you swear the troubles of the day almost wash off. almost. he comes and greets you by the door, pressing a short and sweet kiss on your forehead.

“you’re just in time, my love. i’m almost done cooking your favorite meal for dinner.” he looks over at you, and the tears start ebbing in your eyes. Veritas looks at you, a bit confused.

“what’s wrong, love? talk to me.” he asked.

and the tears let themselves out like an overflowing dam. you rushed into his arms and just cried. Veritas looked down at you and simply held you. sometimes words didn’t need to be exchanged. after a few minutes, your sobs turned into hiccups and then said hiccups subsided just enough for you to talk to your husband. 

“i spilled coffee on myself first thing in the morning, got yelled at by a coworker, forgot my lunch, and then two other coworkers snapped at me for something that wasn’t my fault. you didn’t text me at lunch, either…” you admitted the last part a bit shyly. your husband’s eyes widened a bit. 

“i’m so sorry, my love. i completely was sidetracked at work today and didn’t get to message you before your break was over. but i figured coming home early and prepping your favorite meal would make you feel better. i figured you had a bad day when you walked in. you’re typically much happier and cheery. i was quite concerned. please don’t hold back your feelings from me,” he said. you nodded, and part of you swooned at his words. for an arrogant doctor, he sure did know how to make you feel better. he was so kind and gentle with you, you wondered how his coworkers wouldn’t like him. he leaves your side and puts two plates of food on the kitchen table and grabs your hand and leading you to eat.

“come, my love. let’s eat. and while we eat, you can tell me all about your troubles. it’s the least i can do as your husband.”

he really knows how to make your day better, huh?

©2025 strawbairicake. do not repost, copy, translate, modify, or use for AI.

[severuwus]

Severus Snape Headcanons (NSFW)

▪︎ Severus is silent in bed. Considering he was bullied, had a terrible home situation and barely had any (known) good connections with his peers, self-esteem issues and a trauma-cocktail are a given. As a result, he's plagued by performance anxiety and shame about his own sexuality - if a sigh or a moan ever escapes his lips, he'll cringe at himself. He probably never got over it based on his unhealed self, seen in the way he deals with conflicts and strong feelings in the books.

▪︎ Because of that, I imagine him wanting to hide his face during the act, either by burying his face into a pillow or choosing a convenient position. He doesn't want anyone to see his stupid facial expressions when he feels good.

▪︎ Severus doesn't have time to fuck. How can he when there are students to teach, essays to grade, potions to brew, meetings to hold with parents, teachers conferences, and later on his work as a spy. He's lucky if he has the time to have a full night's sleep.

▪︎ The avoidance of his own sexuality in combination with his sexual frustration due to a lacking outlet create a confusing and intense mess that he ends up just bottling up. After all, there are worse problems to take care of like war, not blowing his cover, the safety of the students, and much more. But by not meeting his needs, he is setting himself up to implode eventually.

▪︎ Severus loathes letting go. He needs to stay in control of himself at all times and can't slack off. He will never be fully relaxed, his body always stiff and not responsive for stimulation, not ready to shut his brain off. So the moments where he does lose control are incredibly intense. Of course he'll reprimand himself afterwards for fucking like a madman and scream-moaning like a whore. That just comes with self-esteem issues.

▪︎ Imagine: His partner gives him a blowjob. Severus is getting closer and wants to pull out to not cum inside. But his partner is determined to make him finish in their mouth and therefore grab his ass to keep him stuck inside, and after some resistance, Severus's control just snaps and ends up face-fucking his partner.

▪︎ He knows the basics of sex due to needing extensive knowledge on the human body for potioneering. But he is no sex god, and definitely not a dark bdsm daddy top. He's a man in his 30s with a bit of experience, and still has a lot to learn.

▪︎ Aftercare is non-existent. He'll leave just as quickly as he appears out of thin air throughout the books. It'll take a dedicated and loving partner for him to learn that cuddling afterwards and cleaning each other up actually isn't so bad.

▪︎ Praise makes him melt. Severus has to learn how to take compliments first, but he'll eventually realise how seen he feels when someone praises him for his good work, and gets all hot knowing how well he is pleasuring his partner.

▪︎ Traditional masculine men are an absolute turn-off for Severus. He was the one getting assaulted and bullied by those people, he grew up watching his mother being abused by his father. The last thing he needs is a person triggering him with the little things they do that remind him of his bad childhood.

▪︎ There are time periods where sex isn't on his mind at all. And then there are times he's going insane trying to focus on grading the 3rd year's essays, but all he's able to think about is his dick rubbing against the seam of his trousers and how long it has been since he had let himself indulge in his desires. Only during those desperate times, when none of his touches are enough, he's willing to experiment. He'll either find a way to order something without any trace leading back to him, or he'll just use whatever he has (public announcement: please don't do that, save yourself from a trip to the ER).

▪︎ No headcanon I just love the idea of him kneeling upright on his bed and thrusting into a pillow, pretending he is fucking someone from behind

[rainbowsky]

Anonymous asked: Hi RBS, I hope you are doing well! I have a question about how the more experienced bjyx fans navigate the fandom when anti rumours start gaining traction and eventually spill into turtle spaces. I saw a lot of c-turtles trying to push positive searches about GGDD to counter the negative rumours. Is this an effective strategy when used on Chinese social platforms? Also, over the years has there been any decrease in the amount and intensity of anti rumours or is this something that the fandom experiences on a regular basis? Thanks!

Hi Anon, I'm doing well, thanks. Hope you are too! 😊

Anti rumors and fan wars have always been - and likely always will be - a problem. It just goes with the territory for any major star in China (and in most of the world, for that matter), and unfortunately most platforms thrive on negative engagement. As long as social media and celebrity exist, and as long as there's money to be made for social media platforms by letting these fires burn out of control, we'll continue to see this toxicity.

There are also rival business interests that have a financial incentive to try to destroy the reputations and careers of big stars.

GG and DD's fandoms are especially notorious for toxic behavior aimed at each other's idol, and at turtles. Because toxic solos are thin-skinned, stupid and easily instigated, they're frequently used to attack GG and DD. It's cheap and easy to get them riled up and at each other's throats, thereby making their fandoms free troll farm labor for any black PR interest that wants to attack GG and DD.

These solos are too brainless, hateful and up each other's asses to realize that attacking each other's idol inevitably brings negative attention on their idol, and puts their idol at risk. Any XFX who makes a hateful, false, slanderous attack on Yibo will only be associating GG with the story, and vice versa.

They care more about being hateful than they do about GG and DD, so there's no changing their behavior. Both fandoms have become infamous on Weibo and on international social media for their behavior, and ironically their attacks on each other often lead to new turtles being hatched, as passersby get curious about why they hate each other so much and then look into GG and DD.

On Chinese social media turtles will frequently try to wash hateful hotsearches by using the hashtags to talk about mundane or humorous unrelated topics, or by smothering the hotsearches with other, more positive topics. When done in a coordinated way it can be incredibly effective.

On international social media the very best way to deal with these assholes is to block, ignore and report when appropriate. It's the same thing I've been saying for years. We can't control what other people say, do or think. The only thing we have any control over is how we respond to what other people say, do or think. The best response is always to just edit them out of your life.

I also really urge people to focus on GG and DD and their projects, not on other fans.

I've gone into more detail on why in previous posts.

Related posts:

How I manage to keep from getting angry about antis

How what we focus on shapes who we become

Toxic fans and staying in your own lane

Why so much hate from solos?

“I heard on Twitter that BXG don’t really care about GG”

Why fan wars/arguing online is such a bad idea

Why it’s so important for our fandom to behave well online

Dealing with Antis On Tumblr

Fandom Survival Guide

[mental-malware]

What happened to me, why am i likethis. Where did it start. I cant remember which trauma caused it anymore. Theres too many times it could’ve started. Theres so much thats happened to me. So many times ive been hurt.

It could’ve been when my mom shoved the internet in my face so she didnt have to deal with me Could’ve been when everyone ignored me as a kid. Could’ve been when they would threaten me

Could’ve been when they would yell at me

Or when i got smacked.

Or when that one stranger told me to shut up What a stupid memory to hurt me. it could’ve been when i watched younger me slip from my hands. Could’ve started the very moment i was considered “the problem child” The child that always yelled The child that always cried The child that needed too much care The child that needed too much attention The child that was too hyperactive

The child that was too happy for you The child that was too unhappy for you The child that was too social The child that was too unsocial The child that was too much The child that wasnt enough The child that was too needy

The dumb child The child that didnt meet expectations The worthless child The child that was too dependent The child that was too disobedient She was too much and yet not enough for you. And so you neglected her until she was completely broken The poor young girl who could’ve had such a future if not for you. The girl i havent heard of in years

The girl i could’ve been. Who i used to be.

And now i’ve drowned myself in tears until my face was red

Cried and sobbed until my eyes and face is dry and swollen.

Held back tears until my teeth and tongue and throat ache. Cried until all of me was completely empty. Was it the neglect and disappointment from everyone around me when i was a kid? The disappointment that made me think everyone would hate me the same way you did? All my opportunities to have companionship, ripped from my hands. All of it ripped away so now I depend on everyone. Now i only have the overwhelming need for them to stay with me. Ill please everyone around me. And still think i hurt them. I dont care if they burn down buildings. Kill. do horrible things. I’ve never seen them say bad things. But even if they did. I’d throw my morals away in a heartbeat if it means they’ll give me the companionship that I never had the means to have. I have no idea what could’ve made me like this

I cant make conversation or keep conversation or understand or fit in with the people around me. No matter what i do or what you say ill always think i’ve annoyed you. Maybe its because of how many times ive been called annoying. By the people that were supposed to be nice to me in the first place

I HATE YOU MOM. I HATE YOU DAD. I FUCKING HATE YOU. I HATE YOU FOR CREATING ME. I HATE EVERY PART OF MY LIFE YOU WERE IN. I HATE EVERY PART OF YOU. FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU DIE DIE DIE JUST DIE SO I CAN GET OUT OF THE HOUSE WITH THE PEOPLE THAT RUINED ME IN THE FIRST PLACE I FUCKING HATE YOU.