#I’ve actually thought about making this slideshow

[wow-an-unfunny-joke]

Bungo stray dogs. Right off the dome, I’ll give the presentation about Dazai- specifically his story, specifically the presentation will be going through his time line beat by beat

[brattyspence]

virginia is for lovers | s.reid

summary: model!reader accidentally exposes their relationship through a soft launch instagram post

tags: model!reader x spencer, penelope included <3, smau

a/n: this is kinda short n pointless but i wanted a reason to write reader tweeting abt spencer and its been in my drafts for weeks so

word count: 1.1k

masterlist

Spencer had worked hard to keep you a secret. 

Not because he wasn’t thrilled to be in your life, because he really, really was. Historically, things had a tendency to go south as soon as word got out, especially when it came to his personal life. 

You had met in a bookstore. It was a short interaction; you were busy debating which translation of The Stranger was most appropriate to read. You must have been standing in the aisle of the bookstore a little too long, holding two copies side by side, when he had offered his two cents on the matter.

Typically, you weren’t one to entertain conversation in public. Nine times out of ten, you’d get one word in before the inevitable “Please can I take a picture? I love your blog so much!”, but this was different. You weren’t even sure he had even seen your face before he started talking to you. He wasn’t initially trying to hit on you, either. He was genuinely excited that someone was willing to listen to him ramble about the differences between the Ward and Guilbert translations, so when you responded in such a way that asked him to continue on, he was surprised. 

That day, you’d left the store with four more books than intended, and a single bookmark where he had written his phone number after you asked for it.  He had asked you for your name; a confirmation that he actually had no idea who you were. 

The rest was history. You saw him whenever possible, spent nights on the phone together, and flew across the country often just to see him. You loved having a relationship that didn’t need to be public, but you were also excited to share bits of it with the world.

It was late at night, and he was sitting at his desk in the bullpen, trying to finish the last of the paperwork he’d been assigned, when he heard commotion from Penelope’s office. He figured it was nothing new; probably just some news about the royal family or one of the real housewives again, but she’d thrown her door open in such a way that it garnered attention from everyone in the office.

“Spencer Reid,” She gripped her phone and rushed across the room with determination. “Do you have something you want to share with me?”

He looked up from his paperwork, furrowing his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

“Why are you on my Instagram feed?” She placed her phone on his desk in front of him. 

“I’m not on instagram,” he replied. 

“Oh, but you are,” she said. “You are such a little liar. I can’t wait to tell Derek about this.”

She pushed his paperwork aside, plopping her phone down in front of him. It was a slideshow on instagram. A photo of the most recent bouquet he bought for you. A few from the museum you’d visited together, including several where his hands or shoes were visible, but nothing that really pointed to him. He could almost make the argument Penelope was mistaken, until the last photo, which included just enough of his apartment to confirm her questioning.

“You said you were seeing someone and I thought… someone from a chess tournament, or maybe… oh, I don't know. Literally anyone else? But you bagged a model?” 

“I-” he sighed. “How did you find her?”

“I didn’t find her, Spencer. I’ve followed her for years! I see her posts all the time. I can’t believe you.”

He scrolled down.

liked by @jjareau and others

@yourusername: virginia is for lovers :)                                              posted 12 hours ago

↪ @randomuser1: GIRL STOP TEASING WHO IS HE

↪ @randomuser3: i’ve been trying to figure it out since that tweet last month 😞

↪ @randomuser2: this is the sweetest soft launch i’ve ever seen <3

↪ 12k comments

He clicked onto your profile. 

@yourusername 

5.2M Followers

Followed by @jjareau, @emp.sergio and more

“You’ve got to see her Twitter, lover boy. She’s been gushing about you.”

“Oh, god,” he groans. So much for privacy. He lets her take the phone back, redirecting his attention to your Twitter page. She scrolls back to June before handing it over, letting him read in chronological order.

June 10

@yourusername: hot girl summer is officially over. just asked a man for HIS number.

June 25

@yourusername: is it offensive to men if you call them pretty? bc this man is rlly pretty 

@yourusername: update: apparently it is not :)

July 30:

@yourusername: good morning text + picture of a dog that he claims reminded him of me???? gonna ask for his hand in marriage

August 15

@yourusername: up til 2 bc hes explaining quantum mechanics to me 🧚🏻

@yourusername: embarrassed to say that form of dirty talk worked on me 

August 20

@yourusername: oh btw im a girlfriend now!

↪@yourfan1: look u long enough wtf girl

↪@yourusername: dw im locking him down 🫡

↪@yourfan2: thats OUR man now 💘

“Oh, wow.”

She takes the phone back. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? Or me? Oh, this is great news. You’re bringing her to Rossi’s next, week, right?”

“I- Pen, I have no idea.” He laughs. He watches her type away on the device aggressively. “Are you texting everyone?”

“Yuh-huh. I need to call JJ, like… yesterday. And this isn't the end of this conversation!” She darted back into her office quickly, letting the door fall shut behind her.

He decided his remaining paperwork could wait. He packed his things up in a hurry, and decided to head out of the office, dialing your number on the way out. 

You picked up on the first ring. 

“Hey,” you started. “How was work? Are you heading out?”

“Yeah,” He started. He pushed through the glass doors of the office, staring towards the stairwell. “It was… busy. I just had a really interesting conversation with my coworker.”

“Mhm…” You had been lounging in your hotel room waiting for his call. “About..?”

“You, actually.” He replied. “She follows you on instagram. Apparently most of the office does. She showed me your post today.”

“Oh,” you replied. “Oh god, Spence. I’m sorry. I didn’t think… anyone would be able to tell who you were.”

He laughs. “Yeah, well… I work with some… characters. It’s totally fine, though.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, anxiously.

“Yeah. It was cute,” he replied, smiling to himself as he exited the building. “Tasteful.”

“That's what I wanted,” You reply.

“I thought Twitter was much more interesting, though.”

You froze, cringing. “Oh, god. Tell me you didn't read all of it.

He chuckles. “I skimmed it.”

You groan. 

[roses-r-rosie3]

X-Mas list presentation

Batfam x M!Reader

Summary: instead of making a regular Christmas wishlist, the reader decides to make a whole presentation

Quote: “That is all Family! So open up your hearts and your wallets for me this holiday season”

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Why are you here?” Duke asked Jason.

“Same reason why you’re here, y/n wanted us to all meet up in the living room for some announcement” Jason sighed.

After everyone was in the room, you pulled out your computer and connected it to the Tv, which made everyone confused.

“Hello family, I know you must be wondering why you’re all here” you said.

“Yes”

“Yup”

“Mhm”

“Yeah”

“Can I go back to my game now?”

“Last year you guys totally fucked up Christmas, so this year I put together an entire presentation to tell you guys what I want specifically” you smiled.

Everyone in the room let out an audible sigh/groan. It was known by everyone in the family that you were very dramatic from time to time (24/7). But they never thought you would get this extra!

“Is that really what you called us here for?” Damian grumbled.

“Would you shut up for a second?” You snapped.

“Y/n I don’t think that’s how you should be talking to your little bro-”

“Anyways, Here’s the things you should keep in mind when you’re thinking about what kind of gift you will provide for me this year” you said as you interrupted Bruce from his lecture.

“First of all, I’m the only one who knows how to reset the Wi-Fi, and yeah that’s threat” you threatened.

That certainly got everyone’s attention.

“Secondly, if you don’t get me what I want I will get a sugar daddy, I don’t even care what you guys are going to say, I’ve had so many offers for sugar daddies that it’s unreal. The perks of being son of Bruce Wayne I guess” you said.

“Y/n, you do know that Bruce is rich right?” Jason asked.

“Not the point” you mumbled.

“And third if I don’t get what I want, I will also sell my feet pics online like I did last year” you said calmly.

“YOU WHAT?!” Bruce shouted

“Calm down, I only ended up making about 1 million from it” you sighed.

“ONLY?!” Dick gasped.

“I created a three tier system of different gifting levels, basically, the levels equivocate to how much you love me and how much money you have” you explained.

“Level one is the ‘I’m going to need therapy level’ which is only four to seven gifts. I would probably go into a depressive spiral, actually not probably, I definitely would be depressed” you said.

“Would you stop being so overdramati-”

“I’M NOT DONE YET” you said as you interrupted Tim.

“What would that mean for us? You may ask. It would mean that you would have to pay for my therapy. And the money that you guys spent on therapy would have been basically wasted, you could’ve bought me a whole bunch of gifts right now and avoided the situation” you smiled.

“I think that he’s lost his mind” Bruce whispered to Stephanie.

“You think?!” Stephanie whisper yelled.

“Level two is the ‘You’re getting warmer package’ This basically if you love me- Bruce can you stop whispering to Stephanie” you scolded.

“As I was saying… Level two is eight to fifteen gifts, which is basically equivalent to you texting me happy birthday” you continued.

“Level three is the ‘You’re sleighing it’ level. And if you remember, you guys were just a bit off the mark of hitting this because you guys only got me twenty three gifts. And in order to reach ‘You’re slaying it’ you have to get me twenty five or more gifts, I think this is totally do-able for you guys, especially because you can just use Bruce’s card if you guys are running low on money” you said.

“I have tons ideas for you guys and this whole slideshow is already in your email so you guys can look at it and reference it at any time” you smiled.

Everyone quickly checked their phones to see that you indeed emailed them your whole presentation.

“That is all Family! So open up your hearts and your wallets for me this holiday season” you smiled before leaving the room.

“Yeah he had definitely lost his mind” They all said in synchronization.

“I HEARD THAT!”

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (pt 12)

Masterpost

“Ya, I have questions,” Jason confirmed, trying not to shift awkwardly in his seat. “I read the slideshow but I don’t seem to fit in either liminals or ghosts, and I have some issues that I think would have been mentioned if they were common?”

“Alright, what are they?” Danny asked tilting his head a little. 

“Well, it’s been better since meeting you, and I know increased aggression was one of the thing mentioned but mine isn’t like Damian’s, or even yours I think. We’ve been calling it Pit Madness. I’ve gotten better at managing it but especially when I got back it was really bad. I… killed a ton of people and I still have a lot of bloodlust that no one is comfortable with.”

“That is unusual, especially directed towards humans. Aside from revenge against whoever killed them dead usually don’t care very much about the living,” Danny said curiously, considering Jason. 

“And I do read as- as dead?” Jason asked, he had been worried about that.

“Well you’re obviously not Dead dead,” Danny said rolling his eyes before he reached across the table. “Here, with touch I can figure out a bit more.” He said and Jason hesitated for a moment before resting his hand in Danny’s.

A cool feeling quickly washed up his arm and over his chest like intangible water. Danny tilted his head to the other side, his brows coming together slowly as he gazed into the middle distance and considered what he was feeling. He let out a hiss and some sort of chitter that couldn’t come from a human throat, then clicked his tongue and the cool feeling dissipated, sinking under Jason’s skin and cooling heat he hadn’t been aware of feeling. 

“Okay, ya that’s weird,” Danny admitted and Jason’s heart dropped. “Best I can equate it to is, like a bone that healed wrong,” Danny said thoughtfully. “You did die before?” He asked, Jason nodded mutely. “Okay, I won’t ask why or how. But best I can tell your soul was shoved back into your body and not given time to get settled back in it’s proper position before whatever was done to bind it in place. So you’re alive but with some.. Spiritual nerve and brain damage. Would you be comfortable telling me how you were resurrected?”

“Well, I resurrected myself apparently. I don’t really remember it but apparently about six months after my death I dug myself out of my grave. Before I could get anywhere the League of Shadows found me and dunked me in the Lazarus pit which is this glowing green stuff that heals the dying and kills the healthy. I don’t remember any of it, it was almost a year before I recovered enough to be myself at all.”

“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Danny said, nodding thoughtfully. “My guess would be at first you came back as a revenant, which is basically when a ghost possesses their own corpse to get revenge, not truly a living being. But then this Lazarus pit resurrected your body and your soul got stuck in your living body again without being prepared or intending for that to happen. 

“That’s what I’m guessing happened but I can’t be sure, and I’m not a healer so I don’t really know what to do about it. I’m sure my ghost doctor Frostbite would be happy to take a look at you though! Looks like we’ll be making an appointment for you too,” He joked making Jason chuckle nervously. 

“Well that’s.. Totally fucked up,” Jason said and Danny nodded.

“Ya, dying is basically always fucked up, coming back Specifically for revenge and then getting stuck here long after that’s a motivating factor is messy. I mean, for a human that would be fine, but for people like us,” He gestured between the two of them. “Obsessions are everything so that’s hard. You’ve been cultivating more healthy obsessions I know but you’ll never be the same,” Danny said, and Jason nodded.

He knew as much, he could never go back. Not that he hadn’t always had these sorts of thoughts and inclinations. Once of the reasons Bruce had taken on him and Dick was their murderous inclinations needed to be curbed, for Dick it had work, for Jason… Well it was a combination of a lot of things, it wasn’t really Bruce’s fault it had failed. Other than the fact that he’d let the Joker live far longer than he should have, but that was bleeding-heart-Brucie for you. It was funny, to not really be mad at Bruce anymore, understanding there was nothing else he could have done, and still not be able to forgive him.

Danny must have noticed how Jason had gotten lost in his own head because he reached across the table and covered one of Jason’s clenched hands with his own, soft and cool. “You’re doing really well Jason. It’s a messed up situation but I don't think anyone could have handled it better then you are,” Danny said softly.

Jason didn’t believe it but it felt good to hear and it did settle him a little bit. “Thanks Danny, that means a lot,” he said, giving Danny’s hand a squeeze before pulling back. 

There was a natural break in conversation as the waitress brought their appetizers, and when she left again Jason didn’t know what to say. Thankfully Danny spoke. “Why don’t I tell you a bit about my doctor? Frostbite can be a lot, as much as it would probably be funny to spring him on you I should probably give you a heads up.”

“Ya, ya that sounds good,” Jason agreed, glad to let Danny do the talking for a bit. And when telling him about Frostbite turned into talking about the Yetis, to talking about the Infinite Realms, to Danny info-dumping about space. Well Jason really doesn’t mind, especially with the way it makes Danny light up. It was good to see him happy.

---------

The food was good but Jason didn’t taste much of it, and aside from going “Oh wow!” When he took his first bite of his food Danny didn’t seem to either. At a certain point Jason realized he was going to have to do some talking or Danny was going to keep talking and wouldn’t eat. So he took over, but he didn’t know much about space so he started talking about literature and poetry and Danny listened raptly and finally ate his food.

It was very nice to have someone listen to him like that, it was sort of funny, it looked like it was as fun for Danny to listen to him talk then it had been the other way. Jason thought about how supporting obsessions was important for ghosts to have their obsessions supported. Reading wasn’t Really his obsession, he didn’t think, but it sure was an interest and it felt really good to get to share with someone new. 

By the end of the dinner Jason has well and truly decided that this was a date. Danny was cute, good, and passionate, and a good listener, Oh and strong as Fuck which was always a turn on for Jason. Speaking of powerful…

“Can I ask you another sort of serious question?” Jason asked after they got their dessert. Danny looked up, mouth full and a little smear of chocolate on his top lip, Jason resisted the urge to reach across the table and wipe it off. Danny nodded. “When Damian gave me his little shovel talk he mentioned that you’re going to be a god some day?” He said, tilting his head. Maybe that was a third date sort of conversation but it seemed like it would be important to understanding Danny.

Danny choked a little and swallowed, sighing heavily. “That’s what I’ve been told,” Danny grumbled. “There’s a prophecy apparently, and with how my powers have been progressing even just in the first 2 years since I died, I can already go toe to toe with some Ancients and win so… Ya, I guess it’s probably inevitable, especially since I haven’t stagnated yet. I don’t want to be one really, I didn’t ask for this, but whatever. I probably can’t stop it.” He slumped back in the booth, looking tired. 

Shit Jason shouldn’t have brought that up. “Hey you’ve got time right? That won’t be for a while. Also, what’s an Ancient?” 

“Very old, very powerful spirits. They’re essentially their own pantheon, Ancient is basically just what ghosts call gods.” He said with a shrug.

“Makes sense, I mean gods usually are ancient. Even more reason you don’t have to worry about that right now. I mean you’re far from ancient,” Jason pointed out, earning himself a little smile from Danny. 

“Ya, you’re right,” He agreed and went back to eating his dessert, the conversation moved on to the music they liked.

When the bill came Jason put his card down without letting Danny see what the bill came to and passed it back to the waitress. They lingered in the booth for a while still chatting, unwilling to part ways yet. If Jason didn’t know his family would want Danny home before they went out on patrol he might have suggested they just go to a park and walk for a while. Talk, maybe each take one of his wireless earbuds and take turns picking songs. But he had a feeling Damian really would try to kill Jason if he didn’t get to see Danny home safe. 

Eventually they left, wandering back to Jason’s motorbike and Danny snuggled up to Jason’s back again as they drove back to the manor. The silence was companionable until Jason pulled up, propping the bike up to let Danny get off. He took off his helmet and handed it back to Jason, not letting go immediately when Jason took it so their hands were touching. 

“This was nice, I had fun,” Danny said, blushing a little and looking down.

“It was, we should do it again soon,” Jason agreed, “I’ll text you okay?” 

“You’d better,” Danny teased before walking back towards the manor. 

Damian opened the door for him, shooting Jason a glare before slamming it making him laugh. He was still a child no matter how much he pretended he wasn’t. Jason kicked off on his bike and zoomed off, heading home to get ready for patrol.

Next

[bloodmoonmuses]

clover | mark lee

genre: mark lee x reader, friends to lovers, college au, fluff :)

wc: 2.3k

warnings: some swearing, mentions of alcohol

summary: mark collects four leaf clovers. when you help him find his hundredth clover, mark declares you his good luck charm.

If asked whether or not you believe in fate, you’d probably say no. You found the concept of it unnerving- a predetermined future that one must simply accept… How boring. What you believed in more was the butterfly effect- the chaos of it, the lack of control, the overlapping of timelines. The flapping of a butterfly’s wings could cause a hurricane. It’s the little things that have the biggest effect.

The first time you hang out with Mark Lee is per the forgetfulness of your best friend, Johnny. The three of you were supposed to meet for a group project, but it slipped his mind. You knew of Mark, of course, but never really hung outside of group settings. 

Mark is a butterfly- fluttering, social, beautiful and delicate. You wanted to pin and press his wings like a taxidermist, preserving their beauty in eternal serenity. Though most times, he felt too golden to pin down. He was simply meant to be free.

The two of you lie under a tree in the campus’ courtyard, skimming your textbook for more information. Mark sat quietly, plucking blades of grass out of the ground. When your vision blurs, signaling you’re no longer absorbing information, you close your textbook.

“Think he’s still coming?” Mark inquires.

“Nah. I texted him, but he hasn’t responded,” you say as you check your phone once more for confirmation.

“Hm,” Mark closes his textbook as well. “ Wanna call it a day?” 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Spring is well under way, but today is warmer than usual. It’s actually nice enough to be outside. You linger on your faded picnic blanket, lying on your back with your eyes closed, while Mark gathers his things. Sunlight filters through the leaves, making abstractly shaped shadows dance across your chest and stomach. You trace the warmth with your fingers.

“I can consolidate our research into a document if you want,” Mark pipes. You thought he had left already.

You crack open an eye. “We’re still talking about the project?”

He looks at you sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. “I mean, that’s what I’m here for.”

You crack a grin, scoffing at Mark’s eagerness to actually work. “Didn’t know you were such a goody-two-shoes.” 

“I’m not,” he contests, pouting slightly.

He’s so cute. You want to stuff him with fluff and tie a bow on his pretty head. No wonder everyone babies him so much. His eyes simply demand such.

“I’m just messing with you,” you say. “Sounds like a plan. I can make the slideshow, if you want.”

“Cool.”

Mark starts to leave before returning to his seat and asking, “Hey, ______. Why haven’t we hung out before?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. You have plenty of friends. Didn’t think you’d need more.”

You look at Mark, sitting criss-cross on the corner of your blanket. He has a pile of clovers on his leg, and he continues to sift through the grass in pursuit of more. He plucks another, identifying it as a four leaf clover, and places it on your belly.

“Looks like I just made another. It’s been weeks since I’ve found one.”

“A four leaf clover?” Your fingers play with the floweret, watching as it rises and falls with your breaths. Mark’s eyes follow the movement as well.

“Yeah, I collect them. You’re, like, my good luck charm now. Dude, it’s fate.”

“Do I get a say in the matter, dude, or does fate take precedence?” you joke, asking with a giggle.

Mark beams at you, eyes crinkling into half moons. “Wanna be my good luck charm?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…”

Mark grabs his backpack, taking out a sheet of parchment paper and a book. Then, he takes the clover from you, placing it in between two sheets. Finally, he places the clover in the middle of the book. He closes it, giving the book a firm squeeze, and puts it back in his bag.

“Pressing it for later,” he says.

—

The second time you hang out with Mark Lee is per the drunkenness of your best friend, Johnny. You told yourself you’d stop going to parties with him. It seemed that every time you did, you were relegated to designated driver. So there you sat, on the stairs of the back porch, hoping Johnny would pass out in the next hour or so. However, you knew this wouldn’t happen any time soon. Johnny’s alcohol tolerance is annoyingly high. You decide to enjoy the fresh air regardless.

House parties this big were conducted for only one reason- to get everyone in attendance as fucked up as possible (and assuage their guilt in doing so with the presence of other fucked up people). A girl, a twig-like thing, does a keg stand in the middle of the backyard. She nearly topples over entirely, but manages to return to the ground upright before immediately dissolving into a heap of bones and flesh.

On your left, you watch a smarmy frat boy sidle up to another girl, caging her against the house. She’s drinking him up, flashing the most obvious “fuck me” eyes you’ve ever seen. On your right, a guy blows chunks into a bush. Such is the dichotomy of life. 

The back door of the house swings open and the music that’s blasting from inside temporarily bleeds into the backyard. When it closes, the sound is muffled, making you feel as though you’re underwater. You look up to see Mark, surprisingly. The two of you haven’t spoken since the group project. He sits next to you, muttering a brief hello. 

“Not your crowd?” he says, noticing the dissatisfaction on your face. 

“Johnny’s my crowd, but he’s hammered.”

Mark scoffs. “Sounds about right.”

You look at Mark. He seems mostly sober, save for the faint dusting of pink adorning his cheeks. “Are you drinking tonight?” you ask him.

Mark tips his beer towards you, taking another swig before saying, “Just the one. I have a paper to write tomorrow. You?”

“Designated driver.” You’ve been nursing a cup of lemonade. You feel like a prude.

“Daaaang.” He drags out the word, following it with a low whistle. “That sucks, dude.”

“Needed some fresh air?” you ask him.

“Nah, just wanted to catch up with my good luck charm. Saw you walking out." 

Your heart beats a bit faster, though you're not sure why. “Have I been doing a good job?”

“I get to be here outside with you instead of in that hellhole. So, I’d say yes.”

You end up driving Johnny and Mark home that night. Apparently, his designated driver (Jaemin) bailed on him. Mark sits in the passenger seat while Johnny is passed out in the back. It’s quiet, moonlight seeping into the car in a hazy glow. It illuminates Mark’s side profile and you sneak glances at him in your periphery. He’s visibly fighting off sleep, head lolling to the side then suddenly jerking to attention every few minutes.

When he does this a third time, you say, “You can sleep. We’re about ten minutes away.”

“Wanna make sure you’re safe,” murmurs Mark. His voice is gravelly, the sentence barely croaking out of him. “Don’t wanna leave you alone.”

“I’ll survive. I’ll wake you up when we get there.” With your permission, he drifts off to sleep, lips slightly parted. 

When you arrive at the boys’ dorm, Johnny stirs lightly as he feels the car has come to a stop. You shake Mark’s shoulder, waking him from his slumber.

You walk up to Mark’s room, the two of you lugging Johnny with much difficulty. He’s practically dead weight, wasted enough to the point of not being able to hold himself up. When you finally manage to get him on Mark’s couch, you’re winded. You sit on the floor while Mark sits next to Johnny. 

“The only thing comforting me right now is the fact that he’s gonna wake up with a horrible hangover.”

At this, Mark laughs, his own chest heaving at the physical exertion of transporting a Johnny-sized human.

“Thanks for helping me bring him up,” Mark says.

“No problem. Take a video of him suffering for me please.”

“Anything for my good luck charm. Speaking of…” Mark quickly retreats to his room, returning with a small wooden box in his hands. He places it in your lap.

You open the box to see it full of four leaf clovers encased in resin. He takes out a heart shaped one and hands it to you.

“This one is yours. The hundredth clover in my collection.”

“I’m honored.” You cradle the preserved clover in your hands, watching the light bounce off of its shiny surface. The moment overwhelms you, chest constricting with adoration of the simple gesture.

“I was thinking of making it into a bracelet. Then you can harness your lucky powers wherever you go. Like a superhero- or something like that.”

He smile at you, a toothy and boyish grin, and your inhibitions seem to melt away. Perhaps you could be persuaded into believing in fate. Making him happy in this way feels like destiny. You would do so forever if given the chance.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

—

The third time you hang out with Mark Lee, Johnny isn’t much of a factor. Then the fourth time, and the fifth, sixth and seventh- until one night, Mark asks you on a date. You think. You’re not really sure at this point. 

You’re at his apartment, something that occurs more often following the party incident, killing time with him and (of course) Johnny. The three of you are supposed to be having a movie night, but can’t agree on a film. In lieu of such, you’re simply arguing about movies.

“It’s ridiculous,” Johnny says.

You cross your arms. “It’s high art.”

“Do not refer to Twilight as ‘high art.’”

“The first one has an indie feel to it. The too-blue coloring grading? Imagine stumbling upon that at Sundance or South by Southwest. Those film bitches would be all over it if not for the negative connotation of pseudo vampire smut.”

“Never seen it,” Mark says. His comment gets drowned out, however, as you continue to rant at Johnny.

“The series only got bad because they gave the sequels to a male director.”

“That is not the only reason.”

Johnny’s phone rings. “It’s Jaehyun. Jaemin left him at a party.”

Johnny gathers his belongings and exits. He attempts something of a wink towards Mark, which is awkward because 1.) You see it, and 2.) It looks more like some dust flew into his eyes than a cheeky gesture.

“Be back in a bit,” Johnny says. 

“What was that about?” you ask. Mark is beet red. 

“Nothing,” Mark sputters. “So.”

“So…”

“Twilight. Movies. You like both of those things, right?” Mark rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, swinging his arm in tandem. He can’t really make eye contact with you, but he’s trying, blinking rapidly as his eyes flicker around the room. 

When the silence becomes unbearable you say, “Is there a reason you’re acting like we’ve never met before?”

“Just answer the question.” He sighs, face planting into his palm.

“I mean- Marginally. I mostly just like making Johnny angry-”

“Would you like to go to the movies with me?”

“Yeah, I’d love to.”

—

It’s raining. Mark is soaking wet, green hoodie soiled. You can’t help but imagine a butterfly with dripping wings, dejectedly fluttering in an attempt to dry itself off. Funnily, the sun was beaming brightly just a few hours ago. If you hadn’t checked the weather ahead of time, you’d probably be drenched as well. 

“Forgot my umbrella,” says Mark as he walks up to you.

“Clearly.”

“I feel like an idiot.”

“Guess I’m not as lucky as you thought.”

“Impossible.”

“Wanna just go back to your place?” you say as you pat his shoulder.  “Then you can get changed.”

You return to Mark’s apartment, making two cups of chamomile tea. When Mark exits his room, he sits on the couch. There’s enough room for at least three people in between the two of you. When you move to sit closer, Mark literally flinches.

His right hand is clasped tightly into a fist, quivering from the force with which Mark is holding it shut. 

“Okay Mark. What’s wrong?” You reach out to him, placing your hand on top of his closed one.

He averts your gaze. “I don’t know how I managed to fuck this up-”

“The rain is out of your control, Mark. It’s not a big deal.”

Then suddenly, Mark opens his hand to reveal your clover, still in its heart shaped encasing, but now attached to a bracelet just as he said he would. The butterflies in your stomach fly up to your sternum. Your breath hitches there.

“I had this whole thing planned. After the movie I was gonna drive you home and it was supposed to be this whole thing that led up to me giving you the bracelet under the moon but then it started-”

“Mark. It’s okay!” you say with a laugh.

“ I like you, ______. I was gonna tell you that I like you.” Mark shuts his eyes tightly, practically wincing with each word. 

You lean over to kiss his cheek, accidentally giving him a butterfly kiss as well when you linger there. Mark giggles at the contact of your eyelashes, and you feel his face move against your lips.

“Well, it’s a good thing I like you too.”

Eventually, Mark’s lips meet yours, gently kissing you as though you’ll break. Warmth spreads throughout your entire body and you pull Mark closer in pursuit of more. Mark places a final peck on your nose and pulls away. He grabs the clover bracelet and ties it to your wrist. 

“Lucky me,” Mark says.

a/n: unedited and feedback is always appreciated!

[static-sulker]

Okay, so I’ve been drawing an unholy amount of blood weave in between my homework recently that has given me a new headcanon. Gale cannot stop himself from infodumping or over explaining about literally anything. Like, not even JUST magic. It could be about like migration patterns of like hook horrors. He can does this for a WHILE if hes not interrupted. He especially does this about his times with Mystra and does NOT have a filter. He also struggles to think internally at times about things, leaving him to mutter constantly if needed. The responses are normally mixed when hes in speech mode. Astarion? hates it. But it grows on him after awhile. Like, first few days of camp, he gets pulled into a deep rooted explanation of conjuration magic and its benefits. He practically tunes him out the moment he starts talking. Mainly from constant practice of just letting people talk themselves into his charms back when he was still a slave to Cazador. But as time progresses, he finds himself actually seeking out Gale for "One of your silly history lessons" during a long rest. It's comforting enough to keep his mind off of things. This is one of the many things that make Astarion start to fall for Gale. Full stop.

Karlach LOVES it in the way a child likes talking with a parent about adult topics. She has NO idea what he is saying at times, very few topics actually giving her some background grasp on it, but she is happy to lend an ear when he needs to speak out his thought process. She originally begins to do this in order to get him more comfortable, seeming to be a bit out of his element. She doubles down when she finds out about the orb (especially during the first week or so after Elminster

Lae'zel thinks its fucking stupid for about 80% of act 1. Just a weird human not knowing when to shut up. That IS until she finds herself on the end of a ramble about old battles against elves and dwarves long before the events of most of their lives (he had to study it when he was an apprentice) and Lae'zel finally gets to sink her teeth (haha Astarion moment) onto a conversation about old war tactics.

Shadowheart finds it a bit strange, but never intrudes. She is a good listener and knows when and where she should speak off somebody when they get to have their big talks. She is the kind to at most play a devils advocate for his debate styled moments, just to keep his brain pumping. Gale lives for that type of shit. So Shadowheart lets him have it. In summary? Gale Dekarios would be the one who would make slideshows about his hyperfixations and present them to his roommates.

[imshymorph]

Gather around everyone, here’s some soft!Gaz headcanons. Idk if it's a blorbo or me ranting and fangirling but i need to share the brain rot. another post today cause fuck it, i’ve been thinking about it for a while. also this was like a constant stream of thought and not proof read.

I truly don’t understand why this man gets ignored so much and I never will. He literally has everything you could ever want, saying he’s a ten doesn’t cut it. And yet I barely see people talking about him. (Except the gaz nation pookies, I see you).

This man absolutely bags the hottest significant other, doesn’t even know how. Don’t get me wrong, he 100% has rizz but he’s also just naturally attractive and inviting so i feel like by the time he starts to flirt on purpose it’s been two hours of pure smoothness. He’s also absolutely whipped but plays it off really smoothly.

- - - - -

Not only does he bag the hottest and meanest pookie aka you, but he also absolutely knows he did. And he’ll let right about everyone else know. I do think he’s more private about his life than say Soap, so it’s not like he’ll stop a random recruit and tell him about you (which i truly believe Johnny would do). But he has absolutely followed Price around base while he tells him about the two weeks leave he took to be with you.

Poor Price on his desk, dealing with the paperwork that comes as a necessity after Ghost and Soap blew something up during a drill that didn’t involve explosives at all. Not only is he having to fill out like fifteen different forms and reports, but he has Gaz sitting across from him, scrolling through his gallery and showing pictures of the place he took you out to on your Friday dinner date. Not only that but if Price just pretends to look but doesn’t actually pay attention Kyle will know and insist until the captain actually looks at the slideshow.

He doesn’t hammer your dates' knowledge onto Soap and Ghost as much, but he’ll definitely do subtle flexes. He chest the time on his phone instead of his watch so they’ll see the picture of you he has as a background. If someone brings up a weekend plan he’ll say how he can’t because he’s already going out with his darling. Subtly will tell anyone that will listen how you got him his new shirt, pants, cap, whatever it is tbh.

He also knows every single product that you prefer, doesn’t matter what kind it is. Makeup, skincare, cologne, fabric softener, snacks, beverages, food places, clothing brands. He doesn’t care, he knows all of them by heart. It’s like he has a six sense too, every time you’re close to running out of them he’ll randomly stop in the store on his way back to you from base and get them.

While i headcanon that Johnny gets into skin care after his darling introduces him to it (which you can read here, if you want). I believe Kyle absolutely has his own routine and that he is the one who first brings up the idea of having a spa night once a week. He’s the one to get the products, he even goes all out and does them themed, like by scent or colour or something.

Has a bunch of hoodies in rotation (or any other clothing piece you might steal from him) always making sure to wear at least one of them for a few days before “forgetting” it at yours or “forgetting” to take it to base once you’ve moved in together. He knows how much you love wearing them and how important it is that it smells like him. So he dutifully makes sure you always have a fresh Kyle™ piece of clothing available. Also it absolutely works for him too because he takes back the one you’ve had with you meanwhile. The mix of your cologne, body wash and fabric softener his favourite scent for sure.

And last but not least of my Gaz is the perfect boyfriend agenda (for today) is the fact that i know he just gives the best back massages. You don’t even have to ask for it, he’ll just come to the living room, lightly pat your shoulder so you move forward. He fits himself between the couch and your back and just gives you the massage of your life. He just laughs it off when you tell him he could be a masseuse if he ever retires from the military.

It takes less than 5 minutes to have you absolutely melting, and when he’s pleased with how comfortable and relaxed you look he just pulls you back against his chest. His arms wrap around your waist and his chin rests on your shoulder as you sit between his legs, the both of you watching a random show he saw good ratings of.

[livesincerely]

i was just reading back through your writer’s desks and remembered how much i loved the slideshow au! no pressure but do you have anymore thoughts on it? it’s just one of my faves <3

The outline/notes for that one are still in the very early stages but I’m happy to share what I’ve got so far!

00000

He’s waiting for Tony to come back from the bathroom, the next episode of Crime Scene Kitchen queued up on the tv, when his phone vibrates with a text from Jack.

this prod meeting is running long, probs won’t be back until late. Go ahead and watch w/o me

Everything ok?

ya but part of the set got busted during a scene change so I gotta figure when/how to fix it before tomorrow night

I’ll put your takeout in the fridge and save you some egg rolls

and that’s why you’re my favorite

Say hi to Medda for me

of course

“Jack’s not going to be home until late,” Davey announces as Tony wanders back into the living room. “He says we should start without him.”

….

“Dave,” Tony says, sighing deeply. “Why am I looking at a PowerPoint titled, “Jack Kelly + David Jacobs: A Comprehensive Argument for Maintaining Equilibrium.”

Davey pins him with a scathing look. “It’s a Google Slides presentation, you godless heathen.”

“What the fuck?” Tony asks, ignoring him, clicking rapidly through the screens. “When did you even make this?”

Davey shifts in his seat. “I mean, it’s more of a living document, so it’s never really finished—“

“Davey.”

“A couple years ago, I guess,” Davey says. “Give or take.”

Tony squints at the computer screen. “It’s saved on your old university account.”

“Okay, or maybe it was three months into junior year!” Davey admits, crossing his arms over his chest. “It was a stressful semester and I was super nervous about failing my animal science midterm and Jack was out on a date with that PoliSci major that lived upstairs and— And the when isn’t the point! The point is, according to my research, telling Jack isn’t worth the risk of ruining our friendship.”

“What are these graphs even measuring?” Tony asks, staring at one of the slides. “‘Overall Happiness, Jacobs v Others’?”

….

“Well, your math is absolute shit, for one thing,” Tony says, frowning at a graph entitled ‘Art Pieces per Subject’. Davey’s name is sitting in dead last. “There’s no way these numbers are right. Jack draws you literally all of the time.”

Davey frowns right back at him. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Uh, yeah he fucking does,” Tony disagrees. “You’re, like, one of his favorite things to make art of, period. He spends about half his time bitching about how copic doesn’t make a marker that matches your eyes—at this point I’m pretty sure he’s got more drawings of you than actual pictures.”

“I think I would’ve noticed if Jack suddenly started drawing me,” Davey scoffs, shaking his head. “It’s not like he’s subtle when something’s caught his eye. Plus, he lets me flip through his sketchbooks whenever he finishes filling one and I’m almost never in them.”

“Which one?” Tony asks.

Davey blinks. “Which one, what?”

“Which one,” Tony repeats, oddly intent. “Which sketchbook does he show you?”

“What do you mean, which one?” Davey asks, irritated. “The only one! The one he always— it’s not like it’s some big secret!”

Tony stares. Then Tony sighs.

Very quietly, Davey hears him mutter, “…pair of fucking morons.”

…..

“Okay, but, riddle me this,” Tony says. “Why don’t you just tell him? What’s the worst that could happen?”

“What’s the worst that could— I literally just went over all the reasons why that’s a horrible idea!” Davey exclaims. “It would ruin everything!”

“I really don’t think it would, Dave,” Tony says. “You and Jack… will ya at least think about it?”

“I’ve done nothing but think about it,” Davey says, and to his horror, he can feel his eyes starting to sting. “I can’t.”

“Want me to do it?” Tony offers, and he says it like a joke but Davey knows him too well to think that he’s anything but absolutely serious.

He jolts forward, arms outstretched as if to preemptively cram the words back down his throat. “Don’t you fucking dare, Tones, I am so fucking serious—“

“Okay, okay!” Tony says, holding up his hands in surrender. “I won’t snitch on your neurotic ass, even if it’d make you happier in the long run. My word as my bond or whatever.”

Davey huffs out a laugh, and it’s only a little teary. “Fuck you, my neurotic ass is the reason you made it to graduation, shithead.”

…..

“Hey, can I borrow your laptop?” Jack asks. “Mine’s dead and I left my charger at the theater.”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Davey absently responds.

…..

“Davey,” Jack says, voice straining. “What the hell is this?”

“What is what?” Davey asks.

“This.” He turns the laptop around and— oh shit. It’s The Argument.

He feels his blood run cold. “Oh,” he says. “That.”

“Dave,” Jack says, his mouth set in a hard, thin line. “Did you make a fucking PowerPoint about me? About us?”

Davey swallows. “…It’s actually a Google Slides presentation,” he says weakly.

…..

“You’re telling me this is nothing?” Jack demands, incredulous. He tilts the screen back to show Davey the current slide, which is just an enlarged photo of Jack’s handsome, smiling face, surrounded by a halo of red arrows and the caption, ‘JUST LOOK AT HIM,’ written in boldfaced text. “Nothing? Nothing at all?”

“Maybe we can stop looking at it now,” Davey says, loudly. He leans over the back of the couch, making another panicked grab for his laptop, but Jack dodges out of the way, clicking to the next slide.

[transhuman-priestess]

Lesson

A short story, by Ivy Michaels.

The following story contains a graphic depiction of surgery, with all the drugs and violence involved. It also includes graphic descriptions of pain. That is, in fact, the idea behind writing it.

And yes, this is smut.

“You know, dear, you’ve been such a good pupil these last few weeks.” Her voice comes to me through the curtain. I hear the click-clack of her heels on the linoleum floor, making an off-beat rhythm with the beeps and hums of monitors and pumps. She draws closer, and continues, “I think we’ve worked enough on theory, it’s time to move on to your practical lessons.”

The curtain is drawn back and I open my bleary eyes to see her. She’s dressed in the uniform she always wears. Rubberized olive drab canvas, sleeves pulled over the gloves, all seams taped over. Her face is mostly obscured by a surgical mask. Her hair is tied up under a paper hair net, though I can see a few strands of raven hair. All this despite the hood she wears with the clear face plate. I think she likes hiding her face from me, she’s never let me see it. Not all of it, not all at once.

“My darling,” she says, as kind and bubbly as ever, “you did so well on your nephrology unit last week, that I thought I’d give you a little treat!”

Images flash in my head. A slideshow of dissections. Parts of organs labeled. Ureter, renal artery, nephrons.

“Ah!” she says, approvingly, “I see you remember well!”

This is how it always is. She always knows what I’m thinking. I don’t know how that works. I have vague memories of sitting in a chair with my head in a device to immobilize it, but I can’t remember if that was a dream or an actual procedure. Memories are like that here. I know I haven’t been here long, but it feels like forever.

“I know you don’t understand, honey,” her voice falls to a gentle coo, “but don’t worry, I promise you will, eventually.”

I don’t mind it here, really. She’s very sweet to me. She teaches me things about myself I never knew. The other day, I think, she showed me where the vagus nerve is. I had forgotten what the bones in my palm are called, so she showed me how easily I could be disabled simply by applying a small electric shock to that nerve. The name of the bones was “metacarpals”.

That might seem harsh but she means well. Not in the sense that I’m rationalizing, either. I may not be able to remember why I’m here, but I sense that I am here by choice. I know it in my core It is, in fact, the only thing I know for certain.

“So, dear, are you ready?” she asks, “I’ve prepped room #5. The one with the seafoam green tile. I know it’s your favorite."

I hardly have to think about an affirmation. The bed thunks beneath me as she releases the brakes and begins rolling me into the hallway. One of the few things I recall from my time outside is this sensation, when I was very small, of being rolled through a hospital corridor on a cot. I can’t remember why I was there.

We turn a corner and my eyes come to rest on a pair of two-way doors, steel painted beige, with thin sheets of stainless to protect the doors from the impact of a gurney. Small windows of reinforced glass. The doors swing open and the cart jolts with the transfer of momentum.

Inside there are three other figures, all dressed identically to her, save for tinted, opaque faceplates. They are standing off to the side. Sometimes, they observe closely, sometimes they aren’t present at all, but always they listen to her commands, and never do they touch me without her explicit instructions. It makes me feel safe, knowing that she is the one in charge.

“Alright, dear, hold still while we move you to the table.” She grabs me by the shoulders, gently cradling me. One of the other figures grasps my legs, and together they move me onto the operating table. A second figure connects an IV line to the port in my arm. There’s a large mirror on the ceiling, so that I can observe.

“For this one, dear, you have a choice. Would you like the pain, or no?”

I want the pain. I always want the pain.

“Very well then. Paralytic only.” She nods to one of the figures, who hangs the appropriate bag on a hook above the table.

“Flex your fingers, dear.” She commands. I comply. After a few seconds I experience the sensation, curious as always, of being unable to move. An electric thrill of anticipation flies through me. It is almost time.

She unbuttons my gown, starting from the top, exposing first my breasts, then my stomach, and finally my groin. “Oh!” she says, “someone’s excited.” Of course I am. She’s never taken off my whole gown. This is something special.

“Oh,” she says, “I almost forgot, we’ll need to intubate.” One of the trio of assistants wheels over a cart with a ventilator. She takes a tube from it and tilts my head back, ever so sweetly. I feel the tube go down my throat, down past the epiglottis, my body trying to fight but finding itself disarmed by the paralytic. For ever so brief a moment I cannot breathe, and then I feel the beautiful sensation of air returning into my lungs.

“You did so well. I’m so proud of you!” she praises me as she applies tape hold the breathing tube in place.

“You know, this hood is very warm.” She says, and reaches up to unzip the hood from her suit. This is new. She hands the hood to one of the assistants, before bending down next to my ear and whispering, “I’m so proud of you.” And then she kisses me on the forehead, through her mask.

Standing back upright she says, “Okay, I’m going to make an incision…here.” she traces a line gently with her finger, from my sternum down, around my navel, ending at my pubic bone. “Are you ready?”

I am so ready that, if not for the paralytic, I think I might sob. She looks at me through the overhead mirror. I can see her smile through the surgical mask. “Very well then.”

She presses the scalpel to my flesh. Just a light pressure at first. Then, a stinging, and finally the burning, electric sensation of nerve endings being torn from their neighbors. It is the most incredible, all-consuming feeling. I can feel my brain trying desperately to force my limbs to push her away, to run from the room. I don’t want to, but I cannot, by myself, suppress the survival instinct. I feel tears well up in my eyes and flow down my cheeks.

“Very, very good.” she tells me, reaching up and stroking my hair. “You’re doing so well. Now, let’s see if you can tell me the names of everything in here.”

And gently, ever so tenderly, she slips her hand into my abdomen. I can’t remember what sex feels like, but I’m sure it doesn’t even come close to this. Knowing she’s so close to me is intoxicating. I feel her hand touch my small intestine.

“Very good!” she says, as she works her way up, to my stomach.

“That’s right” before moving on to my liver.

“That’s three for three! Very good!” the warmth in her voice fills my heart with joy. She’s so gentle. The pain is incredible, but it feels so good, because I know she’s the one causing it. I know she loves me, and I love her.

“Moving further down,” she continues, pulling her hand out, much to my disappointment. “Oh dear, don’t worry, I’ll be right back in in one moment”

And once again she plunges into my abdomen. The white-hot fire of the incision has faded slightly to merely red-hot smoldering. I feel her touch my sigmoid colon. “Excellent.”

Her hand moves to my left kidney. “Very good!”

I feel her grasp my bladder. “Perfect.”

She sighs, “It’s a shame I can’t reach your prostate from here, love.” A laugh.

“But that will be for later.” She stands and looks at one of the assistants. “Okay, sew her back up. Be gentle.” She must sense my disappointment, though, because she turns back to me. “Oh don’t worry, my dear, there’s one more thing left.”

It takes a while for the assistant to finish closing the incision in my abdomen. Time moves strangely in here, so I couldn’t say how long. By this point my body has numbed the incision area all on its own, leaving only the faint pulling and tugging of the sutures to be sent to my brain.

She walks back over and stands at the foot of the table. “You did so well there. I’m so proud of you. As a reward for how well you’ve done so far in your lessons, I’m going to perform one last procedure today.”

And with her most gentle touch yet, she pulls my legs to either side. “I know how much these bother you.” For a moment I panic, but she’s quick to reassure me. “Oh, not your legs, hon.” And it clicks.

“I’m going to cut right here.” she traces a line down the center of my scrotum. “And you’ll be rid of these forever.”

I feel the cold steel of the scalpel press in. The faint sting followed by the roaring thunder of pain. That high, heady feeling of endorphins rushes in again. I feel her, very faintly, reaching in and grabbing my right testicle.

"So, I know you hate these things. I hated mine, too.” She squeezes, hard, sending yet another rush of pain up and into my abdomen. “So I figured, why not simply take them away?” I feel the odd sensation of cold steel on my vas deferens. “Are you ready?”

I am.

I feel, for the briefest moment, a zing of pain and then the loss of signal that indicates a part of my body was severed. I feel her tying off the end.

“That’s one down. Time for the other.” Another hard squeeze on my left. “You’re taking this all so well! I’ll be sure to reward you when you’ve healed.” That same zing, that same loss of signal. I feel tears welling up. Not tears of pain, but joy, and love. I feel the repeated sting and tug and sting and tug as she sutures me back up.

“Okay love,” she says, at my side now, stroking my hair. “we’re going to push the painkillers now, and bring you out of the paralysis.” And with that, I feel the rush and the heady fuzz of opioids entering my system, the relief washing over me like a cool shower on a hot summer day.

“I want you to flex your fingers. Just keep flexing them.”

At first I can’t. I try and I try. But slowly, I start to feel them twitching, and after not too long I feel myself able to make a weak fist.

“Very good. You’re such a good girl.” Before I can say or even think anything, she reaches up, and removes first her cap, and then her hair tie. A shoulder-length crop of raven curls falls out. And then, to my amazement, she reaches up to her ear and removes the mask.

I see her face for the first time. I’m able to take in her sculpted jaw, her chin. She has a beauty spot on her right cheek. Her green eyes fill with warmth and, for the first time, I see her smile. “Let’s get that tube out.” She removes the tape on the tube. “Okay, I need you to take a deep breath. On three, I want you to exhale as hard as you can. One, two, three!” I blow and the tube slides out. I cough quite a bit.

Rather uncharacteristically, she tosses the tube aside. “You did so good today babe.” She comes in close, leaning over me, and our lips meet. Her kiss is so soft, so tender. I’m so lucky to have her. After what might be hours, or maybe no time at all, she pulls away.

Shakily, with a voice that hasn’t seen use in a long time, I say, “Thank you, Teacher.”

[kywaslost]

hello!! how are you? ive been watching the wednesday show on netflix and i was wondering if i can i get hcs for aizawa with a daughter whos maybe 8 or 10 who acts exactly like wednesday addams? like extremely deadpan and bitter, and rarely ever shows emotions? they act a little similar so i thought it would be a cute concept >w< thanks so much!

Wednesday - Aizawa x Daughter!Reader

A/N: Hello! Thank you for requesting! Sorry it took so long! So, I’ve never actually watched The Addams Family, or Wednesday, so I tried my hardest using what I’ve heard and what I could find online to make this as accurate as possible. Hope it’s to your liking!

To say you were an exact replica of your father was an understatement. It didn’t matter whether or not if you had the same hair color or eye color as your dad. It was all in your personality.

When class 1-A first met you, there was no doubt in their minds that you were Aizawa’s daughter. They didn’t need their homeroom teacher to tell them that.

You first met them when the dorms were finished and you were moving on campus with Aizawa.

You were sitting at Aizawa’s desk as he taught, staring out at the class. You were deadpan, showing no emotion, which would be fine if Aizawa was teaching an easy topic. But today’s lesson was on forensics and different murder cases.

“Y/N chose this case herself,” he said honestly, presenting a slideshow over a recent homicide.

The class raised a collective eyebrow.

“A man bought a house only to discover the dead body of its previous owner in the basement.” Your voice was monotone as you looked up at your dad. Then you shrugged. “Thought it was interesting.”

The class’ jaws dropped.

“YoU’rE tEn!?”

They had a hard time understanding your obsession with death and forensics at first, but the longer they were around you, the more they got used to it.

So used to it, in fact, that whenever a new homicide or death was mentioned in the news, they’d pause it to go get you, letting you watch it with them. But only if they deemed it clean enough for a child. You were still young and innocent, after all. Well, to an extent.

Class 1-A was wary of you at first. You came off as very bitter, not really caring what happened around you. Once you saw Izuku walk into the dorms with blood dripping down his hand. He had broken it while training outside. And what did you do? Just shrugged and turned around.

Momo had asked you to run and get Aizawa and your response was, “no. He should deal with his own consequences.”

Needless to say, class 1-A was shocked.

Of all the time AIzawa’s students were around you, they’d only seen you cry once and that was because you lost control of your quirk (which was exactly like your dad’s) for a time and it had given you a terrible migraine.

The only other emotion they’d seen from you was anger, but that was only once as well. Mineta was trying to make a move on you and you lost it, somehow typing him to the ceiling with one of Aizawa’s capture weapons.

You were an experience, to say the least. But class 1-A loved having you around. You were like their homeroom teacher, bitter and emotionless. But you were a good kid. They liked having you around.

Aizawa loved you just as much. Just because you were a bit different from the kids your age didn’t bother him in the slightest. You were just like him, how could he have an issue with that? He loved you. That’s all you care about.

[softlyapocalytpic]

I feel like I remember a post going around a while ago about the inherent tragedy of Fallout 4 and the anti-climax that is Finding Shaun and- I just can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t.

(Going under a cut because this post got away from me LMAO)

It’s a tragedy. Your son is a cold horrific monster of a man who looks at people as experiments over being people. He’s egotistical to the point of thinking of himself as somehow larger than life- not quite godly, but something more adjacent to that- because of his control over life. *Because of how they groomed him to be. He was never allowed to be a “normal” kid. The Shaun we meet is doomed, hopeless, and it’s… heartbreaking. That’s your son and.

And he’s dead. He dies no matter what faction you choose. There’s no chance for true reconciliation.

(*There’s something to say about the parallels between Shaun and Maxson as characters that I’ve talked about to others in the past but still sticks with me. Not the post for it necessarily, but I wanted to mention it.)

For me personally, the ending of Fallout 4 wasn’t victorious, it was hollow. Now, part of that is definitely influenced by what I was going through at the time, but it has stuck with me how the only lights of hope I felt were… well it was Deacon. He made it less empty. Made it feel like it meant something good.

I didn’t like pushing the button though. I thought about all the shit that could’ve taken from Institute and used for the wasteland for something good. Thought about Shaun. Thought about how I couldn’t truly say goodbye to him. Felt like I was playing out the motions, and that fucking slideshow did nothing to help the hollowness.

It’s not victorious. But then we keep going anyway. There is still work to be done. And there’s companions to keep you company, to make the world a little brighter.

And Jesus Christ I love that fucking game. I love the sandbox and I love the way that when it hits? It fucking hits.

And guess what! Fallout 3? Fallout 76? Also fucking tragedies.

Sure, Broken Steel brings the LW back from the dead, but Lone died even if Lone isn’t “dead”. The slideshow still plays. You wake up and suddenly aren’t dead, but you should be. You should be. You, a nineteen year old kid were tasked with being a martyr. Sarah is pissed off when you ask her to do it. It should be you in the eyes of the narrative. You should be the one bearing the weight of martyrdom. Follow in your Father’s footsteps.

Fallout 76? I… your nuking the Appalachia repeatedly. Everything is gone by 2277. The bright future meant to rejuvenate the Wasteland ends up destroying it. Idfk what else there is to say on that front.

And these are just… the main Bethesda titles. 1, 2, and NV are arguably in the same boat but there’s a bit more in the sense that… well for those ones it’s much more about the “you’ve won, but at what cost?”. In the original Fallout, and let’s say you take the (I think more popular route) of talking to the Master rather than fighting him: you watch someone realize the weight of the atrocities they’ve committed, realize they had no purpose, and then kill himself and everyone there after you personally have gone through actually psychic hell to approach him. Then, you get kicked out of your only home you’ve ever known!

Fallout 2? You home is decimated, your people traumatized, and you must rebuild it from the ground up. You defeated the Enclave, but they took something from you that can’t be replaced or forgotten.

New Vegas… god there’s so much there and there’s another point I want to make to this post- make I can make it feed into this but- the Mojave gets ravaged by war. No matter who wins, atrocities will continue to have been done and to be committed. There’s deadly forces on the horizon who don’t give a SHIT about this petty war and the fucking dumb politics of these major powers. It will hit any faction hard and unmercifully. And there was still a war that consumed an entire land. So companion has a truly “happy” end. They’re all scarred and broken and have to make peace with the path they’ve chosen. People win, but they don’t win, y’know?

And I wish- as much as I love these tragedies- I wish there was more… hope. I wish that the world of Fallout allowed the brightness to shine through a little brighter. To allow the people who try to rebuild into something new to be more successful, to be allowed to take the narrative into their hands, bECAUSE HOLY FUCK DOES THIS DARK ASS WORLD HAVE SO MUCH MORE HOPE THEN ITS EVER GIVEN CREDIT FOR.

Begin Again is a rallying cry for me. The end of Lonesome Road, if you spare Ulysses, is a rebellion against the fucking cycle of violence and hatred. You want to BUILD something. Create rather than just regurgitate the old world into something more twisted than it’s corpse.

Surviving the purifier? Rebelling against the notion that you must die, that you must be a martyr, taking your life into your own hands? Watching a source of clean water be handed out for free and spread across the Wastes? Fucking! Breathing new life into Harold and so he breathes new life into the Earth?

Living even though you’ve lost all your family? Getting a new one in the people who follow you? Helping people rebuild the Commonwealth after it’s been terrorized and destroyed? Leaving this world stronger and safer then when you came into it?

Honestly- this post got away from me. @persephotea got me in my Fallout 4 thoughts (of which I have so many and they’re always trying to burst out of me) and I got to thinking about what I try to write about in my fics. Hope. Hope, hope, hope.

I choose a kinder Fallout world not because I’m trying to soften the edges, but because I want to believe that humanity has such an ability to be kind if it chooses to. That a world ravaged by destruction would CHOOSE kindness and growth. That despite all the darkness and selfishness, people would choose to Begin Again.

It’s all a fucking tragedy, but that’s only if the cycle continues. We can change it. We can end it. Just gotta choose to do it.

If you got this far, thank you for reading my tired thoughts and please please please share yours. I want to hear your thoughts so bad. Okay okay, I’ll post now.

[pokemon-personalities]

I like the concept of Pokémon violet, but when it comes to the actual game… the performance issues are absolutely terrible (it’s almost unplayable with the frame drops), the game doesn’t look very good, and I’ve already encountered some game breaking glitches.

I want to like this game more than I do, but with all the issues it has, I just can’t right now. I’m still trying to make the most of it since I paid for it but I can’t help but be disappointed in this game. It’s one of the only games I’ve ever had that I haven’t fully enjoyed.

I hope they introduce some patches to at least fix the frame drops and such. Just doing that will make the game a lot better. I can deal with the not so good graphics, but I can’t deal with the game running at a snail’s pace and turning into a PowerPoint slideshow.

turning into a powerpoint slide show 😭😭😭

i’ve heard so much about the game having tons of glitches. it’s honestly so embarrassing on pokemon’s behalf LOL i wish they’d take more time between games so the employees actually had realistic deadlines. and the games would benefit from it too.

so despite performances issues i’ve heard that the game is incredibly fun. it’s interesting bc i had the same experience with swsh, i thought the game itself was incredibly empty and lackluster in so many ways (story comes to mind), but i actually had a great time while playing it.

i’ll be picking up a used copy of scarlet or violet soon and i’m looking forward to it despite everything. i wanna see whatever everyone is talking about!

[ecargmura]

Whisper Me A Love Song Episode 4 Review - Aki, No!

Of these three, which one is the worst in your opinion? Powerpoint transition slides, showing a band practicing via slideshows or unexpected lesbian love drama? For me, it’s the second one. This is an anime that has singing and a band as a premise, yet you cut the band practice? Heresy.

Yori’s decision to join the band officially was so she could get Himari to fall in love with her genuinely. At first, she only took music as a little hobby that she indulges in to express herself, but she decides to take it seriously. It’s actually a nice feeling to find a drive when you want to do something you like. For example, I like writing, so the drive to want to take writing seriously is something I totally understand. 

Because Yori decides to join the band, the time she spends with Himari lessens, which upsets Himari, but she knows she can’t have her to herself all the time. This causes Himari to think about joining a club on days she doesn’t meet with Yori. After searching around, Himari decides to join the cooking club as there’s only one active member and two ghost members.

Two new characters make their debut. The first is the other member of the cooking club, Momoka Satomiya. First off, I love her design. The side bun with the light brown hair is just the good mix of ladylike and cute. While she’s like a big sister to Himari and that she likes cooking, she’s rather mysterious in a way. She looks as if she could be a potential love rival to Yori and she gets that feeling too, especially since Yori got all jealous of Himari constantly mentioning her, which, in turn, affects her music. However, whether she’ll be another of Himari’s suitors or a side couple with the girl with the long blue hair is unknown. Her voice actress is Reina Ueda and I didn’t expect to see that name pop up in a yuri anime; she’s in everything now! What’s next, she’s going to be in a BL anime as a side character? Will she be in Yugioh? Digimon?

The second is that girl with the long blue hair. She has a guitar or a bass on her back, showcasing that she’s in a band. However, she doesn’t seem to be in SSSGirls and is in a different band. Given that the anime is about bands, it makes sense that there should be several bands or at least a rival one at that. This girl seems like she’s a rival band member. Does she have a love line with Momoka, given that she’s a ghost member of the cooking club and she asked her to feed her banana bread?

The tension in the air I felt when Aki revealed her feelings for Yori to Himari was sharp. It was a bit obvious she liked Yori and it was hinted at, but for her to actually go in and declare herself as competition to Himari makes me worried. Aki, don’t be a snake or I’ll throw a book at you. Since I’ve never watched a yuri anime until now, how bad are love triangles in yuri shows? Are they messy? Are they dramatic? If they are, I’ll be both excited and worried.

Gosh, I just hope nothing bad happens afterwards. I just hope that this doesn’t cause Himari to rush things through and hurt Yori by asking her out when her feelings aren’t mutual yet. The last thing I need is for Himari to be reckless. Despite that, I think the little twist with Aki is a good sign that the romance in this show isn’t all sweet, pure and straightforward. It’s got some seasoning and that’s okay! I like my sweet romances and the seasoned ones too! What are your thoughts on this episode?

[ysabelmystic]

Please tell me about the boat story. Oh and can you also tell me why your family made you get drunk when you were a kid I forgot to ask about that

Okay so basically my grandparents had a time share in at those old condo Hawaii thanks to my grandpa’s “service” in the navy. Every other year, all six of us would cram ourselves into this one-bedroom condo and spend a week or two fucking around on the beaches of Kauai. This particular year, we got to do something Extra, and go on a snorkeling tour out at the more remote islands. A tour complete with an 8 hour round trip boat ride, fancy sandwiches and fresh fruit, and unlimited mai tais.

So, for background, my grandpa is the most obnoxious, self-absorbed dumbass I’ve ever met. He wants to be Elon Musk, he’s a flat-earther, he’s an mlm hon who tries to sell his products to strangers in public, he tried to cure his skin cancer with essential oils, he’s ex military, he cooks hamburgers to rare, he’s Chevy Chase in national lampoons vacation franchise, he makes a 500+ photo long slideshow every holiday that includes his cousins open casket funeral and pictures of the car vs train accident that killed them, he flirts with waitresses, he gets mad if you out-pun him, he thinks the silent treatment is a punishment, he’s friends with a local self-taught artist who draws like the average 5th grader (it’s not a stylistic choice), he maims squirrels for fun, he tailgates cars on purpose, he hates animals… basically, his greatest contribution to the world will be dying since he’ll no longer be a waste of oxygen. And what does a waste of oxygen do on a boat ride with unlimited mai tai’s?

Get fucking CRUNK of course

Now, not only did the tour have fancy sandwiches, but they also had unlimited red Hawaiian Punch. That drink was a forbidden and thus very coveted thing in my house so my brother and I probably drank 8 cans apiece. We also ran into rough seas during the last leg of the trip. I guess my grandma took one for the team because she somehow ended up below deck with two sleepy, seasick children on her lap.

This, unfortunately for us all, now meant that my grandpa was left unsupervised.

I don’t know how long we were knocked out for, but I woke up to my mom standing over us, whispering to my grandma with a very concerned look on her face. (Fake names from this point).

“Bev? Bev. Bev. Your husband is-“

The loudspeakers turned on and she was interrupted by the captain.

“Sir! What you’re doing is just stupid. If you fall in the ocean, we will not be coming back to help you. I repeat; we will not stop this trip to save you. Get back in the boat and stop being stupid.”

Silence.

“Don’t do that again”

Queue my mom and grandma looking absolutely fucking mortified.

Apparently that dumbass saw the waves and thought it’d be fun to walk the plank. Every time the boat went down off the back of a wave, he’d jump, and somehow, he did this several times without actually falling into the water.

My grandma does not believe in showing emotion. After getting off the boat she was the maddest I’ve ever seen her. She ripped the keys out of her husbands hand, pushed him into the back seat, and drove him to the condo while the rest of us went out for dinner.

Quite frankly I wish he had fallen off the boat, and the captain had followed through. Because the next time we went to Hawaii, he spent a 9 mile hiking trip harassing different people to buy his mlm granola bars and vitamins since his “business” had just gone international…

Anyways… to answer the other question.

My parents believed that wine knowledge was an important life skill. So when I was like 12 I was allowed to have tiny sips of wine, and at 15, once or twice a week, I’d get a half glass of wine with dinner (occasionally more if I agreed to help my mom grade papers).

At 17 I was allowed to have alcohol whenever the family was drinking (so like if my mom made margaritas on a Friday night I would be allowed a margarita or two) so I wouldn’t go overboard when I got ahold of it in college.

Unfortunately this did not stop me from going overboard I just knew that 1) I could be very productive after 2-4 shots of rum and 2) the optimal “good time” range was 5-8 shots and that’s how I lowkey became an alcoholic until I discovered weed!

[lemonthepotato]

HELP WITH ENNEAGRAM

I was originally gonna post this on r/enneagram but changed my mind. Please help if you can. <3

Expressing yourself through song lyrics sure is cringy and edgy. Glad I didn’t do that this post. Also, yes, this post will be long asf too. Sorry, but I’m bad at compressing things. If you don’t want to read it, don’t. Go on. Do something else. I don’t blame you lol. I understand if you don’t want to read allathat. Idk I’ll prolly delete this. Maybe.

Some of this borders on yapping but I cut a lot of irrelevant shit.

Haha… 69. I’m just saying, a part of me really wants my tritype to be 69X. It would be funny. Sorry, I’ll grow up. One day. Also, here’s a cringy little slideshow. Hope you like it.

SO. The consensus last time was that I was either a 6 or a 9, so while I’m skeptical, I went to research the differences. Starting with RHETI.

Before you say “look at core motives” isn’t the whole point of core motives that they’re subconscious? I don’t think it would help.

(Yes, I’m serious about using RHETI. Sorry, it’s convenient.)

“These types are actually frequently mistyped. Sixes and Nines are both concerned with security and with maintaining some kind of status quo situation.” Uh, no, I hate the status quo. And I’m not sure what security even means. I mean, yeah, negative change makes me upset, but positive change is good. And my life is so boring that I assure you, the status quo is not what I am interested in maintaining. I need a change. I’m constantly striving towards a better, more action-filled life.

“They are both family-oriented, and both tend to take modest views of themselves.” Nope. I’m actually pretty anti-natalist, and have no interest in ‘starting a family.’ My mortality is my burden to bear, not any hypothetical child’s. I don’t care for my family either, they’re all corrupt. And ‘modest’… maybe. I put on, and have for many years, a false bravado, but on the inside, I think I am kinda modest? I’ve always been told my writing is amazing, but truthfully, I don’t think it’s very good compared to other authors. I think I have a bad-okay singing voice, better than some other people. My art is bad. I think I know my skills. People praised my baking, but I thought it was just meh. I always think people are lying when they compliment me, which isn’t often.

“In short, Nines like to remain easy-going and unflappable. Nines work steadily at their tasks, but show little sign of being upset by the day's ups and downs. Sixes, on the other hand, cannot easily disguise their feelings. They get more easily worked-up and rattled by mishaps.” Well I definitely lean six there. I mean, I can disguise my feelings easily, except my anger. It’s the only emotion I can’t hide, and I’m easy to piss off.

“While Nines can remain silent within their own inner peace, Sixes need to vent with others periodically to discharge their fears and doubts.” Leaning six there, but if I feel rejected then I don’t vent. The closest recently was when I complained in a gc about low-content authors saturating the market on KDP. I tend to take a very strong stance when stating an opinion, and I may or may not have said “I want them to shove their year planners up” andddd you can guess the rest. From an objective standpoint, I know there’s not much wrong with making low content books… my problem should more be focused on bots stealing from authors, but I just, I guess exaggerate my anger?

“Sixes are more obviously nervous and defensive when they believe there are problems. Nines remain strangely bland in the face of problems, although beneath the pleasant surface of average Nines, there is stubborn resistance and an unwillingness to be upset or troubled by conflicts or problems.” Lean six there. If someone pisses me off, I’m not gonna reject my emotions.

“tend to be suspicious of unknown people and situations–they need to test people before they let them get close. Nines may be protected by the disengagement of their attention, but they tend to be trusting of others–almost to a fault.” Nope, always been more six there.

“Of course, under stress, when moving in their Direction of Disintegration, Nines will begin to act out some of the behaviors of average Sixes, and for this reason, some Nines will mistype themselves as Sixes. But such periods of overt anxiety generally do not last long. As soon as possible, Nines revert to their more easy going approach to things.” Well… I don’t know. I mean, I’ve always been very reactive and angry.

Subtypes:

Sx6: Okay so, denying fear is a 50/50. If someone intimates me, I usually will fight back, but sometimes if they break me too much, I’ll break down. I definitely feel “you’re only as strong as you think you are.” But I don’t want to give off the idea that I’m strong physically, only emotionally. I’ve always been seen as weak, and to a degree, I want to give off that weak, broken, lonely persona so I can be saved, or at the very least, used by someone drawn to that kind of person. Because… I am kinda weak. And I don’t mind being used, because from experience, even though being used has always sucked, I’ve never felt lonely by them. I can relate to being stubborn. I view everything as a challenge.

“These characters walk around with the idea that anyone can become dangerous, so they do everything they can to not feel cheated, manipulated, taken advantage of, or attacked.” Yeah, maybe more so nowadays. When I’m out of the house, I’m constantly wary of people.

“Despite being aggressive as part of their effort to intimidate through strength, Sx Sixes tend not to acknowledge their aggressive side and may not be aware of it-or at least of the intensity of it.” Nah, I’m pretty aggressive and aware of it. I don’t think it was always that way.

“They also tend to separate their emotions: aggression is disconnected from fear, and sex is disconnected from feelings of love and intimacy.” Eh? Maybe? Not really tbh.

“They may have the illusion that they are spontaneous, but they tend not to be.” …Is this true for me? Idk, maybe.

“Sx Sixes tend to be very contrarian.”

Very true for me honestly. Sometimes I’ll argue even when I agree with people.

Sp6:

“They also have difficulty in looking at things as black and white, as they can see multiple shades of gray in between everything.” Depends.

“Seeing themselves as constantly at fault, they also feel persecuted: they project their internal persecution externally. It is a form of paranoid thinking which incurs the following: other people are always ready to catch your faults, attack you, and criticize you, and if they do not, it is only because it is convenient for them to hide their intentions at the moment to ensure they punch down the line.” Oh 100%.

“Self-Preservation Sixes fear anger, aggression, provocation, and confrontation. Being afraid of other people's aggression means they can't let their own aggression out.” I mean yes, but no. I don’t immediately resort to anger if I know the person is a loose cannon, but at some point, I have to protect myself.

“As the most phobic of the three Sixes, the avoidant Self-Preservation subtype equates love with protection, and in looking for love they search for a source of security to compensate for an inner sense of insecurity. This Six wants to find a strong person to lean on, and they many be excessively friendly and giving as a way of preventing an attack from outside. In order to feel the strength they are lacking, the Self-Preservation Six attracts the affections or protection of somebody strong-the more forceful presence of another helps them to feel safer.” I mean yeah. I guess I’ve flipped between sp6 and sx6 behaviours my whole life. I feel like the only way to be liked is to either be completely aggressive or completely submissive. Those are the only versions of me that “exist.” I just can’t tell which is real.

So6: “Consciously or unconsciously, Social Sixes fear the disapproval of authorities and believe the way to be safe is to do the right thing as determined by an authority. And knowing what the right thing is means having clear rules that tell you how you should think and act.” Kinda. I’m just saying, it wouldn’t be hard to trick me into joining a cult, that’s all really.

“Social Sixes have an intolerance of ambiguity. They fear ambivalence and have little tolerance of uncertainty, because to them, uncertainty equals anxiety. As a result, they have a love of precision and see things more in terms of black and white than gray.” Kinda.

I don’t fear making mistakes.

Sx9: “Sx Nines unconsciously express a need to be through another- to gain a sense of "being" they don't find inside themselves through fusion with somebody else.” Yeah, but it’s not unconscious… anymore.

“These Nines feel a sense of loneliness or abandonment that seems like it can only be filled by another person, whether or not they realize it consciously.” True.

“The problem inherent in this stance, of course, is that true union- a real relationship between two people - requires that both people stand on their own feet before coming to meet each other.” Oh see, that kinda gave me a chill… no. I don’t want to be alone, ever. I don’t think I can be alone. I don’t like it.

“Sx Nines tend to be very kind, gentle, tender and sweet. They are the least assertive of the Nines.” 👎 nuh uh. I mean again, if it was in a context where I fully trusted someone then yeah but nuh uh.

“Sx Nines may also share central concerns with Type Twos in that they can lack a solid sense of self and then look to their important relationships as a way to find self-definition or a sense of identity. Twos differ from these Nines, however, in that they focus more attention on constructing an image. Twos also usually enjoy being the center of attention, while this is much less comfortable for Sx Nines.” I mean yeah, I love attention and always have, but no one in the last post suggested 2, so it’s unlikely I’m a 2. Maybe sp2, but still, I don’t think so. Maybe? Maybe not. Maybe…

Sp9: Basically sx9 but if their partner was a potato chip. Also, I might be a black and white thinker considering my dad just said he was making breakfast or lunch and my first thought was “well, it’s one or the other.” Sorry, not related.

Reading this is basically just how I acted from 2018-2021. Not a good time in my life. I don’t like being alone. I haven’t “resigned” myself to not finding love, my whole logic in those four years was “well, when I’m 18, I’m gonna work hard for the rest of my life, so I should enjoy these years before I can’t do it anymore.” which consisted of barely being able to leave the bed. So fun.

I mean no, I don’t use physical activity to create a self. Maybe through my work, but I don’t like slacking off, so maybe not.

Oh yeah, someone suggested I might be a 1 in the last post. The only 1 subtype I even closely relate to is the old version of sx1. Core type? Sure, to a degree. But idk. Most people said either 6 or 9 so I’m not sure. And 9w8 > 9w1 at that degree.

I don’t relate much to the core of 2. It’s more that I want to be looked after than looking after others. I feel the only way to serve others is to improve my appearance and serve them through giving myself to them. As for 3, I really related to a degree, but no one else agreed, and honestly, maybe you’re right. Not a 4, I’m nowhere near having enough of an identity to be a 4. 5 just makes no sense to me. 7 makes a lot of sense to me but I don’t relate to ignoring negative emotions. I’m not confident enough to be an 8. I guess that leaves me with 6 and 9, along with maybe 2 as an option. Maybe 3.

I think 9 is unlikely, honestly, so let’s narrow that to 6, 2 and 3. Definitely had a lot of sp2 behaviours as a kid. Lmao, I was gonna say “but honestly, I didn’t feel entitled cuz I did anything, just for existing” and that’s literally the next paragraph written about sp2. I’m not gonna fall into the trap of relating to subtype over core type, because I don’t really relate to the core type of 2. Maybe when I was younger. I remember when my parents argued, I would try and mediate things, because I didn’t like it, but I just got yelled at. I would also sometimes do things for others to get validation, but I don’t remember if it was a core trait.

Wanna hear a fun fact? Growing up, my mom fell for an MLM, so me and her went door to door shilling makeup products… yep, she used a little young innocent me who was acting very friendly to the people there, for some reason, to shill products. I don’t know why I was so friendly to those random people. To prove myself?

See I relate to 3, but no one agreed with that in the last post, so maybe not. I do relate to cultivating a persona and hiding negative traits. It’s why these posts are so hard to make. But, I’m not exactly GOOD at getting attention. I mean, growing up, I wasn’t very well liked even if I wanted to be popular. I’ve always wanted to be famous.

Six is complicated because I can relate to the core to a degree, but none of the subtypes, or 50/50 on each subtype. Nine is just… I don’t see much 9 in me.

Anyway, uhh, what else should I say? This post has dragged on long enough. If you want to read my other type me post, it’s like, the post before the last post on this account I think. It’s also very long.

Oh yeah, I had another brief friend that destroyed my trust by telling me to end my life by insulting me using insults based on the things I vented to him about. Hence once of the many reasons I have trust issues. That guy was very fucked up though. Tried stabbing his dad n shit. Pressured me into doing weird shit. Fucked shit man. Anyway. That’s all.

Ok, that’s all.

…I thought this would be shorter. Anyway, I guess if you have any questions/need elaboration, comment. Again I’m very sorry this post is long, I suck at compressing shit.

If the consensus is 9 again, then I’ll just accept that I was in ~DeNile.~ 😅 I just don’t think I’m calm enough.

Idk I’ll probably delete this post. It’s just- I’ve tried figuring it out on my own and it’s very difficult.

Edit: This post is old (5 months old) and I doubt I’m a 9. I was torn between 3 and 6 when I wrote this, then I got torn between 4 and 6. 4 and 6 have been the most consistent parts of my typing, so I settled on 4. Sometimes I wonder if I’m a 5 due to this but I have a very strange relationship with type 5? It was the type I questioned the least except for 8, and like, I never had any valid reason to deny it other than not ‘feeling’ like a five and the only type I considered was sx5 very briefly. I could go more in depth but 9 is very unlikely now. Also I don’t use wings anymore, at least the way people use em.)

[miru667]

hi there, miru ! it’s surely been awhile since i’ve visited your blog , and i was always shy to directly interact with you, but this time, i want to say a lot of things, and i hope you’ll find some time to read.

i remember how i stumbled across your account when i was 8 or so, around the time when you just started posting about the lorax and the fandom was growing up. at first, i simply checked your blog out of boredom as a kid since you were the only person i followed here, but later on, i really got interested and often would go back home from school and run to read your new posts, no matter what was it, just because i liked them, and i guess my little mind wanted to explore more about the fandom in general. (: i grew up wishing i was as “cool” as you, and really wanted to talk to you, but guess the unknownness made me nervous enough so i always brushed it off. and no matter how cheesy it sounds ,just going through your blog at least once a day helped me with most of my sad days. you were a huge affect to my childhood, and going through your page again after so long made me feel such a bittersweet nostalgia , i nearly cried catching up with things haha. you were the reason i found out about the lorax in general and joined the fandom , as well as inspired me to try drawing ( i remember using your art as a base when i was 12 ,,, but shhh, let’s keep it a secret (; )

it’s been so long since then, and sometimes it’s hard to believe how much i’ve grown up, as well as you did too. i’ll never forget these days when being a young kid i would try to redraw your onceler fan art , or make a small silly slideshows with your drawings to some goofy songs, LMAO. (i still have them, by the way… eugh. cringeee) and getting to spend my growing up surrounded by such an amazing fandom and amazing people like you has truly built me up as a person, and i couldn’t be more grateful i’ve found out about you back then, because i don’t know who i would be right now if i never did. thank you so much miru, keep going, be happy, and no matter how time passes by , you’ll always be one of my biggest inspirations, and i’ll continue looking up to you. <3

•

now , ending the cheesy paragraph above, i’m a little curious about some things, feel free not to answer them if you’re uncomfortable! i’m not pressuring you.

1 ; i’ll start off with a simple one. how are you doing, how’s life in general? (:

2 ; did you know that your small onceler height headcannon you’ve made back in 2013 is showing up on google as an actual height of his , making a lot of people (especially on tik tok. boy, they’re going feral over that fact…) believe it’s his canon height ? they’re actually saying it’s his actual confirmed height and etc. , so i was always wondering how does it feel to have your headcannon being considered by the whole onceler fandom as canon, haha. :D

3 ; speaking about tik tok, you mentioned you don’t have it at all. why don’t you try to get it, and post your art in there? trust me, a lot of people absolutely adore your work in here and considering the fact onceler fandom is apparently biggering again , that could be a nice idea , since personally i think you’re really underrated and deserve some more recognition (:

4 ; what’s your actual opinion on oncest? because honestly , i remember how people drooled over this ship to death back in 10s, however i was never really fond of it and,, you know what i meaannn, it simply didn’t feel right for me at all. (,: did you immediately start liking it since you have some art about it , and what are your thoughts about it now ?

5 ; how old were you when you joined the whole lorax fandom?

6; you obviously have a lot of good memories with the Onceler fandom , as i do too, but there is also some bad memories for me, and some that i wish i could completely erase from my mind haha. how is it for you? like, were there perhaps some situations that happened to you in the fandom that make you shiver in a pleasedon’tremindme way? i’d love to listen if there is some!

7 ; and , the last one. i literally have been a huge fan of your for awhile now , and i was wondering if you’d ever want to maybe ,, talk, y’know? and become friends , perhaps? ;;;;; i feel like i’m being too pushy atp ,but i’m still a little nervous so i’m sorry if i act weird,, (,: but either way, remember you’re amazing, and i hope you have a good day/night !!

thank you for reading my non-sense to the end, lol. i hope i didn’t take off much time <33

Omg,,,Q_Q?? Thank you for sending this message, I wouldn't have known otherwise that I've made such an impact on someone's life, like...it's truly humbling. You were 8?? 😭 And I was really the only blog you followed?? 😭 Back then I did not think about how others might've been using my blog; I myself had always been the one looking up to others, and here you were all that time looking up to me...I guess it's really magical, the way we don't know who in the world might be thinking about us. I hope you're doing well. Your slideshows are not cringe. Or rather, you were cringe and free, and I think that's wonderful.

For your questions then:

I guess I'm doing okay. I have friends who care about me, and I'm able to support myself with my job, so with those two things alone, I'm already very lucky.

If you mean this post: [link] I didn't make this headcanon! As you can see on the post, tumblr user torikabori made it, and I simply reblogged it. I think there's been a few fandom headcanons that have mistakenly been posted on wikis and tvtropes as canon, and I really wish it didn't happen that way, because I don't like misinformation being spread. I've said this before but if it's not in the Lorax DVD, or in any official interviews, or in any concept art, then it's NOT canon. Do not trust google, wiki, tvtropes, or word of mouth.

I,,, reallllllyyyy don't see myself getting into tiktok ;w; Having to be a slave to algorithms and numbers really turns me off, and I can barely keep up with posting on social media anymore. I've almost completely abandoned my instagram, and I'm half a year behind in posting my art to tumblr haha. So I wouldn't be able to keep up with tiktok anyway. Thank you for thinking I deserve more recognition though! 🥺

I think in the early years of the fandom I drew it because it was popular, but since then I've been more true to myself and I only draw what my heart desires now. So now I can say that I've never shipped oncest, though I've shipped onceler askblogs together before. And I'll always be a fan of 7212, though that's not the classic oncest we're referring to here. But I still support whoever does ship it, I think that's totally cool!

I was a young adult!

You are not alone, so many of us from 2012 have gone through bad times in the fandom at least once. For me specifically, it's been 11 years that I've been here, so do you think I could have avoided every single possible bad situation? ;) I won't be sharing any stories, but the onceler fandom would not be what it is today without both the good AND bad, I guarantee you that.

You can feel free to message me anytime you like! I'm not much of a talker since I'm often busy, and I rarely ever message first, but I'll always be courteous to anyone who messages me. As for friendship, I think it should just happen naturally, if it happens!