#i’m mad but i’m not supposed to be mad

[sparkle-b00mb0y]

The Accident/ Katsuki bakugo accidentally hits you and you come home to him crying 😢

The argument had spiraled out of control. You and Bakugo had been yelling for what felt like hours, the tension in the room thick and suffocating. He was pacing back and forth, his frustration written all over his face, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke.

“Why can’t you just let this go?!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the room.

“Because you’re not even trying to understand where I’m coming from!” you shot back, standing your ground.

“I am trying, damn it! But all you ever do is—” His hand flew out in an exasperated motion, and before either of you realized what was happening, his palm brushed against your cheek—not hard, but enough to make your head turn slightly.

The room went silent.

Your eyes widened as the shock of what had just happened sank in. It wasn’t intentional, but it didn’t matter. The sting on your skin wasn’t what hurt the most—it was the look of anger still etched on his face, quickly replaced by horror when he realized what he’d done.

“Shit,” he breathed, his hands dropping to his sides. “I didn’t mean—”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you stepped back instinctively, your heart aching in a way you hadn’t expected. “You… you hit me,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“I didn’t—It wasn’t on purpose!” Bakugo stammered, his voice panicked now. “I was just—”

But you didn’t wait to hear the rest. The pain in your chest was too much, and the tears spilling down your face made it hard to see clearly. You turned and grabbed your coat, rushing out of the apartment without another word.

Hours passed as you wandered aimlessly, trying to make sense of everything. You knew Bakugo hadn’t meant to hit you, but it didn’t erase the hurt or the shock of it. The memory replayed in your mind over and over, making the ache in your chest worse.

Finally, when the cold night air began to bite at your skin, you made your way back to his apartment. Part of you wasn’t sure what you’d find when you opened the door, but nothing could have prepared you for the sight that greeted you.

Bakugo was sitting on the floor, his head in his hands. His broad shoulders were shaking, and muffled, broken sobs filled the quiet room.

“Katsuki…” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His head snapped up, his red, tear-streaked eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, neither of you moved, and then he scrambled to his feet, stumbling toward you.

“You’re back,” he choked out, his voice hoarse. “I—I thought you weren’t going to come back.”

The sight of him—so raw and vulnerable—made your chest tighten. “I just needed some time,” you admitted, your voice wavering. “I didn’t know how to feel about what happened.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking again. “I swear I didn’t mean to. I’d never hurt you on purpose. I—I was so mad, and I wasn’t thinking, and—” He stopped, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as his tears continued to fall. “I’m so sorry.”

You stepped closer, your own tears spilling over as you reached out to him. His breath hitched as you placed a hand on his arm, grounding him.

“I know you didn’t mean to,” you said softly. “But it still hurt, Katsuki. It scared me.”

His expression crumpled at your words, and he fell to his knees, gripping your hands tightly. “I’m the one who’s supposed to protect you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “And I messed that up. I don’t know how to make it right.”

You knelt down with him, squeezing his hands. “We’ll figure it out,” you said gently. “But we need to talk about this. We can’t just let it go.”

He nodded, his grip on your hands tightening as though he was afraid you’d disappear again. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” he promised, his voice steady despite the tears. “I just… I can’t lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” you said, pulling him into a hug. He clung to you like his life depended on it, burying his face in your shoulder as the weight of the moment settled between you.

In that embrace, you both silently vowed to work through the pain together, to rebuild the trust shaken by that one fleeting moment.

[artemisia-black]

The Black Family ‘Madness’ Trope: A Critical Analysis

I will start this meta by saying I’m not the fandom morality police, and people can write and explore what they want. 

However, we sometimes need to unpack popular tropes in order to examine where they come from, what societal trends they reflect, and what literary traditions they speak to.

In this case, I want to explore the “Black family madness” trope and its implications, particularly its ties to the Gothic literary tradition, ableism, and gendered narratives of mental health. 

Importantly, the term “madness” is so profoundly loaded.  It has historically been used to dismiss, pathologise, and other individuals experiencing mental distress, stripping away their humanity and turning them into objects of fear or ridicule or a source of morbid entertainment. Even today, it often conflates vastly different experiences `(mental illness, trauma, grief) into a single, reductive concept.

When viewed in the context of the Black family, fandom uses ‘madness’ as an undefined, catch-all label. It’s thrown around to broadly explain behaviour, dysfunction, or cruelty without any meaningful exploration of what it actually entails. This vagueness is deeply problematic, as it reduces mental distress to a simplistic, monolithic concept rather than recognising the nuanced and varied experiences it represents. 

This lack of specificity gives it an almost caricatured quality, evoking characters like Renfield from Dracula, where madness becomes an aesthetic of grotesquerie rather than a nuanced reflection of mental health.

And this warrants critical examination.

1.0 The consanguinity of it all.

I have to start with science, as much of the discourse around “Black family madness” focuses on inbreeding or consanguinity, with a particular focus on the marriage of Walburga and Orion (who are second cousins)/ 

However, this idea doesn’t hold up under scrutiny—either scientifically or narratively.

Second cousins share about 3.125% of their DNA, a negligible amount from a genetic perspective.

 To put this into context, the general population shares, on average, about 1% of their genetic material with any random individual, meaning second-cousin marriages increase genetic overlap only slightly. Even first-cousin marriages, which share 12.5% of DNA, while not advised, do not guarantee the passing on of recessive disorders or significant genetic risk. This is due to the role of epigenetics and genetic variability during zygote formation, which can influence the expression of genes and mitigate the inheritance of certain recessive traits. In the case of second-cousin marriages, where the genetic overlap is even smaller, the likelihood of hereditary issues is further reduced (although it does increase the odds within a small community it’s not a guarantee). 

Furthermore, it’s worth noting that Orion and Walburga are the only example of a second-cousin marriage in the Black family tree, making it strange that “madness” is so broadly attributed to the family as a whole. 

Other family members married into other pureblood families including the Potters, Malfoys, Longbottoms, and Macmillans—none of whom are labelled as “mad” in fandom discourse.

Also, Bellatrix who often does bear the brunt of madness discourse, is not directly descended from Orion and Walburga and, therefore, wouldn’t be affected by this supposed hereditary instability (yet she is frequently framed as the epitome of “Black family madness.”)

Futhermore, we need to confront an uncomfortable truth: genetics, as a field, is relatively new. For most of human history, we had no understanding of DNA, recessive genes, or the risks of consanguinity. The reality is that most of us are far more products of consanguinity than we’d like to admit. Before modern transportation, people lived in small, isolated communities, often marrying within their local network (which frequently meant distant relatives). Yet humanity persisted, and the widespread dysfunction assumed in discussions of the Black family’s genetic "madness" is not reflected in the reality of human history.

This overemphasis on consanguinity also carries echoes of Victorian pseudoscience, where inherited “madness” was often used to stigmatise families and individuals as morally or biologically corrupt. 

2.0 Abelism but make it gothic

Finally, moving away from science (and my own flashbacks of having to wear a lab coat every day), it’s important to examine how the “Black family madness” trope fits within Gothic literary traditions—and how fandom has amplified it.

The Blacks are steeped in Gothic tropes. They are a family who has crumbled under the weight of their own hubris, trapped in a decaying house filled with bottles of blood and knives (ngl, it is a vibe). Their tragedy is almost operatic (someone really needs to seance Puccini and get him to write The Fall of the House of Black).

Fandom’s embrace of the “madness” trope often centres on Walburga’s portrait, where she is described as shrieking, claw-like, and grotesque. This imagery has been seized upon as evidence of hereditary instability within the Black family. However, it’s worth noting that canon never confirms this idea. Instead, Walburga’s depiction leans heavily on Gothic conventions, where madness often serves as shorthand for moral or hereditary corruption rather than a nuanced exploration of mental health.

This framing, while aesthetically in line with Gothic traditions, leans heavily into ableist narratives. By turning mental illness into spectacle, it dehumanises characters and perpetuates harmful real-world stigmas about mental health. Madness becomes something grotesque, isolating individuals and reducing them to objects of voyeuristic fascination—cautionary tales rather than complex individuals.

And yet, this framing isn’t applied equally across the family. Male characters like Regulus or Orion are rarely labelled as mad, despite their struggles or dysfunctions. Similarly, Narcissa, who arguably embodies the Wizarding World’s ideals of femininity (read: motherhood), is spared this label. This selective application reveals how the Gothic’s obsession with madness intersects with its deeply gendered lens, which we’ll explore next

2.1 Gothic Tropes and Gendered Madness

In Gothic literature, madness often has a distinctly gendered lens, with women’s emotional and mental health struggles frequently pathologised as symbols of hysteria or instability. This tradition continues in the portrayal of Black family women, who bear the brunt of the “madness” trope.

Some fandom interpretations wouldn’t look out of place at a Victorian doctor’s convention where they’re designing vibrators to treat “hysteria.” Female characters’ grief, anger, or ideological conviction are persistently reduced to vague notions of madness, as if their emotions are inherently excessive or irrational. Instead of nuanced examinations, their struggles are framed as aberrations, fitting neatly into the trope of the “hysterical woman.”

This framing erases the complexities of Black family women, leaning on misogynistic traditions where women’s mental health is weaponised against them. Their distress is rarely explored as a response to systemic oppression, personal loss, or ideological indoctrination but is instead transformed into spectacle—a way to dehumanise them and dismiss their perspectives.

Characters like Walburga and Bellatrix are cast as emotionally unbalanced, their behaviours dismissed as irrational shrieking rather than the product of their circumstances and choices. This pattern is far from new; Gothic literature has long used the “madwoman” archetype to punish women who deviate from societal norms.

Bertha Mason from Jane Eyre is a prime example. Locked in an attic, her “madness” is attributed to supposed sexual excesses and moral degeneracy, reinforcing Victorian beliefs that tied women’s mental health to their purity—or lack thereof. Stripped of her humanity, Bertha becomes a monstrous figure, a cautionary tale about the dangers of female desire and independence. Similarly, in The Yellow Wallpaper, Charlotte Perkins Gilman critiques how patriarchal systems dismissed women’s mental health. The protagonist’s postpartum depression is labelled as “hysteria,” and her prescribed “rest cure” exacerbates her decline.

These tropes are mirrored in the portrayal of Black family women. Walburga’s grief, anger, and ideological rigidity are reduced to insanity, rendering her a shrieking, clawed portrait rather than a woman grappling with immense loss. Bellatrix’s fanaticism and violence are similarly dismissed as unhinged madness, ignoring the ideological indoctrination and personal choices that shaped her.

Such portrayals flatten these characters, perpetuating harmful cultural narratives and the “hysterical woman” trope ultimately delegitimises women’s voices and experiences. 

The Gothic’s obsession with tainted bloodlines and hereditary madness also intersects with colonial anxieties about purity and degeneration. Victorian Gothic literature often used madness to represent racial and cultural “otherness,” dehumanising those considered outside the norm.

In conclusion, tropes like this need a critical eye. It’s important to recognise where pervasive ideas come from and what they’re perpetuating, both in fiction and beyond. These are just stories, yes, but what is fiction if not a reflection of reality? When we allow tropes like “Black family madness” to go unexamined, we risk reinforcing harmful stereotypes and flattening characters into tired archetypes

[daisymbin]

2. "are you trying to distract me on purpose?"

3."you’re lucky you’re cute, or i’d be mad right now."

—you're working from home & well ur bf is bored becausehe has ntg to do.

Vernon or Joshua or both(poly if u're comfortable with that)

**reader has glasses (pls)

omg this is kinda cute... I've never written poly before so this is a first for me too!! hopefully I did okay! thank you for requesting this, lovely!!! 🤍

a/n: i tried to do some research to learn more about poly relationships to hopefully have that dynamic right? i apologise if its inaccurate (you can let me know if i did so i can learn!!) this is my first time attempting a poly fic so please go easy on me 🙂‍↕️

warnings: poly relationship!! don't read if you're uncomfortable with it!!

wc: 2.3k sorry idk what happened 🥲

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // shua's m.list || hansol's m.list

suggestive prompt #2: are you trying to distract me on purpose?" +

suggestive prompt #3: "you're lucky you're cute, or I'd be mad right now."

it was supposed to be a quiet day. you had a mountain of work piled up, and the only thing you really wanted was to get through it without any distractions. but of course, hansol and joshua had other plans.

"babe," hansol called from the living room, his voice playful and a little too eager. you glanced up from your laptop, catching him peeking around the corner with a mischievous grin. "you need a break?"

"i’m good," you said, turning your attention back to the screen, but not without noticing how joshua was lounging on the couch with a lazy smirk, clearly bored out of his mind.

"are you sure?" joshua added, stretching his arms above his head. "you've been working non-stop."

"yeah, you should take it easy," hansol chimed in again, walking a little closer to where you sat at the desk.

"i’m fine," you said, your voice steady as you clicked through your work. but something about their energy told you this was only the beginning. "just let me finish, okay?"

they exchanged a look, one that clearly meant trouble. "we were thinking," joshua started, "since we cancelled our bowling plans to spend the day with you..." he trailed off, eyes glinting with amusement.

"yeah, we had to come up with something fun to do instead," hansol added, a sly grin tugging at his lips. "so... how about a little bet?"

you raised an eyebrow. "a bet?"

"yeah," hansol said, leaning against the doorway, "whoever gets you to crack first wins. and the winner... gets to be the first one to have you." he gave you a look that sent a shiver down your spine.

"real funny," you chuckled, but there was something in your chest that fluttered at the thought; you can't deny the way your stomach twisted in excitement.

"we’re just trying to have some fun," joshua said with a wink. "so, what do you say? are you up for it?"

you bit your lip, pretending to think for a moment before glancing at them both. "you can give it a go if you're that confident, but you’re both going to be disappointed when i get all this work done and don’t give either of you the time of day."

they just grinned at you, ready to prove you wrong.

attempt #1—hansol

a few minutes passed, and you were back in the zone, typing away at your laptop when you felt a familiar presence beside you. hansol’s breath fanned across your ear as he leaned in close. "you know," he whispered softly, "i'd have better restraints if you didn’t look so cute right now."

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. "seriously? that's what you're going with? a pick up line?" you huffed, "you’re lucky you're cute, or i’d be mad right now," you muttered, feeling his presence too distracting.

"i'll take that as a win," hansol said, voice thick with amusement as his hand brushed lightly across your shoulder. "just saying, you’d probably work better if i gave you a kiss for good luck."

you felt his lips hover near your cheek, and despite yourself, you tilted your head slightly. "stop it, hansol," you warned, but your tone was anything but firm.

hansol leaned in and pressed a light kiss to your cheek, just as he’d promised, before lingering there, his lips soft against your skin. his hand found its way to your waist, slipping under your shirt slightly to rest there as he murmured into your ear, "now, that was good luck, don’t you think?"

attempt #2—joshua

joshua appeared out of nowhere, slipping into the chair beside you, his knee brushing against yours. you glanced over at him, only to find him wearing that impossibly charming smile. "you’re working really hard," he murmured, placing a hand on your leg as he leaned closer. "why don't you just let us take care of you? soothe than tension?"

his fingers danced across your leg for just a moment before you shook your head, trying to ignore the way his touch sent warmth rushing through you. "joshua, please. i'm busy."

"ah, but you’re so cute when you’re trying so hard to ignore me," he teased, leaning in to kiss your temple. you let out a soft sigh, resisting the pull of his lips, "cut it out, shua."

he placed a hand on your thigh and slid it up, his thumb tracing circles on your skin. "don’t you want to spend time with me?"

you shifted in your seat, trying to focus on your screen, but the way joshua's hand stayed on your leg was enough to make you lose track of your thoughts.

attempt #3—hansol again

you were getting a little more frustrated now. your concentration was slipping, and your work was piling up. just as you were about to type something out, hansol was back. he dropped onto the couch beside you, his body a mere inch away from yours. he casually draped his arm over the back of your chair, leaning his head against yours.

"you’ve got this look on your face," hansol said, his voice a teasing whisper. "it’s like you want me to kiss you, but you’re too focused to admit it."

"oh my god," you muttered in playful disbelief, not sure if you were more frustrated with the work or with him.

"you don’t have to pretend," he continued, eyes twinkling mischievously. "i know what you're thinking."

you could feel his breath on your skin, and it was getting harder to focus. your hand, which had been hovering over the keyboard, finally fell into your lap as you exhaled. "i’m trying to work, baby. please."

hansol turned you to face him fully, he leans in close & ignores the way his heart flutters, instead, his gaze focuses on your glasses. with a teasing smile, he gently slid them off your face, setting them aside. his fingers lingered on your temple, tracing the edge of your skin where the glasses had been.

"you look even better without these," he murmured, his voice rich with desire. he tilted your chin up, his lips brushing yours as he smiles & whispers, "just you and me now."

attempt #4—joshua again

at this point, it was getting ridiculous. joshua wasn’t even trying to be subtle anymore. he slowly slid off the couch and stood right behind you, one hand resting on the back of your chair while the other slid into your hair. he ran his fingers gently through the strands, sending a shiver down your spine.

joshua's hands rested gently on your waist, his fingers brushing the edge of your tank top. he leaned in closer, his lips grazing your earlobe as his breath warmed your skin. "you’re so beautiful," he murmured, the words sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. his hands slid slowly under your tank top, but instead of pulling it up, he traced patterns on your skin, teasing you with every movement.

you couldn’t help but smile at his light touch, the way he was taking his time, savoring the moment. "you’re being mean," you teased, glancing up at him.

"am i?" joshua grinned, his lips curling up in mischief. "maybe i’m just enjoying how you react." he kept his hands in place, gently caressing your sides before his thumbs brushed over the small of your back, sending a ripple of warmth through you.

you laughed softly, squirming slightly under his touch. "you know you’re not supposed to tease me like this, right?"

he leaned in, his lips just inches from yours. "i’m not teasing," he whispered, his voice low and filled with affection. "i just want you to know how much i adore you." then, with a quick, playful peck on your lips, he pulled away, keeping you close but just out of reach, enjoying the moment of sweet, teasing tension.

attempt #5—the win

you were barely holding it together when hansol returned for one final attempt. this time, he didn’t even sit beside you. instead, he stood behind you, his chest pressing into your back as he wrapped his arms around your waist. you tried to stay focused, but when his lips brushed your neck, your resolve finally crumbled.

"are you trying to distract me on purpose?" you finally asked, breathless and frustrated. your face flushed, your work completely forgotten as you turned to face him.

"oh, i've been trying, trust me," he said, his voice low and teasing. "i just want your attention so bad."

without waiting for a response, hansol takes matters into his own hands, kissing you fiercely, pulling you into a heated make-out session. his lips were insistent, his tongue sliding against yours as his hands roamed to your back, pulling you closer. you melted into him, feeling the heat of his body pressing against yours, his kisses growing deeper as he claimed you. your hands gripped his shirt, desperate to pull him even closer.

hansol's hands traced the curve of your shoulders, his fingers light but firm as they grazed over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. his breath was warm against your neck, his lips brushing softly against the sensitive skin there. you couldn’t suppress a quiet gasp as his lips pressed a gentle kiss to the base of your neck, before he pulled back, his breath tickling your skin.

"you feel so good," he whispered, voice husky, his hands sliding down your arms to your waist. he drew you closer, his body pressing against yours as his lips returned to your neck, this time with more urgency. his kisses were slow but deliberate, each one more intense than the last, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

you tilted your head back, offering him more access as his lips moved to your shoulder, nipping at the soft skin there. his hands roamed, one moving to the small of your back, pulling you closer, the other tracing the curve of your hip, fingers brushing the edges of your shirt. the heat of his touch made your heart race, and you could feel your body responding to him, every inch of you craving more.

his breath grew heavier, a low murmur escaping his lips as he kissed your shoulder, his hands moving upward, sliding under the fabric of your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin. "can’t get enough of you," he murmured, his lips trailing further up to your jawline, his hands gently guiding you back against him.

you could hardly breathe, his touch overwhelming, consuming. but you didn’t want him to stop—how could you?

just as you were about to pull him closer, a voice broke through the haze of your senses. "you two are really going at it, huh?" the sudden interruption made both of you freeze, and you pulled away from hansol, cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

joshua stood a few feet away, leaning casually against the table, a knowing smirk on his lips. his presence was warm, but there was an underlying tease in his eyes that made you feel a little exposed.

with a small laugh & his tone playful, he says to hansol, "can’t leave her alone for even a minute, can you?" his eyes flicked over to you, soft and affectionate, offering a little reassurance.

hansol gave a small shrug & smiles, the irritation from being interrupted fading away quickly, “just wanted to kiss her,”

joshua's hand move to gently brush against your arm. his eyes met yours, offering that same warmth, and you felt a wave of calm wash over you.

with a playful grin, joshua leaned in, his lips brushing yours softly, tenderly at first. you melted into the kiss, his hand moving to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss with a slow, deliberate pressure. his tongue slid against yours, the kiss growing more heated as he pulled you closer, just like hansol had. the mixture of their touches, their warmth, made your head spin in the best way, and you found yourself craving more from both of them.

joshua's lips moved to your neck, his soft kisses following the same path that hansol had begun. but there was something different in his touch—gentler, more tender, as though he was savoring every moment. his hand slid down to your waist, picking you up with ease as he walks over to the bed.

he guides you closer as his lips brushed along your skin, leaving behind a trail of soft, lingering kisses. "you’re so beautiful," he murmured against your skin, his voice husky with desire.

you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped you at the feeling of both their touches. they were so different, yet so in sync with each other, as if they were sharing the same unspoken understanding of what you needed. with both of them so close, the heat between you all was undeniable, and you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning in, pressing your lips against joshua’s once more, the kiss deepening in response to the heat between you.

as their kisses and touches intertwined, you felt like you were floating, caught between both of them, in a whirlwind of passion and affection.

“so who won?” joshua mumbled against your lips.

“im pretty sure i did,” hansol answers as his smug smile returns. he looks over at joshua, who was smirking back at him. joshua slowly releases his hold on your neck and pulls away.

you tug on hansol's arm, resting him against the headboard as you move to climb on top of him; trapping him beneath you.

“wanna tell me again how good i feel?” you ask as you lean down; closer, your hands run through his soft brown hair as his hands come up to your waist.

“fuck yes,” he mutters, his eyes darkening even more as he feels you move your hips aginst his.

joshua moves to kiss you again, but hansol stops him before he can, “hey I won!” he whines.

“relax,” joshua laughs softly against your lips, “im just kissing her. you can have her first.”

[haveuevermetme]

i remember my whole life i was afraid of romantic and sexual relationships with men.

i was afraid to go on a date because so many people around me were telling me how it’s totally normal to have sex on the first date or, if you want to play hard to get, just kiss on the first date and have sex on the second. i didn’t want to have sex with a man i don’t know. i didn’t want to kiss a man i don’t know. there is no way in hell i could “know” a man after one date. i hated that.

i always thought i was supposed to have sex as an obligation in a relationship. i thought i was supposed to agree to sex even when i didn’t really want to but enough time has passed so now i have to. i thought i will have to suffer through rounds of persuasion for sex when i already had trouble resisting people asking me for something in general, and saying “no” to sex because i didn’t want to be a prude.

i thought i was supposed to suffer through the first time when “it will hurt a bit in the beginning but then it’ll be fine”. i thought about an orgasm, how hard it is for women to get it, how men don’t like when women don’t get it and how women pretend to orgasm not to hurt men’s feelings. i hated that too, i didn’t want to pretend but i also didn’t want it to be hard for me.

i never dreamt of children or wedding when i was a child. for me it was something that will happen but so far away from now it was not worth worrying over. but deep down i knew i was scared and the older i got, the more i was worried about it. i didn’t want to have children, i’m afraid of pregnancy. i’m a little claustrophobic, i’m afraid of being stuck in places where i have no choice of getting out. pregnancy is one of these things for me because if i want a child, i have to get pregnant, if i’m pregnant, i have to deliver the child. i have to suffer thorough pregnancy AND childbirth AND possible consequences of it for my body. you cannot say no to a child when you are 5 months pregnant, or 6, or 7, you just have no other choice but to go through with birthing the baby. it terrifies me.

i hated that i always got told that i can’t have too high standards to dating because there is no “perfect person” and i will have to lower my standards and put up with his face/body/character/interests. i didn’t want it, i didn’t think my standards were high, i thought they were fine. i didn’t want an anime guy because i know what kind of anime they’re watching, i didn’t want a gamer guy because i don’t want a man addicted to his computer. i didn’t want a man with too many guy friends i didn’t like because i had an opportunity to find out how they talk with each other about girls and their relationships. i didn’t want a smoker or an alcoholic, i didn’t want a wife beater, i didn’t want a guy who regularly ignored my wishes even when we were just friends. my standards were really low.

i hate all of that and what i hate most is the fact that i thought i had to go through all this. i didn’t have to. i don’t have to. i can say no, i may never have children or a husband and even though i know a lot of people will be mad about it and would think i am crazy or stupid or both, i still can say no. they can talk and curse me but they won’t be able to make me have children and husband. they will talk, but i will be free.

[gothamite-rambler]

Stop hitting him with the cattle prod!

Damian, patrolling as Robin alongside the rest of his Batfamily, picked up a rod with electrodes at the end. He seemed intrigued by the device while staying close to Tim (Red Robin).

Robin (holding up the rod, eyes gleaming): I found this long stick. Can I keep it, Father?

Batman (raising an eyebrow): Are you aware of what that is?

Robin (lying with a mischievous grin): No. It seems to be a poker of sorts. Hey, what does this button do?

Robin pointed the electrodes right at Red Robin's arm and pressed the button on the bottom, delivering a mild shock.

Red Robin (rubbing his arm, annoyed): Ow!

Robin (feigning innocence, wide-eyed): Huh… that is so strange. Is this a long taser? Oh, sorry, Red Robin, my mistake—your arm was in the way.

He shocked Red Robin again, this time eliciting a giggle as the prod hit his hip.

Batman (scolding tone, stepping forward): Stop standing next to him. Robin, give me the weapon!

Robin (pouting defiantly): No, I want to keep it! This is a fantastic weapon! Let me test it again.

Red Robin felt another shock hit his arm and scowled, trying to ignore how he low-key enjoyed the sensation. He wasn’t about to show that in public… again.

Red Robin (forcing his voice to sound mad): Stop it!

Robin (pretending to be apologetic, smirking): I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Definitely wasn’t intending to do that. Not like I secretly heard you enjoy this or anything.

Robin aimed for Red Robin's leg in a quick, sneak hit that made the older man bite his lip to suppress a smile.

Robin (snickering): It's probably not working anymore. Father, do you know what this is called?

Batman (aggravated, pinching the bridge of his nose): You're very aware that’s a cattle prod. Stop torturing your brother with it!

Red Robin (blushing deeply): Yeah… torturing!

Robin (feigning ignorance again, tilting his head): Cattle… prod. Huh? Seems to work on humans well, too. Let me see if it actually works; I have to make sure.

Red Robin tried to walk away, but Robin quickly aimed the prod against his neck, causing him to moan in pleasure before collapsing to the ground. Robin laughed in a high-pitched manner while Red Robin turned a deep shade of crimson.

Batman covered his mouth, unsure how to react. He sighed and shook his head in disbelief. Nightwing and Red Hood arrived just in time to witness the final shock, hearing Red Robin's involuntary moan.

Red Hood (raising an eyebrow, unsure): Was that a moan of pain or—

Nightwing (blushing furiously): Please don't finish that sentence! Robin, give me this!

Nightwing snatched the cattle prod and handed it to Batman. Red Hood nodded, shaking his head, clearly amused but feeling as uncomfortable as Nightwing and Batman.

Batman (pointing the prod at Red Robin): Thank you… Probably should’ve taken that before he aimed for the neck. Red Robin, are you okay?

Red Robin (lying flat on the ground, voice muffled): I’m fine. Just walk away with your child before I kick him!

Batman nodded, grabbing Robin by the cape and dragging him away, although the grin on Robin's face showed no sign of regret or shame.

Red Hood (bluntly asking, smirking): The kid is gone. What’s your sex life like?

Red Robin, caught off guard, casually kicked Red Hood in the stomach. Nightwing crossed his arms and nodded, not blaming Red Robin for his reaction—especially since Red Hood had asked him the same question after he got back with Kori.

Back in the Batmobile, Batman rested his head on the steering wheel, the mission over, while trying to block the scene that had just unfolded.

Robin (eagerly): Father, can I keep—

Batman (interrupting firmly): No! You know what this is used for—you were horrified by it.

Robin (shrugging, a sly smile creeping in): Yeah, but using a weapon I see as evil to embarrass someone felt… satisfying.

Batman (reluctantly, glancing at him): You weren’t supposed to use that lesson for that. Stay in the car, and I’m keeping this away from you!

Batman smacked his son lightly on the back of the head before stepping out of the car. Robin crossed his arms, pouting, but then shrugged while snickering again.

Tim has turned pain into pleasure... good for him

[pinkandpurple360]

I've seen people in the yt episode comments and on TV tropes suggest that even though he 'took the fall' for him, Stolas was still angry with Blitzo

and like genuine sincere question here - for what?? what does he still have to be angry about?

even buying into the idea that Stolas was justified at all for being pissy about Blitzo yelling at him, Blitzo not only already apologized for that but he went as far as saying Stolas deserved better than him and outright implied that his problem was just his own insecurities

and yet Stolas is still mad at him, apparently? why?

if nothing will make him forgive Blitzo except Blitzo saying 'I love you' then it's just incel logic again. he's punishing Blitzo for not giving him what he wants exactly the way he wants (he was super gentle and loving at the end of mastermind but that isn't good enough either, I guess)

the only other thing he could want is Blitzo taking back everything he said in full moon/apology tour. not only did he already kinda do that, does Stolas seriously expect Blitzo to say 'I'm sorry, I was wrong, you never looked down on me even though I have receipts'?

Angry for talking back to him I suppose.

I’m not sure where they’re getting that anger from. He doesn’t seem mad at him. Not that he ever had a fucking right to be, pos.

Oh I think we’re at the point where apology tour will never be mentioned ever again. I think that episode was just Viv projecting herself onto Verosika to vent her frustrations on her ex and pretend he’s blitz.

[apile0fb0nes]

I constantly think of the design motifs between Edgeworth, Franziska, and Manfred so much it’s not even funny. I really really love when characters have design motifs to show that they’re connected, it’s genuinely so satisfying when it’s done right.

I’ve gone on this tangent like a billion times before but I seriously need to get it out there for the masses to see or else I’m going to explode if I have to keep screaming this to the same 5 people LMFAO.

Anyways, I LOVE the design motifs between Edgeworth, Franziska, and Manfred SO much. I really love how all 3 of them have a frilly thing around their neck (Manfred and Edgeworth having a Cravat, while Franziska a bow), additionally I loveeee the sprite similarities between the three. Edgeworth at his debut especially, he was very similar to Manfred (his outfit was basically the exact same to Manfred like).

It really emphasizes that they were Mentor and Mentee, “father” and “son”, and it just ?!? UGH I LOVE IT. Another thing that I noticed which could just be me reaching is something on Franziska when she was 13, I think, in AAI.

Instead of a bow like in her design when she’s older, what would usually a frilly thing around her neck to show ties to Manfred and Edgeworth is (I don’t know what to call it? Hopefully I get what I mean) instead something that’s like, not yet unfurled into either a cravat or the bow. And to ME it’s supposed to show how she has yet to bloom into a proper prosecutor, since she hasn’t earned her badge yet. While we play through the case where Edgeworth was supposed to debut in, and where he met Gumshoe for the first time, we see that she’s very naïve or at least very cocky and full of herself because of the fact that she’s related to Manfred von Karma, the perfect prosecutor. ALSO! I really love how she doesn’t have a full whip yet in that design/age either, further going to show that she’s literally just A Child and still has a lot of growing to do.

This probably isn’t anything a lot of people really care about when it comes to AA and I know I’m definitely NOT the first to point this out, but SHUT UP I don’t care I needed to get this out there it needed to leave my brain and reach people that actually care abt AA.

On another note, I may ramble about Dhurk and Clay and Apollo sometime and how mad I am at Capcom for what they pulled in both DD and SOJ. CAPCOM WHEN I CATCH YOU CAPCOM.

[willowsnook]

coach's daughter

hii can i get ham and swiss on rye mikes way 🙏

a/n: I wrote this whole thing, forgetting it was supposed to have smut and didn't really feel like it fit. i am sorry :( but I could do a pt. 2 with it if anyone wants it

joe burrow x taylor!reader

just let me in

———————————————————

Joe had known quite a few coaches in his football career and, for the most part, liked them all. They were all good people that he got along with well. Zac was no different when it came to that, but there was one thorn in their relationship: his 23-year-old daughter. 

You did not like Joe Burrow. You didn’t really have a reason not to like him, but you just didn’t. You liked underdogs, always drifting towards the undrafted guys on the team, and he was the opposite of that. It’s not like you were out right mean to him, you just regarded him with cold indifference. Everyone’s infatuation with him made you dislike him more, much to your father’s dismay. Your dad was your best friend, and he had made sure you were by his side ever since you were a kid, which meant that football was also your life. You’d studied sports management at Cincinnati and now worked on the scouting team for the Bengals. You knew you only got your foot in the door because of your dad, but why waste opportunities right in front of you? 

This season had been rough, and you felt it at work and every time you talked to your dad. He was quieter, dejected almost, as he tried to figure out how to move the team forward. It didn’t help either that some players spoke more candidly with the press about the struggles. 

“I’ve done everything I can on the field. Ask the coaches, ask Zac, man, I don’t know,” Ja’Marr told a reporter who asked what could have been done differently after another loss.

The comment made you feel conflicted because, on the one hand, he was right, and you knew football well enough to know that. But on the other hand, it was your dad, and you knew your dad. You know how great of a coach he can be. Leaving the facility that night, you were irritated and, of course, had to run into the one person who you knew would make it worse. 

“Hey,” Joe said as he followed you out the door into the private parking lot. 

“Hey,” you replied, your voice clipped and he sighed next to you.

“Why the attitude? " he said, and you didn’t say anything; you just kept walking towards your car. You’d made it and were just about to open the car when you felt Joe grab your arm, forcing you to turn around. “I don’t agree with what Ja’Marr said.” 

“I find that hard to believe,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “You are two peas in a pod. I’m sure you’ve talked about it.”

“We are two different people ya know,” he argued, eyes narrowing. “He’s upset. We all are.”

“I’m upset too Joe, but what the fuck do you want me to do about it right now? I don’t care if you do agree with Ja’Marr, why are you cornering me in a parking lot to tell me that?” You snapped and you could tell he was starting to get annoyed. 

“I was just going to my car but thought it might be a good idea to be nice to you, but I guess I was wrong,” he said, frustrated, and you took a step closer to him. 

“I don’t need you to be nice to me, I need you to do your fucking job on the field,” you shot back. Logically, you knew there was nothing he was doing wrong on the field, but you were too mad to admit that. 

“Tell your dad to do his first,” he automatically said, and you flinched back, eyes blinking, trying to process whether he actually said that. 

“i didn-,” he started but you held up your hand to stop him from continuing. 

“Heard,” was all you replied before turning and getting into your car. The audacity of that man. He stood frozen watching you as you pulled out of the lot, praying that his words didn’t reach your dad’s ears. 

————————————————

You didn’t tell your dad what Joe had said; you were trying to keep anything the press was saying about him away, which was difficult considering he had a phone, but hell, you were trying. The weeks were starting to wear you down, and along with doing your workload, you were carrying a lot of emotional weight for your dad.

The two of you were closer than most dads and daughters, and you saw it as part of your job as his daughter to get him through this. For the past two weeks, you have been doing deep analysis of both games and talking it over with him, highlighting good things and how he could expand on them moving forward. Because of this, you have been running on about 5 hours of sleep each night, less on the weekends when you have to travel for college games.

Clocking in another late night at the facility, you were stopped on your way out by the sight of two people on the field throwing the ball back and forth. Curious, you stepped out and realized it was Joe and Ja’Marr getting some reps in during the cold night.

Ja’Marr noticed you first, jogging over to meet you as you stepped out on the field. Joe turned to see what he was looking at and hesitated as he saw you.

“Late night practice?” You joked with a forced smile.

“Thought it couldn’t hurt,” Ja’Marr said before looking at the ground. “I’m sorry for what I said about coach. I know you aren’t him but I’m sure it didn’t feel good hearing it.”

“It’s alright,” you said, looking at him. “We’re all going through it.”

Joe frowned at your response to Ja’Marr, which turned into a slight pout. “I don’t understand why you bit my head off about this, but you are being nice to him, and he’s the one who said it.”

“He doesn’t irritate me like you do,” you said, rolling your eyes. Ja’Marr smirked, looking between the two of you.

“I don’t even do anything to you,” Joe complained and you shrugged.

“What are you guys really doing out here?” You asked, catching them both off guard. You didn’t miss the nervous glance Ja’Marr gave to Joe so you turned to him waiting.

“I’m worried about my wrist in the cold,” he admitted, bracing for impact of what he imagined would be a million more questions from you.

“Okay. Get on with it,” you said, and Ja’Marr nodded, running back out. You stayed rooted where you were standing, wrapping your arms around yourself to try and keep a little warm. Joe was looking at you, trying to figure out what you were doing, but eventually accepted it. He tugged off his sweatshirt, leaving him in only a tight long sleeve, and handed it to you.

“I’m fine,” you said stubbornly and he gave you a look.

“Put it on,” he said in a tone that left no room for argument, so you begrudgingly slipped the hoodie over your head. You stood watching for about 10 rounds of passing before walking closer to Joe, eyebrows furrowed. He looked at you expectantly.

“You have a problem,” you stated and he stiffened, nervous about what you were thinking.

“It’s my first time doing it tonight, and I think it will feel better if I keep at it. It feels okay now, just a little stiff,” he started off, but you shook your head, stopping him.

“You have a mental problem, it’s not the physical wrist,” you told him and he rolled his eyes.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“How could you even know that? You’re not me,” he said and your eyes hardened at his stubbornness.

“Ja’Marr, come here,” you yelled and the receiver jogged over. “Are you getting the same passes you normally get from Joe?”

Ja’Marr shifted nervously, “he’s throwing good passes.”

“That wasn’t the question,” you said, and Ja’Marr finally shook his head no as Joe glared at him. Your eyes softened as you looked back at Joe. “You’re hesitating. Afraid of re-injury, which is completely normal.”

Joe's jaw clenched as he processed your words. He wanted to deny it, to argue that you didn't know what you were talking about. But deep down, he knew you were right. The fear of re-injuring his wrist had been gnawing at him, affecting his performance more than he wanted to admit.

"So what if I am?" he finally said, his voice low and defensive. "It's not like I can just turn it off."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Despite your usual animosity towards Joe, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy. "Look, I'm not saying it's easy. But you need to address it if you want to move past it."

Ja'Marr nodded in agreement. "She's right, man. We've all noticed it, but didn't want to say anything."

Joe's shoulders slumped slightly in defeat and you felt a wave of sadness wash over you.

“We have a team psychologist for a reason,” you said. “No one has to know.”

He nodded and you could tell his mind was reeling. Deciding that it was time to go home you started to lift up the hoodie he gave you but he stopped you.

“It’ll be cold going home, so just give it to me sometime later,” he said, and you nodded. Waving goodbye to Ja’Marr, you headed off the field, your mind focused on a certain quarterback.

———————————————————————

Something was off with you, but Joe couldn’t figure out what it was. You looked tired, he thought, and you weren’t taking jabs at him when he provoked you anymore. It was starting to irritate him mostly because you had figured him out so quickly. He contemplated this as he headed towards Zac’s office, stopping short when he saw you outside of it talking to a couple of assistants.

“I saw the interview this morning. I don’t think he’s seen it yet, so let's try our best to make sure it’s not brought up. I already talked with PR this morning, who is trying to distract away from it.”

The assistants nodded as you finished talking, and everything started to click for Joe. You were trying your best to shield your dad from the negative so that he could focus on fixing the team, but it was clearly taking a toll on you.

He walked into Zac’s office a couple of minutes after you and saw Zac looking over some papers you had just handed him. You gave him a small smile as he entered and turned to leave. Joe sat down, waiting for Zac to dive into the meeting.

“God, this team would fall apart without her,” he muttered and looked up to see Joe, curiously looking at him. “She’s been writing up game analysis from this year with suggestions and whatnot, trying to keep me focused. Maybe the team wouldn’t fall apart without her, but I certainly would.”

Joe nodded, “She forced me to see the team psychologist.”

“I heard,” Zac replied, looking at his quarterback.

“I was surprised, considering it doesn’t seem like she likes me that much,” Joe admitted and Zac laughed.

“Yeah whatever, she likes you more than a lot of the guys here,” he said.

“She’s not very friendly to me,” he said and Zac was amused at seeing an almost pout on Joe’s face.

“That’s how I know she likes you,” he said. “She’s always been like that, putting up a brick wall to guard what she’s feeling or thinking.”

Joe's brow furrowed as he processed Zac's words. He'd never considered that your cold demeanor towards him might be masking something else. It made him think back to your interactions over the past few weeks - the way you'd figured out his mental block on the field, how you'd given him advice about seeing the team psychologist. Maybe there was more beneath the surface than he'd realized.

"I never thought about it that way," Joe admitted. "She just always seemed so... irritated by me."

Zac chuckled. "Trust me, if she truly didn't like you, you'd know it. She's not one to hide her feelings when she really dislikes someone."

Joe nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "So you're saying I might have a chance then?"

Zac's eyebrows shot up. "Woah there, did you forget who you’re talking to?”

Joe immediately turned red because he had, in fact, forgotten. He was frozen, thinking about how he had just asked his head coach if he could date his daughter.

————————————————————

The loss to the Steelers broke you. It finally felt like everything was starting to fall apart. After the game, you were silent, staying on the field longer to think. It felt like you were shouldering everyone else’s burdens, and now you were collapsing.

“Have you seen y/n?” Joe heard Zac ask as people were leaving the locker room. “She normally stops by after the game.”

He had noticed that during the season, win or lose, you always walked out with your dad, so this was unusual.

“Do you know where y/n lives?” He asked Ja’Marr, trying to act as casually as possible. Ja’Marr looked up at him with a wide grin.

“Why do you want it?” He asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“No reason,” he replied quickly and somehow the grin got wider.

“I fucking knew it,” he said.

“Knew what?”

“You have a thing for her!” Ja’Marr exclaimed and Joe quickly looked around to make sure no one else was in earshot.

“So what?” He replied, trying to act like he wasn’t rattled.

“Here’s her address, lover boy,” Ja’Marr teased, letting Joe copy it into his phone. “Enjoy your last weeks alive before he finds out.”

Once he had finished at the facility, Joe drove over to your place, admiring the cute little cottage-style house you owned. He knocked on the door, trying to figure out his game plan.

You had just gotten out of the shower and changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt as you headed towards the door. Shocked was an understatement about how you felt seeing Joe at the door.

“Can I come in?”He asked, shivering from the cold. You stepped aside as he came into the warmer air.

“What are you doing here? And how do you know where I live?” You asked, watching him sit down on a barstool and turn to face you.

“I wanted to see if you were okay,” he said nonchalantly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Don’t you have my number?” You countered.

“Would you have answered?” He shot back and you stayed silent while he smiled triumphantly.

“I’m fine,” you said, crossing your arms. “Now leave.”

“Nope.” Joe said staring you down.

You sighed heavily, realizing Joe wasn't going to leave easily. "Look, I appreciate the concern, but I really just want to be alone right now."

Joe's eyes softened as he looked at you. "I get it. But I also know what it's like to shoulder everyone else's burdens. It's not healthy to keep it all bottled up."

His words hit closer to home than you wanted to admit. You felt your defenses start to crack slightly. "What do you want from me, Joe?"

"Just talk to me," he said gently. "No judgement, no expectations. Just... let me in."

You hesitated, warring with yourself. Part of you wanted to maintain the walls you'd built, to push him away like you always did. But another part, a part you'd been ignoring, craved the connection.

"I don’t know how,” you admitted. “I’m so focused on everyone else I don’t think I can understand how I’m feeling.”

“Why?” He asked softly. “Why do you feel like you have to fix everyone?”

His question caught you off guard. You had never really realized it about yourself, but it checked out. You were the friend everyone came to for advice or help fixing a problem. Historically, all your boyfriends had been guys with something you wanted to fix. And now you were spending your time studying games so closely to help your dad fix his team.

“I don’t like things I can’t control, but everything is starting to feel like it’s spiraling,” you said and your voice cracked on the last word. Joe quickly got up and had pulled you into his chest as the first tear hit your cheek.

You stiffened at first, not used to this level of intimacy with Joe. But as he held you tightly, rubbing soothing circles on your back, you felt yourself start to relax. The dam finally broke and you let out a choked sob, burying your face in his chest.

"It's okay," Joe murmured, his voice low and comforting. "Let it out."

And you did. All the stress, the worry, the frustration of the past weeks came pouring out. Joe just held you, occasionally whispering words of comfort, but mostly just being a steady presence.

"I just... I feel like if I can't fix everything, then what good am I?" You whispered.

Joe's eyes softened with understanding. "You don't have to fix everything, y/n. You're not responsible for everyone else's problems or failures.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You asked, trying to lighten the mood. “I’ve been so mean to you.”

“Your dad told me that it meant you liked me,” he said with a small grin. You blushed, burying your head back into his chest. You felt the rumble of his laughter as you burned with embarrassment.

“Why don’t I order us something to eat, and we can watch a movie or something?” he suggested, and you nodded, grateful that he had come. You heard him call a pizza place before he joined you on the couch, choosing to sit right next to you.

You felt yourself relax as Joe settled in next to you on the couch. The warmth of his body was comforting, and you found yourself leaning slightly towards him without even realizing it.

"So, what are we watching?" Joe asked, grabbing the remote.

You shrugged. "Something mindless? I don't think I can handle anything too heavy right now."

"Mindless it is," Joe agreed, scrolling through Netflix until he found a cheesy rom-com.

As the movie played on, you found yourself forgetting about the stress of the past few weeks. Joe’s arm had somehow ended up draped across the back of the couch, and you weren’t sure when, but your head was now resting on his shoulder. It was surprisingly…nice.

“I never pegged you as a rom-com guy,” you teased softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

Joe smirked, his voice light. “Don’t knock it. Sometimes you just need a happy ending.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, fighting a smile. “Is that so?”

He turned his head to meet your eyes, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

“Yeah, it is. And maybe you need one, too.”

His words hung in the air, the weight of them settling in your chest. There was something so genuine in the way he looked at you that it made your heart race.

“I don’t know if I’m cut out for happy endings,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m too busy trying to keep everyone else’s story from falling apart.”

Joe reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just slightly. “Maybe it’s time you let someone else take care of you for a change.”

You felt your breath hitch, the vulnerability in his words sending a warmth through your chest. Before you could overthink it, before you could convince yourself otherwise, you leaned in and pressed a soft, hesitant kiss to his lips.

Joe froze for half a second before kissing you back, his hand coming up to cup your cheek gently. The kiss was slow and unhurried like he had all the time in the world to show you exactly how much he cared.

When you finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Guess your dad was right,” Joe murmured, his tone teasing but his eyes filled with something much deeper. “You do like me.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile spreading across your face. “Shut up, Burrow.”

[soapieanxiety]

Historical Iceland: Part 2 - Electric Boogaloo

So we don’t have as many manga panels as we did for Iceland's early childhood, so I’m going to rely more on my historical knowledge and knowledge of Iceland's character to do some of the analysis in this part.

So we left off at around the 1100s, and Norway still hasn’t met Iceland yet. That’s going to change pretty quickly though, as we’re going to have to talk about the Age of the Sturlungs (it has a lot of names, such as the Sturlungen period, but no matter what name you call it, the content remains the same). The entire period can be summarized as a period of Icelandic history rifled with violence that ended with Iceland becoming Norwegian territory.

The King of Norway had originally wanted Iceland to be under its direct rule and encouraged the violence between the Icelanders. That’s basically how the whole thing started; I’m really simplifying it like I haven’t even mentioned Snorri Sturluson. He was the catalyst for the violence in Iceland, and it gets complicated from there. But the point is that the path for Iceland to meet Norway was not a pretty one.

If you want a full-blown ramble about just this era of Icelandic history, let me know. I’ll do it, but I’m trying to keep it short because there’s a lot to cover for this part.

Now during this time, I cannot imagine Iceland is having a good time. This happened after a particularly peaceful era of Icelandic history, and I don’t think Iceland had seen violence to this level yet in his life. Now I’m going to say that he officially met Norway once Iceland became Norwegian territory at the end of the violence. However, if you think he should’ve met Norway before that, then I can see where you are coming from.

I can’t imagine how Iceland felt when Norway entered his life. The immediate emotions I think he’s feeling are relief and anger. Relief to finally meet his brother, but angry that it took this long. Especially after all the violence to get to this point. However, I do think relief and love for Norway won in terms of how a younger Iceland feels about Norway. Norway 100% loved Iceland from day 1, and when he finally got to hold him, Bro was not putting him down. I can’t see Mr. Puffin liking Norway though; that bird holds grudges, and he was probably mad at Norway for leaving Iceland alone for so long.

So for a while, it was just Norway and Iceland. I imagine the two bonded during this time; Iceland clung to the first person who was a representation like him, and Norway was trying to make up for not being there. There was stuff that happened between this era and the one I’m going to talk about next. But like guys, I’m supposed to make it to the 1920s without writing a novel. If you want a more in-depth analysis of this period of Iceland's life, just let me know.

Ah yes, we’re about to talk about every historical Nordic fan's angsty dreams, the Kalmar Union. The Union between all the Nordic countries crashed and burned. It’s definitely what fueled a lot of Sweden and Denmark’s rivalry, but I’m not here to talk about that. The Kalmar Union was different compared to everything else Iceland had encountered in life. He officially met Denmark, who would be one of the most influential people in his life. Right behind Norway, in my opinion.

However, the Kalmar Union can be described with one word. Disastrous. I imagine Norway shielded Iceland from most of the chaos of the Kalmar Union. Meaning Iceland didn’t get to know the rest of the Nordics. He was mainly with Norway. I do believe he met Sweden at around this time; however, I don’t think he knew Finland yet. I have my reasons for that, and I’ll share them later. My point is, that Iceland was heavily shielded from what was happening during the Kalmar Union. Norway was extremely protective of Iceland during that time.

When the Kalmar Union ended, it then became just Norway, Iceland, and Denmark.

With the Kalmar Union ending in 1523, I imagine things chilled out for Iceland (for a bit). Things went back to semi-normal as Norway continued to baby him, but Denmark was becoming a bigger figure in Iceland's life. While I don’t think Iceland grew particularly close with Denmark in this period, preferring to stay with Norway. The impact of Denmark’s presence was still present.

(Look, it’s my moots, pfp.) Iceland went from being completely alone to having to deal with the rest of Europe. Iceland was able to start trading with the rest of Europe and was starting to get more connected with the continent. Some violent conflicts were happening in Iceland because of the reformation, which gave him a spook and reminded him of the Sturlungs Era. I can see him being freaked out about that. However, I think the biggest event of his life in this period was absolutely the Turkish abductions.

I’ve talked a bit about the Turkish abductions before and how I view the event and its impact on Iceland's character. But I’m still rambling a lot about it here.

Bottom line, this was a particularly traumatic event in Iceland's life. He’s never left Northern Europe at this point, and now he and a bunch of his people have been forcefully taken away to the Middle East. He doesn’t know the language, doesn’t know what’s going to happen to him and his people, and he doesn’t know if Norway and Denmark know what happened. He’s terrified, and I don’t blame him.

Luckily enough, Turkey found him and recognized him as a representation. He took him in and took care of him and made sure he’d find his way home. I imagine Turkey’s presence in this traumatic event is why we see that Iceland respects Turkey today. What happened to Iceland was incredibly traumatic, and his bond with Turkey was the best thing he got out of that entire experience.

I believe that Iceland was with Turkey for 9 years. That’s how long it took for most of the Icelanders to go back to Iceland. The money paid to get the Icelanders back had to be sent three times because the first two people delivering it would spend it before they got to the Ottoman Empire. Another ransom was paid 9 years after the initial ransom was paid off to get more Icelanders back. But I don’t think Iceland was there for 18 years. With how chaotic it was to get the Icelanders back, I imagine Iceland was experiencing so many emotions. Terrified of the situation. Grateful that Turkey was taking care of him. Angry that the ransom money to get him back was being spent on goods instead of helping his people. Incredibly homesick at being in an unfamiliar environment.

When Iceland got sent back home, he was clinging to Norway a lot. He didn’t want to be left alone so he could be taken again. Norway happily obliged and was extremely grateful to get him back. Denmark was happy to have him back as well, but mainly because it made Norway happy. Denmark and Iceland weren’t that close yet. Iceland spent most of his time with Norway.

Before we talk about a major event in Iceland's life, I want to briefly explain why I believe Iceland was extremely shielded from the rest of the Nordics by Norway. Yes, he knew Sweden and Denmark were a part of his life. But Norway was very protective of his younger brother, especially after the abductions. Iceland didn’t go out to meet new people often and was closed off.

Finland didn’t meet Iceland until the 18th century, and I think that’s a great testament to how closed off Iceland was during this period of his life. Norway’s overprotective nature added to this as well.

We reach another incredibly traumatic part of Iceland's life; he’s got a lot of those. Sweden took Norway and Iceland was left with Denmark. Iceland was extremely angry at the situation. Norway was the person he was closest to in life. Norway was his big brother, the one who saved him from extreme loneliness, and now he’s gone. He’s gone, and there’s nothing Iceland can do about it.

Iceland was just overall angry at everyone. Angry at Denmark for losing Norway. Angry at Sweden for taking Norway. Angry at Norway for leaving.

The only thing Denmark had of Norway was Iceland. Denmark then became overbearing and protective of Iceland, even though they weren’t that close. Iceland, who was extremely upset at the loss of his brother, didn’t appreciate Denmark’s behavior. Their relationship was pretty rocky during this time. Especially with Iceland’s fight for independence coming up.

Iceland and Denmark did get close though. They only had each other, and Denmark wanted to keep Iceland close and Iceland was desiring independence. They grew to care for each other. Enough so that Denmark would later claim that he practically raised Iceland. I think this is because, during his time with Denmark, Iceland started aging pretty quickly. I believe he was around 9 years old physically when Norway left, but by the time Iceland was made a sovereign state in a personal union with Denmark (1918), he was 14–15 years old. (I’m going off the canon that Iceland is physically 16-17 modern day; I prefer 17.)

While Denmark was reluctant to let him go, especially after he grew to really care for Iceland. He eventually matured and realized it would be best for Iceland to have more freedoms. Eventually, Iceland will gain independence but that’s for part 3.

There it is! That’s part 2. Thank you so much for reading. The next part will go over Iceland's independence, WW2, his relationships with the other Nordics, and modern day. This one took a while to write. I did a lot of research to make this as accurate as possible, and I glazed over some things. I wanted to be as in-depth as possible but also keep it as short as possible. (I didn’t want to make 4 parts.) Despite my friends arguing I’d make 20 parts if I could. (They’re right 😔)

[arabellaininterstellarboots]

The Winslow Effect

pt.1

Note: this is the first part of my new story; my first one on Tumblr🥹 lets see how this is going, eh?

Pairing: Mason Mount (duh) x OC

Word count: 1,6k

Warnings: British boys🤭

Chapter 01: together at Chilwell’s

It was one of those rare nights when the team wasn’t discussing tactics or gearing up for an upcoming match. Instead, Ben Chilwell had invited a few of the boys over to his house for a more relaxed evening—just a couple of beers, some snacks, and the rugby match on the TV. The guys, of course, couldn’t resist giving their “expert” commentary on the game, despite not knowing a thing about rugby.

“Mate, he just piledrove him,” Jordan Pickford said, half-mumbling into his beer, eyes glued to the screen as a player was unceremoniously sent sprawling. “I could totally do that.” Ben, lounging comfortably on the couch, raised an eyebrow at Jordan. “Yeah, sure, mate. You’d probably end up tackling the wrong guy.” Phil Foden grinned. “And then blame it on the goalkeeper instincts. Classic.” Jordan threw him a mock glare. “I could totally keep up with them. It’s just like football, but... more aggressive.”

“More aggressive? You mean you’re actually supposed to hit people?” Declan Rice chimed in, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Mason Mount, who had been lounging in the armchair, leaned back and crossed his arms, a smirk on his face. “You’d be out in the first two minutes, mate. No way you’d last.”

“Oh, you’ve got no faith in me!” Jordan shot back. “You wait until I get my hands on that ball, I’m gonna be a legend.”

“Legend of the first aid room,” Ben added with a laugh.

Jack Grealish, who had been perched casually on the arm of the couch, grinned. “I think Jordan’s onto something. The man’s got mad rugby skills... he’s just in the wrong sport.” The group dissolved into laughter as the rugby players on screen collided in a dramatic fashion, sending shockwaves through the room. “I swear these guys play like they want to get hurt,” Phil said, his mouth full of chips.

“I don’t get how they run like that,” Ben added, throwing his hands up. “They don’t even look like they’re breathing heavy after those hits.” Mason took a sip of his drink, laughing at the spectacle unfolding on the screen. “They're built different,” he mused, tapping the side of his bottle thoughtfully.

They continued watching, making random guesses about the game and giving each other a hard time, but it was clear that they were all a little more focused now. As the match came to an end with a victorious cheer from one team, the atmosphere shifted.

There was no time for lingering on rugby anymore. All eyes turned to the screen as a familiar face appeared in the post-game interview. “You know what this means,” Jack Grealish said with a grin, moving toward the edge of his seat. “The one and only Charlotte Winslow is about to hit the field.”

“Oh, this is gonna be good,” Ben said, his voice laced with amusement. He grabbed his phone, checking for any updates as the camera zoomed in on Charlotte, poised and confident at the edge of the pitch.

There she was.

Charlotte “Charlie” Winslow.

The most well-known sports journalist in the UK, and the one who had a reputation for grilling athletes with razor-sharp questions. “She’s got that look,” Mason said with a knowing nod. “You know the one. The ‘I’ll make you wish you hadn’t said anything’ look.”

“Mate, she’s got all the looks.” Jack laughed.

“Mate, you can see it on the players’ faces,” Phil laughed. “They all look like they’re about to get called into the principal’s office.” Ben chuckled, raising his drink. “She’s a beast. You know she won’t pull any punches.”

“She could interview a brick wall and still make it sweat,” Jordan joked. “Don’t even joke about it,” Declan added. “If she ever gets her hands on me, I’ll just say I’m retired on the spot.” Mason couldn’t help but grin at his friends’ banter.

Everyone in the room had seen Charlie in action before—interviews that felt more like interrogations. It was her thing, after all. Sharp, witty, and always, always on the ball.

There was no escaping her questions, no getting out of an awkward moment. She had a way of making you feel it. And that was exactly why she was so good at her job. The camera now showed her walking onto the pitch, stepping towards one of the star players who was already looking a little nervous.

She held the microphone confidently, and her voice rang out, clear and controlled. “Great game out there today,” Charlie said, turning her gaze to the player who had just finished the match. “But I have to ask, what was going through your mind during that final play when you went for that risky pass? It was a big gamble, and it could’ve cost you the match.” The player blinked, taken aback by the directness of the question.

Charlie wasn’t wasting any time.

“Well, you know, I thought I could make it,” the player stammered. “I—” Charlie didn’t let him off the hook. “You thought you could make it. That’s interesting. You didn’t really think about the consequences though, did you? I mean, you were on the edge of the field, a split second away from losing the game for your team. What was the real reason behind that move?”

The guy shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, I thought... I mean, it seemed like the right decision at the time.” “Seemed like it? Is that the best you’ve got for me?” Charlie pressed, her gaze sharp.

“You’ve been playing for years, but it came down to seeming like the right decision? No pressure, right?” The guy laughed nervously, glancing at his teammates. “I guess... maybe I should’ve played it safer.” Charlie’s smile was cool, almost knowing.

“Maybe But you guys won, so it was worth it.”

As the interview concluded, the guys fell into an awkward silence, the weight of Charlie’s presence lingering even through the TV screen. The player she’d just grilled looked relieved to be done, happy that he's off the hook and that they ended the interview on a good note, but the guys in Ben’s living room were still processing the sheer intensity of her questioning.

“Bloody hell,” Ben muttered, shaking his head. “She’s ruthless.”

“I think that guy’s regretting ever stepping onto the field,” Declan added, half-laughing but still in awe of how Charlie had handled the interview.

“I’d be shaking if she came at me like that,” Jordan said, his voice dripping with admiration. “She’s terrifying in the best way possible.”

Mason, still looking at the screen, couldn’t help but feel a mix of respect and nerves stir inside him. “She’s not just good, she’s... she’s a force. You don’t just answer her questions—you survive them.”

The camera cut away from the field, and into the after game sport studio and the announcer’s voice broke the silence.

“Well, folks, we have some big news tonight,” the studio host said, as the screen flashed a few pictures of Charlie in action, each showing her sharp, calculated smile and no-nonsense demeanor. “As you know, Charlotte Winslow is a name that’s become synonymous with top-tier sports journalism. After years of making waves in rugby, she’s about to take the next big step in her career. This season, she’ll be making the jump to covering the Premier League.”

A stunned silence filled the room as the guys processed the news. There were a few incredulous glances exchanged between them, and they all instinctively leaned forward as if they could make sense of it all by staring harder at the screen.

“No way,” Jack muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “She’s really doing it. She’s going to be in football now?”

The announcer continued, hyping up Charlie’s transition. “Charlie will now be joining the Premier League beat, where she’ll bring her expert analysis, sharp questions, and signature style to one of the most prestigious football league in the world.”

“That’s... insane,” Ben whispered, as if in awe of the magnitude of the move.

Mason took a deep breath, his mind racing. The thought of Charlie’s next steps was now unavoidable. She wasn’t just a rugby journalist anymore. She was coming for them—coming for the football players.

“It’s going to be a whole different world for her,” Phil said quietly, his voice almost reverent. “The Premier League is gonna feel different with her in it.”

“Yeah,” Declan added, cracking a grin. “And I reckon none of us are gonna know what hit us.”

As the studio moved on to highlight some of Charlie’s most iconic moments in rugby, Mason couldn’t help but think of her sharp wit, the way she could tear through someone’s defenses with a simple question. His own stomach twisted nervously. What would it be like when she finally turned her gaze on him, when she made him squirm in front of the camera?

“Man, I’m nervous for whoever’s up first in the Premier League,” Jordan said with a laugh, but his eyes betrayed his anxiety. “That’s gonna be one hell of an interview.”

Mason shot him a side glance, his earlier grin gone. “If she comes at me like that... I might just freeze at the spot.”

The group laughed nervously, but they all shared the same thought: They had no idea what they were in for with Charlotte Winslow in the Premier League.

And just like that, the night shifted. What had started as a simple, relaxed evening filled with rugby and jokes was now dominated by the thought of Charlie and her upcoming career move. The players, no matter how tough or confident, knew they were about to enter a new era of post-match interviews.

Ben broke the silence, raising his glass. “To Charlie Winslow. The legend herself, and the woman who’s about to make our lives hell.”

The group clinked their bottles together, but the truth hung in the air. The Premier League had just become a much more interesting place, and it would never be the same with Charlotte at the helm.

[laertesthelocalstranger]

He opens his mouth to answer. Fae gets that far before realizing that they don’t have some plan to obfuscate their answer, that it’s not something he wants to give an answer to, that Laertes doesn’t want to speak at all. So why are they going to?

Fuck. Fuck, because she’s Eye-marked.

Laertes gets to his feet, first throwing his hands up in the air, then balling them into fists. Their grip on the quilt slips, and Dana can see how many gaping holes fill their form.

“Stupid idiot motherfucking eyevatars. Goddamn fool knowledge collecting dust eating rat old bastards! Shithead idiots avatars of the whore biggest clowns in the circus laughed out of town cowboys motherfucking eyevatars.”

“Stop screenshotting me when I talk about eyevatars! I hate them so much! Why do they have so much fucked up information? Why do they decide to fuck around and find out? Just shut the fuck up! Are they dead? Are they bastards? Fuckers have such a visceral affect on me, did not even know one was in the room and I know they have the world’s shittiest questions. Get away from me.”

“If I wanted to get into heaven and god said Jonah Magnus’ waiting inside i would piss on gods feet for the sole purpose of getting sent back down.”

“If I have to deal with an eyevatar speaking one word in person on thread in roleplay not only will I close the tab I will delete my bookmark out of spite and have to live my entire life again for the experience of being able to skip all the times when they are mentioned or alive.”

“I don’t even know why i hate them so much! They just ask questions but I am just mad because I am angy.”

“They better have some fucked up backstory to explain this. If they’re just some rich shithead who’re a fans of stalking people and wanted a more in-depth version, I’ll go ham.”

“Better have had a book make them kill a man cuz if they didn’t I’m going to make them.”

“PayPal.com/IFuckingHateEyeAvatars.”

“Thread’s not even about them. Vaguely mentioned what is supposed to maybe be a compulsion and I lost it.”

“Where the fuck is the Watcher? If it’s still alive I’m going to so deeply wish it wasn’t.”

“Crusty old eyeball.”

“I’ll punch the Watcher and its sad frail old man twig retina will simply flake apart under my epic huge fabric fist and it will disintegrate until all thats left is one final factoid it kept on it at all times simply reading Now You Fucked Up in ancient yiddish.”

“I’m not breathing I’m hyperventilating at this point.”

“I hope theres a date given for when the Watcher will die so I can make it a reminder on my microwave.”

“Everyday once a year I will see it and do anything but pay respects to the Fear who had so many fucked up if true avatars.”

Hey, so you’re, uh, the person the traumatized people talk to?

@laertesthelocalstranger

I am a therapist, yes. Who I owe the pleasure of speaking to?

[rosehxnt]

conflicted

[moonlightcycle571]

All the Batkids have their own favourite Superhero (that’s not Batman), but it comes as a surprise when Damian says his favourite is Captain Marvel.

Captain Marvel, after being put on ‘Robin Watch’ after Batman had to disappear in the Watchtower for whatever reason: so … what do you like to do?

Damian, who vividly remembers Dick telling him to play nice or he’ll tell Batman about the 364 cats he’s fostered with Selina: I … like Cats

Captain Marvel, who has no idea what normal kids do: Oh, me too! My best friend is a talking cat!

Damian, intrigued: … elaborate

Captain Marvel, already showing Damian pictures of Tawny: This is Tawky Tawny, he’s a magic tiger that sometimes live in the Zoo! He’s also my best friend 🥰💕😍💕😍💖💗💗💗💗😍😊🎉😊😍😍

Damian, already calling Selina: I would like to meet this Tawky Tawny.

Later, Batman would start to panic when he couldn’t find Robin, but then would be shown a picture from Instagram of Robin, Catwoman and Captain Marvel in Fawcette Zoo, specifically the tiger cage hugging a massive Bengal Tiger, captioned “the most civilised tiger you will ever meet”. The next picture is a picture with the three of them having tea with said Tiger in a suit.

Bonus

Dick, Superman’s Number 1 fan: Oh please, he’s obviously the most like me! Captain Marvel and Superman look like they can be BROTHERS

Jason, forever a Wonder Woman Stan: HA, I heard that he WAS Wonder Woman’s Brother

Tim, hiding all his Cap merch: Oh yeah, he’s nothing like Red Tornado, so I’m good

Steph: why wasn’t I invited to the tea party …

Barbara and Alfred, tracking Captain down: Don’t worry, we’ll be invited to the next one

Cass, sensing something is off: … new … brother????

If you see Batman sulking in the corner, you saw wrong. If Batman sulks harder when he realises Barbara and Alfred figured out Captain Marvels identity before him and refuse to share… you’re a fucking liar.

Bonus

Flash: …

Captain Marvel: …

Flash: so when do we get to hug the magic kitty

Captain Marvel: FOR THE LOVE OF-

Tawny, not even a week later: ✨I’m so popular✨

[doctorsiren]

Can you draw reigen ridley

this is what you meant, right?

[nicollekidman]

season six spuffy is also nuts bc spike is clearly like. please just tell me i’m good and let me sit at your feet on the off chance you want to give me scraps and buffy WANTS to hold his leash (and yank on it) and she wants him to bite her hand so she has an excuse to hit him except. that sort of urge would upend the status quo (not just in their relationship but again, the bedrock the slayer/vampire dynamic is built upon) so instead spike has to play the corrupting influence to buffy’s reluctant and seduced white knight and it doesn’t fit either of them anymore!!!!!!!! spike says “you belong here in the shadows with me” but it sounds like “i accept you for all that you are and nothing in the dark could resist you” spike says “stop me” but it sounds like “tell me what you want” spike says “look at your friends and tell me you don’t like getting away with this” and it sounds like “isn’t this fun isn’t this worth Being Alive”

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

good night and sweet dreams to the best, sexiest, sluttiest, smartest, realest, most based, valid, relatable, girlipop, sympathetic, cunt, fun, cool, feminist, aspirational girlboss character in dead boy detectives: doll spider <3

good night to her and no one else. i hope the rest of y’all have a bad night and terrible dreams.