#not even to mention how harmful it is for mothers seeing as they're usually the main caregivers

[sunflowerbloomss]

i think if you genuinely hate seeing children in public spaces and you get so painfully irritated by their existence that you advocate to eradicate their presence in the world beyond their homes you are a deeply troubled individual and you need to work through a lot of shit

[razzle-n-dazzle]

I just read some of your works and god do you write good better than the actual show I would even say.

I really want to request a Yandere headcannon for mainly Ozzie and Fizzarolli they don’t get enough love as they do, but with a little twist

Whichever you choose I would love either one you pick cause im indecisive.

1: a powerful reader maybe even more stronger than Ozzie being lovers with the two

Or 2: a chubby but physically strong reader that could lift Ozzie with ease as example

If you do see this I hope you consider writing this, you have such a lovely writing style and I would love to see what you cook up

Also call me 🥟-anon if you will cause I hope to request and talk more

ᯓ★ Murder is Okay, Shutting Us Out Isn't. Yandere! Asmodeus & Fizzarolli / Overlord! Reader | Oneshot TW! - READ AT YOUR OWN RISK: romanticizing yandere(s), obsessive behavior, def not proof read (because we die like Adam in this household /j), Vox (/j), boner mention (no sexual content), self harm, yelling, possessive

ᯓ I actually loved both ideas you gave me, so I'm going to mash then both together into one! For that, I'm going to give you all a little crash course into the background for the Reader (you) in this story so things make a little more sense: The reader, though an Overlord, is both physically and magically stronger than Ozzie, though doesn't show it off often. Also, this happened due to their mix of blood; The reader is the child of an an old overlord and a Sin (I'm going for Wrath in this story) and had gained the physical strength from their overlord mother and the magical strength from their Sin father. With this they're able to be known as the Wrathful Overlord, or 'The child and will of Wrath', though Satan doesn't claim them to be his own and has no interest to. Also, no the Reader isn't stronger than other Sins, just Ozzie for this case. Since Ozzie is claimed to be the weakest (or one of the Weaker) Sin that we currently know of, the Reader is matched right around his level. Yet they, much like Alastor, cannot beat other Sins or even Adam, as even with their strengths, are set back by the rather large power difference. So with that out of the way, please enjoy!:

ᯓ You had been living with Ozzie and Fizz for a few months, silently having moved away from your district on the Eastern side of the Pride Ring after their proposal. While it was not uncommon for love to bloom in hell, even with the eternal suffering or the large amount of (usually) taboo topics being put on display down here, you were still not big on having your private life being posted for all of hell to see. Especially those in the Pride Ring, where you were sure Vox would take any chance to slander and drag your name in the mud for having a 'blasphemous' relationship. And really, you didn't feel like cleaning up the blood of another Sinner. Oh no, not because you killed them. Dear, Lucifer god no! Why do that when you had two perfect body guards at your beckon and call?

ᯓ "Honestly, I don't even understand how there can be blasphemy down here. It's hell, God is not watching what we do and I pity him if he did." You would mutter, leaning against the kitchen counter, watching News 666 on your cellphone silently with Fizz; Who had became curious open hearing the news topic and bounded over, wrapping his snake-like arms around your waist twice. He squeezed you a little tight, yet you didn't mind, especially when his head was rested upon your shoulder. You could practically see the growing smirk on his lips before he even spoke, "You know everything we do down here is blasphemes right? That's why we're in Hell, not Heaven. I mean the murder, the sex, the gr-" Though Fizz's little list was caught off short as you hushed him, pressing a quick finger up against his lips.

ᯓ Ozzie was cooking in the background, occasionally taking peaks behind him to make sure you nor Fizz were doing anything stupid; Like trying to cook despite knowing neither of you could do so. It was always a nice gesture until Ozzie has to get the kitchen repaired... again. "And this in, News 666 and it's broadcasting will be disturbed quickly for a message from The fucking V's themselves." Katie Killjoy would crack her neck to the side, seeming oh so annoyed at the interruption. You were too, and Fizz didn't miss the way your face scrunched. "You know Tom, their news isn't even repu-" Katie tried to shout before their segment was cut off, their news source becoming engulfed in The V's logo before the man of the hour, Vox himself, overtook the screen. Him and his snicker, you knew this couldn't be good.

ᯓ Vox never hit the air unless he knew something, unless he wanted something to happen, unless this was his calculated and curated response to something.

ᯓ And the last time that happened, Alastor wiped the floor with him.

ᯓ Fizz drew away from your shoulder a little, his eyes narrowing at your growing irritation before he glanced back towards Ozzie, who already had his arms crossed in confusion. Sure, they've heard about this Vox, mostly from you, but they never expected you to have this much of a detest about him. What happened between you and this TV-head that they didn't manage to dig up? And most importantly, recent or not, did he ever hurt you in anyway. . . or was he planning to?

ᯓ "This just in, news is starting to come up from higher-ups, and close friends, in Wrath Town that their leader, supposed their supposed Overlord, the Child of Wrath, themselves, have gone missing!" Vox stated, trying to carefully keep his voice leveled yet failing miserably; From the twitch in his eye and the wide, plastering grin across his flat face, you could just tell this was another Alastor situation. Yet an Alastor situation that was not pointed directly towards Alastor rather You; Which you had saw coming, maybe even expected it, but fucking Lucifer did you hope you could at least get a good year under your belt before Vox came in to spread 'miss information' all over the Pride Ring. All just to keep his viewers attention on him, just to keep his support. What a loser.

ᯓ You would scoff, trying not to laugh at his obsessive allegations, which were true you guessed, as Fizz and Ozzie silently listened from beside and behind you. While you didn't seem alarmed, or even frightened at the least (as they were sure you would be, seeing as this seemed common for Overlords to not get along) they sure were. Well, not alarmed per say, rather on guard; carefully lingering on the words that Vox was so carelessly spewing to all of those who watched his broadcast. And you noticed how Fizz drew back closer, leaning over your shoulder to glare at your phone, to glare at Vox like Vox might feel his stare, like he was daring Vox to say something else; All the while you couldn't help but laugh, chuckle, giggle, and kind of make fun of Vox as he continued on. His senseless chatter played in the background as you tried to wave off your fiancés' concerns, "Please, guys, don't get worked up over him, he's no threat; More like an annoying bug under everyone's shoe." "One who, from what we hear, likes to stick his non-existent nose in other people's business." Ozzie would comment from the stove, his glare still harsh on the screen even as he flipped over the bacon in the pan. His tone was leaking with annoyance, or maybe irritation and ire is are better words; Either way, you shrugged your shoulders as he continued, "Really, doesn't he have like any other news? that's all basically weightless if it's coming from other people's mouths!" "It's gossip, it keeps his viewer's attention and support up. That's the whole point," You would explain, slightly rolling your eyes at the crazed look Vox gave you. Granted, it was through the screen, but, "I would have thought he would know better than to talk about me, especially since I've shattered his screen more than once." Though Fizz was less amused, "You both give than man way too much credit-" Was the only part of his commentary he could get out, hands on the counter now, before a shout from Vox drew all of your attentions back in.

ᯓ "Oh, ho-ho!" And there was a cackle, one that caused your eyebrows to frown downwards and scrunch your face. One that rang out like an annoying fire alarm and drew a growl from Fizz's throat and a flicker of hellish flame from Ozzie's coat. It's like you all could smell that the shit that Vox was going to spew. "THIS JUST IN," And there was a slam of his hands on the table, "I JUST GOT WORD FROM A TRUSTED SOURCE THAT THE WRATHFUL OVERLORD IS NOT ONLY NOT IN THEIR PITIFUL, SHIT-HOLE OF A TOWN, YET THEY'RE NOT EVEN IN THE PRIDE RING!- Where the fuck are they, you might ask? Well, not fucking here and maybe that's for the better, this place was turning into a shit down with them around." His grin would tease you from behind the screen, and you grew slightly worried that he could see you. That, as his eyes widened and he drew closer to the screen, that he could see right through it. . .

ᯓ "You're in the fucking Lust ring, you absolute SLUT! What the fuck are you doing hanging around an, who's that? An Imp and- And is that Asmodeus himself in the background!" Clack! You would drop your phone like it had burnt you and stumbled backwards, not out of fear, you could never be fearful of someone like Vox, yet out of . . . what would be the word? Ire? Exasperation? Irritation? Preservation? Fizz was quick to lock his arms, just to keep you from stumbling back too far and hitting against the countertops near the stove, potentially burning yourself; As Ozzie stepped up, standing protectively between the phone and the two of you, the flickering of his growing detestation and bubbling anger slowly flickering around his coat, which threatened to burst flames. "This just in, your little Wrathful Overlord, has not only abandoned the Pride Ring yet is sleeping with the Sin of Lust and his weak-dick, limp ass Imp!" Vox's cackle echoed around the room, "That's so fucking sad!- Oh, looks like no one will ever have any sort of reason to be scared of you anymore," And his name spilled out from his lips with venom, poisoning the air with his slithering voice. That was, until his broadcast was cut off, cutting his maniacal laughter short, with a crackle then pop. It seemed like Ozzie had enough of listening to Vox, and seemingly had enough of your phone, as he had slammed his fists into the counter. Effectively ending the broadcast and your phone all in one go.

ᯓ And nothing but silence filled the room, just as you were sure nothing but silence (and soon an eruption of hatred and irreverence) filled the Pride Ring, and Wrath Town.

ᯓ "Fuck. ." Was the words that left with an airy breath.

ᯓ "THAT FUCKER IS SO DEAD!" Was Ozzie's first words; his hair combusting into flames, his irritation and outrage boiling over and finally having struck that match.

ᯓ Maybe it was slight shock overwhelming you, never having expected your engagement to be outrighted for everyone in the Pride Ring to hear, or maybe it was Fizz carelessly (accidentally) spinning you around, but you found yourself exasperation against the kitchen counter; Your eyes still locked on where your cellphone was now intended into the counter. "I've got the rope!" Fizz's voice barely registered in your ears, along with the sounds of his mechanical arms and legs moving to easily wrap himself around Ozzie. "Let's go kill that fucker!- or maybe tie him up and leave him exposed and naked on his own stupid broadcast. Like, really, who does he think he is trying to come for us like that?" Fizz's agreement with Ozzie's irrational solution caused a growl, a very lion-like one, to seep through Ozzie's gritting teeth, "A two timing nobody, that's who he is, and I won't stand for it! He comes for what's mine and I'm going to show him who the FUCK he's dealing with!"

ᯓ You know, maybe you've enabled their behavior a little too much; Sure, you loved the way they grew overprotected about you (and as you were sure they loved when you did the same) yet logically, you knew you had to stop them. When news gets out about Ozzie and Fizz going up to the Pride Ring and killing, or humiliating, an overlord not only will Vox's words be taken as facts, which can cause a whole other set of issues, yet Lucifer might also get involved. Of course, though, your knowledge about how Sins worked together and how they could interfere with each other's rings was limited. Yet, you can only guess a Sin killing an Overlord in another person's ring would just cause some sort of uproar.

ᯓ So when Ozzie, with Fizz coiled around his arm as to not get burnt, were about to leave the kitchen-living room, you had to act fast. Even while a little dazed, a little out of your own body, stilling trying to reel in the information of the situation that just happened, you dashed forward towards them. Or maybe your feet did so because they knew you had to catch them, and it sure felt that way rather than your own doing. It all felt like you were watching through a pair of another's person's eyes as you rushed over, your tail trashing out to stag the Ozzie's heel and trip him (you would have to apologize later). It bought you some time to slid in between him and floor, effectively catching him in your arms. "Yeah, as to hell we're going to go do anything boys! We're," You slammed the door closed, effectively walking away from it, "Staying here!" And that was your final verdict and that was what you were going to do as to make sure you can control this situation as much as possible. While frazzled and your finances' not thinking properly, giving into their own natural urges that some would call taboo (even for hell), this was no time to do that. Ergo, this was no time to be out murdering people!

ᯓ At that time you failed to notice the blush and wide eyes that had sprung to Ozzie's face when you dropped them both onto the couch, as well as the slight boner he had to hide by crossing his legs; Which Fizz defiantly noticed and teased him for with a snicker. Often times, not on purpose, did Fizz and Ozzie forget that out of all three of you, you were the strongest. Physically and magically, as you tended not to flash it off like some demons like to do, instead you flashed where you shined mentally. Though, damn, does it get Ozzie every time you swiftly come in and pick him up like he was weightless, with the same ease he picked up Fizz and you (even after you had told the first few times he didn't have to, later learning that you were conscience about your weight due to your chubbier figure). So it managed to calm Ozzie down, at least a little for the time being. Fizz would follow after, not really looking to murder people by himself - or at least not wanting to or not believing that he could.

ᯓ Calling your name from the couch, yet to no effect, the two would watch as you walked away from them to only circle right back round and leave again; pacing around the room with a constipated look on your face, leaving them confused, and slightly concerned, on the couch. Fizz slinked down to sit on Ozzie's lap, seeing as Ozzie had sat up to make sure you were alright while walking circles around them. Them both noticed quickly the way your tail trashed dangerously, the slight glare you gave to your phone anytime you passed through the kitchen, and the way your left hand clutched and curled in on itself. Fizz was sure your claws were digging into the skin of your palm, where marks from previous punctures of your claws laid fresh. "Hey," Ozzie started, calling out your nickname yet watching it effectively fall onto death ears. Even so, he continued, what's going on?" An invitation to talk to them, an invitation that received the acknowledgement of you hitting the tip of your tail against the floor to ceiling glass. Your own way of letting them know you heard him, yet needed a moment to gather your thoughts. To find something that can fix this situation without it blowing over and becoming bigger than you needed or wanted it to. To find a way to sweep and brush it under the rug. To just- make it like it never, ever fucking happened!

ᯓ Crack!

ᯓ You barely felt it, the smoke of Wrath infesting your very mind and blurring every other sense. Yet, Fizz and Ozzie caught it with ease. They heard the crack of your bone, the saw the way your nails not only had dug into your skin with the increase pressure yet suddenly broke through your palm and to the other side of your hand. Fizz covered his mouth, trying to hold in the gag that threatened to escape from the shock that filled him. Ozzie, wrapping an arm around Fizz to support him up to his chest to comfort him, would stand. . . and he didn't know how else to get your attention but exploding; Calling your name with a tone he rather not use with you. "WHAT?" Yet you would snap back, a green lining the inside of your eyes, right by your pupils. "WHAT CAN BE SO IMPORTANT THAT YOU CANNOT WAIT, OZZIE. I'M TRYING TO-" A tug at your wrist, Fizz, despite not being able to stand the sight if your claws puncturing through your hand, dragged you over to them. He rose your hand up to eye level once you were in front of the two, and he didn't want to make you watch the black blood that flowed down from it, that coated your claws thickly, he knew it was the only way to get you to pay attention. To realize that you hurt yourself in the panic of trying to fix a problem that could best be fixed together. To realize the scowl that was placed upon Ozzie's face at your actions, yet the underlining concern he had. To notice how Fizz was a bit sickened at the fact that you could so easily hurt yourself, and hurt that you wouldn't talk to them and effectively just shut them out again. Even though they have both told you countless times that you could talk them through your thoughts, that they can help you, that they want to help you! Even if you felt like you needed to handle everything that happened by yourself, even if you felt like the world was crushing in they were here! They were always here for you, and they were ready to help as long as you just talked to them.

ᯓ Fizz and Ozzie, out of everyone and anything, care about you (and granted each other) the most. And to see you physically hurt yourself over someone you told them not to worry about . . . well it stabbed them in the heart and made them ever so more concerned.

ᯓ "I just, I need time. I can figure this out if I'm given enough time." You would try to explain to Ozzie and Fizz as you sat on Ozzie's desk, where Fizz usually sat to replace any problem limbs. Fizz sat beside you, securely holding your right hand in his own and nuzzling up to you; His head resting against yours. Ozzie was in front of you, carefully trying to bring your claws out of the palm of your hand without hurting you, so he could then disinfect the wounds and wrap them up. He would have gotten a doctor, but felt a bit too fired up to let any medical professional touch you when you were so vulnerable. "Honey, get us, we know," Ozzie started, then let out a heavy sigh. "You say that every time something shitty happens in Pride. It's like- your go to thing!" Fizz added on, his tone a bit chirpier than Ozzie's; trying to lighten the mood, bring at least a small tug of a smile onto your face. Ozzie would soon apologize as you let out a hiss, feeling your claw carefully yet strikingly painfully being pulled out from your palm. You squeezed Fizz's hand, he nuzzled his head further against yours. And yet, you still spoke through gritted teeth and hissing, "I just! There never seems to be- FUCK, Ozzie that shit hurts!" "Love, I'm sorry, but I'm trying my best to make it as painless as possible. Yet, it's kind of hard when you managed to stab yourself right between your own bones." Ozzie mumbled, quickly working on the exposed wound, trying to wrap it with a towel just for the time being so he could work on the other three fingers (your thumb didn't puncture through skin, but did leave a good wound on your middle finger). Fizz would let out a nervous bit of laughter, trying to turn the situation away from your pain, just so you wouldn't have to think about it. "Hey, why don't you tell us why. . . you were so against us going to go kill the guy! I mean, I'm sure it would be easier than thinking of a whole counter plan and stabbing yourself through the hand, wounding yourself for someone you-" "Froggie," Ozzie warned, though his tone was still soft, noticing quickly how he began to ramble out of nerves. "I don't think that's helping."

ᯓ Yet you didn't mind much, it kind of did set your brain a little more straight and screwed in properly. So in a way you kind of did need Fizz's nervous rambling right now, "No, no it's fine. I. . . needed that. I just," A frown stretched upon your face, letting out a heavy sigh that was quickly replaced with a painful hiss and quickly followed by another apology from Ozzie. Your face scrunched at the pain, yet softened as you felt Fizz trying to comfort you once more. His hand squeezed your undamaged one, and when you turned your head towards his, he connected your foreheads. The distress that came from your fiancés were slowly becoming more apparent to you; Especially by the way Fizz looked into you, his own eyebrows frowned and scrunched, worry laced around his eyes. You felt the pressure of Ozzie wrapping your newly oxygen exposed wound with the towel, trying to cover it gently yet firmly enough. "I just. . . didn't want them to hurt you." The words left your mouth before you could think about their weight; Even if they were nothing but the truth, all the worry that struck your brain the moment Vox had called you out was all due to your worry that Fizz and Ozzie might get hurt. That they might be caught in some sort of cross fire between Vox and you and you would have to deal with their blood on your hands. That was a thought your couldn't bear to stand.

ᯓ The silence was thick for a good few minutes as you kept your eyes squeezed shut, afraid to open them and face Ozzie and Fizz. You could feel as Fizz leaned in, nuzzling your nose against his in an attempt to comfort you, coax you to open your eyes. But he just saw they way they twitched and you squeezed harder. You could feel as Ozzie paused, his fingers gently grabbing around yours yet not giving it's usual tug. And without looking at them, you felt the nerves build in your stomach at the thought that you might have offended them in some way, or they were disappointed in you for some reason. Yet they weren't. Logically, you knew that they weren't any of those things, yet they worrying thoughts still crept in your mind. "Baby, no. . ." Ozzie's sweet voice would ring through the unwanted chatter in your mind, almost like he could hear or feel what was happening in your tornado of a mind. "No, you don't have to worry about us, we were more worried about you. Trust me." You felt Ozzie's engulfing hand rest against your cheek and Fizz nod against your head, "Oh yeah! Our names have been racked through the mud since the whole Mammon incident. Trust us, we can take a little shit, but-" And Fizz paused, always a little hesitant to speak about these topics, "This is new to you, and we know how important your work is to you." "And Just like Sins, I'm sure an Overlord's power also comes from your reputation among people. And that guy, well, directly went for your reputation," Ozzie mumbled, his thumb rubbing sweetly against your cheek. He couldn't dent it, but he loved how they were a little chubbier than most, making your skin a little more plump and soft. "And for that I would have killed him! But you don't want that, for some reason I still don't understand!- But, we respect that. Just know we're here to help anyway we can." "Yeah just say the word!" Fizz playfully moved his head to nuzzle his nose against your other cheek, effectively earning a smile from you and a few bits of suppressed laughter that dared to bubble out your throat. You weren't sure why it was always ticklish when Fizz nuzzled his nose against your cheek, yet it was. "Okay, Okay!-" A giggle slipped through your lips, "I'm sorry. . . I should have, talked to you guys instead of-" You paused, chewing over your words. Yet, you didn't have to think for long as Fizz cut in, "Pushing us away?" "Hurting yourself?" Ozzie swiftly added after, both with their own sassy yet caring tones as they stared down at you. "Yeah. . . that." You would mumble, with an heat rushing up to your cheeks out of embarrassment. You didn't realize you were actually being that big of a dick to the two most important people in your life. Wow, you really did need that reality check from Fizz earlier.

ᯓ "Well, thank god we love you." Fizz's sarcastic voice trailed out with a cheeky grin spread across his face, showing off his pointed teeth and his ever so adorable cheeky attitude. "Or else this would be such a different story! You might have ended out on the streets, or worse, dead." And even if his words would be less than comforting for anyone else, you couldn't help but smile at them; Shooting your own cheeky glare back, finally gaining the courage to open your eyes again. To bask in your lovers' faces instead of cowering in the darkness, fearing a rejection that was never there to begin with. Something that would have never came. Ozzie took the chance to, while you were laughing and smiling and paying attention to Fizz rather than your own pain, to gently yet swiftly take out your third claw. Instantly, your tail trashed and a hiss escaped your mouth. And while he felt bad, Ozzie couldn't help but shake his head and rather seriously state, "Yeah, but don't ever do this again." "Yeah no, I don't think I can take looking at you stab through your own hand either." Fizz agreed, shaking his head. Either way, he went back to nuzzling you to comfort, trying to distract you from the pain of your hands as Ozzie moved the towel over your third wound. One more to go. You tried to keep in the giggles that threatened to escape due to their words, yet you couldn't help it. With a roll of your eyes and a sarcastic, yet playful, tone, you muttered back to them, "Well, fuck, if I ever get stabbed I'm never coming to either of you!"

Home | Masterlist Tag list: @lily-ann-b

ᯓ★ All posts/fanfictions posted under this blog is owned by @razzle-n-dazzle. Please do not steal, copy, or plagiarize the works! Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated.

[ A/N: Also, thank you so much for this request, it was a joy to write! I can't wait to hear from you again the future! And thank you to everyone for supporting my work, I've gotten so many nice comments in my inbox and I promise I'm trying to get through everyone's requests, or as much of them as possible. There's a good handful of them that request the same thing, so they will be clumped together, just because I don't think I can make enough content to make four separate posts about Adam with a Goth girlfriend or Yandere Lucifer lol! But, thank you all for the support, really, I wouldn't be able to do this all without you :) ]

[bonefall]

Thoughts on Wasp? I like the idea of cats joining that turn out that the Clans aren’t great… but also it feels… weird? Like it seems like another “lazy cat bad” on some levels. I don’t mind him not joining the Clans but these “outsider learns they’re not fit for the Clans” things always give me a pause from the Erins. Also interested in how you would handle him!

Moonkitti's video on him is really well worded, if you haven't seen it yet. I do think he's different from the way that other books tend to portray outsiders in that they are saying that he was driven away by the xenophobia of the Clans... but.

They still make him extremely disinterested in Clan life while he's in ThunderClan. I think that was a massive blunder to write, if the thing they're trying to say is "XENOPHOBIA PREVENTS OTHERWISE ENTHUSIASTIC MIGRATION"

It would have hit harder if it was Wafflepaw who tried to run to RiverClan, got assaulted, and then didn't want to be a Clan cat anymore.

Wafflepaw WANTS to be a warrior. Wasp did not. It reads more like Wasp getting hate crime'd was a "last straw" more than THE reason why he won't stay.

That's where you're getting that vibe they're saying "lazy cat bad," imo. It's a bit different from usual, but it still seems like the narrative is saying that Wasp really didn't belong here anyway.

(no, Nightheart's moment where he looks at the camera and says "he could have been fine!" doesn't change that they showed, in their text, with the actions they wrote, that Wasp was not enjoying being part of the Clans anyway. If that was their intended thesis, their writing was sloppy.)

It feels especially weird that Bee didn't go with Frostpaw. Bee was the character with a lot more setup and that strange dream. A lot of people were confusing Bee and Wasp when the book first came out and I don't blame them.

Most importantly, you can't talk about Wasp without also mentioning one of THE worst lines I think has ever been written into a Warrior Cats book. The part where tigerHeartstar says, "Those cats who just committed a hate crime were perfectly good people before the evil dictator took over. If we kill the evil dictator, I'm sure they'll CHANGE BACK"

I'm still REELING. Fuck you MEAAAN "CHANGE BACK????" CHANGE BACK? LIKE BEING A BIGOT IS UNCOMFORTABLE SHOES???

CHANGE BACK... me bringing my evil dollars up to the villain store and exchanging it for racism coins... change back...

So when I get around to it, I'm going to evaluate if Wasp is even actually necessary in the form he's in. BB is already about xenophobia and bigotry and the harm it does. Frostpaw has no shortage of examples to witness what Thistle Law is, and what it does to those excluded from Clan Culture.

When I first made my Family Tree for RiverClan, I actually ended up making Splashstar's MOM, Havenpelt, an ex-rogue. I think seeing him order a hate crime against his own mother would be a LOT more impactful here, actually.

What Frostpaw DOES need is allies and friends. I'm already starting by expanding her little "DND Party," a word I'm using to affectionately refer to some cats who will be following her home from her pilgrimage to the Park. 99% chance that Nightheart is going to become a permanent member of this party, joining RiverClan at the end of ASC. Waffle will be another. She'll probably also pick up a Tribe cat.

Wasp will be on this party, but I won't decide what happens to them until I see what that last book has in store. Who knows, he might come back (though I hope not, run as far away from these ghouls as possible Wasp!!)

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

A drop of your love

request: can I please request a lucien x reader fic? where they're "just friends" and lucien has a rough day. to help him feel better she prepares a bath for him and washes his hair and back (scars from under the mountain still shining there), all while giving him soft kisses on his cheeks, neck and ears, whispering how much he's beautiful and how much she loves him.

a/n it's my first ever Lucien story so go easy on me but also enjoy. 🤍✨

warnings: scars, mention of murder, blood, torture, trauma.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The kitchen felt stuffy and warm, despite the rain pouring outside. Eight other females were twirling around the place. Pot lids were clacking, and the sound and steam of boiling stews and sauces steeped into the smallest of places. It was nearing dinner time, so the commotion was a usual thing. Yet in the midst of it all, you managed to find peace in kneading the dough and shaping it into little loaves before carving delicate leaf shapes into each.

"They're back", the voice rang through the door as Maria, the youngest, ran in, making the older woman pick up their work and ordering whoever was assigned to help them to work more swiftly. You were just finishing up putting the loaves in the oven when you felt the presence of someone beside you. "It looked bad. Worse than the past two times", Maria's voice was low and cautious. Gossiping about anything was forbidden. Even more so when it came to the high lord and his family. There wasn't a thing that Beron did wrong in his own eyes, so everyone was to believe that as well. Many had lost their tongues for a word or two said at the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Was he on his own?", you asked while wiping your hands onto the apron, keeping your head turned in the complete opposite direction from the girl. So your mouth moving could be mistaken for you just muttering recipes under your breath. "Lord Eris was beside him", you frowned. That was not what you expected, especially if the situation was bad. Eris was Beron's pride and joy, at least in front of the court's eyes. Mother only knew how many times you had washed the blood out of his clothes and brought him remedies for the bruises. But he was initialed to take the throne one day, and so that gave his father more than one opportunity to make him fight for that spot like a wild animal, urging the rest of the brothers to attack and try to take Eris out.

"Y/N, you're asked for", your head instantly turned to the guard calling out your name. Wasting no time, you shrugged your dirty apron off, reaching for an already prepared jug of wine before rushing up the stairs. By the laws that Beron ruled by, you belong to Eris. A price. A gift, if you will. From his father himself, after they burned the village that wanted to rebel against the high lord. Dragged by the hair to the main mansion. Forced to kiss the high lord's feet as a thank you for taking you in. Not all females made it here. Most were butchered and left to rot. Only the prettiest and most fertile were brought in.

"My lord", you said, knocking on Eris's chamber doors carefully, waiting for his approval before walking inside. The place was dimly lit. You didn't dare lift your hand. Eris didn't like to be gawked at. Time spent away from his father was sacred to him. He got so little of it. Never enough. "As pleased as I am to see your face, petal, I'd prefer if you sought Lucien out", his words made you still in your place. Usually, Eris was way more subtle about how he approached this subject.

Back then, Beron let his sons pick the girls they wanted. And it wasn't Eris who picked you. No, it was Lucien. But Beron despised Lucien with everything that he had. So the moment the youngest made a choice, the high lord burst out laughing. Mocking the fact that he even thought that he had the right to pick anything at all. And because he wanted to cause Lucien more harm and show him even more that he wasn't ever going to get what he wanted, he gave you away to Eris instead.

"Is it… bad?", You cleared your throat, settling the jug onto the side table. You two had formed a weird sort of friendship through the years. Eris was a good male, even if he was forced to portray this cruel creature. Regardless of his father's urging, he never bedded you, never force you into anything you didn't want to, and besides his little anger outbursts, he never shouted at you either. "You women gossip around, so what would you say?", the lord said bitterly, making your cheeks turn crimson. "My apologies, my lord", you said quickly, hoping to not get Maria in trouble for any of it.

Eris rubbed a hand over his face and said, "Go to him, will you?", you nodded your head quickly, bowing one more time before turning to leave. This wasn't an unusual practice. Eris saw the way Lucien's face dropped when his father dragged you and shoved you into Eris's arms, "Yours to keep or kill, son". He celebrated you as his win in front of everyone's eyes, but the moment the door to his chamber closed, you saw a completely different person in front of you. Someone who cared, someone who loved deeply but couldn't show it. It was Eris who arranged your and Lucien's first proper meeting. He sent you to his cabin to fetch an old book with court documents; however, what you found there instead was Lucien. Fumbling with a lira in his hands. So lost in the sound of music that he didn't even hear you. He never played in the main villa, but in the safety of his brother's cabin, he must have felt safe.

Pressing both of your palms onto the cold wall, you pushed slightly. You couldn't enter Lucien's chamber from the hallway. Folks around the villa gossiped too much, and now that Beron was getting out of hand, everyone was looking for the smallest misbehavior so they could run off to the high lord and prove their loyalty that way. "Shouldn't you be with my brother?", Lucien's voice greeted you before you had even fully stepped into the room. "Tia is of more use to him now", you said rather bluntly, before forcing the passage back closed and wiping the dust onto your skirt. You turned to the red-haired male, who looked as pale as the paper. So Maria was right; it was indeed bad.

"Lucien", you muttered softly. You two had grown closer. Call it an instant connection back at the village after the slaughter. Or maybe it was the fact that you had found comfort in one another's presence through the years. You weren't a servant to him. There were no titles when you were together. It was just Y/N and Lucien. Eris's cabin was where you met most of the time. Some evenings, instead of tending to Eris privately, you were let off to spend the night with his brother instead. Yet even in the beauty of the moment, you never let yourself forget how whatever had been blooming in your chest would never become a reality.

"It's okay. Just… need to", the youngest of the Vanserras shook his head, pulling at the strings of his cloak, which he forgot to take off once he stepped into the room. His clothes were dirty. Dried blood still coated his skin, even if he tried to wash it off. "Should I run you a bath?", you asked, keeping your voice warm and gentle as you stepped closer. Lucien said nothing, moving to reach for your wrist so he could pull you closer to him. He wrapped a hand around your back, guiding you down onto his lap. You carefully cupped his face, tilting your head to the side, hoping to catch his eyes.

"It was the usual", Lucien touched your wrists, pulling them away from him, as if trying to keep you away from the filth that he was coated in. That still lingered. "Just this time he made us slotted children", your heart fell. Lucien was indeed the softest of them all, and not in a weak way; he had a good heart. Something that was looked down on in this court. He had a heart that cared. A heart that considered others' feelings. Beron had tried to choke out that part of his youngest for a while, but it didn't work. And the more Lucien cared, the more Beron wanted to make his life a burning hell.

"I sent Pipper to bury them. If father won't catch them…", but this time you captured his face, pressing your forehead to his. "You are not to blame; you are not like him", you whispered. Cautious of your surroundings but wanting nothing more than to pluck all the bad thoughts away. Lucien turned his face slightly to the side, brushing his lips over the inside of your palm. "You will never be like him", you knew words could be hard in moments like this. And how could they not? With a sigh, Lucien stuttered, "But what if…", You shook your head instantly, "There are no what-ifs, Lu". The years you two spent getting to know each other had proven to you over and over again that he was nothing like his father or brothers. Lucien's love ran deep. He was strong-willed and fearless when needed, but just as much, he brought a shield of calmness and that autumn coziness with him.

"What?", You had been lying in the field of flowers with Lucien the whole evening. Tia had offered to cover for you back in the villa. You two had been looking up at clouds, pointing out shapes, and making up stories. It felt calming and easy. So easy, it almost scared you. And then a giggle slipped past Lucien's lips as he shook his head. "Nothing", he muttered, his eyes not leaving you. You nervously brushed your fingers through your hair, fearing that something might be tangled in it,"That's not fair now".

However, Lucien giggled softly anyway. You playfully shoved at his chest, "Tell me", you pleaded, "Why are you smiling like that?". Lucien reached out, threading his fingers through your hair carefully. "You", he muttered, your heart skipped a beat right as he spoke up again, "Still don't know why Mother would send you to me". His voice sounded more like a whisper. As if he was scared for someone to hear it. For someone to make the happiness disappear. You cupped his face, leaning closer to him. "Good hearts call out to other good hearts, Lu".

You smiled at the memory as you brought the autumn male closer to your chest. Waiting for the shakes to ease. Knowing that pushing him around now wasn't going to get you anywhere So you stayed put. Letting him soak up the warmth and smell of your body. For Lucien, you were a haven. Autumn wasn't his home; you were. You've been there since the moment he saw you. No one had truly shown him kindness until you came along. No one had taken the time to get to know him. To let him be himself. Lucien had been heading down a dangerous route back then. Beron had been close to bending his will. But then you came around. And something shifted.

"How about I make you a nice bath? You know, with lavender…", You brushed a kiss over the top of Lucien's head, rubbing your hands up and down his back. Yet his grip on you only tightened, "I will stay close by and will brush your hair. We can even braid it", it felt almost silly how you were trying to bribe him into it, but you knew that affection was what he truly needed. "Four plats?", he asked, making you let out a soft chuckle. "Whatever you want, fireboy".

The bath chamber was filled with steam. At this point, you were convinced that Lucien was close to boiling himself in that bathtub. You let him get undressed before you walked back in. Thankful for the stuffy room, it hid your rosy cheeks, which had turned crimson at the sight of Lucien's naked chest. You've seen him shirtless before. Mother… You two had made out in the stables once. You had let go of all your boundaries. That one time you let yourself dive headfirst into whatever was blooming deep within you.

"Hot baths are fun, but how about we don't cook you alive?", your much colder hands pressed down onto Lucien's shoulders. You let your fingers wander across his skin, kneading the tense muscles. Lucien let out a growl of satisfaction. Hands gripping the side of the tub once your fingers found a particularly painful knot. "How you do this is beyond me,", he muttered, and you couldn't help the smile that tugged on your lips. "Braking bread is no joke", you laughed under your breath. "I never doubted your skilled hands", Lucien practically purred, causing your cheeks to heat some more.

You reached for a cloth, dipping it into the water before moving it over Lucien's back. A light frown suddenly tinted your eyes as you once again turned to the scars that painted Lucien's skin. It never failed to make you feel this burning pain in your chest. No matter how many times you saw them. Lucien was weary of showing them to you at first. You only got to see them when he stubbornly hid them from you after the latest beating from his father, getting them infected and causing a fever to break out. You nursed him for a couple of weeks while he remained practically unconscious as he lay on his stomach. You had never been so scared in your life.

You ran the damp cloth over his back a couple of times until your hand stilled. Your brain was telling you to stop, but your heart fought back harder. So you leaned in, dipping your head lower as your lips brushed over Lucien's shoulder once, then over his shoulder blade. You let your fingers dance over the grooves of the scars before accompanying the touch with your lips. You knew that he hated this cruel reminder, but to you, this was a part of him that you wished he could learn to love. This wasn't a sign of weakness. This was a sign that he survived.

"I love you", those words slipped past your lips dangerously quickly. A gasp followed right away when the realization hit. "What?", Lucien turned your way. You two had grown closer. Way closer for it to just be called friends, but you never let yourself think of it. "You… What did you say?", Lucien had shifted inside the tub so he could face you. You shook your head, moving to pull away, but Lucien grasped your wrist gently. "Y/N", you knew, that wasn't a demand. If you wanted, you could leave. He wouldn't hold you back, but you couldn't. Not when his desperation filled the room. You could sense his emotions. All of a sudden, they were all around you, and you couldn't feel anything else. A golden thread glistened all of a sudden. Catching both of your attention. A breath hitched in your throat. "I love you", you muttered once again carefully, and the gold seemed to beam.

Lucien practically jumped out; of the bath, causing you to quickly turn your head to the side and for him to lower his hands. A nervous chuckle left your lips. You felt his arms around your shoulders; next, he was still dripping but he didn't care. Pulling away from you slightly, Lucien pushed a finger under your chin, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "You love me?", he whispered. You bit down on your lip. A part of you screamed that this was wrong, wrong but the mating bond danced around you. Happy and satisfied now that you have finally acknowledged it. You didn't trust your words, simply nodded your head. Lucien did the same, mimicking the movement. "My gorgeous girl", his fingers cupped your face as he leaned his forehead onto yours, "I always knew it would be you".

Your bottom lip quivered, your hands restted on his hips as you moved to stand even closer to him. Lucien ran his fingers over your lips gently. "Say it again", he urged you. "I need to hear you say it again", a tear ran down your cheek as you stepped onto your tippy toes. Cupping Lucien's face as you leaned closer, you whispered, "I love you, Lucien, with all that I am" right by his lips. Lucien let out a soft sigh, closing his eyes for a moment before crashing his lips against yours. For a kiss that said it all. The kiss was more than just the aftermath of an emotional moment. It was a promise. A plea for love. A chance for Lucien to finally get a glimpse of what true happiness looked like.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

All acotar writing taglist: @brekkershadowsinger @cityofidek @baebeepeach @lucyysthings @hideing @urfavbrunettebish @historygeekqueen @marina468 @courtofjurdan

[shooting-love-arrows]

What’s Yandere Barbarians kinks? (I assume one of them is breeding? 🥰)

Also I assume that the men of his clan are raised a certain way to follow in their fathers’ foot steps, but what of the women born into his clan? What’s their role? (I think you said that they were “traditionalists”?) And how would courtship work for them since they aren’t abducted or anything?

*I just wanna be a house wifey/mother to my lovely barbarian man 🙈

Dear Anon,

What of the women born into his clan? What’s their role? The barbarian woman:

Stay in the village most of the time. They aren't trained enough to go on the raids or fight bigger armies. But that doesn't mean they're harmless. They are trained in basic combat and to wield a white weapon so that they can protect themselves in case of an intruder or attack.

They hold the power in the village/camp/location they are currently residing. They are the one to decide if the place is good enough to camp, make sure there's enough supplies (food/medicine/sacrificial artifact/etc). If there's not enough, they turn to males who are responsible for bringing the females necessary supplies. 

They are considered gifts from the beings above. Since the birth of females is rather low among the barbarians, when one is born, it's a moment a family should fervently pray for giving them such a blessing. After all, it is the woman who is a gifter and nourishes life. So with that in mind, they are also considered a link between the mortal world and eternal one. They are the priestesses. 

They're the one to lead sacred ceremonies, give blessings, organize the funeral, pray and give sacrifices to gods. If one doesn't have the necessary blessing from a head female of their family (which is usually the oldest), then there is little to no chance you can do in some matters. You can always try persuading the head female but you never know how it can end up, since they can end up cursing you.

How would courtship work for them since they aren’t abducted or anything? Barbarian courting traditions when it comes to their own people still includes kidnapping.  Since I mentioned earlier, there is significantly less females in the barbarian population. This means there is high competition among male members of the population. So in the end this part of the courting is still a bloody mess. At first, the male is supposed to woo the female with a show of power/wealth/ability to provide and protect her. Those are the generall first stages of courtship.  Kidnapping comes as the last step. It is the ultimate test of his ambition and abilities. The difficulty lies in the fact that he has to kidnap the bride from her household/family. Remember, all of them can harm him and they will protect their daughter with all they have since they are probably made aware that there’s a bachelor interested in her in the first place. If he succeeds, then he's supposed to bring her to his tent/house, where the members of the bride's family have a last chance to take her back by attempting to buy her out of captivity.  If the family fails, the woman and man are considered engaged and are supposed to be blessed by the head females of each of their households. From this day onward, the future bride is to live in her future husband's household. 

What’s Yandere Barbarians kinks? Yandere! Barbarian (some of the) kinks would include:

Breeding. It's only normal to desire an offspring(s). And since Yandere! Barbarian lets his primal instincts take control in most situations, I think he'll like to have one too. 

Blindfolding their partner. You don't need to see him during your passionate and rough love making. You only need to feel him and bask in the pleasure he gives you. He just loves how confused and helpless you look. Sprawled on the bed, swallowed by thick furs and left at his mercy, not even knowing what’s to come next. 

Role play (prey [the reader] and a hunter [Yandere! Barbarian])/chasing. He loves a good dose of adrenaline. The feeling of his heart speeding up to the point it’s ready to burst out of his chest, the thin layer of sweat on his skin and the wind blowing his hair and filling his lungs with fresh air. It’s what gets him going. So with that in mind, he’ll let you run away from him, only to chase you down and in the end catch you. Once he does, there’s no escape. He will hold you tightly, hugging your body to his like he’s trying to be one with you. He'll most likely take on the spot he has caught you.

I hope that answers some the questions. I am sure you'll be a perfect wife for him :)

@shooting-love-arrows

[toournextadventure]

everyone but her pt.17

Summary: You're spending the first month of summer with the Addamses, which Wednesday initially loved until you started a war that you couldn't finish. Maybe you were officially indoctrinated into the Addams family? There's no time like the present.

Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: Addams Family-esque violence (in pranks, no one is harmed!), internal guilt, swearing, making out, suggestive themes Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @n0p35 @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @asters-abditory @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @parkersmyth @alilbitlesbian @irish-piece-of-trash @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets @myfturn

“Where is he?” You asked for the 21st time in the past five minutes.

“A watched pot never boils,” Wednesday said as her fingers turned the page of her current novel.

“I’m not watching a pot,” you mumbled, “I’m watching for my best friend Lurch.”

From her spot at her desk, Wednesday finally dared to look up in your direction. You were practically leaning halfway over the balcony, your wings flapping every now and then to lift your feet before placing you back on the ground. You were both waiting impatiently for her family’s car to pull up. All the bags were packed, your family had already given their okay for the month-long stay, and now it was simply a waiting game.

If Wednesday had a dollar for every time you had mentioned Lurch during the last few days of the school year, she would have been able to single-handedly pay for your college tuition. Not that you were going, she thought with a frown that, thankfully, no one could see.

“He’s never gonna get here,” you grumbled again, your wings drooping along with your shoulders.

“Why are you so eager to see Lurch?” Wednesday asked. She finally closed her book and put it aside right as you turned around with the biggest smile on your face.

“I just think he’s neat,” you said.

“I was under the impression that you wanted to fight him,” she said with a tilt of her head.

“Oh I do.” Your smile dropped and you turned deathly serious. “He’s my mortal enemy,” you said with a nod of your head. “And I am going to beat him this time.”

She said nothing, just raised a single brow at you which in turn caused your smile to come back. It was fleeting, however, as you quickly turned to look back over the balcony to watch for the signature Addams family car. You looked childish standing there in your shorts and too-big t-shirt, genuine excitement on your face. The sight brought those spiders back to her stomach, something she hadn’t felt in a while.

But they turned vicious when she started to consider the implications of your eagerness for her family to appear. You hadn’t explained much to her, but she knew your biological parents weren’t necessarily part of the picture. When was the last time someone had picked you up from Nevermore? Her own family not included, when had someone last come to take you home?

"They're here!" You shouted, drawing Wednesday out of her own thoughts.

She didn't even have the chance to breathe before you vaulted yourself over the balcony. Her heart nearly ripped itself out of her chest before she could remind it that you had wings. That didn't stop her from running to the railing to make sure. Just in case.

You were already saying your hellos to everyone as Lurch made his way inside. It wouldn't take him long to get up to her dorm, but it still gave Wednesday plenty of time to watch you interact with her family. There was a twisting feeling in Wednesday's stomach at how physical you were with everyone. A hand on Pugsley's shoulder, allowing her father to hug you, leaning into her mother's touch on your cheek. You certainly weren't usually that physical with her.

The door opened behind her and she quickly pushed that thought down. Lurch nodded at her once before grabbing the luggage, following her out and downstairs to where you all were waiting. She didn't miss the way your smile softened when you met her eyes.

Pugsley and her father gave her their usual hugs - she wouldn't admit it was a welcome gesture - while Lurch put the luggage in the back of the car. Everyone's voices carried across the air, riding only on the occasional sound of your wings ruffling.

"Aren't you coming?" Wednesday asked when you scuffed your feet in the dirt. Everyone else was already situated in the car.

"I- I can't," you said as your fingers played with the hem of your shirt. "It's too soon."

Too soon. Wednesday didn't need to ask what you meant; your birthday was only a week ago. It was still a new piece of information to her, something she hadn't yet incorporated into preparations. She berated herself for not considering it sooner. There were plenty of other ways to get back home, yet she hadn't even attempted to think of any.

"I'll be good," you said with a slight upturn of your lips. "I'll fly overhead."

"Are you sure?" Wednesday asked. Please just get in the car.

"Yeah," you shrugged, "I could use the exercise." A real smile quickly replaced the uncertain one. "I'll even race you."

"You'll exhaust yourself and plummet to the ground," she answered quickly. “And you’ll still lose.”

“I think you’re just scared, Addams,” you taunted, leaning down to be on even eye-level with her. It was demeaning.

She loved it.

“If you leave now,” she said with a glare in her eyes, “you can have a 30 second head start.”

“I expect a reward when I win,” you said with a cocky smirk that, if it had been from anyone else, would have made Wednesday nauseous. And not in a good way.

You made up for it with a wink that very much made her nauseous. In a good way.

The muscles in your legs tensed before you launched yourself into the air with a powerful push of your wings. Without getting the chance to brace herself, Wednesday shamefully felt herself stumble back a step, her eyes blinking frantically to clear the dirt from around her. You were already nothing more than a speck in the sky when she managed to look up.

The race was on.

It was a long car trip, which was to be expected, but what made it all the more torturous were her parents' incessant questions. Didn't they know she was anxiously watching the sky, trying to find you to know you were safe? There was nothing to inform them of, they had talked only last week. Quite frankly, Wednesday believed it was the longest car ride of her life.

You were leaning against the front door frame with grandmama beside you when they finally pulled up to the house. Wednesday could see the sweat still dripping down your face and the pitiful attempt to keep your eyes open. All defiance was wiped from your posture as your shoulders and wings drooped pathetically.

Yet, she would admit, you had beat them to the house.

“Well, well, well,” you spoke slowly once Wednesday finally walked up the porch stairs, “look who finally decided to show up.”

“You need a bath,” she said without bothering to look at you for too long. She didn’t want you to notice that she had missed you.

“Not until I’m done gloating,” you said, “Grandmama even congratulated me for my speed and skill."

"Unlikely," Wednesday said, brushing past you as she entered the house. You followed behind her like a puppy.

"She did," you argued, "we're actually best friends now."

"You've gloated enough," she said, stopping herself short and feeling you walk into her because, as expected, you weren't paying full attention. "Go bathe."

"Do I get my winner's prize afterwards?" You asked. She didn't have to turn around to know you were smiling.

"You can find that out after you stop smelling."

The speed at which you ran to your bathroom was impressive, Wednesday wouldn't lie. It was almost worthy of a smile, but she settled for a soft exhale. You were acting rather childish and you hadn't even been at the house for more than an hour. What was it about this trip that was clearly easing your nerves?

"The gift is on her bedside table," her mother said once you were far out of hearing range.

“Excellent,” Wednesday said before walking off to her room. She was more than happy to use your absence as the perfect time to unpack.

Once you got out of the bath, you stood in the middle of the bathroom and huffed. It was times like this where you wished Wednesday - or any of the Addamses for that matter - used technology. Your wings were soaked to the bone, your hair was dripping down your spine (which tickled), and you just wanted to blow it all dry so you could be warm again. Was that really too much to ask?

Yes. Yes it was.

You shook viciously, your feet lifting off the slick ground for a moment. It took a few more shakes before your wings felt a little lighter, a little too fluffy again, but at least they were (mostly) dry. Much better, you thought as you wrapped one towel around your waist and used another to dry your hair. Sure, it would look funny later in the day, but that was a future-you problem.

All of your bags were already in your room by the time you stepped out of the bathroom. It was easy to dig through and find some comfy clothes, and you got dressed quickly, struggling to pull your shirt on and fit your wings through their respective slots. You might have bumped into a few things in the process, but that was alright; at least nothing broke, right?

The dresser drawer slid shut, signaling your completion of unpacking. With a satisfied grin, you looked around the room, just to double check. But your eyes landed on a small box sitting on the bedside table. A box that you hadn’t brought with you.

A black box.

Hesitantly, you walked over to the bedside table and looked down. It had a small black bow wrapped around it and was resting on top of a card. You grabbed the box first, carefully untying the bow and lifting the lid. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. The brilliance of the crystal inside was what caught your eyes first as you picked it up with shaking fingers.

A simple black crystal pendant hung from a golden chain. The crystal itself was smooth and cold to the touch, and you could almost see your reflection in it if you turned it just right. It was heavy when it swung from between your fingers, almost hypnotising in its pattern.

Your chest hurt at how expensive it looked.

You gently placed the pendant back in the box and set it aside to pick up the card and read the cover; One year closer to the sweet release of death. Pretty on point for the Addams. Rough fingers flipped the card open but froze when something fell out onto the desk.

Your head tilted to the left as you reached for it, reading the words on the card first: Happy first Addams birthday. Birthday. That prickling pain settled in the back of your head again, and you shook your head to try and physically get rid of it. It didn’t work.

“If you loved me, you would take me hiking for my birthday,” you said to Nicky as soon as you found him after class.

“You’re so demanding,” he huffed, but you could see the smile. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Shit,” you whispered to yourself with another shake of your head.

It’s a sweet gesture, the voice in your head said. You knew it was a sweet gesture; painfully aware of it, in fact. A sigh left your lips as you put the card down and looked at the other item in your hand. It took a few seconds of staring at it, your eyes blinking excessively, before you could actually comprehend what it was.

A check. It was a check. An empty check signed “Gomez Addams” on the bottom right corner. An empty check addressed to you and the memo line stating: Medical Expenses.

Once you were aware of the burn in your lungs, you let out a shaky breath that you hadn’t known you were holding. A million thoughts were running through your head, none of them good. Your eyes screwed shut as they echoed in your mind, getting louder and louder.

Another debt to repay?

You could repay it. You knew you could.

You’ve become a burden to yet another person.

No, they were nice, you weren’t a burden. Were you?

That pain in the back of your head grew, quickly turning into a migraine that you knew would make you sick. The strain of your clenched jaw certainly wasn’t doing you any favours either. Fuck, why would they do this? No, why would Wednesday do this? She knew better, she fucking knew better.

With a groan, you grabbed the check and amulet and walked downstairs. You didn’t know where anyone was, but you could find them easily enough. The size of the mansion was infuriating when you were looking for someone, you realised. It was far easier to find someone when there were only a handful of rooms.

You found Morticia and Gomez alone in the greenhouse. Thankfully they were clothed.

“Ah,” Gomez exclaimed when he saw you enter the greenhouse, “you found the gifts!”

“Shall I help you put it on?” Morticia asked, indicating the pendant with her eyes.

Please take them back.

“I- that- that’s actually what- what I- what I wanted to- to talk to you about,” you stuttered. Only imbeciles stutter, stop it.

“Sit, please,” Gomez said, gesturing to the empty chair across from him. You promptly sat, your back straight and both gifts laid bare on the table. “Do you not like them?”

“No!” You shouted a bit too loud, a bit too fast. “No, that’s- that’s not it.” You cleared your throat. “It’s- it- it’s stunning,” your eyes darted away from the check, “and generous.”

“Then where does the problem lie, little bird?” He asked, leaning back in his chair. Morticia had now joined him on the other side of the table, her hand resting on his shoulder.

Well now it just felt like an interrogation.

“I can’t accept them,” you said without meeting their eyes. “I could never repay you.”

“Darling, they’re gifts,” Morticia said, “not something to be repaid.”

I have to repay you, you thought. I have to. How could you explain to them that they were wrong? Nothing is free even if it’s a gift. Everything comes with a price. School, gifts, love. It all comes with a price, and if they were serious about that damn check, you would never be able to erase that debt.

“I could never repay you,” you repeated.

They were silent, and that was almost worse than their attempt to get you to reconsider. They needed to say something; they needed to talk so you could move on and get off this horrid topic.

The migraine grew worse.

“How about a compromise,” Gomez said softly. You looked up, finally, to see them both giving you a painfully soft look. “Keep the pendant, we’ll keep the check.”

“It is a birthday gift, after all,” Morticia finished.

Stop saying birthday.

Your eyes trailed down to where the pendant was sitting on the table. It was stunning, you wouldn’t deny that. But it looked expensive. Could you repay them for it? Surely you could, you were working a bit over the summer and you could probably do some things around their house. It couldn’t be too hard to repay, could it?

“Okay,” you finally managed to squeak out. “Thank you.” You would accept the gift. 

But you were definitely going to have a talk with Wednesday about it. She meant well, but this was a bit too far. What was she even thinking? She knew you hated people spending money on you, didn’t she? And she had told them about Nicky? No, no she needed to know. Gently. Hopefully.

You didn’t see the sad smiles the Addamses gave you as you walked off to find Wednesday.

—---

Wednesday hadn't understood your insistence on not gifting you things, nor did she understand your anger at her parents offering to help with Nicky. You were practically on your own, were you not? So why would you be so against help when everyone knew medical bills were preposterous in size? She knew you weren't ignorant enough to believe you, a freshly graduated high school student with no job, could pay them on your own.

But you had insisted, and she had nodded in understanding, and eventually you came to an agreement. Nothing expensive, only things that could be repaid in favours or equal monetary value. Although as you allowed her to clasp the pendant around your neck, you hesitantly agreed you wouldn't attempt to pay them back for the birthday gift. That was a week ago, and she had silently adored every moment of peace that had come with it.

But now you were her mortal enemy once again, and she was not going to lose to the likes of you.

It had just been a normal morning. You had snuck into her room and woken her up with what had started off as a simple kiss. A simple kiss that had quickly turned into multiple kisses. She grabbed the fabric of your shirt and pulled you down until you were hovering above her on the bed and she could tangle her hands in your hair. It was quite a wonderful way to wake up, she would admit.

The smell of you, fresh out of the bath, invaded all of her senses. You smelled like her thanks to using her supplies, but with the faintest underlying smell of dirt and trees. Something she had come to associate with home. It sent her mind reeling, eliminating every thought except for one: you. She hated you for it.

She loved that she hated you for it.

One of her hands trailed down your neck, following the chain of the pendant you now dutifully wore until she could grab the crystal and pull you closer. Knowing you were wearing something from her family, something from an Addams, was intoxicating. Almost like you were now officially part of the family.

"You should get ready," you mumbled against her lips, "I'll meet you downstairs."

You gave her one last kiss, making it count, before pulling away and standing back up. She refused to look at you, refused to let you see what you had really done to her. How you had gotten her heart racing and her skin flushed and hot. Not until she heard the door close did she finally get up, surprisingly eager to start the day.

Until she opened the closet and saw that all of her clothes had been replaced.

Frantically, Wednesday went to her dresser and opened all the drawers there too, hoping it was just her imagination. But no, it was real. She wasn't imagining it, this wasn't some horrifying dream. It was real life.

Every piece of clothing she owned had been replaced with brightly colored versions. It looked like a rainbow had thrown up in her closet and dresser, and she had nothing else to wear for the day. Grumbling to herself and already plotting revenge, she grabbed a pair of pants and a too-large shirt that smelled suspiciously like coffee and chalk.

Rightfully, everyone looked horrified when Wednesday made her way to the downstairs common room. It was as if the world had come to a stop and hell had frozen over. The room filled with gasps of fear and disgust from everyone.

Everyone, that is, except for you.

You, who was sitting in one of the armchairs with a cup of coffee in one hand and the pendant in the other. You, who was making direct eye contact with her even as you took another sip from your mug. You, who's smirk only grew as you continued to watch the realization dawn on her very face.

"You look absolutely dreadful," you said as everyone looked back and forth between you both.

"You'll regret this," Wednesday said, "it will be a slow and painful revenge."

"I'd like to see you try," you shot back.

And thus, your rivalry was reignited and Wednesday was determined to win.

She started gentle, she really did. After all, you weren't Pugsley, she couldn't very well electrocute you for the sake of winning a war. Well. Not yet. So it was a gentle war, one of silly little nothings.

Gods, what were you doing to her?

Gentle. As gentle as handing you your coffee in the morning when your eyes are still half-closed and your wings are nearly knocking everything over. With a sleepy smile and barely-working fingers, you take it and instantly take a big, deep drink of salty coffee that she had made special just for you.

You choke. You choke and your eyes go wide and you make eye contact with her over her own mug of black coffee. But then your eyes narrowed and you continued drinking, never once taking your eyes off her until the coffee was gone.

"Make this yourself?" You asked in a hoarse voice.

Wednesday blinked at you once.

"As a thank you," she said with a half-smile and the slightest tilt of her head, "for the wardrobe change."

"So that's how it's going to be," you stated simply.

"Unless you surrender."

"Never."

You were quick to get your revenge; that same morning, in fact. She had poured her cereal and had gotten up to get the milk, but when she came back her spoon had been replaced with a fork. A simple prank, harmless, juvenile at best. You still smiled to yourself anyway when her first bite of breakfast ended up being a disappointment.

But things ramped up quickly after that. Harmless pranks turned a little more courageous. A bucket of water dropping on your head when you entered her room. An explosion of rainbow glitter when Wednesday opened a new book. Still fairly harmless, all things considered.

It was only when Wednesday found out you had enlisted Pugsley to help you that she realised this was no longer a fun war. This was to the death, and you were gathering backup. Oh, but she could use whatever she wanted on Pugsley, and if you just so happened to be in the way, then so be it.

Your first true Addams prank was good, Wednesday wouldn't deny it. With hands held up in surrender, you had invited her to follow you for a nice picnic. As she followed behind you, you were telling her all about everything you had packed; meats, cheese, apples, oranges, practically an entire feast.

She saw your step falter when you passed through a doorway. Just the slightest lengthening of your stride, just enough for her to notice. You however didn't notice her stop, stretching her leg out to touch the barely-visible trip wire.

A guillotine blade fell where she would have been walking, and you turned your head expectantly, disappointment clearly filling your face.

"You tried to kill me?" Wednesday asked in a more deadpan tone than usual.

"Don't be so dramatic," you rolled your eyes. "I tried to maim, not kill." With a sigh, you turned around. "Pugsley said it would work."

You didn't see Wednesday's smile.

So you were going to play by Addams' rules, were you? Well if that's how you were going to be, then Wednesday wasn't going to hold back either. Of course she wouldn't hurt you. Too badly, that is. It wouldn't matter, there was still plenty of room for creativity.

Although she would admit, she was surprised you fell for the same thing twice. You were just humming to the song in your head while trailing your fingers over the spines of the books in the library. When she handed you a cup of tea, you smiled and instantly took a drink.

And froze.

"What have I told you about drinking anything without thought?" Wednesday asked.

"What did you put in this?" You asked.

"If you hurry, you can ask your new friend Pugsley for an antidote," she said with another smile before walking away.

The glare you gave her when you came back down for dinner was more than worth it.

Yours and Pugsley's pranks weren't as well thought out as they should have been. It explained why they never worked as well as intended. She would give you the benefit of the doubt; this was your first time building Addams contraptions. You didn't have the same knack for it, but you were learning.

Out of all your attempts, you never quite managed to execute them correctly. Not for lack of trying, of course, but you had a lot to learn. For instance, if you were going to sneak up on her, you needed to keep your wings tucked away so you didn't knock something over in the process. Which you did. All Wednesday had to do was turn and look at you for you to groan and drop what appeared to be a bucket full of… spiders?

"You're ruining it, Addams," you mumbled as you walked off, coincidentally in the direction of her next trap.

Your high pitched scream echoed down the halls when you encountered the trap. It sent a thrill down Wednesday's spine. This was becoming so much more entertaining than she had ever imagined.

She did feel bad at first, admittedly. Not everyone could handle the Addams' form of admiration or love for each other; she knew it was unconventional. She didn't care that it was unconventional, but she was aware of it nonetheless. What if you had thought it was too much? Too unusual? Too violent by most standards?

But the morning she woke up and opened her door, feeling her pulse race when an arrow buried itself into the doorframe by her head? And when she took a step back before hearing you cheering down the hall because yes, you had surprised her? Or you high-fiving Pugsley and rushing him off because you hadn't truly realised you had gotten caught yet. It gave Wednesday a feeling in her stomach that wasn't spiders or nausea but something else entirely.

Oh.

Oh.

Her eyes narrowed. How dare you.

She stayed furious with you when you left for two days to go stay with Nicky.

"Here," Wednesday said as she held a book out for you, "in case you need a new book."

"Oh thank god," you sighed. "I don't know how many more times I can read Lord of the Rings." You looked at the cover, and a small smile pulled at the corner of your lips. "I think he'll like this one."

"Just bring it back in one piece," she said, to which you only replied with a wink.

Your absence gave her peace and yet simultaneously filled her with an anger that she couldn't quite place. On the one hand, she couldn't deny that you made her… happy. Your presence alone, even when you were being far too loud and creating chaos, gave her a sense of peace. She looked forward to being around you, whether you were talking or just enjoying each other's company.

But on the other hand, she was furious with you. Furious because not only had you made her feel these things to begin with, but the moment she had come to realise those feelings, you left for two days? Now she was forced to stew in her own uncomfortable mixture of thoughts and emotions. You knew how much she hated emotions, they were gateways to weakness.

And the worst part?

She missed you. Your absence around the house was felt by all. Her father no longer had you around to mentor about fencing or the ways of life, instead just moping around. Her mother has resorted to doting over her instead of you now, and that’s just an impossible situation. And Pugsley, dear misguided Pugsley, now had no one to talk to whenever he wanted.

Your presence had become such a normal thing in the house that, now that you were gone, no one knew what to do.

Wednesday would call everyone delusional if they noticed her waiting on the porch for you to finally get back. If there had been no chance of her getting caught by family, she would have gone to greet you out in the yard. Maybe even hold your hand and drag you back to the house where you belong.

Instead she just waited until you saw her, shooting her a quick smile, before walking back inside without you.

From the moment you walked back into the house, the war was back on. Just because you had gone to see Nicky didn’t mean she had admitted defeat. No, she was an Addams, she would never admit defeat. So when you were standing in the doorway and looking down at the dagger in Wednesday’s hand, you scoffed.

“What are you gonna do with that?” You asked. “Stab me?”

Wednesday simply smiled at you and took a step to the side, revealing a rope that was tied to the railing of the stairs. Your eyes narrowed when she looked back at you. Oh, this was going to be enjoyable. With a single swipe, she cut the rope and let the axe swing down. You screamed - that same high-pitched, childish scream that was starting to become comical - and fell to the ground just as the axe swung above your head.

“You’re sadistic!” You shouted.

Wednesday just left you there to wait out the deadly pendulum above you. This isn’t helping, she thought as she marched up the stairs to her room. Against all odds, she still had that forbidden feeling weighing heavy in her chest. She would need to go bigger.

It was time to get serious.

—---

Morticia couldn’t stop herself from eavesdropping whenever you and Wednesday were together. Of course she gave you both your space, but when she walked by and saw you sitting in Wednesday’s homemade electric chair? Letting her strap you to it without a single care in the world? Well, she couldn’t help it.

“What if I die?” You asked as you watched Wednesday tighten the helmet. There wasn’t a single ounce of worry in your face.

“Then I’ll have the opportunity to practice my dead-raising skills,” Wednesday said simply. She walked over to the wall and grabbed the switch.

“I don’t like how you said “practice”,” you mumbled, but otherwise settled back into the chair.

Morticia left the doorway before Wednesday pulled the switch. She knew how personal the situation was, she was no fool. Oh the times she and Gomez had used electrocution for their own fun evenings. If Wednesday was anything like her parents, then Morticia would keep her distance.

Your scream echoed through the house, and Morticia sighed dreamily.

Oh, young love.

She took note of the pranks slowing down while you willingly let Wednesday rope you into more and more despicable experiments. Testing out the larger-scaled steam powered guillotine, which did not work as it should have. If you and a bowling ball were dropped from the roof at the same time, would you reach the ground first? Could you truly catch an arrow if fired at you from a dozen paces away?

Then there were the more entertaining conversations that she walked past. Take, for instance, when she walked by the library while you and Wednesday were having tea.

“I bet they were all so incredibly repressed,” you said, your voice muffled from the walls of books.

“Why?” Wednesday asked, sounding so entirely disinterested.

“They couldn’t even show their ankles!” you answered.

“I believe I briefly showed you my lower leg once,” Wednesday said after a moment’s hesitation, teasing (and maybe even a smile) evident in her tone.

“I remember that, it was pretty scandalous,” you said, “definitely got me all hot and bothered.”

The sound of a slap and your muffled “hey!” resounded to where Morticia was still standing in the hallway. She smiled to herself before walking off. If that was how you were both going to discuss your blooming love life, who was she to judge? At least Wednesday was tolerating such behaviour in the first place.

Little steps.

One certain moment of listening in happened to teach her to stay far away whenever you two were alone. Even though it was hard to believe, she wasn’t intentionally searching for you both when you were alone. She just had a habit of roaming the house, and once she heard Wednesday’s voice or your laughter, she just couldn’t help but listen.

This time you were both in your room watching a movie of some sort.

“Am I ever going to get my sweatshirt back?” Wednesday asked.

“Only if you take it off me yourself,” you snorted. 

There was silence, the calm before the storm, before Morticia heard you scream “wait no!” and ruffling ensued, of course accompanied by your little squeaks and screams. She didn’t plan on hanging around to see how far you two took your movie night; if you were anything like she and Gomez were, then she was definitely going to put distance between herself and your room.

Although hearing the laughter coming from your room was more than worth it.

—---

Wednesday was starting to despise having to compete with her family for your attention. She had felt the same way when you had visited for Spring Break, but this was simply preposterous. Why on earth should she have to be the one to demand your attention when you gave it so openly to everyone else? After all, you were the one who insisted on officially labeling her as your girlfriend.

She was no expert, but that didn’t seem proper.

After interrogating her mother on your whereabouts, she marched her way to the cemetery where, just as her mother had said, you were sitting on the couch and looking up at the stars. You looked almost peaceful, with your wings out and your overly large sweater. How you had a sweater so big on you, she had no idea.

It was… cute.

You didn’t look up when she sat down beside you, just simply continued to look up at the stars while she looked at you. At the faintest scar by the corner of your eye that she suspected was from the full moon incident. Then at your hair, which was getting a little unruly but for some reason it fit you perfectly. Or your fingers which, for once, were simply fidgeting with each other instead of picking them apart.

“I like it out here,” you said after a few moments of sitting in silence.

“Outside?” Wednesday asked. Her eyes never once strayed from your face.

“Your house,” you continued. She took note of the smallest movement of the corner of your mouth. “It’s peaceful.”

Wednesday had to hold back a scoff at that. What part of her family, of all the pranks and experiments, was peaceful? They were chaotic, loud, they had a disembodied hand as family, for heaven’s sake. Nothing about the Addamses was peaceful, she didn’t comprehend how you could think such a thing.

“I think,” you continued slowly, your voice soft, “I think this is where I feel happy.” Wednesday’s eyes shot back up to look at you and the slightest shimmer in your eyes. “I don’t have any sad memories here.”

She would kill anyone if they found out, but she almost felt her black heart break. You were still talking, explaining. It didn’t matter because she was so focused on the movement of your lips, the tears welling in your eyes that were refusing to fall, the gentle, even rise and fall of your chest. Aside from the teary eyes, you looked at peace.

“Thinking about murder again?” You asked, drawing Wednesday back to the present where she finally noticed that you were looking at her. It was infuriating that you could get her so distracted.

“I was listening,” she said defensively, but you just gave her a soft smile.

“I know,” you said. “But you had that twinkle in your eye that usually means you’re thinking about some sort of crime you’re gonna commit.”

She narrowed her eyes at you and sighed. If you were going to notice her distraction, at least you hadn’t noticed the true reason behind it. Although, admittedly, she felt a swell of pride that you had noticed her enjoyment of crimes. Maybe you paid more attention than she thought.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, taking Wednesday aback.

“Why are you asking?” She asked in return. “You’ve kissed me before.”

“I’m trying to be polite, Addams,” you chuckled. “But fine, then I won’t-”

“-you can,” she interrupted a little too quickly.

The embarrassment eased slightly when you didn’t hesitate to cup her cheek and pull her in for a kiss. It was soft, far softer than normal. There was no urgency but kept all the passion. Your fingers scratched lightly against her jaw and as humiliating as it was, she melted into your touch.

Her own arms wrapped around your neck and pulled you down until her back hit the couch cushions. Your hand moved from her cheek to the back of her head protectively, and her heart tried to jump up through her throat. Damn  you and your gentle hands for making her feel this weak. All she wanted to do was pull you closer until there was no space between you and-

“-hey!”

Wednesday’s eyes flew open at your exclamation, fear coursing through her veins. Were you hurt? Had she done something wrong? Her eyes trailed over every inch of you as you moved your free hand around, digging into the couch cushions until finally pulling out a dagger.

“And here I thought you were just excited to see me,” you teased. Wednesday rolled her eyes and slapped you lightly before taking the dagger from you.

“Are you done?” She asked, holding the dagger so it pointed at your side while you hovered above her.

“Are you threatening me with a knife?” You asked. “Cause I’m into that.”

“I will leave you here,” Wednesday threatened with another roll of her eyes. You were preposterous.

“No, wait,” you said quickly. You took the dagger from her and tossed it aside on the ground. “See? All better.”

Wednesday wanted to tease you, to leave you hanging and hopefully force you to reconsider your stupid jokes. But when you were looking down at her with those eyes, and that lazy half-smile, she couldn’t help herself. She just pulled you back down to feel your smile against her.

A sigh fell from her lips when your fingers gently scratched against her scalp. Such a soft gesture from rough fingers, you truly had her wrapped around your little finger. Her own hands moved to rest against your neck, feeling your racing pulse under her touch. Just that feeling alone, the proof of what she did to you, was more than enough to get your own pulse rushing in return.

You kept one hand planted beside her head as your other removed itself from her scalp, trailing down her neck so softly it left her shivering. It came to a stop on her hip, hesitant, before slipping just under the hem of her shirt. Oh. Oh that was different. That was nice.

She pulled you impossibly closer when your thumb started to rub circles on her bare hip. Your lips were rough but soft, which was quite the conundrum. But it was perfect for you because it was you. The perfect mix of rough and soft, gentle with a purpose. Rough fingers that trailed so softly over her skin, leaving an inferno in their wake.

Your hand tightened on Wednesday's waist when you moved your head to the crook of her neck. She could feel your lips brushing against her skin, right over her pulse, but you just stayed there. Every now and then she would feel you press a kiss to her skin, on her neck, under her ear, on her slightly exposed collar bone. Each kiss sending another light shiver down her spine that she desperately hoped you couldn't feel.

"Come home with me," you said in a thick, gravelly voice. "Come meet my family." You left another kiss on her neck.

If her heart could have physically skipped a beat, it would have at your words. She grabbed your face and pulled you back to look at her. Your pupils were blown and you were breathing heavily through parted, kiss-swollen lips. Her answer was leaning up to kiss you again.

Your smile told her you understood.

[pokegyns]

my hot take is that on radblur a lot of conversations about how hard separatism is are immedietly labeled as lesbophobic one way or another. usually bc they mention how selfidentified separatist lesbians will tell straight women how easy not dating men or being celibate is. I'm not saying lesbians oppress straight women, nobody ever says that in those conversations, but it's obviously full of shit, celibate lesbians, who aren't doing it for safety reasons, are either uninterested in romance or didn't find their dream girl YET. this is nothing like refusing to date when you have the desire purely out of principle. while there are other aspects of separatism not dating men is obviously the bulk and I'm not surprised when straight women are salty bc this is literally "Luigi wins by doing nothing" of feminism. you wouldn't have dated these men anyway...

and this is on anon bc saying "lesbians do this thing" is considered lesbophobic even if lesbians actually consistently do this thing 😁

not all lesbians etc etc but you get what I mean

i honestly agree. i'm personally a very romance-driven creature, and i know 1000% that if i wasn't a lesbian, if i had either been bisexual and fallen in love with a dude or been straight, i would never have stopped myself from feeling that love and still done feminist activism within that relationship by holding him to a very high standard and maintaining strong feminist friendships, monitoring things in a smart, emotionally intelligent way, and taking all the happiness i can out of life while also being a badass activist.

some of the hardest working female activists had happy marriages to men! and still made a huge impact, at times bigger than some separatists who scoffed at them and wasted their time just talking shit about women all day. separatists do awesome work, work that often is really valuable especially for young girls who feel like they have to dedicate their lives to dating. but if a woman gets a huge amount of happiness from dating, and is willing to be firm in her feminist convictions and handle it in the way that some non-unhinged so-called "femcels" do it, then i'm all for it and i'll be happy to hear her gossip about her bf anytime the same way i get happy hearing about my lesbian friends' gfs. seeing women happy makes me happy, i just want them to have a really good safety net and to know what they're getting into, and i love seeing male-dating women and transmascs exchange tips on how to date bio men as safely as possible and juggle dating a man and being a feminist. saying that separatism is inherently The Most Feminist thing you can do erases work that ONLY women who date men can do; they still hold something that men desire, and they get to make the rules. they also at times end up being the mothers of the next male generation, and that too can be a very powerful position to hold, as controversially as that is to say on doomerist radblr, if only because it can lead to some level of harm reduction on female kids & their female teachers etc. instead of letting only conservative women bear future kids and populate the earth - because we know they will regardless - raising kids in a feminist household can prove to be very valuable. you ofc can't prevent them from being radicalized down the line, but you can still have a meaningful impact.

it's really weird to try to explain to normie leftist-ish women irl who aren't deep on radblr that saying "you can date men and have kids and be an awesome feminist regardless" or "i personally want to see humanity continue, i don't believe in ending it, i want feminist mothers raising the next gen" or even "i believe transfems face unique struggles" can lead to you being mocked, shunned, and get hate anons outta nowhere (though nowhere near the shit i've gotten in tra circles lmao). it's a really wacky culture we have going on in here, and ngl it makes me cringe. it's just so... unproductive.

i 1000% want separatism to be an option. i think it's a great side of radfeminism. but i personally want to tackle issues between male and female people by actually interacting with the male population meaningfully and figure out the issue of gncphobia ppl - including male ppl - face so that the gender boxes can be destroyed... and even that recently got me in trouble, despite me being a lesbian and obvs not dating men. chronically online spaces in general foster really extremist views that aren't helpful at all to any social movement. we can gather more separatists for the movement and let male-partnered feminists do activism their own way. obviously i've received lesbophobia from the other side as well, but i'm honestly sorry for the way that lesbians and het-attracted women generally uninterested in dating treat women who enjoy and benefit from dating emotionally. having a romantic partner is a huge part of my life, and i can never see myself give up on it. it would then be insanely hypocritical of me to expect it of someone else just bc we happen to have a different sexuality. even if a febfem ended up falling for a man and going through with it, that wouldn't be a betrayal either! female happiness is my #1 priority. and no, that isn't me being a hetero bootlicker or male apologist or whatever the fuck separatists have called me before in radfem spaces. i'm just being realistic. is our main goal as feminists to abolish the hetero dating scene? bc if so, we're gonna have next generations full of conservatively raised kids, including male kids, who will then be more likely to be sexist.

thankfully normie feminists irl, who aren't deep in either extremist tra or extremist radfem spaces, would be in total disbelief if you told them about this stuff. and they would just go back to their activism. and i think we should do the same. don't listen to those voices, do what's right for YOU in your heart. just maintain your convictions, don't let male ppl trample all over you, ditch them the very second they say anything antifeminist or shitty, and chase your happiness. your personal life does not need to define your feminist activism. you are still 100% welcome here, in this nuancefem corner of radblr!

-mod pikachu

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

talking of family day/parent teacher conferences at NRC, think about how much people would want to pick a fight with riddle's mom and maybe even jamil's parents. crowley would hide it but riddle mom and jamil parents would go full karen mode if they found out about their sons overblotting too. they would be even more unbearable than usual omg

[Referencing this post!]

Heartslabyul forms a human barrier around Riddle 😇 Cater clones have to hold Adeuce back from doing or saying something to offend Mama Rosehearts (even though they so badly want to punch her and/or publicly tell her off). TREY HAS TO AWKWARDLY MEET HER GAZE ("Hello, ma'am. Nice to see you again?") ... I don't know if Mama Rosehearts remembers him or not, but if she does then she'll probably make a face or comment that Riddle is still hovering around bad influences from his youth.

It was so sad seeing the total change in Riddle's personality when he talks about confronting his mom during winter break 💦 He just turns into a shell of himself... (I'm not exactly a fan of Riddle shouting or enforcing his will on others, but such a drastic change in his character when his mom is around... 😭 That's truly an indication of the toxicity he grew up with and how much his mother's teachings were drilled into him.) We never really did see the aftermath of that winter break conversation (if they had it at all), so we have no idea how Mama Rosehearts reacted. I doubt she would have heard her son out; people tend to be set in their ways. If that's the case, would Riddle return to being that meek, obedient boy in the presence of his mom? Or would being at NRC with his dorm mates and his friends give him more courage to hold his ground against some of her demands?? 🤔

I feel bad for Jamil too because he's also in a situation where he has to act docile around his parents (or else be scolded and told to behave). Constantly repressing your real thoughts and feelings can take its toll on someone, especially for as long as Jamil has been doing it... I also distinctly get the impression that the Viper parents will fuss just as much about Kalim (or maybe even more) than their own son?? (Like asking how he's been, asking if there's anything they can do for Kalim, has Jamil been serving him well, etc.)

My hope would be that Kalim, now knowing what Jamil's been bottling up, holds his tongue about the winter break OB incident, but would still be able to speak up on behalf of Jamil. As mentioned in episode 4, there's no way Kalim can make a system which has existed for several generations disappear by just saying, "Jamil doesn't like it, so can you give him his freedom now?" However, I do think Kalim's sociability (and his status, of course) can help smooth over any tension between Jamil and his family. Maybe he'd say something like, "Jamil's been doing a great job looking after me! You don't need to worry about him. He's doing everything he can, so... I'm gonna give it my all too!" And only Kalim and Jamil would know what he's really talking about: that Jamil has said he's going to work hard and be his own person, and that Kalim wants to work just as hard to be his rival and meet him on an equal playing field.

I see Mama Rosehearts going Karen mode more than the Viper parents (though I do think the Viper parents would worry about Kalim's safety and get upset with their son for his involvement in attempting to harm him, whatever his reasons were for it). There is the classic Karen entitlement to how Mama Rosehearts behaves, but the Vipers seem to be more... humble? Or at least not as self-centered... though I guess the trade-off there is that other people (Jamil) bear the emotional burden on their behalf. They're both "evils", I guess--just in their own ways.

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

Please ignore this one if you mention this detail anywhere in your story. How does Riot handle beauty procedures after the incident in Transistria? Is she ok with a hairdresser going behind her back and touching her head from behind? Did anything change in her beauty routine?

Short answer: Badly :D

Long answer:

She was never a girly girl exactly, but she visited the hairdresser ocasionally, got her nails done when on leave, sometimes went to get a facial, got a massage or had waxing done. Little things that she slowly started doing for herself, to feel pampered, usually after being nagged by Soap, Mini, or their mother. Even Laswell from time to time surprised her with a spa voucher, or plainly ordered to 'go to X' and X was something cosmetical for her.

So by the time when she was more comfortable doing those things for herself, dressing up, wearing makeup, buying cute clothes, Transnistria. And as Soap would put it, all the steps she took forward, now she stumbled down the stairs.

There are better days than others, of course, but she can't have anyone approaching her from behind if she's not expecting it or is warned about it. The most likely reaction would be being decked in the face or worse, or she'll just plainly freeze and have a panic attack.

She can deal with being in a lift/elevator, but if she can use the stairs she prefers that. Anything to not be trapped in a room too small.

She can't deal with male presenting people in a medical setting. In Moldova Laswell had to threaten bodily harm to make male medics leave the room because she was freaking out so hard that she thought she'd pass out. Laswell had to swear she'd be inside the surgery room with a gun, and that she'd use it if any of them tried to touch her wrongly. (And she did)

So, about what you actually asked (I always babble off topic)

At first it was an absolutely nope. No one touching her. Cutting her own hair and all. The first time she consented into being touched was when she got the tattoo in Taipei when Laswell had her in hiding. And because it was a female tattoo artist.

Slowly, choosing carefully the interactions, she is more open to have things done. But, with subterfuge.

She'd wait for any of the Lastochkas to mention going to the hairdresser to tag along. Reasoning that if they're in the same room and they see something weird going on, they'd say something. But in reality, is just the need to being with someone.

Laswell tried to gift her a massage voucher again, she counter attacked by buying another and booking the same time for both, so they'd go together.

Soap tried to book her a facial, she dragged him too to have another. He loved it but had to suffer the teasing of the rest of the guys for looking so fresh.

[butchdykekondraki]

Genuine question irt personality disorders vs things like ADHD, autism, DID, and schizophrenia(might be long so sorry). Anyone with a personality can be categorized into having a "personality disorder" yes, even if those traits are seen as "positive" and "unintrusive" to others. It's just a way to categorize someone's personality type so it's easier to break down and understand the patterns in ones behaviors. I'm AuDHD, and knowing this has helped me tremendously in being able identify my triggers or whatever and cope with them. But no amount of therapy will get rid of my sensory issues. I can just learn to cope better with them. People with like, NPD, CAN go to therapy and deconstruct their behaviors and work on growing from the ones they have that are harmful to themselves and others and that can essentially (for lack of a better word) "cured" with therapy. Things like narcissism aren't genetic. There are some studies showing a difference in grey matter in the brains of people with narcissism but this hasn't been studied deep enough to know whether it actually relates to the narcissism, or something else (like sociopathy or schizophrenia). Also, when it comes to narcissism(speaking about npd bc I have the most personal experience with this pd) usually, the neurotypical peak status quo, the epicenter of success, if a title given to a lot of narcissists. They're more likely to be successful in relationships, and careers, and socializing. It's the harmful behaviors that are criticized, but that is also seen as status quo. My audhd is biological. No amounts of therapy can change that biology, it can only make me better at coping with the symptoms. So I guess, my question is, if therapy can untangle and heal the personality disorder, and if the personality disorder is often gives the impression of a successful person, then how is it neurodivergent? I am one who sticks to my guns when I say "narcissistic abuse" because my mother is a narcissist. Only in the past few years has she been going to therapy, but even in that short amount of time, the things she did that were abusive to others and beneficial for her, she can now identify and deconstruct. She's not heartless because she is a narcissist. It's just a personality trait that's always benefited her. Her being taught and understanding her actions and thoughts and where they come from, has improved her relationship with herself and others tremendously and half the time, it seems like she doesn't even have npd anymore. I see a lot of these posts, and for me, it seems like it's coming from a narcissist, who's personality is very beneficial for them(aside from when they're called out for being abusive), and that they discourage nuanced conversations around this topic, as well as diverts the need to take personal responsibility for ones actions(which is an NPD trait). I understand now everyone has access to the right treatment, and I'm not here to say ppl with personality disorders are evil(there are many personality disorders that signify someone is too kind&compassionate as well) but it just seems there's more of a focus on trying to hide the difference between biological neurodivergence, and society/environment influenced personality patterns. I think doing this makes it so people can't actually find the resources they need and don't actually critique their actions and behaviors and just say "it's nothing I can change/improve" which isn't true. I can't change a lot of my biological symptoms, but I can improve my personality and perception and cope better in order to not hurt others or myself. I don't rlly know how to end this but the intent is good faith discussion. I would like to hear your input.

this got long whoops. mentions of "narc abuse" under cut 👍

short answer tho; npd is a complicated disorder and most research on it is HEAVILY biased by demonizations + "narc abuse" isnt a thing its just abuse + npd effects someones entire life therefore its neurodivergent + npd is literally a divergence in ur brain thats literally neurodivergent by definition lol

i'm personally medicated and in therapy for my npd and i can promise you whole-heartedly it's not a beneficial disorder.

i've had npd my entire life and it has never, EVER, benefited me. my npd has made me lose jobs, friends, and a large part of my social life because i believed myself to be better than them and then cut them out of my life.

i think a lot of people forget npd is primarily a trauma-induced personality disorder, one that comes from the fear of someone leaving you and/or the fear of having someone think they're better than you.

my npd is a both a side effect of other traumas i've experienced and a biological issue. it's not something that can ever fully leave me, and it's not something that i want, nor have benefited from having. npd is literally not something you can change, i know this for a fact because of my years of switching medications and therapists and psychologists.

npd has been heavily demonized in media, especially by people who have been abused and automatically claim it was "narcissistic abuse" when in reality all abuse is just that. abuse. there is no such thing as "narcissistic abuse" because it doesn't fucking exist.

yes, narcissism can lead to abuse. no, narcissistic abuse doesn't exist. it's just abuse. plain and simple. you don't call abuse by neurotypicals "neurotypical abuse", because it's a meaningless term that doesn't mean anything.

npd, in and of itself, is not a disorder that people primarily benefit from. the stories about people benefiting from it are from a very small group of people who do not speak for the majority of us.

npd is something that has affected my entire livelihood, and it will do that until the day i die. i have been labeled an abuser multiple times in my life for simply having it, because in the minds of most people the only thing "narcs" want is to hurt you to gain something. they can never pinpoint what "narcs" want though, because they're all getting angry at someone who doesn't exist. this kind of argument of "not all people with personality disorders are evil" paired with the agreeing of "narc abuse" existing is two things that cannot be true at the same time. "narc abuse" implies that all "narcs" are evil in and of themselves.

npd is neurodivergent because it is something that will forever effect someones life. npd effects everything from your perspective of people, to your perspective of self, to how you see the world around you. it's not an easy thing to live with. npd makes you think everyone is either out to get you, or less than you and therefore not worth your time. it takes a really long time for most pwnpd to warm up to people, and it did for me. it's hard to form friendships when your first reaction to someone is either that they hate you or that they're worse than you.

i dont know how to end this . anyway. narc abuse isnt fucking real its a demonizing term dont use it okay? okay. goodbye

[therantsofawriterrr]

91221

Chapter Two: I Did Something, Jagiya

Summary: Kang Hyunyul has had a good life since he left the Jindo gang. But when he finds out that Do Jin is going to be temporarily released, he's stressed and the return of an old flame triggers familiar feelings and with them, the old memories of the only real thing of his complicated past.

All while she was saving him, literally putting her life on the line.

Chapter Summary: Sujin is intrigued by the deal offer and makes up her mind.

Warnings: Mentions of drug dealing and gang stuff (irdk how cop stuff works ok), not proofread, lemme know if there's something else to be added.

A/N: There's not much Hyunyul in this sorry. Plus sorry for the late update, school has quite literally been kicking my ass.

Sujin and Officer Yojun entered the bustling cafe. It was usually crowded at the time in the evening, so it would be easier to talk without worrying about eavesdroppers.

The cafe was a quaint little place which was famous in her neighborhood. As they both walked in and sat on a corner booth, there were waiters and waitresses walking briskly up and down the place, taking orders and serving the customers. A few lights were on as the sun had not set completely, coloring the sky outside in pretty hues of pink.

"What would you like to have?" One of the waitresses asked, a little notepad in one hand and a pen in another.

"Just a black coffee, thank you," he said with a warm smile. The waitress jotted down his order and then turned to Sujin.

"Did you have lunch?" She asked, pointing the pen at her with a worried glare. Sujin nodded, hoping she wouldn't ask what she'd had, because she'd only be whacked over the head.

"Did you actually have something? Or did you just eat an apple and called it lunch?"

She winced and as she'd expected, she got a harsh tap at the back of her head, which made her topple forward in her seat a bit, her hands clasping the side of the table.

"I'll get a coffee and three cheese sandwiches. If you don't eat all three of them, I'll stuff it down your throat," she said, looking more like a mother when she was only twenty three years old.

Officer Yojun however, had a grin on his face as he witnessed the exchange. "Your neighborhood must really care about you, huh?" He asked when the waitress had walked away, grumbling about her friend not eating properly.

Sujin nodded with a smile and said, "They're all my mother and I have had for a long time."

Yojun nodded in understanding too. "I get it. Even in my neighborhood, they used to be very particular about me and my family. It's good to have that."

Sujin sighed and wringed her wrists on the table. "So, you said you have a deal for me?"

Yojun nodded again and said, "I think Do Jin is going to start dealing drugs soon. We need to catch him before he starts. We don't need another drug dealer in these streets."

Sujin's eyebrows furrowed as she fiddled with her hair in thought. "So you're saying that I become your informant," She said, more of a statement than a question. He sighed and she could see his shoulders tense as he leaned back into the brown seat.

“I can go a different way about this, so think about it very well. Do what you think is best for you,” he said, his expression and tone very serious. She got a good look at him for the first time. He was a guy with dark brown hair and light brown eyes, eyes that looked like they always held good natured mischief in them to hide something sad.

She drummed her fingers on the table, her leg jiggling. "What would I get?" she asked.

He grinned and placed a bundle of money on the table. Sujin back straightened up immediately, her eyes widening.

"You can't be serious, right?" she asked. "I am completely serious," he said.

She immediately made up her mind. There wasn't any big harm that was going to be caused by it. She'd only be helping the police with catching some criminals.

My salary added to the money from this deal would surely help with Mom's treatment.

She swallowed and said, "Okay. I'll do it."

Yojun's face lit up and his grin widened as he pocketed the money.

"Well, then. Keep in touch. Tell me when you rejoin the gang and we'll meet up here every Sunday in the evenings. Deal?"

Sujin smiled and said, "Deal."

*

*

*

A week after the meeting, or mainly, a week of planning, Sujin walked down familiar paths to Do Jin’s house. It seemed ominous, a few street lights lit up, while some were busted and most were blinking, giving a horror-movie-like feeling.

It made her feel queasy and her stomach was in knots. The evening sky, as always, was pretty in its red and yellow hues. She always thought that the sky was a canvas and some choice colors were just splashed onto it.

She wished she could paint like that, or at least like some of her friends, but she couldn’t draw for her life. But her friends always thought she wrote better. Worlds totally different from the one she lived in, but the emotions were the same.

Hyunyul had left because he'd found his passion. The bass guitar. Most people in the gang thought Sujin left because of Hyunyul. And while that was partly a reason, the primary reason was because of her stories. Her characters, her own fictional world.

She reached Do Jin's hiding place and knocked on the door. There were muffled footsteps on the other side, before the door opened.

He smirked and shifted to let her in. She knew he would. She entered the house, which looked like it’d been robbed, things strewn here and there. The ashtray was filled with cigarette butts and a crumpled can of beer lay on the table. The radio was playing softly in the background. He was only wearing a pair of shorts and a black tank top.

“What brings you here?” he asked. Sujin opened her mouth to reply, but found herself unable to start. She kept silent, forming sentences in her head.

“You don’t need to think so much, you know. I’ll take you back. I could use the extra brains, anyway.”

Sujin’s head snapped up. “I’ll come back in one condition,” she blurted out.

Do Jin scoffed and sat on the table in front of her. Cold eyes bored into hers. “And why should I listen to this condition of yours?” he asked, leaning forward a bit. “ You’re the one who left. I could just break your ankles.”

She smirked and leaned closer till their noses were almost touching. She'd worn her prettiest greenish blue floral sundress for a reason. “I know you like me, Do Jin. You could get something out of it.”

His eyes flit between her lips and eyes, grinning and leaning back, supporting his upper body and placing his palms on the table. “Go on, then.”

“I want you to leave Hyunyul alone. "

Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated💙

[tewwor]

NEWEST MUSE LIST 07-25

*** doubles as an interest check so like this and i'll cook up a starter! highly suggest specifying muse(s) for this one! i will be focusing on them more between drafts!

THE FRINGE — SAUL'S LIMINAL WORLD .

the knowing

the second host to be shunted into the fringe as a last ditch effort for safety. ended up becoming the keeper of knowledge; to the point where it’s debilitating. happened upon the abyss and was given the cruel gift of knowing by concentration, and by touch as of late. burdened by the mind splitting headache of retention and hunger to learn more. pigeonholed as the devils advocate.

the peril

meant to embody the very gravity within the fringe. within the space, their influence is shown by lands turned upside down or sideways and the visceral sense of falling without stop. outside of it, their presence manifests in deep rumbling storms and pressure — sometimes to the point of vertigo. when encountered, the manner of which they impact another varies person to person. some will experience the falling, vertigo, threat of imminent thunder, or even allure to gravitate closer. confused as a double agent of good and evil.

THE MARKED .

shrike 'choi siwoo'

Civilian occupation: blacksmith . Marked position: weapons dealer. Ability: physical restoration. Part of The Marked ( lore here ). Cares more about his craft than anyone. Get enraged when his weapons are treated like shit ( even though he can restore it to perfection ). Leaves his hovel of a home once every blue moon, while also somehow hosting the most at home parties ( ?? he's not sure how that works either ). Incredibly good host but will beat you with your own shoes if you don't take them off at the entrance. Has a fairly popular online shop and big Youtube/Tiktok following regarding his blacksmithing.

HARBORVIEW .

barbara davies

crocodile sea creature . all grin, all bite. big lady, big energy. harborview's very own local radio host. would rather not get into how she's come to know oram / how she was changed. not sure if she's the town's Mother or Fun Aunt just yet — most likely both. has #throwndown to protect at least a few other sea creatures / locals. will always do it again.

ha aera

waho employee near the outskirts, because of course there’s one. who else is going to witness the weird shit that happens? no, it’s not like the baga yaga’s hut — you can’t even prove it relocating anyways ( it 100% moves across town on giant chicken feet ). often has to deal with whatever bullshit happens out in the parking lot. does not enjoy this despite it making for good stories.

natori kato

seagull shapeshifter . steals everyone’s fries, sandwiches, any finger foods all the time ( mostly near / on the beach ). 10000% close friends to the other two bird shapshifters ( yunseo & chinmae ) except she doesn't bestow anything. just takes food and yaps away. clearly homeless, but she never mentions it — gets a little weird if it is brought to light ( usually sleeps as a seagull elsewhere on the shore ). only way she pays for food or lodging is by whatever washes up on the beach.

spencer aka suspenders

kelpie wangler / hippocampus protector????? yeah, the town’s infested with weird sea creatures, but the uptick in disappearances not from them caused lior to outsource someone to help with the herd of kelpies. none were harmed in the fruitless relocation ( they keep finding their way back ), so his residence became permanent and he set up sanctuary. if you see a stunning resemblance between him and holt ( holster under fantasy section ), he'll deny it till’ he's blue in the face.

ini shaw

sea witch that primarily sells knots and charms for sailors. most of the time they're filled with good luck. be nasty to her and you'll get a nasty surprise back amidst your stupid voyage. maybe a fanatic over oram, but who’s to say?

jinae 'jenny' cho

there's a new hot wife in town and she's married to the mayor ( that hasn't been eaten by the sea creatures finally )! does she know her high school sweetheart turned husband is a sea creature? no! so pretty and so scrappy. definitely has traits of a survivalist for reasons she'd rather leave in the dark.

[supernovaa-remnant]

back to my ad aeternum posting

under the cut because it got way longer than I was expecting 😭

also, not sure if there's anyone who hasn't read the fic who wants to, but it does contain a fair amount of substantial spoilers for the fic

cw: mentioned self-harm

there's a lot that could be said about wilbur and techno's relationship in this fic.. it's only ever really hinted at or mentioned in passing, but there's something almost a bit heartbreaking about how wilbur's own self-deprecating sense of self caused him to in many ways avoid any attempts of connection from techno

there's a lot of guilt from wilbur, too. and techno doesn't blame him, not really, not in a significant way. but I do think that techno realized long ago that he couldn't be the person to "fix" wilbur or help him through the turmoil of his own mind.

but, there's still a lot of guilt on wilbur's end

a lot of guilt

(and fear and self deprecation)

but, yeah, guilt for hurting techno upon their first meeting. this is barely mentioned at all, but there's a lot of guilt for something he did during his days at the academy (and this is the only thing he ever really verbally apologized for, and he did so extensively knowing that otherwise he'd be thrown out of starfleet) (he never verbally apologized for lashing out at techno during their first meeting, but, given the circumstances, techno never blamed him for leaving a few scratches)

and, the thing is, techno cares about wilbur. he really does. he realized a long time ago that wilbur was someone deeply broken and that he also couldn't do anything so long as wilbur refused to reach out for help.

they're still friends. colleagues, on wilbur's worst days, but usually friends. but there's a distance between them (wilbur comments many times on the distance between him and the rest of the crew. and, whilst he perceives the distance as being greater than anyone else perceives it, the distance is still very much real).

there's also a bit of misunderstandings.

first of all, going back to the first line, techno does oftentimes think about when he found wilbur in a pool of blood. it had scared techno. in some ways, I think it scared techno more than he's willing to admit. firstly because at that point wilbur was an officer of a lower rank on techno's ship. secondly because piglins live fairly longer than humans, so wilbur felt so much younger to techno. and, lastly, because despite every bit of distance between them, there's a certain level of fondness techno had for wilbur.

listen: techno met wilbur when wilbur was still a teen, and he had been alone on a death world (limbo) for so so long, and it was so painfully obvious. and techno never blamed wilbur for lashing out when two strangers came to take him away because, as bad as limbo was, it was familiar to wilbur. and wilbur's life at that point could easily be split into two parts: happier times when his mother was still alive, and being stuck on limbo in the wake of his mother's death. in many ways, wilbur felt as if the rest of the universe had died with his mother.

anyway, techno meets this kid (wilbur was technically an adult when they met, but 18 is still so young), and eventually he sees this kid get more comfortable in society again, and he helps sponsor wilbur's years in starfleet academy. and techno saw how earnestly wilbur wanted to be in starfleet; he wanted to make a name for himself beyond the shackles of the horrors his ancestor had committed, and that's something techno could respect. and even when wilbur went too far, his intentions were still so genuine, and he ultimately got pulled back (albeit by the consequences of his actions) and apologized. and wilbur is a really really good starfleet officer. so, yeah, there's a certain level of fondness that techno has for wilbur.

but he also knows that wilbur kept avoiding the counseling sessions that phil tried to set up (up to the point that phil stopped trying all together). and, though wilbur very much tries to project this persona full of charisma and pretty prose and confidence, there's still a deeply hurt person under the surface full of issues that haven't been addressed.

and techno knows this, and he knows that he's not the one who will be able to help wilbur out of this (not when all of his attempts were met with scathing words and then, later, almost worse, met with avoidance). and, yes, there is a part of techno that fears for wilbur. there's a part filled with concern, but at this point, even if he sometimes has nightmares about bathroom tiles stained with blood, there's nothing more he can really do for wilbur beyond their current level of friendship.

now, there's something to be said about wilbur's perceptions of techno, too. how wilbur thinks techno would be disappointed in him for the incident in the bathroom rather than concerned. how wilbur thinks he's not good enough to be included in the list of people techno cares about.

there is a fundamental misunderstanding in how wilbur perceives techno and phil's connection to him.

this statement is just plainly false. techno did not know wilbur's mother. (sure, he probably met her a few times because he is really close friends with phil, but he never really knew her on a significant level). and yet, despite it being false, it still exists in the back of wilbur's mind as truth. and, in many ways, this misunderstanding set up a certain level of failure in wilbur and techno's relationship.

anyway, there are a lot of reasons why, honestly, many people in wilbur's timeline could never be the ones to steer him onto a path of healing rather than repressing, but this especially holds true for techno (and phil). the foundations of the relationship and the perceptions wilbur holds of techno simply never would have allowed for that.

(phil is... phil is far more complicated, actually. phil's relationship with wilbur is far more complicated. and, it's odd in many ways because they're the captain and first officer, and that means their relationship should be better than it is. but, the issue is that wilbur's far too willing to hide behind false personas of himself, and phil is far too willing to accept them as truth.

but.. this post is already long enough, and if I dug into phil and wilbur's relationship, we'd be here for too long, I think).

there's also a lot to say about the reasons dream/marzenie was the one to help wilbur and steer him onto a path of healing and coming to terms with his life and past and his very own dna. that isn't to say that wilbur never would've gotten there without dream/marzenie, but, well, it was certainly made more easily.

(I could actually talk about dream and wilbur in this fic so much and how they were actually exactly what the other needed, but.. well, again, I don't have time. I also wrote 45k words with them soooo)

anyway, in happier news, I like to think that wilbur and techno got closer after the events of the fic because wilbur finally goes to therapy. (congrats! the characters in ad aeternum have access to something their canon dsmp counterparts didn't have access to: good therapy)

but, anyway, I'll end the post here 😭 I'll probably be back to write a post on phil & wilbur, and, honestly, I wanna write more about wilbur & dream at some point (despite writing a 45k word fic centered around them already) because there's just so much stuff that wasn't explicitly stated in the text!! (and tbh I don't know how well I put it all in the subtext.. well, there are always rooms for improvement).

listen.. I said I wasn't gonna write and publish any more fics set in this universe, and I do mean that because I genuinely think the fic works best as a standalone, and I don't wanna, like, ruin that by writing more fics set in the universe (and I certainly don't wanna have more writing even abt the universe directly attached to it by making another fic in a series on ao3, for example).

but this doesn't mean I'm not gonna make the occasional long meta post about the fic, okay? because there was a lot of thought put into the world building and the background relationships, and I wanna talk about it somewhere lol

(tbh I do on some level think that even making meta posts almost, like, takes away from the impact of the story, but also it's tumblr and all of these posts will most likely be under cuts so people can choose not to read) (also I do want to ultimately talk as little about events after the fic as possible because I really do want to keep it ambiguous and open.. like, there's hope for things to get better, but ultimately we'll never know for sure) (okay admittedly I have an idea of what the future looks like but shhhh that's not important)

[disabledfurry]

i've only seen it in the tags just once, but because it happens every time i mention strabismus jokes, i want to preemptively say:

this joke when it appears in media is not usually just "hey this person has a weird eye" it's "hey this person is disabled", specifically, 99% of the time, "this person is intellectually disabled and either has or potentially has brain damage". (alternatively, rarely, "this person is mentally ill", such as fiddleford mcgucket and his glass eye, and a handful of cartoon villains i saw growing up for some reason)

strabismus jokes are not harmful because they "wrongly associate strabismus with stupidity", they are harmful because they are making fun of disabled people, especially intellectually disabled people and people with brain damage, who often do have strabismus, because many congenital and neurological conditions cause strabismus, intellectual disability, developmental disability, and cognitive disability. so while they think our eyes "look funny", that is only part of it

the strabismus jokes i see are generally about exotropia or esotropia. i see them on tv in comedy skits, i see them in cartoons both new and old, i see them in just random peoples's fucking art, i see them in reaction images often, i see them in memes often, i see them in emojis in discord servers, i see them in new media like fionna and cake (candy queen) and dungeon meshi (most notably marcille's "if i'm not useful to anyone" scene, laios, and an orc are all portrayed with exotropia as a joke at least once.)

there is a tv tropes term for this: fish eyes. and another! comically cross-eyed. the second even mentions this:

"In Real Life strabismus is a serious condition and poking fun of it is likely to offend some people, as it's a relatively common disorder. Despite this it's still an Acceptable Target in most circles, and mockery of strabismus is surprisingly common even in modern media."

but why are we considered an acceptable target? is it so normalized to make fun of people with visible differences, especially facial differences, that you need someone on a condemned social media platform to tell you it's not ok?

how do you "not know" that people with strabismus exist? stop putting that on my post. how could you not read between the lines when you see characters take a blow to the head and suddenly become cross eyed, speaking and walking like they're drunk? when things fall out of their hands and they drool? i always remember patrick going "wall eyed" and drooling and spongebob snapping his fingers. how could you not see what was being made fun of? did you not have disabled kids in your schools? have you never seen people with strabismus outside, even though there's at least 13 million of us? i just can't wrap my head around it- how could you "not know"?

someone i know recently said that people with visible disabilities are so hyper-visible that we've become "invisibilized". inconsequential. i'm hidden in my house and a shadow at my mother's heels, a flea bitten bad dog who does not speak unless i'm spoken to, does not try to take or want more than i have been graciously offered, and does not challenge the way things are

i refer back to the ugly laws- that unless we were there for the purpose of entertainment (jokes, inspiration porn, "feel good" stories that dehumanize us and shower praise upon able bodied people for being so kind as to take care of us or to take us to prom or to dance with us or to fucking... take us to a strip club, because we are also desexualized, and degendered, rendered entirely fucking inhuman and only existing for able bodied consumption, even in our day to day irl interactions) or reminding people to be repulsed by us (horror, villains, "undesirable" characters like loser nerds or stalkers), we were not to be seen in public.

this is also a call to like, think about what you're seeing and what's being depicted and what's being implied by what you're seeing depicted. think about what's being implied by marcille with her wide apart eyes and her childish voice and limited vocabulary. who might sound like that? who might look like that?

what if we stopped giving characters strabismus as a funny joke. what if we stopped? what if we stopped. what if we stopped

why the fuck do i even need to say this. "it's googly eyes" no, real people look like that. and you know they do. i know you know they do

ID: a graphic titled "strabismus (misaligned eyes) by Cleveland Clinic. there are 4 types of strabismus, each represented by a drawing of a person with it.

Hypotropia: eye points downward.

Exotropia: eye points outward.

Hypertropia: eye points upward.

Esotropia: eye points inward.

end ID

[synonymouswithanonymous]

😊 Sidenotes

Random thoughts if anyone reads sorry as always for length. If I use "you" I'm referring to a specific "group" or type of haters.

Sidenote: I've been a fan of Johanne Milland since 2021 (venus). I've seen her posts these last 3 years, and she's never come off as anything other than sweet, kind, goofy, nerdy, funny to me. So I'm not seeing anything that would make me think she's "toxic."

I usually go for neutral opinions of celebs, I'm more into their characters than them as people. like I love, love, love Mr Darcy, but not into Colin Firth or Mathew M. Even though I do follow several celebs. 😊😊 BUT, I've always liked Johanne, she just always seemed sweet and funny to me. I'm glad they (AHA &JM) found each other. I'm glad they're happy. Maybe she's already his "twin flame." 😊😊 as someone mentioned recently.

In order to know someone's personality, you have to actually talk with them over a period of time. In person. NOT from social media. People are so much more complex than what's shown on social media. Think about everything you do and see and think in a week. Think about how you would feel if someone saw your social media and thought to themselves I know all about this whole person, and I'm going to diagnose them as a toxic psycho. Bc they saw their social media over a year. Nahhhhhhh you've got to be kidding with that silly tripe. People are so much more than that. So I'll rely on people that actually do know her....her boyfriend, his fam, co-workers, his/her friends (seems like tight group).

That to me is all I need to solidify my opinion. 😊 I trust that people who actually know her, know her better than the people who want to hate her. The people who are eager to hate on her for everything, Bc she's dating this actor. The people who want to dehumanize her (Really? Bitch, whore, leech, tick, worm, granny, toxic, psycho, manipulator, and a slew of nicknames later). And you want me to believe you're an objective Observer? 😂😂😂😂😂😂 you won't even quote the woman correctly. You call his Mother a "toxic pushy asskisser" bc she publicly likes her son's GF. You call all his friends who like her ass kissing leeches and more awful nicknames. Again you want me to believe you're legit looking at her objectively?

This is exactly what happened to Fanny, and every other woman he's ever been near. I mean people actually said Fanny was a bitch and they hated her. It's still on some of the main blogs, Oct 2021. They were "glad" she was getting hate bc they "hate her." She got so much heat for a cheek kiss at a premiere, AHA took the picture down. Now some want to pretend that never happened bc she's "safe" now and the focus of hate is now on his GF. There was a post/or preface to a post that said "before anyone freaks/flips out that's his sister." I mean people even wrote about how it's sad that he can't even be seen near a woman without the assumptions or that woman getting hate. I agree, that is sad. Don't even get me started on the nasty things they said about MK. Most of that's been deleted but it still happened. So many of his friends and family had to go private just to keep their photos off of fan pages (they supposedly got messages too). Bc some people want to talk about respecting his privacy, while trying to squeeze info out of every crevice they can find. That's not respecting his privacy. Then they say his own GF, doesn't respect his privacy (the lack of sense here is appalling, or is it bold hypocrisy?). I'm sure she knows what her OWN boyfriend is ok with sharing to the public. She knows their personal privacy rules they have, not yours.

Then there are the emotional blackmail and hoax people. From the girl who got him to talk to her bc they were threatening self harm If he didn't talk to her. To the fake secret marriage girl. Then there was the "4 year long artist/hawk" which turned out to be someone talking to themselves and trying to convince others that is was real. You gotta admit, celebs gotta deal with so much BS. I'm not convinced the latter isn't among one of the frequent anons (people have been sending me thoughts on this, could be wrong but it's interesting, I doubt they would just stop their obsession fullstop). Trying to "turn/convince" people against the woman he actually loves bc their fantasy life was bombed by reality. Bombed like Hiroshima. They're very concerned about controlling how other people view her, especially in the future. Personally I think they've already lost that bc so many view her as I do, or are neutral, and her followers are increasing. Good for her! And why does it make them so angry that he thinks she's beautiful? Or that loads of people think she's beautiful? And wonderful?

I think by now he's aware of these consistent behaviour patterns some fans use. He's even blocked some fan pages in the past bc of their overreaching nature. I wonder if that's why they took so long to go public? Bc they knew how some were going to react. no matter what. I wonder if he's used to that or if it's still mind-blowingly bizarre? A possible 7-8, 4-5 officially, months is awhile to not be fully out. But with "insufferable fans" like these I don't blame them. I hope he warned her. I'm sure he does think several fans are "crazy" and jealous. It's not like he'd be wrong to feel that way either.

I'm glad they don't pay attention to it very much.

I also wonder at why people haven't posted this infamous Vikings con logo on a bag picture? Is it bc you wouldn't see it unless you zoomed in? I can't remember seeing a logo, but I wasn't looking for one either. And I certainly wasn't listening to background voices in her videos to try to hear if AHA's voice was there.

Also I don't think that's toe fungus lol. She dances in her musical, she's on her feet a lot. It looks to me that she might have bruised toes/nails. Dancing can wreck your feet. Dancing can break your toes, the bridge, break nails, etc. It gets hot under lights, your feet swell in shoes too. The swelling rubs your toes on the shoes. The toes always get it bad, especially the big toes. 😊😊 personal opinion, been dancing since the age of 4, I sympathize fully with foot pain.

ahhh twas super long, lol. Oh well like I always say I don't expect anyone to read, these are my thoughts on these things. 😊😊😊

[transwicky]

Ok I feel like the whole metaphysical knowledge would fuck a person up, so here's my thoughts on John Johnson post Samwell (with some Johnson/Tango bc fuck it IT'S CUTE)

TW: mentions of self harm but not explicitly what kind is said, just mentions scars. Mention of a stint in a mental hospital, and faking mental wellness to get out of it.

After Samwell, John doesn't mention the whole. Comic content side character thing. He'd tried once, with his mother.

It didn't end well, and the hospital made things kind of worse. His arms bear the proof

He was able to lie about things after a while, and he was there for less than a month in all honesty, so really, it was fine.

He was fine.

He moved out, got his own place, worked a few odd jobs, before getting a job at the local community college to teach the basics of philosophy. It was great, and he didn't even always have to speak for more than five minutes at a time in class.

He gets texts and emails from Ollie and Wicky, objectively the 2 frogs he'd been close to in his senior year, and they start hiking together at least twice a year, if not more (usually more honestly).

They see the scars on his arms, and ask how he is. He smiles and says he's good, he's got a nice job at the local college. Ollie and Wicky are doing some finance job that John doesn't understand the mechanics of.

Then, a few years after graduating from Samwell, he meets Tony, another Wellie, one of Ollie and Wicky's Taddies, and he's instantly attracted to the younger man, because he's cute and earnest, and Johnson learns the other is really smart, despite asking questions.

He asks John about the scars.

John doesn't know why, but he tells Tony the truth, that after graduating, he did a stint in the local mental hospital, and they didn't peg him for it, so he hurt himself.

Tony asks why he felt the need to hurt himself, why he was there to begin with.

John is quiet.

He doesn't want to go back

But Tony is genuine, promising he won't hurt him.

So John tells him.

Tony doesn't call him weird, or insane. Instead he rambles about how there's a vast number of religions, and religion is just a system of belief, so who is he to knock on what was essentially John's religion, because who knows, maybe John's right? Maybe the Catholics are right, or the Jews, or atheists, or Mormons.

As Tony rambles, John's eyes water, and he wonders what he'd done to deserve someone in his life so easily accepting and not weirded out by what John said about their lives.

He asks Tony out a week later.

They move in together 2 months later, even though Tony still has a year left at Samwell.

They're together for almost a year, when at Tony's graduation - which John goes to, thrilled for his boyfriend - Tony asks John to marry him.

John cries, and says yes, as he pulls out the ring he'd bought a week ago, to propose to Tony when they'd gotten home to their tiny apartment, after the graduation dinner the WTF parents insisted they have.

Tony grins, and says yes too, and John laughs.

For the first time, he doesn't feel the weight of an author dictating his life, because he was pretty damn sure Ngozi didn't have a plan for him to marry another side character, and especially not Tony.

They adopt a puppy that summer, as an emotional support puppy for the two of them, and as a service dog, when John is formally diagnosed with Depression and Anxiety.