#they're all on their baby steps to development at that point

[batedible]

glad my feed is talking about the repugnant argument again i think we as a society brushed past that way too fast

[goldsbitch]

Blink Once

Lando thought taking care of his twin daughters would be the hard part. Turns out, he can manage. Now, figuring out which one is which - that's a whole different story.

2k word count warning: none - domestic, fluff, fun stand alone part of Norris Family Polaroids

The room is in a state one could describe as a battlefield. Tiny clothes, diapers, creams, powders and God knows what scattered everywhere. There is also an intense stare down happening between the two pairs of blue eyes and one set of greenish. The latter belong to Lando, the former to his dearest offspring. The most adorable duo of little girls that he had ever seen. Every since they were born, he's been getting random streaks of immense pride throughout the day. That is until now, when he is staring at the two little grinning demons, holding a green sock in one hand a purple one in the other. Normally, he'd be overjoyed that he had managed to keep the two happy and not crying for so long. Y/N has gone out to much needed and postponed catch up with another adult, that's not Lando or anyone they're related to. It was his first time alone with the kids. He needed to prove it to her, and himself, that he can do it.

One of their daughters was expected, the other one was a happy surprise. To say taking care of two, instead of one, was a challenge for the new parents would be an understatement. Sleep deprived Lando was begging silently for his daughters to give him at least a clue to solving his latest fuck up. Identical twins. Y/N was so terrified of mixing them up, that the color designated socks and clothes were established right from the beginning. Olivia has green, Maya purple. Right?

He sighs dramatically, standing in the middle of the nursery and trying to recall which one had which pairs of socks on.

"Oh, how great of you that you can sit on your own now," he proclaims to the two, who keep beaming back at him, blabbering and apparently finding this very amusing. "If you could just magically learn how to talk now and tell me which one is which, that would be a-mazing!"

Nothing. Obviously. They have a long way to go to be able to do that. He tries to retrace his steps one more time. He put one on the changing dresser, that must have been the one with the green socks and went on to grab the other one to put her -on the left? Or was it right? He curses himself in creative swear words for taking the socks off so mindlessly.

It might be humiliating, but Lando is self-aware enough to have somewhat expected something like this to happen. He checks the shared note he and Y/N have. Ok - so it's right, Olivia is green and Maya purple. Great. Now which one is which?

He decides to sit them down in the living room - most likely mixing them once again, but what difference does that make now, he thinks.

He holds the two socks in front of their faces. This works with dogs, it must work with children too. He tries to brush over the fact he just compared his heirs to an animal.

"So, which one do you like better? Hm? You must have developed some sort of notion of which colour is yours at this point, right?" he speaks is sarcastic baby voice as the girls keep on laughing. Lando frowns. "This is not some sort of game, ladies. For all I know this might be the grounds for a divorce and your villain origin story." Nothing. No reaction to the socks, they just keep looking at him. Adorably.

He starts to properly panic now. Calls himself a shit parent, immature dad and just plain stupid idiot. Y/N is gonna kill him. He has to fix it somehow.

He tries different approach. "Olivia? Olivia, is it you? Blink twice if you’re Olivia. I’ll settle for a burp!" he speaks to the one on the left. It's like this child has stopped needing to blink completely. "So you're Maya?" he asks and figures the response of her hand reaching up must be enough to confirm her identity. He turns to the daughter on the right. "So, you're Olivia? Does that sound familiar?"

He is going to explain this to them one day, it's going to be a very funny story of how their father fucked up their whole life. Mixed them up so much that they end up becoming drug addicts. Oh, God. He is truly spiraling. Were they born with a destiny he’s now sabotaging by switching them? Or not switching them?

"Okay, Team Chaos. Maya, blink once. Or just scream, because that’s your go-to answer for everything anyway." He watches them intently and finally sees a blink! And immediately another one from the other child. He groans and puts his head in his hands. After a moment spent in a pit of despair, he comes back to reality with new found determination. He is a father, their father. His instincts must work. He picks one up and in the air and examines her intently. Turning her left, right and upside down. And then the second one. He's got nothing. These kids are point to point exact copies of each other.

As a typical young parent, he turns to internet for help. And as per usual, he finds zero reliable advice to go with. No - there is no secret birthmark on one of them. No, they both have identical eye color. No, there is no difference in their teeth. In amidst of all of this, he panic buys a fingerprint kit and full on plans on preventing this from happening in the future.

He comes back to stare at his kids, who are uncharacteriscally quiet, calm and content. As if they know that for the first time in weeks, he does not need their help to achieve chaos in his mind.

He calls the one person who is smart, won't probably laugh too much in his face, won't tell Y/N on him and might understand his parent panic.

Max Verstappen picks up after third dial.

"Lando!" he greets him cheerfully. At least someone is having a good time. "What's up? How's the new parent life looking out for you?"

Lando gets to the point straight. He is after all running out of time. "I've mixed up the twins. Don't laugh. I don't know what to do."

"What do you mean, you’ve ‘mixed up’ the twins?" the Dutchman asks.

Lando rolls his eyes, how does one not understand the simple premise. "I mean, I was changing their diapers, I took their socks off, and now I don’t know which one is Olivia and which one is Maya. I’ve stared at them for an hour, and they’re just...Point to point the same."

Max bursts out laughing on the other end of the line, a loud, unfiltered laugh that makes Lando cringe. He waits for the inevitable to end and lets him speaks first.

"So I assume you're alone with them? Is Y/N out of the house?" Why is that important, Lando does not understand.

"Yes. I’m serious, Max! They’re identical. Identical! It’s like trying to tell apart two...marshmallows. Two tiny, giggling, adorable and judgmental marshmallows who know I’m losing it and find it hilarious."

It seems that Max is finally somewhat on board with the seriousness of it all. "Right. So what’s the plan? Are you just gonna call them ‘Baby One’ and ‘Baby Two’ until Y/N gets home?"

Lando pinches the top of his nose in frustration. "Max, I need to solve this. If I don’t figure this out, Y/N will kill me. She was already paranoid about this happening, and now I’ve gone and done it. I mean, what if I ruin their entire lives, Max? What if they grow up thinking they’re each other-"

Max is solution oriented. So he jumps into interrupting the young father, because he might have just got on forever.

"Okay, okay, calm down. Let’s think this through. Did you check for a birthmark? Sometimes one of them will have a birthmark or something small that’s different."

Lando groans loudly. "No birthmark, no physical difference, Max, my kids look identical and I can't recognize them apart at all!"

"Hm," he stops to think, Lando stops to think and hopefully the whole world stops for a moment so he can fix his cardinal mistake. "What about… I don’t know, their personalities? Isn’t one supposed to be louder than the other?"

Lando appreciates the idea, first good one. Sadly, not a helpful one. He keeps staring at menace his children are. "They’re both loud. And they both cry at the exact same time, like they’ve rehearsed it. I think they’re doing this on purpose to mess with me."

"At least you can be sure you're the father," Max rhetors and laughs again.

"Not funny," Lando gritts his teeth.

"Well, I’d mess with you too if you were my dad."

"MAX."

"Okay, fine, fine. Why don’t you just pick one, call her Olivia, and call the other one Maya, and just stick with it? What’s the worst that could happen?" he tries to calm Lando, but it backfires masivelly.

Lando is now pissed at Max as well. The guy has kids far apart in age to obviously not understand the gravity of the situation. And he's more that willing to make him understand. "The worst? The worst! I’ll tell you the worst. What if they figure it out when they’re older and I’ve been calling Olivia ‘Maya’ for years? What if Maya’s like, ‘Wow, Dad, you didn’t even know who I was?’ And Olivia’s like, ‘I always knew I was the favorite.’ And then they hate me forever and end up in therapy, and the therapist is like, ‘Your father was a moron who couldn’t even tell you apart."

"That… sounds like a lot of "future you" problems."

Lando start to pray silently to all the gods he's aware of. "Future seems pretty damn close, given Y/N probably comes home any minute now."

And that's when he hears the door open. Fuck.

"Just wait when they're teenagers and start switching on purpose," is the last he hears from Max before hanging up indefinitely. Lando freezes, the phone slipping from his hand and landing on the carpet with a soft thud. His eyes dart between the door and the two grinning culprits, who have now decided to crawl toward each other and share in their apparent victory. He whispers under his breath, “Traitors. Both of you.”

He gets up automatically, the plan now being wooving Y/N, the mother of his devil children, out by his adorableness. It worked when he was trying to get to agree to go on a first date with him, it has to work now. He wonders into the kitchen, where he sees her putting some box of pastries onto the counter.

"Hello, my love," he attacks and immediately steps all over to her personal space. Hand on her cheek, the other one on her hips and he locks them in a kiss. He's not fully certain it works, but it earns him a pleased smile. Baby steps - no pun intended. "So, what did you do?" He know already, coffee date with a bestie, bla bla bla, but he needs to buy himself some time. She tells him anyway and he is pleased to her happy, for the last time in their lives probably. Oh, what a nice journey this has been. He gets lost in the love-filled thoughts that he temporarily forgets about his predicament.

She kisses him gently one more time and flashes a look into the living room. "Look at them, so happy." Fuck, that was quick. It was foolish of him to rely on the fact Y/N might just forget about their kids. "How’s everything going? Did the girls behave?"

Behave. Right. The girls behaved perfectly. It was him who had descended into chaos.

"Yeah! All good on that front. We're a great team!" he responds, maybe too enthusiastically. He is certain this was the last time she's left him alone with the them, until they're able to identify themselves on their own. It was fun while it lasted. The pit of despair in his stomach is growing.

"It makes me so happy to see you all having fun," she says and it's the kind of relaxed smile he hasn't seen on her face for weeks now.

"Honey, do you wanna take a nap or some alone time in the bedroom?," he asks sincerely, casually tangling their hands together. "Looks like some time off suits you." This is not said as a part of his salvage plan. It is actually really nice to see her rested for once. She looks at him sheepishly.

"You're amazing, you know that?" she whispers, several positive emotions written all over her face.

"Keep focused on that," he says before he can stop himself. Fuck once again. He freezes. She winces, her spidey senses on. He glance is averted to the children now.

"Lando, did something happen?" she asks, suddenly worried.

This time Lando looks over at the girls, who are still preocuppied by themselves. "No, all good. Look at them, all content." And mixed up, he thinks, but does not add that.

Y/N does not look conviced and goes over to check up on them herself. He does not stop her. It was bound to happen anyway.

He's an adult. Knows well enough from his high demanding job that fessing up to a mistake is ultimately better than have someone find out. Deep breath in. Here goes everything.

"I don't know which one is which," he says and lets the reality of it sink in. Y/N looks at him with eyes wide out. He continues. "I was changing their diapers, took the socks of and then forgot which one is which. I'm sorry."

She stares at him, then at the girls and right back at him. To add some gravitas to it all, the kids are now playing with both socks. Lando is pretty sure the blood stopped flowing in his veins. He tries to calculate how long it's going to take him to pack his stuff up. Y/N kneels down to level with the girls and smiles at them. Lando's fighting the urge to take a photo, so that he can remember what having a family felt like. Then she picks up the child sitting on her left.

"Hi, Olivia," he mumbles and puts the sock on accordingly. Lando does not compherend. "Hello, Maya," she continues and repeats her action. Has his wife just decided which one is which and moved on? He could have done that minutes ago! He stays silent as he takes careful steps toward his family. Y/N stands up as well and looks at her disheweled husband.

"Olivia's got little tiny dimples," she says simply to provide some explanation.

"What?" is the only response Lando is capable of giving her. She waits with a sneaky smile as he comes over to them and examines the girls one more time. After a moment, he speaks again. "You're lying."

She laughs and dismisses that. "No, I'm not, look." Lando still can't see a damn difference, but decides on believing Y/N. "How do you-"

She shrugs her shoulders. "I guess it's mom instincts." Lando is stunned at how casual she is about this all. Just like that, she goes back to unloading her back to the kitchen. Lando's heartbeat slowly goes down to the normal a human is suppose to have and turn to watch Y/N. When he's sure that she in fact not being sarcastic, does not seem to be mad at him and confirms that he might just have survived this all and gets to keep access to his family, he walks over her to cherish her once again.

"I'm so sorry, I was really trying to avoid doing that," he apologizes, still not quite done being guilty. "I know you were afraid of this."

She turns to him with a smile. "It was bound to happen eventually. I was really worried about that when we came back from the hospital," she glances at the little girls lovingly. "I'm with them so much that I guess I started to see the tiny, miniscule differences. Don't feel bad not doing so," she walks over to him to be the one doing the comforting.

"If you want me to keep them straight, we’re gonna have to tattoo their names on their foreheads. I’m kidding. Kind of."

She chuckles. "Yeah, do that and you are dead."

He shakes his head. "Always dismissing my genius ideas."

"And always will be, honey," she leans over and kisses him. Just like that, the perfect moment is over. Sounds of crying creeping in from the living room. Y/N sighs into their kiss.

Lando looks at his two identical, mischievous daughters, he can’t help but smile. He may not have a clue what he’s doing, but one thing’s for sure. Life with these two is going to be anything but boring.

"Go lie down, honey. I got this," he notes and this time Y/N nods back at him.

[glitter-stained]

Thinking about how some modern comics writers (Tom Taylor) write the batfam and why it doesn't sit right (this post centers around the robins because of their training but some of that reflexion would definitely fit for Barbara and Cass as well.)

The thing with writing a team of people with similar training and strength is you can't take the easy route of "well this one is the smart one! And this one is the flexible one! And this one is the strong one!" .... which is obviously reductive to all of their characters. Obviously, they have interpersonal differences; Dick, being raised as an acrobat, is the most flexible, but that doesn't mean that every single one of these little fuckers doesn't like to bend, twist and somersault to dodge bullets like an annoying worm on a string being flung around in the sky. They're Robins. Obviously, Jason is the bulkiest, but that doesn't mean they don't all go through hardcore conditioning -Tim is only considered "frail" when you put him between Bruce and Jason, this guy would bench-press you any day, come on. (And DC editorial can lie to us about the girls' weights and heights and make them at the limit of ed-territory even though they're doing parkour and hardcore martial arts every day but I know the truth, Steph's strong as hell, homegirl's got bazooka-level guns). Obviously Damian was raised in the League and is proficient in a bunch of martial arts, but they all received training from a bunch of different experts, including, for all of them, the same guy (that they are all so normal and chill about.) Obviously, Tim is the one who used detective work to figure out everyone's identity but you're kidding yourself if you think he's the only intelligent/detective one amongst the robins. Being smart and a detective is a defining part of all of their characterization, and so is being a leader and a strategist. And then of course with that kind of simplified characterization we end up with Steph being "the girl robin" and Damian "the assassin one/stabby one" and Duke "the meta one" (yes this post counts Duke as a Robin. They trained him and also just cause I wanted to. I love him.)

And even if we make an effort and try to dissect it "this one is the detective smart one! And this one is the strategist! and this one is smart in a more techy-way! And this one is the leader! And this one- hey what kind of intelligence do we have left..." obviously doesn't work either. Duke was a exhilarating strategist in WaR already, Jason's strategic work in UTH and detective in Lost Days is thrilling, Damian is a fucking child surgeon (do I need to develop how intelligent that kid is), Dick was the first leader of the Titans and is always doing detective work like, that's an inherent part of his character, Duke was a cute-ass baby doing puzzles and planning to defeat the Riddler himself, Steph literally became Spoiler to stop Cluemaster (girl knows to solve riddles that would make Nygma shit his pants), they've almost all lead a team at some point, etc, etc. All of this is great and cool and a character being great doesn't take away from the skills of another character! Stark contrasts cannot possibly be the only interesting team dynamics, especially since they already have their own teams of contrasting skillset and personalities.

Imo, best robin team-up dynamics is them stepping on eachother's toes with their plans, getting into rapid-fire brainstorming sessions where they're all finishing eachother's sentences, reaching a conclusion and saying it out loud at the same time, one of them having a crazy ass plan and suggesting it to the other and the other saying "i like the way you think" to that person who thinks exactly like them, getting mad at eachother for being stubborn while also being a stubborn little shit, pulling complicated acrobatics together, and just thriving solving a good old complicated mystery with other people who are just as competent and enthusiastic about detective work as them but not a carbon copy, with extremely specific strength and weaknesses and quirks (like Dick's ability to recognise heroin by putting it in his mouth, Damian's uncanny voice imitation ability, etc.)

Of course, this doesn't even begin to touch the family drama, but honestly we get so much family drama angst with no real consequence rn, I'd really love just a robin team-up, relatively low-stakes (aka nothing taking over the city, the world, no past traumas unearthed to haunt them or parental abuse or secret cults etc etc.) Just a very elaborate murder mystery and a good excuse for all the robins to be there and a story that works with their similarities and their potential (both comedic and in terms of plot) rather than erasing it. It would be so much fun!

[mortalityplays]

I love the practice of requisitioning, remixing and reworking books, comics, movies etc. through any means you like, but I hate hate hate the way so much vocabulary that used to be rooted in individual creativity has been taken over by this kind of fucked up deference to mainstream publishing and ip.

easy example: everyone calls the characters they work up for their projects 'OCs' now. that genie is out of the bottle, I'm not even going to try and cram it back in. it's universal terminology. but I do want to reflect - why is the default position to assume that when someone says 'my characters' they mean something derivative, unless they specify 'my Original characters'?

similarly, all character relationships are 'ships'. but what's wrong with that? you say, it's just short for 'relationship'. and you would be right, by merit of completely ignoring the fandom ancestry and common understanding of that term in order to win an argument. because you know as well as I do that 'ships' aren't 'relationships', they're hypothetical romances that the speaker is rooting for. so why do I keep seeing people talk about shipping their OCs? why is a hypothetical relationship entertained and enjoyed by the creator of the work described using fan terminology?

I have for real no joke seen people talk about their 'headcanons' for their own characters, in their own stories. that's not a headcanon babe, that's canon!!! that's YOUR WORK. moreover, why are we even talking about the canonicity of your personal original writing? this isn't the star wars extended universe, why are international franchise IPs setting the baseline for the relationship you have with your writing and the terminology you use to conceptualise it?

tbc this is not a 'fandom brainrot' post. because I don't think it's fanwork that's the root of the problem. I think it's the insidious creep of capitalism and the ever more draconian weaponisation of copyright law that has rewritten our capacity for talking about creative work so that it revolves at all times around ownership and precedent. there is a deep learned anxiety about describing fictional works as fictional properties, that echoes in our vocabulary as we constantly make clear what is owned and what is not, what has been established on the record and what exists in the realm of speculation.

the reason 'fandom brainrot' is such a compeling stand-in for this issue is that it's really just one step downstream from all that voracious rent-seeking behaviour by publishers. if the only things you ever read or watch are in the milieu of those franchise copyright lawyers, that is the understanding of fiction-as-property you develop. if you're not exposed to a broader spectrum of art and artists, living and dead, who talk about their work as work - as expression, as experimentation, as a personal process and as a shared space with their audience - you will quickly be alienated from your own creative practice by design.

the point i want to make is this: going off the beaten track, exploring outside the franchises and bestsellers and box office babies, is not just a matter of good taste. imo it is a necessary act of solidarity with artists who still live, work and speak as individuals. it's a healthier environment for you as an artist. you deserve a relationship with your own work, not a ship.

[sugoi-and-spice]

Taking Care, Taking What's Mine - A "Play Nice" Commission

Summary: A Play Nice AU Chapter, in which, rather than taking the high road and trying to build a real relationship with the girl he's been sextorting for weeks, Tomura Shigaraki baby-traps her instead.

CW: Quirkless!AU, Dub-Con, Smut, Extortion, Baby-Trapping, Forced Pregnancy, Love-Bombing, Manipulation, Power Play, Possessive Shigaraki, Yandere Shigaraki, Morning Sickness, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

AO3 Link

A/N: Happy fucking Father's Day readers!! Lmao! I got this AMAZING commission a while ago to write an AU of my AU (a fanfic writer's dream come true honestly), of Shigaraki baby-trapping MC and well, while it took longer then I meant it to to come out, I'm so glad that I could post it on Father' Day of all days lmao.

Anyway though, this was so much fun to write. Shigaraki has been on the journey of bettering himself for so long in Play Nice now, it was a total blast returning to form and writing him nice and scummy again.

I'd love to do more of these honestly, so as a reminder: I give discounts on Commissions that take place in my AU's.

Play Nice, Burnt Bridges, Step by Step -- all of them. They're super fun for me to write and most of the heavy-lifting of ideating and plotting has already been done for them, so I'm happy to write fics like this for cheaper. :)

Anyway, enjoy some forced parentification on this day of dads. xD

“Hey, hey— are you alright?”

She lifted her head from where she’d been resting it against her gym locker, the coolness of the metal being the first thing to even remotely ease the headache she’d been fighting for the last three days. 

“Yeah, of course,” she tried to force a weak smile as Nejire approached her, clearly concerned, “Why do you ask?

The captain was dressed in her practice suit. And she quickly realized that so were all the other girls, most of them already making their way out the doors to the pool deck. She was the lone straggler who hadn’t even managed to undo her uniform tie yet. Nejire looked over at these girls, and then back to her, wordlessly demonstrating why that should be obvious.

She laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of her head, “Okay, I guess I’m feeling a bit under the weather today…”

And that was the understatement of the century. She felt like absolute shit . Piling on top of that stubborn pounding in her head were a pair of really sore tits, a lethargy that stuck with her no matter how much vending machine coffee she chugged, and cramps that had shot straight out of hell and directly into her uterus.

But to be honest, she couldn’t complain too much about these ailments. In fact, she was pretty damn relieved. These were all her tell-tale signs of PMS. They were a little worse than usual this time around sure, but if that was the tradeoff for the relief of not being pregnant, she’d take it in a heartbeat. Her period was only one day late at this point and it had all but paralyzed her with fear.

Of course in retrospect, the fear did seem a bit silly. After all, Shigaraki’s creepy family doctor had warned her there might be some changes.

“I never start patients new to birth control immediately on a Long Acting Reversible Contraception,” he explained, “Especially not teenagers.”

“Why not?” she demanded, “It’s reversible, right? It’s not like you’re tying my tubes or anything.”

“No, but you never know how your body is going to react to the hormonal shift. You could develop acne, weight gain, hair growth—”

“I don’t care about that superficial stuff.”

“... Migraines, blood clots, depression,” he continued, looking at her pointedly.

She looked away, feeling a bit stupid for interrupting him now that he’d listed the more serious side-effects.

“I’m not saying you have to stay on the pill forever. But give it a few months, see how you feel on it. It can help us better determine which long-term birth control is best for your body without any unnecessarily invasive procedures.”

She shuddered at the very thought of being stuck in this set-up with Shigaraki for months. She hoped he’d get bored of her sooner rather than later.

Well, on the brightside, at least this sketchy-ass doctor seemed to be as interested in looking under her skirt as she was having him down there. However, this still left the ever so pertinent issue of:

“Okay, but there’s still the issue of getting the pills. No pharmacy is going to give me these without signed parental consent.” She had the always convenient Japanese purity culture to thank for that.

Ujiko simply smiled and pulled out a wheel of birth control pills from his medical bag right then and there.

“Consider these the same as this appointment,” he said, cupping his hands over hers and placing the wheel firmly into her palm, “ Off the record. ”

And then the rest of the “appointment” had descended into one of extremely thinly-veiled intimidation that bizarrely enough, she’d relied on Shigaraki of all people to save her from. By that point, she’d been scared so shitless she had very little argument left in her to try and reason him into just giving her the damn IUD.

The regret of not standing her ground on the issue did hit her later that night on the train home. Particularly when she thought over the fact that the way they were keeping these pills off the record was by having her pick up her refills through Shigaraki. The idea of giving him even more power over her like that made her feel sick to her stomach. And yes, while logically she knew that he had just as much motivation to keep her from getting pregnant as she did (she had a feeling All for One would not take too kindly to his star successor knocking up a lowly commoner such as herself), she still just had a bad feeling about the whole thing.

So she’d resolved herself on her first refill day to completely lay into Shigaraki for any level of tomfoolery he may get up to in this situation. There would be no forgetting, no being too busy to pick up the pills for her, absolutely nothing. She was ready to rain full fire and brimstone on him if there was even a hint of bullshit.

But to her surprise (and relief), she hadn’t even crossed the threshold of his bedroom before he was tossing a new pack to replace her wheel with. Simple and nonchalant, and then he was just as quick as always to badger her about getting her clothes off already, get on the bed already, break up with your boyfriend already.

It was the same old, same old — for better or for worse. Even if she couldn’t trust Tomura Shigaraki himself, that action had at least ensured that she could trust his own desire for self-preservation.

And that was better than nothing she supposed.

Back in the locker room, Nejire asked her, “Do you think you’re coming down with something?”

She smiled at her friend, joking, “Nothing I don’t come down with every month.”

Nejire tilted her head in confusion for a moment before the lightbulb visibly lit up in her head.

“Ohhhhh,” Nejire nodded sympathetically, “Yeah, Aunt Flow can be a real meanie sometimes, huh?”

She laughed, then winced as the action worsened the throbbing in her head,  “Damn it— you can say that again.”

Nejire’s brows furrowed and she brought a hand to the small of her friend’s back, “Hey, why don’t you take this afternoon off?”

She looked back to her, surprised, “Oh no, I couldn’t…”

“Sure you could!” Nejire chirped, “And honestly, you probably should. We’re working on our weakest strokes today. I had you down to work on your fly.”

Visible dread filled her as she thought about doing that much undulation in her current state.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Nejire laughed, “Seriously, go home. We’ll miss you, but we love you too. So we want you to take care of yourself.”

She debated a little more internally, one other loose thread dropping into her mind’s eye.

“If I do… Do you mind—”

“I’ll let Mirio know,” she shot her a wink as she clarified, “ After practice. I’ll let him know you just need the peace and quiet.”

She smiled at Nejire, genuinely grateful. This. This right here was what made all of the bending over backwards she did to fit in and please others worth it. To be cared about by such a good person. 

The warmth of that care stayed with her all the way out to the school gates, where she was then immediately filled with dread upon realizing that she’d need to go in one of two directions depending on where she was going after school: the train station home, or the walk to Shigaraki’s.

And just which direction she was scheduled to go today.

She let out a long groan, anguished and loud enough to startle a couple members of the going home club that passed her. For once though, she didn’t care about her reputation, she was too focussed on what a goddamn nightmare she was falling into.

She pulled out her cellphone with a sigh. Yes she knew the effort was probably futile, but damn her if she didn’t at least try.

Yup. She could’ve seen that coming from a mile away. She sighed as she shoved her phone back into her bag and started the very slow trek over to Shigaraki’s. 

“Wow, you weren’t kidding,” Shigaraki said as he looked her over his doorway, “You look like shit.”

She shot him a wholly unimpressed look as she shoved past him into his bedroom.

“Yeah, I fucking told you.” 

Shigaraki, surprisingly, didn't have anything to say about her tone, even with her brusqueness towards him being more than usual. He just watched her drop down face first onto his bed and curl her legs up into her chest.

She sighed at the slight relief the position gave her. While dealing with Shigaraki’s antics was about the last thing she wanted right now, she supposed that at least she could be grateful for how much closer his apartment was to her school then her own home was. It saved her a good fifty-minutes of white-knuckling a train stanchion to keep down her groans of pain. Now at least she could get the relief of laying down much sooner.

If only for a little bit.

“What’s going on?”

She bristled at Shigaraki’s voice, the unwelcome reminder that she wasn’t going to be able to truly relax right now. And while there didn’t seem to be any entendre or even impatience in his question, the fact that his voice was getting closer to her was enough to make her suspicious.

“My head aches, my back aches, my boobs ache — everything aches,” she grumbled down into his sheets, “And I feel like I’ve been donkey-kicked straight in the uterus.”

“You start your period or something?”

He didn’t sound sarcastic when he asked it, not that typical boy way of asking any time a girl did something they considered “moody”. It was a genuine question. But it irritated her all the same. 

Everything seemed to be irritating her these days.

“About to,” she answered, “It’s like a day late, but it’s definitely coming.”

She felt the bed shift a bit as he sat next to her.

“Are you nauseous at all?”

Her brows furrowed, a bit confused by the interest.

“I guess a little,” she answered, because even though it was mild, there was a certain turn in her stomach that wasn’t unlike motion sickness, “But honestly, I think it’s just from the pain. This has been going on for like three days.”

“Have you taken anything for it?”

She could’ve laughed if she wasn’t so annoyed by the reminder of all her futile attempts to alleviate this. Because of course he was looking for a quick fix so they could fuck already.

“I’ve taken everything for it,” she groaned, “Nothing’s working.”

He just hummed in response, and then she could feel the sheets behind her dip a bit as he repositioned himself. Into what orientation, she wasn’t sure. She was about to turn her head back and ask him what he was doing when she felt his hand featherlight across her hip.

And between her legs.

“No, Shigaraki please,” she whined, pulling he knees closer into her chest, “I’m not kidding, I’m seriously in a lot of pain—”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Tell that to your hand then,” she snapped as his fingers tried to wiggle their way between her clenched thighs.

“I mean I’m not doing anything for me. This is for you.”

“Oh is it now,” she deadpanned.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he insisted, more irritably this time, “Orgasms help with cramps, right?”

She stilled, sufficiently stumped by that particular statement. Because yes, she could say from experience that they absolutely did. She’d spent many a nasty period with her fingers latched to clit to chase that particular path of relief. 

…but why the hell did Shigaraki know that?

She gasped as she suddenly felt the gentle roll of her clit under three fingers. Apparently, in her moments of distracted deliberation, Shigaraki managed to push his hand past the plush lock of her thighs and under the hem of her panties.

“Sh-Shigaraki…” she whined, pushing her elbow blindly and weakly back towards him.

He caught it gently in his free palm and, rather than trying to pin or strain it in whatever which way he desired, like usual, he just held it there. Didn’t even hold it in place really, just shielded himself against its determined path towards his ribs.

“I’m serious,” he said, uncharacteristically soft, “I’m trying to help you.”

She finally mustered up the strength to — despite how much her aching abdomen hated her for it — turn and glower at Shigaraki.

“No funny business?” she pressed.

He settled his own flat expression on her, “When have I ever been funny?”

More times than she’d like to admit honestly, but she got what he was saying here. He was a pretty serious, straightforward person on principle. He didn’t bullshit, he didn’t pull cheap tricks, and, shockingly enough, he didn’t typically lie. Frustrating as it was, Tomura Shigaraki was pretty much always unapologetically himself and he always did what he wanted.

So if he said that he was doing this to help her, then she supposed that she didn't actually have a lot of reason to distrust him.

Plus, his fingers hadn’t stopped their soft, but affective ministrations between her legs, and the pleasant sparks of heated relief they were sending through her were undeniable.

She turned back onto her side with a sigh that was half-exasperation, half pleasure.

“Fine,” she said, throwing back quickly before he got too victorious, “But fuck around and I’ll kick you.”

Shigaraki just chuckled, a soft throaty sound that shouldn’t have sent the chills up her spine that it did, “Yeah, yeah…”

In one motion, careful not to jostle her too much, Shigaraki both pulled her back and scooched himself closer, until her back was nestled snug against his surprisingly firm chest and her head laid in the crux of his bicep.

With this new closeness he was able to be a bit more deliberate with the angle and pressure he used to rub at her swollen sex. And, while she hated to admit it, the increased blood flow between her legs was causing the pressure within her to build quite a bit faster than usual. Enough so that it had her letting go of the tension in her neck and joints — the automatic stress reaction she had to any of Shigaraki’s displays of intimacy — and letting the weight of her head drop fully into his embrace.

A shuddering sigh left Shigaraki at that clear relinquishing of control, of the way she truly let herself lay back and relax into him. It gave him the encouragement he needed to enjoy her to the fullest extent that he wanted her as well, burying his nose deep into her hair. 

He started to stroke wider circles around her, the flats of his fingers never leaving her clit, but now allowing the tips to dip softly into her entrance. He didn’t push them in at all past his first knuckles, just enough to catch some of that growing wetness and spread it all across her fluttering lips.

“A-Ah—” she gasped out, “Sh-shit…”

“Like that?” he rasped, hot against her ear.

She bit her lip, nodding needily, “Mm— Mm-hmm…”

He groaned at the response, doubling down on that motion as he started to stud long, hot kisses down the back of her jaw and neck. The feeling, so gentle and intimate and good in combination to the way he worked her sex, had her unconsciously rocking her hips into his touch, and back into his own.

Vaguely through the haze, she could feel the familiar outline of his stiff cock against the cleft of her ass, but shockingly he didn’t try to grind it against her for relief. If anything actually, when her own hips moved unconsciously back against it, he actually shifted his own hips away, anglind them down so his erection pushed into the bed instead. As if he didn’t want her to feel it, that he was concerned about her feeling pressured by its presence.

She didn’t have the chance to think too much into that though, not when his fingers were coaxing her closer to the edge by the second. The mess between her legs was obscene at this point, through teary eyes she could see the overflow of it spreading wide across her thighs and pooling down in the sheets. 

“God look at you, so fucking wet,” he groaned, lips having made it down to her shoulder and staying there so that he could have a better view of her writhing under his touch, “You needed this, huh? Fucking needed me…”

She buried her face into his arm to muffle her moans, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of an answer, but also not wanting him to stop.

By some act of God, Shigaraki didn’t push for that answer either. She wasn’t sure why he’d abandoned his typical demands and taunts, didn’t threaten to stop until she gave him the verbal submission and begrudging praise he always wanted. Nor did she stop to think about why, she just let the gratitude course through her, spurred further and wider by the waves of heat rushing through her body, threatening — promising — to overflow.

Shigaraki could feel that axiomatic tension in her body, the boiling point it promised, and sped up his hand to stoke the flames.

“You’re close aren’t you? Oh yeah, you’re close…” his kisses turned to nips at her neck between progressively more demanding growls, “Gonna be a good girl and come for me?”

Fuck, hearing those last words spill from his mouth should not have done what it was doing to her. But it was speeding up her peak, and it was speeding it up audibly.

“Yeah, yeah that’s good, really good. Let it go. Go ahead, be a good girl and let it go.”

She cried out, her arching back forcing her face forward and mouth unmuffled as finally, finally her body went blissfully loose, the pain of the past few days overtaken by waves of heat and pleasure. One after the other, her hormone-driven sensitivity wrung out multiple orgasms, and his frantic fingers were happy to work her through each one until she was begging him to stop.

“Good girl, yeah, yeah, just like that. That’s a good girl,” he continued to praise, returning time and again to that phrase he could feel her getting unconsciously excited over, “That’s my good girl…”

It was just a few blurry moments of consciousness after that. She was pretty sure she whined something like “too much” to him at some point, and he whispered back something that she was sure was just utterly debauched right back. Or maybe it was sweet nothings, he had really favored those by the end of this escapade after all. 

Whatever it all was, she supposed it didn’t matter. All that mattered in those seconds of labored breaths and fluttering lashes was the beautiful bliss and relief that finally overtook her body. That allowed her to immediately fall asleep in his arms.

Shigaraki held her there for a long time after. He raked his eyes greedily across her body, letting himself carve every detail deep into his memory. He knew he didn’t need to, not anymore. Her boyfriend, her parents, hell, whether or not she got into Todai with him, it was all a non-issue now. There was no reason for him to lose this anymore. She wasn’t going anywhere in life without him. He was going to be able to revel in this sight for the rest of his life now. And he just couldn’t believe how lucky he was for that.

He chuckled a bit at that. Well, maybe lucky wasn’t the right word. This was all by design after all, weeks of very deliberate planning and deception. It was just like he’d always been taught. It didn’t matter what hand you’ve been dealt — and Tomura Shigaraki had certainly been dealt a shit hand in a lot of ways — a real winner made his own luck. 

Sensei would be mad, Shigaraki knew that much. Everyone would be mad in fact, but he didn’t care. He was just following the fundamental lesson Sensei himself had instilled in him the day they met. 

Take whatever you want, and fuck all the rest.

Several minutes into hearing those sweet deep breaths of unconsciousness from the beautiful girl in his arms, Shigaraki finally peeled his fingers away from her cunt.

And slid a wide hand up to cradle her tummy.

It was dark when she woke up, not a single one of Shigaraki’s many monitors or television lit the windowless room. That was odd for a couple of reasons, the first of which being that the overhead lighting had definitely been on when she’d dozed off. The second of which was that any time Shigaraki wasn’t preoccupied with helping her study or studying her, he was chronically attached to at least one screen, if not multiple, so it was more than a bit odd for him to have zero on. The reason for the lack of blue light however became quickly apparent as her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness.

Shigaraki wasn’t here.

She was totally alone in his room, alone and tucked into his bed. Had he gone to the bathroom or something? But then why would all the lights be off? It seemed like he’d probably been gone for a while. Weird…

She threw off the covers and flipped her legs around with much more ease than she’d done anything over the last three days, much to her relief. However long she’d been out, the sleep had clearly done her some good. The pounding in her head and pelvis had finally ceased, perhaps just in time for her to actually start her period. She did feel some dampness between her legs after all. Although…

Her face heated up as she remembered the much more likely cause of that.

Damn it, she thought with a groan, dropping her head into her hands. She couldn’t believe that she actually let him do that to her, for her. He was going to get entirely the wrong idea from it. The idea that she might actually like him and want to spend time with him, that there was some kind of connection between them that extended past the time she was required to spend with him to keep him satisfied. And she absolutely could not deal with that.

Being his little sex toy was one thing. A demoralizing thing, yes, but a manageable one. She’d seen the way Shigaraki treated things he objectified — games and magazines and the like. He got bored of them quickly. And if she was one of those things in his eyes, then eventually he’d get bored with her too and she’d be free.

If he was attached to her though? Had found connection in her and a desire to keep her in his life? She didn’t even want to consider that nightmare scenario.

She made her way out into the hallway, looking up and down from the empty bathroom on one end of the hall to the top of the staircase on the other. She didn’t have to contemplate the lack of presence on this floor for long though, when she heard Shigaraki’s voice echoing up from downstairs, talking emphatically to Kurogiri, she assumed. 

She couldn’t hear exactly what he was talking about, but whatever it was, he was being particular about it. “Don’t overcook” and “perfect” were a few of the words she managed to catch, so it was about food, maybe? The accompanying sounds of sizzling pans and clanking cookware would certainly support that. As would the smell that suddenly hit her.

It wasn’t an unpleasant smell by any means. In fact, it was salmon, one of her favorites. But for some reason at that moment, the smell hit her with a particular intensity that made her feel overwhelmed.

And really fucking nauseous.

She just barely made it to the toilet at the end of the hall, not even fully down to her knees by the time she was emptying her stomach into the bowl. It wasn’t just a brief moment of sickness either. The bouts were loud and long, she was sure that it echoed throughout the entire apartment. It left her red-faced, skin covered and hair clumped with sweat, not to mention still gagging long after she had nothing left to gag on.

A hand she barely even noticed came to rest on the small of her back in the midst of it all. It was only in the aftermath, spent and dry-heaving that she could process the fact that it was Shigaraki, kneeling at her side, patiently stroking small circles into her clammy skin and encouraging her softly.

“Let it out. Just let it all out.”

She groaned once she finally seemed to have a solid thirty seconds of dry, steady breath. And Shigaraki used that respite to nudge a glass of water into her hands.

“Here.”

She didn’t argue or agree, just took it from him with shaky hands, tossing half of it just into her mouth to swish around and spit the remaining bitterness from her tongue.

 “Drink some of it too.”

She nodded shakily, still too drained and disoriented to be irritated with his telling her what to do, or suspicious of the fact that he was being so nice. 

And still, as she took entirely too long to finish the rest of her water with timid little sips, he just knelt on the ground with her, moving the hand on her back to rest on her knee, thumb rubbing circles into the spot where a bruise would undoubtedly form. 

Finally, after a long, silent stretch, she managed to croak out, “W-What time is it?”

“Only seven,” he answered, “Kurogiri’s got dinner almost ready downstairs. Seared salmon, brown rice, avocado salad—”

She whined, shaking her head roughly at the very implication of food.

“Don’t like salmon?”

“I-I do… It’s just—” she gagged a little as she remembered that smell that had set this all off in the first place, “Th-The smell right now. It’s too much…”

“Oh yeah…” he nodded understandingly, muttering something to himself that she couldn’t quite make out. It sounded kind of like, “Heightened” and “Read about that…”

Her brows furrowed a bit, frustrated and confused. She was getting the feeling that he was really not telling her something.

“W-What?”

Shigaraki just waved her off, “No, that’s fine, that’s fine. Salmon’s not the only thing he made. There’s sauteed spinach, wakame tofu soup, toasted—” 

Jesus Christ, was Kurogiri cooking for an army down there or something? 

Well, whoever it was all for, and as delicious as it all sounded in theory, imagining those foods in practice right now was making her feel sick all over again.

“Mm-mm, Mm-mm!” she whined, shaking her head again.

She didn’t want to risk opening her mouth right now, lest she blow chunks all over the front of Shigaraki’s shirt. Although wouldn’t that be a nice little serving of karma for him…

“You need to eat something,” he insisted, more lecturey than she’d ever heard him, but with a strange gentleness to his voice as well, “And you need to drink some more too. You’re totally dehydrated.”

She shook her head more emphatically at that, which only resulted in her falling forward into his chest. 

He caught her before she could fall any further, scolding her not too harshly, in fact, a bit whimsically, “Is this how you’re gonna be the whole time?”

She pulled her head back to look at him, a confused furrow in her brows that brought the corners of his lips up.

“It’s not a bad look on you to be honest. All weak and petulant,” he brought a hand to pinch lightly at her cheek, “It’s kinda cute actually.”

Her eyes narrowed, finally feeling her stomach steady enough in her to be annoyed. He chuckled, just as amused and endeared by this look as the last. 

“Well how about okayu?” he offered with a patronizing little lilt, “And maybe some ginger tea?”

He clearly wasn’t going to let this go. And infuriatingly, he was right not to. She definitely was in no shape to go home on this empty stomach. 

She sighed.

“Yeah… Yeah okay.”

Going at her own shaking, snailish pace, Shigaraki helped her up onto her legs, pulling her immediately into his side as he led her back towards his bedroom. Normally she’d protest, stick an elbow right into his ribs and storm on ahead of him, but honestly she needed the help right now. So she sucked it up and let him lead her back into his bed. 

But that didn’t stop her from eying him suspiciously as he propped his pillows up behind her and tucked her back in under his comforter, the overall way he doted and fretted over her, even stopping to look back at her one more time from the doorway before he returned downstairs to give Kurogiri the new marching orders.

She dropped her head back against the pillows when finally alone, a bad feeling settling heavier and heavier in her stomach. This was beyond weird, the way he was acting. Sure, the guy was overbearing and constantly demanding of her attention, stupidly needy even. But doting? Not only willing but eager to put her needs ahead of his own? Caring deeply about her actual well-being and not just what he wanted to be her well-being? This was all way too out of character for him.

“…You can tell me. If he bothered you, I mean. N-Not just the Doctor either… If um… If anything’s bothering you.”

She sighed at the memory. Alright, maybe she wasn’t giving him enough credit. He’d shown at least some capability and even interest in her wants and well-being, he wasn’t a complete monster.

But still, all of this? The cooing and the caring and the, erm, servicing even that he’d done? It felt like too much. Like she was missing something really key about it all.

Like something was wrong .

Whether she ended up getting lost in that train of thought for long, or Kurogiri had already had some okayu whipped up downstairs, she wasn’t sure, but she was startled by how quickly it seemed that Shigaraki returned with a breakfast tray in hand. She cocked her head as he set it up over her lap, this was a lot more robust than she was expecting, and, she realized as she examined everything on the tray, a lot more stocked as well.

There was okayu, front and center for her, yes. But also on the tray was another small bowl of soup (looked like the wakame that Shigaraki had mentioned, a thing of plain yogurt (the really fancy kind that came in the glass jars), a glass of orange juice…

And a little dish of four pills. 

Painkillers or antiemetics maybe? They looked more like vitamins…

“Go ahead and start with the okayu if you want,” Shigaraki explained as he climbed up into the bed next to her, “But I want you to try and get some of the wakame and yogurt down too…”

As he settled down, his legs flush with her own, he continued to rattle off instructions and explanations for the rest of her tray, sending her mind completely spinning, faster and faster, like a goddamn Gravitron.

And she was ready to get the fuck off.

“...if nothing else though, take the vitamins. You need the folate, calcium, iron, and the omega-3 especially, since you don’t want the salmon—”

“Okay, stop, stop, stop !”

Shigaraki paused, having the audacity to look at her like she was crazy for snapping. 

“Jesus—what the hell are you even talking about Shigaraki?!” she demanded, “What’d you say, folate? What? What is all this?”

He cocked his head, clearly playing innocent. Whatever this was, he was clearly enjoying the slow unraveling of it all.

“What’re you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about!” she snapped, “All this attention and doting and food stuff! What the hell is this all about?!”

He just smiled back at her, taking in how pretty she looked, even when mad (especially when mad sometimes), God, to think that this really was his forever now. He wondered if they had a girl, how much she’d look like her. He hoped a lot…

“I just want to make sure you’re getting all the vitamins and nutrients you need…”

He reached over then, spreading his hand flat against her stomach.

“ Both of you .”

She froze.

No.

No, he couldn’t mean—

She tried to speak, tried to ask what the ever-loving- fuck he was talking about, but her mouth had seemed to go dry. She tried several times to open and wet it a bit, but every time she did, it felt like her throat was closing too. It took at least four desperate attempts for her to finally force out one rasped:

“... what? ”

Shigaraki’s grin widened, and he started to rub circles gently across her belly.

“You’re gonna look so cute, all big and round with my kid,” he giggled suddenly as he remembered something, “Oh, and your tits too. I wonder how big they’re gonna get…”

She stared at him, unblinking, unbreathing. Everything but un-fucking-existing.

He couldn’t be serious. He was fucking with her. He had to be fucking with her!

“Th-That’s not funny.”

His grin evened a little, not disappearing outright, but settling away some of its blissful excitement into something more coyly victorious.

“I said it already,” he reminded, “When have I ever been funny?”

She shook her head in disbelief.

“N-No. No, no, no this isn’t— there’s no way—”

“I’ve got the tests ready when you need to pee, but I think it’s pretty clear. These are all the symptoms I read about.”

“No!” she insisted, “N-No, no— this is, it’s my period! It’s just a day late, it’s not—!”

He chuckled, “I know the symptoms can be similar, but come on. When’s the last time you’ve hurled like that thanks to your period? And the sensitivity to smell? You know this is different.”

Crumbling, every argument she could possibly think of was crumbling to dust before she could even get the thought fully formed. And cruel, vicious reality was more than happy to take its place.

“B-But my birth control pills…”

“Fertility pills,” he explained, his splitting-grin returning in full, “I would’ve preferred to get Clomid from the doctor, but it looks like the over the counter stuff and tracking your cycle worked just fine.”

Her stomach dropped. Pieces of memories, peculiar behaviors and nagging thoughts she’d had over the last two months falling into place. How there were stretches of times where he’d cancel their sessions, only to insist they make them up a few specific days in a row. How he wanted to go multiple rounds a lot those days. How he’d stopped wanting blowjobs from her entirely. How he seemed to only want to fuck her from behind or with her knees pressed hard into her chest, positions he could fuck her the deepest in.

And how he’d have her stay still with his cock buried in her after he came. 

Back then, she just thought he was being weird and pervy. And in a way she was right.

Horribly fucking right.

Shigaraki shifted his legs away from her so that he could bring his head down to her lap, laying his cheek blissfully against her belly. 

“Was so easy,” he hummed against her skin, “Like your body was just waiting for me to knock you up. Waiting for me to make you mine…”

His hands moved across her body, one coiling behind her back so that he could pull her tighter into him, the other lacing his fingers through her own. The fingers on her trembling left hand.

“Both of you, forever,” he growled happily, a predator who had finally and definitively sunk his teeth into his prey, “All mine.”

[underestimated-heroine]

The fact that radfems spread this post around is actually really interesting--infuriating, but interesting. Because what they've really done here is tell on themselves.

This is the shrimp guy story:

From an anonymous green text called "shrimp saved my life" [emphasis mine]:

>be depressed, suicidal xanax- addicted incel >one day I go to my /aq/fag uncle's house for some shit >he has pet shrimp, never seen anything like it before >he offers to get me some 53 KB JPG >throw them in a barely cycled tank with some shitty rock >several shrimp die >realize that I killed them with my apathy >realize I need to take responsibility for once in my life >do research, learn about water parameters and so on >eventually I have a beautiful planted tank with no more deaths >notice a female shrimp carrying eggs >haven't felt this excited about anything in almost a decade >the eggs disappear and I once again think I fucked up >a few days later I see a tiny transparent baby shrimp >l suddenly know how the shepherds felt as they gazed upon the newborn Christ >by this point I live and breathe shrimp >all my spare time is spent on shrimp research and watching shrimp videos >l spend most of the money I had saved from my last job on shrimp products >quit the Xanax to support shrimp spending >start putting effort into college in hope of getting a good job for my shrimp >grades improve, no longer facing the prospect of dropping out >relationship with parents improves since I am finally passionate about something and applying myself >l see genuine happiness in their eyes when I talk excitedly about my shrimp >for my birthday my mom makes me a shrimp cake >it even has fondant legs and little chocolate eggs >cry like a little bitch when I see it >mom hugs me and tells me she's always been proud of me >college dorm neighbours demand to see my shrimp >shit they're gonna think I'm autistic >they actually think my shrimp are really cool >they start inviting me to their social events >start interacting with girls, get told by girls for the first time in my life that I'm fun and smart >l think my shrimp would be proud of me if they knew >We're gonna make it bros. Even if you can't do it for yourself, do it for the animals that depend on you.

He did address his relationship with women. By finding a hobby and passion and working on himself--"touching grass"--he stepped away from the echo chamber that filled him with all this rage and convinced him women were to blame for all of his problems. As someone once wisely observed, "the cure is going offline and realizing it's just. really not that big a deal."

And that is what radfems have not done, so of course they didn't spot the quiet flashpoint of shrimp guy's personal development within his story.

Edit: it's been brought to my attention that the version of the greentext post I lifted the text from was censored by someone else. My bad for not realizing that, tbh it was done so well I thought shrimp guy had done it himself, but that's an important part of the post. I've gone back through and un-censored it. The reply which was spread around with the original post addressed the words themselves well, I think; however distasteful and fucked up the incel rabbit hole is, it doesn't diminish his growth.

[pandorascripts]

Familiar By Thy Side

author yapping: here is part one to the Salem AU! I've decided to make this multi-chaptered because I don't want to rush the bonding that needs to take place. But, for you readers, I have a question.. do I make it Agathario/Reader? It's at a point right now where it totally could be and it would develop naturally, maybe even better. It's up to y'all though! The second chapter is almost done :) Pairings: Agatha Harkness/Reader Warnings: kidnapping, violence, agatha being agatha

Disclaimer: this is the 1700s. THEY WILL SPEAK AS SUCH. no use of thy and it's other forms because I'm too lazy to learn how to use them and they're strictly used in an informal sense. Let me know thoughts, opinions, and if you'd like to be tagged from this point on for this series :) ----------------------------------------------

Agatha’s calloused hands run along Nicky’s sleeping face, her pointer finger gently gliding down his nose. Her time with him is borrowed, she knows, but even if the knowledge is supposed to find her comfort in the inevitability, she can’t deal with it. Death, her lover, will take the one thing that’s truly ever mattered to her – her baby boy. The denial is strong, Agatha needs to stop Rio from doing her job, no matter the cost. It’s why she’s forced to bring Nicky into her scams – why she’s forced to kill so many witches. Agatha needs power to defeat such a vile eldritch horror – to accomplish something no one has ever done. Even now, she’s managed to stall death when no one else could. If Agatha could trade her spot for Nicky’s, she would.

It’s another one of their scams in the morning, Agatha sweeping some dirt out of her temporary home and through the threshold. Nicky comes bolting in, Agatha’s face holding bewilderment as a witch yells out he’s stolen from her. “You dare shame your mother with theft?” she barks out, setting her broom down whilst Nicky darts out of the house and through the back. Agatha makes sure that he’s out of sight before starting to rile up the witches, a shocked gasp leaving her lips when their magick hits her earlier than she expected. Nonetheless, the power rips through her and settles in her bones, a low groan echoing out of her lips. 

When her eyes are open again, Agatha makes eye contact with a young witch, one who hadn’t blasted her with magick. Wordlessly, you stand and watch in horror and confusion at the scene before you. All you had done was try to chase the thief down with a co-worker of yours, not at all expecting this. 

“What is this?” you gasp out, stuttering a couple steps back from Agatha. 

Her hands wrap around the wooden broom once more, jaw tight and lips clenched. You're visible to Nicky in the doorway now, his eyes darting around to take a good look at you. 

Agatha swings the broom down with a yell, forcing as much impact into the swing so it knocks you out. A hard thud echoes across the house, Nicholas barreling to stop Agatha from hurting you again. 

“Mama, wait,” he says quickly, Agatha’s hands immediately dropping the broom before she herself even realizes Nicky’s in front of her. 

“What are you doing, boy?” 

Despite his mother’s hard tone, Nicky feels something – something like his growing magick. There’s a sense he gets about you – your strength, bubbling just under the surface like his is. He can feel it. You’re powerful and you can aid them to stop Death. 

“She’s – she’s powerful, Mama. You can help her like you’ve helped me – then she can help us stop mo – that lady.” 

Agatha clenches her jaw harder, but tries not to show her frustration with him. He’s a sweet boy, curious and full of a zest for life, but he’s naïve. Too naïve. “No, she cannot help. She’s but a young woman – hardly a witch, Nicky. We’d be best to cover tracks and leave this village. Go back outside now.” 

Nicky shakes his head again, holding his mother’s hand when she grabs for the broom again. “Mama, she can. Please, trust in me.” 

Agatha stares down her boy, lips pursed into a thin line, her hand slack on the broom. It falls to the floor as she turns her head, huffing out. “You’ll be fetching that food for her then, and not complaining when she’s given your sleeping arrangements.” 

Agatha couldn’t say why she agreed to this. You’ll harbor a resentment for her, a hatred, and Agatha’s sure that you’ll need to be killed within your first night so there’s no betrayal. When Nicholas smiles that toothy grin of his, face buried in her stomach a moment later, she knows then why she agreed. Of course, Agatha won’t be giving you his sleeping arrangements or forcing him to fetch you food – you’ll do all of those on your own and Agatha will refuse to look out for you. If you die, you die. If you try to leave, she’ll kill you. If you try to hurt her or Nicky, you’ll be killed as well. 

Your first couple nights with the odd duo finds you quietly nursing a migraine, too timid to speak to either one of them – despite Nicky’s attempts to get you to converse with his never-ending chatter. That innocent boy keeps asking to know from where you come from, why you were alone in that village, what type of witch you are, how strong you are – everything is on the table. His mother – the ever-growing infamous witch-killer – is the exact opposite. The glances she gives you tells you she’s watching you, but she’s comfortable enough in either her own skill or in your lack of, that you're not needed to be constantly watched. She’s yet to introduce herself, as you are to them both too, but Nicholas wasn’t shy about it. He seemingly can’t understand how dangerous of a position you’re in – to be this close to a witch-killer, a traitor, a murder, because he can only see his ever-doting mother, Agatha. 

You shift on the leaves under your dirty dress, the woods doing work on the fabrics. You’re not sure when you’ll have access to more clothes again – hell, you’re not even sure when you’ll have access to the world again. 

“Mama, what is it you’ve made for supper?” Nicky asks, drinking out from a small flask that he then hands to his mother again. 

Agatha watches him, her eyes darting over at you with a mean glare before going back to Nicky. “Bread, some turkey too. You must eat the turkey quickly, I lifted it from the last village and am not sure how much longer it may last.” 

Nicky nods his head, murmuring a “thank you” before diving in. Agatha eats her portion, not sparing you a glance. You’ve expected this – even been able to realize Agatha has no care for you being here. This wasn't her idea, but you’re unaware of the circumstances that require you to be imprisoned by her. Regardless, Nicky’s complete innocence and unawareness of this tension between you and his mother results in him splitting off his food to share with you. 

Agatha glares at you from next to Nicky, your stomach growling and begging you to grab the food offered. Simply, Agatha’s mean glare sends shivers up your spine and stops you from even considering grabbing it for another second. You shake your head at the young boy, fiddling with your hands as you stare down in your lap. The sun is starting to set by now, the light-source mainly coming from the campfire Agatha lit with her magic. Your head turns to watch the hues mix in the sky, so akin to the palettes you used to paint on just days ago. Never in your life had you ever thought you’d miss something that used to be so routinely ingrained in your day-to-day life. 

Nicky looks at his mom before back down at his food, eyebrows pressed together and lips thinned – an expression you’ve seen his mother do countless times over these past couple days. It’s been some time now and she’s yet to introduce herself, which is the least she could do considering the situation she’s forced you into. With a slow blink, fighting a yawn and tears, you stand up and walk over to a tree just a few feet out. Your small shawl is used as a pillow, legs scrunched together so your body is like a ball, and you keep your back to them. The thought that this doesn’t suit your preservation is fleeting, being replaced by a hope that maybe the witch killer will live up to her name with you. 

The night passes and you do actually wake up, waking up in fact to Nicky’s mother watching you. Your head turns to look for the boy, oddly enough, but you can’t spot him at all. Tightening your jaw for a moment, you search again within your immediate vision – nothing. The words leave your lips before you can even think about the repercussions. 

“Where’s Nicky?” 

Agatha shifts from a couple feet away, a blank look on her face. “Nicholas.” 

“What?” You give her an incredulous look, blinking a quick couple times as you watch her fix up her hair. 

“His name is Nicholas to you.” 

Silence suffocates you, just as much as confusion. Why was it such a big deal to her? It was a stupid name, in fact, if names mattered so much to her then why hadn’t she asked for yours yet. Alongside that, why hadn’t she introduced herself to you either? Shrugging mentally, which was definitely paired with an outward huff, you look at the dirt beneath your fingertips. They reach into the soil, your body tingling as you feel connection to the Earth around you. You keep them buried in the dirt, enjoying the warmth it provides before she speaks up. 

“Agatha.” 

Your head snaps. “Excuse me?” “My name. That’s what it is, since you’ve been complaining about your lack of knowing.” 

There’s a nod of your head, face red with embarrassment. Telepathic abilities, alongside siphoning? What else is she harboring? 

“Nothing you’ll find out. You’re not going to be with us for long.” 

Again, your head shoots over to look at her, a sneer on your face. “Out of my mind, witch.” 

“Using the term, but are you not also one?” “I am not a traitor, though.” 

“And what? That simply makes you better? How? You’ve no prior knowledge of what’s led me down this road – what’s led me to take action how I have. You judge without knowing, that is a crime truly more damaging than killing some odd hundreds of mediocre witches.” If her tone is anything to indicate, she’s pissed. You know this, your mind trying to fortify itself from her invasions. 

“You may relax, I don’t tend to dive into the minds of those who are inadequate. There’s nothing there they won’t speak – bigotry, fallacies, and lies.” 

Agatha, as you now know, is brutal in describing her picture of you. There’s not enough time for you to respond even if you had planned to, Nicky – Nicholas jogging into the small clearing. 

“Boy, you were gone too long.” 

“I am sorry, mama, but look at what I’ve made for you,” he says happily, completely missing how his mother is on the brink of homicide. In his hands is a delicate, messy, chunky crown crafted from daisies and other sorts of flowers. They do not go with Agatha’s outfit, her eyes, her glowing skin, or even her deep hair. Agatha looks at it as if it’s a crown fit for the queen. 

“Do you like it?” 

“Oh, Nicky, my love, it is divine. How is it you’ve managed to craft this beauty from such dainty flowers?” 

“Mama, you’re quite the jester this day,” he laughs out, sitting down to rest the back of his head in Agatha’s lap. 

You watch from a bit out, eyes flickering between the son and his mother. At one point, you and your mother had been like that – inseparable, bonded, attached. You can’t really remember the fine points of her face now. 

The conversation and laughs are muffled by your loud heartbeat, which has started to echo in your ears. It’s all-consuming, taking you hostage as you focus on it. With it come memories from before this, your life you lived happily and contently. The one that Agatha ripped away from you. Technically, yes, it was the boy’s fault, but he knew no better. There was nothing but pure child's optimism for his future, the truth about his mother’s treatment of witches slipping his mind. You hadn’t eaten in days now, your body angry and fatigued. 

“Girl, are you listening?” Agatha snaps out, your head moving to face her just as fast as lightning. 

“Apologies?” 

“Good lord.” She pauses to groan softly, Nicky scolds her as her flower crown tips off her head when it drops. “We leave at sundown and travel to the next road in the night. Day time is too popular an opportunity, so we’ll make haste for the river, hours before the next town.”

“What is the town?”

“Salem.”

Your jaw is tightly wound together, wide eyes glaring at Agatha. With a soft shake of your head, which metaphorically shakes off the memories of your brief time in Salem, you speak up. “No, I refuse to travel to that wretched town. Salem will kill us all, how do you not see?” “I’ve lived and breathed Salem many years, you’ll do fine. Long as you stick with the boy and I without speaking your insipid mind,” Agatha spits out, annoyed by you making this more complicated. “We are doing nothing but passing through for a few days. The trials have mainly migrated out of Salem and went southern.” 

“The risk is not worth wherever you long to be. I will not journey with you.” 

You’re sure you’ll be killed by Agatha, right here and right now for your clear disobedience. Alongside that sure reality, you’re positively aware that you’ll die trying to get back to your town. The way is lost on you, completely unfamiliar with the route Agatha has stuck you and Nicholas on. Your thoughts are losing volume, an awkward haze taking over you. Surrounding your vision is a small cloud of purple, one that mimics the colors in Agatha’s usually blue eyes.

[greeniegirl23]

Alastor As A Father (Son Version)

- 10 hours. You had been in labor for the second time in your life and it lasted 10 fucking hours...

-As the doctors tended to your newborn son, you quickly grabbed Alastor by his throat and growled in his ear. "If you ever put me in this position again I promise I'll throw you out of the hotel so the Angels can erase you during the next extermination!! Are we clear?!"

He gulped, dangerously aware of your seriousness. "Crystal.."

- Back to your newborn. He was similar to his sister when she was a baby. Your son wasn't a crybaby., not even in the slightest. Only whimpering or whining when he wanted something. It took a lot to make him actually cry and when he did you both knew he was hurt or you'd probably have to kill somebody.

- This time around, Alastor had decided to step up his parenting game and started doing some research. Starting out with some baby books that Charlie lent him from her Dad. He became very invested in your child's development and even tried to convince you that your daughter might have been a 'slow' baby in her toddler years.

"Al, for the hundredth time our daughter turned out fine!" You groaned, rinsing off a plate and handing it too him to dry. "You can't believe everything those books say, especially when they're so.. statistic based."

Alastor huffed. "Darling, according to the book she should have started walking earlier than when she did. Assuming that it's true, I don't want the same for our boy. They will have to protect each other when we're no longer around. Which means he's going to have to be a strapping young gentleman and there's no better time to start than now."

- Unfortunately, this started a somewhat heated argument between you. Alastor was frustrated that you couldn't see how important it was to get an early start, while you were pissed at the fact that he thought your very intelligent, very capable 13 year old was slow and that he was putting too much pressure on your 4 month old who still enjoyed chewing on his own feet.

- As much as you fought for him to understand your point, Alastor became an immovable boulder and you were too dull of an axe to crack him open.

- This stressed you out for two reasons. One, the potential for your son to grow up underneath insane amounts of pressure at such a young age was high. Two, you knew Alastor would sneak behind your back to mold this boy into who he believed he should be and unfortunately, there wasn't much you could do about it.

- You had to trust that in time Alastor would learn from mistakes he made. Until he did though, you promised to be there emotionally for your son and to stop your husband from going too far.

-As your boy grew, the fears you had for him began to come to light. Alastor was just as harsh as an old master. Despite your son's grades, physical strength, and domestic skills for a boy, it still was never enough for his father. It was bad enough the point where your son exclaimed that he hated his father.

"He's never happy with me!" Your now six-year-old child cried in your chest after another incident of Alastor's cold hearted nature. "I drew a picture of him today in class, got all A's on my assignments and he just brushed it off! I don't understand.." He sniffled. "Did I..-Did I do something bad?"

"Of course not Sweetie," You said, trying to comfort him. He's tears soaked your shirt as you tried to come up with a plan to put a stop to this madness.

"Then why doesn't he love me..?"

- The sharp pang in your heart that you felt in that moment brought you and your husband back to a pretty foul argument that went unfinished years prior. Giving that man a piece of your mind once again felt good and this time he was going to listen regardless of if he wanted to or not. How dare he make your child feel that way?! Much less make him cry!

"The boy is too sensitive." Alastor groaned, flipping through his news paper. "He's crying over absolute nonsense."

"He's been crying because you've been on his ass like white on rice since he was three months old!" You exclaimed. "All he's trying to do is impress you but you shoot him down and strap him with more work and expectations. He's six, Alastor!"

Alastor growled. "If he's so obsessed with feelings like love and acceptance, then clearly I'm failing at my job as a parent. Do you think the people of Hell care about utter gutter trash like that? I'm making him strong so can protect himself and his sister, to protect you if I should meet my second demise. Why don't you seem to understand that?!"

Sadness took over your features as you realized that Alastor had blinded himself by his own worries. "Your job as a parent is to feed them, cloth them, give them shelter, and to be there for them. That counts being there emotionally!"

Finally Alastor had enough, "He'll be fine, this conversation is over." He grumbled, preparing to walk off to dismiss you again.

"No, it's not!" You yelled, getting right in his face to show you weren't backing down. You knew he'd never lay a hand on you or anything of the sort, but the tensions were high and you needed his full acknowledgement.

"Our jobs as parents are to protect our children, but your so worried about preparing them for this godforsaken place until you can't even save your son from yourself!" You backed away for a second, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration.

"Do you realize what he could become from your neglect? He could be the next fuckin' Jeffery Dahmer or Ted Bundy all because of your efforts to make him "strong"." You sighed, shaking your head in confusion and disappointment as your eyes grew glossy. "Alastor you weren't ever like this with our daughter. Sure you were a bit overprotective of her but you still allowed her to be a child. So why do things have to be different for our son?.."

- Alastor looked at you for what seemed like an eternity. The moment lasts so long as your tongue grows thick in your mouth. With an angry huff after what seems like forever, he just, walked right by you. Grabbing his tail coat and heading out the door.

- To say you were shocked was an understatement. Immediately you fell to your knees and started to cry. Weeping for yourself, for your son, because your husband was too damn stubborn sometimes, and because you weren't strong enough to stop him.

- You came to the conclusion that you needed some space. Quickly you gathered your children and their belongings, made a call, and went back to the place where it all started.

- Charlie welcomed you with open arms, happy to see you once again and offering you a shoulder to cry on if needed.

-You took her up on that offer, as well as Vaggie while the other patrons enjoyed the company of your kids. Angel Dust even recommended a shopping day with everyone, for old times sake. Your daughter agreed happily in her monotoned voice while your baby boy seemed quiet.

- As you ran back the events of the night to your friends, they both seemed equally as concerned as you were for your son's well-being.

-Speaking of which. You hadn't seen or heard from him in a while now. Last you checked, he had gone in the kitchen to get a drink. You asked if anyone had seen him since, only to get a sound of reverberating "No's"

- You panicked. Running to the kitchen only to find the window open and one of the knives on the counter was missing. A note hung on the curtain, quickly you read it.

"Daddy made me cry and he made you cry too. I think it's his turn to cry now. I'm sorry Mama.."

A disturbing chill crawled quickly up your spine as you ran back out into the lobby screaming in fear.

-You gave Husker the note as Charlie demanded the car to be brought around so you could stop your son's psychotic break.

"Don't you think we're overreacting a bit? He's six and like 4'3 he can't have gotten far." The grumpy cat said.

"This is Alastor's kid we're talking about, do you really think he's your typical elementary school boy? She sliced someone's arm off when she was eight!" Vaggie exclaimed, referring to your daughter who was now trying to console you.

"Our Dad was gone before we left home, maybe he's not back yet?" She inquired hopefully.

"Sweetie, I didn't tell him we were leaving. If he's gone out he always comes back around 10:30 to say good night to you and your brother. It's 11:00, so I'm sure he's home by now."

-As you, Charlie, Vaggie, and Husker hopped in the car to speed off to your home. You couldn't help but pray to God that something would stop your son from going through with something so cruel.

- Alastor sighed as he walked back into his home. It was wrong for him to talk out like that and his reprimand from Rosie was finally what helped him understand that.

-He was ready to apologize to you and to his son. Expecting you to appreciate his change of heart and maybe even earn his son's forgiveness.

-What he didn't expect, was an empty house. Nor the note on the fridge explaining where you were. It has a few tear stains on it and he cursed himself for making you cry. As he read it, part of him wanted to go to the hotel and apologize to you there. The other part of him realized he had pushed you away too far and maybe, just maybe you needed some time alone to reel in your thoughts.

- Slowly, he made his way up the stairs into your shared bedroom. Smelling like whiskey and feeling slightly depressed. His smile was maintained of course, though it was small and forced to whoever might see it.

- He flopped into bed. Rather ungracefully but he didn't care, there was no one around. No one to scold him or ask him if he had a hard day.

- The house creaked as the night wind blew through his window. His face was stuffed in a pillow as he smelled the faint scent of your shampoo. Flowery, like his Mother used to wear.

-She was always there for him. Kind of like you were always there for your family as well. Both him and your children looked to you for inspiration, love, and affection. Which made him feel even worse for putting you in such a position earlier. Here you are, giving him children, making time for them and him, while also trying to make time for yourself. Fighting against your own husband just so he could see what was important to you, only for him to brush it all off in a hissy fit because he couldn't handle being told he was doing a bad job at being a good father.

-Now, when you asked him about this at a later time. He told you he's unsure of how it happened. He can't remember if he was so wrapped up in his thoughts to the point he wasn't aware of his surroundings, or if your son may be part snake instead of part deer.

-But what he does remember is turning on his back just in time to stop the butcher knife from impaling him straight through the heart. How the hell this person got into the house and into his bedroom without making a sound is something Alastor would never know.

-Whoever the hell had lost their mind to do such a thing was about to become a stain on the wall because if their was one thing for certain and two things for sure Alastor wasn't in the fucking mood until he realized the familiar figure in the darkness was his own flesh and blood.

-His son. His own son was straddling his waist, struggling against his Dad's 137 year old strength at just six and a half years of existence. Alastor didn't understand what was going on, why was he doing this and where were you?!

"What are you doing?!" Alastor yelled. Trying to figure out what on earth was happening.

The boy stayed silent and screamed out something close to a war cry as he used his entire body weight to push the knife closer to Alastor's chest.

"I'm talking to you boy and you'd better answer me this instant!"

"Shut UP!" He shouted. "You don't get to talk to me! Not after what you did earlier today!"

Alastor's heart stopped a bit after he realized that his son had overheard the argument between the two of you.

"That was a misunderstanding! Your mother and I may have exchanged words but everything will be alright, now put the knife down!"

The child growled something feral. "It's not going to be okay, things between us were never okay! From the moment I started training under you, you've been nothing but a big bully. I'd go crying to Mom when you weren't around because all you ever saw me for was worthless! You never loved me and I was willing to accept that because Mom promised me that you'd change in time, but after today I don't believe that anymore!"

With a swift move, the boy had broken the arm lock he was in and lifted the knife over his head to plunge into the man he called Father. Tears weld in his eyes as he swung forward, his pupils changed similar to Alastor's and his voice became distorted with anger and malice. For the first time, Alastor swore he knew how his victims felt as his own smile grinned mercilessly back at him.

"YOu MaDE my MoTHeR CrY AnD FOR thAT, I'LL mAKE SuRE YoU NEvEr MaKE EIthER oF US cRY AgAIN!!"

- It was like a switch in his head had been flicked on. Alastor watched as his son swung his blade forward in slow motion. Memories of himself and what he had done to his own father came whirling back.

- The past seemed to have repeated itself. What a sick and twisted universe. He remembered the arguments between his parents. The sounds of glass shattering and his mother's begging for the pain to stop. He remembered peaking into her room to see her covering her face with makeup to hide the bruses. The fake smiles she'd give him in the morning while she cleaned up the mess from the night before. The deep silence between him and his Dad when he stabbed him to death in the very same way. He tried to hide the body on his own, he didn't want mother to be mad at him or find out. But she did and may have indirectly set his path down a dark road by justifying his actions at 14 years of age.

"Murder ain't good Alastor," She said, sitting him on her lap as she rocked with him in her rocking chair. Her sweet Southern drawl was like music to his ears. "You shouldn't have killed that man, n' I won't try to pretend what you did was right."

"Yes ma'am..." He replied sadly, on the verge of tears until she spoke again.

"Listen Allie. Anyone who kills another person, just for the sake of making someone else smile, is alright with me. I know the only reason you did what you did, is because you felt like you had to and you couldn't stand to see me gettin hurt no more." she sighed. "I just wish I was strong enough to leave when I had the chance, n maybe' you're lil would have stayed clean from the blood of my mistakes.."

"M'Sorry Mama.."

She smiled. "No Baby, I'm sorry. For makin' you live through that when you shouldn't have. My sins are now yours to bare. N' sadly there ain't much I can do to fix that." Fixing his glasses on his face, she gave him a hug and kissed his forehead. "Promise me you'll stay strong Alastor, bare these sins with a smile and don't add on to them unless you absolutely have to."

"I promise." He replied. Swearing silently to make her proud and for her to keep smiling, no matter what.

-Everything made sense now. Truly it did. Why you were so concerned. How he became so blind. What he buried deep within and how he manifested into the situation he was in now.

-But unlike his father, Alastor had a choice and a chance to do better before it was too late. Quickly, the Radio Demon sat up and snatched the knife out of his son's grip mid swipe. The blade clattered to the ground and gave his child the loving embrace he so desperately needed.

"I'm sorry." He said with sincerity. "I should have never made your Mother cry, nor should I have ever made you feel less than appreciated. I am proud of what you've done, who you've become, and who you're going to be."

He felt the small body go rigid. Freezing in confusion as his Dad actually told him how he felt for once. Alastor continued. " I'm sorry for making you think I never loved you. In fact, I love you so much that I wanted you to be perfect. To be strong, to protect your sister, and your mother when I'm not here anymore. But I put far too much on you too soon, which was unfair to you in a number of ways. I only wanted the best for you, but I couldn't see that I was harming you in the process and I never, ever wanted that..."

Pulling away from his son, one of the biggest pride and joys he had down in this disgusting cesspool. He wiped the child's tears away and gave him a genuine smile.

"You are my son and I love you, I apologize that it took me so long to say it, but it is true. I'm proud of you for being willing to protect your mother, even from me. I had to do the same thing around your age to the man that would have been your grandpa, but he was terrible to us and deserved to be slaughtered. You're already further ahead than I am, so please. Forgive me and I promise our relationship from here on will be much, much different than what it's been."

- Alastor watched as his son hiccuped and sobbed. Nodding his head and mumbling out a meek "Okay.." He dove in for another hug and Alastor allowed him to stay there and cry tears of relief for as long as he needed to.

- Not too long afterwards, you came barreling into the house and raced up stairs. Calling Alastor's name and for your son until you literally kicked down the door to your bedroom, stopping at what you found and thanking God for hearing your prayers.

-The others came after you in a frenzy but quickly let out breathes of relief at the sight of your smile. Quietly you 'shhhed' them and stepped aside to see the same beautiful sight you did.

-There on your king sized bed, sat your husband and his son. Alastor was propped upwards against the headboard, using pillows to support is back while his head was supported by your son. The six year old was snuggled up against his father's chest, sleeping soundly underneath his throat while Alastor's arms seemed to form a somewhat protective cage around him.

- Smiling happily, you closed the door to the room and headed downstairs with everyone else. Heading back to the hotel and leaving a note for Alastor in the morning that encouraged him to catch up on lost time with your second-born. Satisfied that their bond was finally forming into something beautiful.

(Wow, I did not plan to get as invested in this as I did. I just let the story flow and got this, honestly I love it and would like to see some of my theories between Alastor and his Mom come to fruition. Anyways, I'll see y'all in the next post! Don't forget to comment something you might want to see me write next :D P.S Why the fuck did I post this without editing it..?)

[starzify]

hiii i love ur work sm! can u write a negan fic?

thank u baby !! so i'm only on s3 but he's too fine…🤷‍♀️

beg me ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

pairing negan smith x fem!reader

warnings smut | blowjob.

MASTERLIST

Over the past few months, you had spent almost a concerning amount of time talking to Negan in his cell. It started with taking him the odd meal, alternating your duty with other people. But over time you regrettably developed a soft spot for him, and dedicated yourself to finding the human underneath his tough exterior. You didn't let him know that though, remaining cold on the outside. That being said, you had pulled some strings for him, he now is allowed daily supervised showers, toothpaste and the occasionally beard and hair trim. All the basic hygiene stuff.

Though the truth is, you are lonely. Rick and Maggie were your closest friends and now they're both gone, so often times, you find Negan being the only person to console in. You've never been much of a social butterfly anyway.

It's midday and you're sat watching Negan finish his lunch. 

"All gone, ma'am," he says, popping the final bite in his mouth.

You take the plate from him and sit on your seat. He picks up the tennis ball that he has taken a liking to and bounces it off the wall, catching it, and repeating.

"So, what's the recent gossip?" He smirks. "Is anybody getting boned?”

"Negan," you scold, eyebrows furrowing. "That's none of your business. None of our business."

"Come on…” he continues, blatantly ignoring your remarks, continuing to bounce the ball, a huge mischievous grin spreading across his face.

You shake your head.

"No?" He asks curiously.

“Nope. Nobody’s getting boned, if you’re curious.”

"Fuck, that could’ve been the most interesting thing to happen." He scoffs.

"That's sad," you laugh, raising your eyebrows at him. "So depraved that you're living through people’s sex lives?”

You step closer to the bars, handing Negan his ball, but when he goes to grab it you quickly move your hand away, teasing him.

"You gonna give me my ball, sweetheart?" He smiles patronisingly.

You hold the ball, hovering it ever so slightly out of his reach. "Don't call me sweetheart."

"What would you prefer?" He taunts. "Sweet cheeks? Sugar plum?"

"You've got an awful lot of nerve talking to the only person who comes to see you like that." You warn, pointing your other finger at his face. "Say the wrong thing and I'm gone."

"But you always come back," he replies, cocking his head to the side smugly. "Why is that?"

"You don't get to ask questions." You snap.

"Oh, I like when you get fired up, darling." He smirks.

"I bet you fucking do." You retort impatiently.

"I do." He grins.

You bring your face closer to his and lower your voice, tired of Negan thinking he has you wrapped around his finger. "You also like this top?" You motion to the purple tank top you're currently wearing. "'Cause I've caught you looking at my tits at least ten times in the past five minutes." Your words clearly shock him. "You gonna jerk off to this little interaction later? That’s how fucking desperate you are?" You don't know what has come over you, you just want to finally have the upper hand.

"I'm a man." He smiles cockily, not embarrassed like you hoped he might have been. "I have needs."

He looks you up and down, his gaze burning into your skin, making you feel naked. "And I'd be lying if I said you weren't smoking hot."

You stroke your finger along his jawline seductively. "You thought about me before?" You ask. "While touching yourself?"

"Fuck yeah." He mutters, his eyes transfixed on your lips.

"Tell me what you think about." You demand.

"Baby, I-" but you interrupt him.

"Tell me." You snap, then moving your lips to trace his jawline and "Tell me and I'll suck your cock." He elicits a small groan and you grab his face in your hand, turning his head to face you. "And don't call me baby."

"Fuck, I- uhh..." He says, his voice gravelly. "I think about taking you in every fucking position, making you scream my name. Even fucking you out there," he points out of the barred window, "bending you over for everyone to see. So they can see how good I fuck you."

You look at him through heavy lidded eyes and in this moment you have never been so attracted to someone.

"See that wasn't too hard, was it?" You smirk, your lips lightly brushing his, just enough to give him a brief taste of what he wants.

"God, you're so fucking hot," he mutters.

"What do you want?" You ask him smugly.

"You know what I want." He groans impatiently. Your hands creeps to his crotch and palms him softly through his pants, forcing a small moan from his lips.

"I want to hear you say it." You whisper. "Beg me."

"Fuck, please," he groans. "Suck my cock. Please."

"That's it." You slowly lower yourself onto your knees and unzip his pants through the bars of the cell. You release him from his boxers and see that he is already rock solid, and he is big. Almost intimidatingly big. Teasingly, you trace your tongue around his tip, tasting the pre-cum on his cock. His hips buck at the small contact, not used to anything but his hand for so long. He'd been in this cell for years. Soon enough, you take his cock fully into your mouth and you can't help but get butterflies and the deep, gutteral moan he involuntarily let's out as you do so.

Through the bars he grabs your hair, guiding your head up and down his length. The way he pulls on your hair sends tingles down your spine. His hips thrust and you stop your movements as he basically just fucks your mouth, doing all the work himself.

"Fuck," he hisses, and you can tell he is dangerously close. Concocting a plan in your head, you pull away and he stares at you, eyes wide, looking disheveled.

"No, don't stop, I'm about to-"

"I know," you whisper. "Trust me." 

He nods, frustrated, but his eyes light up as he notices you start to lift your top up. You lift it off over your head and swiftly unhook your bra, leaving you topless and bare in front of him. He reaches his hands out wordlessly and you step closer to him, kissing him passionately while his hands squeeze and play with your breasts.

Breaking off the kiss, you grin. "You want me to finish what I started?" You don't wait for his answer because his eyes tell you enough, so you drop to your knees yet again, taking your tongue from the base to the tip of his cock, painstakingly slow.

You look up at him before continuing. "I want you to cum on my tits, okay?" He groans at your words. "Think you can do that?"

Without warning, you engulf him fully in your mouth again and he grabs your chin with one hand and wraps your hair around the other, fucking your face mercilessly, picking the pace up in no time. Tears run down your face but you love it.

It doesn't take long for him to get to the point he was previously at because he hurriedly removes himself from your mouth. You brace yourself as he gives himself a mere single stroke, then his release spills onto your chest. He elicits the dirtiest, most primal sounding moans as he does so and it turns you on beyond belief. You can see him struggling to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss the view.

"Fuck," he mumbles as you run your finger along your chest, gathering some of his cum and licking it off, sucking it off seductively. "Jesus Christ, you're unbelievable."

You pick the tennis ball up, which got dropped at some point, and place it on the chair, along with your black lacy bra, out of Negan's reach. Without another word, you exit the room, leaving Negan breathless, disheveled and hungry for more, reeling from what just happened, sat staring at the ball and the bra that you left to taunt him.

You pick the tennis ball up, which got dropped at some point, and place it on the chair, along with your black lacy bra, out of Negan's reach. Without another word, you exit the room, leaving Negan breathless, disheveled and hungry for more, reeling from what just happened, sat staring at the ball and the bra that you left to taunt him.

"I'm gonna fuck you next time," you hear him yell as you close the door behind him, eager to have the last word, as always.

tags: @inspiredangel @bluemerakis @ultravi0lence14 @floralscented @whisperingdaze @frosttbitessam @bluestrd @urloveada

[hello-nichya-here]

Did Sia insult topic of autism somehow?

Oh honey, it's sooooooooo much worse than that.

Sia wanted to make a movie about an autistic girl that manages to connect to people/feel safe and confident through music. So far, nothing outrageous, just a simple concept that would obviously put Sia's music front and center while doing something nice and educating people on autism.

There was controversy about her not casting an autistic actress as it would have been nice representation, but she could have totally gotten away with that since, come on, hollywood hasn't even figured out Rain Man isn't exactly true to life, they're not ready to have an autistic person playing an autistic character. Baby steps.

The real problem started when Sia started promoting the "charity/support group" that was helping "educate" her on the topic to make the movie. The "charity" in question was Autism Speaks - which is absolutely HATED by the autistic community for things like:

1 - Spreading the myth that autism is a mental illness that one can develop/catch like the freaking flue and potentially be cured of, instead of a neurotype, aka something starts in the woomb and cannot be "cured" because to do that you'd need to replace someone's entire nervous system, which is impossible.

2 - Using that myth to get outrageous amounts of money from people so they "search for a cure" - that doesn't exist and will never exist because curing autism is biologically impossible, AND despite the fact that the overwhelming majority of autistic people don't even want to be "cured" (plus, since said "cure" would essentially mean giving the person a new brain, it leads to the question of "Would I even be the same person, or would that just kill and replace me?")

3 - Using the myth of "We don't know what causes autism" (we do, it's genetic) to, of course, get MORE money from people so they can "do research to find the missing puzzle piece" (if you ever see autistic people complaining about a puzzle piece being used to represent the condition, that's why, it was started by Autism Speak's massive disinformation campains).

4 - Falsely "confirming" things like soy milk cause autism with one of the world's most ridiculous "research", losing only to "vaccines totally make kids autistic, buy MY vaccine instead, guys, I am totally not an unbelievably biased person, it's ALL the other doctors/scientists lying to you. GIVE ME MONEY!"

5 - Pushing the narrative of "autism is inherently a tragedy" to distract from the fact that all the money they waste on stupid shit could be used to help autistic people and their families. Instead, they focus on creating more and more panic, making parents in particular despair even more - to the point that one of their "awareness videos" includes a mother talking about how she wants to murder her autistic daughter and then kill herself... while sitting right next to said daughter.

6 - Promoting ABA "therapy" - which was created by the same guy responsible for the attrocity that is gay conversion "therapy." Both have led to unbelievably high rates of confirmed PTSD and suicidal ideation in patients (victims), and ABA in particular has been compared to literal dog training. Very fitting since it was created by a guy who famously did not believe autistic people truly counted as thinking, feeling human beings, and said as much several times. Despite that, it is still praised by some utter bastards because "it makes the patients act less autistic when they're not crying in the corner or trying to jump out a window"

So yeah, working with these guys is a genuinely horrible thing to do since they're basically a scam/hate group pretending to be a charity - and people were STILL willing to give Sia the benefit of the doubt, since Autism Speak uses all their resources to make sure they're the first thing people see when looking up how to help autistic people.

Lots of Sia's fans, both autistic and allistic, warned her repeatedly, politely, that she needed to supporting them IMMEDIATELY as their goal was the exact opposite of the one she claimed to have - aka raise awareness through an accurate portrail of autism. People were even kind enough to name organizations like ASAN as replacements to help her fix any damage done to the project.

And instead of being a decent human being, Sia decided to cry on twitter about how the mean retar-I mean, autistics were bullying her even when she was so kindly using them for her vanity project.

Because yes, that's how the movie turned out. An unwatcheable piece of garbage, with the autistic "character" being so fucking bad even the people who actively use "autistic" as insulted being offended on our behalf - and of course, she was used just a prop to show how awesome Sia's character was.

Seriously, it was so bad the actress playing the autistic girl was sobbing in between scenes because she knew how it was horrible and she didn't want to insult anyone, but Sia is literally her godmother and helped her career by putting her in nearly all her music videos so she felt obligated to go along with it.

So yeah, fuck Sia and fuck Autism Speaks.

[fictionaire]

I got this prompt idea from Tiktok. You are pregnant and Bucky isn't very trusting in touching your bump with his metal arm.

--------------------------------------------------------------

You were in your eighth month of pregnancy and everything had been going very smoothly. The baby was healthy and so were you up to this point.

The past couple of days had been pretty rough since you developed a pretty nasty cold. You visited your doctor who said you didn't have anything to worry about since you hadn't contracted a fever. But if you did and it was above 100 you needed to go to the hospital.

Bucky had been taking great care of you throughout your entire pregnancy but now with the cold he wouldn't even let you stand on your own. He actually made F.R.I.D.A.Y notify him when they detected you had stood up. It was ridiculous but also incredibly sweet.

It was now day three of your battle with the cold and you had been going through hot and cold flashes. Bucky had to go on a mission yesterday but promised to be back today and made sure Nat was watching over you.

You kicked off the comforter that had comforted you in what felt like an arctic room five minutes ago but that had now changed into death valley.

"How you doing?" Natasha asked, tapping lightly at the door that was ajar.

"I feel so hot" You complained, putting a cool rag over your belly. "And the baby adds fifteen degrees to whatever temperature i'm already feeling."

Natasha giggled at your dramatics and held the thermometer up to your forehead.

"98.6" She said, hitting the power button. "You're normal"

"Tell that to the desert I am laying in."

You heard heavy footsteps heading down quickly towards the hallway

"They're back" Nat said, getting off the edge of the bed and walking out the door as Bucky walked in.

"Hi, doll." He said, walking to your bedside out of breath. "How ya doin?"

"Burning up."

"Are you feeling any better?" He asks, taking a seat on the side of the bed.

"Other than these hot/cold flashes I feel okay."

He reaches his metal arm up to your shoulder, rubbing it and you can feel the cold through your shirt sleeve. You grab his hand and lower it to your belly, the cool relaxing you until he yanks his arm away, replacing it with his real hand.

"The cold felt nice." You whined, jutting out your bottom lip.

"Yeah, but - uh I need to take this off, it' probably gross from the combat."

"It's okay, Buck." You say, reaching out to grab his hand again, to which he stands off the bed and takes a step away.

"No, (y/n)." He says, sternly.

You look at him, shocked. In all the time you have been with Bucky he's only ever talked to you in that tone twice, both while on a mission and you had done something a little more reckless than you should have been doing and he was worried for your safety.

"I-I'm sorry, Doll." He said after taking a breath. "I'm just scared to touch you like that with this arm. What if something happens like it glitches or - "

"Buck, the Winter Soldier is gone. It's been five years." You say, sitting up in bed. "I trust you completely. I think you need to trust yourself a little more than you do."

He makes his way back to the bed and sits where he was before, not taking his eyes off the ground.

"I just worry and I wouldn't want to ever do anything to hurt you or our daughter."

"It's all okay, I trust you." You lay your hand gently on his metal one and look into his eyes, asking if it's okay without actually saying any words. He nods and you place his hand back on your belly, humming gratefully at the feeling.

"Just tell me if you start feeling uncomfortable." You say to Bucky.

"I trust us."

[trans-jon-rights]

i'd very much like to hear about your mechs/tma baby jon au:)

Hehehehe thanks for asking >:3

So I have no idea where this whole idea came from, but I'll try to make it somewhat coherent.

At some point in the mess that is the Mechs' timeline, after High Noon Over Camelot and before Out, they all come to Earth. Somehow, Ivy gets a job in the public library of Bournemouth and legally becomes Jon's aunt at some point (don't ask me how I don't know).

Which means that when Baby Jom comes into the picture, Ivy is very interested in understanding how to raise a human child. She gets involved in his life, becomes the cool aunt, all the while being on really good terms with his parents. When they die, Jon is six, and she proposes to take care of him. Jon's gran, who didn't want to deal with it, accepts, although she asks to still be able to see him on weekends and whatnot.

Now, Ivy's living situation isn't what anyone would call "typical," especially not in the 90s. Because picture that. Ivy and the Mechs all live in a huge mansion together, sleep together in huge cuddle piles most of the time, only half of them have a job, they look super weird... also, they're all queer ofc.

Great for Jon's emotional development, not great for neighbourhood gossip.

I'd say Jon's childhood in this AU is pretty great. His gran steps out of the picture after a while (Jonny banned her because she made some comments about Jon being neurodivergent and the crew being sinful), and overall, he gets plenty of love. He has as many books as he wants (and isn't blamed for it!) and learns plenty of useful skills such as cleaning guns :)

When he gets hired at the Institute, he's kind of a mess. The crew went a bit everywhere during his uni years, wanting to wreck some havoc after staying in the same place for 15 years, except Ivy, who transformed the house into her personal library. They still visited him from times to time but y'know.

Elias gets quickly interested in him because of the amount of Marks he already has. The crew never hurt him intentionally, but with them all being Avatars (unknowingly), his encounter with the Web (which still happened), and being generally encouraged in his Eye tendencies, that didn't help.

(Note to self : figure out who is an Avatar of what)

When he gets hired in the Archives, he calls Ivy and asks her to help him sort the mess. Ivy gets a weird feeling about the place, and decides to call the crew back together in case Jon might need help. That's also when they discover they've all become way more Avatar-y during their time apart.

That's all I've got for now ! Thanks for asking <3

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: M6 when a spell goes wrong and MC is stuck as a toddler for the day

Reverse scenario is here:

~ to set the scene ~

You had just finished breakfast together, and your beloved had stepped out for a few minutes to look at a message that had just arrived for them. You stole the opportunity to open the notebook you'd been developing a complicated spell in and add a rune or two that might help.

Wait, you didn't mean to close that circle yet. Wait - that's a very bright light. Wait. Your hands are way too small, and while you're mentally intact as yourself, you can definitely feel the effects of being a two and a half year old. You're just now feeling the need to scribble on your arms and legs with the pen you dropped when you hear the door open.

Julian

He's a smart guy, he puts two and two together very quickly. He steps out, he notices a bright light under the door while he's out, he comes back in, there is a small child with your eyes drowning in your clothes, it's obvious that that is you

Just because he understands quickly does not mean he isn't surprised. He is very surprised

"Woah! Someone miscalculated! Can you speak? Is your brain tiny too?"

As soon as you say yes, he's melting. Your voice is so small! You are so small! You are so cute!! Is this what your kids would look like? Can he pick you up? How long are you going to be like this?

Once you tell him he can pick you up, he'll sit at the table and ask you about what happened. He's listening closely but he's also trying to hide the way he's squealing internally over your tiny voice and baby pronunciation

He grew up with a baby sister and has treated his fair share of small patients, not to mention that he has strong familial instincts

He knows you'll only be like this until the evening, but he has a mighty need to see you in baby clothes

He has a mini heart attack from cuteness when you put on one of his shirts like a dress and he has to roll the sleeves up for you

He's just looking at you, slowly turning red from the effort of not squealing, fixing you with the most delighted grin while you try to get him to pay attention to what you're saying

That's it, that's how the rest of the day goes. Just him alternating between subconsciously demonstrating impeccable parenting skills and zoning out completely because those shoes are so small and they are so cute on your feet he needs to buy them now

He'll take you on a tour of the South End with you balanced on his hip. He's fascinated with how differently you perceive things as a child, and you're capable of communicating that to him

On less busy streets he'll put you down so you can walk, but you have to hold his hand

Cue his 749th internal meltdown of the day because your hands are so small, look at those tiny fingernails

He also has to bend over so you can actually reach his hand, but he'll never let on that it's killing his back because the way you walk with such short legs is heart melting

He'll make sure you're eating and drinking appropriately and he'll have you back home before sundown

When you pop back to your regular size just before dinner he will keep you up for the rest of the night with his questions

He is going to have raging baby fever for the next few weeks

Asra

They knew what had happened before they even opened the door

Faust was at the table with you as you were writing, she was telling him all about it while he was still reading his mail

The first thing they're doing is checking that you really aren't hurt and making sure that you're comfortable

Then he's going over the spell you just cast, lifting you onto the table to talk him through the creative process so he knows exactly what happened and what to expect

The reality of the situation doesn't really hit them until after they know you're okay and will remain okay

The adorableness is not lost on him, you're the most precious thing he's ever seen

They're also picking up on the behavioral changes. They recognize your speech patterns and that you're capable of the same intellect, but they also notice the clumsy grip you've got on a pen you don't need and the way you keep almost scribbling on your leg

He's going to give you a minute there while he grabs something for you to wear

Sure enough, you're doodling away as soon as their back is turned

That seals your fate. They are going to give you every fun childhood adventure they can think of

He'll get you situated with a toga-like ensemble made up of several intricately tied scarves and take you down to the docks

Now they're getting to play one of Faust's favorite games with you - climbing to the top of the ship's masts when the sailors aren't looking and jumping off

He's slowing your descent with magic, watching your eyes light up, listening to your baby giggles the whole way down

It's a whole new kind of special for them to recreate one of their few positive childhood memories with you, and it's bringing their own inner child so much healing it almost hurts

All the falling works up an appetite, so he'll spend the next few hours wandering the food stalls, trying whatever catches your fancy

They'll take your notebook and grown up clothes with you to their parent's house for the afternoon

He knows they know more about childcare than he does, and their added expertise is a good safeguard in case something goes wrong when you switch back

Seeing their parents with you does make them think that Aisha and Salim wouldn't be terrible grandparents

He does notice that he misses napping with a small human snuggled into his side and now he's having strange dreams of a child with you

Nadia

She is mildly shocked. She could sense the spike in magic but she didn't expect it to result in this

She is already the type of person to treat all children like small adults, and that certainly translates into this situation

"Oh my, MC. I'll send for some clothes immediately. Do you know how long this might last? Have you eaten your fill? Is there anything you require?"

She'll make sure your needs are met, but she is a Countess and she has things to do and she can't cancel everything

You'll just have to accompany her for the day

She'll slow her pace so you can keep up with her, your chubby little legs moving briskly while you hold onto the trailing end of one of her sleeves

She'll set you up on a high chair with extra cushions for her meetings and will ask you for your input like it's business as usual

You do get some very strange looks from everyone else in the room. Who is this toddler? Why are they with the Countess? And why on earth is the Countess engaging them as part of these very important discussions?

She feels no need to explain herself. If it is clear when you speak that you have good thoughts, then that qualifies you to take part

Nobody questions her

As much as it may seem like she's unaffected, nothing could be farther from the truth

She's just very good at hiding it

The way your "r"s keeping turning into "w"s? The way your eye catches on every colorful thing that moves? Your not-fully-developed motor skills? Consider her charmed

She has lunch with you outside in the garden, and that's where she can really see the toddler affecting you

A bird lands nearby and you startle. Your eyes are wide open, taking in every breeze in the tree branches. When she sees you reach out and pluck a pretty wildflower to look at closer she caves

"Tell me MC, what are some of your favorite games to play outside?"

Hide-and-go-seek has never been so enchanting. Your giggles are the sweetest music she's ever heard

At one point, when she picks you up and feels the way you instinctively nuzzle into her arms, she'll think that maybe her parents were onto something with all the kids they had

When you turn back that evening, the relief she feels is unmatched. You were an adorable child, but she adores the you that stands next to her

Muriel

He's not surprised that you were trying a spell and it backfired. He's just surprised that there is a toddler in his hut

Why are you a toddler, MC. You could have turned into anything else. You could have turned into a wolf, or a chicken, or even a goat (ugh), at least then he'd know how to take care of you

Of course he's not saying any of this out loud, in reality he's slowly walking towards you with sweat rolling down his temples

Since when were toddlers this small?

He's relieved when you take the initiative of crawling to your notebook and explaining what you were doing and how it went wrong

Now that he knows it's still you in there, his insides are rapidly dissolving into mush. Babies = humans before they've learned to be mean + size of a chicken + the most adorable traits

Also it's you, he loves you, look at how small you are next to Inanna, look at you sinking your little chubby fists into her fur, look at her trying to give you a ride around the hut, look at the two of you heading out the door for an adventure

WAIT YOU'RE TOO SMALL THERE IS NO WAY THAT IS SAFE COME BACK

He's going to deny it later, but after you see his nurturing nature up close you know he'd be a fantastic father

He figures it'll be easier to just take you with him instead of leaving you up to your antics

Cue you spending the day perched on his massive shoulder, one small hand keeping you balanced with a death grip on his braids and the other grabbing leaves off of every tree branch you pass under

You keep forgetting how vulnerable you are in this form. Muriel has had to snatch you off the ground multiple times now because chickens and wild animals are so much bigger than you're used to

He keeps getting stressed until he's got you on his shoulder again, but all it takes is you swinging your tiny legs and humming a nursery rhyme under your breath to make him smile

It's weird, but one of the best parts of the day was lunch. The two of you sat down on a sun-warmed rock in a clearing for some bread and berries

After his own turbulent childhood, being able to provide enough food to watch you eat your fill and then help you feel safe enough to take an afternoon nap on his chest makes him feel like there's a part of his heart that has blood pumping through it again

When you bounce back that evening his knees buckle with relief

Portia

It takes her a second or two to figure it out, this is definitely not what she expected to see at the breakfast table

As soon as you look up and say "it's me, Powsha" she's squealing

She already loves babies, and you are by far the cutest one she's ever laid eyes on

She doesn't need to ask you any questions, she's already sending a message in calling off of work for the day and ransacking the cottage for material to make you an outfit with

You're only able to explain things to her once she's got you settled and wants to make plans for your impromptu day together

It's immediately obvious to her the way being a toddler is affecting your interests and attention span and she is here for it

Childcare expert. She's packing a bag with a change of clothes, snacks, water, handkerchiefs, small blanket, lunch, etc

She's taking you on an adventure!

No worries if walking is hard, she's got the bag on one shoulder and you on the opposite hip

The first thing she wants to do is show everybody else how cute you are. Her first stop is the palace kitchen, where the staff can coo over you while you stuff yourself with treats

Then it's down to the South End to drop in on Ilya and Mazelinka. Of course she feels the need to prank them by pretending that you are her newly adopted child, making them an uncle and great-grandmother respectively

Mazelinka sees right through it immediately but Ilya falls for it hook, line, and sinker

"I'm an uncle?! Pasha, when? Why did you wait this long? They look so much like MC, is there something you aren't telling me??"

She's cackling when she finally disillusions him (he's so embarrassed - he was so enthusiastic when he offered to toss you up in the air and you're never going to let him live that down)

Deep down though it's feeding a need she's had for a while to have kids of her own. Knowing what you're like as a toddler is lighting a fire under her to be the mother she grew up without

She'll spend the afternoon romping with you in her garden, playing tag and hide-and-seek and building little fairy houses

Watching you play with Pepi leaves her fit to burst from the adorableness, it's cuteness squared and she does not have enough physical space in her chest for this much love

Lowkey disappointed when you poof back to your normal size

She desperately hopes you want kids with her because now she knows what it's like it's all she'll be thinking about for months

Lucio

Oh boy

It took him a good five minutes to be convinced of the situation. There's no way you're a baby, you're playing a prank, some villager's kid crashed the place, that's not you - is it?

He's a lot more realistic about himself with you in his life, he knows he's not good with kids

It's you though, obviously he's not going anywhere, he's dedicated to taking care of you, he just hopes you're not expecting him to do that without any oopsies

As soon as you start talking he's hanging on your every word. This only lasts until evening? Thank goodness

He's just winging it at this point. You need clothes? uh - just wear one of your grown up shirts, he's got a piece of string to help it stay snug

You need shoes? he'll tie some socks onto your legs

You're hungry? Toddlers can have bread, right? Here's some bread

He keeps forgetting that you aren't as capable in this form as you usually are. Could you start that fire for him for lunch? Oh yeah

Don't worry, your dashing ex-Count knows his way around a flint and steel

After he accidentally leaves you behind a few times because you're slower than he's used to he just plops you on one of the dog's backs

Mercedes and Melchior are living for the chaos, but are also being unusually docile. And protective

They take turns, one of them giving you a ride while the other patrols and growls at every moving thing in a twenty-foot radius

You're also much easier to lick like this, by evening time your face and arms are sticky with dog slobber

As initially freaked as Lucio is, he's more and more charmed by your cuteness as the day rolls by

The first time he hears you giggle when one of the dogs nuzzles you he feels his heart stop

He only remembers babies as annoying things that cry during parties that should only have adults at them, since when were they so cute? Or is that just you?

He caves at lunch time, sitting you in his lap so he can feed you

For the first time he's having to be so careful with his gauntlet, normally he likes the spikes but now he's thinking of ways to cushion them

He's carrying you against his chest for the afternoon, tickling you and making funny faces just to hear those giggles again

Now that he thinks about it, maybe the two of you should have one of these for your own

When you poof back that evening he will feel the need to tell you all about his day with you, regardless of the fact that you're the one who spent it with him

[sergeifyodorov]

would u do a little analysis of how each team has done so far this season … i trust ur opinions so much

EACH team okay... under the cut bc i am not subjecting the masses to 32 nasty little thots cody edition

Bruins: RIP patrice of course but the bruins are steamrolling as ever... i think that if there is any evidence of the universe simply not caring abt good things it is that the bruins slip and stumble and have some of their best players retired and still manage to put up a 50 win season every year. <- salty leafs fan but ANYHWAY the bruins are easily a Playoff Team. simply "there" 5v5, strong power play, they make their money off finishing (pastrnak you filthy animal) and goaltending (swaymark you filthy animals). they have been trending downwards of late so i'm not entirely sure of like their final standings place but with this kind of head start they're staying up.

Sabres: currently in what we the people call a "decade of darkness." might be a "two decades of darkness" if we're going to be honest. the active player with the most playoff points with the sabres is tyler myers. 7 points. yeah the tall one most famous for having a subreddit that posts the gamescore card every time he's on the bottom of the gamescore card. sabres are really hard to fix because their first real step to contention is "hoping devon levi turns out really good." not promising. bad enough that by selling a piece or two celebrini is in sight. maybe that'll help? a third 1OA?

Red Wings: presenting the mid-season Season Ruining Unforced Error Award early by saying: not that they were going to be as good as their first few games of sniping suggested, but signing patrick kane tanked any realistic hope they have of playoffs. is patrick kane good? he's actually alright. maybe this time the surgery worked. is the team made better by having him on it? it surely isn't! a few REALLY BADLY TIMED dylan larkin based misfortunes have made it go from bad to worse. they were in A2 like a month ago and now they're Out. strengths: finishing. weaknesses: everything else, including morale.

Panthers: okay you've probably clocked this by now but ive been Generally Salty so far and that is bc a) im easily tempted to haterhood and b) currently discussing each team in the atlantic which does nothing to make me less Tempted To Haterhood. that being said the panthers are Good and For Real About It. they can do everything except finish chances, which is fine when the other team has way fewer chances than you and your goalie doesn't let any of them in. fuck ALLL the way off. place your bets on these guys having a deep playoff run. cross your fingers for them not having a deep playoff run i can't stand chuckyposting again it's RAN ITS COURSE. (also: machuk is probably still injured and absolutely Not doing as well as he did the last few seasons. maybe because he's just not that kind of guy but it's probably at least mostly the broken chest thing)

Canadiens: they are bad EXCEPT when it comes to overtime + the shootout. also much like the sabres they're going nowhere fast. i expect at least one of their goalies to be gone at the deadline... furthermore i think ppl who are ragging on slaf's slow development are simply expecting all 1OAs to be like an auston or a connor type (pick your connor) where they come in and immediately adapt -- slaf rings very reminiscent of quinton byfield to me, who was picked 2OA in 2020 and is only now starting to break out. give him time he's a baby...

Senators: despite how much literally everyone talks up all their players constantly, they are not good either. like the sabres or the habs... atlantic is 4 teams in the genuine hunt, 3 teams who suck and have sucked forever and will suck forevermore, and the red wings who haven't made up their minds yet. the sens actually Do have a singular Biggest Problem though and that's goaltending, but they're not a good enough team otherwise that getting a quality goaltender is going to make them playoffs worthy, especially not in the very short (this-season) run.

Lightning: the lightning are weird to me because like i think they're still making up their mind as A People what they want to do. kucherov is the best player in the league rn, this is stamkos' ufa season and he hasn't been offered an extension, vasilevskiy is back and vasying his levskiy... i fully believe they have the capability of getting a playoff spot, maybe even A3 if they want. we've all seen them in the playoffs, we know how they can turn ~It~ on at will. as always they're a deeply mid 5v5 team powered by very strong special teams... the goaltending numbers say goaltending is shit but they've been playing in front of the genuinely unplayable jonas johansson most of the season so i think it'll be fine.

Maple Leafs: as the team ive watched the moast i can talk about these guys for evar so for all of our sanities i will be brief: Auston Matthews, Baby, Look At Him, That's Auston, Auston Motherfucking "Sexy Mustached Bitch" Matthews!!!!!!! powered by an extremely strong power play and very good offence, and defence and goaltending that is held together by Morgan Rielly and a dream. possibly the only reason they're in a playoff spot is the fact that martin jones didn't get claimed on waivers three months ago and i am being dead serious about that. for some reason they're at their best when they're down by two. they do really need both their #1 goalie to come back from injury and to make a splash for a genuine nhl-calibre defenceman, but they're stubbornly determined to win games even through nasty flu.

Hurricanes: their usual selves -- analytics darlings, can't buy a goal. this year they can't buy a save either -- Freddie is out with a medical condition, Raanta is straight up not good, and Kochetkov is... well, he's Kochetkov. they're not far out of a spot but they'll need a hot hand if they want to get comfy... which i don't expect, frankly. they're good enough to make the playoffs, but they're not really a team that goes on heaters, so they'll be bubble until the end.

Blue Jackets: genuinely not sure they know what they're doing like... okay. from an outside pov they are obviously Tanking. they're bad in every way that matters except for finishing and the standings show it. but also like... they're at the point in their development cycle where they shouldn't be tanking... or at least are on the verge of Shouldn't Be Tanking. and again, because they don't know what they're doing, they hired mike babcock for this... if they know what they're doing they'll toss kekalainen as soon as they can and, following this year's draft, start Fighting. but let's be real i doubt that. adam fantilli it's your time to shine... sorry sweetheart!

Devils: see Hurricanes. Great on paper, can't buy a save. They've obviously been stunted by Timo, J'accuse, and Nico all being injured at various points, but goaltending is their biggest and most solvable problem. Unlike the Hurricanes, though, the Devils are fully capable of going on a heater, so the gap between them and WC2 isn't as big as it looks (probably.) Luke Hughes is going to be something special.

Rangers: Looks like Lafreniere is finally getting his feet under him -- but the Rangers have always been far more about getting old, known players to get a second wind with them than they've been about prospect development, and Quick and Wheeler are both showing this pretty definitively. Another one of those teams that's run by special teams and finishing/goaltending. Easy playoff spot, likely solid run. Nothing too interesting here.

Islanders: On the other hand, the Isles are interesting because... like... how did they get There? They have a negative goal differential, for heaven's sake! Their special teams are godawful, their defence is a sieve, they blow leads like that's what actually gets you points in this league, and they're somehow second in the Metropolitan??????? Is it Horvat? Barzal? Sorokin? (It's probably Sorokin.) They'll make the playoffs but i doubt they'll succeed in them.

Flyers: This one's also weird. They have the power play and offence of a peewee team in the big leagues, but have become defensively Actually Super Competent and are somehow good because of this? I'm going to theorize -- because you've asked me to but also because I really want to -- that this is due, at least in part, to somewhat of an inverse Kane-on-the-Red-Wings effect from their offseason removal of Provorov and DeAngelo; without them, the team is now not only better defensively on paper but also better as a team in the locker room. They're [uncle voice] playing with heart now! I doubt they're a real contender, but I think they might actually make playoffs.

Penguins: ...this one's also weird. They're good on paper. Like, really good on paper? Defensively "just okay" but offensively great, goaltending is fantastic, special teams are shutdown. They just can't buy a goal and they can't buy a good sequence.

Capitals: This one's weird, too, but in the opposite way -- aside from the power-play, the Caps are actually godawful on paper, especially when it comes to finishing (because when Ovechkin takes such a high percentage of your shots but he isn't scoring, your team REALLY suffers) but somehow they've managed to pinpoint sequencing luck (win close, lose ugly) and are somehow in WC1. Do I think they'll make the playoffs? Absolutely not -- if either the Devils or Canes step up, the Caps are the odd man out -- but it might be fun to see them try. Or hell, I hope they win-close-lose-ugly their way to a goddamn Cup final. Would be funny as fuck for Ovi's second-longest ever playoff run to come at the fresh young age of thirty-eight. Dude looks ragged out there. I'm going to shut up now before I start talking about finding him sexy

Coyotes: Simple on paper: bad at running play, good goaltending and finishing. Essentially what the Canucks are doing at a smaller scale. The Leafs should never have let Kerfoot walk and I mean that unironically. Okay, anyway, the Yotes are a bubble team and won't make higher than WC1 because of the logjam at the top of the Central, but holy fuck do I want them to make WC1 (or a playoff spot in general.) People ask "how can we grow the game" a lot, and when it comes to what the NHL can do directly, the number one biggest thing is win in small markets. Arizona has already created one of the sports' biggest stars -- Auston! -- and it's an absolutely massive TV market and a potential hotbed of new fans and new, great players. Arizona making a playoff spot -- or even better, going on a run -- would be amazing for the NHL. And it would be funny. And I would like that.

Blackhawks: shoutout to dave !!! dave who works for the hawks!!! anyway the hawks are very obviously tanking and good at it. Their only real point of interest is their Sacred Child, and holy fuck is their Sacred Child going to absolutely fucking smash it when he's given a team that's not entirely made up of scrubs. i think his analytics, especially his defensive numbers, are, like, fine? but accounting for his leverage (all situations, especially the difficult ones), his teammates (his best linemate is Anthony Beauvillier, and tito... is a third liner), and the fact that he's all of eighteen, he's definitely on track to be a Real Force. i kinda love him... okay moving on.

Avalanche: All-over good: finishing their biggest obvious strength, but hockeywise they don't have any real weaknesses... although there is some serious Drama brewing in that locker room and i think it might just be getting started. with landeskog gone for at least until the end of this year (and possibly forever) and ej a sabre, there is absolutely no one in there capable of actually emotionally running a team: makar lacking in a leader's magnetism, rantanen an idiot, toews and mackinnon far too high-strung and competitive, and no one else with seniority. they're a good enough team that it's not really affecting them right now, but ... i don't know, i can kind of feel it coming. They'll make the playoffs, but when the pressure is on they'll either step up or completely fall apart.

Stars: See above: all-over good, but saving their biggest obvious weakness. I think most of this is spurred by Otter being out -- Wedgewood is a serviceable backup goaltender, but obviously not capable of being a real starter, and the team is stuttering because of it. I doubt it'll be for long or too much difficulty (they're a good defensive team, so it's not going to affect them a lot, but they might lose a game or two they might have won with Otter, especially if he's out for a while), but it's going to keep them from taking a step on top of the Central. Easy playoff team, probable contender.

Wild: They are bad! Penalty kill is their worst weakness, but they're not great in goal either and the combination is kicking their ass. As much as I respect how well they've done with that giant cap-space penalty from the Parise/Suter buyouts all those years ago, it's... kind of time to throw in the towel. Get Flower those final few wins, because by god are they devoid of much other success. Right at the tail of a competitive arc. RIP. Tank incoming.

Predators: Weirdly good, even though Saros hasn't been his usual self? O'Reilly esp has been an absolutely fantastic addition for the team over the offseason. No huge strengths, no significant weaknesses. Not an amazing offensive team, but it's Nashville so they were never going to be -- the place practically breeds defensive forwards and all-around dmen. I don't expect they'll seriously contend, but they'll make the playoffs (unless someone offers the farm for Saros).

Blues: I genuinely think so little about the Blues .... that whole thing with Jordan Kyrou has been the most I've thought about them for a bit. That and the fact that only three of their games haven't been decided by the first goal? They're not good and they're really boring. Yeehaw.

Jets: THE JETS let's get JUICY. Jets' biggest strengths by far are a) 5v5 defence and b) finishing/goaltending. Even with Kyle Connor out they're sniping and Hellebuyck and Brossoit are both absolutely on it. The Jets have always seemed to have this problem where on paper (take a shot every time I've written "on paper" in this post if you want to die of alcohol poisoning) they seem fantastic, then January onwards they absolutely plummet. And it's not January yet, so that might still happen, but that kind of thing tends to happen because of a dramatic morale shift, and now that Lowry's captain and Wheeler's left for New York... that might not happen? They've banked enough points that unless they're historically bad from here on out they're still a playoff team. If they keep up what they have going so far, they're a contender, but if it's the same Winnipeg with the same problems, then they're not.

Ducks: Taking a step in the right direction with Carlsson and Mintyukov, but still bad! I really hope Carlsson recovers well, he seems like a sweet boy. Also: what on Earth are they doing with Zegras. Is he a defenceman now? Are they making him play defence? Are he and Dixie D'Amelio still dating? I have many questions. I just hope whichever high draft pick they get is an idiot. I feel like they need another dumbass baby on the team.

Flames: The Flames also appear to have no idea what's going on. And frankly, neither do I! They're too good to be obviously tanking, but not near good enough to be a bubble team. They're definitely reluctant to sell, but their best hope to win soon absolutely should be selling. They have one of the worst contracts in the league on their payroll (wow... I hope the guy in charge of my favourite team didn't sign that!) and a bunch of really solid late-round picks and prospects cutting their teeth on the NHL. In short: they aren't going to make the playoffs and should be leaning into that, but they don't seem to have realized this yet.

Oilers: For the sake of not gloating, I'm going to sum this one up with a Marek quote: If you have a goalie, it's 70% of your team. If you don't, it's 100%. They've had finishing trouble, but considering they absolutely run the show at 5v5 AND special teams (they put nearly SIXTY SHOTS on Vasilevskiy the other day) a little finishing shouldn't be quite so dangerous if they didn't have two sieves minding the net. McDavid might hit 150 again and the Oil might still miss the playoffs. If they get in, they're going far, but at this point it'll be tough as fuck to make it in.

Kings: Average penalty kill. No other weaknesses. Kopitar 4 Selke.

Sharks: This is an absolutely glorious tankjob. No other way to put it. This is the pinnacle of tank design. This is the Wayne Gretzky of tankjobs. This is the Casablanca of tankjobs. This is the Saturn V of tankjobs. Nothing has been so beautifully engineered to suck since Sir James Dyson patented his vacuum or Nancy Reagan walked the earth. It's beautiful. It's gorgeous. I am in awe. They deserve Celebrini purely because of how flawless the tank is. I don't care if he has a warm undertone and would look pink in that fantastic teal. The boy needs San Jose.

Kraken: Good defensively at 5v5, bad pretty much everywhere else. I'm going to be honest with you all, last year was kind of a flash in the pan -- Seattle isn't great and they're neither headed upwards nor downwards. Not a bubble team, probably won't pick top ten. They haven't decided whether or not to build up or tank. Beyond the fantastic aesthetics and four-unranked-lines shtick, they don't really have a whole lot of competitive mojo: no star forwards, no goaltending. Wholeheartedly mid.

Canucks: oH BABY!!!!! The 23-24 Canucks made us all learn what PDO is. The 23-24 Canucks are first in the motherfucking league after being one spot out of being in the Bedard lottery. The 23-24 Canucks are on track to have the best shooting and saving percentage in league history. The 23-24 Canucks' leading goalscorer is Brock Boeser, the guy they've almost traded practically every year since they drafted him. The 23-24 Canucks started the season by naming the Wettest Little Man On The Planet captain and they haven't looked back since. I think they're an easy lock for a playoff spot -- but within the playoffs, do I know what they're going to do? I absolutely do not. They could PDO their way to a Cup or they could bow out in four games flat. Either is equally likely. They have thoroughly embraced Good Chaos. Quinn Hughes might win the Hart. Everything's coming up Vancouver.

Golden Knights: Not as good as they were last year. Ultimately still pretty good. Easy playoff spot. Definite contender. Jack Eichel is better than ever and I love him for it, the dickhead.

[absolutelybifurious]

man it's been forever since i've been in an active fandom and yall are wild. first off, i get the upset over jlh a little bit, but also - she isn't a writer and she doesn't know and yall have to understand this is network tv and a buddie storyline would still be kinda wild. like i know we want society to be at a certain point, but it just isn't. buck being bi was huge in terms of progress so to turn around and expect him and one of the other masc leads to get together immediately is not realistic.

yall are freaking out that ryan called eddie het but like, he canonically is rn? like you understand that, right? we can headcanon till we're blue in the face but as far as the stated narrative is concerned, my boy is, tragically, straight. what ryan said, imo, was exactly what i was thinking re: baby steps. like buck's arc is going to develop - it sucks it has to be like that, but with tv at current, you're not getting 2 queer storylines back to back like that. honestly, because they went bi buck and not just... buddie happening. from a writing perspective, it would be... really hard to make eddie also come out and then them get together. like writing/story wise it would be hard for it not to feel repetitive. it was just not gonna happen, and i think ryan wanting to appreciate eddie accepting buck is, like, fine?? that is the story we're being told right now, and so he's basically like lean into this moment instead of jumping ahead.

he literally said baby steps (and yeah i know he said if anything but the point is he doesn't KNOW) and i feel like i had that exact same thought, like anything we get at this point will be baby steps bc if it was suddenly poof they're together, it would read rushed.

yall need to take a collective breath and just understand it was never gonna happen this season. i get wanting it, but it just was not realistic? so many shows go through this and there's never any queer rep at all, and yes, times are changing, but they haven't changed that much. buddie has way more chance than any other ship like them, so just... breathe. do fandom shit. accept there's a CHANCE and that's more than i would've said a year ago. but it's gonna take a few seasons. baby steps.

[depravitycentral]

Wait do share your thoughts on troupe darlings' therapy sessions ( if you are up to it ofc.)

Tw: heads up this is long, kidnapping, mentions of non-con, mentions of physical abuse, Stockholm syndrome/mind breaks, brief mentions of Nobunaga's jar but nothing explicit, recording, set in an au where all members of the Troupe have their own darling

Of course! I've gotten a few asks about this topic, so I'll just answer it in one big go!

The idea to even have the 'therapy sessions', or awkward, forced meetings between the various darlings of the Troupe, mainly comes from, surprisingly, Uvogin. He's one of the ones who cares the most about preserving who his darling is, even now that they've been kidnapped by him - he wants them to stay them, and he's watching them slowly slip away with every passing day. Maybe, by allowing them interaction with other people besides himself (in a controlled, safe environment where he can easily pull them away, where he can watch and make sure they're not getting too close to anyone else), they'll slowly regain all that liveliness he fell in love with. Maybe they'll become themselves, again.

The rest of the Troupe is split down the middle about whether this is a good idea - some of the more lucid yanderes, like Franklin and Pakunoda, are supportive. Of course, they don't like the idea that their darling will be looking at others, speaking with them and - god forbid - letting others touch them (in platonic ways, of course - should feelings develop between the darlings, measures will be taken to forbid their interactions), but they know it's best in the long run. The yanderes can take it, with clenched fists and gritted teeth, because it's for them, for their lovely, sweet little darling, and if it gets them to love the yandere more, they'll do anything they can.

Others, like Nobunaga and Feitan, are more reluctant. They don't like stomaching the thought of their darling spending time with anyone other than themselves, and for some of them, they don't even realize their darling is unhappy. They're resistant to the idea at first, but at Chrollo's orders, they're reluctantly dragging their darling along, telling them that they'd better behave or else, or that everything will be find and he'll be right there, so don't worry baby I'll get you if someone makes you uncomfortable. (Feitan and Nobuanga, respectively, though their darlings won't have the heart to tell either of them that their words aren't especially reassuring.)

Regardless, the sessions happen roughly once a month - at a designated meeting spot, all members of the Troupe will bring their darlings. The darlings are placed into a room with a circle of chairs, a camera trained on them from the corner of the room just to make sure nothing too extreme occurs. The yanderes are all in the next room over - except, the wall may look like it's solid to the darlings, but it's really one way glass, and the yanderes can watch it all in live time. This makes some of them nervous, because they don't like the fact that the other members could be so freely ogling their darling (none of them are, they're all too busy staring at their own partner, but that's besides the point). But it's how it must be done, according to Chrollo, in order to make sure the darling is really getting the most out of the experience.

It's what's best for them, he'll tell his followers. He conveniently doesn't mention how he'd threatened his own darling with violence against the other darlings should they step out of line - an empty threat, really, because harming another member's darling is suicide, even given their devotion to Chrollo, but you don't know that.

The yanderes spend their time chatting amongst themselves or just staring, everyone too focused on their own darling to really pay attention when their neighbor begins prattling on about how wonderful and great and perfect their own beloved is.

The ones who just sit silently and stare are Feitan, Machi, and Pakunoda. They'll nod at another member if the conversation is started, but it quickly becomes apparent that they aren't really listening. It's not that they don't want to listen to their fellow member gush about their partner (well, Feitan doesn't, but still) - rather, they just can't take their eyes off their darlings. They're mesmorized, watching the way they smile and laugh, things they never do with their captor. They're trying to memorize everything about their darling, fascinated and captivated (and, in Feitan's case, aroused) by seeing their darling genuinely enjoy themselves.

The ones doing all the talking (bragging, really) about their darlings are Uvogin, Nobunaga, and Shizuku. They just simply won't shut up - they're beaming at their darling through the glass, prattling on and on about how beautiful they are and how they squeal just right when they fuck them a certain way. A lot of details are being thrown out there that really, really don't need to be, but once they start talking they just can't stop. When these yanderes end up next to each other, the atmosphere turns almost competitive, each yandere talking about how their darling has a prettier smile or is more loving, only for the other yandere's aura to flare up and a strained smile cross their face as they say okay, but my darling has a better laugh and has willingly sucked me off. It's a never ending battle, and frankly, the more lucid yanderes are left grimacing because god, none of this needs to be shared.

The ones who are pretending to listen, and sort of are (they're multitasking, but it's difficult to spend equal energy on watching you and listening to their companion talk about someone they don't care about) are Chrollo, Phinks, Franklin and Shalnark. They'll hum along and agree that their companion's darling is very lovely, indeed, but internally they're too busy comparing how much better their own darling is, mentally listing all of the things they're superior at and reaffirming their own feelings. It's unhealthy, but it's a pastime that makes them happy, because it just cements how perfect their darling is. (And it makes Nobunaga's ramblings - which are particularly disturbing - a little easier to stomach.)

As for the darlings, things are, at best, awkward.

They just don't know each other - the chances of any of the darlings having known each other before becoming their captor's targets is very unlikely, because most of the yanderes find their darlings while out on heists or in between jobs. That fact mixed with all the trauma they've each undergone as a captee for a member of a notorious criminal organization leaves everyone hesitant to talk, particularly for those who know for a fact that their yandere has killed people they've said as little as a goodmorning to.

But all it takes for this terse atmosphere to slowly evaporate is for them all to realize that all of them share this trauma, that they have something in common because what they're all experiencing is horrible. What will end up happening is that two darlings will hit it off, talking about all of the terrible things their captor has done, and then another darling will chime in. Then another. And another.

Eventually, they'll all begin bonding over just how different yet similar their situations are. A comradery is formed, and while it's born out of a sad, horrible situation, the ties these darlings form will be some of the closest, most meaningful friendships they've ever had. Soon, they'll all be looking forward to these monthly meetings, because they feel so seen and heard and understood - things that are difficult to come by with the only other person they spend their time with.

Of course, as confessions are made and each darling takes turns complaining about their yandere, things slowly get put into perspective for each darling. That is, some of them realize just how good they have it - at least their yandere isn't as crazy as some of the others. Conversely, the darlings who are victims to the more unstable or extreme members of the Troupe realize just how crazy and unhinged their own captor is - it's a slap in the face, in the most cruel, horrible way.

I know you didn't ask for a ranking of which darling's got it best to worst, but I'm going to do it anyways! So, from most envied to least envied, we have:

As Pakunoda's darling, of course, you're the one every other darling is at least a little bit jealous of. When the time comes for each darling to vent their frustrations for a bit, you can really only say that you've been kidnapped and aren't allowed to leave, and... that's kind of it. Pakunoda is respectful (or, at least, as much as she can be), and she treats you well - you're well fed, not forced into affection, and not treated like you're helpless. (She's still quite protective over you, and she'll hover when you're doing something potentially dangerous, but she won't immediately step in unless the danger is about to strike.) She spoils you with all your favorite items and supplies for your hobbies, making sure everything is fully stocked and that you never get bored. She even sometimes takes you out for small dates - dinners at nice restaurants where you dine in their private rooms, going ice skating and having the rink all to yourselves, or even just walking around the park (she'd managed to get a replica made by Kortopi, so there's no people present, so there's no one for you to be distracted with). You're strictly kept at her side, of course, and you're not allowed to speak with anyone while you're out, but it's nice. Better than everyone else, at least.

2. Franklin's darling is also one that everyone is jealous of. Franklin's not particularly soft, but he's the least invasive of everyone in the Troupe. He knows everything about you, of course, but he's good at not showcasing that. He doesn't pamper you like Pakunoda does, but he gives you space and doesn't demand that you spend time with him or treat him like your lover. Mostly, he just checks in on you and asks if you need anything, then leaves you to your own devices. He's overprotective, yes, but this doesn't manifest itself in any extreme ways unless you give him a reason to be worried, like if you hurt yourself. The thing you'll be complaining about, really, is that he's scary. He'll compliment you (and the words will actually be sweet - his voice is soft and he's sporting a very light flush when he tells you that you're very pretty and you'll hate that it almost makes you feel good), but his stature and his status as a criminal will leave you feeling on edge nearly all the time that you're with him. He hasn't hurt you, but you've seen his nen activated before, and the knowledge that he could kill you with just one shot will make your stress levels high, constantly. This doesn't seem like too serious of a complaint to all the other darlings, however, because all of their captor are dangerous and scary.

3. The only reason that Bonolenov's darling is not at the top of the list is because he's a little bit strange. Of course, they all are - they're murderers and thieves, after all. But Bonolenov has some very strict and traditional values, and this gets projected into how he treats you. He's respectful in terms of your boundaries when it comes to anything physical or with your own liberties (like sleeping on your own or dressing yourself), but he's a fan of the idea of the male protector and female provider. That is, while he doesn't expect you to be his housewife, you kind of become one. He wants you to do all the cooking and cleaning, and he'll repay you by spoiling you with your favorite items and gifting you all kinds of jewelry, clothing, and assorted goods. (And, surprinsgly, they're actually not all stolen - in fact, he tries not to steal things for you, because he thinks the gesture should be done with his own money, because then he's really spoiling you like a good husband should.) He treats you well outside of this, but he's pretty strict about your role around the small house he keeps you locked up in. If you get all your assigned work done, however, he's a pretty easy captor to tolerate. So, outside of having to do the dishes or mop the floors, you'll be looked at as having a relatively desirable situation.

4. Uvogin is a bit of a strange yandere - he's forceful and loud, but he's not bad. You'll be treated like a queen, spoiled with everything and anything you could ever want, and there's no shortage of compliments and playful teasing coming your way. He's got no issues expressing the way he feels for you, but that's exactly the reason why he ranks fourth overall. He's touchy. He won't force you into anything sexual that involves forcing himself onto you, but he'll make you cuddle with him, kiss him, let him hold you, and all kinds of other 'romantic' things. He'll slap your ass when you pass by him, loving the way you yelp and how you glare at him a bit, because he finds your feistiness adorable. He's very physical with you, but he still doesn't hurt you or make you touch him in a way that isn't with decently innocent intent. And so, as his darling, your main complaint is that he just won't leave you alone - you don't get much space with him, but at least he isn't forcing you to fuck him or be his punching bag. All the other darlings (particularly those with yandere who like to keep their hands to themselves) pity you a bit, but they recognize that all things considered, you've got it good.

5. Honestly, as Phinks's darling, you'll be left to realize that wow, maybe I really don't have it so bad. Sure, Phinks is awkward, a horny, blushing mess who's compliments and barely disguised desire for you makes you a bit uncomfortable, but he's not the worst. Your main complaint with him is his temper - he tries his absolute hardest to never, ever harm you, but sometimes he can get carried away. More often than not he'll channel his rage by punching the wall or ripping apart a pillow, but you'll be left to watch, staring with wide eyes and harsh breaths as he absolutely destroys something inanimate. He's only ever slapped you or hit you once, and he still feels guilty for it to this day, but there's always this little piece of you that's walking on eggshells, terrified that you'll set him off and this time an object won't take the heat of his anger. The other darlings are sympathetic, of course, but they can't help but feel a little jealous because at least he doesn't force himself on you, and there's something kind of endearing about awkward men, right?

6. Machi is the classic, textbook ideal captor. She feeds you well, makes sure you have a comfortable place to sleep, treats any injuries or sicknesses you may develop, and is almost always not around you. And while that may sound nice in theory (and in practice the first week or so), eventually it doesn't stay so idyllic. Because she's always gone, the loneliness and Stockholm Syndrome will kick in very, very fast. You'll realize that she's all you've got - she's the only one you see with any sort of regularity, her bringing you meals twice a day the only interaction you have that day. It'll make you slowly begin craving her. (This is actually a bit ironic, because it's not intentional at all - Machi only avoids you because she's scared to get too close to you and doesn't want you to manipulate her. It's a pleasant side effect, but it actually only makes her more nervous, because now that you want her all the time, she gets overwhelmed easily and has to walk away or else she'll just spill everything she's thinking and feeling, and that would not be a good thing.) Aside from your dependence on her growing too quickly and too strongly, you won't have much to complain about - in fact, you may even complain about her lack of interaction with you, something that makes her eyes go wide and her back get rigid as she watches and listens from the next room over.

7. Shizuku is, for all intents and purposes, not the absolute worst. The thing that makes her undesirable to have as a yandere is that she just genuinely doesn't understand why you'd be uncomfortable with any of the things she's forced onto you. She doesn't see why you wouldn't want to be stuck with her, or why you always ask her to stop when she's kissing you and touching you and shoving her fingers inside of you. She just doesn't get it, and no amount of you trying to explain to her or convince her that you don't want to be intimate with her will ever actually get through to her. It's because of this that the other darlings pity you - your time to complain is spent ranting and raving about how she's so incredibly dismissive of everything I'm feeling and saying - it's like she genuinely doesn't care! She says she loves me, but how can you love someone and so compeletly disregard them? The other darlings feel your pain channeled in their own relationships - it is unfair that they've been kidnapped and that they're being held against their will, all while being told that their captor loves them and wants to keep them safe and sound. It's hypocritical, but at least they aren't completely ignoring their darlings, or - for the most part - forcing themselves onto their darlings. Most everyone can sympathize with you, and while it isn't to the extreme Shizuku takes it, there's a little bit of your story in everyone else's. Although, everyone else doesn't have to worry about the times Shizuku forgets she's kidnapped you, then panics when she can't find you to stalk you. That's a problem unique only to you.

8. The reason why Chrollo's so far down this list is because as his darling, you know just hard he's trying to manipulate you. That's not to say it isn't working, but it's extremely obvious to every other darling present that Chrollo is doing a number on your mental state. In the span of your ten minute allotment of time to rant, you come up with at least three different opinions of him, all clashing and contradicting each other. At first, you're telling them how awful he is, how he's a monster and a creep and how he just won't leave me alone and I feel suffocated and scared and god, I hate him! (This makes Chrollo tense up as he watches, and a few of the other Troupe members watch with curious, concenred gazes because shit, they haven't seen Chrollo this visibly upset in years. But then you're circling back around, talking your way through rationalizing what he's done - but he doesn't hurt me, and he gets all kinds of wonderful things for me, and sometimes it even feels good when he kisses me and touches me. Eventually you'll come to the conclusion that he's a manipulative man, but I can't even be angry at him because it's working, and I don't know that I want to fight it. It makes everyone else uncomfortable, because you've just become complacent, but they won't try to correct you, instead trying to change the conversational topic and pitying you because although the entire world as at your fingertips (he'd give and do anything to make you smile, after all), he's destroying you, one word at a time.

9. Similarly to Chrollo, Shalnark is very, very good at getting what he wants out of people. He has no shame when it comes to manipulating you or lying to you in order to get the results he's looking for, and he actually takes pride in it, even. He's creepy and weird and scary, and as his darling you'll be another one that's just an anxious mess when it's your turn to complain. You'll tell the other darlings all about the cameras he's got everywhere, how he makes you watch footage of yourself, how he always seems to know even the smallest, most intimate details about yourself and your thoughts, and just the way you're shaking and nearly crying just from thinking about it makes their hearts ache for you. (Meanwhile, he's listening with wide eyes and a big smile, diligently noting which cameras you've noticed already, and mentally debating whether he should add more just to get you feeling even further backed into a corner so he can make his final move to completely break you, or if he should ease up a bit, because he really doesn't like seeing you cry like this.) You'll be pitited, of course, but at least your yandere actually pays attention to you - something that can't be said of all of them.

10. As Feitan's darling, this entire experience will be overwhelming for you. It's extremely likely that you had no idea why you've been kidnapped before you attend this session. Feitan isn't particularly expressive with how he feels for you, and you've been trying to figure out whether he was planning on kidnapping you, or if you're just some poor, unfortunate soul who seems to have been mistaken for somebody important - somebody worth kidnapping. Now, though, as it comes around to be your turn, you can only gape and stare at all the other darlings, asking in a small, shaky voice if all of your captors claim to be - claim to be in love with you? Then why am I here...? Cue the pitying looks, the hands covering their mouths, the darlings who feel for you because god, you've been living in a totally different kind of fear for these past few months, haven't you? However, your cluelessness about Feitan's true feelings for you is really the only reason he's so far down on this list. As you come to terms with your situation and complain about Feitan, you'll realize you don't have as many solid bullet points to rant about as you thought you did. He doesn't abuse you or hurt you, he doesn't touch you, he feeds you and gives you water, and he makes sure you have a warm, somewhat clean place to sleep. Sure, you may hear him torturing others or see him covered in blood or have to endure the constant staring, but at least he doesn't assault you or force you to pretend to be in a relationship with him. Although, if he truly kidnapped you out of some kind of 'love', was that your future? (Feitan's pissed that this is coming to light - it takes a very, very firm look from Chrollo to stop him from breaking through the glass and snatching you away, not wanting you to realize the actual reasons why he's kidnapped you. He won't acknowledge your questions afterwards, but it's too late, because now you know.)

11. And of course, coming in dead last (by quite a bit) is Nobunaga. He's similar to Shizuku in that what makes him so horrible is his total detachment form reality. He's just so belittling, dehumanizing, patronizing and fucking weird that every single darling's heart goes out to you, all of them pitying you but silently thanking anything that's listening that they didn't end up with him. Your time to complain is spent ranting about the way he treats you like a child, like you're incapable of anything and everything, and how frustrating and strange it all is. And then, of course, come the complaints about all of the sexual things he forces you into. Whether that's actual sex, touching in general, or even forcing you into becoming familiar with his infamous jar, everyone will realize just how much of a monster the samurai really is. (And so will the other Troupe members - most of them are disgusted by the details of his behavoir, staring at him with shocked expressions that are very poorly hid. Especially Machi, Franklin, and Pakunoda - the rest are, unfortunately, slightly intrigued by some of his habits - particularly his jar.)

Of course, all the yanderes are listening very intently when its their own darling's turn to vent, and while they won't punish you for what you've said (that would show you they were listening, and you might not feel so inclined to be as open and honest next meeting, something they absolutely cannot lose), they might try to adjust their behavior. Maybe. Some of them. Those towards the top of the list, at least. The others might buckle down and get worse, convinced that they're just not trying hard enough to get you to understand that you love them, too.