#Including stuff that was made without intention too

[letruyuread]

I've decided to continue the small thoughts thing, even if I haven't done their books yet. Some might be ooc. I've tried🥲

Vil knows he's beautiful. With makeup, without, in a gorgeous outfit or simple sweats. It just means a little bit more when you tell him he's gorgeous and he wasn't even trying. He just woke up, and you're already showering him with affection. He IS gorgeous- but could you say it one more time, please?

Rook... hold on. (Rapid fire research go!) He, of course, thinks you're beautiful. He may be stalkerish, like he is with Leona and the twins, but it's all in good intentions. You're interesting! He is a hunter, after all. I think his heart softens when you pay attention to him, to. Say something to him in French, or listen to his poetry. Compliment his eyesight. He'll fall a little bit harder. (Can you tell how much I relied on the wiki-)

I already love Epel, despite not having met him yet. He wants to be reliable for you- a real man! Yes, he's adorable, don't tell him that, he'll pout. Just let him help you. Anything, really, he'll carry your books or help you fix up Ramshackle. He'll get flustered in you ask him to teach you the apple-carving thing, though.

Idia was the one who got me to play the game (just like me fr). You'll have to befriend Ortho first- not hard, just find the little guy and be nice! He'll quickly start to see you as an older sibling the more you help him (please I want to adopt this kid). And, you're the perfect person to help his brother come out of his shell! Ortho will introduce you two, help Idia overcome his shyness (on occasion) and soon Idia's comfortable around you! Mission accomplished! Idia, then, lets you into his room and plays games with you. He tries to communicate with you, though them- it's just a bit easier to play a dating sim with you than to ask you out.

(oof fae time)

Malleus is awkward in an odd way. He's not shy or nervous, he simply doesn't know how to interact with you. He's trying, forgive him if he says the wrong thing, he never ever meant to insult you. In fact, he might already think you're betrothed- you'll have to put it to him gently that you weren't even dating, and that relationships usually go much slower than that. He learns quick, at least.

Lilia is old. That is undeniable, and it's funny to think he's going to college with his sons. He plays into his silliness, loving to surprise you and prank you and such. He loves to play into his age, too. Whenever you get a bit too mad, he's suddenly complaining about his back, all hunched over and holding his spine. See through his antics. Give him the scolding he deserves, I beg you. It won't stop him at all- this is how faes court, after all! (No it's not old man-)

Sebek is intense. He does exactly as he said he would when taking an interest in someone: writing them love letters every moon, and every fifth moon, including a picture of himself. It's what Lilia taught him! Yes, he's taking it very seriously! It's up to you to tell him Lilia may have been tricking him... and/or taking over the courting yourself. You'll never get anywhere, otherwise. Just be... patient.

Silver... is tired. Yes, such a surprise. He's a sweetie, though, always trying to help you out while stifling a yawn. His animal friends give you gifts, too. Nuts and seeds and feathers. Keep them in a small box- if Silver finds out, he'll be so touched. He told his friends to give you this stuff! And you kept them! Did you even realize they were from him? Doesn't matter, as long as they made you happy.

(I hope I did well!)

[clownsnake]

if it benefits you to think of something as art, even if it was likely not intended to be art, then why not call it art?

[stimmy--cryptid]

got sent a tiktok where one of our gifs of ourselves was used in the thumbnail + beginning of the video. gentle reminder in case anyone sees this that we're all very uncomfortable with our homemade gifs, esp when it includes us in the video and isnt just of objects, being reuploaded off of tumblr at all :[ ty!!

-🥬

[sainns]

PINING.

𝓢. ㅤㅤthings they do to show that they like you.

OT7ㅤ✶ ㅤ (⠀gnreader⠀) . . . friend!enhypen, pre relationship, this is a revamped post from when i first started my account, sunoo's the craziest one here for sure, a singular death joke, not proofread so pls ignore typos.ㅤ817 words

lee heeseung refuses to let you carry anything. he’s made it a habit of grabbing anything that you’re holding and carrying it himself. whether it be shopping bags, your purse, a stuffed animal that he won for you, or groceries, he will be carrying it all. sure, it may be a little hard carrying 15 different bags of groceries up to your apartment but he doesn't mind. even as you complain, saying that you feel bad that he has to carry everything when you can help, he'll just laugh you off, asking you to let him do this for you. you do a lot for him (unbeknownst to you) and this is the least he can do.

park jongseong asks for your opinion on almost everything he does. he'll ask you if he should buy this shirt or that one, watch looks better, what he should eat. it’s like he lost all ability make choices for himself after he gained feelings for you, only trusting your opinion. maybe it's because he wants to have things that you like, who knows. what everyone does know is that the contanst buzzing coming from your phone? jay. he's most definitely texting you about whatever it is he feigns needing help choosing, but he can't help it if your opinion is the only one that matters to him.

sim jaeyun loves to go shopping with you; he literally begs to be able go even if you tell him that you're just going to window shop. not to mention the fact that he is so serious about shopping; he’ll put his phone on do not disturb, giving you his full attention. when you ask him was store he wants to go to he'll shake his head, claming that this trip is for you and if he reall needs something then he can go on his own time. he always ends up buying your stuff for you, waving you off as he gives the cashier his money.

park sunghoon calls you every single night just so that he can fall asleep to your voice. in the beginning he asks you about your day, listening intently and asking follow up questions. he wants to hear your voice for as long as possible, especially when he went the whole day without talking to you. when you ask about his day, though, he gives you the most basic answer possible and moves the conversation back to you. and every morning, without fail, he claims that he didn't mean to fall asleep but your voice is way too soothing for your own good. you figure that he's not telling the full truth after you hear him say goodnight and he doesn't hang up the phone.

kim seonwoo takes more pictures of you than he does of himself. you swear when you caught a glipse of his gallery you saw an album named 'yn' that featured over seven thousand photos of you. which yes, you saw correctly, he has a very full folder full of pictutes of you. most of them aren't even good but he would rather die than delete the ten, nearly identical, photos of you laughing or the blurry video he got while you were ugly crying because of some movie. he also uses them to tease you—laughing when you tell him to delete it. yeah.. he's almost all out of storage, at this point he's going to buy a burner phone just for photos of you.

yang jungwon loves to texts you updates about his day. if you think jay texts you a lot, oh man, jungwon beats him by twenty miles. he'll tell you his plans who they're with, what he's planning on eating, the cute cat family he saw on the street (pictures included). this man tells you everything, every thought he has it feels like. honestly, he only bothers going out so that he has an excuse to text you, it makes him smile brightly at his phone when he sees your responses. when you start sending him updates about your day? he gets so happy, it's his favorite part of the day to hear from you now, nothing else could ever compare.

nishimura riki does not know what personal space is. he's always touching you in some way, even if it's subtle, like your shoulders pressing together when you're sitting on the couch, watching a movie. when you walk somewhere together, you have to push him away multiple times because he's practically on top of you with how close he is. when you're hanging out with friends, he tends to wrao an arm around your shoulder or lean his head against yours. your friends tease him for it, saying that he's practically apart of you now. he glares at them playfully, gripping your hand in his as he pulls you away (he just really wants to be alone with you).

[lixiepixiedust]

hurt people hurt people

pairing — idolbf!felix x f!reader; established relationship

word count — 3.4k words

warnings — she/her reader, hurt/comfort, argument between reader and felix, angst, fluff, happy ending, cursing, felix just wants to hold someone again, members are kind of mean but i promise it's not targeted against them :(

summary — after his experiences, he learnt one thing. they'll only like him better if he's not himself. he thought you were one of them so he acted different around you too, but really, he just ended up hurting you how he was hurt.

Felix has always been known to be the most cuddly member in Stray Kids. Taking the opportunity whenever he could, he would leap onto his fellow members, catching them off guard while they were busy with something. However, it was no secret that, more often than not, these moments were mostly for his own comfort.

Despite his genuine intentions, there were times when some of his members found it hard to reciprocate the clinginess. During down times, they preferred to be alone to gather their thoughts, yet Felix always found comfort in hugs to help.

"You've got to ease up a bit, Felix. Clinging to people like glue is starting to become annoying," one of his members once told him.

After this conversation, it seemed like the rest of the members started gaining the confidence to express their feelings about Felix's behaviour, resulting them to distance themselves whenever he tried to initiate contact. Although Felix understood their perspective, it still stung. All the times they hugged him back or told him he made them feel better with his cuddles. It was like everything was insincere. 

Felix decided to change. He never did anything more than a high five, and during late-night drives from shows, he tried his best not to fall asleep on his members to avoid annoying them. Gradually, he noticed a change in his members' behaviour—they began liking him more, including him in conversations without the need for him to include himself.

Feeling a sense of inclusion, Felix decided that was how it should stay. He realized that keeping it this way could make people like him more. And just like that, he became the least cuddly member.

When you came into his life, he was met with an exact copy of his old self. Whenever he was on a call or doing work, you always found the need to pounce onto him and nestle yourself into him. He has gotten used to not having to be affectionate his people so it was weird to see someone who actually initiated contact first for once. This led him to being slightly distant from you.

"Felix!" you called from the bathroom.

"Yea? You okay?" he responded from the bedroom nearby.

"Could you grab me a towel?" you requested.

You heard him rise from the bed, making his way to the closet for a bath towel. As he approached, you shivered in the cold air, a stark contrast to the warm shower you had just enjoyed. He extended the towel toward you, his attention fully focused on the phone in his hand.

"Thanks, Lix," you said, offering a smile.

"Yeah," he replied, still glancing away.

After Felix headed to the room first, claiming his usual spot on the bed, you decided to indulge in your nighttime skincare routine. The soft glow from the bathroom light illuminated your face as you moisturized, then moved to the dresser to brush your hair. With your hair now smooth and untangled, you turned off the bathroom light and left the bathroom.

As you made your way to the bed, you noticed Felix lying there, scrolling through his phone. Quietly, you leaned over and switched off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Felix, still buried in his phone, didn't notice your approach until you leaped onto the bed and sprawled out beside him. You propped yourself up on your elbow, peeking at his screen with a mischievous glint in your eye.

"Whatcha doin'?" you inquired, your voice playful.

Felix, startled by your sudden intrusion, glanced at you and smiled. "Just some stuff for work. What's up?"

You scooted closer, ignoring the amused yet puzzled look he gave you. "Nothing much. Just wondering why my boyfriend is so engrossed in his phone when he has someone as interesting as me right here."

"You're always interesting, Y/n. I just got caught up in some messages."

You grinned, appreciating his response. "Fair enough. But you know, you can put that down for a while." With that, you snatched his phone, earning a gasp from Felix.

"Hey!" He took it back from you.

You chuckled and leaned in, resting your head on his shoulder. "I just did my skincare, and my skin is feeling so soft. Wanna feel?"

Felix raised an eyebrow, fake disgust on his face. "Do I?" he repeated, his tone teasing.

You reached for his hand and guided it to your cheek. "Feel it. I used that fancy moisturizer you got me."

Felix hesitated for a moment, then ran his fingers over your skin. "Hmm, not bad," he admitted, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Despite Felix's initial engagement in your conversation, you felt him subtly shifting his attention back to his phone. However, this time, instead of feeling a sense of rejection, you decided to playfully address it.

"Alright, Mr. Busy, I see how it is," you rolled your eyes.

Felix looked up, a sheepish smile on his face. "Sorry, babe. Emails keep coming in."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Yeah, yeah. I know your phone is practically glued to your hand. Do you even love me anymore?" you said dramatically.

"Of course I love you." His eyes swiftly looked at you then back at his phone.

You grinned, satisfied with his response. "Good, because I happen to love you too, even if you always act like your scared of me or something whenever I touch you."

Felix's expression shifted slightly, and you couldn't help but notice a hint of hurt in his eyes as they slowly gazed at you. It dawned on you that your playful remark might have struck a chord. You quickly backtracked, realizing that your attempt at humor might have unintentionally crossed a line.

"Well, not that it's bad or anything" you spoke quickly.

The room fell into an awkward silence, and you could feel the tension lingering in the air. Desperate to diffuse the situation, you attempted to switch the topic, rambling on about the colors gold and silver and how they complemented Felix's style.

You reach out to the necklace and fiddle with it between your fingers. "Oh by the way, Felix, I was thinking, do you think gold or silver looks better on you? I mean, you always wear those silver earrings, but gold has this warm tone that might suit you too. Not that silver doesn't look amazing, it does, but have you ever tried gold?"

Your words seemed to hang in the air, met with only silence from Felix. He kept his gaze fixed on the phone, fingers tapping away, seemingly lost in the messages or emails that occupied his attention.

"Or maybe a combination of both could work? Like, a subtle mix of gold and silver accessories. You know, they say mixing metals is a fashion statement. What do you think? Felix?"

Again, no response. Your attempt at a one-sided conversation continued, the one-sidedness becoming increasingly apparent.

"I mean, you always look good in anything, so I guess it doesn't really matter. But it's just a thought, you know? I was just thinking about how your style could evolve. Not that it needs to change! You're perfect just the way you are, but you know, I just thought..."

"Y/n, can you stop?" Felix's voice cut through the silence, and you lifted your head from his chest to meet his gaze. 

Confusion etched across your face as you asked, "What?"

Felix looked at you, his expression a mix of frustration and contemplation. For a moment, he hesitated, as if debating whether to voice the thoughts that lingered in his mind. Finally, he spoke, "This... all of this. Can't we just have a quiet moment without you sticking to me or talking this much?"

Your brows furrowed, caught off guard by his sudden request. "Is this because of what I said? If it was I'm sorry."

Felix's eyes flickered with a mixture of annoyance and something else you couldn't quite decipher. "It's not just about what you said. It's about the constant need for attention. I can't even have a moment to myself without you clinging onto me."

You recoiled slightly, hurt evident in your eyes. "I just wanted to spend time with you."

"You're suffocating me," he retorted, his tone sharper than before.

"Suffocating? Felix, we're in a relationship. Couples spend time together. I thought that's what we were doing," you defended.

He sighed, frustration evident in his voice. "There's spending time together, and then there's this constant need for validation. I can't even check my messages without you turning it into a drama."

You felt a knot forming in your stomach, a mix of confusion and hurt. "I never meant to. I just wanted to be close to you. What's so wrong about that?"

Felix sat up, his eyes locking onto yours. "Because it's too much! Can't you see that? I need space, Y/n. I can't be your source of constant entertainment."

The tension in the room escalated, and you could feel the weight of his words settling in. "I didn't think wanting to be close to my boyfriend was asking for too much," you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

Unknown to you, in his mind, Felix was wrestling with the contrast between your actions and his past self.

If I was always like this with the members, what must they have felt? Or did they just tolerate it to spare my feelings? he thought. Maybe they needed space, just like I do now. But I never gave it to them. I never thought about how they felt. All the times I thought I was comforting them was just me comforting myself.

As these thoughts swirled in his mind, he looked back at you.

Felix's frustration grew, evident in the way he raked a hand through his hair. "I need time for myself, and I thought you'd understand that."

"I do understand, Felix," you replied, your voice quivering.

He shook his head, the frustration in his eyes deepening. "No, you don't, Y/n. You never understand."

The words hung in the air, a heavy silence settling between you. It felt like a punch to the gut, the realization that the person you loved needed something you couldn't provide at that moment.

He sighed, a mix of regret and frustration in his eyes. "We all need to compromise in a relationship. It can't always be about what one person wants."

It can't always be what one person wants. That was something I should've kept in mind all those years of being a fuckin annoying ass.

"I'm not asking for much, just a little affection," you said, your voice pleading.

Felix shook his head, frustration evident in his expression. "It's not about affection, it's about balance. And right now, it feels like there's no balance."

The argument hung in the air, and you could see the emotional exhaustion on Felix's face. It was clear that, in his attempt to avoid the clinginess he experienced with his past self, he swung too far in the opposite direction.

You sat in silence for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. "So, what now?" you finally asked, your voice small.

Felix ran a hand through his hair, looking conflicted. "I don't know, Y/n. Maybe we need some time to figure things out. I just need space right now. I think it would be best for both of us."

Tears welled up in your eyes as Felix's words echoed in the dimly lit room. The air felt heavy with unspoken tension, and you struggled to find the right words to convey the hurt that was gnawing at your heart.

"I'm sorry, Felix," you whispered, your voice shaky. "I didn't mean to make you feel suffocated."

Felix sighed, his expression softening slightly at the sound of your remorse. "Y/n, I need to figure things out too. We both do."

You nodded, a mixture of sadness and understanding in your eyes. "I get it."

As you spoke, a single tear trickled down your cheek, and you hastily wiped it away. The vulnerability of the moment weighed on you, making it difficult to maintain composure.

"I never wanted to be a burden, Felix," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry."

Without another word, you got up from the bed, leaving the room in a quiet haste. As you closed the door behind you, you leaned against it, taking a moment to collect yourself. The weight of uncertainty lingered in the air, and you couldn't shake the feeling of doubt that crept into your mind. It stung. All the times he hugged you back or told you that you made him feel better by simply cuddling him. It was like everything was fake.

As you reached a more secluded part of the apartment, you sank onto the floor, your emotions finally overwhelming you. Tears streamed down your face, and you cradled your face in your hands, grappling with the ache of a love that seemed to be slipping away. 

The thing that hurt the most was how you were so blind to his feelings? The moments when he pulled away or tensed up, you brushed them aside, thinking he was just having a bad day or was in a strange mood. Now, it became painfully clear that you had been disregarding his boundaries, forcing him into a role he wasn't comfortable playing.

As you sat alone in the dimly lit living room, the guilt twisted your insides. How could you have been so blind and selfish? Your attempts to draw him closer were, in reality, pushing him further away. You always thought whenever he would push away from you or ignore your affection, he was just trying to joke around. The thought of him feeling uncomfortable with you became a bitter pill to swallow.

You wondered if he had ever truly enjoyed those moments or if he had only tolerated them to avoid hurting your feelings. The pain of realizing that your actions might have caused him discomfort gnawed at you, and you felt a sinking sensation in your chest.

The apartment was enveloped in a heavy silence, broken only by the soft sobs that escaped your lips. Unbeknownst to you, Felix had eventually decided to leave the bedroom, and as he walked down the hallway, he heard the muffled sound of your tears. His heart sank, guilt gnawing at him for the pain he had unintentionally caused.

As he approached the dimly lit living room, he found you huddled on the floor, your shoulders trembling with each stifled sob. Felix hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to approach the situation. The weight of his own realizations bore down on him, and he felt an overwhelming urge to be there for you.

He silently sat down beside you, leaving a respectful distance, yet close enough to offer comfort. His eyes softened as he watched you wipe away tears, and a pang of regret tightened his chest.

Felix sighed, his gaze fixed on the floor. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

There was a moment of uneasy silence before you spoke again, your voice filled with vulnerability. "Why did you fake everything, Felix. Everything you ever reciprocated was fake." You knew you were more mad at yourself than him. "You made me think you liked everything I did."

"Y/n, it wasn't fake" he mumbled.

"Stop lying, Felix." you blew your nose, "You know what? It's fine. From now on just tell me what you want me to do. I'll do it. I can stop being clingy and stop asking so many questions. You can tell me when to come over or not. I'll change anything, I just want you to like me."

His breath hitched. You thinking exactly how he did at the time. Wanting to change himself simply for another person's validation. That is how he ended up like he is now and he brought that pain onto you.

"Y/n, never change yourself, " He said, almost like a threat, while turning to you with tears brimming his eyes.

"But you don't even like me for who I am," you sobbed.

Felix ran a hand through his hair, a conflicted expression on his face. "I do, Y/n. So so much. But you started reminding me of-" He paused for a sigh, "Me. and I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

His words hung in the air, and you felt a pang of confusion.

"Huh?" you asked softly, while blowing your nose.

Felix looked away, his voice carrying a hint of sorrow. "A year ago, I was all touchy, too. But then I noticed that they liked me better when I was less clingy. I didn't want to repeat the same mistakes, so I tried to be different with you."

The weight of his confession lingered in the room, and you felt a deep sense of understanding wash over you.

However, you inquired, "Who's 'they'"

"My members, friends, everyone. They all thought I was too much. I didn't want that for you."

"But I don't want you to be different, Felix," you admitted, your voice trembling. "I just want to be close to you."

Felix turned to you, his eyes glistening. "I want that too, Y/n. All I ever wanted to do is just lay in your arms and tell you about my day and just fall asleep. But I'm scared that I'd make you feel uncomfortable."

His words hung in the air, and you could feel the raw honesty behind them. The realization that Felix had been holding back his true self for fear of repeating past mistakes tugged at your heart.

"I didn't know," you whispered, your voice filled with regret. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Y/n," he shook his head, indicating that it's not your fault. "I don't think you know that back then, I could get way more clingy than you are now." Felix chuckled.

"That's impossible," you replied as Felix shook his head.

Felix sighed, a mixture of sadness and relief in his eyes. "I'll need to figure myself out cause I don't want to lose what we have" He reached out, gently wiping away a stray tear from your cheek.

As Felix's touch lingered on your cheek, you looked into his eyes, finding a glimmer of hope amidst the emotional turmoil. "Felix, maybe… maybe you should talk to your members about this. I'm sure they don't feel the way you think they do. They might understand and help you."

Felix hesitated, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting yours again. "I don't know."

You nodded, understanding the complexity of his feelings. "I get that, but I also know they care about you."

Felix sighed, the weight of the situation evident in his expression. "I'll think about it, but for now, I need some time to reflect on everything."

"Take all the time you need, Felix. I'll be here when you're ready to talk," you assured him, your voice filled with sincerity.

"Thank you for understanding, Y/n. I appreciate it more than you know."

The two of you sat in the quiet living room, wrapped in a shared sense of vulnerability. The air felt lighter, the unspoken tension dissipating, and you couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope for the future.

In the following days, Felix did indeed take some time to reflect on his feelings and the dynamics within the relationship. The idea of talking to his members about it lingered in the back of his mind, and eventually, he mustered the courage to bring it up during a group discussion.

As Felix shared his thoughts and concerns, his members listened attentively, offering support and reassurance. To his surprise, they not only understood but also shared their own experiences of finding a balance between personal space and closeness within the group.

Hyunjin, in particular, spoke up, "Felix, how are fucking stupid! Now I feel so bad! You being all mean doesn't change how much we care about you."

Felix felt a sense of relief wash over him, realizing that his fears of being a burden or misunderstood were unfounded.

With this newfound clarity and the support of both you and his members, Felix started to find a love for being affectionate again. It wasn't an instant transformation, but gradual adjustments and open communication allowed him to overcome his insecurities.

"Felix?"

"Yes, babe!"

"Can you get me a towel?"

He entered the bathroom with a white towel in hand, his attention tethered to his phone. Nonchalantly placing the device on the sink counter, he fixed his gaze on you. A sly grin danced on his lips as he boldly looked at you from head to toe. With an assertive move, he opened up the bath towel, enveloping you with it by pulling you into an unexpectedly intense hug that left no room for escape.

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

born to die - m. murdock

a/n: IM NOT DEAD i am very busy with finals but this has been rattling around the old noggin for a while now. i took a lot of inspiration from @ellephlox 's fic strawberry rhubarb which i 100% reccomend bc its better than most fics including this one! hope you enjoy! as always reblogs and comments are always appreciated! <3 warnings: oh boy. torture (cutting, burning) some sexually suggestive talk (nothing happens but it's not consensual) readers dad abused her, nightmares, lots of major character death (but not permeant) ANGST!!! but with a happy ending! kidnapping, medical stuff, cursing, and if i missed anything, let me know! word count: 4.8k summary: as matt murdock's wife, your life is rather full of surprises. getting kidnapped by wilson fisk takes the cake as the worst one. pairing: matt murdock x wife!reader now playing: born to die - lana del rey "choose your last words, this is the last time/'cause you and i, we were born to die"

You would think after patching him up too many times to count, five years without him, and countless sleepless nights worrying if he was alive, you would think you’d be used to Matt Murdock and his world of surprises.

And then you get kidnapped, so maybe you’re not so immune to surprises.

It’s really such a shame too, because you’re storming out of the apartment, too angry to take notice of your surroundings.

Silly, foolish, ditzy you.

Because it isn’t like Matt hasn’t told you time and time again that you need to be careful, especially when you go out alone at night. But he’s so angry that he doesn’t even think about the potential dangers of Hell’s Kitchen at three a.m. when Daredevil has been tucked away for the night and Matt Murdock comes back out to play.

He’s been taking more and more patrols because with Fisk being out of prison he can’t help but be constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

How silly he was to think that maybe he could have it all—A successful law firm, good friends and a loving wife.

Silly, foolish, ditzy Matt.

But after a week of nonstop patrols, you’re both fed up and tired, and above all, you’re yearning for each other. Neither of you allow yourselves to be totally happy all the time. It would just make everything too easy.

So, after yelling at each other over, what? Patrols? Cases? Burnt dinners? You’re freezing on the streets, and you get about five blocks before you stop and rub your eyes.

This is dumb, you rationalize. Of course, you’re both stressed out and tired, but you’ve gotten through rougher times before, and you both made an oath. To each other, in front of his God, to love each other no matter what.

You realize you left your wedding ring on the table, the ghost of the metal around your finger haunting you. You were dumb for leaving and Matt was dumb for telling you to go. You’re made for each other.

You turn around to go back to your shared apartment, and then, someone grabs you from behind. Your first instinct is to yell for your husband, but you don’t get the chance to before you’re knocked out, by what you can only guess to be a gun or maybe a large fist.

• • •

You wake up in this dingy room, the lighting not suitable for much of anything except to make you afraid. The set up is almost comical and in a fucked up away, stereotypical for a kidnapping. You’re tied up to a chair, and the lights shine only bright enough so you can see shadows and rats scurrying along.

The air is this weird musk of salt and earth, and you realize you’re near the docks, and that’s about all you know about your current location.

Your head is still pounding from whatever it was you were hit with, but you can see another chair a few feet from you and a wooden table with various weapons laying on it. You don’t feel good about this one. Also on the table is an old school record player. You have no idea what the intention is with it.

You try to keep your cool, knowing that wherever you wander, your husband will not be very far off. That whatever is happening, he will be coming to find you no matter how upset he is for whatever it was you were fighting about earlier.

And then, out of the shadows, there he is. 

But he’s too big to be Matt, and he has a man standing next to him.

Frank, maybe?

And then you realize who this man is.

He’s Wilson Fisk, the kingpin who has done nothing but torture and kill people, shoving it in Matt’s face for years. Matt only met you after Fisk was put back in prison, and you know at some point in the five-year blip without Matt, he had escaped prison.

So, this is the first time you’ve had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Fisk. When he meets your eye, you do nothing but stare.

“Good evening, Mrs. Murdock. It’s a shame we must meet under these circumstances.” He tells you, taking a seat in front of you. His henchman stands behind the chair.

“It’s regretful to say the least.” You tell him, not intending to make any more of an enemy out of him than Matt already has, not right now.

“I wanted to congratulate you on your wedding. I remember my own, it was a rather special day.”

You know that was the day Matt took him down. The night that he, Karen and Foggy took him down.

“I’ve heard stories. It seemed like a lovely day.”

“You’re a much more gracious guest than your counterpart.”

“Well, I’m sure people say similar things about you and yours.”

He seems to consider this for a moment before nodding.

“You’re probably right about that, Mrs. Murdock. I wanted to tell you I’m terribly sorry these are the circumstances in which we are finally introduced. But it seems Mr. Murdock has been interested in finding out more about my endeavors. And you see, we simply cannot have that. I made a promise not to hurt Miss Page or Mr. Nelson but it seems you were not included in that deal.” Of course not, it had been a long time before you showed up. “So, you’re how we’re going to send Mr. Murdock a message.”

Huh.

So, this is how you die.

Well, you might as well go out with a bang.

“You see, Mrs. Murdock, When I was a boy—”

“I’m going to stop you, Mr. Fisk, because your sob story is rather dull. I know who you are. You were beaten by your father, just like I was. The difference is that I don’t use that as an excuse to murder my way to the top of the food chain. And you can torture me, assault me, whatever you feel you need to do. But if you think for a second that I’ll forget who’s coming to stop you, you are sorely mistaken. And if you think he’ll ever stop trying to find me, you do not know my husband very well.”

Fisk stares at you for a while, his gaze hardening into a glare.

“You’re right. You do know who I am. Because we’re rather similar.” He stands up and nods to the man nearby. “If Murdock can hear her far from here, make sure he hears her screaming.”

Then Wilson Fisk walks away, and you are left with the sickening gaze of a man who has no good intentions.

 The man goes to the record player and starts to play a song you recognize quickly as “Fly Me To The Moon” by Frank Sinatra. As he does this, he speaks,

“Hello, Mrs. Murdock. I’m John.” You stay quiet, and he just enjoys the song.

He picks up a knife from the table and goes to you, this grin on his face that makes you sick.

But you remember a trick from not only your childhood, but also from Frank who told you the key to remaining strong under torture—Distraction.

You stare straight ahead, trying not to mind as the man runs the knife over your skin. You think about Matt. You imagine him in his wedding suit, the smile he had on as you approached him down that aisle. You think about when he asked you to marry him, and—

A sharp pain slashes down your arm, cutting open the shirt you’re wearing. You yell in pain, before moving in to try and take deep breaths.

You can do this. Matt will be here soon.

You continue to breathe through the anxiety and the pain, trying not to think too hard about when John hums along to Sinatra’s voice, guiding his knife around your skin. Another cut finds itself on your shoulder.

This goes on for a while, with the classic song looping over and over again. John never seems to tire of it, no matter how badly you will for it to end. As the song ends in one particularly good loop, John hits your face hard, and your nose starts bleeding.

You try to think of Matt’s voice. You don’t listen to John’s torments, knowing it will only egg him on further. You just want him to burn at that point.

By the end of… Countless Frank Sinatra serenades, you have cuts littered around your body, dry blood on your face from your nose and tears running down your face. When he’s eventually done, two men cut you out from the chair and drag you along to a smaller, darker room. You are left in there with a small meal, and you just huddle against a corner, nearest a barred window out of your reach.

And then, you begin to speak for the first time since you saw Fisk.

“Matt,” You whisper, “I’m by the docks.” You tell him, not sure if he can even hear you. “Please, I’m sorry for everything, please just come find me..” You mumble, too tired and aching to try and do more.

• • •

The next day, or what you presume to be the next day since you have no way to tell how much time has passed, you’re woken up by a loud banging on the door of your.. cell..?

The same two men enter and drag you back to the room, where John waits for you.

“How are you feeling today, Mrs. Murdock?” He asks.

You glare.

“Fuck you.”

He laughs and shakes his head.

“What happened to the polite young woman Mr. Fisk and I met yesterday?”

You’re filled with unprecedented anger.

“I said, Fuck you!”

He wastes no time, grabbing a lighter off the table and starting the record player again. Once more, Frank Sinatra’s voice fills the room, and you’re pretty sure once you’re done with John, and then Fisk, you’ll bring Sinatra back from the dead just to kill him again.

You’ve never really been a violent person, but you suspect that it lives in the worst parts of you, just as it did with your own father. You’re much better at keeping it all at bay. Besides, it does you no good to be violent while you have Matt. He’s plenty angry for the both of you.

Oh, Matt..

This is how time passes for you. While John tortures you, burning you or carving into your skin, you think about how great it will be to choke the life out of the singer… And you think about Matt. When you’re in your dark little room, you talk to him. Even if he can’t hear you, you must hope that he’s looking for you.

• • •

Days pass. How long have you been here?

One night, you have the following dream:

It starts out as a memory. A memory of you and Matt. You’re lying in bed with him, and the sunlight is hitting his face just right. You love this memory, it’s one you recall often. He just has this angelic look to him.

Yeah, most people who encounter him, especially at night, meet the devil. But occasionally, you get glimpses of the angel you know he is. He’s sleeping, and you think in this state, he is the most relaxed you’ll ever see him.

Then, before your eyes, the dream shifts and you’re in this black void, on the ground.

Foggy, Karen, Frank, and Matt stand around you. You run to Matt but hit a clear shield keeping him from you. You bang on the glass, well, maybe it’s glass, you don’t know. You try to scream, but your voice never reaches your ears. You begin to look around, looking for a way out.

An eerie version of ‘Fly Me To The Moon’ plays as you glance over to Foggy and watch in horror as his body begins to turn to ash, just like Matt and Karen did when they were blipped. You scream, banging against the shield, but your screams are silent.

You glance back and see the same thing happening to Frank. No, no, no! It was never supposed to happen this way! Frank and Foggy, they lived! They got their time! They don’t die like this!

And then Karen starts too. You start sobbing, not wanting her to go. You had missed her so much, and you only just got her back. But soon enough, she’s gone too, and you’re left in front of your husband.

His hand comes up to rest on the forcefield and he frowns softly.

He says your name gently, and then adds, “You know it couldn’t last forever, right?”

And then just as quickly as before, he is gone again. You remain there in that void, sobbing and screaming though no noise reaches you. This can’t be it! You just got him back, you needed him! You couldn’t take being alone for another five years… Or more…

The dream transforms and you’re in this grand ballroom. People are dancing elegantly and you’re in this.. obnoxious ball gown. But across the room, you can see Matt. He’s dressed in an all-black suit, with a red masquerade mask covering his face. The mask has little red devil horns on it.

Now, the orchestra plays their rendition of Sinatra’s romantic classic. And you step towards Matt, attempting to make your way towards him, only to be met with a masked man, beginning to twirl you around.

You jump from man to man, until eventually, you’re dancing with a man in an all-white suit, a man you quickly recognize as Fisk. No matter how hard you try to escape his grasp, he holds on tighter. The two of you stop dancing now, amid the crowd of moving bodies.

Fisk grabs your chin and tilts it in Matt’s direction, just in time for you to see him bowing to another woman, kissing the back of her hand. Your eyes widen and you think, this can’t be real.

“When I kill you,” Fisk says, “He’ll move on. You’re easily replaceable, Mrs. Murdock.”

And then, in an instant, the woman with Matt pulls out a dagger and plunges it deeply into his abdomen. It’s then that the other dancers, besides you, Fisk, Matt, and this mystery woman, disappear. Matt turns to you and falls to his knees, clutching his stomach.

He tries to crawl to you, blood seeping onto his hands and the beautiful ballroom floor. He yells your name, and the woman stabs him again from behind, and you watch as your husband dies. You hear him screaming, hear him yelling your name. But Wilson Fisk keeps you in place. You can do nothing but watch as Matt Murdock meets his end again, unable to save him. You start to scream, thrashing against Fisk, ready to claw your way to Matt.

You wake up screaming, the nightmare haunting you. A guard bangs on your door, yelling at you to keep it down.

It was just a nightmare, you tell yourself. Maybe Matt heard your screams.

Maybe he’s already dead.

You force yourself not to listen to the voice in your head that says that.

• • •

One day, Fisk visits again, only this time, He’s covered in blood. That damn song is still playing.

You just stare. They have long since stopped tying you up, recognizing that you no longer have the energy to try and fight back.  He has this sick grin on his face.

“Good evening, Mrs. Murdock.” You say nothing. “Have you been enjoying your stay with us?”

You glare.

“I hope Matt kills you when he gets here, because it will be a lot less painful for you if he does it instead of me.”

Mr. Fisk just laughs at this and tosses something at your feet. You get down off the chair to see what it is.

Your face goes pale with realization. You pick it up and slip it on your thumb, with it being too big for your other fingers. Matt’s wedding ring. You know it’s his, it has your name engraved in braille on the inside. How did he get this?

As if reading your mind, Fisk speaks again. “I took it off his body after I killed him.”

Your head shoots up to him. What did he say?

“No.” You deny. “Fuck off, I don’t—I don’t believe you.”

“Your husband is dead, Mrs. Murdock. I killed him with my bare hands because he was stupid enough to come after you. Your friends will mourn you and Matt Murdock for a while, and the city will come to the realization that Daredevil did nothing but harm. I win, Mrs. Murdock.”

You feel tears start to fill your eyes, and you realize, no. He hasn’t won because you’re still alive.

Maybe not for long, but you are.

You gather the rest of your energy and leap up, lunging at the large man covered in the man you love’s blood. And there’s a part of you that gets it. Okay, universe, you win. Most people don’t get a second chance like the two of you did. And now he’s dead, and soon you will be too. You can at least try to kill Fisk.

But you barely get a scratch in, yelling and screaming obscenities at him, as John grabs your arms from behind pulling you away. Fisk laughs and shakes his head again.

“It’s been lovely knowing you, Mrs. Murdock. I’m sorry you’ll have to die, you had so much potential. John, when you’re done doing whatever you’d like to her, kill her.” You hear him say it, but you’re blinded by rage, by grief.

John laughs behind you and forces you back into the chair, tying you back up once more. He looks at you, enraged and grief stricken, and just shakes his head.

“You and I are going to have a lot of fun.”

He leaves for a few minutes, and you realize this is the first time you’ve been left alone in this room. You tug at the knots and realize that while John is a gifted torturer, he’s not much of a knot tier.

So you manage to wiggle out of the rope, approaching the table in front of you. You don’t have much time. Okay, maybe you won’t be able to kill Fisk, but John will do. You take a golf club off the table in front of you and turn to the record player.

You begin to smash the thing in, angrily cursing at it as Frank Sinatra’s voice fades off into nothing. When the song ends, the lights turn off. And then, red flood lights turn on in their place.

A back up generator. Lovely. You think that your smashing of the record player couldn’t possibly make the whole building’s power go off, but you don’t really care at that moment.

You’re tired. You won’t make it far, but you need to try. You grasp the club and open the door, being greeted with a man you don’t recognize. You smack him in the face with the club hard enough for him to fall to the ground.

The red lighting adds an eerie tone to the hallways as you creep around, concussing various henchmen that Fisk has working for him. You don’t mean to kill these ones, only John.

But you’re running out of stamina, peeking around corners. And that’s when you see him. John is just standing there like he knows you’re there.

“Come out to play, Mrs. Murdock?” He calls, approaching the corner where you are waiting on the other side.

You focus on his footsteps, taking a swing around the corner when you know he’s close enough. You hear a sharp crack! As he falls, and you can’t see the blood in this lighting. Good. You begin to hit his head in, sobs mixing with yelling. You hate him. You want him to die before you’re killed.

But you don’t get the pleasure, because a pair of arms are pulling you off him, and you begin yelling.

“No!” You yelp. “No, Fuck you! Let go of me! Stop!” You think it’s another one of his goons, and you just want to be able to finish the job before you die. The figure forces you to drop the club. “Please, stop, don’t hurt me—”

But he’s saying your name and turning you around to see him. You know that voice.

“Sweetheart, hey, it’s just me—” He pants, his hands going to your cheeks. “It’s me, It’s just me. I’ve got you.”

And you can’t believe your eyes.

“Matt..?” You whimper, not able to believe it. “No, you’re dead, this has to be—”

And then, Matt does something he wouldn’t do for anyone who wasn’t his wife. He pulls off his helmet so you can see his face. Oh.

“I’m right here. I’ve got you.” He says softly, his thumb gently rubbing against your skin.

That’s when you start to sob, falling against him, no energy left to carry yourself. His arms wrap around you, and you say it again.

“He told me you were dead..”

“I know.. I’m sorry, I don’t know how he got my ring but we’ve gotta get you out of here.” He tells you.

You’re so tired. You’re slumping against him as you try to walk, the warmth radiating off his body just drawing you to sleep.

The last thing you hear before you fall asleep is Matt’s voice, begging you to stay awake.

• • •

You see flashes. Your parents, your dad. Nightmares of Fisk killing Karen, Foggy, Frank, and worst of all, Matt. You see John’s sickening grin on the body of spiders, and you’re chased by his cruel laughter.

But the dreams are filmier compared to what’s happening around you. You know Claire shows up at some point, and you’re thankful to her. Karen sits next to you sometimes, petting your hair, or sometimes it’s Foggy, talking your ear off.

You have fever dreams of Frank in full military gear, tormenting you.

“Not so tough now, huh, girl?” He teases. “You really thought you’d kill the big bad wolf? Solve all your boyfriend’s problems?”  

You say to him, “Husband, He’s my husband.”

• • •

Even in your dreams, where you were slashed and burned aches, and you long for the pain to end.

You wake up only once throughout these dreams, and it’s when Karen is playing music to try and calm you from your insistent nightmares.

Only one song snaps you out of it, and you hear it clear as day.

‘Fly me to the moon,” Sinatra sings, “Let me play among the stars,’

He only gets through a few more lines before you’re sitting up on the couch, screaming.

“No! Stop, please!” You cry, and in an instant, Matt’s arms are around you. “Matt, please, don’t let him hurt me, please! Please don’t die, don’t let him keep hurting me!” You beg, in a hazed, frenzied state.

“I’ve got you, No one’s going to hurt you..”

Karen turns off the music somewhere deep in the apartment.

“No..” You begin to grow tired in his arms again. “Matty, please.. You can’t die, please..” You whimper out, continuing to mumble out pleads as you fall back into your weird dream state.

• • •

You really wake up two days later. Matt’s hand is clasped over yours, and he’s just.. Sitting on the floor next to the couch, praying into your clasped hands.

Praying for what, you don’t know.

Your body aches. But something in you tells you you’re safe.

“Matt…?” You whisper gently, and his head shoots up.

“Hey..” He says softly, one hand leaving yours, coming up to brush your hair out of your face. “There she is..”

“You’re alive..”

He seems a little concerned you still had some doubts about this.

“I am. Fisk lied to you.. He never even touched me.” You nod.

“Did I kill him? The man you found me..”

“No. He’s just in a coma, I checked. He’ll be brought to justice.”

“I only wanted him dead when I thought you were too..” Because really, you would have nothing if Matt wasn’t there. Nothing to live for. When he was blipped away, you had the hardest time readjusting to life. Now you know if he died again, you’d probably go off the rails.

No love story is saved more than once. You used up all your luck. Now it will be doomed if he’s ever killed again.

“I know.” He said gently.

“How long have I been out? How long was I in there?”

“A week, and then you were out for four days here. They got you good, baby..” He says gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t find you earlier.”

You frown softly.

“You did find me though. That’s all that really matters anymore.” You know you’ll be nursing scars for a long time. Physical or not.

“Still..” He said gently, and he brings your hand up to kiss it gently. “And I’m sorry I told you to leave that night. I was just upset, but this past week and half.. I feel like I’ve been going crazy without you. No matter how mad at you I am, I never want to spend another night without holding you. Knowing that you could have been…” His voice breaks, and he just sighs, taking a moment to lean his head on your hand. “I love you, so much.” He kisses your palm again.

How are you so tired again? All you’ve done is talk to him, but it feels like you just ran a marathon.

“I love you. It’s why I married you. Because you and I, we were always meant to be with each other. No matter what.”

He smiles weakly and reaches over to the coffee table to grab something. He slips it on your finger and for the first time in over a week, your wedding ring is back where it belongs. You see Matt is wearing his. Your Matt. Your husband. The only one you were ever meant to be with.

“Did Claire patch me up? I remember her being here..” He nods softly.

“Yeah, we.. we really owe her one. She was a huge help..”

“Karen and Foggy were here… And Frank?”

“No, no, Frank’s still in Illinois, I think?” You nod softly. “You were mumbling to him, though. I heard you… you were telling him you had a husband.”

You would laugh if it didn’t hurt.

“He called you my boyfriend. I had to correct him.” You grin.

“That’s my girl.” He hums. Matt gently lifts you so you can sit up and drink some water. Then, he climbs onto the couch and brings you close. His arms wrap around your freshly wounded skin and you have a rare moment of gratefulness for his blindness.

You sit in silence for a while.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently.

You think about it all. The torture, the cuts, burns, the small room. Fisk’s laughter, John’s grin. But something sticks out to you.

“Fisk said I was just like him.”

“What?”

“We.. We grew up similar, Matt, I mean.. What if he’s right? What if the only thing separating him and I is one bad move?”

Your husband frowns and shakes his head.

“Sweetheart, you are the.. the most amazing person I’ve ever met. You’re the complete antithesis of Wilson Fisk. Yeah, you grew up like him, but you’re living proof that you don’t have to go down the path he did just because of his background. You and I both know that there will never be a world where you end up like him. Especially not with me.”

You find comfort with his words. Not only did you make every choice not to be like Fisk, but you must’ve also made all the right decisions if in the end, you ended up with Matt. Oh, it won’t be easy, you know that for sure. You’ll never be able to listen to Frank Sinatra, and your upcoming nights are filled with nightmares and hauntings.

But one day you’ll be okay. One day You’ll be able to sit in the silence without thinking about it. One day you’ll get the image of dead Matt out of your head. You’ve spent many nights wondering about who will go first, you or him.

And then you realize the best-case scenario is that the two of you die at the same time, never living another moment without each other.

How would there ever be a world where you and your husband weren’t with each other, even just for a moment?

[strwberri-milk]

Could I request for Kaeya, Childe and Neuvillette with an s/o who goes around giving everybody little gift baskets of sweets but seemingly forgot about the boys only for s/o to reveal that she'd made them cute snack boxes?

Kaeya doesn't think too much of it at first. He assumed that maybe it was just for your group of friends that didn't include him and he was more than happy to let you go on your way. He's not going to control the things you do for your friends and also helped you plan out some of the stuff when you came to him for inspiration.

He doesn't realise that you've been giving everyone gifts until he comes into work one day without you and sees everyone fawning over the baskets you've left in the communal area for them. He doesn't say anything about it but he makes a passing comment that night when you come home.

He doesn't sound angry, he just mentions that he didn't realise you were doing something for his colleagues as well and you just nod in agreement. You disappear for a minute and he assumes that you just went to get changed and starts to playfully mope about how you care about everybody else more than him. It's not until you're directly in front of him with a box with his name on it that he realises you didn't actually forget him.

Happily, he takes it into his hands and hums as he opens it up, cooing at how adorable the box you made him looks. You laugh as you sit next to him, Kaeya happily eating the snacks and thanking you with kisses and hand feeding some of the things to you.

Childe is very open about not wanting to be forgotten. He pouts a little and asks when you'll make him a basket as you assemble them for the people in your life. You try your best to steer him off track but when he comes home from work he's back to asking you teasingly why you haven't given him anything yet.

It just takes him a day or two to drop it, not wanting to make you get annoyed at his teasing but you do also note that he still likes watching you assemble the treats for people.

When he comes back from washing up you present him with his own box with a little ta da! It makes his face light up as he happily digs in, impressed with how much detail you put into his box. He loves every bit of it, giving you a tight hug as another show of appreciation as he chows down.

Neuvillette was incredibly happy with how you were putting so much effort into each of the baskets you were making for everyone. He watches you happily and doesn't say anything but the way his eyes curiously follow over your hands at work as you piece everything together.

He won't really think much about the fact that he can't obviously discern if you've made something for him to eat. He doesn't mind and doesn't want to come off as overbearing so he won't say anything to you directly.

When he starts to realise that you might have forgotten about him he still won't say anything. It doesn't bother him in the least to be forgotten, knowing that you've probably got a lot of things on your mind and that it wasn't anything intentional on your part.

You prod the subject a little, apologising about not making him a box and he just brushes it off. He tells you that it's alright and he's not going to hold it against you. You feel him press a soft kiss to your head and you feel bad about the little joke you wanted to pull on him, surprising him with his own box.

His eyes light up and he holds the box tenderly in his hands, thanking you and opening it. Upon seeing all the treats you've got for him, things he knows you've chosen specifically with him he feels his chest warm in affection, hugging you close to him in appreciation.

[paper-mario-wiki]

transfems can be women but you are not, you're an agp

(i actually blocked the original person who sent this and then resent it to myself on anon to keep the presentation fitting since i would like to share my perspective on this anyhow. here's what i would have said to this straw-man argument-haver if they weren't already blocked!)

TL;DR: you're wrong with both of the things you asserted in your statement. 1) i am not an AGP which is because 2) AGP's are exactly as much of a woman as i am.

what meaningful categorization could you put on someone to fit the description of "autogynophile" that precludes them from womanhood without inherently being contradictorily transphobic? "it turns them on to think about being vaginally penetrated" yeah i bet a lot of cishet woman fantasize about that too. "they only changed their identity because they like being a lady so much it helps them get off" okay? and? this is not a categorization which is inherently predatory, so who cares? gender is, irrevocably, an invention. it's a farce. it's nothing, we made it up, that's the whole point of agreeing that people can change it if they say they want to.

drawing a social line by the physical distinctions of "do they have penis or the other one" is as arbitrary as separating people by right handedness and left handedness or the eye color they were born with. the social expectations, behaviors, and woes are a consequence of the fact that everyone has been taught "this is just how it is, and it makes you different in every way, and this is how it's always been, and this is how it'll always be", same as the way people keep using fiat currencies (the US dollar for example), despite them being backed up by no singular tangible thing in any way that matters, aside from the word of the person who controls it.

and sometimes going along with that stuff is fine! i mean not the money, but the other one. the gender one. i like to be called a woman, while also knowing that "woman" is an invention. "pretty" is also an invention, and i love to be called that. "sonic the hedgehog" is an invention that people talk about using the same verbiage they use when describing real, tangible, breathing creatures, despite the fact that sonic the hedgehog exists conceptually and not physically (not including physical representations, which are not the same thing).

i think agp's are also women. if i could read someone's mind and they said "hi im a woman" but i knew they were thinking "im actually a man" i would still say "hello woman" because they might as well have given me their name for all the difference it makes in how we interact moving forward. if someone has no intention or probability to harm themselves or anyone else, i couldn't care less.

all that being said, you're wrong with both of the things you asserted in your statement. 1) i am not an AGP because 2) AGP are exactly as much of a woman as i am. it is a meaningless category coined by bigots and only given credibility by people with bigoted views.

[mythbringer-mayhem]

GODDAMNIT

man, I was just scrolling and now I'm a goddamn Raidioapple shipper what the FUCK

Ok ok-

And now I'm going to elaborate just because.

I was expecting someone out there to ship Lucifer and Alastor the second I heard Hell's Greatest Dad. I mean- two people singing/arguing over being father figures? Sounds gay to me /pos. The internet sure does love it's enemies to lovers (me included. I'm hopless lmao.)

BUT. I have specifics for this ship.

I hate it when people just look at Alastor's aromanticism/asexuallity and just go "nah. I'm just gonna do it anyways." I used to headcanon Alastor as complete aroace in the sense that he just can't feel that way for someone (this is not meant to sound like "oh he can't love anyone :( he's incapable" I mean specifically a romantic/sexual relationship.) Then fucking short ass king of hell arrives, and Alastor just IMMEDIATELY chooses violence.

I didn't think much of that besides "oh that's a little interesting," and then I stumbled across Radioapple and had to take a double take. My brain needed to figure out how that would work, like how it would start, flourish, ineract, yadda yadda-

.....so now I consider Alastor Demiromantic-

(I'm still goddamn writing jeez-)

Read on if you like random people looking wayyyyyy too much into fictional characters.

Headcanon timeeeeeeeee

When Lucifer and Alastor first meet, Alastor is surprised Lucifer doesn't know who he is. Up to this point, everyone knows about the terrifying radio demon, so it must be a little weird for someone to be completely ignorant to his existence. Especially when that person should probably know the ins and outs of what's going on- ....because he's the fucking king of hell.

This is something new for Alastor. It made him curious. When you're curious, you try to learn more right? So, Alastor starts pushing Lucifer's buttons, seeing how he reacts. On Lucifer's end, Alastor's just being a smug asshole. However his true intentions are information on the esteemed oh-so-powerful king of hell. Maybe Alastor doesn't quite know where this fascination comes from, but regardless he wants to learn more. I can picture him progressively bothering Lucifer more and more (this is his unique way of getting to know him semi-discreetly)

As well as figuring out what ticks him off, Alastor would also probably passively learn things Lucifer likes. For instance, he finds out what Lucifer's favorite alcoholic drink is or something- bare with me- Let’s say Lucifer has a rough day, and it's very clear to everyone in the hotel. While he's frustrated in his own room, he hears a knock at the door. Answering it, he finds his aforementioned favorite drink. At this point, he wouldn't know who left it. But after a while, he'd be able to figure out it's Alastor through process of elimination. (This is inspired by a comic I saw! :))

Now we've got Alastor trying to discreetly be kind to Lucifer, and Lucifer is aware without his knowledge. And Lucifer would call him out for it lmao. Slowly, they'd start acting friendlier towards each other. It would take a long, long time though. The slowest slow burn of them all. They'd hang out more, do things, kick angel ass, have friendly banter, do stuff with Charlie. Untill Alastor finally realizes that he might have a crush on Lucifer. Though, I feel he'd take a while to fully figure that out, do some soul searching, maybe go to Rosie for advice.

Then they'd confess. Or they wouldn't lol. I can totally see them going on what is essentially a date, even though they just consider it "hanging out". It would be a quiet relationship. Something you'd miss if you aren't looking for it, but it is there. They both just need someone they can rest with in my opinion.

These ideas are probably sporadic and nonsensical- but I ✨️don't care✨️ I just needed to rant about the old timey deer man and the short depressed apple gremlin.

[divine-donna]

tell me

instead of writing a fic, i settled on writing just a general collection of headcanons. these are gender neutral. and uh, i'm on a mission to convert my friend to the swann arlaud agenda.

anyways watch anatomy of a fall on a big screen. don't do what i did, which is just watch it on my laptop. movie is too good to be watched on a laptop. and also be a streaming service.

these are gender neutral, by the way.

part 02

character: vincent renzi (aka. hot lawyer from anatomy of a fall)

for vibes: "tell me" by fifty fifty

moving to france wasn't on your list of things to do when you were in your early teens. it was such a drastic move. but unfortunately, it made sense because your mother was a film scholar who specialized in french film and she got a job to teach at a prestigious university. it was an opportunity she had to take and you were brought along for the ride.

picking up french was not that hard. you learned in school and also picked it up from the films your mother watched. you remembered watching Cléo from 5 to 7 a lot. maybe you shouldn't have, considering its themes. being immersed in the environment helped you pick up on it quicker.

all to say, you were fluent by the time you reached university.

you don't remember which class you met him in. you just know you got put in a group together for introductions. typical first year stuff.

"vincent renzi."

he had a boyish charm to him. he looked younger than you, yet you were the same age. there was still some baby fat on his cheeks.

your smile was warm. "(y/n)."

he became one of your first friends.

university was a rough transition period. you left your old friends behind. you didn't like them that much anyways. they didn't seem to like you either. so, you essentially came into university without many friends.

it's a gradual friendship, one that arises from meeting up consistently and then those meetings evolving into hanging out for hours.

doing schoolwork while drinking coffee, reading in the library, going out for dinner. hell even cooking for each other. it was a solid friendship.

it helped that you guys also wandered in the same social circle. so you also had mutual friends, including german exchange student sandra voyter.

they always talked about how you two were together. always seen talking. always seen outside of class. even when you guys had so much work to do and you shouldn't be with him because you guys ended up distracted and procrastinating your papers.

"why do you still have this?" he asks.

it was your third year of university. your place was small cozy. and it was affordable with your two other roommates. you guys had gotten lucky with the rent.

"have what?" you don't look up from your laptop. you were nearly finished with your paper.

"this."

you look up. vincent's holding up a dvd box with a beat up cover sleeve. the colors were faded and the cardboard was bent all over, creating multiple webs.

"because it's mine?"

"it's all beat up. wouldn't it be better to transfer to a new box?" he shrugs.

"my mother gave it to me when i graduated. it's...niche, i guess." you think about how she gifted you her favorite movie and the movie she has written a whole book about.

"everyone knows Céline and Julie Go Boating."

"not in that sense. just in the sense that my mother has an interesting way to mourn me leaving the house." you still stayed with her when you went back. but graduating really proved that you weren't a kid anymore. "i really liked it when i was younger. because of the colors. the rest of the stuff did not register with me. according to her, i kept asking her to put it on."

"you must have had an interesting taste as a child."

"well...she specializes in this stuff. so i'm not surprised."

"you don't even have a tv."

"okay well, i have it for novelty sake."

your eyes return to your laptop screen. you don't notice the way vincent's eyes linger on you, watching the way your fingers intently move as you finish up your paper. or how you furrow your brows when rereading your sentence and realizing it makes no sense. or the gentle curse beneath your breath when you realize you've forgotten a word in your sentence. he's never heard someone curse so gently.

he sets the dvd back where he picked it up from, feeling the worn out cardboard.

it was your birthday. such a scary time, for it to come so soon.

originally, you thought it was going to be you, vincent, sandra, and some of your other friends. after all, vincent was good as organizing group events and outings.

when you showed up at your usual meeting spot, it was just him.

"are they going to meet us there?" you question.

"we'll meet them after." he smiles.

"what is going on in that brain of yours?"

"you'll see."

when he takes your hand, your heart flutters. you've held hands before. but never did it make you feel so...light. like a cloud. you weren't sure if you were imagining your cheeks heating up slightly.

vincent leads you to a nearby cinema. he buys two tickets for a limited showing of Céline and Julie Go Boating.

"this is so..." you can't help but let out a laugh, staring at the movie ticket.

"why not? get the full experience." his eyes are gentle. there's tenderness in his gaze. it makes you feel all warm and gooey on the inside.

"you know the movie is...over three hours long right?"

"of course. that's why i picked an earlier showing. so we can get to dinner on time later."

being in the dark with your friend for over three hours. watching a movie about two people who were coded to be lovers. what could go wrong?

nothing, really. in the eyes of someone else.

to you, and to him, everything.

you haven't seen the film in forever. so rewatching it was like watching it for the first time without being distracted by the colors.

vincent couldn't watch the movie. he was more interested in the way your face shifted, how you whispered about not remembering that happening, how you laughed and the way your lips curled so cutely.

in truth, he could care less about the movie.

you were his favorite film.

as céline and julie were in a soap opera, enacting a hetero-normative plot, you turn to look at vincent. you were wondering how your friend was holding up.

your eyes meet his and your lips can't help but curl into a smile.

"are you watching?"

"of course." his eyes flicker to the screen for a brief moment.

"or were you watching me?"

"your reactions are interesting. they tell me what i should be thinking of the film."

"i shouldn't be the one you judge this film on."

silence between you two. the kind of comfortable silence you two are used to. but something feels more different. perhaps because it was dark. perhaps because the world seemed to fall away and it was just the two of you and the film faded into the background.

you were oddly close to him. your shoulders were touching. and if you moved forward, your noses would be able to touch.

you shift closer, causing his breath to hitch. "thank you for this, by the way." when you whisper, it is a message only meant for him.

"happy birthday." he says. he moves his face closer, heart pounding.

you want to meet him in the middle. you want to feel his soft lips against your own. and yet, something grips you hard. it's stomach curdling.

you move forward, your lips on his cheek. his eyes widen and his shoulders slump a little. you pull away. "it's...nice. to have the bestest friend i know."

"that's not a word." sadness settles in his eyes.

"all words are made up. so i can make up new ones."

in the moment you felt unsure about not making a move. that regret comes to follow you in your life.

graduation came too soon. way too soon.

you had decided to leave france for a bit, go to grad school abroad. somewhere else where you could pursue an mfa in creative writing.

it was your last coffee before you guys would graduate, inevitably separating.

vincent said he wanted to tell you something. it was urgent, something important to him. you could tell he wanted to spit it out.

or did he want to vomit because he was nervous?

"stop leaving me in suspense!" you take a sip of your coffee. "what is it?"

should he tell you?

should he confess?

he wants to tell you. oh so desperately. and yet, he feels it would be selfish to.

it's not about if you didn't feel the same way. to vincent, being rejected is the better scenario.

he didn't want to keep you grounded in france, a place you were looking to leave because you have spent a decent chunk of your life here. moving was good for you.

he worried that if you felt the same way, then maybe you would reconsider going away. and if you were looking to leave forever, he didn't want to be the thing keeping you here.

i love you. i have for a while. let's go on a date.

thirteen words. three sentences.

it was so miniscule. but he felt like atlas, carrying the sky. he was carrying a whole world.

vincent wipes his palms against his jeans. his heart was stuck in his throat. and his brain acted first.

"i got accepted into law school."

"that's great! oh my god!" you nearly squeal for him.

your happiness for him was enough.

writing a hit debut novel is no easy feat. and yet, you did it. people loved your novel.

the novel centered on two friends. their platonic bond ends up in a weird limbo, where there's romantic tension but neither wants to act upon it in fear. ultimately, the two friends reunite years after they separated, on different career paths. they meet at a conference, sit at a bar, and the novel ends with them rekindling their relationship. you left it up to the reader to interpret that being romantic or platonic. or even if they never talked to each other again after that night.

you were on fire as an author. and your recent publication, a collection of short stories, had become particularly famous. especially on social media.

you decided to go back to france for a few months. you wanted to spend more time with your mother and catch up with your friends. all of them you haven't seen since university.

unfortunately it also didn't mean you were on vacation. you still had to work. and you had many book signings to attend to.

when you look up to see the next person, your heart nearly lurches out of your chest.

vincent aged like wine. he still looked like how he did in university. less baby fat. gray hair. some wrinkles. but you liked it.

his eyes meet yours and he walks over. "my favorite short story was the one about the cow farmer."

"that came from a dream i had as an undergraduate student." you open the book and sign the first page. "how are you?"

"good. good. how about you?" he smiles. he's so radiant. you're reminded why you missed him. and why you felt regret in your body from all those years ago.

"well, you already know about me." you gesture to the books. your books. "have you...met up with sandra recently?"

"on the rare occasion. she's been traveling a lot. but recently she moved here. with her husband."

"her husband...samuel?" vincent nods. "he's an interesting character. from the few times i met him."

"they seem to be doing alright." he takes the signed book and peeks at what you wrote. there's a heart next to his name.

"we should talk more. catch up."

"if you're free."

you think for a second. "can you come back in thirty minutes? i should be done by then."

vincent smiles. he leaves the bookstore.

he's waiting outside for you after those thirty minutes.

[prismatic-bell]

I’ve been thinking about something at my job—not difficult, honestly, my job leaves lots of thinking time—and I have something I want to share with the folks who object to the label “culturally Christian.” I hope it may help you make more sense of the label and, perhaps, not be so angry about it, if you’ll indulge me for just two minutes.

I was born as a white gentile. While I later found out this wasn’t entirely true—I have Jewish ancestry and there is a small-but-non-zero chance I’m partly Black through my great-grandmother, which is a story too long to get into here—I am, for all visual intents and purposes, white, and count myself as such.

And the first time I heard myself included in the phrase “white supremacy,” I WAS SO FUCKING UNCOMFORTABLE. Couldn’t we call it anything else? Why are you including me in this? I didn’t ask to be born white. I don’t run around in a pointy hood burning crosses. I’m not even racist. Black people can do anything white people can do! I am NOT a white supremacist!

….except. I kinda am. And it is not a choice I made, it is a choice that was made for me 400 and 160 and 120 and 80 and 50 and 35 years ago. Slavery and deliberately-botched emancipation and “separate but equal” and killing of Black leaders and the simple fact both my parents were white. Textbooks that hold up Eli Whitney as a hero and promote the lie of The Great Empty Wilderness and never ask us to wrestle with what it means when the majority of a population is counted as only three-fifths of a human being. Redlining and even the fucking freeway system—I didn’t design any of this, but I live in the world where it exists.

G-d willing, I will not be a white supremacist until the day I die: G-d willing, the systems we are struggling against will have been replaced with better, kinder, more equitable systems. But I don’t get to opt out by saying “I’m not racist!” Yes, I’ve put in a ton of work to unlearn harmful racist behaviors and attitudes. But as long as a Black woman in my position with my experience makes less money than me, I’m benefiting from white supremacy. As long as I get the job, the car, the loan, the opportunity because someone else had locs and I “looked professional,” I’m benefiting from white supremacy. And yes—as long as people aren’t deliberately stupid about my name because they associate it with white cultures, I’m benefiting from white supremacy. The fact I’m white is morally neutral. What I choose to do with that fact is what matters.

And so: we come back to cultural Christianity.

The law of probability says if you’re on this site, you’re probably from a culture with a Christian hegemony. That’s going to cover the Americas, Europe, and to a lesser extent, portions of central and south Africa (both the creatively-named country and the continent). Even if your country mostly considers itself secular, if your answer to “what year is it” is automatically “2024” without having to ask “on which calendar,” you’re probably from a country with a Christian background.

THIS IS A MORALLY NEUTRAL THING. You do not choose which country you’re born in or what its centuries-old culture is. And that’s fine! And it doesn’t mean anything about your personal beliefs. You can be an atheist born to atheists, you can be Buddhist, it is literally whatever.

BUT, to an extent, the place you grew up will absolutely have an impact on your thoughts and morals, because it’s all you’ve ever known. Because the choice to be culturally Christian is not one you made—it was made for you 2000 and 1800 and 1700 and 1200 and 1000 and 800 and 400 and 200 and 50 years ago. Taboos, laws, unspoken rules you’ve never thought twice about, this is not stuff you pick. It’s baked into the world around you. And if you want to unlearn that, you can’t just say “well I’m not Christian so I don’t have Christian morals or values!” and leave it at that. It’d be a beautiful thing if we could, but that’s not the way brains work.

Which means—even if you’re satisfied with what you believe—you should ASK YOURSELF why you believe it, and HOW. One of the biggest things I hear mentioned by other Jews in relation to cultural Christianity is people being black-and-white absolutists. This is true, so that is a lie. That is wrong, so this is right. There is no space given to the idea that maybe everyone is telling the truth as they see it, or that something is right for some times/people/places but wrong for others. And this gets into the harmful territory of “it’s true so I believe it and because I believe it, it’s true.”

So ask yourself why. Start deconstructing your beliefs and learning about new things—and yes, make world religions part of those new things, because religions are major cultural shapers, and also you’d be stunned how many of us 1) do not proselytize and 2) encourage actual study and questioning over blind faith and obedience (hint: it’s most of us. These two things that are taken as universal constants by a lot of atheists ARE EXPLICITLY CHRISTIAN), and there is no harm in learning about our cultures. (You know who’d say there is? Say it with me, kids: evangelical Christians.)

I’m still uncomfortable with being referred to in the context of white supremacy. But part of unlearning racism and, yes, white supremacy, was learning to recognize that is not a discussion I get to steer, because it’s not about me. It’s about people of color explaining, quantifying, and discussing their experiences. So I will be uncomfortable if need be, because that’s a me problem, for me to work on. That is part of what being a good ally and a good neighbor means.

Please give Jews that same grace. Yes, it can be uncomfortable to realize that yeah, you WERE affected by this thing you want to separate yourself from, especially if you have religious trauma. (Side note: if you do, I genuinely and strongly encourage you to seek therapy for it. As an evangelical cult escapee I can tell you it’s helped me a lot.) But you owe it to yourself, and if you genuinely want to dismantle that hegemony, you also owe it to others. While you’re yelling about how you don’t like the words we have created to describe our experiences, we’re working to fix the hegemony you claim to hate.

So: stop focusing on the word. Your discomfort with it is a you problem. Focus on WHAT IT’S TALKING ABOUT, because truly coming to a level playing ground and rebuilding will require you to have allies—not burned bridges all around.

[otomiyaa]

nice.png

(literally how I named the image, couldn't think of something else)

Hi guys :') To my followers and tumblr friends, I'm really sorry if my sudden disappearance scared or upset you. It wasn't quite... planned. And today was a busy day and I needed some time to consider what I wanted to do.

Short version of the story:

My tumblr account got terminated for copyright infringement. A certain Mr. Green got me in unlucky trouble (ref 1, 2).

I won't get it back, or try to get it back. It's gone.

Needed a moment to consider 2 options: ask Mia to extend my dramatic farewell letter and stay gone, or make a new blog.

Not planning to post new writing here. I won't be using words like 'never' or 'forever' because I'm a known clown with things like this, but the intention is to no longer post fics. I will finish Tickletober on AO3 and then take a break from writing. So yes, I cancel the swiftscribbles event too, sorry!

When I opened my laptop, I could see my old blog in its final hour lmao (I found out about the loss on my phone). So that's what the snap is from on a fitting grave. It was fun while it lasted!

Long version of the story:

Losing my blog(s): My Tumblr account with main blog + sideblogs got terminated overnight, it was quite the surprise! I've either been reported or tracked by bots. The posts are a bunch of numbered URLs I can't open, but the message is clear: for including anime content, genshin impact or media from other sources (whether it's videos, screenshots, official art, gifs or even fanwork) you technically can get a strike. Upon googling the claimer I quickly found this first, and knew it was a lost cause. Although it feels shitty and unlucky, I am in no place to appeal. It's like when I used to make AMVs in the past, you never knew whether a song or even anime footage was going to give your YT account a copyright strike or even a ban, it was a gamble. I have lost YT accounts before, and now I lost the Tumblr one. With 7+ years of tickle trash content and a bunch of sideblogs. But oh well, moving on!

Starting a new blog: It was a serious consideration whether this was my ultimate chance to do what I've always said I wanted to do eventually - quit my blog. My first thought was to ask Mia to share my explanation and literal goodbye with you guys, and stick to my chaos of a Twitter account to indulge in fandom stuff. But then I thought of how happy Tumblr made me, even without the fic writing, but just.. reblogging things, getting random asks, shouting about life and of course, about tickles. I decided to make a new blog after all, but also decided the following:

The 7K+ milestone swiftscribbles event is cancelled, for which I apologize! The follower milestone, together with the motivation to write the fics, and even the asks with the requests I got, all died with my former blog.

I will see how long I can survive without posting a new fic or drabble. A loose headcanon or two might fly around sometime. And if necessary, a link to a new fic on AO3.

Tickletober? Hell yes I'll finish it, I would cringe in bed for 49 days at least if I would stop. I just won't post the fics here, but on AO3.

Reposting/reblogging my old works? Undecided at the moment but I'm tired and lazy. I don't feel too upset since most of my fics are still on AO3 at least and not completely gone.

Anyways, I'll see what happens and how long I can enjoy this nerfed version of blogging.

Surprisingly I'm not upset about losing my other blog, there were a lot of memories but it was also very cringe. I'm gonna be just as cringe here, but at least I feel cleansed.

For those who choose to follow me again, thank you, but please know that there won't be much original content coming from me, for now!:)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for possibly being a dick to my friends?

I (15, genderfluid) have had a group of friends since I was 12-13 (all about my age, mostly F but varying degrees of gender). We'd have the occasional drama, mostly started by my now-ex friend (let's call her A) (15F), but everything was pretty okay.

That was until about February, when my friend, B (15F) broke up with A. B told me that A had been saying some nasty things about me behind my back (that I'm sensitive, ugly, annoying, etc). I was hurt, because I thought A was a good friend prior to learning this. I confronted A about it (I didn't tell her that B told me), and our relationship got a bit rocky from there. I ended up blocking A for my own mental health.

Quick context break, from what I can piece together, A would call me sensitive because I would protest her and others joking about suicide.

Things started getting hairy when our mutual friend C (15M) told everyone that he didn't think I was sensitive, and that the casual joking about suicide had caused him a lot of problems. A then immediately did a 180 and tried to end the drama between us by getting B to send me messages she wanted me to hear. However, despite apparently wanting to end the drama, she did not apologize to me, and instead said, "I'm not sorry, because in my eyes you are sensitive," amongst other things.

Around this time, my then-partner, D (14NB) broke up with me, citing they weren't in the right mental state for a relationship. A week later, they started dating B.

I was feeling really hurt and lied to at this point, and I kind of cut off D until C got me and them into a group chat to talk through our problems. We made a bit of progress and talked through our feelings. I was two hours ahead of them at the time, though, so it was past midnight for me.

A slightly important part of this story is that I have a tendency to write self-indulgent poetry about my feelings. This includes one about the red flags I noticed in me and D's relationship, but ignored. To wrap up the conversation and get to sleep, I sent that poem to C and D instead of a proper explanation of some of the stuff I was mad at D about. (In retrospect, this was a very stupid idea. But I was desperate for sleep, so?)

A couple days later, C explained to me that the drama between me and A had kind of messed him up, and that for his own mental health, he would go no-contact with me for a while to work on himself (which is fine, that's respectable).

Afterwards, B seemingly got mad at me for the whole poem thing, so I asked her about it. We had what I felt like was a mature conversation, and wrapped up most of the problems she had with it (mostly that it looked like I had compared D to an unsavory public figure, which I explained was not my intention). I also sent an apology to D for insulting them and causing any problems with that poem. They said it was fine, and that they weren't that offended.

Today (just barely, in fact), B blocked me, stating that I talk too much shit and cause a lot of problems.

Tldr;

Why I might be TA: There's a very real possibility that I do talk too much shit without realizing it, especially because, in the past, I've been known to not realize when people are uncomfortable with my actions unless they directly tell me.

Why I might not be TA: I feel like, for my situation, and knowing only what I knew at the time, I made justified decisions.

[skriblee-ksk]

“I checked the drinks… Princes’ outfits are up to code… Grimmy’s with Ryoko right now… I didn’t forget anything, did I?”

“Okay. Ready as I’ll ever be…! Let’s make this ball a success!”

Set to Home Screen: Are you ready? I’ll wait for you, if you need me to.

Home Transition:

1: Woah… The chandeliers are so bright and sparkly… 12 arms from the bottom bowl, which are four more than the one in the Mirror Chamber, but the top… Ah, sorry!

2: Deuce called me Lady Kiyuu earlier, which really made me happy. I would have worn a pretty dress, but these clothes are a lot warmer and comfier. I think I managed to make myself look feminine either way!

3: Kalim’s really enjoying talking to the attendees. He seems to be getting friendly with everyone, including people from RSA! Must be because he’s familiar with hosting parties.

4: So many attractive people are here… I wonder if I’d be bothering them if I said I wanted to take a picture of them…?

Home, after Login: This ball is really fun! If I lean back on this wall and squint, it just looks like a blur of blue, white, and gold. I think it’s nice that there’s a time these schools can merge like this.

Tap Home:

1: I’m excited to vote for the Belle of the Ball! Huh? Oh, no, I never had any intent to participate. I just enjoy seeing pretty people.

2: Ah, what? Oh, I’m just reviewing my notepad to make sure I’m not forgetting any etiquette. I’m doing perfectly well, so far! I reviewed it before I entered too, but just in case, you know?

3: Oh, no, wait, Grim’s gonna devour the entire table of finger foods at this rate. I’ll be right back!

4: I know I’m supposed to be helping the princes out, but I’m not sure if I’m doing a proper job here… Hm? You think I’m doing pretty well? Mm… Hehe, thanks!

5: It’s a little bit harder than usual to catch the attention of the attendees here since there’s so many people… Well, I guess I just have to find better ways to make my presence known!

Glimmering Soirée is a twst fan event hosted by: @starry-night-rose!!

Groovy Lines: Unlocked

Notes and stuff under cut!!

Groovy art coming soon!! maybe. hopefully. i have the sketch done so hopefully i can finish lol. I slightly tried imitating the twst shading style, but idk.

I searched up men’s victorian era clothing and ended w making this design. few obvious design changes in the end (color) result, mostly the gloves.

Here’s the pic without the SR thing! And the sneak peak for the groovy (which i rlly tryharded on so maybe i should’ve listed it as an ssr but whatevs i’ll leave that to my friend + ryoko because ryoko deserves that ssr title)

And tag list for my friend who rlly wanted to be tagged in Kiyuu stuff (if you wanted be added, just tell me!!): @kathxrat-01

[aitadjcrazytimes]

It's been a good run

But it's time to bring this to a close!

The saga is over, C, T and I are all together. T and I are in the swing of it, C approves as much as it is possible for him to approve of anything, everyone knows about the blog and is chill.

C is back at his rightful place of walking his sister down the aisle.

I'm getting everything I want, and we're all free to make each other miserable until the day we die.

I'm not going to be updating this blog anymore! Nobody else involved with the situation will be submitting any more AITA posts either, because they are either not on tumblr or agreed it would be annoying.

I will say that there is some stuff on here that I've alluded to that isn't necessarily 100% in the spirit of things, so I've included some stuff below the cut for the folks who have caught onto that. I would not suggest reading it if you like how all of this played out and want to keep it that way. I know that's incredibly vague, but I'm not sure how to phrase it without making it weird?

Thank you all for listening and talking to me over the past few days! That's where I'm leaving it!

...

...

...

...Is everyone who wants to keep believing in the disaster polycule gone? Yes? OK!

So, this was fake. I made up the whole thing. TK and C and T and everyone else are fictional characters. Did I lie? Yes. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

Q: All of it? Even the og AITA post? The followup AITA post? The screenshots?

A: All of it.

Q: Wh... Why did you do this...?

A: Well, first this all started as a Red vs Blue fanfic for the ship Chexer (Church/Tex/Tucker)-

It started as a fanfic for Chexer. However, I was already working on a different fanfic for RVB that was totalling about 15k words at this point (+ at least 90k to go), and I knew I would never have the time or energy to write this one. I thought: yknow. this would be really funny as an aita post.

Q: It was a fanfic of a Halo fanfic series.

A: Yep!

So, I submitted Tucker's perspective. I did not expect for it to get more than maybe 100 notes at most. I totally thought someone would call it out right away.

The funny part is, if I'd dedicated all this energy to a fic instead of this blog, I'd probably have about 15-20 thousand words of fic already, but whatever, can't ruin my personal day!

Also, I wanted to see how many people would figure it out/how long it would take for it to become too obvious that this was a fandom thing. I was dropping names and RvB lore since the beginning. A few people did figure it out, and I DMed them in private to let them know.

Q: But why make the blog then?

A: Because I love to lie and be a nuisance to the general populace! <3

It was always my intent to wait until Carolina's perspective got posted (i am honestly still shocked i got away with "Carey/Georgia/West Virginia/Alabama/Miss Louisiana 1988"), let it simmer for about a day, then come clean. Which is what I'm doing now!

The reason I'm coming clean now instead of dragging it out is because I don't want anyone to feel stupid or like they got duped. You're not stupid! You were a part of this story! This was, as one anon said, a creative writing project. It was a collaboration! Thank you so much for helping me!

That said, I'm sorry to anyone that finds this disappointing! I had a blast doing this, but I will not be doing it again. I have gotten my fill. I have had my taste of being an influencer, and now I can go on with my life without ever feeling like I need to start a youtube channel.

Q: How did you keep up with a consistent timeline?

A: I didn't, especially at first. But in my time as a liar who lies about things, I have found that usually people are willing to believe you when you say "yeah, i lied about that".

Q: Wait, what about the thing with your kid?

A: Yeah, I fucked up on this one. In the other fic I was/am writing, Tucker was around 33. So, when I was saying what Junior's age was, I subtracted it from 33 and got 18. It wasn't until I was showing my partner the blog and they said "Wait, he had his kid at 13??????" that I realized I had fucked up. Oops!

Q: Was it really ALL fake?

A: For the most part. I will say that I did actually drop chocolate cake all over my tits that one time and had to shower by myself like a fucking loser. That one was true. I did also get my nails done for the first time ever, which did actually affect my typing. And I am in a band (but so is Tucker, canonically)! There are a few other things as well, but I don't want to list all of them.

Q: DID you ever read homestuck?

A: Nope. And I never will.

Even the title, though I will say that the title I came up with was "Leonard "Alpha Bitch" Church's Decidedly Not Lo-Fi Beats to Get Nasty and Get Clean To: The Movie"

Q: So there was never a combination sex/bathtime playlist?

A: Maybe! But perhaps more accurately: the combination sex/bathtime playlist was inside of you all along. You can make it. There are only three songs on there that are canon to the lore of this blog. Those are No Children by The Mountain Goats, Take It Out On Me by Thousand Foot Krutch, and one unknown song from the album Good Apollo, I'm Burning Star IV by Coheed and Cambria (Yep, the call was coming from inside the house, I gave Church my music taste). I had intended this to be Wake Up, but it's out of my hands now. The rest is yours to fill in.

Q: What's your main blog, so I can follow you?

A: Hi, this is aitadjcrazytimes. You're not getting that.

Q: Your AO3 handle?

A: Nope, not that either.

You will never find me. And that's the way I want it. You will see me in every blog. Every new follower. Every stranger you meet on the street. You will look into your discord kitten's eyes, and you will absently wonder if he was the one behind aitadjcrazytimes. And you will never know for certain.

Q: But-

A: Let me live on in your memory. The only person who knows both who I am and the fact that I did this is my partner, who is not into RvB or commonly on tumblr. I am not a RvB blog. I am not a writing blog. I am a nobody on the fringes of tumblr society who's been here long enough to know how to remain in the shadows.

And, even if you do manage to find me, against all odds:

No one will ever believe you.

I am closing my askbox. I am also closing my messages. If you have anything to say to Tucker or Me (tumblr user aitadjcrazytimes), you are welcome to do so in the replies or reblogs, but you will not be receiving an answer. I'll keep this blog up for anyone that wants to go through after the fact and do a deep dive or what have you.

Thanks to everyone who made this into the wild ride it was! Live long and get fucked or whatever! Xoxo <3

[womenaremypriority]

Headless Women Art in the Sims 4

This has little to do with the actual game, so this should be understandable to anyone!  I wanted to share this.  

If you don’t know what ‘headless women art’ is, it refers to a trend in which women are depicted without heads in art and decorations.  This disproportionately affects women and the excuse is generally that it is body-positive, but the feminist argument is that is dehumanizing and normalizes women as unthinking objects.  Here are some examples via @thatsonemorbidcorvid :

Now she has many examples in drawings and paintings, but in my collection, I sticked to objects- which I find more creepy, less defensible, with less male counterparts.  

In the Sims 4, you can build houses.  You can create and download custom objects for your game, and you can download houses which have these custom objects.  I’m not sure about the actual, official game, but when you download custom, fan-made content- this stuff is EVERYWHERE. Recently, I’ve been obsessing over looking at different buildings people have made for the game, but I got so tired of seeing this type of art that I started to collect it.  I have counted examples of men vs women.  Using the same standard of what counts as headless art, I found 22 men and 117 women- still a considerable amount of men, but as a trend heavily geared towards women.  There were a few that are debatable, usually because it was unclear whether male or female.  There were some that I debated counting because while technically having a face, they still felt as if they could count- but to keep it simple, I didn’t. When it comes to headless people in art such a paintings and drawings, I found it to be pretty equal, and didn’t count any towards the count.  I noticed that women are usually more sexualized in general art such as this, however.  For fairness, I will add that busts and sculptures that were just heads, it appeared to be mostly men, which could be argued is also dehumanizing/ornamentive.  However, for the most part, these men were given expressions and a face.  And when it came to full-body sculptures, it appeared equal as well.   Anyways, behold… headless women art.

There are a bunch of duplicates in my count, the same objects used multiple times.  I found about ~18 unique headless women and about ~7 unique men- it’s a bit hard to tell the exact number though.  For the men, 3 of the 7 showed up only once, 3 showed up two times, and the other object made up all the other appearances of headless men.  

Notice how similar the in-game objects look like the actual ones- I think some of them might be modeled after real-life art too.

Now, here are some the men.

9/22 times a man appears, a woman does, as well.  Either because they are placed together, or because they are part of the same object, like in the second photo above.

Out of the 7 headless male pieces, at least 3 looked less like they were intended to be placed in a house as-is and more like very old objects, such as the one below. But to be fair, these only showed up a couple times. I considered not adding to the main count ones were museum objects or in art workshops, things that may not be finished or “complete” but did so anyway. There were a couple of those for male and female. Here is one such.

Here is one that I wasn’t sure about including or not.

This photo is a bit blurry, and I couldn’t in good conscience count it- maybe most people would, as it’s a humanoid shape more female in appearance than male, but the quality isn’t good and there’s enough room for doubt. I wanted to be sure I was fair. There’s a bunch of tinier things next to it that could also be headless art but are even harder to make out.

These figures appear to be breasts, but again, room for doubt. I’m honestly not sure the intention, but if you want to add them to the count, it appeared 6 times.

These weird legs showed up twice. Honestly, they’re very close to being counted.

Now, this does show a bit of face, but since it’s still somewhat covered and degrading in nature, I considered adding it. It showed up thrice The problem is that I don’t think I saved photos whenever I saw similar things for men, and so can’t accurately count. To be clear, I don’t think I saw anything for men that was the same as this or similar, but there were some that had only half a face. Here is one example that was next to a headless women.

There is the male-looking face with plants coming out of it, which I saw quite a few times. There were a couple like that for women, but the question is, if I count the lamp women, do I count this? The main difference is he has eyes, and most of his head is there, giving him individuality, so can’t really be classified as headless. I can’t count these, but I can say there wasn’t really an equivalent for men other than the weird object I showed before with a man and a woman, that could be interpreted as a lamp I suppose.

There’s also whatever this is supposed to be, which I saw twice. A less obsessive person would probably count it, I didn’t. At first I thought it had breasts, but it might be eyes. I will also note that I saw plenty of headless mannequins and silhouettes, virtually all coded female, but didn’t count those. Here’s some other… interesting things.

Does she have a head? Yes. But is this objectifying? Also yes. And again, there were plenty of male fall-body statues, as well as female, but those were dignifying and artistic in nature. But among these types of high-art, modern objects like this, where you have to wonder the point, all I remember are female. They all appear in an unnatural manner. There are a few male-looking heads as well, however-

Here’s what I would consider the closest alternative for men. You can even see the second photo has much of their face missing, as much as the women with the lamp head! Is this as dehumanizing? You decide. There were a few statues of women that were just heads, but none as big and not as many that had missing pieces like this.

None of this is in the final count, but it’s something I found interesting to think about. The last 3 pictures were all made by the same person, but I’ve seen stuff like this used in buildings from other people. I didn’t save everything like this, so I can’t compare or count how many appeared, this was just a couple I remember. Anyways, that’s it! I thought it was super crazy. When I decided to start counting, I thought it would take a while to find any headless women art but it didn’t, at all. Most of what I have screenshots of is the more realistic style of building, because that’s what I prefer, but near the end I started looking more into styles that match the original games graphics. There was probably a higher ratio of men to women when compared to the other style, but still more women in general. This is a plague for real.