#cyanide exists

[cyanide-juicex3]

wtf

[trashcanwithsprinkles]

because @ewilansoleil asked, here's the tsaritsa's design!

started with trying out a design for what she would be like in the actual canon universe and then adapted her to the modern au of cyanide. you can think of the canon universe tsaritsa as the one that appears in itysg(ainly)

[du-hjarta-skulblaka]

Mm lovely how quickly feeling mildly frustrated and irritable escalates into full fledged meltdown anyway I GOTTA fins something to do other than stare at my phone today so. Bye

[rollforjackass]

like on a couple levels, in terms of the metatron having bad intentions, the coffee theory has something to it. BUT NOT BECAUSE AZIRAPHALE'S BEEN POISONED/MAGICALLY MANIPULATED/REPLACED, OKAY. here's the breakdown of the major points imo:

aziraphale doesn't drink coffee, why would the metatron bring him coffee & why would he drink it?

because the metatron doesn't fucking care what aziraphale wants or likes. it's just that simple. he came to the bookshop to make an offer, and to get that offer accepted. he brought the coffee to prove that he means well, that his intentions are good, and that aziraphale is worth a gesture of generosity from the voice of the almighty. he wants aziraphale to feel appreciated, but he doesn't give a shit enough to bring something aziraphale would actually like, and he didn't stop badgering until aziraphale accepted it in a way that could not be taken back, i.e. drinking it. if aziraphale has taken a sip, then he's already accepted that he will hear the metatron out. it's pure lip service and manipulation.

2. the time jump between aziraphale very clearly saying "i don't want to go back to heaven" and "tell your friend the good news". why would the metatron be so sure he changed his mind in that time?

my theory is that the metatron's proposal to reinstate crowley as an angel was double-sided, and we only saw the first half of the proposal. my theory is that the offer was actually "we can bring crowley back as an angel with you, or we'll have to scrub him from the book of life completely so we don't risk you pulling a gabriel." i mean, it makes sense, right? heaven just lost their number one guy to his attachment to a demon he's spent 6000 years arguing with, why chance it a second time? the metatron wants aziraphale to accept that offer because heaven is in shambles, and he knows it won't be accepted if things are left as they currently are on earth, with aziraphale able to simply say "nah" and come back home anytime. an ultimatum like that is the only way to fly.

it's also a no-loss scenario, because you can bank on aziraphale, as someone who cares about crowley and who wouldn't ever want to threaten him into doing something he doesn't want to do, only wanting to tell crowley the first part. he wasn't there for the hellfire, remember? he might not even think it's a genuine threat, not worth repeating, especially if he's confident that crowley would choose to go with him rather than be separated. my theory is that aziraphale was trying to protect crowley by going balls-to-the-wall company man, and that his "i need you" was especially motivated by terror at the thought of losing him, terror that became more and more real as he started to lose confidence in his ability to convince crowley to be an angel again. (as a lot of folks who grew up in very manipulative households could tell you, me included, you can teach yourself to dismiss the severity of a threat from someone you believe loves you while also emotionally reacting to it.)

3. that smile in the elevator during the credits was NOT an aziraphale smile like ANY of the smiles we've seen from him before. not painfully polite, not genuinely joyful, in fact it was downright sinister.

i think that if we go with the theory that the metatron threatened crowley to get aziraphale to agree to come back, aziraphale won't let that shit stand. especially seeing how badly crowley reacted to the idea of becoming an angel again? to aziraphale going back? especially after that kiss?

if he's going up there to make heaven worthy of crowley, to make things better, then that means doing something about the people like uriel who relish the thought of turning innocent people into pillars of salt. the people like michael who hypocritically consort with demons and place their position on the corporate ladder above all else. the people like the metatron, who have access to the book of life and full willingness to use it. i think that's a smile that means aziraphale is about to start a war of his own, and make everything up to crowley as best he can by ensuring that crowley will never have to fear for his own existence again.

(of course, whether that's what crowley would want is something we already know the answer to. crowley wants aziraphale. danger and all.)

[computer-boy]

i love worldbuilding in fanfic i love fanfic that goes over and builds on concepts that aren't detailed in source material i love when video game mechanics are written as an intrinsic part of the world i love fic authors who write long detailed descriptions of every little thing i love fanfiction.

[mutilxtedd]

Aside from my constant tf2 brainrot i made two ocs, the lady in the hat isnt one tho lol

Cariett is literally a card deck as a lady.

[tragedy-of-commons]

no pickles

stellaron hunters & gn!reader | wc: ~750

In which they get your order wrong. Kafka, dear friend that she is, decides to make it known.

tags/warnings: crack, reader is not described, vague canon-typical violence, comedy, found family, everything is platonic

notes: oops updated formatting

When you first joined the Stellaron Hunters upon Elio’s suggestion (death threat), you never would have imagined the scene unfolding in front of you now.

Silver Wolf is double-dipping a greasy french fry into a dollop of ketchup. Kafka is dabbing her mouth with a napkin after her only sip of whatever soda she decided to humor, and Blade is standing guard by your table like some kind of intimidating fast-food sentry.

You, squished between all of them, lament your existence. Sam got to stay behind to “keep watch”, but you know the truth. His robot suit would terrify any children within a fifty mile radius, and this CosmiBurger is teeming with them. 

“Silver Wolf,” you mutter.

“I’m not sharing,” she answers immediately.

“That’s not what I–! Ugh, whatever. I was gonna ask why you chose this place for lunch. Don’t you think it’s a little below our pay grade?” “We don’t get paid, newbie. Elio doesn’t cover us eating out, so we have to be cheap.”

“You’re just saying that because you blew our budget on Roblox Premium,” you deadpan.

Kafka interjects. “Look on the bright side, hm? The novelty here is something we rarely get to experience - and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bladie this happy.”

You spare a glance at your colleague. His scowl speaks for him.

Ignoring the fact that apparently Kafka’s got jokes now, you heave a sigh and poke at the lump of foil in front of you - a tangible warning of an impending stomach ache. The burger inside will have to serve as sustenance if you don’t want to wait twelve more system hours to eat.

Since Silver Wolf is now preoccupied with one of her handheld consoles, you don’t delay with your squabbling any longer. When you unwrap it and take your first bite, you’re blindsided by the overwhelming sour note of what can only be The Condiment That Shall Not Be Named. You can’t obscure the subsequent (ugly) scrunch of your brow and lips.

“Cyanide?” asks The Gamer That You Will Strangle One Day.

You glare at her and deposit your now even-more-unappetizing sandwich on the table. “You wish. They, uh, just got my order a bit wrong.” There’s a contemplative hum from your side that makes your heart skip a beat. Kafka stops playing with a strand of Blade’s hair to give you a coy smile. “Is that so?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” you complain. “It’s not a big deal, I’m just not a fan of pickles.”

“You should ask for a replacement. After all, you did mention that in your order,” she drawls.

You bristle. “I doubt the employees get paid enough to put up with that.”

Blade speaks for the first time today in that gruff tone of his. “You draw the line there? You’ll slaughter on command but stop at inconveniencing the working class?”

“Everyone’s picking on me! Smear campaign!” you accuse, pointing at the brooding man.

You don’t expect a reply from him, which he honors by staring at your outstretched finger with what could be described as murderous intent. Kafka chuckles.

“It’s the principle of the thing, darling. I’ll handle it.”

“Wai–”

You don’t get another word out before she confidently rises from her seat and saunters over to the register, leaving you with your jaw on the floor. 

Silver Wolf is back to blowing bubblegum and spawn-killing some poor sap, but she makes the time to snicker at your plight. “That’s weak, newbie.”

All you can do is become an idle passenger in your own body as the scene unfolds in front of you. Maybe you try to stop her, but Blade’s lanky arm blocks your path. 

Sometimes you wish she’d just have a little more fear. Kafka converses with the cashier with her innate allure as you resign yourself to your fate of public humiliation.

The words audible over the ringing in your ears sound through the air in Kafka’s dulcet voice.  “They asked for no pickles.”

When she returns from the counter two minutes later with your presumably correct order, you’ve already decided that today has been the most harrowing twenty-four system hours of your long-life. Your stupor is cut short as the new pickleless burger is dropped into your hands like a gift from the Aeons.

“See?” Kafka teases. “It was no trouble at all.”

“..Thanks,” you cough into your hand awkwardly.

Lunch resumes its usual flow, but you��re still stewing in regret that boils down to a simple, bitter thought: You should’ve just ordered the chicken nuggets instead.

[natsukishinomiyaswife]

The Viper Club (or, The Jamil Viper Support Group)

Hello ♡ This is a silly fic I thought of at work, featuring some of my mutual's OCs ♡ The premise is that their OCs end up in Lydia's universe (so my Yuu's Twisted Wonderland) and stay at their "partner's" dorm while there (due to Ramshackle not existing). This fic mainly features Jamil (and his many partners) with cameos from other OCs and pairings as well! ♡

OCs featured/mentioned (along with their OC x Canon) include: Yuusha (@crystallizsch) x Jamil, Mayu (@anbaisai) x Jamil, Rebecca (@0honeybones0) x Jamil, Astrid (@cheerleaderman) x Jamil, Damali (@midnightmah07) x Jamil

Silas (@theolivetree123) x Jamil, Fayrouz (@fell-fell) x Jamil, Dranav (@justm3di0cr3) x Jamil, Jeanne (@midnightmah07) x Kalim, Copper (@cyanide-latte) x Kalim

Shuu (@oya-oya-okay) x Azul, Lysander (@offorestsongs) x Rook, Kiyuu (@skriblee-ksk) x Jack, Daisy (@midnightmah07) x Ruggie, Jewel (@jewelulu) x Floyd

Enjoy! ♡

Jamil wasn't sure how to describe it, unable to shake this feeling he had. All day he felt as if something was off, taking notice of strange things occurring around him.

It started in the morning, with Lydia running around campus in a panic. She would always have someone with her, with Jamil being unfamiliar with each one. There shouldn't be any new students at the moment, and while people were able to visit, it was usually reserved for special occasions. He knew the school wasn't having any events, and their wasn't any games going on.

Yet everywhere he turned, a new face popped up, catching his eye. A blonde haired girl walking to class with Ruggie, a man with long pink hair sitting next to Rook in the courtyard. Even at practice, there was someone in the stands, watching them play.

Did I miss something? He couldn't help but wonder, wiping his face with a towel. Their club activities were over for the day, the girl sitting in the stands leaving with Floyd. He was tempted to ask Ace once they were gone, noticing he didn't have anyone with him. Perhaps he would know what was going on...

"Oh, Jewel? I don't really know her, but Lyds said she'd be staying at Octavinelle for a bit." Ace replied, pulling a sweatshirt over his head. He tugs it down to cover his uniform, putting the rest of his things in a duffel bag, throwing it over his shoulder. His eyes widen after a moment, seeming to remember something.

"She was looking for you by the way! I told her we had practice, so she said she'd be waiting for you back at Scarabia." Ace says, slapping his hand on Jamil's shoulder. Jamil's eyebrow raises as Ace walks away, lifting his arm in a makeshift wave.

"Good luck~" Ace teases, a smirk on his face as he glances over his shoulder. Oh, he knew something alright... Jamil crossing his arms as he watches him go. The question was... what?

He entered Scarabia cautiously, looking around for anyone. He was dressed in casual clothes now, having changed out of his uniform back at the gym. He hears Kalim's voice down the hall, turning to find two people standing next to him. He hid behind the corner, watching them with suspicion as they talked.

"Hopefully Lyddie can get you guys home soon... I just know the other me's miss you two!" Kalim states, causing smiles to come to his companion's faces. Their eyes seem a bit sad though, probably thinking the same thing Kalim was.

"Ah, there you are!" A voice calls out, causing Jamil to turn. Lydia rushes towards him, looking worse for wear. Her hair is a mess, anxiety written on her face. Jamil takes one final look at the strangers next to Kalim before focusing on her, eyebrows raising in concern.

"Is everything alright? Ace said you were looking for me earlier..."

"Yes, yes! Everything's fine!" She responds immediately, forcing a smile on her. "Even better now that you're here, actually!" She grabs his arm, dragging him away. He glances back towards the hall as they leave, unable to shake his suspicions.

"... Do you know who those people with Kalim are?"

"Oh, that's Jeanne and Copper! They'll be staying at Scarabia for a bit." His eyebrows raise at this, wondering when this decision was made.

"I've never seen them around campus before..."

"Oh, um... they're not from here." She says hesitantly, making him even more suspicious.

"They were wearing uniforms though, so they must go here." He states, as if it were obvious. The girl with the hook was wearing an Octavinelle uniform, while the man wore a Pomefiore one. Clearly they were students of Night Raven College... right?

She stops walking, causing Jamil to almost run into her. She turns to him, speaking as if she's answered this question multiple times.

"So they do attend Night Raven, just not our Night Raven. They attend the one back in their world, and somehow... they ended up in ours."

"...What?"

She goes on to explain that on her way to work at Sam's shop, she passed by the abandoned building filled with ghosts and noticed people inside. Anxious, she walked up to the building, wondering who was there. It was way more people than she expected, all of them unaware how they got there in the first place.

After talking with them and discussing the issue with the Headmage, she was tasked with finding them a place to stay, and someone to look after each of them. In the meantime, Crowley would look for a way to send them home (like how he did with the tsums).

"I see... So I'm guessing I'll be looking after someone too?" He asks, taking it all in. It seemed hard to believe, but Lydia was from another world, and stranger things have happened.

She directed his attention to a door, leading to one of the spare rooms they had. "Actually..." She starts, opening the door. His eyes widen as he takes in all the people, sitting around a table with drinks in their hands. They look at the doorway as he stands there, Lydia gesturing towards the group.

"... You'll be looking after this group here. The Viper club, as I like to call them." She walks past him to enter the room, continuing to speak. "Or you could call them the Jamil Viper support group. They all have one thing in common."

"And that is...?" He asks, already knowing what the answer will be.

"They all have a relationship with you. Well, the you from their universe, that is..." She starts walking around the table, standing behind each person as she introduces them.

"This is Yuusha..."

"... Mayu..."

"... Rebecca..."

"... Astrid..."

"... Damali..."

"... Silas..."

"... Fayrouz..."

"... and Dranav."

She allows each person to add anything they'd like to their introductions, approaching him once everyone was finished.

"They'll be in your care from now on, so I hope you can get along." She claps her hands together, doing her best to stay positive. She knows how much responsibility Jamil already has, and adding eight people on top of that doesn't help. She hopes that since they're close with the Jamil's back in their worlds, that they will be understanding, and not give him a hard time.

"I still need to make dinner." He says as a response, feeling tired already.

"Oh! Why don't you let them help you? It'll be a great way for you to get to know each other, plus it'll help take some work off of you." She suggests, a smile coming to her face. Jamil notices how exhausted she is, spending the day running around doing Crowley's job. He couldn't help but offer...

"Why don't you join us for dinner too, Lydia? You look like you could use a break." A small smile comes to her face at his offer, pushing some hair out of her face.

"I appreciate it, but I can't. I still gotta meet with Jack at Savanaclaw, as he'll be watching Kiyuu. And I wanna get back to Octavinelle as soon as possible, cause who knows what Azul has Shuu doing..." She sighs, shaking her head. "He better not be using her for free labor in the Lounge..." She mutters to herself.

"I'll be off, then! You guys have fun!" She says, making her way towards the door. "Oh, before I forget!" She turns, walking to Jamil. She leans in close to him, her voice low so the others wouldn't hear.

"Some of them have asked about a 'Ramshackle dorm', or a 'Grim', and I don't know what they're talking about... Do you know?" She asks, watching as Jamil shakes his head. She nods her head in understanding before waving goodbye to everyone, walking out the door.

Once she was gone, Jamil focused his attention on them, looking around as he asked, "So... who here knows how to cook?" ♡

Ahhhh I hope you guys liked it! ♡ I tried to keep things vague, so that way you can insert your own dialogue/thoughts for your OCs! ♡

Thank you! ♡

[elenauaurs]

TWISTED WONDERLAND OC

MY YUUSONAAAAAAA RARRRRRRR

(click the image for better quality)

Yorrana

A quiet girl of 16 years, usually going unnoticed or being considered "weird" by her peers.

Yorrana is a kind person, but has great difficulty taking the initiative to make friends. Due to past abandonment traumas, Yorrana ends up being someone who is "clingy" or who easily creates and breaks bonds.

In general, Yorrana is someone who would do anything for her friends and always tries to resolve the situation calmly, although she has little patience. It's not uncommon for her to ignore her problems or give more importance to the problems of others.

Yorrana loves music as a way of passing the time and seems to have an interest in stars, a subject she often talks about with her friends.

At her side, she is always accompanied by Salvação, a mysterious lamb like creature whose goal is to "save" Yorrana. For some reason, Yorrana feels it's not a good idea to trust him.

Fun facts

Her eyes mysteriously turned rainbow after entering the world of twst.

Grim doesn't exist in her universe.

Yorrana is an air-head, extremely distracted and clumsy, as well as being selectively mute on certain occasions.

Loud noises bother her.

Her presence is rarely noticed in many places.

Yorrana isn't someone who is so physically skilled (initially).

She tends to avoid arguments unless she is very angry.

DON'T LET THIS GIRL NEAR THE KITCHEN, TRUST ME-

She is Brazilian.

Have you ever heard the tale of the little match girl?

A lonely soul, adrift in the world with no place to belong and enduring the pain to live in the cold, found her only hope in a box of matches. These flames, maintained by a single, small match, could never save her from the hopeless winter—Yet, they blessed her with the precious gift of wonderful dreams, and in them she found more than enough.

For a long time, Yorrana saw herself as the match girl—Existing in a colorless, frigid, almost invisible world.

What we refer to as ‘reality’ doesn't belong to a simple nobody, and she found herself an outcast, a puzzle piece unable to fit within the whole.

In the darkness, the bright world of her mind was all that kept her alive. The cost, however, was equally dangerous. The girl at this point no longer spoke, her hopes and relationships burned to ashes.

Oh poor match girl, so consumed by her dreams that she failed to perceive her very existence fading from reality. It’s unfortunate no one will ever notice, after all, how can anyone remember something that was already invisible?

Tag list: @cyanide-latte @oya-oya-okay @theleechyskrunkly @thehollowwriter @distant-velleity @boopshoops @br3adtoasty @casp1an-sea @heyhellohihowareyou @rainesol @tixdixl @the-banana-0verlord @u-makemeunpocoloco @cheerleaderman @revolllutionary @nyx-of-night @lumdays @skriblee-ksk (Ask to be put or to be removed!)

[cyanide-juicex3]

animating:D

[trashcanwithsprinkles]

here they are

[alt-wannabe]

MCSR As Chemical Compounds

idk either man. expect very little actual explanation and a lot of chemical yapping from a very big nerd

Silverr as Silver Nitrate:

AgNO3

the above is the crystal structure

appearance is just a white crystal kinda like sugar

it took everything in me to not just make silverr plain Ag

silver nitrate is the most common precursor for all other important silver salts

also an extremely important compound in the development of photography! (and iirc silverr is a film major)

Feinberg as Ozone:

O3

produced during lightning strikes

pale blue at high ppm

only leaves gas state at cryogenic temperatures

naturally occurring in the stratosphere and absorbs UV rays from the sun

Fruit as Nickel(II) Chloride Hexahydrate:

NiCl2•6H2O

green

the non-hydrate form is a sort of olive-y yellow color

used to absorb ammonia in gas masks

Raddles as Potassium Permanganate:

KMnO4

Sometimes referred to as Purple Potion Powder

goes CRAZY purple when dissolved and is lowkey my favorite chemical

very strong oxidizing agent

one time i stained my hand purple through my glove with this shit idk how it happened

if made in specific solvents can look extremely similar to dragon's breath in minecraft imo

K4 as Octathio[8]circulene:

C16S8

also referred to as Sulflower (like sulfur and sunflower haha get it)

planar which is fairly uncommon for molecules of this size

can be stacked together to make sheets of sulflowers

Cube as Cubane:

C8H8

yeah this is self-explanatory

what is interesting though is that ring strain in 4 membered rings/squares is really high, so cubane existing is a bit of a chemical anomaly

i havent read into it enough to know for sure but i suspect that ring strain is why cubane is a precursor to a HELLA STRONG explosive compound

Reignex as PPTA:

Poly-p-paraphenylene terephthalamide

[-CO-C6H4-CO-NH-C6H4-NH-]n

the name is complicated as shit but this is just kevlar!

aka bulletproof vest material

looks fluffy when not woven completely together

aligning of polymer chains w hydrogen bonds creates EXTREMELY high tensile strength

Mime as Phenylmagnesium Bromide:

C6H5MgBr

a common grignard reagent aka a compound that can be used in a grignard reaction, an extremely important reaction in organic synthesis as it creates new C-C bonds

another fun fact about grignard reagents is that if water is added to them- or even if they're handled in particularly moist air- they fucking explode

extremely strong nucleophile and base

Poundcake as Xenon Hexafluoride:

XeF6

Noble gases don't react unless you REALLY make them

so a compound containing xenon is really interesting

colorless as a solid but sublimes (aka skips straight from solid to gas) into a bright yellow gas

fun fact a lot of instances where typical chemistry rules are broken (noble gases not reacting, octet rule in general, etc) involve fluorine to the point ive heard it referred to as a "batshit electron thief"

Fulham as Iron Hexacyanidoferrate:

C18Fe7N18

also known as prussian blue

extremely common pigment in paints and the first modern synthetic pigment

used extensively in The Great Wave

another one of my favorite molecules bc im biased and like inorganic chem aka things that contain metals

used as an antidote for heavy metal poisoning which is interesting bc it contains cyanide ligands!

Couriway as Bullvalene:

C10H10

in a state of constant resonance

aka the double bonds are CONSTANTLY shifting and reforming bullvalene into... itself but moved around a little

the bonds fluctuate so rapidly that in nmr analysis each carbon and hydrogen in the entire molecule is read as equivalent (for my non-chem people that's very uncommon and very cool)

formed through photolysis (aka using light/photons to fuel a reaction)

[sleepinthrumyalarms]

— loving the beast, loving it whole

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!oni!reader

warnings: descriptions of mild gore, slightly suggestive themes, mentions of demon rut, it's mostly fluff

summary: wednesday insists her oni girlfriend spends a blood moon with her and a small inconvenience even she couldn’t have possibly foreseen takes place

word count: 5.2k

a/n: she's so silly like y/n: it's ok wednesday my transformation isn't a big deal haha :) also y/n: springlock failure sounds + bloodcurdling screams

When Wednesday welcomes herself into the dorm of the oni, (Y/n) doesn’t turn to acknowledge her. The seer is certain it’s because the demon has sensed her coming back when she was just starting to make her way up the stairs, having learned the pattern of Wednesday’s gait and her smell just a few days into their relationship.

The oni’s pointy ear twitches at the sound of the lock clicking. There’s a crease in between her brows, the mildest of expressions that betrays the anxiety swelling in (Y/n)’s chest. Wednesday, too, has grown to recognize a lot of habits of her demonic lover.

She watches (Y/n) fumble in front of the mirror, barefoot, her haori draped over her naked shoulders. It covers most of her backside in a flow of luxurious fabric in (f/c) and black colors, and if the circumstances were different, Wednesday would turn around and leave the room abruptly to give the other girl privacy. She’d most likely never enter without knocking again.

She finds the broadness of the demon’s shoulders, the muscles of her neck and the plain between her breasts enticing instead. They call for the touch of her lips but, much to Wednesday’s disdain, a more pressing matter is calling for (Y/n).

“I’m assuming it’s a blood moon tonight.”

(Y/n) hums in affirmation, her eyes fixed on her reflection as her fingers keep struggling with the twine of the pendant, her claws catching onto the rope and preventing her from finally fastening it around her neck.

“Would you like me to bring you back a souvenir?” She offers, and the seer isn’t deaf to the slightest hint of exasperation in the oni’s voice, “A pair of deer horns would look amazing above your bed. I could bring you a whole head if you’d like.”

“I’d much rather have you here,” Wednesday replies with no desire to entertain (Y/n)’s mockery, “You know your absence mauls at my bleeding heart like nothing else does.”

If the circumstances were different, the ravenette would be physically revolted by the words that have just left her mouth. She’d go drink a bottle of cyanide just to wash the nauseating sweetness of the statement off her tongue.

But she has long since accepted the influence of the Addams family curse – the influence of (Y/n) on her, and she can’t help her blunt honesty.

Although it doesn’t really seem to move her girlfriend in the way it usually would.

“No. I can’t. I’m... I have to go and hunt, otherwise...” The oni tries to find some morbid, unnerving wording to explain the consequences that would follow but ultimately realizes all of them would serve to excite rather than deter the goth.

Wednesday seems to catch onto the hesitation, “Otherwise what?” She asks with a small frown, taking a few steps to end up behind (Y/n), looking at her through the mirror, “Is there some ungodly sanguinary pact that forces you to spend every blood moon deer-slaughtering?”

“Not just deer – “

“Is there?”

(Y/n) huffs in irritation, partially from her necklace still unwilling to cooperate, partially from Wednesday’s persistence. She drops her hands, pressing them into the edges of the dressing table, the golden dragon squeezed in her palm.

“No, not really. Then again, my whole existence isn’t really that different from a sanguinary pact.” She barks, and immediately regrets the bite in her tone, lowering her gaze shamefully.

She always gets easily vexed in that state.

Wednesday reaches for the pendant, and (Y/n) finds her fist relaxing on its own accord under the surprisingly gentle touch of the ravenette. She lets the seer take the necklace into her own hand, and watches Wednesday’s reflection in the mirror get on her tiptoes to wrap the twine around the oni’s neck, fastening it with skillful precision. The metal is a cold sensation on (Y/n)’s naked skin, but it’s nothing compared to the chills that run through her body when she feels Wednesday press her soft lips to her nape in a comforting, sensual kiss.

“Have you ever tried staying?” The goth asks, her voice soft and free of scorn, plush mouth moving against (Y/n)’s flesh, and the oni can’t suppress a shiver.

(Y/n) doesn’t even try to rack her brain for any memories that would provide her with an affirmative answer. She never has. She remembers standing, miles away from her clan’s territory, a young girl, barely over ten, half-naked and scared to death in the crimson light of the blood moon, clutching the golden dragon pendant given to her by her father with the instruction to never, under any circumstances, lose the amulet.

She remembers the pain of the metamorphosis vividly, too. She never liked how people would compare that and whatever is behind the transformations of werewolves. Unlike them, (Y/n) didn’t get a head-start – she couldn’t afford to be a ‘late-bloomer’, nor did she have any time to grow, both physically and mentally, before it happened the first time. She was just thrown out there – it was like teaching a child to swim, except there was no helping hand of her parent to catch her in case she started to drown.

(Y/n) thinks it’s what’s made her strong. Her tenacity, persistence, and her will to live. Although Dr. Kinbott always begs to differ.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” the demon murmurs, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

To her surprise, Wednesday chuckles in reply, “Do you really believe you’re capable?”

(Y/n) frowns, failing to see the humor in the situation, “The point is that I... can’t transform in front of you.”

The ravenette’s brows furrow, “Why not?”

Jesus, (Y/n)’s damn well certain Wednesday hasn’t ever been this oblivious.

“First off, it’s beastly and messy and loud, and I’ll, I’ll get... huge, and I might break something or hurt you or...” (Y/n) sighs, her shoulders sagging, “I strive to keep you happy. And safe. It’s... instinctive, kind of. Multiplied by what I feel towards you. And it’s scary.”

“Why would it be?”

“The things I’d do for you. They scare me sometimes.”

Wednesday is silent for a moment. She doesn’t blink, seemingly digesting the raw emotion of the demon’s words, before she finally speaks, “If it’s as bad as you say it is, I’d conclude that I’m in no danger,” she leans away from (Y/n)’s back slightly to meet the gaze of her reflection, “As much as I am capable of protecting myself – the ability you seem to constantly underestimate,” she adds, making the oni grunt, “I believe I’m the safest when in your presence. I also believe you’ve proven that countless of times, so my words aren’t groundless.”

A small smile touches the demon’s tusked mouth, “You and your way with words.”

“The Addamses are known for their skill in poetry and negotiation... as well as flattery,” Wednesday hums nonchalantly, idle hand rubbing a pattern on (Y/n)’s shoulder in an attempt to persuade her further, although it’s already far from necessary, “You’ll be staying, then.”

“I suppose so.”

A single glance outside reveals a big, blood-red orb staring back at the goth, painting the scenery outside in crimson colors, “There’s not too much time left now. Is there anything that needs to be done beforehand?”

(Y/n) looms closer to the window, watching the moon, “No. This is everything that can be done,” she says, reaching her hand up to her chest to hold the dragon pendant in her fist.

“Does it work like an equivalent to a wolfsbane potion? Is it... charmed?”

“More like blessed. And, well, yes, it’s something like that. You should still keep your distance though.”

Wednesday nods, but plans to disobey. She can’t lie, she feels... intrigued at the chance of seeing an oni’s full form up close. The two times in the past have just been slight glimpses in the dark of night, mere traces of what a beast (Y/n) actually is. It must be an unusual reaction for the her, the goth muses, as she watches the demon glance outside the window, twirling the pendant between her clawed fingers.

“Are you nervous?”

(Y/n) seems hesitant to answer at first, “...A little, maybe. It... doesn’t get better. It always hurts like the first time. And I’m always alone when it happens. Back home I couldn’t spend any blood moons with my father because we get aggressive and territorial in that state even with our families,” a small smile touches her otherwise grim expression, “But with you here, I guess... It’s not as terrifying as–”

Before (Y/n) can finish what Wednesday’s sure was supposed to be something awfully sweet and sappy, she’s interrupted by a sickeningly loud crack that startles the ravenette enough to jolt backwards. A bone has snapped in the demon’s right calf, bending her knee at an inhumane angle and almost making her double over. The demon grits her teeth, her top lip rising over her big tusks in a manner of an angered wolf, and she grasps at the windowsill to keep herself upright, her knuckles white over the wood, just in time as her other leg snaps in the same fashion.

“It’s fine- It’s fine,” she grunts, her voice so strained and rough Wednesday can barely recognize it, “Stay back.”

This time Wednesday listens, taking a few steps away from the writhing form of the girl that grows and changes before her very eyes. The talons on the demon’s hands grow impossibly big, fusing with bone, and her tusks grow almost thrice their usual size, protruding from under her lip. Her frame stretches in a heap of powerful, tense muscle, and (Y/n) is unable to stand on her legs anymore, falling on her knees and plunging her claws into the floorboards at the excruciating pain that makes every nerve in her body stand at torturous attention.

A pair of long, slightly curved horns spurts from the oni’s forehead with a disgusting fleshy sound, and a big, scale-covered tail like that of a dragon emerges from her tailbone, ripping her pants in the process. It snaps back and forth aggressively, hitting the wall with loud thumps –  the demon jerks with pained groans that mix with raged growls of a wounded animal.

Wednesday has seen quite a lot in her life. She watched people be tortured, skinned and burned alive, yet nothing could’ve prepared her for what she was witnessing at that moment. The ravenette couldn’t bear to watch any longer, yet some invisible force makes her freeze in her spot, unable to look away.

The transformation stops – it feels like it’s stretched for hours, yet it’s barely been a minute. The demon’s back heaves on the hardwood floor, her shoulders rising and falling heavily, before she raises her head.

A pair of golden eyes with snake-like slits stares into Wednesday’s dark ones.

Slowly, still aching from the metamorphosis, the creature rises to its feet, so huge the tips of its horns scrape at the ceiling. It huffs, releasing a small puff of hot steam from her snout, and a dangerously low growl rumbles in its throat.

There’s a feeling in Wednesday’s gut stricken in her by the sound – a feeling she isn’t used to, and doesn’t like. A feeling of pure fear. Her eyes go wide and she begins to back away from the demon who lowers her stance and slowly pads towards the small ravenette. The floor creaks in protest under the weight of the monster. Her eyes are fixed on Wednesday’s, unblinking, like a predator prowling as her huge talons scrape the wooden surface, muscles flexing under her grayish skin.

Wednesday’s back meets the wall. She can’t keep her eyes off the monstrous being, unable to move from fear, fear and fascination as the beast steps towards her. It’s like a train wreck – she knows she shouldn’t look, knows she should be moving... but she can’t stop herself from staring at the horrifying sight in front of her.

The demon towers over her even on all fours, casting a menacing shadow over the smaller girl, something close to... magnificent about its appearance. It is a beastial abomination, sure, coarse and sharp around the edges, a man-eating predator, but the well-defined muscles and the rich (h/c) color of its mane suggests that there is something almost regal to the monster.

It leans its big head down, long pointed ears flicking, and takes a small sniff. The creature's mane of hair swishes with the movement, before it releases another puff of smoke right into Wednesday’s face. It's a dangerous, intimidating show – the oni stares into her grey eyes, and something inside the goth clicks.

The fear is still there, but the curiosity and the fascination she’s somehow also feeling take over for one split second, and she reaches her hand up and towards to the monster. Something inhumane draws her in – her hand is shaking slightly, but she can’t stop herself, attracted to it in an inexplicable way, almost transfixed. Wednesday’s palm stops just a few inches away from the oni’s snout, not daring to proceed any further.

To her utmost surprise, the demon leans towards her hand, butting its nose into it gently. Wednesday’s breath is taken away – she watches in awe as the creature closes its eyes with a low sound of approval, but before she can let her intrigue be known, the oni’s massive jaw hangs open, and a long, rough tongue slithers out of her toothy maw to glide against Wednesday’s cheek.

The demon... licks her face.

The goth grunts in disgust, trying to press her hand harder into the demon’s snout to make her stop but failing to overpower the strong creature, “(Y/n), this is unbecoming.”

The demon ignores the girl’s disapproval, giving her face another lick. Her tongue is long and slithering like a snake’s, rough and strong like a lion’s, or... some other big cat for that matter. If Wednesday had to choose one animal – one that wasn’t taken off a page of a book on Japanese myths and legends and that could easily describe the beastly image of (Y/n)’s blood moon form –  it would certainly be a feline.

She isn’t completely sure how she should treat this giant beast in front of her. Obviously it isn’t her first time encountering the oni in such a state, but this is the first ever time they meet in such close proximity and, dare she say… intimate conditions, compared to chasing after the wild creature in the woods outside Nevermore, at least. Sure, the monster is far from human-looking, but its morphed face with the toothy maw and widened, cat-like snout still bears some features she can easily recognize as belonging to her lover.

Taking one last lick of the seer’s now excessively wet cheek, (Y/n) pulls away, a very wide and satisfied grin on her face. Wednesday wonders if it’s the last thing the demon’s prey usually sees before it’s torn to shreds — the display is off-putting night terror material and she finds it charming.

“Alright. I suppose you’ve never tried sleeping in this form either. I hope I won’t have to wrestle your excited self to bed.”

When Wednesday turns to head over to the closet in the corner of the room, the demon moves to stand on her feet, wanting to follow the small ravenette, and her horns bump against the ceiling, making the room shake slightly.

“No,” Wednesday frowns, “Down. Be a good girl and wait for me.”

(Y/n) grunts in bratty annoyance but complies, plopping herself on the floor and giving the room another solid mini-earthquake, huffing at Wednesday in what the seer is sure would’ve been some sort of a sarcastic comeback if the demon had any vocal cords to verbalize it with.

Wednesday is quick to get a change of clothes, picking the first shirt out of (Y/n)’s closet she can reach, afraid that the demon might turn to mischief if she was out of her sight for too long, but when she turns back to look at (Y/n), she finds her on the exact same spot. The demon watches her, slitted curious eyes fixed on her face, the display of obedience utterly surprising. It seems like the pendant is indeed working its wonders, though Wednesday can’t help but think it’s not the only reason.

“Come now. Get off the dirty floor. I can’t have you sleeping on a rug like some animal.”

Wednesday is faced with yet another challenge to her impeccable mind – fitting a 10-foot creature into a one-person bed. She looks up at the demon at her side, then back at the bed, and for a second considers to just let the oni sleep on the floor – of course (Y/n) would want Wednesday to take her bed, but...

(Y/n) yawns, maw wide open and baring her huge crooked tusks, then moves towards the bed, collapsing down onto the poor mattress heavily and curling up. Her clawed feet dangle over the edge, and her tail is left to lie on the floor.

Well, this would just have to do.

The demon presses her back to the wall as far as it could go, leaving a small, cozy spot next to her.

She will just have to suffer.

With a heavy sigh Wednesday moves to flick off the desk lamp and joins the oni in bed, facing her heavy jaw. Golden eyes shine in the pitch darkness, and a warm cloud of vapor flutters from (Y/n)’s nose, making Wednesday squeeze her eyes. She receives what she thinks is an apologetic lick to her chin before the demon shuts her eyes too, and Wednesday can feel the monster’s rough tail slither around her waist it a tight grip.

At least she doesn’t have any fur to shed all over the place.

Wednesday tucks her head under the demon’s chin, and finds herself in a warm, nest-like embrace of one of the deadliest creatures in the universe. It’s relieving, protective even, as much as Wednesday has never craved either of those abstracts. She feels a big clawed hand cradle her head, and the soft purring wrapping around her whole being like a soft blanket lulls her to sleep almost immediately.

(Y/n) awakes with a throbbing ache all over her body – not unusual or surprising, though still rather unpleasant. She grimaces, lifting her right palm to rub at her face, her sleepy clumsiness causing her claw to scratch at her cheek slightly. She tries to lift her left arm to join the other in rubbing the pain away from her head and face, but finds it unable to move.

The demon opens her eyes finally, glancing down to find a small body cuddled to her chest, asleep like a baby – or rather like a corpse, a comparison more fitting considering how cold and unmoving the body is, and (Y/n) shivers when she feels the freezing temperature of Wednesday’s feet entwined with her own.

I’m getting you a pair of fuzzy socks this Christmas. Hot pink ones.

The demon’s thoughts trail back to the events of the previous night, blurry and fragmented, but comprehensive enough to assure (Y/n) that she, in fact, did not hurt the seer in her beast-like state. The only thing harmed, she supposes, was her pride, as she recalls licking Wednesday’s cheek and wagging her tail like a dumb, excited dog.

She could live with that.

The oni lets her troubling thoughts roam free somewhere in the back of her mind and focuses all her humane attention on the black-haired girl in her embrace instead, resting her hand between their bodies. (Y/n)’s other arm is trapped under Wednesday, her bicep serving as a perfect pillow for the goth’s neck, and the demon watches the ravenette breathe calmly, exhaling through her soft lips, with gentle fondness. It’s a nice privilege, she thinks, to be able to see Wednesday like this – peaceful, guard down completely, face devoid of an annoyed expression.

(Y/n) feels her heart racing in her ribcage as she stares at the plush of the goth’s mouth, so full and perfect the demon can’t keep a small, almost possessive growl from rumbling in her throat lowly, unable to convey her feelings in any other way without waking the very object of her ardent passions. In her head she’s already tearing down the walls and gnawing at every bit of furniture she can find.

The oni resorts to leaning in and resting her own lips on Wednesday’s gently in an effort to calm the beast inside of her. Her hulky teeth bump into the softness, ungainly and rough against what she swears is like virgin cotton to the touch. The growling in the back of her throat is replaced by purring.

With both herself and her monster satisfied she pulls away, leaning her head back on the pillow and huffing in content. She continues watching Wednesday, observing the faint touch of freckles on her nose and cheeks, then moves her still vacant arm to place it over the smaller girl’s waist, careful not to disturb her. The goth hums in her sleep, unconsciously nuzzling further into (Y/n), and the demon shudders again, this time at the coldness of Wednesday’s nose pressing into her neck.

Wednesday wakes up to the sound of what she thinks is some powerful machine engine vibrating right against her right ear, warm but surprisingly soft.

She opens her eyes and finds she’s still tucked under (Y/n)’s jaw – although the jaw is of a normal size now, and Wednesday allows herself a small affectionate smile when she finds the demon girl back to her usual self, albeit naked, slightly disheveled and purring up a storm.

Something is a bit off though. A weird clamping on her lower half.

It feels like a thick rope wrapped around her leg, squeezing – Wednesday is mostly familiar with the sensation of being tied up – but the pressure isn’t at all uncomfortable. Grounding, rather, and pleasant in a sense.

The seer cranes her neck to look down and finds a long, textured tail wrapped around her thigh.

(Y/n)’s tail.

The demon herself is sleeping soundly, her arm on the ravenette’s waist, completely unaware of the new attribute to her appearance.

Wednesday stares at the appendage, unsure how to proceed. This is... new, and she doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries with the demon, so trying to unwind the tail from her leg manually is out of question. She thinks about waking (Y/n) up, but that doesn’t sound pleasant either, not with the girl lying there, snuggly wrapped around Wednesday in all the possible ways, blessed with what must be the best sleep she’s gotten this week. This month, even – blood moons have been gaining frequency recently.

Wednesday huffs through her nose softly, then presses her head back against (Y/n)’s chest, ready to accept defeat. Unfortunately – or maybe fortunately – for her, the slightest movement of the small body next to (Y/n) stirs her awake. Her throat rumbles with a sleepy prrbbtt sound that makes Wednesday bite her lip to keep a small smile from overtaking her usual scowl. The arm on her waist presses her closer before (Y/n) changes her position suddenly, rolling over onto her back and tugging the smaller girl on top of her, and this time the seer can’t hold back a noise of surprise as she’s handled like she weighs nothing to the demon. Which she probably does.

“(Y/n).” She calls softly, but the oni doesn’t budge.

Wednesday frowns, then reaches her hand up to tug at the demon’s long pointy ear gently, raising her voice a bit, “(Y/n).”

This time the girl squints one eye open.

“It’s early.” She grumbles, voice hoarse with sleepiness.

“I don’t want to alarm you,” the goth begins, trying her best to come up with a euphemism to describe what’s happening, “But it seems we’ve become... tangled in a small predicament.”

“Hm?”

There’s a slight subconscious squeeze to the meat of Wednesday’s thigh that makes her breath hitch.

“What the hell?”

(Y/n)’s eyes fly wide open, all the grogginess gone as she looks down at where she holds Wednesday in a way she never thought she would.

The beast inside of her purrs with possessiveness at the sight of her tail snug around the seer’s thigh, but the rational part of her screams that the appendage isn’t even supposed to be there in the first place.

(Y/n) untangles it quickly, and Wednesday finds herself missing the warm pressure immediately. It’s replaced with the demon’s warm hand padding at Wednesday’s thigh carefully to smooth away any pain and check for an injury or a bruise. The touch sends a small shiver down the goth’s spine.

“Are you alright? Did it hurt? How did that even happen?” (Y/n) exclaims, grabbing at her tail to give it a sharp tug, as if to check if it’s really there, attached to her loin, and winces when the not-so-gentle movement brings a sting to her coccyx.

“It must be some kind of a side effect of your transformation,” Wednesday observes calmly.

“This has never happened before!”

The smaller girl is grabbed and lifted, as gently as possible, off the demon’s frame before she can retort – the oni gets up from the bed hastily, her brand new appendage swishing behind her with aggravation, knocking a picture frame off the bedside table that Wednesday manages to catch before it can hit the floor and shatter into many pieces.

“(Y/n). You need to compose yourself.” The ravenette places the frame back carefully, tilting her head to inspect the photo. It’s a picture of her and the oni at the last year’s Rave’n Dance, Wednesday’s hand on (Y/n)’s shoulder as she looked up at the demon with what could only be described as adoration.

“I can’t!” The demon flings her arms, “Look at this!”

She makes a demonstrative movement of her tail, the long scaly limb moving sharply from side to side. The sight is, indeed, bizarre, doubled by the fact that the demon is stark naked.

Wednesday finds her gaze lingering.

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

“You’re exaggerating,” Wednesday sighs, swinging her feet over the edge of the bed, “Go cool yourself off. I’ll think of something.”

(Y/n) shakes her head in irritation but complies, walking into the bathroom, her tail hitting the doorframe as it swings around furiously. The door slams closed, and Wednesday is left alone with her thoughts, some of which are far from innocent.

The water’s been running in the bathroom for half an hour now as Wednesday sits at (Y/n)’s desk, having moved closer to the window for better lighting, the demon’s uniform pants in her hands as she works with a needle carefully, making a stitch around the small circle she has cut out from the back of the garment. Her brows are furrowed in focus, her thin elegant fingers handling the tool with masterful precision. She makes a few of the last stitches, tugs at the seams to check the sturdiness of her work, then cuts the thread with a quick bite of her teeth and puts the needle away. She holds the pants up to the sunlight, a small smile on her face, just in time with the door bursting open to reveal a fuming half-dressed demon.

“I’m skipping classes today.” (Y/n) grunts, holding a towel in a clawed palm and rubbing at her damp hair with extra vigor.

“No, you aren’t,” Wednesday gets up and offers the improved garment to the girl, “Put these on.”

The demon dresses reluctantly, leaving her blazer undone, then tugs her uniform pants up her waist. She growls with ire when the base of her tail bumps against the belt.

“This fucking thing.”

Wednesday smacks (Y/n)’s hands away and pulls at the boney limb gently, guiding its end through the makeshift hole as the demon continues to whine and growl softly.

“I hate this.”

“I know.”

Just as Wednesday expected, it fits like a glove, sliding through the hole smoothly.

“There.”

The demon is silent for a moment, moving her tail back and forth to check for any discomfort or obstacles for the appendage, before she turns round and gives herself a once-over in the mirror, eyeing the hole in her pants.

“Did... did you do this?”

Wednesday hums noncommittally.

“It’s nothing complicated.”

(Y/n) grins at the goth, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“Thank you. I love you.”

“It’s quite alright. I assure you... the view is more than appealing. It would be a shame to hide.”

The demon purrs in reply, her tail moving to wrap around Wednesday’s middle and pulling her into its owner’s chest so she could press her lips to the seer’s.

“Honestly, I don’t think I’d be able to hide it. It’s worse than a boner during a rut.”

Wednesday hums, her hands busying themselves with buttoning the taller girl’s blazer up.

“Don’t worry. I’d take care of that, too.”

She gives a small satisfied smile at the red hue of (Y/n)’s cheeks.

The long, boring essay on botany is the last thing on Wednesday’s mind when they sit together, shoulders touching. The demon seems focused, the tip of her sharp tongue sticking from between her lips as she scribbles something on her paper, determined to get a good grade (or maybe a praise from her very intelligent girlfriend, but that’s irrelevant), and her tail swishes slowly and calmly in her concentration.

The Addams girl eyes it discreetly, her gaze following the blunt spikes framing the texture of the appendage, before she gives the class a small look around. Everyone’s heads seem to be down: Enid is on the verge of tears, struggling over her paper, Kent scratches at his temple with a pen, and somewhere in the front rows Bianca is whispering something to Divina.

Perfect.

After a brief moment of mischievous scheming, Wednesday leans back in her seat and reaches her palm to rest on the small of the demon’s back experimentally.  (Y/n) gives a quiet appreciative hum, but doesn’t switch her attention to her girlfriend, too engrossed in her writing. The seer palms at her waist for a bit, caressing gently, before she curls her fingers and begins to scratch at the demon’s lower back.

(Y/n)’s eyes widen, and she turns to meet Wednesday’s, her face flushing slightly. The goth only offers a small smirk as an answer to the silent inquiry of the demon’s confused gaze, and slides her hand even lower, slender fingers slithering under the waistband of the oni’s uniform to scratch at the base of (Y/n)’s tail.

A small surprised whine leaves the taller girl’s mouth, and she folds over the desk, burying her face in her hands to keep any more pathetic noises from escaping as goosebumps raise up her spine and all over her limbs at the feeling of Wednesday’s blunt nails at one of her most sensitive spots.

Wednesday scratches deeper, and the demon grasps at the edge of the table in an attempt to calm down, her talons leaving deep marks on the polished wood. Her tail starts to wag emotively, catching the attention of some of the students – the ravenette meets Xavier’s amused glance, and the glare she sends his way is enough to refrain him from looking in their direction again.

“What’s it with you and humiliating me in public, Addams?” (Y/n) seethes through clenched teeth. She lifts her head from the desk, revealing her crimson cheeks.

Wednesday can’t hold back a smile. The tiniest bit smug one, too.

“Oh, I just can’t help it. Chaton.”

[kaurwreck]

pm!dazai didn't abuse akutagawa. he reacted proportionately to the threat akutagawa posed to himself.

when dazai smacks akutagawa around in canon, they're running drills. dazai is not hitting him in misdirected anger or because he is venting his own suffering on him. akutagawa does not instinctually protect himself. in his fits of hyperviolence, he seeks to kill and be killed, and nearly is in beast, and in the course of his initial pursuit of atsushi.

he does not have the reflex or will or instinct to defend himself, and he is slow because he is having to consciously process the effort. his automatic reflex is to attack, but that will not stop him from being shot or overwhelmed or blindsided.

what they are doing in those scenes, what dazai is uniquely able to practice with him since rashomon can't pierce him, is not unlike cognitive behavioral therapy interventions. akutagawa is wired such that when he is triggered, he develops tunnel vision, pressing forward relentlessly without registering danger or responding to negative stimuli. this is a pattern developed from when he deemed dearh inevitable, and one which is liable to get him killed regardless of whether he has a reason to live.

he needs to consciously retrain his instinctual response, and he has to consciously and consistently reinforce it against his existing, much quicker instinct. he has to do it before he has the conviction or will to do it. and he has to do it over and over again, even when it isn't immediately life or death, because the instinct is self reinforcing, and the pattern he is trying to supplant it with is not yet.

skills are part of their users' framework for responding to their environment. jun'ichiro is anxious, but he can hide within light snow. kunikida has his notebook, but it has rigid limitations that he adapts to, similarly to how he works within the limitations of reality to keep from becoming consumed by his ideals.

akutagawa's skill, meanwhile, is wildly fucking disproportionate to akutagawa's constitution which is a problem when akutagawa wont react defensively. akutagawa is canonically frail, chronically ill, thin, and short (he's 5'8", but asagiri insists he's itty bitty every time he describes him in prose). rashomon, meanwhile, is monstrously powerful and hungry. it lends a false sense of untouchable violence when akutagawa himself is weak, and also is just really difficult to focus and control such that using it brings akutagawa into coughing fits. rashomon is also terrifying even in visage; it invites others to react with violence proportionate to their terror against the spectre of rashomon — but akutagawa is small, sick, and human; what is proportionate to rashomon is IMMENSE overkill if aimed at akutagawa. which is especially egregious because akutagawa will let them.

in other words, when dazai meets akutagawa, rashomon is as dangerous to its user as to anyone else. skills should not get their users killed. dazai is right. it's a shit skill.

akutagawa is vulnerable and self-destructive, and he and dazai are working to rewire his instinctual evaluation of his stakes. even when dazai punches akutagawa after akutagawa kills the mimic soldier, it's not a random act of violence or unregulated anger. the mimic soldier was not going to lead them to gide, there was no reality where they restrained him before he bit his cyanide, and he'd attacked dazai. but instead of reacting defensively at the opportunity, akutagawa fell to the former instinct, leaving himself wide open.

dazai reacts how he does because:

they are supplanting an ingrained instinct that is self reinforcing, the correction needs to be consistent to change the pattern and the former instinct needs to be discouraged with the same severity as the threat it poses;

by punching akutagawa first, dazai gave him notice and time to consciously muster the defense reaction theyre working on;

akutagawa needs to build an association between the defensive reaction and the triggering stimulus for this to work;

the context in which this happens is the exact sort of threat that rashomon is then ill equipped to handle— gide can see into the future, like oda, and mimic are military trained gunmen.

when dazai tells akutagawa that he couldn't ever defeat oda, he's not taunting him, he's right. akutagawa is relying on swift killing blows, but against someone who can see into the future, akutagawa is as vulnerable as a baby. and then, shortly after, that's what happens: gide wrecks his shit and is about to murder him dead when oda swoops in to grab dazai's dumb horrible baby kouhai who's trying to kill himself with the ambitious gusto of a horse.

as long as akutagawa fails to seek self-preservation, he is remarkably vulnerable. he's weak, and he's going to get himself killed. dazai doesn't coddle him about it for the same reason fukuzawa slaps ranpo for scampering into a police car with a murderer. you dont get praise for self endangerment.

dazai is not going to affirm a version of akutagawa that is trying to kill the boy dazai promised to save.

***

(also, this explains why akutagawa hates taking baths and being without his coat. dazai tried to instill in akutagawa the vigilance to register danger. in his absence, akutagawa strove to be worthy of demanding his approval by diligently practicing. but he's dazai's dumb baby kouhai who. takes things too far lmao.)

[inkmonster21]

Sing for Me

12. The Wasted World

Cooper Howard × Fem!Reader / The Ghoul × Fem!Reader

She's a singer the nation adores. He's the actor everyone respects. What happens when these two get entangled in a heated affair? Passion, regret, rage, and even murder will commence. From before the bombs drop to the vast wasteland, these two souls live for one another.

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

Tagged: @fallout-girl219 @harmfulb1tch @themadhattersqueen @one-of-thewalkingdead

The synthetic bot of (Y/n) sits inside a run-down house on sand, confused and alone. The sparks misfire in her brain shooting different emotions and memories. They play like pictures, like a silent movie in flashes. Two different lives collide. After a while, she sits against the wall silently, her server still shorting out, but no idea what to do or how to fix it.

For two days she sat there. Could she die? Maybe. She was begging God to take her from this torture. Alone and confused. No purpose or quality of life. What was the point? Was she being punished?

"Hey." A sharp poke at my stomach woke me up. I stand within seconds looking at the figure. A young boy stands with his knife high. "Are... Are you hurt?" I nod slowly, my head and limbs twitching, small sparks coming from my neck. He holds his hands up showing innocence. "I can help, My older brother used to work on Snyths."

I back away, twisting and twitching. “Synth?” The boy looks at me with sadness in his eyes. “I can help you.” I reluctantly take a seat in hopes of the best, but expecting the worst. To my surprise, the young boy was able to fix the problem. "Just a fuse." He mumbles as he reaches in and replaces the damaged fuse. “Your memory storage is full too. We can find someone to help with that.”

I look at him as he backs away, "That should help." I look at my limbs, moving to test my mobility. "What's your name, kid?" "Connor."

“Well, Connor, you came into the story at the perfect time. Just as the plot demanded.”

~

At that exact moment, where was Cooper Howard? He was being buried by Dom Pedro. Buried alive for the next 30 years tortured by the memory of her. Why had he lived this long? He hoped it was a sign of her existence somewhere. When she breathed, he did as well.

~

Wilzig trembles in the heat. Reaction from his missing foot and the cyanide he just took. “People will come after you. I have a contact, a friend if you will. She will help you. She’s good-hearted, and she’s strong. Show her my head, and she will help you.” Lucy shakes her head in doubt as she watches the doctor's light leave his eyes. She stiffens up, clouding her thoughts as she grabs the saw. “Okie dokie.”

~

“Uh, Miss?” I turn around looking at the ghoul in charge of guarding my door, in fact not by the damn door. I cross my arms with furrowed brows, “why the fuck are you not at the front?” His thumbs twiddle. Poor kid, couldn’t have been more than 17. “I- I’m sorry I just, there’s a girl here, she’s asking for you.” “And you know I only take visitors AFTER the show is done.” He shakes his head, “No, see she’s not a fan. She’s asking for- “

A polite, gentle voice peeps from behind the teenager. “(y/n) (l/n).” My blood runs cold hearing my name, my real birth name. “I need to speak with you immediately, please.” I stare at the girl with wide eyes, full of confusion and shock. A blue suit lined with gold, and big hopeful eyes. A fucking Vault Dweller. “Leave us.” I snap and the kid quickly pushes her in and shuts the door. I grab my knife from my table, stalking up to her slowly. I smile as I flip her hair, and trace her cheeks. “Pretty,” I mumble as I circle her. She rocks on her feet, fear brewing in her. “Now,” I settle myself in front of her face, pushing the knife into the skin of her throat, “how the fuck do you know my name?”

She stuttered at first, raising her hands to show her innocence. “My name is Lucy MacLean. I’m looking for my dad. The Doctor, Wilzig, told me you would help. Please, you’re my only hope.” I watch her eyes as she speaks, reading her emotions to ring true. MacLean… well I guess there is a god, and he just so happens to be giving me a gift.

I slowly remove the dagger from her smooth, pale, skin. I laugh lightly as I turn to the door, opening it just a crack. I look at Conor who stands outside. “I’m going to be a few. Hold them over for me.” He nods without a second glance.

I turn back to Lucy with a smile. “Lucy, huh?” She nods, “Yes ma’am.” I scoff at that term. I may be over 200 years old but shit! That term makes it real. “Don’t call me, ma’am.” “Uh, okay, (y/n), then.” I raise my finger, shaking my head, “Nope, you can’t call me that either.“ Lucy tosses her hands slightly. “Then what can I call you?” I stare at the reflection in the cracked mirror. “Nothing right now, because I’m just not too sure about you, Lucy. Not a lot of people know my name. Have to make sure you're a good one.” “PLEASE! He said you could help me!” I stare at her, seeing the frustration in her eyes. I glare at her, “I don’t like your fucking tone, Lucy.” I turn back to the mirror, batting my lashes and straightening my hair. A knock sounds before Conor’s voice rings through the old wooden door, “They’re getting impatient.”

“I’m coming! Goddamn it. Never slows down.” I motion at Lucy. “Come with me.” She follows me through the door and down the narrow hall leaning to the stage. I push her down to sit in a chair, "Sit here, don't move, and most of all, enjoy the show." I turn to Conor, "Don't let her out of your sight." He nods and leans against the wall silently watching Lucy. Lucy looks up to meet his gaze with a shy smile. "Hi there." Conor just stares blankly.

The music starts and I show one leg through the curtain, letting the show begin. I step out, the makeshift stage light illuminating my frame in the old dress. The crowd loves me, they always have, and always will.

Lucy claps as I exit the stage and step behind the curtain. The roar of applause and cheers makes me smile. "That was amazing!" Lucy stands with a smile. "I never expected to see anything like this up here. You’re phenomenal!” I walk past her, and she follows behind me. "And you never will anywhere else. Unless you travel to Goodneighbor. They tried to replace me with some washup. She’s no good.” “How long have you been out here?” “30 years.”

As we enter the small dressing room again Conor closes the door behind him. I sit on my stool as Conor moves my hair away from my neck. Lucy watches in curiosity, eyes wide as she sees the small opening at the base of my neck. "You're not… human."

"Good insight, Lucy MacLean. You are correct. I’m what you’ll come to learn is called a synth. Synthetic humanoid. No blood running through my body, just wires.” As I’m closed up I roll my shoulders back. “I still have a beating heart and a working brain. Call me special. They were the only two organs they thought were worth a shit.” Lucy looks at me with sorrow, "Who would have done this to you?" I smirk at her, oh the perfect world she lives in. "Wouldn't you like to know, Vaultie."

I go behind my privacy shade and change out of the performance dress. "So, tell me why, Wilzig gave me up to some random girl." "He told me you could help find my dad. He said you were good-hearted." I roll my eyes at her words. Dumbass Wilzig, he knew exactly how to get my ass in trouble. "Well, he might've been exaggerating a little." I exit the privacy shade, clad in my new attire. “So where’s Wilzig now?” Lucy bites her lip and pulls a large lump from her bag. She opens the cloth to reveal Wilzig’s decapitated head. “Oh, wow.” I pick up his head and press behind his ear, feeling the electric bead. “Well, what do you know? You’ve got some kick to you, don’t you, Lucy?” As I inspected the head, Lucy looked at my photos on the wall. The small memories I was able to escape with. The belongings from my home the stole meant to tease me.

"Is this your husband?" She asks pointing to one picture in particular. A faded photograph of Cooper and I huddled by a Christmas tree the day we got engaged. My eyes begin to water, I force my emotions down. "Enough snooping around my shit. Go in that cabinet over there and fill this bag up with food, water, and those boxes. After that, you can take a shower, and get some sleep." I toss a brown bag her way. "Why?" I stare at her in disbelief. "Because we're going to be hitting the road in the morning to find your dad."

Lucy jumps over to me, bringing me into her arms in a tight embrace. "Thank you! Thank you so much! I knew he was telling the truth about you. I could feel it." I pat her back awkwardly. "Okay, you're welcome. That's enough touching." I push past her and plop myself on the couch watching as Lucy rushes around gathering supplies, with a dopey smile on her face. I look to my left, seeing the old faded photo, a smile ghosting my lips as I remember the good days.

~

My eyes open and raise my head. The lights dimly lit the room. Conor stands behind me, giving the proper maintenance to my server. Lucy lays on the couch dozing lightly. “You’re really going to help her?” Conor asks in a hushed voice. “I was supposed to travel with Wilzig. Technically still am.” “She’s a MacLean.” “Yep, I’ve got that fact noted.” “What will you do?” Conor slips my jacket on before dismissing himself to pack his own bag. I grab my shotgun, placing it over my shoulder. “I’m going to gut that mother fucker, and string him up with his intestine.” I move over to Lucy, kicking her leg lightly, “Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

Lucy wiped her eyes and sat up. I could tell she was energetic and excited. Almost makes me sick. “Let’s get going. Sun will be kissing the horizon soon.” Lucy swings her backpack behind her and smiles, “Okie dokie.”

Conor trails behind me, silently. Lucy furrows her brows, “I thought it was just me and you.” “He goes with me everywhere. No exceptions.”

Lucy smiles, “Oh, that’s nice to know marriage is still valued out here.” I look back at Conor and I begin to laugh. “Oh, shit. No, he’s not my husband. I am NEVER getting married again.” “Did he die?” I stare at her, hatred ready to spill. I could kill her, but that wouldn’t feel nearly as good. I shake my head, “Nope. That demon still slithering around somewhere.” Lucy stays silent until she begins another round of conversation. Friendly fucking vault dwellers. “I’d really like to be able to call you something.” Lucy pushes. I ponder on the subject. “If you have to, you can call me Melody.” It wasn’t a cover. I truly didn’t feel like (y/n) (l/n) anymore. It was easier to be known as Melody the Wasteland star in that little town. Being known as (y/n) meant remembering him daily. I could only handle the late hours of the night filled with tears.

[ramshacklerumble]

What types of music does Gia like?

they listen to just about anything! across genres and languages. they're not the kind to really get into the personal lives of the artist and whatnot, it's just if they like it, they listen.

they do lean towards alternative, i suppose? indie rock, post-punk, spanish rock etc. but it doesn't stop them from listening to various pop subgenres like bedroom or serving into 90's rnb or hiphop or 80's classics. they jump around a lot.

one of the favorite things they've found while cleaning up ramshackle is the magic gramophone. since it plays songs from the person's memory, gia uses it to play music from their world and they've inadvertently gotten their friends into songs that don't exist in twisted wonderland lel

it's become a somewhat common occurrence for grim to start singing mambo no.5

tag list: @cyanide-latte @inmateofthemind @simons-twsted-children @tixdixl @blithesharem @jovieinramshackle

@theleechyskrunkly @skriblee-ksk @boopshoops @the-trinket-witch