#no one is perfect. they’re ALL shitty people. some are worse than others– but they ALL represent real-world issues

[vendetta-if]

Please don’t take this the wrong way, because I still think you’re writing is incredible and I look forward to every update, but am I the only one who finds Takeshi incredibly weird? Like he’s got a wife and 3 kids and yet he’s still pining over my dad who’s been dead for years now. It’s time to move on dude, come on.

If he was younger and single then I’d understand, but the way it comes off, to me at least, is pretty emotionally unfaithful. It reads like Takeshi views Viktor as “the one who got away” which is kind of a shitty attitude to have when you’re married with kids. We haven’t even met Rins mom yet and I already feel bad for her lol, this whole situation is uncomfortable.

Anyways, sorry for my rambling and if you got offended I really do apologize, I wasn’t trying to be mean. Good luck on your future writing!

I appreciate you being polite when writing this and don’t worry, I’m not offended 😁 I have talked a little bit more about him and his feelings for Viktor and about his marriage with Azami in other asks, but I realize that some of them, I answered like in the early days of this blog being up (boy, time sure does fly because it feels like yesterday to me 😭) and not everyone will have read all of the related asks.

So, everything is a lil bit more complicated for Takashi than what it might seem like on the surface, and of course, I can’t really put all of this history and backstory in the main story because it’s not focused on Takashi, or Rin, or the Aikawa, and thus, I understand why some people end up seeing Takashi in a worse light. This is, of course, not to say that he is perfect. I feel like no one in my story is perfect, even Viktor himself, and I like to keep it that way. But I hope my long-winded explanation in this post will help you get a clearer picture on Takashi and his complicated love life 😭.

And right now in the story, I’ll say that he has actually moved on from Viktor. Sure he still remembers and mourns him around the anniversary of his death, and talking about Viktor (and Yvette) is still a sore spot for him, but as they say, you don’t really forget your first love. Also, he has fixed his relationship with Azami (thus their decision to have the twins) by the time of the main story and they’re at their best right now and I’ll explain more in details below the cut.

I’ll put it under the cut because it’s going to be a long one as I try to summarize Takashi’s and Azami’s history together and some additional lore stuff for those who are interested.

For starter, his marriage to Azami was an arranged one that both of them didn’t really have any say in it and it doesn’t help that both of them didn’t even have time to properly get to know each other by the time they got married. They were also pretty young (around early to mid 20s perhaps? I don’t have my notes open right now).

It was a… politically strategic wedding that Takashi’s father and Azami’s maternal grandfather arranged.

And additional info since I don’t think I have mentioned this anywhere actually, but Azami’s maternal side of family is a Yakuza clan/family back in Japan and by establishing some kind of family relationship with the Aikawas—who focuses their businesses in the US—they hope to keep the door open for possibilities of expanding their own business abroad in the US through the Aikawas. They haven’t really done that, but it’s nice to already have and secure the connection. And vice versa for the Aikawas if they wanna do some business in Japan.

It doesn’t help that Viktor was literally Takashi’s first love and that they’ve known each other since they were kids. So, by the time of his marriage, Takashi didn’t really have enough time to kind of, let go or grow out of his feelings for his first love and he was basically getting married to a stranger.

But to think that this means that he automatically becomes an emotionally distant husband and father is wrong. He spent time talking and hanging out with Azami (mostly initiating them first because Azami is the more introverted and reserved one in their relationship), trying to build a relationship—that should’ve been built naturally in normal marriages—with his wife. It did end up being more like a platonic relationship at first than a romantic one, but still, Azami appreciated that.

He’s also a good, caring, and warm dad for Rin and he did take care of Rin as much as Azami did. I’ve said this before in another ask, but when she got married to what is basically a stranger, Azami expected the worse and Takashi was a very pleasant surprise for her.

I think along the way, Azami fell in love with him for real first, but the fact that Takashi still saw her more of a platonic partner and still had romantic feelings for Viktor at the time… It did put a strain on their marriage.

But both of them didn’t really give up on their marriage and even though it took years, they slowly work on their relationship. It was not an instant progress but over time, Takashi ends up falling in love with Azami as well and that’s also the reason why they had the twins like more than a decade after they had Rin (The twins are still very young in the story right now).

Rin was born because of both of their families’ pressure and expectation, but having the twins is the decision that Takashi and Azami made themselves out of love.

While his feelings for Viktor is still there somewhere in the background, it’s waay weaker and fainter than when he was younger. Right now in the story, I would say he has moved on, although he still remembers his first love occasionally, especially around the time of his death. After all, they say that you can’t really forget your first love.

But yeah, in the story currently, his relationship with his wife is at its best and he’s living happily with his family.

And while a part of his motivation to get Rin to marry MC is in part to kind of fulfilling an impossible dream of his, it is also just for… practical reasons. The fact is that the Aikawas have a little bit more to gain by tying the Morozovs in an alliance based on blood ties than the Morozovs do. The Morozovs have the stronger manpower and raw force/strength and nowadays, they have decent connections too.

I mentioned this before in the past ask about the two families’ history, but their alliance started out because the Aikawas were having a pretty rough time protecting their turf from the other criminal groups and families back in New York. They mostly have power by accumulating and brokering information and connections, but they’re a bit lacking in like raw force and power, and that’s where Grandpa Morozov saw the opportunity for alliance and went to talk with Takashi’s father. And the rest we know how it plays out.

So, yeah… I think that’s all I have to say in this post and I’ll definitely be referring to this post again if I ever get similar asks. I don’t know whether it helps you understand Takashi a little bit more or not, but I do hope it’s not as black and white as it once was 😅

[britcision]

So Vivienne’s wonderful and I love her forever

I stan her “well have you considered getting good” approach to literally everything in her life

She is very much still in the stage of “I shall bend the system to my will”, which is an interesting illustration of why she’s the only First Enchanter around right now;

The others have all been at it long enough to notice that the system is designed and built with Vivienne specifically in mind (and others like her)

An oppressive system does not survive decades without major internal dampeners to turn or break every single ambitious star that seeks to rise and make it their own

And it’s already working on her

Kirkwall is the bad Circle, but it’s an outlier; never mind that every single Circle has the potential to become as bad or worse, based only on which templars rise to control it

The ones she’s met are perfectly lovely, obedient little guards, and she has no complaints with her own treatment (which she ensures for herself by being a powerhouse and political goddess, something absolutely anyone could definitely do for sure don’t think too hard about it)

She’s seen the “good” outcome, so she thinks the system works because it’s working for her, and she can play within the bounds of the system… and she’s not exactly concerned with helping up those behind her

The interesting part is that she’s also not entirely wrong in her issues with the rebel mages; most of the other mages aren’t at court, and didn’t see the rising danger in public opinion that Vivienne did

(And they’re all likely a lot more affected by the restrictions than Vivienne, who only goes to the Circle when she wants to and lives where she likes)

She couldn’t understand their perspective on the suffering because… yeah, this was not a great time for the mages to rebel. Right after a possessed mage murdered hundreds?

Vivienne’s right; it makes them look like they care more for their comfort than the lives of citizens, because most of the citizens don’t know the conditions the mages endure

(Most citizens are part of the shitty conditions the mages endure, but again, Vivienne’s not had rocks thrown at her for being a mage)

The thing is that there would never be a politically acceptable time to rebel. That’s why it’s a rebellion, not a polite request

There would never be a single, perfect time that no one would spin to be about the mages being selfish and caring about their comfort over lives

Now is not a good time, but the other mages aren’t choosing it because they’re impatient and don’t want to wait

They’re rebelling now because they have been pushed beyond endurance by the templars (who still have not dealt with their own rogue people wandering around and murdering random civilians, but shhhhh don’t think about that, only mages are hurting the innocent for sure)

Vivienne can’t see their urgency because she doesn’t live that life, and because the system is already busily wrapping her in a shroud of comfort

Her actual view of what she wants for the Circles is still good; a safe place for mages to learn and come together

Magic schools, protected from superstitious populace by the templars (which requires a complete 180 turn of thinking by the templars themselves on if the mages are prisoners or people)

Maybe even some basic fucking protections to stop people from getting possessed, which literally everyone needs anyway because we’re living in wood and thatch houses and every single civilian has access to fire

EVERYONE is dangerous when possessed, mages just scale up faster the more powerful they are, but the more powerful they are the harder they should be to break

Unless they’re broken and mistreated and ground down until they buy into the “us against them” that the templars and citizens force on them, and stop caring if their tormentors are hurt

Which, again, is why Vivienne’s vision for the Circles cannot be realised under the system as it stands

As long as the Circles are a place to lock up mages so they can’t hurt “good, normal people”, someone will abuse it

And the person who abuses it the most, gets their mages the most “under control”, rises to the top on a tower of magic

And the rot spreads

And when you’re on the inside, but at the top? Not being stepped on but treated with respect and reverence? Well, how hard can it be to stay there all the time? Surely they can just wait for a better time to be free

The game’s trying so fucking hard to push its “Not All Templars” agenda but it’s actually only highlighting just how flawed this logic is, and I am FASCINATED with how perfectly they’ve replicated an oppressive system without even meaning to

They so clearly want you to buy the “not all templars are bad like not all mages are good”, but the problem’s right there on the surface:

The mages are dealing with their problems

They don’t want to get possessed either, and nor does anyone else

The templars are pretending their problems don’t exist

That they don’t need to deal with every rogue templar wearing their banner, drinking their lyrium, murdering random villagers and nobles left and right

You’re literally not allowed to even bring it up to the head seeker when he’s off grandstanding

Every mage who tells you “well not all the templars are bad” tattoos respectability politics on the insides of your eyelids because that’s the whole actual problem:

It doesn’t matter if not all the templars are bad. What matters is that the good templars cannot or do not try to stop the bad ones

The bad ones are the ones in power, making the rules

Good people who follow bad rules are complicit

A rotten apple only spoils the barrel if you leave it in there to fester

Anyway Vivienne > Cullen all day every day because

1) queen of Step On Me energy

And 2) we do not blame the actions of oppressors on the oppressed, even when they are propping up the same oppressive system

Also all the templars being mandatory drug addicts is a fucking wild twist and I can’t wait to see where that goes, I am blaming it for Cullen’s weird pinchy redness around his eyes and nose

[selfish-wanderer]

Record of Isekai

Crossovers are going to be the death of me. Not many things make me feel the same as pairing two universes that mingle well (and sometimes that don’t) and seeing something wonderful come out of it.

But how about 10+ series? Following the Record of Ragnarok formula is possible, and I need people talking about this.

Summary

Existence was made up by several universes, endless worlds connected with each other. Normally independent from each other, one day, the divinity of each world came together and decided the fate of those that are transported and reborn to new worlds: Erasure. Yet thanks to a certain Valkyrie, they would get a fighting chance! Thirteen against thirteen, in a battle called Ragnarok! Gods, divine and similar would face the mortals in one against one duels! Will the divine get what they want or will the mortals defy fate itself?

Review

First and foremost, aside from being a crossover fan, I must admit that I really like the isekai genre. A fat chunk of it is trash, don’t get me wrong. But we don’t always need a gourmet dish to satiate our hunger. Sometimes the shitty burger with more grease than actual nutritious content is just the thing we’re craving.

But I digress. Why am I talking about Record of Isekai?

Well, obviously because it’s fun. It’s well-written. There’s obviously a lot of thought going into each fight, but most importantly it doesn’t suffer from the same problem that the canon RoR suffers.

If you read Record of Isekai, it’s probably because you liked RoR and at least know some of the fighters that are going to be on the human side. Characters like the isekai quartet, Rudeus Greyrat, and Cid Kagenou have all been gathered to fight for the right to jump between worlds and to continue existing no matter what the gods say. And that’s perfect for the story that this fanfic is trying to tell.

We know these character, or at least have an idea of who they are. The story doesn’t dwell too much in their backstories because of this, and the pacing doesn’t suffer as result. Furthermore, the gods that fight are also from other series that people can recognize and be surprised by. And as result, each outcome is all the more impactful. You cheer for these guys to win, even if you don’t like their series, because the gods they’re pinned against really test their might. The OP pls nerf factor of isekai MCs is effectively nullified as they enter the arena. The bleakness feels even worse because you know most of those characters could probably fight toe to toe with RoR gods.

So if you like the premise or isekai or crossovers, go give this story a shot. You can find it on Space Battles and AO3. I won’t say anything else because it could spoil the battles. I’ll only tag with the series I remember seeing.

And don’t forget to support the author, if you want. It’s a great story and I honestly don’t want it to get dropped. Hope this post helps spread the word!

[xaz-fr]

Afamiliars beware

since I’m banned I don’t really care anymore. Buckle up, its long and I’m not gonna put it under a read more because :))) these girls have broken my spirit for the last time.

If you’ve ever seen a community around called Afamiliar: don’t join it :)))

For those who don’t know what Afams is. Its where you can order a little drawing of a familiar from FR and it comes with unique colors and markings and can dress it up, breed, it and scavenge with it. Artists make them in a queue and fill orders as they come in.*

The admins are INCREDIBLY toxic. They can’t take any sort of criticism and they play favorites with who and how people get punished. You aren’t even allowed to say you’re unhappy about anything. Ever. Or if you do you get a strike. If you call out the team or admin’s hypocritical behavior you get a strike. If you stand up for yourself when the admins are clearly doing these things you get a strike.

I was part of Afamiliars for two years and was part of the team for a year and during that time I watched the entire thing fall apart. They really try to make it seem like they’re one big family but its just not true. The admins and owners Myndris and Sketchanie are both pretty toxic and talk about people, members of their community and their staff of artists and other team members, behind their back and make snide comments about them constantly. And while everyone else is held accountable to the rules neither of them or their friends are. Myndris talked so much shit about someone she had the entire team convinced they were a terrible person just because they didn’t like some art they got. The best part is when the admins agree with you about things you have problems with in Afamiliars in private over DMs and then publicly renounce everything you say. So hypocritical AND completely two faced. My absolute favorite :)

I was fired from my position as artist in July because another team member antagonized me into telling them to shut the fuck up because I wanted to be able to have open dialogues about the actual stuff that was bothering me. I ended up leaving for a week I was so furious at the state of things and why the admin team had such shitty conflict resolution. No negativity. Nothing in any way could be perceived as negative or you got a strike, so long as you weren’t a friend of the Admins. If you were they’d just tell you to stop. It was full on ‘no war in Ba Sing Sa’ in the Afams server and still is. Which is why I left and then for a week not a single member of staff reached out to me to see if I was okay. In fact after I left the community noticed and they started deleting messages asking what happened and where I was and where I’d gone and why I’d left.  Their most prolific artist had just LEFT and the only way they thought to respond was to delete every message that asked what happened. :)))) They also lied to the team about how many strikes I had and my ‘behavior issues’ to convince them to vote me out. Which is hilarious bc there are way worse actors in the team than me.

But saying anything that might be slightly confrontational got you a warning or a strike. So it was literally impossible to have any sort of adult conversations that might make people upset. Things that had been bothering me for seven months. Things the admins agreed with and refused to do anything about. They just let it sit. And stew. Agreeing with all the problems you have with X thing in private while publicly acting like it wasn’t a problem at all.

They also don’t listen to feedback like... at all. I’m not expecting anyone to be perfect and I know we’re all only human but they keep making the same comedy of errors again. And again. And again. To the point that now they’re two most popular artists are either gone, or about to be gone. They’d been given feedback from multiple people multiple times about how a trial mod on the team makes certain people uncomfortable and instead of removing that person they doubled down on them and did not remove them. And then when people went to other admins about the problem THAT WAS SHARED with the person in question. Admin specific information saying how people were uncomfortable with someone with that person. Probably with their name attached. When I brought THAT to an admin again nothing was done.

In the past few months I’ve just watched the team and the server completely fucking implode. The admins doubling down on zero negativity even as more and more people realize... something isn’t right. More people, people I don’t even talk to!, mention things that are a bit more aggressive than the admins would like. Someone even got muted on the server for telling a mod that an admin had dealt with the problem and the mod was then continuing to antagonize the original problem; which is against the rules. Someone got harassed over DMs by another member, asked where they could submit a report and posted proof of it, and they were the one given the strike and told that the admins do not moderate DMs. But they do sometimes feel the need to moderate and condone certain discord servers run by people they don’t like :) Which is a true thing.

In the past week the second most prolific artist left because one of the admins called the afams everyone makes ‘a miserable pile of pixels’ in reference to how much drama they get in the server and feedback form. This obviously upset some people and so said artist is taking a break for a month. I know she’s not a fool. She also sees what’s happening. She might go back but I doubt it and I hope she’s much less stressed out whatever she chooses to do. Then another artist stepped down the next day. Then just today a third artist stepped down, both of which were admins. So within a week 3 artists felt the need to step down to focus on themselves and mental health issues.

I’ve never attacked any of these people by the way except when they say shit about me that is categorically untrue. Or they show up trying to bully me. Which they also do. I was friends with all these people in the team while I was on the team until one day they just decided I wasn’t :) Not allowed to be friends with the admins anymore if you call them out on their hypocrisy.

And then today they finally banned me from the server. Which I wasn’t really a part of anyway and didn’t participate in much. And people have said worse and done worse to the team and admins but because I’m the designated server villain everything I do is worse.

This is why I was banned

from the latest admin artist that stepped down after giving their message they were stepping down. And I said ‘that seems pretty call-outy and overly negative to me’ which is... against all the rules on the server. But I’m the villain. So I’m not allowed to point it out.

The other admin said this to me pointing out that THIS ADMIN was breaking the site rules

Even tho I’ve legit gotten a strike just for saying ‘I don’t like this thing you’ve done. I’m not gonna talk about it but I want you to know I don’t like this decision you’ve made’.  And these rules also exist in the team only area and it says that  NO ONE is exempt. And I said as much. Because that’s bullshit.

At least unless you’re the owner’s wife. Than you can do whaaaatever you want :)

But yeah. Fuck Afamiliars. I’ve seen the writing on the wall for the past year. They’re gonna implode, or explode, and the admins are gonna be busy finger pointing at everyone but themselves for the problems. In Sketch’s stepping down message she said this exactly

I understand there have been many fuck ups on our end, and I apologize for those, but we have always strived to learn from those mistakes. And I'd like to think that we do a little better each time. 

Which is not what I’ve seen the past few months. Instead they’ve doubled down on Being Right at all costs, not listening to community feedback, lashing out at people who call them out on their bullshit and hypocrisy and I know they still talk shit about their community members in DMs with their stooges.

It’s been a BEAUTIFUL fireball to watch the past 3 months since I was fired.

*Lots of artists don’t actually fill their orders. They just let their queues fill up into huge ribbons on trello and then once a month maybe fill 1-4 orders. One artist has been around 10 months and made so little art their orders can’t even fill 4 pages on discord search. So you’re stuck waiting months, or sometimes YEARS, for a project you want to fill. A friend of mine just gave up on a project because they’d been waiting two and a half years. But the queues on all artists except for maybe... idk, 3-4 artists (including me at the time) were so slow you would be waiting and waiting and legitimately no progress was made. There used to be a rule of 1 afam a week to keep queues moving but sometime around the time Sketch decided to stop making afams that rule was quietly removed.

[thvnderr]

❀ *◦ christopher bang. agender. he/she/they/any. undefined. ⇝ hey, isn’t that lynx park? i think that the twenty-six year old from anchorage, alaska works as a gravedigger and groundskeeper at gothland sepulture & mausoleum, but outside of that people describe them as black eyeshadow smeared down after a night wasted away, dirt under the fingernails, coughing burning ichor during mass. i hear they are crude & hopeless, but they are also known to be loyal & resilient. consider giving them a visit at their home in the black dog motel and get to know why they’re called the tower.

CW for abusive household, wrong imprisonment, crude themes. TW for alcohol mention, death, murder, violence and politicians

What can you expect from someone who was lulled to sleep with screams and crashing glass? Someone who watched telemarketing until their eyes didn't let them be awake until sunrise when things were more quiet? Someone who would tiptoe into the dirty living room of the apartment just to verify that their mother was still breathing before leaving on their own to school.

"The apple never falls far from the tree", people would usually be weary about them even if Lynx never really did anything worthy of suspicion, but the whole opposite. They carried on with life anyways, because if there was something remarkable the counselor had said was that bullies get high on victim behavior and attention; but he had forgotten to mention that standing for oneself is also important. So Lynx stood heinous acts one after the other, until the wrong words made them snap and throw themselves fist first against the attacker. They were both suspended and they were devastated; nothing worse than having to spend time home.

The family moved shortly after being evicted from the apartment and managed to spend their savings in an old RV that was parked in Anchorage. Lynx thought this fresh start could be good for them, but the fights continued, the side eye from people lingered and their wishes of becoming an architect were soon stomped on.

Time passes by and they change empty playgrounds for loud parties, candy for cigarettes and juice box for alcohol. High school is decent; they find a good group of friends that included the then junior Fallon Amarin and quickly find some solace in a bunch of misfits that had it shitty at home as well. The growing hope of people that believed in them is taken away when police showed up at the trailer. "Lynx Park? We need you to come to the station for a few questions".

Some cult killings had taken place in the woods and witnesses had identified Lynx as the last person seen with the victim; not only that, but the bloodied blade that was Lynx's property had been the murder weapon. They argued that yes, they had argued with this person, but that the victim stole the blade from them and hadn't seen it ever since.

While their statement was convincing and most importantly true, the only other suspect was the son of a politician that was on vacation with their family in Alaska. But why even bother to look this way when you had a perfect messed up person that fit all the standards of what people expected from a poor soul that suddenly had a psychotic break?

The trials were tiring and long, their sanity threatening to just declare themselves guilty to be done with this. Lynx was thrown into jail while awaiting for official sentence and it was a bit more than two years in there where he had to endure even worse situations than the ones he had at home. People were polarized about this case, half of them suspected Lynx and the other half defended him; it was thanks to some change(dot)org or something that they were finally given a fair trial and released after Lynx could prove their alibi.

They were in Fairbanks at this point and while having some decent food at a local dinner they heard of the news about a dead girl in Anchorage and a suspect by the name of Fallon Amarin. Lynx had never bought anything faster than they did for a bus ticket back home.

Upon arriving, they headed to the trailer park where their parents weren't surprised by their release or visit; if anything, curious that they were still alive. "Yeah, you see, your dad and I needed the space so we got your things in a box n' it should be somewhere around 'ere". Lynx had lost the capacity of feeling any kind of disappointment about their parents at this point so they just took the box and left.

They managed to get a room for a couple of nights for free after convincing the clerk that they'd pay back and then apparently their rambling about their friend being accused for the horrendous crime convinced the other.

Lynx keeps to themselves mostly, specially working extra shifts at the graveyard to get that extra cash; at nights they can be found in different partying spots or sneaking away with a dancer from either the sugar's lounge or the empty field lounge. They're pretty crude in general and have no expectations from anyone after all they've gone through. Honestly, they're just sad.

FACTS

Very paranoid, doesn't trust people easily.

All pronouns hold the same type of value for them when referring to their persona, so they truly don't mind if someone calls them by they/he/she/xe or any other.

Either the edgiest clothes or the coziest ones.

Very selfish with their possessions which are not many ofc.

Very attached to things of sentimental value.

Wants a pet but can't really afford one.

Really good with like calculations and numbers!

Convinced they saw Slenderman in the woods short before they were accused of murder.

CONNECTIONS

Fellow motel residents or regular clients.

A dancer they spend the most time with when at the lounge. Doesn't have to be sexual.

Hookups, people they meet regularly at the partying spots, people who believe they're innocent, people who believe they are not or are on the fence about lynx.

Someone they probably had a fight with about anything.

Lynx keeps borrowing money from them.

Unlikely friends/hookups/enemies

PINTEREST

[super-hero-confessions]

I'm sorry, I couldn't stand Cassie Lang in Quantumania. I do want to elaborate though, because I really don't want this to come across as sexism, so long post. Thank you Super Hero Confessions for giving us a platform.

I can't talk about this on any social media without people telling me "why do you care you're a grown ass man" even though I'm a woman and younger than Kathryn Newton, the actress playing Cassie, but thanks for making assumptions and showcasing your need to put anyone with a different opinion in a box (a wrong box, at that).

Cassie is rude. Cassie puts Scott down. Her father. The father she loved so much in the first two Ant-Man movies and in Endgame, after losing him and thinking he was dead for 5 years. She's also inexplicably super smart out of nowhere. I'm no writer, but as a woman I can tell you this is not the way to write female characters. Or if it is the way, then it's not a way I can relate to.

To me, well written female characters are diverse. And by diverse I don't mean just racially diverse, although that too. For example let's take a look at the women of Wakanda. They're all black, but they're extremely diverse. Shuri is the brains, nerdy and fun, Okoye is the muscle, strong and badass, Nakia is the heart, kind and compassionate, Ramonda is the Queen, majestic and elegant. Even Riri, who is not from Wakanda and a bit similar to Shuri personality-wise, is endearing and entertaining. I love them because every one of them has a distinct personality. Something similar happens with the women of Guardians of the Galaxy. Gamora is strong and badass, but also compassionate. Nebula is the angry one, but deep down she's suffering because she just wanted a sister. Mantis is gentle and sweet and her power is her empathy. Again, distinct personalities. Love them. Valkyrie? Despite people claiming she had no remorse, I personally like her. She's deeply flawed. She turned to alcohol to numb her pain until she stopped giving a shit about others. I don't agree with her actions, but I'll take her over any female character who is so perfect it hurts. Once again... diversity. Women with incredibly diverse personalities from one another.

Examples like the ones I just mentioned make the world of female characters richer. And when people complain about "Mary Sues" yes sometimes it's just a sexist take, but sometimes it is true that recently we are getting characters like Cassie: arrogant yet loved by everyone around them, super strong, super smart, always right, effortlessly better than the male character at everything, no flaws other than being "too stubborn" or "too selfless"... Too perfect. I can't relate to that, but it's fine, I don't need to relate to a character if they're at least entertaining but that isn't the case. Because they try to make these characters so many things at once, they end up being nothing, and incredibly boring to watch. Or even worse, cringeworthy at times. I had to roll my eyes when Jen was ranting about mansplaining while explaining how to control your emotions to Bruce Banner/the Hulk. Yes, you can make a woman talk about mansplaining but not while explaining control of emotions to the HULK? She's doing the same thing she's complaining about? Like that's just. I am the target audience and I want to turn it off.

No woman is absolutely better than everyone at everything. It's why I mentioned how important it is to add distinct personalities and diversity. Some women are better at some things than others, and all are important regardless. Some women are very smart, some others are not intellectually gifted but have very big hearts, some have anger issues, some are funny, some others struggle and do shitty things, etc. Women are diverse which is why I don't like the generic, bland, perfect type, I feel as if the movie is grabbing me by the shirt and screaming "GIRLBOSS!! SLAY!! GIRL POWER AM I RIGHT?? FEEL EMPOWERED, WOMAN!!" at me. No, I'm sorry, I don't feel empowered over a character who, to show us how good and better and perfect she is, has to put her own father down, Scott Lang, of all people. Scott Lang! One of the most lovable superheroes!

Nothing screams "we actually think women are weak" more than actively putting the men down to attempt to make the women look stronger. Sure, maybe all the "straight white incel racist males" complain about this. But the implications are these. The implications are that a woman cannot appear strong unless the men are portrayed as weak. And as a woman I find it insulting.

I would like to know what you guys think. Feel free to start a debate if you want, respectfully please. One of my friends irl loved Cassie and if we can talk about this with respect, we all can. Ladies, what are your thoughts on this type of writing for woman superheroes? I want to hear the opinions of men as well (unless your arguments are straight up sexist) and I don't know, but I just really want, for female characters, the diversity and depth that most male characters have. I don't think I ask for much. Each character has their unique strengths and weaknesses, and it should be no different for female characters.

I do want to clarify though that I can understand this writing when there is only one woman in a major role, for example with the OG Avengers. Thor was the himbo, Tony was the genius, etc, but Natasha was the only woman Avenger at first so it's natural that they would make her be too many things, too perfect, too capable, smart, and compassionate. Context matters and I actually like Nat. But when you have multiple women in a movie and still choose to make a woman superhero a "Cassie," I say no thank you.

Thank you for reading!!

[bbbcnnie]

ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ʳᵒᶜᵏⁱⁿ' ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵒˡˡⁱⁿ' ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵉᵃʳ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵐᵒᵐᵐᵃ ᶜᵃˡˡ !

ᵇᵒⁿⁿⁱᵉ ᶜᵒⁿˢᵗᵃⁿ��ᵉ ᵍˡᵒʳⁱᵃ ᵐᵃʳʸ ᶜᵃʳˢᵒⁿ

BONNIE CARSON? out here on the road, they have a reputation of being CUNNING + HUMOROUS but also RECKLESS + EASILY AGITATED, no wonder they’re called BONNIE. according to local legend, they’re 30 and when they pull up to camp not a soul can mistake the sound of GOOD GOLLY MISS MOLLY – CREEDENCE CLEARWATER REVIVAL following them. some say they carry A FADED, YELLOWED PICTURE OF HER CHILDHOOD CAT; A PIECE OF RED STRING TIED AROUND HER FINGER THAT SERVES AS A MAKESHIFT WEDDING BAND; HER NAN’S PRAYER BOOK; EVERY RAY CHARLES TAPE SHE COULD FIND IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT  and have been traveling with THE CON JOBS.  ( soph ! )

pinterest - spotify 

CUE: ‘Our Father’ – The Five Blind Boys of Mississippi

A run-down bungalow-like shack, that probably used to be a farmhouse of some kind before big corporate came to town and robbed everyone of their land. Plaster’s coming off the wall, slowly but surely, but it’ll be another couple months before it gets damp and cold and someone’s actually gotta do something about that, so it’s ignored for now. The deep south, the 1950’s, in the midst of stifling heat, that’s where Constance Gloria Mary Carson is born, to mixed feelings – her father rejoices, a girl! Just what he wanted. Her mother only sighs and slumps back into the pillows. A girl, harder to get out of the house and working than a boy. Maybe she’ll be lucky again the next time ‘round.

Rolling Fork, Mississippi may have be a literal hellhole in every aspect of the word when looking back on it now, but from 1955 to 1960, the vast wasteland her father lovingly called their ‘backyard’ had been nothing short of an adventurous playground for little Connie May. Running around the place while momma shook her head and daddy read his paper, swinging by the tracks to watch the trains roll in and out every day, try and chase them for a bit until your lungs were burning and you were forced to stop, skip back home for a bland, in no way nutritious dinner. With a population of barely 1,300 , there was not much else to do. Perfect place to grow up, huh?

Soon enough, the Carsons turned from a family of four to a family of seven, and once deemed old enough – ‘She’s five, Jerry, for Heaven’s sake, she’ll manage watching’ the little ones, calm your horses’ – Connie May’s childhood abruptly stopped as she instead assumed the role of primary caregiver for her three younger siblings. Mom and Pop had to work all day, every day, with the paint peeling off the walls and the floorboards disintegrating underfoot, they had no other choice. In the neighbourhood, though, there are people who’ve got it worse, and the Carson’s are a pious family, so Connie May doesn’t even think about being unthankful for the little they have. Because they could have even less – when little Connie thinks about that too much her lips begin to quiver and her eyes grow awfully hot, a stinging pain underneath her lids as she tries to blink away her tears. Her mother had once reported, complained, nearly, to Mrs. Johnson from too houses down that Connie May was ‘a sickly little creature blessed – or cursed – with empathy’.

CUE: ‘Oh Happy Day’ – The Edwin Hawkins Singers

From the get-go, Connie May just … knows she’s different. She can feel it. It causes trouble from the moment she starts to talk. She’s an opinionated little girl, never shy to speak her mind. Because when the Swinging Sixties roll around, as Connie grows older and wiser, it gets increasingly harder and then, one day, impossible to ignore the inevitable. Rolling Fork was a death sentence. You’re born here, you procreate here, you die here. Simple as that. As your fathers and grandfathers and great-grandfathers have done before you. Get married off to the highest bidders, have a couple kids – or a couple dozen – and care for them while your slob of a husband goes to work at his shitty job that has him earning just enough so you’re just poor, not dirt poor.

Everyone around her, neighbours, classmates, they just .. .accept their situation. No, they are content with it. Content with knowing there’ll be no space for surprises, for action and adventure and all the fun stuff Connie May reads about in the novels she secretly slips from the library. That the furthest they’re ever getting from here is Louisville, if they’re lucky. It’s infuriating. It’s making her lose her mind.

The only escape from insanity is every other Sunday, when Momma and Daddy have to work and Mr. and Mrs. Dowall from next door take them to church. And heavens, does Bonnie love church. Not their regular church! Oh no, that’s just a stuffy little room, full of the same snot nosed kids she sits next to at school, who pull her hair and call her ‘nanny’ because she can’t join them at the county fair, has to watch her siblings instead. No, no, the Dowall church is different. The service there is the most exciting part of Connie May’s week. There’s always laughter and singing, gospel and worship in the way that she can get behind. A few weeks later, Mr. and Mrs. Dowall, with Momma’s approval, gift her two of their old records.

There are few fond memories of home, but one of them is dancing around the living room to ‘I Got A Woman’ and ‘Strange Things Happening Everyday’, standing on her father’s feet.

CUE: ‘Jesus Is Just Alright With Me’ – The Doobie Brothers

Connie May turns 17 in 1972, and by that time she’s got 2 friends, excluding her three younger siblings. Obviously excluding them, whatever connection she’s had to them has faded ever since their mother had begun to use Connie as a prime example for a person that had failed in life. Because her brother Robert had married his high school sweetheart the second they’d both turned 18, and he’d moved out a day after the wedding. They’re just … kids to her now. They’re getting older, too. They all take after her mother. It makes Connie sad, her dad, too, she sees it in the way he scratches his beard as if he’s lost in thought when, really, he’s tragically melancholic. Connie often wonders for how long her parents have been unhappy for.

Well, the ‘swinging sixties’ have come and gone, and so have the Dowell’s from next door and the fun services. Not dead, oh no, they just moved to live with their daughter and grandchildren, down in California. Good for them. Connie’s left, and she’s using the music they’ve gifted her to rebel against fucking everything in this god forsaken town. Tommy, Misha and her listen to records their parents don’t allow them to listen to because it’s ‘filthy, ungodly music’ in secret. Somehow, Connie May managed to convince her Momma that The Doobie Brothers were a nice, Christian rock n’ roll band. Maybe she’d had a gift for the odd con job ever since the beginning, huh?

CUE: ‘The Wild One’- Suzi Quatro

It takes another five fucking years for her life to finally change. In the year of our Lord, 1977, a dishevelled looking young woman with a million dollar smile rolls into town and Connie can only think of divine intervention as the cause of this … this miracle. Freshly twenty two, she’s already a burden to her parents – and reminded of that fact daily, thanks Momma! – and wants nothing more than to get out but there’s no way to escape. No loophole. Until, enter stage left, Tatiana appears. And changes her life for fucking ever,

First by changing her name. A simple mishearing turns Connie May into BONNIE and it just sticks. She sticks with it. She’s a new person and ready to embrace it.

Everything about Tatiana draws her in, and it is quite possible that the other woman is the coolest fucking person Bonnie has ever met. She’s so … god! She’s so everything that Rolling Fork is not, everything that Bonnie wants to be. She’s funny and nice, in her own way. She’s the most beautiful woman Bonnie has ever laid eyes upon. She’s dangerous and Bonnie craves the thrill of the unknown more than oxygen.

It's a quick and easy decision when Tatiana fina-fucking-lly invited her to join her on the road, live a life of adventure. In the dark of the night, Bonnie stuffs only the most important of her belongings into a duffel bag, leaves a note for her father telling him she’s safe and happy, and expressing her hope that he, too, may find happiness again, and then jumps into the passenger seat, laughing manically. Ready to leave her old life behind.

She doesn’t even glance in the rearview mirror when the pull out of the driveway.

However, Bonnie does lean out of the window as far as she can as they pass the sign that, in ugly faded letters, says: “You’re now leaving Rolling Fork! May God bless you and come again soon!” A fair bit of it was left covered in her spit.

CUE: ‘Whole Lotta Love’ – Led Zeppelin

Bonnie adjusts to life on the road fucking awfully at first but hey, she’s got much to learn and Tatiana is the best teacher one could’ve asked for. Bonnie might be naïve but she’s more than ready and willing to thrust herself into this life of crime. A little confused but she’s got the spirit! Most times her job’s simply to wait at the side of the road and look pretty and then pump the fucking gas when she goes from distraction to getaway driver. It’s turbulent, everything moving so fucking fast, but Bonnie has never felt so alive.

And so they make their way through the States, got a little routine going of sorts. Until one day, when they turn from Thelma and Louis to Bonnie and Clyde.

Usually, Bonnie’s got this thing where she puts on Creedence when they do their jobs, pull their stunts. This time, she goes for Led Zeppelin. Maybe it’s the thrill of the unfamiliar that causes the adrenaline to pump through her veins even faster, until suddenly, she finds herself standing behind some security guards who’d been about to corner and overpower Tatiana – she’s standing behind them and she’s got a gun pressed to one’s back while she’s got one of her boots pressed to the other’s neck. The guards let them go, they speed off, and once it’s safe enough, Bonnie pulls to the side of the road to yank Tatiana forward by her shirt. And, well, the rest is history. The rest is foggy windows and giggles and a drive to some poor pastor’s church who they bribe into giving them a marriage license, a fucking official one.

Next time they pull into the summit they’re fucking married. Spontaneous decisions had always been their forte.

CUE: ‘Blue Highway’ – Billy Idol

1985. It’s been some long years on the road since Rolling Fork. Hectic and dangerous and thrilling and just all in all fucking delightful. Even eight years down the line, Bonnie can’t find it within herself to regret the decisions that had brought her here, back to the summit, in their trusty old RV, her wife by her side. She fucking loves it, all of it. She loves Tatiana. Maybe not in the most conventional of ways for a married couple but she does, she loves her. Even if this open relationship typa situation they got on their hands isn’t her piece of cake – who’s she to complain? She might not be a godly woman anymore but she’s the same little Connie May that couldn’t bring herself to be unthankful for everything she had.

Hell, Bonnie even finds herself growing more fond of the other Con Jobs they picked up along the way. Even if she gets into fights with Wally over his choice of music every other day, even if Alfie and Wally do a god awful job of sneaking around every fucking night. She’s never wanted to be a mother or any of that shit, having spent her formative years as the sole caregiver of three little kids meant she had quite enough of kids for now.

But, then again, having cared for her siblings all these years had left its mark, and though she tries to hide it, Bonnie can’ t help but care when there’s a lost soul that needs her help. ‘Cursed with empathy’. At least you got that one right, Momma.

One rule has never waivered these past years on the road: Nobody touches the goddamn radio. Bonnie’s got full control over it. Even if she wants to take a trip down memory lane and listen to Sister Rosetta sing her best gospel hymns. Even if she wants to indulge her inner child with Madonna and Whitney’s latest hits. Everyone just has to sit and endure. So – Hands off!

[bastard-of-a-bog-being]

Sometimes I feel like I talk too much and people are going to think “all you ever do is talk about yourself!!” But like

I share my stories so I don’t sound disinterested but like I’m trying to hold a longer convo

I share my stories hoping you’ll share one back, not because I can Only Talk About Me. But it sure is awkward if I end a story with, “have YOU ever felt that way about people in the grocery store? What’s YOUR wacky medical story?”

I hate feeling self conscious over normal human interaction and having this little bug in the back of my brain showing me a slideshow of the text posts I see on here accusing people of “traumadumping” to their friends or “this isn’t about you stop trying to relate to people with your own personal experience” bullshit. Y’all wanna accuse people of being toxic friends because you’re toxic and can’t acknowledge that friendships get messy. Your first response to anything is “I don’t owe them anything. It’s not my job to teach them. I’m not their therapist” but like, you can’t drop a friend because they didn’t know something you knew and you were an ass to them about their uninformed opinion.

And you’re right! It’s tiring when people vent all the time! But guess what? Friends are supposed to support each other. If my friend needs to vent because they’re going through a shit time and having a mental breakdown, and I say “ugh! You’re so toxic. Stop traumadumping on me, we all have problems. Fuck off and learn the world doesn’t revolve around you! Go talk to your therapist or something it’s not MY problem you feel unliked and unwanted.” Guess who’s the toxic friend in that situation? You need to be the friend who says “that’s shit! I hate those people for making you feel shitty. Wanna get some pizza and go bowling and pretend the pins are the people who said or did Thing to you?”

Some of you have the WORST takes on friendship and it’s pretty clear you were either The Mean Girl/Guy in high school/toxic friend, or you straight up only received socializing skills from Tumblr and now TikTok and you MAYBE need to go outside.

I was homeschooled and sheltered. My friendships were short lived. I moved to a new state at 10 and somehow ended up it a city full of people who hate you because you weren’t born here. They’ve all known each other since before you ever THOUGHT you’d end up there. My socializing skills were a little jacked up, to say the least, and ADHD made it worse, and depression made it worse.

I found a solid friendship with a guy who I’ve seen Once in like three years. We kept in touch after he moved and we text or have three hour phone calls and we vent and sometimes I talk more than he does, because he’s not as much of a talker, and that’s okay. Because we’ve learned our way around it.

I sincerely beg you, if you are so quick to accuse people of “traumadumping” and “being a toxic friend” over normal interactions with friends like venting or freaking out when someone isn’t as Informed As You or maybe Likes Something You Don’t, first consider your own behavior and interactions. Are you a perfect friend? Are you satisfied in your friendships?

If you can’t handle venting and people with different opinions or whatever, maybe your friendship style is just a quick chat about the weather and moving on. That’s okay! But life really IS about compromise and understanding that everyone has a different set of life experiences and communication styles and not everybody thinks of what they’re doing as malicious. Sometimes it’s just HOW they communicate with you. Sometimes it’s how they show love.

But I highly implore you to get out and socialize with friends and form messy bonds. Have a friendship worth crying over when it breaks. Because god it’s gonna SUCK it’s gonna HURT but every moment of JOY is going to be worth it. Don’t like going to bars to socialize? Find friends willing to go bowling! Find friends willing to look a little silly and do karaoke with you! Find friends who are creative and want to do art projects or mini films with you! Struggling to find friends you have things in common with? Join a club, or form one! I know finding new friends isn’t easy. compromise with the friends you DO have because you can still be friends even if you don’t share every interest. You’ll find something you guys both like doing if they’re willing to compromise as well. (And I know that isn’t always easy, in a world full of people who hate compromise)

And remember: social media is a fun treat! But the “social” part is kind of a misnomer. It’s not a good substitute for social interactions long term, especially when so much of it is manufactured to look “perfect”. When you’re expecting everything to be Perfect. But life really is about the memories sitting with your toes dipped in the creek, looking at tadpoles, playing board games, making fun of movies… and sometimes, the occasional ugly messy venting because you or your friend need a shoulder to cry on.

[everyonewasabird]

Brickclub 5.1.20 “The dead are right and the living are not wrong”

The Utopia that grows impatient and turns into riot knows what awaits her; almost always she is too soon. Then she resigns herself and stoically accepts, instead of triumph, catastrophe. She serves, without complaining, and even exonerating them, those who deny her, and it is her magnanimity to consent to desertion. She is indomi­table against hindrance and gentle toward ingratitude.

I have no evidence to back this thought up, but it’s Fantine: te spirit of Utopia turning to insurrection is Fantine. She believed in too much hope; she ended up walking patiently back and forth in a ballgown in the snow, uncomplaining; she turned to riot against mistreatment.

And then we’re on ingratitude, Marius’s watchword and the burning coal inside him that motivates him to do all the stupidest things he does.

But this is an idea of a mass ingratitude rather than an individual one; the individual doesn’t feel this one at all, unless they’re thinking as a collective. Marius doesn’t understand things beyond individual debts, and even by the end of this book there’s no evidence I can recall that he gets any closer.

..And then we get to the march of Progress being the general condition of the human race, and I have to check out again. Man, I didn’t start this book fucking hating the word Progress, but I sure do now.

(To recap: It’s colonialism hand in hand with everything Europe thought the Industrial Revolution would do for it. It’s the force that tries to stamp out every group of people on earth who isn’t doing that shit and then pats itself on the back for moving the world another inch forward. Fuck Hugo’s notions of Progress forever.)

I don’t disagree with his point that stasis is illusory and change is the condition of everything everywhere--but I really, really fucking distrust that idea of Progress looking a certain way and forming an ideology that condones really, really heinous shit. I also extra hate his corollary to the idea of Progress, that the progression ends eventually in a designated place where all is perfect and nothing needs to change anymore. I lived through an era that called itself the End of History; it’s a shitty ideology that leads to Bad Things.

Change, for both better and worse, forever, seems to me both inevitable and less awful than that.

Because Hugo thinks Progress is inevitable, he runs again into the rift at the heart of Combeferre--he even restates (somewhat more coherently) Combeferre’s arguments about the stains of justified murder and the confusion of Utopia taking up arms.

The thing is, if Progress isn’t inevitable, you don’t have that confusion. There isn’t the French Revolution vs. something-something-the-exact-same-results-as-the-FRev-but-arrived-at-peacefully-some-time-later. Yeah, the currents in society are real, and would have been real whether or not things conflagrated at exactly that moment, and those currents are as big a part of change as the events you can point to... but there isn’t some other thing happening instead of that, that these human moments are some kind of proxy for.

If there is no overriding current towards a predestined end-point, people’s efforts to change the world can stand alone as efforts to change the world--be that for better or worse, too soon or too late, with good methods or bad, all according to the values of the individual observer.

It all just feels a whole lot simpler than whatever Hugo thinks he’s doing.

I also resent his idea that these fights are always about the Ideal first and foremost. It’s not wrong, exactly; ideology and people’s sense of what they’re fighting for matter hugely. But there isn’t something wrong about fighting for, say, better working conditions, or for the sake of not starving this week. His focus on the ideal instead of the more proximate and more urgent causes takes the fight away from the workers and the poor and gives it to the bourgeoisie. Which is a problem he has a lot.

And I resent the jabs against effeminacy. And the Obvious Superiority of France stuff.

We’re at the heart of Hugo’s central thesis for the book, or one of the hearts of it at least, but I just find myself stuck fighting Hugo about our most basic assumptions again. :(

[boy-armageddon]

look at my ran about crimes brosourdoughstarter (text under da cut).

Also quick note: when I say “metronomes illustrate this,” I’m referring to how it illustrates what the world may become and shit like that and how you’ll be suffering too blah blah blah specifically. The “ignoring it” mostly comes in with feed me to the forest, and actually. That sort of connects feed me to the forest with trash flavored trash maybe? With how feed me to the forest leads into trash flavored trash and all. Coulddddd maybe be trying to also make a point that, with how people are so obsessed with pop culture and celebrities and the spectacle and dramatization of it all, it could be sort of distracting people from what’s actually happening in the world and the shitty path we’re headed down. But that’s just be spitballing here I only like just though about that lols

I can never ever pick fave albums unfortunately cause I just think “well what about this. Well if you pick that then you’re picking an album that’s probably Worse Quality(tm) than this other album that people prop up as a masterpiece”

Which is me being all self conscious over soemthing nopony else gives a fuck about. For me I’d have to say it’s crimes lol because of course I pick that

Not a song on there that I think you could remove with out creating a seriously worse experience and everything flows together so well for me and I truly don’t think there’s a “worst song” on the album or at least one that’s seriously bad. Like I say I don’t like trash flavored trash as much as the other songs on there, which is true, but like. It’s not seriously worse. I just have a petty thing about it for no particular reason. Genuinely one of the best post-hardcore albums to come out of the 2000s easily. I’ve also always felt like it was the perfect length and you never get like. Burnt out listening to it. I’ve always found myself just excitedly waiting to see if I notice anything new every listen (which i almost always do!!!) and the songwriting and guitar work and drumming and everything is just. Mwah. Goated perchance

It’s absolutely their magnum opus that’s for sure

Also the ending just fucking. Haunting. Doesn’t matter if you wanna say it’s Devastator or Metronomes (either work just beautifully for what the album is even if metronomes is a bonus track), but like. Man. Really leaves you to just sit there and think about what you just listened to, which you SHOULD!!!!!!!! It’s their most blatantly political and Whitney’s songwriting here in my opinion is at it’s strongest like. Just in general. Can’t believe he originally was like “eughhhh this is gonna fucking suck” GIRL ITS LIKE YOUR BEST WORK PERIOD!!!!!!! and Celebrator/Devastator follows through with this transparency. Like. No other way to read them other than talking about the war that was going on at the time and the closing lines of Devastator are very clearly asking you to think about what they were saying (“the party’s over, what was your favourite gift?”, especially with the context of the previous song, celebrator. Also not even just here just. Throughout the album) and think about what was going on in the world at the time and what the future might potentially look like if we don’t. Do something. And the future they’re painting a picture of is just utterly fucked (harkening back to feed me to the forest). It’s a pessimistic album, you might think, but frankly I do think it still has some hope for the future if people work towards it and don’t just sit on their asses and try to ignore it. Metronomes illustrates this quite clearly in my opinion but I don’t feel like talking about that too in depth here. What I’m saying is, either work extremely well. They work best together in one listen but that’s just my opinion. Also the way metronomes ends too…….. god. God. Crimes is so fucking good

[gaysimpsstuff]

Addidentally Injuring Their S/o

Part Two Here

YT Video Here (thanks @vanillaicedlatte-yt)

Genre: a n g s t

Type: Drabble/ Headcannons

Summary: in the heat of an arguement, after a battle, etc., they activate their quirk and Y/n somewhat permanently.

Warnings: gore, blood, fighting/ cursing, crying, burns, toxic relationships, 290 spoilers, endeavor

Other: This was meant to come out yesterday, but shitty mental health got in the way, so yeet. Also, I’m sorry these get worse and worse as they progress, that’s usually how things go for me. This was also inspired by a Tik Tok that I can’t find where Shigaraki accidentally dusts y/n who’s trying to comfort him. It was a Cosplay, if anyone can find it please let me know so I can link it and credit the creator.

Characters: Shigaraki, Dabi, Bakugou, Todoroki

Angst Taglist: @smolchildfangirl @combat-wombatus @mandalorian-baby-bird @waffleareniceandfluffy (let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist)

Tomura Shigaraki

It had started as a great day, a perfect day even. Everyone was listening to him, the league was getting news coverage, people were afraid.

Everything was too perfect.

Something was going to go wrong, he was sure of it.

He hated the way everyone was laughing and joking together, Toga helping Magne do her nails, Spinner playing video games with Twice backstage, and you were chatting with Dabi and Compress about the league’s next moves.

Kuroguri was off doing something or other, and he’d mentioned another ‘follower of All For One.’

But something felt off.

And of course you would notice him.

You were hiding at an abandoned theatre, and he was sitting on the edge of the stage, staring out at the empty audience.

You were with Dabi and Compress in the wings, and glanced away from them towards your boyfriend.

He seemed stressed, scratching at his neck vigorously. You sighed, standing up and heading over to him, sitting beside him.

You placed your hand on top of his spare hand, offering him a soft smile.’

“Hey, baby~” you cooed. “How’s my boyfriend doing?”

He grumbled, yanking his hand away from you. Your theory was correct, he was stressed about something.

He didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially not you. You always tried to comfort him and convince him everything was ‘okay’ even when it wasn’t.

“Go away.” He growled. “I’m trying to think.”

“Thinking about what?” You asked, scooching closer to him.

“None of your fucking business!” He snapped at you, and you flinched away from him.

“Tomura, I was just trying to help-“ you frowned at him. He could be immature and bratty at times he’s, but he usually made sure not to get that way with you.

“I don’t give a shit! I don’t need your damn help!” He stood up, marching over to the wings to head backstage. You followed suit.

Compress and Dabi quickly rushed off the stage when they saw Shigaraki heading towards them. Dabi stopped for a moment next to you, looking at you.

“Good luck with him.” He said, jerking his head towards Shigaraki. You shrugged at him.

Shigaraki overheard Dabi’s notion, anger and distress intensifying. Good luck? Good luck?! What the hell was wrong with him?

Dabi and Compres joined Toga and Magne in the red velvet chairs, Compress requesting that he gets his nails done in orange and black when she finished with Magne’s.

Shigaraki pushed aside the large heavy curtains blocking his way backstage, finding Spinner and Twice huddled near a small TV, an old PvP game loading onscreen

They both looked over their shoulders, staring up at their boss. You quickly darted backstage, crouching next to the ‘gamer boiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis’ as they had nicknamed themselves.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered to them. “He’s in a bit of a mood. I’ll take care of it, okay?”

Did he hear you correctly?

A mood?

You’ll ‘take care of it?’

Of it?

What.

The.

Fuck.

“Say that again, to my fuckung face!” Shigaraki screamed at you. “Tell me I’m just ‘iN a MoOd’ again!!”

You turned to him, eyes wide and scared.

“I’m sorry, Tomura, I didn’t mean it like that- I just didn’t want our friends to worry!”

“They aren’t our fucking friends! They just work for us- they work for me!” He corrected himself.

You stood up, flicking your wrist to motion for Twice and Spinner to leave. They quickly turned off their game and rushed away.

“You might not consider them our friends, but they’re certainly my friends. And I won’t let you scare my friends.” You stood your ground, taking a step towards him.

He scoffed, turning around and marching back onstage. You sighed, following after him, again.

“Please, Tomura talk to me. I’m your partner I want to help you!” You exclaimed. “You’re worrying me, please!”

“Well I don’t want to fucking talk!” He shouted, “and I don’t have to!”

“Please, Tenko!”

“THAT’S NOT MY NAME!”

Red.

He saw red.

His hand flew away from him before he could stop himself, a target missile. It’s destination? Your face.

You lifted your hands instinctively, and he grabbed your wrist, fingers curling around your skin.

In that moment, all he felt was relief. Thank fucking god you’d lifted your arms. It was the one thing that has saved you from him.

You screamed, pain shooting up through you from your arm. Your skin peeled, falling away in tiny fragments of dust.

The dust fell around his fingers, your hand and wrist were completely gone now.

You felt someone pull you backwards, and you saw a glint of silver as Toga quickly severed your arm, blood spilling onto the floor of the stage where the pile of dust that used to be your arm lay.

You fell to your knees, screaming, reaching up and clutching at your elbow- the point of separation- desperately, trying to will your arm back into existence.

“TOMURA!” You shrieked, tears falling down your cheeks. “TOMURA! FIX IT!!”

It was hopeless, you knew there was no way for him to un-dust you. You fell forward, forehead pressed against the floor.

Shigaraki took a step back, glancing at his hand. There were a few speckles of dust resting on his palm. His breath quickened, eyes widening as he cupped his other hand over his mouth.

He stared down at you, Blood staining your shirt as you screamed and cried.

It must have hurt.

He remembered the promise he’d made after you’d started dating, when he’d protected you from some assholes trying to mug you.

“I promise you, I’m going to protect you. Nothing, no one, will lay a hand on you ever again.”

It was a promised meant against anyone who posed a threat to you.

He never meant to become a threat himself.

Touya Todoroki/ Dabi

Some days were always going to be better than others, that’s simply how it works when you’re recovering from trauma.

Today was one of the bad days.

He’d woken up with a thick, heavy, dark feeling in his chest.

He wasn’t even comforted by the warmth your body produced next to him.

Most days he’d roll over and wrap his arm around your body, pulling you close to his body to cuddle you.

This morning however, Dabi rolled away from you and climbed out of bed. You looked over your shoulder at him, confused and slightly hurt. Did you do something to make him upset last night?

You followed after your angsty boyfriend, walking out of the bedroom and down the hall into the kitchen.

He crashed at your apartment a lot, being a villain it was hard to get his own home. You didn’t know where he stayed when he wasn’t at your place.

He grabbed a box of cereal out of the cupboards, pouring himself a bowl. You pulled the milk out of the fridge, handing it to him with a smile.

He scrunched up his nose at your kindness, snatching the carton from your hand and angrily pulling the cap off.

You sighed, nervously pouring yourself a bowl as Dabi started to eat. He didn’t even bother to sit at the table.

“Hey, babe? You okay? You seem kind of... off today.”

Your boyfriend glanced down at you, cerulean eyes seemingly staring right through you.

“M’fine.” He grunted. Your frown tightened.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t believe that.” You shook your head at him.

Dabi glared down at you in annoyance. His scowl deepening. You took a step back, concerned and scared.

“Dabi, please talk to me.” You pleaded with him.

“Uzéndayo.” He grumbled angrily. “Fuck off.”

“Please, you’ll hurt my feelings.” You scoffed sarcastically. “You can talk to me, y’know.”

“Don’t fuckin need to. Leave me alone.”

“Dabi, this is my place. I’m not leaving you alone.”

“Then I’ll leave!” He snapped, brushing past you and leaving his cereal on the counter to sog.

He snatched his jacket off the back of the couch, shrugging it onto his shoulders.

“Seriously, Dabi! What the hell’s going on! Did I do something wrong?”

It pissed him off further to hear you blame yourself. You always thought it was your fault, but it never was.

“Oh shut the fuck up for once! Quit thinking it’s all about you! It’s not always about you!”

“Dabi just fucking talk to me! I’m not letting you leave until you tell me what’s wrong!”

You stepped in front of the door, flinging your arms open to block ilhis exit. He looked you in the eyes, seething.

“Nothing happened!” He shouted “Sometimes I’m just angry for no reason! Get out of my way and I’ll take my anger out on some rando and not on you. Then I’ll come back and we can pretend this never happened.”

“Dabi I won’t let you just kill some innocent person because you’re upset! Just sit with me and we can talk it out and-“

“That’s always your solution! Quit being a wimpy pacifist and move!”

“I’m not a pacifist, I just don’t think you should kill without reason!”

“Well I have a fucking reason!”

“And what’s that?”

“I want to!”

“That’s not a reason!”

“Just get out of my fucking way or I’ll make you!”

“Dabi, just talk to me!”

It was the last thing you said before he grabbed your arm and pulled your body forward to meet his. Your chest pressed against his, his face right in front of yours.

It’d be hot if you weren’t so scared.

“Listen here you little shit,” he growled, low and angry “I’m stronger than you in every fucking way.”

“Dabi?”

“I could kill you in an instant if I so desired.”

“Dabi-“

“Incinerate your filthy annoying ass any day I want, so be fucking grateful for once and watch your damn mouth!”

“Dabi!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LISTEN! I am superior to you in every way, you should be grateful I even share oxygen with you!”

“DABI YOU’RE HURTING ME!”

“I DON’T CARE IF IT HURTS, LISTEN TO ME YOU DIRTY MOTHERFUCKER!” He screamed in your face, eyes wild with unchecked rage.

Tears flowed down your face as you sobbed, indescribable pain was shooting up through your arms.

Dabi’s eyes finally drifted downwards, and he froze, mouth falling slack.

Smoke was billowing off his hands, and his knuckles were white with how hard he was gripping you.

He snapped his hands away from you, curling them into his body as his eyes widened. He took a few steps back.

There were black scorch marks on your body in the shape of his hands. They looked real bad.

“Get out.” You whispered, so soft he couldn’t hear.

“W-what?”

“GET OUT!” You screamed, pointing at the door despite the intense pain in your arms. “GET OUT OR I’M CALLING THE POLICE!”

“B-baby I’m sorry!” He shouted “I didn’t mean to, I promise!”

“I DON’T GIVE A SHIT! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOME BEFORE I TURN YOU IN!”

Dabi stumbled past you, quickly rushing out of your apartment and shutting the door behind him.

His back was pressed against the wood as he slid down, covering his face as he listened to your sobs on the other side, hearing your footsteps fade into the bathroom, probably to run cold water on your skin.

For a moment, all the could think about was the cereal on the counter, getting soggy.

“Fuck.” He muttered, eyes burning as they tried to produce tears without his tear ducts.

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

Shoto Todoroki

Shit wrong emo scar boy with daddy issues, fire powers, and an evil older sibling with blue fire

There we go

It was a shitty day. 

Well, most days were shitty days, but today was shittier than usual. 

A home visit, Endeavor trying to act like he was ‘upset about everything that happened,’ and pretending he was the victim in the situation.

It would be enough to set anyone on edge, especially Shouto. 

So it wasn’t much of a surprise when he returned to the dorms with a deep frown on his face.

Even when Midoriya, Iida, and Uraraka tried to talk to him, he still seemed angry the whole time. There was really only one thing that should be able to cheer him up. Let’s hope you do your job well.

“Knock knock~ Shouto it’s me!” you stood on the outside of Shouto’s dorm. You knew Shouto must be stressed, so you’d gotten him some brownies from the sweets cupboard, Sato’s locks were easy to pick.

“I don’t want to fucking talk.” his response was blunt, clearly annoyed that you’d bothered his brooding. “Go away.”

You sighed, he could act like such a child sometimes!

“Shouto, I just want to cheer you up! Let me in, babe.” a moment later, he swung the door open, am annoyed glare on his face. You smiled sweetly at him, handing him the plate of brownies. His hands remained in his pockets, glancing down at the brownies then back up at you.

“Um... can I come in?” you asked quietly. He shrugged, stepping aside to let you in. You stepped past him, sitting on the edge of the platform bed, setting the brownies on the nightstand. 

Shouto closed the door behind him, turning to face you.

“Do... do you want to talk about it?” Shouto huffed, shaking his head and looking away from you.

“Do I look like I want to talk?” he snapped. You flinched, his tone was harsh.

“Shouto I just want to help, you don’t need to be rude.”

“I don’t give a shit if I’m being ‘rude.’“ He growled, arms crossed. 

His eyes stared coldly at you. Yeah, he was definetly upset.

“That’s okay, we can chat about something else. Oh, Sato probably needs to change the lock on the sweets cupboard, I kinda broke it getting you these brownies!” you looked up at him, smile faltering as he looked down his nose at you. “Are... are you mad at me?”

“Wow, you just noticed that.” he rolled his eyes. “I told you to go away but you didn’t.”

“I-I’m sorry, I was just really worried about you. You’re my boyfriend and I love you, I don’t like seeing you upset.”

“Then maybe you should try fucking listening to me for once. If I don’t want to talk, then you can’t make me talk.” You nodded, apologizing again.

“Oh my god shut the fuck up!” he shouted. “You’re always talking, always apologizing, you’re getting on my fucking nerves!”

“Okay!” you stood up quickly, lifting your hands defensively. “I’ll just leave!”

You brushed past him on your way to the door, hesitating on the handle. You glanced over your shoulder at him.

“Would you fucking stop with the pity?” you looked at the ground, not saying anything.

You heard the slap before you felt it.

The sting shot through your face, and you could hear Shouto shouting at you, but it was muffled. You didn’t know what he was saying. 

You lifted your hand to your cheek, hissing in pain. He didn’t just slap you,

He used his fire.

You choked on your words, turning to look at your boyfriend with tear-filled eyes.

Shouto was looking at you with a look of sheer horror on his face.

“I’m sorry...” you whimpered. “I’m going-” you slipped out the door, ignoring Shouto’s shout for you to turn back and talk to him

That it was an accident.

That he didn’t mean it.

That didn’t matter.

Katsuki Bakugou/ Dynamight

Fuck Icy-Hot. 

Fuck. Him.

He said he’d gotten stronger since the Summer Camp, but he hadn’t at all.

He was still loosing to Todoroki, and no matter how hard he was working, he still kept loosing to him.

His hand was buried in his hair, tugging harshly every so often as he listened to you ramble about something that happened during your work study.

Even you were getting ahead of him, his own partner was getting stronger than him. He’d promised he’d protect you, but that would be useless if you kept improving faster than him.

“Then afterwords, FatGum took me, Kirishima, and Amajiki to this resturaunt, and the owner turned out to be a huge fan of FatGum, she gave us free desert! Oh my gosh the cake was so good!” you exclaimed, laughing a little.

Bakugou grumbled under his breath a little, keeping his eyes away from your estatic face. 

“Great.” you glanced back to your boyfriend from where you sat at your desk, eyebrows furroring. Usually, Katsuki would give you one of those proud smirks all like ‘that’s my partner,’ but today he seemed upset.

“You alright, Katsuki? Was your provisional licence class stressful today?” you asked sympathetically, moving your hand towards him to comfort him. 

He yanked his hand away from you, shooting you a pissed off look.

“Fuck no.” he growled. “Even if it was, I can handle it. I don’t need your damn help.” you rested your hand on your lap.

“I know, Katsuki. My boyfriend’s so strong!” you smiled brightly at him. Usually complimenting him would make him feel better, but today it seemed to only piss him off more.

“Shut up.” he hunched over, curling into himself more. He pulled one leg up to his chest, holding it under his knee. 

“Uh.. are you sure you’re okay?” you asked, cocking your head to the side gently.

“I’m fucking fine!” He snapped, keeping his eyes anywhere but on you. “I don’t need your pity!”

“Pity? Katsuki I’m not pitying you, I’m worried for you. You’re my boyfriend and I want you to be happy so-”

“Didn’t I say to shut up?” he stood up, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Don’t give me your worry, fight me instead!”

“Why the hell would I fight you, Katsuki? I already know you’re stronger than me!”

“Fucking how? You got that new work study you’re constantntly talking about! How haven’t you gotten stronger than me?”

“Is that what this is about? I’ve only been at my work study for a few days, how in the world could I have leaped leagues in that amount of time to reach your level?”

“Then why even join that stupid work study if you’re not getting stronger?”

“I am getting stronger, just not fast enough to be at your level that quickly!” you explained. “Sorry?”

“Ugh just shut the fuck up!” he shouted, storming out of your dorm and down the hall to the common room. There were a only a few people in there,

Yao-Momo and Jirou in the kitchen, Kirishima and Kaminari on the couches, and Sero was leaning over the back of the couch. They all looked up when Bakugou stormed in with you on his tail.

“Katsuki, you’re confusing me! What’s going on? How can I help? Is it something I did?” 

“Just leave me alone, okay? Go away!” he shouted over his shoulder. Kaminari, Kirishima, Sero, Jirou, and Yaoyorazu all snapped their heads towards you and Bakugou.

“Katsuki, please! You’re scaring me!” you glanced over at your friends, Jirou and Yao-Momo glancing between each other and muttering. 

“Yo, Kachan, the hell’s going on between you and Y/n?” Kaminari asked, standing up. Sero hissed at him to sit down if he wanted to keep his head.

“I’m sorry, Kaminari, Bakugou’s upset and I don’t know why-”

“Don’t know why? Quit it with the lies! I hate liars!”

“I-I’m not lying! I really don’t know!” you reached forward, latching your hand onto his wrist. “Please just talk to me!”

“BULLSHIT!” he snapped his hand away from yours. “You’re a fucking liar!”

“Bakubro, calm down!” Kirishima stood up, briskly walking over to the two of you. 

“STAY OUT OF THIS!” Bakugou slammed his palm against Kirishima’s face, setting off a small explosion.

“KIRISHIMA!” You ran to his side as the smoke cleared, finding his face hardened.

“I’m okay, I’m okay!” he assured you. He offered you a small smile, suddenly, he yelped and ducked, avoiding another hit from Bakugou.

“LET GO OF THEM!” he shouted, and his hand sparked twice before setting off again. This time right next to your face.

You hit the ground first, then felt stinging pain across your face and shoulder.

You didn’t even hear your own screaming because of the fact that he blew up your ears.

You didn’t register Kirishima picking you up, or Bakugou staring after you in fear, or the others in the room scolding Bakugou or worrying about you.

All you knew in that moment was pain.

Pure, white hot, agonizing pain.

[theveryworstthing]

So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class.  I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got  natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace.  I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.  

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway.  This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt. 16)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: A secret for a secret is exchanged. “You’re so pretty Tae.”

Tags: Trans! taehyung, unintended outings of trans people, brief implications of blackmail, dysphoria, self-hate, jealousy, mentions of nudity, overly flowery language, hurt/comfort, fluff, misgendering of trans characters, 

Pairing: Beta! Yoongi, Omega! Reader, Omega! Jungkook, Omega! Seokjin, Alpha! Namjoon, Alpha! Hoseok, Alpha! Taehyung, Alpha! Jimin

W/c: 8.5k

A/n: this chapter is some good old fluff with a smidgen of angst, I think this is really going to sate the people who are itching for the comfort part of this hurt/comfort story. As always with chapters that feature trans tae- keep your negative or transphobic comments to yourself!

Previous Part — Masterlist

It's a testament to how much better you've gotten that you only flinch when Tae shouts. Two months ago, an angry alpha yelling at you would have sent you into a spiral. But not now- not when Tae is crying like that. 

the gut wrenching sounds tearing from his chest are heart breaking. Teeth gritting like each little choking breath is ripping his soul up just a little bit more. The kind of crying people only do when hope is a forgotten and abandoned thing. They’re so quiet too- like he’s worried about summoning his pack here with the sounds of his echoing despair.

The tears sting Tae’s eyes and nearly block out her vision (though maybe that's just because they mix with what's left of the eyeshadow). Her hands shake as she hugs the box to her chest like her arms will be enough to protect it and the pieces of her soul inside. 

Her mind tumbles over all the worst possible outcomes of this. The horrifying reality that you could run and tell the rest of the pack- could get the others and bring them here. Tae is living her worst nightmare; there is nothing worse than this.

At least if they kicked him out of the pack, maybe Tae could have that life- the ones she's always dreamed of- A world where the ache goes away for good and not just in these stolen seconds. A closet full of delicate clothes in a shitty apartment somewhere. red silk ribbons to keep the place in her stories and lipstick stains on her favorite pages. 

The Cracks in the ceiling and holes in the floor wouldn't matter to Tae so long as she could dance in a kitchen wearing whatever she wanted and every other pretty thing that she could get her hands on. She could be the picture of some movie version of queerness- the perfect version in Tae’s head and the kind that didn’t hurt so much.

not like this; the despair hot and dripping down her chest- taking and taking. Stealing the breath from her lungs as Tae watches you. Your eyes flick down to the lipstick tube on the floor.

She covers his eyes and shakes with sobs because no- this wasn’t supposed to happen like this. This wasn’t supposed to happen at all. Tae knows whats going to happen next, doesn’t need to see her life fall apart before her eyes. 

Her heart beats traitorously fast in her chest as you stand in the door, taking in Tae’s face, what you can see, blood-red lipstick on his fingertips. Gold and pink smudges across his wrists.

He’s expecting you to yell at him, stalk across the room and scrub away the makeup from his face, snear at him or go and get Yoongi and ask him for help or tell him or anything- anything other than just standing there.

Taehyung feels like she’s going to be sick. Curled on the settee, burying her face in the pillows. Waiting for the petals to fall- all the blooming done. Tae waits for a single tremulous moment, powerless. 

You gently and delicately take her hands away from her face, and Tae lets you. Let's you- because in all reality you’re everything that Taehyung has ever wanted but never had. Even as you sit in your simple coral pajama pants, plop down on the floor with a sudden little thump; Tae is just so envious of you she could cry. 

What she’s not expecting is the cold brush of a makeup wipe on her hands, almost flinching when she feels it. Removing the red from her fingertips, her palm. Scrubbing each of her fingers diligently. "This stuff will get everywhere if you let it, I used to stain my dresses with foundation all the time."

Big tears roll down her cheeks further ruining her makeup. Taehyung must look so ugly. Her red lipstick is so smudged after being pushed around her face in an effort to get it off. Tae watches you look at it and internally cringes. 

Your finger hovers below his lips. Taehyung has nice lips- you see why Jimin likes to kiss them so much. With lipstick, they look even plusher but you’d only seen it for a second before Tae had ruined it.

A little red smudge trails down his chin and you hesitantly reach up the makeup wipe to help. Trying to restore the red to within the lines of Tae’s perfect lips. But it's a hopeless effort- you've both been here before. lipstick once smudged must be removed or else it will never look right. 

You’ve never been a girly girl, at least not out of choice but you could be one again tonight for Tae. 

Lipstick and looking pretty was only ever a means to an end with you; a different way to acquire the safety that you desperately needed to survive. The more sympathetic of a figure you were and the more perfect you fit into the box of Geumjae’s ideal woman the less likely he was to hurt you.

But whatever Tae is going through (and you sense that it’s something big. Something earthshaking in his sobs that says this needs to be handled delicately) you can try again. This has to mean something more to him than it does to you if he's crying like that.

Tae braces herself to hear that she's being disgusting right now- that wanting this is wrong. Tae will be able to survive hearing it, After-all she's said it to herself more than once. Tae waits, screwing her eyes shut to hear the words that will confirm all of her fears. 

 “You’re so pretty Tae.” 

Tae's eyes shoot open when she looks up to find you looking down at her, lips pursed in a sad smile, eyes warm but shining too. You are not a sympathetic Cryer but- Tae’s so sad, Curled up here. You wipe away his tears softly so as to not irritate the delicate skin under her eyes. You’re so small next to her, knees warm against hers. You look soft and maybe a little crusted with sleep, Blinking brightly at tae.  

No- that's not what you're supposed to say, you're supposed to say that it's disgusting- that it's wrong. That's the only possibility that Tae's over-imaginative brain has created- not this- not- 

“So pretty” you repeat, small palm warm against her cheek, your fingers are so soft- not calloused at all like Hobi’s from the garden center or Jimin from the gun range or Namjoon’s from holding scalpels all day or like Yoongi’s from the sander. you are soft and tae’s heart feels goey and vulnerable under your touch. 

Tae lets out a shaky half sob in disbelief and it rips up the delicate flower field beauty of her chest, hurls all of her feelings up to sit like a bad taste on the back of her tongue. Both of you are still kneeling on the floor and Tae's body aches from maintaining the same position this whole time. She aches and aches and aches in her red boxers and black tee-shirt, one of Jimin's with holes at the hem.

You cup his- her cheek, staring deep into her eyes. Trying not to let your throat close up. Your words cannot fail you right now- not when Tae is folded so delicate prepared for wreckage and destruction (you know you look like that when you're having one of your bad days. A label that says I am fragile but you can break me if you only promise to love me too)

Tae’s tears just come stronger at your words, hands come up to close around your wrists- so thin and delicate- not like his own thick ones, his wide palms. The sudden dysphoria rages like a storm, violent for a moment and then quiet the next. 

Tae has wished she was small and dainty like you since you met; since she first saw you in the doorway crouched over Yoongi to protect him from Jin's hissing. Strong one moment and delicate the next too. Just like tae feels right now.  

“Pretty” The word almost makes Tae flinch. “So pretty Tae,”

“You- you think I’m pretty?” Taehyung breaks, pressing her face into your hands. The makeup wipe falls into her lap as you abandon your efforts in favor of cradling her cheeks. “Not pretty- I’m not-“

You cut her off, your eyes stalwart, almost glaring when she dares to contradict you. The way small animals look when they're ready to hiss or growl. Tae hasn't seen you this lucid since the night you came home after trying to run away. 

You tilt Tae's face up to meet yours, finger on her chin. “No- you’re so pretty Tae. Here- let me fix your makeup, here- I’ll show you how I used to do it- please-” 

Please- please see me. please love me for who I am and not a shred of anything different, and please- please love this part of me as much as I love this part of you.

If one person's begging and wishing could change the world it would be Tae's; the way she wants so earnestly with every fiber of her being. 

For a second, Tae considers kicking you out, but then she doesn’t. Gently uncurling her body from around the box and letting you touch it. tentatively sending glances in her direction to make sure it’s okay before you open it. Touching the pieces that compose her soul like they're durable and not delicate; not easy to bruise and even easier to break. 

“This is a pretty color.” You comment idly, though there is nothing un-purposeful about any of your words right now. Tumbling across the second tube of lipstick after retrieving the first from the floor. You talk to her the same way his omega father used to talk to her when she’d skinned a knee, the gentle chiding and bright-eyed fascination brimming with understanding. 

“But I’ve got something better.” 

You leave for precious seconds and Tae debates blocking the door with the couch and pretending like this never happened. Sitting in the darkness sucking on her lower lip- tasting the vanilla of the lipstick. (Blocking out the fact that The scent of these lipsticks always reminds Tae of Jimin) But before she can make the decision you’re back holding a makeup bag of your own, large and patterned with little eyes, like the evil eye from mythology.

You’ve got a bottle of peach-scented makeup remover and cotton rounds too. Mostly skin products, concealers, foundations, and blurring powders. Several of each kind, a few shades lighter and darker than your skin tone- most of them aren't even opened. The blush that you open hasn't even been swatched. 

You don't say why you have them, but the subtext lingers. You hadn't known each other well when Yoongi had bought you this bag. During those first few weeks when your bruising had been so bad it facilitated this. Yoongi hadn’t even bothered to pick out shades that might match- just bought the whole row of concealers and foundations, tired and worried and too overwhelmed to handle making a choice. 

A few other things thrown in, in the hopes that it was something to fill your quiet moments in the same way Tae had filled his nights with this. He hadn’t yet realized that makeup wasn’t something you’d done for yourself but for Geumjae He’d only known he'd barely seen you without it. Back then Yoongi had been desperate to find something for you to do other then have panic attacks and stare holes through the wall. 

Of course, that was before you'd started baking again, after that the makeup bag became an afterthought. 

There's a powder container that’s got a warm peach blush and a pearly bronzer. A vial of color corrector that's meant for covering up the purple under your eyes but worked well enough on bruises. It's a little orange and could probably be repurposed for covering up Tae's minimal stubble. 

You clutch at the little bag and Tae eyes it, can’t keep the sparkle from her eyes. Your collection is already as large as hers, maybe a bit bigger. You tip it out, dumping it into her little box. Filling it in an instant- "Here, it's yours. I don't need it anymore."

Together- you have nearly a full set of makeup. You jump into it easily, holding up a brush from your kit and watching her. Fingering the fallen makeup wipe. "Can I? you messed up your eyeshadow pretty bad when you started crying." 

Tae stares down at her hands, shifting closer after a second, folding them over and over in her lap in indecision, "if you want to," she hopes she doesn't sound so eager. You get into her space, pulling your knees closer so that you can get access to Tae's face. Examining her handiwork before you start. 

Tae closes her eyes, shifting uneasily, then open when you tap the makeup wipe under her eyes. "The concealer won't stick well if your eyes are wet. It’s better if you start with a fresh base. Lasts longer, blends easier." 

"Oh I- I didn't know" you huff a small laugh, no more than a squeeze of your lungs. Your shirt hangs loose on your body, falls over Tae's folded hands. She can feel the heat from your skin with you this close. Your warm breath as it buffers over her face, wet and cold from the tears.  

"It's not something you'd know unless you were in the habit of trying to put on makeup while crying." Tae knows what you're hinting at, it hasn't escaped him that the majority of your makeup is for color correction and concealing. You're just glad that the makeup can have a second use. If this makes Tae happy then it's better than it going unused and probably thrown out eventually.

“Are you-“ you resend your question before it has a chance to taint the air between the two of you. Maybe that isn’t something you should ask, not now when Tae looks so fragile. like a book that's been opened too many times. Her spine curved inward like there is something at his core worth protecting. Her breaths still come out shaky, though better now than when you first started. 

You dot a color of foundation on the back of your hand, trying to color match it to tae’s face. Eventually deciding on mixing two of the shades together to match his not quite warm but not quite golden undertone. “I’m guessing that this isn’t something that the others know about?”

Tae nods once, “they don’t.”

“You know they’d- “ 

“Please don’t.” Tae doesn’t feel bad about interrupting you. Not with this and Not right now. You hadn’t realized that maybe Tae didn’t trust the rest of his pack-mates. You sigh, eyes flickering to the picture of Tae and Jimin on their desk, you curse under your breath as you lean in to dot the foundation across Tae’s cheeks using the back of your hand as a mixing pallet. 

“This fucking pack- all the love in the world and it still won’t make you be honest with each other.” 

“You’re one to talk” Tae’s eyes are sharp, not combative just factual. “How many more secrets do you and Yoongi have between the two of you that you haven’t told us yet?” 

You freeze momentarily and then continue to blend out the foundation and Tae realizes that he’d guessed right. He hadn’t bought all of Yoongi’s story the other night. Realized even with Yoongi’s confession that there are big things that you haven’t told them. Important things. 

You tap the brush against your finger when you realize you’ve swirled it in the blush too much. Looking at what you’re doing when you lean in, not looking into Tae’s eyes. “You say that like you want to know them.”

Tae shrugs And you can tell that that’s what he’d been reaching for. What he’d wanted to know from the start. The scales must be kept in balance, and this- the makeup- isn’t something you where ever supposed to know. 

“You know one of my secrets now- it’s only fair that I know one of yours.”

Maybe it’s bad that Tae feels like he needs one of your secrets to keep his own safe. That he needs some sort of assurance that you aren’t going to go to Namjoon and Jin the second they wake up and share the most intimate parts of Tae without her consent. The others might trust you- but Taehyung has only known you for a handful of months. 

Tae doesn’t trust his own pack with this, how could he trust you?

You know he wouldn’t have chosen to share this if you hadn’t stumbled upon it and there is only so much a bag of unused makeup and good intentions can do, so you shrug. 

“if that’s what you want I’ll gladly make an exchange” Tae likes how you put that, an exchange of secrets, an equivalency of some kind. One act of intimacy pays for another. “But the last one I have of value to you involves Yoongi so I’m guessing you’d want to wait.”

Tae’s heart drops at the thought of Yoongi seeing before she has a chance to nod, “after then.” 

“After,” You agree.

regardless of Tae’s words, and how they might make you feel there is no one here in this room that might help him but you. Though you are not alone; the stories on the shelves linger with too much to say (Tae’s other set of companions) the room still aches with loneliness.

Tae aches with it- you can feel it when you touch his hands, holding his hands hard with your non-dominant hand while you apply his concealer and blend it out before setting it with little presses of a flat brush. 

You can feel the loneliness bleeding into his veins the same way it bleeds in yours. Damage without a wound, thick and viscous Like molten metal casting the shape of something barren. You are both empty vessels, no opening to pour in love unless you chip away at parts of you.   

So no, you won’t ask if Tae- if Tae is transgender, that’s an easy initial thought to have. A suspicion that lingers in the air between you. It’s not your business- not yet, not before you’ve gained Tae’s trust. Trust is given by choice not by demand and yet- you hope you’re earning your way with this and with a secret that you’ve been ready to give for a while. 

Tae braces for each press of the makeup brush, as you start to apply contour on Tae’s face, warming his cheekbones and shadows. The trio of blush, contour and highlight opened and balanced along your knees, though the one from tae’s makeup kit still sits on his lap and you alternate between each to get the color right. Tae barely feels the press of your brush and the smooth little circles you use to apply it. 

The motions are so natural on your hands, nothing about it fumbling or unpracticed. It prompts tae to ask the question she's always wondered. always been so confused about back in grade school when suddenly it seemed like all the girls where wearing it- sticky lipgloss and thick eyeliner that tae’s hands are still trying to imitate. 

"When did you learn how to do this?"

“Through YouTube videos and my friends in high school mostly.” At the end of the day, that's Just another thing that Tae was denied; the camaraderie of female friendship, and a way to experience femininity without partaking in it- to learn without feeling like he was being a creep. “My mom wasn't the girly girl type, not that we had the money to spend on this kind of thing anyway."

She nods in understanding; Tae's family had been similar, maybe they hadn't been outright poor. Food got on the table and the bills at the end of the month always got paid, but if Tae had too many library fines- he'd hear it from one of his parents. Their chiding more desperate than they would have been if it was okay- if the money spent there didn't have to come from some other place.

It seems like you grew up similarly, "She used to yell at me for spending my change on stupid stuff like nail polish." 

Maybe his alpha female mother wouldn’t have had any desire to teach Tae how to be a woman, but other girls would have but You might still be an option for that. that is- if tae can get over this half jealousy half wanting feeling; maybe Taehyung’s always going to be jealous of how natural pretty looks on you. The same way she wishes she was pretty like one of Hobi’s flowers, like those daises still sitting in the kitchen.

Tae read a book on the language of flowers once, pressed in between the stacks at the public library shortly after she'd started working there. Doing the grunt work of sorting through the old, misused, and out-of-date books. thoroughly enjoying deciding which ones to keep, which to sell, and which ones to throw away. (Tae always wanted to keep all of them, a good portion of the books in this room are ones Tae saved from a dumpster)

She remembers lingering over the delicate prints of daisies and asters alike, pretty pink ones, simple white and yellow, and the lightest possible shade of purple. 

Reading the scrawl on the margins- asters- small acts of love, root word star origin Greek. Stars on their own are just a hole in the universe, but together- they’re something else- something awe-inspiring. what is one star to a universe? What is one flower to a whole field? 

What is a single secret when compared to love?

The little daisies on the bralette sitting in between the two of you twinkle knowingly at Tae. You still haven't mentioned it, she resists the urge to tuck it under her leg when you turn to rummage through her collection for a different brush. Your face hidden by the fringe of your hair. 

Little acts of love like the coffee cups, like Jin doing Tae's hair in the morning when the dysphoria rises like a tidal wave in her chest, helping without knowing. Little acts of love like Yoongi building the shelves, like Jimin kissing away her shadows even though he doesn’t know the monsters they compose, the particular edge to her despair dulled by Jimin’s very smile. The shape of Tae’s sadness has always been a mystery to the people she loves, and yet- they try to help.

Each act of love might be barely remarkable on their own but together they form spectacular constellations.

Love builds upon itself like words in sentences build to form the heartbreaking love stories in Tae's favorite books, the way kisses become love bites, becomes making love itself (sex is never just sex with Tae- she's too in love with the idea of love for it to ever be anything less).

She wishes she was pretty in that way, each act of beauty compounding upon itself. Wishes that the prettiness was freely given to her the same way it’s given to flowers the way its given to you.

Tae has freckles that look like stars, you’ve never been this close to her before but she does. You dust the color that looks like stars across his delicate cheekbones, painting supernovas with your touch. Paint the centre of her forehead and her cupids bow Trying not to hover on Tae’s lips too much. 

You wouldn’t want to obvious, especially when what tae needs right isn’t another lover but maybe a friend. Regardless of your own wants. 

The process of applying makeup is slow, you’re in no hurry, you’d happily spend the whole night sitting in front of Tae if it would make her feel better. Tae closes her eyes and lets you make her pretty, spreading a little bit at a time, going back and re-applying making it darker and perfect. Only then do Tae’s lungs start to ache less. Easing away the pain like light and birdsong eases away nightmares in the morning. 

It's kind of like they were always aching, like these stolen moments have been life sucked down through a coffee straw- narrow and gasping. This is a fresh breath, a fresh set of lungs. Stitched together with blush and contour and your fingers, so gentle when they touch Tae. 

Every pass of the makeup brushes makes Tae lean a little more into your hands. You’re so gentle with him, so careful and soft as you reach forward to get closer, adding a little flare of makeup around the outside edge of his eyes blending it into her blush, deepening her creese and smudging a dark color under her eyes. Holding her face so gently, Tae feels like she wants to cry more with each passing minute. You finally scotch close enough that your knees are touching hers. 

"Why are you using blush for that? Why not eyeshadow?" she can't help but ask, you giggle softly and Tae feels her cheeks warm. 

"They're the same thing, blushes are a little less pigmented but you can pack them on to make them show up better." You apply the pink to her eyelids in heavy strokes. 

You take that as permission to describe what you're doing more, telling her your tips as you go- the things you've learned over the years. Your touch is so delicate, as you brush and blot. 

Thin layers are better in foundation unless you've got something to cover up. Let the concealer dry a bit before you try to blend it out.  Blend everything for longer than you think you should. Cream products before powder, things that Tae knows from YouTube videos and trial and error and other things that she doesn’t. 

“Does there have to be an order like- blush, contour, highlight? Or can it be in any order?” 

“Any order, though highlight generally goes last. I like doing blush last cuz sometimes my skin feels too irritated you know? Like, my skins not as nice as yours.” That’s true, Tae has perfect skin, so poor less that the foundation almost doesn’t want to stick to it, not the way it does with yours. You make the mental note that a primer would probably work well with her- but neither of you seem to have that in your kits. 

You take a round of peach makeup remover and carefully blot off the little bits of foundation from her lips. “Some people like to conceal their lips before they go over them with lipstick but I think it lasts longer if you just put it on your bare lips.” 

“Oh I always thought that like- more was better, you know?”

You show her how to put it on in thinner layers, letting the lightest shade dry down a little before applying the darker color at her inner lip and buffing it out around the edges, covering it with a layer of gloss that stings at Tae's lips, a little peppermint- ‘plumping’ is what you call it. So that's what it was Tae just thought it was the wrong flavor or something.

You lapse into a comfortable quiet. Sitting this close Tae is offered the option to study you, the same way you study her, trying to figure out the right placement for eyeshadow, It's been a while since you've done your own makeup- and you're a little rustier than you want to admit to Tae.

"Tilt your face a little bit- perfect," You correct a little of your initial missteps. Your first placement made Tae’s face look a little too angular hugging his already existing cheekbones. You settle for a softer approach, widening and softening the edges.

“I can show you- if you want. From what I saw earlier you’re already pretty good, but makeup is all about practice, the more you do it the better you'll get.”

It’s not an insincere compliment either, Tae already understands the basics. Tonight, isn’t the first time Tae has snuck away to do his makeup- that you’re sure of if the state of his makeup is anything to go by. He's hit pan on his makeup palette on more than one of the colors. The brighter ones especially. 

“Really?” she feels so pliant in your delicate hands. Willing to turn her neck for you at the slightest prodding.

You hold back her bangs while you apply some shimmery bronzer to her temples. Blending it down into the blush and the pretty packed on pink that you’ve done on her eyelids Buffing it out with smooth little circles. though your hands shake too much for eyeliner. 

you smile down at her in a way that makes salmon and bubblegum-colored butterflies dance traitorously in Tae's stomach. 

“Yeah- every night if you want. We can just hang out and I’ll show you after everyone’s gone to bed." If that's going to make you feel better- goes unsaid. You look unsure- like you don’t know if Tae would want to do this with you- would want to explore this more.

Tae nods, barely daring to be hopeful. She has to close her eyes for you to pop the shimmieriest shade on her inner eyelid, just over her tear ducts. if anyone could cry stars it would be Tae.  

You sit back on your heels, finally done- Tae is already bracing to look in the mirror. You hand him the tiny one. Not Tae’s compact but the small, pink, heart-shaped mirror that must have been a part of some promotion at whatever makeup store that Yoongi bought this from. It's barely large enough to fit her whole face in the frame but you hold it up.

 “Open your eyes Tae, you look gorgeous.”

The creature staring back at Tae from the mirror is almost unrecognizable, prompts a fresh wave of tears. Big eyes made bigger by a darker color smoothed around the waterline. Gentle contouring on her nose makes it cute and buttony instead of stately. 

Lips somewhere between red and pink and plush, blooming plump and glossy, ready for kissing. Her eyebrows, tilted down at the end to give the appearance of a more neutral expression (compared to Tae's usual resting bitch face). The gold glittering on the high points of her face is her favorite part. 

Tae looks delicate, like something fey-like and otherworldly, like a tiny fairy that someone might find in the garden playing among the daises or peonies. 

The best part is, in the mirror, Tae can’t see her body. Her wide shoulders or too big hands and flat chest, just her face, pretty curls (a little greasy) that frame her face perfectly. The creature's mouth parts in the mirror, and all of a sudden, the clarity snaps in. It’s not a creature but Tae. 

Beautiful - for the first time, the word feels deserved. 

It feels like Taehyung’s heart is exploding in pink toned fireworks, she can’t speak through everything tangling her mouth. Can’t do anything but look and look some more. She never wants to stop staring. For the first time- Tae understands the myth of narcissus and his pool.

And then there is the realization- the same as ever. /oh/ this isn’t just all in my head, this isn’t just how everyone feels. This is what it feels when things are the way they’re supposed to be. The feeling of rightness settles on her shoulders. 

Tae looks at herself in the mirror- and already wants to take it off and do it all over again, just to play around with this some more. “How did you- how did you do that?” 

You smile knowingly, leaning forward to You wipe at Tae’s tears when they break through. “You’re too pretty to cry.” Tae giggles wetly. You don’t know why this hurts Tae so much, why even now and then He shakes and hiccups. But you’ll do your best to heal that hurt if you can smooth it over with layers of concealer and blush. This is an easy thing to give. 

Maybe you should be using she in your head instead of he to refer to Tae. maybe that's what this is, you won't know until you ask. But asking is hard if you don't know how to do it right. You wouldn't want to hurt Tae unintentionally. 

“Wanna practice on me now?” Tae nods so quickly that it makes her hair bounce. You smile and suddenly your positions get reversed, Tae's the one who's picking through the brushes and the products, selecting one after the other.

“Uhm, that colors a little too light for me for foundation- just so you know,” She picks a different one- waiting for your nod of approval before she starts to dab it across your cheeks trying to be as delicate with you as you where with her. 

Somewhere along the time that you've been sat here you’ve started to play a little bit of music on your phone. Quietly enough in the background that you're willing to bet you wouldn't be able to hear it outside of this room. Grainy pop music, not Tae's preference but it helps the mood shifts from a little sad To happy. It feels lighter now, like the asters in the kitchen have migrated to Tae's chest and are blooming over and over again. 

You can’t stop smiling, a giggle bursting when Tae Nearly misses your lips with a small brush, “stop that- I can’t put lipstick on when you keep moving,” 

“Sorry,” but you’re not sorry at all as you talk through makeup and skincare, different products that you’ve tried in the past that have and haven’t worked. Your favorite face-masks, favorite perfumes, favorite everything’s.  

The air is rich with red lipstick and the slow drone of the singer on your speaker. Tae’s hands are clumsy compared to yours, a little heavy handed when it comes to contour and blush but she quickly learns how to buff it out. She thinks she’s done a good enough job when you finally lean back to peer into the small mirror. 

You look pleased, and Tae doesn’t spot an ounce of falseness in your face when you say- you did so well!” Tae feels like she might melt.  

You don’t mention that Tae hasn't blended out your contour quite enough. but you don't have anything like her face shape so it will only take practice, and Tae's skin is relatively flawless as it is. She smiles, softly looking down, the praise lighting her cheeks up. “Really- you nailed the eyes!”

It’s nothing fancy, just a little bit of brown, a shade or two darker than your skin tone, to make your eyes look big like Tae's- see- she’s already learning from you. Already getting better, and what she doesn’t know she’ll learn, and that's something new to hope for. 

Tae almost asks to take off yours and try again abut then you list a little, leaning far enough that you have to catch yourself against the couch when you put the mirror away. 

You just got a little dizzy for a second, but the part of Tae that is unremarkably alpha and neither male nor female boils in concern, and she puts the idea of making you stay awake any more to bed. 

There isn’t much to do now that you’ve put the makeup on, you take a few pictures, you both pressed close, showing peace signs to the camera quickly hidden away in your phone. Tae doesn't mind, maybe that’s because Jimin doesn't know the code to your phone unlike he knows the code for Tae's. Jimin and the others aren't in the habit of going through each other's phones- let alone yours. 

The photos are grainy in the half-darkness the two of you pressed close, cheek to cheek the red lipstick the only bright part of the photo. She giggles, looking down at you, drunk on her happiness on how right it feels. You capture it on your phone and the way that Tae's looking at you will make you linger in the future and ache with the knowlage that this night is how it started. you will scroll through the photos when no one is home, just to look at them- the two of you so so happy. Kicking your feet when you see her. 

It’s late, and you spend a few minutes sitting on the floor of the library before you reluctantly reach for the makeup remover and cotton rounds. Because this soft happiness can't leave this room, can it? 

It's still a secret even if for these stolen hours- it felt like maybe it didn’t have to be. Tae turns away from you to take it off, then lets you get the little bits she can't see. Your hand cupping her chin as you gently wipe it away. she cups your cheek too, blotting it off carefully. 

Tae holds the cotton round to her eye and all it takes is that for the heaviness to return. With every wipe, the lack of air returns to her lungs, as life is sucked out of a garden at the first push of winter.

You clean up the makeup kit- Tae's makeup kit now that you've gifted her your unused products. It won't close properly and Tae has to grab a rubber band to keep it that way. 

“Are you sure? You don’t have any use for them?”

“No, I really don’t, you'll enjoy it more Tae.”

Tae holds the box, and for the first time- this doesn’t just feel like something secret but something shared. Maybe she should have known how good it would feel to have someone to share this with- but somehow- Tae thinks it wouldn’t feel the same if it wasn’t with you. A million questions dance on the edge of her lips.

What if you had a reason? What if I was your reason for being pretty? Would you teach me how to be like you? would you show me how to grow those flowers in my lungs, how to nurture galaxies to planets, and planets into Eden’s?

Would you teach me how to be like you? I know I’m good at imitating, I’ve been imitating being a boy for years anyway, But I'd like to learn to be soft. 

The makeup box turned book gets carefully stored underneath the couch back into its hiding place. Where it will slumber and wait for another spring. Far away from prying eyes where the secret can hide, safe, but never free. Tae is keenly aware of it, where it sits to collect dust until the next night you can take it out again. 

"Are you good?" Tae’s knees pop when she stands. 

"Of course, just give me a second" you continue to wipe away at the staining on your waterline. Before tossing the last wipe into a plastic bag that tae ties and stuffs into her work bag, to be thrown out on the way to work- destroying all the evidence of this evening. 

 "We can wake Yoongi and I'll tell you- or it might just be easier to show you" 

Tae's stomach drops and she suddenly bounces on her heels. She almost wants to say to forget about it and really Tae feels bad for her earlier words, but in the end, it was what she needed to say to feel secure. A secret for a secret; with no chance of you using hers against her. 

Maybe it makes her a bad person for thinking that, for needing something to hold over your head. Tae thinks she can trust you but she’ll never know for sure and it’s better to be careful. Better to have something just in case. 

And yet Tae feels more guilty with every step you take towards your bedroom door, tugging Tae along by her hand. She never realized it before but you're nearly silent as you walk through the house, taking a sideways step every now and then, it takes Tae a second to realize you're avoiding the floorboards that will creek and alert the others to your presence.

For a second, Tae feels just like a spy in an Ian Fleming novel. Maybe she should look them up in the library the next chance she gets, to know better and to learn some tips (but then again, Tae could just as well ask any of her other pack mates, the best and worst ways to keep a secret).

Tae's seen your nest more than a few times by now, the cute rings of color. Yoongi is curled in the center of it, curled around your pillow with is nose buried in it. Tae has never seen a nest so tiny- though maybe that’s because it only regularly holds you and Yoongi and not the 6-packmate-monster that Jin and Jungkook build nightly.

It confuses and concerns Tae when you wake him, but she supposes you would have to. His face is puffy when he lifts it from the pillow, “wondered where you went why-“ Yoongi’s words are slurry with sleep. Eyes fluttering, body stilling when he sees that it's not just you in the room. Though his eyebrows wrinkle in confusion when he sees Tae standing at the foot of your bed. "Tae- what?-"

Your next sentence catches Tae completely off guard, cutting through Yoongi's sleepy haze like a bullet. "Hey, pull down your pants, we need to show Tae."

“Woh woh- what?” you ignore Tae and his rebounding ‘what the fuck’ thoughts suspended for lack of disbelief- Yoongi looks just as confused but more awake than a second before, more concerned and not following your instructions. 

“Any particular reason why?” you shake your head and pull at the waistband of his pajama pants impatiently. 

It might be funny if Tae wasn’t so weirded out because what could Yoongi’s dick have to do with literally anything? Yoongi quirks his eyebrows even further and Tae does too- alarmed. He almost wants to stop you- tell you whatever secret this is- can wait until morning- until you’ve had a chance to talk it out with Yoongi privately.

Tae shares a single pregnant look with Yoongi before he sighs back against the bed  folding his arms behind his head and lets you have at it. To Tae’s credit she does try to stop it “wait, hang on a second-“ but you undo the ties efficiently and quickly without acknowledging her. Pulling Yoongi’s pants down in a single jerk, not far enough to show anything but the beta's generous happy trail, the hard dip of his hip and-

Tae almost chokes oh Her saliva. Her whole body freezing. 

Tae looks down at the mating mark, clear as day on Yoongi’s hip. It takes her a second to realize what she’s looking at through the darkness. And even longer to make sense of what she’s seeing. To connect the dots. 

Emotion thick and sticky like peanut butter permeates her mouth. The mark is a small one- Small and in a shape she recognizes from the mouth she put lipstick on earlier this evening. Tae feels More awake than she’s felt in weeks. 

She reaches out and presses a thumb against Yoongi’s hip. Harsh. You jump in response. And that’s all the questions she needs answering already answered Because it's not just anyone's mark on Yoongi’s hip- but yours. But the one on your neck-

If Tae looks closely- she can make out two bites- not one. A larger one with a torn top edge, like you had tried to move while being bitten, and a second slightly smaller one of the same color. Yoongi’s teeth- not your ex-husbands.

A million questions are racing through his head but instead what comes out is “There’s a story there? isn’t there?” It’s accusatory, because honestly- this is big, bigger than any secret Tae expected you two to be hiding. 

(But oh, just wait until he finds out about the mafia thing, it’s going to completely knock Tae out).

Yoongi smiles weekly from the bed, “little Tae Tae- always concerned with stories,” his words are playful, but it’s an edge past sad. there is Certainly a story there and tae can tell whatever it is it hurts him.

"It's late, we'll tell you another time if you want." Yoongi lifts your hand from where it hovers on the bed, tugging you down into the nest. your mating nest.

Tae shouldn’t be touching it- let alone kneeling on the edge. The fact that jin even slept with you in it the other night is...not normal. it goes against convention because usually new mates are too possessive of each other to tolerate outsiders for so soon after they’re mated- pack-mates or strangers alike.

But Yoongi is a beta after-all, your mating mark isn’t normal and that alone might account for it. Tae has never read a story about someone mated to two people, (beyond some honestly trashy ya romance that she indulges in when she’s feeling particularly sad) Yet you are. Now that Tae knows she’s not sure why she ever thought the massive mark on your neck was anything different. Yoongi’s centre bite looks so much darker then the outer ring of scar-tissue. 

Tae nods, "tomorrow," it’s not like she can argue with the mark; Yoongi is mated, and there isn’t any way to change that now. A simple truth that cannot be altered. Mating is something that you cannot take back. not that it looks like you would want to- with the way you start to snuggle in, adjusting the nest before you truly settle. 

Suddenly so much about your relationship that Tae had initially question makes sense; your closeness, The way that Yoongi seemed constantly focused on your wellbeing and unwilling to be parted from you. Why he hadn’t come back right away- All of it makes sense. It’s not the last piece of the story by far (as you very well know) but it is an important one.

Tae sighs, letting out the tension in her chest as best she can. And you watch as she- as he settles back into his body. It’s almost eerie, the way that suddenly you’re looking at Taehyung- not soft and fragile Tae that you’d seen only minutes before. He looks like he’s had too much tonight, too many secrets to feel safe.

It’s strange- you don’t think you’ve ever met someone who understood vulnerability as a treat before, but now you have. Tae is just like you- understands that intimacy is nothing more than a pretty little weapon when in the wrong hands. 

(Nothing is more threatening than someone who knows your secrets and chooses to love you anyway).

Yoongi pulls back up his pants, you fall into him, curling around him so easily like you’re following that string of a mating mark and finding your place aligned like a planet in orbit. Yoongi is your puzzle piece now, the only one that fits you perfectly. Now Taehyung gets it- he’s your soulmate, just like Jimin is his.

“Do you wanna stay?” you offer. Little to no expectation in your voice, you pat the edge of your nest, and while it looks inviting-

“No.” Tae swallows. “He’ll notice if I'm gone” not just Jimin- but the others too. Jin’s presence might not be noticed if it went missing. But Taehyung's definitely would be cause for question and concern. 

You and Yoongi murmur a quiet goodnight and Taehyung closes your door behind him. When he opens the other room, he finds his soulmate still sleep crusted and dead to the world. Oblivious to the war raging in his heart. Taehyung sets his body around his soulmate and holds Jimin tight enough that he’s sure he could never let go.

Somewhere along the line of sleep, dream, and reality, Tae is aware of strong familiar arms that grip him back. The grey light of early morning coming through the blinds, soft plush lips glide across his forehead.

He presses his nose into the corner of Jimin’s neck, breathing in the smell of vanilla, but not the kind that comes out of baking or a vial of extract. It’s probably only Tae that knows the difference, but this vanilla- this is the smell of old books vanilla. The scent that has held every one of Taehyung’s favorite stories.

Including Jimin’s.

Taehyung has never been sure, but when they presented Jimin’s scent mellowed out from the milky pup scent that all un-presented omegas and alphas have have to what just so happened to be Tae's favorite thing. 

It was the first sign of their love maybe, Jimin’s love for Taehyung had shaped him. Permeated down through every inch of his body so that he smelled like the thing his soulmate loved most. Jimin smells like books because Tae loves books.

it's sweet, but it also makes Tae sad. To be reminded of that little girl so many years ago that had devoured fantasy book after book looking for a hit of anything that was different- different like her. And the other boy who smelled like those books and would sneak into her room late at night just to sleep next to her and dream the same dreams. 

What Tae wouldn’t have given, to be a little bit more like you. To grow up with the knowledge that there was nothing wrong about herself. A certain other ness that the others kids could feel like they could smell the difference. tae was not enough of a boy to count, and too Different from the girls to fit in properly. neither a flower or a star,  An anguish without a name. There is a deeper fear lingering, maybe ‘woman’ is just another pretty little box to fit Tae’s too large soul and too vast imagination. 

There is a name for it now, lingering in your head and in Tae’s head as you sleep a hallway apart. Maybe a secret known by two people isn’t a secret- it’s just the truth. 

Tae is too deep asleep to register the other hand, the other one that touches his back. the alphas together smell like caramel coffee and old books and cinnamon, like autumnal lattes and book shops turned coffee shops turned stolen libraries. 

Stolen stories for this is not Tae's story but maybe one that she's stolen. Stolen the life of Taehyung- this man who gets to be loved in this bed and loved by Jimin (and Namjoon and Hoseok’s, and Seokjin, and Jungkook, and Yoongi and by you one day too). 

But it's going to be harder to pretend that nothing’s wrong now, that there is nothing different. Even asleep, Tae is reaching, nose turned towards the door in the direction of your scent. 

A smell she will eventually associate with safety.

~-~

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[hopeshoodie]

Who is the Most Problematic (TM) S2 Islander?

So I know this is literally the most absurd thing to do but I’ve decided to do it anyways.

One of the things I like most about LITG S2 is how it’s just a bunch of flawed people making mistakes and trying to get along- and that results in them doing really shitty things to each other. I’ve provided cursory lists of things people have done wrong, mostly to try and point out flaws in characters that people insist are perfect, but then it wormed into my decaying brain that I don’t know, quantifiably, which character is THE most toxic. Like I know who I like best and think did the least wrong, but I don’t know who consistently did bad things across the whole season the most. And not knowing bothers me. 

So. I decided to make a spreadsheet of all the ‘bad’ things every character did across the entirety of Season 2 to quantifiably prove who is the most problematic. I made both an excel spreadsheet and a google docs table because there is something deeply wrong with me. But here’s the google doc if you want to see all the events I counted.

Warning, it is 28 pages long  

To keep the data fair, I created a rubric and played through the most neutral route I can think of: a loyal Bobby route. 

For the rubric, my criteria was

Number of incidents (each bad thing done was worth 1 point) 

The severity of the action (on a scale of 1 point to 5 points, 1 being a little rude to 5 being cruel). This column is admittedly the most subjective, it’s based on my perception of how ‘big of a deal’ each thing is. But I felt like I needed an element to differentiate between Gary being weird and Blake outright bullying MC. Looking back across my data, this column should have been used more liberally to differentiate. I don’t think I gave any one incident higher than a 3, which I probably should have. But alas, it’s way too much to go back and correct. 

Number of people directly impacted by the action (.5 of a point for each person). I’m not counting ‘everyone was annoyed that Priya and Lottie are yelling at each other’, only people directly involved, thus making it worse because you’re directly hurting more people

The duty/obligation the offending character to the people impacted (1 little to no obligation to 5 an explicit obligation- they’re official in their relationship or have set clear boundaries) this is the most important element of any conflict, imo, because it’s the expectations that have been broken. If your S3 LI makes you a bologna sandwich and it’s the first time they’re cooking for you, versus if you’ve been dating for over a year and they know you’re a vegetarian, the action is the same but one is clearly much worse. A lot of the legal cases my firm has tried hinge on the ability to prove that there was a duty owed- because we can all agree ‘x’ was a shitty thing to do, but if the person didn’t know it was shitty or had no reason NOT to be shitty, they’re not liable in the court’s eye. Again, I should have been more liberal with high numbers in this column, but I wasn’t. 

As for the route I played through, I didn’t think it would be fair to be mean to characters then hold their reactions as proof of their character. I would generally hope that we are more than our reactions to those who antagonize us. It also doesn’t seem fair to break up with the LIs then hold that against them- and I cannot possibly play every single route and count every comment they make at MC against them. It’d be more data to play every single route with this in mind, because some LIs like Marisol and Gary are shitty to MC only when she’s on their route, but I just can’t possibly replay that much. So I THINK the most neutral route to play is a loyal Bobby route, because most of the nonsense Bobby does is irrelevant to if you’re romancing him. I’ve also been as nice as humanly possible to everyone and stayed out of/didn’t fix conflicts. Ideally, I would play another game and do the exact same thing, but be mean to literally everyone/break up with everyone to see them at their worst (so we have the two ends of the spectrum). But I can barely get through one replay…. So…….

With that being said and the shared google doc being my data collected, here are my conclusions. The most problematic islanders are:

Total Points (most problematic):

Lottie- 339 points

Hope- 297.5 points

Noah - 178 points

Gary- 151.50 points

Priya -142 points

Marisol- 137.5 points

Chelsea - 108.5 points

Bobby- 97.5 points

Graham - 88 points

Lucas - 56 points

And the people who had the highest impact per incident (the average of their points and the amount of incidences is highest). I wanted to quantify that because obviously we can’t account for what would have happened if Jakub, Rocco, Shannon, Jo, or Blake were in the season for longer and there’s no way they could amass points in the same way someone who was there all season could. So those people are:

Rocco - 6.25 points per incident

Jakub- 6.14 ppi

Noah- 6.14 ppi

Henrik - 5.69 (NOTE: every incident Henrik gets points for Lucas also gets points for, but Lucas also has additional unique incidences that are less bad and thus bring down his average. So Henrik is really here because he’s too nice, aside for the very few times that he’s incredibly inconsiderate)

Blake - 5.5 ppi

Felix - 5.5 ppi (same deal as Henrik, he’s just in very few conflicts aside from when he’s treating MC badly, which all the other CA boys do, he just has nothing outside of those to bring down his average)

Priya - 5.26 ppi

Elijah - 5.25 ppi (same as Henrik and Felix)

Hope - 5.22 ppi

Rahim - 5.22 ppi

And then here are some random observations I made whilst finishing this project

Bobby gets offensive/unkind to others only when Henrik and Lucas enter- is he feeling threatened and doesn’t normally act like that?

Lottie was supposed to ‘grow’ throughout the season, but really her data reflects that she was simply getting into less disagreements, not necessarily that the comments/actions she was doing in late game were less cruel than when she started.

Conversely, Marisol ABSOLUTELY got meaner throughout the season. She started very much minding her own, but at the end she’s trying to make people jealous and making shady comments to others and generally being a lot more unkind to those around her (Rahim also has this to an extent). Maybe she’s just burnt out from filming or in letting her guard down her actions become more hurtful.

The women have a LOT more incidences than the men. Chalk that up to MC spending more time with them, maybe, because they certainly spend a lot more time on screen than the men do and take an active role in most conflicts. 

[stuff-from-the-void-matron]

~~

The Four Lords (+Duke) reaction to the adopted daughter!Reader 

~~

--

--

💎The Duke💎

• The Duke is quite pleased with how well behaved you’re being during the visits to the four Lords. But in the few months he’s cared for you he’d noticed you were a rather well behaved child. More interested in playing with dolls or reading than getting in trouble. Which was a weight off his mind. He’d be panicked if you’d decided to run off while he was working.

• He’d dressed you in a darling little dress in your favorite color, perfect for the weather. And before he spoke with the Lords he’d given you one of the little dolls and some children’s books to keep you occupied. A bored child is a mischievous child after all. 

• The Duke kept an eye on you regardless of how well behaved you were though. He is confident in his abilities but he’s also very aware of the four Lord’s abilities and refuses to risk your safety by being overly confident in himself.

• Though he was happy to realize that none of the lords had given him any issues regarding his new charge. In fact you seem to have charmed your way into their hearts in one way or another. Though he can’t say he’s terribly surprised. You’re a wonderful little darling <3

~~

🍷 Lady Dimitrescu 🍷

• She’s quite surprised by the sudden introduction of a child from the Duke. As far as she knew the Duke had no children, or a wife to give him such a child for that matter. Though she supposed it wasn’t impossible for him to have found himself a little wife and then ended up with a little one. She supposed stranger things had been known to happen.

• And she offered the same courtesy and hospitality to you that she did to the Duke. You were both guests of Castle Dimitrescu after all. It also helped that you were very polite and looked at her in such awe. But that wasn’t surprising, Alcina was aware that she was rather impressive. So it made sense for you to be in awe of her. 

• When it was time for her and the Duke to talk business she noticed you were sat in a chair in the corner behind the Duke playing quietly with a pretty doll. Secretly Alcina thought you were adorable, in your little dress and with the flower clip in your brushed and styled hair. So when she called for a maid to bring her and the Duke a glass of wine she also offhandedly told the maid to bring ‘the little one’, aka you, a cup of something sweet.

• On your way out the Duke thanked the Lord for her kindness, looking down at you and saying, “And what do we say?”. Making you turn to Alcina and the Dimitrescu daughters before dipping into a little curtsy and thanking them for letting you both visit. Lady Dimitrescu couldn’t hide the small smile the action caused, you were very adorable and it left her in a brighter mood. She just chuckled and replied that it was a pleasure having you and the Duke, and you were both welcome back again.

🎎 Donna Beneviento 🎎

• Donna is more surprised than Lady Dimitrescu had been. Though thanks to her veil there’s no way anyone would be able to tell. But Angie is excited, practically wiggling out of her seat at the introduction of a potential new playmate. Its been far too long since Angie got to play with anyone besides Donna and their other doll friends.

• Before any business talk could be started Angie excitedly asked the portly merchant if she could play with you. He glanced down at you and saw you didn’t look scared of the doll girl, just curious. So he said it was up to you. So Angie asked you if you wanted to play. You happily agreed, not having had anyone to play with in a long time. 

• While the Duke and Donna spoke together you, Angie, and a couple other animated porcelain dolls played together. You had a little tea party and Angie even let you brush her hair. You had a wonderful time and were even happier when Donna offered to make everyone some lemonade with cookies. The Duke said that sounded wonderful while they talked business. And all in all the evening was a delight for everyone.

• But all good things must come to an end and after a few hours it was time for you and the Duke to go. Angie was visibly upset, even getting a little bratty about her new playmate having to leave. The Duke however reassured both Angie and Donna that he would be happy to have him and you return for another visit if they wanted. Before he could even finish his offer Angie was all but squealing yes. So needless to say you were going to be visiting again~

🐟 Salvatore Moreau 🐟

• Moreau is shocked by the sudden appearance of a little girl and also incredibly nervous. But he’s always nervous around new people, the fact you’re a child just makes it worse somehow. He’s aware of his... less than pleasing appearance and he doesn’t want to scare a little girl. In fact he braces himself after catching sight of you, fully expecting you to scream or run or even cry.

• But to his surprise you do none of any of those. You don’t even wrinkle your nose in disgust. Instead you just stare up at him with wide curious eyes, which isn’t exactly pleasant for him either but he understands on a level that you’re just a child and merely curious. And honestly you staring in curiosity is far better than you bawling your eyes out..

• Once the introductions are out of the way Moreau is surprised to see you sitting at the Duke’s side, just reading a little fairytale book quietly while he and your father speak of business. And your distracted state gives Moreau the perfect opportunity to observe you. He hasn’t seen a child in... so long. He actually can’t recall the last time he’d seen a child. What with him isolating himself in the Reservoir and only being given adults to experiment on with the Cadou. Being around children hadn’t exactly been something he’d sought out. 

• But he found he didn’t mind you. You were polite and kind and he thought how you called him ‘Mr. Moreau’ was adorable. The Duke kept you close to him while visiting Moreau, not because he thought the fish man would hurt you, but because of how... unsanitary the Reservoir was. He didn’t want you touching any of the slime that was around the place. But he did allow Moreau to gift you little gold trinkets he said he found at the bottom of the lake. 

⚙️ Karl Heisenberg ⚙️

• Heisenberg is... put off by the presence of a child in his domain. He’s not exactly the most ‘child friendly’ person in a 20 mile radius. In fact, if you ask anyone they’d assume with his rough demeanor that he didn’t like kids. And he’d agree with them in a heartbeat too. And he’d site every shitty thing he could think of about kids with a scoff. 

• “They’re loud, they’re annoying, they piss and shit everywhere, and they can’t even fend for themselves on top of all that. They’re like untrained dogs that don’t even have the bonus of being good guards.”

• But what he doesn’t want anyone to know is... he loves kids. Seeing kids with their parents reminds him of a time in his life, one long before now, where he was actually happy. To him kids meant family. Something he’s desperately wanted, but known he couldn’t have with Miranda around. So seeing you made him feel happy and also very sad. Both of which he avoided confronting so he instead settled on irritation, his go-to.

• And when he demanded to know what this little ‘ankle biter’ was doing in his factory the Duke had just smiled and told him you were his daughter. That’d thrown the metal manipulator for a bit of a loop. But after snapping out of it Heisenberg told the Duke that his factory was the last place a KID needed to be running around and messing with shit. The Duke assured him you would be on your best behavior. Heisenberg begrudgingly let you stay, but only on the terms that you’d stay out of his way, not touch anything, and not leave the Duke’s sight. The Duke agreed easily.

• Heisenberg had two outward moods regarding you. Either he acted like he was annoyed with you or he acted like you weren’t even there. But he never actually spoke harshly to you. Even when you kept asking him questions about the stuff in his factory. After answering half a dozen questions he fired one back at you, asking why you had so many questions. You’d been surprised by his question but just giggled and said because his factory was cool. He’d acted like he didn’t care but after that when he’d come talk to the Duke he’d always bring you little metal figurines that you adored. Heisenberg found you to be a cute little punk, but he’d rather saw an arm off before admitting it.

[shotofire]

Butler

Levi Ackerman x F!Reader

Overview: Levi is a butler for your family, and you can’t help but fancy him

Warnings: Cursing, pushy parents, angst, smut, fingering, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, age gap (legal of course), that filthy talk (mild), hair pulling, slight choking

Requested by @heyyharuhi (thank you for this request, as soon as i read the idea i started on it)

Okay, i’m going to admit.... i’m too lazy to proof read this. Work is kicking my ass and i just want to sleep. hopefully i didn’t fuck up too bad. I tend to type faster than my mind is thinking... so i apologize in advance for the typos. enjoy :)

-

The room is hot, almost enough to make ones skin feel as if it’s on fire. Maybe that had to do with the anger everyone at the dinner table is feeling. The scrunching face of your father and mother as the look of disbelief is spread across their features. Not to mention how silent it is, so uncomfortably silent. The sound of your fork scraping across the table is all that can be heard.

Your father takes in a deep breath, eyes closing in utter frustration. “Tell me again why you don’t like this boy? He’s taken you out to dinner several times now, and has been very kind to our family,” you can only roll your eyes at your fathers words. All they care about is setting you up with a wealthy stuck up man, not someone who will bring happiness. “And every time he flirted with the waitress,” you snap, “also, he has horrible manners.”

It’s sad the situation you’re in, really. This has been going in the family for years, the children not getting to choose who they marry. Of course they could’ve rejected and rejected until their parents gave up, but no one has been able to push through. Your mother is a perfect example with having to marry your father. A stuck up man who you’ve never even seen smile at your mother, it’s saddening. “The man has money, lots of it, and you know how much we’re struggling right now,��� your mother says with the same look of disbelief.

The double doors to the dining room swing open, making the conversation come to a pause. There he stood, your butler, with a tray of freshly poured drinks. He has the same expressionless look as always as he strides over to the table setting each cup down. As his body stands close to yours, you can’t help but take in how good he smells. Yes it may come off as creepy, but you’d never encountered a man who smelled so fresh. Like a flower garden.

“Thank you, Levi,” you say with a small smile. Your parents never thank him or even acknowledge him and it pisses you off. The man must be in a horrible situation financially if he’s willing to put up with your parents. They always complain about money yet have maids, chefs, and butlers. As if they can’t do anything for themselves. Levi nods at you with a small smirk in reply before exciting the room.

The rest of dinner goes in, filled with arguments and insults. Just a regular night in this family. It’s frustrating, really, how your parents only care about money. They don’t even care for you, or even themselves. All the two want is to appear rich to everyone else. It’s all about image, that’s it. Why care about those things when you can have love and happiness? That’s all you’ve ever wanted.

Since you were a teen, your parents have been shoving stuck up boy after stuck up boy in your direction. Each one has bragged about their live’s, and how women love them. None have even bothered to ask you a personal question. To get to know you in anyway. Each one saw women as a pretty thing to wear on their arms for public gatherings. And any other time you’d just be seen as another maid to them, it’s the sad truth.

Women are pushed around by men, especially in this life style. All that matters is money and looks. Love won’t get your name respected by others, that’s the power of money. The people you call your parents have never been affectionate towards one another, not that you’ve ever witnessed. It’s not wonder they only ended up having one child. Usually by this age, in your family at least, people are married. Some even have a kid of their own on the way. But you just keep rebelling until they give up, that’s what you’re hoping for.

It’s late now and the hallways are dimly lit, not a sound to be heard. At times like this your mind wanders. Thinking about Levi, which isn’t a good idea. Sure he’s really good looking, but there’s no way he could be interested. When he’d first started coming around, a few months ago, you immediately wanted to get closer to him. Then you learned of his age which was something you definitely weren’t expecting. The man looked around the same age as you.

The sound of a faint hum can be heard from down the hall. It sounds like it’s coming from the living area. As you round the corner you see him standing there. Levi sat on the couch with a book perched in his hands, the lamp lit up next to him. His eyes move to your frame and jumps at your presence. The maids and butlers have their own area of the home to stay in during the night, which is really shitty may you add. He shouldn’t be here during this time. If your parents were to see him there they’d throw a fit.

Before he could react you’re walking towards him, sitting next to him on the red sofa. “What are you reading?” Levi is at a loss for words, really, this has his heart racing. Yet he manages to choke out, “Just some cheap poetry book.” The two of you had only talked a handful of times, and it was never real conversation. The man has always found you beautiful and can’t believe you haven’t gotten married yet. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” You ask and he lets out a small laugh, “Couldn’t you ask yourself that?”

Levi feels his chest tighten as you move closer to him, looking at the pages of his book. This whole things was off to him. The man had never seen you in anything but a dress, yet here you were in nothing but a shirt and shorts. He always imagined you to sleep in some sort of fancy silk nightgown. And yes, he thinks about what you wear to bed. He has scolded himself for where his mind has gone to thinking about you, but he can’t help himself. You’ve always been so kind to him.

“You should let me borrow this book sometime,” you say with a small smile. You’re inches away from his face now, eyes peering into one another’s. “Of course,” he gulps. The room fell silent. He isn’t sure if he is reading this moment correctly. One thing he is sure of is he’s definitely not the type of man you need to get caught up with. As this thought crosses his mind he’s quick to stand up off the sofa. “It’s getting late, I should get to bed.” Before you can say a word, he’s walking out of the room.

Complete and utter failure. That was your chance to get closer to him and you ended up scaring him off. Did you come across too forward? Sure you’d gotten rather close to him but you didn’t that that was too far. Was it? You let out a loud huff before falling face first into a pillow, groaning into it.

You were just a young girl who couldn’t decide her future, what could you possibly offer him? He’s older and has his shit figured out, it seems like it at least. As you mentally scold yourself for embarrassing yourself, Levi is in his room doing the same exact thing. He has found you breathtaking from day one and constantly wanted to get to know you. Then the moment you two are alone he panicked.

The man is grown, almost forty, and has been with countless women. Not to brag, he’s just never been one for settling. Then here comes a girl, younger and less experienced than him yet he’s the one choking up. Maybe it was the thought of your parents finding out that got the best of him. They may actually die of shock if they knew you even talked to him in the way you did, in your sweet voice. Or worse, they’d kill Levi themselves.

-

The next day rolls around, then the next, and so on. It seems like Levi is avoiding you to the furthest extent that he can and it’s really pissing you off. You don’t think he’s required to like you, but you’re still kind to him. You still try and brighten his day with a smile or a simple, “how are you?” Yet he won’t even stick around long enough for you to ask. Did you make him that uncomfortable? You’d rather hear him reject you then have this awkwardness floating in the air.

Knowing that you could’ve possibly made him feel uncomfortable really started to eat at your conscious. For awhile you stopped wandering the halls at night searching for him. Most of the times, after the first encounter, he’d hurry off at the first sight of you. Even through all of this your desire for him only seems to grow more intense.

Why did he have to be so damn attractive?

You lay in your bed, looking up at the ceiling. Levi is the only thing on your mind. It’s hard to not wonder what he’s doing on late nights like this. On a Sunday, your parents off doing business in town. No one here to boss him or the other workers around.Maybe he got scared off thinking of your parents catching you two so close that night, of course that’s something you keep telling yourself.

Being stuck in your home not allowed anywhere always eats away at you. Being here wasn’t something you enjoyed any day, but actually being told you can’t leave makes you feel crazy. When your parents are away they think the maids and butlers are going to pocket the entire house and run off. But you know each staff member well enough to come to the conclusion that they’d never do such a thing. If only your parents would listen to you when saying this, maybe you wouldn’t be trapped in here.

When they’re off doing business or whatnot, the staff takes that as their full opportunity to get some good sleep. Just be able to relax. Your parents always have them on the go it seems, until the sun goes down. Sometimes, most of the time, even later than that. They’ll see a book out of place and call for a maid instead of doing it themselves.

The staff has always been fond of you from the beginning. Some of the older maids watched you as a little girl. You’d always beg them to help clean or just be around them. As you grew older, you stopped asking to help and went ahead and did it anyway. If you notice they happen to miss something, which is rare, you’ll grab a duster or a broom and finish the job. It breaks your heart when your parents treat them to harshly.

That’s one of the many reasons Levi is so fond of you. Even after being raised by such pigs you still managed to be your own person. To be kind. He’d worked for other wealthy families in the past and usually every member was horrid, and treated him like dirt. Then he came here and met you, a sweet girl who loves to help.

Levi remembers when he was first joined the staff at your home. It was very hectic. He didn’t expect your parents to need such assistance. Usually families would try and do some things for themselves, but no. It seems your parents need their hands held constantly like children. It was a lot to handle at once, but you made it easier for him.

You helped him set appointments, organize, or any other unpredictable needs. He didn’t talk much, but he still made it very apparent that he appreciated all of your help. Moments like those were when you would look at him and just be in awe of his beauty. To you he was like a prince. So charming and kind, his looks are just a bonus.

You find yourself rising to your feet and leaving your room. The sun has already set and the stars are lighting up the sky. Your home is quiet now, somewhat peaceful without your parents. Without thinking, you’re in the hall walking through the darkness. Your fingers trace along the wall as your toes gently push into the carpet. You’d hate to wake anyone up this late.

As if your body knows something before you do, your stomach begins to have slight butterflies before rounding the corner into the living area. Would Levi even be up this late? it’s much later than the times he’s usually out here reading. As you turn the corner your eyes land on him and you take a silent breath, that you can’t help but hold onto for a second longer.

On the sofa sits Levi. His hair is clutched between a few of his fingers as his eyes squint at the book he’s reading, almost frustrated it seems. Instead of saying anything and scaring him off you swiftly walk to him and sit yourself down. He lets out a small, ‘ah’ at your presence, not expecting you, and you can’t help but let out a small giggle at his reaction.

“What? Not happy to see me?” The sweet smile on your face makes a blush rise to his cheeks. Of course he’s happy to see you, even if he can be complicated sometimes. “Uh, no. Not that, just didn’t expect you up so late.” That’s truly what it is. He came out here with a full expectation that you, and everyone else, would be fast asleep. “I guess we’re both night people, huh?” You shove at him lightly with your arm and he smirks.

There’s a silence that falls over you two, but it’s not uncomfortable. You can’t help but move a bit closer to him, the situation feeling all too familiar. This time Levi isn’t tensing up, or moving away. If anything, you’re pretty sure he moves closer to you ass well. “What are you reading this time?” Your sweet voice makes him shiver.

His eyes scan over your features, sticking to your lips for a little too long. This doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “Just some romance novel I picked up, it’s sorta frustrating to read.” “How so?” Your eyes sparkle in interest. Your bodies are so close, just the side of your leg pressed up against his has his heart racing. That and the fact you look beautiful right now.

“They both like each other and won’t act upon it, and it just keeps getting drawn out. All it is is boring conversation and hearing their thoughts. They should just kiss already.” He watches as your face moves closer to his, lip sinking into your bottom lip. “I think they should just kiss already, too.”

That’s all it takes for Levi to close the gap in-between you two. Your arms come up to wrap around his neck, while his hands have already started grabbing at your waist. His touch sends electricity through you. You’d only been with a few men, and Levi was already making you feel a knot in your stomach that you’d never felt before. It was a good feeling.

A feeling of excitement.

One of his, rather big, hands trail up your spine causing you to shiver at his touch. The hand goes all the way up until it reaches the base of your neck, tangling in your hair. You can’t stop yourself from moaning into the bruising kiss as his fingers tug at your locks. He smirks, and you feel it. His other hand squeezes your thigh, sending a jolt right to your heat.

Levi pulls back to examine your face, rosy cheeks and eyes half open. “Fuck, you’re breathtaking,” he cursed before diving back in. This time his lips are attack your neck, nibbling and licking as you let out high pitched sighs.

This is all happening so fast, but you love it. There is so much built up tension between the two of you and it’s all coming out. You can’t stop yourself from tugging at his shirt, a whine falls from your lips. There’s no telling how many times you’ve dreamed of seeing this man without a shirt on. He follows your complies and pulls the shirt over his head, exposing the pure glory beneath. Yes, glory.

You stare for a good moment. He’s so fit, more than you imagined. “Like what you see?” He teases with a cocky smile. “More than like, I could look at you all day.” The blush that spreads across his face doesn’t go unnoticed by you. He looks into your eyes and his hands snake under your shirt, slightly pushing you backwards until your back meets the sofa. He’s above you now, with a shit-eating grin.

When his fingers make contact with your chest he can’t help but bite his lip. You don’t have a bra on. “Do you want me as much as I want you?” You’re about to answer his question, but his fingers brush against your nipples. The action makes you let out a soft gasp at the feeling. “What was that?” He asks with that same cocky smirk, “Use your words princess.”

The pet name just sends you for another loop. “Yes,” you manage to get out, “I want you.” He presses his lips to yours, then your neck again, before discarding of your shirt. His soft lips trace down you stomach with light feathery kisses, making your breathing become uneven. His fingers loop in the waist ban of your shorts before pulling them down your legs, tossing them in some random direction.

Everything happening has your head spinning. In the best way possible, of course. His mouth is hovering about your clothes core now, it’s enough to drive you mad. Your excitement is visible on your underwear. “So wet,” he coos, his breath fanning against you. He takes off the last item on your body, leaving you bare.

For a second you want to close your legs when the shyness kicks in, but Levi acts quick. His lips attack to your clit in an instant, and your fingers fly to his hair. Tangling and pushing him closer into you. His mouth is like magic. “Fuck-“ you cut yourself off with a moan. His tongue moves up and down your slit, circling your clit. Your eyes practically roll into the back of your head.

His finger comes up to circle your entrance before pushing its way in. The way he’s working with his mouth and fingers had you seeing stars. “I’m gonna-“ right before you finish he completed stops his actions. Of course he just had to be a little shit.

“You’re going to come on my cock,” he says with a smile. Just his words alone have your stomach turning. He lines himself up with you before pushing forward slowly. You hiss at the pain, never ever have you been with someone this big. He halts his actions at the sound you make, but you’re quick to beg for me. “No, keep going, please don’t stop!”

He slams into you and you hold back a scream. The pain quickly turns into pleasure as his hips start to slam into yours. “How does that feel princess?” Him and that damn pet name again. “So, So good,” you manage to get out. Unexpectedly, his hand comes up to wrap around your throat, pressing lightly. Your eyes just about light up when he brushes against that spot.

He must of saw the sparkle in your eyes, so he does the same movement. Over, over, and over again. It doesn’t take long before you’re coming undone around him, shaking and vision blurring. His movements continue until he’s coming inside of you, deep grunts escaping his mouth. The only sound is heavy breathing as Levi lays on top of your chest.

“Do you want to go to my room and cuddle?”

Levi looks at you with a childish grin. “of course.”