#tell me you lack reading comprehension without telling me

[lilyharvord]

To the illiterate people with 0 reading comprehension that I have seen on tik tok today claiming that Maven deserved Mare, that it was stupid and "unfair" that he didn't get her, and that clearly with his trauma and what his mother did to him he deserved her:

I would just like to issue a sincere Fuck You to you and any future illiterate children you produce.

[phoenixcatch7]

Having been on several fanfic sites for several years, I can hands down GUARANTEE you that anything 'classic media' has done, fanfic has done better.

[eclipsecrowned]

man i promise i do not care if people write dark content so long as someone irl isn't actually getting hurt it's nobody's business it doesn't make you a bad person to explore dark content yada yada yada but what is with people who write a specific subject who appear to read my rule that i won't follow if that kind of content is present period and go 'must be about some other triggering content surely not about my triggering content' it's been an issue practically since i started roleplaying here in 2012.

[nouvxllev]

"When I saw you

I fell in love, and

you smiled

because you knew

-William Shakespeare"

LOVE.LOVE.LOVE.

I wanted to make a request! I had a similar interaction like this, and when I had read this, I fell inloveeeeee with this qoute sm. Can you do a Wednesday x Reader? In which it's Wednesday who actually falls inlove 😭

amore, amore, amore.

Pairing: Author!Wednesday Addams x Gn!Reader

Summary: request!! ^^

Words: 6.0k (oh what the fuck)

Warnings: told in WEDNESDAYS POV AND ALTERNATE TIMELINES!, the gomezification of wednesday addams prevails, yes they meet at a museum, also kinda 7 husbands of evelyn hugo coded, slight plottwist at the end!

a/n: aaaa ofc ofc!! also i absolutely love the idea where wednesday fell first and harder

masterlist

I believe they cursed me the moment their lips became something worth fighting for.

"If they intend to halt my publishing, then so be it. I have no interest in entertaining that brain-dead company over countless of reasons as to why I shouldn't spare a few weeks for myself who believe I will fall under their will."

"Wednesday, they're the ones who publish your books, you just can't ignore their calls."

"Barclay, has your brain deteriorated to a degree in such a way that you are forgetting it's my presence that upholds that fucking company? Without me, they are nothing. Have you forgotten with how much power I withhold over them, or have your scales reached that hollow of a brain?"

"You can't ignore the leverage they have over you, sure you have the amount of money, if not more, to sue them, but they could literally tip you off and brand you as some selfish author."

"Please do comprehensively explain to me as to why I would be a selfish author?"

"Wednesday Friday fucking Addams, it's because you're half-way across the fucking world at some fucking museum in Italy while you have a manuscript due a fucking week ago!"

"I fail to see my fault."

"Addams, if you don't get your shit together, I swear—"

I had solved countless of murders in my time of Nevermore. I had one thing to do when I finally left, and I was going to succeed.

If you had told me after I willingly left that horrid place you call an educating institution that I would experience the same fate as an author, I would've traced the outer skin of your face with a pocket knife and display it on your family's doorstep.

Barclay, amongst others, remained someone I held close. She could be infuriating, but no one would ever be much deserving of a terrible, terrible position than be under my control as my manager when I pursued writing.

But no one tells you how people could easily forget you in a matter of seconds if you don't make a name for yourself when you've put yourself out there, even if it's something far, far from your own.

I was only fortunate enough people enjoyed what I publish.

I couldn't care less if they didn't, that's why I found it hard to give two shits about what that damned company thought of my revised schedule. But I needed to make a living. To make something out of myself.

If I had continued my actions— in which I have full control over with—I could lose everything.

I could've build it up from scratch if it happened, but Lucifer knows how long would a simple idea for a plot that could get into the lack of attention span of the population could take.

I could lose the name I print on paper.

I could lose my name.

And then I realized I haven't.

There was something that I was destined to fall under. It was there with my eyes taped to a painting, not knowing I became one for another.

I hung up. The mere thought of having a multistep plan to eventually murder my manager was between God and me. That woman had me teetering on the edge of becoming a one-hit serial killer overnight.

My head tilted over a large painting towering amidst the others down the line. My hands remained tucked deep within the pockets of a trench coat far too oversized for me.

I couldn't take much time of squinting, staring as if it had garnered my interest not after a dreaded phone call that I convinced myself truly took my energy and managed to inject anesthesia inside my veins.

A light sway became evident in my steps, as if I was sulking in my own woe of what I should and could've done to prevent myself fucking it up on a company that I could soon own if not me being under the age of what is required to own a firm without having to ring up my own godforsaken of a family.

I could almost take another step if I wasn't met with another person.

Countless of papers flew across the hard-tiled floor. It was over before I knew what had happened. I found myself standing there, eyes glued to the person I collided with, my eyebrows crossed and my mouth hung open like a fool.

"I'm—I'm so sorry, fuck." They grit under their breath, like they were berating themselves while they picked up the rest of what had fell.

I stood there, not knowing what to do or what not to do but stare at them and wait for them to pull themselves up.

And so that's what I did.

I wish I hadn't.

Because now it was the time I was unable to speak. Unable to use the words I've been writing my novels with, the words that I should've spoken in the seconds they had landed in front of me. For the first time, my words had failed me.

A question rang in my head, Why do I now feel as if I do not belong inside of my own body? Why does my life feel complete now that they were here?

When Y/n fixed herself, she looked at me and smiled. I knew I looked like an idiot staring at them, yet I never went out of my way to barely fix myself.

Why were they smiling?

"Why are you smiling?" I asked under my breath, like I was taken breathless. I hadn't mean to say it out loud, but my cold and otherwise damned heart seemed to be alive, like I was suffocating in my own rate. A fool in front of them I must've been.

They looked at their paper, then they looked at me.

They smiled yet again. Another question flicked across my head, what had happened to me to act as if I would go through hell and back for this person?

They smiled at me as if my presence gave them a reason to. And they loved me in every one of it.  

"Sorry—" they apologized, noticing how their thumb kept grazing the surface of their sketch, almost as if they were nervous. "You look prettier than... whatever I drew."

They stole one more look of me.

"Terrifyingly bewitching."

It's horrifying knowing I couldn't explain what I felt that day. What I know is—I felt everything.

I've endured endless remarks on my appearance ranging from a number of ratings from those nonsensical people on the internet to every synonym people have thrown my way only to fail to evoke even a flicker of emotion.

Though it seems egotistical, I knew they held one intention: they wanted to impress me. They wanted me to know they were different amongst others who have approached me. They wanted to entice me, as if I could be owned.

Were it not for the arsenal and threats I carried, there would be much more.

Y/n was different. They never had any intentions of being with me, no desire to impress or claim me as theirs. They simply wanted me to know I was. That it was true. I just had never heard it from someone who could mutter two words that felt perfect.

And it's much more terrifying knowing I unexpectedly fell first, even if I deny myself.

I could tell you about the way y/n smiled, how it seemed to threaten the sun, warning it not to shine lest it risk embarrassment in contrast of hers. I could tell you the way their eyes followed their smile, how their life was encapsulated in their drawings, mirroring what they felt.

Yet, when it comes to explaining how I fell for them, words escape me. Even I, a tortured author, struggle to describe.

How must I convey the sensation of my heart pounding in my ears as if it was trying to break me? The ache in my stomach, churning every chance it got, every fiber of my being dreadfully surrendering to them.

But one is for certain: meeting them was like coming home.

My home.

But I couldn't bring myself to realize that—It was antagonizing for me. Humiliating and mortifying knowing one person could make me become a total fool, become someone I've never thought I'd be.

I've spent my whole life after hiding what I felt for them, lest I risk experiencing what I truly loathe: love.

I despised them ever since I met them, loathed them, hated them. But for what for? I ask myself countless of times, I have never gotten an answer.

When they left, I left. Thinking it would be fate that had accidentally brought two people together who held no meaning for eachothers life, that it was a mistake, and I could've been wrong with how I'm feeling.

And when I came back, they were there.

And when I approached them, it felt right.

It was a week after the incident, but no matter how I tried, I still remember how their smile felt around me. Suffering, irritating, lovely. Like I wanted to relieve it, no matter how much time had passed.

Never once did I get their name in the span of meeting them, it was useless to know anyway.

Yet, I find myself returning to the museum every chance I get for God knows what, acting as if I had unfinished business staring at paintings while the staff rambled beside me. They were better off tattooing their explanation in my skull.

I had other places to attend to, other tasks I should've been doing rather than constantly visiting museum in the afternoon as if I have duties and low-paid labor for employment.

I should've been at my apartment days ago, exhausting myself on a half-assed manuscript I would have recurring thoughts of annihilating along with severing Bianca's hands through the phone.

What terrified me is why I was back.

Standing in front of them. My hands tucked deep inside the pockets of another trench coat, looking down on them sitting on one of the blocks of granite surrounding a oddly placed tree in the middle of the hall, drawing whatever there is to draw.

"Hello." I greeted them. They almost looked startled, surprised that I was even talking to them, like I was some vengeful ghost who returned to seek revenge. Though they weren't far off.

They looked up, immediately flipping over their clipboard as they locked eyes with me.

"Oh—" They cleared their throat, "Hi. Hey, hello." They smiled, albeit awkward. But that feeling of dread, or whatever, came back. Stronger than ever, I feared. I almost had half the mind of punching them in the gut and questioning them why they had this effect on me.

"Didn't know you come here often." A chuckle followed their question, or maybe it was a statement, placing their elbows on their lap while they gazed right at me.

I scoffed, murmuring against gritted teeth why did I even approach them in the first place. "And I didn't know you draw me that often."

I look down on the piece of paper, their deliberate and aggressive brush strokes having an effect on the paper, leaving marks upon marks. It was clear that I've been their subject for days on end. Even if I were to absent, I'd still be able to be the pinnacle of their sketches.

It was funny back then, humorous in my mind on how quick they snatched the piece of paper and tried to explain with little to no comprehension that went across their mind.

"Oh, God, no, no! I just—Okay, well, maybe I've been drawing you ever since I saw you, it's creepy now that I mention it... but it's just—it's dumb of me to not draw you, you know?" They were flustered, their mouth opening and closing only for me to receive words that were out of the dictionary.

They sighed, my lips twitched.

"I'd like to ask," My voice trailed off, grimacing even at the thought of having to initiate a conversation with more or less than five words, "What's... your name?"

"Y/N," They nodded, "L/N. Y/N/L/N." They reached out for a handshake only to immediately retract after a brief awkward seconds of staring. Their name sounded familiar.

"Why are you here?"

"Do I need to reason to?"

"I suppose so, no. But I am curious." Even I don't know why I'm still back here.

Y/n sighed, like I was the one getting on their nerves while it was me who battling against whatever fucked-up demon spawned in my stomach that caused me to feel, things.

"Nothing."

I frowned. "You came here because of.... Nothing?"

"Mhm."

"You are drawing strangers you know nothing about because of nothing?"

"Thought I made myself clear on that first word."

"You've made yourself look foolish than any average person."

"Well, you never told me your name. I think that's foolish enough over my case."

It was my turn to sigh.

"Addams." I reluctantly said to them, "Wednesday, Addams."

Then Y/n looked up at me as if I was some sort of otherworldly deity going back down to earth to finish whatever I started. "Wednesday Addams. I think I've heard that name before."

"No. No, you haven't."

If it wasn't horribly obvious, the sole purpose of my visit to Italy was to neglect everything I left behind in New York—especially deadlines— and hoped my eyes would finally work some sense that would let me start anew.

It was shameful of me, passion that dwindled into something less. If I had the chance, I would've tortured myself for even considering abandoning all of my life's work.

Though, I had my reasons. Even if I had threatened my target population and my audience, it still wouldn't be enough.

In short, I had lost motivation to pursue another book.

I felt as if there was something missing, that I couldn't even dare to even blow the collecting dust in the rims of my typewriter.

I begged for my brain to work, to even produce the slightest idea or word that could have some meaning to it. I was ready to write anything that came to mind, even if it was mediocre.

But, instead, my heart responded.

When I met Y/n, I started writing, and we started talking.

Words flowed through, and my time was wasted on Y/n.

My time was wasted, and they were wasted with their significant other.

I always thought I would suffer the thought of having to live an eternal life with none other than myself, that it was inevitable I was going to perish alone in my own woe.

It remained the same. Now, it's just having to live with the fact that my only greatest love had another.

I felt as if I ate a forbidden fruit once I heard they had someone that loved them as much as I denied myself of the same kind, like I plagued myself with hundreds of years of worry and attachment to someone who had eyes on another, a special muse they had.

Only that I would crumble immediately, tempted to take the fruit in my hands, forever stain my lips of something immoral so that I could forever crawl and weep over them.

In my time in Italy, I thought i'd be avoiding acquaintances that would be much more of a burden to me rather than someone useful. Yet there I was, watching Y/n saunter into my life like the revelation they were.

It's safe to say that Y/n turned out to be anything but a burden. They became someone I looked forward to seeing every day, though I hadn't realized they were motivation until then.

"Wends!"

Their awfully cheerful voice pierced through the air of the restaurant, almost granting the attention from other people as if they shared the same horrendous and dreadful nickname as me.

As much as I fantasized about walking out of the restaurant with y/n's half-broken jaw, I couldn't deny whatever was swirling in my head.

Ever since they knew of that wretched nickname unfortunately given to me by none other by that infectious and the ever infuriating ball of sunshine, Enid Sinclair, they've been calling me it as if I don't have a birth name.

It was a month ever since I've known Y/n, and it was a month of them being a constant presence in my life. They shared breakfast with me, lunches, and sometimes dinners that I somehow always and reluctantly accepted.

They became my routine, and it was a fact I'd sooner die with than confess to anyone.

Y/n slowly approached my table that was filled to the brim with countless of books and my oddly placed typewriter, putting their own stuff down on the seat beside them. "You're here early. You ordered something yet?"

It was 12PM. We agreed on 1, and I came at 10.

I scoffed, keeping my eyes on the typewriter. "You, of all people, should know by now that I would much rather sooner paint myself neon than touch anything on this menu."

I hear y/n setting their elbows on the table, resting their face between their hands. "Aw, c'mon Wends, it wouldn't kill you.

"Cyanide won't, but this will." I stopped writing to take one look at them, obviously and oddly, my gaze never and will never work on them. "Take my advice if you're eager to leave this restaurant with a mouth able to eat and speak."

"Ever the happiest person, Wends." They chuckled, sliding a somehow too bright and colorful menu towards them, "I'll order for you."

I stopped writing all together, "Y/n."

"Wednesday." They raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. It was over before I was even playing the game. Resistance over their lips felt futile anyway.

"Fine." I sighed, shutting my eyes closed just so that for once I can't have my stomach doing fucking acrobatics at the sight of them. "I will... allow it."

The ever-growing smile that crept up to their face was priceless, I couldn't bring myself to pry my eyes away. Murmuring something along the lines that I was too easy to lure in.

Once a waiter passed our table, Y/n ordered something along the lines of whatever the fuck 'Due Cream Soda Alla Vaniglia e Lampone con Glitter Commestibili' was. I was certain I was going to leave the restaurant with a non-working heart and a stomach turning inside and out.

It took no longer than a minute for Y/n to get a hold one of the numerous books piled infront of me. "Are you studying for something?" They asked, opening it only to close it once they noticed how outdated some of the languages are.

I let a small chuckle pass my lips. "What drives you to such a hypothesis."

They gestured to the books and my typewriter, "By how you're literally surrounded by books and you're on a fucking typewriter instead of a laptop." They pointed out, murmuring another, "Also, who the hell says hypothesis."

"People with functioning frontal lobes." I quipped, letting my fingers write on instinct across the typewriter keys as I listened to Y/n's ramblings. "I'm... writing."

"You're an author?"

"No."

"Then why—"

"Are you a painter? An artist?"

"Well... I—no?"

"Then we both don't know what we're doing."

Y/n fell silent moments after, I couldn't help but miss the sound of their voice. Admitting the mere thought aloud seemed absurd, let alone thinking it in the first place. I would've bashed my head on top of my typewriter if not for my resistance.

"How long will you be staying in Italy?" they eventually asked.

"Two more weeks," I replied. "My flight is already scheduled, I'll be leaving then on."

"Oh."

I wasn't expecting an answer anything other than a hint of happiness that I was eventually leaving their life.

"You are?" They repeated, as if they couldn't believe such a statement even escaped my lips, clear disappointment flickering across their face. "That's not... long."

"I am certainly not saying here indefinitely now that I have something to continue when I've arrived at my destination." I cleared out, doing my very best to escape the impending guilt washing over me.

"I'll miss you, Wednesday."

Their words were sincere. Lovely. It had stopped me from writing all together.

Guilt wasn't a feeling I was familiar with at the time. I rarely come across such a feeble emotion. Now it felt like I've committed something immoral. There were times that I lie for my own convenience, and nothing more than my own reason.

Now it felt like I should've lied for them.

I will forever miss you.

I wrote. I never showed them.

One week had passed and I rarely ever got to see Y/n after. Our encounters became increasingly scarce, and their voice plagued me from days on end.

I clung to the faithless hope I had that they would text me, to reach out, to even show me they're alive and well.

I returned to the museum for every day they were absent in my life, searching for any sign of their presence, but each day ended in disappointment.

Of course, fate is indifferent to my yearning, refusing to grant someone I so desperately sought.

Regret gnawed at me as the days turned into a week, and the week turned into the day before my flight.

"Addams. I've heard from others that you've been writing."

"Who others?"

"I'll spare a name to spare New York a corpse found in their sewage pipes by the time you've, hopefully I assume, returned and not jump off the plane."

"Even if I went off the grid, your nagging would've been in spirit."

"Don't flatter me."

"Don't kill yourself without showing me a video tape in full resolution for me to get through rough weeks. Or maybe take a shotgun and shoot yourself in your garage and let me have the keys to your house."

"Addams."

I sigh. "Yes, the rumors—though I would want that vampires head on a stake—are true. I've been writing."

"What happened to you there? You met someone?"

"How'd you know—No. No, I—I haven't. What makes you come to such a foolish conclusion?"

"Oh my God, someone actually managed Wednesday—I'd rather kill myself before loving anyone—Addams to fall terribly in love with them. Who's the unfortunate soul?"

"I would not be naming them because they do not exist."

"You just stuttered, Wednesday. The only thing making you stumble your words is when you're overdosing on whatever poison you're having for breakfast."

"They're no one."

"How are you such a bad liar when you have countless of bodies hidden across the globe?"

I sigh again, this time, it was out of annoyance. "I'll be hanging up. Goodbye, Barclay. If ever you are considering to kill yourself, call me. I'll be at my most happiest to watch."

"Wait, no, Wednesday! I need progress on your—"

I hung up. It was pointless to answer her calls when I was a mere few step away from boarding a plane. She always had a way of getting under my skin, even from across the damn globe.

But there was one name that would always surface in my thoughts: Y/n.

The mere thought of their name will forever remind me of how my heart wasn't programmed to love.

I reached for my phone, fingers tracing over the cold screen. My mind was tired, blank. The only thing I could ever do is stare at their contact and wish I could've done something better.

I typed out a hesitant message, my thumb hovering over the send button as if it was something that could end my world. Only two thoughts ran to my mind: Would they reply, or would my message be nothing to them?

I almost hit send before I heard footsteps approaching me.

"Y/n?"

I whispered their name, the love I carried for them being surrendered like I'd crawl for them once I reached purgatory.

"What are you doing here?" My eyebrows furrowed. How could they leave me, only to return as I was about to depart? "Why are you here, you disappeared, avoided me, why—"

"He proposed to me."

Oh.

I always thought a near-death experience with a loved one would be the deepest I could feel.

I realized I was wrong.

Now my eyes ached to the sting. Like I was weeping for someone that perished in my heart, I grieve for a living soul that was me. It was pathetic.

I expected them to be overjoyed, over the moon as they would express themselves from time to time.

But when I met their eyes, all I saw were tears streaming down their face.

Oh, how I wished to wipe their worries away.

"Then why are you crying?"

"I don't know if I love him."

"Nonsense... You told me you loved him—"

"Well, maybe I haven't been saying anything true to you!"

"Look, I don't know what I'm doing—I don't know what the hell are we doing. I'm living in some apartment with some guy I don't even know I even love, I'm currently standing here like an idiot to a girl who's just about to leave my life, and you're—"

"You're everything."

It was that moment I realized I was lost in a haze of admiration and love for Y/n.

That I was far too deep in their life that they became mine. I never knew I needed them as much when I told them to leave with me and break up with their significant other.

I never knew I needed their lips onto mine until the moment I pulled them close to me.

Now I ache of them.

"Do you regret it, mother? Being such a fool for someone, you became what you hated most. But you endured it all for them."

Wednesday Addams, seating across the bed from her daughter, Blair Addams. She looked just like you, she'd always wonder.

Wednesday sighed, her hand reaching out to gently touch Blair's. "Do you know the phrase, 'Come ti vidi M’innamorai, E tu sorridi Perchè lo sai?'" she asked softly.

"You know I've never indulged myself in whatever you're reading." She shook her head with a smile. She looked even more like you.

She let her fingers trace patterns on her hand, her gaze wandering else where. "Well, it translates to 'When I first met you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew," she explained.

"And do you believe in that, mother?"

Wednesday could almost smile. Her daughter was always the curious one, yet she always managed to be privy of her life from them. "I always believed Y/N knew the moment we first laid eyes on each other, I fell in love with them."

"So, yes, my raven." She nodded, "I do."

"I never knew Y/n would make me their title, their theme, their muse," Wednesday pondered, "I always wondered why i fell for them."

"Falling is an accident, gullible, like with people who fail to do basic things. But I am one of those people if not more if I fell for their on accident and continued to do so."

She sat beside Blair, her legs crossed beside her. "I've never told you at the time, but Y/n was a painter. And they wanted nothing more but than to forget about their past. They have never told me as to why, but I believe them.""

"I worried that my love was violence. It was pain, it was suffering. But y/n took care of themselves, they took care of me. There is no one in the world who had loved me more than them, I fear that it would break them, that I am deemed no longer someone who is a part of their story."

"Yet here we are."

Wednesday couldn't see the smile creeping from her daughters lips. But she knew it was there, just like how you looked like before. She will always and forever take pride in it.

She always thought her greatest love could be something of a passion, a talent, a hobby perhaps.

But no one told her it could be a person.

Blair stretched and turned on a light beside her bed, opening a drawer and taking out two of Wednesday's books. "Must they be the reason your books has been off to your prior ones, mother? You've written all your life of gore and mystery. Now it's romance."

"Well, I—"

"Oh, I'm definitely the reason why your mother has been subtly—not-so-subtly, switching to the romance genre."

You peered through the door, your body wrapped up in a cozy boritto style and everything with a train draping it's way to your back like some met-gala dress.

"Oh, mon chéri," Wednesday's face lit up at the sight of you, immediately standing up and pulled you close, her arms enveloping you in a warm embrace.

Her lips met yours in soft kisses, leaving the taste of faint vanilla chapstick lingering on your lips. "Why are you up so late?"

"Well," You grinned against her lips, "I felt our bed getting cold and to my surprise my wife isn't nowhere near me. You know how I can't sleep without you." She pulled away, you whined at the lost of contact, but you couldn't smile more brightly as she led you towards your daughter. "G'evening, Blair."

"Evening, Y/n." She greeted you before you kissed her on the forehead.

You leaned against Wednesday's shoulder, whispering softly, "You're telling her our story again?"

Wednesday would've thought her small chuckle went unnoticed, but you definitely heard it. The stupid smile on your face told everything.

Her hand found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. "She loves it."

"You love it, mother. Probably more than me." Blair retorted back, evident that she was holding back a laugh.

"I do not! When did I ever—"

"Oh, honey, you know love turns your mother into a girl version of your abuelo.

"Do not ever refer to me as my love drunk father or I will subject you to sleeping on the couch." Wednesday rolled her eyes, pinching the back of your palm. "And please do not shame my work of referring to it as such. I've worked hard day and night yet you proceed call it by such an exasperate—"

You turned your head and pressed a kiss on her cheek, the same spot where her freckles resided, causing her to pause mid-sentence. After atleast ten years of being with her, it always made you so giddy.

"Not even in marriage am I spared by your passive aggressive comments," you teased, your lips curling into a smile as you leaned in closer to her.

You hear your daughter sigh after a brief second, "Addams."

Wednesday almost looked shocked, "My Raven, do not call us by our last—"

"Please exit my room. I'll be going to sleep."

And then, the both of them were shoved off before they could even hug their daughter and kiss her goodnight like they always did.

"I... We were rejected, Y/n." Wednesday exclaimed, like she just got struck with the most heartbreaking news. "She used to love our stories together when she was an infant."

You'd think Wednesday was the non-chalant mom who's strict on her child. But, to your surprise, she was the opposite.

She loved Blair just as much she loved you. Hell, you even considered just maybe, maybe not, disowning your daughter because she gets Wednesday's attention more than you do.

You shrugged, taking her hand and leading her to your upstairs bedroom. "It gets stale once in a whileeeOW!" You winced as Wednesday pinched the back of your palm, again. It was starting to become her love language at this point.

"I'm just kidding!" You reassured her, intertwining your fingers with hers as you walked up the stairs together, pulling the door open for your wife. "She's just in her rebellious teen phase, let it go."

Wednesday rolled her eyes, "Too cliche."

"You used to have one too," you scoffed, settling onto your side of the bed and watching as she laid down on hers.

It was a routine you found yourself often doing, taking in the sight of your beloved as if your life with Wednesday was all a dream. You pinch yourself like almost thrice a day just to really make sure.

"Since when?" Wednesday asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement, quietly shuffling towards you.

You sat up for a moment to undo her braids. You always liked playing with her hair, and that one time she asked of you to undo hers, it became a routine. "Since the beginning of time. And somehow, you never grew out of it."

"You didn't even meet me in my teenage years. I am far from rebellious."

"Yes, baby, but not too far from a death penalty." You chuckled, reaching out to gentle stroke her hair, leaning in to press a soft kiss against her forehead.

"Oh, you flatter me," she replied, a smirk across her lips, but the room was too dim to even notice it.

By now, if you were any ordinary person, Wednesday would've made you disappear entirely. But, the thing is, Wednesday always seemed to look at you as if her life never really started until she found you.

Silence managed to take over the atmosphere, you laid back on the comfortable mattress, feeling Wednesday's head nestled on your arms that were tucked under her hair.

You could almost fall asleep in pure bliss knowing that you've met and loved the girl of your dreams if not for her calling out for you.

"Amore." She whispered.

"Amore?" She whispered again, her voice softer than ever before.

You blinked, momentarily. You swore you just heard an angel. "Yes, amore?"

"Can I... Can you—"

You smiled, almost too knowingly. You knew Wednesday, for someone who's such a romantic soul, she's not too expressive on simple terms like these. "Do you want to be the little spoon?"

She grimaced, you could even hear her grunts of disapproval. "I would highly refrain from calling it that before I jump out of bed and skin you from limb to limb. But... yes, I would like to."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips at her response, suppressing a grin to avoid from literally being murdered as you wrapped your arms around her and pulled her close.

Ten years before, if someone had told you that you're going to be doing this to girl you've met at a museum while trying to escape your past, let alone be happily married to her, you would've told them "How the fuck do you know that and please stay away, I have... a boyfriend. I guess."

But now, it seemed so believable. Wednesday was always so relaxed in your arms, your warmth and hers bringing a sort of comfort for the both of you.

You nuzzled your head against the back of her neck, gently moving strands of her hair aside as you pressed soft kisses against her skin, hoping to kick away her tension from the day.

"Stop pouting, Wends," you murmured softly into her skin as you closed your eyes in pure relief.

You hear her scoff, "I am not doing such a humiliating act."

"Oh but you so are." Your grin widening as you pressed another gentle kiss against her nape, "I can hear it from here."

Wednesday let out a sigh, of annoyance? Maybe. But was it tinged with pure adoration and love? Much so. "You don't hear pouts, Y/n."

"When it comes to you, I do and I can."

Silence washed over. This time, you're worried you've teased her that much, she actually got annoyed with you.

"You're awfully quiet. By this time, you're probably threatening to kill me."

"I'm... Sorry." Wednesday whispered, it has an undying tone of tenderness that you don't often see it being expressed through words from her. Slowly, she shifted her body to face yours.

One thing is for certain: She was still so terrifyingly bewitching if not more. She looked pretty in every way possible, it's hard to even believe, it left you in awe.

You feel her gaze darting on your eyes and then drifting down to your lips, hesitating even. It was ridiculous, in the most adorable way possible there is for an Addams like her.

"May I kiss you?"

"You know you're always welcome. It's pointless to ask."

She was the first to reach out, her hand finding it's way to the curve of your cheek, her touch gentle than ever as she traced the line of your jaw as if she was memorizing every feature of yours.

You cupped her face in reciprocation, leaning in closer to where your lips were just hovering inches away from hers. Then, you closed the space between the both of you.

You pulled away, your eyes meeting hers with a soft smile. It was impossible to think that this woman held your heart in her hands like it was nothing.

"Have I ever told you that you're pretty?" you whispered, letting your hands fall to her waist and pulled her close.

"Ever since you've met me."

“You know, I’m surprised you even remember our first meeting.”

“Oh, how could I ever forget my lover?”

You laughed, a symphony that always gets Wednesday to have a slight tug in her lips. “Stop being so romantic. You are a grown woman with a daughter.”

You continued to stare into her eyes as you drape the rest of the blanket for the both for you. "It's hard to think you're the first one to fall in love and not me."

"It's hard to think of anything when you're here with me, te amo." Wednesday replied, her gaze softening almost immediately.

You sighed. "You know I love you, right?"

Wednesday blinked. "I always will."

You smiled.

And Wednesday smiled back.

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

a/n: this was longer than i thought. i yap too much in stories i fear

[p1nkshield]

Welcome to chapter 3 of the unnamed prompt fill! I had some trouble with tagging people so if you asked to be tagged and I didn’t it wasn’t on purpose! Also lmk what you think this should be called!

The dining room erupted in shouts of confusion and disbelief.

“What do you mean ‘I thought you knew’ Jason?!? How are we supposed to predict that your rock would evolve like a Pokémon?!?” Dick questioned as the spaghetti that was once on his fork inched towards his shoe.

“Bruce was the one who put me on babysitting duty in the first place!” Jason defended

Bruce’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion “I asked you to keep an eye on an unknown asset from a mission, I had no idea the core was anything more than a power source.”

“What?!? How could you not? He was screaming every time they turned that damn thing on!”

Jason surveyed the perplexed looks on his family’s faces.

“Wait…ONLY I COULD HEAR HIM?!? YOU ALL THOUGHT I WAS JUST TALKING TO A ROCK FOR WEEKS?!? NOBODY SAID ANYTHING?!?”

They all rushed to defend themselves as they all grew more and more embarrassed over their lack of communication regarding Jason’s recent behavior.

Silence washed over them as the child in Jason’s arms stirred securing a tighter hold to his sleeve.

Jason suddenly remembered where he was.

He looked to Alfred, panic stricken and croaked out “help”

Before he could do so another icy orb of light appeared, gracefully transformed into a scroll and flitted gently into Alfred’s hands. Without batting an eye he read aloud.

“If this message has been sent correctly it should currently be in the hands of whomever is the leader of the household entrusted to watch over Young Phantom as he recovers from his injuries. I may have pulled a few strings in the time stream in order to get him to the safest place with enough ambient ectoplasm to allow him to fully heal. Please know that the child you guard is much more powerful than he appears as he is of the infinite realms, a dimension most likely beyond your comprehension.

CW

P.S. Tell Danny that yes, this is normal and yes, his usual haunt and his humans are safe when he asks”

Nobody looked anymore informed by this information.

“Well isn’t that terribly vague.” Alfred noted as he deftly swept up the child from Jason’s arms and carried him to the nearest guest room. Jason followed closely behind him.

Bruce let out a long, tired sigh. As soon as he heard the words ‘the infinite realms’ he knew who held more information about this subject.

“Constantine.” Batman steeled himself for the conversation ahead.

“What a pleasant surprise! The ol spookster has called me of his own volition. What sort of world ending threat is it this time?”

Batman chose to ignore the nickname and remark and began to ask “what do you know about the infinite realms?”

Constantine choked on his drag of cigarette.

“Who… tf… told you about the infinite realms?” A look of genuine worry was painted across his face as he coughed and recovered from the shock.

This wasn’t good, Constantine solemnly addressed his colleague.

“Bats do not meddle with this. If you can back away now. The denizens of the infinite realms vary in strength and temperament. It’s a gamble as to whether they help you or try to skin you alive and with their power set they absolutely can.”

“Too late”

Constantine groaned and looked to the ceiling searching for reason as to why he befriended people who got themselves into such strange and dangerous situations.

“Elaborate please, Batarang.”

“We’ve been elected to watch over a ‘Young Phantom’ as he heals from being unprecedentedly wounded. My team wasn’t aware of this until last night when his situation became more… clear.” Batman began to explain until he was greeted with a new peculiar high pitched noise emitting from the other end of the call.

“You have THE NEW KING?!? Nonono you’re in deep. Don’t call me anymore you only bring destruction to my life! Now I have to come over! Maybe I can smooth things over. Who hurt him this bad?!? Mortals? Mortal humans? It was, wasn’t it? I can see it on your face! You stay right there. DON’T DO ANYTHING. I’ll be over in five seconds.”

Constantine hung up on him.

Bruce sighed as the screen of the bat computer went black.

That went well.

@chrysanthemum9484 @kyrianclawraith @blankliferain @pastalavistamf @sara0055 @pike-s @xye-chan @blackroselina @malice-of-the-sunrise @gin2212 @meira-3919 @addie-lover-of-stories @undead-essence @onlyhereforthechaos @charcoalstainedbones @mimilikey @ectoradiation @persephoneblackrose @farmercale @claudiashq @boo-ghosties @56thingsinaname @insomniaxonline @thefanficcup @alixanterm @terzatheunderscorerima @skulld3mort-1fan

[headphones-lifeform]

Tumblr in the Star Trek universe: part 6

part 1 ~ part 2 ~ part 3 ~ part 4 ~ part 5 ~

@fake-post-archive

Was dissapointed by the lack of 23rd-24th century contemporary media shown in Star Trek so I made my own for these characters to get invested in.

the "crimedirective" account is my OC, Tenfold Pollux. My OC content is archived at @uss-sonder. Their post is based on a meme I drew.

🧝legolasappreciationblog-334 Follow

so weird having mutuals who are actually into contemporary media 🙃 not me listening to you all ramble about interstellar cryptid hunter or whatever while being obsessed with a 500 year old book

👽isch-tlan-forever Follow

YOU DONT UNDERSTAND interstellar cryptid hunter is so good??? its got a lot of diversity for an earth show- the mc is a vulcan (t'lan my beloved) and they actually have episodes for cryptids from a wide variety of planets (tho i am a sucker for the mothman episode)

#aaaaa #rambles #interstellar cryptid hunter #isch #everyone go watch it

14 notes

🔥hottakes-submissions Follow

having "cardassians dni" in your desc is actually really racist... just write "cardassia apologists dni" instead

🔲idkwhattocallmyblog-deactivated

isnt that basically the same thing?

🌌m1lkyw4y Follow

no. no it is not.

🌟showmethestars Follow

I've been on this site for centuries and can tell you that the reading comprehension level has not changed at all.

🍞coolest-loaf-01 Follow

🌟showmethestars

Not quite! I'm El-Aurian.

#tumblr sure is tumbling today #24th century posts

407 notes

🦔bel0vedcreatures Follow

I am so sorry for posting that tribble picture without a trigger warning! Can promise it will never happen again.

🧍someguygenderneutral Follow

why would tribbles be triggering? annoying i can understand, but they are literally harmless?

👀not-gowron Follow

*stares in klingon*

🧍someguygenderneutral

ah. sorry

#tw tribble mention #i guess??

25 notes

🦐the-danger-shrimp Follow

petition for the bel0vedcreatures blog to post moopsy

#not tagging them because im scared #what if they actually find this

8 notes

🏴‍☠️crimedirective Follow

trasnporter accident shrunk me down what do now

🏴‍☠️crimedirective

i am bonking my head at the screen to type

🏴‍☠️crimedirective

they put me back through. am ok now

🍜wet-spaghetti Follow

wasn't this the plot of a bunch of earth movies?

#spaghetti reblogs #honestly cant tell whether this is a shitpost or not #starfleet is actually just like that

253 notes

Hope you enjoyed!

[thestrangestthing89]

It's not an apology, it's a clarification. He very directly says "you misconstrued what I said" a thing multiple people around here have been trying to say for months. He said this exact same thing in an Instagram post he made a few months ago but people lack the reading comprehension skills to follow something like that. So he said it in a TikTok video again only some people are still not understanding. And it's because they don't want to. (He has recently taken his Instagram post down, I'm guessing because he is getting relentlessly harassed.) The truth of the matter is that many people didn't take the time to understand basic facts about this situation (like what the word Zionism actually means) and the result was that a lot of misinformation spread because people were desperate to make sure their followers knew they were The Most Progressive and The Most Anti-Racist. They did not talk about this issue in a way that was culturally sensitive. They made assumptions about Noah based on anti-Semitic stereotypes and I don't even think they realize they are doing it because, again, they aren't well-informed. But every time someone twists the word Zionism to mean "pro-genocide" and makes the flying leap that anyone using that word is laughing at people dying they are falling into the stereotype that Jews are bloodthirsty. Anytime people say that any Jewish person has the wrong information in this situation and needs to education themselves about their own culture, they are believing that Jews can't be trusted. They did all of these things to Noah and they did it very easily because they are ignorant. These people essentially turned into an angry mob. I can't even count the amount of comments I saw that were basically "I hate Noah too!!! Wait, what did he do? Someone tell me!" They piled on because their peers were doing it and not because they had any clue what the problem was. It was the cool and trendy thing to do so they did it. And they deluded themselves into thinking they were saving Palestinians in the process when they actually didn't do shit for anyone. The only problem is that the people who did this didn't take the time to inform themselves before piling on. Noah didn't apologize to them because he doesn't have to. They owe him an apology though and I think the ones with larger followings are responsible for a lot of this and imo are lucky they didn't get sued for defamation. He didn't do any of the things they are accusing him. They decided for themselves what he thought and believed based on very little information and they have no right to do this to anyone. They seriously think Noah is responsible for single-handedly killing people. He's not in the military or a politician. He didn't even endorse anyone who did. This whole situation is the stupidest fucking thing in the world. They are more outraged over the bullshit they made up about him the actual political situation and it's because they don't actually care. They are using Palestinians as an excuse to say hateful things, but they aren't helping them at all. I don't think Gen Z-ers are realizing that everyone older than them is getting increasingly more concerned about the way they go about their political activism. It's a serious problem and this current political situation only highlighted problems with them that had been occurring for a while now. Relentlessly harassing any Jewish person online for not speaking exactly to your liking isn't activism. Threatening to kill people who disagree with you isn't activism. Trying to ruin someone's career because they didn't act like your parasocial bestie isn't activism. Spamming the comments of everyone's posts with Free Palestine isn't activism and it sure as hell isn't what spreading awareness looks like. That requires being well informed first. Not to mention learning how to have difficult conversations without screaming hysterically at people and shouting that they must be pro-genocide/racist/misogynist/homophobic every damn second just because they said something you didn't take the time to understand.

They need to learn to ask for a clarification before assuming the absolute worst about people. They do this to people in the fandom constantly and it's why no one decent posts here regularly anymore. They are ignorant, plain and simple. But they are so desperate for peer approval and for people to think they are the best activists ever that they don't realize how much damage they do when they behave this way.

The people still pissed at Noah were always going to be. They were always going to pick him apart because they are anti-Semitic and they made that very clear. All he is saying is that people need to understand that both Jews and Palestinians are human and stop taking sides. A thing that anyone with a shred of human decency has been saying for months. The people who haven't been saying this tend to be very young (teens and early 20s) and it's because they fell for a lot of unverified information on TikTok - something that is concerning a lot of people given that it is an election year in the US. All anyone had to do here was listen and they didn't. They are too busy trying to be morally superior to anyone to bother having an actual conversation. They still aren't listening. There was nothing wrong with what Noah said here either. But people are determined to believe that he was laughing at people dying when he wasn't. This literally never happened. They just heard a word they weren't familiar with a jumped to awful conclusions. It's not their place to educate anyone on anything. They are not qualified to do so. And I wish people were smarter about who they were reblogging and weren't so desperate to get more followers by jumping on the bandwagon. They cause so much drama in the fandom constantly by acting like this. This is just the latest example.

The people who think it's now suddenly ok to be violent and homophobic towards someone just because they perceived that person to do something they didn't like, were waiting for an opportunity. They wanted to be horrible and they think they got a reason. They didn't and there is never a reason to behave like this. But it did reveal just how many people in this fandom are horrible human beings. The people who weren't saying this directly were still agreeing with those people and were not better than them. It should have set alarm bells off in their heads that the only people who agreed with them were being vile. That should have been the first clue they were on the wrong side. I wish people learned to think for themselves better. They were clearly jumping on the bandwagon and didn't understand what was going on. And I stand by my comment from a few months ago, we would not be dealing with relentless drama in the fandom if the show had a higher rating. And I do think they need to focus more on their original adult audience again. Most of us do not feel comfortable posting regularly in this fandom when it got taken over by kids who don't understand any of the things they are upset about, but they are upset with everyone and everything constantly. No one came here to babysit.

[crayonboxcolors607]

in honor of Part 1 getting 100 likes and like 15 reblogs! (a lot for tiny stupid me lol) i decided to suck it up and write another part bc ppl have asked for it

IF YOU HAVEN'T READ PART ONE, PLEASE DO SO!

After Robin found out, things were a bit better for Steve. The two of them practiced their signs during slow shifts at the Family Video. Robin showed him a new sign every day and helped him improve his lip reading. It benefited his daily life too. Gone were the days when he had to walk all the way across the store to talk to Robin, now the two of them could have conversations from opposite sides of the store, their hands flying fast as they spoke.

Robin was a fucking godsend, bullying Keith into giving Steve more time off in case of migraines and providing excuses when he couldn't drive the kids around. She begged Steve to wear his hearing aids, eventually telling him that if he played his cards right he could cover them up with his hair, which ultimately convinced him. She'd helped him find a new hairstyle that almost eliminated them completely, clapping her hands excitedly as the shock on his face was evident when he turned them on and could differentiate sounds again.

Of course, there were still things that were hard, even with the hearing aids. Steve needed to be directly facing someone in order to have a basic understanding of what they were saying, and there couldn't be anything obstructing their mouth. This proved especially difficult when Steve interacted with the younger Party members, although they continued to chalk it up to Steve's usual airheadedness. For once, he was grateful to be stereotyped as a dumb jock.

One random day in October, however, things began to change.

Dustin had somehow roped Steve into driving him, Mike, and Lucas to some fancy-ass comic store in Indianapolis, claiming that "the one in Hawkins is not nearly comprehensive enough, Steve". He'd rolled his eyes and responded with what they referred to as his "Mom Pose", his hands on his hips and his eyebrow cocked as he stared at them judgementally. Eventually, though, he'd relented, letting them fight over who got shotgun and who had to sit in the back.

Somehow, although he himself didn't quite seem to know how, Lucas managed to snag the front seat. He'd slid in quietly as Dustin and Mike threw themselves into the backseat, yelling obnoxiously about unfairness and favoritism. Steve refrained from pointing out that he'd had no part in the tussle for shotgun, instead allowing it to play out.

He and Lucas had been engaging in conversation about sports when Lucas had quietly mentioned that he was thinking of trying out for the school's basketball team, tentatively asking Steve if they could meet up the next weekend so he could give him some pointers. Steve had agreed without even thinking, but he began to panic once he got home later that afternoon. How was he supposed to go over skills in basketball when he couldn't even hear out of his left ear?

But in typical Steve fashion, he procrastinated until the last minute, eventually deciding that he simply wouldn't wear the hearing aids. He'd be fine for one basketball practice, right?

And so, Steve drove to the basketball courts that Saturday, removing his hearing aids as he arrived, and thus reintroducing a fuzzy ringing in his ears that he hadn't experienced in a long time. It felt alien, but he shook his head around a bit and started to shoot baskets. He'd forgotten how good sports made him feel, and was pleasantly surprised at the adrenaline that began pumping through his veins. In fact, his new lack of hearing made it easier for him to practice, as it allowed him to tune out the rest of the world and focus solely on himself and his own fluid motions.

This did prove to be a slight problem, however, as he didn't hear Lucas dropping his stuff on the bench, nor did he notice him walking up to Steve. So the tapping on his shoulder startled him far more than it should have.

"Jesus Sinclair!" Steve exclaimed. "You scared the shit outta me, man!" Lucas seemed confused at Steve's reaction, and he silently reminded himself that none of the kids knew about his hearing.

"Uhh, sorry Steve," Lucas said slowly. "Are um, are you okay?" The concern on his face melted Steve's heart just a little bit.

"I'm fine buddy," he reassured the young teen. "Was just in my own world a bit, you know, focusing and stuff." His explanation seemed to comfort Lucas enough, and he grinned.

"You ready to get started?" he asked, tossing the younger boy the ball. Lucas caught it with a practiced ease and began dribbling, feinting left and right. Steve dropped down into his defensive position, mirroring Lucas's every movement, tracking his feet to predict which direction he would go next.

He felt himself slipping back into that headspace that he loved so much, the one that drew him into sports in the first place. Because he didn’t need to think about it, the strategies were always in his brain. He just needed to rely on muscle memory, all his former skills coming back to him as he and Lucas scrimmaged.

They played for about thirty minutes before taking a quick break to grab water and snacks, both of them struggling to catch their breath. Lucas opened his Gatorade™ and said something Steve, causing him to look over in surprise as he struggled to figure out what the younger boy was saying.

"Pardon?" he said, pretending he just hadn't been paying attention. Lucas repeated himself, or at least Steve had to assume that he did, because again, he couldn't understand a single word that left the younger boy's mouth.

There was a heavy feeling in his stomach as he debated asking Lucas to repeat himself a third time.

Someone tapped his leg, pulling him out of his own spiraling headspace. Steve looked up, feeling even worse as he registered the fear on Lucas' face.

"Steve," Lucas began slowly, seeming struggling with what to say next. "Can you, uh, can you not hear me?"

Of course, that sentence Steve was able to comprehend.

With a heavy sigh, he shook his head.

"Not really," he replied, looking anywhere but at Lucas. "My hearing started to go after Billy smashed my head with a plate. And it got worse after Starcourt." He looked up then, a grim smile on his face. "Turns out multiple concussions aren't exactly good for a person."

Lucas' eyes widened at the confession. "So, are you deaf?" he asked. Or at least, Steve assumed that's what he said.

"Partially," Steve replied. "I can't hear at all out of my left ear, that's where I got the most damage. My right ear can function, but not normally. I mostly rely on reading lips and context clues."

"Oh my god," Lucas said slowly, the gears visibly turning in his head. "Oh my god! W-we kept teasing you! We kept calling you stupid a-and laughing at you! You couldn't even hear us! And you-" The boy suddenly slumped over and placed his head in his hands. He said something, Steve was sure of it, but it was additionally muffled by him covering his face.

"Uh, Lucas, buddy," Steve said hesitantly. "I can't understand you if I can't see your face." Lucas looked up at him then, tears pooling in his eyes.

"It's my fault," he said. Steve felt his mouth drop open in shock, and began to protest, but Lucas stopped him.

"Billy was coming after me," he insisted, talking clearer so Steve could understand. "He was attacking me! You stepped in and tried to defend me -- now you're deaf and it's all my fault!"

Steve felt his heart drop.

He'd been so scared to tell anyone because he was worried they wouldn't view him the same way as before, that he hadn't even considered how the kids might feel if they knew he was like this because of his attempts to protect them.

"Oh Lucas," Steve said softly, gathering the crying teen into his arms. "It's not your fault. There isn't a world where I wouldn't have done the same. You're my kid. I'm always gonna protect you. That's just how it works." He felt Lucas try to push away, to protest, but he just held him tighter. "You and your little gaggle of idiots are worth everything. I'd go deaf a thousand times if it meant keeping you all safe."

With a sniffle, Lucas detached himself from the older boy.

"Really?" he said, eyes shiny with tears.

"Of course," Steve responded, without missing a beat. He gave the younger boy a final squeeze, before wiping away the few tears that had escaped while he and Lucas were talking. "I'd better get you home anyway. Your mom will have my head on a stick if you miss dinner." He kept his hand on Lucas' back as he wiped his tears and sniffed a final time.

"Okay," he said. "But you're staying for dinner."

HOLY SHIT I FINALLY FINISHED! ONLY TOOK ME 9 MONTHS LOL

okay okay so i did talk about the older members of the party finding out next as well as dustin but i just had to make a liar out of myself bc when i started writing this my brain was just like "but what if we did a wholesome reveal with Lucas instead??" and now here we are and i regret nothing

except the lack of sleep. i regret that a lot.

also, i am not an athlete. i am a depressed and introverted high school theater kid who has never played basketball in my entire life bc i am a measly 5ft 1in (roughly 155cm). so dont come at me if the sportsball lingo is incorrect bc i have no fucking clue what im doing.

also THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING AND ALL THE LIKES AND REBLOGS ON MY LAST POST!!

[thatgirlonstage]

Considering the cross section of people who want ao3 to have an algorithm with the painful lack of reading comprehension you see so often on the internet and it occurs to me that part of being able to use a website like ao3 the way it’s intended requires you to… know your own taste.

In order to input the correct filters to find what you’re after, you have to have some sense of what you like and what you don’t like and how those things are described in tags and categories that you can filter on. You have to have the ability to take a fic and parse out which pieces of it you responded to and then figure out how to get more of it. You are, with the aid of a filter system as fantastic as ao3’s, actually more effective than an algorithm at doing that once you know how! You know that the reason you liked this fic was because of the really gooey cuddle scene between A/B, so you know that now you should go look in tags like “Cuddling” or “Hugs” or “Comfort” or “Fluff” or “only one bed + Rated T”. An algorithm can’t tell if you liked the gooey cuddle scene or the fact that it was a steampunk AU or this specific author’s style, it can only make statistical guesses at the fact that a lot of people who liked THIS fic also liked THAT one. It doesn’t know WHY.

But like… that is a skill. It may be a very intuitive skill, especially for people who have been doing it a long time, but if you’re accustomed to being spoonfed suggestions I can guess it wouldn’t be intuitive at all. I can absolutely see how needing to search for your own preferences would stump you if you’ve never had to do it before.

And it is very much an exercise in both literacy and understanding your own taste. If you don’t bother to paint things you read or watch with any more nuanced brush than “I like this” or “I don’t like this”, then you never learn what, exactly, it is that you’re liking or disliking. You’ll never be able to pull a text apart to figure out which strands are compelling and which you could do without. You’ll never be able to tell the difference between what is a generally well-written story and what is tugging at something that you specifically enjoy. Especially in the climate of judging media by its moral correctness, where dislike and especially disgust gets equated to “there is something objectively BadWrong with this art and therefore NO ONE should like ANY part of it,” people are increasingly encouraged to sand away any understanding of their own personal tastes.

Knowing your own taste can be scary. Very seriously, it can be hard to look at yourself and reconcile all the weird, cringe, taboo, silly, gross, embarrassing, or fucked-up stories you might like. It can be easier to just go along with what other people tell you is good or bad, particularly when there is as much pressure as there can be in online spaces—both inadvertent and intentional.

But I promise, I absolutely promise, knowing your taste is the best and fastest way to find more art that you love. Figuring out what it is you like is the route to finding more of it, to finding art that resonates with you, art that bring you joy. Figuring out why you like it can be interesting, but that can be an even bigger and more fraught question to consider. You don’t have to understand the why. Just start with the what. It will unlock so many doors for you.

[pastadoughie]

i love when i tell people 2 think critically abt shit and then they make a response where they dont and are misinterpreting me and ignoring half the shit i said, and then i explain the issue again and my issues with theyr response and then they continue to misenterpret me and literally ignore entire paragraphs of my response, and act like im attacking them for giving like, the most polite critisism ever

"i love being able to mute posts" sorry that i reblogged you once and calmly explained my points im sure your notifs must be just such a mess, me saying my opinions is clearly attacking you, you being completely unwilling to engadge with my critisism of your ideas totally doesnt prove my point at all, me saying that people should engadge with experiences other then their own and that sexism is bad is me "projecting my damage onto others" and not just a normal opinion, you are always right by default and if somebody points out a flaw in your ideas thats because they are attacking you and you dont need to listen to that ever

listen, if someone is pointing out a way that sexism presents and you see yourself inhibiting those behaviors maybe your gut response shouldnt be to try and argue that that brand of sexism is reasonable actually

me saying that having a bias against men is misandry is not me "assuming everybody thinks the same way as me" that is the definition of misandry, that is WHAT THAT WORD MEANS!!! you having a different justification for misandry doesnt make it not misandry i am begging people on tumblr to learn what words mean

you acting like im attacking you and harrassing you for expressing an opinion in a polite way is just a way for you to justify throwing away my opinion and not self reflecting, that is not productive discourse, you do not care about bettering yourself as a person or examining your beliefs at all, you want to be "the correct one" in an arguement

its immature and stupid, you want to look like youre smart and better at reading comprehension then everybody else, and that you never believe anything wrong or bad but you lack any of those qualities, its trying to imitate the look of a debate without any of the critical thinking skills or reading comprehension

[zzencat]

Weird (regarding final spouse reading)

tl;dr: felt a literal force sweeping through me when I was doing the reading

Guys, I know it’s been well over an hour since I posted it but I just can’t shake this feeling off. I’ve already asked another tarot reader if she’d ever had a similar experience and I’m still awaiting her answer

Pile 3 in the final spouse one actually flipped me over and roasted me like a pig over fire. Nah not actually but that’s my poor attempt at trying to lift the mood- imma ask for some extra protection just in case UNLESS they wanna reach out in a dream tonight

I literally felt a force go thru me- like fly thru me as I wrote the last few things for the last pile. It literally made me straighten up in my seat and my eyes widened in shock like “oo was I not supposed to touch that nerve?” Kind of guilty face.

No gust of wind could’ve gotten in my room and no fan was on

Suddenly, I was in an interrogation room with a pitifully looking boy, like looking beat up and tired- and the room was even clear until after I “regained” myself. I don’t wanna admit it but I’m lowkey scared.

The thing that flew thru was like a legless AND faceless grim reaper looking thing, almost like it was guarding the boy. It floated around him like a white fog… I don’t remember exactly what I was writing but I know it was near the end and that I wrote too much

It was the 3 of us amigos: the boy, Ghost friend, and me. I was in the lawyer seat and both of them were seated on the other side

It was only after I deleted something abt their “growing up” (notice how I can’t be using “adolescence” to describe it either—maybe think of it as lacking vocabulary…)

Shit…or maybe lacking vocabulary bc of poor education- orphanage?

Yk the image of a dark grey orphanage keeps showing up. I keep thinking about other circumstances (without trying to mention f*m*ly bc they seem super sensitive when hearing it so I’ll censor it) like the could’ve been’s or possible combinations but only that shows up

So a lot of emotional suppression it seems. It also seems to be less frightening when I address (this situation) with indirect words, bc perhaps the kid-them can’t put it together. Their comprehension at that age can’t be as well developed

I think you guys kind of get the point of where the hurt might be coming from for a certain pile. I feel very reluctant to addressing them directly. If they have memory loss, I’d prefer to say the pile at the top and then indirectly address them as I am writing this

There’s no way I’m trying to play around w spirits n stuff 😭

Maybe they’ll come back with a less ambushy kind of feel and I’ll talk to them. Maybe it was me for violating their privacy- IM SORRY PILE 3 spouse, I didn’t mean ill intent in any way. Maybe you feel that way.

I don’t know if I was talking to a reflection of this person’s younger self or their inner child (since it’s more gender inclusive)

Whoever this kid was, he could only nod, blink, and shake his head. His facial expression looked a combination of pitiful, wary, and asking for help. I can’t tell.

Thanks for listening guys, this…this has been probably one of the freakiest experiences of my life 🫠

[kywaslost]

hello! is it okay if i can request headcannons for aizawa with a student who has a processing disorder and has to have things like simplified for them? i have something called auditory processing disorder and i cant really understand people sometimes, so i need things simplified for me or for someone to say something slower so i can understand it better. im sorry if this will be a bother!

Reader Has A Processing Disorder - Aizawa

A/N: Hi! This isn’t a bother at all! In fact, I enjoyed researching the different processing disorders, especially since I really love Anatomy and Physiology or anything to do with the human body. I decided to include all processing disorders, if that’s alright! Hope you enjoy it!

I found all of the information in this fic here.

Auditory Processing Disorder (APD) - impacts comprehension and recall of what you hear and auditory processing in the brain; can result in issues related to listening for children, including repeated requests for clarification of spoken directions, or difficulty understanding conversations if they’re in a noisy place.

When you tell Aizawa about your APD, it really doesn’t bother him

You need him to clarify or repeat himself? He can do that.

You ask to audio record each class? He lets you sit in the front row to better pick up the audio

Takes you to speech therapy if you ask him to, since it’s off campus

Helps you learn sign language if that’s what you’d like so you’ll be able to understand him better

When you do your work studies, it can get loud and hard for you to understand your mentor, so you end up using sign language a lot outside of the classroom

Overall, Aizawa is willing to do anything to help you excel in the classroom

Just because you have trouble processing sounds doesn’t mean you should fall behind your classmates

Like I said earlier, your APD doesn’t change the way he thinks about you or how he treats you

Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD) - can result in over-responsiveness to sensory input, such as extreme sensitivity to loud noise or itchy clothing, or under responsiveness, which could be shown as a lack of awareness of personal space or a desire for thrill seeking.

Aizawa is much more aware about how you feel and how you’re acting when he learns you have SPD.

Your school uniform is too itchy or the fabric bothers you? He helps you talk to Nezu about ordering a new uniform in a fabric that doesn’t bother you.

The lights are too bright? He dims them down as much as he can without making the other students sleepy.

It’s too loud? Let’s you wear noise-canceling headphones and uses sign language for the rest of class as he speaks so you don’t miss anything.

Knows if you have aversions to certain foods and their textures

Keeps foods that you’re comfortable with in a drawer in his desk in case of emergencies

Have trouble moving, like climbing stairs or going far distances? Aizawa will walk with you to make sure you get to your location alright

Or makes sure someone is always with you

Your quirk doesn’t require you to do much physical activity, so you should be ok in that aspect

On the other hand, if you’re under stimulated and can’t sit still, Aizawa has plenty of fidget toys for you to mess around with

Notices when you begin to chew on your pencil or hoodie strings and gives you something else to do so you aren’t constantly chewing on things

Yet again, he tries to help you the best he can to make sure you’re comfortable and not a threat to yourself or others

Visual Processing Disorder (VPD) - one may not be able to distinguish between shapes, have difficulty copying notes from the board, or have difficulty remembering the correct sequence for letters or numbers in a series.

Aizawa is going to need to help you a bit more with this one

But he doesn’t mind

Knows you struggle with taking notes so he’ll either give you his notes or makes sure that one of your classmates helps you with your own notes

If you’re asked to read aloud in class, he’ll help you since you often mix up letters

But he tries his best to keep you from reading in class

He knows how embarrassed you get by it sometimes

Offers to help you with math homework

Especially when you have to do the same online assignment 8 times to get 100% just because your numbers move around on you (not me in calculus yesterday…)

Writes even bigger on the board to help you try and keep your letters and numbers in the right order

Schedules study sessions with you to make sure you’re keeping up with him and the other students

Helps you in as many ways as possible

[mamuzzy]

MAMUZZY READS HARD CONTACT: Introduction

Hey All, remember when I vented about how I will start my own re-reading because I'm annoyed about the existing fan-takes over this series, discouraging new fans to engage?

Now it's happening!!!! ☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆

This one is an Introduction post about my personal thoughts before actually starting, not an actual chapter.

I don't have a specific agenda on what I want to achieve with this blogging, other than I want to share my thoughts with you, share my enthusiasm, collecting favorite or thought-inducing quotes, hunting for lore (clone, jedi, mando, kaminoan and character lore in general) and most importantly: thirsting over my favorite blorbos.

Maybe a bit want to counter all that negativity that surrounds this fandom with providing a different perspective.

Is this a masterpiece? Probably not. Do I enjoy it? HELL YEAH. And in the end, this is what counts.

I won't tag this as pro-jedi, or anti-jedi, or [insert a name/faction/author here]-critical or similiar kind of fandom faction fuckery. Only a Sith deals in absolutes.

But before reading it, I wanted to share some thoughts...

-- About Critical Thinking... --

My first reading of the books happened without the influence of knowing anything about the author and I avoided repcomm side of tumblr like a plague. I didn't want the author's personal worldview or the existing factions on the internet influence me in any way while reading.

I think this helped me completely immerse in the story itself and not just looking it through a glass wall like an outsider under peer-pressure and with a strict community guide how is allowed to engage with the books otherwise you will be called names.

If you follow me through, I still encourage you to read it yourself so you can form your own opinion. But don't forget, you can always put down a book if you end up not liking it.

Everyone interpret the books differently: enjoyment or hatred depends on different life experiences, how old are you, what culture are you from, and often what opinions have you heard before about the said media. Sometimes it's just about basic reading comprehension (or the lack of it).

Critical thinking is not "skipping 20 pages because it contains Kal Skirata who is a shitty person and it taints you if you read". Critical thinking is able to form an opinion outside of the existing factions influences and resisting peer-pressure and being open minded for new information.

I'm just a random dude on the internet who will share you with his experiences about the books. But that is just one part of the truth. Just as an anti have their own truth. You will have your own truth.

But Mamuzzy, how can you be so gullible! This book is a bad representation to [insert a group here]! It conveys the wrong message!

What do you do with the wrong messages? You follow it through like it's some kind of ultimate truth anyway?

If you need fiction to hold your hand and tell you that you shouldn't treat your friends/family/partner/pets bad, the problem is not in the fiction, the problem is in YOU. If you feel you can act shitty toward people because that one fiction validated your urge to hurt people, the fault is not in the fiction but in YOU.

In the end of the day only that matters how do you behave with a living, breathing person in front of you.

-- Republic Commando IS A FANFICTION --

Bear in mind that mostly every written Star Wars book is a published fanfiction. Treat Republic Commando as such.

-- Star Wars is a fairy tale. RepComm is not. --

The Original Triology is a fairy tale. Good guys with blue lightsabers beating the bad buys with red lightsabers who hurt people and destroy planets and in the end good guys win. The roles are established. You know who to root for, you are spoon-feed with the narrative.

Republic Commando is not a fairy tale. Mando'a doesn't have a word for heroes, and this book doesn't have heroes either. Just people.

Protagonists =/= Heroes with unquestionable morals.

Am I supposed to root for THESE PEOPLE?

You are not obligated to do anything. Just know that this is not a traditional hero's journey story.

In my reading this story is about broken and lost people trying to find their place in the world while trying not to die. A literal found-family story.

-- About Jedi lore --

Karen Traviss doesn't make it a secret questioning the jedi about handling the whole war situation, about handling the clones, about being the puppets of the Senate/Sheev Palpatine and with it, Darth Sidious. But the conflicts and hostility between the Mandalorians and the Jedi are not Karen Traviss' invention.

Her characters are mostly Mandalorians who have grudge against the JEDI ORDER as a faction, and other characters who are influenced by mandalorian culture.

In the prequels, the Jedi Order is introduced like any other religious cult with govermental support behind them and George Lucas uses the same black-and-white thesises in this grey area. Darth Sidious didn't destroy the jedi with his sith force powers. He could destroy the jedi because he was damn effective politican and a master manipulatior who found the perfect pawns to execute his plans. That's my take on the jedi order in the prequels.

Also note that Karen Traviss' lore about the Jedi and the Force is completely different from George Lucas' thesises about the Star Wars universe.

I'll try and point it out these differences as we are advancing through the chapters.

-- No inhibitor chips in RepComm --

Inhibitor chips don't exist in Republic Commando universe and the concept wasn't introduced until The Clone Wars series. The troopers are very well aware of the 150 Contingency Orders, including Order 66.

Throughout my reading, comments and thoughts are appreciated! I'm open for conversation ^^

Because this is the first time I'm doing such thing, I can't say how much time I need to process a chapter, but I plan to do at least 1 chapter/week so I won't neglect my other hobbies, while surviving my increasing workhours as I go into the summer. :D

See you soon at Prologue + Chapter 1! (* ^ ω ^)

[cto10121]

Twilight Clown Takes Special Edition—Bella and Edward Would Be Divorced By Now & Other Projections

In which the Twilight anti fandom cheerfully throws canon and even their beloved lore out the window for this increasingly deranged fanon, in part born from the dumbass movie canon. Here we go, om nom nom

Edward only “killed the vibe” when he thought he hurt Bella. He was literally upset that he gave her bruises and thought that Bella was putting up a brave face. 😭 If anything, it’s such a green flag it hurts.

Also, while Edward is dramatic, so is Bella. They both are! Bella is just more chill as a default.

Tell me you’ve only read the first 50 pages of Midnight Sun without telling me you only read the first 50 pages of Midnight Sun.

Edward being unable to read Bella’s mind is just like his reaction to Bella’s scent—it is a hook, a fictional contrivance to make him want to spend more time with her.

Once he does, though, he sticks around. Why? Because he likes Bella personally. She is quirky, self-possessed, quick-witted, winsome, and pretty tough and brave—the exact qualities you need to be able to handle vampires. She is also self-negating with self-esteem issues, which Edward admires and relates to, since he is self-negating with self-esteem issues too. Birds of a feather, etc.

Edward doesn’t know that Bella is like all the other girls even though he 1) asks a million questions about her likes and interests, 2) she tells him to his face that she is “absolutely ordinary,” and 3) er, stalks her.

You would think homeboy would get a clue about what kind of girl Bella is by now, especially from 3).

Visits her mom, oh God, these clowns are really not beating the lack of reading comprehension skills allegations. No thoughts, head empty.

I think it’s safe to say Bella would never return to Renée and Arizona. As much as she loves the city and the landscape, it is the site of her parentification, which Bella at some deep subconscious level recognizes and resents. Forks, bad weather and all, was when she really found her people, not to mention her love. And now that she is a vampire, the cold isn’t even a problem anymore.

Also, the fact that Bella blithely rationalizes away keeping Renée in the dark while keeping Charlie in the loop speaks volumes.

That’s right! Bella and Edward would never work out because they don’t have anything in common. I even made a whole list on how little they have in common, it’s astounding!

“Treats Resume awful” Source, please. Even in the dumbass movies Edward and Renesmee had a really lovely rapport with each other. It was one of the few moments Rob Pattinson did look like he was enjoying himself.

Bella “I have too much Charlie in me” Swan, going full Renee? It’s less likely than you think. Why do these clowns always have to stan Renee, the woman who literally made her child pay the bills?????

Also, “a woman who followed her own desires”…that is literally Bella with regards to Edward. She was the one who 100% on Edward’s icy D train while homeboy was still flailing over being Hades to her Persephone. She was the one who wanted to experience sex with Edward while still human even though he could have squished her like a bug.

It’s literally why I love this bitch (complimentary) to begin with. I admire that kind of NFG (No Fucks Given) in fictional characters. Characters that march to the beat of their own drum.

The Twilight fandom is really not beating the allegations.

Anyway, YMMV, but I’ve never read a more hetero bitch than Bella in my life, and I grew up on bodice rippers and telenovelas. Kristen Stewart’s Bella is not and will never be canon, so her sapphic vibes don’t count.

Tell me you’ve only seen the movies without telling me—

[66sharkteeth]

Hi! I just want to say that I absolutely love your writing and your art. City of Blank is my favorite comic by all reasonable measures (not counting my special interest) and your art style is so cool and unique that it’s inspired me to learn how to use half tones and rougher lines.

Mostly the point of this ask is that I wanted to tell you that you’re not alone.

Webtoon comic sections (and webtoon readers in general) are famous for their complete and total lack of reading comprehension. Maybe it’s because of the format of short episodes every week, which leads to reading spread out over time and in tandem with literally dozens of every series.

If I’m being less generous it’s because the vast majority of people are absolute idiots who believe the first narrative they see and parrot it forever, without ever caring to check the facts or learn new ones.

This is part of why Claude supporters are so vocal compared to the rest of the fandom - most readers simply see a clingy villain who almost definitely has a personality disorder. The people who care enough to actually read the comic see him as an apathetic but deeply relatable person, who is misunderstood by the world and has seriously messed up priorities. These same people are the ones who make fan art and cosplay because they actually care about the story.

My point is, don’t judge your comic off of the comment section. If you’re feeling generous, don’t even judge your fanbase. The people who care enough to donate on patreon, make fanart, cosplay, and post about CoB. Those are the people you should listen to. Someone once said “If you wouldn’t ask them for advice, don’t listen to their criticism.” That person clearly didn’t have anxiety and they make it sound easy. It’s not. But try to judge with the people who care over the people who don’t.

And even if your comic sucks (which it doesn’t)

You are still amazing as you are.

Thank you! ;v;

Tbh one thing I need to get better at remembering is......every WT comment section is like this haha. It doesn't matter if the writer is modern Shakespeare. Nobody is spared. I should just be grateful mine is (relatively) less toxic than some. I'll take confused people missing blatant details over biggots using slurs any day (tho don't get me wrong. I unfortunately get always at least 1-2 of those any time something remotely gay happens lol. But at least it's just one here and there).

Thank you for the kind words of reassurance!

[smokedanced]

i woke up with an rpc vent in my mind that i feel like i have to unleash but 1) no obligation to read this at all i am just venting it out of my system and not really wanting to talk about it and 2) this is not a vaguepost. this is not about specific people. not all of this is about something to do with my blogs even. some of this is shit that i myself have mistakenly done before, even. i am talking about annoyances and pet peeves, not aiming to shame anyone. if i have an issue with any specific person i block them, vent about them privately with a close friend, or talk it out with the person.

readmore for length and so people don't have to see me vent lol (everything is fine nothing has happened just overall rpc annoyances from my time here since aaages ago)

i can't tell whether people lack reading comprehension, can't be bothered to read stuff, or are just entitled, a lot of the time, with some of these. you would think when we share a hobby that is largely based on reading, people would... read... but...

almost every time. almost every time i post a meme call etc. where i say to specify muse. i get likes without people specifying muse. this, along with the next item, is so common that it's not even possible to vaguepost about any specific person on this because it feels like most people do this? i'm sure i've mistakenly done it myself (just forgot and such) but it's not. it's. ????????? WHY

i kind of understand if i post a long ass plotting call for specific verses and explain a lot on the post that someone might skim it and miss a line about specifying muse, but even on two lines of just "like for memes. specify muse or i won't send any" people consistently manage to not follow the rules. this has been happening since. like at least five years now. i don't think meme calls were a thing much before that. but i remember struggling with this in 2018. and still.

similarly. do people. do people not read rules, think a rule doesn't apply for them (???) or just... what with, not doing my interest tracker.

it's gotten to the point that i am SURPRISED whenever someone does. i am GENUINELY DELIGHTED like someone did me a HUGE FAVOUR whenever they do it. i am so so pleased whenever someone who had kind of been around for a long time finally does it.

i sort of can see, if we follow each other on one of my other blogs first, that people might follow the multi without reading the rules since they already read the rules on another blog. that's generally ok, but when my multi has that specific rule that my other blogs don't, it's... well.

i don't know how many times i need to say on the dash that i do not interact with people until they either do my interest tracker OR tell me ooc which muses i am allowed to send them OR send me in character things (in which case i will only approach with the muses they send things first for). i just need to know which muses people are open to so i don't need to feel like i am forcing a muse someone isn't interested in for them. i don't need plot ideas, i don't need people to pick just one muse, i just need some indication of WHICH MUSES ARE OK TO SEND. like i don't know how much easier i could make it than saying it's ok to just message me and tell me all of my muses are ok. ????????

and i know so many people who struggle with the same thing. if someone has a rule about their interest tracker being mandatory. if you aren't going to do it. then don't follow them. what

more on reading comprehension or did someone not even read the rules before following: constantly. i- i mean, ok, lol, i'm not popular enough to get constant new followers, that's not. what i mean.

a huge chunk of people who follow me have direct contradictions to my rules in their rules. i can't tell if people don't read mine before they follow or if they somehow manage to lack the reading comprehension to understand them? especially my rule about me not following people who judge others based on what fiction they enjoy. i get very, very many followers whose own rules directly contradict this. i've even explained this in detail in my rules: how i am ok with people saying "don't follow me if you write x", but i am not ok and don't feel safe around people who say "don't follow me if you write gross things like x" etc. etc. etc. it's the tone, it's the implied judgement. i say that this includes topics that i myself am not comfortable writing. i feel like i say this clearly??? what is not clicking or do people not read my rules???

the other rule of mine that gets ignored is that i say i don't follow people with individual names on their dni lists. sometimes my ex-mutuals have added a dni of individual urls and then i'm forced to be like. ok. well. sorry, but i'm going to unfollow you. that's against my rules. i don't feel safe around you. i kind of, more understand it if it's something a mutual adds to their rules (i don't expect people to remember my rules, people can decide later that they don't agree with my rules, and so on, that's fine, it's up to me to curate my dash then and unfollow or block), but it's more baffling when there are new people.

both of the above are so common that whenever i get a new follower on any of my blogs now, i kind of ASSUME that there is going to be something in their rules that will be directly against mine and i won't be able to follow them back, until i go read their pages and am proven wrong. like, my assumption is that we are not compatible in the rpc, which is kind of fucking wild. because. why. why would you follow someone whose rules you don't agree with. i guess this is why i wonder if people read rules at all or if people just... don't... understand the way i word mine??? genuinely i continue to think of how to reword my rules but i feel like they are pretty clear on these topics???

(i'm not angry at anyone for following without reading my rules, i don't care enough to feel anger, it just. it's very confusing. and overall frustrating because you get a new follow and the blog seems cool but then you find out your rules aren't compatible.)

(i'm also never going to tell people what they can and can't have in their rules. rules that contradict mine are totally ok. it's not WRONG of people to not agree with my rules. i just wish people wouldn't follow me if our rules clearly do not match.)

other common either didn't read the rules or lack reading comprehension disregard the rules things that i see very commonly but that do not apply to me because i'm not mutuals only or have passwords but

people who disregard mutuals only rules. both people who will approach without being followed back and people who don't follow but think they can still interact? mutuals only means mutuals only, not one of us is following the other. i KNOW i have made this mistake before myself. i have taken mutuals only to mean if the other person with that rules follows me it's fine. i don't have to follow them. (the one time i don't take something literally LOL) but i've been corrected on it and know better now.

like person A has a mutuals only rule. person B wants to write with person A. person A follows person B, person B doesn't follow person A for whatever reason despite wanting to write together. person B just assumes that's ok. but... but you're not mutuals. entitled behaviour as fuck (that i have done myself! i have done this myself! i don't anymore of course but aaaaa it's so dumb why would i assume that was ok)

similarly: person A has a password in their rules. person B has a rule about not sending in passwords in theirs. person B follows person A first, doesn't send in password. ENTITLED AS FUCK BEHAVIOUR. your own rules can't excuse you not following someone else's. now, if person A was the one to follow first, then i think that would be fine. because then person A would know person B doesn't do passwords, and decided to follow anyway. but when it's the person who doesn't send passwords following someone who has a password first? just. don't follow someone whose rules you aren't going to follow. pretty sure i've done this in the past myself as well. would not anymore.

ok i have vented have a nice day. why am i getting irked over hypothetical things that don't even apply to me? i don't know. anyway. if this is somehow the first ooc post of mine you see i am so sorry i am normally just vibing and chilling.

also if you've done any of these in the past, i am not trying to make you feel bad. i tried to make that obvious by admitting to shit i myself did in the past.

also if anyone ever feels awkward about doing my interest tracker several months after having been quiet mutuals, don't! whenever someone does it i just get delighted. it's never a ohhhhh finally this person is doing it shame on them... it's always an oh! oh! so cool! we can write now! yay! and i usually message people to thank them for doing it.