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#please tell me they're getting an actual education

mdzsartreblogs · 1 year

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Recognizing AI Generated Images, Danmei Edition

Heyo, @unforth here! I run some danmei art blogs (@mdzsartreblogs, @tgcfartreblogs, @svsssartreblogs, @zhenhunartreblogs, @erhaartreblogs, @dmbjartreblogs, @tykartreblogs, and @cnovelartreblogs) which means I see a LOT of danmei art, and I go through the main fandom tags more-or-less every day.

Today, for the first time, I spotted someone posting AI-generated images (I refuse to call them AI "art" - and to be clear, that's correct of me, because at least in the US it literally LEGALLY isn't art) without any label indicating they were AI generated. I am not necessarily against the existence of AI-generated images (though really...considering all the legal issues and the risks of misuse, I'm basically against them); I think they potentially have uses in certain contexts (such as for making references) and I also think that regardless of our opinions, we're stuck with them, but they're also clearly not art and I don't reblog them to the art side blogs.

The images I spotted today had multiple "tells," but they were still accumulating notes, and I thought it might be a good moment to step back and point out some of the more obvious tells because my sense is that a LOT of people are against AI-generated images being treated as art, and that these people wouldn't want to support an AI-generator user who tried to foist off their work as actual artwork, but that people don't actually necessarily know how to IDENTIFY those works and therefore can inadvertently reblog works that they'd never support if they were correctly identified. (Similar to how the person who reposts and says "credit to the artist" is an asshole but they're not the same as someone who reposts without any credit at all and goes out of their way to make it look like they ARE the artist when they're not).

Toward that end, I've downloaded all the images I spotted on this person's account and I'm going to use them to highlight the things that led me to think they were AI art - they posted a total of 5 images to a few major danmei tags the last couple days, and several other images not to specific fandoms (I examined 8 images total). The first couple I was suspicious, but it wasn't til this morning that I spotted one so obvious that it couldn't be anything BUT AI art. I am NOT going to name the person who did this. The purpose of this post is purely educational. I have no interest whatsoever in bullying one rando. Please don't try to identify them; who they are is genuinely irrelevant, what matters is learning how to recognize AI art in general and not spreading it around, just like the goal of education about reposting is to help make sure that people who repost don't get notes on their theft, to help people recognize the signs so that the incentive to be dishonest about this stuff is removed.

But first: Why is treating AI-generated images as art bad?

I'm no expert and this won't be exhaustive, but I do think it's important to first discuss why this matters.

On the surface, it's PERHAPS harmless for someone to post AI-generated images provided that the image is clearly labeled as AI-generated. I say "perhaps" because in the end, as far as I'm aware, there isn't a single AI-generation engine that's built on legally-sourced artwork. Every AI (again, to the best of my knowledge) has been trained using copyrighted images usually without the permission of the artists. Indeed, this is the source of multiple current lawsuits. (and another)

But putting that aside (as if it can be put aside that AI image generators are literally unethically built), it's still problematic to support the images being treated as art. Artists spend thousands of hours learning their craft, honing it, sharing their creations, building their audiences. This is what they sell when they offer commissions, prints, etc. This can never be replicated by a computer, and to treat an AI-generated image as in any way equivalent is honestly rude, inappropriate, disgusting imo. This isn't "harmless"; supporting AI image creation engines is damaging to real people and their actual livelihoods. Like, the images might be beautiful, but they're not art. I'm honestly dreading someone managing to convince fandom that their AI-generated works are actual art, and then cashing in on commissions, prints, etc., because people can't be fussed to learn the difference. We really can't let this happen, guys. Fanartists are one of the most vibrant, important, prominent groups in all our fandoms, and we have to support them and do our part to protect them.

As if those two points aren't enough, there's already growing evidence that AI-generated works are being used to further propagandists. There are false images circulating of violence at protests, deep-fakes of various kinds that are helping the worst elements of society to push their horrid agendas. As long as that's a facet of AI-generated works, they'll always be dangerous.

I could go on, but really this isn't the main point of my post and I don't want to get bogged down. Other people have said more eloquently than I why AI-generated images are bad. Read those. (I tried to find a good one to link but sadly failed; if anyone knows a good post, feel free to send it and I'll add the link to the post).

Basically: I think a legally trained AI-image generator that had built-in clear watermarks could be a fun toy for people who want reference images or just to play with making pseudo-art. But...that's not what we have, and what we do have is built on theft and supports dystopia so, uh. Yeah fuck AI-generated images.

How to recognize AI-Generated Images Made in an Eastern Danmei Art Style

NOTE: I LEARNED ALL THE BASIC ON SPOTTING AI-GENERATED IMAGES FROM THIS POST. I'll own I still kinda had the wool over my eyes until I read that post - I knew AI stuff was out there but I hadn't really looked closely enough to have my eyes open for specific signs. Reading that entire post taught me a lot, and what I learned is the foundation of this post.

This post shouldn't be treated as a universal guide. I'm specifically looking at the tells on the kind of art that people in danmei fandoms often see coming from Weibo and other Chinese, Japanese, and Korean platforms, works made by real artists. For example, the work of Foxking (狐狸大王a), kokirapsd, and Changyang (who is an official artist for MDZS, TGCF, and other danmei works). This work shares a smooth use of color, an aim toward a certain flavor of realism, an ethereal quality to the lighting, and many other features. (Disclaimer: I am not an artist. Putting things in arty terms is really not my forte. Sorry.)

So, that's what these AI-generated images are emulating. And on the surface, they look good! Like...

...that's uncontestably a pretty picture (the white box is covering the "artist's" watermark.) And on a glance, it doesn't necessarily scream "AI generated"! But the devil is in the details, and the details are what this post is about. And that picture? Is definitely AI generated.

This post is based on 8 works I grabbed from a single person's account, all posted as their own work and watermarked as such. Some of the things that are giveaways only really show when looking at multiple pieces. I'm gonna start with those, and then I'll highlight some of the specifics I spotted that caused me to go from "suspicious" to "oh yeah no these are definitely not art."

Sign 1: all the images are the exact same size. I mean, to the pixel: 512 x 682 pixels (or 682 x 512, depending on landscape or portrait orientation). This makes zero sense. Why would an artist trim all their pieces to that size? It's not the ideal Tumblr display size (that's 500 x 750 pixels). If you check any actual artist's page and look at the full-size of several of their images, they'll all be different sizes as they trimmed, refined, and otherwise targeted around their original canvas size to get the results they wanted.

Sign 2: pixelated. At the shrunken size displayed on, say, a mobile Tumblr feed, the image looks fine, but even just opening the full size upload, the whole thing is pixelated. Now, this is probably the least useful sign; a lot of artists reduce the resolution/dpi/etc. on their uploaded works so that people don't steal them. But, taken in conjunction with everything else, it's definitely a sign.

Those are the two most obvious overall things - the things I didn't notice until I looked at all the uploads. The specifics are really what tells, though. Which leads to...

Sign 3: the overall work appears to have a very high degree of polish, as if it were made by an artist who really really knows what they're doing, but on inspection - sometimes even on really, REALLY cursory inspect - the details make zero sense and reflect the kinds of mistakes that a real artist would never make.

So, here's the image that I saw that "gave it away" to me, and caused me to re-examine the images that had first struck me as off but that I hadn't been able to immediately put my finger on the problem. I've circled some of the spots that are flagrant.

Do you see yet? Yes? Awesome, you're getting it. No? Okay, let's go point by point, with close ups.

Sign 4: HANDS. Hands are currently AI's biggest weakness, though they've been getting better quickly and honestly that's terrifying. But whatever AI generated this picture clearly doesn't get hands yet, because that hand is truly an eldritch horror. Look at this thing:

It has two palms. It has seven fingers. It's basically two hands overlaid over each other, except one of those hands only has four fingers and the other has three. Seeing this hand was how I went from "umm...maybe they're fake? Maybe they're not???" to "oh god why is ANYONE reblogging this when it's this obvious?" WATCH THE HANDS. (Go back up to that first one posted and look at the hand, you'll see. Or just look right below at this crop.) Here's some other hands:

Sign 5: Hair and shadows. Once I started inspecting these images, the shadows of the hair on the face was one of the things that was most consistently fucked up across all the uploaded pictures. Take a look:

There's shadows of tendrils on the forehead, but there's no corresponding hair that could possibly have made those shadows. Likewise there's a whole bunch of shadows on the cheeks. Where are those coming from? There's no possible source in the rest of the image. Here's some other hair with unrelated wonky shadows:

Sign 6: Decorative motifs that are really just meaningless squiggles. Like, artists, especially those who make fanart, put actual thought into what the small motifs are on their works. Like, in TGCF, an artist will often use a butterfly motif or a flower petal motif to reflect things about the characters. An AI, though, can only approximate a pattern and it can't imbue those with meanings. So you end up with this:

What is that? It's nothing, that's what. It's a bunch of squiggles. Here's some other meaningless squiggle motifs (and a more zoomed-in version of the one just above):

Sign 7: closely related to meaningless squiggle motifs is motifs that DO look like something, but aren't followed through in any way that makes sense. For example, an outer garment where the motifs on the left and the right shoulder/chest are completely different, or a piece of cloth that's supposed to be all one piece but that that has different patterns on different sections of it. Both of these happen in the example piece, see?

The first images on the top left is the left and right shoulder side by side. The right side has a scalloped edge; the left doesn't. Likewise, in the right top picture, you can see the two under-robe lapels; one has a gold decoration and the other doesn't. And then the third/bottom image shows three sections of the veil. One (on the left) has that kind of blue arcy decoration, which doesn't follow the folds of the cloth very well and looks weird and appears at one point to be OVER the hair instead of behind it. The second, on top of the bottom images, shows a similar motif, except now it's gold, and it looks more like a hair decoration than like part of the veil. The third is also part of the same veil but it has no decorations at all. Nothing about this makes any sense whatsoever. Why would any artist intentionally do it that way? Or, more specifically, why would any artist who has this apparent level of technical skill ever make a mistake like this?

They wouldn't.

Some more nonsensical patterns, bad mirrors, etc. (I often put left/right shoulders side by side so that it'd be clearer, sorry if it's weird):

Sign 8: bizarre architecture, weird furniture, etc. Most of the images I'm examining for this post have only partial backgrounds, so it's hard to really focus on this, but it's something that the post I linked (this one) talks about a lot. So, like, an artist will put actual thought into how their construction works, but an AI won't because an AI can't. There's no background in my main example image, but take a look at this from another of my images:

On a glance it's beautiful. On a few seconds actually staring it's just fucking bizarre. The part of the ceiling on the right appears to be domed maybe? But then there's a hard angle, then another. The windows on the right have lots of panes, but then the one on the middle-left is just a single panel, and the ones on the far left have a complete different pane model. Meanwhile, also on the left side at the middle, there's that dark gray...something...with an arch that mimics the background arches except it goes no where, connects to nothing, and has no apparent relationship to anything else going on architecturally. And, while the ceiling curves, the back wall is straight AND shows more arches in the background even though the ceiling looks to end. And yes, some of this is possible architecture, but taken as a whole, it's just gibberish. Why would anyone who paints THAT WELL paint a building to look like THAT? They wouldn't. It's nonsense. It's the art equivalent of word salad. When we look at a sentence and it's like "dog makes a rhythmical salad to betray on the frame time plot" it almost resembles something that might mean something but it's clearly nonsense. This background is that sentence, as art.

Sign 9: all kinds of little things that make zero sense. In the example image, I circled where a section of the hair goes BELOW the inner robe. That's not impossible but it just makes zero sense. As with many of these, it's the kind of thing that taken alone, I'd probably just think "well, that was A Choice," but combined with all the other weird things it stands out as another sign that something here is really, really off. Here's a collection of similar "wtf?" moments I spotted across the images I looked at (I'm worried I'm gonna hit the Tumblr image cap, hence throwing these all in one, lol.)

You have to remember that an actual artist will do things for a reason. And we, as viewers, are so used to viewing art with that in mind that we often fill in reasons even when there aren't. Like, in the image just about this, I said, "what the heck are these flowers growing on?" And honestly, I COULD come up with explanations. But that doesn't mean it actually makes sense, and there's no REASON for it whatsoever. The theoretical same flowers are, in a different shot, growing unsupported! So...what gives??? The answer is nothing gives. Because these pieces are nothing. The AI has no reason, it's just tossing in random aesthetic pieces together in a mishmash, and the person who generated them is just re-generating and refining until they get something that looks "close enough" to what they wanted. It never was supposed to make sense, so of course it doesn't.

In conclusion...

After years of effort, artists have gotten across to most of fandom that reposts are bad, and helped us learn strategies for helping us recognize reposts, and given us an idea of what to do when we find one.

Fandom is just at the beginning of this process as it applies to AI-generated images. There's a LOT of education that has to be done - about why AI-generated images are bad (the unethical training using copyrighted images without permission is, imo, critical to understanding this), and about how to spot them, and then finally about what to do when you DO find them.

With reposts, we know "tell original artist, DCMA takedowns, etc." That's not the same with these AI-images. There's no original owner. There's no owner at all - in the US, at least, they literally cannot be copyrighted. Which is why I'm not even worrying about "credit" on this post - there's nothing stolen, cause there's nothing made. So what should you do?

Nothing. The answer is, just as the creator has essentially done nothing, you should also do nothing. Don't engage. Don't reblog. Don't commission the creator or buy their art prints. If they do it persistently and it bothers you, block them. If you see one you really like, and decide to reblog it, fine, go for it, but mark it clearly - put in the ACTUAL COMMENTS (not just in the tags!) that it's AI art, and that you thought it was pretty anyway. But honestly, it'd be better to not engage, especially since as this grows it's inevitable that some actual artists are going to start getting accused of posting AI-generated images by over-zealous people. Everyone who gets a shadow wrong isn't posting AI-generated images. A lot of these details are insanely difficult to get correct, and lots of even very skilled, accomplished artists, if you go over their work with a magnifying glass you're going to find at least some of these things, some weirdnesses that make no sense, some shadows that are off, some fingers that are just ugh (really, getting hands wrong is so relatable. hands are the fucking worst). It's not about "this is bad art/not art because the hand is wrong," it's specifically about the ways that it's wrong, the way a computer randomly throws pieces together versus how actual people make actual mistakes. It's all of the little signs taken as a whole to say "no one who could produce a piece that, on the surface, looks this nice, could possibly make THIS MANY small 'mistakes.'"

The absolute best thing you can do if you see AI-generated images being treated as real art is just nothing. Support actual artists you love, and don't spread the fakes.

Thanks for your time, everyone. Good luck avoiding AI-generated pieces in the future, please signal boost this, and feel free to get in touch if you think I can help you with anything related to this.

#resources

3K notes · View notes

nouvxllev · 24 days

Note

"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

#wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x gnreader #wednesday addams x gn!reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x female reader

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lizzaneia-elizalde · 9 months

Note

ME FIRST!

CAN YOU DO YANDERE JOCK PLEASE!

Yandere! Jock x Honor student! gn! reader

YEY A MOTIVATION TO WRITE!

As my first request... I'm going to put voice claims as like a celebration!

Yan! Jock (Damon): Marshall Lee from Adventure Time (Donald Glover)

Yan! Sugar daddy (Rowan Silas): Howl from Howl's Moving Castle (Christian Bale)

Yan! Butler (Zero): Baizhu from Genshin Impact in JP (Yusa Koji)

Yan! Theater actor (Ignatius): Tamaki from Ouran Highschool Host Club (Vic Mignogna)

Yan! Dragon (Vincent): Lilac Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom (Behzad Dabu)

Yan! Artist (Arlen): Sal Fischer from Sally Face

((Just the voice claims, the charas involved are not really related to the Yans. BUT FOR THE LIFE OF ME I CAN'T FIND A PERFECT FIT FOR ROWAN GRRRRRRRR also Zero being in Japanese... Well, I actually did a Beware the Villainess voice headcannons before, and I used Baizhu JP as Nine's voice. Since Zero's inspired by him, then... Yeah.))

TW: Blood, gore, violence against a dead body.

He's a bit... Dumb.

That's what his friends would say when you ask about Damon.

He's dumb, yet sweet, kind, and insanely athletic.

People call him your typical himbo.

Rumors had it that he's completely a mama's boy, someone who doesn't know the difference between their, they're, and there, a man who has just one braincell that ticks around his head like the dvd logo bouncing around the screen and only get used on sports.

Ah yes, sports. The only thing he's extremely smart at.

Other than being street smart, he's body smart also. That's why he's being passed around by sports team in his University and also being gatekept by the clubs.

The baseball club needs a batter? On it. The basketball club had their ace sick? Don't worry, the mvp is here. The badminton team needs a pair for the doubles? Sure, just make sure to let him bring his own racket. Fencing club lacks one person for a complete sparring session? Uh, he hasn't tried fencing yet, but he will still master it immediately.

So because everything in his peanut brain gets squeezed onto sports, his academics isn't really the best...

Yet, his athlete scholarship made him stay afloat in the University. Plus he's the adorable kind of dumb, so everyone loved him.

If you try to tell him that he's a himbo, he would take it as an offense and would yell at you with the biggest pout and puppy dog eyes that he's not a himbo!

Oh, sweet summer child he is.

Everyone liked to watch this big, buff puppy play around with a smile on his face.

But not the Dean of his college. I mean, he's an athlete scholar, that's for sure, but he's still in Education! He needs to do better in his studies if he wants to be a teacher in the future!

And no! Damon cannot just cluelessly tilt his head to the side!

While Damon pouted, the dean called for you.

You're the candidate magna cum laude in your batch. Smart as you are, you buried your nose in books and notes as you studied to become a teacher, but lacked the confidence and charisma to be an effective one.

So the Dean thought this would be the perfect synergy. Damon's personality would rub on you, while your braincells will rub on his.

It was perfect.

And while you stood there with your eyes downcast, Damon's eyes widened as he stared at you.

It was love at first sight.

"Damon for the last time, it's School Based Management! Not Shoe Base Management! How did you even twist it to that?"

"Hehe, sorry y/n..."

*You sighed and crossed out the number.*

"5/50. How did your score got lower than the last time?! And it's a repeat test too!"

Rowan pouted and fiddled with his fingers. His eyes downcast as he appeared vulnerable.

"I'm sorry y/n.... I will do my best next time..."

*You sighed once more, knowing you can't deny this man.*

"Alright alright. Let's just study again."

You and Damon are in the library now, studying for the upcoming retake that Damon needs to take. But despite being here in the library for two hours, he still hasn't improved at all!

You stood up and glanced around, trying to see more books to use for studying. One preferably understandable for ding dongs like him.

Maybe a children's picture book of CPE 102 was needed for this guy.

You were harsh yet also patient with Damon, something he really likes. If he had a tail right now, it would wag rapidly to the point he'll break a bone in it.

All his thoughts is filled with you and you. The back of his notebook is scribbled with your name and his encased in a heart, crude drawings of you and him holding hands, or a silly children's game where he does a compatibility test using both of your names.

Neverminded that the test always ends up at "enemies" or "strangers", no no no... He won't accept it.

So these tests had large scribble marks all over him as words filled with rage about how the tests are lies are inked there.

And while Damon swung his feet while scribbling your and his future children's (yes, plural) names, he suddenly wondered where you are.

He got off his seat and walked around until he found you.

"Y/n--!"

He stopped dead in his tracks.

He felt shivers run down his spine.

There you where, smiling and bantering with an another man. Amicably talking to each other like you were the best of pals.

Damon recognized him from your class records (don't question why he knew your class records, he swears he's just doing research). Jupiter was his name, oddly enough. He's also a candidate magna cum laude and your study buddy. He's naturally gifted in academics and so does in his looks.

So when Damon saw how your eyes sparkled while talking to that guy...

He felt his façade crack.

Jupiter ran quickly across the lit yet empty rugby field in his University. Everyone was out for the school day since it was already 10pm.

How did Jupiter end up running away frantically with his clothes sticking on his body due to sweat?

It would be because of a masked man chasing him, power walking towards him with a metal baseball bat in hand. Jupiter can't see his face, but knew he's absolutely huge.

Jupiter ran as quickly as he can, but his body can't keep up. His legs weakened and his knee started to hurt as he heaved quickly. His vision swimming as he tried to run across and away from the man.

He's academic for god's sake! Physical activities are his mortal enemy!

As he cursed his hatred away, Jupiter tripped on a rock and rolled forward. His knee also finally gave up and is now hurting a lot.

Jupiter tried to scream for help, but all he could do is bite his lip as he held his poor knee.

Not until the man got close and clubbed him on that knee, making Jupiter scream in agony.

"AAAAAAAHHHH!!!"

That night, Jupiter's scream echoed throughout the empty rugby field and the sound of a hard object hitting a body. Then,

SQUELCH!

CRACK!

Then silence.

The masked man looked at the bloodied mess and chuckled. His small giggle turning into a full blown laughter as he tried to suppress it.

Damon grabbed a sharpie from his back pocket and scribbled on Jupiter's mangled body. His back, which is still somehow smooth, now contained your nickname and Damon's.

He's doing the compatibility test again.

"Soulmates! Oh my god!" Damon screamed in happiness. "Finally! Oh this is great! I shouldn't have doubted the test!"

Damon danced around Jupiter's body like he's not dead. Then, he kicked Jupiter's body. And kicked it. And kicked it. And kicked it more.

"Tch. You think you can smile at my soulmate like that? Think again buckaroo." Damon whispered, dropping his himbo jock persona.

This man had a sharp, intelligent look in his eyes. One that does not hold innocent curiosity, only a morbid bloodthirst.

This was the real Damon.

"Fuck. This dumb himbo persona is fucking me up. All I could do is put all my frustrations on sports." Damon spat out and kicked Jupiter's body towards his expensive truck. "I'm sick and tired of being labeled like that."

Then, he remembered your face. How he caught you staring at him with fondness as he acted dumb and cute.

He shivered.

"Maybe I'll continue to do this persona. Fuck. If only my parents would leave me be after that incident, then I won't have to do this."

Once Damon placed Jupiter's body on his truck, he started to clean the field with ease.

This wasn't his first kill after all.

He's always been twisted since he's a kid. But was forced to hide it due to his parents finding out he killed his cat with his own two hands with a smile on his face.

A trip to rehab, and he adopted this persona.

He slammed his truck close and drove away, humming and thanking that the University security cameras are broken.

He would kill more if necessary.

He's not afraid to dirty his hands. If ever, he loved it.

He looked at a picture of you and him in his dashboard. The picture was you smiling widely to the camera with a blushing Damon on the side, a test paper raised. It had full marks.

He kissed his finger and placed that finger on your lips.

"My soulmate~"

#yandere boyfriend #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere writing #male yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere drabbles #lizzaneiaelizalde

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firegirl888101 · 9 months

Text

Insatiable Madness (6)

|Sagau Yandere Fatui Harbingers x Reader|

And so they remain in this world for longer than what they planned.

Reader is Gender Neutral!

"What gave you the idea I can tell the future?" You scoffed.

"That doesn't matter! Tell me, do I become the strongest? Does Lord Capitano finally recognise my strength and duel me?" He answered.

"How am I supposed to know? The game isn't even finished, you psychopath!"

"It can't be that far away that even you don't know." He scoffed.

"It's not a question of how far in the future it is, it's whether I can actually answer it or not that matters!"

"Oh, so you do know but you just can't tell me because it would mess with the future! I see..." He muttered to himself.

That is not what I meant.

"Tartaglia leave the poor Decider alone. We've tormented them enough." Pulcinella scolded, prodding his walking stick at the ginger.

"But I need to know!--"

"-And you will learn what you want later, when The Tsaritsa has finished her plans with them." He scolded.

"Come on, boy, I thought I taught you better than this."

"Dottore what is taking so long!? I was promised we wouldn't stay here much longer." Sandrone raised her voice.

Why is that cosplayer so pissy? It's not like she can actually 'traverse back to Teyvat' like she says she can.

"I'm not sure, let me redo my calculations." He replied.

All Sandrone did was groan in response. "Fine! You do your calculations, I'm taking The Decider with me."

"Don't stray too far!" Columbina waved, giggling at The Doctor's increasing speed in shuffling his papers.

You felt her grab you by your restraints and drag you with her, she seemed to be heading behind the counter.

"Now that I have your undivided attention," She coughed into her hand. "Educate me about these beautiful machines this place has!"

"What."

"I have never seen machinery so big and so seemingly illustrious in my lifetime! You simply must report to me which genius created such pleasing creations."

Careful there Sandrone, out of context it sounds like you're describing something else...

"Well..." How were you supposed to explain them? You didn't know how they work, you've never worked a day in your life! You're just a college student with barely passable grades.

"I don't want any hesitancy. Speak now." She glared.

"Uh... This one! This one is used for frying things, the things being chips... They're more commonly known as fries though."

"Ah, I see... And I suppose the liquid in this 'basin' is oil?" She questioned, tracing her hand on the metal.

"It's not a basin, that would be in a bathroom... But yes, it is. I also advise that you don't touch it, it's most likely still hot. Not that I'd mind it burning you..."

"What did you say, you unrisable creature?" She spat, turning to you with a blank gaze.

"Nothing, Sandrone." You sighed. "Now that I answered your question, will you answer one of mine?"

"Of course not. It's also 'Lady Sandrone' to you." She smiled, turning back to the oil with a look of interest.

"So... how does one make and then 'fry' these 'chips' in this machine?"

"Would you like the basics or the very start of the process?" You sighed, you really didn't want to explain that you cut a potato and then clean and so on.

"The very start, just who do you take me for?"

Fantastic. You shouldn't really be picky in this type of situation though.

"You take a potato, clean it then cut it into strips..."

"Important! Thin or thick strips? What's the exact diameter? The length?"

"It depends what type of chips you want, as typical fast food chain's ones are thin like fries they're quite thin and short. Those who get long ones are said to be the luckiest." You explained to her, as she writes everything down on a piece of paper.

"And the diameter?"

"You don't need a specific size, as long as they're somewhat equal they're fine. They're going to be eaten anyway, I don't see why you're making such a big fuss."

She stayed quiet for a moment. "I want them to be perfect."

Nothing is perfect but if I said that she'd get even more pissed off.

"Next, you take your clean cut chips and put them in this basket. You then place the basket with chips in the oil and wait for a certain amount of time for them to cook."

"For how long?" She questioned. "I don't know? I've never personally used one before, I'm just saying what I've seen others do."

...and by 'seen what others do', you mean impatiently peering behind the front desk to see what the workers are up to.

"Useless, and here I thought you were becoming convenient for me." Sandrone scoffed.

"Well, the chips are supposed to be a golden colour so I think that's context enough..." You mumbled.

"And then what? Surely there is more."

"Not really, once they're cooked you put salt on them then eat. Some like to eat them straight away, but I like to add sauce sometimes."

"Excellent, I have written every word of your explanation down. As you provided the least minimal detail possible, you will show me a clear and explained demonstration." She scolded.

"I'm sorry, you want me to use one of these machines to help you with your notes?"

"Precisely." She nodded to herself.

"No." You answered shortly. "I have no idea how to operate one of these machines, what if I set fire to the building?"

That's a bit dramatic, but you don't want to embarrass yourself. Besides, a fire could count as arson and you weren't willing to potentially get yourself to prison with the rest of these lunatics.

"I suppose that is anxiety raising. Especially when I've been ordered to stay out of public eye..." She sighed to herself.

"What a dilemna this situation is. I'll have to take the machine apart and rebuild it once I return to my lab. You will aid me in my endeavour, won't you?" She glared.

She's good at staying in character. It's freaking me out.

"S-Sure..." You stuttered in fear.

"Excellent." She smiled at you once more.

Suddenly, lots of cars could be heard from outside the building. You could tell they were fast as the sounds left as soon as they came.

Oh, please tell me that's help!

"What was--"

"Marionette, bring The Decider now!" Dottore shouted from the other room. "We need to get out of here, they alerted their own soldiers!"

"You did what while under my merciful eye?" She turned to you.

"Sandrone, there's no time to be mad! Get your puppeteering arse over here right now!"

"Ugh."

She dragged you to the rest of the harbingers, who all gave you nasty glares.

"What did you do!?" Signora screamed in your face.

"I called the authorities to arrest you nutcases! You're all delusional and high in the fucking sky if you think you're the actual Fatui Harbingers from a fictional game!"

"Did it ever occur to you that you are currently being held hostage by multiple enemies of yours? You have courage to do such a thing while captured by us." Capitano praises.

"We have circled the entire building! Give the hostage and we will arrest peacefully!" An officer yelled from the front entrance.

Finally! I thought they'd never arrive.

"Dottore what do we do?" Arlecchino shouts at him. "Let's just kill them all again, it worked before didn't it?" Childe grinned.

"Not this time, Tartaglia. Even if we disposed of these soldiers, I am positive more would soon arrive." Capitano stated, unmoving unlike most harbingers.

"So you're saying even if we take care of them, we'll still be outnumbered."

"They're not soldiers, idiots. They're police officers who work for justice." You spat at them.

They all looked at you, silently telling you to shut up then turned back to eachother.

"Listen to me, as I'll only suggest this once." Signora thought outloud. "I'll freeze them with my cryo delusion, then we'll run to a safe place? As much as I'd hate to do that as I'm wearing heels, I believe it's our only option."

"I agree with Rosalyne," The old man coughed. "We need speed and tactiful thinking if we wish to leave this world."

"Signora, I've never known you to be so vague!" Childe laughed at her, looking at Pulcinella in hopes he'll laugh along with him.

"She's obviously talking about the park we entered this world in." Arlecchino scoffed at his behaviour.

"Then that is what we shall do." Pierro agreed.

Signora then pushed herself through the double doors calmly. You couldn't see what was happening due to Capitano covering your view, but you could hear screams and hysterical laughter.

"Please don't tell me she's killing them." You muttered, a look of repulsion present on your face.

"Did you even listen to her plan? She's not killing anyone." Sandrone rolled her eyes.

"I don't trust you, nor do I trust her."

"A wise decision on your part, but it doesn't aide your case of being kidnapped." Pierro answered for her.

"I'm aware of that, arsehole..." You whispered. "Pardon?" He glared.

"You know what? I've had enough of staying quiet. Fuck every single one of you! I hope that one day you breathe a vapes' cancerous flavour and your lungs dissolve at the second!"

"What's a vape?" Dottore turned to you.

"Okay, maybe I've been assuming too much, maybe you imported some illegal drugs from elsewhere? That's not the point though." You sighed.

"I feel better now that I got that out of my chest." You smiled to yourself, noticing Capitano giving you a blank stare through his mask in return.

"It certainly doesn't help you, but you do what you deem fit."

"Let's move!" Signora's voice could faintly be heard from outside, the harbingers one by one leaving the building through the doors.

"Apologies." Capitano coughed into his hand, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

"Hey! I can walk myself, you tied my wrists together not my ankles!" You argued to him.

"Does it look like he wants you over your shoulder?" Scaramouche rolled his eyes, before realising something.

"Nevermind, you wouldn't be able to see." He laughed in your face, hitting your head which banged against Capitano's back.

"Dude! Careful, I don't want to be near his arse! Besides, I--"

You stopped yourself from talking when you managed to turn your head to the police officers outside. They looked in terrible condition, you thought Signora was being drugged up when she went on about her cryo delusion!

Seeing the police officers shout to each other as they struggle against the ice freezing them in place made you realise one very important thing.

These cosplayers... They're the real fucking deal.

How do we feel about some bonding time with Sandrone? :>

I don't want the reader to be too quiet about their situation, but I just wanted to make it clear that they're afraid since they're aware of the current situation they're in. I'm not exactly sure how I'm going to write this but I suppose thats what practice is for...

Please don't expect too many happy, nice and generally fluffy scenes.

This is Yandere, a genre which should never, under any circumstance be considered normal. It's abusive, unhealthy and leads to a lot of victims facing awful conditions which they never should or ever have to endure no matter who they are.

This is fiction that I'm writing, meaning it's all taken light-heartedly IN A FICTIONAL SENSE.

If anyone, by chance, is currently in conditions where a loved-one or yourself has suddenly become distant and/or being hurt when away from eyes please get help. Talk to them, or if it's you, talk to someone you know you can trust.

If you can't talk to anyone, find authorities who can help you. Call 999, as it is in the U.K, or your local emergency service. They will always help you, and will never deny your rights or freedom.

Thanks for reading this, I hope all who's reading knows this information already, but I thought I'd include it since who knows when it comes to where you are in the world and whether your education programs taught critical information like this.

✨Elusive✨ Taglist!:

@valeriele3 @pale-value @pix-stuff @yumi-genshin-writer @yuii-v @itz-luna @annoying-mary @etherisy @khalhaimdad @haikyuusboringassmanager @magica-ren @sweatyexpertdeputyduck @booksandteaplusart @9140 @whatamidoing89 @raesleepyhead @nasidibakar @shikanosn @purpleamethystsblog @chihawari @esthelily @stuffyfrenchflowers @conspicuous-mayonnaise @sielt @katsumikumo @greyhoundwires707 @carminerin @raidendeeznuts123 @angelofdarkness2

Quick Reminder Here! If you no longer want to be on the taglist that's completely fine; I take no offence whatsoever so please don't hesitate to tell me. ^^

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lvlymicha · 2 months

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☀︎︎You're mine, sunshine☽

(a/n) sooooo, first fanfic here!!, please tell me if there's orthography errors or smth, idk if this fic is going to be a one shot or not (probably not but depends), yeah that's it, be polite and don't forget to smile!

Warnings: none

tags: grumpy x sunshine, boss!WiliamAfton/Steve Raglan, employee!reader, William Afton/Steve Raglan x reader, reader is in her 20s, William/Steve is in his early 50s (more tags will be added eventually.)

Part Two | Part Three

William sighed as the 6th interviewed left his office, it was frustrating, no one seemed good enough to be his assistant, things were getting hard for him as a career counselor to deal alone, and (as much he didn't liked to say it out loud) he needed someone to help him.

William looked at the door impatiently waiting for the next person.

"Why they're taking so long?" As he says that he hears a soft knock and the door opens revealing a small girl, she seems to be at least 20 years old, she looks nervous. William glares at her. "Well, are you going to sit or not?" He says motioning to the chair in front of his desk, the girl closes the door and sits in the chair while handing her curriculum to him.

"So, Miss (Y/L/N)?" He says while reading her curriculum "You don't seem to have much experience, no...actually, you don't have any experience at all, although your educational background is really...interesting" William looks at the girl's curriculum attentively, her skills and hobbies were pretty good and she knew a few languages, but still, she apparently never worked before.

"Tell me Miss (Y/L/N)" William puts the curriculum down and looks at the girl with a blank stare while putting his hand under his chin. "Have you ever worked before?" The girl shakes her head "Be honest with me, Why should I hire you? The woman before you had a lot of work experience and good educational background too. Why should I hire you and not her?" He says, patiently waiting for a answer.

"Um... well, As this is my first job it would give me experience for future jobs and... expand my curriculum...? But, I wouldn't mind if you hired the other lady though, she seemed quite nice, and her dress was so pretty!" The small girl says staring dreamily at the door.

William frowns and looks at the door confused, then he looks back at the girl "Umm, Quite... stranger answer, so, you wouldn't mind me hiring the previous woman because she seems nice and has a pretty dress, I'm sorry Miss (Y/L/N), but it sounds kinda" Stupid, ridiculous, weird, pathetic " peculiar..." He says with a smug grin, he leans on the table, now being almost face to face with the girl.

"Don't you have another answer for me? Better be wise, it's your last chance" He says coldly.

"Well, I like helping people, and if I get this job I'll get to help other people to find jobs and eventually be happy, I know it can maybe sound a bit childish" It does. "But this is truly what I think, and I'll do my best as your assistant Mr. Raglan!" The girl says calmly and at the same time with a enthusiastic aura.

William sighs looking down at his table What have I done to deserve this? He was to tired for more interviews, and besides, the girl in front of him didn't seemed a bad choice.

He looks up at the girl and stands up from his chair "Congratulations, You're hired, better not disappoint me Miss (Y/L/N)." He says looking down at the girl and offering his hand for her to shake, she quickly stands up from the chair and grasps his hands happily, she has a big smile on her face.

"Thank you so much Mr. Raglan, I won't disappoint you, I promise!" Oh god, I think I just sold my soul to the devil.

#william afton x reader #steve raglan x reader #william afton x you #william afton #steve raglan #grumpy x sunshine #female reader

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blue-howlite · 2 months

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Look at them just stealing the show with their entrance (yes this post is to ramble about the recent chapters, get ready for a unhinged ride on the "Found family trope" rollercoaster).

People are like "Why are the best healer in the world and the guy that's always compared to Kayden here???" and they're just chilling being relatable, especially Kartein.

Them gathering around Jiwoo, not even trying to hide that they care about him. Like I would have expected Pluton to at least take a little distance and maybe judge Kayden and Kartein for being so close to him but he's just "Yes, I must stay close to this child."

Kayden and Kartein are so parent coded while Pluton is the socially unaware uncle that's just so out of it while taking in the practical aspects. He would absolutely teach Jiwoo how to properly stretch while Kayden and Kartein tell him to stop being so nice to everyone.

"Look at my son! ...proud is not the word I'm looking for" moment. Of course they're all super proud of Jiwoo. They can't stand the fact that he doesn't take advantage of the situation and has these moral/honor standards, but without that he would have never charmed these guys let's be for real now.

THEY'RE SO FAMILY CODED PLEASE JUDGING OTHER FAMILIES LIKE THEY'RE NOT A BUNCH OF LUNATICS THEMSELVES

The way Kayden leans towards Kartein like they're gossiping while Pluton listens in and gives his input to the convo, please they're a bunch of mothers talking shit about the other families at school.

The way they criticise Ian's education is the most parental thing I've ever seen.

The whole chapter was just Kartein being the sassy mother that worries about other kids disrespecting his, Kayden being the unhinged father that gossips and asks "Did you win?" whenever his kid gets into a fight at school, and Pluton the judging uncle that criticises his brother's parenting but joins sides with him when there are other parents.

Tell me that's not their dynamic.

Pluton always compared to Kayden and their "rivalry" being actually one sided is just so adult siblings coded, then Pluton going to Jiwoo like "Hey I'll show you something cool your dad hasn't taught you" is just uncle behaviour.

Kartein and Kayden not approving of Pluton doing what he wants and then realising they did the exact same thing is such a parent thing.

One thing is "They're such parental figures to Jiwoo", one is when they literally act like his parents even around other people.

#eleceed #kayden break #kartein #pluton #jiwoo seo #chapter 287 #chapter 288 #found family #rambling to the void #and the void smiles and nods while asking when will I release its family #Tumblr stop messing the layout I had to edit this post like three times DAMN IT

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blitzyisfine · 17 days

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STOLITZ FIC RECS

Lift your hips for me, love by AjWriter

“You look pretty tense,” Blitzø murmured. “How about I help you out there?” He gently pushed Stolas back onto the pillows. And Stolas just looked back at him with wide eyes, a blush hot on his cheeks, and Blitzø noticed he was shaking. Honest-to-Lucifer quaking. Blitzø pulled away quickly and called out, “Cut!”

Or Blitzø and Stolas meet on porn set (slow burn but they're having sex the whole time)

Stolas figuring out his sex life and starting to film pornos. Blitzø just wants Stolas to know what he’s getting into, so obviously they have to have sex off set which turns into love and dating.

Pre Episode 5 by DaniDrawz

Basically the things that took place right before episode 5 happened

This is actually a comic but it’s hosted on ao3! A look at Stolas and Blitzø’s BSDM heavy sex with an emphasis in consent.

Far From Heaven by Novaeris

After their disastrous first date, Blitzo and Stolas struggle to pick themselves back up again in the aftermath. It takes many small steps before they can finally be honest, with themselves and with each other.

Blitzo learns to tell the truth. And Stolas learns that, sometimes, things aren’t as hopeless as they appear.

A study of Blitzo and a study of Stolas as they fall apart and then come back together after ep 7.

Major hurf/comfort set after the events of Ozzie’s. Blitzø and Stolas are both spiraling and we get a look into their feelings. Eventually they communicate and make up sex ensues.

The Mating Habits of Imps by AjWriter

Stolas knelt so he was hidden between the bookshelves and took another sharp-eyed glance around him before he gently tugged the much-too-thin book from its shelf. He felt the fire red blush stain his feathers as he read the title again.

The Mating Habits of Imps

Sweet Lucifer! How had he not thought to look in this section before?

Surely, there must be literature on how to please his imp. After all, it was only right that he should become educated. With how attentive his Blitzy was in the bedroom, Stolas wanted to at least return the favor with the same fervor.

No other reason.

Or Stolas finds a book called The Mating Habits of Imps and decides to try some of the tips out on Blitz.

I saved the best for last. This is so far my favorite fic I’ve read! It fills in all of the little gaps in Stolas and Blitzø’s relationship and includes parts of the sinstagram posts. A canon-compliant and gut-wrenching story of Stolitz fucking and falling in love.

#please please read the mating habits of imps #and all of the rest these are my top fics atm #stolitz #fic rec #stolas goetia #blitzo #helluva boss #my ramblings

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criminalskies · 3 months

Note

You and Aaron on a Museum Date Together HC's

Photo credits after the cut.

Aaron buys your favorite cup of chai and you go to The Met together.

You spend all day roaming the galleries enjoying the blend of old and new art.

You tease him for not having a favorite artist, but he reminds you that you don't have one either. So you both decide to try and pick a favorite painting.

In the wing with the statues Aaron tries to find the statue that looks most like you. When he finds one, he tells you that you're more beautiful than any work of art.

Aaron goes full dad mode in the ancient art galleries and he has to read all the little signs with information on them. He makes you look to because he's holding your hand.

When the museum gets a little too busy for his liking, you lead him out of the grounds where you stroll around leisurely taking in the pretty day.

Aaron can't help but look at the security measures at the museum and tell you how he'd change them.

The next week, Aaron gets a package from you, it's a print of his favorite painting. He hangs it in his living room and thinks of how you are the most beautiful thing in his life. That you are the living embodiment of perfection.

______________________________________________________________

Photo Credits:

Center Row: Middle (@catsadams)

Bottom Row: Left (@doomed-introvert Center and Right (@reading-books-in-the-moonlight

Holy smokes Levi I am so sorry time got away from me in replying to this but !!!!!!!!!!!!! Awwwwwww I love this 🥺. Let me run through these oh my goodness it's just so cute.

I should have known something was up when you were asking me about my favourite drinks 🥰 but awwwwwww that's so sweet. whenever people greet me with a little treat in hand I am reduced to a blushy lump.

The way Aaron would be so so educated on all these artists, old and new, and their styles and the works meanings, meanwhile I'm looking at it and saying it feels like a warm blue blanket and hes just like ??? yeah okay so they actually had to feed their family and-

favourite painting is so much more doable. I was that kid that couldnt even have a favourite toy bc the others would feel left out, so talking about favourite artists in a museum full of art??! awful, I can't do it. A favourite piece, I might be able to manage 😅

STOP IT AJHJDFKHDSJFHS YOU CAN'T JUST DROP SOMETHING THAT SWEET ON ME?! god i'd kiss him until he got dizzy for that one. Or i'd just go beet red. Hopefully both.

He definitely has to read every word on the plaques bc we both know he prides himself on being so well-read and well educated. Like sure he's no Reid but by god Aaron is so fucking knowledgeable on damn near everything and it is so so sexy. Meanwhile if it doesn't have a pulse I know nothing about it. But of course if he's going to hold my hand I'm going to do absolutely anything he wants to.

MUSEUM GARDENS ARE SO SEXY AND HE DEFINITELY KNOWS HOW MUCH I FUCK WITH CUTE PLANTS fjsdhfjshkjfh I would 100% force him to spend equal amounts of time in the fresh air outside just sitting or walking and holding his fricking hand (i forget how badly I just want to hold his silly frickin hand)

He watches the guards swap shifts and he's like pfffft one of them checked in his firearm to the safe before the new guard had even retrieved his, and they had an almost EIGHT minute conversation. That's plenty of time for any thief to- and I'm like aaron aaron it's okay. they're just paintings. It's okay.

LEVI YOU ALWAYS WANT ME TO CRY AND YOU ALWAYS GET ASTONISHINGLY CLOSE TO ACHIEVING IT. what do you meeeeeannnnn he hangs it and thinks I'm the most beautiful thing in his skfjskljsldfkjkflsddjshfjjhgkjfhdkjghdkjfghd what if this killed me 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Also also also, may I please note that all of these images are just so elegant and set such a tone like they''re so perfect for this little date you're picturing. Gosh I don't know how you do it honey but thank you for sharing these headcanons, they have really brightened my day. Thank you sweetheart 🫂💖💐✨

#rome’s wonderful moots! <3 #the lovely levi!#rome’s got mail!#love mail 💌#Aaron mail!#hotch mail!#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner imagines #aaron hotchner thoughts #hotch imagines #hotch headcanons #hotch fluff #hotch x you #hotch x reader

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skyriderarts · 2 months

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GLOBAL PROTESTS ON MARCH 2ND, 2024

This website will tell you where to find your closest rally to protest against the assault on Rafah, the occupation of Gaza and the West Bank, the starvation and genocide of the Palestinian people, and the attacks on Lebanon, Syria, and Jordan.

Mark that day off, make signs, and remember Protester etiquette;

Physically tell someone and write down where you're going to be, how long you should be there, and when you're expected to be back or when they should hear from you. If they don't or you're not back after that time, tell them to get in contact with the National Lawyers Guild and the ACLU if you live in the States. You can also search for lawyers that do what's called "Mass Defense Program"(fancy term for when a bunch of protesters are nabbed at once) in your area for region appropriate alternatives.

Do NOT wear anything that has identifiable logos or symbols that the police can reverse search for, Cops found people from the George Floyd marches from a shirt found off Etsy. Wear layers in case you are grabbed by anyone, and purses should have a quick-release clip with little in them as possible if that gets snatched too. Have on shoes you feel comfortable walking for hours on end in and are also good for if you quickly need to run away from police. And *MOST DEFINITELY* WEAR A FUCKING MASK! Not just so police can't get you recorded to he tracked down at your home later, *WE'RE STILL IN THE MIDDLE OF COVID AND YOU DON'T WANNA DIE TO IT!*

Keep an eye out for people in the crowds who seem like they're trying to rile up a mob or otherwise become violent; at best they're pulling attention away from the actual intent of the march, at worse they're undercover cops trying to entrap you and everyone around you.

Bring an umbrella: The protesters of Hong Kong taught us that even if the weather will be dry for you, it's a very simple shield that'll keep any water or chemicals from being sprayed on you.

If worst comes to worst and you do get arrested (and this one primarily applies to Americans, I'm sorry but I don't know about the rest of the world. If it's similar please educate me and others with an addition to this post) you've got *two sentences* you need to repeat; "I have the right to remain silent. I have the right to an attorney." SHUT THE FUCK UP AFTER THAT! No matter what they try and scare you with, what they try and bribe you with, you just shut the fuck up.

#free gaza #free palestine #Global Strike #Global Protest #shutitdown4palestine

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mint-yooxgi · 3 months

Note

I just finished reading the first part of Hotel California and I need to say it: you are just calling it "yandere" for clickbait.

The only chapter that really feels like a yandere story is the first one, maybe the second one a bit.

Tf is all this narrative of "we are equals" and "you don't own me"? You know you have a BAD yandere when it don't terrify the reader and the characters. If I'm reading yandere shit I want to scared, I want to see the characters be scared and disgusted. The whole yandere thing is a horror trope and in my opinion it should stay that way.

A yandere isn’t just a love interest who’s a bit possessive or overprotective, it’s a HORROR TROPE of a violently jealous character.

Oh sweetie, don't come into MY ask box, on ANON, and tell ME about what is or isn't acceptable as to how to write a yandere. I can clearly tell you have a very shallow understanding of what yandere actually entails, and I actually feel sorry for you that you believe the only way a yandere can be written is if they're abusive assholes towards their love interest.

Here's a helpful link on all the different characterizations of yanderes to help you out, since you seem quite lost. And aggressive at that.

Please focus on the subheading of "Types of Yanderes", I think that will greatly help. Specifically the subcategory on obsession. I think that'll be very eye opening for you.

Not all yanderes are going to be violent towards their love interests. That doesn't make them a 'good' or 'poorly written' character. It all depends on what the writer wants, and what fits the story. You don't have to like the character, but you shouldn't shit on an author because it's not a character you wanted to see, or they're not written how YOU wanted. Close the book/tab/page, or whatever you're reading on, and move along.

Don't you fucking DARE come onto MY blog and tell me how I SHOULD or SHOULDN'T be writing MY OWN FUCKING CHARACTERS.

If you didn't like it, click away. It's not that hard. You don't need to send such aggressive and downright RUDE messages on ANON. Tumblr is free. My writing is free. You know what I didn't ask for, though? Your shitty opinion.

Maybe educate yourself on the different types of yanderes before you come into MY ask box, on MY blog, of which I've been writing and researching this trope for almost TEN FUCKING YEARS NOW, before you spew some dumb shit.

Also, you know horror isn't all just slasher violence and abuse, right? You know what else falls under the horror category?

PSYCHOLOGICAL! WOO!

Here's another wiki page on just how many horror genres there are. Thought this might be helpful to you as well!

And that's not even to mention yandere is technically part of the ROMANCE trope.

Can't wait until you find out Misa Amane from Death Note is a yandere. You might faint!

There are plenty of fics where the love interest gets abused and torn apart by the yandere in question. This is not one of them. Go get off somewhere else, your high horse isn't that high.

#ask #good fucking day anon #if you come into my ask box with this kind of attitude #expect to receive it back tenfold #fuck off with this shit #I don't have time for this

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ystrike1 · 10 months

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Beast’s Flower - By Habrin (7.5/10)

Would you read a story about a cliche abused heroine and a possessive guy if it came with a little spice? Most people give smutty stories a chance when they're weird. So, this one is totally PG13 and the heroine is stinky. You heard me. Her magical powers make her stinky. She only smells good to the crown prince, because he's a panther man. None of that information is presented in a comedic way. The author is dead serious.

Lyla comes from a village where mages aren't seen as valuable inventors. They're still witches in the eyes of the uneducated and poor. Lyla was born stinky. Her magic is too strong. It's implied that the smell makes people fear her, but the "I'm stinky" curse is too damn funny please help me I can't fucking do this one...

Anyway.

Lyla is the daughter of a Baron. Nobody else has magic nearby so no tutor comes to save her. The maids abandon her and she starts living in the barn with the horses.

When she turns ten things get worse. Her father leaves her in a cabin near the mansion in the woods. He provides candles and minimal supplies. Lyla has no education. She's kinda dumb as a brick and defensive as hell, and she's stinky. The locals think she's a witch that eats children. Really, her life could not suck more.

Ariadne is Lyla's tall, normal smelling sister. Ariadne is a narcissist that thinks Lyla should die. She gradually makes Lyla's life even worse.

Lyla begs for more candles for her hovel. Ariadne says no, and Lyla's position is very realistic. Without candlelight she literally must live like an animal. Ariadne's sick games worsen her mental health, which is already questionable...at best...

One night, while Lyla is busy thinking about death, she hears a noise. It's a guest. A "lost" man has come. It's Prince Viorst, a prince that can transform into a beast at will!!!!

He doesn't tell her that. He pretends to be a passing noble who is lost and injured and in need of help.

Lyla rushes to his aid...just kidding she tries to stab him. Lyla doesn't trust him AT ALL. He even says he doesn’t have a sense of smell....which is also a lie. Lyla can't resist. No nose means she can maybe have a normal human friend. She's very uncivilized and blunt with him, but he doesn’t care.

Lyla's yucky stink smell...turns him on? Like he immediately wants to marry her, and no one else ever. Viorst is more beast than man. He is known as a sociopath who will do anything to maintain power. That's great for the country but he is deeply feared by all. He even threatens to sell off his head aide when he's kinda annoyed. Violence is part of his everyday life, and he thinks Lyla smells like a flower. A sexy one....

The flirtation is all one-sided until Lyla cracks. It's so ridiculous. Viorst acts like a normal Casanova type of man, even though his bride is in rags. It gets absurd and really creepy. Viorst doesn't feel human in the slightest. All of his sweetness is a ploy to capture Lyla, who is the only woman he has ever felt anything for.

By the way the shit with Lyla's family is actually really depressing??? Ariadne is the perfect daughter her father always wanted. She's not stinky and she's pretty. The Baron ignored her lust for blood, and now it's too late. The Baron is actually afraid of Ariadne. Ariadne thinks she's going to be Crown Princess, because Viorst is staying with them will he courts Lyla in secret.

He's staying there out of convenience.

As soon as Lyla agrees to go with him he's going to kill everybody in the manor.

Hardcore...

Ariadne doesn't know that, so she tries to seduce him the whole time...

Ariadne actually tries to fight back. Viorst admits he's after Stinky Lyla. Ariadne convinces her father to give the order for an old-fashioned Witch Hunt. By the way!!! Lyla's father did love her!!! He just kinda gave up on her because of the Witch Stuff and the stink. He used to visit her. Ariadne slowly convinced him that he didn't need an imperfect daughter. He hesitates to give the killing order until the last second, with Ariadne screaming in his face.

He still sucks, but Lyla could have had a better life. She didn’t get it because Ariadne is a violent, narcissistic wacko. This idea is pretty great. In any other story Ariadne would be a hateful villain, but her parents adored her until the end because she's not cursed/magical.

Viorst uses his beast form to scare the villagers and save(?) Lyla from the Witch Hunt. However, he does let them burn her cabin down. He practically forces her to come home with him, because there's no home left for her to cling to. He reveals that her father gave the order too. There's no chance to put Ariadne on trial for her madness. Lyla doesn't get the chance to reconcile with her father.

Viorst takes her away.

He unleashes his punishment.

He cuts off Ariadnes arm, because she dared to touch him.

He takes away the Baron's title, leaving him destitute.

Then, he sets the manor on fire while the entire family is still inside.

If they survive they all have to live as peasants.

Maybe Ariadne will live and return...but it's most likely that the family will choose to die.

They can't beat the prince.

Lyla learns that Viorst is the prince...when she's locked up safely in the castle. He pretends to be a normal noble until then. Lyla says she wouldn't have accepted his proposal if she knew and he's like...lol yeah that's why I lied to you the whole time...lol...

This is the beginning of a super healthy relationship. How wholesome.

Viorst wants to keep Lyla stupid too.

He doesn't want her to learn about her powers or anything. She just needs to stay in the palace and be loved by him.

......

Viorst is a real wackjob. Lyla is definitely a strong mage. After she learns a bit she'll be able to control the miasma/stink. Viorst doesn't care if she spends the rest of her life in isolation. At least let her get rid of the stink....come on....stinky....Why would you want to go down in history as The King with the Stankrank bride????

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #monster guy #monster boy #Beast’s Flower

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prettyboybuckley · 10 months

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30, for buddie please?

hi anon ❤️ thank you for the prompt! exhaustion got to me so it took me a little while to write it, but I hope you like it!

from the soft prompts: ‘this is my husband/wife/girlfriend/boyfriend/partner etc.’

Eddie never really figured out how to introduce Ana as his girlfriend without feeling awkward. It didn't surprise him at the time, because he'd felt the same about introducing Shannon as his wife, for a long time, at least.

So he'd always assumed that was kind of the norm. That he'd always feel awkward introducing his partner, or that maybe that's how most people feel doing that, even.

In hindsight, that was a stupid thing to assume, probably.

The point is that when he and Buck start dating - and holy shit, they're actually dating - he expects it to be as awkward as it's always been. Perhaps even more awkward, considering that yes, this is Buck, but he's also never dated a guy before. He's never introduced anyone to his boyfriend before.

(Well, that's not entirely true, but those were all people that already knew Buck. It wasn't so much introducing Buck as it was telling those people that they were dating now.)

And then comes the PTA meeting.

Eddie doesn't particularly like PTA meetings, they are long and boring and half the shit that gets discussed is pretty much trivial. He goes anyway because he cares about his son's education, and it's polite to show his face and interact with the other parents.

He doesn't expect Buck to see it on the calendar on the fridge, turn to him with a bright but somewhat hesitant smile, and ask: "Can I come with?"

"Yeah, of course," Eddie answers without even having to think about it for too long. It'll be much more fun with Buck by his side.

The realization that he's going to have to introduce Buck to all these parents - at least the ones that haven't met him before - doesn't cross his mind until they're already getting out of the car in the school parking lot.

It's probably a good thing that it doesn't, or he would’ve been all up in his head about it. As it is, he freezes right there next to the car, watching couples and single parents alike make their way into the school.

"You alright?" Buck's voice sounds, suddenly right next to him. He must have walked around the car while Eddie was lost in thought. Buck's hand slips into his, tangling their fingers together.

"I'm fine, just thinking. C'mon, let's go."

He pulls Buck along to the school entrance, greeting some parents he vaguely recognizes along the way. Once inside, they follow the directions to the gym, and it's only when they're there that Eddie finally pauses. His hand is still wrapped tightly around Buck's, and he has no intention of letting go, but that also means that someone is going to notice.

"Eddie, hi!" someone says, and he turns around too quickly, pulling Buck along and making him stumble a bit. See, there's the awkwardness already. It's Katie's mom, Jennifer, who Eddie has talked to on multiple occasions. He's pretty sure she tried to flirt with him in the beginning, though he isn't sure why she stopped. "I see you've brought someone along this time?"

This is usually where it gets awkward, where Eddie stutters out an introduction and embarrasses himself and his partner in the process.

But this time he follows Jennifer's gaze to look at Buck, and he finds Buck smiling at him, soft and so damn happy, as if there's nowhere he'd rather be than here at this PTA meeting with Eddie, and it's not awkward at all.

"Yeah, this is my boyfriend, Buck," Eddie replies, only taking his eyes off Buck at the end of it, and he pulls Buck a little closer as he smiles at Jennifer. "Figured it wasn't fair that he's only been getting the fun parts of raising a kid now that we finally got our shit together."

He and Jennifer both laugh at the indignant squawk Buck lets out at that, and Eddie only grins wider when he stumbles because of the little shove Buck gives him with his shoulder. It's not as if he's in any danger of falling when they're still holding hands, and as soon as he's stabilized himself again, he's pressed right back along Buck's side.

Buck is grinning, too, when Eddie looks at him, and he allows himself a moment to get lost in his boyfriend's eyes. Turns out that didn't feel awkward at all, it simply felt right.

"Just kidding, we both know you've been helping with the less fun parts all this time, too." He pauses for a moment, then turns back to Jennifer. "Now, Jen, have you heard any good gossip lately?"

Next to him, Buck snorts, and Eddie is going to get teased later for caring about gossip in the first place, but he's pretty sure that his boyfriend listens just as attentively while Jennifer tells them of the rumor she heard about two of the teachers hooking up.

#oh look the mailman came by!#anon.tag #buddie #soft prompts #gary writes prompts #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fic #buddie fic

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bettsfic · 7 months

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I really don’t understand the concept “if you write you’re a writer” because “if you sing that doesn’t make you a singer”, “if you paint doesn’t necessarily mean your an artist” I feel like the first phrase is used so often to be inspirational but it also doesn’t make much sense. I’m not coming for anyone who uses that phrase I just want to understand the mindset behind it

i mean, that's a really good question.

first, i would argue you could also call yourself an artist and singer using the same logic as "if you write, you're a writer," so let's try a different comparison. if you fix a leaky faucet or a broken toilet, are you a plumber? exactly how many things do you have to fix to consider yourself a plumber? is it when you begin accepting money in exchange for fixing things? or is it when you receive licensure? or is it when it becomes your primary source of income?

it may seem easy. you become a plumber when you get a job as a plumber. to get a job you have to get a license. to get a license you have to apprentice someone and receive training. to receive training you have to find someone to formally mentor you. there's a process, a series of barriers to entry, and for each barrier there's an identity. you're an apprentice, then you're a plumber.

let's try with becoming a doctor. you're pre-med. you're a med school student. you're a resident. you're a doctor.

inevitably someone is going to send me an anon and correct my knowledge of plumbing but i'm not about to start googling information about plumbing just to answer an ask. please take it as an analogy.

plumbing is a lucrative profession. it's specialized knowledge of something that we all require in order to have running water.

being a doctor is a lucrative profession. it's specialized knowledge of the human body and life itself.

writing...is not a lucrative profession. there's no licensure. the only tool you need is a word processor and therefore a computer. the only education you need is basic literacy. no one gives you a full-time job to write creatively. copywriting, sure. ghostwriting, sort of. but to sit down and write what you're passionate about? there's no 401k there.

so without those barriers to entry, without that series of identities at various points in your path, at what point can you call yourself a writer? is it when you accept payment for your work? you can be a formally published, award-winning author and never have received a penny for it. is it when your primary income comes from your work? there are writers on the NYT bestseller list who have day jobs. in fact i don't know a single writer whose primary income is their writing. is it when an editor accepts your work for publication among a pool of other entries? editing is like writing; anyone can start a press or launch a lit mag. moreover, self-publishing is a thing, as well as vanity presses. is it when someone reads your work for their own enrichment without being asked? that's kind of a bizarre gate to have to walk through.

there is no single barrier for entry into writerhood. there is no calling. there is no natural-born talent. and no one is going to tell you you can't do it. well, they may try, but no one has the actual authority to stop you, even if it feels like it.

all creative pursuits are a choice you have to make for yourself when you're ready to, when you've decided your own barrier for entry into that identity. because there is no formal structure, no one else gets to define that identity for you. and so when people say, "if you write you're a writer," what they're really saying is that the only true measurable difference between someone who is a writer and someone who isn't is the act of writing itself.

#writing advice #identity

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flintawakened · 24 days

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I understand that people on "theriantok" are a big thing of controversy but I just think we should leave them alone. Many people that decide they "want to be a therian" will either grow out of it or realize they actually might have something nonhuman going on with them. Even I joined the communtiy barely knowing what it was, I genuinely thought it was just quadrobics and gear but now I know that I am a genuine nonhuman and have been for around two years now.

I don't think 'fake therians' are harming the community as much as people think they are. We may be bullied but we are not oppressed and do not have the means to say we are. I obviously do not condone spreading misinformation and lies but at the same time, we don't have to go out of our way to shame children for getting something wrong or acting like a 'tiktok therian/youtube therian'.

I personally believe I am very well educated on the subject due to long nights of studying and developing my knowledge through various means and I use and produce YouTube content but that doesn't mean I spread misinformation and do quads and wear gear at school or bark at people on the streets.

I'm just so done with people in our community shaming literal children for something that may be something of a Warriors phase for them. If they realize they may have something nonhuman going on with them, simply educate them to the best of your ability and they'll figure it out as they go.

Please remember, DO NOT EDUCATE IF YOU'RE NOT EDUCATED! Therians can physically be nonhuman, nonhumans don't always have past lives, nonhumans don't have to do any stereotypical alterhuman activities if they don't want to, nonhumans can become nonhuman through identities like copinglink and teen werewolves, they're are so many things everyone gets wrong, and I'm guilty of it, too. Just please learn from others and your own mistakes before lecturing someone on nonhumanity.

If I get anything wrong in this post, just simply let me know, and if you don't agree with me, just kindly tell me if you feel like it. We may not agree, but we can make peace.

Stay kind, stay learning, stay yourself.

#slate barks 𓃥 #therian #therianthropy #alterhuman #nonhuman #theriotype #therian community #therian things

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