#I didn't put it in because it wasn't a direct ''I'm fine'' quote but

[wordsbymae]

mae I swear we're so desperate for non-violent yandere content that we ate it all so plz let's talk more about alwyn

Yay! I'm not too fond of violent yandere stuff (at least directed at the darling) either. I can handle some stuff but heavy (constant) violence directed at the darling is just not for me (others may like it and that's fine!). I'm so happy you guys liked him!

I have like 6 out of my 12 drafts dedicated to Alwyn now. I do want to dive more into his yandere side (I find myself only really skimming the surface of it all with my OCs, but I think that's just a confidence thing, as I write more it should get better). I want to really show the lengths he will go and also how obsessive and delusional he can be.

I also plan to have the reader just not flinch at all to that side (maybe the violent side), like she might walk into the back room he told her never to go into for some reason and just sees him in front of the college of things relating to her. A statue of her in marble he forced a poor artist to make. It's decorated in expensive necklaces and bracelets (he gives you the priceless stuff), he's laid down flowers (they look a lot like the ones you had in your hair when he first saw you) around the feet of the statue, there are neat piles of dresses that you thought you gave away cause they either ripped, you just didn't like them or ones you thought you lost. They all have questionable stains on them (particularly around the bust area). And he here is just looking at you in fear cause he's thinking you gonna freak out and try and leave (he would never let you) instead you just ask him if he's seen a ring of yours and he silently takes it from the altar in front of him and gives it to you. You give a cheer of thanks and just leave.

Hey! Have you se- stop screaming it's just me. Have you seen my ruby ring?

You know that quote that always goes around for incorrect quote things were it's like:

I know you love them

Why would you say that?

I saw you drawing up your wedding invitations

Those are plans for our joint tombstone

That is him! He is so obsessed he just is constantly thinking of you. You know how he said he couldn't rob people at the party when he was thinking of you? I mean it literally, like he's just following you around with his eyes from his hiding spot in the bushes and he has literal heart eyes, and his men are like ok so do we attack now? and he just gives a sigh and puts his head in his palm and just has this dopey smile on his face. He then shoots up and is like an ok new plan! Steal her, and point directly at you as you just stand completely oblivious to it all. and his men are like ah yes for ransom. and he's like ahhhh yes for ransom, it has nothing to do with the fact I think she is pretty and I overheard her talking and she sounds really smart and she also told a really funny joke about dogs, It has nothing to do with that at all. and just as he's about to put operation steal the pretty girl into action, you're running off into your room in tears. He gets so sad too until he comes up with a better plan to kidnap you during the week. They all fail and he's just in the pub crying into his arms on the table but if anyone asks he's not and he's just planning a heist and needs to cover his face with his arms as a way to think. And then the shouty man who does noble decrees is in the pub telling everyone that if they've got the money they can marry you. His head is shooting up and he's like yes! Now I can put my real talents to good use, killing and robbing!

I also like to think he would be really sad he wasn't allowed to see you before the wedding. In the reader's mind, she's protecting herself against a cruel rebuttal if her future husband decides she's not desirable enough, in his mind he's going feral because he just wants to see your face and make you laugh. He sneaks around and finds you though. Whether that be through your window as you're getting ready for bed and he's just hanging onto your balcony for one look at you. Or (and he will never admit this to you) but he's hiding under your bed as you get changed, and he bites his knuckles to stop himself from combusting in joy at the sight of your naked thighs and heavy breasts. And then there are the nights here's listening to you touch yourself, he's either under your bed again or hiding in your closet and he's just listening to your bed slightly creak and your whines and moans and heavy sighs and even the sound of your fingers gliding inside your heat. It's almost enough for him to pass out. Instead, he releases some pressure using his hand wishing it was your cunt he was rutting against instead of his rough palm. Also, he dreams of shoving his head in between your thighs and feasting on your sweet taste. All in all he just wishes he could talk to you so he can charm his way under your skirts.

I think it all got to his head as well. Like in your mind you are worried you are not good enough, but he's feeling the same thing. I mean you are the daughter of a noble. He's just the bastard son of some lowly knight (not the prince like everyone says) and his mum tried everything to raise him well and he still becomes a criminal! He's a murderer and crook and yet he's marrying you. So he feels like he has to show off. But he is a stupid man and he thinks that includes threatening a priest and making vulgar comments about you to his men (look how strong he is! listen to how much he thinks you're hot!). he felt really bad when you sobbed when he said the stuff about making you suck his cock, and he also felt really really bad at the way you cried getting called a heifer. He meant it as a really good complaint! Heifers and cows are pretty and cute like you.

Ok, I have to go get food with my mum (I'm starving) but hope this is good!

lots of love mae xx

#yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere imagines #oc #yandere prompts #mae answers #oc outlaw #alwyn #oc alwyn #also if it seems ive been online alot today its because i was finishing an assignment and ive been checking into tumblr when i get bored #promise i have a life and friends #also i finished the assignment! #chubby!reader #female reader #mae speaks #insecure!reader #midsize

[neowinestainedress]

rebs!! within europe, which country would you say have many polyglots?

i personally think it's italy bc i think people there understand 2/3 other languages beyond intermediate level? do you think italy provides solid language-learning system in schools (compared to your european counterparts)?

This is longer than I expected, I had many complaints to do lmao

Honestly, I have no idea... I think Italy sucks when it comes to teaching languages. I learned English by myself because in elementary school the English teacher was never the same and every year we basically did the same things over and over again. In middle school I had better teachers but I didn't have a base so I struggled a lot and one direction and tv series saved my ass. In high school we do grammar for the first two years and then the other three are just literature, so if you're fluent, you're fine, but if you're not, it's going to be hell. (Probably it depends on the professor too, mine was pretty strict and I found her funny and iconic only because I was good, but some of my friends that weren't fluent hated her a lot, and they were right)

We only do another language in middle school (either French or Spanish). I learned French but yeah... The professors were terrible, I only had a good one in the second year but it wasn't enough. I mean, I was better at French than English back then, but I hated it so much I almost completely lost all my knowledge after.

After middle school, if you want to study languages there's the "linguistic high school" but from what I know it's not like it's much better, especially for languages like German or Chinese.

In Italy there are some regions that have other official languages like French, German, and Albanian (don't know if it's official, but a lot of small countries in the east-south speak it).

I just think Italians are slick and most of the time speak with their bodies, and when it comes to understanding others we are not like French (sorry not sorry) and even if the pronunciation is not perfect we just think about getting to the point. Also, quoting that tweet that was popular saying "Portuguese, Spanish and Italian speakers understanding each other without speaking the same language" it's true. We have the same roots so for survival needs I think we can communicate pretty well, and at least understand what we're saying. Still, I don't think many of us are fluent in more than another language. But probably I'm thinking too much about the older generation, idk the younger ones seem to be more interested in languages, I think the Universities that involve languages are the most popular rn, so this could change in the next few years? But we are also a very old country (many old people and no newborns) so I don't think I'm wrong for now.

I would say Switzerland is the most polyglot because they speak Italian, French and German but it's based on the cantons, so I'm not sure they speak more languages in a single one. The other one is probably Germany. They seem like the most open-minded and also very global, but I don't know much about the school system.

In conclusion, I think that the Italian school system is just really hard and puts students under a lot of stress without making them accomplish a lot, and that involves languages too. I wish I was the only one, but if you ask young people where they learned English, 80% of them will answer like I did, on their own, with music, movies, and fanfictions... that tells you everything about how the system teaches languages. Also, I think that the ones speaking more languages are the mixed couples children (I'm one, but for reasons, my Spanish is hanging on a thin line) and the second generations' children that speak Italian, their parent's language, and one or two that they learn later on. But white Italians? Either they're passionate about it or they don't care. This is also why I talked about being open-minded, unfortunately, Italy is going through a very bad fascist turn of events again and foreign languages are seen as threats, the prime minister wants to fine people for using English words when they speak, and that's all from 1925. Not saying that if you don't speak other languages you're fascist, but that's another factor to consider when you analyze the way people act when it comes to the topic, you simply might not be good at that (just like some people are not good at math, or art and so on) but that doesn't give you the right to push foreign languages down or mock them, or treat people that spend time learning a new one as if they're stupid.

So what I'm thinking is, in the new generation there's a lot of us speaking more than 2/3 languages but I think at least 70% is because those are already the mother tongues (so Italian because they were born and raised here and then the one they speak with the family) the rest is taught at school but only if you want to learn them. Considering the oldest generation makes up most of this country, I still think we're losing compared to other places in Europe.

This turned into a rant, and you just learned to never ask me anything ever again I'M SO SORRY PLEASE FORGIVE ME

Also, can you explain why you think we're almost fluent in 2/3 languages? I'm curious to know why it looks like this on the outside.

#answered #everloving-avenue #never make me speak on anything ever again #wrote a fucking drabble on languages somebody lock me up #me: i have no idea #also me: writes the bible

[itsgoghtime]

Delta Dawn

The Long Way Home Series : Part 1

CW: it’s a longer fic, takes place in the 70’s and the beginning of the 80’s, an uncomfortable workplace relationship (nothing happens but it’s mentioned that it’s uncomfortable), lots and lots of angst and longing that only gets resolved at the end, some lil swears, time skips, people being judgy, that’s about it

Words : 5179

-1980-

It was always something about waking up with an empty space next to me in bed that put me in the mental state I was in.

The sun always came up in the morning even when I wished it wouldn't - and on some occasions, the sky graced me with dark gray thunder and the tears I wished I could cry.

Sometimes, I'd forget why I even wanted to cry.

Although, without fail, I'd make my way into the kitchen those same mornings, and pass the dried rose in the hall. I had refused to look at it when I had first moved in, but it was just habit now.

I'd put on the same record, sit down at the typewriter, and begin my day finishing the transcript from the court case a day earlier before having to turn it in the next morning. I only worked a few days a week as a stenographer, but it paid well enough that I lived in...

Well, it wasn't the lap of luxury by any means, but it was home.

I only lived here because I needed to leave my hometown and be an independent from it. People still looked down on me for not being married, as everyone else that I had grown up with were all hitched and moved away - some of them to this area, actually.

Not that moving had helped any, they knew my story and twisted it in all directions to fit their purposes.

I didn't do anything to dispute what they were saying either - I didn't go out much, and I went to the train station every once in a while, suitcase in hand, in hopes that there would be a relatively inexpensive ticket to take me somewhere other than Illinois.

And maybe I was hoping I'd find him there.

"Words are powerful - they can be the shields to protect or the sword to destroy."

I sat back in my chair. If only what he had said was true - I worked with words, for a living. Not that it made me any more competent when defending myself against people who didn't even give me a chance to prove I was anything more than rumors.

I had first met Murray Bauman just before he got me hired as a secretary for the Chicago Sun Times. Only in our early thirties then, his head was already beginning to bald. He was everything to me.

It didn't feel like that long ago since I had seen him last. I let my eyes wander over to the kitchen windowsill, where the picture of us was framed.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized it had been eight years.

Eight years.

-1972-

Come on, friends, leave the poor man alone." I waved the kids off, as they wandered back to their blankets on the lawn to roll another joint.

"Thank you. I didn't think I was going to make it out of there alive."

I laughed, and rolled my eyes. "You would have been fine. They're really quite harmless."

"Not until they're high and have weapons in their possession - they're subject to no control."

"They're just looking for truth, in all reality. I haven't met one of them that isn't lost in some way and looking for something better." I turned to face the man. "You haven't told me your name yet."

"Murray Bauman. Investigative Journalist for Chicago Sun Times - doing a piece on this movement actually. And you are...?"

"I'd like to keep that a secret - keeps things interesting. Besides, I don't want to be quoted or photographed or anything - even if the sunflowers in my eyes are gorgeous - I'm anonymous and prefer to remain so."

"Well, anonymous tipster, perhaps you can tell me more about this..." he motioned with his hand towards the group of people, stuttering to try and find the right word.

"Movement? Gathering? Purpose in action?"

"Yes."

"Ah, I see. Well, let me show you around then."

We walked around campus, and I explained the different groups within the main umbrella of "hippie" and how we all had different reasons for coming, but all united in our desire for something better than was handed to us. A desire to belong - and we found belonging together.

"What's your story?"

I paused a moment, laughing a little. "It's inconsequential, really."

"No, I'm really curious."

"Maybe I'll tell you someday, Bauman. For now, I'll tell you that I'm one of the oldest ones here, and I'm attempting to convince them drugs aren't the right way to escape. I'd like to think I could do something normal, like be a Secretary or something - but given my background with these folks, I haven't been accepted anywhere but here. I'm too radical for the squares."

"You really have a strange way of thinking about everything - compared to everyone else."

"Normally, Murray, I would take that as an insult, but considering the circumstances, I'll take it as a challenge."

Murray had a double take - looking into those eyes that really did have the sunflower pupil rings now that he could see. "What... what do you mean?"

"I'll try it your way - you try it mine. Simple as that, lover boy."

I relished in the blush on his cheeks in this moment, and I about fell over when he agreed.

He got me a simple job in the building where he worked - Chicago Sun Times, as a part-time afternoon secretary.

Murray found the fact that I immersed so well into the workplace impressive - I had been so different when he met me on campus - dressed different and wearing no shoes. Now? Wearing professional clothes and shoes - that I told him I secretly took off when I was sitting behind the desk, which he found amusing.

After work most days, I'd take him to concerts or different areas he could write about in his story. We watched so many fireworks and speeches and things like that - I found great enjoyment in sharing them with him.

We also shared all sorts of conspiracy theories - about Kennedy, the moon landing, and more. Murray expressed how much he enjoyed sharing these theories with me - and I told him the same.

We often found ourselves on the lawn of the university we first met at - and this day was no different.

"Why do you like going barefoot all the time?"

I threw my head back and laughed, leaning back on the grass. "Oh Murray, that is such a square thing to say!"

"Well I have to learn your ways so I'll be less of a square - questions are required."

"Then go ask them - everyone knows who you are now. They won't bite too hard."

I watched as Murray walked around, asking all the hippies in the yard why they didn't wear shoes, as they laughed together.

He came back, plopping himself on the grass next to me again. "Well, I got the consensus that shoes are square, and we don't do what the squares do."

"That's good! But there are other reasons."

"Like what?"

"Its freeing. We want to be one with the earth - it helps connect the central nervous system to have bare feet on the ground."

He nodded, scribbling this down in his notebook. "Can I quote you on that?"

"Of course not - okay, well, as long as..."

"As long as I don't mention your name, of course. At least we're on a first name basis now, wild woman."

"Oh, a nickname - I like that! Yeah, you could put it that way." I observed as he finished his notes. "You should try it."

"Absolutely not."

"One of these days, Murray Bauman the square, I'll get you to do it."

"We'll just have to see about that."

As time passed, I noticed this nervousness in my chest every time I was with Murray. The way he looked into my eyes, the way he always remained close - I couldn't quite place my finger on it.

One night, we were on North Avenue Beach, barefoot on the sand, attempting to gaze up at what stars we could see through the city lights and the smog.

Murray handed me a rose as we sat on the sand - a yellow rose, as it was my favorite color. As I was taking a moment to admire it, he spoke up.

"You were right - there is a certain freedom to not wearing shoes." Murray leaned back on his arms.

"You see, it isn't half bad, isn't it? Besides, this is the only part of the beach by Chicago that has warm sand." I sat up and began to take my hair out of the bun I was now accustomed to having pulled up for work those few hours a day.

As I let my hair down, running my fingers through it, I caught Murray's eyes.

"You jealous of my hair, Bauman? You're not that far gone, you still have some..." I smoothed the thin hair on top of his head, "here."

I then moved to the back of his head, running my hand through his hair as it came to the side - I hadn't expected it to be so soft, "...and here."

I leaned in closer, both of us only propped up by an arm as we faced each other. My hand traced his beard, also surprisingly supple to the touch, my voice just above a whisper now. "...and here."

"You're breathtaking, wild woman. Sunflower eyes and everything..." We were now just inches apart.

"Wild and free, darlin'."

Our lips met for the first - and surely not the last - time that night in the smoggy moonlight.

The phone rang, startling me from my train of thought, and I hesitantly picked it up.

I had a short conversation with the judge of the courthouse I was working for - there was a case beginning that afternoon and he needed me to come in and document it - the other stenographer who had been assigned wasn't able to do it. I agreed, and began to pack up my things.

The walk to the courthouse was fairly short - I thanked my lucky stars I lived so close, I didn't have to put so many miles on the car that sat in the back of the apartment building.

In all reality, I just needed to sell it. It wasn't doing me any good anyways.

The audience rose for the judge, and as I scanned the courtroom as I usually did, my mind froze on a familiar face.

No, it couldn't be.

Murray Bauman.

I hadn't seen him in eight years - there was no way he just showed up to the case I wasn't even originally going to be on.

Our eyes met for a brief moment, and I smiled gently. He looked panicked, and while I did catch the blush on his cheeks, he wouldn't look at me anymore and that scared me.

What had I done wrong?

The case continued as normal, and it was put on recess till the next morning.

The judge asked me to come to the bench as the crowd was filing out - and I watched as Murray followed the press out to the main area.

I agreed to stay and notate the rest of the case, only half paying attention as I was trying to keep track of the man I had been waiting eight years for.

The judge dismissed me, and I dashed out into the hallway, turning both directions to see if I could find Murray.

My eyes finally found him - talking to a reporter, and our eyes met again. He looked only briefly, the same panic setting in his demeanor as before. He focused all of his energy and attention on this reporter, seeming to ignore me, and I paused my walk over to him.

I had surely done something wrong. Why would he be so intent on not interacting if I hadn't?

My mind swirled with possibilities, trying to piece the last eight years together - and the time we spent together before then. The tears were there before I could even process them.

I looked up again, and somehow caught a glance from him. Unable to approach any longer, I stepped back, and turned on my heel to go home.

Without needing any confirmation, I knew why he hadn't come back to get me in eight years.

He didn't want me.

I spent the night trying to type up the notes I already had - but I couldn't see very well as my head started to spin from the tears I had shed. I set the typewriter aside, taking my alarm clock from my room and putting it next to the couch as I turned the television set on softly.

I just needed to get through this case and then, I would return to the university where it had all started - or I'd find a group of my people to join somewhere else. To return to my purpose in life, before this had all started.

Why I had ever allowed myself to not only fall in love with a square, but to embrace that lifestyle in the first place I wasn't sure. Maybe I had been sure then, but now eight years down the road, I wasn't so sure anymore.

I wasn't even really paying attention to the television set anymore. There were too many thoughts swirling around that it felt like I was trying to go back to where it had all started.

Our romance was fun - stolen glances at work, completely "random" meetings in the hallway, trying to keep our relationship a secret from our coworkers. The evenings were no different - I spent many of them teaching Murray different recipes and how to use the natural resources around him.  He taught me how to make risotto and taught me a few Russian phrases, and introduced me to Russian opera as I showed him John Denver. The rest of our evenings were spent doing other things - but simply put, they were all spent being happily in love with each other.

We had it good.

We had it so good.

But sometimes, good isn't enough.

The big boss at the Chicago Sun Times began to take an interest in me - 4 months after I had started - and made it his mission to make me feel very uncomfortable.

He was a large man who's only life accomplishment was that he had been to Russia - and I had always been a little skeptical of him. Murray had confessed he was the reason he learned Russian as he was skeptical as well - now that this situation had found me, his conspiracy theories about Russians and Russian sympathizers invading the United States seemed so much more real.

At first, I had a hard time expressing this to Murray, knowing there would possibly be repercussions if word got out.

However, I didn't have to say anything.

Murray picked up on this new behavior all on his own - and he apologized to me for what was happening.

I hadn't expected him to go and approach this man about it. But he did. He didn't say anything about it to me, but he did.

That same evening, I was in his apartment, making dinner as he said he was going to be late. I picked up on a change of vibe - something in the universe was off, and I wasn't sure how to calm my racing heart. So I waited for Murray to come home.

When he did come through the door, he looked tired. I had never seen him this exhausted, but unwilling to press anything he didn't want to talk about, I turned the heat down on the stove and came to take off his jacket.

He allowed me to take it off, but when I went to put my arms around him and rest my head against his back, he gently shrugged me off.

"Murray, is everything alright?"

He mumbled slightly under his breath, heading to the fridge to get the bottle of vodka out with his little glass.

"Murray?"

"I just need a minute." His voice was hard around the edges, and pricked at me more than I liked. But knowing something was off beforehand had helped me remember that he'd come up with whatever it was whenever he was ready.

He brushed past me into the living room, and I watched him for a moment.

"What're you waiting for?" He asked, his tone still laced with frustration.

I shook my head, shrugging my shoulders gently to indicate that I didn't mean any harm, trying to keep my emotion out of my throat. "I'll go finish working on dinner."

My heart sunk. The vibe was entirely off and as much as I wanted to just wrap this grumpy man in my arms and wait for whatever it was to pass, I knew I couldn't do anything until he brought it to the figurative table of our relationship.

A few minutes passed, and I wiped the couple tears that had wandered onto my cheek, one falling to my bare foot. It was just a simple misunderstanding - and when I gained understanding, it would be okay. I'd give him his space until then.

Another few minutes passed. I heard the ice in his glass a few times, but it was often covered by the thud of my cutting board and eventually, the sizzle of the pan.

Murray sat on the couch in the other room, listening to the pan scrape against the stove. He was swept with guilt, knowing he'd have to figure out how to tell me what had just transpired.

I heard the record player begin to play my favorite John Denver album, and I smiled a little.

"Hey." I turned at the sound of his voice to see him leaning against the post in the kitchen, and I gave him a half smile.

"It's okay." I went back to the food in the pan.

"I'm really sorry, I just..."

"It's really alright, Murray. You don't have to worry about me - you can go relax." I swallowed the hurt in my throat back down, keeping my voice as steady as I could, shoulders tensing a little bit.

A minute or so passed, and I assumed he had left the room because it was so quiet.

But when I turned the heat down to let my sauce simmer, and leaned with my back against the counter, I wasn't surprised to find him there.

I didn't look up at him, but he took me into his arms. I gingerly hugged him back, but he then pulled me to him as tight as he could, and I did the same.

We remained this way for a little while, and as he released his tight grip on me, he gently took my chin in his hand, and I met his eyes, a soft smile finding its way to me.

"There you are, wild woman. I thought I'd lost you."

Our lips met gently, and he began to explain to me how he had approached the manager at the Times, and how he had gotten fired for trying to stand up for me.

"He gave me a week to get out of my apartment. That is one downside to work related housing."

"I'm coming with you."

"I don't think that would work as well as we'd hope, lover."

"I can get another job somewhere - wherever you go, I want to go too."

"I can't put you through that. Let me get on my feet again, and I'll come back and get you. I promise."

I held him tighter, not able to say anything.

That week was the shortest of my life. I wished I could just stop time - remain in his apartment, figure something out, and then resume life as normal.

But that's not how it worked out.

I helped him carry the few boxes to his car, and he pulled me into his arms.

"I will come back for you - it won't be long."

"I'll be waiting."

Time, after this, passed so slowly. I spent a little while longer in Chicago, but went to go stay with my parents a few months later when the lease on the apartment was up - I hadn't been to work since Murray had been fired, but the manager somehow had forgotten to cancel the lease, so that's where I stayed until I moved in with my parents, and then to where I was now to accommodate the court stenographer job.

I came back to the studio audience laughs playing loudly on the television. I made the decision that I was going to take my shoes off and let my hair down again and live the way the universe had intended - wild and free.

That's why no one really liked me around here - they knew my history, it got out somehow. They knew I wasn't like them - and maybe Murray finally saw this reality too and that's why he didn't want me anymore.

Those next few days were grueling. I would arrive just before the judge came in, not only because I didn't want the possibility of confrontation, but also because I didn't sleep well.

I visited the beach at night - no one was around, and I'd get home early in the morning, just to get up and have to go back and do it again.

Any time I'd see Murray within a certain proximity, I'd keep my head down, assuming it was something about eye contact that frightened him - and I'd walk in the opposite direction. The case would be over in a few days - and I wouldn't have to worry about it again.

I could go back to being wild and free, and I wouldn't have to worry...

Without fail, every weekend, I spent time at the train station, a suitcase in hand. Murray had promised - he had promised - and people kept their promises, right?

The first year after he left passed painfully at a tortoise like pace. I knew he'd have to find another apartment, get another job - that would take time. But he said he would return.

And I believed him.

Soon enough, the contents in the suitcase I took began to be less and less. I wouldn't need to take everything - I could leave most everything behind and just take a few essentials so I could start my new life with him somewhere else.

But another year passed.

And another.

And another.

I began to realize maybe Murray wasn't coming back - maybe he forgot about me. So I made my train station excursions every other week. Then once a month. Then once every other month.

I couldn't shake the feeling that he still would come back - but I couldn't see how and I surely couldn't see when.

My train of thought as I was walking through the hall of the courthouse was interrupted as I ran straight into Murray.

"Hey! Watch where you're... going..." He exclaimed, softening at the end as he saw that it's me.

Murray.

I panicked, looking at my papers all over the floor, and what had remained of my lukewarm cocoa spilt on top of them.

"Mr. Bauman... wow... this is embarrassing." I knelt down and began to pick up my papers. My breath immediately hitched in my throat as the tears in my eyes took no time to wait for permission to fall down my cheeks.

"Hey, wild woman..."

I sat still for a moment. I haven't heard his voice in eight years, and there's a part of me that holds onto what he just said and stores it in a little cross stitch in the hallway of my mind.

But instead of turning to look at him, I finish collecting my papers, apologize profusely, and walk in the opposite direction. I'm still convinced that somehow, my eyes are the issue.

I go home that night, I make a sandwich with my jam and what peanut butter I have left, and I take a walk to North Avenue beach.

The sand was cold. It's much less enjoyable than the last few nights, but I sit there anyways and eat my sandwich.

I didn't hear footsteps at first, but suddenly, there they were - two sets of perfectly polished black shoes. I looked up to see Murray, and I turned my head again so I didn't make eye contact.

"Now, before you run away before I can say anything again, let me sit down."

I chuckled, knowing he had seen my stance and how ready I was to bolt, and I relaxed back onto the sand as he sat next to me.

"Listen, I can see that you've been avoiding me, and I get it."

I looked to Murray incredulously. "Well, yes. I thought you didn't want to see me."

Murray paused. "Wait... you thought that I..."

"We made eye contact the first day of this case and you looked frightened... I kept my distance. With all due respect, why did you come to find me? Better yet, how did you find me?"

"Well, that was the easy part. I remember that whenever you got stressed or had something you needed to think on, you'd come to this beach. 'It's the only part of the beach by Chicago that has warm sand'... although it seems that you lucked out tonight, it's cold."

I chuckled, digging my feet into the sand. "Yeah, I did."

"But uh... I was afraid. At first. I broke my promise and I didn't come to get you, so I thought you'd be upset. But now knowing you thought... I came here because I want to see you."

I smiled, a slight blush grazing my freckled cheeks as I looked down at my lap.

"I've missed your freckles, your hair let down, the fact that you don't like wearing shoes... I've missed the sunflowers in your eyes."

I chuckle and shake my head, looking out at the city lights. "I must be dreaming or something... the square I fell in love with is sitting with me on North Avenue beach after we haven't seen each other for eight years... the same beach..."

"...the same beach we had our first kiss on. I remember." Murray's voice is soft and nostalgic. "I want to apologize for not keeping my promise. You haven't left my mind since everything happened. I didn't quite know how to begin to find you - and now that you're here..."

"I waited eight years, Murray. Eight."

"I'm sorry." He whispered, looking at the horizon.

I scoot closer to him, and cup his bearded face with my hands so we're looking at each other. We both have tears falling down our cheeks.

"I never thought I'd see you again..." I smiled softly.

Murray's arm came around me, caressing my waist. Slowly, but surely, our lips meet for the first time in eight years. It's slow, it's passionate, and it felt like it lasted an eternity. My eyes fluttered closed, as they always did when he had kissed me before - Murray Bauman was magic to my soul.

When we pulled apart, Murray chuckled.

"I'll take that as a sign that you're not upset?"

"Well, less so, now that you're here. You still have some explaining to do, Mr. Bauman."

"Okay, but as long as you're done with this 'Mr. Bauman' shit. I'm Murray. I'm your Murray. And I'm never leaving you again."

The next few days, as the case came to a close, I found myself more and more excited to go and type up the transcript. Murray, while focused on the case, was making faces at me and watching me. I would often blush, and he'd tell me how much he loved it when the court would recess.

The afternoons were spent visiting our favorite places.

He came to my apartment in the evenings, and we made some of our favorite recipes together.

One night, after dinner was all cleaned up, we snuggled on the sofa together looking through a newspaper at house advertisements as a movie played softly on the television.

"Mur, we've been looking at these houses for over an hour. Do you really not like any of them enough to want to go see one?" I yawned.

"No, it's not that... Mur, eh? That's cute."

"That's your name isn't it? You're my Mur."

Murray chuckled at my remark, putting the newspaper down on his lap.

"Alright. Here's the deal. I'm going to put the clippings of the ones I like on the coffee table, and you're going to throw a dart and choose which one we go with."

"First, Murray, that would ruin the coffee table. Second, I don't have darts to throw."

Before he could respond, I pull a pair of scissors out of the drawer of the coffee table and give them to him, pressing the newspaper to his chest as he looked at me incredulously.

"I have another solution."

Murray cut out his favorite of the house listings, all across Illinois and Indiana.

He finished cutting them, and looked to me as I put the clippings in a circle on the table.

"Now what? Are we summoning some other worldly power to decide for us?" His tone was laced with sarcasm.

I smiled, jumping from the couch and going to the kitchen. I pulled out a small glass bottle of rootbeer I had been saving, and put two glasses on the coffee table in front of him.

After a moment, I poured the contents of the bottle into the two glasses, and looked into it when I was done to make sure it was empty.

Murray laughed. "Oh, I see. We're playing spin the bottle to decide where we're going to live. This should be entertaining."

I kissed the top of his head, then sitting next to him on the edge of the sofa and taking a sip of my glass.

"Don't make fun of an efficient way of making decisions, Murray Bauman. Now, do you want to spin it or should I?"

Murray was still laughing, and after wiping his eyes, took a deep breath.

"Give me your hand, love." He gently asked, and I gave it to him.

"Together." Murray put my hand on the bottle, his hand on top of mine, and I gave it a good spin.

We sipped our rootbeer, watching it begin to slow as we held our breaths.

It landed on a warehouse looking abode in Sesser Illinois, and I put my hand on the bottle.

"Nah, let's spin again..."

"No, that's not how this works. You spin once, whether or not you like the outcome is a different issue." Murray took the bottle from me and smiled. "Besides, I like this one. It's out of the way, it's safe, and its perfectly customizable to have all of the things I want in it - security, my dear. That's what this one provides."

Murray quickly tore up all the other options, and held up the Sesser warehouse.

"This, this is the one."

I laughed, leaning back onto the couch and into Murray's arms. I yawned widely, snuggling into him.

"Then there we will go... let's call tomorrow."

"Oh we most definitely will call tomorrow."

The call was supposed to be short - Murray essentially told them he was buying it, but the part that made it long was all of his requests for additions to the house - the set of metal doors, all of the power cables to install his security system, the PA system, the kitchen, and more.

He finally hung up, and I looked up from the book I was reading.

"Finally done?"

"Oh, would you like me to call back and have another chat? Was it long enough for you?" Murray teased. "It'll be ready in a week - apparently it already had a few of the things I asked about, but they'll have to install the doors and the power cables and a few other things."

"I see. Well, how about we go and..."

"We can't go anywhere tonight, my love. You need to start packing."

I took a moment and looked around my apartment.

"Honestly, I may just sell this furnished. I don't want anything that's here, besides a few things of course."

"Here's the boxes for what you do want to take - pack them." Murray smiled, handing me the boxes.

I rolled my eyes playfully and went to my bedroom to begin to pack.

Murray began walking down the hall with me, but stopped at the vase with the dried rose. He had already been surprised at the picture of us in my kitchen, but he paused at this rose. He immediately recognized it as the one he had given me on North Avenue Beach.

He smiled, and walked into the bedroom to help me pack.

Soon enough, the end of the week approached and we are putting my boxes into his van.

I stood on the sidewalk, looking up at my apartment with some level of sadness, however small.

"You alright, lover?" Murray asked, putting an arm around me.

"Yeah..." I smiled and turned to him. "Let's go."

The drive to Sesser felt short - even though it was 4 hours.

We pull into the driveway - a large patch of gravel that sits in front of the house.

"Ah, lover - isn't it magnificent?" Murray asked excitedly.

I laughed as he came around to open my door for me.

We found the key where the realtor had said it would be, and walked in.

I had expected, originally, not to like it. I was expecting to find it too... too much like a war bunker.

However, I walked in the door, and smiled. It already felt like home - the layout was a little odd, but I was certain that when Murray got his furniture in, it would be perfect.

"Hey..." Murray whispered, gently turning me around to face him. "This is for you." He handed me a yellow rose, like the one he had given me on the beach eight years ago.

"Thank you... it's beautiful." I smiled, taking it from him and admiring it.

"Of course... How do you like the house?" He asked.

I turned back around to look at the house as Murray kissed the top of my head.

"It's perfect."

---

next part - 500 Miles

#delta dawn #part 1 #series #the long way home #the long way home part 1 #the long way home series #murray bauman x reader #murray bauman #murray x reader #murray #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #oneshot #imagines #stranger things imagine #song fic sort of #reader insert

[rotisseries]

shinso literallt has to be physically restrained btw talking all this i could have saved him if you didn't stop me if i was quicker or smarter anyway last chapter babe almost done btw i'm making other bad decisions (drinking milkshake)

tetsutesu punched him to calm him down. told him there was no way they could have knew there was gonna be an attack and it's not his fault or anyone else's. and vlad tells them to quit it. blah blah fighting getting us no where etc etc monoma wouldn't want this . boring whatever he didn't go to school for awhile. he said he couldn't pretend to go back to normal knowing that he wasn't there. he pretty much just trained all day. all day everyday. because of the guilt. blah blah i could have done this i could have done that. basically beating himself up physically. he was jogging and tripped and fell on the pavement right into a trashcan that spilled everywhere and literally he just layed there 😭😭😭and then he starts crying on the ground with trash all over the ground. literally killed me. then aizawa comes over and is like "? u like digging in trash?" and then shinso looks up and aizawa tells him to get up. he does and dude tells him he looks terrible and shinso shoots back with that "takes one to know one" and then aizawa is like vlad told me you haven't been going to class which is fine except you need to attend to your own saftey by keeping under our surveillance and shinso is like damn.... no freedom (u live in a police state) i couldn't save monoma and now you guys won't even let me cope in my own way and then aizawa punched him. yes i know. beyond me. tells him "get over yourself"and then proceeds to pull out a napkin and placed it up to shinso's nose to stop the bleeding like 💀💀anyway then he's like "in the real world (which he totally doesn't live in onviouslg) your feelings of self righteousness are gonna get monoma killed" & "you can't always expect things to go your way." and finally, direct quote, "The world is unfair and unjust, and the best way to combat that, to protect your friends, is to start with yourself.” shinso is like ok but how do i convince myself it wasn't my fault like i could have saved him and aizawa is like bro i've heard that so much. and then says something like gotta put your safety first bc who knows what they would've done to both of you (i don't know how this makes him feel better. what the fuck are they doing to monoma. i have an anxiety disorder.) and then "And the guilt you have right now is not what’s going to bring back Monoma.” Aizawa says as he pats his shoulders. “For now, get back in class and believe in the pros to save him. You need to do your part in becoming a hero by studying to become one, it’s what Monoma would have wanted.”

Shinsou continued to be quiet, but this time, he nodded slowly, finally hearing reason." HOW ARE YOU SEEING REASON WITH THIS. MY ASS WOULD BE SHAKING CRYIB THROWING UP UNABLE TO REST WORK OR EAT. and then aizawa is like he's strong 🤞🏼🤞🏼believe me he's fine he doesn't need your worrying🤞🏼 and shinso is like. right, anyway i'll go back to class tomorrow and that's it. that's the rest of the fic. that's the end

jayme you are too invested

#ask #ghoultaffy #hi jayme!

[charcubed]

You know what, I'm starting to come around on the idea that Marvel's inconsistent writing with Bucky & Steve is on purpose and a fake out.

Because that interview with the Rogers musical writer is so randomly timed and dropped strangely self aware info about Bucky, and it feels like a little wink wink nudge nudge "we are playing into the in-universe revisionist history aspect"

That and Secret Invasion's finale showing Gi'ah has both Bucky AND Steve's DNA... that felt random because not only do Steve & Buck have the exact same powers but Skrulls are already superstrengthed... Unless they consider Bucky's gun shootin' skills to be significant, it feels like it would've just been Steve's powers as a "look a reference" moment, but it went out of its way to mention both of them 👀

I'm fine with being a little delulu, but even if this wasn't planned during phase 3, it's starting to feel like there's some people at Marvel who are aware of how the characters were treated and how absurd it is... I'm fully joining the "it's nonsensical on purpose" train.

It'd actually be really smart if it is, playing with the concept of their identities and history easily being warped and lied about for propaganda purposes, that's been happening since CATFA, I'm a believer. Marvel's people wouldn't be hammering on this aspect of the characters so much so much if they truly wanted it to be the "end" for them.

Oh my God, Anon... Holy shit lmao. I hit up Google because of your ask, wondering what interview you were talking about, and I just found it. Thank you so much for the heads up! Going bonkers over it, naturally.

I'm not sure I'd personally say I feel like it's strangely timed or a wink/nudge to anything... Most likely MCU Direct just saw the absolute carnage in their notifications every time they brought up the musical and decided to get that man on the phone. Which I fucking love tbh! Wish I had that power, personally!

Putting the quotes below:

"There was a much longer version of this show, and there is a much longer version of this show. Hopefully, you know, if anybody would ever let us do it, the longer version of this show had Bucky as a much bigger player in this. That's the other really big person in Cap's life from the get-go. I could absolutely see a Bucky and Cap song in there somewhere. But we just literally didn't have the time." "We know there are tons of fans who are upset because Peggy said a line that Bucky said. Obviously, we all knew that. It wasn't a mistake. We all knew; we all knew. We all made the choice that for this 35-minute show we wanted to get the line in, and the way to get it in was to land on the Peggy storyline." "Absolutely there could be a great Broadway version of this show in which Bucky has a really big part and will say the lines he needs to say. So it's interesting to think how that could work." "We didn't get very far with that because we sort of timed things out and how many songs we had. We knew we wanted the love song, the 'I want' song, the Nick Fury song, and we had the other two songs. And, we're like 'Jeez, we're almost out of time. We're already at 32 minutes.'" "We knew it was basically a Cap and Peggy love story from start to finish. Once we came up with that, we're like 'we can do that show and make it great in 30 minutes'."

"We all knew" is INNNNSANE lmao. Wild shit.

Something very poetic about the musical about the man out of time not having enough "time" to include the main relationship in his life... Much to think about... Anyway. Really fascinating stuff here lmao. Intentional or not (who is to say!), life and art sure do continue to imitate each other here, huh?

As for Secret Invasion, what little I know about that show is that it was lowkey kind of a clusterfuck by the end and considering how bad the finale sounded I'm disinclined to read too far into all the powers listed that they dumped on Gi'ah. But! The fact that the heroes' DNA was collected is interesting insofar that it means Steve (in particular) can be or could have been impersonated by Skrulls at any point 👀 My money (and hopes, kind of?) remain on HYDRA though, if they go for it. Still makes the most sense I think.

But yeah, the last thing you said is exactly why I think it'd be such a smart move! Clearly Marvel is now playing in the realm of trying to retcon old shit (like Rhodey 🙄) if they think they can or should to further future storylines, so in my humble opinion it would be very easy for them to play in the spaces they've deliberately left open in regards to how fucked up Steve's "ending" was. Steve's final scenes were and still are theeee biggest topic and even ~debate~ in pop culture in regards to Endgame, and if they didn't do something with that I think they'd be idiots at this point. IT'S ALL RIGHT THERE.

#char writes things #anonymous #imposter steve rogers #captain america #marvel #asks

[noja420ategod]

right. tumblr, I need to know if I'm the asshole here.

so I am (probably) autistic. which means I struggle a lot to go on voice calls on discord or just dealing with phone calls in general because it's incredibly overwhelming. The other issue with discord VC's is that there are often strangers or people I don't know well on said VC's, so I don't tend to join them very often. Admittedly, I can see how this looks like I don't care or don't wanna be friends with someone. I have my own ways of showing it though, like texting to check up on them or trying to organize hangouts with a few people I'm comfortable with. Sometimes I just send stupid memes to try to show I still care. now enter my ex-best friend, who we will call T for the sake of anonymity. T doesn't live near me at all, so our friendship until recently has been entirely online. Not usually an issue, at least I didn't think it would be, because like I said even if I don't join VC I still have my own way of showing I care. T had been acting distant for *months*, and I kept checking up, saying "Hey, you still wanna hang out/be friends" and stuff like that. Every time, they would say 'yeah, I'm just bad at responding to texts'. I thought all was well, thought maybe my anxiety was being stupid, which wasn't that far fetched as I've had this exact issue before. Back in May, we had huge argument which resulted in me blocking T temporarily. I'm not gonna get into the exact details, but the gist is I told T I was feeling left out because any time I tried to join calls they were either completely silent, talking about things I didn't understand or would talk over me. T said I wasnt trying hard enough, and that if I had an issue with the topics they were talking about I could change it. they also said that whenever they gave me a chance to speak after talking over me, I never took it and said my thoughts weren't important. Now, I'm going to reiterate here, I struggle with social cues a lot. I struggle to know when Not to interrupt or when to add my two sense in, and usually people talking over me meant they didn't want to hear what I had to say, so I thought these times were no different. probably a bad reaction on my part but I digress.

Skip forward a few months, I've now spent 800$ to go see T in their home city. Even without T, the trip was amazing. The city was beautiful, we went to go see some shows and went to a fair, it was wonderful. I naively thought that this trip would make things better between T and I, because we would be face to face and we would have more to talk about. Everything during the trip seemed fine, T was talking to me like normal. When we get back home, I ask T to add me back on to their close friends list on instagram, as all of our other mutual friends were on it. They said no, saying we weren't close. I decided to be honest. I asked T if they still wanted to be my friend, as I'd felt that they hadn't been putting any effort into our friendship and I felt extremely abandoned and left out. They said yes, that they would try to put in more effort, and I thought that was that.

4 hours later, they texted again. They said they didn't want to be friends, and that they had stopped wanting to be friends back in May but (direct quote) "Didn't want to ruin the trip and make it awkward for everyone". They said I'd been putting no effort into our friendship, and that since I'm the only one feeling left out it was obviously a problem I had to fix on my own, and that I was being unreasonable expecting everyone else to chnage topics if I didn't understand because the world doesn't revolve around me. They said if I wanted to add things to the conversation I could, and that being spoken over was a part of life and I had to grow up and get used to it.

I blocked them after that, but went on a rant in a different server about it. I feel hurt and ripped off, I feel like my trip was ruined. I feel like it was unnecessary of them to tell me they had stopped wanting to be my friend in may, and I feel like it's unfair that to them, the only way we can be friends is if I'm on VC. I have *never* gotten a text from them trying to organize a hangout, or from them trying to check up on me, or anything. I've been trying in my own way to rekindle the friendship for a long time, and it hurts knowing they didn't care at all. I keep thinking about it, and even though I feel like I wasn't the asshole in this situation, most of our mutual friends have stopped talking to me and I can't figure out why because I never had an issue with them. Am I the asshole?

#aita #if you know who this is about no you don't #ive genuinely been losing sleep over this though #and t if you see this #uh yeah im really fucking upset #vent post? #am i the asshole #i dont have reddit so i took to tumblr instead

[thispabulum-blog]

It’s No Use Going Back to Yesterday

Thoughtful Thursday

"I could tell you my adventures – beginning from this morning,’ said Alice a little timidly: ‘but it’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then."

– Lewis Carroll (Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland)

This is gonna be a slightly different kind of post, a little less funny and a lot more emotionally vulnerable. You gotta start from where you are, I guess.

We're gonna lean on my girl Alice here, because Alice's Adventures in Wonderland has been one of my favorite books since I was a kid and I've always identified with her as a literary character. Her reckless curiosity, her zest for eating sketchy shit she finds lying around, her disastrously trusting and optimistic nature, her over-reliance on rules and structure, her "I guess this is just my life now" adaptability, her boorish lack of tact or respect for authority figures, her propensity for sobbing when things get difficult.

It's possible she may have been a role model for me. I guess I'll put that under the Cuddlebug category of "I'll write that down to bring up in therapy".

How do we begin this thing I don't want to talk about, then?

Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, 'and what is the use of a book,' thought Alice 'without pictures or conversation?'

So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her.

No? Fine, then.

Monday night, I was doing a bad job of going to bed early, and I was struck with a sudden urge to do a dumbfuck thing that I've done before to terrible result and check Baymax's social media.

I checked his Twitch feed first, and there weren't any recent videos - even though I know for a fact that he's streamed several times in the last month because I've watched him a couple of times (which was also a dumbfuck thing to do, but whatever).

Next I checked his Twitter and Instagram, and there wasn't anything recent there either.

And I wish I had stopped there.

But of course I didn't.

I know I didn't

And you know I didn't

And I know that you know I didn't

Because this is a story about me being a fucking idiot, so there's only one direction for it to go.

Instead of just leaving well enough alone and going the fuck to sleep before 2 am, I checked his TikTok. And I saw that the most recent video was of him talking about how much he loves his fiancée.

"I'm sorry, his what now?" I hear you asking at your screen, so I'll say it a little louder for the people in the back.

His fucking fiancée.

I couldn't process this information. My brain broke. I installed the TikTok app (ugh) just so I could check the dates on his videos, because I wanted to know when they were posted. The video was from earlier that day.

As it turns out, scrolling back to two days after the last time we spoke on the phone - and in fact the last day that he responded to any of my texts - he posted a video about getting back together with his ex-girlfriend (she posted one as well; if I'm gonna be nosy I might as well go all-in).

As you can imagine, I had some thoughts and feelings about that.

I'm reminded of one of my favorite quotes from The Good Place - "You humans have so many emotions! You only need two: anger and confusion".

And because I can't drive an hour and a half to go knock on the door of his parents' house and say "Bro, what the fuck??" (...though if anyone is down for a road trip I'm not ruling out the idea entirely), I'm gonna use the rest of this space today for two things: For one, as a home for a thing I wrote for him, which I was quite happy with.

And two, for the opportunity to say some things that I guess at this point I'm not going to get the chance to say to him directly, the coward.

And then I'm going to try to stuff it in a box and shove it in the ol' brain closet like it's fucking Drop Dead Fred. Okay? Okay.

To preface the first: one night (something that has no bearing on anything, but you know I love a timeline check...it was the night before my first date with Cuddlebug) as we were on a long video call and saying all the sweet things to each other that you do when you're a fucking idiot, he asked me "why me?" in a way that he played off as a joke but I could tell was actually an important question for him - he was struggling so much with his self-worth and understanding that he was deserving of love, because, y'know, trauma. After he went to sleep or maybe the next morning, I sat down to write out an answer in hopes that I could clarify things for him, and it went a little astray because my writing meanders as much as my foreplay:

He applies himself to me like a balm, soothing the roughest parts of myself; not changing but healing. He doesn’t simply look but sees, and his blue eyes sparkle with compassion and wanting, repairing places in my heart that had been broken for so long I had forgotten the shape of them. 

Is this what love is supposed to feel like? Is it possible for it to be this way? He is that fabled young lover: mild and beautiful, offering a marguerite by its long stem with his eyes lowered, his fingers a poem.

He says things like “always” in a way that makes me believe, makes promises that feel heavy on my heart with the weight of their meaning, looks at me with such admiration that I cannot meet his gaze, wants to give himself to me. 

His love scares me, not because it feels wrong but because it feels right. It hurts not because I think I don’t deserve it, but because I know I do. 

I grieve, I mourn, I weep for the versions of myself that have not been able to experience this. 

He is the parts of me that are missing; that have been taken. He is the reflection of my heart. 

There are things unspoken, things that need not be said, things on a level deeper than understanding. 

He just wants to be held. His breath catches in his throat, and the words he is trying to say come out in frantic stutters. Too young to have been hurt this much; he wants to forget. He wants to feel safe. He wants new memories. His eyes are squeezed tight, trying to shut out the past. I whisper sweet nothings, tell him everything is okay and no one is going to hurt him now. 

As he begins to relax, his hands find me, searching, pleading, and soon enough we are lost in each other again, that smooth transition from pain to pleasure that comes with feeling truly at home with another person, feeling as though you belong inside them as a piece of their own body. 

We take turns being the comforted and the comforter, priest and supplicant, large spoon and small, providing a softness and stability that both of us have been searching for.

“Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,

te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:

así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,

sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,

tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,

tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño.”

(Pablo Neruda)

It made him cry to read it; he said it was beautiful and he didn't want it to end. I worked most of it into my running essay Sleeping with Sad Boys, so I guess that's nice. Great. Totally worth it.

Time for the other thing.

An open letter to Baymax:

Wow.

Do you understand that the lying hurts so much worse than anything else?

Why couldn't you have been honest with me? Like holy shit, everything that we shared with each other, and somehow this was where you drew the line at communicating? What happened to beyond understanding? You know the walls I tore down for you, the personal rules of my own that I broke. You know how difficult it was for me to let myself feel anything for you, how much I resisted because it scared me, what I risked. You're the one who helped me understand why it felt that way, who knew before I did why I couldn't look you in the eye.

Did you think I wouldn't understand? That I wouldn't be okay with it? That I, barely a month off the breakup of the longest relationship of my life, wouldn't understand the impulse to go back to something familiar? Quick, your lack of compersion is showing. If I'm being charitable, I feel like you were trying to protect me from something, but ended up hurting me worse in the process.

I asked you, point-blank I asked you that fucking day, if you would tell me if this was something else. I quite literally said (because I have the texts):

Me: So if there's any possibility that you're just looking for a way to justify not wanting to be involved with me anymore, I'd hope that you'd be honest about that so that I can process it accordingly.

You: I'm being completely honest about all of this. And I'm sorry. I do love you too.

I gave you the easiest "out" you could have asked for, because something about it didn't feel right, and because (as I said to you so many times) my whole point in being with you was that I wanted to make things easier for you, not harder.

And still you lied to me. Fucking...why? All I wanted was a straight answer, and I feel like you owed me that much.

Was any of it real? That's the part that scares me, because once I know you've lied about one thing, it casts doubt on everything else that came before it. And what I'm left with is that you're either a terrifying manipulator, or you're just a child after all and you didn't understand the depth and the power of the things you were saying. I'd rather believe the latter.

Would I have done the same at your age? Was I just as soft? As naïve? As in love with the idea of love and not understanding the responsibility and the reality of it? Probably.

Maybe I should have known better when you told me you wanted someone to take you out of this real world and bring you into a sweet fantasy. Maybe that's all it was to you; a comforting idea of something that could never be.

For the record, I meant every word I ever said to you, and I regret none of it.

This would be so much easier if I could hate you, and I've tried, but I can't. If any of the things that you said were true, I still care about you, and I want what's best for you. I know you're lost, I know it's hard, I know you need someone you can devote yourself to. I want you to be happy, because you deserve that. So I hope that this relationship you're in now is healthy for you, and that you're able to continue to heal and grow.

And if there was anything real between us, whatever it was, for whatever length of time, I hope that it was helpful to you, that it was valuable to you, and that you're able to take that with you.

Anyway.

Thanks for letting me scream into the void for a while. I'm gonna go lie on top of my boyfriend now.

#Spotify #okcupid #dating #poly #online dating #dating app #tinder #men are trash #relationship #relationships #breakup

[silverwhittlingknife]

Dick and Tim being "fine"

Another reason I like Dick and Tim in post-Crisis comics -- I enjoy their parallel terrible coping mechanisms!

Please enjoy this compilation of panels where Dick claims to be "fine."

After his apartment building was blown up, the circus was set on fire, Blockbuster was murdered in front of him, and he blames himself for everything (War Games):

All that, plus having just barely recovered from getting shot and being in a two-week coma (War Games):

Recently drugged with fear toxin and clubbed with a crowbar until unconscious, and still kinda hallucinating (Black Mirror):

And here's Tim being "fine":

Blaming himself for a kid's death and about to contemplate suicide in the next issue while grieving his dead mom, dad, girlfriend, and best friend (Robin 155):

On a plane with two dead dads, two dead best friends, blaming himself for a ton of murders, half-convinced he's crazy, just off a big fight with his brother and now running away from home (Red Robin):

Dick and Tim being "fine" and "okay," respectively:

After everybody Dick knew was murdered and Dick blamed himself and gave up being Nightwing and sorta kinda joined the mob, and Tim's dad and girlfriend were murdered and his stepmom was institutionalized and Tim faked an uncle and dropped out of school (Nightwing 110):

Tim: How are you? Dick: I am totally fine. But enough about me, let's talk about you. Tim: I am also totally fine. Where are you living now? Dick: I'm gonna answer that question in an evasive and misleading way. What about you? Tim: I'm gonna just straight-up lie.

#why i like dick and tim in comics: an incomplete list #parallels #I blame Bruce for the War Games case with Dick -- I think he might've confided were it not for the Ominous Expression #but I had to include that panel b/c of the long spiraling inner monologue + ''I'm fine'' #part of the problem that both Dick & Tim have is being very very selective about who they're willing to confide in & when #and also needing to be physically tracked down by their friends when they run away and isolate themselves #I didn't put it in because it wasn't a direct ''I'm fine'' quote but #Tim also does the ''look! I'm smiling! nothing to see here!'' thing w/his friends when grieving his dad #& also does not tell them that his dad is dead #naturally #asking for help: it's not their strong point #in Black Mirror later in Dick's inner monologue he admits to himself that Tim is right and probably he should take a break #but does he take a break? OF COURSE NOT #i love these two idiots #dick & tim #long post #tim drake #dick grayson

[haileygarciasunshine]

Staycation

Pairing: Loki x Single!Mom

Written: June 14th, 2021

Posted: June 14th, 2021

Warning: Some Swearing.

Word Count: 1,272

Author's Note: I feel like as a whole there should be a lot more single-parent Au's. Just my opinion, momma's need love too🤷‍♀️ Also this has quotes from Loki in it. Possible mini-series???

Summary: The reader is burdened with the glorious purpose of watching over Loki.

TV Show and Movie Masterlist

"What are we supposed to do with reindeer games, over there?" Tony questioned as he vaguely nodded in the direction Loki was standing.

"I can hear you." Loki hissed crossing his arms along his chest. Rolling his eyes he was unimpressed with Tony's snarky comments.

Sighing to yourself, you rolled your eyes. "Why can't he stay here in the tower?" You quipped while raising an eyebrow. "You know, where it's secure.."

"She's got a point, Tony." Bruce chimed in glancing at Tony expectantly.

"Nonsense." Thor's voice boomed. "He shall stay here with us." He clapped Loki on the shoulder.

"See!" You exclaimed pointing in their direction. "My point exactly!"

"I don't even know why we're talking about this." Bruce groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he let out a loud huff.

"Because he can't be trusted." Tony shrugged.

Scoffing you shook your head. Glancing at your watch, you had to leave.

"As much as I'd hate to leave this..." Your voice trailed off as you gathered your belongings before standing up. "Heated conversation, I have to go."

"Saved by the bell," Bruce spoke only loud enough for you to hear. Sharing a quiet laugh, you began leaving the room.

"I got it!" Tony exclaimed as he slapped his hands on the table.

The loud sound causing you to jump slightly. Turning to face him, you raised an eyebrow at him as you crossed your arms along your chest.

"Got what exactly?"

"Why doesn't reindeer games stay with you?"

Your jaw fell slack as soon as the words left his lips. Opening and closing your mouth like a fish out of water, you felt yourself at a loss for words. The room fell silent as soon as the words had been spoken. While you felt as if all eyes were on you. Quickly glancing at Loki, he held an expression that you couldn't quite recognize. Softness? Want?

"Tony, can I speak to you for a moment?" You hissed, crossing your arms along your chest.

"Why don't-"

"Now!" You shrieked, making your way into the hallway.

Once you were both in the semi-private area of the hall, you glared at him.

"Why would you even let that thought cross your mind?"

"Well... Uh.." Tony shifted from foot to foot, as he fidgeted with his wedding band.

"You know that can't happen." You snarled nodding in the direction of the room.

"But-"

Your phone began ringing.

Sighing, you glanced at the caller ID before answering, and letting the sitter know you would be running late.

"Seems like you don't have much of a choice," Tony smirked, crossing his arms along his chest.

"If you think even for a minute, that I'm going to let-"

"We don't have any other options, Y/N," Tony spoke, using his stern voice.

Glaring up at him, you turned to glance through the glass. Crossing your arms along your chest, you let out a huff.

"Fine. But if he even has a toe out of line-"

"I know, I know, you'll gut him like a fish."

----

The sky was illuminated with an orange and pink tint, as the sun began to set. Driving back to your house was filled with silence as neither one of you wanted to break the silence. Your mind going a hundred miles a minute as you attempted to mentally prepare yourself for what you were about to do. Pulling into your garage, you turned the car off as you let out a huff.

"Let's get one thing straight." You spoke quietly, not breaking your gaze from in front of you.

The feeling of Loki staring at you overtook your senses.

"My kid is off-limits." Glancing out of the corner of your eye, you saw Loki's expression contort into a confused one. "I don't care what you do, what you've done."

You both shared a sigh.

"But if you harm my kid-"

"You'll gut me like a fish." He finished for you.

Turning to face him, you raised an eyebrow at him.

"Stark told me." He shrugged offering you a soft smile.

Smiling you nodded your head. "Good."

Exiting the car, you lead the way into your house.

The sound of a Disney movie playing filled your ears. Placing your keys on their hook, you toed off your shoes. Glancing at Loki, you gave him an expectant look. Rolling his eyes, he mirrored your previous actions before waiting for your approval.

Walking to the living room, you re-leaved the babysitter allowing you to plop down on the couch beside your daughter.

"Mommy!" She squealed throwing her small arms around your neck. Giggling, you felt your lips slide into a toothy grin as you did your best to reciprocate the hug.

Pulling away, you placed soft kisses along he cheeks causing fits of giggles to erupt from her. Glancing in the direction of Loki, her gentle grasp turned into a firm one.

Following her gaze, you giggled. "That's mommy's friend."

"Oh." She muttered quietly, as she nodded her head.

Gesturing for Loki to have a seat, he found home in one of the farthest seats from you.

"Stella, this is Loki." You spoke, motioning towards the man.

Nodding her head, she moved into your lap nuzzling her face into your neck. Giggles fell past your lips, as you glanced at Loki. "Sorry, she's shy."

Once everyone had eaten, you brought mountains of blankets to the couch. Cuddling up in yours, you glanced at Stella watching her hand Loki a few of her favorite ones. Loki gazed at her in confusion.

Stella's giggles filled the room. "Those are a few of my favorite ones." She explained. "Mom and I wrap ourselves in blankets and watch movies."

Nodding his head, he did the best that he could to wrap himself in the child-size blankets.

As the movie played, the room was filled with silence. Glancing towards Stella, you scrunched your eyebrows to see she wasn't beside you. Panic began bubbling up inside you before you heard a soft call for your name. Turning toward the voice, your jaw fell slack.

Stella had burrowed herself into Loki's side while being fast asleep.

"I...I'm sorry." You whispered, the scrunched-up expression still upon your features. "She doesn't usually do that to people she doesn't know." You couldn't help the frown that made its way upon your lips.

"It's quite alright," Loki whispered back, maneuvering his hand to allow him to scratch her head. A content sigh slipped past her slumbering lips.

Nodding your head, you turned back to the movie. Your mind kept wandering to Loki and your daughter. It wasn't long before sleep overwhelmed you.

A gentle nudge, startled you awake. Your heart beating rapidly. "It's alright." Loki's voice echoed through your ears, carrying a gentle and caring tone.

Glancing toward the area Stella had previously occupied, you were greeted with an empty space with lumps of blankets. Furrowing your eyebrows together, you felt your hands begin to sweat.

"She's in her room. She's okay." Loki cooed.

Snapping your head in his direction, you felt a slight relief wash over you. Before you could question Loki already was answering.

"I put her in her bed." He spoke cautiously. "I woke you up because I didn't want you to be sore in the morning." He was scratching his neck as a pink tint danced along his cheeks.

"Oh." You murmured. Confusion overwhelmed you. "Uh, T-Thank you."

Nodding his head, he shifted from foot to foot. Mirroring his previous action, you made your way towards the stairs, as you felt your stomach doing somersaults. The thought of Loki caring plagued your mind.

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#loki #loki laufeyson #lokilaufeyson #loki x reader #lokixreader #loki imagine #loki imagines #lokiimagine #lokiimagines #mcu #mcu imagine #mcuimagines #marvel imagine #marvelimagines #marvelimagine #loki x single mom #lokixsinglemom #single mom au #singlemomau #single parent au #singleparentau #imagine #imagines #oneshot #one shots #oneshots #blurb #blurbs #drabble #drabbles

[stellartales]

zhongli ▪︎ glazed moon

pairing: zhongli x traveler!reader

genre(s): comfort + mild angst + fluff

summary: liyue harbor is once again preparing for another festival — the mid-autumn festival. but somehow she simply couldn't bring herself to join the others in the celebration. definitely not when her heart is aching in melancholy for her missing twin. — | m.list

background: this scenario takes place during the mid-autumn festival - as quoted from wikipedia - it is the second-most important holiday after Chinese New Year with a history dating back 3,000 years, when China's emperors worshipped the moon for bountiful harvests.[2] The celebration is called Chuseok (autumn eve) in Korea, Tsukimi (moon-viewing) in Japan and Tết Trung Thu (Mid-Autumn Festival) in Vietnam

this event celebrated by the chinese is usually spent eating mooncakes and drinking teas. lanterns are also an important aspect of this festival. unlike the yuanxiao fesitval or mingxiao festival (which is the fictional festival featuring best boy Xiao in GI) where lanterns are released into the sky, lanterns are hand-held. this is a festival i celebrate every year hence i'm familiar with it — feel free to read up about this on wiki!

a/n: don't mind me, this is just a random idea that popped in my head. i'm in the mood for some angsty stuff these days so just had to get it out. Flute version of 无羁 (Wu Ji) from the drama 'Untamed' was the song which inspired my angsty mood while typing this. pardon my errors (I may have missed them and i kinda wrote this on a spur sooooo yea)

Please do me a favor and reblog this. Thank youuuu ❤

the vitality of liyue harbor has always been astounding; an envy of the seven nations.

bright, bustling streets even in the darkness of nights was enough to show the nature of the city.

though, today it was a different kind of bustle. stores were already closed; even the nocturnal businesses that one would only see at night.

the moon had been bright and round the past few nights while the people busied themselves for another festival to come.

— the mid-autumn festival, an annual festival celebrated by the people of liyue or at least that was what zhongli explained yesterday when he extended an invitation to her to join him and others in moon-gazing today.

tonight, the moon shone bright and full in the clear dark sky, seemingly more so than the previous nights.

strategically rooted to the ground of a spacious balcony overlooking the gentle waves below, the stone tables were in a perfect spot beneath the brilliant moon.

colorful mooncakes of various flavors and teacups filled with steaming tea laid before her.

she sat at one of the round stone tables with some funeral parlor staff and of course, zhongli himself who has been rather busy ever since she arrived—

the cheerful chatters and laughter drew her eyes away from the empty seat beside her and to the tables across theirs.

his archon days were over, he said.

he was simply trying to experience a mundane life as 'zhongli' now, as the geo archon had put it when she expressed her surprise at his involvement with a festival fabricated by the mortals' minds.

and indeed—

her gaze idled on him.

— he was doing it too well.

illuminated by the golden glow the table lanterns emanated, the cordial and relaxed atmosphere was warmed by attentive eyes and smiling lips.

all on him.

apparently, some things never changed. whether he was rex lapis or zhongli, he carried an alluring elegance and charisma. clinging to every word and his occasional hand gestures, they were like moths drawn to a flame.

she could understand why; she liked hearing him talk. she would have gone over too, if not...if not for this weight on her heart.

it has been nearly a year since she was in teyvat looking for her twin. these few days in the harbor, the full moon was a constant reminder of how time has passed, and yet...

a heavy sigh escaped her. a longing gleam waned in her eyes as she lifted her gaze to the sky.

they used to talk and eat under a full moon just like this, a bitter ache clenched her heart.

her teeth sank into her lower lip as it trembled.

please...not now. her hands curled into shaking fists as she tried to hold back the tears threatening to leave her eyes.

not now. not at this party. she silently pleaded with herself, her squared shoulders shaking. it took all her willpower to not let the dam break.

but one managed to escape her anyway.

—shit.

she was up on her feet fast and slipped away from the party as subtly as she could.

stumbling out of the party half-blind with tears wasn't exactly the best situation to remember about the cloak meant to keep her warm on an autumn night.

luckily, she didn't end up falling off the stairs she currently sat on.

autumn in liyue was typically not cold, but tonight seemed especially so.

she shivered to the chilly breeze brushing against her back. goosebumps crawled across her skin, particularly on the areas her dress failed to protect against the cold.

she couldn't quite bring herself to go back for the cloak. not with the mess she was now.

the sight of the round moon above wavered in her vision as tears quietly trailed down her cheeks.

under the vast, seemingly endless night sky, she felt small...

— her knees were drawn closer to her chest, curled fingers digging into her dress.

...and extremely powerless.

where is he? why can't she find him? is he even in teyvat? Is he even...still alive? does he even exist anymore?

—a dreading sense of hopelessness echoed in her heart and summoned another wave of tears wavering her vision.

under this wide, endless sky and its luminous moon, she felt alone, truly alone in the presence of the joyous cacophony of laughter and playful yells coming from the festival she left behind.

a nasty voice prompted by the noise taunted her — of how no one would notice, even if she were to walk right out of liyue harbor right now.

drowning in harsh, relentless thoughts, she failed to notice the gaze of a pair of wise, golden eyes on her back, soft with concern.

long legs covered the distance between them in a quiet, graceful stride; the gentle clacks of his loafers whenever their heels hit the ground slipped past her notice too.

not even when he climbed down the steps to settle himself next to her, a step above hers.

not even the inevitable proximity between their bodies caused by the short stairs spacious for one but narrow for two.

only until his coat was off his shoulders and wrapped around hers—

"why the tears on the mid-autumn festival?"

—she jolted with a sharp gasp, her widening eyes snapping over to him.

the calm and prodding gaze that met hers was accompanied by the tender brush of his thumb across her left cheek, right under her tearing eye before switching over to her other.

"zh-zhongli?"

she stayed stunned, unsure she was feeling so because someone noticed she had left or was it because of this simple gesture.

zhongli has always been a mentor-like figure to her. his words, his wise gazes, the comforting pets he occasionally gave on her head and back had always reminded her of how she was a mere child in his eyes.

but tonight...this, nothing about the gentleness his hand or his eyes emanate felt normal. or was she just delirious?

the strange stutter of her heart caused by the hand on her face, the blush heating up her cheeks made her tear her gaze away from his, flustered.

zhongli let his hand drop back onto his knee, but his eyes stayed.

crossing her arms to hold onto his coat sitting on her shoulders, she thought hard to recall his question.

"i can't help thinking about my brother, that's all." she looked back at him, smiling.

a smile he thought reminded him of the moon when it was not yet full — a quiet light melancholic with vague sadness.

"don't worry about me, i'll be fine." she slipped a glance over her shoulder in the direction of the festival. "you should go back there, zhongli, they need you. what's mid-autumn festival for liyue without you?"

she moved to remove the coat from her shoulders, but a hand wrapped around her wrist stopped her.

"but what's mid-autumn festival without you, my dear friend?"

zhongli regarded her intently, his eyes boring into hers for a second before shifting to focus on his coat.

there was something else in his eyes when they return to hers; it came and went in a flicker. "...keep this on, it's chilly today."

"thanks..." she murmured, her shoulders sinking as she yet again returned her thoughts to her brother.

"aether..." the pain she guarded showed on her face. "will i ever be able to see him again?"

tears started to well up in her eyes once again.

"i'm sorry, zhongli, i'm so sorry..." a quiet sob broke through, "today is supposed to be about the mid-autumn festival, and yet...here you are, listening to me."

zhongli's mouth opened then snapped close.

he always knew what to say whenever she was in a pinch. however, it was tears this time, and he wasn't exactly sure about what he should do about his body's urge to extend his arms out to her.

he was already more than a thousand years old.

as the former geo archon, he was the immovable rock. emotions and impulses he used to hold within himself in his younger days were buried deep under the sands of time...or at least they should be.

so where did this come from? was this strange stir an inevitable part of being a mortal?

"you know what?"

her movement to rise from the spot beside him turned his head back to her.

resolute hardened the glint in her tearing eyes, "i don't want to hold you back any longer,"

her fingers curled into a shaky fist, nails digging into her palm.

"....the people need you. i-i think i should just go bac—"

his hand flew out before he could think any further; his body was faster than his thoughts this time.

her next breath puffed out of her, in surprise and bewilderment as her body was tugged and cocooned by a breathing warmth before she could understand what happened.

and when she did, her eyes flew wide.

cheek pressed against his neck, she found herself held to his chest. she could feel his chin atop her head and his arms around her.

he was beside her a moment ago, and now he was behind sharing the same step as her, broad enough to accommodate them. was she the one who moved? or did he?

she didn't know how but she couldn't find the energy to care —the scent of musk and lingering tea engulfing her was an alluring comfort that made her want to stop trying.

so warm. really, really warm.

and so was his voice. "...but you need me." a hand caressed the back of her head.

there was a pause before a feigned cough ensued. "i meant, this."

#genshin impact #zhongli x reader #zhongli imagines #genshin impact x reader #zhongli x you #zhongli x traveler #zhongli x lumine #zhonglumi

[algumaideia]

First my idea was to do this series of posts analysing the chapter 54 of A/comaf, but then I realized there isn't much more to be talked about. I already said basically everything I wanted about R/hys SA and there is also a lot of other posts talking about it. Besides I really didn't and still don't want to reread the chapter again and again.

So, I'm just going to analyze(I wouldn't really call it an analysis but I don't know a better word to use) two quotes. This is the first one:

“A way to defy Amarantha, to spread the seeds of hope to those who knew how to read the message, and a way to keep you alive without seeming too suspicious. And a way to get back at Tamlin … To use him against Amarantha, yes, but … To get back at him for my mother and sister, and for … having you. When we made that bargain, you were so hateful that I knew I’d done my job well. So we endured it. I made you dress like that so Amarantha wouldn’t suspect, and made you drink the wine so you would not remember the nightly horrors in that mountain. And that last night, when I found you two in the hall … I was jealous. I was jealous of him, and pissed off that he’d used that one shot of being unnoticed not to get you out, but to be with you, and … ”

Just to contextualize, in this quote R/hys is "explaining" why he did what he did UTM to F/eyre.

"A way to defy Amarantha, to spread the seeds of hope to those who knew how to read the message, and a way to keep you alive without seeming too suspicious"

This makes no sense whatsoever.

How sexually assaulting, drugging, painting and putting F/eyre on reveling clothes sends hope to anyone?? How do those things say that everything is gonna end fine and there is still a chance??? And defy Amarantha?? What he was doing was helping Amarantha since it made F/eyre feel very bad and didn't allow her to think in the riddle.

A direct quote from the book about the consequences of R/hys helping F/eyre and sending sees of hope and keeping her alive:

"I awoke in my cell, still clad in that handkerchief he called a dress. Everything was spinning so badly that I barely made it to the corner before I vomited. Again. And again. When I’d emptied my stomach, I crawled to the opposite corner of the cell and collapsed. Sleep came fitfully as the world continued to twirl violently around me. I was tied to a spinning wheel, going around and around and around— Needless to say, I was sick a fair amount that day... I awoke ill and exhausted each morning, and though Rhysand’s order to the guards had indeed held, the nightly activities left me thoroughly drained. I spent my days sleeping off the faerie wine, dozing to escape the humiliation I endured. When I could, I contemplated Amarantha’s riddle, turning over every word—to no avail."

Also R/hys wanting to spreed hope through F/eyre like he cared about saving Printhian is funny because moments before he was talking about how he did the best he could to scary Tamlin to make him send F/eyre away. You know, the girl that could save Printhian, his court and just end with this nightmare caused by Amarantha. Guess he wasn't thinking about sending hope to anyone in the moment.

...

"And a way to get back at Tamlin … To use him against Amarantha, yes, but … To get back at him for my mother and sister, and for … having you."

This is also nonsensical.

First of all, Tamlin was already mad at Amarantha for a big number of reasons. She took his powers, sent monsters after him and his court, tortured his best friend, tortured him and tortured F/eyre. What encouragement does he need to get mad at Amarantha?

The second thing to point out is that R/hys already got his revenge on Tamlin. He already killed Tamlin's father and brothers. What the hell is he talking about? He already got back on Tamlin for his mother and sister.

And for having F/eyre??? This is so creepy and possesive and horrible. R/hys is a grown up man that is 500 years old. He should act better. Where is the maturity?

...

"I ... made you drink the wine so you would not remember the nightly horrors in that mountain"

This is ridiculous. Because it feels like R/hys is trying to get some recognition for what he did, when he is only creating a solution, if we can call it that, for a problem he created.

He only "needs" to drug F/eyre to make her forget the nightly horrors because he makes her get our of her cell. If he didn't do that F/eyre wouldn't need to not remember teh nightly horrors.

Also if I remember correctly the only reason Amarantha knew about their deal was bc R/hys told her that. This whole thing could be a secret and she could be in her cell alone not being drugged and sexually assaulted.

...

"And that last night, when I found you two in the hall … I was jealous. I was jealous of him, and pissed off that he’d used that one shot of being unnoticed not to get you out, but to be with you, and "

At least he admitted he did it because of jealousy. However he was also like: What Tamlin did was awful and it made me so mad, how dare him treat you that badly, I needed to do something about it.

But I really don't get what R/hys wanted Tamlin to do. The guy said Tamlin couldn't move or do anything since every move he did was watched.

...

It is so funny how R/hys tried to excuse his behavior really hard but he is incapable of giving good excuses. Everything he says makes no sense at all.

And as always feel free to tell me if you disagree with me, just be respectful please.

Best regards,

Me.

Ps. I cannot believe one day I liked this book.

#anti sjm #sjm critical #anti rhysand #anti feysand #anti acotar #anti acomaf #i'm sarcastic sometimes in the post

[n1kolaiz]

"Man fears death and yet, at the same time, man is drawn to death. Death is endlessly consumed by men in cities and in literature. It is a singular event in one's life that none may reverse. That is what I desire."

Character Analysis: Dazai Osamu

Age: 22 || Ability: No Longer Human

I've done a lot of research concerning Dazai's character because of how complex he'd initially appeared to me. It is still a question as to what his personality type is; some say he's an ENTP while others argue that he's an INTJ, and his enneagram would most likely be 7w8 (The Realist), but that isn't the thing I'm going to focus on.

According to general databases and fan analyses, his temperament is dominantly melancholic. A person's temperament is basically how they react to and live in this world. For those of you not interested in such details, don't worry, I'll get to my point.

The melancholic behaviour is characterised by individualism, self-reliance, and reservation. People of the melancholic temperament are described as having been overcome with sorrow and depressive thoughts, which is beyond the feeling of "just being sad."

Nonetheless, they are generally calm beings, with a tendency to hide how they truly feel by keeping their composure, even in events that demand severe reaction otherwise. Other aspects of melancholic temperaments is that they are absorbed in the cruelty and tragedy of this world, and tend to get lost in their thoughts.

Sound familiar?

Dazai is seen to be as the comic relief of the adaptation, and he'd never fail to bring about a sense of lightheartedness to relieve the serious moments; we all know that for sure. Remember the time both him and Kunikida found Nobuko Sasaki in that godforsaken hospital, and how Kunikida asked him about his opinion on the current state of affairs?

But, despite having developed a calm and serene personality, Dazai's dark side was more apparent during the Dark Era. There was a type of intimidating and arrogant flair evident in his behaviour, or even on his face. It was the type of demeanour that came off cold and terrifying to the rather unlucky people he dealt with. In a moment's notice, they could literally die by his hands. And I believe most of them usually did. It was during this time, he was more brutal and vicious. He lacked remorse. Plus, Dazai's suicidal ideations were more dense during this Era, and his suicidal tendencies did not do anything to alleviate the depth of how dark his character was posed to be.

Side note: Unfortunately, people misunderstand this 'depressed' part of Dazai; they minimise his character so much to the point that people use only a single word to describe him: suicidal. He is, in fact, so much more than that. I'll elaborate more on that in a while.

"Hey, Odasaku, do you know why I joined the Mafia? I joined the Mafia because of an expectation I had. I thought if I was close to death and violence—close to people giving in to their urges and desires, then I would be able to see the inner nature of humankind up close. I thought if I did that… I would be able to find something—a reason to live."

Dazai's approach to life is that of an aimless soul, weary of the world's oppressions and exhausted from the concept of living itself. Nevertheless, what he said above about having an expectation made me realise something: he had a goal, which he wasn't that enthusiastic about achieving—seeking for a reason to carry on with life. So he joined the Mafia.

And there, he met Oda Sakunosuke.

Despite how resilient Dazai carried himself to be (especially during the Dark Era), this specific excerpt stands in direct opposition of how he effortlessly embodied all things daunting:

"With every step I take, I feel as though the earth has opened up into a bottomless pit as I fall endlessly. As Dazai pointed to his forehead and approached the muzzle, the look on his face – like that of a child about to burst into tears – had already been branded upon my eyes."

- quoted by Oda Sakunosuke, excerpt from Dazai Osamu and the Dark Era Light Novel.

When I read this, it sent my mind into a spiral of despair and confusion. It was so vague, yet it made so much sense. Dazai was desperate to escape from this life, but part of him seemed to live in conflict with his desire for death. I won't elaborate more on this, because this specific excerpt has personal meaning to me, as I'd expect it to have for others as well; so I wouldn't want to ruin anyone else's perception on it.

Back to my point: Odasaku was one of the only characters who managed to interpret the complexity of Dazai's mindset and was able to compartmentalise the specific details of his persona that made Dazai the way he was. Oda knew that Dazai wasn't just suicidal.

"For most things in life, it's harder to succeed than fail. Wouldn't you agree? That's why I should attempt suicide rather than commit it! Committing suicide is difficult, but it should be relatively easier to fail at attempting suicide!"

Others boasted about how he was just a suicidal maniac, and that was only because of how good Dazai was at concealing his own feelings whilst flamboyantly priding himself in new, risky techniques, which he sometimes elaborated on. But Oda, on the other hand, saw through his jokes, and empathised with his friend, never wanting to ever barge into his vulnerability without Dazai's permission, but still trying to be there for him.

"Listen. You told me if you put yourself in a world of violence and bloodshed, you might be ale to find a reson to live. You won't find it. You should know that. Whether you're on the side that takes lives or the side that saves them, nothing beyond your own expectations will happen. Nothing in this world can fill the hole that is your loneliness. You will wander the darkness for eternity."

Notice how Odasaku recognised Dazai's despair, before Dazai even dared to acknowledge his very own emotions? That was why, at Oda's death, he took the initiative to uncover Dazai's bandaged eye to show him that there was no use in concealing his feelings anymore.

Odasaku's last words to Dazai was to "be on the side that saves people," for he was aware that even though Dazai didn't believe there was a clear distinction between good and evil, he thought that perhaps Dazai would find meaning in his life, even if it was just a little bit of purpose.

In Dead Apple, we briefly relive this moment, but I'll write more on that some other time.

And when Dazai joined the ADA, he loses that dark side to him. No, wait, let me rephrase that: he loses a part of that dark side to him. He eliminated the raw sense of bitterness against the world from his face, and instead, he is seen to be a little more passive, and a little more adaptive. No doubt, he still does explicitly state his desire to die, but his wishes are very specific, if you know what I mean.

And a few years later, his journey with Atsushi began.

Atsushi and Dazai's relationship is just one of a kind. I think it isn't a matter of whether Atsushi needed Dazai, or whether Dazai needed Atsushi. It's the fact that they both needed each other. It's the way they both worked hand in hand, and how they sustained each other in ways they were lacking.

The two were polar opposites, but they had a tender kind of warmth embedded in their protectiveness for each other. Atsushi was just as lost as Dazai, but somehow, they worked together just fine. It was like their duality was meant to be. It was the type of symbiotic relationship, where their care for each other was implied, but very deep.

Does this also sound familiar... perhaps, in relation to Dazai's friendship with Odasaku?

Side note: Oda and Atsushi have the same enneagrams, which is Type 2, 'The Helper.'

There is a sort of balance that is brought about by two opposites. Odasaku taught Dazai many things, and I believe Oda learned a lot about a man's life from the way Dazai lived out his life with the innate desire to die. Atsushi sought for the right to live, while Dazai searched for a reason to live; in addition, Dazai validated Atsushi's feelings, and Atsushi was able to acknowlegde the amount of pain Dazai was going through.

Despite how Dazai's perspectives and beliefs stood in contrast with those of Oda's and Atsushi's, a type of inseparable bond connected the man who no longer felt like he was human, to the people who was the most human.

No Longer Human in the Japanese romaji is 'Ningen Shikkaku.' Ningen means "human," and Shikkaku means "disqualified." The late author, Dazai Osamu, wrote the book No Longer Human. He had gone through the rough throes of trauma and wrote this book as a semi-autobiography, whose plot was centred around a man who faked happiness, for he was tainted by the truth that everyone around him was fake themselves. He turned his life into a joke in order to protect himself from the delusions of this world.

This brings us back to the melancholic temperament, where a person was too deeply immersed in the sad truths of reality and the world itself.

And that's what Dazai's character and ability is based on: being disqualified as a human being, because he wasn't well-versed with what being human was actually like. The fabrications of being human sprung up all around him, but he wasn't willing to be fooled by how ingenuine the world truly was.

“I am convinced that human life is filled with many pure, happy, serene examples of insincerity, truly splendid of their kind—of people deceiving one another without (strangely enough) any wounds being inflicted, of people who seem unaware even that they are deceiving one another.”

- excerpt from Dazai Osamu's No Longer Human.

People who don't feel human emotions or don't react to circumstances the way humans do have a variety of ways of explaining how they feel inhuman. They are highly intelligent, which separates them from the average class of humankind, since they've analysed and untangled the truths of life in order to attain understanding, which they value above all else. But, this understanding of the world and its painful truths results in a deep kind of sorrow, which only a few people can seem to empathise with in order to help them out with that burden.

“Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.”

-excerpt from Fyodor Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment.

Don't you think that this deep sorrow that lies in the heart of the intelligent, makes them the most human of all? They're too human, to the point where they don't feel human. Perhaps, it is a type of defence mechanism, where the mind numbs the heart from feeling normal human emotion, because logically breaking down such concepts is easier than feeling them. But it comes at a price. The heart is willing to recklessly comprehend and fathom any sort of emotion, including pain in its true form, but the mind bears more pain in understanding such concepts because it seeks to decipher every single agonising detail of how complex human emotions are. The mind thinks, the heart feels. There is a clear distinguishing factor between the two. Whether feeling hurts more than thinking, or thinking hurts more than feeling, or whether both these processes work hand-in-hand to make up the reality of life itself, is up for an individual to decide.

Only a few people can seem to empathise with intelligent people who are deeply sad at heart, in order to help them out. As for Dazai, it was Atsushi and Oda. They never took away the pain, but they made him grow from it; it worked vice versa, too.

Of course, there are less tedious and more appealing aspects to the concept of Dazai's intelligence. Dazai was seen as a threat to his enemies because of how manipulation and his keen skill of deduction made up how sharp his mind was. Besides, no one could commit '138 murders, 312 cases of extortion, and 625 cases of fraud, along with various and sundry other crimes,' without having a certain level of intelligence, right?

Dazai had the moral alignment of 'chaotic neutral.' He was more focused on using his intellect to achieve the desired end results of a predicament, and he wasn't afraid to use the wrong means. A famous example was when he deflated the airbags of Ango Sakaguchi's car in order to gain the assured protection of Kyouka Izumi.

Justice is a weapon. It can be used to cause harm, but it cannot protect or save others.

Another example was when he blew up Chuuya Nakahara's car.

Just kidding. That was just a simple pastime (；・∀ ・)

His moral alignment points to what Oda said about him: the part where he mentioned that Dazai didn't really see any difference between good and evil. As long as his ends were achieved, especially if it were in the benefit of his fellow colleagues, he wasn't afraid to exploit, threaten, or endanger others' wellbeing. Because, at the end of the day, the end result triumphed the morally bad methods utilised to achieve it, correct? He always had a reason for his motives and actions, even if those actions were evil and inexcusable.

(eg. action: the psychological abuse he bestowed upon Akutagawa Ryunosuke.

motive: to enable him to hone his own ability favourably and to curb his arrogance)

But the consequences of one's actions will always catch up with a person, no matter what heights they've achieved.

Okay, we're reaching the end of my rambling very soon, I promise.

“If I had to go, I’d like to go out just as beautifully.”

“I’d prefer you don’t go.”

This part of the post is highly inspired by iwachuwu!!

An important factor of Dazai's development is highlighted BSD Wan's episode 10:

I'd like to appreciate that this scene focuses on how much Dazai actually means to Atsushi. When Atsushi responds with "I'd prefer you don't go," he said it lightheartedly for he thought Dazai was joking. But he wasn't. And once Atsushi absorbed the fact that Dazai meant what he said, he was overwhelmed with anguish at the thought of ever losing Dazai. Dazai, on the other hand, had a sense of longing on his expression. There was that look of pure desperation on his face. He was so desperate, yet he knew he couldn't act on his desperation due to a promise he'd made to someone dear to him. But keep in mind, Dazai is unpredictable, so we can never be sure of what's going on in that headspace of his.

Nevertheless, this time, Atsushi recognised Dazai's suffering, as no one usually cared to do, and Dazai didn't put in any effort to hide how he truly felt, as he habitually did. And this mutual emotional connection happened countless times during all the times Oda spent with Dazai as well.

To summarise,

Dazai's character had been carefully wired and patterned out in a way only a few would put in the effort to understand. Dazai was more than just suicidal; he was a being wandering from place to place with no specific aim. He was too smart for his own good. Dazai understood too well of how the world worked and deemed it void of any sort of hope.

Side note: Yes, the truth does come at a price, but it all comes down to how a person understands the truth. As for Dazai (both character and the author he was based off upon), well, it was quite tragic. But that's the way it is for some people, I suppose. But everyone has a different path to travel on, remember that.

His transition from working with the Port Mafia to the Armed Detective Agency was proof of how well-executed his character development was. It was two different personas morphed into what he is today: a womaniser with questionable morals a person who is still standing even after the rough refining process endowed upon him by the realities of this life.

However, he had people along the way come and teach him a thing or two, which perhaps made his life a little more interesting. Perhaps these people were passing clouds that hid the void out of sight for just a moment, and Dazai was always seen to be grasping on to these moments, and letting them go whenever it was time to let go.

His outlook on life makes his intellect look all the more intriguing. It shows that not only does his intelligence contribute to his own wit and shrewdness, but also the practical sense of realism that explains how tired he is of the concept of living because of the truths there are to bear.

However he's enduring the pain right now is by far the most bravest thing a person could commit themselves to doing. It takes courage, and it takes strength, but only a few would ever take the time to recognise such efforts.

Dazai has one of the most beautiful character developments, but I do hope that the development doesn't reach its end anytime soon.

fanart credits: @S7dOZPN3jWBB6cW on twitter

“Now I have neither happiness nor unhappiness.

Everything passes.

That is the one and only thing that I have thought resembled a truth in the society of human beings where I have dwelled up to now as in a burning hell.

Everything passes.”

excerpt from Dazai Osamu's No Longer Human.

#bsd #bsd dazai #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs wan #bsd wan #bsd dazai osamu #bsd characters #literature analysis #literature #dazai osamu #bsd odasaku #bsd atsushi #bsd analysis #bsd atsushi nakajima #.ryley.speaks

[enjeolmii]

10 questions - p.sh

synopsis: to ask questions isn't too bad. but to end up doing something you never expected from the intention behind every question? way better!

genre: fluff, slightly suggestive

word count: 2.4k

warnings: make out sesh (not written in depth), lots of teasing but it’s all playful you nasty

"Next question! Did you like anyon-"

"Hey, hey, hey! What are you doing? I'm supposed to go next." Sunghoon blocks you with an audible tap on the soft mattress, tsk-ing at your smooth but not slick enough scheme to get more answers from him.

It's a Saturday - the day of the week when assignments, works, chores, and duties are temporarily thrown down the window. On these days, you and Sunghoon go on a carefree date. It's a routine you made once a week to maintain your relationship amidst the setback caused by lockdown, and it was going great.

At a time when real interactions between people became an inappropriate thing to do, and everyone turned to technology as a resolution, you made sure that everything is done by Friday, despite it being so dreading, just so that procrastinating wouldn't be a problem dragged over the next day. And when those pressuring times occur to you, you would send each other texts, exhorting to go easy on yourselves. That's why Saturdays are the only thing you wait for every week. You weigh it up as a chance to see the only light that keeps you going, the one that helps you see clearly the path you are taking in this obscure world.

So here you are with Sunghoon in your bedroom, sitting on the bed and leaning on the wall beside it, covered in your blanket as you cuddle under the warm, comfy covers. The day has been an uneventful one. If not for him reminding you of the conversation you had prior in the week, where you asked him to gather questions he had for you, you would have slept the whole day over without accomplishing anything.

"Fine, what's your eighth question?" You admit, frowning at his attentive remark, and he snickers.

He lifts his phone and scrolls through the questions he has saved in his notes. "Have you ever had a dream about me?"

Your eyes roll around with a finger on your chin, recalling the scenarios you had of him. There were many, some surrounding the time when he decided to confess to you, and most of them came from the fantasies you had of him. Those dreams scare you more than the stare of a fiery lion. It almost even feels illegal to think about it because you aren't well over twenty. Though they were just outlines of you and him kissing innocently, you always end up making out at the end of the story.

You weren't one of those twelve-year-olds who've had their first kisses already. Your mother kept a close eye on you in situations like this, so you would rather make out with your pillow than hear her nagging your ears off. Because of that, you grew up as a child unbothered by her love life, and the mere thought of kissing someone in real life makes your hair stand up. That's when you knew he brought out a lot of changes in you.

You swallow the lump of saliva in your throat. "Yeah, I have." You answer truthfully but still cautious of the words you put out.

"Really?" His head perks in your direction. "What did I do?"

You got a little nervous knowing he would undoubtedly interrogate you on this. But thankfully, you were prepared with a streamlined answer. "That's three questions, genius," You say, reaching for his head to give it a light smack, from which earns you a groan. "Save your chances for better questions."

"What do you mean? It's a good one. What did you dream about? I want to know."

"Okayy~ Next question. Where is that..." You switch the topic hastily, hands occupied with finding the question you were waiting to ask him through your notes. "Found it. Did you like anyone before me? If so, who are they?"

"That's two questions, though?"

"Nope. Not if you put them together." You smile at him cheekily, and he throws his head back in astonishment, mouth wide open, spewing out breathy wow's.

"You're playing it dirty, I see. Well, I had two other girlfriends before you." He brings his pinky finger out. "One was my sixth-grade classmate, and the other one was my best friend from the rink." He shoots his mouth off to chaff at you yet again.

A stiff frown crawls on your face as you nod at him sarcastically. "Oh, wow. Impressive." You hum in wonderment, silence unfurling in the suddenly insipid room.

Sunghoon knew you weren't easily irritated by these circumstances. If he were talking to a random girl on the street, more often than not, you would only think of them as one of his fans from the arena, nothing more. Even if he had to accomplish things with a girl in his class, you trusted him very much with your relationship to doubt him in his actions. And so, seeing you hush after a talk like this...

Of course, he would take it as a chance to play with you.

"Aww, is my precious little y/n jealous?" His voice sharpened one octave higher as he pats your head with a pout and mock sadness in his eyes. "What do I do? I kissed them, too."

You were okay with him having two other ones before you, but at the mention of a kiss, your figure skews his way. You weren't sure if he was hoaxing you or not, but to say so honestly, it troubled you. This wasn't the intention you had with your question. All you wanted to get out of it was something to tease him about when he says he has none, yet it was still you who got ragged of your own query.

However, that's beside the point. Was it necessary to point out those last words? It wasn't you to be agitated over something as dispensable as this, but of all things, why did he have to attack your weakness?

Sunghoon's sounds of laughter tear you away from your thoughts. "Got 'em~" He pulls a finger at you in another fit of laughter, seeing you in a state of total shock.

"What the heck? It was a lie?" You pull away firmly from his body, hitting him on the shoulder with force enough to make him wobble on the bed.

"You fell for it." He provokes you, head bouncing up and down in silent titters, and you smack his hand away, leaning back down on his shoulder.

"No, I didn't," You feel him nod abut your head, seeing mentally what teasing expression he has plastered on his face this time, but you only shrug it off. "Which part was the lie, though? You kissing them or being with them?"

"Can't answer that. Save your chances for better questions, cutie."

"Touché," You scoff. "What's the next question?"

"Well, since we came to the topic of kissing... When was your first kiss?" He converts his stare to a peer of glistening fervour. Though not as subtle as he would have probably wished it to be, you could sense the perceptive intent he was hiding behind his tone.

You render motionless. Never did you tell him anything about your dreams, nor would you ever have plans to tell him. It's a product of your wildest imaginations to feed your untold desires. It's what helps restrain the ungodly in you, but it also fuels you with the need to see what it actually is like. It's a continuous internal war going on in you, its purpose being to stop you from creating trouble for yourself. And now that you finally have him here, not going to lie, it's kind of embarrassing to acknowledge the profuse amount of dreams you had of him, moreover that he stole your first kiss... Except it was in your dreams, literally.

"I never had any," You answer, trying to stay as cool as possible. "I'm a good child who listens well to her mother, so don't think no one tried to hit on me once. I turned a lot of them down." A small smile trudges its way onto his face, but the way his eyes were fixated on you remained untypically the same.

"I don't know if I should be happy that you picked me out of all of them or be sad for those 'poor hearts' you broke." He draws an air quote along with his words, and you shake your head at him. "Don't worry. I won't tease you on this one. I just wanted to know." He mumbles quietly through a simper, moving to rest his head on yours.

Hearing that he'll cut you some slack relieved you, but one thing about his utterance caught you off guard. "Why do you want to know that?"

"That's the only way I'll get to know you deeper, Einstein," He retracts his head and nudges you on his shoulder, causing you to bump your head against its edge, a grunt following you. However, while you were still in the midst of justifying the whack he did on your head, he spins his vision to you in an adventitious celebration. "Oh- that's your tenth question, then!"

"Wait, hold on!" You haul over to straighten your posture, the creaking of the bed barely audible from the loudness of your opposition.

"It's my turn again." His eyes grow invisible from his cheeks, pushing it up into a smile. He just never gets tired of making fun of you. How you wish you could do the same to him. If only punching someone straight in the face denotes no wrongdoing, you would have done that ages ago.

"Bitch, why did you answer that?" You call him, blaming him with the irritation that you weren't able to control yourself.

"You ask, I answer. Isn't that how it goes?" He grins at you matter-of-factly, and you tousle your hair around in frustration.

"Ugh, you're crazy," You send glares up his way. "Whatever. Your last question, throw."

As if that was a signal he has been waiting for, Sunghoon shuts his phone and tucks it in his pocket. "How does it feel to kiss someone?"

You were confused. You just said you've never kissed anyone before.

A dry giggle leaves your mouth after much processing. You knew you shouldn't have trusted his words. No matter what you do, he'll find the cracks and holes to slip in his every jest. "I think you got the wrong person, kid. How do you think I'd know?"

"Hmm..." He drones, the ticking sound of the clock suddenly increasing in volume with every minute passing by. "Should we try it, then?" He suggests.

"What?" You were taken aback, a sudden chill sweeping through your body like a surge of cool air gashing through the enclosed room. What is he going on about?

Inch by inch, you feel him gravitate towards you, your torso backing up from his inclining frame until the warmth you caused on the cold wall completely presses against your back. Like the fire of a gun's bullet on a steady path, your heartbeat raced in a trice. His eyes stared at yours, tracing down to your parted lips as he led his other hand across your body, trailing up your arms to your shoulders, just until it reaches your jaw. Your breath hitched, lips shutting tightly as you gulp down at the presence of his queer boldness.

It's like the scenarios you formed in your head where he pins you against the wall, lips hovering yours with soft breaths that tickle your skin. Him studying your face with obstinacy to make you his, doing whatever it is that would make you happy. Nevertheless, he made sure to be cautious of things you wouldn't want him to do. He still respected you.

He's doing just the same thing, and it's getting you set on thinking whether this is all a dream taking too long to reach its climax or if your dreams are miraculously made into reality. But his next set of words were enough to tell you the clarification to your uncertainties.

"Please don't be mad." Without warning, his lips found their place on your light, pillowy ones. It felt like he was pouring out all emotions he's been holding in until now. He always controlled himself whenever you're around because he didn't want to disappoint your mother. But with this instance is a chance to do something he has long been dreaming of. He wasn't about to lose it.

The way his head tilts to the side to get a more comfortable position, eyes closing and immersed in the pleasure of your lips against his, got you clasping onto your blanket to ease the havoc he's causing in your guts. You froze at the contact. As if time had halted and the world stopped spinning, everything seemed to slow down at that moment. Maybe it was the sweet scent of his bergamot fragrance. Maybe it was the tightening of his grip on your jaw, or perhaps the longing you had for him that's enticing you in this position.

It's not every day that we get to see our dreams come true, and for one, it's a matchless feeling, especially when the dream is worthwhile. Slowly, you give in and close your eyes in the warmth of his touch. His lips parted to bite at your lower lip, and you overtly open your mouth to let him in.

"Do you think you could answer it now?" He questions you, but you couldn't comprehend what he was saying. You were too caught up in your own feelings during the whole session; you almost forgot what happened before it was done. Just when you thought he’d stop pulling out all the hidden quirks of yours, he caught you once again. And it didn't take long enough before you recollected yourself.

"Right. It's way better than I could have ever imagined." You smile at him, giving rise to the same smile as you.

"If this is how it will usually end, maybe I should start gathering more questions for you." He proposes, his head wheeling over to you with sheer excitement.

"Uh-huh... Just make sure you don't catch anything from the streets before you come over." You reply with a cackle, getting off his lap and sitting back down on the soft mattress.

It was supposed to be a dull and boring day. But with another chance that you two meet comes another something to remember forever. And you can't help but grin from ear to ear.

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen park sunghoon #enhypen fluff #enhypen oneshots #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fic #enhypen angst #park sunghoon #sunghoon #park sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon imagines #iland sunghoon #iland x reader #iland imagines #iland fluff #ariafics #oH WOAH 200??? #👁💧👄💧👁

[sk1fanfiction]

the many faces of tom riddle, part 4

-attachment, orphanages, and yet more child psych: time to add yet another voice to the void-

FULL DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION OF A CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE STRONGEST CANON CHARACTERIZATION, AND THUS ALL THIS IS BASED ON MY CONCEPTUALIZATION.

I'm going to be super biased, because my favorite portrayal of Tom Riddle is actually Hero Fiennes-Tiffin as eleven-year-old Tom Riddle, in HBP and I get to chat about child psych in this one, sooo here we go.

First of all, I’m just so impressed that a kid could bring that much depth to such a complex character.

This is the portrayal, I feel, that brings us closest to Tom’s character. Yes, Coulson’s brought us pretty close, but by fifth year, the mask was on.

We don't really get to see Tom looking afraid very often, but it's fear that rules his life, so it's really poignant in our first (chronologically) introduction, he looks absolutely terrified.

The void being the fandom's loud opinions on a certain headmaster. I wouldn't call myself pro-Dumbledore, but I'm certainly not anti-Dumbledore, either. (Agnostic-Dumbledore??)

Since I'm not of the anti-Dumbledore persuasion, I decided to poke around in the tags and see what the arguments were, so I don't make comments out of ignorance.

Most of the tag seems to be more directed towards his treatment of Harry and Sirius, but a few people mentioned that Dumbledore should have treated Tom with ‘exceptional kindness’ and tried to ‘rehabilitate’ him.

As I said in Parts 2 and 3, I am 100% in favor of helping a traumatized kid learn to cope, and I don’t think Tom Riddle was solidly on the Path to Evil (TM) at birth, or even at eleven. Not even at fifteen.

Could unconditional love and kindness have helped Tom Riddle enough for the rise of Lord Voldemort to never happen? Possibly, but...

Yes, I'm about to drag up that Carl Jung quote, again.

“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.”

The problem with this is that if you’re going to blame Dumbledore for this, you also have to blame every other adult in Tom’s life: his headmaster, Dippet, his Head of House, Slughorn, his ‘caretakers’ at the orphanage, Mrs. Cole and Martha, and possibly more. In fact, if we're going to blame any adult, let's blame Merope for r*ping and abusing Tom Riddle Senior, and having a kid she wasn't intending to take care of.

Furthermore, you cannot possibly hold anyone but Tom accountable for the murders he committed. (I should not have to sit here and explain why cold-blooded murder is wrong.) And if you like Tom Riddle's character, insinuating that his actions are completely at the whim of others is just a bit condescending towards him. He's not an automaton or a marionette, he's a very intelligent human being with a functioning brain, and at sixteen is fully capable of moral reasoning and critical analysis.

I've heard the theories about Dumbledore setting the Potters up to die, and I'm not going to discuss their validity right now; but he didn't put a wand in Tom's hand and force him to kill anyone. Tom did it all of his own accord.

And while yes, I have enormous sympathy for what happened to Tom as a child, at some point, he decided to murder Myrtle Warren, and that is where I lose my sympathy. Experiencing trauma does not give you the right to inflict harm on others. Yes, Tom was failed, but then, he spectacularly failed himself.

We also have no idea how Dumbledore treated Tom as a student.

In the movies, it’s Dumbledore who tells Tom he has to go back to the orphanage, but in the books, it’s Dippet. We know that Slughorn spent a lot of time around Tom at Slug Club and such, yet I don’t really see people clamoring for his head.

I regard the sentiment that Dumbledore turned Tom Riddle into Lord Voldemort with a lot of skepticism.

But let's hear from the character himself -- his impression of eleven-year-old Tom Riddle.

“Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?” said Dumbledore. “No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others’ sake as much as his."

Now, assuming that Dumbledore's telling the truth, I'm not seeing something glaringly wrong with this. No, he hasn't pigeonholed Tom as evil, yes, I'd be intrigued, too, and it's a very good idea to keep an eye on Tom, for his own sake.

“At Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, “we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have — inadvertently, I am sure — been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school."

Again, it seems like he's at least somewhat sympathetic towards Tom, and is willing to at least give him a chance.

More evidence (again, assuming Dumbledore is a reliable narrator):

Harry: “Didn’t you tell them [the other professors], sir, what he’d been like when you met him at the orphanage?” Dumbledore: “No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance.”

Now, I think Dumbledore is pretty awful with kids, but I don't think that's malicious. Yeah, it's a flaw, but perfect people don't exist, and perfect characters are dead boring. I am not saying that he definitely handled Tom's case well, I'm just saying that there's little evidence that Dumbledore, however shaken and scandalized, wrote him off as 'evil snake boy.'

It's also worth taking into account that it's 1938, and the attitudes towards mental health back then.

Why is Tom looking at Dumbledore like that, anyway? Why is he so scared? What has he possibly been threatened with or heard whispers of?

"'Professor'?" repeated Riddle. He looked wary. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?"

"I don't believe you," said Riddle. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course -- well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!

Tom keeps insisting he's not mad until Dumbledore finally manages to calm him down.

I'm really upset this wasn't in the movie, because it's important context. Instead we got these throwaway cutscenes of some knick-knacks relating to the Cave he's got lying around, but I just would have preferred to see him freaking out like he does in the book.

There was extreme stigma and prejudice towards mental illness.

'Lunatic asylums,' as they were called in Tom's time, were terrible places. In the 1930s and 40s, he could look forward to being 'treated' with induced convulsions, via metrazol, insulin, electroshock, and malaria injections. And if he stuck around long enough, he could even look forward to a lobotomy!

So, if you think Dumbledore was judgmental towards Tom, imagine how flat-out prejudiced whatever doctors or 'experts' Mrs. Cole might have gotten in to 'look at him' must have been!

Moving on to the next few shots, he is sitting down and hunched over as if expecting punishment or at least some kind of bad news, Dumbledore is mostly out of the frame. He’s trapped visually, by Dumbledore on one side, and a wall on the other, because he’s still very much afraid. uncomfortable, as he tells Dumbledore a secret that he fears could get him committed to an asylum (which were fucking horrible places, as I said).

It brings to the scene that miserable sense of isolation and loneliness to that has defined Tom’s entire life up to that point (and, partially due to his own bad choices, continues to define it).

And, when Dumbledore accepts it, his posture changes. he becomes more confident and more at ease, as he describes the... utilities of his magical abilities. 

"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: There was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial.

I do think Harry, our narrator, is being a tad bit judgmental here. Magic is probably the only thing that brings Tom happiness in his grey, lonely world, and when I was Tom's age and being bullied, if I had magic powers, you'd better believe that I'd (a) be bloody ecstatic about it (b) use them. And, like Tom, I can't honestly say that I can't imagine getting a bit carried-away with it. Unfortunately, we can't all be as inherently good and kindhearted as Harry.

Reading HBP again, as a 'mature' person, it almost seems like the reader is being prompted to see Tom as evil just because he's got 'weird' facial expressions.

So... uh...

Nope, let's judge Tom on his actions, not looks of 'wild happiness.'

To his great surprise, however, Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and gave the wand a casual flick. The wardrobe burst into flames. Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there. But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Okay, one thing I dislike is Tom's lack of emotional affect when Dumbledore burned the wardrobe, in the books, he jumped up and started screaming, instead of looking passively (in shock, perhaps?) at the fire. Incidentally, I can't really tell if he's impressed or in shock, to be honest. I think they really tried to make Tom 'creepier' in the movie.

This is one of the incidents where Dumbledore's inability to deal with children crops up.

I think he was trying to teach Tom that magic can be dangerous, and he wouldn't like it to be used against him, but burning the wardrobe that contains everything he owns was a terrible move on Dumbledore's part. Tom already has very limited trust in other people, and now, he's not going to trust Dumbledore at all -- now, he's put Tom on the defensive/offensive for the rest of their interaction, and perhaps for the rest of their teacher-student relationship.

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. "Where can I get one of them?"

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

But I'm not surprised Tom is 'greedy.' He's grown up in an environment where if he wants something, whether that's affection, food, money, toys, he's got to take it. There's no one looking after his needs specifically. I'm not surprised that he's a thief and a hoarder, and I don't think that counts as a moral failing necessarily, and more of a maladaptive way of seeking comfort. It would be bizarre if he came out of Wool's Orphanage a complete saint.

Additionally, I think given that the Gaunt family has a history of 'mental instability,' Tom is a sensitive child, and the trauma of growing up institutionalized and possibly being treated badly due to his magical abilities or personality disorder deeply affected him.

And there are points where it seems that Dumbledore is quick to judge Tom.

"He was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control."

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the Dark Arts, although as we know, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination."

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless?..."

And while this is all empirically true, these are (a) a product of Tom's harsh environment, and (b) do not necessarily make him evil. But the point remains that child psych didn't exist as a field of its own, and psychology as a proper science was in its infancy, so I'd be shocked if Dumbledore was insightful about Tom's situation.

But I've gone a ton of paragraphs without citing anything, so I've got to rectify that.

Let's talk about Harry Harlow's monkey experiments in the 1950-70s.

If you're not a fan of animal research, since I know some people are uncomfortable with it, feel free to scroll past.

Here's the TL;DR: Children need to be hugged and shown affection too, not just fed and clothed, please don't leave babies to 'cry out' and ignore their needs because it's backwards and fucking inhumane. HUG AND COMFORT AND CODDLE CHILDREN AND SPOIL THEM WITH AFFECTION!

I will put more red writing when the section is over.

This is still an interesting experiment to have in mind while we explore the whole 'no one taught Tom Riddle how to love' thing and whether or not it's actually a good argument.

Andddd let's go all the way back to the initial 1958 experiment, featured in Harlow's paper, the Nature of Love. (If you're familiar with Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, him and Harlow actually collaborated for a time).

To give you an idea of our starting point, until Harlow's experiment, which happened twenty years after Dumbledore meets Tom for the first time, no one in science had really been interested in studying love and affection.

"Psychologists, at least psychologists who write textbooks, not only show no interest in the origin and development of love or affection, but they seem to be unaware of its very existence."

I'm going to link some videos of Harry Harlow showing the actual experiment, which animal rights activists would probably consider 'horrifying.' It's nothing gory or anything, but if you are particularly soft-hearted (and I do not mean that as an insult), be warned. It's mostly just baby monkeys being very upset and Harlow discussing it in a callous manner. Yes, today it would be considered unethical, but it's still incredibly important work and if you think you can handle it, I would recommend watching at least the first one to get an idea of how dramatic this effect is.

Dependency when frightened

The full experiment

The TL;DW:

This experiment was conducted with rhesus macaques; they're still used in psychology/neuroscience research when you want very human-like subjects, because they are very intelligent (unnervingly so, actually). I'd say that adult ones remind me of a three-year old child.

Harlow separated newborn monkeys from their mothers, and cared for their physical needs. They had ample nutrition, bedding, warmth, et cetera. However, the researchers noticed that the monkeys:

(a) were absolutely miserable. And not just that, but although all their physical needs were taken care of, they weren't surviving well past the first few days of life. (This has also been documented in human babies, and it's called failure to thrive and I'll talk about it a bit later).

(b) showed a strong attachment to the gauze pads used to cover the floor, and decided to investigate.

So, they decided to provide a surrogate 'mother.' Two, actually. Mother #1 was basically a heated fuzzy doll that was nice for the monkeys to cuddle with. Mother #2 was the same, but not fuzzy and made of wire. Both provided milk. The result? The monkeys spent all their time cuddling and feeding from the fuzzy 'mother.' Perhaps not surprising.

What Harlow decided next, is that one of the hallmarks being attached to your caregiver is seeking hugs and reassurance from them when frightened. So, when the monkeys were presented with something scary, they'd go straight to the cloth mother and ignore the wire one. Not only that, but when placed in an unfamiliar environment, if the cloth mother was present, the monkeys would be much calmer.

In a follow-up experiment, Harlow decided to see if there was some sort of sensitive period by introducing both 'mothers' to monkeys who had been raised in isolation for 250 days. Guess what?

The initial reaction of the monkeys to the alterations was one of extreme disturbance. All the infants screamed violently and made repeated attempts to escape the cage whenever the door was opened. They kept a maximum distance from the mother surrogates and exhibited a considerable amount of rocking and crouching behavior, indicative of emotionality.

Yikes. So, at first Harlow thought that they'd passed some kind of sensitive period for socialization. But after a day or two they calmed down and started chilling out with the cloth mother like the other monkeys did. But here's a weird thing:

That the control monkeys develop affection or love for the cloth mother when she is introduced into the cage at 250 days of age cannot be questioned. There is every reason to believe, however, that this interval of delay depresses the intensity of the affectional response below that of the infant monkeys that were surrogate-mothered from birth onward

All these things... attachment, affection, love, seeking comfort ... are mostly learned behaviours.

Over.

Orphanages, institutionalized childcare, and why affection is a need, not an extra.

His face is lit the exact same was as Coulson’s was in COS (half-light, half-dark), and I said I was going to talk about this in Part 3. I think perhaps it's intended to make Fiennes-Tiffin look more evil or menacing, but I'm going to quite deliberately misinterpret it.

Now, for some context, Dumbledore has just (kind of) burned his wardrobe, ratted out his stealing habit, and (in the books only, they really took a pair of scissors to this scene) told him he needs to go apologize and return everything and Dumbledore will know if he doesn't, and, well, Tom's not exactly a happy bugger about it.

But interestingly, in the books, this is when we start to see Tom's 'persona,' aka his mask, start to come into play. Whereas before, he was screaming, howling, and generally freaking out, here, he starts to hide his emotions -- in essence, obscure his true self under a shadow. So this scene is really the reverse of Coulson's in COS.

And perhaps I'm reading wayyy too much into this, but I can't help but notice that Coulson's hair is parted opposite to Fiennes-Tiffin's, and the opposite sides of their faces are shadowed, too.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. "Yes, I suppose so, sir," he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colorless voice, "Yes, sir."

Here's an article from The Atlantic on Romanian orphanages in the 1980s, when the dictator, Ceausescu, basically forced people to have as many children as possible and funnel them into institutionalized 'childcare', and it's absolutely heartbreaking.

There's not a whole lot of information out there on British orphanages in the 30s' and 40s', but given that people back then thought you just had to keep children on a strict schedule and feed them, it wouldn't have a whole lot better.

The only thing I've found is this, and it's not super promising.

The most important study informing the criteria for contemporary nosologies, was a study by Barbara Tizard and her colleagues of young children being raised in residential nurseries in London (Tizard, 1977). These nurseries had lower child to caregiver ratios than many previous studies of institutionalized children. Also, the children were raised in mixed aged groups and had adequate books and toys available. Nevertheless, caregivers were explicitly discouraged from forming attachments to the children in their care.

Here's a fairly recent paper that I think gives a good summary: Link

Here, they describe the responses to the Strange Situation test (which tests a child's attachment to their caregiver).

We found that 100% of the community sample received a score of “5,” indicating fully formed attachments, whereas only 3% of the infants living in institutions demonstrated fully formed attachments. The remaining 97% showed absent, incomplete, or odd and abnormal attachment behaviors.

Bowlby and Ainsworth, who did the initial study, thought that children would always attach to their caregivers, regardless of neglect or abuse. But some infants don't attach (discussed along with RAD in Part 2).

Here's a really good review paper on attachment disorders in currently or formerly institutionalized children : Link

Core features of RAD in young children include the absence of focused attachment behaviors directed towards a preferred caregiver, failure to seek and respond to comforting when distressed, reduced social and emotional reciprocity, and disturbances of emotion regulation, including reduced positive affect and unexplained fearfulness or irritability.

Which all sounds a lot like Tom in this scene. The paper also discusses neurological effects, like atypical EEG power distribution (aka brain waves), which can correlate with 'indiscriminate' behavior and poor inhibitory control; which makes sense for a kid who, oh, I don't know, hung another kid's rabbit because they were angry.

Furthermore...

...those children with more prolonged institutional rearing showed reduced amygdala discrimination and more indiscriminate behavior.

This again, makes a ton of sense for Tom's psychological profile, because the amygdala (which is part of the limbic system, which regulates emotions) plays a major role in fear, anger, anxiety, and aggression, especially with respect to learning, motivation and memory.

So, I agree completely that Tom needed a lot of help, especially given the fact that he spent eleven years in an orphanage (longer than the Bucharest study I was referring to), and Dumbledore wasn't exactly understanding of his situation, and probably didn't realise what a dramatic effect the orphanage had on Tom, and given the way he talks to Tom, probably treated him as if he were a kid who grew up in a healthy environment.

In case you are still unconvinced that hugging is that important, there's a famous 1944 study conducted on 40 newborn human infants to see what would happen if their physical needs (fed, bathed, diapers changed) were provided for with no affection. The study had to be stopped because half the babies died after four months. Affection leads to the production of hormones and boosts the immune system, which increases survival, and that is why we hug children and babies should not be in orphanages. They are supposed to be hugged, all the time. I can't find the citation right now, I'll add it later if I find it.

But I think it's vastly unrealistic to say that Dumbledore, who grew up during the Victorian Era, would have any grasp of this and I don't think he was actively malicious towards Tom.

Was Tom Riddle failed by institutional childcare? Absolutely.

Were the adults in his life oblivious to his situation? Probably.

Do the shitty things that happened to Tom excuse the murders he committed, and are they anyone's fault but his own? No. At the end of the day, Tom made all the wrong choices.

And, for what it's worth, I think (film) Dumbledore (although he expresses the same sentiment in more words in the books) wishes he could go back in time and have helped Tom.

"Draco. Years ago, I knew a boy, who made all the wrong choices. Please, let me help you."

#tom riddle #the many faces of #tom marvolo riddle #character analysis #character study #albus dumbledore

[well-in-all-honesty-i]

TW: Suicide

OKAY SO- I wanted to talk about Mafuyu and Yuki’s relationship and why it ended the way it did. I should preface this by saying that the majority of this, although somewhat supported by canon, is my own personal headcanon and speculation. I’ve been surrounded by a lot of people who I believe Yuki to be similar to, but I am not 100% accurate or well versed and this is mostly just from what I’ve gotten from those situations. Also, a lot of questionable grammar-I type like I speak, which doesn't translate well haha.

So I want to chunk this into 3 big pieces because I enjoy organizing things: Yuki’s childhood, how that affected his personality as a young adult, and how both of these lead to his eventual death.

Starting off with his childhood:

This one is heavy speculation (as most of this is-but this bit is particularly so) since there isn’t much canon to support this-or provide a lot of insight. But, what little we do know is that 1) Yuki’s father wasn’t present in his life-probably even before Mafuyu’s father had been jailed-and that, 2) Yuki and his father shared the same bull-headedness (?) and pride that Saeko believes led to his death.

I personally believe that Yuki’s father was someone who might have struggled with some sort of mental illness, as well as has had a problem with alcohol abuse. I also imagine that he probably disappeared or passed-either due to some sort of alcohol-related problem or suicide.

Saeko, from how she is characterized in the story, seems to be a very strong-willed and assertive person. In the aftermath of Yuki’s death, she's relatively composed and seems to have almost expected this to happen, although maybe not in the specific way it did. [Ex: When she tells Mafuyu that Yuki was always the type of person to die in a chicken race (a competition of pride, of sorts, that usually ends badly) and when she mentions him being similar to his father in that sense.]

In the flashbacks in the anime, when Mafuyu tells Yuki that his father beats him when he talks, Yuki’s response of ‘You know, a real father doesn’t do that.’ doesn’t sound like something a small child’s first response would be. It’s a bit of a reach-but considering that, as well as how prompt the response from his mother seemed to be (when Mafuyu’s father was jailed-not much time seems to have passed, and since both of their mothers are present, I've always assumed that Yuki's mother found out through her son and acted accordingly.),- it would make sense that Yuki might have some prior experience with this. Especially if his mother had gone through something similar-she probably would’ve warned him very strongly against the ideal his father had set, making Yuki want to be very far from that.

Speaking of which-I assume that Yuki probably had a very rough-if short-lived-relationship with his father when he was around. Given the stuff above, his father was probably someone who was emotionally volatile and tended to lose control when upset. If he had an alcohol problem, he might’ve caused a financial strain that fell onto Saeko as well.

Since his father was out of the picture and Saeko herself wasn't around as much as Yuki might've needed, it would have made him both very independent from his parents and adults in general, while also heavily reliant on Mafuyu (Hiiragi quotes both Mafuyu and Yuki to have been latchkey kids who found comfort in each other), both of which twist into the situation he found himself in later in life.

Leading into his teen years:

Yuki, as a young adult, is very independent-he works multiple jobs to pay for the expenses of being in a band, makes a point to avoid drinking, and is very affectionate towards Mafuyu. I'm not too sure about the reasoning behind why the four friends chose the high schools they did, but if Yuki's mother didn't directly influence that decision it's likely it was a choice made in direct relation to their band.

There's also very little interference from any adults in Yuki's life-namely, his mother. As someone who was probably very busy working as a single mother to support the two of them, her mentality was just to support him monetarily and let Mafuyu provide the emotional support in her place.

I think she also assumed her attempts wouldn't have been well received-most people noted how close Yuki and Mafuyu were and seemed to always assume that they had each other handled and that nobody had to worry about either of them because of it. In every way, it was simply easier to show Yuki she cared by not interfering and letting him hold the reigns of his own life.

A big indicator of this idea for me what when Saeko talked about how Yuki ordered his own ramen, the type he liked. It's a small thing, but it started me to read because it highlighted the amount of input his mother had on his life; which was very little. I don't know if he even used her money or chose to use the extra from his jobs to pay for it, but either way, it sort of put their relationship into perspective.

The impact it had:

Yuki probably had a lot of resentment towards his father, or, at the very least, a desire to turn out different. And oftentimes when a person is very strongly trying to avoid turning out like someone, they ignore or avoid acknowledging the similarities, rather than accepting and working on them to properly change. Without a strong parental/adult figure in his life, he wouldn't have considered insight beyond his own experiences. He's characterized to be moody and domineering, and Mafuyu is too soft-spoken to have brought up most issues until it reached its boiling point.

I believe Yuki might have had Borderline Personality Disorder to a mild extent. Some symptoms of BPD are mood swings, impulsivity, impaired social relationships, and a distorted self-image. They usually have thoughts of suicide or self-harming tendencies. When they feel insecure in relationships, in which they’re usually very, very invested, they tend to lash out or do rash things to keep them close.

Based on my relationships with the borderline people in my life, I've noticed that they usually bounce between having great confidence in themselves, to being incredibly insecure. It's hard to explain specifically, but they walk a fine line of being insecure and also maintaining a painfully strong ego, which makes them react very strongly when provoked, intentionally or not. Yuki and Mafuyu have a different type of relationship than I do with those people in my life which, for the two of them, means that Mafuyu probably had to provide lots of emotional support for Yuki, while also under the mild threat of Yuki coming to harm by his own actions.

Being with someone with these tendencies who is also unaware of them is very draining, especially for someone as mild and soft-spoken as Mafuyu is. Yuki tended to lead their relationship and was probably very noticeable when upset-and for someone who might not be used to speaking up or someone who has low self-confidence, it is difficult to bring up things. It doesn't feel safe if you don't know exactly how it would be received. Especially if they are the person you are closest to, it can be anxiety-inducing to try and bring up problems that don't seem to be incredibly important or unavoidable.

So, long story short-Yuki was closed off to receiving any kind of proper advice or criticism that would've saved him. Another symptom of BPD, as mentioned before, is suicidal ideation. So, if all these things are combined, it's a lot easier to see how he, surrounded by only his thoughts and ideas, would make the choice to take his own life when provoked.

It wasn't specifically that Mafuyu had caused his death, but more that he just sent him over the edge he had been teetering on for a long while. He was like his father in the sense that they had the same flaws that just came from different places. Yuki's pride came from the flip side of his insecurities and his own early independence, and his mental health issues as a whole are probably hereditary. The specificities of his death, where Yuki drinks after avoiding alcohol for his entire life, feels like he failed in his effort to avoid being like his father. He was different as a person but in the end, their flaws aligned and brought them to their end in parallels to each other.

Calling back to what his mom said-it doesn't feel unexpected. It is shocking, but not a surprise. Yuki was fiercely independent and wanted to learn and do new things, all on his own-including his own death and whatever follows after.

[I wrote this a while back and didn’t really like how most of it was speculation and hard to prove-but decided to post it anyway because I spent too much time on it lol.

Like I said before, most of this is just my head canons, but I hope it made sense! Feel free to add on with your stuff/arguments/headcanons :)]

#given #yuki yoshida #sato mafuyu #character ramblings #tw sui mention #mafuyuki #given manga #given anime #idkkk what do y’all think #i’m bad at Tags #also this is. severely unedited. #as in i wrote this a while back #found it and just went #huh this is a lot of words. let me skim it. sounds about right. time to post! #WIAHI

[hawksugarbaby]

Kirishima x reader- Freezer burn

Fluff

Quirk info: you have fire breath, you're always too warm because there's literally fire inside of our body. It also means when people are close to you they're really warm to, you're pretty much a radiator.

"Bro... (y/n) is eating a popsicle" Kaminari muttered to Kirishima who was unable to peel his eyes away from you no matter hoe hard he tried. "I know bro" is it wrong to be looking at her like this, I can't look away she was just perfect and- *crunch*

The boys watched in horror as you bit off the top of the popsicle and there was a very audible screech from the middle of the courtyard you and your classmates were in. you thought someone was hurt so you instinctively whipped your head around to see where the noise came from but instead, you saw sero and kaminari dragging Kirishima away to the door with bakugo holding the door open and signalling like a marshaller to hurry up and get him out of the courtyard. You shrugged and continued to much on your popsicle and made a mental note to ask Kirishima about it later.

Kaminari sat him on the couch and sat down next to him and handed him a water bottle. Bakugo knew something needed to be done, he wouldn't sit there and let his friend suffer, he stormed up to the boys and stood in front of them "OI, you need to fucking get it together shitty hair. You might as well just ask her to suck your dick dude" Kirishima choked on his water, most of it landing on his vest "BRO! I- I don't want that I just want her to... be my girlfriend and stuff you know" he said rubbing behind his neck in embarrassment "hey if it makes you feel better, think of how todoroki feels, midoriya's wearing leggings and I'm pretty sure he deepthroated that popsicle" he said though not really helping the conversation. "Why can't I just be normal around her?" he asked burying his head in his hands "just fucking go back outside and be yourself" bakugo reasoned, this time with some much better advice.

While this conversation went on inside the house you realised it was getting hotter, originally you had come outside in a white bodysuit and (f/c) shorts and a hoodie. to begin with, you had sandles on, but you had to take those off, your hoodie was who knows where and you were standing in the fountain as if it was a waterfall accepting the fact that you were being drenched with cold water, but you were still too hot. You had been through at least 4 popsicles so far, todoroki had already tried to help as much as he could but to no avail and as the sun climbed higher into the sky the temperature went up also.

"Fuck this" you shouted and ran back into the dorm not realising that your white bodysuit was pretty much see-through by now. You sprinted past the boys on the couch to the kitchen and there it was your lord and saviour... the freezer. You wandered round to the commons and asked, "hey who wants to help me get in the freezer?" they looked at you with confusion and 3/4 boys looked in the other direction while Kirishima turned the colour of his hair "d-do you want t-to change your t-shirt first?" he asked and you looked down realizing everyone could see what was underneath your top "oh no I'm wearing a bra how unfortunate, Kiri help me get in the freezer!" you said pulling him up from the couch and dragging him to the kitchen "(y/n), no I mean if your shirt's wet and you're in the freezer you'll get hypothermia" he pointed out, even though that certainly wasn't what he meant but he didn't want to be rude.

You stopped realizing he had a good point "then I'll just take it off?" you said and walked towards the closest bathroom "NO (Y/N) THAT'S NOT MUCH BETTER" he shouted after you making you stop again, he looked around for a better idea and suddenly a small lightbulb appeared above his head (in his mind) "here take my vest" he said pulling it over his head and handing it to you, he had no issue showing his abs off. Your face lit up red at the sight of his gorgeous body and you took the vest and sped toward the bathroom.

You came back with his vest on which covered your shorts since you were a fair bit shorter than him and... another popsicle? "Where did you even get that!" Kirishima asked questioning how you could have got a popsicle "hun I keep popsicles all over the dorms, I'm not going to suffer if it's a hot day" you said continuing to suck on the (f/f) popsicle not realising what it looked like to him. "Um (y/n), d-did you take your bra off?" he asked noticing there was no band showing at the back of the vest (y' know how you get those vests with the really deep backs?) "well yeah that was wet too so it just made sense," you said, making a good point 'okay Kirishima calm down. Your crush is wearing your vest, without a bra, and eating a popsicle... I wonder how far- NO'

The brilliant thing about the freezers in your dorm was how big and empty they were, you were teenagers, after all, you weren't going to put very much effort into making food so that freezer was never more than a quarter full. "So what's our gameplan here?" he asked looking in the freezer and putting down a blanket to make it slightly more comfortable for you "lift me up, and put me in the freezer, but leave the top open so I can breathe," you told him the plan and he nodded "okay 3, 2, 1, go," you said and clutched to your boxes of popsicles. he picked you up by the waist and placed you in the freezer and you sat down taking in the cold air, he looked over the side and smiled "care to join me kiri?" you asked patting the spot next to you, he thought for the second and his conclusion was, what's the worst that could happen? He vaulted over the side and landed like a gymnast in the freezer and sat down next to you.

You both sighed and shut your eyes letting the cool air surround you. The good part was that neither of you would absolutely freeze because you yourself were always too hot anyway, and you kept Kirishima warm also.

"why did you get dragged out of the courtyard earlier?" you asked checking off your mental note to ask about it and sitting in the freezer together seemed like the perfect time to ask about it "o-oh um there was- there was a wasp" he said lying through his pointy teeth. you unwrapped another popsicle and shook your head "the manly red riot is scared of wasps?" you asked offering him a popsicle that he pushed away, the way you said his hero name sounded so much better than the way he did "uh, yeah just. Don't like them. Too buzzy" "but you're fine with bees?" he looked at you with surprise, how did you know he liked bees? "I never said I liked bees" he pointed out and you laughed "Kiri yesterday you went out into the courtyard specifically to, and I quote 'water the flowers so the bees are happy'" you said remembering him walking around in a short-sleeved flannel with a silver watering can "how do you know what I said?"

you didn't feel like telling him you got distracted from your studying because he was taking care of the bees so instead you changed the subject slightly "it's the popsicle isn't it," you asked pointing to him with the frozen goodness in your hand "w-what gives you that idea?" he asked looking away "hm just something about how you keep looking at me when I eat one and you grimace every time I bite it?" you point out looking at him even though he wouldn't look back, no answer "if you want me to suck your dick just ask dude" "WHAT" you laughed at his response and it took you a minute to calm down "I'm kidding I'm kidding," you told him and he let out a sigh of relief.

"Yeah it's the popsicle," he said folding his arms across his chest "you could've just told me how you felt dummy. You know that right" you said poking his cheek with the newest popsicle stick "well (y/n)... I like you like I really like you like I want you to be my girlfriend kind of like you" he said confidently. "I like you too, and I will happily be your girlfriend," you told him and leaned your head on his shoulder "you're really hot" "why thank you" you laughed knowing that wasn't exactly what he meant but the compliment still stood.

BONUS CONTENT

"So how far down can you-" "KIRI!" a silence fell between you "...Full thing" and he looked at you with surprise "wanna see?" "YES"

Part 2 here

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