#and people constantly pointing it out makes me feel even more miserable

[trashlie]

Hello, I'm the anon from earlier. I'm not a business person by any means either, but I guess I was thrown off by the fact that a seemingly family-owned corporation like Hirahara Corp apparently had an outsider as CEO? Rand inheriting instead of Yui makes sense since there were no male heirs and this is probably a patriarchal set-up; but why didn't Koutaro, or any other Hirahara, become CEO rather than Young-chul?

I 100% think the partnership with the Kims continuing even after the past SA allegations is a "sleazy business world" thing. I doubt shareholders have any problems with it so long as it generates profit. Most likely the allegations didn't amount to anything, which is unfortunately realistic.

I can't WAIT for Yujing's article, it will no doubt send shockwaves throughout the system even if it doesn't manage to topple it just yet.

Oh absolutely, SAME! I've always felt that Yui herself resents that the company is passing down not through her, but technically through Rand, that his illegitimate child could possibly even stand an opportunity simply by being Rand's son (and thus why she has torn him down at every opportunity, so he never gets the chance to ever catch attention). Part of her whole deal with having Kousuke fast-track his way to CEO seems to be to bring the company fully back into the hands of the Hiraharas, so yes, I was DEFINITELY taken aback that someone OTHER than a Hirahara could have been a CEO.

Like... right. For what reason did it work out that way, that not even Koutarao was CEO? And if Yui doesn't want Hirahara falling into the hands of anyone else, it feels like a Choice to partner with them - although I guess it's because a partnership doesn't hold as much power?

A really half-baked thought I haven't been able to work through prior is that maybe Yui is playing some kind of long game - that by partnering with the Kims they could somehow let them fall back on their own sword (when you think about it, the Kims and Hiraharas are really poised to bring each other down, right?) but.... that seems messy and why would she do that? Then again... she likes a good hunt and chase. Tangentially a theory I have that goes dark is, perhaps, a member of the Kim family may have assaulted Yui when she was younger, but that's a topic for another post (I keep meaning to work on) but it loops back to "why would Yui partner with someone if she loathes them"? What does she seek to gain from that? She tends to see a few steps ahead of anyone else, so if she had had a plan, I wouldn't be shocked. After all.... wouldn't it be so easy to spin the story as "sob sob as it turns out, Gun Kim pressured us to make poor Nol take the fall for Sangchul; he was going around trying to drug girls at the Kim formal but he forced us to stay quiet~ you know how that family is~" which is, honestly, scary, but is it beyond the realm of the things Yui does? If anything, it feels like child's play, right?

On the one hand I'm like that's so convoluted, Yui would never, but only the other hand, this woman gets off on peoples' misery and loves to torture, so if she went through a long con to get back at the man/family who possibly did something to her when she was younger, if she played nice with them with the eventual intention to castigate them? Making them business partners gives enough reason to believe that they could "coerce" Yui and co to do anything, by trying to use the "lesser" of the Hirahara boys (barf) to take the fall. And how easy would it be to actually trace the drugs back to Yui? Oh, the accused perp is claiming she gave them to him? When there's a whole history of this happening at his school, in his family? When you look at Gun Kim and his rep? What other allegations have come from those Kim formals that never went anywhere? She could SO easily twist any of that!

But idk lmao it feels almost cartoon villain and I'm probably grasping at straws, but I let the thought live at the back of my mind, to see if it will grow into anything else and to see if we get anything else to change how I feel. Something definitely happened in Yui's past, of that I'm certain, but everything else is very loose conjecture.

But whether that has to do with the Kim Hirahara family history we're yet to see. There's so many questions I have and I really hope everything will be answered LMAOOOOO I also look forward to Yujing's expose, but ever since reading the theory that she's working on two separate pieces, I can't help but feel the real bomb will drop in s2. But even seeing what she's writing for Nol's case sounds promising, because it feels like the prelude of the much bigger piece, right?

GOD I get really excited just thinking of it, even though I feel like learning the eventual truth is gonna make me feel real nauseous. The seediness of the Kims and Hiraharas runs deep and twisted and UUGGGHHH. The angle of "the less fortunate" taking the fall for the affluent, privileged elite is suuuuch a good angle to work and I can't WAIT to see the ripples of it!!!!!

#I Love Yoo #ILY Brainrot #ILY Anon #Yui Hirahara #Gun Kim #man i almost feel like I need a tag for Hirahara as a company now LMAO #Yui always leaves me guessing and i'm almost never correct LMAO #one day i swear like REALLY SOON i'm gonna write my big thought post on what i think is the deal with Yui like I SWEAR #i've got some big thoughts on her lately and i've always wanted to write it out #i'm glad as a fandom people are coming around to see it was never just about Rand's infidel that it was always something else and that was #more like an inconvenience to her a blight on her image the fact that a second son exists who could potentially threaten Kousuke's standing #rather than a disgraced lover taking revenge #(and like even if that was the situation she still has tortured Nol to such extents that cannot be justified by being heartbroken) #but no Yui is a full sadist and i need people to see that and understand that she takes joy in making people miserable and drawing out that #misery so that they are constantly tortured. case in point: rand. #BUT THIS IS NOT THAT POST LMAO #this is me going wtf is up with the Kims and Hiraharas

[still-a-morosexual-help]

honestly tho om lucifer is such a comfort character

you know mammon's my all time all around favourite no contest but like

lucifer just hits different

he's so tired and he's so overworked and he loves his family so much it makes me sick he's willing to kill and die for them at any chance he made the misfits of the celestial realm his family despite being the perfect example of an angel himself he thinks his brothers are adorable he just wants them to have one quiet day

he's such a bastard he's arrogant and prideful and he'll willingly meow like a little kitty cat because his boybestfriend is sad

he's got daddy issues he's terrified he's traumatised his greatest fear is his father he spent years fighting a pointless war and never questioned his father about whether they ever even tried to find a way to end the war without just mindlessly trying to kill people who really aren't that different from them for a reason no one knows he's willing to be given piggyback rides by another high profile man in a public area

he's a dog person he's weak to puppy dog eyes from everyone he cares about he's constantly done with Mephisto's shit he gets jealous because one of his friends complimented their mutual friend's cookies

he's willing to villainize himself in the eyes of his family to keep them safe he's sadistic his first response to being cornered and scared is to kill anyone who's making him feel that way his love language with his brothers is being a little shit to them he's somehow connected to/the starting point of all the issues/trauma his brothers have he has empty nest syndrome even though all his brothers live at home he hasn't realised the extent to which his actions and words have fucked up his brothers and is constantly surprised and devastated by it when he realises

he has a son he pretends is his brother whom he only ever canonically acknowledged as his son twice which led to huge blowout fights one of his younger brothers bullies him into going to the pub with them once a week his son runs a club with his youngest brother dedicated solely to making his life miserable

he's sadistic he genuinely enjoys seeing people suffer he's so polite he'll allow himself to be poisoned by food he knows is bad he bought dinner for a whole restaurant because it was the owner's birthday he wore a silly outfit and worked at a themed restaurant as a favour for a friend he gets visibly more aroused when he's ordered around he insults his brothers but gets upset whenever an outsider does the same

he loves his human so much and he's so annoyed at them he's so frustrated with them he's so angry at them and he's so worried about them so protective of them so incredibly proud of them he has tried to kill them many many times

he's a borderline alcoholic he's immortal he's greying he gets migraines he forgets to eat and he sleeps at his desk he does the mom thing and orders takeout for his children when he goes out to eat without them he likes dad jokes his greatest wish is to visit a factory he likes good socks he's a grumpy old man

he's over 10 million years old he's an eldritch horror he's the personification of the sin of pride he needs glasses to read his childhood friend? ex-boyfriend? kind-of-brother? old coworker? brother in arms? calls him luci

he's a naggy paranoid perfectionist he removed the entire bathroom because one of his brothers forgot to clean it he had to literally be kidnapped to send him on a vacation he ripped out multiple sets of his own wings he doesn't like being seen shirtless he lectured jason voorhees about him not killing efficiently enough

he's a respected and recognised drag queen he believes love is love he's canonically so beautiful but no one ever makes a move on him because the whole realm thinks he's in a committed long term relationship he refuses to believe his best friend is in love with him despite multiple people saying so

he's the type of person you want to please the type of person you want to make proud the type of person you want on your side because you know no matter what he'll always have your back you're safe that as long as he's there everything will be okay the type of person you want to be held by while everything is falling down around you

he's even queer

#obey me lucifer #om lucifer #obey me! lucifer #om! lucifer #swd lucifer #shall we date lucifer #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me! #shall we date? obey me! #swd obey me #swd obey me! #shall we date obey me #obey me nightbringer #om nightbringer #obey me! nightbringer #dialuci #lucifer x mc #mc x lucifer #obey me! shall we date? #nightbringer obey me #swd om #om swd #obey me! swd #om! nightbringer

[anthosaidsmth]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

#vent incoming #hello I am once again using my silly tumblr blog to vent cuz I literally dont have anyone else in my life #life is just nothing but pain and suffering and my feeble attempt at distracting myself for long enough that I wont be miserable 24/7 #and even my distractions arent helping anymore. video games are now useless because of my dumb brain making everything competitive #writing and drawing dont work too cuz Im in a permant state of creativity block. they no longer bring me joy & are just tasks at this point #Im so fucking tired #every day Im just contemplating about how miserable my life have become #my peers are all enjoying a typical teenage life while Im too busy dealing with trauma to be social as soon as Im out of school #every day I have to pretend to be perfectly functional in front of my friends for 8 hours #because I cant just let the connections Ive built up to go after years of work because I am now mentally fucked #why the fuck did my trauma make me constantly crave attention & affection while also make me keep everyone at arms length #& turn hostile every time someone wants to learn more about me #I am constantly surrounded by people I talk to every single day yet I still feel nothing but loneliness #I feel like I am constantly one mental breakdown away from ending it all Im just in this weird limbo of dead and alive inside #if you read through all of these Im sorry but I have to kill you youve known too much #you must only know me as the funny tumblr person & that only

[elitadream]

It occurred to me recently that I've never shared the headcanons I had regarding Mario's strength in my version, so I thought I'd list them out in a single post for you guys.

Enjoy! :D

- Even without power-up, Mario is stronger and notably more resistant than average.

- This is mainly due to his high muscle density. He has a considerable body mass and is surprisingly heavy despite his short stature.

- He has a very healthy heart and incredible cardio. Sustained efforts that would leave others winded will affect him a lot less.

- His sturdiness gives him great equilibrium and stability, allowing him to keep his footing even on unsteady terrain.

- The man can lift objects up to five times his size and can pull tremendous loads across a short distance.

- He can carry the equivalent of a person's weight for long periods of time without feeling strained or tired.

- He makes labor look deceivingly easy to the point that others constantly underestimate how hard it truly is (and are always astounded when they try it for themselves, only to fail miserably).

- Mario doesn't workout outside of his daily tasks and activities. His job and naturally active disposition are his only form of exercise.

- He sometimes forgets how physically powerful he actually is, and has warped/broken quite a few things by accident.

- He is however extremely mindful of his capabilities when surrounded by others, and always significantly tempers himself when playing or interacting with friends.

- He never uses his strength to its full extent; both because he doesn't need to and because he fears causing harm otherwise.

- His intervention on a rampaging chain chomp was the greatest demonstration of brute force anyone had ever seen in the whole Kingdom. (See here for context)

- The exploit has made him famous among the guards and citizens alike, earning him the prestigious title of "Super" for the first time.

- While not typically one to show off, Mario loves entertaining people through various feats of athletic prowess.

- Out of all the things others seek his help for, he feels most useful when the favor requires either heavy lifting or manual expertise.

- Albeit very efficient when doing more dynamic chores, his prefered way of working is with his hands only.

- He can punch through almost any surface except literal stone and can bend even solid metal out of shape.

- A rush of adrenaline will cause his endurance to skyrocket, making him temporarily able to endure abject levels of pain and exhaustion.

- Despite those physical advantages, he values qualities of the mind and heart a lot more.

- When asked, Mario always says: "My brother and my friends give me strength. I owe them everything."

•°•°•

(There! Feel free to add your own if you have thoughts on those or feel inspired! ^-^)

#The best term I can use to describe how I picture Mario's strength in my AU is ''gentle and effortless'' 💞 #He has a lot of muscle power - but it's soft and considerate just like him 😊 #Mario #headcanon #personal portrayal #characterization #character traits #personality #physical abilities #Super Mario bros #fanart

[wanderingtycho]

For the longest time in Disco Elysium, I couldn’t figure out why Empathy was the stat chosen to represent Moralism, the other political stats made more sense to me.

Rhetoric is Communism, constantly arguing for you and dismantling the arguments of others, choosing to feel smart and miserable over acknowledging your hopelessness under capital.

Endurance is Fascism, purely physical, purely reactionary. No intellectual angle and not the emotions of your mind, but of your gut. The squirming, uncomfortable feeling of your insides telling you that everything sucks in your life because of *them*.

Libertarianism is Savoir Faire, the slimy show off stat, the ooze and groove and grinding of a real hustler. The kind of mentality that leads a terminally poor cop to walk around the most destitute ghetto in the city bragging about his net worth and his visionary money manifesting, to which normal people rightfully treat you as if you’re insane.

All well and good, all tracks, but then there’s Moralism, the political center, the Kingdom of Conscience. The stat for this would seem plainly obvious, Volition, right? The self control stat, the stat of temperance and rationality and measured action. The boring stat. Hell, Volition is the one who chimes in approvingly when you try on the Moralist pants. It seems like a perfect fit, but no, the stat for Moralism is Empathy.

Empathy, the stat that lets you, even forces you to feel for others. To reach them at their level, cut through to the source of all their feelings, the Superego. What does any of that have to do with Moralism? With slow, incremental progress and La Responsabilité?

At first, I thought it might have been an oversight, one Psyche skill swapped with another. Then I thought maybe it was meant as a subtly pro-moralist statement, that extreme political ideologies make it harder to connect with others, and being more “sensible” politically makes you more relatable. But that doesn’t really gel with the games stance on centrism, which is decidedly not positive, with the Moralist International depicted as a cold and dehumanizing force of oppression.

It didn’t make sense until I completed the Moralist political vision quest, which is by far my favorite out of all four. With Harry on top of the statue of Frissel III, begging and pleading with Coalition Warship Archer, it’s an Empathy check you have to pass to make the faceless drone on the other side of the radio see you. Hear you, acknowledge you as a person who is suffering, acknowledge the suffering of Martinase and Revachol under the unfeeling negligence of the Moralintern.

That’s when it hit me, Empathy is the Moralist stat because it taps into a universal human experience. Most people don’t have consistent political beliefs, even those ascribing themselves to more radical points on the spectrum. Most people have a complicated relationship with faith. But that moment of Harry on the statue, shouting desperately at a dreary sky for someone to please do something about this, that moment is empathetic to us all.

Regardless of political leanings, whether secular or spiritual, that gnawing existential dread is consistent. The world keeps getting worse and worse, and nobody with any power seems to care, every day we’re met with the silence of God and the silence of Capital. That’s why Empathy was chosen to embody Moralism, to recognize that deep down we’ve all felt that anxious longing. To look up at the sky and hope that something, someone. Anything, anyone, would please just listen and hear. Please just do something about this.

#disco elysium

[catboybiologist]

About to fall asleep ramble time, this has been kicking around in my brain for a bit and I need to get some form of this thought out

I was diagnosed with ADHD and gender dysphoria one day after the other back in August. Extremely stereotypically zillenial of me, I know. Handling both of these has dramatically improved my quality of life. yes yes insert discourse about how much you need to have dysphoria as a diagnosis, it's just a tool for the medical system that's ultimately meaningless, that's not what this is about.

There's one thing that was really, really weird about the experience of getting care for both of these.

Most treatment and public talk of transition and motivations to transition are about misery. How much despair your birth sex gives you and how gender affirming care is the only stopgap against suicide (oftentimes, used as a barrier to entry that it should only be given when it's at the suicidal point). How crushing dysphoria is.

In contrast, most of the public perception of ADHD is this cutesy, "omg look I'm so quirky" kind of thing. People talk of ADHD "superpowers" and how neat it is to have hyperfixations (I'm low key starting to dislike that word, even though it's an accurate description of many things- it's very overused).

My actual experience has been almost exactly the opposite.

I absolutely had gender dysphoria, and still do, and misery associated with being AMAB. But is that what defines my trans experience? No, and in fact, it feels like a more incidental blip in it. My trans experience has mostly been defined by joy, by feeling my mind and body slowly make me more and more content with my default existence day after day. And the exploration of it all! The social roles, the romantic dynamics, the friendship dynamics, even small aesthetics like clothes and makeup, and again, the body and mood changes. It's incredible and it brings me joy so much of the time. That, more than anything, has defined my trans experience.

In contrast.... ADHD has objectively made nearly every aspect of my life more miserable. Working with my therapist and my pysch, as well as feeling what it's like to be properly medicated, have shown me extremely well how much the constant feelings of misery I always seemed to have were caused by ADHD. ADHD means being unable to receive a baseline level of dopamine to function under normal circumstances, so your brain starts looking for any way it can get new sources. And wouldn't ya know it, novel stimuli are a perfect way to do that. Keep in mind that dopamine isn't just "the pleasure molecule" it's a neurotransmitter with a broad range of functions. If you don't have ADHD, or even if you do, I want you to think about how miserable of an existence that is. Your default state is depression and inability to do things. It has been for me for most of my life. Additionally, anxieties creep into your head and distract you far more easily. You're less functional. You can't do simple things most of the time. You're distracted and have anxiety spikes easily. Continuous tasks are hard. And day in, day out... You are miserable. Almost constantly.

Oh also, you're easily addicted to extreme novel stimuli. For me, it was self harm. And when that stopped working... Well, I was in a state of mostly background depression that was only punctuated by spikes of massive, overwhelming anxiety that my brain hooked itself on. At a certain point, I just wanted it to end, by any means necessary.

It's been almost ten years since that day, and at this point I can genuinely say that I'm glad I'm still here.

But it wasn't dysphoria that did that (it contributed a bit, but still wasn't the biggest factor). Or a depressive disorder. Or bipolar. Or whatever the big, more "scary" mental illnesses or neurodivergencies are. They tried to treat me for some of them, and it ended horribly. My symptoms fit mixed presentation ADHD perfectly, including my physiological response to stimulants. They don't fit anything else. I likely don't have any strong comorbidities, unless you count the symptom-level anxiety and depression. ADHD did all of that to me. The "cute and quirky" one.

By the time I got around to a diagnosis, my pysch was astounded that I made it as far as I did with symptoms as severe as mine. Tackling ADHD has removed so much misery from my life, it's indescribable. Adderall has been the only thing that has ever actually gotten rid of my constant anxiety.

It's not fucking cute. Keeping with this being the flip side to my dysphoria, I do try to keep it light most of the time, and I join in on all of the classic "whoopsie doopsie my ADHD" trains and jokes. You don't have to stop making those, hell, they're fun. There are cute and funny parts to having ADHD, and ways it's made my personality what it is. But don't forget that this is also something that makes people genuinely suffer well beyond the "oopsie I'm such a procrastinator!!!" Type thing.

Idk where this thought is going. It's just kind of an observation that's been kicking around in my head for a bit. So uh. Hope it at least generates discussion? Feel free to add your experiences if you think it'll help you. But fuck I need to sleep lol

#trans #adhd #cw self harm #cw suicide

[kelseytheballerina]

I got a lot of asks on this topic with slight variations of essentially the same question so here goes.

Fake confidence is not confidence. It’s literally fake, it says that in the name. It’s pretending. That’s not terrible but if you’re wondering why all this time has gone by and you still haven’t become truly confident it’s because it’s fake! At best it will appear real to outsiders, which is nice, but you will still be miserable as the person who is inhabiting your body and living your life. Fake confidence only looks good until someone with authentic confidence walks into the room and shows you how it’s done. The truth is that most people who fake it until they make it, don’t ever make it. They are just hoping to be perceived as someone who has made it.

I’m sorry to tell you but if you’ve been doing affirmations for years and years and you’re still sending me asks about being confident, it’s not working. I can’t say if you’re doing it wrong, not doing it enough, or not believing it hard enough but either way, something’s gotta give. How many more years are you gonna waste?

You start building confidence in 2 ways: one, you get action-based self esteem. Get some hobbies and work on them. Learn some skills, get good grades, try something new. Do something with your days!! Make an effort!! Complete something!! Scrolling all day won’t give you a sense of accomplishment and when 5,7,10 years go by and you look up and realize that you have nothing going for yourself, you will obviouslyyyyy feel like crap. Reread this point over and over again. Two, get in tune with yourself and figure out what you like, dislike, and truly want. When you really know yourself like that, you will make moves accordingly. You won’t question everything you do and run all of your decisions past other people. You’ll just happily make decisions on your own accord. You will not get to know yourself on a deep enough level if you are online all day and that’s a fact. You’re constantly bombarded with everyone else’s content, everyone else’s opinions, everyone else’s sense of style. Your brain has become a frankstein monster of every other persons ideas. Who are you even? Do you even know? Without a bunch of tiktok girls to tell you what your new aesthetic of the month is, do you even know what you like doing, buying, wearing, how you like to decorate, or what you want to do as a morning routine? Or are you just gonna keep letting outsiders tell you that in January you’re a pink Pilates princess and in March you’re a clean girl and in July you’re that girl. Who are you?? You’ll never be confident if you’re always cosplaying other people. Log off and find yourself.

Stop crumbling every time someone doesn’t like you or what you do. Learn to like yourself! Stop letting the opinions of strangers hold you hostage. Do you like yourself? Okay then.

Remember that being confident doesn’t require you to think you’re the best of the best, the crème de la crème, the hottest thing walking. You can think your looks are overall average, and still be wildly confident. You can acknowledge that you aren’t the best in the world and still be confident. Not only is being less than perfect absolutely okay, it’s rooted in reality. When people try to boost your confidence by having you tell yourself that you’re essentially perfect in whatever domain, that’s toxic positivity and fake confidence yet again. Rid yourself of the thought that confidence always looks like arrogance and lying to yourself about being at the top of the pyramid. Yes you have shortcomings. Lots of them. So do I. And???

I just want to reiterate that lying to yourself hardly does anything for your confidence long term and it’s just so clear. If you are upset about the fact that your body is average, your face is average, you have little to no dating experience, and you haven’t been a part of any substantial activities since freshman year volleyball where you weren’t even that great and quit after one year, I don’t know why you think that pretending you’re Maddy Perez or Jennie while you halfheartedly recite affirmations that state you’re the sexiest woman in the room ✨, everyone is obsessed with you ✨, you attract nothing but life’s luxuries ✨ is really helping you. Like….this isn’t building your confidence really. Giving you a bandaid perhaps. But what would really make you feel better is to go out and get some activities into your schedule where you start at a low level and through your hard work you get better and better. You start working out and building the body you want. You accept the fact that you don’t need to be the prettiest girl in the world to enjoy yourself and have a fantastic life, so instead you style your hair and makeup in a way that you genuinely like and confidently go out into the world knowing and fully being okay with the fact that not everyone thinks you’re stunning but that’s okay. Because you are pleased when you look in the mirror. And there’s more to life than trying (and failing) to be everyone’s type. That’s much more progress than listening to “manifest looking like an instagram model 10 hour 3D audio” every night.

#yours truly ♡

[babyleostuff]

fight for my life | xu minghao

warnings | anxiety, depression and real life

author's note | this is very much self indulgent and i just want to say to every person that is struggling as well - i'm so proud of you and know that your life is always worth fighting for

Breath in. Breath out.

It never helped, but you did it anyway. There were seemingly hundreds of ways to calm your racing heartbeat, so why did nothing help then? 

There was nothing pretty about anxiety and depression - your greasy hair, eyebags, the unwashed t-shirt which you were wearing for the past week and dishes laying in your sink, waiting to be put in the dishwasher, proved the point that you were not okay. 

All you wanted was to slowly fade away, from the pain, from the disappointment - from everything that made you so miserable, because how were you supposed to be happy, when you didn’t even find comfort in that one place which always made sure you were feeling even a bit better. 

Minghao’s arms, even though they held you as they had done a million times before, felt strange, the usual warmth of his body feeling distant, his lips pressed against your forehead were merely an insignificant touch and the fabric of his hoodie icky against your own skin.

“I’m here,” a quiet voice that you knew so well - that used to sing you to sleep, laugh at your jokes and tease you with no end, whispered into your ear, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

“No matter what’s going in that pretty head of yours, I’m staying with you,” he whispered again, combing through your tangled hair. 

“Is he even real?” You thought to yourself. Because what have you done to deserve such an amazon human being, to be able to call him your boyfriend, your safe space and your best friend. Most people would leave the second they saw any symptoms of depression, but he didn’t. 

He stayed. 

“I’m sorry,” your own voice quivered, as you reached for his hand, trying to find a way to ground yourself, to get back to reality. 

The reality of your beautiful apartment, where you were laying on the sofa that you were fighting so much about before actually buying it (Minghao didn’t really like the colour, but he eventually gave in to your begging), the lit candles that stood on every surface possible, because it always calmed Minghao down, his paintings hung on the wall and pictures of him and the boys framed, never failing to make your heart feel a bit warmer. 

You knew how many good, no - great memories this house held, yet you couldn’t get yourself to focus on any of them. You knew how life worked, that it was like a sine wave, constantly going up and down. 

It just seemed that your down was bigger than usual. 

“You don’t even realise how strong you are, my love. How brave you are for fighting,” he held your body closer to his own. “You’re brave for fighting for your life,” Minghao whispered, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek. 

Maybe he was right, you weren’t sure. Because, what kind of a fight was that? You were laying in your bed all day, not being able to focus on anything more than your daunting thoughts, that seemed to destroy every single precious thing. 

“No matter how bad you think it is,” his calm voice broke the silence once again. “It is going to be alright,” he stroked your cheek with his thumb, his eyes holding nothing but love and admiration for you. Because to him, you were the most courageous person he knew and he was so proud of you. 

Mingaho could spend an eternity laying with you on that damn couch, holding you, stroking your hair, whispering into your ear - just for you to find your happiness again and see your beautiful smile on your face. Even the smallest one. 

“Trust me, eventually it will get better.” 

And that was what you were holding onto. 

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star

#seventeen imagines #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #svt reactions #seventeen fluff #seventeen reactions #svt fluff #seventeen kpop #seventeen carat #seventeen #seventeen reaction #minghao fluff #the8 #minghao #minghao x reader #minghao imagines #xu minghao #minghao x y/n #minghao x you #minghao angst #seventeen angst #svt angst #svt x you #svt xu minghao #svt x reader #svt x y/n #svt x oc #myungho #svt the8 #seventeen the8

[katapotato55]

my theory as to why doomers exist (and how to break that mentality to be a better writer)

yesterday my sibling texted me "hey can you list me what major historical events you experienced in life for an assignment? " of course I listed the big ones like COVID and other depressing shit I went through in my life but most of the ones i listed were not super depressing. here are some of them: -the rise of steve jobs and the popularity of modern OS -the rise of smartphones -new technology completely changing the world that I thought I would never see in my lifetime, like VR and self driving cars. -massive cultural impacts such as spongebob being created affecting pop culture -the start of facebook and modern social media -pluto being declared not a planet yknow stuff on the top of my head that I thought would be interesting to write about.

then my sibling came home to tell me that most of what I sent was not helpful at all and that they meant "world events" And i asked "how the hell is the invention of the smart phone and the beginning of modern social media not considered "world events" by these standards" they said "idk just not that"

I think what they meant to say was "my teacher only wants the really depressing miserable shit the media thinks is headline worthy"

You know, I think this is why my generation is full of so many doomers. God forbid we have a positive outlook on this world and try and look at the bright side of things. god forbid we try to be optimistic for both the future and our current lives. we seem to have this thin veil of maturity that depressing=mature somehow. That the only way to make anything of nuance is to basically spam "look how shit everything is! look how enlightened I am" like you are Steve cutts.

well you know what ?

I hate art like the stuff steve cutts makes, and I hate this redundant "look how shit the world is" mentality

I plan on making an analysis post later on about Mr. Cutts, but for now let's stay on point this mentality is redundant and helps no one. yes. we do need to be aware of the bad parts of life. But being a pathetic miserable sod and ignoring the upsides is just as immature and childish as an aggressive optimist thinking the world is all sunshine and rainbows. you know why I like undertale so much ? Undertale knows when to be optimistic and has a mature take on a happy ending. Undertale ALLOWS itself to be happy. enough with the rick and morty level of writing where everything sucks and "fuck you in particular for being hopeful" only edgy 14 year olds think being depressing is the same as being mature. Maturity is understanding that there is nuance to everything and understanding that things are what they are. Do you want to be a good writer ? stop overly relying on being a sad doomer. Even the darkest writers in history like Edgar Allen Poe knew how to lighten the fuck up, because you need to understand the positives in life to effectively create dark writing.

thank you for reading this ironically negative rant, I plan to expand more on the subject later on.

EDIT

ngl i was honestly scared this post would open me up to harassment. I was genuinely terrified of attracting the psycho political crowd that treats politics like religious doctrine. first of all, shout out to this person:

I feel like this would be the perfect opportunity to talk about my struggle with depression as an artist and the stereotype behind it. the stereotype is that only the best artists are emotionally tortured people constantly struggling in agony and putting that into their art. now as someone who has been battling depression for 10 years let me tell you: that mentality is a load of horse shit. the greatest artists in history such as Van Gogh were not great artists because they were depressed they were great artists because they had a combination of passion and unique life experience. It just so happens that depression is a unique life experience to go through. being depressed does not make you deep, it just makes you feel empty and possibly sad depending on what flavor of depression you have. all the great stories about depression are not great because its about depression, but because its about the writers personal experiences and the love and hard work that went into making it. if Van gogh got treatment for his mental health issues, he would have still created art. Yes he created art as his job, but he also did it because he loved it and put his personal feelings and passion into his work. the biggest reason why I detest Steve Cutts is because there is no passion nor personal experience in his work. yes he is talented but most of his animations are just regurgitating all the bad things he could think of and nothing personal is going into it. (again I plan on making an analysis post about steve cutts sooner or later) What makes the art of Van Gogh deep and Steve Cutts as deep as a dry puddle is the fact that you can tell who put their own soul and personality into their work. heed my warning new artists and writers depression =/= deep all depression does is cripple you. Seek out life experience to be the best artist you can be.

#writing advice #writing #creative writing #writing help #writing tips #writer #writer on tumblr #writer problems #writer tips #writing community

[natsmagi]

sorry for making yet another textpost but i came across that post saying they dislike transfem natsume because he "canonically hates being perceived as a girl and tries to erase all sorts of memories related to that" and also went on to shame genderbends of him aswell. So, as someone who not only draws genderbends of natsume but is myself someone who is nonbinary and hates being perceived as a woman, i thought id offer my two cents

first of all; i think its important to note that natsume does NOT hate his childhood. in fact, hes quite happy that he had such an unusual upbringing!

what natsume hates is being perceived as weak. thats why he was raised as a girl after all, it was his mother trying to protect him from evil spirits. he doesnt hate the whole "-chan" or "wearing dresses" thing because he has a hatred for womanhood, its because due to his upbringing hes now come to associate those things as being weak. he begs tsumugi to forget about it because that means tsumugi remembers natsume being weak, and natsume thinks tsumugi still referring to him as "natsume-chan" means he still sees natsume as weak. (iirc natsume did however once say that he is a little sad that he doesnt really know how to relate to young boys due to this in poltergeist, but i couldnt find the exact quote. either way that just adds to the complexity of natsumes relationship with his childhood, because while he is happy to be "abnormal" in that sense, it has left him lacking in some areas)

i have to ask though, should this conflict of his not be something we hope he overcomes? should we not want him to develop a healthy relationship with various gender expressions? should we not want natsume to overcome his belief that feminine things = weakness? i want natsume to reach a point where he can wear feminine clothing and not feel like some damsel in distress because of it. i want natsumes character to grow. i want him to develop a positive relationship with his gender because natsume DOES enjoy some more typically feminine things, like baking! he used to bake with his mom when he was little! and i want him to feel like he can indulge in that side of him without feeling insecure.....

i LOVE transmasc natsume, my primary hc for him is transmasc nonbinary after all, but with all these things considered, shouldnt people be allowed to headcanon him however they want? if they hear his story and negative relationship with femininity and how that resonates with them and they themselves are transfem, should they not be allowed to hc him as such too?

which brings me to my next point; my own personal relationship with gender and femininity. i was raised as a girl and i fucking DESPISED womanhood. i hated everything about it. i hated how i felt forced into a box i didnt want to be stuck in, and i hated how it felt like my whole life had already been planned out for me due to societal expectations, aswell as me needing to present a certain way. i was peak "tomboy" growing up, constantly wearing super baggy clothes and wouldnt even brush my hair alot of the time. but despite that i remained miserable. i frankly hated how i looked and would constantly dye my hair vibrant colors in an attempt to make me like myself a little more. it wasnt until i realized "wow, im actually not a girl at all" that i finally let go of believing i needed to look a certain way (and thus, defying it) and started to dress for myself. i started to dress in clothes that made me happy and feel pretty! alot of which leans feminine, but clothes doesnt have a gender, and how you dress doesnt define your gender either, but it can still be a bit scary yknow? especially since i dont want people to think of me as a girl, and drawing a bunch of femstars has really made me learn to love myself more in a funny way. i can put these characters in clothes i think are beautiful, i can explore the more feminine parts of me that i adore but dont want to express in public due to how i want others to perceive me, but it has also warmed me up to femininity even more. because femstars to me feels detached from the expectations of society because its not a real thing!! there are no canon femstars designs!!! i can do literally whatever the hell i want with it and its been so liberating to me!!

all this to say; i think it really sucks seeing the way this fandom treats transfem hcs and explicit genderbends, because like ive said before; they can truly be something so personal. you dont know why that person is drawing what theyre drawing, so its a little unwise to make assumptions based on ........ Well, whatever it may be. i know very well that women dressing the way society expects them to SUCKS, esp if you have personal ties to it, but you have to realize the issue isnt femininity, but misogyny.

#maybe ill delete this later idk but i just felt like i needed to say something #as i constantly see these things being spoken of yet never do these people actually reach out to femstarries #and ask Hey why are you doing this? #so instead they make bad faith assumptions and it really sucks. #and while im here; #trans hcs count as genderbends. Because you have changed the characters gender #*IF the org chara is a cisman and you make them a trans woman i should add #once again Stop treating trans and cis people as two separate things #if it was a cisbend itd be CALLED CISBEND #and the reason i tag genderbend is because i know some people dont like it #and thats valid!!! no one is forced to like this kind of stuff!!! #and some people who dont like genderbends might be new to enstars and dont know what femstars is #so should it not still be tagged for those people too? #should we not look out for the trans people who dont wish to see their favs be a different gender??? #i dont get it. i really dont #this post probably wont even reach the right audience but wtv #nat rambles #nats enst posting

[cloudyyoimiya]

hi there, hope you’re doing well! i just read your scenario with yandere ranpo and a darling in danger and i am OBSESSED!! 💜 the dynamic is so freaking good, my favorite bit is when darling asks about the candy being drugged, i feel like it did so much to build up their past relationship and pique my interest. the way that ranpo’s darling was so resigned to their fate was heartbreaking but so well written, i love how much it implies about darling’s experience in captivity while also leaving so much up to the imagination. i have to say i was so thoroughly intrigued by the open ending! the idea that ranpo’s darling defeatedly agrees to go back to their prison, but also clearly still hates it and has simply lost all hope of ever escaping, and is now beginning to give in for the sake of making their miserable life easier..it has infected my brain man (/pos)!! so i saw that your requests were open in your bio and i was like i simply have to ask: would you be willing to write a continuation to that scenario that shows what it is like when ranpo brings his darling back to his home (prison)?

i’ve also written fanfic in the past, so i totally understand if it’s a situation where you had the inspo for the blurb but not really any ideas for past that! so, no pressure to write, but if you would possibly like a further prompt, the idea that i was picturing is a depressing fic where darling is giving in more and more to ranpo because they’re too tired of all of the punishments and they just want their life in captivity to be easier since they know they can’t ever escape him..but if you do decide to write, feel free to write whatever you feel like! Thank you, have a great night! 💜

AUGH thank you for your kind words, anon! they truly mean a lot! i showed this to my friend bc it made me so happy, i hope you don’t mind!! i was having a bad day when i first read your kind words so it cheered me up a lot LMDBF. anyways, here you go! i had fun writing and thinking about what would happen

Coming Back Home; Ranpo Edogawa

Format: Headcanons and scenario

Possible warnings: Yandere content, dark themes, discussion of kidnapping, manipulation, mentions of injuries

Disclaimer: This is a continuation of Ranpos part of this fic! I recommend you read it first!

When you were cleared to finally go home by Yosano, you felt as if you wanted to die. You’d be dragged back to your eternal prison by some man-child that claimed to love you like no other.

You knew what he was capable of, and he’d constantly remind you of it. He’d always tell you that he could frame you for the murder of people you hold dear. He’d make sure that you’d go to prison. The only way for him to prove your innocence and get you out of prison was to stay by his side. Though, all of this is a what if…

He’d make sure that you were his, even if it meant tampering with your criminal record.

Escaping while walking back was out of the question because of this.

When the both of you go returned ‘home’, you were more submissive than usual. You didn’t like it one bit, but it was your only choice at this point. You knew that he’d become more protective over this incident. He doesn’t want you to get kidnapped again…

If you even tried to defy him then things would turn out for the worst.

It was terrible.

If you started to comply more, then maybe he wouldn’t keep you in that one single room anymore. Maybe he’d be slightly kinder…

Don’t get me wrong, he was really “nice” to you even before you got kidnapped by that gang. He made sure that all your needs were met, it’s just the mental blockage of him forcibly taking you from your home that stopped you from returning his “kindness.”

Scenario…

The walk “home” was filled with a deafening silence. You could barely think straight as you walked throughout Yokohama. Your mind kept scattering to when you were first kidnapped by that gang—how they beaten and bruised you. Your body still ached from the beatings despite Yosano using “Thou Shalt Not Die” on you. It hurt to walk. It hurt to breathe. It was suffocating. You hated it.

Ranpo opened the front door to your shared “home” and motioned for you to enter. You reluctantly did so, not wanting to somehow manage to anger him by your hesitance.

You sat down on the nearest couch and stared at your lap. Your pants had several cuts in them, so it was clear that you would need new ones sooner or later. It was unfortunate because they were your favorite pair too! They provided you comfort when you so desperately needed it.

“Are you alright?” Ranpo asked as he sat next to you. “You seem sad.”

You bit your tongue, not wanting to say something that you would regret. “I’m fine, Ranpo.”

Ranpo took out a lollipop from his pocket and unwrapped it. He then plopped it in his mouth and hummed in approval. It was his favorite flavor.

“You don’t seem fine,” he said, the lollipop still in his mouth. “Talk to me.”

“Ranpo I told you I’m fine,” you said back.

You didn’t want him to see your weakness, but you already knew that he saw through you. He was the greatest detective out there, and that’s what scared you. He knew everything about you just by one glance. It made chills slowly creep up your spine, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“Someone is lying to me!~” He spoke rather childishly. “(Name), I told you how I feel about liars.”

You tensed up at his words. When he first took you in captive he told you that he’d punish you if you ever lied to him. At first you didn’t believe him at all, but you ended up finding out the hard way that he was indeed speaking the truth. You still remember the day where he refused to feed you because you lied about something that was happening at work. You felt nauseous from the lack of food in your stomach at the time

“Fine. I’m just shaken up is all, alright? Nothing bad.”

Ranpo squinted at you for one moment, trying to see if what you said was the truth. He then nodded to himself then went to hug you.

“Oh my (Name), you’re gonna be okay! Well, you’ll be okay as long as you love me! You do love me, right?”

“I do love you,” you said. You knew that you didn’t mean your words—you never have. You only said it to appease your captor.

Ranpo hugged you tighter. He knew that you didn’t mean your words one bit, but he still accepted them. He knew that one day you’d eventually come around to his affections. That day may not come any time soon, but he’s willing to wait. He’s willing to wait only for you.

You slowly hugged him back, not wanting him to give you any lip about not returning the sign of love. In a gross way it felt strangely comforting, but yet at the same time it felt suffocating. It almost made your skin crawl.

“That’s so good to hear!” He said happily. “Anyways, what do you want for dinner, hm? I’ll order something! You deserve to be pampered after almost dying!”

“Uhm… How about your favorite? I want you to be happy,” you lied through your teeth.

You had to be considerate of his feelings. Otherwise he’d punish you.

“That sounds good,” he hummed.

Ranpo pulled out his phone and he started to order the food. Eventually he looked up at you and gave you a lazy kind smile.

“Go change your clothes.”

You nodded as you stood up. You then went into your bedroom and picked out Ranpos’ favorite outfit of yours. You stripped down and put on the outfit, then walked back out of the room. The outfit wasn’t sexual at all, but it still made you feel uncomfortable.

You sat down next to him and he leaned his head on your shoulder. “The food should be here soon, darling.”

“Alright.”

He wrapped his arms around you delicately. You’ve been so good ever since you returned home with him, and he knew that you were sore, so he decided not to put more stress on your body.

“I love you so much. Promise not to leave me, alright?”

#yandere #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bsd #yandere ranpo #ranpo edogawa #edogawa ranpo #ranpo x reader #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd headcanons #bsd season 4 #bsd s4 #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs ranpo #ranpo bsd #ranpo edogawa x reader

[luna-writes-stuff]

Jackie and Wilson, Pedro Pascal

Song link

Fanfic, gn! reader

Meet-cute, fluff

Word count: 3168

Tw: I hate this fic haha, but enjoy anyway. Also, you’re a bartender now so obvious mentions of alcohol. Paparazzi, slight anxiety, mutual pining. Making fun of paparazzi? That’s it?

Summary: You work in a local bar when the building is suddenly surrounded with paparazzi. You knew why they were there - you had already served him two drinks. However, instead of throwing him out, you got talking with him. And after a day of keeping up appearances and minding rules, you are an incredibly comfortable distraction to him.

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“So tired trying to see from behind the red in my eyes. No better version of me I could pretend to be tonight. So deep in this swill with the most familiar of swine. For reasons wretched and divine.”

When a career finally takes off, it could offer one more than they bargained for. Take a wealthy lawyer, who bathes in money, but wallows in sunken dignity and dishonesty - or a proclaimed doctor, who performs surgeries and saves lives like no other, but returns home with dreadful stories of the day and baggage they wish they could have left at the hospital.

When an actor’s career begins to take off, they will gain fame. A fandom is built, money flows in, your name can be seen on billboards; it seems as if you are on the top of the world. But with that also comes the need to constantly watch what you say or what you do. Be professional during interviews, don’t spend too much time taking pictures with fans on a red carpet, don’t go out too much or the restaurant might have to close because it can’t handle its guests’ capacity.

It could bring stability, financial safety, a feeling of satisfaction - the ability to take care of those who you love and spoil them unconditionally. But regardless of how often stars will tell you that the famous life can be miserable, most fail to correctly grasp this concept.

You weren’t famous by any means. You worked in a local bar, serving local drunks and local students. So, when a crowd of people began to gather in front of your windows, taking pictures with obnoxious flashes with no apparent respect, you had been taken aback. After multiple warnings and questions for privacy, your boss had finally called the police to clear the situation. Then, after two hours, it was finally somewhat quiet again.

“She blows outta nowhere, roman candle of the wild. Laughing away through my feeble disguise. No other version of me I would rather be tonight. And, Lord, she found me just in time.”

However surprised, you were not stupid. You knew why they were here, or - more specifically- for who. You had served him two drinks at the bar before he retreated to the table in the far corner of the room, further away from the windows. He didn’t even have to say his name before you put the drinks on his tab. You didn’t hide the fact that you knew him, but he was a customer. You were not going to hinder his privacy or dignity if you could help it. Not during work hours, not after work hours. Which brought you back to the point that it was company policy that a customer on tap had to order at least one drink every thirty minutes, or they had to make room for new customers.

And thus, with the crowd finally cleared, you made your usual round of the room, taking orders and offering people their drinks. When you finally arrived at his table, you grabbed his empty glass, immediately drawing his attention to you. “Can I get you anything else?” A polite smile was shot from him as he nodded briefly, then turning back to his phone. As you grabbed a pen, you tried to strike up a casual conversation, not even thinking about your words until they were spoken: “If you don’t mind me asking, what brings you all the way here?”

Shocked at your own words, you squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment, remembering his line of work and his reputation. “And if you do mind me asking, just tell me it’s work.” You quickly added, now grabbing the notepad as well. Pedro only chuckled at that, putting his phone on the table as he looked back at you: “I don’t mind you asking,” he answered. “But it is work.”

Raising your eyebrows, you nodded at him with a relieved smile. “Lucky guess.”

“'Cause with my mid-youth crisis all said and done. I need to be youthfully felt 'cause, God, I never felt young.”

Seemingly pondering his next words, he spoke before you could begin your next sentence, a gentle expression on his face. “The place I’m staying at had cameras on me at every angle. Figured I’d have a little more privacy in a downtown bar.” You pursed your lips at that, nodding sarcastically: “Ah yes, that worked great.”

Again, you squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head as you tried to correct yourself. “I’m sorry.” But instead of a stupid remark or an uncomfortable silence, you heard his laugh followed by a dismissive wave. “No, you’re fine.”

His eyes fell upon the pad before you, unseemingly changing the subject: “I’ll have another cola.” Observing his smiles and laughs made some part of confidence grow within you. All night he had ordered nothing but cola, and where you would usually tease your customers for it, you found yourself somewhat withdrawn with him.

You didn’t know if it was because of his entire reputation or simply the way he looked at you, but you were hesitant to speak your next words. But when he continued to gently smile at you, you couldn’t resist the light tease: “It comes with a lemon. You sure you can handle that?”

“She's gonna save me, call me "baby" Run her hands through my hair. She'll know me crazy, soothe me daily. Better yet, she wouldn't care.”

You didn’t know it then, but that simple remark had made him feel incredibly at ease. A day filled with formal greetings and the constant need to make himself look presentable faded the second you teased him over ordering another cola. He didn’t even have time to comment on your words, your figure already making its way back to the bar.

It was your coworker who later arrived at his table with his drink. When he couldn’t see you behind the bar, he stood up, grabbing his stuff as he made way to the long counter. He had sat down on one of the chairs, trying to subtle glance around the room trying to catch any glimpse of you.

You walked back into the building a handful of minutes later, announcing your break to be over. That had explained why he couldn’t see you. Your face lit up slightly as you noticed that he changed his seating, now in front of you as you would work. In a way, it didn’t seem distracting nor unwanted. If anything, part of it felt comfortable.

“We'll steal her Lexus, be detectives, Ride 'round picking up clues. We'll name our children, Jackie and Wilson. Raise 'em on rhythm and blues.”

“Corner got lonely?” You asked, hanging your jacket up behind you before turning around, facing him from the other side of the bar. “Music’s better here.” He countered, pointing to the box above the doorway. You followed his gaze, rolling your eyes jokingly as you spotted the equipment.

“Here I thought you were beginning to like me.” You quipped, grabbing a glass as you began to clean it. He watched you work, unsure if he should interrupt or not. “You lied,” he suddenly said, gaining your attention. His hand raised slightly, the cola clutched tight in his fingers. “It doesn’t come with a lemon.”

You grinned at him, reaching for a slice of lemon before handing it to him. “I did promise.” You agreed, returning to your work as he grabbed the slice from your hand. Once more, a silence fell over the two of you.

“Lord, it'd be great to find a place we could escape sometime. Me and my Isis growing black irises in the sunshine. Every version of me dead and buried in the yard outside. We'd sit back and watch the world go by.”

“You from around here?” He asked, trying to fill the silence. You shrugged at him, knowing it was no good idea to announce your address in a public space. But a vague idea could never hurt: “Ten minute drive,” you revealed. “Why?”

Toying with the straw in his drink as he pushed the lemon down, the man revealed: “I was wondering what there was to do around here. It’s gonna be at least two more days.”

You scoffed at that, finding pity in the fact that he of all people got stranded in a town not widely known for its publicity, media, or events. Yet, a world famous star was sitting in front of you, and you were about to announce that there was nothing to do here.

“Light shopping?” You tried to promote, referring to your local stores and perhaps three big brands. “Maybe the cinema plays a good film, but that’s about all you’ll find here.” Placing the glass back on its original place, you spun around with a dramatic gesture of your hand. “You’re stranded in the middle of nowhere, my good sir.” Humming lightly, you spoke the hooking cords of the infamous Eagles song: “Welcome to the Hotel California.”

“Happy to lie back watch it burn and rust. We tried the world, good God, it wasn't for us.”

Pedro shook his head in entertainment, earlier anxiety slowly settling down as the nerves left his system. Being around someone who was somewhat nonchalant about him made him feel relaxed in some sort of unusual manner. It wasn’t unwelcomed, though.

“Any good restaurants?” He continued, his interest growing as he tried to build up to next questions. You remained oblivious to his intentions though, and happily answered him: “Like a handful. There’s not much here.” When he failed to respond to that, you grabbed a post-it, already jotting down some names. “I could give you a small list of recommendations.”

He simply hummed in reassurance, peeking over the bar to look at what you were writing down. He could not help but feel slight disappointment as he found out you were indeed writing down names of places that sounded a lot like restaurants and cafes. So, maybe flirting hadn’t been his strong suit, but he was steadfast if he was anything. He just leaned back, leaving you to finish your writing.

“She's gonna save me, call me "baby", Run her hands through my hair. She'll know me crazy, soothe me daily. Better yet, she wouldn't care.”

When you handed him the note, he pretended to read the names, asking you a question while his eyes remained on the paper: “What’s your favourite place? One you can really recommend?”

Instead of a genuine answer, what he had expected, you laughed instead. When he looked at you, he noted the way your expression had also found slight humour in his earlier words. “Way out of my budget,” you chuckled. “Went there once for a birthday.” Then, you looked at him, shrugging as you remembered what he did in life. “Might be your alley, though. And otherwise, the local cafeteria serves amazing fries.” You put the emphasis on amazing, almost imagining the dish in front of you now. You could go for some good fries.

“Could you show me where?” His voice tore you from your thoughts, forcing you back to the bar, his eyes gentle. Instinctively, you reached for the paper, ready to start writing again: “I’ll write the address down.”

“We'll steal her Lexus, be detectives, Ride 'round picking up clues. We'll name our children, Jackie and Wilson. Raise 'em on rhythm and blues.”

You didn’t see the slight defeat in his eyes as you mindlessly grabbed your phone and started looking up addresses. If you had, you wouldn’t have even taken the card to begin with. You would have decided to tease him back on it. But you hadn’t seen it.

In his eyes, it felt like another let down. Either he was being too low-key, you were being too oblivious, or this was your way of letting him down easy. You did stand behind a bar all night. He wouldn’t be the first, nor would he be the last to try to make a move. You must have mastered turning down flirting attempts during that time.

When your eyes finally rose, you did see the way his eyebrows had furrowed slightly, or how that friendly smile had lightly faded. When he noticed you were looking at him, he gave you a questioning look. Not one of curiosity, but as if he was asking you if you had understood him or not.

“Oh.” You sighed, ultimately catching onto his meaning. Your heart skipped a beat when he didn’t try to defend himself. He had been genuine. You could almost curse yourself for not having paid more attention.

“Cut clean from the dream at night, let my mind reset. Looking up from a cigarette, and she's already left.”

“If you would be okay with that.” He added, his voice more hushed than before, almost as if you had already rejected him. At that, a feather light feeling entered your stomach, the ability to form words finally coming back to you: “The cafeteria or…” you trailed off, unsure of where he wanted to go.

At your words, that same smile climbed back, neither of you missing the slight and - unsuccessfully - suppressed sigh of relief. “Your favourite place.” He cleared up.

You nodded at him, handing him the post-it, now filled with tiny scribbles of street names. “Cafeteria it is.” You decided.

“You sure?” He asked, putting the note in his pocket, his full attention now on you. You hummed in affirmation, waving your hand off in the distance. “I can’t afford that restaurant.” You shared, but interrupted him as he went to speak. “And I am not going to let you pay for everything.”

Though he wanted to, he hadn’t argued with it that night. Nor did he the night after, or the night after that. It wasn’t until you officially started going out, that you allowed him to lay for your dinner every so often.

“I start digging up the yard for what's left of me and our little vignette. For whatever poor soul is coming next.”

And now, three years later, you were seated in that exact same cafeteria you had dined in back when you first met. When your boss had to call the cops in order to get the paparazzi to leave. It was insane to consider you had not become used to them, even if that was not a fond thing.

To him, you felt like a moment of pure nothingness; he didn’t have to pretend or hold up to any expectations. There was nothing he needed to say or needed to hear. As insane as it might have sounded to him, he simply felt like a normal person around you again. As if he had never become famous, and never played in award-nominated shows and films. And that was why he had initially fallen for you. It was because of your calming demeanour. And none of that had changed through the years.

“They’re not making it subtle, are they?” You joked, as you watched a man with his long lens camera with flash on sitting on a terrace on the opposite side of you. Fries were stuffed in your mouth as Pedro was munching away on some greasy burger. Opening your mouth in an undignified manner, you turned to the camera, flipping them off, before returning to your meal.

Pedro laughed at you, holding his hand in front of his eyes as he tried to hide himself. Grabbing the straw from your drink and the straw of his own drink, he fumbled with them for a while, before turning to look at the camera, the straws now dangling from his teeth like some sort of vampire with a new set of pearls. You snorted at the sight, banging your fist on the table as you held your hand in front of his face, pulling the straws from his mouth: “Now it has your gross bacteria all over it.” “Ew,” he returned in a high pitched voice, mocking your speech.

“She's gonna save me, call me "baby", Run her hands through my hair. She'll know me crazy, soothe me daily. Better yet, she wouldn't care.”

“This is how you get cooties,” you laughed, pointing the straw at his face in an accusing manner. “Disgusting,” Pedro agreed with a grin, pulling the straw from your fingers. Then, he stuck them in his drink, ignoring your betrayed looks. “Asshole,” you scolded with a chuckle

“You know, about three years ago, we sat right there?” His finger pointed to the bar at the end of the street where you used to work. Having now been together for more than two years, you quit your job soon after, noticing the publicity wasn’t working for your job. It wasn’t helping the bar and it wasn’t helping you. You remembered how guilty Pedro had felt when you told him, even after you had reassured him how you knew this going into the relationship. It was all the more reason for him to spoil you even more now.

“I think we caused the manager to grow grey hair prematurely,” you confessed, forcing another chuckle out of his throat. “That may have been my fault.” He added. “I walked into that bar to get a moment of peace. And that’s where I found you.”

“We'll steal her Lexus, be detectives, Ride 'round picking up clues.”

You smiled at him, fondly remembering that moment. “You could have had any model or superstar, and you choose someone who catered to local drunks.” “An important job,” Pedro added in a joking voice. You joined him: “I’m sure there are some who would agree with you on that.”

From over the table, his hand found yours, squeezing it fondly. “I don’t think I would want any model or superstar now that I know what I could have missed.” “Sap.” You interrupted, yet you returned his affectionate gesture all the same, silently letting him know you were appreciative of his words.

“I’m glad you walked in too,” you admitted. “Even though I had no idea what to say to you.” “You said the right thing,” he assured. “Besides, who else would I bully paparazzi with?” As he said that, he waved to the man with the camera with an unenthusiastic expression.

And moments like these were a perfect depiction to him why it was you and would always be you. Even with cameras on him and his privacy being scarce, you remained beside him, taking it upon yourself to mess the pictures, sometimes marking them unpublishable due to certain symbols being made on them. You were his distraction and his moment of solitude. Perhaps he would have found it in anyone else, but he had no desire to figure that out. You were with him now, and he would hold onto that for as long as he could.

“We'll name our children, Jackie and Wilson. Raise 'em on rhythm and blues.”

#November writings 2023 #November writings #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

[walnutcookie]

sir i humbly request rambles about misfortune and more cappuccino hcs

perhaps some body horror doodles as well if you feel comfortable

i adore this au please spill your guts to me and i will feed on the titbits i find

also may i make fanart of this misfortune au thing (sorry not sure what to call it)

misfortune moment PART THREE!!!! ramble under cut :]

part one here

part two here

rbs ok!

misfortune knows exactly how to inflict the most amount of misery in someone.

heres the thing. if it just kept beating its host while theyre down, the host would eventually grow a tolerance to the pain and simply become numb. that means that it cant get any more misery out of its host and it would have to find another one.

So! it allows the host some joy. In cappuccinos case, it primarily involves his vacations :]c before she actually knows what causes all of the bad things in his life she just knew that Everything was always bad and miserable unless she was relaxing. while she was working, things would constantly injure her, nothing would stay organized, and bad things just kept happening one after another, but on vacation everything seemed to be just fine!! Great even! shes just able to surf or relax or nap and just ENJOY things instead of being hit by falling lights and bookshelves. even though every car shes ever been in has crashed hes always been safe on planes. of course its not all sunshine and rainbows because she can hardly even enjoy the break when he cant stop thinking about how AWFUL its going to be to go back to work

BUT!! the point is that her days off are like the ONLY times that he finds peace. Which is partially why hes so eager to catch another break!!! misfortune lets her have these lovely days but also uses it as an opportunity to make bad things happen during/right before her breaks so that theyre cancelled or cut short and shes filled with disappointment<3

this is also why it let langue into cappuccinos life ! of course it could EASILY just kill them but cappuccino was already getting a little too miserable and was far too adjusted to all of the bad luck in his life already so langue was the perfect solution to that problem. And also created misery all on their own like the longing cappuccino feels before they actually get together. And now that cappuccino has langue in her life and theyre someone who makes her so happy misfortune is able to cause harm to them/mess with cappuccino's plans of meeting them and just cause more distress :]c

of course that plan backfired when langue managed to weaken it and make cappuccino's life decent enough to the point it was forced to leave OOPS!!!!

but yeah ,,, i dont know i just love messing with this thang. too much misfortune is bad because then the host will adapt so it has to be a little lenient so the person doesnt feel completely and utterly hopeless >:] and in the event that the host does become useless to it then it simply posesses them to commit crimes and just cause misery to other people than the host before exiting the body and leaving it to bleed out and die

OKAY WHOOPEEE thats all i have to talk about right now i hope this is at least somewhat cohesive im kindof tired right now . BUT WOO RAVEN TIME!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS ASK IT WAS SO SO FUN TO DRAW ANS ANSWER /GEN AGHH hope you enjoy the drawings as much as i enjoyed making them X] ill likely put them in a seperate post since im really proud of the first one and i kind of want it to be in a post of its own agahsbfkhf

ALSO IVE ALREADY ANSWERED THIS BUT YESS ABSOLUTELY !!! I WOJLD ABSPLUTELY LOVE TO SEE FANART AUAGHHFF <333 YOU ARE SO SWEET !!!

if anyone has any further questions/comments feel free to shoot me an ask ! X]

#cappuccino cookie #cookie run #cookie run au #my art #🎉 rambles #tw blood #tw body horror #blood #body horror

[the-au-thor]

Little Witch | Chapter 1

A/N: IDK , I just want to post this story cause it's addictive. Any feedback or request, you know i'm available

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader. [No use of y/n]

Words: 2.8k

Warning: read it here!

⇜ ⇝

"There's my little Witch...""

Chapter 1

You gripped the steering wheel tightly while muttering unintelligible words. You couldn't curse in front of Matilda. The whole point of raising her was to make her a better version of yourself and Mela, so you wouldn't utter a single curse word in her presence. Besides, being a primary school teacher, it was expected that you replace any curse with much softer expressions – something that wouldn't sound like a reason for parents to complain to the school.

You were supposed to be at the school by 7 pm for the parent-teacher meeting, and you'd have to miss it if Spencer didn't show up soon.

Spencer Reid. He irritated you, it was more of a personal issue than his fault. It was because you felt he was constantly reading between the lines. He was an excellent behavior analyst, skilled at understanding people. You suspected he even knew about you before you revealed yourself. Though he insisted he had no idea who you were before meeting at the café.

Here's the thing: you could raise Matilda on your own. In fact, that was the exact plan you had laid out from the moment you knew Mela had passed away. You would take care of Matilda, and she would be yours. She had always been a bit yours, as Mela had wanted it. "You were born knowing how to take care of others. You always took care of me. I'm the one who has to learn," Mela used to say with a childish smile.

You didn't know who the father was until you found the note Mela had left inside a photo album. The force of your conscience overpowered your desire. You investigated Spencer before appearing at the University of Washington after one of his lectures. You entered the auditorium while he spoke and hated every part of it. Hated it because he looked decent and good – qualities you didn't expect from someone who had been with your sister. Mela used to attract losers who took advantage of her vulnerability to manipulate and leave her feeling miserable.

You wanted Spencer to give you reasons to leave that room and not tell him he was the father of a beautiful one-year-old girl. But deep down, you knew that if he had known about Mela's pregnancy, Spencer would have been in every little step in that journey, giving everything even if Mela was a disaster waiting to happen.

You didn't expect him to accept the news without question, and you wouldn't trust someone who acknowledged paternity without conducting their own investigations. Spencer and Matilda underwent DNA tests and went through the family system to divide responsibilities. You wouldn't just hand Matilda over; you had become her legal mother immediately after Mela's passing, and Spencer had to adapt to both of you, not the other way around.

However, you had to understand that adaptation was everyone's job, especially yours. In the past months, Matilda had perfectly adjusted to Spencer, calling him by who he was and looking at him the way she looked at you—with unconditional love. But you had much more to process than Matilda. For her, Spencer was her dad. Period. For you, Spencer was the man who could have changed your sister's life if only he had decided to stay a little longer and support her. You knew you couldn't blame him for Mela's fate, but it was easier this way. Blaming Spencer meant thinking much less about the responsibility you may had in your sister's bad decisions. So you had to make decisions for Matilda's well-being, not yours. And Matilda's well-being, whether you liked it or not, depended fifty percent on Spencer. So you had to be flexible with your time and priorities because you were raising a child with a man you barely knew and whose history with your sister was mostly a mystery.

But this was crossing the line. You understood there would be weeks when you snd Matilda would have to adjust care days because Spencer would be away for work. Or times when he would pick up Matilda very late. When you felt a pang of sympathy seeing him alone, leaving with Matilda in his arms, you reminded yourself that you were doing the right thing and that if you could take care of the girl on your own designated days, he could too. However, it was the third time this month that Spencer was late to pick up Matilda, and you couldn't continue like this. Not when you also had other responsibilities to attend to, and he needed to respect that. Instead of calling and discussing it, you headed to his workplace, and you would talk. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn't bring Matilda, but it was late, you had canceled your doctor's appointment, needed to get to the school on time for the meeting, and had no one to watch her with such short notice.

"It's fine, little bug." You stopped the car and unbuckled Matilda's car seat. Her hair had grown, even in braids. You had to fix a few loose strands that had escaped her intricate hairstyle. "We're going to make a very quick stop, and then you can get ice cream."

Ice cream that her father would have to pay for and then deal with the sugar rush by himself. It was the least he could do for being late on an important day. You had discussed it before. Matilda looked at you with a smile and playfully touched the dimple on your cheek as you held her while passing through the entrance of the BAU building. You didn't have to do much; your name was at the front desk. Spencer and you had made those arrangements—emergency contacts, key copies, names at the front desk, and so on. You had never had to use that help until now, and it was regrettable that you were annoyed. Usually, you paid attention to new places, but this time, you saw nothing except the elevator indicator and the floor tiles as you walked past the offices of the Unit where Spencer worked.

You looked through the glass of the massive entrance doors, trying to find Spencer's face. You knew you would spot him easily; his long hair wasn't hard to notice. Matilda pressed her palm against the glass, making enough noise to be heard but not enough to cause damage. You caught her hand and brought it to your lips, kissing the back affectionately.

"Wait, baby, don't do that," you stood on your toes to look towards the stairs, then felt footsteps behind you.

Turning around, you faced a blonde in a colorful floral dress and heels that would be deadly on you, but she carried them well. She looked at you and Matilda curiously but smiled charmingly anyway.

"Can I help you with something?"

You stepped away from the glass door and nodded vaguely, settling Matilda in your arms.

"Yes, please. In fact, I need to find Spencer Reid," you spoke and attempted a smile, aware that the blonde wasn't to blame for your issue with him. "Is he here?"

The blonde checked her wristwatch and nodded.

"He's about to arrive. I can make you girls company while you wait." She led you down the hallway to some chairs by the windows and smiled again as she walked carefully in her towering heels. "I'm Penelope, by the way."

You sat Matilda in the chair, straightening her dress as you sat next to her. You introduced yourself to Penelope and looked at Matilda. "Sweetie, did you hear that? She introduced herself. Her name is Penelope. What do we say when we meet someone?"

Matilda looked at Penelope, smiling broadly and showing her small white teeth. "Nice to meet you."

Her sweet voice and smile completely won over Penelope. It was the power of young children; they melted any heart.

"Oh, you're adorable," Penelope admitted with a playful voice, then gave her a genuine smile. "How old are you, Matilda?"

"I'm one and nine months" she answered slowly but clearly.

You patted her back proudly; you were working on improving her pronunciation, and Matilda was a little bright star. You used to think she was simply unique, but after meeting Spencer, you knew there was a strong inheritance in her.

"That's sensational! It's the best age," Penelope responded with enthusiasm and then looked at you, shaking her head. "I have no memory of that time." She whispered, making you chuckle, and both of you watched Matilda, who swung her legs absentmindedly, looking around with curiosity. "And what do you like to be called? Mattie, Ilde?"

The little girl laughed and looked at you hesitantly; you shrugged, raising your eyebrows.

"Don't look at me. She's asking you. How do I call you?"

"Little bug?" she asked uncertainly, making Penelope scrunch her face in an endearing pout. Matilda had her captivated.

"Yes, but how do your grandparents call you?"

"Tildie," she answered Penelope. "Daddy calls me little witch." Matilda's gaze shifted when she heard the sound of the elevator doors opening, and the sparkle in her eyes seemed to grow with joy as she jumped up. "Daddy!"

"Daddy?" Penelope asked again, stretching her face in surprise and confusion.

You quickly stood up when you saw Matilda hanging from Spencer's arms, and he smiled at her with surprise.

"There's my Little witch!"

Penelope stood up, opening her mouth in an 'o' and waved her hands in the air.

"Hell. There's. No.Way," she exclaimed in a surprised, choked shout.

Spencer wasn't alone; an older man with a mustache and a woman with dark skin accompanied him. You knew who they were. Spencer had talked about his colleagues, and you had noticed the affection with which he spoke about them. He kissed Matilda's forehead and then smoothed his own hair; some brown strands had escaped and were brushing against Matilda's forehead when she approached to kiss his cheek.

Penelope then looked at you, still with a surprised expression. "She said Daddy, right, or am I in a very weird different dimension?" she asked again.

You didn't give explanations; that was Spencer's business, so you pressed your lips, sending her a smile that tried—or so you hoped—to calm her. You walked towards Spencer with your smile starting to falter.

"You forgot again," you murmured seriously when you were close enough. He looked at you with remorse. "I have a parent-teacher meeting. I'll stop by your apartment to drop off her clean clothes, okay?" you asked, and Spencer pressed his lips into a thin line.

"Yes, I'm sorry. We had to close a case, and it took longer than expected," he whispered back, then looked at his companions. "These are Tara and David Rossi," he introduced them, and you greeted them, shaking their hands with a cordial smile. "I see you finally met Penelope," he added, turning to see the woman who still looked surprised.

Penelope put her hands on her chest with contained excitement.

"Finally?" she barely stammered at an audible volume.

You tried to smile at her.

"Oh yes, she welcomed us, right, little bug?" you asked Matilda, stroking her chin. "What do we say when we meet someone?"

Matilda looked at Tara and then at Rossi, who watched her attentively with smiles. David looked amazed, although he tried to hide it. Penelope, on the other hand, was an open book.

"Nice to meet you," she repeated the phrase as the new etiquette ritual she had been learning.

"I'm sorry I have to leave so quickly, but I have to work," you said your goodbyes to Tara, David, and Penelope with a smile. You looked at Spencer, adding the last part with a sigh, "You and I need to talk later. I'll swing by your apartment to drop off her clean clothes, okay?" you asked, and Spencer pressed his lips into a thin line.

You knew he hated every second of this, just like yoy. He looked somewhat disoriented, nervous, and surprised, and you understood because you had never set foot in that place, and judging by his coworkers' reactions, they certainly didn't expect a scene like that. So you left them to let him deal with it .

When the parent-teacher meeting ended, Levi, one of the single parents in that grade, was keeping you company while you organized things inside the classroom. His son, Benjamin, was a bright and hyperactive 11-year-old boy whom you had worked hard to help concentrate. Initially, it was just with English, but then you were assigned a grade in the school, and you had him as a student since he was 6 years old. This would be the year they graduated from elementary school, so it was bittersweet for you. Anyway, Levi and his ex-wife had an ugly divorce, and due to her mental health, he had been assigned as Benjamin's sole guardian when the boy was just a few months old. His ex-wife never attended visits and wanted nothing to do with the child.

Levi was conventionally handsome; not overly muscular nor skinny. He worked as a real estate agent for politicians and celebrities, so he always maintained a healthy and well-groomed appearance, with his well-styled blonde hair, trendy glasses, and coordinated clothing. He was kind, polite, and more concerned than most parents in Benjamin's grade, so he scored points. You had become excellent friends and confidants.

"So, he was late again," he sighed, pushing a strand of hair in a Clark Kent-like manner and adjusting his glasses.

"He wasn't late again," you rolled your eyes, organizing student files on his desk. "He was going to pick her up; he just got delayed."

Levi was the one rolling his eyes. "Is it the fourth time this month?"

"Third," you corrected, locking the drawer of your desk and grabbing your bag to sling it over your shoulder. "But it's because his job is very demanding. He's chasing criminals, Lev."

Levi shrugged.

"You're educating a bunch of little criminals." He joked, earning a gentle shoulder punch. "It's true!" he protested, still laughing.

"I'll rephrase; he's chasing psychopaths. And I remind you that one of those little criminals, as you said, is your own son," you added, and Levi didn't seem to mind, as he shrugged again with a playful smile.

"That's why I say it. I have the perspective of experience," he laughed, putting his hands in his pants pockets. "So... are you going to talk to him? You need to sort this out somehow; you can't keep changing your plans because he can't do his most important job"

"It's hard, Levi," you sighed. "I guess he's still adjusting. A year ago, he didn't even know he was a father, and I've actually been surprised by how quickly he took on his responsibilities."

"No. No," he shook his head with sudden seriousness. "Don't look at me like that. You know what I'll say; if he wanted to be part of Matilda's life when you dropped the bomb that she was his daughter, he knew that the decision had to come with some adaptation on his part. If you want to be a father, you just have to be willing. Promptness comes with the role of a father; there's no merit in it."

You knew that. But somehow, you felt the need to defend Spencer, and you also felt that even if it was a father's obligation to adapt, they deserved credit for it. It takes more than just a sense of responsibility to step back for a person whose existence you didn't know about before, even if it's your own blood.

"Anyway, Levi, he still has a lot to digest."

Levi snorted. You knew it was nothing against Spencer; it was more of a personal resentment against the circumstance. Not everyone was like him; a single father with a full-time job, a child diagnosed with ADHD, and a mother diagnosed with Parkinson's in his care.

Spencer didn't have it easy either; he had a more than full-time job that constantly put him at risk and absorbed his complete attention and energy. He also had to adapt to fatherhood and take care of his mother with schizophrenia and Alzheimer's.

"You and him would get along," you murmured, making him snort again.

"Not at all," he responded almost defensively, making you laugh.

"One day, I'll invite you both to the same restaurant and not show up. You'll see that you have more in common than you think, and you'll become best friends. And you'll forget about me," you smiled confidently.

"Let him stop standing up Matilda, and then I might consider being his acquaintance," he said sarcastically.

You sighed impatiently, walked to his car, and looked at him, deciding that you couldn't convince him to change his opinion of Spencer.

"He didn't stand her up," you rolled your eyes in response, then looked at him, raising your eyebrows. "I guess I'll see you at the winter dance," you added mockingly.

Levi rolled his eyes with irritation. "I had no choice; no other parent volunteered. Kids. At his age, I didn't have dances, just a bag of candy and maybe a day off from school."

You laughed, getting into the car.

"Now you sound like an old man, Levi. Take care. Get home safely."

"Good luck with Spencer," he wished as a parting remark and got into his car to leave the sparsely populated school parking lot.

You played music on the way to Spencer's house. You could drive there with your eyes closed. You had to go thousands of times in the first few weeks to help him with Matilda. It's not that she didn't want him from the moment they met, because she loved him. And he loved her, there was no doubt. But the adaptation was on both sides. Matilda lost her mom, with whom she lived in a small apartment downtown above a little shop, and had to move to your suburban home in Washington. In addition to that, she met her dad, which was a completely new concept for her. She called her grandfather "dad," and let's say he didn't take the new title well.

They were delighted with Spencer. You can't forget their radiant smiles when they visited Washington to meet Spencer and see Matilda. Of all the bad decisions Mela made, Spencer was undoubtedly an exception. They didn't say it, but you saw it in their eyes, and sometimes it became a bit unbearable. Mela was difficult, but she was good, and life had simply been too unfair to her.

You parked the car outside Spencer's complex and took your bag and Matilda's backpack with you, entering the building and starting to climb the stairs. You didn't have to wait too long outside the apartment, and in a couple of seconds, Spencer invited you in.

He was wearing sweatpants, a beige T-shirt, and over it, a long unbuttoned knitted vest.

"I made tea. Oh. Wait; Do you want herbal tea instead?" he offered immediately with courtesy.

"Herbal, please," you softly requested, sitting on the sofa, avoiding getting too comfortable, although you were so tired that you could very well stretch out and take off your heels. "I brought the cat," you added, taking out Matilda's favorite stuffed animal.

Spencer quickly took the crocheted toy. He had told you it was a gift from Penelope. One of her many talents, he commented—besides her programming skills and well-intentioned gossip—was creating these dedicated crocheted amigurumis. For one of his birthdays, she gave him a cardboard box with the cat inside, and despite it not being conceptual, Spencer couldn't help but note the symbolism in it. He quickly caught Matilda's interest as soon as she started exploring everything in her father's apartment, and Spencer decided to give it to her as a metaphorical gesture. That way, a part of him would always be with her.

"Schrödinger," he murmured, delicately taking the toy in his hands and looking at it for a few seconds before returning his attention to you. "I promised her I would put it in bed with her, so she'd wake up with him. It took me a while to get her to sleep tonight."

You rolled your eyes as he went to Matilda's room and returned. Matilda fell asleep right away with Spencer. She loved listening to him talk and always asked him for stories. At least Spencer still needed you to make sure he ate his meals.

"She's sound asleep. As soon as I put the toy next to her, she hugged it," Spencer went to the kitchen with a smile and came back with two steaming bowls of tea, handing you one. "I hope you don't mind the honey."

You sniffed the ginger and lemon tones and smiled. "Not at all," you replied. "Thanks."

Spencer sat in his seat across from you and looked at you with his lips in a thin line.

"I'm sorry for today. I really wanted to be on time."

You nodded, acknowledging his honest tone, and took a sip of your tea to gather some courage to do something you weren't used to doing with him; have a personal conversation.

"You could have been on time if you had told your colleagues that Matilda existed, you know? It makes things easier," you said calmly, not wanting to sound accusing. You didn't want to make him feel guilty; he surely had his reasons. The truth was that you were doing it because you had personally experienced the benefits of letting others know about the existence of a little person who depended on you. It made your life a bit more flexible, and you could adapt to Matilda's needs.

Spencer nodded slowly, as if he had expected that response.

"They were very surprised to see me with Matilda. I had to give a lot of explanations," he admitted, then released the accumulated air from his cheeks. "I guess if they didn't find out, then... my life as her father wouldn't feel boxed in," he tried to explain.

"Are you ashamed of being a father?" you asked in a tone of surprise. Even for you, that possibility seemed strange for someone like Spencer, who despite the complications, seemed to thoroughly enjoy his fatherhood and the time he spent with Tildie.

Spencer furrowed his brow at your question, almost offended. "What are you talking about? It's wonderful. Matilda is the most wonderful girl in the world. It's not that. It's... I feel that not mentioning it made it easier than explaining her existence. If I talk about Matilda, they'll ask about her mom, and if I talk about her mom, then I'll have to talk about everything I did wrong. About a past I want to forget."

Every word hurted you, but you couldn't be angry with him for thinking that way. You didn't talk very often unless it was about Matilda. You had never shared tea and discussed feelings. You figured that starting to do so felt hard to process. Even after a year and a few months since Spencer became involved in Matilda's life, you still didn't know the story that Spencer and Mela had shared, and to be honest, you weren't sure if you were ready to hear it.

"I'm sorry I forced you to have to talk to them about Tildie. It wasn't fair," you admitted with an uneasy tone in your voice.

"Don't worry," he shook his head. "They had to find out, and you have an important job to do."

You nervously bit your lips. "Was it tough explaining it to your boss?"

"Hotchner is a father; he understood my situation better than anyone. Although, of course, everyone was a bit angry, asking me why I hadn't asked for help."

"I figured if they're your friends, they would be a bit upset about that. At least J.J knew about her," you shrugged, trying to stay optimistic about it.

Spencer looked up at you and nodded calmly.

"Yes. J.J is my best friend; she wouldn't forgive me if I hadn't told her. I wish she had been there today; I know she would have supported me a bit. Although, thinking about it, Penelope made an effort to talk to me today just because her curiosity about Matilda is greater than her anger."

You hid a amused smile behind the tea cup. "She was lovely with me and Matilda. And she really looked completely flabbergasted," you added with amusement as you recalled her face.

Spencer stretched in his seat, leaning his head back with a relaxed and genuine smile. "If you had stayed, you would have seen Derek lose his mind."

"Don't get me wrong, I just want to know who Matilda is surrounded by when I'm not around, but I'm not worried because I know you wouldn't put anyone dangerous near her," you admitted, furrowing your brow, drinking the last part of your herbal tea. "I have to go home. I'm dying for a bath and my bed," you complained and went to the kitchen to leave your cup. Upon arrival, you found dirty pots, plates stained with food, and stacked in the dishwasher. You sent a look to Spencer.

"No, no. You don'thave to..." Spencer entered the kitchen, rubbing his eyes when he saw you roll up your sleeves and start washing. "I'll do it."

"You were about to die on that couch; your dark circles have dark circles," you accused. "And Matilda will probably wake you up because she's been having nightmares about some monsters she saw in Aliens."

"Why would she watch Aliens?" Spencer asked.

"Because she knows how to use the TV. My father, who loves Sigourney Weaver, was babysitting her; it was all a bad combination. Now she wants to work in space."

Spencer stifled a laugh with a mix of pride and amusement. "That little witch," he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck and frowned. "I think you should talk to your father about what Matilda should and shouldn't watch."

You couldn't help but laugh ironically.

"Oh, yeah. I'll try that," you replied, whistling with humor. "Although I think he'd listen to you more. Did you know I tried seafood in my first year of life? Dad didn't want to listen to the pediatrician and gave me oysters."

"You're kidding" Spencer tilted his head in defeat.

You flashed a wistful smile.

"That's how we found out Mela was allergic. Very allergic," you added. Suddenly, the mention of your sister seemed to intensify the air in the kitchen. Both of you tensed, and silence filled the space. You looked at the clean dishes. "Done," you announced after a few minutes when everything was cleaned, and you walked into the living room for your bag. "Hey, in the backpack, I brought some word games to work on her pronunciation. The Rs are giving her trouble, and she's starting to read words."

"What? When?" Spencer asked surprised.

"Uh... it was like... three or four days ago. It's not surprising. My house is full of books, and so is yours. I'm always reading to her, and you tell her stories before bedtime. It's not a big deal, really; it could be worse."

"What could be worse?" Spencer laughed halfheartedly. "Now, I have to filter everything she reads. There are things in my library that aren't for a 2-year-old."

"One and nine months," you corrected him with humor. "I know, but listen to this; Benjamin, the son of a friend, started talking at two, and the only way he communicated was by talking super fast because he wanted to imitate the rappers he listened to on his phone." You shrugged. "It could be worse," you emphasized and smiled "I also brought two books that are totally perfect for her, and you won't have to filter them, Papa Bear."

Spencer sighed. "I know you take care of everything. Thank you." He sounded honest and grateful, but there was something in his look that concerned you.

You couldn't help but worry about him too.

"What's going on?" you asked, and even before Spencer denied anything, you insisted with a half-smile, "Come on, you can tell me."

You watched his lips tremble with doubt before responding.

"It's Matilda," he murmured. "I'm not sure if I really want this for her."

You furrowed your brow. "Want what?"

"All of this; reading at two and a half , knowing how to use technological devices, and all that," he explained.

You looked at him, confused, and gently shook your head, taking a step toward him.

"She's very bright. I know not everything is inherited, but there's a clear genetic predisposition, and to be honest, we've both encouraged her. And that's not a bad thing. The truth is, she's wonderful."

"I know!" he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up at the mere description of Tildie. You knew he loved her deeply; that kind of reaction couldn't be faked. "But I went through this. It's enormous pressure. Kids teased me, and I was always alone. I couldn't have friends my age."

You nodded, trying to understand. You had lived in an isolated place, and Mela had always been your best friend. However, making new friends was never a problem for you. You still maintained friendships from school and university. It hadn't been a problem for you, but you saw children daily struggling to connect with others and constantly being excluded for being different.

"Well, here's the thing; maybe I don't have superior intelligence in my genes, but I have the ability to defend myself very well. You can trust that Matilda will be brilliant and learn to stand on her own. We won't let her suffer for being different. She'll never be alone, I swear "

He looked at you hesitantly. "Do you promise?"

You slightly furrowed your brow, looking at him with more tenderness than you thought you'd feel for him. He looked vulnerable, and for the first time, you stopped seeing the genius doctor. You stopped seeing the man who slept with your sister and then left her. You stopped seeing the licentiate you met in a university cafe. You saw Matilda's father, loving her and caring enough to tell you, his fears and you had no idea how much it meant to you until now.

"Of course," you smiled. "And my father won't let anyone bully her. I promise." You tried to break the ice, successfully eliciting a smile from Spencer. "Besides, she won't be the only brilliant girl. She'll have you. No one else will understand her better than you."

After that, he studied you calmly.

"You look tired. I'm sorry I was late today; otherwise, I would have picked up the little witch, and you would have gone straight home after your meeting."

You shrugged again. "No use crying over spilled milk. Just try to do better next week if you're in town at least."

"I will be, and we'll have break for Thanksgiving and Christmas. I'll call your parents."

You swallowed with surprise and discomfort, covering the emotions with a smile. Great, now you'd spend Christmas in the countryside with Spencer and your parents. All together and without Mela. Yey.

"I'll say goodbye to Matilda and head home," you announced, carefully walking to her room and giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead. The little one continued to sleep peacefully even after the gesture. You saw her beautiful lips open as she let out a relaxed sigh and smiled.

You couldn't quite describe how the love for her burned in your chest. It was akin to a sip of good whiskey, but without any consequences. You said your goodbyes, knowing she wouldn't hear, and left the room Spencer had prepared for her. You said your goodbyes to him, who tiredly gave you a smile and a wave. You left with your heart pounding, as it always did when you walked away from Matilda, deciding not to think about how lonely your house would be when you got there.

#criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic

[saeskiss]

𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂.

kazuha x fem!reader. 1.5k wc. 5/6/23. part 2! part 3!

kazuha has had feelings for you for as long as you can remember, so why do you constantly play dumb?

✧ childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, kazuha being a hopeless romantic (it’s in the title), mentions of the word hard (multiple times) (non-suggestive, i swear). 

“what are you sighing for?” you turn to the white-haired male, pen in hand, staring off into space, thinking hard—you observe this about him. 

he’s almost always thinking hard about many things and you find this admirable about him. its the way he’s able to have so much room in his brain to store the thoughts he holds. but this also grows bad habits of his where he tends to bottle his emotions up too much, leaving no room for people like you to enter.

you wish hard (theres the word again), that he would just open up about the thoughts that go on in his brain because you want to be able to think with him, and tell him that he’s not alone in whatever he’s thinking. 

“tons of things.” kazuha finally replies back after moments of silence, tapping his pencil onto his journal on the table with a stanza format written on it. 

kazuha knows that even if he tries to explain what was going in his head, it wouldn’t make any sense. so he wasn’t going to bother you with his useless endless rants that could go on forever if he really wanted to.

“i bet you’re thinking about me.” you rest your elbows onto the table, your head lying in both of your hands, giving kazuha a smug smile.

you could see the tip of his ears going red at the sudden words coming out of your mouth, surprising him but nonetheless keeping his composure.

“i bet i’m not.” he gives you a boop on the nose, and this time it’s your turn to get flustered by the tiniest of his touch that had made you yearn for more. 

kazuha chuckles, leaning back into his chair, thinking—once again. 

he’s aware that you want to know about the thoughts that go in his head, but he doesn’t allow you to see through him. it would be him indirectly admitting that he had a soft spot for you. and he couldn’t allow that.

he had built this wall in front of everyone—this facade that he allowed everyone else to see. and he had already let you see the vulnerable him and he couldn’t allow you to get to see more of him but this time with the thing he does best, speak his mind. 

kazuha then realizes that he could admit to a lot of things—like the time in primary school when he had asked your mom what type of chocolates you had liked and once he had decided on your many favorites, he went to your house to give you flowers and your favorite chocolates (including an additional stuffed animal) for valentines day and was all dressed up at your door but as soon as he was about to call you, he had received a notification on his phone that you had posted something and yet again another picture of you and your new boyfriend that he had been unaware about. and to thus, he failed miserably for one of the first several attempts he had tried to hint at you that he had this big fat schoolgirl crush. and he had declared it as a mission that he had to succeed. 

not like you were a mission or anything, he just wanted you to be aware of his feelings for you so you could think about them and reconsider your life choices. (and the last couple of years you’ve spent dating around; and when i mean dating around i mean dating someone new every month. hm, i wonder why there’s no spark between you and these people...)

he also remembers the time in primary school when he tried leaving notes and little love poems in your locker signed by a “secret admirer” that you tried to uncover for weeks but eventually gave up because the person (kazuha) had stopped writing to you. (he gave up because there was no point anymore) you were guessing everyone but him, could you believe that? he was astonished to say the least. he’s written and dedicated many, and i mean many poems to you, and he even showed some of them off at the art show at the attempt that someone would ask you if you guys were a thing, to even put the thought to linger in your brain for a bit, but you stopped them and reassured them it was just the amazing friendship bond you guys had. 

and not only that, but when he asked you to be his date to his dad’s wedding because he had told you that he had “no one” knowing he could’ve asked beidou, or someone else—anyone in fact, he was quite popular when it came to the looks aspect. you gladly obliged because he was asking a simple and short favor which you had thought nothing of at the time. 

again, kazuha will admit to many of his embarrassing attempts at asking you out when you guys were in primary school because, let’s face it; it was in the past and you wouldn’t and shouldn’t think anything of it because who would remember those as a thing that would taint you except for kazuha himself?

he can admit to many attempts at trying to woo you because, but he will never open his mouth and blatantly tell you that all he still has an embarrassing schoolgirl crush on you. it wasn’t even like he had any pride to begin with. he was a humble man, but he couldn’t risk everything—the years of work he’s—you guys had put into this friendship. 

he values your guys’ friendship above everything else in this entire world—maybe even more than he values his own ability to write. to just throw away your guys’ friendship like it was nothing would make his whole world come crashing down into pieces. 

your frown deepens, inches away from kazuha, expecting nothing else from him. he was going to give you the same vague answer every time, so why did you even bother?

this time, you sigh. this makes kazuha’s body shiver, at the feeling of your breath coming so close to his neck, his brain going hazy at all the endless outcomes this conversation could give him.

“now, why are you sighing?” he turns his body to face you making eye contact with you.

because i want to know what goes on in that pretty little brain of yours. the words that you couldn’t bring yourself to say so you bite your lip, nervous that the words would just come spewing out of your mouth. 

“nothing.” you give kazuha a smug smile, leaving him speechless at the fact that you had used one of things he had said earlier against him. 

you see the way that his lips do a slight upturn, impressed with the answer you had given him. “i’m impressed.” you flash a grin and by now, you’re sure he’s is smiling at you so hard that his cheeks are starting to grow numb. 

“i learn from the best.” you lightly tap his nose and just from that you see a light shade of pink tinting his cheeks.

“i know.” he smiles as he places his pen down on the table and faces you properly. he resists—he swears he resists, but the words come out of his mouth like a sudden word vomit, nothing that he could put back into his mouth now that they were out.

a moment of silence passes before kazuha opens his mouth, choosing his choice of words carefully. 

“i’m in love with you.” your eyes widened at the sudden confession coming out of kazuha’s mouth. you knew that he had lingering feelings for you in the past, but you never knew that what he felt for you was love. and the fact that he still had it. you knew his sudden attempts at wooing you in primary school was him showing his love for you, automatically assuming that love was platonic, but you seriously never thought his love was the same as your love for him.

oh god. 

“what?” the first word you say back to kazuha is what. wow. great job. don’t screw this up. you silently tell yourself, crossing your fingers under the table.

kazuha takes a moment to think to himself of what he should say next, and he decides that the best thing he could possibly do is move on because your reaction does not seem satisfactory in his eyes. (he’s calling you the oblivious one). 

“never mind. want to read this poem i wrote?” he gets up from his position where he was facing you. you nod in response dumbstruck by the change of kazuha’s words.

oh fuck me. 

“also do you want to go to my mom’s second wedding as my plus one? she said for me to bring someone.” he looks up from his journal where your eyes meet and suddenly you find yourself immersed into kazuha’s trance. 

“of course i can, should i get her a gift?” and for the rest of the night, the topic was long forgotten and the words that you had want to reciprocate back to kazuha had been shoved down to the bottom of your throat and saved in a small bag for next time. 

©saeskiss 2023

#ෆ jaya.writes! #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #kazuha kaedehara #kazuha genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin kazuha #genshin drabble #kazuha drabbles #kazuha fluff #kazuha kaedehara x reader

[the5n00k]

Character analysis essay: (kind of, it's mostly me just rambling)

The Ghost and Molly McGee and the concept of unconditional love and acceptance

‼️Spoilers ahead for both seasons 1 and 2!‼️

The Ghost and Molly McGee is one of the most special animated tv shows I've ever seen for several reasons but none quite as special to me as this. A ton of shows, especially on Disney channel, boast of their friendships between the main characters and their hijinks they get into but none have quite impacted me like the friendship between the two titular characters Molly and Scratch. I mean when I first watched this series in July after the season 1 finale, I expected to have a brief period of obsession, a few drawings, and then I'd move on. As you can tell by my blog, that did not happen. (For better and for worse)

People dismiss this show because of the more grounded slice of life episodic approach it takes but honestly I feel like that's it's strongest aspect. It allows the characters to have more moments where they can just slow down and connect. There's no urgent threat (save for a few episodes) that needs to be addressed or the world will end. The characters get to talk, react, and grow because of its slower pace. I say slower loosely because this show will also throw jokes at you harder and faster than an automatic tennis ball server but it knows when to take a moment seriously when it needs to. (This is also why season 1 Amphibia is my favorite and y'all can fight me for it.)

Now onto my main point; Molly and Scratch's relationship.

They start out rough. REALLY rough. They're not good for each other in the slightest. Scratch is mean and constantly trying to sabotage Molly and Molly is controlling, dragging Scratch along on her daily tasks even if he expresses how much he does not want to come along. But no matter how terrible they treat each other, there's still a level of care.

Take First Day Frights or The Unnatural for example. Scratch is more than willing to watch Molly fail until he sees her getting picked on, something he's experienced almost every day of his afterlife, possibly his living one too. He has this connection to her early on, he has this empathy. He'd never expressly admit it and he still tries his hardest to make her give up MANY times throughout season 1 either for his own amusement, thinking the effort isn't worth both of their time, or simply because he has to keep Brighton miserable. But seeing her upset always sets something off in him. And while he doesn't verbally admit he cares about her until the season finale, he does eventually acknowledge her as his best friend (although in that instance it was more to spite Libby) and acknowledge himself as part of her family. The most notable episodes that highlight their more stable relationship are season 1, 18-20 (for those unaware, that would be Out of House and Home/Home is Where the Haunt is, Scaring is Caring/All Night Plight, and The Jig is Up/Molly Vs the Ghost World)

Moving onto season 1 Molly now, she was controlling and seemed to enjoy annoying Scratch in almost a sibling-like behavior, poking him, teasing him, playing with his "hair" but the further you get into the series, the less annoying these feel and the more endearing they become. She also begins to respect his boundaries more, summoning him less and kind of letting him do his own thing in the general area while she has her own plot going on. (Goat Your Own Way and gags ... The Internship) And even after the curse is broken, she seems willing to let him move on away from her if that's what he really wants. She's more interested in his happiness now than her own. Letting go of that control is HUGE for her considering how much emphasis she put on him being her first forever friend. She didn't even expose him to Libby until she got his permission. I brought it up once and I'm bringing it up again dammit.

These two broken, mistreated, flawed people who found each other by complete coincidence would do anything and go to the ends of the earth for each other. And they did.

Moving onto season 2 I was terrified they would regress in some way from this. It was such a high note and a perfect end to their arc all throughout season 1, but now there was this new status quo. They were used to each other now. They could feel like completely different characters at this point. But they weren't, in fact they're even better.

They fight, they argue, they disagree on A LOT of things, but at the end of the day they're even more supportive and loving of each other than ever before.

They're not tearing each other down anymore, they're actively building each other up. Making the other a better person. Cheering them on. This even extends to the B characters like Libby and Darryl, they feel like a close-knit family. Even when they argue, the first thing they see when they say each other again is "I'm sorry" which is HUGE for Scratch, acknowledging fault was (and still is to some degree) really hard for him. They love each other no matter what. They've still got their issues, Molly still feels like she needs to burn herself out to make others happy and Scratch is still calloused and mean towards new additions to his social circle but that just makes them feel more authentic. I don't want them to be perfect. Watching them improve yet still struggle with the same issues they had at the start of the series makes them feel so real. For being a show that's mostly episodic with loose continuity, the development its characters go through is so slow burn sometimes you don't even notice it just binging the series. But if you jump back and forth between an early season 1 episode to a late/season 2 episode, it is STAGGERING.

Molly doesn't love Scratch because he stopped being mean. Scratch doesn't love Molly because she stopped being an overbearing ball of energy. They've loved each other in spite of that. They see past these flaws to their source and relate to the feelings they stem from. At their core, Molly and Scratch are exactly the same; social outcasts seemingly doomed to never having lasting connections. They just responded differently to what they had to go through, their two extremes are even similar in some ways with over possessiveness and insecurity. When Scratch was defending himself to Libby, he couldn't even name any of his redeeming qualities. And Molly still thought Scratch wanted to leave her in spite of everything. They're so torn from their experiences and that drives them closer together. I'm tearing up writing this.

They're broken but they're healing. They're best friends forever. One without the other would not be the same person. Although they aren't codependent, they've gotten along fine on solo adventures without the other needing to step in and solve their problem. They're healthy in their toxic behaviors because they call each other out. I don't consider a relationship toxic if there's noticeable improvement and growth. They're mature in their immaturity, their friendship is so simple and sincere. They enjoy each other's company and don't care who knows it. They're weirdos and so is everyone else they're friends with. Save for maybe Geoff. I don't think a single soul hates Geoff. I'm getting off topic but their friendship is something I always wanted.

They know they're broken, they know they're flawed and selfish at times. But they're trying. And that effort is sometimes all that one can ask for. The dream team for all eternity.

#the ghost and molly mcgee #tgamm #tgamm spoilers #character analysis #i cried writing this #legitimately i almost started violently sobbing over these cartoon characters #that's what thinking about their relationship does to me #they're such besties #i hope they never change but also change for the better #if that makes any sense #my poor broken meow meows #i want to hug them so hard all their trauma goes away