before you know about women, you hear that you do not need to love the man, just that you need to love him through his manhood. which is to say you have seen the future painted in lamb's blood over your eyes - how your mother shoots you a look about your father's inability to cook right. how your aunt holds her wineglass and says i'm gonna kill em. men, right! how your best friend bickers with her boyfriend, how she says i can't help it. i come back to him.
you learn: men are gonna cheat. men aren't going to listen when you're talking, because you're nagging. men think emotions are stupid. they think your life is vapid and your hobbies are embarrassing. men will slam things, but that's because men are allowed to be angry. if you get loud, you're hysterical. if a man gets loud - well, men are animals, men are dogs, men can't control their hands or their eyes or their bodies. they're going to make a snide comment about you in the locker room, about your body, about how you're so fucking annoying. you're going to give him kids, and he will give you the money for the kids, and you're going to be running the house 24/7 - but he gets to relax after a long day, because his job is stressful. the man is on stage, and is a comedian, and says "women!"
and you are supposed to love that. you are supposed to love men through how horrible they are to you - because that's what women do. that's what good women do. wife material. your father even told you once - it'll make sense when you're older. it was like staring down a very lonely tunnel.
it feels like something's caught in your throat, but it's all you know, so. it's okay that you see sex as a necessary tool, a sort of okay-enough ritual to keep him happy, even though he doesn't seem to care about happiness as-applied-to you. it is relationship upkeep. it is kissing him and smiling even though he didn't brush his teeth. it is getting on your knees and looking up and holding back a sigh because he barely holds you as you panic through the night. it's not like the sex is bad and you do like feeling wanted. and besides! he's a man! like... they're another species. you'll never be able to actually communicate, right. he isn't listening.
you just don't get it. you don't feel that sense of i'm gonna climb him like a tree. mostly it just feels fucking exhausting. you play the part perfectly. you smile and nod and are "effortlessly" charming. and it's fine! it's alright! you even love him, if you're looking. you could have good life, and a good family, and perfectly happy.
in the late night you google: am i broken. you google i'm not attracted to my husband. you google i get turned on by books but not by him. you google how to get better in bed.
the first time he yells at you, it almost feels like blankness. like - of course this is happening. this is always how it was going to end up. men get angry, and they yell, and you sit there in silence.
you mention it to your friend - just the once - while you're drunk. she shrugs and says it's like that with me too, i just try to forget and move on. men are always gonna hear what they want to. pick your battles and say sorry even though he's in the wrong. you play solitaire online for a month. you go to your therapist appointment and preach about how you're both so in love.
after all, you have a future to want. nobody lied about it - how many instagram posts say marriage is hard. say real love takes work. say we fight like cats and dogs but the best part is that we always make up. how many of your friends say happy anniversary to the best and worst thing to ever happen to me. if you really loved him - loved yourself too - you'd accept that men are just different from you.
the first time she kisses you, it's on a dare at a party. something large and terrifying whips through your body. you wake up sweating from dreams where her mouth is encrusted with pearls and you pick them off one by one with your teeth. fuck. you sit at the computer and your almost-finished game of sim city. you think about your potential perfect life and your potential future family. you google am i gay quiz with your little hands shaking.
you delete each letter slowly. you don't need to love him. you just need to keep going.
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How Elwing Lost A Silmaril
The first letter—sealed with an eight-pointed star pressed into red wax and delivered just before dawn—left Elwing trembling in her small office, stomach rolling and the taste of bile thick on her tongue. What was she to do? What could she do? Her parents’ murderers were coming here.
The letter didn’t say as much outright. The writer (Maedhros, she’d learned his name eventually, but he would always be the red-haired orcish monster that took her home away and haunted her worst nightmares) veiled every threat behind eloquent lines of meaningless placations and enteritis for the silmaril. He asked her, granddaughter of a thief, to return it to him, eldest son of its maker and rightful heir. But she could read what he did not say: that if she did not bend to his will he would do to Sirion as he did to Menegroth. He would come with his fell army and slaughter everyone in his way.
But how could she give up the jewel? It protected them, kept the forces of darkness at bay just enough for the refugees to eke out a living on the shores. And should Eärendil, her dear, brave husband, find a path to Aman, its light might be the only thing that could stay the Valar’s Doom long enough for them to listen to him. She could not give up their hope.
The second letter—sealed in red wax and delivered as the barley fields were harvested—brought more promises of horrors unnamed falling upon the settlement. She wept after throwing it in the fire. She could not do this on her own. The city council was terrified into inaction at the thought of what lay before then, and Eärendil was still out at sea. She missed him. She missed him so terribly when the councilors looked at her with fearful eyes and asked for her decision.
The fifth letter arrived in the hands of an underfed Mannish girl as the first winds of winter blew in from the sea. Elwing gave her food and a family offered a spot in their home, but the girl said her lord instructed her to go nowhere else until she had a reply for him. Elwing thought of banishing her from the city unanswered, of telling the guards with their rough-made weapons to see that the Fëanorian did not return. She regretted the thought nearly as soon as she had it. The girl was young and it was not her fault that her parents joined themselves to a mighty Elf lord. She could stay for a day.
Tell me whatsoever you desire, the greatest or smallest need of your heart.
The letter said in handwriting that was fast becoming too familiar.
I will give unto you that thing and greater still if you would part with my father’s Silmaril. I would bring you all the provisions of my camp, all the weapons of my army, every other precious thing of power left in this land if you would but willingly part with that one small thing that I must otherwise be driven to take by force in the spring.
Tell me your desire, and I will give it unto you.
Let this not end with blood.
She fumed in her office, angrily pacing the thin rug gifted to her by the weary-eyed wife of one of her father’s guards who fell in the tunnels of Menegroth. She does not need anything from the murdering bastard! Sirion has all it requires. They would be safe if only they were left alone. How can Maedhros think that he could ever give her anything to make up for what he’s done, to convince her to do what he wants? He’s a monster and a coward who wishes to soothe his conscience by acting as if the attack is all her fault, an inevitable consequence of her resistance. He wishes to absolve himself of yet more evil.
She will not let him. If it is the only thing she can do, she will defy him.
Elwing takes up precious ink and paper. She throws herself into her chair and leans over the beaten desk, pouring her anger and helplessness into the words she scratches across the page.
You’ve taken everything from my people. You wish to take everything from me again. You are monstrous, servant of Morgoth. May the Valar stand against you as I cannot.
What would I have, you ask? I would have what you’ve taken from me restored: I would have Dior, my father, and Nimloth, my mother; I would have Eluréd and Elurín, my brothers, alive again and in my arms. But I shall never have them for they died at your hands and at your command.
You cannot give me my parents. You search for my little brothers but still cannot give them to me.
So, what would I have?
I would have your brothers. Give me your two youngest. I have lost my twin brothers for this gem. You must do the same.
She signed the bottom with a vicious strike that split the quill’s nip, blotting the page with ink as dark as orc blood. Her heartbeat in her chest, thumped against her ribs under her breast as though it would escape fate. Her letter would change nothing and she hesitated for a moment before dripping wax from a flickering candle for the seal, tempted to throw the paper to the fire.
She’d written in a tantrum, a final kicking of her feet against what would come in an impotent rage. But what did it matter? Did she not deserve to beat her fists against the Doom once? Everyone looked to her for leadership and guidance as Dior’s heir but she felt like little more than a child. This would be so much easier to handle with Eärendil at her side but he still had not returned and at times she doubted he ever would (what Doom had befallen him on the waters? What lonely fate for him and the crew on the waves?). She would send this letter then say goodbye to all childishness and face what came bravely as her parents and grandparents did.
Resolved, she dripped the wax and sealed the letter. She’d give it to the messenger tomorrow with what small food they could spare so the girl did not starve on the journey. And then…
And then all would be out of her hands and fate would fall as it would.
The sixth letter came in the hands of two red-haired Elves on tall horses. The men sat straight and tall in the saddle, their heads held high. Elwing would have called them haughty if they hadn’t dismounted and bowed deeply before her, falling to one knee as one might before royalty. A third Elf, dark-haired and somber-eyed, rode with them, though he kept himself aside and astride his steed.
“Queen Elwing,” one of the red-heads said, his face fire-scarred. He paused, waiting for permission to go on.
She nodded and waved her hand impatiently, wondering what new trick Maedhros was playing or if this was how he announced an impending slaughter.
The speaker went on, looking up slightly though he stayed kneeling. “We are Ambarussa–” he gestured to the other– “youngest sons of Fëanor. We give ourselves up at your request in exchange for the silmaril.”
Elwing stood in frozen silence as he continued, icy sea breeze biting at her fingers and face.
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Do u have any kunidazai or kunichudazai fic recs at all? Seeing ur posts I wanna dip my toe in but would love to read any faves u have also!!
YES YES YES most of these will be oneshots bc that's mostly what i read + rated t or g unless stated otherwise. the rest are under the cut bc this got (expectedly) long lol
kunidazai:
let Hope die by degradedpsychotic
Dazai smirks at him, in the process of filling the rice cooker. "Need help?"
Kunikida exhales, and it takes the form of a bitter laugh. "That's all I ever need anymore."
4.3k words, post-decay of angels arc. dazai and kunikida are learning to navigate the world with injuries that they will never fully recover from (dazai w chronic leg pain + kunikida w chronic hand pain)
the tragic (pony)tail of dazai’s downfall by sarcoline_sails
five times Kunikida has his hair down, and one time Dazai ensures it stays that way.
6.6k words. exactly what it says on the tin
Piled Up by KhaoticEnby
Kunikida gets sick in the midst of a busy time at the ADA. Dazai, just back from his mission, tries his best to help him
3.4k words, established relationship
sure it's a calming notion (perpetual in motion) by saffroncassis
the one where Dazai digs himself a hole, and then just keeps digging deeper.
5.3k words. instead of admitting he likes kunikida, dazai says he just wants to have sex with him. because when has dazai ever been honest about his feelings? (there's no smut, but there are references to and jokes about sex)
but in that uncertainty, i found you. by warsfeil
In which everyone gets injured and two inept individuals wonder about the meaning of partnership.
3.4k words. dazai gets injured and kunikida worries; then kunikida gets injured and dazai worries
kunichuuzai:
thin ice over a monstrous depth by luminariums
Chuuya and Dazai are fifteen years old when Kouyou insists they learn the art of dancing. It shapes the way Chuuya views his relationships - until Kunikida comes along and flips his whole world upside down.
8k words, chuuya-centric, part-character/relationship study and part-getting (back) together. this fic focuses mostly on the kunichuu and skk dynamics since it's chuuya-centric but ohhhh it is. SO good
all brutal mirrors cracked by intimatopia
The one in which Dazai and Kunikida are swapped into each other's bodies by a mirror, and then their day gets worse.
12.4k words, dazai pov with established skk. THIS FIC. oh my god this fic i read it through like 3-4 times within the first week i found it. it's such a fascinating take on the body swap trope with good angst and a happy ending. i can get really picky with dazai angst but this. this fic. this fic does it RIGHT.
Listen to Your Heart by 4_the_tainted_sorrow_21
Kunikida gets used as a pillow for his boyfriends, but he finds he doesn't mind it very much.
1k words, kunikida pov, established kunichuuzai. very short and very sweet. they just get to cuddle <3
Cover Me In Chamomile by ChaoticQuill
Kunikida has a bad day, and his boyfriends take care of his portion of the chores.
6.7k words, kunikida pov. getting together/developing relationship + domestic kunichuuzai
A Trick of the Tongue by AbsoluteNegation
“Just because I lie all the time doesn’t necessarily mean it’s my fault I was cursed to tell the truth,” Dazai said indignantly and automatically.
They both sat there while that statement unfurled its full glory before them.
47.5k words, 9 chapters, dazai pov. part character study, part getting (back) together. dazai is cursed to tell the truth, which he takes exactly as well as you would expect. but everything works out in the end <3
warning: this fic is rated e with smut in chapter 8 (i believe it's just that one scene with implied/referenced sex in the epilogue/ch9 but the smut can definitely be skipped)
and idk if you've read them or not but here are my fics as well:
warm leftovers
after the threesome, kunikida and dazai take chuuya home
2.1k words, chuuya pov, established kunidazai + pre-kunichuuzai. personally one of my favorite bsd fics i've written i think
desperate prayers of a cursed man
dazai can't remember the last time he slept through the night. if anyone were to ask, he'd say it's not a problem. but when the rest of the world is asleep, humanity is a hard thing to come by.
4k words, mostly a dazai character study with background established kunichuuzai tbh
though i burn, how could i fall?
kunikida assumes the position of agency president. somewhere between shaking hands, pastry boxes, and dazai leaving the door open, he learns leadership also means knowing when to take a step back and trust others will help you shoulder your burdens.
8.8k words, kunikida-centric. spawned a series that currently has two other fics but since this is the first, it can easily be read as a stand alone. features kunikida with hand tremors and dazai with chronic leg pain + crutches
if you look back and you hate my past
dazai contemplates his (lack of) humanity while kunikida tends to his wounds
3.3k words, dazai character study, pre-kunidazai with nods towards past skk. i wrote this after i finished reading dazai's entrance exam light novel and had a breakdown
the sound of love
kenji gets sick. luckily, he has a lot of people who are looking out for him.
4.5k words, kenji-centric with established kunichuuzai mostly in the background but there are soft and sweet moments with them so i'm adding it too
i'm probably forgetting other fics i've read and enjoyed but this is long enough as is so i'll just leave it here skgfhgjhk hopefully you can find some stuff in here that looks interesting 🫶
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Do wanna say, I am actually really curious how Iva-chan would feel if the Dragodile Divorce went REAL BAD
'Cause they didn't know the two were in a relationship at all, right. (Otherwise, like, if Iva-chan knows about Crocodile having a kid then surely they'd realize that would've also been Dragon's kid and like. Understands that's Luffy etc)
So as far as Iva-chan understands the situation, Crocodile may have been secretly slightly involved with the Revolutionaries for a period of time, had a kid out of the blue, transitioned, and either immidiately broke ties with the Revs entirely and fucked off to Alabasta, or kept on assisting the Revs in secret (possibly monetarily, being a sugar daddy and all 💰🐊💰) for however long in secret, only to pretty much betray them out of nowhere by attempting to take over Alabasta 17 years later
Either way, surely Ivankov would've been deeply confused by this turn of events, right? Like what happened to him, why would Crocodile do any of this?
But if the straw that broke the camel's back and shattered Crocodile's psyche was the Dragodile Divorce going really bad, either from Dragon not being that accepting OR due to things going violent over a miscommunication... How would Ivankov feel about that?
Keep in mind, we've only ever heard Iva-chan talk about Dragon with nothing but adoration and respect. They sincerely hold Dragon in such high regard, can you imagine how badly either revelation could change how Iva-chan's views Dragon?
'Cause like, sure if Dragon's straight then that's one thing, but lashing out at his loved one? When he came out? At what might've been the most emotionally vunerable time of Crocodile's life (between the transing and the baby and having to leave his son forever. Y'know. Heavy shit)? Yeah, frankly speaking, Iva-chan would be completely justified in slapping the shit out of Dragon and giving him some choise words. Perhaps even some 💉 Karmic Punishment 💉 to teach a lesson Feeling disappointed in Dragon would be an understatement.
But even if The Divorce happened due to a tragic accident (of Dragon attacking the strange man he has never seen before out of instinct when going to see his wife and child), it's been nearly two whole decades. Have the two even spoken since then? Like presumably not considdering Crocodile didn't even know who Luffy was. So if they haven't spoken at all-- did Dragon ever apologize? Or was he that much of a coward he couldn't face Croc and take responsibility for what he did? If so, that is absolutely pathetic and frankly irresponsible considdering the feelings he would've left Crocodile festering with.
Like either way, I'm deeply facinated how Iva-chan would take the news. How that could impact their relationship with Dragon, as well as how they've viewed Crocoboy for the past few years as well.
Because suddenly Crocoboy didn't just go bonkers out of nowhere, abandon and betray the Revolutionaries to try to do something monstrous for selfish gain. Suddenly, it was Dragon who abandoned Crocodile and left him all alone for nearly two decades, believing obtaining an Ancient Weapon was the only way to take down the World Government. Countless innocent lives that perhaps could've been spared in Alabasta had Dragon just fucking talked to his ex--
Yeah. I'm curious how Iva-chan would feel
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