#Hope you all are interested in learning about them!

[lyricwritesprose]

As someone who is currently discovering My Adventures With Superman and frankly rolling around in it like catnip, I feel that having Lois catch on fast was absolutely right for the show.

First of all, this show just moves hella fast. For whatever reason. If you want slowburn, it's all cool, there's other media out there, but that doesn't happen to be what this one is doing.

Second of all, the plotline does excellent work at establishing who Lois is. In fact, the show is doing an excellent job of establishing who just about everyone is. Clark is just Good, sweet and kind in a way usually reserved for Disney princesses, but he is also too cautious and rule abiding and unwilling to rock the boat until Lois is involved. Lois is brilliant, driven, a bit emotionally damaged and about one thousand percent insane, but believing in Clark keeps her from becoming too ruthless. Jimmy has got to have cast iron self control, I mean, this is a guy who has endless curiosity about cryptids and yet managed somehow not to grab a video camera and interrogate his Obviously A Cryptid roommate—simply because Clark is his friend and he wanted to respect his boundaries, I mean, seriously, what an absolute mensch. Guy deserves to be the most famous Best Friend in American media. And even the minor characters, like, Perry . . . is clearly offscreen eating antacids like they were fucking M&Ms, and it is mostly the fault of the aforementioned trio. But back to Lois and Clark.

The thing is, there may be actually more potential for juicy emotional complications out of a Lois who knows than a Lois who doesn't. I mean, first of all, you have to figure out what you even mean to him, and how much he lied to you, and then you have to work out how to connect to an actual alien who is sitting in a psychological place where no human ever has before, like Maslow's hierarchy of needs probably doesn't even apply to him, and second of all he is absolutely Going Through Shit because he has enemies and no idea what the fuck is going on and his space ship speaks a different language. Yeah, love, that's good, that's nice—but it's not going to be enough. You have to have a lot of other things, like good communications skills and raw insane courage, and if you don't have them you're going to have to learn them fast because this television show, as mentioned before, is not even interested in trying a slow burn plot.

To be clear, I have just gotten into this media, but by this point I trust them to come up with emotional torque because, I don't know, despite (despite? Not sure that's quite the right word) the silliness and the occasional Excessive Amounts Of Anime I feel that they just understand the assignment. This show is about Being Good, about hope and friendship and love. And not necessarily in a schmaltzy care bear sort of way, but in a "we understand that this is stupid hard in a world like this and maybe we should do it anyway," way.

i 100% believe every single adaptation of superman should be judged for accuracy based on how well they understand just how completely unhinged lois lane is as a person. because if you think THE lois lane wouldn’t do [fill in the blank], you’re wrong. she absolutely would do that and she will not be apologizing for it. superman being in love with her only succeeded in making her more comfortable and willing to do insanely dangerous things than she already was. because yes, she will 100% launch her body off a skyscraper just to prove a point. and guess what, idiot? she was right, so it was completely worth it and she will be doing it again. i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again, lois lane is absolutely bat-shit crazy. clark just happens to be really REALLY into her particular brand of crazy. like there is nothing lois won’t do with the right motivation. she is an absolute force of nature and that should scare the shit out of you.

[ink-stainedkiss]

Husband Sukuna Ryomen Headcannons

Husband!Sukuna who is completely wrapped around your finger, but would never make it known. He has slaughtered thousands, is feared by his own village, and is a horror story to children. Yet, he enjoys resting his head in your lap and falls asleep peacefully as you play with his hair. As one would expect, Sukuna wouldn’t dare to show the soft side of himself, as it’s reserved for only his adoring wife.

Husband!Sukuna who feels off whenever you aren’t right next to him. No matter where, if you aren’t standing with him, he shifts uncomfortably and ends up calling for your presence. When Sukuna realized he had these unfamiliar feelings for you, it was decided that you could never get rid of him.

Husband!Sukuna who is too stubborn for his own good and can not for the life of him express his feelings. His bull-headed attitude always made disagreements turn into petty fights. You had learned that it’s better to give him space, rather than go back and forth.

Sukuna had done it again. He had killed off an innocent servant without a second thought. You couldn’t help but feel guilty that Sukuna didn’t face you with his merciless personality. There were only a selective few that the King of Curses didn’t wish death upon if they served no purpose. As you got word of why the poor servant was cut into pieces, you felt frustration build in you at the insignificant reason for her demise. You marched to your shared chamber, a deep furrow in your brow, and unsurprisingly, Sukuna was ever peaceful, reading a book on your bed.

“Is something wrong?” He hummed boredly, not looking up to meet your hardened gaze,”As a matter of fact, yes.” The king raised a curious brow, but shared no more interest,”What is the issue?” Standing unwaveringly, you plead your case,”You killed off a servant girl.” Sukuna nodded shortly,”I did. Is that all?”

Your jaw tightened,”You did it with no reason at all.” Sukuna gave you an indifferent look, clearly not seeing why you were upset,”She knocked over one of your vases, I had every right to kill her,” Your hands turned into fist,”No you didn’t. It was just painted clay, we could have gotten another one from the town’s potter.”

Sukuna set his book to the side, anger beginning to grow,”That was a gift. Are you telling me that you show no care toward my gracious offering?” You pinched the bridge of your nose,”No Sukuna. I loved the vase, it was beautiful,” You gave him a desperate look,”But that girl didn’t deserve to die over a simple mistake.” He looked you up and down, his tense expression unmoving.

“I detest your ability to forgive someone so easily.” You felt your hope run out at his heartless response. You exhaled softly, beginning to turn away. Sukuna noticed your change and he felt a sharp pang in his chest. Moving towards the door, you turned over your shoulder,” I apologize for wasting your time,”

Sukuna reached out and tried to call for you, but his chamber door was already shut. The king tossed his head back against the headboard and let out an audible groan.

Husband!Sukuna who replays your saddened voice over and over again and realizes he has to make it up to you. It was clear you were passionate about this topic and all Sukuna did was make it worse. So even if he’s completely terrible at voicing his apology, he understands that’s the only way to make you feel better.

Husband!Sukuna who seeks you out all throughout the estate, rushing past the workers and making them jump at his fervency. After searching for what seemed like forever, he goes to the last place in his mind. The gardens. This place was for Sukuna to rest in and for Sukuna only, that was until he found you. The two of you shared the sacred space often, just whenever you needed a moment of quiet. The garden was fenced off and only a certain few could enter the premises.

Husband!Sukuna who lets out a sigh of relief as he finds you sitting alone near a thin river.

Sukuna calmly walked over, sitting down next to you, and it was almost comical to see this beast of a man resting by your side. The silence between you two was agonizing, but you seem unbothered. The king carefully moved his head, revealing a pure white rose,”I plucked this for you. Its beauty reminds of you.”

Despite your anger, his words made your heart flutter, and you took it quietly. Your fingers fiddled with the delicate petals,”Thank you,” Sukuna wasn’t greatly pleased with your words. His mind ran laps around what he should say and eventually he spoke up,”I will try to be more…pitying.” Your head whipped around, facing your husband in shock,”Really? Would you do that?”

He let out a lenient sigh, giving you a short nod,”If it makes you happy, then I shall.” Sukuna knew you were giving him those pathetic eyes that made him feel all warm and gross, so he didn’t meet your gaze. Before he could continue, your body was leaping onto his, making the King fall onto the grass with a small groan.

His face was decorated in tiny kisses and you thanked him endlessly,”Oh, thank you Kuna. I’m forever in your debt.” Sukuna rolled his eyes, staring up at you as you halted your persistent kisses,”Don’t say such foolish things. You’re in no one’s debt and you never will be.” His words made your smile wider and once again he was smothered in your lips.

It seemed like merely a fable that the King of Curses was letting out belly laughs as his wife showed him so much affection.

Husband!Sukuna who tells himself that nothing, no living or dead creature shall take you away from him, and he would rain hell on the earth if they dared to try.

[burymagdalene]

Rocket Fuel - S. Reid x Reader

After a week apart, Spencer and reader have a day tucked away from society together. Resulting in stolen coffee, Spencer tries to make it up to you with his own trial of coffee making. pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader genre: Good old fashioned fluff tags: established relationship, sharing (stealing) coffee, season 6 Spencer, lots of kisses– PURITAN REALLY wc: 2.3k a/n:  Based on my little headcanon here, I expanded my idea a bit for you guys! Kisses, I hope you enjoy!

You hadn’t seen Spencer in a painfully long time. With a quick departure from work to Louisiana, it had been a week since you’d last seen him. Of course, you have gone longer, but something about this case dragged out how eternal it felt, each day becoming more drawn out like the beginning of the summer solstice. That being said, your copious hours apart have finally ended as Spencer calls you once you’re off work.

“Baby, I just landed. Are you busy? Can I see you?” He quickly rushes out, combining all the words into one jumbled, excited mess. You can hear the chatter in the background and the wind blowing as he’s stepping off the plane.

Resting your phone on your shoulder as you wiggle your key into your apartment, you smile at his voice. “Hi. Yeah, I’m just getting home from work. I can get pretty and we can go out?” You shut the door behind you. 

“Hmm. Can I just come over and stay with you? After this week I kind of feel like seeing you and nobody else again.” Spencer’s voice tapers off to a whisper at the end, not wanting to risk the BAU hearing and getting offended. Which they heard anyway, earning him a soft slap upside the head. 

“If you won’t feel stir crazy, yeah I’d love that. You can help me with a new braid I want to try, I’ve been practicing and it’s killing me…” Spencer is very much used to these calls of help. When you wanted to learn how to do a french braid, you made him watch a video and come over to do it himself since he retains what you’re supposed to do so easily. 

“Perfect. Do you want me to pick you up? Coffee? Are you tired?” Not being able to hold it back, you chuckle a bit. Spencer’s frantically trying to supply you with anything he might’ve missed while he was gone. He’s always like this, desperate to bring you little treats after a case, like a crow leaving shiny gifts on the doorstep of those who feed them. 

“I’d love a coffee Spence. I have this incurable sweet tooth I’ve adapted since you’ve been gone,” you tease while letting out a dramatic sigh “not enough sweetness in my life.” Spencer whines out a sorry on the other side of the line and asks what you want. 

“Okay, a raspberry mocha with an extra shot for the beautiful girlfriend. Sounds… interesting.” Spencer replies and after quick goodbyes he slides into his car to drop off his luggage at his apartment, feed his fish (that you had won during a carnival date and gave to him) and is off walking to get you your artificially flavored coffee that will make your dentist cry. 

Spencer loiters around the aggressively hipster coffee shop you frequent because of its good prices (uncommon in D.C.) waiting for your drink while smiling softly at himself at the idea of smelling you again, shoving his head in the nape of your neck while embracing you, touching your hair, being in your apartment surrounded by your things.

He’s at a point of hazy daydreaming where he doesn’t hear the “mocha for Spencer!” shouted by the barista until minutes later when they make eye contact and he sheepishly realizes he needs to get himself in gear.

Taking your drink he texts you letting you know he’s on the way and starts heading towards your apartment. The past week Spencer has been crammed inside offices, cars, the plane, so walking over and stretching his legs is making him bright eyed and bushy tailed.

Just bright eyed enough that the chocolate-y sweet aroma wafting from your coffee peaks his interest. Spencer brings it closer for a better sniff and makes a little “hm, not so bad” sound. Spencer and you share a similar taste in sweet coffee, though Spencer usually goes for a mountain of sugar added, not really any of the different kinds of flavoring you typically order. He takes a curious sip.

Before he knows it Spencer is on sip number two and is offhandedly thinking about the rise of modernist architecture as he walks past the corporate apartments downtown, devoid of individualism and expression. In fact, he thinks, 420,000 apartment buildings were built in America this year, a world record. With how quickly apartments are popping up, 200,000-300,000 are being destroyed because of the cheaper and less expensive materials that are being implemented currently- 

The cup feels significantly lighter than it did when Spencer first bought it. He gives it a few swishes to gauge his damage and winces a bit. That’s okay! You’re the most understanding and sweet person he knows. He doubts you’ll bat an eye that he stole some sips. Sharing is caring after all. 

The neighborhood finally starts to become more homely and familiar as he makes his way towards your complex. He’s already consumed his fair share of airplane and office coffee today, now with your sugary double shot, Spencer is bouncing with every step knowing he’s about to see you momentarily.

Spencer understands the energizer bunny to his full extent right now. Bounding up your front steps and knocking to the tune of “doot doola doot doo” and reflecting on a memory of an energizer bunny commercial he had seen as a kid. He was terrified of it.  

And right before his eyes his angel finally appears. 

You swing the door open and hug him tightly in the doorway, immediately shoving your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply. The laundry detergent on his clothes was not holding up while he was gone to how he actually smells in person. 

“Hi, my baby,” Spencer mutters into the top of your head. He pulls you back gently by the back of your neck so he can get a good look at your face. “I missed this face so much.” He giggles, he can’t believe how badly he’s been longing for you this week. Pulling Spencer to your living room, you’re still embraced in a hug.

“You don’t even understand. I’m coming jammed in your suitcase next time you have to leave.” You smile back at him, softly running your thumb along his jaw. Spencer blushes sweetly and breaks eye contact.

“Anddd your rocket fuel.” In his bliss he’s forgotten all prior sips of your coffee and hands you the drink. 

You take his offering, smile dropping when you’re holding it yourself. “What the hell?”

Spencer remembers immediately. “I was checking for poison.”

“What the hell?”

“You know, so that if there was poison I’d be the one-”

“This is almost gone?” You can’t help but laugh a little bit at the absurdity.

Spencer pulls his best guilty face. “I’m so sorry. It smelled so good so I had to try it, you know scent accounts for around 75 to 95 percent of the impact a flavor can have. So, I could’ve been doing an experiment to attest to how it tastes in regards to how it was smelling. But I wasn’t actually, I just got carried away. Did you know that if you tried plugging your nose while eating a potato and an onion that without smelling them, they would taste essentially the same? We have to try that some time.” He’s nervously rambling.

You laugh and hand him back the cup. “It’s all yours, Spence.” You turn and walk into your kitchen, knowing he’s going to be following at your tail. 

“I am sorry. Are you sure?” Spencer scratches the back of his neck nervously. Though he stops feeling bad once you turn around and lean against your kitchen counter with a grin. 

“Yes, I’m sure. However, you’re about to sift through my kitchen and whip me up the most delicious coffee that my cabinets have to offer. Okay?”

Spencer nods with a bashful smile, sipping the coffee again. “Okay. Truce?”

“Hmm. Not so fast, it’ll be a truce if and when the coffee you make knocks my socks off.” You tease. 

Spencer kisses your shoulder and gives another kiss under your ear like this second chance has a life changing outcome. A queen giving her jester another chance at entertainment before his beheading.

Conversation flows sweetly as you stand together in your kitchen. You have new flowers on a small table that he comments the origins on. “Why am I jealous that you got yourself flowers and I didn’t?” Spencer half jokes as he rummages through your options of crappy instant coffee.

“Hmm. But you did go out of your way to buy me that coffee I wanted… oh wait.” You poke back at him lightly. Spencer sighs good naturedly and asks you to turn around. 

“I want the drink to be a surprise, don’t look at what I’m pulling out.”

Turning around, you roll your eyes. “Yes, chef.”

Spencer starts concocting his masterpiece and puts away the ingredients after they’re combined. He turns around, moving your hair to the side, away from your neck and places a kiss on the back of your neck. He hums against your skin and places another kiss. “Okay, you can look again.”

You spin on your heels and wrap your arms around his waist, against his back, chin resting on one of his shoulders as you watch him stir together a warm and milky mix of God knows what. You’re a little bit scared.

Pouring the mixture into the mug he gave you on your last birthday with your first name initial across the front, Spencer hands it to you with a ginormous, proud smile. 

Pulling it up to your nose you give it a sniff to see what you’re about to get yourself into, though you guess this could be an onion and potato scenario, or whatever Spencer was saying to save his ass. You take a sip.

It’s not very good. You can taste each ingredient separately and together simultaneously. Way too milky that it drowns out the already weak coffee grounds you have. Spencer definitely makes coffee in a unique way, you’ve tried it once or twice. 

“Mmm, this is so good, baby. Perfect.” You smile against the rim of the cup anyway. 

“Really?” Spencer grins, taking a sip of your coffee again, one that you’re mourning more than ever now.

“Yeah! Thank you!” You lean over and kiss the side of his mouth. Spencer shifts to the side to catch you in a proper kiss. He overzealously pulls you in closer, hands cupping your cheeks, the coffee he made you spills a bit with his movement. 

“Mm- babe,” you pull away to wipe the rim of your cup with a napkin. Spencer just hums in response, that he is not sorry for.

“Let me try?” Spencer asks sweetly after watching you take another sip, curious to know what he did to make it taste so good.

“Uhh, yeah. Sure.” You give a tight-lipped smile, your facade slowly breaking.

Taking the cup from you, Spencer takes another one of his greedy sips. He gulps it quickly, offendedly, and looks at you with a crazed expression. You burst out laughing. 

“What?” You choke out through giggles. 

“This is awful.” Spencer deadpans. 

“Nooo, it's good!” You remedy. You don’t really care how it tastes, it’s just nice to be drinking something he’s made you after all this time. You don’t even care anymore he has your sweet drink either, he deserves it. Sweet thing.

Spencer starts laughing along with you, pulling you in by your wrist and peppering your face with kisses as you try to boost his confidence. “Seriously. I couldn’t have made it better myself.”

“You couldn’t possibly have made this yourself. That’s just awful. I was confident too.” He shakes his head with a smile. Spencer pours out half of what he made you and lifts the top of the remainder of what you actually wanted, and pours it in. He mixes it with his finger, pops it in his mouth to taste. No poison. And hands it to you.

The mixture was pleasant actually, a lot of the flavoring from the coffee shop fell to the bottom, so it made his milky coffee flavorful. You hum in genuine pleasure this time. 

“I can’t believe you tried to lie to me about that coffee. You never have to grin and bear anything for my sake.” Spencer responds seriously as he watches you drink his combination.

You can’t help but feel like when a parent turns a funny story into a life lesson, but you suppose he’s right.

“You looked so proud! I didn’t want you to feel disappointed. I don’t really care about you drinking my coffee. I just care that you’re here.”

Spencer laughs and rolls up his sleeves as he talks, “I swear tomorrow your socks will officially be knocked off with the delectable coffee you’re about to receive.” He picks back up a joking tone.

“Oh I bet.” You kiss his cheek.

The rest of your evening together was full of caffeinated updates either of you may have missed in the past week, Spencer filling you in on a prank he was particularly proud of devising against Derek.

Spencer held up his end of the bargain as well. You woke up from the first good rest you’ve had all week since Spencer left to a raspberry mocha by your bedside table. You hadn’t even heard him leave. 

You skip into your living room to find an empty cup of the same coffee Spencer picked up for himself this time to find him hunched over your coffee table fixing a bouquet of flowers into a vase. 

He looks up at you and walks over, giving you a warm hug, slipping an arm up the back of your hoodie and traces your skin. “I was supposed to wake you up, angel.” He mumbles into your shoulder. 

Pulling away, you walk over to inspect the new vase of flowers he got you. You put your hands on your hips and smile over at where he’s standing. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “Truce.” 

[avelera]

Oh I would love to hear more of your thoughts on Heimerdinger because all of my friends were like "aaw the poor guy, he was right about magic all along, Jayce and Viktor owe him an apology" and I'm like??? Heimerdinger literally does nothing to improve any situation ever! I was so hoping he'd learn his lesson under Ekko, but when he got stranded in an AU and just decided to stay there and permanently take over his other self's body and let his original timeline perish I was genuinely horrified by his complacency (again). TBH I would have really liked to see him confronted with the fucked up culmination of all the fiddling with the Arcane in person, because I think I wanted him to see that he was right, he was right and yet he didn't change anything in the end (I'd even argue that he gets away without facing the consequences of any of his failings, he escapes Jinx' bombs even tho he failed in politics and he escapes the Arcane Apocalypse even tho he failed as a guide to his pupils and Hextech safeguard.)

Heimerdinger is a super interesting character and I'm glad you asked this because the previous meta discussion got me thinking about him but I didn't really know where to begin. I'll try to break my thoughts down with some cohesion:

I do think Heimerdinger learned his lesson within the narrative but specifically with regards to his two demonstrated personal flaws. Heimerdinger's two greatest flaws within the narrative are:

1) A lack of understanding and empathy towards those with shorter lives

2 ) The way his immortality detaches him from actually living his life (which feeds into point 1).

This is going to get long though, so I'm gonna start picking apart what I see as Heimerdinger's flaws and his virtues and how those get addressed beneath a cut:

So as I said, I would argue that Heimerdinger's arc does address his core flaws. His moment of greatest personal cruelty is when he fails to recognize Jayce and Viktor's desperation and, instead of agreeing to help them and guide them to make their experiments safe in the face of their desperation for Viktor to live, he just tries to shut them down. He gets exactly what he deserves there.

Then, in the AU universe, he recognizes this and agrees to help Ekko. He then willingly sacrifices his own life to send Ekko back to the canon universe, where Ekko is instrumental in saving the day. That, I would argue, is Heimerdinger's redemption arc, and he needed a redemption arc.

Also, while he was in the alternate timeline, he learned how to live in the moment, which addresses his second flaw, which feeds into his first flaw. I don't blame him for not feeling urgency to return home, without Ekko, he had no way of doing so. It could be seen as complacency, or perhaps simply an understanding of the reality. Would that world have been a better place if he'd invented Hextech just for a shot at returning to his universe? I'd argue that he was trying to be selfless by not doing so, when we see how much damage Hextech did in the canon universe. I think he was simply at peace with a shitty situation for himself, rather than actively avoiding his responsibilities.

As for the other Heimerdinger, who knows! Was there even one? Do yordles only have one identity across the multiverse? Or was there an element of redemption in Heimerdinger choosing to take his alternate self out of the Council? We just don't know.

As for his political identity, Heimerdinger is super interesting there too. Technically, he's an immortal enlightened despot in Piltover as its founder. I think he hides this fact from himself by allowing a council of humans to sometimes outvote him, in a fig leaf over the fact he really doesn't have the right to govern a bunch of humans, and I think him getting voted out of the Council acknowledges and narratively punishes him for this fact. Piltover isn't as enlightened as he thought it was under his leadership, a fact he realizes when he goes to the undercity and realizes how blind he was. But I'd say those were his flaws, he was always blind and naive, not malicious. And I think the narrative punishes him accordingly by giving him a wakeup call that he was asleep at the helm. He doesn't deserve to be in charge anymore. Jayce was completely right to kick him out BUT, did things get worse without the peaceful, modulating view of Heimerdinger on the council? How would HE have voted for Zaun's independence? I'd be very curious to know.

And I think it should be noted, Heimerdinger does have virtues too! His caution towards Hextech is not only well-founded, he is 100% correct. I think people forget that Heimerdinger was never ambiguous on the subject of where Hextech would lead them, he was completely right that it corrupts, destroys, and lays waste to civilizations. There's no ambiguity there! He's completely correct!

He's also correct that there are scientific innovations that would be safer if they spent more time in testing before being made available to the wider world. It took 100 years for people to realize coal burning factories were measurably altering the world's climate. Another great example of an invention that should have been tested more before it was implemented was freon, which was used in early refrigerators and does measurable damage to Earth's ozone later to the point where it is now banned. What if instead more tests had been run?

Heimerdinger's long view of science is correct and in an ideal world, it'd be great if we could run these tests to their conclusions. However, the long view isn't the whole story, a debate that Arcane actively engages with.

Because it should also be pointed out: the refrigerator also helped improve people's health around to the world. Think of all the food and medicine that can be preserved today because of refrigeration! Literally thousands would have died if we had banned refrigerators until freon could be better studied.

That's kind of where Viktor is at vs. Heimerdinger. If freon-powered refrigerators can end hunger in the undercity, why aren't we applying it now? To which Heimerdinger answers: you don't know what else it might be doing to the world. They are in fact both correct! It's a debate! One the real world is still trying to figure out. Heimerdinger is an extreme case of the long view, and Viktor is an equally extreme case of the short view since he's frantic now that he has so little time to live. Jayce tries to balance the two and gets caught in the middle with everyone mad at him, poor guy.

Anyway, I think that covers most of what I had to say about Heimerdinger? Hope that helps!

[httpuckdrop]

ashes – day 5

it really was a coincidence that you already had his number saved in your phone when he texted you.

jack: hey

one of your best friends, jenny, had another friend who came along with you all that night. she was a loud woman with blonde curls called anna and she was, you had now learned, engaged to a hockey player in the local nhl team. you'd never cared much for sports in general, and especially not hockey. anna was quick to catch up on that fact the morning after you met jack, when you were supposed to go out for brunch with jenny and anna happened to tag along.

the boy you were chatting to last night, jack, she had started, sipping her orange juice before continuing. you did get his name, right? he's a good friend of my fiancé, a great player too.

you had thought and hoped that she would be able to read from your uninterested expression that you wished for the conversation to end as soon as it started. however, she had not been the quickest to pick up on your hints.

i've never seen jack look at someone like that before, you should totally hit him up! he's single, you know.

you'd sure hope so, considering the things you were up to in his apartment.

you had told anna that you didn't want anything to do with him, but she had insisted; at least save his number, you never know!

jenny had agreed, going off for a moment about your (empty) love life and how you haven't really looked happy since you broke up with that boyfriend over a year ago. the whole conversation had made you nauseous, and you had eventually agreed to add his number to your contacts just to shut them up.

since then, you'd forgotten about it, until the moment he texted you. you spent about fifteen minutes trying to figure out some kind of response – what even do you say to "hey"?

you: how did you get my number? lol

you felt a little guilty right after sending it, the tone maybe a little harsh; you usually greeted people back when they texted you. but maybe it was for the best. you didn't want him to get any false hopes.

your phone pinged again just a minute later.

jack: from anna! she said you two talked abt me, that i should hit you up

jack: well, i WANTED to hit you up also. :)

it kind of scared you how quick your heart was to flutter in your chest. this was not supposed to happen. before you could even answer, yet another message appeared in the chat.

jack: you free for dinner tonight?

a man not afraid of a triple text should've excited you. instead you shook your head and typed a quick response.

you: dinner?...

jack: i want to take you out for dinner, is that okay?

you shouldn't even have considered it. you never before even considered meeting a one-night-stand again, especially not for dinner. maybe it was because the other part was never interested in it, maybe it was because you thought it was against all and any code of conduct. either way, it was just easier like that.

so why did your fingers suddenly live a life of their own? why was there a message from you saying yes to his request when you looked back down at your phone again?

he surprised you that night. you knew from the first time you met that he was a good listener – though, you had assumed it was just because he was trying to woo you enough to go home with him – but he was a great talker, too. not in the sense that he talked a lot, but in the sense that whenever he did talk, you found yourself realizing he was more complicated than you initially thought. he wasn't just trying to win you over; he was trying to let you see him, piece by piece, each one carefully chosen.

you didn't know what the procedures or rules were when it came to this kind of meeting. was it a date? was it just a pre-hookup meal? was it something more? nonetheless, you weren't surprised that the dinner ended with you following him home to his apartment.

he wasn't just good at listening and talking, but at making you feel good, too. you knew you were already walking on the fine line between a regular hookup and something else – not that you were sure what the other thing would be. friends with benefits (could you even be friends with benefits if you weren't friends to start with?), fuck buddies (is there even such a thing these days?), or something completely different?

curled up into his side with a duvet lazily thrown across your stomach, you distracted yourself from your many thoughts by drawing shapes into his chest. little stars, quirky stick figures, ugly cats. "something on your mind?" he asked, a chuckle rumbling beneath his chest at the sight of you cuddling closer to him.

"this... hockey thing," you started, gazing up at him for the first time in a long while. "you're pretty good, aren't you?"

there was a shrug of his shoulder, though his expression stayed plain. "i guess so."

"you have your own wikipedia page. and you were some kind of first pick, whatever that means." this, however, forced his lips into a grin. "that's not just pretty good. that's amazing."

"i guess so."

he yelped at the feeling of your hand slapping his chest, a groan slipping past his lips. "why didn't you tell me? when we first met?"

"you didn't seem like you cared," he said honestly, and you pushed yourself up a little on the bed to look at him better. "so i didn't think it was necessary. besides, it's a job like any other."

"i told you all about my studies, and you just said that you work with hockey!" you exclaimed, fingers forming quotation marks in the air. "that's hardly fair, and it's not a common job!"

"i was wearing a team cap! i assumed that if you knew, you'd say something!"

you merely shook your head, pausing for a few moments to just stare at him. "i'll forgive you for now," you say, puckering your lips. "for the low price of five kisses."

"taken."

the thing that surprised you the most was how much you enjoyed spending time with him, how easy it felt. he was handsome and had a sweet smile and he was a great lover, sure, but you still hadn't expected to have this good of a time with him. it was almost enough to make you spend the night.

almost.

[hylemorph]

Thomas' relationship with masculinity in Nosferatu 2024

Thomas' motivation at the start of the film is financial self-sufficiency in the form of a promotion, and I think this is the starting point for his character arc through the film, which I personally see as a negotiation with the masculine roles available to him. Thomas is clearly embarrassed to be in debt to Friedrich, and paying him back and providing a similar level of comfort to Ellen is important to Thomas (maybe partially because she came from wealth herself). Thomas and Friedrich seem to have a good friendship, but there's definitely a vibe that Friedrich is a superior, and maintaining the correct level of victorian niceties seems to be important in their dynamic. Later in the movie when Friedrich and Ellen are arguing, Friedrich completely side-steps the actual topic (Anna's bite marks and delirium) by taking offence to her "marked tone" and the fact that she isn't performing the conventions of his superiority ("I hope, for your husband's sake, that you learn to comport yourself with the appropriate deference"). Upholding vapid, hierarchical victorian manners is closely aligned with the kind of masculinity Friedrich represents.

Thomas' vulnerability to this kind of masculinity is exploited by Orlok as well. when Thomas arrives at the castle the first night, Orlok has a 'noble host' facade set up with wine and bread for his guest, talking about how his "attendants" have all gone to bed, pretending that he still functions in society as a Count. Orlok demands that Thomas calls him "my lord" and orders him around, testing how far politeness will go to constrain Thomas' reactions to him. Orlok drops the facade pretty quickly, but it's interesting that he bothered to test Thomas at all, and also that he needs Thomas' signature on his covenant - for some reason Orlok needs Thomas' buy-in for his superiority, just like Friedrich does.

If my theory that Orlok/Friedrich and Ellen/Anna are mirrors is valid, then I think Thomas' mirror is the Romani vampire hunter guy. On each of my viewings I was struck by how closely the camera hung on this unnamed side character who is only in the movie for like 5 minutes - why is he emphasized so much? When Thomas arrives at the inn he's exhausted and out of his element, the Romani people crowd around him shouting and dancing, and the shot pans up to this cocky looking guy leaning on a door frame. He cracks up at Thomas' stuffy, befuddled look, and all the other Romani people join in. During the hunt/ritual, he takes on the frontline role and tells everyone to stfu. He's clearly a leader, but not based on any formalized hierarchy.

The vampire hunter represents a different kind of masculinity that Thomas tries to emulate later on. When Thomas says that he'll kill Orlok by driving a cold iron spike through him, he's not referencing anything Von Franz told them, he's planning to do exactly what he saw the vampire hunter do earlier. It probably wouldn't have worked, and maybe the vampire hunter just stabbed a normal corpse, and that kind of masculine role wouldn't have been very authentic to Thomas anyways, but I think it shows that Thomas is trying a new approach. If he can't keep Ellen safe through conventional means, maybe he can win by being raw and bold and decisive. If he had more time with Ellen I believe Thomas would have found a role that was authentic and right for his marriage, because his love was extremely strong and he was able to accept her completely, but it was too late.

[electricbathsalt]

I would like to clarify something:

My point was never that Chisaki didn’t do anything wrong, that he was innocent, or justified in any of the things he did. He’s horrible. He’s a horrible man who did horrible things.

My point was that he’s not actually any worse than the League of Villains, and that a lot of the fandom doesn’t bother properly understanding his character. So many people will say that he’s pure evil and that he was just born that way, when that’s… blatantly untrue? He clearly is a product of the environments he grew up in. You cannot convince me he would have turned out the same person had he had a different, better upbringing.

I’ve seen many people say that Chisaki is the exact same as AFO and Endeavor, while loving Shigaraki and saying he deserved better. Which is interesting, considering Chisaki is also canonically a victim of AFO, and as for with Endeavor, I’d say there’s quite a few pretty fundamental differences between the two:

One: Chisaki’s goals were not entirely for himself and his own prosperity and wants.

Two: Chisaki didn’t enter into an arranged marriage where he forced his wife to have multiple kids for the sake of his goal. It was not premeditated. Eri was dropped in his lap, and he made a plan based off of that.

Three: Chisaki was raised in the yakuza. Before Chisaki was in the yakuza, he was in one of AFO/Garaki’s orphanages, where it’s implied he was experimented on. His outlook on life, the world at large, and violence is going to naturally be extremely different from Endeavor’s due to how he was raised. Endeavor seems to have been born in a relatively regular civilian or hero family.

Four: Chisaki is half the age of Endeavor.

And I hope I don’t have to explain why Chisaki is not the same as AFO.

It’s shown that Chisaki is capable of love and care. The problem is that he never learned how to properly show those things. He never learned about the inherent value of human lives—he believes that being alive is something you must prove yourself worthy of.

Nemoto used his truth quirk on Chisaki, and Chisaki’s true feelings were that he likes Nemoto and finds his presence reassuring. Yet he doesn’t spare a second thought before killing him and fusing with him. He doesn’t exactly hesitate to put Pops into a coma, the person who he treasures most. It seems that Chisaki doesn’t equate caring about someone with not hurting them.

He doesn’t hold grudges. He doesn’t blame anyone but himself for the destruction of the Shie Hassaikai. He doesn’t care to go after Midoriya or the LOV for revenge. He seems to think violence is something expected, that it’s a given. That someone hurting you isn’t something to be mad about. People like to wave around Chisaki’s whole shtick of dehumanizing people and thinking of them as pawns, but they don’t realize that he doesn’t exclude himself from that. Yes, he likely believes himself to be the queen, but still ultimately a chess piece.

Chisaki isn’t a sadist. He’s never a jackass for the sake of being a jackass. We only “see” him smile once and firstly, we don’t even get to actually see it because it’s covered by his mask, and secondly, it’s a fake smile to try to throw Midoriya and Mirio off his trail. Yet I see people make him smile and revel in other people’s pain all the time, make him an asshole who likes tormenting people for the sake of it. That’s not Chisaki.

Chisaki is not worse than Dabi or Shigaraki. Chisaki is not “completely different” from them and ten times more evil. He is the same; he thinks how he does because of how he was brought up. He would’ve been different if his childhood was different. He is not less deserving of rehabilitation than the LOV.

Anyway. This is getting longer than I intended, so I’m just gonna cut it off there.

[bullet-prooflove]

Hi! Request for Duke Crocker please

"Why am I the only one naked right now?"

❤️

Tagging: @kmc1989 @of-mice-and-mirth @magic-multicolored-miracle @itsdanajane16 @trublu2u

Companion piece to:

Death In A Tarot Card - Duke learns his fate.

You aren’t in bed when Duke wakes up, he doesn’t hear your footsteps on the deck, or feel your presence in the room. Something has shifted he thinks, he isn’t sure what but he can feel it in the depths of his soul as he pushes himself up from the mattress.

He finds you in the galley, sitting at the small table by the porthole. Your hands are wrapped around a mug of Earl Grey tea as you stare out of the window at the sea as it laps against the starboard side of the Rouge.

"Why am I the only one naked right now?" He asks you as he leans in the doorway, the sheets gathered around his hips.

You sigh before you remove the two tarot cards out of your bag, setting them down on the table in front of him. His chest tightens as he looks down at them, your fingers tracing over the Death card.

“Did you ask me to marry you because you love me?” You ask him as you push it towards him. “Or because you found out you wouldn’t be here in a couple of months?”

“Why can’t it be both?” He asks you, his dark hair falling across his features as his eyes meet yours. “I’ve been carrying that ring around for weeks waiting for the right time and then it turned out there might not be one.”

“So your reaction to finding out you’re going to die is to come home, propose to me, fuck me stupid and then get up and resort to do the same thing all over again.” You say, your fingertip tapping on the Death card.

“I don’t want to die.” He tells you frankly. “But if these are my last days, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than inside that sweet pussy of yours, making you say my name.”

Your cheeks colour then and he really hopes that this isn’t one of the last times he gets to see you blush.

“If you’re serious about marrying me, I want to do it today.” You tell him as you push your own card forward.

It’s the Lovers.

A man that looks like him, holding a woman that looks like you. He’s seen this card a thousand times since the two of you got together, always sandwiched between the pages of a book. He can’t believe he’s never noticed the resemblance until now.

“I want to honeymoon in Cape Breton.” You continue as he picks up the card and stares at it. He notes the rings on their fingers, wedding bands he realises. “I want to make love in that little bed and breakfast we found in Nova Scotia, to see the Northern Lights, experience that magic with you…”

You trail off then because what you’re reciting, that’s his bucket list, the one he whispers to you in the dead of night.

“Today then.” He says, his voice rough as sets the card back down upon the table. “We’ll get married today.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

lowk FUCKED up, butttttttttttttt would any of the comic book yanderes lobotomize their darling? we always talkin about willingness and shit saur... ya know!! just a lil off the top if ykwim

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒…

!!! GN reader, take a wild guess (lobotomies), neurological terms used, basic delusional behaviors, unethical uses of superpowers, unethical practices in general, mentions of brain dead/vegetative/mentally handicapped reader, Hal’s part briefly describes actual lobotomy procedures, Joker jumpscare in Harvey’s, gaslighting, a small history lesson here and there, themes of forced drug abuse, Tim Drake being a good candidate for the Saw franchise.

GRRRRAAAAAAAARRRRGGGHGHHHRRR. Anon, come over here so I can give you a lil forehead smooch. I’ve always wanted to write a yan lobotomy blurb, but… I didn’t really know what direction I wanted to go. Or who to write about. The idea is was legit, “hee hee, wouldn’t it be silly if there was a yandere lobotomy fic” and that’s about it. So I guess this is my chance to get some feelings out about that, yay!!

A few of these are a bit longer than usual cuz this type of shit is my jam. I also didn’t know if you wanted me to rank them on least to most likely, so shoot me a follow up ask if that’s what you wanted. Mwah!!

Bruce Wayne: Definitely not off the table. I’m willing to bet Thomas Wayne had at least one book on lobotomies; just an antique hardback that makes for an interesting read. I can see young Bruce sitting on his father’s lap in the study, tiny hands tracing over the book’s old diagrams as Thomas lovingly describes all of the morbid things they’d do to people (you know, classic father/son bonding activities). Who knew it would actually come in handy one day? Moral repercussions be damned, my man can pull off a sick lobotomy. There are of course factors he has no control over — such as your own brain plasticity and cognitive function — but that’s not exactly his fault, now is it? What your brain decides to do post-lobotomy has nothing to do with him (jokes aside, he’d be devastated if you were totally fucked up afterwards… though he’d easily adapt).

Bucky Barnes: I think he’s had enough mind-meddling of his own to give this a hard pass. It doesn’t matter how bad you are; he’s not doing anything to your brain. You’ll learn to behave on your own accord. And thank god, cuz bro would NOT make a good brain surgeon. He’d brick you so fast. Also, fun fact, the Soviets were actually the first to ban lobotomies (if memory serves correct; Google is backing me up, so… do with that what you will). I don’t know if this carries over to the KGB and their little secret evil organization side shenanigans, but yeah. Let it be known that the chances of lobotomized Bucky went down by… like… 3%.

Clark Kent: At first, I was about to say no, but then I remembered the Justice Lords from the JL cartoon, and… you know what? Maybe. It would be a very low chance, but if it’s gotten to the point where you’re a danger to yourself, Clark would have no other choice. What else can he do? Your safety always comes first and foremost. While the two dots singed into your forehead would raise a few brows, it’s not like he lets you out much anyway. He’d spend a long time trying to cope with the guilt. He did this to save you… he just had to save you from yourself. At least his heat vision is precise enough that he wouldn’t fuck it up. Now all that’s left to do is hope that you turn out okay. He’ll consider it a job well done if you can at least still smile at him.

Dick Grayson: He really isn’t that much different from Bruce, is he? Yeah, he’d do it. Maybe with a few more reservations, but he’d still do it. I think it’s in your best interest if you don’t let him spiral this far, because he’s not against the idea of you being in a completely vegetative state. Yeah, it would suck that you aren’t as active of a participant as he’d want you to be, but having complete control over your care is good enough for him. He’ll easily let his own delusions fill that void. Honestly, a part of him might even hope you turn out with a mental capacity of a toddler. It’s the best of both worlds; while you can still respond to your environment, you also rely heavily on his care. Perfectly pliable in his hands… a dream come true! Yay!

Hal Jordan: Nah. He’s good. Last he checked, he’s not the most qualified person in the world to quite literally poke around in someone’s brain. Hell, even the thought of it makes him sick. No drilling holes into skulls, no skewering needles through eye sockets, no thanks! He’ll leave that up to the people who can stomach the grosser shit. Now, is the thought of a quick operation that theoretically fixes your bratty behavior tempting? Sure. But Hal’s not an idiot; he knows the risks, and those risks just don’t seem worth it. There’s a reason lobotomies are unethical nowadays. Unless the topic comes up in some sort of show or movie, the thought wouldn’t even cross his mind.

Harvey Dent: Neither Harvey nor Two Face are all that keen on the idea. They might’ve done some fucked up shit to you (definitely Two Face more than Harvey), but a lobotomy? That’s just a new level of fucked up. A Joker level of fucked up, even (and the thought of being compared to that piece of shit makes both sides of Dent want to light up an entire room). Besides, there’s no one on the entire planet he’d trust to pull off a procedure like that on you. While he might know a guy or two who would totally do it in this day and age, he’d sooner put a bullet in their brain than let them fuck around with yours. That being said, don’t think you’re totally out of the woods. At the end of the day, it’s all up to the coin, remember?

Jaime Reyes: Would Jaime? No. Absolutely not. It’s unethical, it’s fucked, and it’s also just gross. Anything to do with surgery makes him feel extremely squeamish, and he might actually pass out if he thinks about it too hard. But would Khaji Da? Yeah. Probably. Though it would have to be an extreme scenario, where you’re just completely beyond controlling. Khaji Da knows the risks, and while he’ll execute the technical aspects flawlessly, the results are naturally unpredictable. It would be unfortunate if the scarab lost its host’s mate. Your poor little noggin is at the mercy of Jaime’s resolve. Is he in full control? Then don’t worry, his incoherent mutterings about severing connections in your prefrontal cortex are nothing but his weird intrusive thoughts. But… if he isn’t… uh-oh.

Peter Parker: Nope. No lobotomies here. He’s quite aware of the repercussions, both morally and practically. Honestly, he doesn’t even see most of your behaviors as something in need of correcting in the first place. Maybe if you were causing yourself any sort of harm, but other than that, he can put up with a lot of your bullshit. Talking back? Name calling? Hitting and kicking? Straight-up just being abusive? As long as you don’t leave him, he’ll work with it! Peter is the exact definition of a pushover yandere. You can get away with a lot, and that includes not getting lobotomy!

Reed Richards: I can see him pulling one off. Is it the most desirable outcome? Definitely not. But there’s only so much he can put up with before he finally puts his foot down. If you’re the insubordinate type, you’ve probably given him at least 17 heart attacks by now, and it’s only natural he’d come up with a way to curb those behaviors. See, me personally, if I were to get a lobotomy from any of these men, I’m calling up Reed. He’s no neurologist, but I’m sure he can whip up something to study your brain waves and accurately predict the outcome of a lobotomy. Plus, he’d probably have the safest environment and instruments for the operation. You won’t feel a thing, trust. Now let’s hope months of collecting data and trial runs on some less-than-willing test subjects pay off!

Remy LeBeau: Yeah, no… probably not. Thanks to Sinister, he knows first hand how invasive a lobotomy is. You’d have to be really unstable for him to even consider that idea. He definitely has the means to do it — all he has to do is put a finger up to your forehead and burn through your frontal lobe — but having the resolve to do it is a different story. While he might’ve turned out semi-okay post-lobotomy, there’s no telling what would happen after yours. Way too risky. Only something to consider as a totally nuclear option. So don’t make him do something he’d rather not, okay? It’d be better for you, better for him, better for everyone.

Scott Summers: Like Gambit, he’s a victim of Sinister’s fuckery but 10 times worse. I don’t think he’d be able to stomach the thought of doing anything surgical to you no matter how disobedient you are. But… maybe we can make this a little interesting. Scott’s attracted some hella weird attention over the years… who’s to say someone like Sinister wouldn’t get his hands on you and do a little fucking around? Maybe Goblin Queen? A particularly pissed off Phoenix? While Scott himself wouldn’t dare lobotomize you, I think there’s some people out there who would. Or, hear me out: mind controlled Cyclops almost crushing your skull with an optic blast. It would be more blunt force than an actual lobotomy, but I’m willing to bet it would fuck up your cognitive function all the same. Despite the immense horror and guilt he’d feel afterwards, a small part of him can see it as a blessing in disguise (depending on how you turn out, that is).

Steve Rogers: Honestly, Cap was frozen at the funniest point in history ever. The amount of lobotomies increased exponentially from the 40s to 50s (mind you, WWII ended in 1945), and then antipsychotics were introduced as a more ethical way to treat mental illness, which Steve wouldn’t know shit about. Unfortunately for all of my fellow sickos out there, lobotomies were probably never a thing Steve liked about the 40s, but allow me to offer an alternative. Steve thinks there’s clearly something wrong with your mental health; why else would you act like you hate him? Luckily for him, this is the 21st century, where people know much more about mental illnesses and disorders. He could easily pull some strings as Captain America and get you the help you so obviously need. So, I guess the question is, how many different prescriptions of antipsychotics can one take at once? Guess you’ll find out!

Tim Drake: So… uh… y’all better pray that he doesn’t get any intrusive thoughts about this shit. And if he does, PRAY that he snaps out of his weird fit before it’s too late. DO NOT LET BRO COOK. I don’t think he’d totally fuck it up or anything, but the chances of him spiraling and performing more than one are dangerously high. You might find the out hard way just how much poking and prodding a brain can take before it shuts down. Depending on how manic he is, he might actually lobotomize you while you’re conscious. No anesthesia, no painkillers, just him pouncing on you with a hammer and pick. You will be rawdogging this lobotomy like god intended. That’s when he’d fuck your shit up. Unless you want him to brick your brain, you better fight him off and wrestle those tools out of his hands. The post-manic episode clarity would be insane. “Uh… sorry I tried to give you a lobotomy.” Cool, man. Okay.

Wally West: Wally “if you need to give someone a lobotomy, that’s honestly a skill issue” West. Who needs that shit when you’re THE master manipulator? It would take some god-tier perception (or paranoia) to see through a fraction of his act, and even so, what good will any of that do when he’s got everyone else wrapped around his finger? Fighting against him is a dangerous game. If need be, he’ll play the loving caretaker while you’re the loony one. Poor Wally… he’s trying to help you through your issues, and this is the thanks he gets? Wow. Now, for the sake of a little exploration, I think it’s important to note that Wally could theoretically go through with it (by phasing his hand through your skull and solidifying at the right angle), but that sounds way too unstable to pull off. It would probably run the risk of turning your brain into a soup, and I’m pretty sure that kills people.

[holylulusworld]

A fresh start (6) – New Beginnings

Summary: The world is safe. Thanos is gone. What now?

Pairing: Post-Endgame!Steve Rogers x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, plus-sized reader, virgin reader, virgin Steve Rogers, fluff, implied smut, first time, romance

A/N: A short last chapter.

Written for my 16.666 followers celebration. Requested by @elle14-blog1​

Catch up here: A fresh start (5) - First dates

A fresh start masterlist

“Doll?” Steve gasped. “I thought…I mean. You’re so beautiful and sweet. I can’t believe you never had a man before me. There must’ve been dozens of guys interested in you.”

“None of them were you,” you replied, gently touching his cheek. “Maybe I was waiting for the right man, and he sits right before me.”

“Same!” He hastily said. “I meant not a guy, but the right girl. I once thought I found her, but we weren’t meant to be. Now that I met you, I know what love is.”

You giggle because this is the sweetest and cheesiest thing to say. “I love you too, Stevie.”

“Thank fuck!” Steve exclaimed before kissing you softly. He moaned against you, feeling his heart flutter.

“No swear words, Captain,” you said, and cupped his face to deepen the kiss. “But I’m glad you love me too.”

Your confessions didn’t make things awkward between you and Steve. If anything, it made you both realize you have so much more in common than you thought.

His friends gave him advice and tried to strengthen his self-confidence. Steve didn’t listen. He didn’t want to lose his virginity in a hurry for the sake of having sex.

Steve wanted to do things right. He’d taken you out on dates and organized romantic dinners. Steve even went so far as to sign up for a cooking class to learn how to cook for his future wife.

One afternoon, he invited you to a romantic picnic in the park, and the next week, he enchanted you with his first homemade dinner.

You only fell harder for the charming superhero. He proved over and over again that he’s more than a handsome face. Steve Rogers is a kind soul and a sensitive man.

When you both were ready to take the next step in your relationship and after Steve assured you he was here to stay (even though you already knew that much), you let yourself fall.

Steve and you didn’t rush things. You started with soft kisses, gentle touches, and grinding against each other. You were both nervous and, to be honest, a little clumsy.

He was scared to hurt you, and you were afraid he’d be disappointed after seeing you bare for the first time. You were both wrong.

Steve couldn’t take his eyes or hands off you. And you weren’t afraid of getting hurt only because your boyfriend is enhanced. He was gentle and careful, always asking you if you felt good or if you wanted him to stop.

You clawed at him, refusing to stop now that you were finally united with the man you love.

It was worth waiting for Steve. He was a passionate yet gentle lover, and all you hoped for. Even though you ripped three condoms because your hands were busy exploring your bodies.

You laughed about it later, looking at the used and destroyed condoms lying on the ground. Because let’s be honest, Steve can do it all day and night.

Four months later you look at Steve, tears in your eyes as he kneels in front of you. His friends cheer him on as Steve asks the most important question.

“Doll, Y/N,” he whispers your name lovingly. “You’ve changed my life forever, and only because of you, I could save the world one last time. Now that I gave the shield to Sam, would you give me the honor of wearing my ring?”

Bucky and Sam held their breath as you stared at their friend for a moment. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Stunned, you watched the man you love kneel in front of you, his smile fading with every passing second.

“Fuck, what if she says no?” Bucky whispered while Sam prepared a speech to help Steve cope. “She wouldn’t do that. Right?”

“Why do you ask me?” Sam retorted the moment everyone clapped their hands. Bucky and Sam watched Steve put the ring on your finger before kissing you fiercely.

“Great! Now we missed it!” Bucky grunted.

Sam glared at Bucky. “And whose fault is it, old man?”

“Guys, are you ready to celebrate my engagement now, or do you want to fight some more?” Steve joked as you grinned as Bucky and Sam glared at each other. “Doll, I’m sorry. They come in a package with me.”

You both laughed wholeheartedly before sealing Steve’s proposal with another passionate kiss. Soon you’d be wearing not only his ring but Steve’s name too.

THE END, for now...

[xoxorealitygalore]

Trust and Believe II

You pushed me far

You brought me to it

You had my heart

But then you blew it, oh

summary: Keyshia and Joe had a seemingly perfect life together after marrying in 2010. However, as their careers grew, so did the strain on their relationship. When Joe cheats on Keyshia. The emotional fallout from the incident leaves their relationship hanging in the balance, with Keyshia questioning if they could ever recover from the betrayal.

Keyshia Anoa’i Ordered to Pay $100,000 to Woman She Assaulted in Roman Reigns’ Penthouse

Following an assault in September, Keyshia Anoa’i's three-month-long legal drama has finally come to an end and the singer will have to fork over a large amount of money.

According to a report from TMZ, Anoa’i's lawsuit ended in a default judgment after the singer never showed up to court. Anoa’i has been ordered to pay $100,000 to the woman suing her.

Anoa’i was originally arrested in September, for assaulting the woman, after she noticed the woman in the penthouse of her husband Roman Reigns. The singer reportedly went into a fit of rage and immediately attacked the woman, leaving bruises on her face.

Following the attack, the woman pressed charges against Anoa’i. The victim then filed a lawsuit and sought punitive damages for battery, intentional infliction of emotional distress, negligence, and premises liability.

Keyshia stood near the window in Joe's office, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she watched him carefully write out the check for $100,000. The words Court-Ordered Payment were typed at the top, followed by the name of the woman who had sued her—the woman Keyshia had attacked after discovering her with Joe.

Keyshia couldn't help but feel a sharp pang of bitterness. She wasn’t proud of what she’d done, but part of her resented the fact that this whole situation had spiraled so far out of control. Joe had betrayed her, yet she was the one facing the consequences. The weight of the money, the legal issues, the humiliation—it all felt like a cruel reminder of how little control she had over her own life at that moment.

Joe placed the check in an envelope and sealed it, his face a mixture of frustration and resignation. “I hope you learned your lesson, Keyshia,” he said, his voice firm. “You can’t go around putting your hands on people.”

Keyshia rolled her eyes, not bothering to reply immediately. She wasn’t interested in hearing him lecture her on right and wrong, not now, not after everything that had happened between them. The whole situation felt exhausting, suffocating. She exhaled sharply, her gaze drifting to the backyard outside the window where the party for their daughter, Jovie, was taking place. It was a beautiful scene—a Ballerina and Bows-themed birthday party in full swing, with their youngest daughter smiling and playing with her friends.

“Whatever,” Keyshia muttered, her voice flat. “I have better things to worry about, like our daughter’s birthday party that’s happening downstairs in our backyard.” Her voice trailed off, as if the party—Jovie’s special day—was just another thing to get through. The weight of her words hung in the air as she stared out at the scene.

Joe, trying to keep his calm, responded, his tone clipped but measured. “That doesn’t change the fact that you attacked someone, Keyshia. You have to take responsibility for your actions.”

Keyshia's eyes narrowed, and her lips curled into a bitter smile. “And what about you? You think writing a check is going to fix everything, Joe? You cheated on me, remember? That’s why I’m here, standing in this room, having this conversation.”

Her words were sharp, cutting through the room like a blade. Joe’s expression tightened, and for a moment, the weight of his own guilt seemed to cloud his face. “I told you already, it was a heat-of-the-moment thing. I messed up. I was stupid. It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Keyshia’s laugh was hollow and full of disbelief. “Heat of the moment,” she repeated, the words coming out like venom. “You think that’s an excuse?”

It was clear that Keyshia’s anger was not just about the attack. The check, the lawsuit, and the court orders were all secondary to the deep, gnawing wound in her chest—the betrayal Joe had inflicted on her and their family. She was so hurt, so angry that the words poured out before she could stop them. Every sentence she spoke felt like a raw, jagged edge.

Joe’s face softened, the guilt and regret now evident in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Keyshia. I know I hurt you. I’ll never be able to undo what I did, but I am sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Keyshia snapped. “You don’t get to be sorry now, Joe. You don’t get to apologize and pretend everything is fine. You cheated on me, and you’ve destroyed everything. I’ve been by your side through thick and thin, and this is how you repay me?”

Her voice cracked slightly on the last words. The emotional weight of the situation was too much to bear. Keyshia had spent years supporting Joe through his chronic myeloid leukemia diagnosis—standing by him during the toughest times of his life. But in return, he had betrayed her in the most intimate way possible, with another woman. It was something she would never be able to reconcile, and the pain was still too fresh.

Joe shifted uncomfortably, his gaze now directed at the floor. He could feel her anger, and he could feel the blame resting squarely on his shoulders. His voice was quieter now, almost pleading. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I love you, Keyshia. I love our family. I know I messed up, but I’m trying to make it right.”

Keyshia let out a humorless laugh. “Love? That’s rich coming from the guy who took another woman to bed behind my back. You’ve broken everything, Joe. Everything. I don’t even know who you are anymore.” Her voice trembled with the weight of her emotions.

There was a brief silence between them, the tension palpable. Joe’s shoulders slumped, and for a moment, Keyshia saw the man she had once loved—a man who had been broken by his own actions. But the hurt was too deep. She couldn’t see past the betrayal anymore. She had been through so much, not just for Joe but for their children as well. She had sacrificed so much, and now, everything felt like it had been for nothing.

The silence was interrupted by a knock at the door, and before either of them could respond, Joe’s mother, Lisa, poked her head inside. “You two are missing your daughter’s birthday,” Lisa said, her voice a mixture of concern and gentle reprimand.

Keyshia sighed heavily, her anger still simmering beneath the surface. She turned away from Joe and walked toward the door, not wanting to engage any longer. She couldn’t deal with him, not now, not with the weight of everything else on her shoulders. Joe followed her, his eyes still full of remorse as he tried to find some way to reach her.

Downstairs, the party was in full swing. The children were laughing, running around the backyard, playing games and enjoying the festivities. Jovie, their three-year-old, spotted her parents and squealed with joy. “Mommy! Daddy!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up with excitement as she ran toward them.

Keyshia forced a smile, her heart aching as she knelt down to hug her daughter. “Hey, baby,” she said softly, her voice full of warmth. “Are you enjoying your party?”

Jovie nodded enthusiastically, her pigtails bouncing as she smiled up at her mother. “Yes! I love my cake!”

Joe stepped forward, scooping Jovie up in his arms. “Let’s cut your birthday cake, little lady,” he said, his voice affectionate as he carried her toward the table where the three-tiered birthday cake sat.

Keyshia followed them, her heart heavy as she watched the interaction between father and daughter. Jovie, oblivious to the tension between her parents, kissed Joe on the cheek and then turned to Keyshia. “Mommy, kiss Daddy!” she said, her little voice insistent.

Keyshia hesitated, her hands fluttering nervously at her sides. Everyone was watching, and the weight of their eyes felt suffocating. She bit her lip, trying to hold back the wave of emotions threatening to crash over her. Her smile was forced, and there was an edge to it that didn’t quite reach her eyes. But Jovie didn’t care—she just wanted her parents to be happy, to be together.

Keyshia hesitated for a moment longer before finally giving in to her daughter’s request. She leaned in and kissed Joe on the cheek, the brief touch feeling like a stark reminder of everything that had gone wrong.

Jovie, delighted, blew out her candles with a dramatic puff, and the room erupted in applause. Everyone gathered around the cake as Lisa began cutting slices. The birthday party continued, and Keyshia did her best to maintain the facade of happiness for the sake of their children. But inside, everything felt broken.

Hours later, the party was over. The house had been cleaned, the decorations taken down, and the children tucked into bed. Keyshia made her way to the guest room—the same room she had been staying in for the past three months since the incident.

As she passed the hallway, she saw Joe standing near the door, blocking her way. His eyes were tired, and his face was drawn with the weight of their unresolved issues.

“I keep trying to hate you,” Keyshia said, her voice strained with emotion. “It’d be so much easier if I did.”

Joe sighed deeply, his expression heavy with regret. “Don’t worry. I hate myself enough for both of us.”

Keyshia felt the words land like a weight on her chest. She didn’t know what was worse—the fact that Joe had cheated, or the fact that now, both of them were lost in their own pain, unable to fix the broken pieces of their once happy family.

For now, all she could do was turn and walk away, seeking solace in the solitude of the guest room, where she could bury her grief and confusion. It was the only place she felt she could truly breathe. But deep down, she knew that their story—her story—was far from over.

Keyshia closed the door behind her with a soft click, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. The guest room, small and sparsely decorated, felt like a prison. It had been her sanctuary since the night of the incident, a place to retreat when the walls of their home, once full of warmth and laughter, now felt cold and suffocating. The bed, unmade and untouched, seemed to mock her attempts at peace. She dropped her purse onto the chair, removed her shoes, and sat on the edge of the bed, her mind swirling with emotions she couldn’t sort through.

Her hands trembled as she pulled her phone from her bag, but she quickly dropped it back into her lap. What was the point of checking it again? She had already seen the messages—Joe’s constant apologies, his mother’s concerned texts asking if she was okay, and a few messages from family and friends offering sympathy. None of it mattered. None of it could fix what had happened.

For a brief moment, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel the weight of everything—the attack, the lawsuit, the broken trust, the children who still didn’t fully understand the gravity of the situation. Her mind replayed the night she had walked into Joe’s penthouse and found him with another woman. The shock had hit her first, followed by a surge of adrenaline that clouded her judgment. She had lashed out, not thinking of the consequences, not considering how much more it would cost her—emotionally, financially, or legally.

How had it come to this?

The thought echoed in her mind as if trying to make sense of the chaos her life had become. They had been through so much together, and yet, here they were—on opposite sides of a divide neither of them seemed to know how to cross. She had loved Joe. Truly loved him. And despite everything, part of her still did. But love wasn’t enough when the trust was shattered. It wasn’t enough when the man you had given everything to betrayed you so completely.

Keyshia pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them as she stared at the empty space in front of her. The dim light from the hallway crept in through the cracks of the door, casting long shadows across the floor. It felt like the darkness inside her was reflected in the room. She had been angry—furious, in fact. But now, the anger was slowly being replaced by exhaustion. She couldn’t keep fighting like this. She didn’t have the energy anymore.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps outside the door. Joe’s voice, muffled but clear, called through the wood. “Keyshia, please,” he said. “I need to talk to you.”

She didn’t answer right away, not because she didn’t hear him, but because she wasn’t sure what there was left to say. Joe had apologized over and over again, but the weight of his betrayal felt too heavy to lift with mere words. She didn’t want to talk to him, not now, not when everything felt so raw and unresolved.

But then, she heard the faint creak of the door. Joe had opened it, even though she hadn’t invited him in.

He stood there, a few feet away, looking at her with a mixture of guilt and pain in his eyes. He had been through so much over the years with his chronic myeloid leukemia diagnosis, and Keyshia had been there, every step of the way, supporting him through the treatments, the hospital visits, the endless rounds of chemotherapy. But in the end, it wasn’t the cancer that had nearly destroyed their family—it was Joe’s choices, his infidelity, his inability to keep his promises.

“I know you don’t want to talk to me,” Joe said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I get it. But I’m asking for a chance to fix this. Please, Keyshia.”

She raised her head, her eyes locking with his for the first time in hours. His face was etched with sorrow, but Keyshia couldn’t ignore the sense of self-pity that also lingered there. He was sorry. She could see that, but that didn’t change the fact that his actions had left her broken.

“You want to fix this?” Keyshia asked, her voice steady but cold. “You think writing a check, making promises, and saying you’re sorry is enough to fix this?”

Joe stepped further into the room, his hands slightly raised in a gesture of peace. “I’m not asking for forgiveness right now, Keyshia. I know I don’t deserve it. But I need you to know that I’m going to do whatever it takes to make things right. I don’t care how long it takes.”

Keyshia couldn’t suppress the bitter laugh that escaped her. “How can you possibly make things right, Joe? The damage has been done. You can’t un-cheat. You can’t erase the way I feel right now. Do you really think we can go back to how things were?”

Joe flinched at her words, the truth cutting through him like a knife. “No, I don’t think we can just go back,” he admitted. “But I want to try. For us. For our family. And for our kids.”

The mention of their children made Keyshia pause. It always did. They had seven kids—Josie, Kayleigh, the twins Jonas and Kingston, Jarvis and Kingsley, and little Jovie. Their lives were intertwined, their futures linked in ways that Keyshia couldn’t ignore, no matter how angry or hurt she felt.

“You don’t get it, do you?” she said, standing up from the bed. Her voice had softened now, but there was an underlying desperation. “I can’t just forget this, Joe. I can’t go back to being that woman who believed in us, in you. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at you the same way again.”

Joe’s eyes filled with tears. The ache in his chest was palpable as he looked at the woman he had loved for so long, the woman he had betrayed in the worst way possible. “I know. And I hate myself for it. I wish I could change everything. But I can’t. I just need you to know that I’m not giving up on us. I’ll do whatever it takes. I promise.”

Keyshia took a step back, shaking her head. “I don’t know if I can believe you anymore,” she whispered, the weight of her words hitting both of them.

There was a long pause, as if the very air between them had become heavy and thick with everything unspoken. Finally, Joe spoke again, his voice broken. “I understand if you need time. But please know, Keyshia… I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Keyshia’s heart wavered. There was something in his voice that made her believe him—just for a second. But that was all. One second. And then the walls she had built around her heart rushed back into place, pushing out any tenderness, any chance of reconciliation.

She stared at him for a long moment, weighing his words, his promises, his tears. But in the end, she could only nod slowly. “You should go, Joe. We both need time.”

Without another word, Joe turned and left the room, the door clicking softly behind him. Keyshia let out a shaky breath, her legs giving way as she collapsed back onto the bed. The tears she had been holding back for so long finally broke free, flowing freely as her body trembled with the weight of everything she was feeling—anger, pain, betrayal, confusion.

For the first time in months, Keyshia allowed herself to cry. Not for the woman she had attacked, not for the lawsuit, or the court order—but for the woman she had once been, and for the life she had lost. She didn’t know where they would go from here. But one thing was clear: the road ahead was uncertain, and the road back was blocked by too much hurt to navigate.

As the night wore on and her tears slowly subsided, Keyshia realized that she didn’t have all the answers. But perhaps, in time, she would find a way to heal. The future was a blurry horizon, but she wasn’t about to give up on herself.

[pinkkop]

For the past while I've been wanting to start doing weekly post about the QL's I'm watching and the new year is the perfect opportunity to start doing just that!

It'll be a place where i can share my thoughts on the BL and GL shows while I'm watching them and leave my final thoughts as well.

This week I've just left the shows in alphabetical order but I'll probably start sorting them from most to least liked next week. Also I hope this post doesn't feel too long since I don't know where I'd place a cut 😊

Let me know if there's anything you find confusing or if there's anything I could do better for next week.

QL Recap for Week 1 The 30th of December to 5th of January

🇹🇭 Caged Again Ep. 9 of 10 ----- Watching on: Gagaoolala

I'm still enjoying this a lot but it's definitely lost some of its spark. 

🇹🇭 Fourever You Ep. 15 of 16 ---------- Watching on: Gray

I'd completely forgotten that WeTV starts fast-tracking the episodes towards the end so color me surprised when I saw that ep 15 was also available and unsurprisingly I watched it the second I realized. I lost interest in Ter and Hill a couple of episodes ago so I don't pay much attention to them anymore. I am however really enjoying Johan and North. I feel like I haven't seen this kind of pairing before. I'm really enjoying the slow development of North slowly learning who Johan is and opening up to him and then Johan slowly opening up to North as well. I'm not a fan of when characters get unnecessarily jealous of their romantic interest's friends or have a problem with friends being close like when Hill saw a problem with how North and Ter cuddle. On top of this I don't like when a character makes decisions for their romantic interest unless they are small decisions, which meant that I also wasn't a fan of how Hill and Johan fixed the "problem" with Ter and North cuddling. Like who the fuck just moves their boyfriend out of their place and into yours without asking first 🤯. Those two things are the only major gripes I have with this show right now and I mostly just try to ignore them because Johan and North are still hella cute and I love that they are finally officially dating without drawing it out unnecessarily (looking at you, Hill and Ter).

🇯🇵 Miseinen: Mijukuna Oretachi wa Bukiyo ni Shinkochu Ep. 9 of 10 ----- Watching on: Gagaoolala

I'm not sure where they are heading and what Hirukawa is thinking with how he is acting but I've really enjoyed this show as a whole so I trust that it'll all make sense next week with the final episode.

🇹🇭 Perfect 10 Liners Ep. 11 of 24 ------- Watching on: Youtube

I really like Gun and Yotha as a pairing and I'm definitely invested in this show but it's not at the top of the list.

🇹🇭 Petrichor Ep. 6 of 10 ----------- Watching on: iQiYi

So many reveals this episode! This show is not quite the same level of brain-rot as Spare Me Your Mercy was for me but I'm having a good time and I'm invested in the story.

🇹🇭 Sangmin Dinneaw Ep. 2 of 8 ----------- Watching on: iQiYi

The first episode was promising and I'm always a fan of characters having sexual fantasies because it gives a good insight into the character's feelings, both because of the fantasy but also with how they react to it. Episode two made me feel more like I was watching a pulp drama and I'll admit that I'm not a big fan of the over the top acting of some of the characters which seems like those characters will keep being a part of the story going forward. It's just not a type of humor I find funny but so far it's not enough for me to drop this show. The trailer was steeped in it though so who knows how much of the show will focus on that kind of humor.

🇹🇼 See Your Love Ep. 12 of 13 ---- Watching on: Gagaoolala

These two are just the cutest and I'm enjoying them so much. The small touches and the casual kisses are so good and it makes them feel really real and like a good match in a way that not all BL couples do when we get to experience them after they get together. I love how Shaopeng's deafness is still a part of the plot but not in the sense that it needs to be fixed, it's just a natural part of him and it bleeds into all aspects of the plot in a really great way. Honestly this is just such a solid show! 10/10 would recommend. I'd just like for the episodes to be just 5-10 min longer so I could get more of the second couple.

🇹🇭 ThamePo Heart That Skips a Beat Ep. 4 of 13 -------- Watching on: Youtube

I'm still absolutely on board with this show. The plot of getting the band together feels a little simple but I really don't mind it because it works well with Thame and Poo getting to know each other. After this episode I wonder whether Jun actually believed what he said about Thame to Po. Like does he really believe that Thame isn't interested in Po or is he just trying to avoid them getting together? Either way it was so delicious to see Po start doubting himself but then Thame once again showing loudly with his actions that he is so interested in Po and that Po is a priority to him. Like who talks on the phone for hours, falls asleep still on the call and then just keeps being on the phone when you wake up again and then pretty much serenades the other person in the morning 🤯 Absolute bonkers behavior from Thame and I'm so here for it. This actually makes me wonder how self-aware Thame actually is? Does he know that he has feelings for Po? 

🇹🇭 The Boy Next World Ep. 1 of 10 ----------- Watching on: iQiYi

This is definitely a show where I needed to lower my expectations before watching the first episode because I've really been looking forward to this and I'd much rather set my expectations low and be happily surprise. I really liked the production quality of this show after the first episode and Boss and Noeul are doing really well. I'm definitely still excited about this show even if the first ep left me a little confused but I think that's to be expected when a show introduces concepts like parallel universes so I'm expecting that it'll make sense with time.

🇹🇭 Your Sky Ep. 8 of 12 ----------- Watching on: iQiYi

These two are so damn cute! This show just keeps being this little happy bubble for me. I'm glad they didn't drag out the misunderstanding so now they just gotta figure out how to bone. I like Real and Hia a lot as well but we don't really get enough of them for me to get completely invested. So far I'm not entirely sure what Hia thinks and feels because we've only really seen glimpses of Real realizing he has feelings for Hia. I'm guessing we'll get more of them while Fah and Rak figure out how to be a couple. 

That's it for this week!

For links and airing schedule check out World of BL (Only for BLs)

[ideasnstuff]

solitude

chuuya angst on its finest

Enjoy!

Nakahara Chuuya had just returned from an overseas mission. For three and long months.

Although it hadn’t been an exactly problematic mission, it certainly had been a tedious one.

Chuuya was rarely sent abroad by the boss, but he was not someone to question.

Usually, he never had the inclination to question or contest his Boss' orders. After all, he was only meant—only expected—to follow them, without saying anything.

Besides, it was not that bad. Chuuya knew that Mori had the organization's best interests at heart.

When the man brought the subject to light, he simply nodded and bowed. The next day, he left Yokohama.

And at first, it had been a completely new setup.

There, Chuuya was not meant to kill, punch, or fight against anyone.

No.

His only tool was words, and the battlefield was a tedious conference room.

It was beyond boring, but he knew it was necessary.

Eventually, he learned.

He learned to be a diplomat and represent the Port Mafia.

Back then, before he left, his partner had told him that much.

He had also mocked Chuuya because he was sure he was unable to do anything but “bark” and “punch.”

Well, Chuuya proudly proved Dazai wrong.

There, a diplomat was born—a former fighter, now representing the Port Mafia.

And all of this had happened between alcohol, a few laughs, and insults.

Although Dazai's opinion on that had been clear, "Ugh, who am I going to annoy if Chuuya is not here?!"

It may have been his way of saying that he would miss Chuuya, but it's not that Chuuya noticed it—he was way too drunk by that time.

So, he simply grumbled, "Go bother someone else then."

"Buahhh, that's so rude!" Dazai whined with his annoying high-pitched voice. He almost pouted like a child. "Then I hope Chuuya’ll die there, so I will never have to see his face!"

And Chuuya was probably too drunk to answer anything back.

After this exchange, everything was a blur. He didn't remember anything about that night.

And this scene filled his thoughts when he returned to the Mafia building, with the intent to report his mission.

As he walked down the hall toward the boss' office, he wondered about what Mori's reaction would be like.

Chuuya was aware he had learned quite a lot during those months, especially when the country he had been in was France.

He had a whole meticulously planned and written report. Perhaps his good mood was related to it.

He was more than certain he'd be promoted to executive after this.

And the best part?

He'd finally read the documents about his past.

Lost in thoughts that he almost instantaneously had dismissed, he stopped in front of the door that gave access to Mori's office.

Then, two confident knocks were heard.

A melody reverberated after a brief and lingering silence.

"You may enter," the soft but cold voice like ice said.

He carefully opened the door and stepped in, bowing respectfully as he usually did.

In his hand lay the documents.

"Welcome back, Chuuya-kun." Mori talked with his elbows pressed against the table and his fingers intertwined, displaying a sluggish and uncharacteristic smile on his lips. "I hope you have good news for me."

Chuuya raised his head as his expression went rigid and serious.

After some time, he nodded. "Boss," he bowed once again, but this time it was just a slight one. "I have the report here," he lifted the papers slightly.

Mori didn't react as his eyes sharply hovered over his subordinate.

He didn't say anything for a while, and Chuuya didn’t move either.

"Oh well! You may leave them here," he nodded towards the desk. As Chuuya walked firmly toward it, putting the reports there in a gentle move, Mori watched it with a thoughtful expression. "I think you know what comes after, don't you, Chuuya-kun?"

Chuuya looked at Mori with an emotionless expression.

Mori continued, taking his subordinate’s silence as a consent to speak, “As the leader of this organization, I am forced to admit that you've become an extremely important asset to the Mafia.” his tone sounded exactly like a lullaby— but if one would ever fall asleep, one might, would never wake up. Mori smiled a little more openly and genuinely. “But before anything, I need to discuss it with the other executives, as you may have calculated,” he gestured into the air—slow and fluid movements.

Chuuya's expression didn't change—he said nothing for a moment. "I understand, Boss."

Mori smiled. "I am certain everyone will agree with it, but... ahhh, you know how the bureaucracy around here is, right?"

The answer was silent, but it was there—written all over Chuuya's stormy and lively eyes.

The man gazed at the other for a while, seeming to irradiate with expectations that he wanted to see if they were true.

Yet, that didn't make Chuuya very nervous.He was more than used to Mori’s mechanisms, after all. After a while, straightening his posture, Mori gestured toward the door with his typical neutral expression.

"If there isn't anything you think I should be aware of, you are dismissed."

A bow and Chuuya left—unaware of Mori's slow and mysterious smile that appeared as soon as he had turned his heels to leave.

And an agreement between the executives was, in fact, quickly obtained.

Everyone knew that Chuuya had been essential to the Mafia—he and Dazai Osamu, but that was another story.

Normally, a promotion was just a piece of paper, but for some reason, Mori decided to give Chuuya something else.

Well, actually no. It had been two... no, three things.

Two of them were surprisingly pleasant, and Chuuya benefited from one of them.

The third one was given to him, in the worst time possible.

It had happened just after Chuuya had accessed the documents about his past. Those pages were possibly the worst thing Chuuya had ever laid his eyes on.

But although extremely perturbing, it hadn't been surprising—Dazai once had told him about it, as an act of forgiveness for some stupid and precipitated action he once had made.

Speaking about Dazai... Where was he?

As he was thinking about it, Kouyou entered the room, bringing in the mafia elegance and a certain pleasant smell—her perfume. Light steps echoed around him as the woman rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it.

"Congratulations, lad," she greeted, her voice calm and elegant like a violin solo. Then she quickly—but elegantly—retracted her hand from her pupil's shoulder as she walked towards an empty seat at the table.

Chuuya looked up at her with a respectful nod.

"Ane-san…" he smiled a little, "Thank you," he nodded.

Kouyou smiled back and then sighed.

"Mm. I heard the boss has been thinking about giving you something... special..."

Chuuya's heart was still heavy, and his mind was spinning from reading such cruel reports.

"Is that so..." he said with no enthusiasm; he paused and then looked at her. "Was everyone in agreement with my promotion?"

Kouyou lifted a hand to her pink mouth, seemingly thoughtful.

"If I remember correctly... yes... everyone was in agreement with your promotion," she smiled—almost a fraternal, proud smile. "I expected no less of you, lad."

Chuuya reciprocated the smile, but then he stopped.

Something was not making sense here.

Because he remembered what Dazai had told him when he became an executive.

"Well, being an executive has its perks, you know? I can always vote against Chuuya's promotion!"

Although it had been a joke, Chuuya—more than anyone—knew how far Dazai would go just to annoy him. He was certain that Dazai would vote against his promotion, just to annoy him, and not because he was against it.

After all, he had been the one giving him clues about those awful documents. He made Chuuya’s pain a little more… bearable, and that was something that Chuuya was thankful for—not that he would ever say it to Dazai.

So, there was no way that Dazai had voted for his promotion.

But just to clarify his doubt, he asked Kouyou for information.

"What about Dazai?" he asked, and Kouyou narrowed her eyes. "Did that bastard vote for my promotion?"

"Dazai-kun?" she asked, then paused, pressing her lips together. "Oh, Dazai-kun was not there to vote, so don't worry," Kouyou smiled.

That caught Chuuya off guard. He wasn’t in the mafia? How was that even possible?

Dazai didn’t make overseas missions as he was the Boss’ right hand. 

So why was he not in the meeting?

"Did that bastard skip the meeting?" Chuuya found himself wondering out loud.

Kouyou looked at him for a while, with a cautious expression.

Then she sighed. "In a way... yes," she said quietly; Chuuya narrowed his eyes.

"What?" he let out an incredulous laugh. "Did that bastard skip his obligations, again?" he half-smiled a bit, amused—as his partner, he was more than used to Dazai's irresponsible and indifferent behavior.

But still, Chuuya couldn’t believe the guy’s attitude—the disrespect. Plus, he lost a perfect chance to ruin Chuuya’s life, which was a bit unusual.

Kouyou stared at him with a doubtful expression—she was looking at him as if Chuuya was having a strange behavior. Inclusively, she even frowned with questions behind her eyes. 

But then her face became increasingly more understanding and almost... apprehensive. 

That was what surprised Chuuya—he waited a bit anxiously for her answer.

Then, it arrived.

"Chuuya, lad..." she sighed softly, closing her eyes with almost a sad expression. "Dazai-kun..." she paused. "Is not in the mafia... anymore."

And each word, each interval between them, felt like a slap.

Leave it to Kouyou to make everything emotional with her incredibly silk voice.

Time stopped, and so did Chuuya’s mind.

He wasn't able to answer it.

So, Kouyou, looking at him, sighed and explained.

"Yesterday he was declared a traitor," she informed, then paused to give Chuuya some time to process the information; she added, "He is not in the mafia anymore. That’s why he was not part of this meeting." her voice was gentle, like a silent apology.

And Chuuya… Chuuya… he couldn’t quite explain what he was feeling at that moment.

If someone would ever ask him what he was thinking, he'd… be silent.

Because… he didn’t know.

All he felt was something similar to emptiness.

Similar to the collapse of the wall that was being built.

Something similar to… pain.

Pain... he hadn’t felt that in a long time. But it was an old friend to him, a familiar sensation. He could recognize the sword that crossed his own heart anytime.

Kouyou didn’t speak anymore—probably in respect—and she gave Chuuya the intention of wanting to leave.

But before she had the chance to do it, he spoke for the first time.

Straight as a narrow.

"Oh. Is that so?" his voice was not trembling or anything, but his heart was emptier than he had remembered. "I wonder why I was not informed of."

Kouyou sighed in concordance. Slowly.

"The Boss thought it would be something that would trouble your performance, so he didn’t tell you," she said.

The next words were not thought nor planned.

They just flew out of his lips, like it had been a shot.

"Then, the Boss was wrong," he said firmly, making Kouyou widen her eyes. He looked directly at Kouyou. "The fact that Dazai is not here anymore doesn’t make things any different," he said, not leaving her gaze. "I’ll be the same as I always had been," Chuuya declared, and Kouyou looked surprised for a while. Then she glared at him, trying to find—perhaps—a lie or an act—but there were none.

Therefore, Kouyou, visibly relieved, raised her eyebrows.

"I see... I am glad you are not letting your emotions take control of your obligations," and she was being genuine.

Once more, Chuuya didn’t think before speaking.

"Why would I even care about Dazai leaving? He is nothing to me. He was my partner, but from the moment he betrayed this organization," he tried to control his anger, "he has lost that privilege, and he is no longer part of my life."

Despite his notable emotional control, Kouyou noticed how he stood up and pushed the chair—noisily.

She smiled neutrally, understanding the situation—but she didn’t say anything about it.

Chuuya, however, continued. "I have better things to do than to worry about traitors," he said, and bowed his head. "If you excuse me, Ane-san, I have something to do."

Kouyou smiled. At that point, she didn’t know who Chuuya was trying to fool—her or himself.

She cleared her throat, hiding a smile behind her sleeve.

"Of course, lad," she said. Nevertheless, "I look forward to working with you as an executive, Chuuya," she said softly.

And he just offered a plain smile, but grateful anyway.

"I feel the same, Ane-san."

After those words, he left and didn’t look back.

His mind was empty, and he didn’t think about Dazai or the fact that he had left the mafia during the whole course.

Chuuya was pretty sure he was not thinking about what he was doing, just walking without a destination.

Perhaps it had been his inner voice telling him to meet his past.

And for once, he followed it.

His heart was beating quickly with some anxiety as he walked down the stairs.

He felt like he was seeing his past before his eyes.

Memories that were lost for years were coming back.

The Port Mafia basement.

He was in front of it.

He was feeling nothing and thinking about nothing.

Dazai had left; he was a traitor.

Okay, that was fine for Chuuya.

He had always known Dazai's poor loyalty to the Mafia.

That was totally fine with him, so... so why was he there?

If it had meant nothing, why was Chuuya looking for someone to talk with... if... if his departure meant nothing?

He shook his head, dismissing his thoughts, and he pushed the door that gave access to the basement.

The sound of blades clashing echoed, and a voice he hadn’t listened to in a while—but never forgotten—filled his ears and went straight to his empty heart.

Suddenly, the blades stopped, and he heard a muttering before the same voice said, "Chuuya, little brother... what a... pleasant surprise..." his voice was melodious as always, and for once, it felt like a blessing to Chuuya's emptiness.

He, indeed, had not felt like that in a while.

He walked towards the man he called his brother, then he looked at him, eye to eye.

"Paul Verlaine."

The man he had once wished to kill.

The murderer of his friends.

But also his savior.

The gradually visible light showed his brother's majestic features and his elegance.

Paul Verlaine had a beautiful and calm smile on his lips. It almost made Chuuya's heart break in pieces, seeing the warmth and adoration written in those eyes.

He felt incredibly weak.

Those cold and sharp eyes—the eyes of an assassin, who killed with no hesitation and whose hands were filled with blood.

But to Chuuya, the gesture felt immensely warm—a warmth that came from the man who had murdered his friends with brutality.

Perhaps it had been due to his current situation, but... Paul Verlaine's smile felt like a blessing.

Maybe, for once, Chuuya could see him as a proper brother.

He felt like a child who wanted to run toward his brother's arms and cry until the night came.

However, Chuuya didn’t cry.

He wouldn’t... cry.

Instead, he closed his eyes as he sighed.

And Verlaine immediately noticed something else behind his beloved brother's heart.

He looked like a child—small and fragile—who was struggling to admit that they had been responsible for breaking their mother's vase.

Struggling to ask for help, for a hand.

It reminded him of the day he saved Chuuya from that researcher.

He looked so vulnerable... he almost looked like a stray dog...

His face, polished like marble, was beautiful as always, lit by the illumination. But his eyes were like two polished jewels that didn’t shine with life.

Stagnant, yet beautiful.

Inside, Verlaine could see something that he knew no human could: solitude.

He sighed, closing his eyes.

"I have a table where we can talk," his voice was soothing, and it felt better than any caressing. "Walk with me."

And like a lost sheep, Chuuya followed Verlaine to the table.

As they sat down, he noticed the teapot and several cups, with the respective dish under each one.

Verlaine's artificial heart squeezed as he carefully looked at Chuuya, who seemed unsure of even perhaps his own existence.

However, Chuuya didn’t seem dead. If anything, it felt like... he had just seen someone dying.

And oh, he remembered the anger his brother's eyes irradiated... but now? He was more like a kicked puppy.

He didn’t want to kill, didn’t want revenge.

Chuuya lost someone, that was certain.

But lost someone to what... lost someone to who?

These were Verlaine's thoughts as he glanced at Chuuya.

"Tea?"

Chuuya nodded as he watched the man pouring the liquid into the cup; he did the same for his cup and then looked at him gently.

"So... what brought you here, little brother?" he paused as he noticed the lack of reaction from Chuuya. "Don’t get me wrong, it’s always a delight to see you, Chuuya, but... you must have something in mind right now... don’t you?" he said, as he mixed the sugar with the tea with a spoon.

Chuuya didn’t react. He really felt like a robot.

Empty and dead. Behind his eyes, there was nothing but empty and plain loneliness.

Finally, he looked down as he sighed.

"I came to you... because you are the only one who can help me," he said.

Verlaine’s eyes lit up and stopped mixing the sugar with the spoon.

All those years he had wanted to hear those words. Strangely, it felt wrong, seeing his brother’s face. But...

"No one will ever be able to understand me." his eyes were like sharp knives. As an assassin, Verlaine had seen less brutal looks. Then, Chuuya’s tone briefly palled. "No one... no one but you... brother."

He diverted his attention to the cup as he used his spoon to mix nothing in particular.

Verlaine did the same, and a smile appeared on his lips.

It was a sad, kind smile. The type of kindness Verlaine had reserved for his two favorite people.

His brother and the only human he was never able to hate.

No matter how much he tried.

The metallic sound filled the air, giving it a certain melancholy. A sad scenario that would fill Verlaine’s artificial heart for a long time.

"Well, then." he said as he lifted his gaze toward his brother. Then he opened another smile. "How can I help you, dear brother?"

It felt surreal how two people, such as them, doomed to the endless darkness and solitude, could be able to have such a moment.

Two brothers speaking.

And there was something incredibly poignant about two doomed souls—brothers not by blood, but by circumstances—speaking.

Something tragically beautiful.

Slowly, Chuuya raised his head and looked inside Verlaine’s eyes—deeply and dripping with feelings.

They were not empty anymore.

The jewels shone. They were shining as a storm, as lightning would severely punish the stormy sky.

It was a painful beauty.

There were no tears, no sounds, just an upcoming storm like his little brother was.

Verlaine loved him more than anything.

He had learned to love the stormy sky more than the rain... Rimbaud... he hated cold weather...

Verlaine never really minded a little storm.

Especially when the storm was about his little brother.

Named Nakahara Chuuya, cursed by birth, tortured by life.

Unwanted by death.

If he was human, which Verlaine knew he wasn't, Chuuya had stopped feeling like that a long time ago.

He was... no longer human...

And there was something beautiful about that.

"You said people often lie to deceive and to foul other people, right?" Verlaine nodded slowly. Because he had never been one to lie.

At least not to the person in front of him.

"I did. Humans are not trustworthy creatures." Then he added with a sigh after a pause full of past. Full of his past. "Every human but Arthur." Every word carried a lingering strain. "He was... an incredible human being." His smile illustrated the intensive and burning adoration Verlaine felt for his deceased ex-partner.

His dear, dear friend.

His inspiration during days of solitude.

It had been so meaningful that Chuuya had to swallow. He didn't think about the fact he had just lost his partner.

Dead? Alive?

Chuuya didn’t know.

Chuuya didn’t care.

Yet, he felt a staining pain on his chest.

Even so, he proceeded, like he always did.

"You can't trust no one but your allies." he said, slowly, almost as if diligently tasting his words. "Your partner included, right?" his voice was now a bit higher, but still not too high. Still controlled.

To anyone, it’d probably have been nothing, but to Verlaine, it was the confirmation he needed.

He stopped drinking his tea, with a cautious expression.

He was not looking at Chuuya.

There was no need for that.

Verlaine stayed quiet for a while, but then he took a sip of it and lowered his hand with the cup. He pressed his lips together, pondering.

Finally, he said as he gently placed the cup on the little dish, "I see..." The sound reverberated in the air. "...So this is about that guy..." he sighed. "What was even his name?" He pretended to think, not giving Chuuya any chance to answer. "Ah, I remember... Dazai-kun... wasn't it?"

Chuuya saw how Verlaine's tone changed.

Then, silence filled the air.

He didn’t confirm nor deny it. He dodged the conversation he started like an agile warrior would dodge the blade of death.

Instead, he took a silent sip of his tea. The hot liquid slipped down his dry throat and lightly burned his lips.

Then he placed it on the small dish with a tired sound, with a sigh.

"You were right," he said. But Verlaine didn’t react as he blankly stared at his brother. Chuuya noticed it and he didn’t care. "You were right about thinking of the future and not the present." he ended up admitting as Verlaine watched him attentively.

It was not possible to see what the man was thinking. "What I have today might not exist tomorrow or... it... it might turn out to be a complete lie." He paused, and his tone was painfully silent and low.

He sighed tiredly, full of regret.

"I was a fool to think that something could last forever."

He looked down at his tea in the cup.

His faint reflection was shown.

He tried to see more there, a light, a smile, his friends, life... but there was nothing.

No hope on the tea.

No hope for a quiet and normal life.

His life was like that hot tea—burning and ephemeral.

It would eventually end.

And it was often so sour.

Sometimes, not even the sugar could help.

Chuuya wanted little biscuits with the tea.

That way it'd be more bearable.

"People come and go," after his meditation, Chuuya spoke. He paused a bit. "They do whatever they want, and they don’t give a fuck about the other’s feelings."

Verlaine looked at him with an apprehensive expression. His previous blank face melted.

"Humans... humans are, indeed, treacherous creatures," he said like it was obvious with his soft tone. His eyes were like the sea—blue and deep. "They can’t be trusted." he smiled and looked at Chuuya, placing his empty cup aside. "But I suppose this is nothing new... I told you this before, didn’t I?"

Hesitantly, Chuuya nodded. It was such a small reaction.

One could have easily missed it.

He looked like the child Verlaine met.

"You did." Solemnly, he agreed. "But I was too much of a fool... to hear it." Regret filled his words. "You were right."

Verlaine smiled a little with his eyes.

"I should not give in to my emotions, nor should I think about the people who don’t... give a damn about me and... my feelings... my emotions." And the tone was significantly sadder.

No, it was not exactly sadness, it almost looked... disappointed.

"I shouldn’t have given in."

He should have not.

Because now, it was too late to tell past Chuuya that.

Now, he would just have to live with it.

Verlaine stared at Chuuya silently for a while and then opened his mouth, placing his forearms on the table.

"You... you don’t seem very surprised," he commented. "Deep down, you knew one day... this... would happen, right?" He paused and then added softly, "You just didn’t want to think about that possibility, right?"

Oh.

Chuuya... Chuuya did know that.

Chuuya knew how far Dazai’s loyalty to the organization could go: it was not much.

But... that wouldn’t change what he was feeling.

And so, he looked away, away from his brother’s somehow curious gaze, a bit uncomfortable.

"I am... I am not surprised," he admitted painfully, and paused. "I have always known that bastard's loyalty was almost nonexistent and that... he was a selfish asshole." He paused after those words.

Because calling Dazai, his partner, that felt very real.

For the first time, he meant it.

Dazai was incredibly selfish and a disloyal person.

Those words didn’t feel like a source of anger or irritation like they usually did.

Now they just... hurt like freshly opened wounds.

His partner was a selfish asshole.

He was surprised how calmly he had said that. He was not even angry. It was almost... strange.

But then... Chuuya looked at Verlaine, who looked at him with slight curiosity and a cautious expression.

"But I trusted him."

And he did.

He trusted Dazai with his life.

Contrarily to the mafia’s popular belief, Chuuya knew Dazai would never, ever disappoint him.

After Verlaine and the fateful Dragon Head Conflict, Chuuya could have said that there was no one he'd trust more than Dazai.

Because... that’s what it meant to be a partner, right?

More than... a close person, Dazai was his partner.

They might never have had... something as pure and precious as a friendship... never have had a peaceful relationship... but...

Chuuya wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Now that Dazai was gone, Chuuya noticed that.

And so, he continued. 

"Dazai... I trusted my life to him and he... he was my partner. He was always someone that I knew I could rely on, no matter what." He paused as his eyes spoke what his mouth didn't. "And... I thought this meant something to him... at least... like it meant to me."

That was like a slap. It felt like one.

Verlaine stayed silent. His eyes were filled with memories from a distant past,

A past that Verlaine had not been aware of, and he could only dream how Arthur had felt when he betrayed him.

If it had been like Chuuya was... then... he didn't want to think about it.

So he stayed quiet. He had no word in the matter.

And Chuuya continued.

"But this was my fault," he said sternly "I didn’t think about the future and the possibility of someone... someone as dishonest as Dazai could leave the organization." He paused, merely to take a quiet sip of his tea. Then he said,"Without saying anything."

Verlaine simply looked at him.

That was all he did.

All he could do.

His brother was speaking, and he listened.

"And... and he probably even made fun of me." He laughed dryly, more dry than the Sahara Desert. "...leaving something behind to annoy me." He sighed, changing his tone, and it was the closest he could come to a cry. He proceeded like the warrior he was, with a decided tone. "So... after what happened... I decided to think further," he declared.

A pause.

"Because... I don’t want to think about what I’m doing at the moment. I don’t want people like... Dazai... to order me around like a sheepdog." His voice was intense and almost emotional.

Then he added quietly,"I want to be responsible for my own actions and thoughts."

After a while, looking at his barely emptied tea, Chuuya looked at his brother.

Verlaine saw a sixteen-year-old Chuuya there.

Aware of his demise.

Dazai Osamu was a human, and humans love excessively.

He wouldn't be the exception.

He knew too well that look when he glanced at Chuuya.

So, there was no way that he didn't care about him.

Still, he wouldn't say that to Chuuya, who seemed sure Dazai didn't "give a fuck" about him.

So, instead, he said,

"But you are right that you shouldn't expect anything from people," he said. "Chuuya... people will try to benefit from your weaknesses and use your feelings, that's... that's how humans are. I know it." He smiled bitterly. Rimbaud was not like that. And something told him Dazai was not like that... too. He continued calmly. "But sometimes... something, we should give the benefit of the doubt to people's actions..." Dazai-kun certainly had a choice to leave," he added.

Chuuya looked at Verlaine.

It was not a sharp look, but it was not kind either.

"Yes," he said, "And I certainly have the right to clean him from my life."

It was the answer. Verlaine only nodded. Because he had that right.

"You do," he agreed. "And you would probably be correct, because that guy doesn't seem like someone you can trust." That was a fact. "But..." he sighed, "You shouldn't expect anything good from people. You saw what your sheep friends did, right?"

Chuuya stiffened, not expecting that. Verlaine continued, "You saw how the Mafia has been treating you... manipulating you... didn't you?" Chuuya downed his glance. Verlaine smiled. "I have told you before, but... this world doesn't deserve you, little brother." He paused. "You shouldn't give your all and your life to them: you have no guarantee that they will do the same for you."

There was no answer.

Because they both knew the outcome.

"About thinking further..." he sighed. "Well... you can't escape your fate and your existence, Chuuya." He leaned back a bit. "When you were sixteen... I gave you a way out, remember?"

Chuuya didn't answer.

"-and you refused it," he smiled, closing his eyes. "And I understand why, but now you have to accept the cruel consequences and the wickedness of this world." His voice was, for the first time, firm and authoritarian; then he softened it and his eyes too. "I am here for you, whenever you need."

With this, Chuuya was silent.

He didn't have any answer.

Even if he wanted to deny it... it was all true...

He remembered Verlaine's words like they were yesterday's, including the speech about destiny and his fate.

And none of them were pleasant nor tranquil.

He ignored it for years, but now... it seemed to be the time to face reality.

And so Verlaine spoke. "The first step in life is to accept your fate," he explained quietly; he sighed. "Chuuya... there... there is no happy ending for people like us." His voice had that lingering poetic tone, like a ballad. Ballad of death. "Our existence was meant to bring chaos and destruction. When it comes to anything else, we are unqualified for it," he said with an apprehensive tone. "Why do you think you are unable to keep a stable relationship?"

Silence.

"Because you are not suitable for that. Sure, you can temporarily enjoy that feeling, but deep down... you know... you know it won't last..." He shifted his glance. "Am I not right?" he asked rhetorically. "You knew it would happen with Dazai as well. Like you told me: you ignored the future." His tone was like a solo of a sad violin.

It went straight to his heart.

Chuuya simply pressed his lips together, seeming to restrain his crying or something else.

"Chuuya... little brother... you know... you know I am right, correct?" He smiled. "You are in the mafia, but for what? What are you doing here? Why... why did you stay? You might have a lot of reasons, but... what makes you stay here? What is it?"

"It's not like I have much of a choice," he said. "It's a place to stay, a place to live."

Verlaine was silent. Chuuya sighed, shifting in his seat.

"Besides, what can I do if I leave the Mafia? Nothing. No choice. I have no choice here, Verlaine." A cold tone. "I never had."

And it was true. But that didn't make it any less painful.

His brother smiled.

"It's too late, isn't it?" he said. "You now understand why I said you should never have been born, don't you?" Chuuya raised his head, and his eyes were slightly reflecting.

Verlaine sighed.

"Unfortunately, this was the life people... they gave us," he said, almost wistfully. "Ah, them... We can't defeat nor fight it."

Silence filled the air.

"Like a storm," almost like a poem, Verlaine said. "Fate... the end is like a storm." He smiled, almost kindly. "We don't know when it will happen, but we do know for a fact that it will happen."

Chuuya looked at him. "You remember the storm, don't you? You can't fight it." Then he added, "You can't win it."

Chuuya, who had been silent, finally spoke.

"Then what the hell am I supposed to do?! To kill myself like that bastard wants to?" He paused a bit. "To lock myself away from everything and everyone like you do? To be a cold murderer like half of the Mafia is? Tell me, Verlaine, what should I do?"

He was not screaming; he was not angry. Verlaine was not his target. It wouldn't be fair shouting at him. So he sighed.

"I don't know what to do. I know what the future awaits me, but... I don't know what I should do at the moment," he calmly placed a hand on the table. "I asked you because..." He sighed. "Because I thought you would understand me."

But all Verlaine could offer was a smile. Useless as it was.

"I do, Chuuya, I really do."

"But you can't do anything to help me," he said as a fact.

He knew that.

They both knew.

"That's right. I can't do anything," Verlaine calmly agreed with a nod.

"Should I just... give in and..." he realized he had stood up with the storm of emotions, despite his voice being calm, and sat down with a sigh. "...be what people expect me to be? The executive the mafia wants?"

It took a while until Verlaine's answer.

"It's your choice, little brother. All I can say is that everything you have today is temporary." A kind smile. "The storm is certain, but you don't know when it will happen. So you won't be able to pack your life before it breaks in. It will just..." He stopped.

Although it had not been clear, Chuuya had understood it. The storm... was a storm. There was nothing else left to do.

He pressed his lips together and then sighed. A bitter smile appeared.

"Bah, I should have known you would only make things worse," he said a bit disappointed.

"Nonsense." Verlaine shook his head. "I am not the one making everything worse. Reality is... Life is... It's not something I can control." He looked at him very seriously. "Only you can. If you want to end your journey, do it. But if you want to live in this illusion, temporary and dishonest as it is... you are welcome to do it as well."

Chuuya narrowed his eyes.

"I am not locked up here like you are, Verlaine." He paused. "You keep speaking as if I had any choice here." He paused again. "Which I don't." He sighed. "Between seeing my friends dying and seeing myself under the mafia's claws, I prefer a hundred times the latter," he said.

Verlaine looked at him.

"You did choose your cage, dear brother."

"I did," he said, because... he did. "I did for the sheep and... now I have a job to accomplish and expectations to reach..."

His brother cautiously watched him.

"Even back then, it's never my choice."

That's why he should have never been born. It was his punishment for his existence. Verlaine was certain Chuuya knew that, but refused to accept it.

"I see..." he said. "Someone showed you... must have delivered you the sweet illusion of free will..."

Been there once and it's not pretty, he thought. Arthur's words. He wondered if Dazai had been that person for Chuuya.

But his brother looked utterly decisive.

"Whatever you are thinking—don't," he said sharply. Then his tone changed. "I am staying here because I have no choice and... and... and it's not so bad." Finally, he stood up, his face devoid of emotions. "I'll just have to clean that bastard from my mind and memories. And everything will be fine." He smiled once again, without emotions.

Ah, so it was like this... Chuuya... lost his last... and only hope...

Oh, Verlaine... he was quite acquainted with that.

And because of it, he smiled understandingly.

Chuuya was still looking at him, probably expecting something from his older brother. Smiling, finally Verlaine said, "Is that so?" He paused, opening his smile further. "Then... I wish you the best, little brother," he said, with genuine honesty. "You know I am always here to talk."

Chuuya, already on his feet, looked at him almost with an ironic expression. His brother's dramatic words had always made him unironically annoyed.

"Sure," he said. "I am certain, you won't go anywhere." He turned on his heels and sighed. "Because it's so hard to find someone down here, right?" He laughed a bit and started to walk away.

However, one last piece of advice was left.

"Chuuya."

The new executive stopped walking uneasily. Then Verlaine said, "Don't trust people, nor expect something from them." He paused. "If you expect the worst from people, whatever they do will never disappoint you."

Silence filled the air, and Chuuya's breath was audible. His expectations were low enough, at least he thought that, but... apparently, he still expected a hint of empathy and understanding from his partner—no, ex-partner.

Ah... Verlaine... Pau Verlaine...

How his brother was right...

But despite that, Chuuya still laughed a little. It was almost as artificial as Verlaine's soul.

"Well, at least a good piece of advice from my older brother!" He waved a hand in disdain. "I’m not expecting anyone to carry me home or something, so don’t worry." Then he stopped talking, stopped walking. The sound of his shoe hitting the ground reverberated.

Verlaine waited for his brother's last words.

"Don’t worry," Chuuya said. After some time, he looked over his shoulder. "How can I expect something I don’t know what it is?" He paused, smiling bitterly. "You and I, more than anyone, know what—how this is, right?" His eyes were dark.

People say the eyes are the reflection of the soul.

"It has always been like this," Chuuya added, before looking ahead and walking toward the stairs to leave. Due to this, he was not able to hear Verlaine’s equally bitter laugh.

On that very same day, Chuuya thought through Verlaine’s words and radical advice. They hit his head like hammers. But it didn’t hurt. Not anymore. It just... left him... strangely... aware of himself.

That night, he sat down at the wooden table in his house with a wine bottle in front of him. It was a Petrus 89. It had been a present from a client, and Chuuya had saved it for an eventual celebration.

Usually, he never drank alone. He was always accompanied by people, with nights filled with laughs, smiles, and jokes...

Chuuya never drank alone, but... seeing how late it was... no one would likely have wanted to drink with him, and... he didn’t really want to see anyone.

Not that day.

He found himself lost in his brother’s words about Dazai, about his life... And it was all so true and genuine that it made him sick.

He just wanted to forget everything he had been told. Too much, too much, too much for him—too much, way too much. Truth or a lie, it had stung his chest.

And perhaps as his only choice and without any hesitation, he grabbed the bottle in front of him. He opened it and pressed his lips against the bottleneck. It felt more like a medication.

Alcohol cured pain, right?

Just for a second, he thought about... stopping it.

But he didn’t... pull back, tilting the bottle to make gravity run the wine straight to his throat.

It was not meant to taste the wine—which was a shame, really, considering its quality—but to drink. He drank just for the sake of drinking. For the first time.

And... he was aware of it... or... half of the bottle. After that, Chuuya was not responsible for what happened. Nor aware of what he had felt.

He did remember that the wine’s taste was bitter, as it was accompanied by such acid thoughts. Verlaine’s words... his past... his future... his present... Dazai’s departure...

His heart was pounding heavily in his chest. And then, he blacked out.

The night was over for Chuuya.

But in the morning, when he woke up, he had his head on the table and a terrible headache. As he lifted his torso, his eyes noticed small spots that were drawn on the table’s towel.

Chuuya assumed those were wine drops. (and not regretful tears)

And so, from that day on, Nakahara Chuuya and everyone forgot about Dazai Osamu and his betrayal.

Just like Chuuya had told Verlaine, he'd surround himself with work, guaranteeing that his life would gain some value.

And, in fact, it did.

The compliments, the fame, and even the jealousy gave some color to his life... but only for a while.

It had been something, although it was meant to not last forever.

In the end, Chuuya would find himself alone, at a desk, his schedule filled with meetings, his boss frequently relying on him, papers, pencils, people...

And in the beginning, it felt right, until... he felt that inevitable and pungent loneliness.

He'd remind himself countless times of his brother's words:

"Nothing lasts forever, and everything is temporary. Don't get too close to people, you will never know when they will stab you from the back."

...

Silently, he wondered if this was how Dazai felt before leaving... more like a weapon, a mafia asset than a human being.

No longer human.

Ah, even away, Dazai occupied his thoughts.

It was almost... it almost made Chuuya miss him... to miss him more... miss him more than the hatred he felt for him.

"You are a kid too,"

Fifteen-year-old Dazai had said, eyes more dead than a fish's. Chuuya could remember it.

"I am not just any child,"

Back then, Chuuya had said.

But back then, fifteen-year-old Chuuya took pride in what he did. He would kill a bunch of people as long as he'd use his fists—his feet.

Now?

Now Chuuya didn't take any pride... not when the person he wished to defeat was no longer there.

Now that Dazai had left the organization, he had no need for that.

Now it was just... boring. It was almost as when he was the sheep leader, but back then... back then Chuuya hadn't met Dazai.

Now, he knew Dazai... now that he finally got his former partner, he could say he didn't want to see him ever again.

Chuuya knew it wouldn't be a peaceful reunion... if possible, he'd like to avoid that.

...

Maybe Verlaine was right.

Maybe Dazai had been responsible for delivering the illusion of having a choice...

Because now, Chuuya noticed how different his life was... without him...

He didn't think often about Dazai. He had not lied when he said he was dead to him, but... sometimes... when he looked at Dazai's former apprentice...

He'd find himself lost in memories.

And once he found it, he never wanted to let go.

He once wondered if this was how Rimbaud had felt when he found Chuuya.

If his words had been to Verlaine and not to Chuuya.

Because... Chuuya felt similarly. Once, he told Akutagawa something he'd liked to tell Dazai:

"If you can't find something worth living for... find a reason worth dying for."

The boy's eyes had shown a hint of surprise.

Chuuya wondered if Akutagawa knew to what person those words had been tailored for.

After all, fifteen-year-old Chuuya did know ... but he didn't care.

He hadn't care if Rimbaud's words had been for Verlaine and not for Chuuya.

It hit him all the same.

And he remembered Arthur Rimbaud's words like it had been yesterday's.

"Chuuya-kun, can I ask you a favor? Live. There is no longer… any way of knowing… who you are or where you came from... But even if… you are but a pattern… etched on the surface of raw power… you are you. Nothing changes that… because all people, all humanity… their brains and flesh… are nothing more than patterns—beautiful patterns… upon the material world..."

Rimbaud died in peace with his friend.

Chuuya really wished he could mourn Dazai like Rimbaud did to Verlaine...

But... how could he possibly mourn something that never ended?

He could mourn the beginning, the day he met Dazai, the moment he trusted him but...

Chuuya had always done what he wished and... he didn't regret meeting... Dazai... or trusting him...

When his car was burned, turned into flames in front of his eyes... it didn't feel like the end.

He didn't feel angry or irritated... well, sort of a bit annoyed, but...

What predominated was... something close to disappointment because... their relationship had never died.

It had been buried alive, without even ending.

And because of it... it hurt when he first heard from Kouyou.

So...

"The only way to stop the suffering is to never be born."

Perhaps... then... he should grieve the day he met Dazai.

Maybe that's what he'd mourn about.

Yes, he'd bury the past, live the present, and think about the future.

And so, Nakahara Chuuya lied to Verlaine when he said he had always done what he wanted, no regrets.

He even lied to himself.

Because, there was one thing he regretted in his life.

And he knew it.

Chuuya was not sorry for the poor end of their relationship, no.

He didn't regret trusting Dazai, either.

He didn't regret being his partner.

He didn't regret their hangouts.

He didn't regret any of those.

No.

However, one thing he felt terribly sorry for.

The day he met Dazai.

It had been his biggest and only regret.

Nakahara Chuuya had always done what he wanted, he never had regrets.

Yet, he regretted the day he looked at Dazai.

And that, he felt sorry about.

Terribly so.

[typicalopposite]

Congratulations on 500! I'm so lucky to have met you this year Saint Rebecca of the mpreg 🤣🥰 my prompt for you:

Buck and Tommy both found out they were pregnant post break up and kept it a secret until they run into each other at prenatal yoga (or childbirth class...something like that)

Hannnnnah! You are the sweetest! And I will forever be grateful to have met you too!! But you had my brain doing a workout for this one :) but I hope you enjoy it

Double Trouble

Maddie picks Buck up thirty minutes early so they can stop at ‘Galactic Holes’— the donut truck that parks outside the building— before their Prenatal Class. She had wrangled him into coming with her to the classes when he finally open up about his pregnancy; even if she didn’t always agree with his insistence to not tell Tommy, it was nice to get some bonding time with his big sister as both of their pregnancies progressed. 

They walk through the door, eating the last few bites of their donuts, and Buck scans the room for an empty table. There’s one in the back corner, and he nudges Maddie towards it as they say their hellos to the other parents-to-be attending. Everyone is friendly enough, albeit extremely nosey, but that’s expected in group settings like this. A single expectant father who isn’t willing to give much, if any, information about the other parent is bound to cause whispers among anyone… At least they keep the whispers quiet enough he never hears them. 

*

The class starts with some discussion of everyone’s current pregnancy stages, some stretches since they will be mostly seated today, and a handout to help everyone write down a detailed birth plan. Maddie has whispered more than once how boring today’s class is and Buck has repeatedly agreed. 

Then in an instant everything becomes extremely interesting… to say the least.

The door pushes open and someone walks in. Buck doesn’t look up at first, busy filling out exactly how he plans to labor when the time comes. “Sorry I’m late… I was given the wrong address,” a voice that’s all too familiar says from the front of the room. 

“Oh that’s fine,” the teacher says. “How did you learn about the class?”

“A friend pretty much insisted I come…” the voice— he— Tommy… says with a half hearted laugh. Buck still hasn’t found the willpower to look up. “She said it would be… beneficial.” 

“How far along are you?” Someone else in the class asks. 

“Uh… thirty— thirty six weeks,” Tommy says, and Buck’s head snaps up, making Maddie shift in the seat next to him, and Tommy’s eyes immediately lock onto his. 

Thirty six weeks. 

Buck is thirty. 

Buck knows he had to have gotten pregnant very close to their anniversary, which means… Tommy was pregnant long before then. Did he know when he—

“Oh wow,” one of the other members— Caroline— says loudly; dramatically. “You really waited till the end to reap those benefits huh?” 

Buck watches Tommy hastily break his eyes away to look at her, he offers a smile. “Better late than never, right?” He shrugs and finds a single empty seat up front. Instantly Buck watches as Caroline leans over to one of the others and starts whispering. He watches Tommy glance over at them then down at his hands, seeming to shrink himself into his seat. Part of him feels like yelling for the gossipers to worry about their own lives, part of him is as curious as he’s sure they are. Mostly he is just hurt… but he didn’t tell Tommy about his own pregnancy, can he really be upset at Tommy?

“Wow…” Maddie finally exhales beside him. 

“Yeah…” Buck says, suddenly completely uninterested in the birth plan he currently was making up. “Wow…” 

MAKE ME WRITE! <3

[crystalstars64]

So here's an insightful thread of all the human characters from the Kirby mangas or other media that existed either before or besides Ado/Adeleine (and Neichel technically)!

Get ready. This will be a long post and will need to be 2 posts.

Nana: A character from the first ever Kirby manga. She's a waitress at a restaurant (possibly even her own restaurant) in Dreamland and is Kirby's best friend. She's described as a tomboy and gives Kirby both advice and items such as the energy drink to help them out. Curry is a specialty at her restaurant (and it's possible she even created the super spicy cury), and she has a special spice that apperently makes the food from her songs real. She was also added to the manga because the author (Sayori abe) felt like it.

Thorn queen: Also from the first Kirby manga, she works for King Dedede as one of his 4 henchmen. She's said to hate cute girls and has attacked Kirby and, more specifically, Nana with thorns (which were porcupines).

Nana's grandpa:

This is believed to be Nana's grandpa, also from the first manga. There's not much to be said about him.

Misc. Villagers:

The final characters from the first manga. Very little to be said about them, they're just random villagers who live in dreamland.

Old man:

This guy is from the second Kirby manga and apperently just sells clocks. Not much to say about them again.

Little girl:

This little girl is from the Japanese educational Kirby and Mario vhs. Idk much about them, either. I think Kirby just asks them if they know where the puppy's mom is, and she says no and goes back to possibly playing hide and seek.

Lavash:

I refuse to say her full name, but she's from the German Detective Kirby comics. I think she hired Kirby and turned out to be a disguise? Idk.

Annette:

Another girl from the Detective Kirby comics. She also hires Kirby and later dies.

That's not a joke. That's actually what happens.

Dr. Hubel:

A guy from the Detective Kirby comics. I think he used to work for the Villain, but that's literally all I know.

Dr. Meinholt:

A villain from the Detective Kirby comics. I think he just brings video game characters from the Kirby universe/series to life? Idk it's confusing.

That's it for Part 1. Part 2 will be up soon!

[sciderman]

(Idk if someone asked this already) since we’re on the topic of gender

sci what is gender to you and how do you see it in you and how you express it in your art?? (Just a young queer artist who wants some light shined upon them 🥺)

i 'unno ¯\_(ツ)_/¯