#I've neglected it a lot the past year so

[ryusxnka]

My blog just turned NINE today. It's not old you are.

[nipuni]

Once again I bring you some Eriks 😊

[chemicalarospec]

My experience with Hannibal so far:

Jeff the killer: kills people. Mutilates and eats them too.

Me: Yeah that's alright with me (skipping the eye gore tho)

Jeff the evil liar: evilly lies to someone about the cause of their psychosis

Me: I Am Not Okay With This

[charminglygrouped]

For the past several years (and perhaps longer) in the P&P fandom I've seen a lot of people who want to rehabilitate Mrs. Bennet: like, sure, she's uncouth and seems greedy, but it's because she cares so much about her daughters' futures; her situation is actually really stressful and uncertain and she's powerless to change it and her husband makes fun of her, and so it's natural that it would cause her to be anxious all the time; maybe she doesn't have the intelligence or social awareness to understand that her behaviour is actually harming her daughters' prospects, but at least her heart is in the right place.

I'm usually not the type of person who argues that fandom is actually being too nice to a female character, but in this case I don't buy the counter-narrative (which I think is popular enough at this point to be fanon / a narrative in itself) about Mrs. Bennet.

For one thing, she was never really powerless in this situation. These people are rich even for gentry. Mr. Bennet's income was always good, at 2,000 pounds per annum (even though I can't believe he isn't neglecting some practices that could raise it higher). Mrs. Bennet had 4,000 pounds from her parents and a further 1,000 from Mr. Bennet. Invested in the 4 per cents (for example), this is 200 pounds per year in pin money that Mrs. Bennet could spend without touching the principle of her dowry, and without affecting Mr. Bennet's income. This is more than some people's entire yearly incomes.

The picture of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet that we get in P&P is not of people who are helpless against their circumstances, but of people who are extraordinarily neglectful. We're told that:

Mr. Bennet had very often wished, before this period of his life, that, instead of spending his whole income, he had laid by an annual sum, for the better provision of his children, and of his wife, if she survived him. [...] When first Mr. Bennet had married, economy was held to be perfectly useless; for, of course, they were to have a son. This son was to join in cutting off the entail, as soon as he should be of age, and the widow and younger children would by that means be provided for. Five daughters successively entered the world, but yet the son was to come; and Mrs. Bennet, for many years after Lydia’s birth, had been certain that he would. This event had at last been despaired of, but it was then too late to be saving. Mrs. Bennet had no turn for economy; and her husband’s love of independence had alone prevented their exceeding their income.

We also know that the "continual presents in money which passed to [Lydia] through her mother’s hands," plus her allowance and food, amount to about 90 pounds per year. Rather than saving up from the beginning in case the entail is not broken, rather than beginning to save once it's clear a son will not arrive, rather than making Jane's dowry the full 5,000 from her mother (which would be something) and saving up for the younger girls' dowries thereafter—which is what would be typical, and that's why Lady Catherine was so shocked that all the girls were out at once—Mrs. Bennet's housekeeping, dress, the girls' allowance, presents of money over and above their allowance, plus whatever Mr. Bennet is spending money on (and other expenses relating to servants, carriages, maintenance &c. which are unavoidable), add up to their entire income. The only reason why Mrs. Bennet doesn't overspend even that is that that's where Mr. Bennet puts his foot down.

Mrs. Bennet is actively harming her daughters' prospects, not even of marriage, but of living respectably if they don't marry, because she doesn't have the temperance not to spend all of the income that is allotted to her. It is the role of the woman in a marriage to take charge of the housekeeping, servants, cooking, furniture, and all expenses relating thereto (plus certain attentions to her tenants and any living in genteel poverty in the area, though presumably this will depend on her income and whether there's a parish church with a parson's wife who's doing some of these things). She's an adult who should be competent to manage these things in a reasoned way without needing to be dictated to.

It is supposed to be the role of the woman in a marriage to take charge of her daughters' education—and yet Mrs. Bennet did not hire a governess, and Elizabeth says that she didn't spend much time teaching her daughters anything (it's not clear to what degree she's educated herself). Granted, the girls did have masters—but, from the sounds of things, that was only if they requested them. No one was required to learn much of anything, which will probably further harm the marriage prospects of the girls who "chose to be idle."

I think the "point" of Mrs. Bennet is that she is one half of one type of bad marriage which the novel illustrates, in contrast with the Gardiners' marriage. These marriages are two possible models for the Bennet daughters to look to. At one point, Elizabeth's prospective marriage is explicitly compared to her parents', with her in the role of her father: Mr. Bennet says "My child, let me not have the grief of seeing you unable to respect your partner in life" (emphasis original).

We might wonder whether Elizabeth saw herself potentially in the role of her father, in a marriage that was very intellectually unequal, when she rejected Mr. Collins; or whether she also saw herself in the role of her mother, married to a man who insults and doesn't respect her, when she rejected Mr. Darcy. Ultimately, she accepts Mr. Darcy after she realises that he is nothing like her father; that he is diligent in attending to his responsibilities, and that he does evidently respect her mind.

This isn't me defending Mr. Bennet, who is also a bad parent and a bad spouse. I do, however, find it a little disturbing when people suggest that Mr. Bennet is at fault for not controlling or curtailing his wife. His wife is a grown woman. Surely we don't actually believe that a situation where a man is legally in complete control over his wife, merely because he is a man and she is a woman, is in any way natural, moral, or just? (This also goes for people who suggest that Mr. Bingley needs to get his sister 'in line' 😬😬😬.)

Mrs. Bennet should be competent to manage her household and her daughters. Given that she's not, yes, Mr. Bennet, according to Georgian and Victorian ideas of the role of a man in a marriage, "should" have stepped in and started dictating to her. But I don't really think that's what Austen is suggesting went wrong here. The models of good marriages we have—the Gardiners, the Bingleys and Darcys after their weddings—are all ones in which the women were basically sensible people to begin with. In the latter two cases, we are told of particular ways in which the men stand to benefit from some mental quality of their future spouse (Elizabeth's good humour and ease in company; Jane's steadiness and determination).

The ideal which some Georgians had of a husband's role being to shape his wife's intellect doesn't seem to be what's being advocated here. If Mr. Bennet made a mistake, it was in marrying a silly, selfish, ill-tempered woman to begin with, not in failing to browbeat her into submission once he found out that she was silly, selfish, and ill-tempered. The idea is that you should choose your spouse carefully. But that message doesn't work if Mrs. Bennet is just a woman in a difficult situation who has her heart in the right place.

[mercurialmalcontent]

This is a followup to my reblog of the post suggesting starting small with exercise -- I know getting out to walk isn't always possible for a variety of reasons, so I want to recommend my favorite exercise channel, Improved Health. (She also has a channel for seated exercises for people who need to sit while working out.)

I love these videos because they come in a wide variety of lengths and intensities, they're all low-impact, and have a large variety of exercises that don't neglect arm movements, which has really helped with the tension I tend to carry in my back and shoulders. I also love that the majority of them are also no talking. I can concentrate on moving instead of having to pay attention to a constant stream of chatter. All of the most recent (within the past year or so) videos have picture-in-a-picture previews of the next exercise so you know what's coming up and how to do it.

I know the video titles might be offputting -- there's a lot of 'for weight loss' in there and 'secrets of longevity' and other sensationalist nonsense, but it's all for gaming the algorithm. I have yet to encounter any of that in the videos themselves, even with the motivational quote text (which is pretty cheesy sometimes, but reminders that exercise is not a punishment for what you eat are always good to see).

So yeah, I thought I should pass this channel on since it was a huge help for me last winter and the northern hemisphere is getting to that time again. I wish I'd run into it a lot sooner since a lot of the exercise channels on YouTube just kind of suck (like Leslie Sansone's endless pointless chatter and deadly dull movesets), and the more fun ones tend to be too fast or moderate-to-high impact, which would injure me -- but I can't NOT exercise, so I've suffered through a lot of mind-numbing condescending chipper bullshit packed full of catchphases.

Hope this helps someone out there. ❤

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not having time to read my mutual's writing?

Met a mutual on here, bonded through fanfic, have been tight with them for a few years with pretty much no bumps in the relationship, just overall had a really good time hanging around them when I could. We both write a lot and share our writing, and occasionally we talk about that writing/workshop it in passing.

In the past few years I've gone through a ton of life changes. Most notably I went from a multi-person household to a single-person one, and I've been living alone in a prohibitively costly city for a while now working 40 hour weeks and barely scraping by. As soon as the transition started I spent the last of my free income on a shitty little laptop so I could still write, putting down words on my bus/train commutes in the morning and quite literally writing on my breaks at work because I feel insane when I can't create. I bring this up to really stress that I don't have the time for the hobby, I force myself to make the time and even then it never feels like enough.

The only thing I can really stand to do with my 3 hours of free time at night is hang out with my moots online. I'm an extrovert so being around people recharges me. If I don't have designated social time I get super depressed and can pretty much feel my soul withering away. I also feel like I should probably mention that I kinda have a slew of mental issues, personality disorders and PTSD and AuDHD and the works. Point being, shit is rough my dude, but I am a person who likes to work hard and face challenges head on and even though we strugglin, we doing it with a positive outlook.

But! I am an incredibly solution-oriented person and I have found what I personally believe to be a good balance. No one should have to live like this, but I do, and I have found a way to be happy. My writing and my social time is all load-bearing. It is not something I just choose to do on a whim, it's all planned and scheduled and I adhere to those routines very strictly because, I cannot stress this enough, I will go fucking bonkers if I don't.

I'm mutuals with a lot of writers obv, and I sadly don't have time to read their work anymore, unless I get some extra time on my days off or something gets cancelled or like, I end up taking a vacation. I carry a great amount of guilt for this, though, even though I logically know it's reasonable. I try to support them where I can, cheer them on when I see them writing and tell them how cool their ideas sound, hype them up even when I can't actually read & review.

One of the things I do is sometimes I leave a kudos on fic I haven't read. I'm not trying to be ingenuine, and if they asked me I'd tell them like 'Oh I didn't read it yet, just wanted to show support!' but to me it's kinda like ripping a paper tab off a poster so that other's feel inclined to do the same. Plus my pals get a little email and a hit of serotonin.

Except one of my acquaintances, the one I mentioned at the start here, saw that I left kudos on a couple pieces another mutual of mine wrote this year. They more or less blew up my DMs with a ton of accusatory (like, literally presented like a 'GOTCHA!') stuff about how I was selective in who's fic I read, more or less implying that I secretly held some sort of grudge or negative feeling toward them and was making the conscious decision not to read or interact with their writing because of. Something, I don't actually know what they were trying to say. They also told me they vented to their friends about this MULTIPLE times, but they never once approached me to let me know they were feeling paranoid or neglected, they literally just took the most bad faith reading of it possible and then presented that to me like it was something I intentionally did, while the whole time I was unaware.

I tried to explain to them the kudos thing, that I didn't do it to every story, just ones I caught/noticed in my busy schedule. And I laid all this out and asked, multiple times, what free time am I supposed to read with? They didn't answer, and doubled down, kept trying to show me 'proof' that I was shorting them and no one else. Once they started to realize how wrong they were they backed down, but they didn't really apologize, or admit they were wrong, and they tried to end our relationship and left every single server we were in together. Because of some other unrelated stuff going on in my life, I didn't really consider them to be a close friend, but they were someone I really held dear and would've walked through hell for if they'd asked.

I still feel like there is something I'm missing here, and that's why I wanted to ask if I'm TA. I'm a pretty good communicator but one of the things I told myself when talking down my disordered thoughts (guilt about this prior) was "no one in their right mind would use reading fanfic as a metric for friendship." Now that I've had that exact thing happen, I'm starting to think maybe those thoughts weren't so disordered. Maybe this IS a big deal, and I should think about it more, but I don't even know what the solution to that would be. I just. Don't have time to read something lovingly crafted and appreciate it for what it is. All the hours in my week are used up, I'd have to lose sleep for this and with my mental health the way it is that is not an option.

Feel free to be a brutal, my skin is thick. Thanks!

What are these acronyms?

[barcaatthemoon]

apologize || lucy bronze x reader ||

lucy shows up at your door asking for you to take her back.

you should have known what to expect when barcelona played real mardrid. lucy had flip flopped emotionally after your breakup. she knew that you were angry with her for a lot of different things, but she hadn't expected you to genuinely be done enough to leave. in lucy's mind, you didn't mean it because you hadn't before. and now, she was stuck in an apartment that felt too big because you and buffy were gone.

"can i come in?" lucy asked you. it was a dumb quesion, but you had a stupid answer to give her back. "i've got a toy for b."

"she doesn't like barcelona," you said as you looked at the little barcelona dog toy that lucy had in her hand. she glanced past you to see the golden retriever with the old barcelona collar lucy had bought. lucy quirked an eyebrow as she pointed at the dog, who was waiting patiently behind you for lucy to come to her. somehow, buffy had been dealing with the breakup the worst, always whining and looking for the spots where lucy would have been back home.

"then she can tear it to shreds, just please let me in," lucy pleaded with you. you sighed and stepped aside. lucy smiled and pressed a kiss against your cheek as she moved into your apartment. "thank you lovey."

"don't call me that," you snapped at her. lucy frowned as she knelt down in front of buffy. your dog sniffed at the toy, but ignored it in favor of cuddling up with lucy.

"you got big, baby b. you're not a baby anymore, are you?" there was a hint of guilt in lucy's voice. she had been there when you got buffy as a puppy, and for the first year or so of the dog's life as well. now, she had missed the last seven months. "how has she adjusted to the move?"

"it could be better, but we're doing okay," you told lucy. she smiled as she stood up and turned to face you. "why are you really here?"

"to ask for forgiveness and a second chance. i miss you so much. i won't ask you to come back to barcelona, but i want you in my life. i'll come here, i'll do anything, but please, let me back in."

"lucy, you're the one who told me to go in the first place. you said that you were sick of me, remember?" you stared at her as you waited for her to answer you. lucy remembered it all, and she didn't know why she had snapped at you that night. things had been tough with the team, and after it sounded like alexia wouldn't be coming back as soon as they hoped, lucy lost it. if you had been any less secure in yourself, you would have accused her of cheating on you.

"please, just come back to me. i miss you," lucy admitted. you could tell that it was hard for her to say that, but she still hadn't actually apologized to you yet. "i'll make it up to you, i swear."

"apologize to me lucy. we were together for a year, and no matter what you did, i never made you say sorry. things are different now, and if you want me to let you back in, you have to apologize," you told her. lucy's face fell, as if what you had asked of her was impossible. you scoffed and started to walk away from her when she finally spoke up.

"i am sorry. i am sorry for neglecting our relationship. i am sorry for not being as nice to you as i should have been. i am sorry for snapping at you when you just wanted to talk to me. i am sorry for letting you walk out and not talking to you, but it took everything in me not to crawl back to you before either of us were ready. lovey, i can't express how sorry i am that i ruined our relationship," lucy apologized. you stopped and turned around to see her staring at the ground. the sniffle was quiet, but you didn't miss it anyway.

"oh bonita." you were over in lucy's arms before you had time to blink. you could feel her tears dripping onto your shirt as she buried her face against you. "i didn't think you'd do it."

"i meant it when i said i'd do anything to get back with you," lucy said. "can i stay here tonight?"

"that's moving things a little fast, but we never did go at everybody else's speed, did we?" you laughed. "you can stay, but don't try anything lucy. i'm trusting you to do things right this time."

"i will, and if i don't, you will never have to even look at me again," lucy swore. she wasn't one for over the top statements like that, so you knew that she meant it. she'd be good to you this time because she really hadn't loved anybody like you in a long time.

[arceus-insanity]

Endeavor Deserves No Sympathy!

I don't understand how anyone can think Endeavor was ever a good dad. It also always comes off as incredibly victim blamie, especially towards Touya, and often Shoto too.

He literally only got married and had kids to use them. He never gave a shit about their well being, never even thought about it until he had the one thing he cared about and was still miserable. I've already gone over the math proving he gave up on achieving his dream himself at 21 at the absolute latest. (https://www.tumblr.com/arceus-insanity/763259515356512256/i-liked-endeavors-character-when-he-was?source=share)

And basic math will once again be used to prove just how little this waste of flesh actually tries.

This time the focus is on how quickly he abandoned Touya and immediately went to emotional abuse via neglect & literally replacing him, and once again risking that more children be born with self-destructive quirks.

For context we only see Endeavor doing anything with his kids that's not him literally walking through and ignoring them in two circumstances. Once when Fuyumi's a newborn and Touya is attempting to crawl (not walk) over to her. And training. Those are the only times he tries to spend with any of them, even after he starts his 'atonement'

Now comparing Touya in the scene of them training and himself as a toddler and all the child imagery this series loves to use instead of actually saving imperfect victims, Touya is at least 3 (probably closer to 4) when he's taken to the doctor and they are informed of his condition

Natsuo is 4 and a half years younger than him.

We know for a fact Natsuo (& Shoto) was conceived after they got the news, not willingly either. Pregnancy takes 40 weeks average, so Touya would still be 3 when Natsuo was conceived. So once again it took this 'man' less than a year to give up and have another child he hoped to use as a tool, and was explicitly making to hurt his existing son. And as I have said plenty of times before, risking that the new kids could be born with the same disorder, I hate how convenient it is that Shoto gets near zero negative quirk side effects.

Want to know what we never see, Endeavor doing something else with Touya and Touya demanding training, it's always him walking past/ away from Touya. Considering all of the shit they've pulled to soften Endeavor's abuse both in the manga and even more so in the anime, they wouldn't skip something like this. It's not hard to tell that Touya's 'obsession with training' is really about spending time with his dad, you know like a human child that literally needs love, proven by numerous studies and research in the real world.

He throws all parenting responsibilities onto Rei, adds more children to that load, and when Touya suffers for it (like everyone else) he does nothing, doesn't even hire a nanny

Another are you kidding me take I've seen is that somehow Touya's quirk issues are worse than Midoriya's and Yuga's. Touya managed to train his quirk to produce blue fire at 13 with zero equipment and less than no help, and only lost control of it, because of the mental abuse Endeavor had inflicted on him leading him to a mental breakdown. And/ or the theory I've only seen once of AFO using his ability to force quirk activation (seen with a passed out chapter 90 during his first confrontation with All Might)

Midoriya was breaking his bones all the way into the Shie Hassaikai arc and was only able to fight because Eri and was breaking support equipment in the following arc as well. Yuga had a support belt all the way back in the entrance exam and was still struggling with that.

Speaking of Yuga let's compare parental effort here, because as much as it backfired Yuga's parents tried a whole lot more. For starters they nearly bankrupted themselves to get him a quirk, so he could feel equal. All For One is a mythic man prior to his arrest, and those who knew of him were shown to be serious long-term villain groups, so they had gone to quite a bit of effort to find that he existed to begin with. They also got him support gear (the navel belt thing) as a kid to help him with said quirk, he literally had it in the entrance exam. Endeavor never looked into that, Endeavor is not only rich too but he's a top hero he would have direct access to support equipment companies that would jump at the opportunity and it never even occurred to him.

Endeavor's name is an irony as endeavour means to try hard to do or achieve something. He never tries hard he gives up incredibly quickly the second there's any road block, but instead of moving on he makes everyone suffer for it. He's a toxic pageant mom who'd rather force their child into a toxic world and a role they don't want than work on himself

And what finally makes him change? Getting exactly what he wanted and still being miserable, and he still expects through his actions his family to cater to him.

Not his son getting a major disability due to his actions, no, he decided to double down, mentally abusing and neglecting the son he supposedly loves, raping his wife who didn't want more kids or participate in this abuse, and again risking that Natsuo & later Shoto might have that same issue. Not when his wife breaks down and permanently scars his precious masterpiece, who proceeds to rightfully blame him, and he just thinks of it as a tantrum despite it lasting a fucking decade. Not when his eldest literally dies as the result of his selfishness. Not literally during any part of this entire process!

Dabi is 23 when Endeavor finally starts to 'try' to be better, that means that for at least 24 years he has only been caring about his fucking precious number one spot in a popularity contest that he couldn't even bother to try to be likeable for, this wasn't one bad decision, this was him constantly choosing to be so insanely selfish that he found ways that shouldn't even be possible for over two decades. And it was all him.

[lilliumrorum]

What does he have that I don't? (Part Two)

<<Previous | Masterlist | Next>>

Synopsis: After getting comfortable in your captain's dwelling, you experience a dream involving him, intensifying your desire for the man.

WC: 3k

Content/Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Soft Price, fluff, Cheating, kind of pining?, Wet dreams, Masturbation.

Notes: Sorry this took so long to post, I've had lots of fucking issues with tumblr and I am proper pissed off. Exams have been kicking my ass too, but I'll make sure to write an extra long chapter next time!

In this situation, unlike others, you wouldn't yearn for Simon's touch. The absence of affection from him for months has built a resistance to missing that once addictive sensation. Tears welled up once more as you reflected on the abuse endured just to cling to the shattered fragments of your 'relationship'. Desiring a different reality, you found yourself in a challenging situation, torn between lingering feelings for your lost love and developing admiration for your captain.

Concluding the scorching shower, the realization struck that a towel was forgotten. Cheeks burning with embarrassment, you pondered how such a simple thing could be overlooked. An uneasy hope lingered that the captain remained undisturbed in his slumber, as a preemptive guilt surfaced. The idea of waking him up intensified that internal conflict, leaving you in a contemplative state after the steam had dissipated. Standing there, damp and hesitant, you grappled with the consequences of a neglected towel and the possibility of disrupting your captain's peace.

Your hand unlocked the door, cracking it open just a bit.

"John?"

"Mm?" His deep voice echoed from the couch.

You felt a sense of relief upon realizing he wasn't in bed yet.

"I… may have forgotten to grab a towel," you admitted with a nervous tone.

You heard his soft footsteps moving down the hall and passing by the bathroom. As soon they approached the room you made sure to narrow the crack of the open door, ensuring you wouldn't accidentally flash him. A sturdy silhouette stood behind it, holding a towel. Cautiously peeking around, you gently retrieve it from his grasp.

He stared at you for a moment, gazing at your damp hair and shoulders before seemingly snapping out of it.

"Don't make my floor too wet, Sergeant." He said with a breath before trekking back to the couch.

You slowly closed the door, releasing a heavy breath you didn't realize you were holding. It felt as if butterflies had been swirling around in your stomach, cheeks burning like fire as you tried to comprehend what had just happened. The butterflies were nothing novel; in fact, they were a constant presence. Every time you worked near him your heart fluttered.

The salt-and-pepper mustache that quirked up when he smiled made your heart do flips. His hands, aged yet firm, with thick fingers calloused from years of service made you fantasize about what they would feel like inside you. The quick waves you received when he walked past you, his combat pants fitting him just right made for an easy distraction. Doing paperwork with him late at night presented itself a challenge. Your brain was constantly fuzzy whenever you looked at him.

At this point, you couldn't distinguish whether it was him making you shudder or your own nakedness. The stark contrast in temperature from your shower to the chilling air heightened your eagerness to get dressed. The towel rubbing against your skin brought a soothing sensation to your mind, interrupting your thoughts about him.

"You did so good f'me, lovie. Such a good fucking girl." He praised, slowly pulling out of your fluttering cunt.

You whimpered at the feeling of being empty after being stuffed full for so long.

"I love you, Simon." you whispered breathlessly.

He gazed at you, searching your eyes for some sort of hidden plan, or trickery. He found nothing but adoration.

"I love you too." He whispered as he got up, searching for the towel he had placed somewhere, you reached out and gently wrapped your hand around as much of his toned arm as you could before he moved too far.

He glanced at you, his expression filled with curiosity.

"Si, can you promise me something?"

"What is it doll?"

"Don't leave me."

"What kinda promise is that? I'm never gonna leave you. Hell, I'm stuck on you."

You smiled at his words.

But he broke that promise. He left you, a ghost in his place.

"Captain, is it alright if I get dressed in the bedroom?" You uttered your words with a delicate tone as you stepped out into the hall.

His head shifted in the direction of your voice, his attention lingering on your legs briefly before his gaze ascended to meet your face. He stared at you for what seemed like an eternity. Your posture started to shift as nervousness crept in, especially with his eyes on your barely covered body. He seemed to take notice, offering a smile before he spoke.

"Of course dove, that's where you're sleeping anyway." He spoke with a tone that held weariness.

"Oh no you don't ha-" as soon as you spoke you were interrupted.

"I said that's where you're sleepin' and that's that. Don't argue with me, sergeant." He commanded.

You raised your hands in the air, signaling surrender, before letting out a laugh and walking back to his bedroom.

The scent of everything was reminiscent of him, when you opened his closet, the aroma of cinnamon and pine struck you instantly. You breathed in his scent and felt a bit more at ease. Why did everything about him have to evoke such a strong sense of comfort and familiarity?

If you didn't move past this childlike crush soon, you'd end up with more issues than you're already grappling with. He could be your father for Christ's sake!

You shook your head, as if the thought would dissipate, while grabbing some pajama shorts and a tank top. The clothes were rather revealing, but John would surely understand if he saw them. Your intention was to return home to Simon, not to him. When you left, there was no time to retrieve your clothes, as you aimed to escape the situation as smoothly as possible.

Your body ached for sleep, going without it for what seemed like ages.

Turning the light off and slipping into bed, a subtle shift occurred in your thoughts, and the image of John began to weave its way into your consciousness like a gentle melody. In the calm moments preceding sleep, his laughter echoed, and the warmth of his gaze painted the canvas of your contemplations. The memory of John intertwined seamlessly with the comforting embrace of his sheets, creating a space where the lines between reality and the fanciful dance of imagination became hazy. With each closing of your eyes, dreams unfolded, casting John as the silent protagonist in the tales that quietly unfolded in the realm of your weary mind.

In the silent corners of your thoughts, dreams took shape, painting a picture where you were romantically involved with John. Scenes of stolen glances and hidden meetings unfolded, with the forbidden nature of it all adding an exhilarating edge to the fantasy. In these vivid dreams, shared moments created a connection that surpassed the ordinary reality surrounding you. However, these fantasies were kept as a personal refuge—a brief escape within the private chambers of your mind, where the blurred lines of possibility flirted with the edges of longing.

"Tell me what you want, dove. What do you need from me?" he breathed in a solaced whisper.

His rugged hands worked at your body, roaming across your naked form as you tried your hardest to utter a word, mumbling nonsense. He hadn't taken your panties off yet, the cloth becoming more and more wet by the second.

"Words, sweetheart. I need to know what you want from me." His fingers teasing your clit in soft, circular motions.

"John- Oh shit! I need them inside! Please!" You practically sobbed.

Everything in this moment completed you. His waist was stationed between your legs as he continued his ministrations on your cunt. At this point you were a whining mess for him. You were too distracted with your pleasure to realize he had pulled your panties to the side, thick fingers lined up with your sopping hole.

"God, you're perfect."

The captain's eyes snapped open upon hearing sounds emanating from the bedroom. Initially thinking it might be crying, he knocked on the door once.

With no response, he opened the door to investigate, finding you helplessly whimpering and pressing your thighs together in your sleep.

He was well Aware that intruding was not right, but he lingered a little longer, drawn by the sweet serenade of your voice. Going back to bed at this moment seemed impossible for him. His cock straining against his pants as discomfort grew, urging him to address it promptly.

He treaded back to the couch, every step carrying an enduring strain to his crotch. Fuck, those noises were driving him wild.

He knows it's not right, yet he pulled out his erection anyway. He needed relief, blood rushing to the tip as it sprung out of his pants. His arousal was yearning for a momentary reprieve.

He groaned as he started fisting his cock, guttural groans coming from his chest as he chased his release. His eyes fluttered closed, Imagining you spread out for him, begging for whatever he could give you. Your pretty body writhing underneath him while you worked in sync to reach that peak. Nails scratching at his back with each forceful thrust of his hips. He tried to stay as silent as he could, listening to the melody of your sounds. He tried to savor your sounds, prolonging his orgasm to the best of his ability. He couldn't hold it any longer, somewhat embarrassed at how fast he was going to finish.

The familiar feeling of his climax began to reach him, his lower abdomen flexing harshly with each stroke.

"Fuck"

His sticky cum flowed over him fingers as it spilled out from his twitching tip.

This was wrong, but god did it feel so fucking right.

Throughout the night, Simon couldn't shake the image of your shocked and saddened expression from his thoughts. All he longed for was to have you back with him at home. Who the fuck were you with anyway?

As the minutes stretched into hours, Simon's chest tightened with an unsettling jealousy. The anticipation of your return became a weighty burden, and the quiet emptiness of the house echoed his longing. He had watched you leave, hope clinging to the belief that you would soon walk back through the door. However, as the night wore on and you failed to return, that hope transformed into a bitter ache. Each passing moment fueled the jealousy that churned within him, a mix of fear and insecurity. The empty house seemed to mock his unspoken yearning, amplifying the silence that enveloped him in a suffocating embrace.

The air hung heavy with tension when Johnny left the house, the weight of your discovery lingering in the strained atmosphere. The revelation of the affair had cast a pall over the once-shared space, leaving behind a palpable sense of betrayal. The door closed with a hollow finality, echoing the rupture in trust that now defined the relationship. He laid there in your empty bed, the aftermath of your revelation settling like dust in the room, and the emptiness of the departing footsteps mirrored the void that now consumed the once-shared moments with Johnny. The silence that followed was deafening, amplifying your absence.

When you left he was still pent up with arousal, so him and Johnny went a couple rounds, but he soon had to leave to get enough rest before the sun rose. With both of you no longer present, he truly began to realize he was alone.

Jealousy gnawed at Simon as he grappled with the unsettling uncertainty of your whereabouts. Each passing moment fueled his imagination, and he found himself consumed by thoughts of who you might be staying with. The unanswered questions echoed in his mind, creating a symphony of doubt and insecurity. The image of someone else occupying the space meant for him sparked a surge of possessiveness, leaving him yearning for the reassurance that you were still his. The silent house became a canvas for his anxious thoughts, and the suspense of not knowing intensified the monster within him, clouding his emotions with a turbulent mix of suspicion and anger.

Just who the fuck did you think you were, leaving like that?

He felt his jaw clench, thinking of you with someone other than him.

Every thought of someone else near you ignited a primal instinct to claim and protect what he considered his own. The mere idea of sharing your presence with another set off a storm of dominance, intensifying his need to assert his presence in your life. It was as if an invisible tether bound him to you, and the thought of anyone encroaching upon that connection stirred a fierce determination to safeguard what he considered rightfully his.

Sleep eluded him, elusive as his thoughts were ensnared in a web of restlessness. The weight of emotions, a mix of envy, dominance, and yearning, kept him tossing and turning in the dim silence of his bedroom. The shadows on the walls seemed to dance to the rhythm of his unsettled mind, casting a surreal atmosphere that mirrored the turmoil within. The bed, usually a sanctuary, became a battleground for his inner struggles. The clock's ticking echoed like a constant reminder of the sleep he desperately sought but remained just out of reach. The night stretched on, a canvas painted with the shades of his unquiet thoughts, as he wrestled with the myriad emotions that held him captive in the wake of the events that unfolded.

Awakening to the robust aroma of tea wafting into your nose, you stretched out your well-rested limbs before swinging your legs over the side of the captain's bed. The lingering remnants of the dream from the night before clouded your thoughts, creating a palpable tension in the air. As you pondered how to navigate the interaction with him, uncertainty hung like a veil. The simple act of rising from the bed felt like stepping onto uncharted territory, and the fragrant tea served as a reminder of the shared space that had witnessed the intimate contours of your dreams. The challenge ahead lay in reconciling the vivid images of the night with the reality of the morning, as you grappled with the aftermath of the subconscious journey that now lingered between you and the captain.

You approached the bedroom door, turning the handle and stepping into the hallway that led to the kitchen. The journey down the corridor felt like a deliberate exploration, each step carrying a subtle anticipation. As you entered the kitchen, a captivating sight awaited you – the captain, turned away, engrossed in some task involving the kettle. The play of muscles beneath his skin was a spectacle, every inch defined and visible, yet soft. His silhouette painted a picture of strength and concentration, a moment frozen in time that captured the essence of his physicality. The air in the kitchen seemed charged with an energy that transcended the simple act of making tea, as you silently observed, feeling both a sense of intimacy and a respectful distance in the presence of this private moment.

"Good morning, Sergeant. thought I'd get some tea ready for ya."

You listened intently, and there was a warmth in the captain's voice as he completed the tea-making ritual. Even though you couldn't see his face, the audible smile in his words painted a vivid picture. The sound carried a gentle resonance, echoing the pleasure he took in the simple act of preparing tea. It was a melody of contentment, and the timbre of his voice conveyed a subtle joy that surpassed the mundane task. As you stood there, the audible smile became a shared moment in the quiet kitchen, a connection forged through the familiar sounds of morning rituals and the understanding that lingered between you and the captain.

"Thank you, Captain. For all of this. I owe you one."

The dual impact of your words and the vivid recollection combined to color his complexion with a subtle embarrassment. It was as if the mere mention of his title held a key to unlock a realm of thoughts he hadn't anticipated sharing. The involuntary flush revealed a vulnerability, a momentary glimpse into a private mental landscape stirred by arousal that lingered beyond the confines of last night. In that fleeting blush, a complex interplay of emotions unfolded, creating a connection between now and what he had done last night that had left its mark on the captain's waking thoughts.

"You owe me nothin', dove. Hush up and drink your tea." He uttered, handing you a partially hot cup of the chamomile beverage.

"Anything planned for today?" You asked while softly blowing on your tea.

"PT, but It's going to be different today, so don't you worry about lieutenant."

His words had the exact opposite effect on you. You were most definitely worrying about Simon.

Taglist: @ttsbaby01 @waves-against-a-cliff @konigslittleliebling @imjustheretofightforlove @beebeechaos @mikimumiki @splaterparty0-0

[oikasugayama]

Late happy new year!! First of all, I just wanna say that I LOOOOOOOVED ur akutagawa nsfw alphabet!! It was really in character imo especially cuz I've started simping for him a lot lately. Can I request an nsfw alphabet for Dazai??

Happy New Year!! Thank you, I'm so glad you liked it and I find it very satisfying that you thought it was in character!!! Hopefully I can do Dazai's NSFW alphabet the same justice :D

Dazai honestly kind of fucking sucks at aftercare. It's not that he neglects you or pushes you away or anything, but he does the bare minimum because he's already in shut-down mode after using all his energy to fuck you nice and good. He'll cross his ankles and lay back with his hands behind his head, grinning up at the ceiling and you'll have to roll over and cling to his side and tell him to hold you. He does it happily, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your head. “You were so good for me,” he whispers. “I can't wait to do that again.” It's nice but it's about all he does, letting you both fall asleep sweat-sticky and covered in cum. The showers in the morning are incredible, but the stains on the bedsheets are annoying.

His favorite body part is your tits. He likes that they fill his hand nicely. He likes playing with your nipples and making you whine. He likes just holding them and squishing them. He likes that he can look at them at absolutely any point in the day and they’re just pretty and nice and he can’t help it, he’s just a man, he likes boobies. He especially loves when you’re cuddling and you let him hold your boobs just for fun.

He’s an expert at making you cum on his tongue. He loves lapping it up and slurping it out of you and sucking it off his fingers. He doesn’t play that “it’s okay if I don’t cum” shit. You’re going to cum, especially if your past partners haven’t made you. He’s obsessive about his goal and he will pull out all the stops to make it happen. And when you go down on him, he sure likes when you swallow his cum but he won’t make you because he likes it just as much splattered across your face.

His dirty talk game is unparalleled. He’s a fucking demon. Part of what makes it so intense is that he’ll start it absolutely anywhere. It doesn’t matter if you’re at work, in public, with friends, on the phone, or at home in peace. If he wants to turn you on, or if he wants to fuck with you, he’ll use his low, calm voice and lean in so, so close. He’ll crowd into your space, slowly pull your hair back from your shoulder, tuck it behind your ear, and say something like “I bet Kunikida could use a lesson on how to eat pussy. Why don’t I spread you out on the table so we can teach him?”

He doesn’t talk about how experienced he is, but based on how skilled he is, there’s a good chance he’s had a lot of practice. He never confirms whether that’s the case, or if he’s just picked up all his tips and tricks through his vast study of human anatomy. If you expressed that it truly bothered you to not know, he’d confess that he’s actually not been with that many people and that yeah, he knows what to do because he studied extensively, but if you don’t ask he won’t tell. He likes to keep the suave facade.

His favorite position is pretzel (cartoon depiction). You both like how deep he can get in doggy, but he wants to see your face. Watching your reactions to what he does to you is his favorite part of fucking, so he found another position. You lay on your side with one leg in the air, he straddles your lower leg and fucks you from there--he loves it, he likes holding your leg and kissing it while getting balls deep and watching your eyes roll back as he fucks the deepest part of you.

He absolutely can be goofy in bed. Sometimes he’ll randomly stop all movement and start laughing, and you have to ask what happened, and he can have a range of weird ass responses. One notable one was “I don’t know why but in my head I just called my dick ‘my little dinky’ and now I can’t stop laughing.” He genuinely collapses on top of you laughing about that one and eventually once the laughing has subsided his hips lazily start humping you again and it’s so ridiculous and you just have unserious silly-talk sex after that.

Dazai honestly kind of hates hand-jobs. It’s not that he doesn’t like your hands--they are nice and soft and he likes holding them or having them roam over other parts of his body!-- but if he’s getting pleasure on his dick he wants it wet. Your mouth, your pussy, or even your ass if you’re into anal. He wants his dick in something tight and wet that he can cum deep inside.

He absolutely loves fucking in inappropriate locations, hence why he dirty talks with you anywhere he so pleases. He honestly needs a partner who’s a bit more respectful of appropriate sexual spaces than he is otherwise he’d do something ridiculous like sneak you into Chuuya’s office and fuck you over his desk just to piss off his old partner if he catches you in there. Actually, he’d really like to do that, now that it’s on his mind…

He jacks off a lot :/ He hasn’t had a partner in a long time and as much as he flirts with people he’s not actually very successful in pulling one night stands. This is why when he has a partner he wants to cum inside of them rather than because of their hand-- he’s so fucking sick of his own hand. If he has to jack off one more fucking time he might launch himself off the roof. Please for the love of god let him cum inside.

He definitely has some kinks. He likes sensation play, he likes edging and orgasm denial, he can absolutely get into impact play if you want him to spank you. He doesn’t want to be degraded or talked down to because no matter how much it’s reaffirmed that it’s only words during sex, his brain tends to hold onto it and obsess over it. He doesn’t really like to degrade you either for the same reason; for his own mental health he needs the verbal focus to be filthy rather than insulting.

When he realizes he loves you, the way he fucks you changes. At first you’re having fun, he’s blowing your back out every night, he’s eating you out for so long and so intensely that you’re sensitive and sore for hours. When he realizes he’s in love with you, he lays you down gently, making out with you slowly and sensually. His hands move very delicately, tickling you and teasing you. He fucks you missionary this time, staying as close to your body as he can. His thrusts are slow and measured and he keeps kissing you, kissing your neck, occasionally moving down to suck on your tits before coming back up to say you feel so good and “fuck, thank you,” and when he cums he might accidentally whimper that he loves you.

His sexual motivation is mutual pleasure. He has a high sex drive once sex is a habit for him again (i.e. when he doesn’t have to masturbate to get his rocks off). He wants you every day and he gets whiny if he can’t have it. (The best time to dom him is when one of you has been away for a few days and he’s desperate to get his hands on you--push him down, tell him to shut up and do what you say, and he’s putty in your hands). Like mentioned before, he doesn’t play with that “you don’t have to make me cum” shit. He! Will! Make! You! Cum! Or! He! Will! Die!

Also as mentioned, Dazai says NO to most degradation. Once you point out that calling you a dirty little whore and a cock slut technically counts as degradation he’s like “okay, well that’s fine,” but he never allows anything like “you’re useless unless you’re being fucked,” because his brain stops after “useless” and it just makes him feel bad. Almost anything else he’d try. He’d honestly be turned on if you dragged the tip of a knife around his body (without cutting him). He’d think it’s hot to watch you fuck someone else (but he’d have to be tied up otherwise he’d get jealous and rip that other person off of you). He doesn’t want to fuck anyone besides you unless it’s as a threesome+. You have to be involved.

Dazai fucking LOVES GIVING YOU ORAL. Again, he has studied human anatomy immensely. He knows exactly what to do to make you cum. He knows how to move his tongue, where to move it, how fast, how long. He knows how to finger you at the same time to double or even triple your pleasure. He could literally eat you out until his lips wrinkled up from being against your wet pussy for so long. He definitely gets hard from eating you out and could rut against the bed and nut in his pants from making you cum.

He has no pace preference; he very much goes for what the day demands. Sometimes you’re grumpy or cranky and he’s pent-up and feels like brat taming and he gets you into bed and fucks the absolute shit out of you. Sometimes he’s overwhelmed with how much he loves you and he takes such sweet, slow care of you. It all depends on how you’re both feeling!!

Dazai will never turn down a quickie, though it always leaves him wanting more. If you both work at the ADA he’ll coincidentally run out of pens and offer to go get more from the supply closet at the same time that you leave the office to go to the bathroom--and then he’ll follow you in, lock the door behind you, and fuck you against the sink, hoping none of the other girls need the toilet for the next 15 minutes.

He definitely will take sexual risks. He’ll fuck you at work, he’ll ask you for a blowjob any time you pass a random alleyway, he’ll put your hand on his crotch under the table at dinner, he’ll try to finger you under your dress in the back of a car as someone drives you home. He’s a little horndog. He’ll also take the risk of cumming inside you even if you’re not on birth control--he insists you’ll find a way together to take care of any consequences but please please please let him cum inside it feel so good he wants it in you it’s so hot please let him please please please.

Dazai has a lot of stamina, thus why he can eat you out for hours at a time. He could start teasing you or making you cum in the morning and still drag orgasms out of you by the end of the night. It’s about pacing. He’ll have you bounce on his fingers, cum on his tongue, then he’ll fuck you doggy in front of a mirror and after cuddling you while idly playing with your nipples for almost an hour he’ll be hard again and have you ride him, and on and on and on and on…

What doesn’t turn Dazai on? He’s a simple man. You could walk into the room, flash him your tits, and his dick will literally spring to life. Just look at him and say “I want to have sex. Do you?” and his balls twitch. He likes when you’re confident and when you pretend to be a sweet little innocent thing for him to wreck. He likes you in clothes and out of them. He thinks it’s hot when you say something smart. He thinks it’s hot when you use your ability. He’s so smitten by everything you do.

He can be unfair as fuck in bed. It’s not even funny. Yes, his policy is that you will cum by the time he’s done, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to cum fast, or even as many times as he does. He’ll edge you for literal hours meanwhile he’s cum so many times he’s literally shooting blanks. He’ll edge you for so long and so intensely that when he finally says “okay, you can cum” and he flicks his tongue over your clit, you bust almost instantly. He was the Port Mafia’s best interrogator, remember? He knows how to make someone squirm and now he uses it to sexually torment you.

Volume: HIGH. He’s loud in bed and he wants you to be too. If his neighbors (sorry, Kunikida and Ranpo!!) aren’t sending him angry texts to shut the fuck up or buy them noise-cancelling headphones as an apology, he must not be doing a good enough job and he needs to up the ante! He doesn’t try to be loud, he just lets his body do whatever it wants, and what it wants is to moan and shout and yell. He makes you do it, too, telling you that his neighbors can’t hear it (lies). He loves when you scream after he’s edged you for so long. He wants your screams of pleasure to drown out all the memories of screams of torture that he used to cause.

The most out of pocket sexual wild-card that Dazai pulls on you is *dramatic drumroll* fucking you in Chuuya’s office. Yeah, after he mentioned it that one time he couldn’t stop thinking about it and so he dragged you to the PM buildings, snuck inside with you, found Chuuya’s executive office and started absolutely going to town on you. You’re honestly kind of scared shitless, but he reminds you that if he falls, the PM goes with him, and you calm down a little…until the office door opens, and Chuuya starts screaming at Dazai for being in here and also What the fuck is wrong with you, I thought you were kidding!! Wait, what? Turns out Dazai not only told Chuuya he was going to fuck you in his office, but he invited Chuuya to join and Chuuya jokingly said “yeah, if you can manage to sneak into my office with some hot babe I’ll tag team her with you,” and shit, here you are (o_o) [i wrote it, click here to read]

Dazai likes watching x-rated videos with you to get ideas. Sometimes the best way to find new positions or find new roleplay ideas is to watch porn together, sooooo… You know he never does work at home, so whenever he has his laptop out it’s gotta be time to cuddle against his side and watch porn like normal people watch reality TV. “Ohh, this one’s labeled ‘sex education’ and it’s called ‘top 10 best sex positions’.” “Do you wanna try wife-cheating-on-husband roleplay?” “I can pretend to be a plumber coming to fix your sink and you can coerce me into sex for payment?”

If you ask Dazai why he’s so obsessed with sex and why it seems to be the only thing he thinks about or wants to do with you, he’ll do some serious self-reflection. He just really desperately yearns for you, and for closeness to you, and he doesn’t really know how to fulfill that so he resorts to sex because the climax of an orgasm definitely gives him a wave of good feelings. Turns out, he likes sitting with you and having deep, serious conversations as well. He feels weird opening up about dark things in his past, but when you do it because you trust him, he realizes he trusts you too and tells you things he’s never told anyone. He learns that he can be close to you without sex (but he’s still a horndog, he still needs it).

Dazai likes fucking you to sleep. He likes imagining the little zZzZz floating out of your mouth when you’re still spread out on the bed, naked, sweat still drying on your skin, pussy still glistening with cum and wetness as your exhausted body makes you sleep after finally cumming after hours of play. He always tries to tell you that if you close your eyes after you cum, you’re going to fall asleep, but you never heed his warning and it happens all the time. He just lays with you and takes a little power nap <3

[bleuside97]

Redemption and Regression

paring: babydaddy!jungkook x exgirlfriend!reader

summary: even after five years there is not escaping of jeon jungkook.

warnings: reader has a four year old child, reader gets kidnapped by jjk, manhandling, harsh words, profanities, a bit of angst,

genre: yandere jungkook

"Hi mommy." A little voice called through the phone call. You hold the phone close to your ear. Relief filled your senses by hearing your son's voice. Looking both ways before crossing the empty street. "Hello mommy's baby." You replied to your son, U-Jin Y/L/N, smiling ear to ear. "How are you liking it at Grandma's house?" You asked the small boy. "I love it here, Grandma has lots of toys for me to play with and she cooked samgyupsal for dinner." You couldn't see him but you can tell that joy evident in his voice. In the background of the phone call the sound of toys clashing together. Clearly, submerged in his fun toys he stopped taking.

Your four year old baby, frequently stays at his grandparents house on nights you have to work overtime. This whole week has been filled with late shifts at the office. You are employed as a journalist, a struggling one if that, you are writing your newest article that could be your breakthrough. A female voice cuts in, "Y/n." "Hello Mom, thank you for taking U-Jin in again, I've been so busy at the office." Walking home from work alone in the dark of the night. Thankfully you're almost at home. Just a few more blocks from it. You walk through the patches of yellow lights given by the street lights, within every kilometer. A gust of wind flies past you and bites your nose and cheeks turning a bright rose color. Your cling onto your light jacket a little tighter with your free hand. It was cold but your pursed nonetheless pulling the hood over your head. Pushing your hands deeper into your jacket's pocket for warmth. You continue to walk to your destination.

"I can't neglect my responsibility as a Grandmother," She dismisses your gratitude, always selfless. You're grateful to have her in your life, the only person you trust right now. You smile gratefully, admitting, "I can't do this alone." Tears well up, clouding your vision. "I'm a struggling single mom, trying to keep my job." A compassionate sigh emanates from the other end of the phone. "Don't give up, Y/n. You've come so far from those so many years ago." Her encouraging words bring a smile to your face. The smile fades as you recall your life before five years ago. Swiftly changing the subject, you attempt to forget about it. "I'll pick up U-Jin tomorrow, it's my day off. See you then, please kiss U-Jin goodnight for me."

You conclude the call quick to tuck it in your purse. A shadow of a figure in the distance. A rather tall figure, with long brunette hair blowing in the wind. He wore a loose-fitting hoodie and baggy jeans. He walks, his gaze locked on the sidewalk ahead, his face obscured by a cap that renders him faceless in the dim light. In the midst of the crowded sidewalk, your shoulders accidentally collide. You're quick to offer an apology, but as you do, the faceless figure slowly turns to face you, and in that instant, you imprint a name on his featureless visage. A surge of instinctive fear jolts through your mind, urging your body into action. Your legs propel you into motion before rational thought can catch up.

In the darkness behind you, an iron grip suddenly clamps onto your arms, imprisoning them against your trembling frame. You instinctively struggle, desperately attempting to wriggle free from his unyielding hold, but he remains an immovable force. As fear courses through your veins, you open your mouth to scream, only to be violently yanked backward, stealing the very breath from your lungs and reducing your scream to a feeble gasp.

His fingers constrict around your waist and throat, the world narrowing to the thunderous pounding of your heart in your ears and the veins throbbing visibly in your throat. Panic surges within you, tears welling up in your eyes. Amidst the chaotic moment, your vision is reduced to a blur of blinding car headlights, the whizzing of the street, and a fraction of a car door frame as you're forcibly thrust into the passenger-side seat. Desperation fuels your efforts as you claw your nails against his arm, a frantic struggle to break free.

Having cornered you within the confines of the vehicle, your assailant steps back, allowing you a fleeting glimpse. Through your disheveled hair, the darkness, and the tears clouding your vision, you discern little more than the silhouette of a man. His head abruptly swivels in your direction, his hand lunging forward, and a noxious cloth slaps onto your face.

In your frantic struggle with all your might, you toss your head back, a desperate bid to evade him, your instincts screaming about the consequences of failure. You were forcibly shoved into the car, an unsettling sense of déjà vu washed over you, and you could have sworn that your faceless assailant wore a hauntingly familiar, triumphant grin. A haunting warning chills your soul, "I warned you, y/n, from the moment you left me, I told you I will always find you." The world dissolves into darkness as he steps back, sealing your fate with a resounding slam of the car door. Rendering you unconscious.

(Transition)

A cold shiver danced down your spine, and the chill of damp concrete beneath your scent a jolt of discomfort through her frail frame. Panic began to claw at the edges of your consciousness as her memory reluctantly unveiled the grim truth: she was trapped, imprisoned by the very person she had once called her own.

As her senses gradually sharpened, she became aware of the stale, musty air, tinged with the scent of old wood and mildew. The sound of distant water dripping echoed ominously, punctuating the silence that enveloped her. Her hands, trembling as she explored her immediate surroundings, brushed against rough walls and the coarse surface of a cot, revealing the stark minimalism of her prison. With every fleeting moment, the dreadful awareness of her predicament grew more poignant. Memories of their tumultuous history resurfaced, casting shadows on her thoughts, and the realization dawned that she was now at the mercy of her former captor. Tears welled up in her eyes as she grappled with the agonizing helplessness of her situation.

Amidst the dimly lit basement's gloom, your eyes gradually adjusted to the obscurity, revealing the harsh reality of her situation. As her disoriented senses sharpened, she could make out a silhouette lurking in the shadows. Her heart raced, and a tremor coursed through her frail form as the figure gradually materialized before her.

a/n: it's been a minute bro ik i said that i was going to post like five days a week naaa that was a lie. it's not that easy im currently in school and im tired and doing work all the time. im exhausted but ima try to post once a week. i will try. anyways, im still on my yandere shit and i have way more coming up. i really this one and i think it's a cool story. please let me know your feedback please this is only the first part of the story and i don't want this to flop 😭 please don't make it flop I beg! i really worked hard on it it took me days to do!! there's gonna be two more chapters and smut would be included in the next chapter so...

[fluff-n-cookies]

Hello :)

Could you please do and platonic Aizawa x daughter reader?

His daughter is in her teen years so she is being like really rebel and all that so they fought a lot, but one day she just breaksdown during one fight and starts crying and apologizing for being a shitty daughter?

I have been avoiding this for so long, and it's all because I have no idea how aizawa would handle something like this. because it goes against everything that Aizawa would try and teach his kid so this may be a little forcefully written, apologies.

TW : unhealthy parenting, mental illness, some suicidal thoughts, probably angsty shit, I dunno, read at your own risk.

We can start this by walking through how this may start in the first place. I think the best place to start is that reader's mom left her and Aizawa when she was very young, and Aizawa, assuming here he didn't understand how to properly tell her why her mother left her, never tells her why.

Now reader is very young so she might blame one of two things.

herself

her father

While both instances would technically work, I think the more favorable option is she blames herself since a young child would probably never blame an adult they look up to and hold dear as the problem.

Up to this point her father has been really kind to her so the only other variable is her, this spirals into social anxiety, low self esteem, and depression. all of which don't help when you have an absent mother and a neglectful father who is both a teacher and a full time hero, which leaves little to no room for children.

(this is also why I think it isn't realistic for Aizawa to keep Eri or a child without another non-hero caretaker. Fight me, I dare you.)

As time goes on, and this child becomes a teenager, she might not know how to properly express her feeling and after being misguided by factors like the internet, other adults, and "friends" she might take out the feeling of being abandoned on her closest caretaker and another source of her problems; Aizawa.

if you purposely yell at him or start arguments it's not going to be very fun because Aizawa has this complex where if his students or other heros represent incompetence or arrogance he expels them or ignores him rather than explaining it to them and helping them improve, this is especially with students.

and since he lacks a true connection with you as his daughter mainly because of his job(s) and past with Oboro which he is still trying to heal from keeping him from bonding with you, he'll treat you as a student like the rest of the teenagers he knows. and even then, you may actually be treated worse than his students because while he interacts with them daily, he interacts with maybe 1 hour every other day.

so from all that he simply ignores you, just stops interacting with you entirely, he's too tired for your bullshit. this action makes the wedge between you two even worse.

if you keep persisting though he will yell back but it's often really short and really loud. something like "SHUT UP" a cold "I don't care." before slamming the door in your face. He knows it's probably not right to do that to your daughter but let's face it. you're just this annoying teenager he legally has to live with if he doesn't want to lose his hero and teaching license.

this is where things actually get very interesting, because let's assume he stops approaching you entirely, you just live in the same house nothing more than that, and while you may act like you hate your father for ruining your family and neglecting you all your life on the outside, remember, you're still that little kid in second grade that blames yourself for your mother leaving and your father not caring for you.

so let's say you realize this and go back to blaming yourself for everything like you did when you where a kid but since your father stopped talking to you entirely explaining your faults to him maybe difficult.

this where my personal experiences come in, I've actually had this happen to me in my own life, and I truely hope that you'll enjoy it. thank you.

---------

why is it that the voices are the loudest in the dead of night?

the moon is gone, the birds are silent, there isn't a single light that shines on your tear streaked face, puffly, swollen, sad, just sad.

years of confusion, neglect, a lack of love in it's purest form.

all because of you.

it's all because of you.

it's sings so prettily, like it's a church choir spreading the word of the lord like it's common knowledge.

it's common knowledge that you are a terrible person!

it cackles.

the urge to strangle yourself to finally feel some relief has never been stronger.

lie awake in the dead of night, in pitch darkness, a proper scenery to match ones broken and cracked soul, be careful, you might hurt yourself, again.

however, one cannot weep in their wallows forever.

the night has to make way for the morning sun.

and a relaxed self pity has to make way to dread.

dread.

dread of him, he who you blame for everything, everything you know is your fault.

it's all your fault.

a click at the door,

the creak of the old wood and the hinges never oiled.

mild thumping footsteps that wander around the apartment that can barely hold your overflowing buckets of tears.

you can mumble out all your pleas.

pleas that this is all a terrible nightmare and your real life is actually one with a kind and loving mother and a supportive and encouraging father.

mumble out the little lies that you made up all these years to make yourself feel worse and other better.

"it's pointless to keep trying."

"I wish I wasn't here."

"why can't I just be happy?"

"it's all my fault,

it's all my fault,

it's all my fault."

the thin walls don't do those in mourning justice though.

for the wind is calm, the branches don't dare to move, the owls, the bats, the sleeping heros in training downstairs don't make a peep.

for the only ones alive, awake, aware, is a man beaten down and broken by society serving as it's protector, ignoring the one in most need of protection all this time. With him is a girl. a girl that's scared, scared of her mirror image that haunts her, a girl who's cried an ocean, screamed a thousand wails of pain, a girl lost in her own heart,

"No wonder no one loves you."

you lie again.

but keen ears trained from years of work with villains hears you, for the first time, he hears you.

not the rebellious teen he's seen yell out strings of pure hatred and fiery insults like he's her own worst enemy.

it's the girl who he saw waiting on the steps to their apartment all those years ago. waiting for her mama to come back home with the promise of cupcakes.

it's the girl who never smiled for the remainder of elementary school.

it's the girl who's heart withered way that autumn evening.

he heard the softest little voice in the dead of night. he heard his daughter cry

"No wonder no one loves you."

.

.

.

"But I love you."

for that whole night, for that whole night.

the peace was disturbed.

for that whole night, it seemed that the moon shone once again.

it may not be the sun. but it'll do for now.

Aizawa walked away shortly after that.

leaving a little girls and her mirror image to ponder.

ponder.

---------

Afterwards I don't think he'd talk about it too much, he's proabably approach you after breakfast the next morning and tell you "you can talk to him about it if you want." but not much more than that

he definitely would change his practices though. like getting you a therapist, taking the weekends off in favor of being around the house more.

he'll let you get used to his presence first like one would with a cat, and one day. maybe years later, or tomorrow, you'll talk to him.

you'll tell him you love him too.

and maybe.

just maybe.

the world will stop,

and everything will be okay.

[artsymeeshee]

Hello! I just found your laundry list of art last week, and I have to say…I LOVE IT! Love the instinct comics, Ford being cool never ceases to make me giggle, and I loved the autumn drawing. I’ll admit, that one had me in tears…made be believe in the what-if’s of my own family. What they…could be like someday. Or what I wish they were. Thanks for the tears, they were much needed.

 Anyway! This is what I came to message you about! Although,…I am extremely sorry for the late message. I tend to check back into tumblr at…weird hours of the night. Heck, it’s almost the next day as I type this. I seriously need to sleep more. So! I had a few thoughts on Stan and Ford relationship, and I wanted to hear your thoughts on it. Just a disclaimer, I’m kinda basing this off my actual life as I find these characters mirror personal events very closely! I am also a writer and soon to be author! Might post some archive of our own content about these two soon. Also, and this is the most important, I have NOT read book of Bill yet. So plz…no spoilers. Anyway, long introduction aside, let’s begin!

In my personal head cannon of these two, which I don’t imagine is “too” different than how anyone else could see them, Stan and Ford have an extremely awkward and emotional conversation after Weirdmagedon. Why? B/c they’re both, to some degree, emotionally numb. In my opinion, why wouldn’t they? They haven’t spoken to each other in 40 years, properly, and they have repressed a ton of their emotions since then. It’s hard to bring that back up. (Speaking off of experience) I’d say even harder for Ford. Stan, thanks to the twins, has learned to loosen the locks on his heart while Ford kept running away from those emotions to defeat Bill. Just like his ambitions, that was the main priority, and everything else later. To me, this would explain why Ford never bothered to talk to Stan properly since coming back during the show. He wouldn’t know how to. If they were to talk, and this is where the writer in me comes out, I’d write Ford as the one that needs it most. He’s been traveling dimension for decades, running from the past that held him back…but he has no anchor now. Stan becomes that anchor, paralleling what he wasn’t when Ford was lost. And Ford…he just breaks. Like, completely breaks. And Stan is there with him, breaking like he is, but still there for him brother. Finally back after all those years apart. And as someone who has been on the side of neglect from one’s own brother…nothing would be me happier if we went to connect. Just like Stanley and Ford. And eventually, soon to be sailing on the seas to connect even more.

Phew…that was a lot. Sorry for the rambling. Told you I had some ideas! So, what do you think? Do you see Ford acting like this? If not…why? Genuinely, I’d like to know. Anyway, thanks for taking your time to read this. Again, sorry for the ramblings. Oh! One more thing, I know you aren’t taking art request right now, but would you be open to take them in the future? Say in 2 months time? Anyway, bye!

Well first off, thank you! I appreciate it! :D

And to answer your headcanon, I agree on it. Stan is definitely more open to talking, especially thanks to the kids. I mean there's still moments where it's hard and awkward for sure. And Ford would for sure have a harder time opening up, especially with the constant guilt and mistakes that replay over and over. And there's always that lingering feeling of "well, Stan has to hate me for what I've done" and it's always so surprising when Stan tells him differently and he never once hated Ford. Sure, was angry but never hated him. He had too much self-hatred to feel that way with Ford. And as many times as it needs to be said or repeated, it really makes all the difference when they tell each other how much they love and care for each other. As Alex said, "they're both so damaged, they desperately need each other."

As for the requests thing, most likely not. Only because I'm entering the busiest time of year for my work so it's gonna be a miracle if I even have enough energy or motivation for drawing if I'm not completely burnt out.

[rightpastnowhere]

TLOVM season 3 episode 3 thoughts from someone who's slowly losing her mind

PART ONE: campaign vex and perc'ahlia VS tlovm vex and perc'ahlia

(yeah. yeah it's part one. i have so many thoughts gang)

SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

okay. so. i feel like i've made it clear how much i ADORE the perc'ahlia relationship timeline in campaign 1. and it remains to this day one of my absolute favorites, and i was very afraid of it being changed in tlovm. BUT. i'm actually kind of fucking obsessed with these changes.

because, really, campaign!vex and tlovm!vex are two entirely separate characters. they're still the same vex at their core, but the changes to the narrative in tlovm have changed the show version of vex in ways that i think are perfectly suited to the "i'm going to turn this into a fling even though we're both fooling ourselves" plotline. tlovm!vex seems overall more committed to the facade she puts out. she's a bit colder in the beginning, and has slowly thawed over the past two seasons, but not in the same way campaign!vex has by this point in the c1 plot, and like. on the one hand, it might just be a personality shift for the adaptation! something to make more clear-cut character archetypes. on the other hand, i keep remembering that vox machina haven't been a party for as long in tlovm. she's still questioning whether or not to stay with the party in season one. she doesn't have as strong of a foundation with these people, less trust and less comfort. she's got so many more walls built up.

and that, of course, includes her relationship with percy. campaign!perc'ahlia, in my eyes, is a friends to lovers slowburn. it's been mentioned that they hit it off well from the beginning, and while they both were attracted to each other to some degree, they both dismissed it as a bad idea and moved on. over the year of in-game time they spent together (maybe more? i get confused with the timeline) before we even see them on screen, they build up a steady and solid friendship. one filled with flirting and teasing, but still a friendship. and it's clear that they both value this connection they have, especially in the briarwood arc, with the mask and all of that loveliness. and sure, some of that could be read as romantic, but it's love all the same. vex loved percy before she was in love with him, and that dynamic is one she's terrified to lose! "wouldn't it be so awkward, though?" she says, as if she's already decided that all that confessing would do would be adding tension, that there's no chance of reciprocity.

in tlovm, though? it's barely been any time at all. she's fallen in love with percy in the same time it's taken to really be his friend, to find that she can trust him and rely on him. the weight of their history isn't nearly as bulky, here. sure, she won't dare risk any revelations of her feelings or any attempts at a serious relationship, but sex doesn't have to mean anything. if it makes things awkward then, well, they're still settling into their dynamic as friends anyway - things can be shuffled around and fall into different places. there's nothing solid yet to risk, if that makes sense. they're still building a foundation, she can build around the cracks.

and another significant point of divergence: syldor. i have a lot of thoughts on the feywild arc and the changes made, but i'm going to disregard all of that now because they're, same as vex, basically different characters. to put it simply: tlovm!syldor is harsh and gives bad attention, whereas campaign!syldor is neglectful and doesn't give enough attention. as a result, we see that tlovm!vex seeks out good attention, whereas campaign!vex avoids getting close enough to anyone for them to pull the rug out from underneath her. tlovm!vex initiates a fling, a dynamic of gratification and positive attention without emotional weight, because actually being in a relationship can result in that trust being used against you. she trusted in her father, and he used being her father as a way to beat her down. campaign!vex doesn't even try to initiate anything, because she fears the silence, the lack of reciprocity and care, the fear of being turned down. she tried to build a connection with her father, and was met with silence and quiet disapproval and barely even a second glance. i don't know if this makes any sense, and i'm bad at words, but these feel like different fears of rejection to me? and yet they're both fears of rejection, something that is at the core of vex's actions and personality in both adaptations.

two different stories of a person driven by fear, and i love them for their differences!! they both feel more fitting for their versions of canon!!! and both make me insane!!!!!!!!

[once-in-a-blood-moon]

Not All "Victors" are Gold, Some are Silver

Solomon x GN! reader

Summary: Everyone grieves differently. Instead of grieving properly, Solomon spirals after losing you and does the unthinkable to bring you back.

AN: It's Ween time, folks! Whoop whoop! I've had this idea for awhile since I've been rereading Frankenstein (my fave), so I've been working on this for the spooky day. Idk Victor Frankenstein kinda reminded me of Solomon... So, here we are, lol. Do enjoy and have a happy Halloween! 🎃👻

Warnings: dark themes, Solomon pulls a Victor Frankenstein, lots of angst, mentions of gore, blood, nausea and vomiting, grief and loss, death, maybe slightly yandere?, ambiguous ending... I think that's it :)

“What have you gotten yourself into this time, Solomon?” his own voice reaches his ears in a strained and solemn whisper. Denial gnaws at his nerves while dread worms its way into his heart where a sense of longing had burrowed before.

It’s all so mundane and quiet, and yet, the overwhelm in his mind makes him hyperaware of everything within the walls that seem to be slowly closing in on him. Back and forth, his stirring makes the murals of neglected cobwebs in the highest corners sway from the subtle breeze. The rushed taps of his soles on hardwood fall out of time with the infernal ticking of his many clocks. He can even hear the flick of his cloak that follows in his restless agitation and the pulsating of his pumping blood as he presses his palms over his ears – growing louder and louder, it’s all too much!

His bloodshot eyes dart around to loose scattered pages, most of which are piled on top of his desk while some have long fallen to the floor. What had been his life’s work for the past five years and had once been intelligible to him was now indecipherable. Or at least he wishes it was. He moves quicker than he can comprehend towards his desk, tears welling in his eyes as he shouts in anger.

“I’m a fool! Why did I do this?!” In one fell swoop, he clears the desktop, and the rest of the pages with anatomical diagrams, alchemic symbols, and maps full of red markings fall to the floor. In another, tools of the surgical kind clang against the floorboards, making flies that had gathered to feed from the drying bloodstains jump and buzz about.

Solomon doesn’t want his research to make sense. He should’ve let it go instead of selfishly clinging to the desperation to bring back what once was. None of it feels real. It’s like he’d done all of it in his sleep only to wake up to a nightmare of his own creation.

The pitter patter of tears dropping and soaking into the wood of the desk is the only sound that accompanies the ticking now. His Adam’s apple bobs in his attempt to swallow down the burn of holding back more. Curses and names are thrown around in his head looking for someone to blame; someone that had to have noticed his decline, someone that should’ve intervened, someone that should’ve known what he was up to. Though he knows it’s a ridiculous pursuit. Solomon had hid himself away with plans only the mind of the genius – or the bothered – would entertain, refusing to confide in his closest friends of the awful state he was in. He has no one to blame but himself.

With a slow pivot, Solomon turns in the direction of where the result of his madness lies, glaring at the blurred outline of his locked closet. Even though it’s only on the opposite side of the room, the dim lighting makes the closet seem to brood miles away from him, reminding him of the millions of miles his eternity has forced him to endure and the lessons he’s learned along the way. Although this time, he’ll be walking towards his punishment for a lesson that should’ve been learned long ago.

A sigh escapes his lips as he pushes off while wiping his eyes with the back his shirt sleeve. His steps keep their normal confident cadence, but the muffled sounds from behind the door create a storm within that almost forces him to falter. A queasy, sickly feeling squeezing at his gut. He reaches into his pocket for the key as he approaches, pulling it out once he’s right in front of the door. With a hard swallow, he inserts the key, twisting slowly until he hears the “click.” Solomon, before losing what little courage he’s retained through this ordeal, grips the cold doorknob and turns it. The slight creak from the hinges is the last thing he hears before the light pours in to let him gaze upon his work.

There, kneeling on the floor with thick, clunky chains fastened around boney wrists and ankles is his greatest love and greatest loss – you.

He took every liberty in giving you a vessel that mirrored your living one. Though due to late harvesting of your already buried body, most of “your” parts had to be taken from other sources, all “ethically procured” from those who had freshly departed. Solomon figured they didn’t need their useless limbs more than he did to rebuild you. He wishes he could feel pride upon seeing you living freely and healthily, but all he can manage is despair as he takes in your rot and decay.

The scratches you gave him on the night of your reanimation hidden beneath his shirt seem to burn in the wake of seeing his blood and skin caked under your fingernails. His eyes lock onto yours that are so cloudy and pale, and lack a certain twinkle of the living. He smells the sick, rotting flesh that crawls and spiderwebs along muscles that tense under the weight of the chains. And he despairs at the visible pumping organ in your chest that doesn’t resonate with the sound he used to listen to before…

Before you left him.

It all hits Solomon too quickly and he falls to his knees, retching violently. The contents of his stomach are spilled onto the floor, and he tilts his head up between heaves to watch you merely blink in indifference to his misery. This isn’t you. He knows because you lack the humanity you would’ve shown him in a moment like this. But in bringing you back, he’s taken away that part of you – and it’s something he can’t sew on or replace. There’s a reason people warn against necromancy and the like, and this is why; you are not the same as you were.

You are a victim of his selfishness. And he is a monster.

“I’m sorry… Forgive me!” he shouts down at the floor with drool and tears joining the pile of vomit below him. He finally breaks down as the weight of his actions crushes the emotion out of him.

Solomon rolls away to lay on his back while sobbing, staring up at the ceiling as he pictures the life he’s made for himself – feeding and watering you while still in your chains to avoid your animal-like aggression, confining you to a life of captivity and darkness. He’ll have to take care of you; God knows he can’t take this life away from you now that he’s given it back, even if it isn’t you. The guilt would destroy him.

Between sniffles, he whispers out in anguish, “what am I going to do?”

[tiredmamaissy]

hey 👋

i think this is the longest i've been gone. i missed you all a lot. i've been writing this entire time, and wanted to finish the last (for now, it’s definitely not completed) two chapters of the ralak series before officially coming back. i didn't want to come back without some sort of peace offering (lol how could i come back empty handed?) and i don’t want to leave you guys hanging again, gotta give some sort of closure to this series!

i'm almost finished, but i felt like i needed to come on here and explain myself.

i've been really struggling with my mental lately. it's just been pretty bad, to be frank. and when i get like this, i find it extremely difficult to juggle all that life entails, and will typically neglect certain aspects of it just to get by. unfortunately, this, and my social life, have taken the biggest hit. i find it hard to keep in touch regularly with friends, and i end up just retreating into my shell. motivation becomes little, or nothing at all.

i don't want to go into too much detail, but i've found myself between a rock and a hard place. i don't feel like i have many options in my current situation. i feel trapped. i suppose i've felt this way for the past few years, but it's just been pretty bad recently. issy has been an escape for me. i created a ‘new’ identity, one that i could unapologetically be myself. no face to the name type of thing. i fell in love with pandora, yearning to go there. and suddenly, my ideal world--my ideal everything was at my fingertips.

when i first started, the feeling of regaining my identity after so many years was exhilarating. i put many, many things on the back burner to immerse myself into this feeling and this world. quicker meals, shorter showers, later bedtimes. i did any and everything to dedicate as much time as i could muster up to hold onto this new identity. i could feel myself becoming happier, slipping back into who i was before i lost her.

but life just happens. you know? it continued, and it did so ten-fold. it was one thing after the next, and soon my plate was so full that i had to take something off of it. i guess i'm used to choosing myself to neglect first, so i told myself i'd put this off until i could get through this and then come back. so i did, and i came back. then life happened again. so i left, and came back.

but this time around life hit me hard. i felt like i was playing a game on the hardest difficulty, with a half a life, no pauses, and no way to exit safely. i'm still playing that game, but i've realised that i should really try to make the most of it. so i've been writing in what time i have. it's been one of my biggest escapes and it makes me happy that i can share it, and see that others enjoy what my silly brain comes up with.

i'm ready to come back, but i'm honestly still really overwhelmed with life. i really, really don't want to disappoint anyone…and i can't promise that i won't leave again anytime soon. i never want to leave. and honestly, i don't think i'll ever really leave for good. i will forever love avatar, and all that it’s done for me for the past 14 years. i guess i’m just trying to say… thank you all for your patience and love.

okidoki, let me stop here while i can lol.

ill be posting the chapters as soon as i'm done with them, ofc. i love you guys!! i’m heading to bed and will try to clear out my inbox and dm’s asap

-issy 💜