#Weight Loss 2018

[graciebaberams]

.

[flamingo--ing]

i think a lot of my weight might be loose skin actually?

[moaninmoonen]

"Swarmz doesn't understand whats coming!" - Ryan Taylor Exclusive Prime Card Interview

Misfits Boxing

[dex-starr]

Man all the wrong places of my body really did lose their muscle mass. Like I think I had a decent lower half of my body before just could tone it more but now I definitely don’t see the muscle I had even though I was inactive for a bit from soccer.

Like I think my calves are recovering but my thighs are just the opposite now damn. But the beer belly remains

[lightofraye]

The Reasons I'm Anti-Danneel (Redone)

I've decided to redo the original post, largely as most of it was heavily drawn/copy-pasted from @taraslittlecorner (now defunct/deactivated) and was not a good fit for me. Listing receipts/evidence of why I feel this way should be calmer, with citations, proof as much as possible.

Here’s a caveat: This is my belief. This is my stance. I am not here to shove this into anyone else’s face and go “You should not be a Danneel fan!” I'm not demanding everyone believe me. This is me explaining why I am not a fan of hers, as to why I dislike her. No, I do not “hate” her. No, I am not obligated to respect her or like her just because she’s Jensen’s wife. That’s absurd.

Whenever possible, I will provide citation. Some I am unable to, because they have been deleted from the internet and unfortunately, the Wayback Machine (aka the Internet Archive) did not archive it and no one else screenshotted/linked the evidence. I will try to keep that as minimal as possible.

I'm placing a content/trigger warning, as there may be descriptions of abuse to follow. If description of abuse bothers you, even emotional abuse, I advise you to skip.

I'll add a cut here because it's going to get long!

**Disclaimer** This are observations and opinions of what I’ve seen, as well as what others have seen on social media, in interviews, etc. Each relationship is different, and each domestic abuse case can vary in degrees of abuse, usually over time, but not always. These are just some of the things we can see publicly, and if things are shown publicly, it’s a safe bet there’s worse happening behind closed doors. I’m not a medical professional nor expert, again, these are opinions and observations. If you suspect someone you love is in an abusive relationship, please contact the proper outlets for battered women and men in your area.

Now to begin.

1. Fat Shaming Him

Jensen eating gummy bears. This post was made as a public stab at Jensen for the amount of gummy bears he was eating. It was a stab at not only his eating habits/weight, but it was also a stab at him being greedy or gluttonous.

Jensen on the carousel. Another stab at Jensen about his weight.

1A. The End Result Of Fat Shaming:

There was this. Yes, it was probably around the time he was training for the marathon with Jared, but this was a scary weight drop. Especially as marathons and running require you to really increase your caloric intake to keep your weight and energy up. On the heels of the public fat-shaming, this is rather shocking.

Dated: January 17, 2018.

Ignoring Danneel's claim of "marathon body", he did look skinny. You can compare how Jensen looked at the beginning of Supernatural to later seasons and there's a distinct difference. He's skinnier. Skinny does not always equate healthy, especially if it's muscle loss.

Unfortunately, other photos are in evidence of the massive weight loss.

This Tumblr post shows him still rather skinny during an event at FBBC.

Every time Jensen has to quarantine with her he starts to look like death warmed over, weight drop, sickly looking skin color, (which is also a sign of malnutrition), and that dead look we can’t get seem to forget. Then we get him back to work, and it’s almost an immediate improvement.

2. Unexplained Injury: There is the chunk that’s missing out of his nose now because of a nose injury that kept being explained in different instances at the same event as to how he even got it. It first appeared a day after the FBBC family reunion event that took place in May of 2018 in a post made by Danneel of Jensen playing with the kids, and people thought it was just a breathe right strip.

If you look closely, you can even see that his eyes looked to be blacked, as if he’d somehow broken his nose. Once he got to an event for Danneel’s Limbo Jewelry line launch in NYC, he kept changing the story as to how he got said injury. First he told fans that he’d hurt it by hitting a pool wall while playing with his kids. Then he said he’d dropped a keg on it. Well, if you’ve ever worked for a bar or been around kegs you know those things are heavy, and that story is untrue.

Had Danneel been walking around with an unknown injury and her story kept changing, it would have gotten attention. Men… not so much, and it shows.

3. Public Humiliation: There’s this Valentine’s Day post. Imagine reading that post, seeing your spouse mention their “first” love and then jokingly say you’re the second and “more important” love. Especially on the heels of Jensen’s fairly recent share at a convention of how “he’ll do” as her “second choice”. Your spouse should’ve been your first and only choice!

Posting him in his underwear just to garner some attention to her post. Honestly, it's pathetic, and adds to the narcissistic sociopath mentality assessment. What was the post about? To sell beer outside of Texas. But using Jensen to do it? Really, Danneel? God.

Then there's the photo of him in the bathroom. Some say he was a willing participant in the joke. I say "That doesn't matter." It's gross, crude, classless. It demonstrates how selfish she is.

I absolutely have a sense of humor. However, a joke only works if everyone is laughing.

Then there's this Jared photo. While not related to Jensen, it demonstrates just how much she doesn't care about people. She stated that she lied to Jared, that she deleted it, and then posted it anyway. How much you wanna bet that this was one of many reasons Jared and Genevieve pulled back from the Ackles? Because Danneel does not respect the Padaleckis, and Jensen cannot get Danneel to actually behave like a human being.

There's the whole AD House Tour. The whole video, she’s taking swipes at Jensen left and right. Claiming he didn't help in changing the kids’ diapers, to not cleaning the house at all, to not cooking at all.

Time stamp 0:58: The way Jensen hastily goes "not swing", to this day, honestly makes me wonder. Especially about that orgy rumor tweet....

Time stamp 1:14: Implying Jensen would be against flowers because it'd be "too girly", but then claiming he loved it. This makes me wonder. You'll see why later on in this post.

Time stamp 2:10: How is it Jensen didn't know that was the sex plant of a palm until then? Did he know nothing about that house??

Time stamp 3:11: Claiming it was Jensen’s first time in the kitchen, which literally doesn't make sense. Unless he'd been barred from the kitchen, surely he'd been in there to grab a beer, a snack, something for the kids. By saying this, she's implying that he uses her as a servant to get him everything. (I’m intrigued by Jensen's statement about the stove/oven, and how it was “so unnecessary”. He's been overruled.)

Time stamp 4:00: Jensen is very, very shocked that the chair moves. How is he that surprised by a moving chair? Does he not live there?! With kids, stuff would move!

Time stamp 5:39: Again, implying Jensen never helps out with the kids, the diapers. Uh, Danneel, neither do you. You have nannies.

Time stamp 6:04: She says it’s “ridiculous” he’s doing a marathon? It’s for charity, Danneel! So much for being a caring, compassionate person.

Time stamp 6:39: Jensen has to go to the guest room when he comes home late at night? Does Danneel not want to greet her husband lovingly, regardless of how late it is? She prioritizes sleep over him? Ooookay.

Time stamp: 6:58: Persistently tortures Jensen with the creepy doll. She knows it bothers him, yet keeps it around and keeps torturing him with it. Yeah, cool, that’s love, folks!

Time stamp 9:04: States rather publicly that he never cleaned the bathrooms. Danneel, honey, I’m fairly certain you don’t either—you have maids.

Time stamp 9:20: Embarrasses Jensen with the “where the magic happens” statement about the master suite. Jensen asked for it to not be included. Oh look. It's included. Overruled him again. He never has his way, does he, Danneel?

Time stamp 9:46: Of course Danneel doesn’t care that Jensen doesn’t like the big window and how people might be able to look in when they’re in the bathroom. She loves the attention and loves bragging about the man she trapped in marriage, no matter how uncomfortable it makes him. So considerate.

Time stamp 11:41: Puts Jensen down by saying she’s a little bit neater than him. Then puts him down again by saying he had help on cleaning up his side. Do you ever praise your husband, woman??

Yet, she praised him here, about how he’s been pitching in with mopping, preparing FBBC. Liar, liar, pants on fire at this point.

The FBBC interview. Let's not kid ourselves. That interview was bad. The interviewer didn't really do a good job, but it revealed a lot about the dynamic between Danneel and Jensen. At one point, Danneel claimed Jensen didn’t smell good, and he tried to excuse it because he was mopping (wait, I thought he didn't do any cleaning, Danneel??). Then she was like “Oh yeah he did so...” Then she made that horrible joke about being pregnant and Jensen actually gagged. Yes, he tried to play it off as a joke, but the look on his face was not that of a man who was happy to hear his wife was pregnant again. (Not to mention, you should never make such jokes because it’s such a heavily sensitive topic. Jokes only work if everyone laughs.) All of it was meant to humiliate and put Jensen down for the work he did in making FBBC a reality. There’s also the part where they were asked if they were tired of each other. Jensen was quick to say “Yes”.

Then there's Wales Comic Con. She made up the fib about auditioning for every single Supernatural female role, claimed she tried to use knowing/being with Jensen as a way in (that's called nepotism, dear), and all of that was... a lie. Then she tried to claim credit for helping Jensen drop the Dean voice while humiliating him about it. (He actually tried to defend himself by saying that was his voice.) The whole panel was humiliation after another. I detailed it in this post.

Not to mention her saying Jensen wasn't anything like David Spade and said “no, but you'll do”. Wow. Way to put your husband down and say he’s second best (again). Good lord.

Yet, she also said this:

Either he helps or he doesn’t, Danneel. Which is it?

4. Controlling. This part. I've gotten push back on this. “She doesn't work, she stays home all the time, how could she possibly control Jensen??”

By controlling his social media, and had been for years. No doubt this is largely to keep the facade of “happily married couple”, with her making posts on his Instagram in honor of her, praising her, and so forth. It’s also a way of monitoring his interactions with others, particularly women, and to keep track of who he’s been in touch with.

Indeed, I suspect up until Danneel’s birthday post this year, any comments, posts, that praised her were all Danneel, not Jensen.

Access to one’s cellphone, email address, and other social media is almost as good as attaching a GPS onto a person. If she accessed his cloud, she can access everything from text messages he’s sent to his most recent emails to his employers.

I have some proof but it will take time to document all of them.

There’s also this post, showing the difference between Danneel and Jensen.

There are also indications, histories, of Danneel signing fan autographs that said something along the lines of “hands off bitches, he’s mine”.

Jealous much, Ms. Graul?

It doesn't come across to me as "adorable" or "mischievous". It comes across to me as an insecure woman who knows her hold is tenuous at best.

But then she has a history of being controlling and jealous everywhere. Such as here and here.

She also insisted on him going out and looking for work all the time. Even after him wanting to reconnect with the family after the end of Supernatural. He suggested a three month trip around Europe, for the family.

Her response?

Then there were the recent cons where he mentioned it again, where Danneel is pushing him to go work, work, work. He’s never allowed to be home, to be a father, to be a husband. A loving marriage? I don't think so.

To be continued in Part Two.

[mononijikayu]

hongyeon — ryomen sukuna.

With a deranged laughter that echoed across the battlefield, Ryomen Sukuna embraced the monstrous essence within him, allowing it to surge forth with unrestrained fury. The Malevolent Shrine, a twisted monument to darkness, responded to his call, unleashing its full wrath upon the enemy ranks.

GENRE: Heian Era to Shibuya Arc, 2018;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Emotional Hurt, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining, Domesticity, Friends to Lovers, Character Death, Grief, Miscarriage, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Harm, Depiction of Blood and Wounds, Depiction of Miscarriage, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Pseudo-Incest, Adoptive Cousins, Portrayal of Misogynist And Degrading Acts and Language, Smut, Detailed Depiction of Sex, Depiction of Sexual Foreplay, Sexual Penetration, Consensual Sex;

masterlist

ashes of love

song: hongyeon by ahn ye eun

note: this is the point where we see sukuna become more monster-like. and it would continue more and more in the upcoming chapters. sukuna loves, but he is cursed by it too. hiromi will be fine soon enough too. the next chapter will be a few years since this. the war would still be happening and the gojo are now involved!!! i'll see you till then!!! i love you!!! <3

IT WAS A RATHER EERIE NIGHT. As the rain poured down, quenching the flames that had engulfed Ryomen Manor and bringing an eerie calm to the battlefield, it was finally quiet.  Ryomen Sukuna and Ryomen Hiromi found themselves amidst the ruins, their hearts heavy with the weight of their losses. 

The once-proud manor was now a smoldering wreck, its proud double heron banner reduced to ash and embers. The bodies of the dead were littered from left to right, crows giving themselves leave to the flesh and bones of those still edible. The attack had ceased, the Fujiwara forces seemingly satisfied with their destruction, but the threat still loomed over them like a dark cloud.

In the midst of this desolation, a figure emerged from the shadows, moving with the quiet grace of a seasoned warrior. Mikoto Masaomi, a loyal guard and ally, approached with an air of urgency. His dark eyes, sharp and observant, took in the scene before him with a mix of sorrow and determination. Without a word, he extended a hand to Sukuna, who was kneeling beside Hiromi, his own emotions a tumultuous storm.

You lay on the ground, exhausted and in pain, your body trembling from the loss of cursed energy and the overwhelming grief of losing their family. Sukuna's heart ached as he looked at you, her usually vibrant eyes now dull and distant. 

He gently cleaned you up, washing away the blood and grime, enough to make you clean once again, pure as the moon — as you once were. But his wife could hardly care. Nothing mattered right now. Your  breathing was shallow, your spirit broken, but Sukuna refused to let you go. He refused to let his wife be defeated.

"We need to leave, Sukuna–sama.” Masaomi said, his voice firm but laced with empathy. "The Fujiwara will return soon enough. We cannot stay here. We must find a place to regroup and plan our next move."

Sukuna nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Take my wife to safety until then." he ordered Masaomi. "Protect my wife with your life."

Masaomi placed a reassuring hand on Sukuna's shoulder. "I will. But you must come with us. We need you."

Sukuna's eyes hardened. "I can't stay here. Not with the Fujiwara still out there. But I promise, I will find you. I will come back."

With that, Sukuna gently lifted Hiromi into Masaomi's arms, trusting him to keep you safe. Mikoto Masaomi nodded solemnly, and with you secure, he began to lead them away from the ruins of Ryomen Manor. He parted from them when he led them to safety, where no more Fujiwara had lingered. 

As they moved through the rain-soaked night and as he watched them leave, Sukuna's mind was already formulating plans for revenge, his determination fueled by the sight of his shattered home and the loss of his loved ones.

For the rest of the night, Ryomen Sukuna hunted down the remaining Fujiwara soldiers with a relentless, vengeful fury. These invaders, who had defiled his home and slaughtered his kin, now found themselves the prey of a wrathful spirit. The rain did little to cool the burning rage that coursed through Sukuna’s veins.

He moved through the shadows like a specter, his movements swift and silent. The Fujiwara soldiers, some still looting the bodies of the fallen, were caught off guard by the sudden, ferocious attacks. Sukuna’s strikes were lethal, each blow delivered with precision and brutal efficiency. He took no prisoners, showing no mercy to those who had shown none to his family.

Painfully, brutally, over and over — he killed them. He made them suffer, prolonging their agony as much as possible. He relished in their terror, in the widening of their eyes as they realized death was upon them. Their screams echoed through the desolate grounds, mingling with the relentless patter of rain. Blood spilled over the dying flowers by the pond, mingling with the rainwater to form crimson pools.

Sukuna didn’t think straight. He didn’t need to. His mind was a storm of grief and anger, each killing a cathartic release of the agony that threatened to consume him. His hands, now slick with blood, moved with a mind of their own, guided by an instinct as ancient and primal as the earth itself.

He found one Fujiwara sorcerer looting a chest of treasures that had long been in his family. The sight of this desecration ignited a fresh wave of fury within him. With a snarl, he lunged at the man, his fists pummeling flesh and bone until the soldier was nothing but a lifeless, bloodied heap.

Another one of these fools tried to flee, his fear evident in his frantic movements. Sukuna caught him easily, dragging him back to the manor grounds. He took his time with this one, making sure every moment was filled with excruciating pain. The man’s screams were almost drowned out by the roar of the rain, but Sukuna could still hear them, and they fueled his vengeance.

The night wore on, and still, Sukuna did not tire. Each kill brought a brief moment of satisfaction, but it was never enough to quell the storm within him. He moved like a force of nature, unstoppable and unyielding. The Fujiwara soldiers fell before him, one after another, their blood staining the ground that had once been the foundation of his home.

By the time dawn began to break, the rain had started to ease, but Sukuna’s rage had not. The manor grounds were littered with the bodies of the dead, the air heavy with the scent of blood and rain-soaked earth. Sukuna stood amidst the carnage, his breath coming in heavy, ragged gasps, his body trembling with exhaustion and unspent rage.

He looked around at the destruction he had wrought, the broken bodies of his enemies scattered like fallen leaves. For a moment, he felt a grim sense of satisfaction, knowing that he had avenged his family, that he had made the Fujiwara pay for their cruelty.

But as the adrenaline began to fade, a hollow emptiness settled over him. The sight of the manor’s ruins, the memory of your  broken form, the knowledge of all he had lost — it all came crashing down on him. He fell to his knees, the weight of his grief and anger too much to bear.

In the stillness of the dawn, Sukuna vowed to himself that this was only the beginning. He would become stronger, more ruthless. He would not stop until the Fujiwara were utterly destroyed. But for now, he allowed himself a moment to mourn, to remember the life that had been taken from him, and to let the rain wash away the blood of his enemies.

It did not take long for him to arrive in the Mikoto compound. Masaomi had been the one waiting for him, along with the many guardsmen that had gathered among the volunteers from the villages. He welcomed Sukuna in his home. He did not mind the blood in Sukuna’s clothes. He knew what happened, but there was nothing to talk about. Not after what happened. 

The Mikoto were minor vassals of the Ryomen. They were wealthy enough to own property, but modest in standing to have a manor. It wasn’t what one would expect, but it was a  secure house nestled away from prying eyes. It was far enough from Ryomen Manor that the Fujiwara wouldn't think to look there, at least not immediately. It was more than enough at this moment. 

The house was modest but sturdy, built with the same meticulous care that Masaomi applied to all aspects of his life. As they crossed the threshold, the warmth of the interior was a stark contrast to the cold, wet chaos they had left behind. Masaomi’s home was a haven, filled with the soft glow of lanterns and the comforting scents of herbs and incense.

As they entered the inner sanctum of the compound. Ryomen Sukuna felt a momentary sense of relief, knowing that Hiromi was out of immediate danger. You were here somewhere, hidden from plain sight. Masaomi led him to where his wife was, who was finally dressed in cleaner attire. Masaomi watched as Sukuna knelt beside his wife, minding the gap as to not dirty you with the sullen blood upon his body.

"I doubt we can stay around Hida for this long." Sukuna said, his voice low and urgent. "The Fujiwara will eventually search every corner of this region. We need to move quickly."

Masaomi nodded in agreement, his expression grim but resolute. "I'll make arrangements. We have allies who can help us and are waiting for their response. Until then, we can gather our strength and plan our next move, Sukuna–sama.”

Sukuna’s gaze was sharp as he considered their dwindling options. “Have you informed the Gojo-clan?” he asked. Despite his personal disdain for the Gojo, he couldn’t deny their longstanding alliance with the Ryomen. Gojo Suzaku’s fondness for you and your late brother made it almost certain that they would take this betrayal personally.

“We have, Sukuna—sama,” Masaomi replied cordially. “But we wait for their reply. There is no doubt that they will side with us upon this betrayal.”

Sukuna's reddish eyes darkened with determination. "We will take back what is ours. And we will make them pay for what they've done."

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken resolve. The flickering candlelight in the small room cast long shadows on the walls, mirroring the darkness that had settled over their lives. Masaomi’s shoulders were tense with the weight of responsibility, and Sukuna could see the exhaustion in his eyes.

“Masaomi,” Sukuna whispers. breaking the silence. “I don’t know if I trust you with my life. But your loyalty is noted. Your loyalty to my wife, beyond measure.  Ensure my wife’s safety above all else.”

Masaomi met Sukuna’s gaze with unwavering loyalty. “I will protect my lady with my life, Sukuna-sama. You have my word.”

Sukuna nodded, feeling a rare moment of gratitude for the steadfast sorcerer. “Good. Now, let’s ensure we are prepared for whatever comes next. But we ought to rest for now.”

Masaomi bowed slightly before taking his leave to begin the necessary preparations. Sukuna watched him go, his mind already racing with strategies and plans for their inevitable confrontation with the Fujiwara. Too much was in his mind. 

The weight of his responsibility pressed down on him, to be a protector. To be your right hand man, now that his…his own father…. He swallowed the bile down his throat. Everything now, it was tempered by a burning resolve. The Fujiwara clan had taken much from him and his wife—their home, their family, their sense of peace. But they had also ignited a fire within him, a relentless drive to reclaim what was his and to exact vengeance on those who had wronged him.

“It took you long enough to return.” Your low voice echoed through the dim room, piercing the heavy silence. “Come closer.”

Sukuna hesitated, looking down at his bloodstained clothes and hands. “I am full of blood,” he said, his voice strained with the weight of the night’s violence.

“It does not matter.” You replied, tone firm yet gentle. “Come to me.”

Obeying your request as he always has, Sukuna moved closer and sat beside you on the futon. The sight of you, pale and fragile, tore at his heart. He took your hand in his cleaner hand, feeling the coldness of your skin seep into his own warmth. 

“I’m sorry, night flower,” he whispered, his voice trembling with guilt and sorrow. “If I could have done much more…..our fathers wouldn’t have….”

Your eyes fluttered open, and you turned your gaze to meet his. Despite your weakened state, there was a fierce determination in your eyes. “You did everything you could,” you whispered weakly, but with conviction. “But we can’t give up. We have to keep fighting.”

Sukuna nodded, your words igniting a spark of resolve within him. “I will become stronger, my night flower.” he vowed, his voice steadying with newfound determination. “We will not endure this again, you must trust me. They will all regret it, what they have done to us.”

You do not speak, but your eyes pooling with emotions he could not understand spoke enough. He leaned slowly down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, and you closed your eyes, feeling the softness of his kiss upon your skin.

“Rest now, night flower.” he whispered, his voice filled with both love and resolve. “I will protect you. I promise.”

As you closed your eyes, seeking the solace of sleep, there was quiet. Ryomen Sukuna sat by your side, keeping watch. His mind was a whirlwind of plans and strategies, fueled by a burning desire for vengeance. One way or another, there was going to be an end. He was going to see to it.

The image of the destroyed Ryomen Manor and the memory of the bloodshed they had endured were etched into his mind. He knew that the path ahead would be fraught with danger and darkness, but he was determined to walk it, for you, and for the honor of the Ryomen clan.

With you resting beside him, Sukuna allowed himself a moment of vulnerability. He had always prided himself on his strength, but tonight had shown him the depths of his own limitations. But he knew that there was not a time for weakness.  It was death waiting on the other side.

He couldn’t afford to be weak, not now, not ever again. He had to rise above his humanity and embrace the monster within, for only then could he protect what remained of his family and reclaim what had been taken from them. 

As the night wore on, Sukuna remained vigilant, his mind working tirelessly to devise a plan. The Fujiwara would pay for their treachery, and he would ensure that no more innocent lives were lost to their cruelty. He would become the nightmare that haunted their dreams, the force they could not escape. And in the end, he would restore peace and honor to the Ryomen name, no matter the cost.

In the quiet of Mikoto’s home, the weight of their situation settled upon them. The rain continued to fall outside, a mournful melody that seemed to echo their sorrow. But within these walls, there was a flicker of hope—a promise that they would endure.

THE WEEKS PASSED WITHOUT CHANGE. You continued to lay on the futon, your slender form wrapped in the folds of a once-vibrant kimono, now stained with tears and the remnants of the night's chaos. Your body trembled with exhaustion and grief, the weight of recent events pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. Every fiber of you being ached with the residual effects of your cursed energy, a relentless torment that seemed to sears through your very soul.

The overwhelming strain of channeling your cursed energy had taken its toll, leaving every inch of your limbs heavy and by effect, your movements sluggish. Each breath was a struggle, the air feeling thick and suffocating in your lungs. Pain lanced through your body like a cruel reminder of their vulnerability, each throb a poignant echo of the devastation that had befallen them.

But it was not just the physical pain that tormented you. The emotional toll of witnessing their home's destruction and the loss of so many loved ones weighed heavily on your heart. Your mind was a whirlwind of memories and regrets, each thought a jagged shard of anguish that pierced your fragile resolve. Tears streamed down your pale cheeks, mingling with the sweat and grime that clung to your skin, as you clutched at your chest, seeking solace in the futile hope of easing your inner turmoil.

In the dim light of the room, your grief-stricken form seemed to fade into the shadows, a ghostly silhouette of despair against the backdrop of their shattered lives. The futon beneath you felt cold and unforgiving, a stark contrast to the warmth she had once known within the walls of Ryomen Manor. But even in the depths of her despair, there remained a flicker of determination, a stubborn refusal to succumb to the despair that threatened to consume you.

With each sob that wracked your body and each tear that fell, you clung to the fragile thread of hope that still lingered within your heart. You knew that their journey was far from over, that there were battles yet to be fought and sacrifices yet to be made. And though the road ahead was fraught with uncertainty and peril, you drew strength from the love and resilience that bound you to Sukuna, knowing that together, they would weather the storm and emerge stronger than before.

Sukuna knelt beside you, his heart aching for his wife. Gently, he began to clean your body bit by bit, skin by skin, his touch tender and careful. He wiped away the tears from your cheeks and brushed the stray strands of hair from your face. Your eyes fluttered open, your gaze meeting him with a mixture of sorrow and gratitude.

Sukuna's voice, tender and reassuring, cut through the cacophony of your inner turmoil like a beacon of light in the darkness. With a gentle touch, he guided you through the tattered echoes of your current kimono, the fabric worn and frayed since your arrival previously. You had refused any form of water, having triggered you in grief from the nights before. 

But it was Sukuna helping you. You trusted him. You trusted him with everything. In its place, he draped a clean garment around you, the softness of the material a comforting embrace against your weary skin.

As Sukuna tucked the edges of the kimono around you, his movements were careful and deliberate, each touch a silent promise of his unwavering devotion. The warmth of the fabric enveloped you like a protective cocoon, offering a brief respite from the harsh reality of their circumstances.

Once you were settled, Sukuna draped a warm blanket over you, his hands lingering for a moment as he smoothed out the wrinkles with a gentle caress. His touch was gentle yet possessive, a silent vow to shield you from the storm that raged outside their fragile sanctuary.

"Rest now," he murmured, his lips brushing against your forehead in a tender kiss. "I'll be here, watching over you. We'll face this together, night flower. You're not alone."

His words were a soothing melody in the chaos, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, they still had each other. With a final reassurance, Sukuna stepped back, his gaze lingering on you with every inch of devotion. Every echo of affection that he could muster in him. You were all he has in the world to live for, after all. 

Your eyelids fluttered closed, with your breaths gradually slowing into a rhythmic pattern as you surrendered to the embrace of sleep. Sukuna lingered by your  side for a moment longer, his gaze soft with concern as he ensured you were in comfort. 

Satisfied that you were resting peacefully, he rose from his kneeling position and turned to find Masaomi standing vigilantly near the window, his eyes scanning the darkness beyond for any potential threats.

Approaching Mikoto Masaomi, Sukuna's expression was grave, weighted by the events that had transpired. He was curious about what had happened. From beginning to end, it was Masaomi who was there. Sukuna wonders if it was wrong of him to wish it was Masaomi who had died instead. Because you would tell him that. You wished no death upon anyone. 

But he knew he couldn't help it. Your father and uncle were more valuable to you than Masaomi was. And to Sukuna, he couldn’t help but agree too.  He grew up with your uncle as his own adoptive father. Though it was not the most common of relationships, it was Ryomen Hiramu who had taught him how to be a man. And to see a stranger alive, more than his own father — it didn’t sit well with him.

"What happened, Masaomi? How did it come to this?" he inquired, his voice heavy with both sorrow and determination. “How are you alive?”

Mikoto Masaomi turned to face him, his features drawn with fatigue over the matter. Sukuna thinks he could see guilt too. But he does not consider it enough. Enough to make up for the failures of living instead of the lord and his brother.

"Many perished in the attack," he began, his voice tinged with sadness. "The Fujiwara showed no mercy. But some of us managed to escape. Isamu-sama... he sacrificed himself to buy us time to flee."

Sukuna's jaw clenched at the mention of Isamu's sacrifice, his heart heavy with the weight of loss. That must have been the sprayed bodies he had found near the inner chambers. Bloody bodies were so mangled that Sukuna had not recognized them. They had perhaps drowned in their own blood and fluids. But that would have taken Isamu–sama’s body too. 

"Isamu–sama should have left." he murmured softly, a pang of sorrow coursing through him as he remembered Isamu's selflessness in the face of danger. But now, with Isamu gone, the burden fell upon Hiromi. “Along with my father.”

“We cannot do much about it now, Sukuna–sama.” The sworn sword shook his head at him, his face distraught. “Hoping for a different course of action cannot bring them back.”

He gruntled. “I suppose it would not.”

Silence passes between the two of them.

Sukuna didn’t know what else to say.

Because what must be said now, with nothing?

"Hiromi-sama is our clan leader now," Masaomi declared, his voice unwavering despite the sorrow that lingered in his eyes. "Her survival is paramount to the survival of our entire clan."

Sukuna nodded in acknowledgment, the gravity of the situation settling heavily upon him. He understood the responsibility that now rested on Hiromi's shoulders, but he also knew that she was in no condition to bear such weight alone.

"We need to ensure her safety," Sukuna stated firmly, his gaze flickering with determination. "But she cannot bear this burden alone. We must stand together, Masaomi. We will protect her, no matter the cost."

Masaomi nodded. “We can stay here for a while. It’s safe enough.”

“But not safe enough to linger for long.”

“On that we agree, Sukuna–sama.” The sworn sword nodded at his master’s consort. “We need to retake Hida, but we can’t do it alone.”

Sukuna shook his head, his expression resolute. “Then we wait for the response. But as soon as we find that there is trouble, we leave. The Fujiwara will start interrogating everyone in the area. If they find out we’re here, they’ll kill everyone to get to us.”

Masaomi sighed, understanding the gravity of the situation. “You’re right. We need to keep moving, keep them off our trail. But we’ll need a plan, and we’ll need more allies.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Sukuna said firmly. “We have to. For Hiromi, for Isamu, for my father.  And for everyone we’ve lost.”

Masaomi placed a hand on Sukuna’s shoulder, offering a silent gesture of solidarity. “We’ll do whatever it takes. We’ll rebuild, and we’ll make them pay for what they’ve done.”

As the rain continued to fall outside, Sukuna and Masaomi stood together, watching the water pool together. They were not one to be close, that had been certain. But now they are united by their shared loss and their determination to fight back. The road ahead was fraught with danger, but they will do whatever it took. No matter the cost; the Ryomen name will live.

THEY BARELY SPOKE THESE DAYS. The days that followed their escape were marked by an increasing sense of isolation between Sukuna and you. You were too consumed by your grief, withdrawing further into yourself as the weight of their losses pressed down on your soul. You spent hours alone, your once bright eyes hollow and distant, barely speaking and seldom eating. The vibrant night flower Ryomen Sukuna had known seemed to wither before his eyes.

Sukuna, on the other hand, buried himself in his plans for revenge against the Fujiwara. The fire of vengeance burned within him, driving him to train relentlessly and strategize their assault. He pored over maps, studied enemy movements, and honed his jujutsu techniques until his body screamed for rest. Yet, he refused to stop, fearing that any moment of inactivity would allow the despair to consume him.

As Sukuna delved deeper into his preparations for revenge, the lines between night and day blurred into a ceaseless cycle of training and planning. His days began at the break of dawn, the first rays of sunlight finding him already immersed in rigorous training regimens, his muscles straining with each exertion. He pushed himself beyond his limits, his determination burning bright even as fatigue threatened to engulf him.

Amidst the solitude of his training grounds, Sukuna found solace in the rhythm of combat, the familiar movements of his jujutsu techniques serving as a refuge from the tumultuous storm of emotions raging within him. With each strike and parry, he channeled his grief and anger into the relentless pursuit of mastery, his resolve unyielding in the face of adversity.

Yet, even as Sukuna devoted himself wholeheartedly to his quest for vengeance, a nagging sense of emptiness gnawed at the edges of his consciousness. He longed for you. Longed to have the short joy that you both shared as man and wife return. But he found himself unable to bridge the growing chasm that separated the two of you. 

His heart ached with the knowledge that you bore your own burdens in silence, your grief a heavy burden that you carried alone. And he lets you. Rather than lose you to the words that would break you, that would break him.

Despite his best efforts to bury himself in his preparations, Ryomen Sukuna could not escape the pervasive sense of isolation that hung over him like a dark cloud. The weight of their losses pressed down on his shoulders like a leaden mantle, threatening to crush him beneath its suffocating embrace. 

The tension between husband and wife finally reached a boiling point one evening. He realized that there cannot be anything if he could not break through you. He could no longer take it anymore. To see you a shattered doll, waiting for the time to pass. He wanted his wife. He wanted you. In that afternoon, Sukuna returned to their room, finding you sitting by the window. 

You were letting time pass once again, ever so empty. Hollowed with grief. You kept staring out into the darkened gardens. You could easily see withering flowers, bitter without the luscious water that rains upon it. Sukuna hurts when he sees you like this. He feels like dying inside when he sees you without your soul.

“You’ve hardly spoken to me, all these many weeks.” Sukuna said, frustration and worry lacing his words. “I’m trying to make things right, night flower. I’m doing this for us. But I cannot do it without you. I need you. I need you to talk to me. I need you to let me in.”

You did not speak in response.

He bit at his lower lip harshly.

He wanted you to look at him.

He wanted you to say something.

Anything, whatever it may be.

He just needed you, here – with him.

You turned your gaze towards him, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. “For us? It feels like you’re only thinking of revenge. Can we not mourn? Can we not….We’ve lost everything, Sukuna. Our home, our family… our future.”

Sukuna’s fists clenched at his sides. “And you think I don’t know that? You think I don’t feel the same pain? But sitting here and mourning won’t change anything. We need to act. Or we’ll die. We’ll die like our fathers. Don’t you understand?”

You stood up, your voice trembling with emotion. “Acting won’t bring them back! Revenge won’t heal what’s been broken. You’re so consumed by your anger that you’ve forgotten about us, about me. About us!”

Sukuna's frustration boiled over, his anger simmering beneath the surface like a raging inferno. "Forgotten about you?" he spat, his voice dripping with venom. "How dare you accuse me of such a thing? I've sacrificed everything for us, for our future! And I’m continuing to do so. Can’t you see that?”

You recoiled at the intensity of his words, your own anger rising to meet him. "Sacrificed? Is that what you call it?" you retorted, your voice trembling with fury. "You've sacrificed our happiness, our love, all for the sake of your precious revenge! Sukuna, I’m tired of revenge. I’m tired of losing someone. If I…if this continues, I’ll lose you too and I cannot…”

Sukuna's eyes flashed with a dangerous light, his fists tightening even further. "I'm doing what needs to be done!" he roared, his voice echoing off the walls of their makeshift shelter. "I won't sit idly by while those bastards get away with what they've done. To let them continue what they had done. I won't rest until they pay for their sins!"

Your lip curled in disgust, your own anger fueling your words. "And what about me? What about…." you demanded, your voice rising to match his. But you abruptly stop as you feel your lips tremble. "Does nothing else mean anything to you? Or are they just collateral damage in your quest for vengeance?"

Sukuna's chest heaved with the force of his rage, his mind clouded with fury and despair. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect us, wife." he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Even if it means becoming the cruelest of them all. Us or them. That is the choice. That is the way.”

With those words hanging in the air like a curse, Ryomen Sukuna stormed out of the room, leaving you alone in the darkness, your heart heavy with sorrow and regret. Tears poured from your eyes as you lowered your head, feeling a sob reverberate from your throat.

The training yard was cloaked in a somber atmosphere, the air heavy with the weight of Sukuna's relentless determination. MIkoto Masaomi observed from a distance as Sukuna unleashed the full force of his abilities, his movements fluid and precise as he practiced the devastating techniques that would become his arsenal in the coming battle.

"Sukuna—sama, you need to rest." Masaomi called out, his voice tinged with concern. He steps forward, his lips curled into a flat line. "This path you're on... it's tearing you apart, and it's not what Hiromi—sama needs right now."

Sukuna’s anger flared, his eyes blazing with intensity. “Rest? How can I rest when everything has been taken from us? When my wife is drowning in grief and our enemies are still out there? Nothing will change if I rest. My wife will still mourn, and it won’t bring back what we’ve lost. More so, we  could die. I will not let that happen.”

“Sukuna—sama, please—”

Sukuna paused mid-strike, his muscles tensing as he turned to face Masaomi, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity. "Rest is a luxury we can't afford, Mikoto." he replied, his voice edged with determination. "The Fujiwara took everything from us. Our home, our family... I won't rest until they pay for their crimes. I either die trying or live doing it all.”

Masaomi shook his head, his expression grave. "I understand your anger, Sukuna. But you mustn't lose sight of what's truly important. Hiromi–sama needs you now more than ever. My lady needs you more than ever, not a vengeful sorcerer consumed by hatred. There will be time for that. But you must—”

Sukuna's jaw tightened at Masaomi's words, the conflict within him evident in the furrow of his brow. 

"I didn’t abandon her. I won't abandon her." he insisted, his voice softer now, tinged with regret. "But I can't stand by while those responsible for our suffering roam free. I have to do this, or we’ll never be free from fear. We’ll only suffer.”

“My lord! My lord Sukuna!” A servant rushes through the corner and into the practice yard. Sukuna’s face contorts as the servant dips into a hurried bow. “You must come, hurry!”

“W-what’s going on?” Sukuna stutters as he looks at the servant’s face as it turns into a pitiful mess, tears falling over. “Speak.”

“My lady…..there was so much blood.” She finally stutters towards him as she sobs freely now. His face furrows into confusion and worry. Before finally it hits him. “My lady was with child and she….”

The courtyard fell silent, the weight of the servant's words hanging heavy in the air like a shroud of sorrow. Sukuna's heart clenched with a mixture of fear and anguish as he absorbed the devastating news. Before he could even process the full extent of the tragedy, his wife’s anguished cry pierced the stillness, sending a chill down his spine.

In an instant, Sukuna was by your side, his hands trembling as he knelt beside her. The sight of you writhing in pain, your cries echoing through the courtyard, tore at his very soul. It was as if his world had been reduced to a blur of agony and despair, his own grief mirrored in the depths of your tear-filled eyes.

Without a word, Sukuna gathered you into his arms, holding you close as if to shield you from the pain that threatened to consume them both. You could barely move as you withered into his arms. He whispered words of comfort, his voice a soothing melody amidst the chaos, though he knew that no words could ever mend the shattered pieces of their shattered dreams.

In the dimly lit room, amidst the echoes of his wife’s anguished cries, Sukuna's own voice trembled with sorrow and regret. Over and over again, you muttered with anguish apologies to the dead. You cry about your father, you cry about your uncle, and now you cry about your child. The child who deserved better, who deserved the world. 

He could feel the weight of his words heavy on his tongue, each syllable a painful reminder of his own failures and shortcomings. They tasted bitter in his tongue, painful in his chest. You were with child. It made sense. Why you had been so frightful. Why you had been feeling such grief, knowing you had just lost your father and outlived him. And soon to bear his child — only to lose them and outlive them too.

"My love….my night flower, I'm so sorry," Sukuna whispered, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper. The words hung in the air like a lament, filled with the raw anguish of a heart torn apart by grief. With trembling hands, he reached out to you, pulling you close as if to shield you from the world itself. “I am so sorry.”

As you clung to him, your tears staining the fabric of his clothes, Sukuna felt a swell of helplessness wash over him, the weight of their loss pressing down on his shoulders like a suffocating weight. In that moment, all he could do was hold you close, his arms a sanctuary amidst the storm of their shattered dreams.

HE COULD NOT BRING HIMSELF TO ENTER YOUR CHAMBERS FOR DAYS. For days, Sukuna found himself unable to muster the courage to enter your chambers. It was too much guilt that ate at him, having caused you so much distress. Having belittled your grief and distaste for revenge. He could not face you. Not after that. Not after he had hurt you, when he wanted to protect you, care for you.

The weight of your shared grief hung heavy in the air, casting a pall over his every thought and action. Yet Sukuna felt like he had no right to mourn. He had no right to mourn when he had a part in this. As the days passed and the pain of your loss refused to diminish, Sukuna knew that he could no longer avoid facing the reality of their situation. 

You cannot do what he needs you to do. And he will not force you to do it. Not when you were not in the state to do it. Not when you were already in so much pain. If there are gods above that were real, he knows that this was their punishment upon him. That he had not been enough. That he has caused you must suffer. It was on him now, to get that revenge. To take that revenge. He had to let you go. 

With a heavy heart and a resolve born of necessity, Sukuna finally steeled himself to enter the dimly lit room where you lay on the futon. The air was thick with silence, broken only by the soft sound of your shallow breaths. As he approached your bedside, Sukuna's footsteps seemed to echo in the stillness, each one a testament to the weight of his burden.

Kneeling beside you, Sukuna felt a surge of emotion well up within him, threatening to overwhelm his fragile composure. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he gently took you in on his own. The chill of your skin sent a shiver down his spine.

"Night flower," he began, his voice trembling. "I’m so sorry. I’ve been weak. I’ve failed you. And now I have hurt you, after I had promised not to.”

Your eyes fluttered open, as though they were flowers in spring. You looked at him with a mixture of sorrow and exhaustion. Sukuna's grip tightened slightly, his desperation to convey his remorse palpable.

"I thought I could protect you, that I could make things right. But I’ve only driven us further into despair. I can’t be the man you need right now. To become strong enough to avenge our family, I have to abandon the man I am and become something else. A monster. And I cannot let you be tied to loving a man who cannot be there.”

Your eyes filled with tears, and you squeezed his hand weakly. "Sukuna... no...please. I can’t….I cannot… Not without you.”

He leaned down, pressing his cheek to your hand. "I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. And our child... I hope they can forgive me too. For being such a weak husband and a weak father to boot.”

Sukuna's voice trembled with emotion as he poured out his heart to you, his words heavy with the weight of his remorse. His confession hung in the air, a poignant admission of his perceived failures and the depth of his anguish. With each syllable, you could feel everything. Tears flowed from your eyes.

Sukuna's heart clenched at the sight of your sorrow-filled gaze. The raw emotion in your eyes mirrored his own inner turmoil. He didn’t want to go. And you do not want to let him go. But the longer he stays, the longer he’d cause you more pain. Despite the gravity of his words, despite his resolve to cut that red string of fate between you, Ryomen Sukuna felt his heart hurt as your hand tightened around his own. As though begging him to never let go.

“Don’t leave me.” You cried to him, weakly. “Please….”

“I have to go.” He whispers back, just as lowly. He lets his hand caress the other side of your face, feeling the tears pouring slowly. “Or else I will only hurt you. I can’t do that to you. Not anymore.”

As Sukuna's cheek rested against your hand, a profound sense of peace enveloped him, casting aside the tumult of his inner turmoil. In that fleeting moment of vulnerability, he found solace in this last moment between you two. He lets his lips echo a soft sigh, as he burns this memory deep in him.

Your touch, the warmth, the way you looked at him with all that hurt, all that love in one — it will always be a soothing balm to his wounded soul, a reminder of the enduring strength you both drew from each other amidst the chaos that surrounded you both. And he will endure. He vows to do so. 

Yet, despite the comfort he found in your presence, Sukuna knew that he could not linger in this moment of tranquility. This cannot last too long. He must steel himself for what lay ahead, for the path he had chosen demanded sacrifice and resolve. 

With a heavy heart, he looks at you. He lets his hand free from your  cheek and take your hand from his cheek. He lets his lips press a kiss upon the palm. You choked into a grievous cry as he shakes his lips a little while longer. When he stops, he smiles at you. He bids you one last look, one last longing. 

As he rose to his feet, a pang of sorrow pierced his stoic facade, threatening to shatter the mask of composure he wore. Sukuna was not one to shed tears, you knew that all too well. Yet the thought of leaving Hiromi and their departed child they had lost stirred a wellspring of emotion within him. Blinking back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes, he took a steadying breath, steeling himself for the task that lay ahead.

Ryomen  Sukuna silently bid his beloved farewell, his heart heavy with the weight of their parting. Turning away, he left the room without another word, his resolve hardened with each resolute step he took. Outside, Masaomi awaited him, his expression a mirror of Sukuna's own inner turmoil. 

He knew what happened, being that  silent witness to the burdens they both carried. But he does not say anything. He did not need to. Everything that has been said between husband and wife has been left into the world long dead.

"You’ll need to flee very soon." Sukuna said, his tone steely. "Take Hiromi–sama and go onwards to safety. Protect our lady with your life, if necessary."

As Sukuna spoke, his words carried a weighty urgency, his tone laced with an unwavering resolve that brooked no argument. He knew that time was of the essence, that they could not afford to linger in the wake of tragedy. And more so, he would not be there to see to it that there is success. Sukuna needs to make sure that they will look after you. 

Even when he wasn’t there. Someone else has to. They have to. With every passing moment bringing them closer to danger, Sukuna knew that at whatever cost, he’d rather all had died but you. You have to live. He has to know you will live.

Masaomi, ever the steadfast guardian, met Sukuna's gaze with a solemn nod, his own demeanor reflecting the gravity of their situation. He understood the gravity of Sukuna's words and the importance of their mission. With a sense of duty ingrained deep within him, Masaomi bowed at his lord ever so elegantly.

"I will, my lord." Masaomi affirmed, his voice steady despite the weight of their circumstances. "I'll start organizing the evacuation of Mikoto immediately. Hiromi–sama safety is my utmost priority, Sukuna-sama. The Ryomen will live. You have my word."

“Go off then. Before they come.”

Sukuna watched as  the sworn sword nodded at him. He watched as Masaomi walked away, barking orders to the remaining guards and servants and soon, reverberated elsewhere in his own estate. His heart ached with the knowledge that he was leaving you in a time of such vulnerability. But there was no other choice. You both have to part. 

As the preparations for their escape continued, Sukuna stood alone, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. He felt the man he once was slipping away, replaced by a relentless force driven by fury and sorrow. The world had taken everything from him, and he would stop at nothing to reclaim it.

And in the midst of it all, he prayed that one day, you and your lost child would find it in their hearts to forgive him for the monster he was about to become. For the villain he will now play. For the blood that must be shed. Revenge must be had. At all costs.

HE HAD EXPECTED THEM. It was that late night, under the shroud of darkness, that the Fujiwara launched their assault on the Mikoto household. The air was thick with tension, and the silence was broken only by the distant sounds of approaching footsteps. It was Ryomen Sukuna who stood alone in the courtyard, his figure a solitary sentinel against the coming storm.

The battlefield was a chaotic frenzy of clashing cursed energy and cursed weapons. One could hear the cries of battle from miles away.  One could feel that air thickened with the stench of blood and sweat. In the face of the Fujiwara coming towards him with their relentless advance, Ryomen Sukuna stood as a solitary figure of defiance, his resolve unyielding despite the overwhelming odds stacked against him.

As the enemy surged forward with deadly intent, their movements swift and coordinated, Sukuna braced himself for the onslaught one after another. He could feel himself bathe in blood at each turn. One after another, there was his fist that took one life in a flash. With a fierce determination burning in his darkened eyes, he met their charge head-on, his every movement calculated and precise.

With each strike he delivered, Sukuna's strength and skill were made evident to all. It was why he was so famous, why he had been the pride of the Ryomen. His blows were like thunder, each one landing with bone-crushing force and leaving devastation in its wake. Yet, for every foe he felled, it seemed that two more took their place, their numbers swelling with each passing moment.

Undeterred by the overwhelming odds, Sukuna fought on with a grim determination, he did not care what it would cost him. With his every movement a testament to his unwavering resolve, there was nothing he had to lose. Perhaps it was what was terrifying. That a man who has nothing to lose raged against the onslaught of the many who have few to lose. Sukuna refused to back down, his spirit unbroken even as fatigue threatened to drag him down.

As Sukuna fought, his thoughts were a tumult of resolve and desperation. ”I have to be strong.” he muttered to himself between breaths. ”A monster cannot fail.”

Ryomen Sukuna knew that he had to survive here. to cultivate all his hatred, his anguish, his grief; just so he can return to you. There was no other choice. He needs to be the monster that he'd always been, he needs to be the cruel beast. He needs to be strong. He needs to protect you. So you would never suffer again.

He could feel the edges of his sanity fraying, the need to protect Hiromi and avenge their family pushing him beyond human limits. In the midst of the chaos, an idea began to form, a desperate gamble. He didn’t yet have full control of his domain just yet, but if he didn’t try now, he might never have another chance to know where he was. He needed to push, push hard until he—

With a guttural roar, Sukuna pushed his cursed energy to its limits, summoning every ounce of his power. The air around him began to warp and twist, dark energy crackling like lightning. He envisioned the Malevolent Shrine, a twisted, mangled reflection of his own inner turmoil and rage.

“Domain expansion!” Ryomen Sukuna cried, as his hands meddled together. His eyes were redder than the scarlet blood that mellowed his body. More dangerous. More animalistic. More maddened than ever before. “Malevolent Shrine!”

It did not take long for the battlefield transformed into a nightmare realm, the air thick with an otherworldly chill that seeped into the bones of all who dared to tread upon it. In the heart of this twisted landscape stood a small, disfigured Buddhist shrine, its very presence an affront to all that was sacred.

The shrine was a grotesque mockery of its former self, its once serene façade twisted and corrupted by malevolent forces. Horns protruded from its roof like the gnarled horns of a demon, casting sinister shadows that danced across the blood-soaked ground below. Human skulls adorned its edges, their empty eye sockets staring out with an eerie, haunting gaze.

The entrances to the shrine were gaping mouths, their jagged teeth bared in a silent snarl of malevolence. Each mouth seemed to beckon, promising untold horrors to those foolish enough to venture within. And at the corners of the shrine stood four short, twisted trees, their gnarled branches reaching out like skeletal hands, grasping at the very fabric of reality itself.

As they faced down the advancing enemy forces, Ryomen Sukuna could feel how electric he felt. He could feel their fear. The way the shiver of fear ran down each and every pitiful fool’s spine. This was no ordinary battlefield; this was a realm of nightmares, where the very essence of evil itself seemed to pulse and thrum with a malevolent energy. And in the heart of it all stood the shrine, a silent sentinel of darkness, casting its shadow over all who dared to challenge its authority.

Ryomen Sukuna stood at the heart of the malevolent domain, his very presence radiating a dark and ominous energy that sent shivers down the spines of all who beheld him. The Fujiwara forces, once filled with bravado, now hesitated, their resolve crumbling in the face of such overwhelming power.

His body moved with a brutal grace, every attack a testament to his determination. The shrine's dark power amplified his abilities, making him an unstoppable force. Yet even as he fought, a part of him knew this was only the beginning. He would need to refine his control, to shape his domain with precision. But for now, raw power was enough.

With a deranged laughter that echoed across the battlefield, Ryomen Sukuna embraced the monstrous essence within him, allowing it to surge forth with unrestrained fury. The Malevolent Shrine, a twisted monument to darkness, responded to his call, unleashing its full wrath upon the enemy ranks.

The grotesque mouths that served as entrances to the shrine spat forth torrents of dark energy, swallowing up soldiers and tearing them apart with merciless each and every cut that pierced through them. Nothing would be left of them soon enough. Those who dared to approach found themselves consumed by a vortex of despair, their very souls torn asunder by the malevolent forces at play.

Meanwhile, the gnarled trees that stood sentinel at the corners of the shrine lashed out with their twisted branches, striking down foes with unnatural speed and precision. Each blow was delivered with the force of a sledgehammer, crushing bone and rending flesh with terrifying ease.

As the battlefield erupted into chaos, Sukuna stood amidst the carnage, his laughter mingling with the screams of the dying. In that moment, he was not merely a man; he was a force of nature, he was death in itself; a harbinger of destruction whose wrath knew no bounds. And as the Fujiwara fell before him, he reveled in the dark power that coursed through his veins, knowing that he had become something more than human. 

He had become a monster.

facts about this chapter

i had to reread the story again because i was off the grid from it so long, i had to follow my plot again but here we are; this took the second longest to write, maybe a whole day, but the prep time was longer than that.

i ended up changing something with regards to the way sukuna leaves hiromi. originally, i thought i was going to make him be kidnapped by the fujiwara and thrown off in desolate isolation and that's how he becomes a cursed user. but i decided against it.

sukuna doesnt have a complete domain yet like megumi but sukuna over time will be developing it. he lives longer than hiromi, so he has time.

when i was wondering how i could save hiromi and sukuna, it made sense that it owuld be masaomi. i thought about putting suzaku in it already, but it would be too early to bring him up considering he has more of a role to play later on.

sukuna meets yozuru later on, but she's from the fujiwara. so the fujiwara isn't really fully eradicated UNTIL sukuna decides to take them out later on. that's why the war with them will keep going on for a while.

in heian culture, ghosting or leaving your spouse was considered the divorce. sukuna leaving hiromi was a form of divorce. even though few knew, it was still sukuna filing for divorce.

it takes too muhc on hiromi to use her powers. but considering how she was emotionally and mentally unstable and depressed, it made her even worse. through this time, the voices were mocking her as well. hiromi was having a really hard time.

sukuna found the room where isamu died in. but he didn't really know which one he was as isamu used his water cursed technique to kill everyone including him. so there was no body left. sukuna tried to find hiramu, but he couldn't find him.

masaomi lost his father that night as well. his father was in ryomen manor too and died alongside his vassal lords. he's also lord mikoto now, clan leader, as of that happening.

sukuna's domain, though small so far, did destroy mikoto compound. it killed only fujiwara sorcerers as they were all that was there in that moment.

sukuna and hiromi's child was not on my previous draft, but i thought it was something that was profound to wake sukuna up to the fact that there was something more important to hiromi than revenge and that was him and their child.

hiromi is now the clan leader of the ryomen. this makes her the first female clan leader of the ryomen. all of her retainers are scattered all across hida in hiding or in other neighboring allies like the gojos. masaomi intends to bring her to one of these allies to help regroup. that's where we'll meet them next chapter.

the song hongyeon was such a perfect song. as its hinted at, they'll be in each other's lives until the end. i consider them tied by fate. and that's something that is just profound.

the quote in the gif is being said by gojo when he talks about how the mikoto taught him about sukuna's life. being a descendant of hiromi, he knows stuff like this.

[mydaddywiki]

Mike Pompeo

Physique: Average Build Height: 5′ 11¼″ (1.81 m)

Michael Richard Pompeo (born December 30, 1963) is an American politician who served in the administration of Donald Trump as director of the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), from 2017 to 2018 and as the 70th United States secretary of state from 2018 to 2021. He also served in the United States House of Representatives from 2011 to 2017.

Handsome. Unfortunately, being in the public eye meant he had to loss weight, losing that physical attractiveness he once had. But I’d still let him pound my ass into oblivion though.

Born in Orange, California, Pompeo graduated from Los Amigos High School in Fountain Valley, California. After graduating from the United States Military Academy in 1986 and his obligatory five-year service as a United States Army officer, Pompeo went on to graduate from Harvard Law School. He worked as an attorney until 1998 and then became an entrepreneur in the aerospace and oilfield industries. Pompeo was elected to the United States House of Representatives in 2010, representing Kansas's 4th congressional district until 2017.

Twice married, Pompeo is currently married to Susan Pompeo since May 27, 2000, formally adopted her son, Nicholas. The Pompeos dedicated many volunteer hours to their home church. Wait… A republican who is religious with a strong stance against homosexuality and has produced no blood children. I might be projecting, but I think Big Papa Pomp might be a closeted cock lover. Nah… what are the odds of that?

[unopenablebox]

everyone who commented either excitedly praising crepes or naming a different food they’re hoping to make in 2025 understood the post. though there are too many “soups” people and they count for less. get into some less generically 2018 saccharine tumblr post foods, or alternatively get really specific and particular about the soups

everyone who put any number in the tags is unfortunately going to hell but especially the person who cheerfully appended their 2024 weight loss in pounds. literally could not have done it worse

[mindblowingscience]

Medicines in the same class as Novo Nordisk's popular weight-loss therapy Wegovy may carry an increased risk of pancreatitis, intestinal blockage and stomach paralysis compared to an older obesity drug, according to a study published on Thursday. The study focused on two drugs from the class known as GLP-1 inhibitors, which help lower blood sugar levels for people with Type 2 diabetes: semaglutide is the active ingredient in Wegovy as well as Novo's diabetes drugs Ozempic and Rybelsus; liraglutide is the active ingredient in the company's earlier obesity medicine Saxenda and diabetes drug Victoza. Nearly five in every 1,000 users of semaglutide drugs developed pancreatitis, compared to one of every 1,000 users of bupropion-naltrexone, the active ingredients in the weight-loss drug Contrave, according to a report in the JAMA medical journal. Contrave was approved in the U.S. in 2014 and in Canada in 2018.

Continue Reading.

[donnastark-official]

INTRODUCTION

🌟Full Name: Donna Anthony Stark-Lokidottir

🧬Species: Part Frost Giant (just like her awesome dad)

❄️Qualification: No formal qualifications yet (but a genius in the

making, thanks to her parents' influence)

🌟Alias: Frostwind/ Caelistra

❄️Powers: Still growing into her abilities, though she has a natural affinity for both tech and magic, and latent frost giant traits

🌟Gender: Female

❄️Pronouns: She/Her

🌟Sexuality: Too young to define

❄️Born: May 22, 2018 📍New York City

🌟Family

⚙️Family

✨Friends

❄️Backstory Donna hails from Earth-351, a universe where tragedy struck early in her life. Her mother, Serena Stark, a powerful sorceress, tragically perished in a battle against a multiversal threat, while her father, Loki Laufeyson, sacrificed himself to protect their world from an impending disaster. Donna, left alone and vulnerable, had to grow up without the guidance of her parents, haunted by their loss and the weight of their absence.

However, fate has a way of intervening. While traveling through the multiverse, Earth-616’s Serena encountered Donna in a collapsing reality. This version of Serena, along with Loki, took Donna in, becoming her surrogate parents. Together, they promised to protect her, offering her love and guidance as they navigated the chaos of the multiverse together.

Now free from HYDRA's grip and the trauma of her past, Donna is learning to grow into her power. She has a natural affinity for both tech, thanks to her mother’s influence, and magic, stemming from her father’s Frost Giant heritage. Though she’s still young, Donna is eager to discover her full potential and create a new future with her new family. The road ahead won’t be easy, but with the love and support of her surrogate parents, mentors, and extended family, Donna is ready to forge her own path.

The world is hers to shape, and Donna is determined to honor the legacies of her parents, and the new family who has given her a second chance at life.

Kid Face Claim: young Raffey Cassidy

Teen Face Claim: Shiloh Nelson

alter ego

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

Summary: A new trial reveals that weekly injections of the weight-loss drug Wegovy (semaglutide) lowered the risk of death from COVID-19 by about a third and reduced overall mortality by 19%.

The study followed more than 17,000 participants with heart disease and obesity, showing that Wegovy decreased the likelihood of death from cardiovascular disease by 15% and other causes by 23%.

The findings are surprising, as the drug also lessened COVID-19 severity despite equal infection rates in both the Wegovy and placebo groups. Further studies are needed to understand the mechanisms behind these benefits.

Key Facts:

Wegovy reduced the risk of death from COVID-19 by 33% in trial participants. Overall mortality decreased by 19% for those on Wegovy compared to placebo. The study followed over 17,000 participants with heart disease and obesity. Source: Harvard

A trial study has found that injections of the weight-loss drug Wegovy reduced the risk of deaths from COVID-19 by about a third while also significantly reducing risk of death from cardiovascular disease or any other cause.

The trial was led by Harvard-affiliated Brigham and Women’s Hospital. It was funded by Novo Nordisk, makers of Wegovy (the brand name of semaglutide).

From October 2018 through March 2023, researchers studied the effect of once-weekly Wegovy shots versus placebo on mortality in more than 17,000 participants with heart disease and overweight or obesity.

The study showed that patients on Wegovy were about 15 percent less likely to die from cardiovascular disease and 23 percent less likely from other reasons as compared to those who took a placebo.

Overall death rates in the group taking Wegovy were 19 percent lower compared to placebo.

“The trial started before COVID-19, and we never anticipated a global respiratory pandemic,” said corresponding author Benjamin M. Scirica, director of quality initiatives at BWH’s Cardiovascular Division and professor of medicine at Harvard Medical School.

“It is rare for a cardio-metabolic drug to modify non-cardiovascular outcomes,” Scirica added.

“The fact that semaglutide reduced non-cardiovascular death, and in particular COVID-19-related deaths, was surprising. It opens up new avenues for exploring how this class of drugs may benefit patients.”

In the study, people taking Wegovy were just as likely to get COVID-19, but they had fewer serious illnesses or deaths related to COVID-19.

The researchers do not know if the benefit of Wegovy is due to weight loss or other effects, but suggest that extra weight may be the greatest contributor to lower life expectancy.

This result is from just one observation, albeit in a large, multinational study, so the findings need to be replicated. Further studies will explore potential mechanisms of action, and other studies of drugs in this class should provide additional data.

Disclosures: Benjamin Scirica reports institutional research grants to Brigham and Women’s Hospital from Better Therapeutics, Merck, Novo Nordisk, and Pfizer; consulting fees from Allergan, Amgen, Boehringer Ingelheim, Better Therapeutics, Elsevier Practice Update Cardiology, Esperion, Hanmi, Lexicon, and Novo Nordisk; and equity in health [at] Scale, and Doximity.

Funding: Novo Nordisk funded this study and was responsible for the study design in collaboration with the academic steering committee. They contributed to data collection, analysis, and interpretation and participated in the preparation and review of the manuscript in collaboration with the authors.

Study Link: www.jacc.org/doi/10.1016/j.jacc.2024.08.007

[phoenixyfriend]

Raising the Minimum Wage and Its Effects

Ko-fi prompt from [name redacted]:

So, what does raising the minimum wage really do to the rest of the economy?

Hecking Complicated! I think I might need a doc of just. References for this one. But here are a few elements!

(Also, the Congressional Budget Office has an interactive model of how different changes to the minimum wage could affect various parts of the economy, like poverty rates and overall employment. Try it out!)

Reduction of Benefits

A common claim that is used to argue against the minimum wage is that it will result in companies cutting hours for their employees in order to recoup losses by having to provide benefits to fewer employees. This isn't 'the minimum wage is bad' so much as 'corporations are assholes,' but it is unfortunately still a thing that happens. (Harvard Business Review)

This is not a problem with the minimum wage itself, in my opinion, but these issues are emblematic of the weight that self-serving elements of capitalism carry. The low minimum wage is just one part of many that contribute to the current wealth disparity; if things like health insurance were universal, then bosses wouldn't be as able to cut them to employees in order to save money. Current regulations incentivize companies to hire more part-time workers than full-time, in order to avoid paying out benefits. Some cities have enacted Fair Workweek Laws in order to combat these approaches, though the impact is as of yet uncertain (Economic Policy Institute, 2018). Early reports, like the Year Two Worker Impact Report on Seattle’s Secure Scheduling Ordinance, do seem to indicate positive results, though:

In addition, the SSO led to increases in job satisfaction and workers’ overall well-being and financial security. In particular, the Secure Scheduling Ordinance had the following impacts for Seattle workers: - increased work schedule stability and predictability - increased job satisfaction and satisfaction with work schedules - increased overall happiness and sleep quality, and reduced material hardship. (direct quote from the Year Two Eval)

Unfortunately, these were approved at the earliest in 2015 (San Francisco's Formula Retail Employee Rights Ordinances, which went into effect in March 2016), which means that none of them were in play for longer than five years before COVID-19 ground the planet's economy to a near halt. I tried to find results for the San Francisco laws, but I couldn't find any studies for it; I did find an article from March 2023 that summarized which cities in California have brought in fair workweek laws, though, so maybe someone could use that as a jumping off point (What Retailers Should Know About California Scheduling Ordinances).

Companies prevented from cutting benefits by cutting hours would probably find another way to do the same thing, but let's be real: keeping the minimum wage low won't stop them from cutting every corner possible. EPI has some articles, like "The role of local government in protecting workers’ rights," that talk about how these measures can be, and have been, implemented to protect workers from cost-cutting employers.

Cutting the hours and benefits of part-time employees is a real, genuine concern to have about raising the minimum wage, and those need to be anticipated and combated in concert with raising the minimum wage. However, it is not a reason to keep the minimum wage depressed. It's just a consequence to be aware of and plan for.

Passing Costs On To Customers

A common argument against raising the minimum wage is that companies will raise costs in order to cover the raise in expenses, to a degree that nullifies the wage hike. This is, um. Uh.

Really easily debunked?

Like, really easily.

Over a ten-plus year period, research found that a 10 percent increase in the minimum wage resulted in just a 0.36 percent increase in prices passed on to the consumer at grocery stores. A similar Seattle-based study showed that supermarket food prices were not impacted by their minimum wage increase. - (Minimum Wage is Not Enough, Drexel U.)

I've talked about it before, but in some cases it's just a matter of how US-based labor is such a comparatively small portion of costs for medium-to-large businesses that raising wages doesn't raise corporate expenditures that much.

That said, some companies rely on drastically underpaying their employees, like Walmart. Walmart's revenue in 2020 was approximately $520 billion (Walmart Annual Report, page 29). Now, this report doesn't actually tell us what amount is spent on labor, but it does give us the "Operating, selling, general and administrative expenses, as a percentage of net sales." This is, to quote BDC, "[including] rent and utilities, marketing and advertising, sales and accounting, management and administrative salaries."

So, wages are just part of the (checks) 20.9% of revenue that is operating SG&A expenses. But maybe I'm being mean to Walmart! After all, the gross profit margin is only 24.1%, so only 3.2% is left for those poor shareholders!

Oh, oh, that means the profit is still over 16billion USD? And Walmart cites having 2.2 million associates in that same report? And that's about $7,500 per employee per year that's being withheld? And that's before we take costs up by like three cents per product?

Which, circling back: A study from Berkeley by the name of "The Pass-Through of Minimum Wages into US Retail Prices: Evidence from Supermarket Scanner Data" found that

a 10% minimum wage hike translates into a 0.36% increase in the prices of grocery products. This magnitude is consistent with a full pass-through of cost increases into consumer prices.

Of course, Walmart does sell more than just groceries, but isn't it interesting that raising a minimum wage resulted in such a small cost increase? If we assume this is linear (it's probably not, but I have so many numbers going on already), then doubling wages from 7.25 to 14.50 would still mean only a 3.6% increase costs! Your $5 gallon of milk would go up to [checks] $5.18.

Hm. Those 18 cents might be meaningful to our poorest citizens, but if those poorest citizens are more likely to be raised out of poverty by raising the minimum wage, then it might just be the case that they too can afford the new price of milk, and have more money left over for things like... rent. Or education. Or healthcare.

Maybe even a cost cutting loss leader like Walmart can reasonably increase its wages. After all, they still have 13 stores on Long Island, where the minimum wage is $15, and has been since 2021.

(I could have just cited the Berkeley study and moved on, but after a certain point I was too deep in parsing the Walmart report to not include it.)

But also... minimum wage increases are often staggered. They start out on the bigger companies, which have the resources to accommodate those changes (unless they've been doing stock buybacks), and then later on the smaller businesses, now that a portion of the economy (those working for the big companies) has the spare change to spend money at those smaller businesses that are raising their prices by a little more than the corporations.

And at that point, all I can really say is, well.

If you can't afford to pay your employees a living wage, you're not an oppressed company. You're just a failing company. Sorry, Walmart&Co, your business model is predicated on fucking over poor people, and so it's a bad business model.

Being a dickhead, while successful, is not actually 'smart' business practice.

(This doesn't even get into the international impacts, like what an "American companies should pay higher wages abroad, especially if they charge higher-than-American pricing for their products, but also at factories where we know they're committing human rights abuses" approach could be but this is already long as fuck so that'll have to wait for another post.)

Anyway.

Inflation

This one is tied into the cost argument above, but like...

Inflation is already a thing? Inflation is happening whether we raise the minimum wage or not. Costs go up whether we raise the minimum wage or not. Who is this argument serving? Not the people who can't afford rent, surely.

Quoting the earlier-mentioned Drexel report (red highlights mine):

While the minimum wage has been adjusted numerous times since its implementation in 1938, it has failed to keep up with inflation and the rising cost of living. The purchasing power of minimum wage reached its peak in 1968 and steadily declined since. If it had kept up with inflation from that point it would have reached at least $10.45 in 2019. Instead, its real value continues to go down, meaning minimum wage employees are essentially being paid less each year. Additionally, some economists argue if minimum wage increased with U.S. productivity over the years, it would be set currently at $26 per hour today and poverty rates would be close to non-existent with little negative impact on the economy. However, because gradual change was avoided, the extra funds were instead shifted to CEO compensation. A sudden change in wages now could possibly make a more noticeable impact on the economy, which is often cited as reasoning for a slower increase over time moving forward. Gradual increases with inflation and productivity could have avoided any potential economic ripple effects from wage increases and should be considered in ongoing plans.

Increasing Unemployment

A common argument is that the unemployment rate would jump as employers were forced to let employees go. Assuming they didn't just hire more employees so they could give them less hours in order to cut benefits... not really!

A 2021 article from Berkeley News summarizes the issue, along with several others, covering some thirty years of research that started with "Minimum Wages and Employment: A Case Study of the Fast-Food Industry in New Jersey and Pennsylvania," published in 1993. They also touch on the issue of subminimum wages for tipped workers, though they do not address the subminimum wages set for underage and disabled workers.

“A minimum wage increase doesn’t kill jobs,” said Reich, chair of UC Berkeley’s Center on Wage and Employment Dynamics (CWED) . “It kills job vacancies, not jobs. The higher wage makes it easier to recruit workers and retain them. Turnover rates go down. Other research shows that those workers are likely to be a little more productive, as well.” - Berkeley News article, "Even in small businesses, minimum wage hikes don’t cause job losses, study finds"

Lower turnover rates also save money for employers, as it causes them to have much lower HR expenses. How much money do you think large employers spend on using sites like Indeed or Glassdoor to find new employees?

This article from Richmond Fed does, admittedly, encourage a slightly grayer analysis:

In a 2021 review of some of the literature, [researchers] reported that 55.4 percent of the papers that they examined found employment effects that were negative and significant. They argued that the literature provides particularly compelling evidence for negative employment effects of an increased minimum wage for teens, young adults, the less educated, and the directly affected workers. On the other hand, in a 2021 Journal of Economic Perspectives article that analyzed the effect of the minimum wage on teens ages 16-19, Alan Manning of the London School of Economics and Political Science wrote that although the wage effect was sizable and robust, the employment effect was neither as easy to find nor consistent across estimations. Thus, although the literature supports an effect on employment among the most affected workers, it does not appear to be as sizable as theory might suggest.

The International Labor Organization has a similarly mixed result when taking a variety of studies into account. (I left in their own reference links.)

In high-income countries, a comprehensive reviews of about 70 studies, shows that estimates range between large negative employment effects to small positive effects. But the most frequent finding is that employment effects are close to zero and too small to be observable in aggregate employment or unemployment statistics (1). Similar conclusions emerge from meta-studies (quantitative studies of studies) in the United States (2), the United Kingdom (3), and in developed economies in general (4). Other reviews conclude that employment effects are less benign and that minimum wages reduce employment opportunities for less-skilled workers (5).

And there's the 60-page "Impacts of minimum wages: review of the international evidence" from University of Massachusetts Amherst, which looks at data from both the US and UK. I'll admit I didn't read this one beyond the introduction, because this is very long already.

Not all US studies suggest small employment effects, and there are notable counter examples. However, the weight of the evidence suggests the employment effects are modest. Moreover, recent research has helped reconcile some of the divergent findings. Much of this divergence concerns how different methods handle economic shocks that affected states differently in the 1980s and early 1990s, a period with relatively little state-level variation in minimum wages.

I'd encourage you to think of it this way:

Employer A pays $7.25/hr. Employer B also pays $7.25/hr. An employee works 25hrs/week for Employer A, and 20hr/wk for Employer B. The minimum wage goes up to $15/hr. Employer B cuts the employee. Employer A cuts employees as well, but not this one, and instead increases their hours to 30/wk for greater coverage.

The employee has gone from just under $400/wk to $450/wk. They lost a job, sure, but the end result... They have an extra fifteen hours of free time per week! Or more! With time to level out, you have less jobs, but more employment, because people aren't taking up multiple jobs (that someone else could have) just to survive.

This is a very, very simplified example, which doesn't take into account graduated wage increases (see the NYS labor table) or the benefits issue from before, but it does show the reality that "less jobs" doesn't necessarily mean "less pay" or "fewer employed" people, when so many of those employed at this pay are working multiple jobs.

Even the Washington Post agrees that the wage hike wouldn't cost as many jobs as conventional wisdom claims, and they're owned by Bezos. (Though I recognize the name of the article's author as the same person behind that 60-page Amherst report, so there's that to consider.)

The Kellogg Institute also points out that individual workers were, on average, more productive after receiving the pay increase, so the drop in the bottom line was softened. This is a bit debatable; the results varied based on the level of monitoring, but it's worth noting that most minimum wage jobs are pretty high-intensity, high-monitoring. Goodness knows you don't get a whole lot of time to yourself outside of the critical eye of your shift lead or customers if you're working fast food. They also note a decrease in profits, but I'd point out that they speak specifically of profits, not share of revenue.

To explain the difference: imagine you sell $100 of product in a day. The product cost you $50. Overhead (rent, utilities, taxes) cost you $10. Labor cost you $15. Profit, then, was $25, or $25.

A 16% reduction in the profit does not mean you now retain $11. It means that you retain 16% less of the $25. You now retain $21.

(This is, as with many of my examples, INCREDIBLY simplified, but I need to illustrate what the article's talking about, and I don't have infographics.)

Some other articles on the topic are from The Quarterly Journal of Economics, Business for a Fair Wage, The Federal Reserve Bank of San Francisco (more critical), the Center on Wage and Employment Dynamics, the Center for Economic and Policy Research, UCLA Anderson, Vox, and The Intelligencer, which cites another Berkeley article. I do not claim to have read all of these, especially the really long ones, but the links are there if you want to look into them.

In the interest of showing research from groups that do not serve my own political views, I'm going to link an article from the Cato Institute; I do encourage you to read that one with a grain of salt, given that it's written by a libertarian thinktank, and they are just as dedicated to hunting for research that serves their political views as I am. There were a few other libertarian articles I came across, but the way they presented information kept feeling really duplicitous so I just... am not linking those, or the leftist ones I am also uncomfortable with due to the whole "I'm totally not tricking you" vibes. Also eventually I just got tired, there are so many articles on this and I am just one blogger who is not actually working for a magazine or thinktank, I am working for my own personal tumblr.

Negatively Impacting Slightly-Higher Paid Employees

Did you know that raising the minimum wage affects more than just those making minimum? It affects those just above as well. It's referred to as the ripple effect of minimum wage hikes by this Brookings article. They estimate that a wage hike would affect nearly 30% of the country's workforce.

"Price adjustments provide the principal adjustment mechanism for minimum wage increases: higher labor costs are passed through to consumers, mainly for food consumed away from home. Such an increase does not deter restaurant customers. Price increases are also detectable for grocery stores (Leung 2018; Renkin, Montialoux and Siegenthaler 2019), but not more generally. The effect on inflation is therefore extremely small." - "Likely Effects of a $15 Federal Minimum Wage by 2024," Testimony prepared for presentation at the hearing of the House Education and Labor Committee, Washington, DC (2019)

This overlaps with general criticisms of widening income equality, citing an AEA article I cannot access since it's behind a paywall. I wonder if it touches on companies like Amazon being headquartered in the city and manipulating the job market by sheer size? I can only speculate.

Plus, there are the health benefits! Which are mostly connected to lessening poverty, and through that lessening stress and increasing healthcare access, but still! Some of these results are debated, but I'd need to know more about the details to know how they're related (University of Washington).

------

I've spent most of the day on this, so if you guys have made it this far and are interested in supporting me, please donate to my ko-fi or commission an article. (Preferably for more than the base price; I'm effectively working at a fraction of minimum wage myself, which is ironic considering the theme of this post.)

(I realistically shouldn't have spent more than two or three hours on this, but I have so many strong opinions on the subject that I couldn't stop.)

(Also: There were so many more sources I didn't even get to read the basic premise of because it was so repetitive after a while.)

[starcrossedxwriter]

Falling Apart Part 1 (MBJ x Famous Black OC)

Warnings: lots of angst… pregnancy loss (but don't hate me! Part 2 is coming!!)

Charlotte shifted uncomfortably in bed, her hand going to wipe a thin layer of sweat from her forehead. The heat in their bedroom was sweltering, a rare and odd occurrence as she and her husband were a rare couple who liked the thermostat at the same temperature: ice cold. She glanced down, unsurprised to find him fast asleep on top of her, his light snores filling her ears.

She was his favorite spot in bed. It did not matter if he went to bed first and was sound asleep when she slid in, he always found his way to her and slept with half of his body draped over hers and his head on her chest. Even on the rarest occasion they went to bed upset, they still found their way into each other’s arms to sleep. Charlotte usually had no complaints though, he was her personal weighted blanket. She missed their sleeping arrangement when one of them was traveling. His weight provided comfort, his touch soothed her, and his body temperature provided the perfect warmth for sleep. 

However, tonight she only felt suffocated, literally. Her body felt disgusting, covered in the tacky uncomfortable feeling of sweat from head to toe despite dozing off in nothing but a pair of Michael’s briefs when she got out of the shower. 

She pushed against his heavy upper half, hoping to move him so she could cool down for a minute. However, when he did not budge an inch, all she could do was let out a disgruntled huff. Their return to the set of Creed meant her husband was at the peak of his physical strength. He still enjoyed the residual weight of Erik Killmonger and perfected his training for the sequel. However, that meant he was far too heavy for Charlotte’s weak arms to move. 

Despite how uncomfortable she felt, she did not have the heart to wake him either. Neither of the pair had been this tired in a long time. 2018 had been a hectic and wild ride for the Jordans, both of them enjoying historic but exhausting accomplishments. While Charlotte started the year deep into the award season circuit, which was fun in some ways but she found it more emotionally and physically draining than anything else, Michael started it with an intense international press tour. And they both only had a week at home together before they packed up to move to Philly for filming. And though Charlotte’s days on set had not started yet as they worked on the boxing choreography and filmed the training montages first, she found that she still could not get enough rest. She felt as if she slept all night and most of the day in between studying her lines and writing Bianca’s songs while Michael was gone and still was exhausted when he got home. It did not help that she was fighting a mysterious stomach bug for the last week either. 

And the only thing Michael cared to do when he came home from set was fall into a deep sleep until his early call time the next morning. And it was only week one. However, she knew this was their last stretch. Their entire relationship and marriage had been one project after the other for both of them. Once they wrapped filming, they both would get a break and they could rest. She couldn’t wait. 

As she reached for her phone to turn the temperature down in their temporary apartment, a wave of nausea hit her. Within minutes, she felt the very familiar and unfortunate churn in her stomach. 

This time, she decided, he would have to forgive her for waking him up. This was now an emergency. She combined her pushes with loud calls directly into his ear to force him out of his deep sleep.

“Babe! Babe! Get off me! Off, off, off! ” She practically yelled at him, part of her feeling guilty for ripping him from sleep so rudely. But she was in a race to beat her internal ticking time bomb and make it to the bathroom or any trash can before it went off. To his credit, despite the jarring wake up call, he rolled off her immediately. 

Charlotte ignored his groggy “W-what’s wrong?” his gruff, sexy, sleepy baritone not having its usual effect as she darted out of their bed, barely making it to the bathroom before her dinner was staring back at her. 

She groaned as her stomach forced any and all substances out of her body, her side cramping with the pain of each heave. She was so distracted by the pain of each heave that she did not even notice Michael behind her. He wrapped her robe around her nude body and held a wet towel to her forehead as he rubbed soothing circles on her back. 

“G-go b-back to bed, love. You gotta be up in two hours,” she whispered as she leaned her head into her hand, the other going to massage the sharp pain growing in her side. “I’m sorry. I’ll b-be ok.” 

“Els. Please.” While he appreciated his wife being concerned about his schedule, the idea that he could ever just roll over and fall back to sleep knowing she was sick ten feet away was preposterous. “What happened? Something you ate?” He grabbed a hair tie from the bathroom counter and pulled her hair back, knowing she would not get to bed anytime soon if she had to spend the rest of the night washing her hair. 

“W-we ate the same thing yesterday and you s-seem totally…” Her words were cut off as she was forced to bury her head in the toilet again. However, Michael understood what she was intending to say. And despite his exhaustion, he did feel totally fine. 

“This is the third time this week, Els. This and the fatigue… You gotta go to the doctor.” 

She leaned on the toilet seat, her body sinking in slightly with defeat. She was trying to avoid the doctor at all costs, her usual MO. But when Michael insisted, she knew better than to fight him on it. He was relentlessly cautious when it came to her health, because to his frustration, Charlotte was not. 

“I’m fine, babe.” 

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You promised we wouldn’t do this anymore, Els.” He reminded her of the promise they both made to make their health more of a priority.

Charlotte was no stranger to pushing her body to its physical limitations. It was Michael’s biggest pet peeve. He thought he was a workaholic but his wife often made him feel lazy. And like most people overly committed to their work, her health often took a backseat to everything else. And it was not just work, Charlotte would prioritize Michael, both of their families, and her friends over her health, often to her own detriment.  It was not that she did not take her health seriously, she did. However, she took the mantra “the show must go on” to heart. Unless she was unconscious or on a stretcher, she would always find a way to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving. Was it a toxic way to think? Maybe. But had it guided her for her entire career and life? Yes. Which meant, try as she might, it was not a switch she could just turn off because her husband did not like it. She performed and worked through countless injuries and illnesses that should have landed her in the hospital or doctor’s office but her mental will to perform outweighed the physical pain. And after one long and scary night in the hospital while they were dating, Michael did not allow concerning changes in her health or behavior to go unchecked for very long anymore.

“Fine. But it’s probably just a stomach bug or something.” 

“Then the doctor can give you medicine to help you feel better faster. But I’d rather know it’s just that than watch you suffer like this.” 

She was thankful for Michael’s assistance in standing as her legs had fallen asleep beneath her. 

“I know, I know. I’ll go to the doctor, promise.” 

“Thank you. Wanna get in the shower first? You’re drenched. Can’t get back into bed like this.” 

“T-Thanks, babe. I’m sorry, I-I know you have a long day tomorrow.”

Michael chuckled. “Can’t control getting sick, honeybee. Don’t worry about it. Brush your teeth, I’ll start the shower and grab you some medicine. Get some rest and I’ll make an appointment with the studio doctor in the morning.”

A soft smile formed as she watched him leave to find her medicine. She had truly found the most attentive and perfect partner. Most of her friends’ complained about how their husbands were utterly useless when they were sick. But Michael was the exact opposite. His protective nature meant he also took amazing care of her when she wasn’t feeling well. Though he could also be overbearing at times, it was a sign he cared and she loved it. 

She showered quickly and slid into one of Michael’s sweatshirts before he helped her get situated back in bed with medicine and a trash can by her side. She drifted back off to sleep within seconds of her head hitting the pillow.  

Despite having to get up in two hours, Michael stayed awake and watched to make sure she was comfortable and resting. He could tell that her sleep was not particularly restful in how she shifted in their king bed uncomfortably. Occasionally, he reached over and dapped her forehead with a towel, noticing the beads of sweat reforming. 

He hated that he had to leave her all day the next day, knowing his wife was unlikely to actually rest and relax to fully recover. But he knew he did not have much of a choice. He studied her for about half an hour before he drifted off to sleep for a quick nap, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist. 

***

Charlotte paced back and forth in their apartment, waiting with bated breath for the sound of Michael opening their door. He finished training just a bit ago and should have been walking in the door at any moment. Every minute she waited felt like a new emotion, a rollercoaster between excitement, anxiety, joy, and more anxiety. She continued pacing, giving herself a pep talk to increase her courage until she heard his key turn the lock.

“Hey baby,” she offered brightly. 

He threw his bag down and wrapped an arm around her waist, one hand going to cup her face as he examined her. 

“How are you feeling? You didn’t call me after your appointment. What did the doctor say?” 

“Yea, sorry about that. I didn’t call because I didn’t think it was news to give over the phone. First and most importantly, I’m fine.” She assured him, his entire body visibly relaxing at her words. “Doc said I’ll be fine to go to set on Monday, no issues.” 

Michael could not hide his confusion. He was happy there was nothing serious but that did not explain why she was sick. “Ok, did he figure out what was wrong?” 

“Yes. But there’s nothing he can do. Said it should clear up in the next month or so.” 

“What?? Nah, give me his number. Ain’t no way you can deal with whatever the hell this is for another month. And if he knows it’ll clear up, why can’t he prescribe some medicine or some shit?” Michael ranted as he walked to his bag to grab his cell phone. “I’m calling your doctor back home, babe. That’s fuckin ridiculous.” 

If he had not been so angry, Charlotte would have laughed at his agitated mumblings about a doctor he did not even know. She supposed she should not keep the vague answers going and tell him outright. She knew there was a cuter way to do so but she also knew Michael would not let a vague diagnosis stand for long enough to put together a true surprise. The lack of fanfare surrounding this momentous occasion would have to be forgiven. 

“Put the phone down, babe.” 

“Nah fuck that. Was the doctor white?? Cause they’ve been comin’ out with more and more articles about doctors ignoring Black women’s pain. I’ll fuckin sue his whole practice. And I’m gonna tell Steven tomorrow. The studio needs to vet these people be-” 

“Babe!” She grabbed his arm to stop him from firing off a million texts that could ruin a man’s career. She pulled the phone out of his hand and locked it, throwing it on the counter. “He can’t prescribe me anything or do anything because there’s nothing to do for morning sickness. But it should go away in the next trimester.” 

Her big eyes bored into his expectantly, waiting for the words to catch up with him. She teetered on her heels as she waited, Michael mouthing the words quietly back as if he had not heard them correctly. 

“Morning sickness… but that’s…” he scratched his head, his eyes growing wide with shock as he glanced down to Charlotte’s stomach. 

She offered him a teary-eyed smile, one of her hands resting on her stomach. “Surprise?” She chewed on her lip as she waited for him to say something, literally anything. “Michael or Michaela C. Jordan’ll be here in 8 months or so.”

“Y-You’re pregnant?” 

She nodded. “7 weeks.” She let out a yelp and a giggle as Michael grabbed her and swept her off her feet, spinning her around. 

“We’re gonna have a baby?? That’s why you’ve been sick?” 

“Y-Yea. Of course now it seems obvious. But I only got through half the symptoms before he told me I needed to take a pregnancy test. Given the timing, pretty sure it was the Black Panther premiere or your birthday,” she laughed. She eyed him anxiously, her hands clutching his forearms as she braced herself for an answer. “Y-You’re excited?” 

“Of course I’m excited. I’m fuckin’ ecstatic. I-I’m gonna be a dad.  I fuckin’ love you so much, baby.” Charlotte giggled as he peppered her face with kisses and his hand went to her stomach. 

“You still gonna love me when I’m hormonal a-and fat with swollen feet?” She laughed, wiping away her tears.

“I’ll give you all the foot rubs you want, baby girl. God, I love you so much.” 

Her head rested on his chest as he held her. However, after a moment he pulled back and lifted her chin to his eyes. 

“H-How do you feel?” He asked, so wrapped up in his own emotions that he did not even know if Charlotte was happy. He assumed she was but he also knew it was different for women, they had to sacrifice so much for almost a year to have a baby. And their lives were just about to slow down, he could not fault her if she was not pleased with the timing. 

“I’m excited. Nervous,” she laughed. “But I think it would be weird as hell if I wasn’t. W-we talked about this so much. The timing is a bit earlier than we planned,” she admitted. “But I’ve always wanted to be a mom and I couldn’t have picked a better man to knock me up,” he chuckled. “So yea, I’m really happy.” She covered her mouth and her eyes fell closed as she yawned. 

“Why don’t you go lay down while I figure out dinner? Cool with takeout? You gotta rest while you grow the next greatest actor of a generation anyway?” 

“You’re already choosing their career for them??” she asked as she headed toward their bedroom.

“Definitely. They’re gonna wanna follow in mom and dad’s footsteps, of course.” 

Charlotte threw back the covers and climbed into their bed, laughing at her husband’s antics. She flopped down dramatically on the pillow, the beast of sleep already coming to claim her again. 

Michael sat on the bed next to her, his hand going to her belly as soft snores filled his ears. He just held his hand there, mesmerized by his wife and the life they created together. 

***

“You know, I woulda gotten pregnant longgggg ago if I knew it would get me these pancakes on a regular,” Charlotte teased as her husband moved around their kitchen and cleaned up from breakfast. The sweet taste of apples and cinnamon filled her mouth as she took another bite, a soft moan escaping her lips. “It’s like a taste orgasm.” She wiggled her hips and shoulders as if to do a dance in her seat that signified her pleasure. 

All Michael could do was laugh at her antics. He had made her those pancakes before going to set almost every day that he had a late call time. It was extra effort, but worth it to see the smile on her face and ensure she was eating. 

“Anything for you.” 

She eyed him for a minute, her manicured hand letting the fork fall to her plate. “You know you don’t have to do this? I love it and they are delicious but you’re gonna spoil me… and I’ll be bigger than our house by the end if you keep this up.”  

Bakari shrugged as he picked up his cup of coffee after starting their dishwasher. He slid over to her side of the counter and into a bar stool next to her. His free hand went to her stomach. Though there was no visible bump yet, his hands seemed to gravitate toward her stomach these days. 

“I just like to see you eating so if I gotta make pancakes every meal to make sure you eat, that’s aight with me.” 

While the pair were happy about the pregnancy, Michael found it difficult to witness the toll it already took on his wife’s body. She could barely keep food down, which did not make her want to eat at all, and despite sleeping every chance she got, she still felt fatigued all the time. Michael was the only person who could coax food into her these days. And right now, his baby’s food of choice were his world famous pancakes. He knew the taxing schedule on set was not helping, though Steven tried his best to ensure Charlie had enough breaks and time to rest. She was not very good at taking them and using them to actually rest though, despite his urges to do so. He hoped that as soon as they wrapped, he could convince her to take it easy. 

“I’m good. Just a couple more weeks, baby.” At his raised eyebrow, she nodded to reassure him. “Seriously, I’m fine. I’ve gotten used to it. It’s fucking miserable and they don’t tell you that morning sickness is a fucking lie. It’s all-damn-day sickness. But,” she concluded her mini rant. “The worst’ll be behind us in no time.” 

Michael leaned over and whispered to her stomach, “Go easy on mama today, ok? She’s working really hard to keep you healthy.” 

He peppered her stomach with kisses, causing Charlotte to giggle. She playfully smacked his arm to get him to stop, her hand lingering against the taunt muscles straining against his shirt. Her nails dragged against the length of his bicep, Michael immediately registering the look of lust in her eyes. He would say he and his wife’s appetite was generally in sync. However, her doctor warned that hers could diminish or skyrocket due to the hormones. Lately, it seemed like only the latter was true. Not that he was complaining. 

He shook his head. “Honeybee… We gotta go. You know Steven’ll fine us both if we’re late.” 

Charlotte’s lips curled up into a sly smile, deciding that his words were a mere challenge. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him as she sucked on his neck, teasing his most sensitive spot.

“You ain’t playing fair, Els,” he whispered in her ear. 

“Like you ever do?” She gently bit his skin before continuing her teasing. “Now, let me finish and I’ll make that fine worth it for both of us.”  

This girl…, Michael thought to himself. He knew they both should be heading out the door to work. But when it came to his wife, he lacked all self control.

“How?” 

She continued to suck on his ear and gently bit his neck as her hand slid into the waistband of his joggers, his member already straining against his boxers. Her touch immediately pushed the thoughts of a fine out of his mind, immediately picking her up and whisking her away to their bedroom for a late morning quickie before set because he knew she would make it worth it.

***

“And cut!” Steven called out, Michael immediately pulling on her arms to help her sit up off the bed.  “That was good, that was good. But Charlie… I need a lot more energy. Feels like it’s dragging a bit. I think we need a couple more takes to sharpen it up a bit and then I’ll cue straight into the intimate part of the scene. We probably only need to do that one once or twice. We’ll take 10 to reset and then we’ll start from you coming into the hotel room straight through the engagement and kiss. Sounds good?” 

The couple nodded, Charlotte letting out a groan of frustration at herself as soon as Steven walked away. She was trying her best today, but she was pulling from a well that had run completely dry. She was giving it every ounce of energy she had and she did not feel like there was much else to offer her director and scene partner. And she despised knowing that her all was still not enough. 

Michael’s hand cupped her head, avoiding her face to not disturb her makeup, his fingers gently massaging the base of her skull. Her eyes fell closed at the soothing and relaxing touch. “You ok?” 

“Yea, yea. Just tired.” Her words were emphasized by a long yawn she could not stifle. 

“I can ask him to take a longer break?” 

“No, no. I’m good.” 

“You wanna eat something? Did you drink water today? Always forgettin’ to drink water,” he mumbled under his breath. He glanced around until his eyes landed on a PA. “Aye, can you grab a bottle of water for her?”

“Right away, sir.”  

“I already ate and yes, I drank water today, dad.” She huffed with annoyance. “I’m good, Bakari. I promise. Just tired and a bit uncomfortable. If it makes you feel better, I’ll call the doctor as soon as we finish up this scene.” 

“Deal.”  

Though he did not press the issue farther, she could feel his eyes on her from that moment forward, following her every movement, examining every action for signs of pain, discomfort, or exhaustion.  

She pushed herself off the bed as she saw Steven coming back to the director’s chair, a sign she needed to return to her starting spot in the bathroom. However, she only made it a step before a searing pain rippled through her lower back. 

“Oof,” she whispered, sitting back down, her hand gently massaging it irritably as she waited for it to subside. 

“Places!” She heard Steven call. 

This time, she was able to get up with no pain and make her way to the bathroom  and closed the door to start the scene.

“Annddd action!” 

However, as soon as she went to open the door, the cue to start their proposal scene, she doubled over, her legs almost giving out as another cramp,  this one far worse than the last, hit her. She audibly and instinctually groaned in pain, a sound that immediately caught her husband’s ear.

She did not have to say a word or call for help as she braced herself over the sink, Michael having almost ripped the door off it’s hinges to be at her side in superhuman speed.. 

“Els??” 

“S-something’s wrong,” she whimpered, doubled over in pain, her arm wrapped tightly around her stomach.. 

“Aye! Call an ambulance!” Michael called out, the entire set jumping into action as he cradled her against his chest.

“F-fuck… fuck, it h-hurts.” 

“Ok, Charlotte, baby. You gotta breathe for me. We’re gonna get you to a hospital, aight? It’s gonna be ok.” 

She merely let out a sad whimper of acknowledgement, tears springing to her eyes as she knew in her heart what was happening. She did not need a doctor to tell her. She did not even look at Michael, fear that he would be able to see it in her eyes. 

His fingers interlaced with hers as they rode to the hospital, he did not let her go until the doctor came in to examine her and ushered him out, an action he did reluctantly.

He paced up and down the visitor’s lounge, occasionally sitting to answer a text from folks on set or their families as they reached out to check on her. His constant refrain, “no news yet,” got harder and harder to type as the time ticked by. He wished he had more to give, and had answers himself. In between staring at the ugly patterns littering the chairs of the waiting room and burning a hole in their carpet from his incessant pacing, he tried to google her symptoms to determine what could be wrong. However, he only got through one result before he could not read any further. He prayed his suspicions and crude google searching were not correct, that this dream they had created, built, and made a reality was not being torn from their hands just as they had started to cling to it. But he knew God’s plan rarely aligned with their own. 

“Mr. Jordan?” A nurse came up to him, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

He almost jumped out of his seat. 

“C-can I see her?” 

“Of course, I’ll take you back now.” 

He followed after the nurse, his body finding it hard to put one foot in front of the other for the first time. It was as if he was approaching the gallows but no one had told him yet. He just knew it. He hated that, that feeling of dread that followed him down the winding halls of the hospital like a ghost. It felt like deja-vu, this feeling, this scene was all too familiar, a dreaded walk down a sterile hospital hallway to his wife, a walk he had once prayed he would never have to do again. That instance had a happy ending, however, he did not think he would be so lucky this time. 

He took a deep breath before pushing open her door, finding her alone staring up at the tiled ceiling. Her bloodshot eyes shifted toward the door at the sound of it opening, the young woman immediately sitting up at the sight of her husband.

Her eyes immediately welled up with tears. 

“I-I a-am s-so sorry.” 

Michael had certainly experienced heartbreak before in his life. But he was not sure if he had ever felt it shatter quite like this as he heard the brokenness in his wife’s voice. He could see her guilt and shame so clearly, two emotions she did not earn or deserve to carry. 

He sniffled, a tear escaping before he wiped it quickly. Despite the pain he felt, he knew hers was tenfold emotionally and physically. He could process his emotions later. Right now he had to be here for her. He wrapped her in a tight hug, her body sagging into his and her fingers clutching him as if releasing him would mean losing the last bit of composure she had. He placed a lingering kiss on the top of her head and held her as she sobbed, the couple grieving the loss of a life and their dream.  

When Charlotte finally stopped crying and the doctor returned to give them her prescription and all the after care information they needed, Michael took copious notes. He could tell that Charlotte was not fully there, her despondent and unmoving gaze at the wall across from the doctor gave away the fact that her mind was far from the small room in the ER. 

She did not cry or even shed another tear after he entered, her eyes the only sign that she had cried at all. Her face was neutral, wholly unshaken and unmoved by the doctor’s explanation of the next week or two of their lives and the pain she was likely to be in. The only comfort he could offer was a prescription to speed up the process. But he still recommended she take a week to rest. Everytime he asked her if she had any questions, the shake of her head was miniscule and she spoke no words except the apology she uttered when Michael first entered the room. 

And that trend continued well into the evening when they returned home and into the next day. She merely existed, moving through the motions like a robot, mechanical and unfeeling. She accepted his help without protest, offered no rebuttal to his suggestion for dinner, which she barely ate, and gave him only clipped one word answers when he asked about her pain levels or offered her medicine. Even his “I love you,” when he got her settled in bed went unanswered, though he knew she heard him, felt her whole body tense and stiffen at the words before she turned away from him to go to sleep without uttering them back. Her icy actions did not improve the next day either, Michael having far too many one-sided conversations as he tried to care for his wife. Her actions were cold, colder than he ever knew them to be. And when all he wanted to do was cling to her and mourn their loss together, it only compounded his pain to feel that rejection and be forced to contend with it alone.

***

“Alright, thanks Mike. Charlie is in hair and make up and then we’ll do two scenes in the apartment before calling it a day.” 

Michael did a double take when he heard his wife’s name, figuring that Steven had merely misspoken. He glanced up from his cell phone where he was taking notes.. “Nah, Els is at home till next week.” 

Steven glanced down at his call sheet. “Nah, she is here.” Michael nearly ripped the clipboard out of the man’s hands, his eyes scanning it until he found her name with a call time of an hour prior. “She’s been in hair and make up for a bit. She said whatever was wrong cleared up and confirmed her schedule with me last night.” 

Michael turned away from Steven and expelled a deep breath of rage. His hands balled into a fist for a moment as he tried to not blow up at his director and lose his job. However, he did not know who he was more upset with, Steven for not checking with him or his wife for pulling this type of shit in the first place.  

“Why didn’t you mention that shit to me?” 

Steven seemed totally unphased by Michael’s anger. He was a husband, he understood. But work was work and he would not apologize or feel bad for doing his job. “She’s your wife but here she’s a peer, just like anyone else. She said she was good to go. I can’t ignore that just because you disagree. She’s her own person, Mike. If she said she’s good, I gotta respect that.”

As if on cue, Charlotte walked onto the set. She had her script in hand and engaged in a lively conversation with one of the PAs. Her laughter filled the quiet set, Michael not understanding how she could seem so bubbly and energetic when he knew she was still in pain and grieving. Her body was still reeling from the miscarriage. Even if she would not share the details with him, he knew she was still in pain. No one on set knew the real story, the pair lying about what was wrong since no one knew she was pregnant. So Charlotte made sure to put on a show, even if she did not feel like it and even though it was incredibly difficult as she played a new mom in the movie. Even though it was hard to push through the walls of both physical and emotional pain surrounding her, she knew she had to.   

“Aye Charlie!” Steven waved her over. 

Charlotte sighed and excused herself from the conversation before making her way to Michael and Steven. She knew this was not going to be a good conversation. When Michael left the house this morning, she had been in bed resting. She had purposely asked Steven to make her call time later so she could leave without the watchful eye of her warden. 

It had been four days and though Michael and the doctors’ said she should rest for about a week, she just could not sit in the house by herself and wallow in their loss any longer. Besides, being at home felt like it’s own form of torture for the last four days, she and Michael existed like repelling magnets, orbiting around each other but unable to be close.

Charlotte knew it was her fault, she was doing the repelling this time around, not him. But she could not help it. Her guilt and shame ate her alive every moment of the day. That coupled with the physical pain she was in and grief she felt was a dangerous combination. And while Michael was dotting on her and wanted to talk through their feelings, she just could not. Every time she tried to find the words to speak to him, she couldn’t, the shame stealing the words right from her mouth. She could not even truly look him in the eye, terrified of what she would see in his usually compassionate eyes when she did and terrified of what he would say if they talked. He would blame her for not taking care of herself and his child and he would see her as the failure she was. It was a long time coming, she supposed, a fear she had suppressed but lived with since she met Michael. But she feared this was the final nail in her coffin, the disappointment he could not live with. And it would be a completely fair assessment, that was the truth in her mind. However, she just could not bear to hear those words from him, not on top of everything else. It was easier, better, to just avoid him. She needed an escape from all those feelings that plagued her so she decided to return to work. She needed that now more than ever. 

“Hey!” She offered brightly, ignoring Michael’s furrowed eyebrows and tense jaw, telltale signs that he was angry. “What’s up?” 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to set today? The doc said you need to be in bed for a week, Charlotte.” 

“Yea if you need a few more days, that’s totally fine. There’s still a lot to shoot with Mike and Florian that we can work through.” 

“No, this is the filming schedule so I’m here. I feel fine.” Her tone was short, hoping to leave no room for debate or conversation. However, she knew her husband was too protective for that. Her words might have been enough for Steven but they certainly weren’t enough for Michael.

Michael shook his head. “You are not fine, Charlotte. You need to go home.” 

“No.” 

Her tone was not rude but the word settled in Michael’s ear and immediately angered him. They never told each other no without explanation or compromise. 

“No?” 

“I’m gonna go and check in with the AD while yall work this out.” Steven immediately excused himself, not desiring to be caught in a marital squabble. 

Michael gestured for Charlotte to follow him outside, the pair offering polite nods to people they passed as they walked to his trailer, the only spot on set where they could have privacy. His door slammed shut behind him loudly, an audible representation of his anger.

“Fuck you mean, no?” 

“No is a complete sentence, Bakari. I’m good. And now I’m gonna go do my job. It’s not a big deal.”

“‘It’s not a big deal??’ You just had a miscarriage, Charlotte!” He noted how her whole body seemed to flinch as he said the word. “Look me in my eye and tell me you aren’t in pain.” 

As much as she wanted to, she could not. The bleeding and cramping still had not stopped, even several days later. The doctor had warned her but knowing it could last a week or more did not make it any less torturous. But that did not seem reason enough for her to return to their home. She would rather work through every cramp than lay in her bed alone analyzing what happened and what she could have done differently, and obsessing over whether her husband might leave her.  

“Exactly. I’ll call you a car but you need to go home. And if you’re worried, I can tell Steven what happened. He’ll understand why you need the days, especially considering the contents of the movie. You don't gotta do this.” 

The thought of telling their director what happened only enraged her more. “Absolutely not! We aren’t telling him or anyone else!” 

“Why not??” 

“Because he already saw me sick a-and I don’t need the entire set, and because people fucking gossip, the whole world to know my body is fucking failing at its one job!”

She turned away from him, letting out a groan of frustration at letting her thoughts slip out. Michael had a way about him, of demanding honesty and vulnerability even when she fought so hard to keep it to herself. That is why she avoided long conversations with him lately. Something in him always demanded she fall, and she was not prepared to do that and face his rejection. However, she did not notice how his eyes immediately softened as her words settled in the air, the word failure hitting him harder than Florian’s punches. 

“Baby, is that what you th-” Michael’s hand went to the small of her back to turn her around but she flinched away from him. She could not hear lies to placate her or make her feel better about what happened. They would not work. She was a failure, she knew it and so did he. 

“I said no, Michael,” she cut him off, sliding on a cold exterior to hide the one that wanted to do nothing other than crumble into a thousand pieces. “And I mean it. I’m working until the day’s over.  And that’s that.” She knew her words and actions bordered on irrational and he was not in the wrong for fighting him on it. But work, the bustle of set, was the only place she could retreat to where she knew she would not fall apart, where she could feel something other than the harsh sting of failure and shame. So she could not leave. This set was her life raft and she would cling to the flimsy sides of it tightly to avoid drowning in her own sea of despair. 

“Charlotte. I ain't askin’,” Michael's voice got low, the tone he only reserved for when her stubbornness reached untenable levels, when he was done debating or arguing. She always acquiesced to his wishes at that point because he pulled out this tactic rarely, only to convey how serious he felt. But her need for self-preservation outweighed her desire to avoid a fight with her husband. So she clung to her stubbornness, an ironclad refusal to yield even an inch. She squared her shoulders and took a step toward him, his body blocking the door. 

“And I wasn’t negotiating. Unless you’re gonna have Steven kick me off set or close the set altogether, I am not leaving. And I know you aren’t gonna do either of those things.” She gestured toward the front of the trailer. “Move, Michael.” 

The pair stared each other down for a moment, their first true stalemate in their marriage where neither of them would concede. Michael knew he would have to be the one to bend this time, there was no other option. He could pick her up and force her into a car but that was not his way. If she would not leave on her own, he very well would not force her physically or by embarrassing her on set. He knew his wife’s coping mechanisms were unhealthy and that a day on set playing a mom would only amplify their pain but he also knew when her walls were up. She had stacked them higher than could be broken down or through today, it was a waste of both of their energy. 

He sucked his teeth and nodded, sliding to the side to let her pass. She marched by him, only stopping when he grabbed her arm, his touch was cautious and gentle, his grip loose enough that she could remove her arm the moment she wanted to. But she lingered, made no attempts to rip her arm from his touch before he could offer a final word in their argument. His finger went to her chin to force her eyes toward his. He could see her trying to look anywhere but at him. But he could see the thinnest mist cast over her eyes as he held her there for a moment. 

“I know you better than anyone, Charlotte. And I know you’re hurting. Lying and avoiding that doesn’t do shit for either of us. I love you and I just want to help. You’re gonna have to talk to me eventually.” 

She sniffled and forced her eyes to the ceiling to stop tears from falling. 

“I just want to work, Michael. I don’t want to talk, I don’t want help, I don’t want to wallow in it. I j-just…” her voice broke as she hastily wiped a fallen tear. “I just want to go do my job. It’s all I have right now and that is what I want to focus on. I just want to go do that. Now please, let me go.”  

He immediately dropped her arm, the young woman taking a deep breath before she wiped a stray tear from her face and stepped out of his trailer without a second glance. Michael watched her retreat until the door to his trailer swung closed again.

Tag list: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @bangtanxmegan @reelwriter19 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @hi888888sworld @msniaimani @destinio1 @lynaye1993 @chaoticevilbakugo @blackerthings

A/N: So we got a one shot of Michael pushing Charlotte away, seemed only fitting that we get a parallel situation with Charlotte pushing him away. Drop a comment and let me know what you thought and if you want to be tagged! Thanks for reading :)

[limpinglizards]

what if i wrote an essay about a will wood song. would you still love me. okay too late i did it anyway

“I / Me / Myself” as Martyrgender Anthem: TLDR; Cis guy orders in perfect Transgender, shocks nonbinary baristas⁉️🤯💥 (1.3k words)

Will Wood's The Normal Album is thematically concerned with deviance, mental illness, and the failures of science and society. It explores the gap between claimed identity and actual behavior; the question of whether outside influence corrupts us, or our worst natures drive us from within; and the relationship between biology and societal artifice—often pitting the social and medical models of disability against each other. Its songs weave between these themes, each having its own "home" subject but frequently flitting off to visit a neighboring idea for a few lines. The album doesn't come to any concrete conclusions through said exploration—Will has stated that he usually writes as a means of self-expression rather than to push a political point[1]—instead acting as an exercise in drawing attention to those uncertainties which we take for granted. (As an aside, I've always felt that "Memento Mori" has the least in common with the larger themes of the album, but it does fit with that exercise, being about the profound, universal uncertainty of death.)

As a track on the album, the issue of selfhood within society is what "I / Me / Myself" is about, too.

It's a biting send-up of both the ways we make ourselves palatable and the ways we transgress, viewed with regards to gender ("Outliars and Hyppocrates" takes a similar focus, but through the lens of mental illness instead). However, inspired by a few factors, I'm personally beginning to read "I / Me / Myself" in an additional way: as an expression of a desire for the innocence conferred by victimhood—a wish for the ontological inability to cause harm. These factors are namely: online discourse over the perpetuation of transmisogyny; Will Wood being a cisgender man, as he (understandably) had to specify around the time the song first got popular; and the alternate lyrics on the 2018 demo version of the track. This urge to martyr oneself falls in line with Will's ambivalence over moral goodness, as seen in "Laplace's Angel" (and both "Half-Decade Hangover" and "Against the Kitchen Floor" off “In case I make it”), and with his more self-referential songs about his struggles with fame (which at their worst are cloyingly self-important, to a degree that would put Morrissey to shame—see the unreleased track usually titled a variant of "Monkey's Paw" or "Public Statement").

The chorus of "I / Me / Myself" repeats the singer's wish to "be a girl." But what does it mean to be a girl, from the viewpoint of the song? It opens with its protagonist having made themself, through the strain of weight loss, fit beneath their "skin"—a mere surface layer, part of their (self-)deception. Here, the implication of disordered eating goes hand in hand with the cultivation of femininity; an implication made explicit in the bridge of the 2018 version, which reaffirms the protagonist's dysmorphic desire to be small and underweight. They make themself "brittle" in order to become "pretty," associating feminine attractiveness with weakness. The first chorus asks if they have made themself "pretty enough to lie to," as in, to be flattered—but also manipulated, gaslit. Even the parody of the stock phrase "a little girl in a big world" makes it clear the desire is to be an ingenue, naive and vulnerable. The final chorus doubles down on the links between victimhood, girlhood, and martyrdom, asking, "Am I pretty enough to fucking die?" Meanwhile, in the 2018 version, they wish they were a girl specifically so the listener would want to "kick [their] fucking teeth in." "Would you please objectify me? I'm just a hunk [of] . . . burning self-loathing," they plead. To be a girl in this way is to be both desirable and deserving of violence.

This fantasy of victimization is obviously a self-destructive one. Its appeal, aside from the allure of self-harm for self-hate's sake, lies in the fact that if one remains forever a victim, one never takes on the role of perpetrator. Innocence means freedom from culpability; the protagonist already avoids responsibility for their sense of self—seeking external validation, allowing others to establish and restrict their identity ("let me be the void you fill with taxidermy fingerprints," offers the 2020 album version)—so why would they want responsibility for their moral or interpersonal failings? Which, taking this character to be drawn from Will's persona, could be numerous indeed (although he maintains plausible deniability about the events of his life for privacy, he is open about his imperfections). This reading places "I / Me / Myself" in the neighborhood of "...well, better than the alternative," a song about an adult who has gone "wrong" and longs for the lost innocence of childhood. This yearning is articulated through projection onto a daughter character in the first verse, after which the lyrics drop the gendered allusions, but not before mentioning "lab rat girls and pretty white rabbits." These dehumanized figures mirror the protagonist of "I / Me / Myself," who hopes that, like a martyr (or daughter, or laboratory sacrifice), their suffering will assure their goodness and value.

Although I find an analysis of the lyrics to support this reading well enough, I'd like to return to the outside influences on my interpretation. With regards to the relevance of transmisogyny, the online queer spaces I occupy have pointed out a specific rhetorical practice of AFAB trans people, namely that of positioning ourselves as inherently more vulnerable and easily victimized because of our upbringings as "girls"—implying, intentionally or not, the inverse: that trans women are more prone to or capable of violence. This position of essentialized innocence is argued from in order to get away with misbehavior, especially towards said women. Given that humanity's universal capacity for harm connects to the wider themes of The Normal Album (as put in "Laplace's Angel," "if you were in my shoes, you'd walk the same damn miles I do"), this gendered dispute over it seemed pertinent to the narrative of "I / Me / Myself." I also feel encouraged to read the song as using girlhood as a formulation for a specific kind of idealized victimhood, rather than the more straight-forward trans reading, because of the songwriter's gender. Art is not autobiography, but the personal quality of Will Wood's work leads me to factor in his authorial intent more (although I don't delegitimize readings that discard his input). He made his intentions with this song clear after its initial reception, especially due to the vitriol it received by those who read its message as transphobic. Speaking of vitriol, the newly released 2018 lyrics reemphasize the violence and spite at the heart of the song, winding it tighter around that narrative of self-destruction; I wouldn't be able to factor them into the overall analysis if they hadn't just come out! Altogether, I feel that these elements help paint a clearer picture of how I came away from the material with this observation.

My point is that "I / Me / Myself" is in part about the cultivation of a very specific "myself." A self that—whether loved or hated, spat on or embraced—can do no harm. A claimed identity that absolves any actual behavior to the contrary. This individuation is motivated by a social species' need for approval, its expression found in a uniquely human, "superego"tistic drive towards moral purity. In the song's commentary on conformity and deviation, it acknowledges these drives as influenced by environmental actors, but reserves an empathetic frustration for those who lean into that influence. I use the phrase "martyrgender" fairly glibly in the title, fully aware that the gendered performance of vulnerability is often weaponized against the transfeminized and degendered (including women of color); I'm also aware of the dubious images of butch Joan of Arc and ex-Catholic transmasculinity that term might conjure. I see this tune as, in Will's typical irreverent way, an attempt to satirize, and perhaps even reclaim, that performativity.

[1] https://genius.com/29047424

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Hi, you spoke about Patrick and coke a while ago and I value your opinion so I thought I’d ask, but do you think Patrick had truly disordered eating/an eating disorder of some kind? Whether that’s binge eating during pre hiatus or the way he got so skinny during Soul Punk.

i think it would be very likely considering the way he’s talked about eating both pre and post hiatus. he talked about how he binged a lot after cork tree, specifically fried chicken and champagne, and was never able to lose the weight, then realized a large meal at a mcdonald’s in japan was the size of a small back home and that was a turning point.

if you look at pictures from may 2009 to october 2009, the difference in his size is very apparent and very severe. i’m no expert on eating disorders but i know from personal experience that that kind of weight loss in such a short amount of time is impossible unless it’s being achieved in a very unhealthy way. i lost about 100 lbs between sept 2018 and april 2019 and let me tell you i did not eat a Thing except iced coffee and menthol cigs.

the coke is more of a bandom head canon. there’s no real evidence of drug use, but it’s an effective way to cut appetite and increase weight loss, and honestly? in some pictures of him during the hiatus, he looks fucked up. maybe he was just drunk bc we know he struggled with alcohol but there are also videos of him constantly chewing and clenching his jaw, which is literally called “coke jaw”

the way he talks about himself just reminds me of how someone very unhappy with themselves/their appearance would talk too. right after the hiatus, that changed but there are definitely some moments where he talks about his weight loss and how he changed his diet. he did an interview in a magazine that asked him “what superpower would you have if you were a superhero” and he said something to the effect of “i would be the proportioner so i could cut all food portions to 3/4ths of the size” and im sorry but that is just Not the response of someone who has a healthy relationship with food

but this is all opinion and my own interpretation of what he’s said in the past i don’t know patrick and i don’t claim to know what he’s really gone through sorry this got so long i have a lot of feelings about this topic

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hello your art is amazing !! i wondered, do you have hcs / doodles / thoughts about the aftermath of the 1955 disaster ? be it eins and tesla's reaction, how they had to support each others to rise again, how eins had to survive joyce's loss etc... also i'm curious because we always talk about einjoyce in 55 naturally, but the game showed us she still thinks of him even in 2018, it's been so long.... after all the welt joyce is the whole pillar emblem and creation of anti-entropy, it must be hard to be one of the founder of a worldwide organization based on your old lover's legacy otl

Thank you very much!!! Both for the compliment and the question. I often think about 55's aftermath, of course. And these thoughts torment me most of the time so that I draw sketches and make hcs about the alternative outcome. Sometimes I do want to draw more arts about canonical events, and I probably will but it's just...hard.  

Now further goes my headcanonical 1955 disaster aftermath and einjoyce fan ramble and I’m sorry in advance if this is not what you expected to hear from me: 

In the novel, Ada mentioned that after waking up, Ein and Tesla accepted everything that had happened very calmly. But I imagine Ada wasn't present there when they woke up, she spent all her time with Joachim and took care of him. And maybe at some point, the boy got so attached to her that that’s why he eventually decided to run away with her for 20 years, away from the problems and legacy of the late hero (And then hi3 mentions Ada only...what, once?) I imagine that Ada was really the only one who could look after Joachim because Planck spent most of her time in the hospital. 

So, now let’s talk about Planck. I love Emma, she might have quirks but she’s very dear to me. She played the mother figure whose presence could bring the sense of peace, comfort and safety. Emma was “everything is going to be alright” person with a strong yet soft spirit, she was someone Lieserl aspired to be. But oh, how lonely she’d been...throughout all her life. I think Carl was the only one who understood her like no one else. Then she lost him and was on the verge of losing her dear girls. Not to mention she had already lost Edison and Schrodinger. She had to take Edison's place and single-handedly create an entire organization out of the ashes, and Schrodinger...Planck did not live to see the day when it turned out that Erwin was alive. So yeah, Emma was a lonely woman with no one by her side but the unthinkable unbearable burden, she was the first one who had to carry the weight of the World on her shoulders. All in all, back in 1955-56 Plank was either in the hospital or busy trying to find a new base. Oh, yes, most likely she had to organize funerals which Ein and Tesla, obviously, missed. 

Ein and Tesla...as I’ve already said once, not seeing waking-up-from-coma scene in the novel was the greatest loss but the greatest blessing at the same time. I think it was the hardest and most horrific moment in their lives. And I also like to imagine around then they got drunk together for the first time. 

To be honest, I admire Tesla's copium and how she's doing...mostly alright these days. Especially regarding her unfortunate life. But damn how easily 1955 can trigger her. I think she's been holding a very deep personal grudge against Welt all these years. She almost never mentions him or speaks his name out load and, in general, she never speaks of those years either, unlike Ein. If Ein and Joachim are stuck mentally in the past, Tesla seems to exist only within "today". It's only when Joachim tries to sacrifice himself over and over again all the accumulated resentment and despair wakes up in her. Because Welt's sacrifice did all this to Joachim and Welt's legacy is louder than Tesla's cry to stop playing a lonely hero. I think Tesla is a definition of "I told you so" in this story. She was the one who foresaw Welt's death. She was the one who wanted to share her "know there's nothing worth remembering in our lives so there's no need to dwell on the past" ideology to help him let go of the guilt and start appreciating his life. I think she cared about him no less then Ein because I see Tesla and Welt as a younger brother/older sister duo, they always bicker, tease but care for each other nonetheless. So of course when she woke up, she was lost, angry, hysterical and hurt. I think she deserves no less than Joachim or Ein the opportunity to meet Welt again and to talk everything she’s been holding inside all these years out. But apparently this was too boring for the writers, and they just decided to erase Welt’s soul for forever and took away from AE the opportunity to try locating his soul in the core and bring him back when they’re not busy preventing the end of the world every day. But instead, we got Joffrey (I have nothing against the boy but this whole clone thing just feels so.... utterly wrong, help). And I find it ironic that the one who unwillingly made Tesla’s life a mess is, kinda, became her son whom she’s been taking care of and who will be by her side from now on. 

And Lieserl...you know, I’ve never been a fan of romantic stories but somehow einjoyce got a chokehold on me and my heart, for me they’re the true manifestation of soulmates and match-made-in-heaven thing. I already had a little brainrot post about her living after 1955 but yes, you are right, she still thinks of him even in 2018 and I still can’t wrap my mind around it. That and the fact she’d been analysing him for 3 years before she took him in to the 42 lab. For 3 years, without seeing him in person (and she even tried to practice talking less “nonsense” so she would look mysterious and idk attractive to him? But totally failed on the very first day spent together with him). And then, in the course of one, ONE, month Welt became someone who could not only understand Ein’s quirks, chaotic thoughts but also enjoy her personality and communicate with her in pure silence. He was the last one she talked to so freely and who actually listened to her. And Lieserl being ready to rather die than let Erwin hurt Welt is a whole “hear me out” conversation on its own. So yes, I believe a part of her died that day with Welt and the other - later on with the death of her "ultimate navigator" Planck (I still think about how she shortly mentioned that that period was a nightmare for the organization). Now she's just Doctor Einstein and even though she acts as her younger self from time to time she still feels like an... empty cold vessel with an escapistic fixation on work, books and games. And if she has no Tesla to tease, no work to do, no book to read and no game to play, she escapes into nostalgic thoughts. Does she really care about the future of the world and humanity? Because I think she can't care less about 99% people around her. She and Joachim are just driven by symbolic and twisted sense of Welt's legacy who thought his death would be insignificant and then it turned their lives upside down and inside out. Does she even care about Joachim or just sees him as a part of Welt’s legacy? 

But back to the 1956. 

Would it be too sadistic to imagine she had a long dream in which no one died whilst she was in coma? I remember I had an old headcanon similar to this one but it's about present days where 14th Herrscher puts everyone to sleep with an ideal dream. And it back loops to the moment when Ein wakes up in sweat early in the morning in the villa of Southend-on-Sea.  

But anyway. The moment when she woke up from coma...I’m no writer but let’s say her consciousness awakened before her sensations. She couldn't understand where she was or who she was. She didn't remember what happened. And this void of perception caused both calmness and unease for her, everything around felt like through fathomless water. It was hard for her to open eyes and concentrate because she was met by blinding light and dizziness instead. Her hands were shaking, and her body was shivering when she tried to get up. As she called for Welt and Tesla her lips felt numb and every word seemed to scratch her throat, taking away all her energy so that she was ready to fall asleep again. And let’s say Tesla woke up sooner than Ein so that Nicola and Emma were both in anticipation and fear of the moment when she would wake up only to split her life into “before” and “after” with mere three words. She would be in denial and panic would slowly rise up her throat. As the realisation set in, she would slowly suffocate on the verge of tears. Because all of it was so unfair, she entrusted her little World’s fate to the world, and it took him away. She failed to protect him, and the guilt slowly consumed her from the inside day after day, year after year. And to give her an eternal life with an option of ending it by her will is... sigh. I hope she and Tesla at least got sedative pills while in hospital. 

So that’s when Tesla and Ein formed a strong bond. But their problem is that they are constantly keeping all their opinions, feelings and thoughts to themselves (yes, even Tesla) and most likely it resulted in various quarrels and then Emma helped them realise that from now on they only have each other and the life will go on but in the end... they will be the only one left.  

Sometimes I forget that not long after all of this hospital chaos they took part in numerous interviews with Joachim who had to shapeshift into Welt's appearance, and he had to do that for years. That's almost as dreadful as getting eternal lives.  

As you can see, I can endlessly talk about them and all the known scenes they took part in after 1955. I honestly tried to write my thoughts as short as possible, and I hope you don’t regret opening this door into abyss of my endless thoughts with your question.