#and he told me about one specific instance

[arrowpunk]

Guess who learned this morning that she apparently has selective amnesia

[andivmg]

My experience with Luke (Punz)

CW: toxic relationship, racism, dubious consent

I know in the past i said that i would no longer speak about him publicly, and when talking about my experiences with abuse and emotional mistreatment i begged to keep it anonymous but after reflecting on this for a week and seeing so many incredibly smart and strong women tell their stories. they have given me the strength to say his name.

this is really scary to talk about because of the copious levels of harassment i have received from his fans in the past so if this spreads or gets out of hand i will simply log off.

If you read my last post, i nicknamed him 1.

So aside from everything i said there, there were a lot of things i didn’t include because they would’ve made it obvious that it was him and it could potentially backfire on me so, i’m very afraid to post this. but i’m going to do it scared anyway, because it’s not fair that he gets to just go and live his life worry-free as if he didn’t practically ruin mine.

Because I already made a very lengthy post about him, i won’t include everything i said last time to avoid being redundant but if i repeat myself, please bear with me.

In our year long relationship i had to endure emotional neglect, gaslighting, verbal abuse, one instance where there was dubious consent, and much more.

Starting off at the beginning of our relationship, that’s when i was getting copious amounts of hate and harassment from his fan base (warranted or not), he decided that our relationship must be kept private. he said it was to “protect” me from his fanbase when in reality it was to protect himself. it was so he wouldn’t get all the backlash i was getting. this is funny because one of the things i got called out for was saying the B slur (derogatory term used against mexicans/latinos). I won’t get into the nuances of if i could say it or not as a puertorican because that’s discourse that does not pertain to this specific situation. But you know who definitely can’t say it? A white boy from Massachusetts. When i was getting cancelled for this and getting thousands of tweets calling me names, he decided that was the perfect time to say “I mean you are a b***** aren’t you? my little b*****.” Now, he said this completely unprompted. I was in the process of writing my apology and he just said that. I tell you this because i immediately shut him down and told him that there was no universe in which it was okay for him to say that word and especially not one where he could just call me that. While i was reprimanding him, he was smiling and laughing. he apparently found it amusing to call me a slur. regardless, he gave me a half-assed apology and said he wouldn’t do it again. and he didn’t. but this wasn’t the only time he was weirdly racist to me. this was my first time being in an interracial relationship so i was led to believe that this was normal by all the white people around me at the time. But, sometimes my spanish accent would come out and he would make fun of me and the way i pronounced some words. He also refused to visit me in Puerto Rico when i lived there or come meet my family when i really wanted him to because he “didn’t like the heat” or “it’s dangerous there isn’t it?”. Once, while we were watching season 2 of Bridgerton, he implied that the Sharma sisters were “too dark” for him to be attracted to them. This hurt me because they are brown skinned girls. I am a brown skinned girl. Then this, combined with the fact that he told me once he wasn’t attracted to me made me feel like my skin color was unattractive. These are only a few examples i can think of at the moment, but i’m sure there were more. Our relationship ended in 2022 so some of my memory is a bit hazy. But, I do remember feeling inferior to him throughout the relationship because he was white and I was not. I chalk that up to all the micro aggressions i had to deal with because i had never felt that way around white people before.

Another thing i had to endure was him constantly making me feel like he was embarrassed to be with me. Because i was cancelled, he didn’t want to associate with me too much. He did defend me on multiple occasions, I’ll give him that. But, he only did it because his name was getting dragged in the mud along with mine. Excusing my actions made him look better for being around me. In reality he didn’t really care. Because he was such a big content creator and someone i looked up to professionally, I took his advice as law. He told me to tone down my personality, to keep a low profile, to change things about myself to be more palatable to his audience. The same audience that spoke about me like “The pussy can’t be that good punz please stop defending her”. So i changed a lot of things about myself and my content to better suit what his audience liked. He made me feel like if his audience liked me, he would be public about our relationship and stop hiding it. He told me the reason why he wanted to keep our relationship a secret was because he didn’t want to get hate for it. But this wasn’t true. On my 20th birthday he went to Las Vegas for a twitch rivals event. That night i asked to facetime him to say goodnight and he refused because he was at a hotel room with his friends and he didn’t want them to know that we were together. It was as if my mere presence or the utterance of my name was a source of embarrassment for him. And he didn’t let me forget it. It wasn’t just a public thing at that point. He didn’t want people to know we were together, period. This was devastating to me because I would talk to all my friends about him. I was so proud to be with him and I was just one more problem to him. He made me feel so small and insignificant just because his fans didn’t like me.

He would berate me a lot. Not just due to getting heat online, although he did do that a lot. But in general whenever we would get into an argument or a disagreement he would always call me names like annoying or weird or stupid. He would raise his voice at me if i did something he didn’t like and call me an idiot. And that really hurt, i felt like i couldn’t bring up anything or do anything without getting insulted. If I hadn’t seen him in a few days because he was too busy streaming and i asked to hang out he would call me needy, clingy, and annoying. Granted, he might not have been wrong, but that is not something you say to someone you claim to love. He also insulted me when i was in depressive episodes. I have BPD and at the time i was not being treated properly for it. So, I was all over the place emotionally and he was what i clung to for validation, reassurance, and love. I talked to him when we first started dating about my disorder and told him that if it seemed like something he couldn’t handle that he could opt out of the relationship. I guess he didn’t think it was that bad or something idk because whenever i had really bad depressive episodes, he would tell me I was too sad to hang out with. He said that my sadness was a burden to him. Which would be fair. But, once my mother had a conversation with him about me. She told him that i am someone who needs a lot of love and caring. She said that if he wasn’t willing to put in that kind of effort into a relationship to just leave me alone. He reassured her that he would be there for me no matter what. He told my mother that he would protect me and my heart. He did not. He took all the warnings I gave him and ignored them and then made me feel like I was the problem. And even worse, he would say that i was pretending to be sad to get his attention when he would neglect for days at a time.

There were also some smaller things like the fact that he made me feel really guilty whenever he would spend money on me. Also, he would be really mean about my eating habits. For context, i used to suffer from an eating disorder. I was anorexic and had a really unhealthy relationship with food during high school and my first year of uni. This relationship began when i was recovering from my ED. For me, eating was really hard. So i had certain comfort foods that, while sometimes unhealthy, at least it was something to eat when i didn’t feel like eating anything. He knew this. Yet, whenever i would crave some of these foods he would call me fat. Constantly told me I’d gain weight from eating all that junk food. Saying that to someone with an eating disorder is crazy. Other smaller things were that whenever I would post tiktoks where i was lip syncing or just looking good he would yell at me and say i was looking for attention. Same with Instagram or Twitter whenever i would post photos where I looked hot. He never planned out a single date for us. I would beg him to get me flowers and he did maybe once but i’ll get into that in a bit. He would make fun of me in front of his friends to make himself look better. He let his friends say really degrading things about me in his presence. For example, once when i was showering, i overheard him on a discord call with George and Sapnap and i heard George say “if you don’t go in the shower and have sex with Andi, i will”. Once, when i was really struggling with my legs (for those of you who don’t know, i have arthritis and it’s very painful. at the time i wasn’t diagnosed but i was in a lot of pain) I literally could not walk. I had to beg him to take me to the ER because i didn’t know what was wrong with me. He didn’t want to take me but eventually i convinced him, and while we were there all he did was complain about how long it was taking and that he would have rather been at home streaming. Whenever I would talk about my interests that i was excited about like shows or books he would be incredibly uninterested and say that those things were stupid and he didn’t want to hear about them. I know all of these seem very silly or superficial but cumulatively it was awful.

Now for arguably the most serious thing i’m going to talk about. I want to preface this by saying i am just telling my side of what happened. You can come to your own conclusions about this.

On April 25, 2022 it was our one year anniversary, and i had made a dinner reservation for us. I expected him to plan something throughout the day for us to do. He told me he was going to spend the whole day playing Valorant so I got upset and cancelled the reservation. After a very heated argument, we calmed down and i asked him to come over. He came over about an hour later with flowers and drinks (I was 20 at the time so I couldn’t buy the drinks myself). He brought Smirnoffs and Trulys. For context, I am a lightweight. I always have been. I literally get tipsy on half a cocktail. And that day, I hadn’t eaten anything because i was in distress over our argument. So we get to talking and drinking. I blacked out after my second Smirnoff. Apparently I drank 3 but I genuinely cannot remember anything after finishing the second one. The next morning i woke up naked in my bed. I woke him up and asked him “Luke, why am I naked?” and he said “Because you didn’t want to put your clothes back on.” When I clarified to him that that was not what I meant, he got defensive and said that he didn’t realize how drunk I was. He proceeded to tell me that I initiated sex with him and that i was very enthusiastic about it. He said he didn’t know i could black out on three smirnoffs. He made fun of me for being a lightweight and continued to make light of the situation. Then he mentioned that i fell off the bed at some point in the night and that it was funny how drunk I was. I then questioned him. Because if he thought that me tripping and falling off the bed because i was so drunk was funny, how did he not know that i was too drunk? He responded by saying that i fell off the bed only after we were done. That day I broke up with him. I’m still really confused about what happened that night. I don’t remember anything and all I have to go on is what he said to me. We were in a relationship at the time and he says he didn’t know how drunk I was so I’m not sure what to call what happened. A while after that day, his friend that hmu while we were broken up and I started talking again and i confided in him about that night. He told me to be careful saying things like that because they could get me into trouble. I spoke to some of our other friends about it and they told me it was no big deal and that it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know how drunk I really was. Because I don’t remember, I have been led to believe that this is not a serious matter. You can think what you want, come to whatever conclusions you want. That is just my side of the story.

I want to add that I’m not proud of how I acted after the relationship ended. I felt really angry at all the shit he put me through and I guess a part of me wanted him to hurt even a quarter of how I did. So I started talking to his friend and got involved with him. This backfired on me because his friend ended up really hurting me too so ig i got my karma. But the thing that hurt the most is that because of what I did, some of our friends took his side in the break up. I was told that I did something terrible by getting involved with his friend that he was already insecure about and that he didn’t deserve that. These are the same friends who were witness to the dumpster fire of a relationship we had and all the things he did to me. They turned their backs on me because of this one thing I did. But stood by and watched as he treated me like garbage for over a year.

I will conclude this by saying that while this relationship has been “over and done with” for almost two years now, I carry a lot of trauma from it still. I still talk about him in therapy and have had to put in a lot of work to heal from what he did and i still cannot say that i am okay. I am very blessed to now have a patient and understanding partner who has helped me heal from that trauma and i just want to quickly thank him for that. Nobody deserves to go through what I did. While yes, it was a toxic relationship, and I had a part in that, it does not excuse all the awful things he said and did to me. This is my truth, thank you for taking the time to read it.

[ms-demeanor]

You posted about adhd and I was hoping to follow up to clarify something. I’ve explained to my partner a million times about how the borderline-hoarding mess of his space is very mentally draining to me, and he understands but we’ve both essentially accepted he won’t clean his mess because he can’t because of his adhd. You’re saying he’s actually being a shit head?

This isn't necessarily an issue of him being a shithead, but it also isn't a sustainable situation. It's not good for you and there's a level of clutter that's probably not good for him either.

Large bastard is a lot more clutter-y than I am. The solution we've come to is trying to keep our messes at least isolated from one another; he can have his messes and I can have mine, but he can have those messes in his spaces, not all over the place. Sometimes those messes migrate, and that's when it's important for him to make the effort to rein them in rather than trying and failing to make a daily effort to keep our entire shared space tidy.

I think when you say "we've both essentially accepted he won't clean his mess" what I'm hearing is resignation; you're not happy about this but you don't know what to do so you've thrown up your hands and he feels helpless and unsure of what to do to improve the situation. This is the kind of "it's fine" that isn't really fine.

I think it would be worthwhile for you to each separately think about the mess and talk about it together. Are there areas that YOU *need* to have not-messy? Both for utility and your mental health? Are there areas where you can tolerate more mess than otherwise? Are there areas that are going to be harder for him to keep the mess out of than others? Are there things he doesn't *know* about cleaning up the mess?

I'm obviously a big "communication communication communication" person so I'm going to recommend a lot of talking about stuff, which is probably going to mean a lot of thinking about and interrogating stuff. I'm going to say "talk to him about why the mess bothers you" which means you also have to really articulate to yourself why the mess bothers you (for instance I'm not actually *bothered* by a messy kitchen, but I know it's going to reflect badly on us - and me specifically b/c of presumed gender roles - if someone pops by and the kitchen is a disaster, AND a messy kitchen is going to be harder to use). Genuinely, sometimes knowing *why* something is a problem might make it easier for someone with ADHD to do something. And it's not that he doesn't care that it upsets you, it's just that "Oh if I don't wash my breakfast dishes Anon won't have clear counterspace to make lunch" might be stickier in his brain (and less hard to look at emotionally) than "this thing I forget to do upsets my partner so I should do it."

For the record, I think that people with ADHD should read up on Demand Avoidance and see if it might explain some of the issues that they have in their day-to-day life; I've seen some really unfortunate situations with friends where trying to do things that their partner needed became the subject of demand avoidance. *I* have experienced negative outcomes of demand avoidance. The solution to that, however, isn't to stop making attempts to do the thing OR to simply try harder to do as they're asked/told (which reinforces the demand), it's to work on setting up a situation where the partners' needs are not interpreted as a demand. This is fuck-off difficult and requires a lot of patience and care and many attempts to succeed and will be different for each person and relationship.

(Also for the record demand avoidance isn't *super* strongly linked to ADHD and it's not a definitive symptom; like Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, it is something that occurs in some number of people with ADHD and can be a useful lens through which to examine various behaviors; you don't need to have DA or RSD to have ADHD, and having DA or RSD also doesn't invalidate your diagnosis; they're symptoms. For me, DA often feels like "if I don't look at it, it can't get me" - If I ignore all the messages I've got they aren't real and don't have real consequences so I'll just ignore my texts. If I don't look at the vendor email about the order, the problem with the order isn't real and it won't get added to my task list. If I don't look at the requests in my inbox I can't let people down when I don't do them. It's a self-protective coping mechanism but it's *maladaptive* and I can't just ignore the vendor email or all my texts. I need to work on a way of doing the stuff that I'm avoiding in a way that makes it less stressful and doesn't hurt the people relying on me. That takes a lot of effort, personal insight, trial and error, and )

But before I dive into specifics I want to be really really clear about one thing: sometimes people are simply incompatible. Sometimes one person has such a low tolerance for "mess" and the other person has such a high threshold for "mess" that it can't be reconciled. It sucks that this can end up being a thing that people break up over, but it is MUCH better to acknowledge incompatibility as early as possible instead of spending years and years building resentment.

There used to be a great forum called MiL's Anonymous that I spent a lot of time on. It had a lot of people in a lot of difficult situations struggling to get by and hold their relationships together. The question that was used as a litmus test to approach each situation was simple: If you knew today that everything about living with this person would be the same in five years, would you stay?

Because you can't control your partner. You can't control the future. You can only control yourself and your proximity to situations that are harmful to you. If you knew, 100%, that things wouldn't get better in five years, would you be okay with staying in this relationship? If the answer is "no," then that's that. Don't worry about questions of whether or not your boyfriend is a shithead, start the process of ending the relationship because there's a good chance the situation is going to be exactly the same in five years.

If the answer is "yes," and you'd stay in the relationship regardless of whether or not things changed, then it's time to take actions to improve your life within the context of the relationship.

(No judgement on that yes or no, btw. If you would hate living like this for another five years, and you would feel like you'd wasted your time and hadn't done the things you wanted to with your life, get out. Bail. Go. It will be better for you and better for your partner if you split instead of spending half a decade building resentments and and problems that you'll have to spend another half a decade healing from.)

Also, a note: you describe your boyfriend's mess as borderline hoarding - is the issue *mess* or is the issue *clutter*? I have friends who are very tidy, but whose homes are very cluttered. They like things, they have many things, they keep many things around, but their houses are always clean and well-dusted and orderly, just with a tremendous amount of *stuff.* I am addressing all of this as though the issue is mess, not clutter. If your boyfriend's situation is clutter (the space is busy and packed with things but it is functional and clean) and your issue isn't with *mess* (things out of place, things not having a place, things that need to be cleaned up gathering in stacks, falling behind on regular chores like laundry and dishes and taking out the trash) then you definitely need to assess whether or not you are compatible.

For instance here's a room that is messy but not cluttered compared to a room that is cluttered but not messy:

That first room is a *mess* but it would be very easy to clean up in under an hour. The second room is fairly tidy, but would take significant effort to pare down and declutter. BOTH of these can be difficult to live with but the second one is not dangerous or threatening to anyone's health. (The second one is QUITE cluttered and if every room in a house looks like this it can be overwhelming to live with; this is actually harder to deal with in a relationship than the first one in a lot of ways. I don't have a lot of advice for what to do if your partner is a high degree of tidy-but-cluttered because I don't actually think it's a problem or wrong to have thousands of books or bins full of lego or a million kitchen appliances as long as you have the space and can keep it safe and well-maintained; this is a really significant compatibility issue)

Okay, all that out of the way, here's the hard work.

Talk about this shit

Talk to your partner and define "mess." Make sure you are on the same page about what you mean when you're talking about what a messy room looks like versus what a tidy room looks like. Gather reference pictures. DRAW reference pictures.

Explain not just that the mess upsets you, but *why* and *how* it upsets you. In this context don't think of it as your boyfriend's mess, think of it as an unpleasant roommate. Discuss this using "I-statements". "When I have to pick up laundry all over the apartment, I feel like a parent more than a partner." "When there are piles of miniatures all over the table, I feel like I don't have anywhere to do things I'm interested in." "When there are dishes in the sink, I feel frustrated because I have to clean before I can feed myself."

Discuss, frankly and openly, whether he knows how to clean. I'm not trying to make excuses for him here but a lot of people with ADHD have a lot of stress and avoidance around cleaning because they spent a lot of time getting yelled at for not knowing how to clean properly.

Discuss your needs, be firm about what you require but willing to compromise. You *need* some spaces to be clean, and some spaces may be harder for him to keep clean than others. It may be MUCH harder for him to keep a bedroom tidy than it is to keep a kitchen tidy; if you need a clean and empty bedroom with everything put away and he simply cannot do that, that is a compatibility issue. But perhaps you need *your* side of the bedroom to be very orderly and can tolerate a moderate level of mess and clutter on his side. Maybe you're really really bothered by a messy kitchen, but it doesn't bug you if the dining table is covered with projects and papers. Figure out something more workable than "his mess goes everywhere and i live with it because he's incapable of cleaning" because he probably is not incapable of cleaning and you deserve to have places in your home that are comfortable for you.

Reduce friction for cleaning

Sometimes the problem isn't cleaning, the problem is the many many steps before cleaning, or not knowing where something should go when you are done cleaning. One of the absolute best things I've done for myself for cleaning my space is getting a broom holder and mounting the broom to the wall. Sweeping is now essentially thoughtless. I don't have to find the broom or pull it out from a pile of fans or go scrounging around for a dustpan it's right there on the wall, frictionless. So here are some ways to reduce the barriers to cleaning:

Make sure you and your partner both know how to use your cleaning supplies and know where those supplies are. When I switched dishwasher soap I had to re-show Large Bastard where I was storing it and how it was used, because to him what happened was the dishwasher tabs just vanished one day and he didn't know what I was putting in the machine or the process I used. He sometimes puts tools away in places that I can't see (he's more than a foot taller than me) so sometimes I can't get started on a maintenance project until he shows me where he put the battery pack for the drill.

Consider making a how-to chart to or having him make a how-to chart to keep someplace accessible so he can reference it while cleaning. Goblin.Tools Magic ToDo is great for this. Basically a lot of the time people with ADHD have trouble knowing what to do from step to step even if they've done something before, so having a step by step guide can make it easier (I have notebooks full of step-by-step guides for everything from paying for my tuition to removing licenses for my customers to weeding my yard)

Remove obstacles; don't keep cleaning chemicals in the garage in a box that's behind a stack of parts, keep them in the room you'll be cleaning. Don't keep the cleaning supplies that you use to clean the bathroom in the kitchen. Sometimes this means buying two bottles of bleach solution and two scrubbers and two sets of cleaning gloves but having fewer steps (fetch the windex, fetch the paper towels, fetch the gloves) is often the key to getting things done (open under-sink cabinet and grab windex, gloves, and paper towels that are there instead of in the kitchen).

This sort of overlaps with the next category, which is:

Create Dump Zones

One thing that I've found that seems very different between people with ADHD cleaning and neurotypical people cleaning is that neurotypical people are good at getting to a point where the cleaning is "done." They have checked off their tasks and they have finished and it is over. There are *SOME* chores that are like this (taking out the trash is a binary state, the trash has been taken out or it has not) and some chores are perpetual (horrid cursed dishes) but I think with people with ADHD, some chores that are binary for neurotypicals are actually perpetual chores. For instance "clean off the counter" is not a one and done for me. "Clean off the counter" may involve a three day reorganization project. "Clean off the counter" does not mean "wipe down the tile and put dishes away" it means assessing whether or not I need to make vegetable stock and bleaching three tea containers and reconsidering whether or not the sharps container should live somewhere else and going through the mail and figuring out what needs to be responded to and taking out the recycling and on and on and on.

We have had company at the house for the last two weeks, so I asked large bastard to clean off the dining room table, which is largely a project zone for him. Cleaning off the dining room table meant putting away his meds (and since he's a transplant patient that involves a 30 gallon rubbermade tote), throwing away some trash, and totally reorganizing his workshop. It also incidentally involved picking up a table from facebook marketplace and moving my plants, which has now involved moving my former plant rack outside (moving buckets, finding and organizing planters and gardening tools) and taking the former table to the thrift store (not done yet) and cleaning the rug that was under the former table. So "either the table is clean, or it isn't" isn't really true for us.

HOWEVER "hang on we can't eat until the table is clear so let's drive to Pico Rivera to get that console table right now" isn't a workable plan, so you create dumpzones as areas of holding between the start and the finish of the chore.

A dump zone can be a laundry basket. It can be a craft bin. It can be a back room or under your bed. It is a place to put things that you are going to deal with later because if you deal with them now it is going to derail the thing you are actually trying to do, which is set the table for dinner.

Dump zones are vital to cleaning with ADHD and I recommend them for day-to-day cleaning as well. The day-to-day dump zones might be more for you than for your boyfriend. For instance, Large Bastard works with bullets and he sheds bullets all over the house. I used to get stressed when I found bullets when I was cleaning because are these work bullets? Are these recreational bullets? Are they in testing? Do they need to be pulled? Do they go in the workshop or the office or the garage or does he need these today so they have to stay on the counter? And the answer now is "that's not my problem naughty bullets go in the jar." Which is perfectly sensible because he gets to say "mystery yarn goes in the bin" and "art supplies go in the bucket."

I feel helpless when cleaning a lot of the time. I'm frustrated and lost and I don't know where stuff goes and everything I pick up spins off into three projects in my head and every step feels like a wall to scale. Dump zones help me with that when there's pressure or a reason for cleaning beyond day to day home maintenance. People are coming over? The bedroom is a dump zone, I'll deal with that later. I'm just cleaning up because I need to? Okay I can find a permanent home for this new dish soap.

AS A VERY IMPORTANT COROLLARY TO THIS:

Active projects do not go in dump zones while you or your partner are cleaning. This may mean designating a project sanctuary area like a corner of the table or one particular chair in your main room where a project can be placed so as not to be disturbed. (if my current crochet project ends up in the yarn bin, that may mean that I don't pick the project up for another three months, it lives on the windowsill behind the couch because that's where it'll get worked on)

Do not put things away for your partner, put them in the dump zone for your partner. Your partner has to be the one to put their own stuff away in a way that works for them. I tend to find that this naturally puts a limit on the time stuff sits in the dump zone, because eventually you'll go "hey where's my thing?" and will put stuff away. If that doesn't happen, it's still generally better to have stuff in a dump zone than all over the home.

Do not decide you know what things go together from your partner's stuff and try to "put like things together." The neurotypical urge to put like things together is the mindkiller(j/k). You do not know which things are "similar" in your partner's organization schema and attempting to organize things on your own is going to end up with all of the things "organized" being functionally lost forever from your partner's perspective. Large Bastard's mom would do this and it was infuriating, she'd say "oh I put all the electronics stuff in one box" and she would mean soldering irons, transistors, ham radios, HDMI cables, and cellphone chargers. We are *still* going through boxes of stuff that she "tidied up" when he was hospitalized in 2020 and 2021.

To prevent the need for quite so many dump zones over time, you can work on setting up landing zones and "homes" for projects and tools.

Landing Zones

Landing zones are places where things go when you come inside from doing various things. Sometimes your landing zone only needs to be a tray for your wallet and keys, sometimes your landing zone needs to be a place to take off muddy boots and put a trowel and gloves down before you shower.

To make an effective landing zone, consider what behaviors you're trying to minimize and whether the people using it are ACTUALLY going to use it. For instance I was tired of the corner of my hearth getting cluttered with random junk so I hung up some hooks and put a shelf and a basket there and it became a really effective landing zone for my bag and keys and the mail, but it was VERY ineffective for Large Bastard because it's by a door that isn't the primary door he uses to enter the house. As a result I always know where my keys and bag are but he has trouble finding his keys and wallet. He tends to enter the house through our bedroom and has an overloaded valet next to the door and that's usually where his wallet ends up. Mounting a shelf to the wall above the valet and putting a basket and a hook on it will be a better place for his stuff to land. It's not that he's not using the first zone because he doesn't know that it's there, or because he doesn't care about lost time when I'm searching for my car keys after he borrows them, he's not using it because it's not by the door he uses. That's all.

I have a landing space for when I come in for gardening that's different than the one when I come in from grocery shopping. I have a landing space for when I walk into the dining room instead of the kitchen when I get home.

Landing spaces prevent stuff from piling up all over the place because they are a limited functional space that should be used frequently. Mail ONLY goes in the landing zone. If you have mystery mail or if you're not sure it's safe to toss, you put it in the landing zone. You can't let the mail get piled up too high or you won't have a space for your keys. You can't let the change in your wallet tray get too deep or your wallet is going to slide off, etc., but you also don't just put change on the coffee table or your nightstand because the landing zone is right there.

Homes for items are just what they sound like. They're the place the item goes. It lives there. My meds live on my nightstand. You would not believe how poorly I did with taking my meds on my vacation because they weren't on my nightstand. A while back large bastard lost one of his sets of sorted meds and we tore the house up looking for them because he couldn't find them in his nightstand, which is where they live. *I* found them in his nightstand because I emptied out the entire top drawer (he had only looked on the top layer) and found them underneath a radio and a hammock. Even though they were *hidden* they were in their home, so they were findable. I recently needed ink for an art class. Art supplies live in a dresser by my desk. Ink lives in the art bin or the top left drawer. The ink was not in either of these places (it was on a cabinet in the dining room behind a teacup) so it took me weeks to find it.

Sometimes the reason that ADHD spaces are so messy is because objects have been assigned homes in places that are visible and if they get moved they get lost. This is a genuinely difficult problem that requires a lot of effort to solve and can involve a lot of trial and error for creating a tidy living space. For some people, open shelving and visible storage might be a good solution. For some people, assigning a VERY clear home and inculcating that location by habit is the only way to clean up a space. For some people one very cluttered corner to at least isolate the chaos does the trick (for me and large bastard open shelving doesn't work because anything in one place for too long becomes invisible; that means that I rely on assigning things homes and large bastard relies on having contained chaos and a general idea of where to search but what that DOES NOT mean is that he is clean or tidy. His spaces look like an explosion. But he can mostly find his stuff and do what he needs to do and as long as that's limited to specific places in shared spaces I can live with it; the dining room table can be a disaster, the kitchen cannot).

People organize things differently. It often takes a while for neurotypical adults to settle into an organizational style that works for them and ADHD adults may need to settle into a new system every few months for it to continue working. The cleanup and declutter is most likely going to be a permanent project that is always going to demand some level of attention from everyone in a shared space, but "my ADHD means I can't do it" is not really going to fly. Maybe his ADHD means that he can't keep his space tidy, but it doesn't mean you can't move stuff from shared spaces into dump zones or that he can't do stuff around the house.

If he's insisting that his ADHD means that he can't clean it is possible that he's not being a shithead, he just feels helpless and doesn't know where to start and has adopted the belief that he's a useless piece of shit who can't even keep a tidy space like a grownup because he's internalized a lot of shitty attitudes (hello, my internal monologue about keeping a clean house). But it's also possible that he's just being a shithead.

It's something that's worthwhile to investigate with him. If he's unwilling to make an attempt, then he's being a shithead.

It is also not your responsibility to rehabilitate another person. If he wants to clean and it's something he feels bad about and needs some help and support with the way that someone might need help or support for learning to use a mobility aid, that is fine but you don't have to be the one who gives him that support if it's detrimental to your health, and you don't have to be the one to teach him that stuff if it's not something you're capable of. And if he is NOT interested in working on making your shared living space more accessible for you, that is not your suitcase to unpack and you just have to ask yourself the question from the start: would I stay with this person if I knew the situation was never going to change?

IDK, I'm sure a lot of this reads like "anon you must take on the emotional labor of training your partner to be an adult" but it's really meant to be more of a way of assessing yourself and your relationship. If you created landing zones do you think he'd use them? Would he get angry if you assigned a laundry basket as a dump zone for his stuff while you tidy the living room? Is living with him long-term going to be comfortable for you if nothing changes? Do you have enough of a shared definition of "mess" that you're at least in the ballpark for what counts as a clean house?

anyway good luck, and a reminder to folks that I'm compiling a bunch of adhd resources and other information on my personal website, ms-demeanor.com. It's coming along slowly but it will eventually include stuff like ADHD cleaning tips and how to tackle a hoard, so maybe keep your eye on that space.

[aphel1on]

Dungeon Lords and the Human Need for Connection

When I came across these panels again the other day, it got me thinking about dungeon lord parallels again.

...And I spiraled until I was writing my thesis statement about how All Four Dungeon Lords (Yes, Even Laios, Stop leaving him out of these discussions) Are Actually the Same.

Firstly (because on some level everything is about Thistle to me) I thought about how the lion could have very likely given Thistle a similar offer when his loved ones started losing their souls/rebelling/etc. And yet, there is no sign that Thistle ever accepted such an offer, nor any sign that he used magic to forcibly change people's opinions, the way Marcille briefly threatened the party with while she was dungeon lord:

Instead, he ended up with the fucking dining table that drives me insane. Which probably means that either Thistle rejected the offer, or the lion sensed it wouldn't go over well and didn't even try it.

Making replicas of people doesn't seem to be an uncommon part of granting the dungeon lord's wishes. In his time, Mithrun actually took the demon up on it:

(Not pictured; the infamous lamia-version of his love interest.)

What makes Mithrun different from Thistle and Marcille in this instance is that Thistle and Marcille both became dungeon lords for the sake of specific people. Both were motivated by the terror of losing their most important people, and both told themselves everything they did was for the sake of protecting those people.

Because they were motivated by genuine love, copies or mind manipulation were not palatable. I think Thistle even in the late stages of his madness probably would not find these to be acceptable solutions. No matter how twisted, possessive, and obsessive his love became under the dungeon's influence, it was still from the fear of losing those original, irreplaceable people that he was doing all this. Even as his relationship with Delgal and the other Melinis fell apart over the years... even as he was left with only their soulless bodies... he would still rather cling to whatever was left.

Perhaps on some level, Thistle recognized the same thing that kept Marcille from following through with her threats:

Even in the state of endlessly chasing their desires as dungeon lords, they couldn't feel truly okay accomplishing it that way.

For Mithrun, meanwhile, the people in his fantasy world were a means to an end. It was all-encompassing insecurity and the pain of not being wanted that led him to become dungeon lord. His desire was not fixated on any specific people - it was broad enough and desperate enough that anyone could fulfill it. The thing is, Mithrun prior to becoming dungeon lord was by all accounts well-liked. But his emotional walls were up so high that not a single one of his admirers could make him feel known and cared for. The kind of crushing perfectionism he exhibited in that stage of his life often comes with a silent and equally crushing imposter syndrome. No one actually knew him, because Mithrun didn't let them, even though every aspect of his personality then was a desperate plea to be seen and liked. I think the sad truth is that, by the time he became dungeon lord, Mithrun didn't truly believe that happiness was something that could be found in other people. (It's telling that his wish was for a world in which he had never been discarded; perhaps for a world in which he never felt the need to put up those masks.)

In this respect, Mithrun is actually more alike to Laios than he is to Thistle and Marcille.

Laios was told again and again by the world that it was wrong to be who he was - that he was unlikeable when he acted the way that came naturally to him. The lion didn't bother asking Laios about replicas; those would be meaningless to him. Like Mithrun, Laios had lost all hope of being liked for who he was, but took it one step further: Laios had lost hope that he could find happiness in the human world entirely. At that point, all he wanted was an escape. To leave the pain of the human world behind and become someone, something, different. All he really needed in order to be tempted into it was the assurance that his friends would be safe.

All four of these stories have a pretty obvious throughline when you think about it: the deep, intrinsic need for human connection and what happens to someone when that need cannot be met.

All four of them were starving for connection. All four of them experienced alienation and isolation that made them desperate enough to turn to the demon.

Marcille (a half-elf whose unstable aging left her without peers) and Thistle (raised as the only elf in a kingdom of humans) both formed intense attachments to the few people they did become close to, and went off the deep end from fear of losing them.

Mithrun and Laios were both rejected by others for aspects of themselves that were out of their control, and tried to cope by developing masks that left them unable to feel accepted by the people still in their lives.

...So it's fitting, then, that genuine human connection is also what saved all four of them in the end.

(Thistle is a little arguable here; I personally don't think he died, but even if you do believe he died at the end of the manga- Yaad being able to connect and empathize with him is what gave him peace and solace in his final moments.)

Dungeon Meshi is about alienation and connection as much as it is about food and cycles of life. (Or more like, these themes are masterfully intertwined - food is used to represent love and connection over and over again. But that's a whole essay in and of itself!)

[eraenaa]

Imgonnagetyouback

Inspired by the song "Imgonnagetyouback" by Taylor Swift

Rafe Cameron x Reader Tag List

Summary: The plan is clear. Get Rafe back after your breakup. 

Warnings: Possessiveness, Jealousy, ¡Kinda Biased Towards the Reader!, ¿Kinda Toxic Relationship?, Violence, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Fingering, Not Proofread 

Word Count: 3,826

Two weeks. Two fucking weeks since Rafe broke up with you, and only now did you begin to spiral. It was not as if it was your first breakup with him; you would admit you two had a handful of breakups during the duration of your relationship, especially when you consider that you two had been dating since middle school. But this instance was different; this was the first time that Rafe was the one to initiate the breakup. Before, it was always you who called it quits, and he would come to you on his knees, begging you to take him back. However, now, he was the one to leave, and a fortnight had already passed, and no word was heard from him, leading you to become inwardly frantic. 

“So this one’s official now, huh?” Sarah asked as you filed your nails, staring harshly at your phone, willing it to light up with a notification from your best friend’s brother. “The audacity he has to do this to me! Did I tell you how he broke up with me?” You asked, and Sarah said no, even though you had ranted to her the story at least twice. “We were just sitting here, watching a movie— we had not fought for at least a month, and then he just said, ‘Let’s break up,’ and fucking got up and left!” You groaned, remembering how you stayed up later that night waiting for Rafe because you did not believe his words and the ludicrous way he ended your relationship. “I hate him! I should smash up his bike to teach him a lesson. He’s so fucking immature!” You groaned and heard Sarah sigh, “I’ve told you that years before and hundreds of times after, but you just ignored my warnings.” You groaned once more and tightly shut your eyes. You feel Sarah go to where you sat, “What are you gonna do now?” She asked and you took in a deep breath. “I’m gonna get him back.” You stated, and from the side of your eye, you saw her expression grow confused. “What?”

“I’m gonna get him back,” You declared once more. “I’m gonna get him back then be the one to break up with him— a real break up this time. Like, totally over.” You say but that did not aid Sarah’s confusion. “He does not get to be the one with the final say. He does not get to be the one to end all of this.” You say. “No offense, Sarah, but I’m going to crush your brother’s heart.” You turn to her and watch her lips twitch. “Do you need help?” She asked, and that earned a genuine laugh from you after weeks of being stoic as you did not know if you should mourn your relationship or wait for Rafe to be standing with flowers at the other side of your door. “I’m gonna get him back so bad.” You say once more as your mind was already thinking of the ways to take your revenge. 

You played in the tennis court with Sarah, her already luring in Topper, and with Topper came your now ex, Rafe. They just came from a round of god, and you try your best not to grow distracted by his presence, you willed your stubborn heart not to admit that it had missed him. You bounced the tennis ball, waiting for Sarah to finish her conversation with Topper. You smirked to yourself as you felt eyes on your ass. Specifically wearing Rafe’s favorite tennis skirt of yours. Your mind conjured the memory of him almost drooling as he watched you step out of the fitting room, fashioning the tight, lilac skirt. Just like a moth to a flame, Rafe threaded towards your direction. 

“Hey,” He greeted; in his hand was a can of cold beer, and you urged your gaze not to be entranced by the veins on his rather attractive hand. There was just something about how he gripped things. “Hi,” you say, tilting your gaze upward and squinting your eyes as the sun is beaming down harshly. “How are you?” He asked, his voice holding an edge of tension and awkwardness. “Pretty good, we’re three, love,” You say and watch as his lips part as you intentionally use the nickname you used to call him in a phrasing that was completely ambiguous. It was exactly why you asked Sarah to lure them here to the tennis court, knowing it was the only appropriate setting where you could execute at least three parts of your plan to get him back. “Love?” He asked, his voice lower, and you nodded. “Yeah, love. Zero,” You say, your demeanor relaxed as if you were not at all affected that he ended your six-year relationship. 

You watch him wet his lips and take a chug of his beer. “About the uh… the— our break up,” He stuttered, and you gazed top at him innocently, “What about it?” You asked and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, your eyes catching the way the ball on his throat bobbed, his lips parting, and you could practically see his mind trying to form his words to address the situation. “That’s it?” He asked after a while, and you bit your lip, knowing he loved it when you did that action, convincing him that you, too, were trying to think of a response even though you already knew how the scene would play out. “Yeah, I suppose. I mean, ours was a middle-school romance; it has run its course.” You said and watch intently as how hurt flashes in his eyes before quickly covering it with cool detachment. “Why? Did you think this would end up in like a marriage or something?” You ask, tilting your head to the side, noting how Rafe’s jaw clenched. 

Every word you uttered was like a bullet into Rafe’s chest. He must admit he broke up with you for no particular reason other than just being petty. The sudden breakup was just a result of his pride being wounded. Topper and Kelce had reminded him of the times you broke up with him and him being quick to go down on his knees and beg for you back. His ego could just not stomach the way they called him a ‘simp’ and ‘fucking whipped’ that he made a rash and ill-thought judgment. He was waiting for you to contact him, a call, a text, even a fucking smoke signal, just anything as long as you did the first move first. But two weeks had flown by, and not a word came from you. Now, to hear you say that you’ve expected your relationship to end— that you were practically just counting the days before its demise presented Rafe with sorrow, regret, and, greatest of all, rage.  

“Did you think this would end up in like a marriage or something?” The sentence echoed through Rafe’s mind. What the fuck did you mean by that? He remembered all too well the times you gushed about your futures. About how your wedding ceremonies would play out. What dress you’d wear. Where your honeymoon would be. The number of kids you two would have. The house you two will live in. Every specific detail of your future was thought of and was embedded in his mind, and now here you go, disregarding all of those sacred plans. 

“Rafe?” You called as he stood before you unmovingly, but you could feel him seething internally. You stepped closer and placed your hand on his arm to get his attention. You bit your cheeks as you feel his skin grow riddled with gooseflesh, a reaction that only you could elicit from him. You stared into his eyes, intense blue orbs that were starting to think twice about his decision. “Hey asshole, get out of the court, we’re trynna play!” You hear Sarah scream from a distance, and you step back and steal away your touch from him but not your eyes, as you wanted him to get the message that there was no apprehension or sadness in you about his decision to end things. Rafe stomped over to the side, standing next to Topper, him obviously agitated and tense. You turned to Sarah, and a knowing smirk appeared on both of your lips as the laid-out plans were going well. You were so gonna get him back. 

After your round of tennis at the club, the group decided to go back to Tanneyhill. You made yourself comfortable at the estate that was practically a second home to you. “Hey, Wheez,” You greeted as you went to the kitchens to grab a bottle of water. “Oh, you’re back!” She cried, and you laughed as you were enveloped in a hug by Rafe and Sarah’s sister, who was practically yours, too. “I heard about the breakup,” she whispered as she parted, but her hushed voice was moot as her older brother still heard her words. You were not quite sure what to say, but luckily, Wheezie spoke once more. “I mean, it’s not like it was unexpected, but still! I can’t believe you ended it; you were supposed to be my sister!” She exclaimed, devastated. 

“She didn’t end it,” Sarah came, and you watched as Wheezie abruptly turned to her brother, who stood next to Topper, who was hindering from laughing. “You idiot! You let her go?!” She exclaimed at Rafe, and you just stood there as Wheezie expressed her disbelief at her brother. “Shouldn’t you be out playing,” Rafe gritted as Wheezie’s reaction was only solidifying his regret. You bit your lip and perched yourself atop the counter as you watched the three Cameron siblings argue, Rafe trying to be rid of Wheezie and Sarah coming to their little sister’s defense. You turn to Topper, the two of you being a constant audience of this little family affair. 

In the end, Rafe, who was urging Wheezie to be the one to leave, was the one who stomped away. “Well, that went better than expected,” Sarah said. The three of you girls were left alone in the kitchen as Topper followed out his friend. “Still can’t believe that he was the one to break it off,” Wheezie said. You simply shrugged, “That’s why I’m trying to get him back,” You say. “So I can be the one to really end it.” 

“Wait, so, if you two aren’t dating anymore, who are you going to take to Midsummers?” Wheezie asked. And you feel your lips part as that did not even cross your mind. You and Rafe had always gone to Midsummers together. The event connected to many memories and many firsts for the two of you. “I guess no one,” You say. “But what if he takes someone else?” Wheezie asked, and you turned to Sarah. “We need to find you a date,” She quickly said, and you nodded. “Wait— but aren’t you trying to get him back to get back at him? If you bring a date, wouldn’t that like piss Rafe off more?” Wheezie asked as you three headed towards Sarah’s bedroom. “Exactly. Haven’t you noticed Rafe likes things better when he can’t have them?” Sarah asked, and you nodded along, recalling the times Rafe’s determination to acquire things that were dangled before him but were just beyond reach. 

“So, who would you take to Midsummers?” Sarah asked, “That’s an easy enough problem to solve; what I need now is something to wear for the party later,” You say and watch Wheezie and Sarah frown. “You’re going to that? You hate house parties.” Sarah frowned. “I do. But Rafe is going and it’s important for him to see that this whole ordeal is not at all affecting me,” You explained. “What? You’re going to flirt with other boys?” Wheez asked, and you smirked, “Duh,” 

 Rafe watched steely eyes as you sauntered into the room, taking the drink some dude handed to you and flashing him with a smile that had always been meant for Rafe. His fist clenched around his cup, effectively crushing the red solo cup as he watched you entertain the guys he had always kept a distance from you. His heart throbbing in his chest and his rage consuming him as you let one of them lead you towards the dance floor. Letting him stand behind you and let your bodies be flushed— letting him take Rafe’s place. 

You gritted your teeth as Rafe made no move. He only stayed on his spot by the side with some girl from your school who had always been over him since he was in the third grade and you were in the second. But even then, even though you two were just children, you two had always been drawn to each other. You huffed as you felt the vile feeling rising in you as a random dude kept dancing against you, and Rafe made no move— at this point in time, you miss his violent jealousy that you used to frown upon. 

You feel your heart still as your eyes locked with his. The silent language between you had gone mute and was now forgotten. Your heart clenched as he did nothing, only turned away from you and draped his arm around the shoulders of another girl. You staggered back as his actions stunned you and stung your heart. “Wanna get out of here?” The guy behind you dipped down and whispered in your ear, tugging at your hand. Your lips parted as you looked between him and Rafe, you waited a moment, willing him to turn around, but he didn’t. Is it really over now? You swallowed thickly and squared your shoulders, turning to the guy you were dancing with. “Yeah, sure,” You say meekly, and he grinned, pulling you away from the crowd and towards the bonfire lit by the shore. 

Rafe felt appalled to have his arms around another girl, but he had these theatrics to get you back. He turned back his gaze to the dance floor, searching for your gaze and making sure that the guy you danced with did not step a foot beyond bounds. Rafe felt his heart fall out of his chest as he realized you were gone. He quickly removed his arm from the random girl beside him and searched for you. “Sarah, where is she? Did she go home? Tell me she went home alone.” Rafe asked as he saw Sarah with her boyfriend. “Who?” She asked, feigning innocence. “Don’t fucking play with me, where’s my fucking girlfriend?!” Rafe seethed, eyes franticly searching for you. “You don’t have a girlfriend, Rafe. You broke up with her, remember?” Sarah asked, enjoying the panic in her brother. Topper laughed beside her, and Rafe shook his head. “Fuck you two, you really do deserve each other,” Rafe gritted and headed towards the beach. 

Rafe thought he had already uncovered every level of anger within him, but he was wrong. Nothing would compare to the rage he felt when he saw the guy you were dancing with holding you by your arms, trying to keep you still as you pushed him away as he tried to kiss your lips that were meant for Rafe. “Get the fuck away from her!” Rafe charged toward the guy and landed his fist on the guy’s jaw. Your eyes widened as Rafe suddenly appeared. You just stood there in shock, watching Rafe let out his rage on a guy who finally deserved it. It took a moment before your mind registered the severity of what was now happening; a crowd appeared and circled as Rafe and the guy fought. None even made a move to hinder them. You looked around and saw Kelce and Topper by your right, urging them to get Rafe, who was not at all phased by the crows that suddenly appeared. “You fucking force yourself on her! Fucking cunt!” Rafe screamed as his punches never missed his target. He was not at all tired of beating the guy who dared touch you, his mind not registering anything around him except the rage he felt. 

You feel your heart drop as the distinct sound of a siren sounded out, the crowd that had gathered quickly dissolving, but the presence of authority did nothing to sedate and calm Rafe. He was relentless in punching the guy even though he was already on the brink of unconsciousness. “That’s enough! Go home!” The sheriff screamed, and two other officers pulled Rafe away from the bloodied and bruised body of the guy. “This was not supposed to happen,” You whisper to Sarah as they push Rafe against the cop car and handcuff his wrists. You found yourself being dropped off at the station to post bail and explain to the sheriff what had happened. “He was just defending me; that guy was forcing himself on me, and luckily, Rafe was there to stop him.” You explained and turned your gaze to Rafe, who was in holding, staring blankly at the wall, his jaw and fists still harshly clenched. “Well, he did more than stop him,” The sheriff muttered with a sigh. “He’s not pressing charges, so your little boyfriend’s free to go,” the sheriff added reluctantly. You nodded and quickly moved to go to Rafe, whose cell doors were being opened for him. 

Tense silence surrounded the both of you as you stepped out of the station, and it followed the both of you until you reached Tanneyhill. You turned to Rafe, lips parting to speak, but he cut you off by placing his lips upon yours and cupping your cheeks with both of his battered hands. You melted at his touch, finally relenting and admitting to yourself that you had greatly missed him. When you two parted, you stared deeply into his eyes, deciphering clearly the thoughts he always struggled to word out. “You still love me,” You breathed out and felt your stomach twist as he nodded his head. “Of course I do,” He answered and kissed your lips once more. You wrapped your arms around him, your fingers lightly scratching his skull, his buzzcut hair prickling and tickling your soft palms. You feel him grip your ass once more, the telltale sign that warned you where this would lead. And though you missed feeling your body tangled with Rafe’s, you still needed answers. You were still deciding if your best-laid plans should be set on fire, skeptical that all of this was just his sleight of hand. 

“Why’d you break up with me?” You asked, parting your lips. Watching as Rafe huffed and tried to kiss you again, but you turned away and urged him to answer. “I was being petty,” He mumbled, and you heard him groan as you frowned at him and removed your touch. “Baby, please,” He said as you stepped backward, your eyes narrowing at his words. “What?” You gritted. “Look, I’m sorry. It was a stupid decision. The guys were giving me shit about how you were always the one to call it off! I just… I wanted you to be the one to come to me and ask for me back…” Rafe trailed as he had no better word to explain his reasoning for breaking up with you. “You broke up with me because of your fucking pride!?” You almost screamed in anger. “I’m sorry, baby, please; I was so stupid.” Rafe sighed and tried to pull you to him; the big man he was had gone for the moment as his blue eyes pleaded with you. 

You took in a deep breath and your senses were consumed by the smell of him. Your ears rang with the sound of his voice begging for your forgiveness. Your skin tingled by his touch. You breathed heavily and shook your head. “You’re so immature,” You sighed and pulled him down by his shirt to kiss his lips. Rafe smirked against your lips and savored the taste of you that he had longed for. “Am I forgiven?” He panted as you two parted; you stayed silent for a moment. Gazing at his eyes that were alight with hope. “Depends on how many times you make me come tonight,” You whispered against his lips, watching as his blue orbs turned dark. You shrieked as he hoisted you up and made you wrap your legs around him, hurriedly bringing you back to his room just to show you how truly apologetic he was. 

You hummed in delight as Rafe sucked your tit, his other hand pinching the other bud. His body pushed you against the back of his bedroom door, and your hips moved to seek friction. “I missed you so much, baby,” Rafe groaned between the valley of your chest, biting and sucking your skin, leaving it red and most probably bruised. You bit your lip in anticipation as he tossed you on his bed. He watched you with a smirk as he removed his shirt, the moonlight illuminating his muscled body. “Like the view, my girl?” He asked and slowly crawled atop your body, his fingers finding the zipper of your dress, but he was slow to undo it. “Stop teasing, you’re still not forgiven,” You groaned as his hand was trailing the inside of your thigh. “Oh, right… I’m sorry, baby,” Rafe hummed once more and placed kisses on your neck as his hand cupped your cunt. His fingers draw circles on your cloth-covered nubbin, his lips peppering kisses on your neck. 

You bit harshly on your lip as you pushed your underwear aside and finally felt the wetness he had caused. “So wet… you wanted me back as badly as I wanted you, huh, baby?” He hummed and watched as your eyes rolled back as he abruptly inserted his two fingers inside you, curling the digits and taking your breath away. “Rafe— I need you now,” You cried as his thumb laid flat on your nubbin. “Whatever you want, baby,” Rafe hummed and obliged your pleas. Stealing away his fingers and replacing them with his length. “God, so fucking tight," He grunted as he thrust into you. You could no longer hold in your moans as he pounded into you, the tip of his cock perfectly aligned with the spot in you that made you see stars and spew out moans that you were certain would be heard by those in the hallways. But you could not find care as Rafe fucked you senseless and made you reach your peak in record time. 

You panted as you came down from your high. Your boyfriend is looking at you through his hazy, lust-filled eyes. “Am I forgiven?” He asked, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, forcing him to lie on the bed and for you to be atop him. “Not yet.” 

[revasserium]

entwined shadows

zayne, rafayel, xavier; 1,872 words; fluff, semi-canon compliant, spoilers! for entwined shadows cards, v!suggestive, no "y/n", genderless!reader, lapslock cause lazy, so! many! kisses!

summary: kiss me once, kiss me twice, kiss me thrice or a thousand times

a/n: inspired by the poems of robert frost and also obviously by the entwined shadows cards cause... bruh.

perish, twice - zayne

the hideout is cold — but his lips are warm, hungry.

“z-zayne!”

there’s fire in his veins, pulsing beneath your fingertips, the kind that his ice has never been able to put out — not even once.

“please…” he sounds like a broken man; you know better than to believe him, “i told you… i warned you…” he trails his lips along the column of your neck, his fingers digging into the bend of your hips, his other hand pinning your wrists above your head, “that i might not be able to control myself this time…”

he lets out a breath, the heat of it fogging the air between you in the dark chill of the room. you feel your skin burning, even as you shiver. your mind spins with the incongruencies, the push and pull, the icy bite of the air, the stinging heat of zayne’s body against yours.

“i-if we freeze tonight —” your voice is unsteady, heady with desire, but zayne cuts you off.

“i won’t let you.” he cups your cheek and you feel the skin there tingle with warmth. slowly, you watch as the vines of pale blue begin to fade from his skin.

you shake your head even as you pull him down for another deep, long kiss, the kind that sears —

“no… i won’t let you.”

when you break apart again, there’s a wild, unfocused light to his eyes, a shallowness to his breaths. he looks dazed, but as his gaze flickers down to your kiss-swollen lips, a razor like focus shifts inside him and suddenly, he’s caging you in, his teeth skimming the delicate skin above your fluttering pulse.

“tell me… tell me this is okay…” his voice is barely a whisper. but you hear it loud as the howling of the storm outside. you breathe out.

“zayne. i want this — i want… you.”

a groan rumbles through him, base and heavy as an avalanche.

he murmurs something that sound suspiciously like a prayer before he sinks his teeth into the bare skin of your shoulder and rips open the front of your shirt in one smooth motion.

the storm outside continues to rage, but at the very least, you can be certain — the ice pulsing beneath his skin is slowly beginning to thaw away.

taste of desire - rafayel

“but this one… i think i like this one best.” rafayel grins as he leans down to press two quick kisses to your cheeks, pulling back to trail his gaze over your blush-tinted skin. heat prickles at your neck but you refuse to look away.

instead, you attempt a glare, “y-you said that three seconds ago.”

rafayel makes an aggrieved expression, “it’s not my fault your cheeks can turn so many colors so quickly! do you know how tiring it is to try and pick my favorite color when i can see so many? ah — there, this one’s nice too!” he taps his finger against the tip of your nose even as you feel your entire face flush.

you bite your lips and push back against him, toppling the pair of you over onto the sofa in his wide-open studio. the windows are cracked, and the spring breeze flirts with the gauzy white curtains; the setting sun paints the entire room in a soft, dreamlike glow.

“why can’t you just call it blush pink like everyone else?” you crinkle your nose and try to turn your head away, even as rafayel shifts beneath you, running a warm palm down the length of your spine to shift you closer.

he cocks his head, lips pushing into a familiar pout, “how can an artist like me be so vague?” he shakes a few strands of hair from his eyes, batting long lashes up at you, “in order to achieve perfection, you have to be specific with your words, you know.”

you’re about to say something else but he sits up, pressing in close enough for your noses to brush, “for instance — if you want a kiss…” his eyes flicker down to your lips; you feel your breath hitch, your heartbeat scattering within your chest like a handful of tossed marbles.

he inches forward, agonizingly slowly, till his lips are hovering only a hair’s breath away from yours. your fingers tighten in his shirt but he makes no move to kiss you.

“you should tell me where…” he makes to lean in, but turns his head at the last moment to skim his lips along your cheeks, his breath tickling your earlobe for a second, “like… here?” he lowers his head, trailing a light kiss against your jaw, “or… perhaps here…” he drops his lips to the bend of your shoulder.

you tremble in his arms, fingers fisting as you attempt to pull him closer.

“r-rafayel… you’re not playing fair.”

he pulls back, an almost gleeful grin spreading across his lips, the light cascading across the room drawing his lashes into long, mesmerizing shadows across the highs of his cheeks.

“why should i? you humans’ve never played fair before. for my own self-preservation… i’ve gotta have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

you squirm in his lap as you feel his fingers tickling at your sides, but as he pins you to his chest, you let out a surprised yelp, palms pressing flat against his chest to steady yourself.

“so, tell me, strange human…” he leans in, nose nudging yours, “what exactly do you want from me, hm?”

you lick your lips, a dull, pulsing ache echoing up from the base of your belly to the top of your spine. you reach up to trace a thumb against the pad of his lips and watch with a stomach-twisting satisfaction as his breath goes shallow, his eyes go wide, go dark.

“kiss me,” you say, leaning down till you’re sure he can almost taste you on his tongue.

you feel him swallow as you trail your thumb down along his neck to the place where his pulse flutters, light and fast as the flurried beats of a butterfly’s wings.

“i thought… i thought i told you… you have to be more specific.”

you allow yourself a grin, fingers tightening ever so slightly around his neck; his cheeks flush the most gorgeous shade of sunset pink and you take a second to marvel to yourself that you’d never quite seen this color on him before. it might just be your favorite yet.

“rafayel… kiss me… right here.”

here come the stars - xavier

looking back, it had felt like a dream — twenty-one days of living together, of grocery shopping and tv-watching, of sleeping next to each other, of waking up to the warm scent of his skin.

“what if we just stayed here forever?”

you twist to face him in the dark; it’s your last night here, and the previous afternoon, you’d sat beneath the thick slices of lemon-yellow sunlight pouring through the windows with a bowl of cherries and the taste of each other resting on your tongues.

“we’d be implicating ourselves in the mission.”

xavier sighs, shifting a bit closer and reaching out to cup your cheek. you lean into the touch, letting your eyes flutter shut as you nuzzle into his heat.

“i know. but…” his finger traces the line of your nose down to the soft of your lips. you let them fall open a second before you feel him pressing in closer, before his lips graze yours and you feel yourself falling into his embrace.

the sheets twist around your ankles. outside, the the scimitar moon watches with slitted silver eyes.

“but…” you say, your voice thick with the honey of recent kisses, “who says that it can’t be like this when we get back to linkon city?”

xavier makes a soft noise at the back of his throat, pulling away to glance down at you.

“what… are you…”

there’s a breathless anticipation pulsing beneath the current of his voice; you sigh and lean up for another quick kiss.

“and you were calling me a dummy earlier…” but even as you steel yourself against the words weighing down the tip of your tongue, you feel your cheeks go hot and silently thank the heavens that it’s too dark in the room for him to see just how red you’d probably gotten.

“i — i’m asking if you want to — i mean, we’re already neighbors so, it wouldn’t even be a very hard move…” you lick your lips, mouth suddenly very dry. beside you, xavier’s gone white-rabbit still. if it weren’t for the shallow sound of his breaths or the wild beating of his heart beneath your hands, you might’ve wondered if he were even there at all.

“i just thought —” you quickly amend, the silence thickening around you like churned butter, “if you really did l-like it like this… it wouldn’t be hard for us to —”

he silences you with another kiss, more forceful this time. and whereas the previous ones were all soft and languid, this one is open-mouthed, a stomach-clenching hunger pouring itself from his mouth to yours as he presses you down beneath him and pins you to the bed.

his knee presses up between your legs and desire lances through you, bright and sharp as lightening. you gasp, biting down on his lips as he groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“i don’t know — if that’s a good — idea —”

you lick your lips, frowning up at him. you’ve never seen him so winded; you’d barely even seen him out of breath, but right now, even in the dim light, you can see him shaking apart at the edges.

“w-why?” you have to fight to keep the hurt from your voice, but the next second, xavier is pressing his tongue back into your mouth and running it along the backs of your teeth. he kisses you so hard and so thoroughly you nearly pass out from the lack of air.

“because — i — we’d never get any sleep. and —” his hair tickles the skin of your cheeks as you let out a surprised laugh, his lips trailing down the length of your throat, “and i rather like my sleep…”

you let your eyes fall shut again, tangling your fingers in his starlight hair as he hisses against your chest.

“well — at least tomorrow we have the day off… so, i suppose if there’s any night we won’t need much sleep…”

xavier lets out a soft groan, shaking his head even as he peppers your skin with even more kisses, “don’t… don’t say stuff like that. people might get the wrong idea.”

you give his hair a playful tug, reveling in the way his whole body seems to go taut above you as he lifts his head.

“or,” you smile, slowly releasing his hair from your fingers, “they might be getting exactly the right idea.”

[lilghostiequinni]

What?!

Main Masterlist Oscar Masterlist

Pairing: "Secret" Wife!female reader x Oscar Piastri

Warnings: Fluff

Summary: As his wife, you support Oscar through his endeavors, but you also have your own life. You moved from Australia to England with him, which helped because you were going to university, and now you've started your career. One thing it means is not being able to attend many races, but you can bet that you are watching. It isn't until Silverstone 2024 that people, specifically Lando, know about you and his teammate.

Requested: NO / yes

Lando prided himself on knowing almost everything about his teammate.

That is until you called the Wednesday before Silverstone and "My Wife." At first, Lando thought that Osar got a girlfriend and she was just that special, then you hung up when the call ran through, and you texted.

Saying, "Love, I know you are busy, but I just wanted to tell you I was able to get someone to cover my shifts at the hospital this weekend. Just letting you know I would be there."

When Lando was done snooping at the text, he saw Oscar's lock screen; it was one of your wedding days, him putting your shoe on.

Lando let the knowledge fester and sat for the night as he tried to work out everything he learned of his teammate, that Oscar, sweet, innocent Osc, had a girlfriend, a wife no less, and didn't tell him.

On media day the next day, Lando and Oscar were standing next to each other, and Lando just blurted out, "You have a wife?"

Oscar froze, not because he was ashamed, but rather because of the abrupt nature of Lando's statement.

"Yeah?" Oscar said, confused at the revelation that Lando seemingly just had.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Lando asked.

"You didn't ask, nor did I hide it. I've mentioned her many times," Oscar told the Brit.

"Really?" Lando said, never recalling an instance of when you were mentioned.

Oscar just nodded and started to walk towards the rest of the drivers.

When the two got there, Oscar should've known that Lando wouldn't have let it go.

"Did any of you know that Oscar is married?" Lando asks the drivers they went to, of Max, Charles, Carlos, Logan, Alex, George, and Lewis.

"No."

"No."

"No."

"Yeah."

"No."

"No."

"No."

"Logan knew."

All the answers came at the same time.

"Wait, the American knew and not me?" Lando questioned.

"Yeah, he was there," Oscar said as Logan answered, "Yeah, I was at the wedding."

"Congrats," Lewis said to Oscar as silence fell over the group.

"What?" Lando all but shouted as he registered what was said.

"How long have you been married?" Alex asked, trying not to laugh at the look on Lando's face.

"Since 2019," Oscar answered with a nod.

Everything was again silent as they looked at Lando.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Lando asked, looking at his teammate.

"You didn't ask," Oscar replied as his phone went off. "I have to go. She's at the gate, and I have her pass."

When Oscar came back with you beside him, Lando basically ran to you two.

"Baby with is Lando, Lando, my wife." Oscar introduced.

You gave the Brit a wave and went to Logan after you had seen him behind Lando, going and giving him a hug.

"So...." Lando trailed off, not knowing what to call you.

"Sunny, she's like a literal ray of sunshine," Logan answered.

"Right. What do you do, Sunny?" Lando asked.

"I'm a neurosurgeon and pediatrician with a specialty in cardio," You answer him.

"You ever been to a race?" Max asked, never seen you in the paddock.

"Australia, last year, but I wasn't in the paddock."

Before more could be said, the drivers were called away for media.

Oscar kissed your cheek, "I'll wait in your driver's room."

Oscar nodded and watched as you walked toward the McLaren paddock.

When he turned around, he saw Lando watching him, "She's lovely, I'm not mad anymore that you didn't tell me."

Oscar laughed as the two went to do media.

A/N: A poll, this one tied for second/third

Tags: none

If you want to be removed from a tag list, let me know so I don't keep tagging you. If you are striked through, I don't know if you want to be tagged, but just let me know if you want me to continue or stop.

[linkspooky]

JASON TODD VS. DABI: WHY NOT ME?

"You haven't been here long but you've seen him, right? The batman. The batman. He lives in darkness, to find the helpless and bring them into the light. So I have to wonder...why couldn't he do it for me?" The Boy Wonder: Issue #2

This is the story of the boy who didn't get saved. The story of a boy who really ought to have been saved. Of course, every victim deserves to be saved, but this boy was the son of a superhero. Can a hero who saves everyone, but fails to save his own son really be called a hero? As for the son, how does it feel to watch his father save complete strangers but let him fall to the wayside?

Jason Todd and Dabi are two characters with similar backstories and motives (so similar it's possible Dabi is outright based on Jason Todd) which are worthy of comparison. These are two tragic arcs which explore the conflict between a hero's responsibility to act as a father, and their responsibility to save people. As I said they are tragic because in both cases the hero fails, as a father, and a hero. However, I'm comparing the two because Jason Todd's story is a well written tragedy, and Toya's story is not.

If you were to write a story of my life, it would surely be a tragedy.

Aristotle's Poetics is the first attempt to define what Tragedy is, not as a story where sad things happen but a specific story structure. He outlines not only what makes tragedy, tragedy, but also what makes a good tragedy.

The Plot, then, is the first principle, and, as it were, the soul of a tragedy: Character holds the second place. A similar fact is seen in painting. The most beautiful colours, laid on confusedly, will not give as much pleasure as the chalk outline of a portrait. Thus Tragedy is the imitation of an action, and of the agents mainly with a view to the action.

I use this quote because the painting metaphor is a great way of explaining what I'm getting at, you can have a painting with the most wonderful colors, you can have a story with really good ideas like the Todoroki family plotline but if you don't use those colors correctly all you're going to end up with is a bad painting.

In poetics Aristotle clearly defines a tight well-structured plot as the first priority for effective tragedy, character as second.

Again, a beautiful object, whether it be a living organism or any whole composed of parts, must not only have an orderly arrangement of parts, but must also be of a certain magnitude; for beauty depends on magnitude and order. Hence a very small animal organism cannot be beautiful; for the view of it is confused, the object being seen in an almost imperceptible moment of time. Nor, again, can one of vast size be beautiful; for as the eye cannot take it all in at once, the unity and sense of the whole is lost for the spectator; as for instance if there were one a thousand miles long

To make sure you understand, it's vital in tragedy for all the pieces to fit together. Tragedy is a specific story format. Good tragedy uses the parts of a story well, but bad tragedy is sloppy and poorly put together. In tragedy, the whole has to be greater than the sum of its parts. The Todoroki Family are all good characters out of context, but the story could have enhanced their characters but detracted from them due to how poorly it is told. The fact that a lot of MHA fans are in love with the Todoroki family out of the context of the story, but also have constant complaints for how Horikoshi handles their plotlines is, in my opinion, very telling.

What Aristotle goes on to posit is the best tragedies do not come about by accident, but rather by the direct actions of the characters.

But again, Tragedy is an imitation not only of a complete action, but of events inspiring fear or pity. Such an effect is best produced when the events come on us by surprise; and the effect is heightened when, at the same time, they follow as cause and effect. The tragic wonder will thee be greater than if they happened of themselves or by accident; for even coincidences are most striking when they have an air of design. 

Therefore Tragedies require consequentialism, like Newton's Third Law, every action will have an equal and opposite reaction. To simplify a good tragedy arises from the consequences of the character's actions (or inaction). The most basic form is that the hero of the story will have a tragic flaw that they fail to improve upon in time and then leads to their destruction. In essence, tragedy is where the hero fails. Not only does the hero fail, but the hero loses, and that irreversible loss is what defines tragedy. Medea slays her own children, Oedipus rips his own eyes off and deserts his kingdom, Creon Antigone is buried alive and Creon's son, her fiancee, commits suicide.

These events share two things in common, they are irreversible (hence why they feel like good endings), and two they evoke catharsis. Aristotle defines the goal of tragedy to evoke terror and pity. We feel alongside these heroes, Medea was abandoned by the husband Jason who she left her home and slaughtered her own brother for, Oedipus did all of his crimes unwittingly and is a victim of fate, Antigone was doing the right thing by burying her brother so his soul could pass on to the afterlife.

There's all different sorts of tragedies, Hamliet explores more here. I'd say UTRH and Hellish Todoroki Family are tragedies centered around grief.

Tragedy works on extreme emotions, and extreme hard-hitting consequences to the hero's failures. The worst thing a tragedy can be is boring.

The Tragic Hero

Now that I'm done lecturing you let's actually talk about both My Hero Academia and Batman like I promised. Both of these stories don't actually feature the central victim as their protagonist, and that is a feature not a flaw.

Rather, the story we are being told is that of a tragic hero, failing to save a tragic victim because of their own personal flaws.

These flaws are called (hamartia) or "error in judgement". A hero, being called a hero of a story is often unaware of his flaws which is central to what makes them unable to fix those flaws in time. That flaw can later lead to a moral failing, such as Othello's jealousy, initially jealousy is an understandable emotion, but then it leads to him trusting Iago over his own wife and killing his wife in a rage.

Most importantly, the hero’s suffering and its far-reaching reverberations are far out of proportion to his flaw.

Let's begin with talking of the heroes and their flaws, Batman and Endeavor. My main reason for comparing these two is in these specific stories they have the same flaw, inability to move past their personal guilt towards their son, and the same conflict the duty of a father versus the duty of a hero.

However, Batman functions as a tragic hero, and Enji does not. The summary of their conflict is right here in these two panels.

A parent is required to place their children above everything else, because they are the ones responsible for bringing that child into the world. Bruce Wayne made the decision to adopt Jason. Enji made the decision to have children, however with Enji you have the added insidious motivation of he only wanted to make designer babies and just didn't care for the ones who didn't turn out right.

Bruce attempts to do both, to act as a father for Jason and also a crime fighter as batman but he can't do both. This comes to a head in Death of the Family when Jason is having serious trouble because of his lack of a strong parental figure, and Bruce knowing that Jason is in trouble chooses still to go off and fight crime instead of staying with him. The choice to place crimefighting over the child they chose to take responsibility for has the unintended consequence of getting that child killed.

Whereas Enji makes the same choice over and over again, ignoring Toya's clear troubles at the fact his father no longer spends time with him and choosing to run away to the world of heroes because he doesn't want to face the fact that his actions are severely hurting his son. Bruce's motivations are more sympathetic admittedly he wasn't actively practicing eugenics, but the choice is the same and the consequences are the same.

Both Bruce and Enji are forced to bear witness to the deaths of their children when they are not there, specifically because they made a choice to be a hero instead of staying by their child's side. A situation directly caused by their choice to be a hero over a father, and a situation that would have been avoided if they had stayed with their child in their time of need. Jason runs off when Batman tells him to stay and gets kidnapped by the Joker, if Enji had been on Sekoto peak that day Toya would never have accidentally lost control of his fire.

This is just the backstory however, the main event that kickstart this plot is the unexpected return from the dead of both Jason and Dabi. Each story follows the same plot beats. A new villain appears to challenge Endeavor / Batman. The villain reveals themselves as their dead son. Both Endeavor / Batman are given a chance to try reaching out to their sons, but they choose not to.

Then even though they are given a second chance with a miracle of a dead son coming back to them, they choose the exact same thing they chose before, being a hero and because of that the tragedy repeats itself. For both of them they are unable to save their son again, and the son goes through a second death. History repeats itself, the lesson isn't learned.

Their fatal flaw is their guilt. This is a story about grief and mourning after all, a son who is died, buried, but never grieved properly, never mourned, an open wound on the father suddenly coming back. The inability of each to process their grief blinds them from seeing the fact the son has come back, and they have a second chance.

Toya has internalized he is a failure, because Enji literally called him that. Jason believes that Batman thinks he is a failure. In both cases the father is the one who failed, Bruce at least acknowledges this but cannot communicate it in any way shape or form.

This guilt and responsibility both Enji and Bruce feel causes them to self-sabotage. They no longer have the confidence they are in the right (they no longer feel like heroes because they have failed to be heroes to their own son).

You can also add the layer of complication that since both men chose to be heroes in the past, they do not know how to handle the situation as a father now that they're being challenged to step up as one. Unfortunately, they are not the fathers that stepped up.

The reason their grief becomes a flaw is because they put their grief over their victims. . Each man is aware too much of their own failure, and while they should feel guilty they make the classic mistake of placing their own guilt over the feelings of the victim. The guilt they feel for causing the death and the genuine grief of losing a son is given priority over Jason and Dabi who you know... actually died.

An overwhelming grief and guilt is understandable because grief is a messy and human emotion, losing a child is an unimaginable tragedy that should never be inflicted on anyone.

Yet at the same time both Dabi and Jason are grieving to. This paradox that Batman only thinks of his own grief at losing a son and never stops to think about how Jason must feel leads to one of the best lines in Under the Red Hood.

"The father had lost a son, and now the son had lost a father."

Batman's guilt is so strong over being the cause of Jason's suffering, that the suffering of the victim himself is ignored. To be fair to My Hero Academia, the Todorokis say a similar line to Enji.

However, this is where I begin to get into the difference between ideas and execution. Tragedies are stories of actions and logical consequences, every action has an equal and opposite reaction in Under the Red Hood. Batman is punished for the choices he makes, the choices he doesn't make, and the choices he fails to make in time.

The Todoroki plotline features almost none of its character making any choices of substance, and because of that the plotline says the right things over and over again, but it all comes off as tell don't show.

I'm going to quote @codenamesazanka's post right here a couple of times because they describe the complete failure of the Todoroki plotline to show us a reason why we should be feeling things for the characters artfully.

We've heard Enji say this before - I'm sorry, I intend to atone. It's indeed the right thing to say, it's exactly what he should be saying and acting. Natsuo is declaring no contact - That's fine, I'm sorry, I accept this as part of my atonement and will continue. Touya calls him a coward - That's fine, I'm sorry, I accept this as part of my atonement and will continue. The public hates him - That's fine, I'm sorry, I accept this as part of my atonement and will continue. But you can only hear this so many times before you want to snap and beat the character, the story, the writing over the head with Enji's wheelchair. Why is that? He's behaving exactly as he should, and yet...

The reason why it fails to evoke strong feelings is because of what we'd called "narrative dissonance." The actions of Bruce and Enji are the same, they both neglect to do anything, make any real attempts to reach out to their victims because they're paralyzed by guilt.

However, we are told that they have entirely different arcs. Bruce's arc is a tragic fall. He's failing as a hero. While we are being told that Enji is experiencing an arc of atonement. Enji is supposed to be improving himself, and Bruce is supposed to be experiencing negative character development but they both do the exact same thing in story. Bruce neglects Jason, we are told by the story, by the characters in the story that Bruce is failing Jason. Enji does nothing in time to actually atone for Toya or try to help him, yet, we are told again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again that Enji is atoning with nothing substantive to show us this is the case.

To show what I meant instead of telling this scene is in chapter 252.

This scene is the ending point in chapter in chapter #426.

It's just him repeating the exact same sentiment and yet in a more than 150+ chapter gap, Enji never made any action to show he was now placing his family first. Enji didn't say anything to Dabi when he revealed himself as Toya. Enji didn't look for Toya in the months before the final war arc. Enji literally appeared on live TV in a broadcast that Toya was watching and said the very selfish "Watch Me" atone for the crime of creating Toya instead of literally talking about Toya or too Toya. Well, that would have rocked the boat too much... THAT IS LITERALLY THE POINT. Enji had to somehow break from tradition or make some significant sacrifice onscreen to his social standing to show that he's willing to put his family first. Enji decides to go along with Hawks decision to not face Toya head on, making the decision to be the hero for the final time which directly causes Toya to get up after Shoto brings him down non-lethally and make one last attempt to suicide bomb for his father's inaction.

Bruce does nothing for a long time in Under the Red Hood. He ignores his initial instinct that Jason came back and instead makes a long investigation on whether or not someone can come back from the dead in order to distract himself. When Jason takes the mask off, Batman already knew but was pretending otherwise because he didn't want to face the reality.

Even when Jason takes his mask off, Bruce still takes on the "I need to investigate this" angle even though Jason calls him out that deep down he already knows it's the truth. This of course foreshadows Bruce's underlying flaw, he doesn't want to face Jason head on because he feels too much grief about what happened to Jason and his guilt is more important than Jason's own grief. Just as the father has lost the son, the son has lost the father.

What follows is several chapters of Batman fighting crime as usual and making no attempts to directly search for Jason. They cross paths a few times but when they do Bruce doesn't follow. In fact, Bruce only shows up when Jason sends Bruce a sample of the joker's hair and Bruce knows that the Joker has kidnapped him out of Arkham. Bruce almost lets Jason get killed by Black Mask because he doesn't know whether to stop Jason or save him yet again, and then they have their final showdown where Jason has kidnapped the joker to demand Bruce kill him, and Bruce finally attempts to talk him down.

Out of context it sounds like I'm describing the same plotline, to the point where if you haven't read either, it looks like I'm complaining baselessly. Why is one hero doing nothing until it's too late good, and the other bad? The difference is of course context, or rather framing. Bruce's actions are called out by the people around him (Dick, Jason, Alfred) as him handling the situation wrong. Whereas both Enji's internal monologue and other characters say that he is doing his best to atone for his actions and deserves a chance, but the events we are shown in story are the exact opposite.

Here's another example to SHOW my point. Here's Dabi with my special, hardcover edition of under the Red Hood.

I reread the entirety of the fourteen chapter plotline and the majority of internal narrations come from characters outside of Bruce observing his behavior and commenting on how differently he's acting. Jason's backstory for instance is told by Alfred, not Bruce. Dick Grayson the first Robin comments on Batman's odd behavior. The rest are the third person narrator. Bruce has four instances of internal monologues spanning a few pages each in a 378 page story. (Alfred has the most internal monologues and he's presented as a more trustworthy unbiased narrator than Bruce, to get us to question Bruce's actions).

"Information travels on many routes, sometimes it comes predictably like the tides. You just need to know where to stand and meet it. Other times it's elusive and you have to root through the garbage to find it. In the last few years I've come to rely on Barbara Gordon, Oracle, we all did. Utilizing every form of surveillance equipment she has been the eyes and ear [...] but those days are over. I can't rely on anyone anymore. [...] and tonight it's also about the company I keep. It's different with him [night wing] out here. I think about when he was younger, when I was younger, it was different, simpler and I miss it. I miss those days, for that it's hard to be around him.

This first internal monologue is a case of unreliable narrator, because as soon as finishing it Dick Grayson / Nightwing shows up, offers Batman his help and while Bruce at first refuses it the two of them are forced to work together to fight Amazo. What does this show us? Bruce is not alone, but Bruce actively acts like he's alone ignoring the feelings of the other people around him. It exhibits a flaw of Bruce and the bad headspace he is in mentally (if I remember correctly Stephanie Brown recently died in the comics while this storyline was being published. It establishes Bruce's improper coping mechanism with grief, and how he is going about it the incorrect way.

Bruce says I work alone, and then Bruce says it's easier working with Dick, I miss it, but I can't go back to those days. It's bruce's contradictory thinking patterns in the same chapter that stop him. it's bruce's fault he cannot connect to Dick, and he is actively mourning the past because his relationship with Dick has changed.

Now the final part of the monologue in that chapter.

He's quick. Not just fast, agile. He's not thinking about his next move, he's just making it. He's been trained well. And there's something about him. Something familiar. There was something interesting about before he cut the line, before it had been taught. That had to have been practiced. Either that or just plain dumb luck. No it's not luck.

This is the first hint that Bruce already suspects it's Jason from early on but is in denial about it. This unreliable narrator trope also gives an agency to Bruce's decision, he is actively choosing to ignore the possibility that it's Jason because it doesn't want it to be.

Whereas, a lot of Endeavor's plot takes away any agency from him. For example, he doesn't even know that Dabi is Toya, because if he had the sneaking suspicion and ignored it like Batman did that might have made him look bad. We can't have the main character in a tragedy looking bad now can we?

The second monologue is more denial.

That device is from Kord industries. I should know. Ordered it special from them. How can he have it? No more dead ends. No more questions. No more guessing. Tonight I find out what is passing for the truth.

Reading between the lines this is outright confirmation Batman already knows.

The third is a brief reflection in his feelings for Jason.

The armor has to be light enough to fit but strong enough to protect. But sometimes a great many times, it's not strong enough. It wans't strong enough for Barbara who has to fight from her chair. It wasn't strong enough for Stephanie, other dear soldier enough dear grave. And it wasn't enough for Jason. Willful Jason. Who ignored the danger. Who spat at risk. Who was never frightened enough. I've always wondered... always... was he scared at the end? Was he praying I'd come save him? And in those last moments when he knew that I wouldn't. Did he hate me for it?

This monologue directly shows without stating it outright, Bruce is prioritizing his feelings of grief and failure mixing them in with his genuine grief over the loss of a son. it's selfish of him, but grief is a selfish emotion.

Here's the thing Bruce is allowed to be selfish and to not have the correct reaction to his grief, because the whole story is centered on Bruce being unable to get his shit together in time, and this picture into his emotions is an explanation as to why. Bruce is afraid of being hated by Jason. Jason of course has every right to hate him for failing as a father, but still I think not wanting to be hated to a person you loved so much and feel genuinely sorry over what you let happen to them is an understandable reaction.

Meanwhile we have Enji saying repeatedly all the right things in his monologue, the selfless, I don't need to be forgiven, it's okay if they hate me, I just need to atone but he never actually does anything. There's no explanation for why he isn't doing anything either, so that narrative dissonance. We're shown why Bruce doesn't act in time, he's internally a mess to be frank. We are not shown why Enji doesn't act in time because his internal monologue tells us again and again he's committed to atoning and he understands what the right thing to do is.

As Codenamesanzanka says:

Enji is still saying all the right things, but the story isn't giving him the opportunity to actually do the right things. To have his new actions matter. I have no doubt about his sincerity in his mantra, but without the 'show', it's hollow. Similarly, "Let's talk" is actually kinda bullshit too, because it's so vague. This is less about Enji, and more about the writing, how it set up this scene. "Let's talk" or "I want to talk" or any of that variation is repeated 6 times, without anything more or specific added.

There's an excess of repetition of Enji saying he wants to atone, he's ready to atone, without any of that materializing in the story.

As @class1akids says in this reaction post:

It also feels also super-hollow to say he's sheltering the family from the fallout, after they've just talked about how Fuyumi lost her job (and got a new one through the connections she herself built). How is he going to do that?

The fourth because I don't want to write it down, it's just Batman monologueing on how his partnership with Jason is still good and explaining the technical details of his fight with count Vertigo. It's in chapter 10 if you must look it up.

So four monologues total. Two monologues establish indirectly that Batman knows that Red Hood is Jason and doesn't want to face him. The third monologue establishes why he doesn't want to face him, he's afraid of being hated. The monologue is in line with Bruce's actions in the story, Bruce investigates several ways of reviving from the dead instead of looking for Jason.

The character's reactions around Bruce are also talking about how he's not acting like himself. Especially Alfred's who speaks of Bruce's indecision, on whether to put a stop to or save Jason.

"It is curious. He is lost in thought. It is not like him to spend vast stretches of time immobile, where his mind is gripped in the solitary process of deduction. This is quite different. He is hesitating. At a loss for what to do. I believe it is about Jason. And whether or not to stop him or save him."

This is illustrated in two scenes later where Jason spends a long time simply watching when Jason is fighting enemies, first in a fight against Captain Nazi, and second Black Mask. Jason even gives a direct callout of that behavior.

Jason: What the hell took you so long? Couldn't decide if you wanted to let me live. Batman: Shut up and fight.

Observed by Alfred Bruce is completely stalling and can't choose, observed by Jason Bruce can't decide whether to let Jason live or not. Bruce hesitates twice. We know why. We see it in action. It's called out as flawed behavior.

Now let's cover all the tell that don't show that is Endeavor's many monologues.

Pro Hero Arc:

I have to safeguard the future for them. That's the job for whoever's on top. What about the lives I cut short? Just demanding forgiveness isn't enough, it's too late for that. At this point I need to atone there's no other route.

Hellish Todoroki Family 1:

I'm trying to make ammends going forward. It might be too late. but I fall asleep every night thinking about it. Lately it's been the same dream. The wife and the kids looking happy at the dinner table. But I'm never there with them. It might be too late but I fall asleep every night thinking about what I can do for my family. I wish you could be here too, Toya. It's always the same dream. My whole family's there but not me. If I really care how they feel [I'll remain here].

I'm not going to read 200 chapters so I'm just going to ballpark it based on memory. Here we go.

Dabi's Dance:

My eldest, Toya didn't harbor frost within him. He didn't have a way to overcome the inescapable downside of overheating but I nevertheless sought to raise the boy as a hero. [...] Because Toya had more potential than me I placed my ambitions on his shoulders. I thought it could be you. You could have been the one to reach my eternal goal. My frustration... My envy... The ugliness in my heart... you could have been the one to smash it all to dust.

Plot twist this is the only monologue I like. It's different from all the others, and it's the only one where Enji is being emotionally honest. He put the emotional burden of his own emotional insecurities on an eight year old child, and expected to live vicariously through him and when Toya failed to live up to those expectations he just abandoned him. It alligns what we have been shown so far, Enji is not acting like a reptentant man here who realizes the harm he's done to Toya and only thinks of Toya as an extension of himself and his own regrets.

The Fight Against AFO:

My mistakes took the form as Toya leading to many stolen futures. The past never dies. Rage, resentment and even penace wound together toward the future. And the future is a path for the young. A path with so many branching choices. That's why I must win this. [I'll keep paying my penance. I'll win today and keep my eyes on Toya.]

When Enji decides to double Suicide with Toya:

I take full responsibility. I swore to bear the burden and live my life atoning for it all. However, you've been watching me all this time. While I couldn't be there to watch you. You were someone I especially needed to do right by. No I can't let you meet your end alone, but I won't let anyone else get caught up in our tragedy.

Hellish Todoroki Family Final:

I came to talk about what's to come. I'm retiring as a hero. That was my initial plan even before the war started, but now I can't even walk on my own. The hero endeavor burned to death. Your flames were really stronger than mine. [...] You're right. You know everything about me, Toya. After all you were always watching me. And you wanted me to do the same for you, but I didn't. Not matter what anyone says your heat does come from my hellflame. From now on I'll come everyday, so let's talk. It's too late now, so let's talk. [...] You're free to hate me. Anything is fine really, so throw it all at me.

This one is spoken dialogue but it's still a four-page long monologue. Every one of Enji's monologues with one exceptionsays the same thing: I'm sorry, I'll spend the rest of my life atoning for my actions.

We're repeatedly told Enji is atoning but he acts like Batman. Then, his actions should be framed as Batman, not atoning but avoiding any responsibility.

As observed by Class1akids when we were discussing the update:

Everyone else faces an uphill struggle with their lives, but we should all feel sorry for Enji atoning and being in hell. I hate Hori's compulsion to over-write his abusers and over-explain their atonement. He does this with Bakugou too but with Enji it's more irritating. It was so much more enjoyable when he just wrote the thing but didn't point at them and say -> look, they are atoning. Aren't they soooo cool??

Enji's internal monologues and the other characters frame him as some sort of martyr, while on the other hand it's clear by both Batman's actions and Alfred's observations he's not acting like his usual self. In fact, this is an interpretation of Under the Red Hood that I love from the writers of the video game Arkham Knight that does a less tragic retelling of Under the Red Hood:

Batman doesn't fight victims. He saves them.

Therefore if Batman is fighting Jason, a victim, he's not acting like Batman. I'm also fine with Arkham Knight being an Under the Red Hood retelling because it's a different story. Comics do this all the time, different universe versions, popular storylines adapted into different mediums. It also works as a commentary on the original story, by showing what Batman could have done to lead to a more positive outcome it makes Batman's choices in Under the Red Hood worse and more tragic because he could have saved Jason, there was still a chance.

So here we have two flawed tragic heroes who are meant to be both pitied and condemned for their actions. One of them is all pity with no condemnation. The other is both pity and condemnation, Batman is grieving, but also he's failing his responsibility towards Jason. Therefore one protagonist works, the other fails utterly.

I'm not saying abusers don't deserve redemption. I'm not saying Enji should have died in order to atone. I'm not saying that the underlying problem with the arc is that they decided to make Enji sympathetic and a focus of the arc. The most important problem is the breaking of one of the fundamental rules of storytelling: Show, Don't Tell.

The Tragic Villain

Not only does The Hellish Todoroki Family plotline fail to make Enji a compelling protagonist, it also fails it's biggest victim. Now, these are both stories that end with the hero failing to save their victim. So if both of these stories have the same ending, why am I saying it failed Dabi, but not Jason?

Well, let me explain.

Dabi and Jason are both villains turned victims. The stories themselves are about this ambiguity. How much should the be held responsible for their own choices? If they are actively harming innocent people, then shouldn't they be stopped? Should they be automatically be forgiven just because of the pain and grief they've suffered, even if they've been causing it to others?

Both characters are also reflective of their fathers because they are too being selfish in their grief, they want their grief acknowledged and so are violently lashing out.

Jason and Dabi both make plays at being vigilantes at first, Dabi wants to inherit Stains will, and Jason Todd wants to be a better bat-man by taking control of the drug trade in Gotham and cutting crime down by executing gang heads. However, neither of them are being honest with this and it's shown through their actions, both of them abandon their original plans.

In the final showdown all Toya cares about is facing Enji on the battlefield, and when he's on the brink of death his mind erodes to the point where all he can do is scream for Enji's attention while his flames get hotter and hotter.

Let's take about Jason first and how his narrative treats him a whole lot better and more sympathetically, with more humanity than Batman. Jason is still held responsible for his choices, he is criticized by Bruce for murdering gang leaders and passing it off as justice. He's also blatantly shown to be a hypocrite. My favorite scene from Red Hood: Lost Days, the official UTRH prequel.

"I want to kill the joker in a cool way. Just sniping the Joker from a rooftop isn't dramatic enough for me."

This scene, and the final scene of UTRH underlines Jason isn't executing criminals because he believes it's the right thing to do, or because of his stated motivation that killing the joker would prevent more future victims.

Instead his every action is to set up a scenario where he makes a selfish demand of Bruce. He wants Bruce to prove to him that he would choose him over being a hero, by setting up his final scenario. Him, the Joker, and Batman. Jason will shoot the Joker. Bruce has a gun. He can either choose to let Jason kill the Joker, or kill Jason to stop him, either way it makes it clear what Bruce's priorities are.

The underlying reason for this is similiar to Bruce. Just like Bruce, Jason is deeply afraid that Batman doesn't love him. That he thinks of him as a failure. (This is Toya's main reason too).

He also interprets Bruce's failure to avenge him to mean that Bruce didn't even care enough to mourn him. If Bruce loved him enough, he'd choose him over the joker, but he's so afraid that Bruce doesn't love him enough that he's going to force Bruce to choose.

Along the way he's also going to behead several crimelords in order to put an exclamation point on that point.

The way Jason completely unravels in the confrontation shows this insecurity, he begins with monologueing about how batman should totally kill people, until his fear that he wasn't important enough, and his grief at losing his father is revealed.

Batman: I know I failed you, but I tried to save you. I'm trying to save you now. Jason: Is that what what you think this is about? Your letting me die. I don't know what clouds your judgement worse, your guilt or your antiquated sense of morality. Bruce, I forgive you for not saving me. Jason: But why on god's green earth is he still alive? Ignoring what he's done in the past. Blindly, stupidly disregarding the whole graveyards he's filled with people. The friend's he's killed. I thought killing me - that I'd be the last person you ever let him hurt. Jason: If it had been you that he beat to a bloody mess. If it had been you he left in agony. If he had taken you from this world. I would have done nothing but search the planet for this pathetic pile of evil, this death worshipping garbage, and sent him off to hell.

Direct statement, it's irresponsible of Bruce to let Joker live after killing Jason and should have put him down to prevent future victims. Reading between the lines, Batman not taking revenge for Jason is a sign that he didn't love him enough, Jason loves Batman more because he would have taken revenge.

As the confrontation continues and Jason's mental spiral worsens, to the point where he can't keep up his pretense of self-righteousness.

Jason: I'm not talking about killing cobblepot, or scarecrow, or riddled, or dent. Jason: I'm talking about him. Just him. And doing it because...he took me away from you.

The father had lost the son, and now the son had lost the father.

Jason's revenge is just a cover, for his grief at losing Bruce. I think this also shows a really positive aspect of Jason's character to humanize him instead of condemning him for his actions to ignore or even justify the suffering he endured: Jason really loves Bruce.

I mean how meaningful is the statement: "Bruce, I forgive you for not saving me."

Bruce has been afraid to hear the whole time that Jason hates him, that he won't forgive him, but Jason loves him deeply. In fact his love is almost equal to his rage because Jason is a deeply emotional person, and these little details make him human and not just like a plot obstacle that Bruce has to face. A metaphor for his past failures.

Dabi is drawn as a crying boy who wants comfort, Jason is shown to be a crying boy who wants comfort through both dialogue and action without us directly needing to be told. It's a heartbreaking line and doing it because he took me away from you and it lands perfectly because the narrative wants us to just look at Jason's grief. It doesn't add an asterisk* even though he was in pain, he's done unforgivable things that can't be justified to undercut Jason's suffering.

In fact that might be another underlying problem with The Hellish Todoroki Family, the narrative tries too hard to make you feel a certain way instead of just presenting things as they are to make you come to your own conclusion. UTRH doesn't support Jason's revenge based serial killing of villains. It doesn't say he's justified to cut off the heads of mobsters. However, it doesn't excessively state "Well, I'm really sorry what happened to you but what you've done can't be forgiven" so we don't have to challenge ourselves to feel too much empathy for Jason's suffering.

Meanwhile even when Toya tries to express his rightful anger and grief, we're always met with someone shutting him down and saying well yeah, but you're wrong, involving innocent people is unforgivable.

As said by @stillness-in-green in the replies to this post:

I think so much harm (in-universe, but the state of the Twitter fandom makes me think the messages are pretty toxic irl, too) comes out of portraying the Heroes as needing to weigh in on the *morality* of the Villains' actions before they gauge "saving" them, when that is not a thing that glorified cops have any business thinking they have the right to do. Demanding repentance before the rehab is so bizarre.

You can say someone's actions are wrong without using it as a factor to consider whether or not their suffering as a human being should be acknowledged, and like I said there's multiple instances of people just yelling at Toya how immoral he is instead of addressing the elephant in the room.

You're wrong, you're wrong, you're wrong, you're wrong.

(Okay, I understand that some people have interpreted this as a show of Honnae and Tatamae, the Todoroki's who are a very repressed household are finally talking about their feelings even if those feelings are selfish and ugly).

(I'm not criticizing Shoto for saying that the people he killed were his own choice necessarily, Shoto is a character who's actions need to be read more deeply than his words he was dedicated to bringing Dabi down without him burning himself any further start to finished. My criticism lies in the fact that Hori uses Shoto as a mouth piece because he thinks we need to be reminded that murder is bad).

However, even acknowledging that time and place man, time and place. They couldn't have done that in the aftermath, when Toya isn't burning to death?

Hey buddy, you're being selfish.

Toya: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I'M MELTING, I'M MELTING.

This is I feel the underlying problem with the way the arc is written, not because the Todorokis are a very traditional Japanese family and there are cultural reasons they express their emotions differently, I'll give a caveat to that it's a nuance I might not understand.

However, I am arguing the actual problem is tell don't show. Horikoshi thinks that we as an audience need to be told multiple times that murder is bad, and we cannot be trusted to interpret that on our own.

Under the Red Hood shows both sides of Batman and Jason's debate, and let's us just come to the conclusion that Jason is in the wrong because revenge isn't justice. Horikoshi reaches no shit sherlock levels of telling us that we're not supposed to approve of Dabi's murders.

it's also a matter of giving Dabi narrative space to express his feelings, like every time Dabi tries to talk he is continually shut down (Shoto does engage Dabi talk to him and listen to why he didn't come back though I'll give him that) and it seems to be to push forward this weird idea that you shouldn't sympathize with the pain Dabi has endured or the ways he's dehumanized unless he does something to prove he deserves to be treated like a human being first.

Jason gets to monologue and make an entire argument, and his argument also shows the depths of his love for Bruce and what a deeply feeling person he is, and how those feelings being hurt and twisted could logically lead to his lashing out.

Compare this to Dabi who doesn't get a final monologue, but is instead reduced to a completely mindless state where he just cries out for his dad's attention. He doesn't get to make his argument.

Jason and Dabi both choose to blow themselves up, but Jason gets enough character agency to show this is a deliberate choice he's making even if it's the wrong one. He retains his character agency and ability to make decisions until the end of the narrative.

Jason's also you know physically crying. The end result of the narrative is about wrong choices that both Bruce and Jason make together, and then suffer the consequences together. Bruce watches the same failure play out again and he isn't able to save Jason, Jason doesn't get what he wants, he doesn't get revenge and he doesn't get to reunite with his father. It's tragic for both of them, and brought about by decisions both of them made.

Whereas yes Dabi makes a lot of bad decisions leading up to the last war arc, but in the end his final fate is up to a choice Enji made to not face Toya in the final battle.

However, while the final consequence of the battle is brought about more by Enji's decisions than Toya's, it's Toya who endures all the suffering and punishment. It's Toya who is in an iron coffin, and doomed to slowly and agonizingly die with all of his skin burnt off unable to move. Toya doesn't even get agency after the arc is over. Enji still has a wheelchair, Enji can still move around, Enji's still fucking rich, he's not in prison for his actions, he as Rei wheeling him around.

Toya's agency and choices are all taken from him, presumably to serve the plot purpose of making Enji save him to finish off his arc, and then ENJI DOESN'T EVEN SAVE HIM.

Also I think it's important to mention, Bruce's tragic ending is brought about by him attempting to save both, trying to save the joker and Jason with the same action. Whereas Enji's tragic ending is brought about by Enji NOT LIFTING A FUCKING FINGER TO HELP. Yet, it's Dabi who has the lion's share of suffering, and is sentenced to this horrific state of being skinless in an iron coffin and only being able to be awake a few minutes a day with no choice but to waste away.

Bruce is also immediately called out for his actions, by the Joker of all people, you handled this all wrong, it's your fault. Bruce is right to not kill the joker, killing the Joker would not have solved any of Jason's problems, but the fact that he put off facing Jason for so long, and his inability to communicate that he loves Jason is what leads to Jason thinking that the only way to prove Bruce loves him is to force him to choose. It's because Bruce has utterly failed to show him in any other way that he is loved.

Joker: Oh my god, I love it! You manage to find a way to win, and everyone still loses. I'm going to be the one who gets what he wants tonight, badda bing, badda boom."

I'd also like to add that a lot of agency in Enji's actions are taken away too, to make him look more blameless. It's not Enji's fault that he didn't say anything to Dabi during Dabi's dance, he passed out because he had a punctured lung. It's not Enji's fault that he spent a month protecting Deku instead of searching for Toya, he had to protect innocent people. It's not Enji's fault that he didn't go immediately to face Toya in the final war arc Hawks told him not to.

It's not Enji's fault that he made Shoto and Toya fight like Pokemon instead of cleaning up his own mess, and also he feels really sorry for it and as soon as he's done punching the bad guy he'll look after Toya he promises.

Enji does get called out for this behavior but it falls flat because it only comes from the villain AFO, and Toya himself. As I stated above too, the ending is more influenced by Enji's actions not Toya's (because Toya's agency is stripped away until he's mindless) but Toya is the one who has to die while Enji gets to live and atone.

That is the real sticking point for The Hellish Todoroki Family, the way it ends.

Themes Are For Eight Graders

The underlying problem with the whole arc and why The Hellish Todoroki Family fails as a tragedy, is because it wasn't written to be a tragedy.

The above quote is from an interview with the writers of the widely hated Game of Thrones Season 8, which took a sudden tragic turn for Dany's character, gave her an incredibly dehumanizing ending of being put down like a rabid dog by her own lover, an ending that was neither foreshadowed nor did it match with anything written before.

In this meta here by @hamliet it goes far more into depth that Game of Thrones isn't a tragedy, but a piece of Romantic fiction (not a love story, Romanticism is a genre of big emotions, the beauty of life, larger than life ideas hence why it fits well with fantasy genre, it can be sad but it doesn't follow tragic structure).

Dany is a romantic heroine, a deconstruction of the idea of the classic warrior princess trope, and you know a colonizer, but she's not meant to be written as an inherently bad person. There are people who say that Dany was going to die in the original books. I'm one of those people. Me. However, context and framing matters, Dany for all her colonizing ways does genuinely want to do the right thing, so it's likely she'd die a heroic death as a reflection of her selfless intentions (and intentions do matter for fictional characters) whereas in the show she's put down as a villain.

Now watch me I'm going to coin a term for future literary critics to use: Narrative Gaslighting.

Narrative gaslighting is different then Show Don't Tell, where an author has just failed to properly show what they're trying to tell you in the story. Narrative Gaslighting is when a narrative deliberately tries to mislead you, straight up lies to you, or just insists things that did not happen totally happened guys. Much like real gaslighting, Narrative Gaslighting makes you feel stupid for interpreting things a certain way and insists you were wrong all along.

Narrative gaslighting is when Tyrian gives a speech that everyone should have suspected Dany when she burned slavers alive that she was secretly evil and would one day turn on them.

Like, no.

Dany is flawed because she is a foreigner, interfering with the politics of a different country that she does not understand in order to gain enough resources and men to return to her home country and invade that country to exercise her right as a Targeryn to uphold the divine right of kings.

Game of Thrones doesn't mention any of that shit that's in alignment with the previous actions in the story, it's just insisting the very ableist notion that Dany was insane all along and her violence towards other people is the result of her mental illness.

(Also before anyone says, so if she's a colonizer than how can she have good intentions, everyone is Bad in Game of Thrones, they're all waging war to vie for a throne, monarchy is bad guys. IDK how to tell you that Game of Thrones has gray on gray on gray on gray morality).

(Also this aside ties into the hangup of MHA and most popular fandom culture on Twitter, that Dany's moral failings somehow disqualify her from her humanity. In spite of the fact that on top of all of that she's a rape victim, and like, Dany's only on that continent in the first place because she was sold as a bride.)

But here's the same weird subtext that Horikoshi's writing of Dabi. The fact that Dabi was continually victimized and denied human dignity does not need to be addressed, because he did the bad things and didn't atone properly enough for it first.

In essence this random post on the gunnerkrigg court forums I found on the same day the chapter came out, displaying apollo's gift of prophecy.

"When someone is persecuted, it's important to inform everyone about their flaws. That way you don't have to feel anything about all the times that they were denied human dignity."

So, Dany is not written as a tragic hero but a romantic one, we as an audience are both meant to acknowledge her flaws and sympathize with her, not demonize her in an ableist way for being insane, and even if Dany is meant to die the tragic way she dies does not match up with all of the narrative foreshadowing that was built before that.

Like, for instance a lot of POC after the show ended kept telling everyone that Dany's actions in a foreign country were seriously problematic, and not only did the audience not listen but the showwiters didn't acknowledge it with the same subtlety as the books. So those people especially were able to pick up Dany's character flaws, and when the show finally acknowledged them it's not even in the way that critiques of the show were pointing out Dany's flaws it was just "she was insane all along." Not like taking time to go "no matter what the intention, interfering with the politics of a foreign country is wrong."

The problem with the Todoroki arc is essentially the same, down to the ableism (because outsiders continually call Dabi either a maniac or insane Demon without even giving credence to his grievances about hero society he's just reduced to an insane fringe element of society, and Dabi himself is reduced to a completely mindless, childish, insane screaming state where he can't make active decisions).

The Todoroki Arc is not set up to us as a tragic one. The ending is pretty clearly telegraphed to the whole audience. People are not wrong for thinking that Toya's ending would be either rehabilitation like Rei with the eventual hope of being welcomed home, or some kind of house arrest where he still gets to be with his family.

Everyone happy at the Dinner table and Enji not sitting with them.

"I wish you could be here, Toya."

"We all have to go stop, Toya."

"In that case, I'll make him sit down for a bowl with me."

Even Shoto's efforts to take down Toya non-lethally are rendered completely pointless, because Toya gets back up again and then burns himself alive (completely by his own choice so no one has to feel bad that they failed).

The story sets up the expectation that Toya is going to be brought home and sit down for a meal with his family. Then it makes you feel stupid for going in an entirely different direction. It was always going to end this way didn't you know The Todorokis are a tragedy?

Well, I just spent a very long section of this thesis statement illustrating that if it's supposed to be a tragedy, then it's still not written well.

It's a written as a romantic story of a family healing, and the villain getting saved, only for the villain not to be saved and the story to just keep on going like not getting saved isn't a huge failure. This is something that should permanently destroy the main characters, that they got the chance to repeat Sekoto peak and be there this time and they all utterly failed. I feel bad for Shoto most of all because he did everything right, and he still loses his brother, but does the story show that?

The problem is the story is blatantly lying to you about the fact that Toya was somehow saved, even though he LITERALLY LOOKS LIKE HELLRAISER. To quote Codenamesanzanka again:

But I feel the story couldn't give us that because it will remind the reader and everyone just how much Touya will be missing. In-story, talking any more will overburden Touya's heart - and how apt is that metaphor? So let's talk about how we'll talk, but that's all that's allowed here for this scene. Else we'll see how unfair it is that Touya has to be confined to this room, he isn't with his family and they have to come to this prison just to tell him about their day, and soon he will be gone. Details make it real, and it would've exposed the lie that Touya was saved in an actual way. The story knows it too - "this extra time Shouto gave us." This is all 'extra', and not the core. [...] If the story was sincere that this is a case of "it's simply too late" - as it should be!!! imo, to really drive in the clear point that they failed, they did not get the save they wanted, because that's the truth - the tone of the chapter isn't tragic enough for that. The tone is going for 'Making Peace With This'. We've skipped the stages of grief and all we have is acceptance. The characters have accepted this, and so must the readers as well.

Therefore it's narrative gaslighting, the story is making us doubt our perceptions and trying instead to manipulate us to feel a certain way. We don't have to question the unfairness of Toya's fate, because look at all the people he's hurt, and look how Enji is atoning and taking responsibility.

The story builds up the idea that Enji will choose Toya. That he will choose being a father over being a hero. Enji doesn't do that, and it's Toya who suffers the horrific, painful consequences while Enji gets off mostly scott free. Mind you it's also ableist to suggest that being in a wheelchair is some sort of life-ending consequence like he's fine. The story even goes out of its way to say how avoidable this ending could have been if Enji or Rei or someone lifted a single finger to give Toya the acknowledgement he wanted, and then gives it a "Too little, Too Late" conclusion but doesn't acknowledge that this is where it's ending and instead tells us that Enji has successfully atoned.

"Everyone's watching me. So this is what it's like. If it was such a simple thing, then why not sooner?"

If it was going to turn out this way Toya should have just died here, not because death would somehow be a mercy compared to life in prison, but because the Todoroki Family doesn't deserve to get to pat themselves on the back. If they let Sekoto Peak happen a second time, then they should have to deal with the consequences of that.

It would be consistent is my point. This is written as a "Too Little, Too Late" kind of ending, but we don't get the emotional response from the Todorokis that they've let Toya die a second time.

On the other hand, UTRH has the exact same tragic ending but it doesn't make me angry because it's honest about it. The Todorokis let Sekoto peak happen a second time. Batman let Death in the Family happen a second time, but look at how even the narration and comic panels of the story acknowledge it.

"Fate is a funny thing. It swells up like a raging current and we are forced to travel. It provides us no exit. No deviation. It drops us in a bottomless ocean and compels us. We either swim, or drown, and sometimes as we struggle against the tide, a great truth arises."

One ends with Enji meaninglessly stating that he'll spend the rest of his life atoning for Toya and watching over him (which I guess will be like two months tops) for the fifth time. The other ends with Batman being lectured by the Joker of all people of how he chose wrong and being forced to watch once again as a warehouse blows up, and he's completely helpless to save Jason.

UTRH ends with the message that Batman sucks, Enji's atonement arc ends with Natsuo calling him cool for atoning and UTRH makes me like Batman way more as a character. Whereas at this point I feel nothing from the Todoroki Family, except for a disgust for the way that Toya not only has to die, but has to die a slow, gruesome death while the rest of his family walks away with the small comfort of "oh at least we'll get to say what we need to say before Toya passes."

Especially with the fact that Toya's greatest fear was that when he died, he died meaninglessly because his family never grieved him and all moved on with their life. I guess we don't have to analyze how gross the underlying message that criminals don't deserve to be sympathized with because themes are for eighth graders.

EPILOGUE

The post is finished but apparently everyone expects me to cover every single possible angle even in posts this long.

You didn't address the cultural aspect. Under the Red Hood is a western story, and Todoroki Family is based on eastern concepts.

The post isn't about that. The post is long enough I can't cover every single topic. Here's someone who covered that topic thoroughly. This one discusses more about the nuances of collectivism.

Also, since the Todoroki Family obviously copied Under the Red Hood's homework, it warrants a comparison. Especially since it seems to critically misunderstand what made the original work.

Which is a valid form of Literary Criticism, as Ursula K Le Guinn once said:

 It doesn’t occur to the novice that a genre is a genre because it has a field and focus of its own; its appropriate and particular tools, rules, and techniques for handling the material; its traditions; and its experienced, appreciative readers—that it is, in fact, a literature. Ignoring all this, our novice is just about to reinvent the wheel, the space ship, the space alien, and the mad scientist, with cries of innocent wonder. The cries will not be echoed by the readers. Readers familiar with that genre have met the space ship, the alien, and the mad scientist before. They know more about them than the writer does.

The Todorkis aren't all to blame for Toya. Natsu, Fuyumi and Shoto are innocent:

You're right. It's just easier to refer them as the Todorokis then specifying "Enji and Rei" each time.

You didn't mention Shoto once in this post:

I have no cricism for Shoto's role in all this. In fact I think he's the best written part. I praise it here.

Shoto is a good boy, and he deserved to spend more time with his brother. The fact he won't be able to sit down and have dinner of him, is the greatest tragedy of them all.

[kyupidos]

updated 08/02/24: here is a part 2 to this analysis!

i think one of the most disturbing yet funny things about sebek antis is how they manage to twist a well written narration about internalized racism and the struggles of being a mixed person into something relating to “fascism”.

( btw there will be SLIGHTTT b7 spoilers in here but i personally think it’s whatever, no big difference to what we’ve known in the past nothing shocking. )

as his biggest fan AND as an ethnic person i feel as though you HAVE to be brain dead and/or white to not understand any of this. he doesn’t genuinely believe that humans are an inferior race, he has MULTIPLE instances praising human people ( riddle, epel ). and the evidence is in firstly, epel’s school uniform vignette where he praises his apple carving, saying it’s even nice enough to be used as a gift to malleus, and we KNOW how highly he regards him. and not once does he ever say anything like “for a human”, or insult him for “being human”, he appreciates his skill.

then there’s riddle’s ceremonial robes vignette, and while he does look down on him, it’s not really even about being human saying, “i would better be served by weight training than riding with a bunch of amateurs” ( in reference that here we see him initially join the equestrian club ). but once riddle proves his skill, sebek is more than willing to respect him highly.

( a small thing from the harveston event that i’ve been told of from a friend as well, he also holds high respect and love for marja. initially he wasn’t fond of her, but she gave him a squirrel plushie for the plush sled race. because of this he’s basically like, “she’s the only reason i got this far!!” and praises her. i haven’t played the event and this is what my friend says, but i figured to at least include this. )

the most insane part is you don’t even have to scour through every single moment he shows up on screen to know this, it even shows in his WIKI that one of his dislikes/pet peeves is “whining.” to be clear, while admittedly he does make patronizing remarks in regards to humans, it’s never enough to say he has a genuine hatred, and in fact he proves the opposite many times, in both epel and riddle’s case. and, in regards to the personality section, again referencing epel and riddle ( there may be other examples, they just happen to be the ones i found specifically ), he isn’t afraid to acknowledge and respect people for their talent or skills, even if they are human.

and if you’re wondering what i mean by it being ethnically related, fae are canonically ( say it with me now canonically, ) considered to be a minority race. being half human half fae is what makes him mixed, equally canonically so. as far as i’m concerned basically everyone in the fandom knows this but the complexity around this part of his character is just SO undermined that people are willing to call him “openly racist” ( to others, not his internalized racism ) and a FASCIST. are you serious?

we know already that sebek learned a lot of what he thinks now from his grandfather, ( sebek zigvolt wiki, trivia ) considering malleus and lilia commenting that his temper is a trait he gets from him ( scary monsters event story for malleus ), which of course is likely what garners his dislike towards his human aspect and his father for being human, even considering his father outputting, trailing off when noting he is human, while being prideful in his mother who is a fae ( birthday boy vignette ).

and what do we learn about his grandfather? he was in a war against humans, which makes it obvious enough how he would learn this internalized racism and why he would put down that part of his human identity. remember that fae age differently, this war wasn’t even that long ago for them. i think it’s a shame people seem to put so much love into diasomnia but not even recognize its lore that’s rooted so deep yet at the same time is right in front of our face.

but that’s all from me folks. willing to dive deeper into my sebek love and analysis if anyone wants it!

[silverskye13]

"So I'm about to say something really... Hmm... Weird," Joe said as he leaned against the building, arms crossed.

"Is that supposed to be news to me?" Cleo asked, rifling through her bag and pulling out two apples. She passed one to Joe, and he took it.

"If it were, I don't think we'd be friends."

"I figured."

"Anyway it's a little weirder than normal."

"I'll be the judge of that, I think."

Joe shrugged, took a bite of his apple and said, "So, one of the arguments against a benevolent God -- don't look at me like that I told you it was weird -- anyway, so, if God was so nice, would he have put a bomb in the Garden of Eden?"

Cleo blinked at Joe for a long moment.

"Sorry, I'll back up a little," Joe smiled apologetically. "How much do you know about human theology?"

"I've been human before Joe," Cleo glowered, pulling a knife from her pocket and cutting a small piece away from her apple. "That's just a really strong lead."

Joe shrugged. "Did you expect anything different?"

"No, it's just a little early for theology today."

"We can talk about something else, if you want."

A shout interrupted their conversation. Grian sprinted past, laughing maniacally and apologizing in the same breaths. Doc followed quickly after him, shouting curses and insults. Joe and Cleo both took contemplative bites of their apples and watched the two run.

"No, I want to see where this conversation is going," Cleo said finally, slicing another piece of her apple off.

"Okay, so, some people believe God is all-knowing, all-powerful, and also, all-benevolent," Joe continued, twisting his apple stem with every adjective. "But if He were all of those things, why would He make a bunch of curious humans, tell them they could touch everything except one specific big red button, and, knowing they would definitely press it, just sit back and watch?"

"I wasn't aware buttons and bombs existed at the same time as the Garden of Eden."

"One could argue the whole Soddom and Gammorah thing was bomb-like."

"That was definitely, definitely meteors, Joe."

"Also the bomb thing is an analogy, and you know it's an analogy."

"What are we analogy-ing?" Mumbo asked, flaring his elytra as he landed beside them.

Cleo pulled a third apple from her bag and passed it to him, "Pretty sure Joe is comparing you to God."

Mumbo took the apple, looking incredulous. He gave a laugh that was half nervous, half confused. "I-- well that's-- that's very flattering Joe. I didn't realize you thought so highly of me."

"You would think that," Cleo smirked, slicing off another piece of apple.

"What?"

"So the question stands," Joe continued as though neither of the interruptions took place. "If God is good, why did he put a big red button in the Garden of Eden?"

Mumbo opened his mouth, and then deciding he had no idea what this conversation was about, actually, he closed it again.

"Maybe God was feeling optimistic that day," Cleo offered. "Or maybe even gods need to screw around and find out sometimes. For instance, I know this apple is definitely going to rot in me later, but I'm also definitely still eating it."

"Fair point," Joe said, twisting off his apple stem and flicking it to the ground. "So maybe God can make mistakes, or He was curious, or there was something ineffable going on at the time. But if God did it twice," Joe gave Mumbo a sideways glance, "would that be screwed up or what?"

Mumbo opened his mouth again, closed it, opened it again.

"Mumbo a fly is going to buzz in there if you aren't careful," Cleo said.

"Okay, okay. I can see where -- okay. So, first off, I'm not God," Mumbo said, and then paused, because Scar was screaming and running past them now, followed shortly by Grian, who was followed shortly by Doc. Then he continued, "Also this isn't Eden."

"It's an analogy," Joe reminded him unhelpfully, smiling warmly.

"Also how was I supposed to know this would happen again?"

"That Grian would push a button, or that Grian would push a button specifically to mess with Doc?" Cleo asked innocently.

Mumbo opened and closed his mouth again eloquently.

"You've gotta admit, at this point it is starting to look intentional," Joe pointed out.

"What's starting to look intentional?" Jevin interrupted, landing amidst the group standing on the fringes of the shopping district. Cleo offered him another apple.

"A malevolent God," Joe answered.

"My button," Mumbo grumbled at the same time.

"The hubris of man," Cleo added, because it seemed relevant.

"I HAVE BEEN STANDING HERE FOR THIRTY-SIX HOURS GRIAN. THIRTY-SIX." Doc screamed, passing so close to the four onlookers in his chase, they could no longer talk over his yelling. "I WANT THAT CROWN IT BELONGS TO ME."

Grian slid across the grass, narrowly dodging Doc's thrown axe. He threw the gaudy purple crown he'd stolen to Scar, who sprinted off in another direction with it. Doc roared angrily, "I LET YOU TOO OFF EASY LAST TIME BUT NO MORE! I WILL RAIN TNT AND FIRE ON YOUR BASES! I WILL TEAR THEM APART BLOCK BY BLOCK I WILL--!"

"I'm sorry Doc!" Grian cackled, not sounding sorry at all, "It's just -- you're so fun to mess with!"

He and Scar spread their elytras and leaped into the sky, followed shortly by Doc, who was still shouting.

Jevin, Cleo and Joe all turned to look at Mumbo, who rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Okay so... Maybe it's possible, yes, I could have foreseen this happening," Mumbo said begrudgingly. "But I mean, it's not all that bad, is it?"

"We do have a lot of fun fighting wars," Jevin agreed, shoving his entire apple into his face. It hovered blue-tinted in his opaque slime for a moment before rapidly dissolving.

"You would, Jevin," Cleo smiled.

"Sleep with one eye open, Cleo," Jevin replied conversationally.

"Some of our best mini games came out of the Mycelium War," Joe observed, taking one more bite out of his apple.

Mumbo looked down at his apple contemplatively.

"So the question still stands," Cleo said, after a long pause had passed between them, "is Mumbo evil for inflicting The Button Game on us the first time, or the second time?"

Joe shrugged, "I think like all religion, the answer is subjective. Doc would argue yes. Grian would argue no."

"That wasn't a yes-or-no question," Jevin said.

"I would argue I'm still not God, so this is a terrible analogy, actually!" Mumbo shouted defensively, and then took a bite of his apple, closing the subject.

[sorcerersandskillusers]

Fyodor and the Devil: Analysis of Fyodor's motives and role in the narrative

Asagiri has stated that he based Fyodor not on Dostoyevsky the author but on a specific scene from one of his books The Brothers Karamazov where Ivan Karamazov confronts “the devil” in his room.

(It's a really good book, you should read it if you have time. Also. fun fact, Fyodor and the devil wear the same hat, “His soft fluffy white hat was out of keeping with the season.”)

Having read the book and gone over this scene, I realized that this could be used to find out a lot more about Fyodor as a character than we see in the story, including a potential glimpse at his real motivations.

A bit of context for the scene. Ivan Kramazov is a clever but deeply trouble man who has struggling with the concept of God and rationalising him with the cruelty of humanity, at one point while very sick, Ivan starts seeing a man in his room who claims to be “the devil”. Their conversation is a fascinating look at morality and why evil exists in the world, and if you look at it closely it reveals a lot about the role of a “villain” in a story.

This line from “the devil” is really interesting to me, and seems to explain a lot about Fyodor’s character, as well as align perfectly with how Asagiri has described Fyodor in interviews:

Before time was, by some decree which I could never make out, I

was predestined 'to deny' and yet I am genuinely good-hearted and not at all inclined to negation.

'No, you must go and deny, without denial there's no criticism and what would a journal be without a column of criticism?' 

Without criticism it would be nothing but one 'hosannah.' But nothing but hosannah is not enough for life, the hosannah must be tried in the crucible of doubt and so on, in the same style. But I don't meddle in that, I didn't  create it, I am not answerable for it. Well, they've chosen their scapegoat, they've made me write the column of criticism and so life was made possible.

Basically the devil is saying that he was created because without evil then good means nothing, if everything was perfect then nothing would happen or change, life couldn’t exist, so he was forced to be that evil even though he never wanted to be.

This is so similar to how Fyodor is described in the BSD exposition 2020:

Fyodor is the antagonist, he is the villain of the story, that is the role he plays. This explains why he chooses to commit so many atrocities in the name of  “following God's plan”. It even connects to his line in The Dead Apple, and his ability name. He is both crime and punishment, as “crime” or sin originates with the devil, but it's also the devil who punishes sinners.

(I mean the title of the episode he is introduced in is literally “My Ill Deeds Are the Work of God” by committing evil acts he is fulfilling God's purpose for him.)

And if Fyodor is really based on “the devil” it's very likely he also either does or used to wish for release from this role that was assigned to him, but he knows that he cannot stray from his path or the story will cease to exist. My evidence for Fyodor wanting to be free of his mission is just one interaction, when he kills Karma.

Look at Fyodor's expression here, this is the only time in the entire series where we see him look truly sad. This isn't an act, there is no one there for him to trick, he simply says a quiet prayer for the life of a boy who's only purpose was to suffer and die.

This next part of “the devils” speech actually seems to fit very well for Dazai, it's interesting since he is the narrative foil to Fyodor and clearly is a very similar character.

We understand that comedy; I, for instance, simply ask for annihilation. No, live, I am told, for there'd be nothing without you.

If everything in the universe were sensible, nothing would happen. There would be no events without you, and there must be events. So against the grain I serve to produce events and do what's irrational because I am commanded to.

For all their indisputable intelligence,men take this farce as something serious, and that is their tragedy. They suffer, of course... but then they live, they live a real life, not a fantastic one, for suffering is life. Without suffering what would be the pleasure of it? It would be transformed into an endless church service; it would be holy, but tedious. But what about me? I suffer, but still, I don't live. I am x in an indeterminate equation. I am a sort of phantom in life who has lost all beginning and end, and who has even forgotten his own name. 

This ties perfectly into Dazai and Fyodor’s debate on the nature of God in the sky casino arc.

Dazai here points out that it's not perfection and harmony that make the world move, it's the irrational, it's the foolishness and stupidity of humans who charges into life making a million mistakes but always finding ways to fight on through it. Here Dazai and Fyodor represent the conflicting sides of “the devil” with Fyodor embodying his mission to drive the world and Dazai embodying his secret love for, and wish to join, humanity.

“I love men genuinely, I've been greatly calumniated! Here when I stay withyou from time to time, my life gains a kind of reality and that's what I like most of all. Yousee, like you, I suffer from the fantastic and so I love the realism of earth. Here, with you, everything is circumscribed, here all is formulated and geometrical, while we have nothing but indeterminate equations! I wander about here dreaming. I like dreaming. Besides, on earth I become superstitious. Please don't laugh, that's just what I like, to become superstitious. I adopt all your habits here: I've grown fond of going to the public baths, would you believe it?

And I go and steam myself with merchants and priests. What I dream of is becoming incarnate once for all and irrevocably in the form of some merchant's wife weighing eighteen stone, and of believing all she believes. My ideal is to go to church and offer a candle in simple-hearted faith, upon my word it is. Then there would be an end to my sufferings.”

“"Why not, if I sometimes put on fleshly form? I put on fleshly form and I take the consequences. Satan sum et nihil humanum a me alienum puto."*

* I am Satan, and deem nothing human alien to me.”

This piece from the devil feels like it could be a description of Dazai’s character, his wish above all else to find happiness and love as a human despite believing he is a demon. Both Dazai and Fyodor have strong ties to the Devil, both of them are often described as demonic or inhuman, with emphasis placed on the darkness of their souls and the isolation they feel due to their minds.

But the difference between them is how they dealt with it, Fyodor chose to embrace it and fully commit to his role in the story as the ultimate evil for the greater good, but Dazai has always shown a fasciation with humans and has spent his life trying to connect to them and find meaning in his existence.

Finally, let's look at what we can learn about Fyodor’s motivation. Fyodor is the villain, he is the final obstacle the protagonist has to overcome, he is the driving force behind so much of Atsushi’s life and the reason so much of the series has played out at all. He sent Shibusawa to torture Atsushi as a child, he was an informant to the guild who put the bounty on Atsushi making the mafia turn on him, he was involved in the guild invasion, and obviously he was the master mind behind cannibalism and Decay of Angles.

If he is aware of his position as the antagonist, then he also is probably aware Atsushi is the protagonist, he knew he was the “envy of all ability users” after all, so he knows Atsushi has some significance to the world as a whole.

Atsushi is also the “guide to the book” which is seemingly Fyodor’s end goal, so even though Fyodor doesn’t seem to be focused on Atsushi, he has been indirectly influencing his whole journey up to this point. This also explains why Fyodor is only moving actively now, because the protagonist has appeared and his role as the villain can finally be fulfilled and he, like “the devil” can finally get the “annihilation” he asked for. Hence, Fyodor’s true goal is to erase himself from the narrative.

There is actually quite a lot of evidence for this. The obvious part is that Fyodor wants to rid the world of ability users while he himself is an ability user, he cannot exist in his perfect world. 

Then there’s the fact that in the Dead Apple, Fyodor calls himself “crime” if Fyodor is “crime” or “sin” then a world free of sin would not contain him at all

Even when Fyodor talks about sin, he says how humans are easily manipulated into killing each other, while he constantly manipulates characters into killing each other, he is the cause of the sin he fights.

A really strong bit of evidence is this interview with Asagiri and Harukawa

Not only does Asagiri reiterate Fyodors role as the person who moves the story, Harukawa specifically mentions that Fyodor might be trying to create a world without ability users because he thought it was a “bad thing to do” aka the action a villain would take that would lead to a hero stopping them.

“Dos-san is the biggest villain in the story so far, but I have continued to draw him with spaced out eyes that are neither righteous nor evil for a long time. The only time I drew his eyes completely white was when he said he would create a world without skill users. It was because, in reality, we would decide what is evil or not by our own scales, but I wasn't sure if he himself was doing it because he thought that was a bad thing to do.”

This also connects to how Fyodor was able to understand Gogol when no one else could, Gogol is chooses to fight against the way the world is to prove to himself that he truly is free. Fyodor, who is bound to play a part in a narrative, would understand that feeling and that longing to be truly free.

To be clear, I don’t think that Fyodor is really a good person whose just been trapped in an awful position against his will, we see many times that Fyodor revels in his cruelty and enjoys killing and torturing others. Its the same with “the devil” in the book, although he hates the job he was given, he tells Ivan stories of the people he’s corrupted and seems very proud of himself for it.

My personal interpretation is that the sadistic zelot personality Fyodor displays is a mixture of a mask and a coping mechanism, kind of similar to Yosano developing a sadistic side to help her deal with the guilt of half killing people in order to heal them. I think it makes sense that after centuries of cruelty and manipulation a person would become detached and stop really caring about the lives he destroys.

This analysis is partially unfinshed but I wanted to post it now and see what other people think of it.

[disastermanagement]

EVERYBODY LOVES SHADOW!!!

THE COMPLETE COMIC!

i said i was gonna put them all into one post once it was finished!

the idea came from this bumblekast episode!

i followed it as closely as i could while adding my own stuff (cus i make comics for a living--i can't NOT make it into a cohesive story!) and keeping the original ending bcus it was funny to me.

answering a few questions i got while this was being posted. >>

"how was metal sonic and the egg pawns affected?"

it was a spray/gas that could affect anything sentient by seeping into skin/metal/whatever. as long as it's something that was designed to be affected (so not grass, trees, water... unless it's a sentient person made of those things. like a tree or water monster for example).

an AI like nicole for instance would be affected physical or in a computer.

(i dont personally believe the egg pawns are as mindless as a pawn could be. they've shown sentience is being perceptive to attacks and threats. THAT'S JUST A HEADCANON THO. i incorporated it anyway cus i thought it was funny even if it probably doesn't make sense to anyone else).

it being scentless is an eggman specific design. if you could smell an unfamiliar scent on yourself (given you can smell at all), you'd wonder what it was.

shadow initially thought the spray was some diversion tactic to keep him from getting too close to eggman. since it was just one of his bases and he wasn't found there, shadow had left in search of where eggman could really be when he runs into amy and there the story starts.

"did sonic ever tell shadow about what was really going on?"

probably not as shadow yeeted himself into space before sonic could get the chance. i'm sure he found him eventually and told him the truth. shadow is gonna avoid that blue payaso for a while after that.

"i don't get the ending :("

watch the podcast! there are timestamps in the top comment, but i'll explain anyway. shadow felt the whole world had gone whack, so his only safe haven was going back into stasis deep in space. he looks so happy :)

[raitonsfw]

Hello thank you so much you are the first person to answer my request and I just lovedddddd it .

Another request with gojo where they are married for like 2 months and things are kind of stiff cause it is arranged marriage but then one day he sees that a group are guys ate harassing his wife everyday as she takes the train . He asked her why she did not tell him about it and all and she says cause she thought he might even listen and stuff and things get spicy and it's his wife's first ever relationship.

I know this is big if you don't like it ignore it .

Thank you

𝚠𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚍 | 𝚐𝚘𝚓𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚞

synopsis: Gojo wasn’t the best husband and you weren’t the best wife, the discomfort of the arranged marriage taking a toll on the both of you. Two months in and he hasn’t even held your hand, let alone made a move on you– something you so desperately craved. It wasn’t until he saw two men shove you against the wall on the train that his natural husband instincts kicked in, the men dangling by their collars over the speeding blurry tracks. All he wanted to do now was protect you, shield you from the cruel world with a blindfold of your own, and maybe dry your tears with the comfort of his dick.

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fem!reader, virgin!reader, wife!reader, husband!gojo, arranged marriage, clan mentions, cursing (a lot of it oops), angst, yearning, emotions (a lot of emotions), crying, hurt/comfort, insecurity (marriage wise), gojo basically ignores reader for the first two months (not for reasons you think though), quiet arguments, first time, cunnilingus, blowjob, cum swallowing, fingering, p in v intercourse, dirty talk, he’s rough in the beginning cuz he’s selfish, creampie, aftercare, slight mention of future children (just a sentence or two), petnames (sweetheart, honey, baby).

trigger warnings: harassment; reader is cornered constantly by two men on a train. some instances of harassment include yanking the readers arm to get their attention, reader getting burned by a cigarette after trying to fight back, & reader being pushed up against the wall with ill intent.

a/n: imagine him in (this) cuz holy shit, i love this outfit on him. i got extremely carried away IM SO SORRY. haha also gojo says something incredibly corny during sexy time and i was going to change it but it made me laugh too hard just imagining him saying it so i kept it. i don’t think ive ever written this much in one sitting in my entire life. wc: 8k. m.list

divider credit: @benkeibear

Two months. 

Two months you’ve endured this situation, your body basically as stiff as a board as you shared a bed with one of the most respected clan members in Tokyo. Ever since you said yes to that question, that damned question you thought you never would’ve heard in this standing– ‘Do you take Gojo Satoru to be your lawfully wedded husband?’ Your whole world fell apart. After all, it was an arranged marriage and you did not know this man in the slightest. All you knew was his power, told to you by your clan specifically and what he had accomplished over the span of twenty-something years. 

It wasn’t meant to be like this, the distance that scraped the surface of your marriage. Gojo should’ve warmed up to you by now, as well as vice versa, but there was still a wall built between the two of you. 

You didn’t really know the aspects of a relationship either as you’ve never been allowed to date due to the conditions of your clan; that you were to marry someone from the Gojo clan when you turned twenty-one. Unfortunately, you didn’t have many options as Satoru had been the last one standing by the grace of his inherited traits. 

Because of your ignorance, you couldn’t quite gauge if this type of distance was a normality within marriage. Were you to just stick by him through thick and thin when he hasn’t even so much as kissed you since your last shared moment at the wedding venue?

Was this really marriage? Or were you just a placeholder for the potential of your clan, an offspring bearing Satoru’s inviolable power?

Sneaking out of the bed carefully, you tiptoed downstairs of the shared loft and sat against the sofa with your knees tucked into your chest. You contemplated turning on the television for some white noise but you didn’t want to wake Gojo up, in fear he might yell although he’s never done that. You deduced that he wasn’t a tyrant, the speculation blending in on days where he’d come home tired but he would still have a gentleness laced within his voice as he whispered a quiet ‘hello, how was your day?’ to you.

Gentle yet not an ounce of intimacy had ever shone through, his body nearly melting into a warm bath everytime he moved past you after formalities. He would barely speak to you for the rest of the evening as he went about his routine. You thought maybe his missions just took up his entire mind, it was his success story after all; his life had been blasted throughout Japan due to his aspects. But then you’d noticed his time away from home with his friends, karaoke bars dredging up on his bank statements. 

Which brought you to think maybe he was an alcoholic and he couldn’t you know… get it up. 

It was fairly common for alcoholics to become inept in sex, so you couldn’t quite put it past him if that were the case. But then again, you’ve never seen him drunk. It was entirely possible that he could’ve sobered up by the time he arrived home. He never smelled of alcohol though, normally it would seep out of someone’s pores whether or not they had showered the pungent smell down the drain. But as he slipped into bed with the covers huddled against him after a night out, he’d smell of the shampoo you two shared with a fragrance of lilac surrounding the bedsheets. 

Your phone slipped from your hand with a loud thud and you flinched, cursing at yourself inwardly as you swiped down to pick it up. You prayed you didn’t wake Gojo up, as he had a long mission in the morning. But it was too late as you heard him rustle his way out of the sheets, a disgruntled yawn escaping him as he put on his slippers. The bedroom was open space within the loft, separated by a thin glass railing that someone could easily lean over which is exactly what he did. 

Gojo peered down at you, his tired eyes still filled with sleep. You could still see the radiance of them even from below, the piercing brightness that you swear you’ll never get used to. “Y/N? You’re not in bed.”

“I’m sorry Gojo, I didn’t mean to be so lou-” You started clumsily, fiddling with the stupid phone in your hands but he interrupted you quietly. 

“Satoru. Call me Satoru.” He reminded you with that same tenderness from before, that gentleness you couldn’t quite get past and your cheeks flushed red. “It's cold down there, isn’t it? Must be freezing.” 

Gojo padded down the stairs and you stood up as he draped a thin blanket onto your shoulders, shielding your body from the icy air that the winter had brought into the house. He headed for the restroom, his slippers shuffling against the hardwood floor and you made a note to buy yourself a pair; the fuzzy socks on your feet didn’t do you justice for the wretchedness of the season. You stared at the caved in reflection of yourself from the windowed wall, the trees dancing in the wind with their roots tucked safely underground. 

There was a river on this side of the house as well, the water edging up against the stones that had been laid out carefully to create a small pond for koi fish. A bridge elapsed over it and sometimes you sat against it, your feet dangling as you fed the fish while waiting for Gojo to return home. It was a funny feeling to have so much of his wealth staring back at you all of a sudden. 

“You still up?” Gojo asked, a bit puzzled as he stood against the light from the restroom. It veiled out into the living room and you were met with his silhouette crowding the doorway. He had his arm up against the doorframe and his eyebrows raised slightly as he stared at you. His shirt was hanging loosely off his body and some of the light illuminated his waist, the curves that travel down to his– 

He shut the light off and you couldn’t see him anymore except for the tufts of white hair sticking out like a sore thumb in the darkness. Moving towards the stairs, you ascended them as he managed to catch up to you. You didn’t notice the way he held out his hand, hovering over the small of your back to ensure you didn't stumble back. And even if you did, he’d be sure to catch you without so much as a thought whether he’d fall down the stairs with you. And if you both did manage to fall, a laugh would probably erupt out of him as you both sat there in bewildered pain.

Crawling into your side of the bed, you felt the cold rush of the sheets lying amidst the tangle of your limbs. You laid down with a quiet sigh, the moon thick amongst the clouds and you stared at it for a while. The other side of the bed creaked underneath his weight and you felt his body brush up against yours as he pulled the shared blanket over himself. You wanted nothing more than his arm to wrap around your waist, to pull you close and flush against him and you pouted when he turned his back to you. 

Gojo had fallen asleep the second his head hit the pillow and that meant he wouldn’t bother you for the rest of the night. Though, you kinda wished he did want to bother you. 

The morning came with the sunrise shielding your eyes as you awoke, the man next to you long gone and off to work. The first thing on your mind was breakfast, a delightful hope that maybe something could be made in the kitchen. But as you headed downstairs, the cabinets looked bare as well as the fridge with no intentions on filling themselves. A shopping trip apparently was needed today and you sighed heavily as you got yourself ready for the day. 

The train wasn’t very full, the morning commute having passed a few hours prior but you still had to stand near the edge of the sliding doors. Everything went to your liking at the grocery store, you had picked out a bunch of fruits, vegetables, and of course a few sweets for Gojo because you noticed the macaroons he had brought home one day, half eaten on his kitchen counter. You had watched him from the comfort of the bed, munching on them while scrolling through his phone, single-handedly eating the rest of the box in one sitting with a happy hum. That’s when you realized his sweet tooth, the bulk of it surviving off of straight sugared pastries.

As you headed towards the station, you had a nagging feeling there were eyes on you. A familiar sense surrounded you and you wondered why it felt like that; you pushed it out of your mind though. It was most likely someone checking out your attire, the adorned outfit clinging to your skin. It had enough detail pointing towards your midriff and your thighs encased in thin stockings, maybe someone had just been attentive today and wanted to ogle at you. It wasn’t like you could stop them. 

The train back was much more packed at noon and you had been squeezed into a corner, next to two guys that looked to be middle aged with cigarettes between their fingertips. This was an issue in your eyes, as you realized they were the same guys that had been harassing you before whenever you took the train home. You had ignored it the first few times, the music you had blasting in your ears enough for them to turn their heel but the past few days as you stepped out of the house to do your errands, it became much more demeaning. 

The first time it was a subtle nudge with their foot against yours, kicking it lightly to get you to pay attention to them. The next time it an arm grab as you hopped off the train, your feet just barely grazing the ground as you hauled yourself out past the doors. And now, you didn’t know what they would try this time as you failed to bring earbuds with you. It seemed as if the world didn’t care what happened to you when you left Gojo’s hell of a palace, the bypasser’s backs turned against your favor. The skirt you wore came past your midthigh and you clenched your hold on the pole a little tighter, shuffling some of your bags against your forearms wearily.

“Heading to the same place, doll?” One of them piped up, a sleazy smile lazed on his lips. You tried to ignore him, but he certainly noticed your lack of music and he got up from his seat in front of you. You tried to move backwards a bit, but there really wasn’t any space to do so.

“Yeah, we can escort you there this time. Seems to me you got a lot of bags.” The other one said as he also stood in front of you and you looked around the train, factoring in the exits and the fastest way to push through people. You also noted that almost everyone else was minding their own business, fucking assholes with their headphones and haughty misplaced morals.

As you decided whether or not to stand your ground, you noticed a tall figure in the back of the train car making their way forward with unhurried ease. Maybe you could ask them for help, whoever they were. Or maybe they were in cahoots with these men who had been harassing you, readying their attack from afar.

“Can you please leave me alone?” You asked firmly, trying to move away again from where they towered above you. You really weren’t liking your odds this time and a wave of fear rushed over you as one of them yanked some of your bags away, discarding them on the seat behind them.

“C’mon, looks like you need help today–” The first guy started, grabbing the groceries from your other arm and you pulled them back toward you harshly. The second guy had sat back into his seat, aiming to finish his cigarette instead of bothering you. The first guy kept a steady hand on you though, a bruised grip on you and it started to hurt; a dull throb had begun to overtake your arm.

“Please stop.” You pleaded, swinging the bag into him hard as he tried to deliberately yank it away again. Some of the items fell out of the bag and another hand on your arm gripped you harshly, pulling you down towards the man sitting. 

“Quit being so stubborn. You’re boyfriend’s not here to help you, huh?” The second guy cooed, holding you in place as the first guy went through the groceries on the floor. He huddled some into his jacket, unaware of his surroundings for a second and you used that to your advantage. Hitching your leg up, you kicked him directly in the abdomen and he doubled over in pain, the groceries falling from his pockets.

“You little bitch–!” The second guy sneered at you as he dug his lit cigarette into your skin and you yelped in pain, dropping all of your bags now onto the floor. You tried to wrench your arm away from the searing burn, but you couldn’t. His grip was too strong on you and you vaguely felt your back slam into the wall behind you, pain filling every crevice of your body. It was such a quick interaction, your thighs trembled underneath you as the man pushed up against you to keep you in place. Pure dread raced through you as you squeezed your eyes shut with a scream readying in your throat until you felt the weight off your chest and loud yells were flooding through your ears, the cigarette falling onto the floor.

More like terrified screams, a rush of wind had opened up in the train and your eyes peeked open cautiously. They first fixed on the wide open doors of the moving train, the lights speeding through the instances of train signs and the accompanied men hanging over the edge by their shirt collars. Then you registered the white haired man who was dangling said men with two strong hands, threatening to throw them out onto the electrified tracks beneath them. Begs and pleads came whirling out of both of the men’s mouths and you were sure one of them had started crying, sobs frantically overtaking him like a pussy.

“Satoru!” You cried out and his head whipped towards you, worry flooding his face as he saw you collapse with shaky footing onto the seat. Reluctantly, he pulled the men back into the train and slammed them against the door as he shut it. 

“Don’t fucking touch her again.” Gojo threatened, the edge in his voice not faltering and both of the men nodded scarily quick. “In fact, you don’t need to take this train anymore. Looks like another route opened up on your commute, huh?”

Gojo put his hands in his pockets and gave the men a hard kick to the stomach before moving over towards you. One of the other things you noticed was that he wasn’t in his uniform, his figure filled in a solid black sleeved tee and khakis instead. He crouched in front of you and immediately took off his usual sunglasses, studying your face to make sure you were okay. The whirling blue stared at you with growing panic as you shied away from him, terrified that they were going to see through your every sense. “Let me see.” 

Gojo’s hands immediately cupped your face as you froze, checking for any abrasions and then moved downwards to your arms and he stroked over the cigarette mark gently with his fingers. You winced at the pain that blossomed at the peak of the burn and he instantly pulled his hand away, his mind running a million miles a minute as he frowned at the singed area. Suddenly Gojo pulled a smile, a toothy grin that made you utterly confused.

“I have a first aid kit stashed somewhere in our house, so you’ll be fine!” He said reassuringly, a lighthearted tone edging his demeanor. What was with him? Normally he was quiet around you and his bearings kept punctuation in calmness. You’ve never seen this side of him and you faintly wondered if this was how he acted in public. Maybe when he was home, it was a different atmosphere and he was allowed to let his guard down.

Home, our house? His words cut through you like a knife. While he tended to the groceries on the floor and placed them into the bags again, you couldn’t help but tense up even more. It didn’t feel like your home, your shared life– 

Gojo’s voice fell a few octaves, the cheery upkeep of his personality disappearing as he became serious. “Was this the first time they harassed you?” 

“N-No.” You managed to say, sitting up fully on the train. Your head pounded and you moved to pick up some of the groceries as they rattled against the train’s floor. The sweet you had bought for Gojo sat near his foot and you noticed some of the pastries had been swished as you picked up the package. You let out a quiet noise of discontent, his eyes shot up towards yours with uneasiness and he noticed the sweets in your hand. 

“Y/N, why didn’t you tell me they were bothering you?” He murmured, carefully taking the sweets from your hand and placing them in the bag as he glanced at the words on the package. Realizing they were for him as you don’t eat those types of pastries often, his heart warmed in his chest. Gojo tried his best to hide the smile that was trying to flourish on his face, it wasn’t the time to get sappy about sweets you bought him. “I could’ve skipped some of my missions, sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart. A pet name. You didn’t think it was possible for him to utter such fondness, the affection sounding like it danced on a pile of fluffy clouds above your head. It made you lightheaded, or at least you thought it did; certainly not from the hellish confrontation you just had. 

“I didn’t think you’d believe me.” 

“Why wouldn’t I? I would’ve gladly joined you on your escapades if you told me.” Gojo teased with a gentle tone and you frowned at him. He was still crouched in front of you, his black long sleeve nearly slipping off the sides of his shoulders as he leaned forward to accommodate some space on the train as more people filed in. The ends of his elbows rested on one of your thighs as you crossed your ankles together in between his feet, recollecting yourself fully.

“You barely pay attention to me now, why would you go out of your way to come with me during my errands?” You avoided his eyes this time, not wanting to feel fooled into explaining anything more than that. But when the silence grew heavy after a few seconds, you glanced over to find out why he hadn’t spoken. 

His face had fallen flat and his eyes weren’t shining anymore, much to your relief. But as much as it relieved you it also made you incredibly upset, a knot thickening in your throat as you watched the dulled turquoise glass over.

“That’s not…” 

“It’s true! You never pay attention to me. You’re either out with friends at a karaoke bar probably drinking away the day or you’re exorcising some curse late in the night. Gojo, I don’t think you–” 

“Satoru. I don’t drink by the way.” He corrected you, silent annoyance filling his voice but it fizzled out as he tried his best to remain calm. In truth, he was falling apart on the inside. He never knew, never realized that he had been so distant from you and that you were hurting because of it. He only wanted to give you space the first few months to let you get used to his routine and to help you find your own. As Gojo thought of that reason, it seemed incredibly selfish of him and his chest tightened up with regret.

Pushing the feeling down, he laughed mildly with a hint of sorrow. “My mission was called off. I was on my way home, no curses to exorcise today.”

“Satoru…” Repeating his name, you said it with so much sadness that his heart almost broke in two. “Even when you come home early, you spend the rest of the evening without me. And your bank statements–” 

“From me buying the rounds for everyone, that’s not the issue right now.” He confessed truthfully; he would buy the whole bar for his friends who have seen hell and back with him, but he didn’t dare to drink a drop as it disoriented him too much. “I don’t have anything to do this evening so we can spend it together, sweeth–”

The next words you spoke were barely above a whisper as you gritted your teeth to stop yourself from outright sobbing them. “You haven’t so much as kissed me since the wedding. Why would you want to spend time with me?” 

Tears welled up in your eyes and he quickly wiped them away with the tips of his thumbs, the long awaited gesture making sobs wrack your body; of course he was drying the tears that he made you cry. “I don’t think we should’ve gotten married.” 

The train had halted, a loud announcement blaring that it was the end of the line. It was your stop, the doors opening up with the wind blowing through the train again and you tried to stand before Gojo softly blocked your way. You couldn’t look at him. “Y/N, you don’t mean that–”

“I just want to go home. I’m miserable, -toru.” 

“Of course, let’s go.” Gojo stood up with his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses once more, hauling the grocery bags onto his forearms and offering a hand out to you. “I’ll make dinner tonight.”

That’s not what you meant.

When you got to the house, stagnant air filled the house with tension filling in the empty corners. Gojo had become near silent, putting away the groceries with his lips pressed in a thin line and you thought you made him mad. 

In reality, he was on the verge of tears because he didn’t know how to make anything up to you. It was entirely his fault, the distance that forced you two apart. He was too focused on his missions to give a damn about how you felt, your feelings were rendered useless in his eyes. He was so used to arranged marriages in his clan that he never expected you to be so fragile, the frailness of a new life seeming to shock you. 

And so he gave you space. He thought it was something you wanted– something you needed after being forced to live with a big shot jujutsu sorcerer from Tokyo. He knew his life was drastically different from yours, you had stability from living peacefully with your clan. You were promised fortune and happiness and future children you could call your own, something you must’ve dreamed of. Gojo had nothing, his missions keeping him afloat as he danced in the midst of the curses who tried to test him; not to mention the wickedness of other clans threatening to clash with him.

All he really wanted was someone close enough to him that he could let his guard down without a second thought; his technique fading away and being replaced by your hands on him, tearing away at the fabric that made him whole. He’s never felt like this before, the constant emotions flaring up his every sense and he nearly wiped out when he first saw you on the sidewalk, carrying the precious groceries to the train station. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, the readying sensation of wanting to be the one who carried your bags and alleviate your stress, he’d likely let you step all over him like a doormat if it meant he could get close to you.

But he just couldn’t.

“I’m going to see my clan leader tomorrow.” You expressed, seating yourself at the island in the kitchen. You had just showered, the muck of the men’s hand from earlier flooding down the drain and you sighed in relief as you felt more like yourself again. Gojo had swapped his sunglasses for his blindfold, his hair sticking straight up in light of the band wedging his bangs off of his forehead. He was still in the same attire though, the dusked sleeves rolled up messily against his arms as he meticulously cut vegetables for dinner. When he registered your words, the knife in his hand faltered.

“Would they even let you come back?” Gojo sulked, mixing the sliced veggies with the accompanying sauce that sat on the stove. “Clans are very unforgiving, you know. I don’t think you’d survive if you went home.”

“I don’t know.” You really didn’t, all they taught you was to be praising of the Gojo clan member you marry; your whole life had been to practically worship him on your hands and knees. Not that you’ve done that– the hands and knees part would’ve been nice though in practice.

“We don’t have to talk about this now.” Gojo turned towards you, leaning over the island with a spoon in his hand. “Here, taste this for me.”

A blend of spices hit your tongue as you savored the sauce from the dip of the spoon, looking up at him as you did so. You could feel the cursed energy flowing from him and it made you waver slightly as you made to say that he was a good cook. As he moved back into front of the stove, you swore you saw a small blush creep up his cheeks.

A bit of silence followed and you decided to help out with dinner, picking out some other ingredients for him to use. As you opened the refrigerator to scour the shelves, Gojo cleared his throat as he peeled the outside of an onion. “What do you expect from a husband?” 

Your head peeked over the fridge towards him in utter shock. You thought you weren’t going to talk about pointless intentions, your mind having been set on leaving. “What?”

“Huh, I gotta repeat myself?” 

“No, I heard you. Let me think for a second.” 

The first thing that popped into your mind was intimacy. A husband should provide a sense of intimacy that no one but him should give you; the very essence of a human relationship. This didn’t have to include sexual relations, but in your case you wanted it to. It would be nice if he held your hand during outings and offered sentimental gestures like flowers and a hushed compliment every now and then. But the feeling you really craved was his hands against your thighs, digging into your flesh as his mouth hovered over every place it could reach with a pointed tongue and his eyes boring up towards yours, a smirk prominent on his lips as you quivered under his touch.

Dejection sat heavy in your heart just then, reminding you that he hasn’t done any of those things.

The fridge wafted over you with a cold atmosphere and you pushed the thought out of your head, shutting the door mindlessly. You watched Gojo add the rest of the ingredients to the pan and he washed the cutting board he used with a hum, presumably giving you time to think over your answer.

But you lost your train of thought and after a minute of just standing there with a blank face, he spoke up in an amused tone. “You gonna answer me, sweetheart?”

“Do you not want to have sex with me?” 

“Where did that come from?” A quiet chuckle escaped him as he dried his hands of excess water, leaning against the island with his hip. He tossed the towel down on the counter, crossing his arms with a coy smile. “I should be asking you that question.” 

“I thought you didn’t care or something was wrong with me. That you didn’t want me, that I was just some offer that my clan made you-” You started, emotions flowing through your system as tears threatened to spill again. Your voice broke off in the midst of the sentence and you gasped for air as you tried not to cry. You didn’t realize how broken you felt until now as it trudged up towards the surface and you vaguely registered Gojo moving towards you, his smirk disappearing with a quiet coo. 

His arms instantly wrapped around you, pulling you into a tight hug and you froze when you heard his heartbeat against your ear. “Y/N, I wanted you from the moment I saw you walking down the aisle.”

“Satoru…” You whispered into his chest and he shushed you, his strong arms hauling you onto the island and you sat eye level with him and he bended slightly down in front of you. You had the genius idea to remove his blindfold with lithe fingers, hooking them and pulling upwards to reveal the vividness hiding underneath. His hair fell against his eyes and he smiled at you warmly as he blinked his eyes a bit, getting used to the extra exposure of light. 

Your head was swimming at his confession, the memory of walking down in your white dress crossing your mind fondly. And him in his pristine black suit with a pearly blue tie, sticking out like a sore thumb mind you, his eyes had draped against you as your clan leader gave you away. You never recognized his awe of you as you were shaking like a leaf when you first saw his demeanor; the intense refined energy whirling off of him nearly made you trip down the aisle. 

“Please, just let me make it up to you.” Gojo whispered as you folded his blindfold into his pocket, leaning into your space with his arms braced on either side of you on the counter. “Before you leave me, let me give you one good night. Though, that’s a severe understatement if you know what I mean.”

Before you could answer him, his lips had found yours with lenience hanging by a thread. Immediately resting your hands against the back of his neck, you enclosed them and pulled him closer to you with a feeling yearning so deeply inside you. It made your entire body shudder with want, his words running circles in your mind as you let his tongue slip in with growing fervor. Gojo’s hands found your waist, holding you steady as you edged yourself away from him. 

“-toru, -toru, wait.” You pulled back and he made a short noise of discontent, instead latching his lips against your neck. “D-Dinner?” 

“Oh, right.” He muttered into your skin with a displeased groan. In one fluid motion, he turned off the stove and carried you by the grace of one arm. “That’s not what I want right now.” 

As he walked the both of you up the stairs to the loft, you clung onto him like a lifeline and even as he laid you down against the bed, your hands never left a part of his body. You needed to be close to him, needed this one chance for him to change your mind; in truth you didn’t want to leave him. But it made him move like clockwork, huh?

Who knew all you had to do was cry? 

Gojo hovered above you and God, you didn’t realize how massive his frame was against yours until he was on top of you. His broad shoulders basically caged you in, keeping you safe underneath him as his tongue found your collarbone and lapped at it slowly. Your hands flew to his hair with a quiet moan, tangling in the fluffy snow of it and he hummed delightfully at your response. His hands played with the seams at the bottom of your shirt and his eyes darted to yours, asking for permission. 

Offering a quick ‘yes’, you felt your shirt lift up carefully and his hands instantly roamed underneath, focusing on the way you had no bra on. How wonderful it was that you were comfortable in that sense with him, his fingers tweaking your nipple lightly as he studied you for a reaction. A peaked whimper left your mouth and your eyes slipped shut, your back arching slightly into his touch. Gojo felt the heavy ache of his cock, pressing harshly against the front of his trousers and he honestly didn’t think he could get this hard. But you were just so pliant, every single touch enacts a spark from you and he wished he made his move sooner. 

He could’ve been buried in you every waking moment you were with him for the past two months and he wished he could go back in time and beat himself up for being such a fucking idiot. 

“-toru…” You moaned out as his mouth latched onto your nipple now after he fully pulled your shirt off, his teeth grazing the bud and he had to press his palm against his cock to calm down as you whimpered out little pleas. Pleas that were music to his ears, your hands pulling his down towards your precious cunt and all he wanted to do was sink in. 

But he had to stop himself from just going in blind with you; it was your first time after all. Gojo didn’t want to scare you away because of his sheer desperation, it was his own fault that he made you wait so long. It wasn’t about him, he needed to make sure you saw stars tonight. 

“Fuck, want to hear those pretty whimpers for the rest of my life.” He breathed out as his fingers traced your clothed cunt, teasing it with a hard stroke upwards towards your clit. Gojo hooked his fingers underneath the waistband of your shorts and again with a questioning look pleaded for an answer. You rewarded him with a quick nod and he pulled them out with ease, his jaw dropping a bit as he noticed how wet you were already. It practically seeped out of you and he held back a groan as he swiped a finger through it. 

“God, didn’t think a pussy could get this wet.” He uttered under his breath, sucking his finger into his mouth to clean it off. “And I’ve seen my fair share.” 

“Satoru.” You frowned at him, sitting up on your elbows. “Did you have to add that last part?” 

“Sorry, baby. Your pussy’s the prettiest, I promise.” He reassured with a smirk, bending down to face your cunt.

He teased his tongue against your clit experimentally and groaned into you as you reacted exactly how he expected you to, your hands clutching at his hair again. He ran his arms underneath your thighs, rubbing softly at your hips as he pulled you more onto him. Gojo licked a fat stripe up your entire cunt this time, lapping at the arousal that flooded out of you with satisfaction. You moaned out, your head tipping back and your hips rolled against his face subconsciously as he fucked his tongue into you feverishly. His nose pressed against your clit, rubbing it subtly as he pointed his tongue into you and you could already feel your orgasm rushing up your spine. 

“-toru, hold on…. Fuck, too fast, wait!” You whined out, trying to push him away so you didn’t cum all over his face but his grip on you became tight and his fingers dug into the tops of your thighs, his forearms cradling the backs of them. His eyes met yours as he noticed you quiver, the blinding blue heavy with lust and nothing could’ve stopped you then. You came all over his face with a tremble, the tightness in your tummy unraveling like a ribbon and Gojo moaned into your cunt as your thighs squeezed against him.

“Should’ve mentioned my tongue’s won an award.” He stupidly quipped afterwards and you burst out laughing once you caught your breath, the mood having lightened much more to your benefit. You could learn to love his idiot, if this is how everyday was supposed to be. You noticed the glisten that shielded his lower face and he grinned at you, his cheeks flushed hot.

“What, for talking shit?” You teased as he wiped his mouth with the inside of his shirt before pulling it off, his abs suddenly on display and you almost choked. 

“Hey now, I don’t talk shit. Unless it’s about Utahime.” Gojo retorted with a chuckle, moving to unzip his trousers. 

You stopped him and he looked at you confused but when your fingers ran against the outline of his cock, his eyes widened. He was fucking huge though you had nothing to compare it to and honestly  you didn’t need to to know that he was gonna stretch you open with one shallow thrust. You unzipped his trousers, his clothed cock much more prominent in front of you now and you palmed him lightly, silently gauging his reaction. A quiet groan escaped him and his eyes fluttered shut as you pulled him out of his boxers. And holy fuck, he’s supposed to fuck you with this? 

How was it going to fit? Gojo was so goddamn lengthy and wrapped your hand around him carefully, testing the waters as one of his hands rested against your shoulder. “Y-Y/N…”

“Yeah?” You breathed, running your hand up his shaft towards the tip, the crown of it and he shuddered– he fucking shuddered from your touch and he inhaled sharply, his mouth falling open.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Tonight’s supposed to be about you.” Gojo bit back a moan as you started to pump him through his words, tracing some of his veins with the extent of your eyes.

“I want to, trust me.” 

Before you really knew what you were doing, you took him into your mouth and Gojo’s hands flew to the top of your head quickly, a breathy moan emitting from him. “Holy shit, Y/N, holy fucking shit.”

You enveloped his cock in your warmth and he tangled his fingers into your hair shakily, the sensation sending warning signals flying to his brain as he tried his best not to just buck into your mouth. You sucked him down like a champ, and who the fuck taught you to do that, he thought vaguely with breathy moans falling from his mouth. He couldn’t help it, your mouth felt so good around him and it’s been forever since someone’s tended to him like this.

“Oh God, you have such a dirty mouth, huh baby? Who taught you how to– fuck, suck me off like that?” He moaned out, a smirk plastered on his face as he looked down at you and you scowled at him in return. You swallowed around him, listening to his whimpers and you noticed that his thighs had started to shake lightly. 

Fuck, you were going to make him come just from this. “Shit, keep going baby…please, sweetheart.”

You felt his cock twitch in your mouth, lying heavily against your tongue and you lapped at it with a hefty moan. You hollowed your cheeks and took him as deep as he could possibly go and you felt his hips start to move languidly, fucking himself deeper into your mouth. You gagged around him, feeling the wet slick of your saliva on his cock drag against your lips and his grip tightened in your hair. Gojo set a relentless pace for you, rutting in with vigor and you felt him tremble above you with a rushed groan following, his hips stilling. 

You did not expect such a bitter taste, his cum flooding into your mouth in viscous ropes and you pulled off of him with a gasp. Some of it splattered on your face and you swallowed the load in your mouth a bit shocked. Your cunt suddenly ached with want, his whimpers and how his face contorted in pleasure replaying over and over and- “-toru…”

“Mm, ‘M sorry honey.” Gojo breathed out, his chest rising and falling and he swiped his finger through the splatter of cum across your cheek, reveling at how tainted you looked. Thank God he was the one to corrupt you, if it was anyone else he wouldn’t have been able to handle it he thought. The way you looked below him, your tongue flush on his cock; he’d probably kill everyone if he couldn’t see that again. 

And that’s right, you were his wife. His precious wife that he took for granted.

“-toru, please. I need you, your fingers-” Your pleas brought him back to his senses, the numb feeling of the past two months falling away as he helped you lay back on the bed. You looked absolutely wrecked, your lips red and as you pleaded, it came out in rasps.

“Shh, it’s okay. Hold on, I got you.” Gojo had taken to your left side, making sure he had a good view of his fingers slipping inside you. As he pushed two inside, you keened at the feeling and your hips moved against them. He curled them upwards, grazing against your sweet spot lightly and you arched your back, your head falling against the feathery pillows with a wanton moan. 

“Want my cock instead? Much better than my fingers, baby.” He cooed, his other hand wrapped around his cock and pumping it to full length again. It wasn’t all that difficult to get hard again when you were splayed out in front of him like this, begging for him to do anything and everything. Before you even nodded, he was pulling off the rest of his clothing and hovering over you once more, pulling his fingers out of you with a dismissed moan coming from you.

As he positioned himself against your entrance, his eyes captured yours for the first time in a while and you felt your cheeks blush hot with embarrassment. You couldn’t believe you were begging for this man, but then again you couldn’t believe you weren’t begging for him before. 

“Might hurt a bit, but you’ll be fine.” He warned as he prodded his tip into you slightly and you shuddered, holding onto his shoulder blades for support. He sunk further into you and about halfway in, a dull pain started to ache within you as he stretched you. You whimpered out and Gojo immediately stopped moving, slight concern spreading over his face. “Are you okay?” 

“Shit, Satoru, you’re still not all the way in?” You whined and he merely chuckled, bottoming out with a shallow thrust that nearly brought you to tears. Gojo let out a breathy groan, his head lolling into the side of your neck and he kissed at your skin tenderly. 

“I am now.” He sucked a bruise into the crevice of your neck as he waited for you to adjust, his cock twitching impatiently inside you. He could feel you squeezing him, clenching around him to get used to the feeling and every single time you did, it sent straight pleasure coursing through his veins. “Fuck, tell me when I can move…”

“You can move…” You managed to get out, your fingers running up his back with a delicate scratch. 

“Thank fuck–” Gojo groaned out loudly, pulling all the way out of you and thrusting in with one fluid motion. You cried out at the sudden movement, you didn’t think he’d be so headstrong to fuck into you harshly without so much as a quick warning. “You were driving me insane…so fucking warm and tight for me.”

Gojo worked you open with his cock and you couldn’t help the sounds that came out of you, quiet whimpers and pleas of his name, ‘satoru, slow down a bit for me’, and he did reluctantly but not before giving a few harsh thrusts into your cunt. You wrapped your legs around him, taking him in deeper and he groaned in your ear with a shudder as he gripped onto your thighs.

“Stay just like that.” He whined in a merciful tone, his face now adjacent to yours and he gave you a spirited kiss, licking into your mouth with every damned thrust into your poor cunt. You both moaned into the kiss and he suddenly broke away to hoist your legs over his shoulders instead. “Actually… fuck, this so much better.”

Gojo was able to aim dead against your sweet spot that lingered in the corners of your nerves and you arched as he did so, each perfect thrust relentlessly hitting it and your vision clouded with unbridled pleasure. He looked so godlike above you, sweat glistening against his chest and his white hair had begun to look quite damp with the same moisture, falling beautifully over his eyes; those were on another level and you had to look away so you didn’t cum too quickly.

“All for me? Say it’s all for me.” He had started to beg, ecstasy coursing through both of you now and all you cared about was your releases, the euphoric pressure climbing up your spines with every strike of his hips against yours.

“All for you, -toru...” You babbled out as Gojo started rutting into you harshly, a quick rhythm picking up and your fingers welded into the sheets to keep yourself from hitting your head against the headboard. Your orgasm came crashing through you and you clenched around him as he buried into you with desperation.

“Fuck yeah, all for me.” His mouth dropped open with a low drawn out groan and his eyes squeezed shut as he came in you, his eyebrows furrowing as his orgasm cascaded through him. He shallowly pumped into you, mixing the cum with your arousal and you whimpered at the feeling as you came down from your high. He pulled out with a quiet sigh, gently bringing himself down to kiss you promptly and laying on top of you with his head on your chest. 

A couple minutes later, you felt his fingers trace over your burn mark that had scarred over on your arm. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” 

You looked down at him, his eyes fixated on the mark and you tousled his hair a bit as you smiled at him. Exhaustion had begun to take over your senses and you yawned as you spoke. “It’s okay, I’m just happy that you were on the same train.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” Gojo was quiet, his eminence surrounding you in a veil. “Please don’t leave.” 

“I wasn’t going to in the first place. You had already changed my mind when you said something about me not surviving in the clan.” 

He was quiet for a minute, registering what you just said. Then, you heard a cheeky laugh erupt from him.

“So, my dick wasn’t what changed your mind, huh. Guess we have to start over, don’t we?” He said with a smirk holding in his voice and everything he had just felt, the sorrow and the panic disappeared as he started to kiss down your chest. He pinned your wrists down as he hauled himself back into a good position, face to face with you. Maybe you could get used to the piercing brightness of his eyes, the turquoise loving and cordial and everything in between staring back at you in the way you’ve always wanted.

“Gojo Satoru, you’ve got quite a big ego don't you?”

“Perks of being the one and only.” He pressed a light kiss on your lips, his hands brushing over your body. “Well, maybe not for long.”

a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!

[piningforstan]

Talking in Your Sleep

Part One | Part Two

Summary: You start to suspect that there’s more to Stan than what he tells you, at least while he’s awake. Asleep is a different story.

Pairings: Stanley Pines x GN! Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Not really any? Let me know if I missed one

A/N: All Most of my oneshots are inspired by songs I guess😂 I’m thinking there might be 2 or 3 parts to this one

Stan lied.

To everyone.

Perhaps it was delusional to think that it didn’t apply to you. You, your reasoning was, were special. At the end of the day he crawled into bed next to you and pressed his cold toes to your calf, laughing as you squirmed away. You made grocery lists together and raided the aisles for food and supplies. It was you that he whispered his fears and hopes to.

So you thought nothing when he lied to the tourists, lied to the banks, lied to the man who “dropped” his wallet (Stan had pickpocketed it and you forced him to return it). You thought nothing when the lies bled into your daily life, domestic bliss disrupted with the occasional white lie. You told yourself: everyone does it.

It didn’t mean anything.

Right?

The room in the Shack that you stumbled upon on accident one day while looking for warmer blankets. “My brother’s room,” he told you. The brother, that you knew, was dead. You let it be, didn’t ask questions. But if it was his brother’s, why did all of the books say his name? Stanford Pines. Scrawled in margins and on the wall like a hasty addition. You didn’t have time to inspect it too closely, but the handwriting looked too neat to be Stan’s — tidy and cramped, unlike the sprawling letters you had seen him print on your paychecks.

STNLYMBLE his license plate read. It wasn’t his brother’s car, he affectionately retold stories of his time in the vehicle before. Maybe it was a tribute of some kind?

A million instances that accumulated in your mind like clutter in an attic, each one a box that you labeled and tucked away for later.

The first snow had just coated itself over Gravity Falls when the sleep talking started. You were roused awake by Stan twitching and muttering, the alarm clock blinking the time at you from the nightstand.

Too early. You rolled over, trying to grasp at the last remnants of your dream. It wasn’t much longer before he was muttering again, louder this time, hands clutching at the sheets and his face scrunching in unmistakable pain.

“Portal…help…” whatever disturbed his dreams made no sense to you here in the real world. You listened quietly. “I promise, Ma…I promise.”

Segments of promises and reassurances, bits of stories that you hadn’t heard before and couldn’t parse out yourself. It didn’t concern you at first, chalking it up to stress — about the Shack during the cold winter months, or maybe whatever work he did in the basement.

And then they became more specific. Unsettling.

“I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. An accident.” Sweat glistened on his forehead and wet the dark curls at his temples. The weirdest part is when he would whimper: “I’m sorry, Ford. I’m sorry. The portal…”

The portal, the portal, the portal — the one reoccurring connection to all of the sleep talking.

The dreams were worse during the holidays; Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years. It was sometime after the beginning of the new year and you were nestled into one another on the couch when you asked him, “What’s the portal?”

Stan kept his gaze on the TV but his body stiffened beneath you. “What?”

“The portal.”

“What’re you talkin’ about?”

You don’t know why, but you sensed that you’ve crossed a line, somehow, said something wrong. In an effort to lighten the mood, you injected a hint of humor in your voice, “You’ve been sleep talking lately and you keep mentioning a portal. Is it a bad dream or something?”

“Or something,” Stan coolly replied.

A beat passed between you, tension palpable. The TV flickered off. Stan untangled himself from you without a word and started up the stairs. You stumbled after him.

“Stan, what is going on?”

“Nothing,” he said, whirling on you, one hand braced on the rail. “I’m tired is all.”

You steeled yourself for an argument, aware of it approaching like a storm on the horizon. “For weeks — months — you’ve been having these awful dreams and talking about someone named Ford. And a portal.”

Sometimes you wake up in tears. Sometimes the pain in your voice is enough to make me nauseous. Sometimes you cry for forgiveness.

“S’probably nothin’.”

“Nothing? Stanford, I know something is wrong.”

You had both made it to the landing now, an old fashioned draw. Shadows thrown across his face, Stan possessed an unpredictable air, sharp and glinting like the blade of a knife in the dark. It slipped away just as quickly as the image had impressed upon you. Did you imagine it?

His features arranged into a semblance of shame, sheepish in nature. “I jus’ don’t wanna talk about it, alright? I’m sorry you had to deal with that. You ain’t gotta worry about me, doll.”

You wanted to press the matter. Wanted to know why he was being elusive and why his explanation rubbed you the wrong way.

But you didn’t.

A month or two passed. Spring lingered in the woods, melting snow and glimpses of greenery. You hadn’t mentioned the portal or the dreams again. Stan would go some nights without sleeping at all. You knew this only because you would wake up at night and roll over, expecting his warmth and finding the bed cold and empty.

“What are you doing in the basement?” You asked one day when you were feeling particularly brave. Stan was your kind-of boyfriend, after all, and you asserted to yourself that you had the right to know where he spent most of his time.

Stan, shoveling food in his mouth, shrugged and replied in a muffled tone, “Science stuff.”

He was off doing science stuff when you poked around the entirety of the Shack, searching for this alleged basement. How could there be no doors? You patrolled the perimeter of the building and spotted a cellar but it refused to budge. It unsettled you that couldn’t find an entry to the basement and hadn’t thought to even look before now.

“You wouldn’t want to see it, it’s boring,” he would tell you and you would believe him, his large hands roaming over your skin. “I can think of much more fun things to do up ‘ere.”

It worried at the back of your mind constantly, this idea that you were just another victim in Stan’s lies. Were you being dramatic?

The answer came to you in the dark of the night, moonlight spilling over the floor in silvery bars. Stan woke you as he staggered out of bed, muttering and bumping into the dresser that now hosted a mixture of your clothing. You sat up.

“Stan, honey? Where are you going?”

He never ceased his muttering to answer, persisting down the stairs in his sluggish manner. You grabbed a robe and threw it over yourself, following after him. After several more attempts to get his attention, you came to the conclusion that his sleep talking had now progressed into sleep walking. You knew you should’ve woken him but you curiously trailed behind, through the living room, the kitchen, and into the gift shop.

A blue glow from the vending machine washed over Stan as he ambled towards it, thick fingers pushing the buttons. Was he just hungry, sleepily venturing for a midnight snack? You wouldn’t put it past him. You reached out a hand, ready to rouse him from his trance, when a strange whirring emitted from the vending machine.

Shock rooted you in place as the machine didn’t release any food but rather swung open miraculously on its hinges, disclosing a corridor instead. Stan never even hesitated as he just continued on, broad shoulders and bedhead disappearing around the corner.

Rendered motionless for several moments, you finally decided to go after him. Where was he going? He could hurt himself.

You shuffled into the corridor. An uneasy feeling descended upon you like the legs of a spider, brushing against every inch of your skin. The chill cutting through your robe told you that you were being led further under ground, finally emptying into an enormous room.

And it wasn’t even the size of the room that surprised you, but rather the gigantic metal contraption crouched to one side. From what you could tell it wasn’t working. A huge, darkened eye stared at you from the middle of the rafters.

A window?

A portal.

Stan had ceased his dreamlike ambling to stand before this machine, gazing up at it like it might offer him some kind of absolution.

Your voice, small and afraid: “Stan?”

The trance broke, a taut rubber-band snapped in the way that his shoulders rounded and he glanced around in confusion. You could only imagine the look on your face as he turned to you.

Your name left his mouth, panicked. “What are you doing here?”

“Stan, what is that? Where are we?” Hysteria gripped you. “What’s going on?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Stan replied.

“Did you…did you make this? What is this?”

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s go upstairs. I can explain all this. A’right?”

“No, Stan, I’m tired of all of the lies and the sneaking around. I’m staying here. And you’re going to tell me what’s going on.”

A defeated expression crossed his face. He went over to a panel of controls and leaned against it, hip and elbow. “Ya know I would never hurt ya on purpose, doll. I-I care about you.”

You wanted to soften. But you held yourself strong, heart fracturing. “Stan?”

“I guess I don’t know where to start.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, then slowly began to unravel the story that you had pieced together over the time. Except, this time, details were changed— the truth, you realized, not the altered version he had given you.

Everything you thought you knew about this man, this man that you loved, disappeared and took on a new form. The childhood in New Jersey accompanied by a twin brother. His years as a drifter a result of his father kicking him out, not a pursuit of freedom and independence. Even the Mystery Shack, his name, wasn’t his.

Stanley Pines, he said.

Stanley. Not Stanford.

And his brother wasn’t dead but lost in time, and he was trying valiantly to find him again.

“All of this, all of the lies…are for him. It’s my fault that he’s gone and I need to fix my mistake.” Stan’s voice had taken on a strained edge, on the verge of tears. “I’ve made so many but this one…this one I’m close to fixing.”

“You come down here to work on a…portal,” you said, not sure what else to say.

“It’s the only way.” Stan took a step towards you, then thought better of it. “I-I didn’t wanna lie. But I had no idea how much you would mean to me. It was one lie an’ then another and I couldn’t take any of ‘em back. Not without you lookin’ at me like how you are now.”

“I trusted you,” you breathed.

“I’m still me.” He flinched. “Well, kinda. Besides the name and everything. That hasn’t changed. The way I feel about you hasn’t changed.”

“What do you mean? Everything has changed,” you snapped, “Everything I know about you is a lie! I don’t even know what to think right now.” You shook your head as if to dislodge the torrent of thoughts. “You led me to believe that you were someone else. That your brother — who is actually you? — died. I grieved him with you, Stan. And you just lied to me again and again like it was nothing. How do I know I can trust you?”

“I’m tellin’ you, I didn’t want —”

“To lie? But lying is what you do best. It’s all clear to me now. I-I can’t do this. I need air.”

Your feet carried you without permission, away from the strange basement and the portal and Stan. Stanley. Not Stanford. You heard his heavy footsteps as he chased after you, one hand on your shoulder and spinning you to face him.

“Don’t go. Please. I can make this right.”

“No, you can’t.” You fought back tears as you looked at him, so heartbreakingly handsome and wounded and earnest. “I can’t be with someone who I don’t even know. Everything about us has been built on lies.”

He didn’t try and stop you as you stepped out of his grip and back into the gift shop, nor did he follow you. You shoved out onto the porch and into the greying, mushy snow, gathered in piles in the corners of the forest. You didn’t know where you were going, but you couldn’t be here.

[radiant-reid]

Truth

Summary: Reader knows there’s something going on between JJ and Spencer but she trusts him that that’s just the way they are... until he goes to LA

i cannot find the request for this, ugh !!! 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Angst)

Word Count: 3.7k

Masterlist | Navigation

Y/n had let it go after that night.

"You're not seriously upset about this, are you?" Spencer asks incredulously once the apartment door clicks shut. 

It had been an incredibly awkward car ride together, twenty minutes home in complete silence. He hates when it gets cold and distant between them, even though he usually causes it by neglecting to discuss his feelings, but this time, he's fired up. Y/n can't read if he's dumbfounded or shaken. 

Although often synonymous, there's a difference here. If Spencer's dumbfounded, he thinks her suggestion is ridiculous and totally, 100% wrong. It would be offensive wording but best for the preservation of their relationship. If he's shaken, then she's correct, and he's coming to terms with the significance of that discovery himself.

Y/n sighs as she spins around to face him, her plan of making a beeline to the bedroom falling through. "That was flirting. She was flirting with you, Spencer." She tells him firmly. 

Spencer shakes his head, stunned by the allegation she's choosing to repeat. "She was- are you okay?"

"Don't make it about me." She instructs. 

"It's about you when you're talking..." Crazy is the word he stops himself short of saying- they both know it. He breathes deeply to calm himself. "She wasn't flirting with me." He maintains. "We're friends." 

Y/n shakes her head. She knows he needs it explained to him, simplified to an extent, but upholding his position so staunchly doesn't make her want to do that. "You don't have to best track record for knowing when people are flirting with you." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asks, his eyes narrowing. 

There's a specific incident she's referring to, but there's been more than a few annoying instances when she's left standing at his side fuming. She's aware he doesn't do it on purpose. Spencer's not an asshole purposefully trying to make his girlfriend jealous by accepting flirtatious behavior from other women, but he's handsome. And unfortunately, not immediately rejecting advances makes it seem like he's interested.

"Spencer." She had told him when she finally pulled him off to a slightly quieter corner of the bar the team was in. "Her asking you what you're doing this weekend isn't her having an interest in your Korean film festival."

Spencer had been much better at getting it since then. He profiles a bit more cynically, purposefully looking for indicators that someone's interested in him. 

Not tonight.

It was Michael's first birthday which, of course, meant it was a big celebration- BAU style. Spencer attended like the proud godfather he was, making sure every single one of JJ and Will's friends knew their son's achievements. 

What should have been a lovely day would have turned into a discussion about them having their own kids when Y/n expressed how attractive Spencer looked while he held Michael's hands so the boy could practice walking. 

But no. 

Instead, they're standing on different ends of the kitchen island, both uncompromising in their views because of more than a few moments at the party between JJ and Spencer. 

"She was flirting with you, Spencer." Y/n holds firm. "Touching your arm, giggling at your jokes, whispering stuff to you." She lists the frequently used tactics that she witnessed. She's become accustomed to them working on Spencer, but he has always admitted, upon later reflection, that the motive was more than friendly.

He can't believe it this time, and he quickly gets defensive. "Just because you don't think I'm funny doesn't mean everyone doesn't."

Y/n scoffs, irritated he would twist it so spitefully to play the victim. "Seriously?" She deadpans, waiting for him to react better. 

"It was an inside joke." Spencer tries a different tactic that only has her eyebrows raised again. He sighs dramatically, gripping the edge of the bench. 

"This is ridiculous." She states. 

"I'm glad you see that too." He argues. "JJ was not flirting with me."

His insolence further fuels her anger. "Even Will looked uncomfortable." Y/n hits back.

"She's my friend." He repeats. "We are their friends. JJ and Will have been married for years. They've lived together and raised a son for even longer. I'm their sons' godfather. She's been my friend for more than a decade. There's nothing malicious going on."

It didn't feel like that. And that was likely because Y/n had only gotten to know them years following their friendship's establishment.

Maybe he's right. It's feasible that Y/n just hasn't found her place in the dynamic. "Are you sure?" 

Spencer senses her walls coming down, and he steps closer to her in a few tense strides, cupping her cheeks in a way that makes her melt. His eyes soften until there's no anger remaining. "Yes, my love. I promise there is nothing romantic between JJ and I." He assures her.

It's so sincere. Spencer has always been a persuasive talker, and it's gotten him out of dangerous situations.

Maybe the deep gut feeling she has is off. There's no way to know what happens behind closed doors, but JJ and Will appear to be happily married. Her life seems completely fulfilling. It makes no sense for her to have a crush on Spencer. 

So she's determined to shake it off- for Spencer, her own sanity, and their relationship. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have jumped to such a drastic accusation."

"No, no. Hey, I will always listen to your feelings." Spencer reminds her softly. "I'm sorry I didn't immediately hear you out. It was just unexpected. I would hate for you to stop talking to me about your emotions if you think I'll shut you down."

"Thank you, and I'm sorry," Y/n replies.

His words are massively relieving, and her negative thoughts aren't weighty. "I love you, Y/n."

She smiles softly. "I love you too."

"Can I kiss you now? I've been wanting to for hours." He begs, thumbs stroking over her cheekbones. He's elaborating a little but for good reason.

"Please." She agrees. 

His fingers curl around her head while he leans down to kiss her, not breaking it until they're both out of air. Everything's okay.

And so Y/n had let it go after that night.

She was with him through everything. Dealing with his mom, Mexico, prison, and the long recovery after that. She was with him through thick and thin, even when Spencer had given up on himself. He'll never understand what he did to deserve her love, but it means everything to him. She's the calm presence in amongst his chaos.

No issue in their relationship has been too hard to tackle when they worked together through Spencer's personal problems so well. Nothing between them seemed insurmountable since Spencer's life was so tumultuous.

When he gets home from his case in LA, she's in the bedroom, checking his suit for Rossi's wedding the next day is in perfect condition. The ironing is crisp, not a single wrinkle on the fabric.  

He usually calls out when he enters the apartment door, both so she'll reply, and he'll know what room to navigate to, and so she doesn't freak out about hearing footsteps on the floorboards. 

This time, he doesn't. 

It's like his brain got torn out and is still sitting on the floor of a little jewelry store in downtown LA. His thoughts remain entirely occupied by the previous day's events. Even though the jet home was long, he didn't sleep for a second. It's 7 am East Coast Time now, but it feels like just a second ago, his world got rocked.

"You're back!" Y/n grins, still unaware of the grave news he's bearing. She searches through her jewelry box for a piece to complement her dress. Her final moments of blissful ignorance. "Okay, so I was thinking you might need to nap before the wedding since it'll probably go late- I mean, you know Rossi."

"Y/n." Spencer whispers, trying to stop her from spreading joy and being the life in his life. He absolutely does not deserve that, as he lies by omission. He speaks weakly on purpose, wanting to listen to her excited ramble despite knowing he needs to be honest and say something that will crush her.

She doesn't hear him, and hasn't looked at him hard enough to see his devastation. "But your suit is good to go. I've got some other stuff to do, so have a nap, and I'll have lunch ready when you're up."

"Y/n!" He snaps much too loud. 

Her eyes flick to his, and she knows something drastic has changed. Her stomach drops in dread as the air in the room turns stale.

"What?" She asks cautiously, voice wavering. Her heart thumps in her chest. "What is it, Spencer?"

"JJ said..." Spencer trails off, looking straight past his girlfriend. He's not brave enough to look at her directly. 

No more explanation is needed for it to click. 

Her whole world gets shattered instantly, everything she built with Spencer, every dream and hope she had with him, is destroyed in a second. 

Her stomach stays dropped so low it feels like it's weighing her down and that she could be physically sick. She feels paralyzed until tears start streaming down her cheeks. 

"Oh." She whispers, although it's as loud as a jet engine in the silent room. "Wow. Okay."

Spencer wanted more than that. He wants her to scream at him, telling him he should have stopped thinking he knew everything and listened when she was suspicious. Spencer would take any range of passionate emotions over the silence she's giving him as she processes it. He begs with his eyes for her to tell him what she's feeling. 

It's to no avail. 

He thinks he's getting somewhere when she stands up, that maybe she'll hug him or enquire about the cut on his hand. 

"What happens now?" Y/n asks, ignoring her own tears and his. She always cups his cheeks and wipes them up gently because seeing him in pain pains her. That's how love works.

"Y/n..." She needs him to say more that time. Her soft-spoken name leaving his lips is bad news.

She forces herself to nod and swallow down her distraught tears. "It's okay. I know." It would hurt to hear him admit it, but she might think he's not a coward. 

Now Spencer's paralyzed, watching his nightmare play out in front of him, and he's incapable of preventing it, of making her stay. 

Her delicate, shaking fingers unclasp her necklace, and the 18k gold chain with an 'S' pendant burns a hole in her hand before she thrusts it into his. 

It's warm against his cold hands, a sign it's not where it should be. It's supposed to be daintily sitting on Y/n's chest, near her heart, for the rest of forever.

"No." He finally says, gasping a breath out. "What are you-"

She cuts him off before he talks for too long and causes her to remain so in love with him that she can overlook a massive problem. "You love her." She voices what they've been dancing around. It's an ugly, hurtful truth. "You might be in love with me, but you love JJ more than you should."

Spencer shakes his head, frantically denying the claim they both know is factual. As awful as it is, he's thought about a future with JJ on more than one occasion and during a long-term relationship. It's not that he wants to be with her- which would be a complicated mess and break everyone involved hearts- but something between them remains unresolved. All because of two tickets to see the Redskins.

Y/n speaks before he can, tilting her head upward as she tries to brush back some of her tears. "Don't lie to me, Spence. Please don't." 

He figures he owes her that much. Nothing he could say would fix the torpedo that ripped through their relationship. So he doesn't protest or fight for their relationship as she readies to leave him.

"I'll go now and get some stuff once you've gone out." She decides.

Her stuff which means she's planning on separating everything, and he'll never see her things again. Never mind the possessions- he might never see her again.

There's no point in making a case for her to come to Krystall and Dave's wedding when she only knows them through him, but Spencer isn't sure how he'll be able to sit through a ceremony and speeches and dinner and drinking and dancing- where everyone's feeling the love- when all he would have been thinking about is how it should be his turn next. It sounds like torture.  

Spencer stands there, horrified and helpless, as she slips past him. "Goodbye, Spence." 

And just like that, she's gone. 

It's surreal. 

Surely- surely- the love of his life hadn't just walked out the door and left him. That can't have happened.

He doesn't even feel overly tired, but he must be so sleep-deprived that he's imagining things. Having visions is a less scary thought than Y/n leaving. 

The surreal feeling and eerie silence deepen, and he quickly collapses on the couch from overwhelming fatigue, hoping the past hours have been a terrible nightmare. 

When he wakes and calls out for Y/n, quickly realizing she's not there and his worst fear has come true, Spencer sobs. He cries so much through getting ready for the wedding that his cheeks are blotchy, and his eyes blood shocked as he looks at himself in the mirror. He looks terrible, but he feels so much worse. It's emptiness. His eyes look dull, his hair scruffy, and his heart aches. 

Her dress is still there- dark blue that compliments his suit, but it's matchy-and it hangs in the wardrobe on a coat hanger from the dry cleaner, taunting him. Spencer's hand comes to cup his mouth as panic and nausea rock his stomach. Y/n should be wearing the dress and beside him the whole afternoon while they celebrate love. Something's amiss, and he hopes no one calls him on it because he will, without a doubt, break down in sobs.

Germs feel permanently on him, and he's guilt-ridden. Sure, JJ's words in LA weren't his fault, but- fuck- he should have said something to stop the love of his life from walking out under the wrong impression that he loved someone else.

He makes a beeline for Penelope at the bar to avoid being around JJ and get some alcohol in his system so that maybe everything will hurt less.

She looks pretty, but Will gazes at her like she hung the moon, and Spencer quickly realizes he could never feel that way. Her glances across the room at him piss him off, whereas Y/n's would make him blush.

"No Y/n?" Penelope asks, looking disappointed when he walks over alone. 

That's the reaction his amazing potentially-ex-girlfriend inspires in his friends. People love her for her warmth and humor, and Spencer's sure the team is grateful someone's making him smile. 

"Unfortunately not." Spencer grimaces as he gets the lie out. "She's sick." Or, more likely, bawling her eyes out at her friends because her boyfriend is a jerk, Spencer figures. He would feel worse for lying if it were possible. 

"Oh damn, I have heard there's a bad flu." Penelope easily believes the lie.

"What are you making?" Spencer asks, redirecting the conversation to the cocktails she's expertly whipping up. 

The wedding is small, which Spencer's sure is appropriate for a fourth or third round 2. It feels wrong to be there without Y/n. If he's eventually going to have one of these with her, surely he should be looking at the flower arrangements while she notices hair options. Not judging, just getting ideas.

It would be nothing like JJ and Will's wedding. Y/n would hate a surprise wedding with no choice in decor or food, even though it's romantic in theory.

He could never marry someone like JJ. He could never marry JJ. 

She's a real person. That seems to be a fact he keeps forgetting when he thinks about a future with her. She can't be the idealized version of her from his 24-year-old self's fantasy, and with her sitting no more than 20 feet from him, he's positive she's not who he's compatible with.

It's worse at the speeches. Emily stands with perfectly crafted words, and Spencer's almost in tears when the story verges from being Dave-and-Krystall specific.

"...that this was fate." His running thoughts halt at Emily's words. "...that their marriage was in the stars."

That's him and Y/n. They lived a block from each other in DC but had to travel three and a half thousand miles across the Atlantic Ocean to meet. That's fate. He recalls her laughter when he joked that the universe got sick of them not finding each other and forced them together. And the subsequent, love-filled conversation where they decided soulmates, and twin flames, must be real because they are the embodiment of the term.

Rossi is always a high-roller at Vegas casinos. There was no doubt he'd meet a blackjack dealer. It's not fate the way he and Y/n are fate.

He's always been sure she's the one, but this is the ultimate determining tool.

They have to be together. Spencer and JJ had bottled up their crushes without voicing them for more than a decade, and that's why it messed with his brain so much. Emily talking about confessions taking time to work out is not about them.

His fingers play with the tablecloth as he drafts a speech of his own, one that will set things right. He's too antsy to enjoy the rest of dinner or dessert. All he's thinking about is how soon he can leave- of course, after wishing the happy couple well. 

Spencer knows where she is. The doorbell camera already notified him when she had arrived at their apartment, which might now be an invasion of privacy.

It's a bit of a drive to get home, and he's thankful he stopped at one cocktail so he wouldn't do something stupid, like yell at JJ in front of their friends. As mean as it sounds, he doesn't have emotion to waste on her. It's all poured into love for Y/n. 

He doesn't have time to wait for the elevator, taking the stairs three at a time.

"Y/n!" He calls out as soon as he swings open the door. His heart pounds in his chest thanks to his poor athleticism, but mostly because this is the most important thing he'll ever do in his life.

"Yeah?" She replies, her voice coming from the bedroom as she steps out

She looks heartbroken seeing him, destroyed by the damage he caused over the last ten hours, and there's no way this can be how he leaves her, that this can be the last time he sees her.

"Don't say something that hurts." Spencer can tell Y/n's trying to be firm, but she's begging. There is no way he can ever hurt her.

"I won't." He swears. It's tense, and he feels award standing there. "Y/n, I-"

"I told you." She reminds him, referencing one conversation he's been thinking about. She was so good at dropping it after he offered her unknowingly untrue reassurance. Her plan to let him do the talking flies out the window, and she can't help releasing the brewing emotions. "I knew she loved you and hoped you didn't love her back. And now everything is fucking mess, and I just didn't think that you would do that."

"I don't love her that way." Spencer declares, and he doesn't feel guilty because he's not lying.

Y/n rolls her eyes. "You owe me the truth."

He tentatively steps closer, and she doesn't stop him. "I don't look at JJ and see my future. She's not the person I think about when I see an old couple walking down the street. I don't know the songs she listens to when she's sad or the correct amount of syrup she likes on her pancakes. I don't know the number of her childhood home or favorite piece of art in the Met. I'm not sure if she sings in the shower or if she ties her shoes with two loops. And I don't want to know any of that. You're the only person I ever want to know that personally. I don't love her the way romantic love works. But I didn't know that until I met you, and the very first day, I realized it was different. I know you said that, and I am so sorry I convinced you not to listen to your gut."

Y/n's crying by the end of his beautiful, naturally spoken words. He rushed to get it out, and she processes it for a minute. "Okay." She decides, accompanied by a choked sob.

Spencer frowns because he can't read her properly. "Okay?" He repeats softly. 

She steps forward, which has to be a good sign. "I need you to kiss me now." 

Spencer's crying too slightly as he closes the gap between them, cradling her face like he might shatter her in his palms. "Okay." He whispers, closing the distance between their lips without wasting another second. It's heavier than usual, holding a thousand unspoken words, but it feels like a resolution.

He holds her long after they've run out of air, finally feeling like he can breathe now that he's home.

"I am so in love with you." He tells her. "There is no one else I could ever be with."

She smiles softly back at him. "I'm in love with you too." She replies. "And this suit... you look very handsome."

He smiles widely. "You're the most gorgeous girl in the world." She doesn't bother reminding him that she's been crying and looks washed out. Spencer will forever insist that she is perfect. "Can I take you to dinner? Because I have missed you."

She nods. "I'd love that. And I have the perfect dress."

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[yikesmary]

Hello

how about idol mingyu hypnotized by reader from the moment he sees her -you can choose where and how they meet- I just mingyu pining over her 💚

HYPNOTIZED — kim mingyu x reader

summary: where you've got seventeen's mingyu hypnotized, and he doesn't mind it one bit.

note: hey everyone🧍‍♀️

I don't know if I'm officially back, I just wanted to post something right before new years since I haven't posted since september and you guys deserve more than that. I might post here and there, but nothing too serious so don't expect me to come back with consistent posts. hope you guys enjoyed this though! <333

"We're going to be late, love!" Mingyu called out from outside of your room and you could practically hear him pace, as if he wasn't the guest of honor and the party couldn't exactly start without him and the other guys.

Dating an Idol wasn't at all like you expected—and you didn't even have any expectations in the first place. You had been introduced by Mingyu by Wonwoo, whom you had known for a couple of years now. Initially, you were a bit wary of going on the date, considering you've heard all kinds of stories from Wonwoo.

However, what won you over was how Wonwoo described Mingyu; 'the human version of a golden retriever'. Now, if anyone else said that, you wouldn't have believed them. However, this was Wonwoo, and the fact that he had said this with the most monotone voice ever and his face as serious as ever, so you just had to meet the guy that got Wonwoo to say such nice things about him.

You then went on one date with Mingyu and many more dates after that, until you guys started dating and eventually moved in together. The relationship wasn't totally public; while fans knew that Mingyu was dating (thanks to Dispatch, who had photographed you guys together, but your face was pretty well hidden), no one knew who he was dating specifically.

You supposed that it was a blessing in disguise that people knew Mingyu was dating but didn't know who it was. Most CARATs were happy that Mingyu had been dating, which you were happy to see since you didn't know how exactly they'd react when news first broke out.

Of course, there were some instances where people tried to sleuth and find out through various methods on who Mingyu was dating, but the two of you knew better and did everything you could in order to hide your relationship.

Those who know about your relationship have commented on how it must be hard dating someone like Mingyu, but you've told them that it was worth it and that you'd do it if it meant staying with Mingyu. Usually, you've said this with Mingyu not around, but the first time he heard it, you swore that he had never looked more in love than that moment.

"The car is waiting for us and— oh," Mingyu started to say, but had interrupted himself as he spotted you, who was fastening your heels.

You stood up and adjusted your dress accordingly, making sure that there were no wrinkles. You opened your mouth to say something, but there was no time as Mingyu quickly moved across your bedroom to you and captured you in a kiss.

Startled, you eventually kissed back once you realized what was happening. To balance yourself, you wrapped your arms around Mingyu's neck, your arms lightly touching his hair. Meanwhile, his hands went around your waist, pulling you closer.

You kiss for a few moments before you realize where you guys weren't, so you pull away. "I thought we were going to be late," you said, a bit breathless at the kissing.

"Did I say that? Now that I think about it, I don't have to attend. There's 13 of us, they wouldn't notice if I was missing," Mingyu said before trying to kiss you again, but you stopped him, making him pout.

"Nope, you've already used that excuse. Remember when you thought you could not attend an award show to spend the day with me and Seungcheol noticed? The guys didn't let that go for a whole month," you scolded him, this time pulling fully away from him.

"I'll take the fall for it, let's just stay home," Mingyu practically begged, but you weren't having it.

"How about the driver?" you countered, moving away in order to get your bag.

"I was going to pay him anyways, and I'll give him a tip or something," he shrugged.

"We're still going,"

As you and Mingyu walked towards the front door, Mingyu albeit walking slightly slower than you since he was sulking, he abruptly blocked the front door, stopping you in your tracks.

"Gyu, we're going to be late, like you said. You can't resort to using your strength to stop us, no matter attractive I think it is," you retorted.

"You think I'm attractive?"

"Of course you are! Look at you!" You exclaimed, gesturing to the entirety of him.

Mingyu blushed but grabbed one of your hands to pull you closer to him. "Did I tell you that you look beautiful today?" He asked, putting your face in between his hands gently, making sure he didn't mess up your make up.

"Just today?" you teased.

"Well, you look beautiful every day. And all the days after that,"

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