#and sometimes they choose to live together

[camilleflyingrotten]

[barbaralimao]

Look, I've learned about Calvin in school, all right, both fundamental and high school, but as my books were marxist, we learned it in the way of "oh, and this shitty guy is one of the reason why capitalism SUCKS, the USA is the worst place on earth, Imperialism IS THE DEVIL ITSELF. Do you know how the Portuguese fucked us over? SO, it would be WAY WORSE if they were Calvinists." (I went to school in Brazil in the turn of the century, we were having a ball after the end of the Dictatorship and showing critical everything to everyone. And while I do not like the marxists interpretation in my school books, it's only because it takes our agency on major things of our history).

And that's it, I followed with my culturally catholic life with a deep distrust of evangelicals and stuff (THEY BROKE IMAGES OF THE VIRGIN MARY IN THE 2000, HOW CAN YOU TRUST THEM), only to come to the year 2022 of our lord, with evangelicals and neopentecostal and megachurches on the rise, the drug traffic and the churches working together and stuff, and I decide to sit down with a collegue that is breaking free of his church to talk about cultural differences between growing up catholic and growing up evangelical. He was explaining something to me and I was so confused, so, so confused. Then something dawned on me. "WHERE'S the free will????? People don't get to MAKE A CHOICE?" and he was so confused. That's when he was introduced to the concept of free will and I was introduced to the concept of manifest destiny live in technicolor, and then there's the two of us having the biggest crisis of our life. "HOW can you follow this religion if everything is already decided? How can you believe in a God that makes you live in fear? How can you think that being afraid is love? That doing things to avoid punishment is better than doing things because you want to, out of the goodness of your heart? How can you live without recognizing that everyone is both good and bad, and goodness is a thing we choose? That sometimes you sin, because you're human and this is our nature, but everyone deserves another chance to change?". He only got angry and stormed off. And before this, I got really angry when they used Christians without including obviously christian religions like catholicism and kardecism (the two other biggest in my country), but after that I'm like. Yeah. If being Christian is whatever you guys got going, catholics are definitely not it. Of course the catholic church has a fuckton of crimes and IS terrible, there's extemists and stuff (I don't even go anymore, fuck them), but like, I can't imagine what it does to someone's brain to grow up in so much fear. In my family, we joke that the evangelical churches seem to love more the Devil and Hell than God and Heaven, because they only speak of them. The first time I heard hell in a mass I was almost thirty and EVERYONE was so pissed at the priest for that sermon that he ended up being removed from the parish.

Anyway, we may not be rich or chosen or anything like that, we have our faults, but at least we care for each other, and in the end that's what matters. And as a country that was marjorly catholic, our constitution follows this principles - to the point that it's way more advanced and offers way more protection to minorities than what the society today would like. Our problem now is that the evangelicals are on the rise, and with them the ideas of exceptionalism and that you should not help the poor and these ridiculous stuff and they prey this same poor and vulnerable people, while throwing rocks at priests that feed and treat the homeless. This is not a metaphor, they are actually trying to outlaw giving food to homeless people, mostly because of one priest that does this in a huge city (with the help of the nearby mosque, I must add!).

Anyway, I got derailed, but what I want to say is that even if you are aware of the consequences of Calvin and his thoughts, sometimes you can't grasp how deep this influence goes and the implications until you see a change. I can say for myself that I never realised who deeply catholicism influenced the laws and the way people behave in my country until it began changing. In the end, growing up in a religion gives you a set a core beliefs about the world that shapes everything around it. The major religion (or lack of!) of a country has huge influence in about every single thing.

Me, starting a video that says it's going to explain how Victorian poorhouses fucked up the concept of charity forever: ok, show me what you've got

Video: it starts with the ideas of the Christian philosopher --

Me: DON'T SAY IT DON'T FUCKING SAY IT

Video: -- John Calvin

Me:

[please-destroy]

River

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 4k

.

There were two of you. You knew that from the start. You did not ask about her.

You were in love. You wanted to be.

When she took your hand, her fingers would thread slowly with yours. Your heart beat stronger with her gentle touch. You ignored the cool metal of her wedding band.

You pretended that no one else loved her like you did.

Her lips were always rougher than they looked. You lived for the feel of them on your skin. 

Sometimes, she told you about her wife. Only in passing, only in reference to their shared life. Mentions of weekend trips and dinners after work.

At first, you listened eagerly. Naive and envious in the same breath, you longed for a life just like it. Most embarrassingly, you started to hope for it. You remembered small details purposefully, how she always forgot to wear sunscreen, that she hated the stress of driving to new places. 

You didn’t ask her to choose you, not yet. But, now she was with you in your daydreams.

.

Months passed like water pouring out. You let each one wash over you.

She rented an apartment in the city just for you to share. Soon, it felt more like home than your own cheap rental. 

You found yourself on your lunch breaks at the cafe, living for her short texts, laughing at her snarky complaints. 

In the evenings, her nails scraped through your hair and you felt alive. 

Winter froze the city but you’d never felt warmer. 

She saw you the day after Christmas. You’d already decorated a small tree in the apartment. Her long dark hair sparkled under the strings of lights that you’d hung. She smiled with a special kind of relief when you told her about the takeout that you’d ordered. 

You listened to her quiet murmurings about the exhausting holiday season trapped with a woman who only drained her.

She gave you a watch that felt too expensive to sit on your wrist. You glanced down at it while you ate your takeout, feeling unspeakably special.

You gave her polaroids that you’d been very shy to pose for. 

She left the next morning, extra early to ensure she was on time for some obligation at her wife’s work.

You lay an extra hour, tangled up in the sheets, realising that you didn’t know who you were without her.

She had flooded your veins, watering down whatever had made you up before. You decided that you liked it.

She called you on New Year’s Eve; she’d bailed on some party just to speak to you. You could hear the frustration simmering in her tone. You ached at her unhappiness, but you also thrived on the feeling of being wanted by her. That you could be her place to turn to. 

At last, she said the words that you’d been praying to hear.

She was ready to end her marriage. 

The new year began with fresh anticipation. 

.

January ended and nothing had changed. 

.

You tried to be patient, waiting for her to tell you about divorce papers or formal separations.

You saw her more than ever in that sacred apartment. But, the precious lingering moments started to feel sluggish. You felt like you were on the edge of something real. You awaited the promised vacations, the shared domestic life, your own evening dates in fancy restaurants. 

The delay made you feel more stained by everything you’d done together. Reality began to feel heavier. 

In the evenings with her, you’d curl in her arms and let the white sheets take away the sin of it all. Slowly, in those quiet moments together,  she started to tell you all the details of her marriage. 

The words seemed unstoppable, unflinching in their honesty. At first, you felt proud that she could confide in you.

She listed the reasons that she’d strayed, the reasons that she’d found you.

The abstract wife who’d never seemed real, now became increasingly formed.

‘Natasha’ started to haunt your dreams.

You heard bitter stories about Natasha’s crippling fear of intimacy, the impact it had on everyone close to her. How frustrating it was. The way she distrusted simple kindness. The holidays she had ruined with her petty arguments. Her insecurities that never seemed to go away. 

Natasha’s motives seemed twisted, illogical, cruel, as you were told them. The stories seemed like bad fairy tales but you listened patiently to each one.

She continued to confide in you. Stories from years ago and moments from her day to day. You waited for the inevitable conclusion to be reached, for the logical choice to separate from the villain in every tale. 

All you seemed to get were more bitter stories.

.

You started to feel like a stone embedded in a riverbed, caught in the constant stream of water but never quite dislodged enough to break free.

You started hearing the bias in her stories, the cruelty of her tone. You started seeing a side of her that you didn’t want to.

More than anything, you found yourself starting to root for another woman who could only hate you. 

Natasha was so much stronger than either of you. 

Snippets of description lingered in your head, even when you were alone. 

Sometimes, sitting in your own apartment, you tried to imagine what shade of green Natasha’s eyes were. If she was really so tiresome or just not as self-interested as her wife.

You’d spent half a year living for the moments in that apartment. For warm towels wrapping around you, soft sheets and tangled limbs. The fleeting comfort of being held from behind, warm kisses on your bare shoulders.

You’d felt precious, like a gift meant for her. Someone to be cherished.

Now, you looked at yourself, staring back in the foggy bathroom mirror and knew that you were unloved.

You realised that your eyes were empty. You had stopped trying to be someone you liked.

You felt drained and understood at last that you were being used. .

You realised that you didn’t covet another woman’s wife. You didn’t covet anything at all.

You felt like an empty vessel, now filled to the brim with someone else’s bitterness.

You wanted yourself back. You broke free.

.

The end was brutal in its abruptness.

Two texts from you finished something that should never have been started. 

You didn’t give her a reason. You couldn’t think how to justify yourself. How to explain that you hated the way she talked about her wife. How you were starting to hate yourself. That her adultery was suddenly unforgivable.

You felt like an accomplice to something gut-twisting.

.

It was the precipice of summer now. You blocked her number when texts and calls continued to flood your phone.

You took extra shifts at the cafe. You’d grown distant from friends during the winter and now you tried your best to make amends. 

Each apology was painful and awkward, forcing you to confront your own selfishness when close friends gave you long overdue life updates. 

When you glanced at yourself in the bathroom mirror, your eyes were brighter. Every new morning, you hated yourself a little less.

You started walking more, trying to fill time that had been saved for her. You took detours to and from work, listening to thudding music through cheap earphones. You tried to leave your mistakes behind. Putting distance between you and your regrets.

You couldn’t walk away from the guilt. Thoughts of Natasha were inescapable, regret took a heavy seat on your heart.

.

It was a Saturday afternoon, simmering with uncomfortable city heat. 

You walked back to your apartment lethargically, sweat sticking your shirt to your back.

There was a woman standing in the dim hallway, just outside your door. 

Fear pinned you to the spot. The world moved in slow motion as she turned to face you.

Her red hair was braided back. Her jaw seemed tight, but her lips looked too soft for words. Anger flickered behind her green eyes. 

‘I think you know my wife.’ She spoke clearly, the crisp words slicing through the air between you.

‘Fuck.’ You whispered, doused in sudden icy panic.

.

You knew you were a homewrecker. You hadn’t realised that it was an Avenger’s home.

Your stomach sank through the floor as you warily regarded her at the end of the hallway. Natasha Romanoff was capable of anything. You’d heard rumours that she was super human. 

She was also hypnotising with her casual beauty. 

Her eyes were a deeper green than the woman you’d imagined. 

Silence stretched between you. You waited in fear.

Finally, Natasha nodded her head toward your front door.

The pointed reminder of social etiquette threw you off. You huffed an embarrassed breath as you hurried forward to unlock it.

You held the door open and Natasha walked past you. You caught the way she held her breath as she passed by you. You felt her disgust like a harsh blow to the chest. You reminded yourself it was the least you deserved.

An apology burned in your chest, desperate to be spoken aloud. 

Standing in the centre of your shitty small apartment, Natasha turned back to you. Her diamond stud earrings stood out comically in the dingy room. 

‘I hear we are in love with the same person.’ She commented, looking you straight in the eye. Her hands were buried deep in her leather jacket’s pockets, but you could make out the clenched fists. 

Her tense frame seemed sharply vulnerable. She was much smaller in person.

‘I think we’ve known different people.’ You replied cautiously, sympathy beginning to build in your chest. 

‘You need to leave her alone.’ Natasha bit back and her eyes flashed suddenly.

‘We’re not-’ You stumbled over your words, rushing to correct her impression. ‘We ended it. Everything.’ You cleared your throat. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Natasha blinked with clear surprise; she ignored your apology completely. 

‘What do you mean?’ She asked, voice dropping unexpectedly. Your gaze lowered to the ground, hot shame burned through you.

‘It lasted six months and ended three weeks ago.’ You answered factually, hating the taste of the truth. ‘I’m so sorry.’ You added again uselessly.

Natasha’s expression closed off and for a moment she was very still. Then, she moved suddenly across your apartment. The heel of her hand slammed against your wall, leaving a clear dent. You watched her forehead tilt forward, leaning heavily against the old wallpaper.  You heard her rapid breathing. Every inhale was drawn shakily. 

Your next apology died on your lips. Tears burned in your eyes. You hovered in awful limbo in the centre of the room.

Slowly, Natasha faced you again. Her eyes were rimmed red, but she wasn’t crying. She swallowed once. Her gaze dropped and she stared down at your wrist. Distress flickered behind her eyes.

You followed her stare to the wristwatch that had stopped feeling special a long time ago. Wordlessly, Natasha reached up to her earrings, undoing them one after the other. She threw them with unerring aim onto your side table.

‘There.’ She murmured, sounding broken in ways you couldn’t comprehend. ‘You might as well have all my Christmas presents.’

Nausea rose like a tidal wave as you tried to swallow down your disgust.

‘Oh God.’ You whispered in horror, unclasping the watch and throwing it onto the nearby sofa.

Natasha’s focus returned to you. Her lip twitched with a strange, resigned half smile.

‘You’re not special.’ She commented neutrally. ‘And neither am I.’

You shook your head with automatic fervour.

‘You’re a superhero.’ You countered quietly, unable to meet her eyes all over again.

Natasha’s hand brushed her cheek harshly and you realised that she’d started crying. 

‘I wreck everything.’ She muttered harshly and you recognised her honesty as another sign of your irrelevance to her. ‘Everything I touch, I ruin.’

‘You’re an Avenger.’ You tried to speak up again. You’d been fucking her wife, who’d been complaining whilst she’d been saving the world. Everything was so twisted. 

‘They just point me at the right targets.’ Natasha whispered. ‘It’s what I was made to do. I’m not made for anything else. I can’t even make a fucking marriage work.’

It felt like pieces of the room were falling down around you. The woman you had no right to speak to was imploding quietly at the edge of it.

‘I’m so sorry.’ You whispered one last time.

The apology seemed to snap Natasha out of her misery. She blinked away the tears clinging to her eyelashes and straightened up.

‘I don’t even know why I bothered you.’ She admitted tiredly as her hands slipped back into her pockets. You caught the reddened palm of the one that had hit your wall. ‘I should go.’

As she took a step toward the door, you took a step forward too.

‘Your earrings.’ You began, eyes darting unsurely to the watch that you realised was also technically hers. 

Natasha caught your hesitation and sudden exhaustion rinsed her face clean.

‘They’re not worth saving.’ She murmured in dismissal.

‘Don’t tell anyone about this.’ Natasha added in a tighter, controlled voice, before shutting the door with abrupt finality. 

Your next hesitation was short lived.

‘Wait.’ You called suddenly, hurriedly following her out into the hallway.

Natasha turned around at your voice. Fresh, private tears stained her cheeks.

‘Can I give you my number, just in case?’ You asked nervously, hand already reaching in your pocket for your phone.

‘Why the fuck would I want to talk to you?’ Natasha bit out so harshly that you flinched.

‘Because who else can you talk to about this?’ You retorted with sudden certainty.

Natasha’s mouth shut abruptly.

You reeled off your number aloud, Natasha didn’t write it down but she stayed stoically until you’d finished speaking.

When you returned to your apartment, you sat on your sofa and stared up at the cracked ceiling, thinking about the mess you’d made. The pain you’d inflicted on someone else.

Natasha’s eyes were going to haunt you forever.

.

Natasha called you three days later. You answered the unknown number unsurely. You were on your lunch break, sitting on a step just behind the heavy fire exit door. The warm breeze barely made the summer air tolerable.

Your throat closed at her voice. 

‘There’s definitely someone else.’ She told you, without preamble. You felt sick, you realised how little you wanted to have this conversation. You felt like you owed her everything.

‘How do you know?’ You asked, forcing your voice to be even.

‘How do you think I knew about you?’ Natasha retorted, voice deceptively cool. ‘Did you think that she’s subtle?’

You stood up, beginning to pace with the phone pressed to your ear. 

‘Are you going to confront her?’ You asked, wondering if she was looking for courage.

‘No-’ Natasha’s voice faltered obviously, as if your question had thrown her. ‘No, it’s not that simple.’

‘She’s being cruel.’ You whispered, thinking guiltily back to the horrible things that Natasha’s wife had said about her. 

‘I can make this work. Natasha replied, voice cracking. ‘I just need another chance. I just need to-’

‘You can’t push all this bad shit down, that’s not balance.’ You heard yourself advising in a low voice.  ‘You’re the only person here who hasn’t done anything wrong.’ 

Natasha hung up the phone.

You spent another afternoon filled with regret.

.

The next evening, she was standing outside your door again. You tried not to be relieved to see her again. 

There was something laughably put together about her professional outfit. The black suit jacket was pristine. 

You let her in this time without hesitation.

It felt like a movie cliche. Natasha sat tensely on your sofa. You sat nervously beside her. She put her head in her hands and you watched the way her jacket went taut against the curve of her spine. 

‘I can’t tell anyone.’ Natasha whispered into her hands. ‘I’m so ashamed.’

Your heart shattered silently. You didn’t understand. 

‘This isn’t your fault.’ You murmured softly.

Natasha adjusted, crossing her arms tightly as she sat up straighter. 

‘I promised her that I’d get better.’ Natasha told you, in a voice dripping with self loathing. Her tone was too cold, you found yourself resisting the urge to shrink away from her.

‘What do you mean?’ You asked hesitantly.

The line of Natasha’s jaw tensed before she answered. Her long straight hair was loose, obscuring her face slightly. Her eyes flickered to you and you remembered how little she must trust you.

You lifted your hands in mock surrender.

‘What I meant to ask.’ You corrected hastily. ‘Is, do you want a drink?’

Real surprise flooded Natasha’s face at your words. Still, you didn’t miss the way her shoulders relaxed at the turn in conversation. She swallowed a lump in her throat, nodding wordlessly. 

You left for the kitchen, returning with an unopened bottle of vodka.

Natasha took it silently, unscrewing the cap between her thumb and forefinger. 

‘I hate that I’m here.’ She admitted after lifting the bottle to her lips. 

“I hate what I did.’ You admitted readily too.

‘Stop saying that.’ She advised suddenly, twisting the gold band on her finger. ‘It doesn’t make anyone feel better, except you.’

You nodded, feeling embarrassed.

‘When I told my boss that I was getting married. He said it wasn’t something I could do well.’ She confessed suddenly. Natasha made you feel invisible, her eyes skated over you as she spoke.

You didn’t matter to her. You had no right to.

‘Pain only makes us stronger.’ She breathed softly and the sound filled the hesitations between her words. ‘I don’t know how to deserve her but I have to keep trying.’

‘She doesn’t deserve you Natasha.’ You hated yourself completely. You knew she couldn’t hear you, that your opinion held no weight and it was your own fault.

Natasha took another drink from the vodka bottle.

‘I get stuck behind these walls in my head.’ She mumbled in a low voice, tucking her hair behind her ear. ‘I can’t be normal.’

A lump rose in your chest. Her words were unbearably sad. 

Your hand moved carefully to rest in the space between her shoulder blades. Natasha flinched away sharply.

‘Don’t touch me.’ She told you angrily and you felt yourself truly want to die.

‘I’m sorry.’ You whispered, embarrassed tears filling your eyes.

The air was stifling as you fought to keep your breathing even.

‘Every time I look at you, I think about her fucking you.’ Natasha continued, anger flowing through her, uncontrolled. She slammed the bottle down on the side table and fear iced up the back of your neck. 

‘Do you think I just fucking forget about that?’ She asked cuttingly, getting to her feet.

There was an awful pause. Then, with sudden clarity, you felt brave. You owed Natasha everything, no words could tear you down lower.

‘Do you forget when you’re with her?’ You asked, standing up too.

‘You have a wife who is breaking your heart.’ You heard your voice growing stronger and you barely recognised yourself. ‘Do you think she loves you? Do you know what she says about you?’

Natasha’s face went ashen.

‘You are better than her.’ You continued fiercely. ‘I can’t forget the things I did either. The only person who can live with themself is her.’

The silence that met your words was pervasive. You could hear your refrigerator humming in the other room.

.

Natasha ran her hand through her hair, leaving it messier than before. Another piece of her collected image fell apart.

‘I’m trying.’ She muttered brokenly. ‘I’m trying so hard.’

‘It’s not your fault that she’s hurting you.’ You countered quietly, feeling self-conscious after your outburst.

Natasha gave you a strange look, filled with twisting guilt that you recognised too familiarly. 

‘It is.’ She whispered in a cracked voice. 

She sank back down onto your old sofa. 

‘Fuck.’ She muttered, rubbing her face briefly with her hands. ‘I love her. I do love her.’ She started quietly, twisting her wedding band harshly.

‘But, everything is hard.’ Natasha confessed, staring down at her lap. ‘And I asked her to be patient with me, but I can’t figure out how to make myself change.’

You watched Natasha with bated breath. It felt cooler suddenly, like a breeze had finally found its way into your shitty apartment.

‘Don’t fucking change.’ You determined firmly and Natasha turned to stare at you in shock. ‘You’re fine as you are.’ Your confidence came from a certainty in your chest. 

‘There’s nothing wrong with how you love people.’ You continued. ‘Your love has saved so many fucking lives.’

Natasha watched you like an unsure child.

You felt stronger, closer to a freedom that only her happiness could bring.

‘You’re not failing by being yourself.’ You continued to assert. ‘You can’t be.’

‘I really do love her.’ Natasha murmured and you realised that she was looking at you differently now.

You hoped she knew that you were on her side.

‘I know.’ You reassured her softly. ‘Love shouldn’t be this hard.’ 

‘Believe me, I know.’ You added in a mutter under your breath. 

A short laugh left Natasha unexpectedly.

You fought a tiny smile as the air settled, drenched in unspeakable relief.

.

The end was brutal in its abruptness.

Two texts from Natasha finished something that should never have been started. 

She didn’t need to give a reason. But, she did.

She explained how much she hated the way that her wife talked to her. She wrote that her adultery was unforgivable.

At last, you felt like an accomplice to something good.

.

It was autumn when you next saw Natasha. 

She walked into your cafe like she was a regular. A hush fell over the busy establishment. Whispers of Black Widow circulating faster than the caffeine did.

Her hands rested on the counter and you noted the absence of her wedding ring. Natasha caught your gaze and she smiled simply.

‘When’s your break?’ She asked, as you began filling the coffee cup.

You sat together, on the step just behind the heavy fire exit door. Natasha’s shoulder was pressed against yours. The cool air was made pleasant by your warm coat.

Natasha told you that things were easier now. 

She had better friends than she’d ever realised. She told you about Friday movie nights with some people from work. She told you about the cat that had moved into her new apartment, only a few weeks after she had.

You sipped on your coffee as you listened, not tasting anything except its warmth. 

You asked carefully if she still spoke to her ex-wife. 

Natasha shook her head and gave a gentle laugh. Her hair caught the autumn light and you realised suddenly that it was made up of many shades of red.

Before she left, Natasha gave you her number. 

.

You didn’t text her. 

Natasha was a better person than you. She was brave, strong and kind. 

You’d been granted more forgiveness than you deserved. 

Natasha’s eyes finally stopped haunting your dreams.

.

It was the start of winter when Natasha called you. She invited you to the next Friday movie night with her friends, she was hosting it at her apartment. You didn’t realise how easy it was to say yes, until you did.

The streets were icy when you walked over that evening. Natasha wore an oversized wool jumper and leggings when she answered the door. 

She’d invited you earlier than anyone else. She offered you a glass of wine and introduced you to a black cat that slunk away from you in distaste. 

There were various framed photos placed around the living room. Natasha was smiling in every single one. 

More people arrived and soon the small gathering felt like a party. 

Natasha introduced you to each new guest as an old friend. You caught the way her work friends exchanged curious glances. 

More wine was poured and soon a cheesy romcom occupied the room’s attention.

Her living room now held more people in it than there were comfortable seats and so Natasha sat on the floor, just in front of you.

Somewhere, between the wine and the easy laughter, and Natasha’s back pressed comfortably against your legs, you started braiding a piece of her hair.

You watched the way Natasha smiled to herself, pink cheeks from the alcohol.

.

The new year began better than the last.

[room-surprise]

(Warning for Dungeon Meshi manga spoilers below, spoiling the end of Kabru and Mithrun's story arcs. Seriously don't keep reading if you don't want to know how it ends!!!)

One of my favorite things in Dungeon Meshi is how at the end of the story, Mithrun is in a suicidal death spiral, he's lost all will to live, and Kabru gets frustrated with him at first, yells at him...

And then he calms down, reaches out his hand to him and says, more or less, "Please don't do this to yourself. I don't want you to do this."

And Mithrun thinks about all of the things Kabru's said up until then, the week they spent together, and he takes his hand and says "...okay. I'll try."

He agrees to try living again, even though it's hard, and inevitably it is going to hurt, because being alive means that sometimes we will be hurt.

And then Mithrun gets up and, probably for the first time in his life, he starts helping other people for no reason except that he wants to help. Nobody ordered him, it's not expected of him. He chooses to help. He wants to do it. He SAYS that he wants to do it. Maybe he can find purpose in life in helping others.

Kabru too seems to be someone whose entire purpose in life is helping others. It's how he gives his life purpose, he believes that protecting others from another Utaya is the reason he's alive. So it's significant that after spending time with Kabru, Mithrun chooses to follow his lead... Both literally, when he asks Kabru "what do you want to do?" and agrees to follow him, but also at the end of the manga, where Mithrun's choices reflect Kabru's values.

Post-manga, Mithrun decides that he wanted to spend the rest of his long life helping the people of the new kingdom, even though he'd been raised to believe they were his inferiors.

He wants to live among them, and keep them safe. He chooses them, and their "barbaric, uncivilized land" (how Fleki describes the region) over returning west to luxury, wealth and comfort.

He chooses the tall-men over the elves, who have rejected him and abused him for being disabled and traumatized... And whose culture was so brutally unforgiving of imperfection that it made him an anxiety-ridden paranoid mess as a young man.

Maybe it won't be any better in the east, but Kabru is there, and Kabru wants Mithrun to try living. He thinks Mithrun isn't irredeemably broken.

And, the way Mithrun wants to help the people of the new country... Just so happens to be doing something that will alleviate some of Kabru's deep, traumatic fear of monsters.

Mithrun's going to make this new country safe, so Kabru can live there without fear, even if there's an unusually high amount of monsters out in the countryside. Even if Laios' curse stops working, or he dies, Mithrun will be there. Kabru has a safeguard that he knows will outlive him.

Mithrun says that the demon left behind a hole in his heart, and that "the people around him" have filled it.

Years with his team didn't make Mithrun get better. They weren't able to change him or help him. Maybe they didn't even try, because they all believed he was unsalvageable.

But Kabru never believed that. Even from the beginning, he refused to believe that Mithrun was beyond help. He rejected using magic to make him sleep, because he believed Mithrun could be helped with a gentle touch, and basic human kindness... And he was right.

[sjmxreaderweek]

Prompt List & Guidelines

We hope everyone is feeling renewed and refreshed from their holiday celebrations! Here is the prompt list for our very first SJM x Reader Week!

We welcome you to interpret these prompts however you like. Moodboards, fan art, fanfic, playlists, we welcome all creations so long as human creativity went into it. We will not reblog any work using AI. We want to see what your beautiful minds come up with!

Please tag @sjmxreaderweek in your post and use the sjmxreaderweek and sjmxreaderweek2025 tags. We want to be able to reblog your creations, and this will help us find you!

Of course, if you have any questions please feel free to send them our way! Prompt descriptions are below:

Day One: Beginnings/Endings

This is the prompt of firsts and lasts, a chance for joy and heartbreak in equal measure. Tell us how your ship began or show us their final day together. Let us see them starting a new tradition or celebrating one for the last time.

Day Two: Friends/Family

How did they introduce their new significant other to their friends or family? Did they begin as friends? Were they introduced by family? How do the people they love the most factor into their lives?

Day Three: Fate/Choice

We can't fight fate, or can we? Does destiny trump the love you choose for yourself? Or do you defy the gods and choose your own path? Is having a fated mate as sweet as everyone makes it sound?

Day Four: Villain/Hero

Every hero is a villain in someone else's story. And, to some, a villain may be the hero they've been longing for. Is there blood on the hands that held you so sweetly? Did it come from great sacrifice, or was it sweet revenge?

Day Five: Heirs/Lords & Ladies

If SJM loves anything, it's a royal romance. Is your great love heir to a court or kingdom? How does their role or title affect their relationship? Is the head that wears the crown heavy, or does their birthright give them purpose? Does court intrigue play a part in their great romance?

Day Six: Adventure/Home

Come on, it's our chance to head out on an incredible adventure! Do we go find a tulip field in a foreign land for a lovely picnic? Is there danger afoot, do we need to save the world? Or do we stay inside, curled up with a good book and the one we love most? Sometimes the best adventures can be found in the comfort of your own home.

Day Seven: Free Day

Do you have an idea that won't fall under the previous prompts, now matter how loosely you interpret them? Now is your chance to tell us the story you've been wanting to tell! Got a weird AU you've been dying to share? Give it to us now! Write that crossover fic of your dreams. Anything goes!

[doctorho]

the humans sing.

that's the thing that carries through the forest;

the singing.

it's ever-present, the daylight sparkling loud chants of the children, the calmer sunset songs of the night. the melodies that change with the seasons. the different songs for the whole town to sing together and for lonely wanderers to hum to themselves. the heartbroken songs some of them sometimes sing to the rocks by the river, not knowing that the water would carry the words over to the other side of the treeline.

it must be some sort of magic.

if you get close enough, you can also see the lights; the whole village gathering around a fire, filling the night with light and music and singing like they share the same breath. sometimes they even move as one, and it's hypnotic, in a way; the song resonates somewhere deep in viktor's lungs, even if he doesn’t know the words or recognize the melody. and he's mesmerized by it - the way the people seem to move as if they don't even have to think about it. the way the music seems to spark something, how even the children know the words, how the people come together like this.

viktor gets the unexplainable urge to tap his fingers to the rhythm of the song, and by then he's sure it must be some sort of magic, because it just made him want to do something he had no reason for doing. and if the humans could control the dogs with their minds and other sentient beings with their songs, what else could they do?

did they have more advanced forms of magic all along?

humans weren't supposed to be magical, not really. according to the history texts, they'd had some lighter forms of magic back in the old times, gifted favors of nature spirits and even some celestial ones, the ability to predict weather patterns and communicate with animals and wield plant-life - but they'd had the magical abilities fade out of their bloodlines as human societies grew and evolved. they didn't deal with the magical world anymore - had abandoned it.

every now and again, supposedly, there was a child with magical tendencies, one that could hear the most high-pitched of noises or feel the thunderstorms approaching, but the humans didn't seem to recognize this as the old magic that it was, and so the magic was forgotten, and kept diluting into the mundane. sometimes the fae would introduce their world to the children, let them make their own decisions, and sometimes they'd embrace it and come live in the forest. and sometimes they'd choose to forget.

from what viktor could tell, in the village nearest to their settlement, there wasn't any clear magic present. none that he could see, at least.

except for maybe the singing.

and the way you could whistle, and the wolves would come running.

listen listen listen what if. what if magical creature au? what if fae viktor au? what if fantasy romance au????

what if viktor (and jayce, they're a package deal) are. like. you know. Other. creatures. magical fae from some hidden parallel reality in a forest. just...there's a whole world of Them out there, living their lives and Maybe occasionally stealing kids from nearby villages (as you do).

so the humans, like, know they're there, and try to avoid them, right? that's what you do when you learn that there are these, these BEINGS with MAGICAL POWERS and WEIRD CUSTOMS and POINTY EARS just....hanging out on the other side of the forest. that's what you do when every nursery rhyme you've ever heard is about how dangerous they are. you stay away.

you don't see them, and they don't see you. big deal if sometimes there's rocks in weird piles and mushroom that grow in circles and sometimes all the fish in a pond are suddenly exactly the same color. so what if sometimes when there's a full moon all the frogs go quiet.

so what if sometimes there's singing in the darkness! you pretend not to hear it, and you wear the special forged jewellery that everyone says you should, even when you're not a child anymore. you go through the motions of all the superstitions, help with gardening and keeping the small streams that circle the village in good shape. they're not supposed to be able to cross over running water, and you have no idea if that's true, since it's just as nonsensical as everything else that's said about them - but you do it anyway.

you live your life, and they live theirs, quietly.

the two worlds don't really overlap.

but, you know, they've been there for so many years, on these small lands, and fae politics don't always mix that well with creatures from other places, so it's boring, and....what if things in the forest are just....stagnant and old and unfair?

what if viktor doesn't like the way things are?

what if he's - well, what if the system isn't very fair, and he just isn't lucky?

so what if he wants to change things. make it better. help others who maybe also weren't born lucky.

what if he wants progress.

what if, to achieve this, he sneaks out of the forest sometimes to steal some....things. things he can't get otherwise and he's sure the people won't miss that much - just scrap metal, mostly. maybe sometimes a pastry.

he knows it's dangerous - not only because he's not supposed to be seen, and yes, he knows that stealing is bad, but that's not the point - but also because that scrap metal is, categorically, technically poisonous to him. but it's fine! he knows how to handle it, he's careful. and he's going to show them that they can use it to make things better.

[sieglinde-freud]

i miss claude so badly im already planning my golden deer maddening run while still in the middle of black eagles. i just want my guy. my favorite guy. unfortunately i just love the black eagles as a group/cast but i am mourning my man (i never kill him btw)

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent game related things .. hrmm...

[thompsborn]

no because like i have a fic i started that’s a super in depth heart shattering fic exploring harley and peter breaking up and spending 12 years apart and then coming back together and how it would explore them as individuals and as partners and

and also i have this little fic idea where peter and harley break up but also they had this plant that they took care of together and a week after breaking up peter shows up at harley’s door like “if that plant dies i will actually strangle you with my bare hands” and they begrudgingly post break up bitterness have to be around each other a few times a week to share custody of this fucking plant and that somehow leads to them falling in love again

and i plan to write both it’s only just a matter of time and how long it takes me to write them

[swordmaid]

I do think that there’s a part of shri’iia that will always love lolth. she can’t help it ; she’s devoted so much of herself to that goddess before, and despite the hurt and resentment and the trauma, she was still her home, you know? and I think it will take a long time - like way past her oath breaking era to fully detangle herself from lolth just because of how much and how long she had dedicate herself to her (nearly 2 centuries worth). and before this whole oath breaking thing, and before her getting this new freedom, shri’iia didn’t even know there were other gods to worship than lolth. that a life outside of lolth was possible, and her entire existence didn’t depend on lolth. like the option to think differently wasn’t available to her, hence why she had such a difficult time fully grasping at the concept of freedom, and why she took so long actually accepting it for herself. and why an option to run back and return to lolth despite being free is plausible for her too. anyway, I think even post bg3 or whatever her dnd canon is, I think there’s some part of her that will still love lolth. she isn’t like minthara where she can fully scorn the spider queen; minthara had options and freedom that shri’iia wasn’t born with. she was afforded the luxury of being comfortable in her status as a drow woman because she was already born into that power that they’re expected to have, meanwhile shri’iia had to reach and truly fight to have a taste of the privilege that minthara was already born with - and it’s the very power that lead to her being used by her matriarch. regardless, I think that’s such an interesting dynamic to have for her, just all around complicated religious feelings. and why I think she won’t turn into an eilistraeen in the future even though her new oath aligns with eilistraee’s beliefs. I think some part of her would feel like she’s still betraying lolth - despite not following her anymore - at the prospect of worshipping somebody else, and I do think she mourns that devotion she once had. that - and the fact that she was ‘complete’ when she followed lolth, and her oath was divine and pure, but now it’s all broken and severed and she’s just making do with what she’s left with.

[eimearkuopio]

Schrödinger's Messiah. He is both dead and alive until we open the box. If we have had enough faith, He will be alive.

I'm not ready to open the box yet. It's been too long. I believe, but I am afraid. So if you want to open it, do it yourself. I'm going to go set up the Resurrection Feast and hope it won't be a funeral.

[nguyenfinity]

More school stuff!!

These are spreads from a type specimen booklet, the objective was to make an 8-page 5″x5″ booklet showcasing the many uses and variations of only 1 typeface on any topic of your choice

So I once again decided to get silly with it--

My other topics in consideration were:

A full summary of all 16 seasons of Ninjago (scrapped because I’d have to write that summary myself and I did not have that kind of time [we were allowed to copy paste as long as we included our source])

The entire national Pokédex. All 1015 of them. Just 8 pages of listing every single Pokémon. It was funny until I realized that’s way way too much.

Narrowed it down to the full dex of just one region but that was still too much-- (body copy requirement was just 5 paragraphs and too much text would be too cluttered)

[prescienceofdawn]

.

[misterradio]

HE SUCKS JONATHAN ON STAGE ?!???!!!!!!??????!!!!!????

[ripdenbrough]

( tag dump!! c: ) tag dump pt. 2.

[alagaisia]

I’m very much over it now but there was a period of time. And I will refrain from specifying when and how recently that time was because it would be frankly embarrassing. When I often wondered to myself, are @insertagoodpunhere and I *really* friends? Does she also want to be my friend? Still? Are we sure?

We have been friends since the third grade.

Direct byproduct of being neurodivergent and growing up isolated from your peergroup is having no idea when it's appropriate to define someone as your friend