#and that his isolation IS his fault. and that he thinks hes alone that he has no one when he does

[hanafubukki]

Silver’s Curse Changing

Thinking about it, but have we ever considered that Silver’s curse becoming worse is not solely one person’s fault nor is it based on self-perception only but a collective change that made it worse?

Most tend to blame Lilia for Silver’s curse becoming worse or because of Silver’s self-depreciation.

But I don’t think that’s fully the case. I don’t think the curse becoming worse is entirely Lilia’s fault nor do I think it’s because of how Silver views himself being the only reason.

As we saw in part 5, Silver accepted he was loved at the end. And for Lilia, while yes, to a degree he’s at fault because he hasn’t accepted his importance in his boys’ lives which in turn had a cascading effect. The curse becoming worse isn’t solely his fault.

What do we know about the curse? We know that it became worse as Silver aged.

But what else happens when you age?

We change. We place boundaries. We open/close our hearts. We have identity issues. Etc.

This is what I think caused his curse to become worse.

From outside looking in, Diasomnia is a tight knit family.

But when we look at them? Time has changed their bonds. So is it surprising that Silver’s curse changed with him?

Malleus -> who has always been alone and isolated, who helped take care of Silver, who taught Sebek and Silver magic, who loves Lilia -> became “Lord Malleus” to Silver and Sebek, his knights, in a way this places boundaries, didin’t it? I have no doubt that Silver probably called him something else when he was younger but that probably changed with time as well. With Lilia, it went from someone who could hear his cries to “you should act like a prince” and “you have to do better to get along with humans”

Lilia -> someone who has always kept secrets, someone who changed, who leaned to love, who hatched Malleus and woke Silver, who continued to learn and travel -> became someone who went from “Toto” to “Father”, someone who was limited to visiting Malleus and had to place boundaries as his “caretaker”, someone who is aging and dying so he distanced himself, someone who ran away from his problems when he would face it before.

Silver -> someone who loves openly, giving Lilia acorn bracelet, who knows Malleus and learned to dance from him and magic -> someone who calls Lilia “father” and Malleus “lord”, someone who had a crisis about his identity, someone who is “reserved” (Malleus can read him easily)

Silver’s curse didn’t only get worse because he wasn’t loved or didn’t believe he deserved it.

But also because of how his relationships changed over time.

The curse like him aged and changed with him. It changed as he changed.

A big factor to breaking this curse I believe is communication.

Something that we see is an issue right now with Diasomnia. And something that, as we go through our developing years, have issues with as well especially when it comes to being open and communicative with family.

While their love for each other is never in question (to us the audience), their communication with each other is the root of the problem.

Diasomnia might be a blabbermouth about each other, but it doesn’t mean they are blabbermouths to each other.

[therosevest]

be so serious with me. do you think that shared trauma caused by interdimensional violence and death and government conspiracies and survivor’s guilt would seriously be outweighed by a petty high school breakup.

[nonbinaryphantom]

valerie for the roleswap au is gonna be so so hard to figure out bc her dynamic with danny is already different by virtue of danny not being as good of a guy AND more of a loner so its like auhghhhhh i still want to make their dynamic fun and interesting

[mychapel-004]

a note on "fordtramine"

just a thought while im working on a comprehensive history of bill.

by now i'm sure it's common knowledge that stanford's favourite colour is "fordtramarine", a colour only him and bill are able to see due to bill rewiring his optic nerve as a gift, but something i find very interesting is this page from thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com

specifically, that note at the bottom on the "beautiful" paintings ford submitted to (unsuccessfully) demonstrate the colour. most of them are normal, including a self portrait in gouache until you get to "(E) A muse, oil on canvas".

not only that, but in the abstract ford writes that "specific two dimensional entities may act in the same way as a prism, refracting light.... new perceptions"

something something devoting a painting to your muse in the colour that they let you name, that they gifted you with the ability to see. something something bill acting as a prism, like the crystals ford keeps all over his house, that ford can look through, like a doorway into a world entirely made of the weird and wonderful that you connect so deeply with. a world that you can never show anyone else, your canvases are always blank and no-one else has the eyes that you do, your study is rejected and no-one will hear you out.

do you think bill felt that way? growing up, able to see what others couldn't, "its not your fault you have that strange eye", "the doctor says three sips a day will make the visions go away", able to see an entirely different dimension to his own parents, always too different and too strange and too weird.

CODES: "THEY'LL SEE" "THEY'LL ALL SEE" "THE EUCLYDIAN DEPT OF VISION SUPERVISION"

growing up in a world where it seems that seeing beyond the norm is heavily punished, it's kind of telling that bill's gifts to ford are often relating to seeing or knowing things that ford would never experience without bill (new colours, new directions for his research, his mindscape, the portal). the gift of vision from a god who grew up being blinded. bill really is his all-seeing eye, in a lot of ways.

in the same way, fiddleford's gifts to ford almost always revolve around very human comfort (gloves to fit his hands specifically, a pet to keep him company, a snowglobe reminder of the time they spent together) comfort that he was too distracted to devote to his wife and child, only ever to ford who broke or threw them away.

fiddleford accepted ford for who he was, and he showed that through his gifts. all of ford's strangeness and brilliance, gloves made specifically to protect and warm six fingers, a pet that looked like him for him to ramble to when fidd is gone. bill's gifts were brilliant and tailored just for ford, but they were isolating. experiences he could only have with bill, things that made him stranger, more alone, pulled him further into the weirdness, the grey area. all in preparation for the day bill would take things too far, and pray ford, so alike to him, would join him.

[autistichalsin]

So here's a very sad pattern for Halsin: he is used to putting his feelings to the side as well as dealing with everything alone.

If the Rite of Thorns completes, he says "The Rite of Thorns...? No. The grove is lost to me. To everyone. It's useless for me to stay here... there's nothing left to fight for. I will find you at your camp, and help you with your problem. Right now, I... I need to go be alone."

In the cut scenario where the player could interfere with Halsin's portal, collapsing it and dooming the Shadow-Cursed Lands: "Words won't repair what's been done to this land. Nothing will... I need to be alone" and "there is nothing more to be said... I need to be alone."

There are also lines in the goblin camp, if Kagha or all of the Druids have been killed, where Halsin indicates that he is experienced in compartmentalizing his emotions until he can feel them properly.

If Kagha dies: "Kagha... This is my fault - I was her teacher. I will mourn her when I can. But there are other matters to attend to before that."

If the Druids die and the player explains (as opposed to taunting Halsin): "Then... then it is as you say. They forgot their principles; you had no choice. I will mourn them when I can. But there are other matters to attend to before that."

It says a lot about Halsin, I think, that he is so ready to put off grieving properly when he learns his second in command or all of his Druids have died, and that he is used to the primary way for him to feel pain is alone.

He says it repeatedly, how he lost his confidantes and peers to the Shadow Curse, and they were replaced with unrelenting responsibility. It was so bad, his isolation so total that the Druids let him slip into a very dark place mentally. He mentions having grown overly fond of honey mead and nights alone (processing his grief entirely alone, and also depending on alcohol to do what human connection couldn't), and that he was so stressed he began to look fondly on his past as a sex slave, because it truly felt like a better alternative for him than what he was currently facing. He was miserable and lonely and honestly, likely very unwell mentally- and no one at his Grove intervened, leading to him having an instinctive need to do everything alone by the time you meet him. He doesn't even expect others to help him physically anymore; listen to how shocked he sounds when you save him from Orin. "You came for me... thank you."

He's so used to having to bear everyone's problems and his own too. It just breaks my heart. :(

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

TENDER CARE. 18+

pairing. bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary. you’ve been feeling insecure lately and your boyfriend, bucky knows just the way to make you feel pretty

word count. 2847

warnings. 18+ only!! hurt/comfort, reader feeling insecure, lots of hand kissing bc that shit makes me weak, kissing in general, praise, body worshiping, oral (f receiving) little bit of titty stuff, unprotected pinv sex, bucky being the best bf. minors dni

It was late, the evening quiet - the winter moon, a bright slither of silver amongst the dark blue sky. 

As you lay in your bed, admiring her -the moon’s- beauty through the condensation of your window, your mind begins to drift, irrationality throwing hurdles at you. Your brain darting back and forth to those same thoughts you've been having more of lately - ones where doubt and insecurity flood any sense of logicality. 

You knew you had no reason to feel this way. Your boyfriend always went to grave lengths to ensure you felt loved and appreciated, showing you nothing but tender care. Though, there was just something in your brain, that little green gremlin instilling distrust within you - no fault to him.

You felt isolated with your sense of humility, often feeling as though you didn't have someone to confide in, someone to talk to. It wasn't an easy topic to bring up, and although you felt comfortable enough with Bucky to share your mind freely, this was something that you just could not stomach. 

Not only were you thinking about yourself, you were thinking of Bucky. The thought of admitting to him you felt insecure in your relationship felt like the highest form of betrayal. To confess to the man who's been torn apart and stitched together more times than one can count - that you felt unlovable, was something you couldn't bear. 

The amount of hurt you would cause him simply by sharing was enough to deter you. So, for that reason alone, you kept it hidden. Letting yourself wallow in the crappy feeling unaided. 

Your phone vibrates on your nightstand beside you, the screen obnoxiously bright - the white almost blinding you within your dim bedroom. Teary-eyed, you peek over at the caller ID, your boyfriend's name displayed beside his picture. 

You wanted to talk to him - to hear his voice, but you knew your wavering tone would give away your dismal state. So, you let his call go to voicemail, like all his others from this evening. 

Feeling guilt-ridden for declining his calls, you pick up your phone, deciding to send him a text instead. But when you unlock your phone, you see a pile of missed messages from Bucky, each text growing more and more worried at your sudden disappearance - his last one reading, 'I'll be over in 10' which was nearly ten minutes ago. 

You exhale in frustration, cursing yourself as you wipe your eyes - carefully blotting the sensitive skin with one hand, the other typing a response. You decided on a small, white lie, replying, 'sorry, I was sleeping.'

The second your thumb presses send, you hear a frantic string of taps on your door - the repeated sound of knuckles knocking. You take a moment to situate yourself before making your way to your front entrance, socked feet paddling over to answer. 

You peek through the peephole, your boyfriend on the other side - visibly distressed as he rakes through the front strands of his hair. You reach for the handle, unlocking the door with an expression you were sure to be disgrace. "I'm so sorry. I was in—" you start.

"Are you okay? You didn't answer. I got worried— I thought something happened," Bucky cuts you off, walking past you and stepping into your apartment.

You close the door behind him, turning to meet his frazzled features. "I know, I know. I'm really sorry. My phone was on silent, and I was in bed. I didn't see anything til just now," you confess, sharing parts of the truth.

He deeply exhales, gaze softening as he looks over you. He pauses, seeming like he's analysing you, eyes honing in on your evading ones. "What's wrong?" 

You knew your gag would be up sooner or later, but you didn't expect it to be this soon. Sometimes, it was like your boyfriend knew things about you before you even did yourself - as though you failed to remember who you were talking to.

"Nothing," you smile, kissing his cheek as you step past him. "Just tired— didn't sleep properly."

"Yeah?" he hums, not quite believing your half-truths. He kicks off his boots and follows you into your room, soft footsteps behind you like a shadow. "How was your day?" he asks, talking like he's scoping you out.

You sit on the foot of your bed, shrugging at him dismissingly. "Same old. How was yours?"

He steps towards you, eyes darting around your room before focusing on you - everything becoming more apparent. "Fine. Good," he nods, softly groaning as he takes a crouch in front of you, kneeling on the floor between your legs so he's level with you. "What's wrong? What's going on?" he asks, eyes following you with the movement of his head, brows narrowing.

"Nothing," you reply, speaking faintly. Responding minimally in case your voice were to break.

"No?" he questions, placing a delicate hand over your knee - the palm emitting warmth onto your skin through the fabric of your pyjamas.

You shake your head, bottom lip beginning to waver under his attention. 

"Then what's on your mind?" he asks gently, his tone warm and concerned.

"I told you," you avoid his eyes, looking down at your hands on your lap. "Didn't sleep well."

He sighs at your tenacity to push him away, head cocking to the side. He adjusts the stance on his knees, and your hands scramble for him - reaching out and holding onto him as if you were to stop him from leaving. Though only he wasn't leaving - he was just getting more comfortable. 

"I wasn't leaving," he murmurs, slipping his hands into yours, thumb brushing over the back of your hand assuringly. "Did you think I was going to leave you?" he asks, lips lining into a faint frown.

You notice his brows tug upwards in the middle, the tell-tell sign he was beginning to think too hard. "No, I was just— I... don't know."

"Well, I'm not," he responds shortly, speaking like he was being stern with you - tough love. "Now, what's going on with you?" he asks, his grip on your hand tightening with a reassuring squeeze, the silent act encouraging you. 

You inhale steadily, letting the air fill your lungs. "I haven't been feeling good."

He keeps his eyes on yours, following you. "Okay, why?" he questions shortly, wanting to get to the root of the problem as quickly as possible.

"I've been sad."

"Why?

You shrug. "I just have."

"I need more than that. Why have you been sad?"

"I don't know."

"Why?" he repeats, brows straightening.  

"Because I feel... ugly."

He hesitates, his shoulders slumping at your confession, visibly digesting your words. "Ugly?" he recites, the remark leaving a foul taste on his tongue. "Honey," he lingers, softly shaking his head.

Bucky stills, his forehead creasing with what you perceive to be pity. His mouth opens as though he's going to say something, only for it to snap back shut. He faintly sighs, bringing your hand to his lips. "You know that's not true, right?" he rhetorically asks, pressing a kiss into the back of your hand.

You don't say anything, the only reply being a short exhale and an awkward smile.

"Because I think you..." he pauses, kissing another patch into your hand. "Are the prettiest," a slow smile lining his lips - an expression that's now mirroring yours.

It was so simple. Everything Bucky did to reassure you - he did with ease. Just the tiny, loving act instantly melting the tension in your mind. His care for you pushing away any sense of self-doubt.

He peppers another kiss into your hand. And another - littering a short string of them over your wrist. "Don't listen to your brain, okay? She's not always right," he murmurs, expression softening like it was reassuring his words.

"I know," you nod, weakly smiling at him. "Just—"

"Hard. I know," Bucky finishes your sentence, nodding at you understandingly. 

He leans forward and places a soft kiss on the centre of your lips - his own brushing over yours sweetly, the action grounding and comforting. He pulls away first, eyes half-lidded as they glance over you, focusing on the almost pleading look on your face.

Your free hand reaches up to his face, palm enclosing his jaw as you bring him back in for a kiss - lips working over his more urgently than the time before. 

"Thank you," you mumble against his mouth, merely pulling away to show your appreciation. "You're so kind to me."

His grip loosens on your hand, now sliding both up to your face, cupping your cheeks as he deepens the kiss - tongue slipping into your mouth willingly. His lips leave yours, trailing a line of kisses along your jaw and down the side of your throat. 

"Always," he murmurs, the short word muffling into your skin. Whispering, "I want to show you just how pretty you are."

A soft whine-like hum vibrates in your throat, the noise accepting his words eagerly. Your hand trails into the short strands of hair at the back of his head, fingers grazing his scalp as you hold him to the crook of your neck. Neck tilting to the side, allowing him more access to you as you reach for his jacket, pushing the fabric off his broad shoulders. 

He presses a final kiss into a patch of your skin and pulls away, looking at your ever-softening features - eyes and brows growing pliant under his attention. His hands slowly roam down to the hem of your t-shirt, fingers hooking under the fabric as they lift, pulling it off your head in a steady, swift motion.

You sit in front of him, chest bare and on display in front of him, letting him take you in - not shying away like you did earlier.

Bucky remains quiet, his eyes fixed on the lewd sight before him, silently storing the image for safekeeping. He brings his hands up towards your tits, cupping under each - holding them in his palms. "So beautiful," he hums, leaning in to place a kiss on the swell below your nipple, giving his attention to each breast.

He rolls them in his strong hands, delicately playing and toying with them, thumbs skimming over your sensitive, hardening nipples, pressing kisses into the skin above. He looks up at you from between your tits, eyes full of love, full of warmth - looking up into your blissed ones with nothing adoration. 

He places a hand over your middle - fingers spread wide as he nudges you backwards, silently and carefully laying you down. Your bare back against the covers with him kneeling on the floor between your spread thighs. 

Barely leaning over you, he reaches up to kiss a trail over your abdomen, lips skimming along your jittering stomach as his fingers slip into the waistband of your underwear and pyjama bottoms. He pulls them down - light tugs as he drags them off your hips and down your thighs, grazing kisses over your now-exposed skin as he undresses your lower half. 

Pulling the fabric off your ankles, he sets it aside, replacing the material that just covered you with kisses - lips grazing up the length of your legs, chaste pecks over your skin like he was worshipping you. The kisses trail higher and higher, reaching up to the crease between your thigh and cunt where he continues the worship, tongue faintly swiping over the skin.

Your hands worm into the roots of his dark hair, fingers locking on the shorts as you hold him to where you want him, guiding him to the needy little spot between your thighs. Chest rising and falling, inner thighs twitching as the anticipation builds in your stomach.

He situates himself in front of your pussy, lips mere inches away as he softly breathes over it - teasing you, his eyes locked on your trembling stomach above. He places a peck on the bottom of your slit. And another. Lining a stripe of kisses up your cunt til he reaches your clit where he skates past the nub, tongue skimming over it.

Hands working over your thighs and to your hips, he adjusts you, placing your legs over his shoulders - letting them drape freely over his blades as he delves in deeper between your thighs, caressing your plushy folds with his lips and tongue. 

You murmur the first half of his name only to be cut off by a whine, the desperate noise catching in your throat when he nips at your clit, his lips wrapping around the mound - tongue skillfully flickering across. 

The noises he muffles are lewd and obscene - gruff, soft groans as he adulates your pussy, pushing his mouth in closer. Your fingers tug tighter on his roots at the consuming feeling, back lifting from the bed in an arch, mindlessly grinding your cunt into his face. 

Within minutes, you become a twitching, moaning pile of mush, coating his chin with your slick as you cum - thighs clamping around Bucky's head between.

He places a final kiss on your pubic bone before pulling away, standing up with a chubbed-up cock in his pants, the area tenting after tasting you. You hold his gaze, looking up at him with blissed eyes and a stir in your stomach - the sight of him making your cunt twitch. 

He wipes the wet from his chin on the back of his hand, briskly drying his stubble before undressing his lower half - tugging down on his combat pants and boxers, letting the material pool around his ankles as his cock springs free. Full length hard and ready, tip leaking precum. 

You scooch up your bed, resting flat with your head on the pillow, eagerly awaiting him. Your thighs instinctively spread as he crawls up the bed and between your legs, slotting his lower half between you - anchoring his weight on his hands either side of your head.

He leans in to kiss you, making you taste yourself on his tongue, the residual creamy slick transferring onto your own. Cock absentmindedly rubbing up against your pussy, the faint friction making you whimper into his mouth.

Your hands hook into the hem of his t-shirt, fingers gripping the bottom of the fabric as you guide it up his back, pulling it over his head as you break the kiss - his chest now bare and up against yours. 

Balancing on his left metal hand, he dips the other between you, reaching for his cock, wrapping his fingers around the base. He gives himself a few short strokes, guiding his head towards you - pushing his tip through the slick of your folds, coating his cock in your wetness before sinking into you.

You take him at your own pace, walls fluttering and loosening around his shaft as he eases more of himself into you - your pussy swallowing little bits of him at a time. Your hand paws at his wrist placed on your hip, fingers enveloping around the thickness, silently pleading and begging him to get closer.

He looks down at the lewd sight of you spread out in front of him: your brows knitted, eyes soft, lips bitten - natural, unadulterated beauty all desperate and malleable for him. He notices the bliss cloud in your eyes and gives your glistening, stuffed pussy a final once over before hovering back over you, chest lingering above yours. 

His lips skim over your jaw, trailing even more kisses down the side of your throat, giving you easing, reassuring pecks as he slips more of his cock into you - distracting you from the dull ache. 

"You are so beautiful," he whispers into your skin, sealing the compliment with a kiss. "You really are," he adds, pressing kisses into your shoulder. "I don't know how you don't see it."

You bend at the knee, holding it at his side - the new angle opening your hips wider, allowing that last bit of his cock to slide in, head hitting at the hilt. You keep him snug to you, arms lazily wrapped around his neck, your other leg entangling with his as your lips shadow each other. 

The moonlit room fills with soft, wet clicking - the sound of your pussy and sticky skin hitting cuts through the bliss-filled noises that slip past both of your lips, lewd noises surrounding you in the dark.

Bucky pulls his forehead from the crook of your neck to look down at you, eyes hinting at something - like his mind was temporarily elsewhere.

"Earlier," he starts, his voice hoarse as his hips wind into you, cock rubbing your walls so nicely. "When you said that thing," he adds, following your eyes when they bashfully divert away. "You tell me when you feel like that... I'd be happy to remind you just how pretty you are."

a/n. I had an idea for myself, what?? and my first full fic in almost a year??

[picturejasper20]

So, about that scene at the end of the episode with Dev getting angry with Hazel and Peri.

Dev finds out that his father Dale has barely been paying attention to him at all, as he almost never sees him, because Dale has been studying Hazel and trying to find out why the Lost and Founder's festival went wrong. He gets very emotionally devastated by this, seeing that his father has been paying more attention to his friend than him.

He points out that Dale has been studying Cosmo and Wanda yet he can't seem to notice that Dev has his own fairy under the same roof. As the dialogue continues you can feel the jealousy and bitterness from Dev, getting more and more angry as he speaks.

Hazel tries reasoning with Dev and explain to him that Dale is the one that has been doing all this. In the middle of the conversation she accidentally confesses that she made a wish to understand Dev better in ¨A New Dev-elopment¨ but doesn't explain herself well and Dev misunderstands the situation, thinking that Hazel has been faking being his friend all this time.

In this scene Dev is very confused and upset, he seems to be having what would be close to a trauma response and ends up closing himself off. He says that ¨Dimmadones don't make friends¨ (probably something that Dale taught him) and his trust issues get the worse of him, telling Hazel that he can't trust her and insulting her. Hazel leaves sadly, wishing Dev a happy birthday and goes with Cosmo and Wanda.

Later Peri tries cheering Dev up, he asks for the kid if he wants to wish for something, which leads to Dev to cry and lash out at Peri. He gets angry at Peri for not being there when he needed his help earlier when Vicky was making them all miserable and probably for not telling him about this room where Dale has been all this time. He wishes for Peri to leave him alone and Peri, confused and sad, makes the wish, disappearing from Dev's view.

This makes Dev explode and cry as he leaves marks all over Dale's computer, crossing out anything that is related to fairies and Hazel. He stops for a moment to observe the mess he left on the screen and then leaves the room to what would be cry in his room.

The last moment gives the idea that Dev seems to hate anything related to fairies and Hazel now, as he blames them for ¨stealing¨ his father's affection from him. The problem is that he still doesn't fully realize that Dale wouldn't care about him even if he wasn't busy studying Hazel and the fairies magic. But he believes this is all Hazel and her fairies' fault regardless.

What we see here is Dev having what would be his response to how he deals with his own abandonment issues, which is pushing others away when he gets hurt by something or someone. We have seen him have similar reactions before but, in this episode, it is where this reveal really got the worst of him and now he finds himself alone again like he was at the start of the season, along with an huge hate for Hazel and fairies as a whole.

Some have been theorizing that Dev; now being a vunerable position he is angry, confused and, on top of that, isolated again; could be easily manipulated by an anti-fairy in the upcoming episodes and used for evil plans.

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 20 || The Night of Regrets

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, alcohol consumption, angst, smut, & fluff. (!!Brief drunk sex warning!!)

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 4k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——AND OH HOW YOU HATE being alone like this. Especially because it wasn't just a one-day thing.

No, instead, Choso distances himself from you.

It hurts like hell too. His messages get drier, and he has an excuse for every time you try to hang out with him, and your calls go unanswered.

What a sweet form of torture it is to have your crush give you the same treatment you give your blackmailer. At some point, you think you wallow yourself in a self-isolating pit of pity.

Shoko thinks she hears less from you more than ever, Gojo still receives the same treatment as always, Geto tries to comfort you every now and then but it's no use, and Choso continues to set boundaries for you and him.

It gets pretty rough for you mentally after that.

How are you supposed to deal with being stripped of the company of the one man who sought to bring you joy? There were some nights you cried about it and some nights you took out that stupid journal with that stupid list and scribbled out every name there-- only to rewrite it back afterward.

Reluctantly, you ended up telling Gojo that you managed to sleep with Choso, to which he was quick to send you money. Getting paid was nice and all but the money felt meaningless when you no longer had Choso by your side.

What's another six thousand dollars when the guy you like won't even read your texts anymore?

The panging you get in your chest every time you think about it all is dizzying. After all, no matter how you think about it, none of it is your fault.

Sure, you could've had your bedroom door closed that day Gojo walked in but... would such a small change have made any difference to your situation? The man could've still recorded you. Hell, knowing him, he probably would've.

You hate him so much.

You wish you knew how to express just how deep your hate for him goes but it's difficult to do so as he tries to make up for his wrongdoings.

Every notification from Gojo never fails to piss you off but it gets one hundred percent worse when you no longer have Choso around. Not being able to get with the man you like is obviously Gojo's fault so anything from that man reminds you of the situation and you get upset all over again.

This leads to one night full of mistakes, regrets, and... surprises.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

What started your unfortunate night was a final text from Choso that consisted of him explaining that it's hard to talk to you because of how he feels about you.

It was a long paragraph that explained how every time he talks to you, he wants to express his feelings more and more, which ultimately makes it difficult for him to communicate with you because it hurts to know that he's not yours and you're not his. Very explicitly, Choso basically says he doesn't want you to text him anymore.

He wasn't rude about it or anything; even making sure to carefully request such a thing in kind consideration of your feelings. Though, that didn't change how much it hurt.

Choso was your way out, your slim form of freedom. And yet, you lost it.

Where does this lead you? To a bar.

Was heading there the best decision in the world? Probably not. Did you care? Not one bit.

You needed something to relieve your stress, something to take this weight off your shoulders, even if only for one night. So there you sat, swallowing down drink after drink after drink in hopes of washing away all the pain you felt.

Does the sting of liquor down your throat and warmth over your body help you feel any better? For a moment, yes.

It was like all the voices in your head stopped screaming for just a second. No longer were you cursing yourself out for every mistake you've made leading up to now and no longer did you think of all the terrible things happening to you right now.

Instead, you felt just a slither of peace again. The sounds of laughter and soft clicks filled your ears as you calmed your brain, sinking into a tipsy state.

After swishing down your nth drink of the night, you found yourself feeling incredibly good. Almost too good, honestly. Not only was your body warm and your mind at ease but, there was this annoying pulse spurring in between your legs.

The only downfall of you drinking your sorrows away was that you happen to be one of the most unfortunate forms of drunk. Not any angry drunk, silly drunk, or sad drunk but, a horny one. And terribly at that.

The feeling is frustrating actually. It'd been a while since you last went out for a drink and you almost forgot how ridiculously horny you get after some time. The throbbing you feel is so very annoying, especially when all you can do is mentally replay events with Choso.

The man has actually made you squirt more than once. And every time it was because he was giving you head. You recall riding his face once, as per his begging request, and at this moment all you can remember was the way he looked at you and that damn tongue of his lapping at your cunt.

Just thinking about it again makes you dizzy, your stomach churning as you remember it all. His deep guttural groans and pretty whines still echo throughout your mind.

Then there's the way he fucked you-- the feeling of his cock hitting all the right places inside you, making you cry out his name for hours on end, and his praising words... it all haunts your mind.

Shit, now you're really horny. You wish you could call him. If he wasn't upset with you, you'd definitely call him right about now. You're so worked up that you could probably get off on just the sound of his voice right now.

A sigh leaves your lips as you realize you can't even call him. God, you miss him so much and it hasn't even been that long since the last time you saw him.

With a frown on your face, you move to rest your cheek against your knuckles, holding your head up with your hand.

"Y'know, the last thing I expected to find today was a wonderful piece of ass sitting at this bar with a frown on her face," A sudden voice to your left points out.

You physically revolt against the man's words to you. You don't even spare the male a glance in response to his comment, acting as though you didn't hear him.

A sudden god awfully strong collonge seeps into your nose, the smell clearly expensive but unpleasant nonetheless. Then, in your peripherals, you notice this male leaning toward you.

"Oi, I know you heard me." He pesters.

With a groan, you cut your eyes over to him, eyelids rising at the sight. Just your fucking luck, you managed to run into Naoya at the bar and he's absolutely disgusting. Well, at least every time he opens his mouth.

His face on the other hand makes up for it, to some extent. Your gaze is met with sharp brown irises from the male who just spoke.

Your upper lip twitches as you scrunch your face up at him, disgusted by his words to you. "I wasn't aware you were speaking to me." You hum plainly, glancing away from him.

He scoffs, "I cannot stand women who lie."

"That's wonderful but, I don't remember asking." You comment, your tone cold.

The arrogant man tuts, "And she's rude too? Hah, juuust my luck."

Slowly, you force yourself to turn your head to him, your gaze void of emotion. "If all you came over here to do is foolishly run your mouth, I suggest you fuck off because I'm not in the mood." You say to him.

The corner of his lips pulls into a smirk. Damn the way it resembles Toji most weirdly. "What are you in the mood for then, dollface?" Naoya questions.

Ugh, you cringe at his question. He's so very lucky that you have a list to complete because that's the only reason you're tolerating him right now.

"Truthfully? Mindless sex." You blurt out. It's very obvious that you're drunk by this point because the sober version of you would've never uttered such a thing, especially not to this asshole.

A haughty grin spreads across his visibly handsome features and dyed blonde hair with deep dark green roots sways whilst he tilts his head. "Well, then you're in luck. I happen to be an expert at that." Naoya tells you with a wink.

God, you hate everything about his personality already.

"Is that so?" You ask dryly.

"Yeah," He responds, clicking his tongue, "Maybe if you're good enough I'll show you."

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Instead, you slide out of the barstool you sat at and-- oh. He's taller than you expected him to be. Even so, you blink away the realization and simply sigh at his words.

"If I'm good enough? Please." You reply, "How about this, since I'm not in the mood to argue with you and make you feel small, I'll give you two options."

His brows push together, "Make me feel small? Excuse me-"

"You can either fuck me or fuck off." You interrupt coldly. Beneath your drunken state, you wish he'd fuck off and magically disappear from the list but unfortunately, that's not going to happen.

Naoya stammers for a moment in reaction to your straightforward words. After a second of collecting himself, he shrugs, "Well..." He chuckles, "How can I say no when you give yourself up to me so easily?"

Another sigh leaves you, "Right..." You say, finally allowing your eyes to roll before you grab a rough hold of his shirt and begin to drag him away from the bar.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The whole thing is a mess.

For your first time having drunk sex in the bathroom at a bar like the true whore you've unwillingly become, it wasn't completely terrible.

Naoya may have a disgustingly offputting way with words but, he's not that bad as fucking you against the wall. Your chest and face are pressed into the cold bathroom wall as the man sloppily rutted into you from behind.

This was most definitely your lowest moment yet. The sex was so... vanilla. Naoya lacked foreplay in every way possible that you're pretty sure he doesn't even know what it is. Half of your moans were fake because there were only a few times when you felt the tip of his cock kiss that sweet spot inside you.

His thrusts were too fast and not in a pleasurable way but in a way that made you want to scoff. Naoya was pale in comparison to the past men you've been with. The only thing saving him was the size of his dick and the fact that you were already horny.

If not for those two factors, this whole thing would've been terrible. He tried dirty talk but it all went through one ear and out the other due to how terrible it was. To make up for that, you can't deny the fact that his grunts and groans turned you on.

"Aagh, fuck." Naoya would groan, his voice near your ear and causing your cunt to flutter around him.

There wasn't much else that he did that fueled your arousal though. You were mainly getting off on the sounds of sex and the few times he thrust into you at the proper angle. That aside, to even come close to an orgasm, you had to imagine you were with someone else.

It's sad but, at least the man's name would be checked off the list after this.

A single orgasm was building up within you the very second you imagined it was Choso with you. You could practically hear the way he'd moan into your ear, begging you to cum around his cock and make a mess of him.

The thought alone made your eyes roll back and you were so close. Then, to the least of your expectations, Naoya selfishly pulled out of you, leaving you high and dry.

Your brows furrowed quickly as you panted against the wall. With a loud grunt that fills the bathroom, Naoya cums embarrassingly onto the floor. You have to bat your eyelashes as you gather what the hell this man just did.

Surely he's not done... right?

To your disappointment, he is. The sound of Naoya fixing himself with not even a word uttered to you can be heard, his hands working his member back into his pants before he moves to wash his hands.

You blink in slow motion, pushing yourself off the wall and standing on legs that are also trying to process what just happened. You'd just been denied an orgasm completely.

You scoff, "Is this a joke...?"

Naoya raises his brows, "Is what a joke? You've fulfilled your purpose, you can go now." He dismisses.

And that does it for you. Annoyed, you move to hike your underwear back up your legs and then tug your dress down into place, feeling absolutely disgusted with what just occurred.

"You..." Another scoff exits your mouth, "You asshole..."

The man chuckles at your claim before heading toward the bathroom door, "I've heard worse." He hums, winking at you, "And hey, for what it's worth, you have good pussy." He... compliments?

You send the man a dumbfounded look. Is he for real right now? Like, is he so fucking for real right now??

"You could probably make lots of money off it, honestly," Naoya comments one last time before opening the door and leaving.

Your skin is crawling with an overwhelming feeling of disgust. Never in your life have you felt so utterly used. This feeling is worse than what Gojo's put you through. You're ashamed you even let that dickhead of a man put his dick inside you.

You shudder at what you just did, a permanent scowl stuck to your face. This is worse than when you thought Choso left you. Hell, you'd prefer that a million times over what that misogynistic fuckface just said and did to you.

After gathering yourself and making sure you don't look like a complete mess, you are about to leave the bathroom when the nasty mess he left on the floor catches your eye. Even drunk, you didn't have it in you to leave such indecency on the floor.

So, you were quick to grab paper towels and clean it up, saving the janitor who'd later have to come in there from doing so.

After that, you toss the paper towel into the trash and stumble out of the bathroom. With everything you just experienced, another round of drinks is screaming your name. There's absolutely no way you're going to allow yourself to sober up after that.

So, you make your way back over to the bar and return to your previous activities, now feeling so unsatisfied and unhappy with everything.

Every drink you swallow down merely provides you with a temporary moment of satisfaction. The second you feel that the excessive drinking isn't working, you feel sad all over again, just like how you did when you first entered the bar.

You wanted to cry and scream at the same time. Your head was spinning and your vision began to blur a little, terrible feelings bubbling up inside you as your regret washed over you faster than the alcohol washed down your throat.

When your eyes grew teary, you were quick to scramble for your phone. If not anything else, the one thing you could use right now is either a good fuck that'd make you stop thinking or, someone who can give you genuine advice so that you don't feel so shitty anymore.

And who can provide either of those things for you? Well, none other than Geto Suguru himself.

Your thumb swiped through your recent calls, hazily spotting his contact and calling him. The phone rings for barely even a second, the call connecting as soon as you lift the device to your ear.

"Hello?" The man's voice rings through your ears, making you smile ever so slightly.

You swallow, "Hi Sugu..." Your words are so obviously slurred to anyone listening.

There's a second of silence before he responds, "Hey, you alright?"

"N-No..." You hum, "Can you uhm... C-Come pick me up?" You suddenly whisper drunkenly.

You hear a sigh then some shuffling, "Where are you?" He asks.

You giggle, "The bar."

There's another pause. Then, you hear him sigh again, "What bar, sweetheart?"

"I'll send you the uhm... the uh..." Your brain suddenly freezes as you search for your words.

He makes up for you, "Address...?"

"Yeah, yes. That." You say quickly.

A slight chuckle is heard over the phone, "Alright, send me the address, sweets. I'll be there soon."

"M'kayy," You hum as you move to send him the address.

You end up simply sending your location but you were too drunk to see the difference, not that it mattered. As the message is sent, an amused chuckle is heard over the phone.

You furrow your brows, bringing the cell back to your ear, "What's so funny?"

"What're you doin' all the way across town, love?" He asks in return, finding it humorous.

You pout, "I dunno, can't remember why I came all the way-," You burp slightly, "Out here."

You can't see it but the male shakes his head, "I see. Are you drunk?" He asks, tone concerned.

You smile, "Mayyybe."

"Maybe? Yes or no, sweetheart."

"Yeah, kinda." You sigh.

He hums and you can hear soft car noises in the background, "And I assume you're alone...?"

"Mhm."

"Why?"

"Didn't wanna bother Shoko with my..." You sigh heavily, "My problems."

"Did something happen?" The man questions, "Why would you go out drinking alone?"

"I dunno Sugu, I just need to drink away my problems, y'know?"

"You could've done that with..." He trails off for a second before finishing, "With me."

You yawn, "Yeah, I could've..." Your words come out lower and the man over the phone can tell you're growing drowsy.

"Are you fallin' asleep on me over there?" He asks, chuckling slightly but clearly nervously.

You move to lay your head down on the bar, just barely holding your hold up against your ear, "Mhm."

The sound of him sighing is heard, "Need you to stay awake for me, sweetheart."

"Sugu..." You mumble tiredly, "Why do you keep calling me that?"

There's a sudden silence over the phone.

A throb pains your head and you wince at the abrupt feeling. "S-Suguru?" You call out, your voice revealing your pained state.

"Y-Yeah?" He responds.

"You didn't answer my question..."

"I know." He states, "Are you okay over there? You sound hurt? What's wrong? Talk to me please." The male rambles, clearly panicked by the sound of your voice.

The most he knows is that you're at some bar alone and drunk so to hear you in pain has his heart worried in more ways than one.

You struggle to respond to him as you steadily slip from consciousness.

"Fuck, c'mon, don't fall asleep on me." He urges, his voice anxious.

"M-Mhm..." You mumble.

"Sweetheart, listen to the sound of my voice okay? I can't have you pass out before I get there."

You groan a little, "...Okay."

He smiles at your reply, "Keep yourself awake by talking to me, tell me about your day."

"M-My day?" You frown, "It was shitty..."

"S'that why you went out for a drink? You had a bad day?" The way his voice has gone all soft makes your heart throb for some reason.

Your eyes get teary all of a sudden, "Y-Yeah."

"Tell me what happened." He requests, "You can do that, right?"

"Uhuh..." You agree.

"Good girl," The male praises, his words giving you encouragement. "C'mon, tell me what happened."

"Well..." You steadily begin to explain the events of your day.

From how normal it was to how Choso's single text ruined your mood and then to the terrible sex you just had, you explain everything over the phone with a slur to your words every now and then. Your explanation comes out slowly since you're fighting sleep but you get through it.

"Then I..." You exhale softly, "Then I called you."

"I see." He hums, "Well, I'm right around the corner so keep your eyes open til' I get there."

"No promises." You say with a chuckle.

"Not funny, sweets. I need you awake." He replies sternly.

You groan, "Whyyy do you keep calling me thaaaat?" You whine.

Again, there's no response to your question.

"I'm gonna hang up on you, Suguru." The chances of you doing so are unlikely but you are seconds away from falling asleep.

"You better not." He says.

"Then tell me why..." Your voice fades out as your eyes shut comfortably. Mentally, you got your question out but realistically, your sentence trailed off.

Distorted sounds of your name being called are heard in your ear but second after second, the sounds fade away and blissful white noise engulfs you.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Your sleeping frame is spotted by the man you called as soon as he enters the bar minutes later, his heart rate all over the place. Quick and long strides are made to approach your resting body and hands fly to your face, lifting your head from the cold and dirty bar to get a good look at you.

Even through your sleep, you're pretty sure you hear a familiar voice whisper to you, "What am I gonna do with you?"

Those same hands move from your face and to under your legs and behind your back. Your limp body is lifted from your seat bridal-style and your head relaxes against a lean chest.

The slap of brisk fresh air causes you to stir awake for only a moment. Your eyes flutter open and the smell of cologne is in your nose, the scent almost... nostalgic? It quickly makes you think of Gojo for some strange reason.

"Suguru?" You croak out.

The male holding you is quick to look down at you, his eyes filled with worry. "Sweetheart, you gave me quite a scare," He says softly, his voice making your brows furrow. "Are you okay?"

You groan and rub your temples, feeling the remnants of a pounding headache. "Not... really," You admit, your voice still slurred from the alcohol. "And why do you..."

You end up trailing off as you shift your gaze upwards to the face of the person holding you right now. The question gets stuck in your throat while you eye the man's face.

Soft blue eyes are peering lowly at your drunken expression, a firm pair of slender hands carrying you as if you weigh nothing, ruffled white hair bright enough to blind someone and a face that's all too angelic for the hate you hold for it.

After a gulp, you bat your eyelashes and squint, wondering if you're seeing things. "Gojo?" You whisper softly.

A beautifully broken smile is given to you along with the sound of a shaky yet relieved sigh, "Yeah?"

You pout, "Why are you here...?"

"Well, love," His voice is gentle, "When you call..." He leans just a little bit closer to you, "...I come running."

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ✔︎

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎

NANAMI KENTO ☐

??? SUKUNA ☐

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[ooooo-mcyt]

"Scar and Grian make each other worse-" actually they help each other be happier and stronger.

Grian helps Scar realize he doesn't always have to be alone.

Scar tends to end up isolated. Sure, he's friendly and charismatic, but oftentimes he ends up alone. Sometimes because of pure fate, but also, even though he desires company, often he ends up establishing himself as an independent isolated entity on the server, and he can really get it into his head (whether its true or not) that nobody else can be relied on long term (which can also lead to him being flighty and dishonest at times).

Grian has a way of shaking that up. In Thirdlife when he was the only ally Scar couldn't betray, in Doublelife when he went and got Scar and insisted on basing together, in Secretlife when Scar spent a day alone and stressed and Grian showed up to understand exactly what was wrong and offer him company ("why don't you come with me?")

(grian was there at the end of secretlife too. scar standing confused and alone. "she's dead, scar, you won". it's not much, but no other winner can say they had the luxury of hearing any voice other than their own after dealing that final blow. even in the isolation of being the only man left alive, scar doesn't have to be alone.)

It goes the other way too. Scar helps Grian realize he doesn't always have to overthink so much.

Grian has always had a massive guilt complex. He's usually no more mischievous, selfish, or ruthless than some of the other players on the server, and yet Grian is disproportionately likely to overthink and beat himself up over things. Swearing himself into servitude after accidentally killing Scar, apologizing again and again for many of the fights he does take and scolding himself for his weakness when he doesn't take a fight, (incorrectly) convincing himself he's personally responsible for the server hating them in Double Life.

Scar is good at putting a stop to the overthinking. He'll give Grian excuses, absolution if that's what Grian needs. You can say Scar egging Grian on to commit chaos is a bad thing, but I think it's undoubtedly a positive when Scar gets Grian to stop lingering over things so much. This is a death game, sometimes you kill someone, sometimes you burn something, sometimes you make a mistake. Grian can't control everything, nor is it always his fault when something goes wrong, and Scar is very good at encouraging Grian when he's uncertain and distracting Grian when he feels bad.

You can say they "make each other worse", but I think they make each other happier and help each other stop lingering on their doubts and self destructive tendencies so much when they're together.

[weirdplutoprince]

Trauma in Solo leveling

Always haunted by what could have been of Solo Leveling if the narrative acknowledged the inherent trauma vision that guides most of Jin-Woo's actions through the series instead of glorifying him for that.

Like, it is pretty clear to me from the start that a lot of his obsession with self reliance and his increasingly cynical views of the world ("The weak are destined to be betrayed") are a direct response to the double dungeon incident, and in more ways than we initially realize.

I think it's particularly obvious in the way he is paralled with Lee Joohee; while they're both shown to be traumatized from their encounter, Joohee is supposedly 'worse off' than him. She has noticeable flashbacks to that episode and withdraws from life and work in an attempt to avoid possible triggers - becoming paralysed when she fails to do so. And because, while also afraid, Jin-Woo is instead making a point to return to dungeons we are very clearly meant to think that he is moving on when she is not. ...Except that he isn't.

Because, you see, along with withdrawing, the reenactment of a traumatic event is also a very common response to trauma. And so is the risky behaviour that might come with it. And what does Jin-Woo does as soon as he's able to leave the hospital again? Immediately throw himself into dungeons, alone, with a clear disregard for personal safety and an extreme need to both prove himself and give meaning to his near death experience before.

Not only does he goes right back into the very same place his trauma took place, but he seems to subconsciously be trying to recreate said event in a way that gives him control of the situation. This time, he wasn't abandoned to die alone in a dungeon: he did it himself, willingly. He placed himself in that position. And later on, when he risks himself with shady parties he expects to betray him, he seems almost content; once again putting himself in risk by creating a scenario where he is 'abandoned' and 'betrayed' but where he can come off on top. He is desperate to both have his belief confirmed that someone perceived as a weak hunter like he is will always be betrayed, always be left behind, and to fight that supposed fate. To prove that he has 'fixed' this aspect of himself and will thus not fall victim to that consequences of that abandoment again. In fact, he is so detatched from the current scene that he deliberately ignores the fact Yoo Jinho challenges those believes by protecting Jin-Woo, whom he believes to be an E rank at that point.

And were this any other story, all his development from then on would prove the faults of this mindset. The dangers of self reliance, of cutting yourself off from any support network, from depriving himself of any sort of meaningful trust or vulnerability with others. But instead, we're meant to respect the fact he is increasingly isolated from everyone else. That he becomes cold, emotionally withdrawn and paranoid (his refusal to join any of the existing guilds always felt to me like his need for control taken to extreme, plus the fact he could not deal with how exposed he felt working with others again). And I think that's really sad.

It would have been really interesting to have a story that is willing to challenge the notion that he is better off alone, and that trust in others is ultimately unecessary. And that would acknowledged the strength necessary to allow himself to trust and be vulnerable after everything - and the importance of surrounding himself with people he loves and knows will protect him too. Sad 😔

[giamee]

🌺 ᯓ★୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘!

STARRING. ノ dan heng

request. ノ anon: helloo if it's right up your alley, could you do a danheng x reader hanahaki au? one where the reader thinks he and someone else have something going on given how caring danheng is through that stoic face of his! but really, danheng is just too kind and you're much too caught up with your own feelings

word count. ノ 3.4k

contains. ノ hanahaki!reader, u and dan heng r both kinda dumb, angst pertaining to the hanahaki trope, you can tell how old this fic is because it's set during the jarilo-vi story quest, some unfounded jealousy of march 7th?, mentions of death and injury and some graphic descriptions of blood and illness

gia's notes. ノ this was the very first request that i ever received on this blog. over a year ago. i drafted this fic and wrote out about 70% of it then let it rot at the bottom of my drafts. anon, you have the patience of a saint if you're still here.

THE MOMENT THAT YOU STEPPED FOOT ONTO THE ASTRAL EXPRESS, you had the sneaking suspicion that you were doomed. Your fate was set in stone as soon as you felt the hard encasing of a seed clutch the walls of your heart in a vice grip when you first laid eyes upon him.

Dan Heng was elusive. The others had been warm in their welcome, but it took the combined efforts of yourself and March 7th to find him hidden in the recesses of the train’s records room. His greeting was a mere nod in your direction before Welt required your presence again, but that’s all you needed.

His eyes were cool, practically piercing through your skin as March 7th ushered you pack to the parlour car, and you felt yourself shiver as his intense stare burned itself into the back of your head.

And while he’s intimidating, sure, that’s not why you stayed away from Dan Heng. He had a cold and callous exterior that you had never seen crack, yet all the same you had felt the start of a crush start to take root.

And this may not have been a problem at all if it weren’t for two details that were like a slap to the face for you.

One, you were fairly certain that Dan Heng had his eyes for March 7th.

And two, if your crush didn’t return your feelings, you would die.

It wasn’t a case of exaggeration, either. You had been aware of the fact that to develop feelings for someone was dangerous, as it had been drilled into you from a young age by your parents. They had gripped your hands, steering you away from other children with little more explanation than that, always chastised you for wanting to forge a human connection, keeping you isolated from the world around you, better safe than sorry.

And you had felt so alone.

Being forced to live a life in confinement was not an easy one, and despite your parents’ wishes, you had told them of your plan to to finally go out into the world, to live a life from experience and not watching it unfold as an impassive reader of a book or on your phone screen, danger be damned.

So it wasn’t really your fault that you had been so quick to develop those feelings that had been so often described in the books you read, as an explosion of butterflies erupted within you upon meeting someone else, another person for the first time.

And yet you found yourself in the same predicament- a watcher from afar. The heart wants what it wants was a bitter mantra that seemed to enjoy your misery as you watched March 7th excitedly chatter with Dan Heng, and you could have sworn the man even cracked the smallest of smiles at whatever she was saying. And really, could you blame him for it? March was kind, bubbly, outgoing- a perfect match for the stoic and seeming immovable Dan Heng.

It was more common sense than pessimism that had you concluding that you didn’t really stand a chance for his affections against someone like her. You doubt that Dan Heng even looked at you more than he had to. You, so secretive and elusive that you gave him a run for his money; and two similar poles never attracted each other. It was a funny hand that fate had dealt you, but you had to play with those cards regardless.

As if to mock you, you ducked away from the outskirts of the room, feeling a coughing fit coming. You had barely made it to your room before you doubled over, feeling your insides run ragged by the prickly thorns of the rose bush that grew inside you.

A single bloodstained petal fell into your palm.

Besides the quickly growing issue that you refused to acknowledge, life on the Astral Express wasn’t awful. You hadn’t yet confided in anyone about your condition, so to speak, and not entirely because you didn’t want to. To be completely honest with yourself, there was much that you didn’t know about it.

And so you timed it well- you waited for the subject of your affliction- for Dan Heng to leave his unofficial bedroom before you slipped through the door into the records room, desperate to find any sort of information that might help you find some sort of cure.

There was a small computer in the corner that you quickly typed your symptoms into- flower. unrequited love. coughing fits. You didn’t know if the single digit of entries was a cause for concern or not, but your brows furrowed as you began to scan through them. The number of obituary entries that were listed on this one document alone was making you shiver. You clicked out of it, about to open the next one before the door sliding open had you starting like a frightened animal.

Dan Heng strolled in, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline as he registered that you were in the room, in his room. He spoke your name, softly, as if trying not to scare you further. You would have said something, honestly, if it weren’t for the sudden explosive coughing fit that came on a lot quicker than usual.

You could barely get a word out before you were bent over from the force of your coughs, tears pricking your eyes from the newfound intensity of the pain coming from inside you. Despite your hands clasped over your mouth, a couple of petals escaped and fluttered down to the floor, some distance between you and the horrified Dan Heng.

He was frozen in place, fingers itching to reach out to you and comfort you, but with the way you practically flinched away from him, he wasn’t sure if his presence was wanted. He barely caught a glimpse of your pained face before you darted around him and back to your own room on the train.

Dan Heng scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration at his inability to act, before his attention diverted once again to the bloody petals on the floor, and the files on the record searcher that you hadn’t completely closed. He cast one last guilty glance back in your direction before heading closer to the screen and beginning to read.

The Trailblazers’ journey must progress, and your heart hammered for another reason other than a sighting of the raven-haired male who you still harboured feelings for. You had ultimately left your home to explore the world, and with the Express finally stopping at the planet Belobog- your promise to yourself was a step closer to being fulfilled. You disembarked alongside Stelle and March, doing your best to avoid Dan Heng like the plague ever since that fated day. You didn’t know how much he exactly knew, but you had no intentions of finding out.

Your plans of peaceful exploration, however, were short lived with the arrival of Silvermane guards to greet you. In the chaos of the smoke, it was not lost on you that Dan Heng had instinctively protected March, practically shielding her with his body. As Stelle dragged you along some backway path in pursuit of some mystery saviour, you felt the excruciating addition of a new thorn in your heart.

The adrenaline of the escape had worn off by now, and you could feel your secret threatening to spill over any second now. You could barely warn Stelle to let you move off to the side before you were keeled over, closer to gagging than coughing as a large ball of petals and dark, dark blood forced its way through your throat. You felt faint, barely registering the panicked calls of your name as you felt your world turn sideways, Stelle’s face and voice being quickly replaced by another deeper one, with fear in their eyes and a certain desperate edge as you felt yourself slip into unconsciousness.

It's a dreamless sleep, yet it isn't restful, judging by how you feel like you've been hit by a bus when you sit up. Every fibre of your being aches, and there's a harsh overhead light that dazzles you as you blink awake.

As your eyes grow accustomed to it, there's a surge of panic as you don't recognise your surroundings. It looks like a clinic of some sorts- and there was the cloying smell of chemicals that invaded your nostrils. You struggled to sit up, until you felt a hand place itself gently against your chest.

A dark-haired woman with a doctor's coat smiles down at you warmly, and you eye her warily.

"Who are you?"

"My name's Natasha, I'm a doctor in the Underworld. Try not to move around too much, dear. You've been unconscious for quite some time and your condition is unstable, you still need rest."

"Where's the people that I was with?"

"They've all awoken a few hours before you." She casts a quick glance at the clipboard in her hands, as if to fact check herself, giving herself a quick satisfactory nod. "Don't worry, you haven't been abandoned. They should be just outside. The young man sat by your bedside while you were unconscious only left a few minutes ago- he got whisked away by one of my... colleagues."

Your mind's racing now, wondering who she could be talking about. Hoping that it was who you thought it was. But she reiterates her request to lie back down, and you comply begrudgingly. You start to settle down, until you catch a glimpse of the mess lying atop your blankets. A visceral combination of blood and crumpled petals rest upon the fabric, and you watch the doctor's expression become grave.

"That is the unstable part of your condition that I wanted to discuss." She pulls up a chair besides you, settling neatly, hands folded in her lap. "How long have these symptoms been ailing you?"

You furrow your brows, recalling how they started a mere month or two ago, after you joined the Astral Express. After you met him.

"A couple of months." Natasha nods, a frown forming on her face again.

"Considering how quickly it has developed, I imagine that your case is rather severe." You shrug, a humourless smile on your face.

"There's not much that I can do about it, Doc."

"I'm sure that you're aware of the risks that come with a confession, but as a bystander rather than a doctor, I think that you should talk to him."

"Who?"

"The man who refused to leave your side for all of these hours."

You hoped that Natasha was right. Deciding to ignore her advice of continued bed rest, you force yourself up, walking out of the clinic in search of him. Welt was no young man, and there wasn't anyone else that came to mind based off of Natasha's description. It couldn't be anyone else than him, right?

You stumble out onto the streets of the Underworld, garnering a few odd looks from passerbys as you wander around, looking for not just Dan Heng but anyone that you recognised.

You round a corner, seeing the back of a head and clothing that looks an awful lot like him. Who you're planning to confess to. You call his name, out loud, voice a little hoarse.

And he turns, beautiful crystalline eyes meeting yours. Call it a trick of the light, but you could have sworn that they shone a tad lighter when he saw you. But your gaze drifted past him, and all bubbling hope was quelled once again in your heart as you recognised the figure of March 7th stood with him.

Of course he would be with her.

If you looked closer at the pair of them, all signs indicated an intimacy to them that made you feel sick. There was a serious look on her face, one of her hands rested against his arm, but she soon recognised you too, her face instantly perking up as she began to ran towards you, calling your name.

"You're finally awake, you're OK!" she calls out in delight, her arms wrapping around you as she practically barrels into you, threatening to knock you off balance. You stumble, returning the hug, the nausea turning to guilt as you remember how the girl has been nothing but good to you. Of course Dan Heng would harbour feelings for her, not you.

The Doctor's order was wrong.

You sigh to yourself in defeat, unwinding your arms and shooting March 7th the best smile that you could muster in the moment.

"I feel better, but I'm still feeling weak so I might go back to the clinic."

March 7th frowns, eyes scanning your figure in concern.

"Are you OK, Y/N?"

"Do you want me to walk you back?" You twitched, not even realising that Dan Heng had caught up to the pair of you. He was also looking at you with concern, and you could feel an onslaught of petals coming.

"No, it's fine, I'll go back on my own." You don't really give either of them the chance to respond, spinning on your heel and trying not to run back from where you came.

You felt... worse. Before, you had at least been able to function, but now you felt so much limper, and weaker. You cursed at yourself for allowing false hope to be instilled, just as the coughing begins. It wracks through you, so hard that you almost dry heave as you keel over, and you watch in horror as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and see it come back crimson.

At least the clinic was around the corner.

You barely make it inside, unable to stand up straight by this point. Natasha springs to action, helping you back into a bed, helping you through the worst of the coughing. It's so much more draining than before, and you're quick to fall into a fitful sleep.

Even unconscious, you don't get a reprieve. Even in your dreams, he's all you can think of. There's a spitting image of him stood before you, eyes soft and voice like honey as he calls out to you, hands outstretched. And you try to join him, fingers straining to touch his before you watch them turn into branches and flower before your very eyes. You look down, and it hurts, with brambles wrapping themselves around your middle. And just as fast as they grow, your new floral appendages wilt before your very eyes. Branches drooping, flowers losing their hue, and you feel yourself start to fade, his name one last desperate cry from your lips.

You wake up, tears staining your cheeks and you trembling. For a few panicked seconds, you think you're still dreaming because he is here, sat by your bed, and as he stands up to wipe your tears you shrink back in fear of turning back to branches again.

But his warm palm cups your face, solid against your trembling state, deft thumbs wiping away your tears, an uncharacteristically soft hushing and cooing coming from Dan Heng as he promises you that everything is okay now.

It's easy to believe him, with the way he moves even closer to hold you, cradle your form against his warmth, patting your hair and letting you cry until you can't any more amidst the petals on your bedsheets.

You don't know how long the pair of you stay like this, your face pressed into his chest, his heartbeat leading yours back into the range of one at rest rather than its prior pounding against your ribcage. You would stay there for the rest of time, if you had a choice, but you had to admit that the oxidation of blood and its drying against your skin was making you feel ever so slightly uncomfortable.

You clear your throat, as best as you can in your hoarse state, and Dan Heng picks up on your withdrawal as he all but flinches away from you, returning the distance that usually lies between your two bodies. But his eyes still scour your figure, your face, for any and all signs of discomfort. Like a lover would. The thought melds with the already-bitter taste of blood residing against your tongue, and you frown down at your lap. At the petals. At your pathetic form lying beneath the blanket, obscured from view.

“How long has this been happening for?” Dan Heng sounds so timid, as if he were walking on glass sheets around you. Ever since that fateful day in the records room, it felt like he had done nothing but tiptoe and tread around you, a careful dance of avoidance that you were forced to be his partner in. You sigh deeply, a hand gingerly beginning to gather the gorey sight of such beautiful pink marred by the visceral crimson that remained, not yet dried.

“I’ve had it all my life, apparently, but it only started making itself known once I joined the Astral Express.” Once I met you.

“I, um- I looked into it more. In the records.” His admission made you snap your head up to face him, cautious of his next words, whatever they may be. He looked nervous himself, with eyes that refused to meet yours and fingers that twisted into his clothes, toying with the hem of his jacket.

“I read of many such cases where people were able to make a full recovery.” He sounds so hopeful, even daring to meet your eyes, that you almost feel bad for him. It was like looking back at a past version of yourself, so hopeful for a happy ending that once sparkled in your eyes, now a dull flicker you can see when the lighting is just right.

“It’s not that simple, Dan Heng.”

“What do you mean, it said that there weren’t any later cases of symptoms returning-”

“That’s because it’s not an illness from the body.” You’re snappier than you intend to be, you see it in the way his mouth snaps shut and his throat bobs against his collar, as he sits up straighter, waiting for you to continue. “The only cure is to confess to the person that I love.”

“And why haven’t you?” His voice is barely above a murmur, and even from his place in the seat next to our bed, you hear him just fine.

“Because I’m sure that he has eyes for another.” You’ve collected all the petals in your palm by now, observing them with a dry humour as you notice that they’ve begun to wither, much like yourself. You doubt that you could go on much longer after this conversation. Part of you urges to get it over with, to confess now and let yourself bloom with one last glance upon his face.

Dan Heng must have scoured each and every record, because you didn’t need to offer an explanation of what would happen with such unrequited feelings. He’s silent again, an awkward and palpable tension as you can feel his confliction from here.

He finally manages a lame “you never know” that has you laughing, a brief reprieve before you dissolve into another coughing fit. It’s hardly something to worry about, but Dan Heng is by your side again, palm smoothing over your shoulder blades as you are wracked with coughs. You appreciate it nonetheless.

“What would happen if someone else confesses to you?” You shoot him a sideways glance, confusion written all over your features, urging him to elaborate. “What if you held no feelings for them, but they confessed to you all the same. Would that cure you?” He’s earnest now, hands scooping up your dirtied ones, clasping them in his grasp as he looked at you with stars in his eyes.

Your shrivelled heart begins to beat again.

“What- what do you mean?” Play dumb. Don’t mistake curiosity for what you desire most.

“What if I told you right here and now that I love you?” His eyes are searching yours, pleading with you for an answer that you’ve been screaming at him for so long. One that he does not have to search for, because it’s been laid there at his feet this whole time.

“I would tell you, Dan Heng, that such a confession is not unrequited.” You’re grinning now, the smile on your face growing wider and wider as you watch recognition flood his features.

And then he’s smiling too, laughing, holding you ever closer to him before he pulls away again, just to cup your face now. It’s only natural to close the distance between the two of you, lips touching his for a kiss that quickly becomes searing, welcoming a new season of heat into your body.

The thorns in your heart reside. Spring begins to bloom.

➤ IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ... enjoy the silence

roommate!dan heng x reader

➤ alternatively, you can find my hsr masterlist here!

[spellbinding10]

Okay… so Umbrella Academy season 4…SPOILERS!!!!

I know that maaaannnyyy people were not happy with Lila and Five, but I’m not gonna lie, in a way they were meant to be.

Now there’s the supposed “age gap” but we have to remember that, although he’s physically 19/20, Five is older than Lila. Yes she “watched him grow” from a mid teen but Five was so many years his own senior. And he was a legal age He was mentally 68 and has lived 2 maybe 3 lifetimes already. And for the most part he lived them alone.

I think that we all need to remember that five was alone for so long. He went back to his family, wounded, isolated and with foreknowledge that no one could comprehend. Lila is the only one that truly understands what it feels like to feel out of place in Time. They were raised by the same morals and merits. They understood what no one else could. They both have been through unimaginable pain and suffering. And I think they had the ability to heal one another, in fact they did. Five saw Lila for who she truly was, he cherished her and appreciated all of her. Her chaos, her madness, compassion, courage and mind.

Now I had the start of Lila and Five returning to her family scene paused for sooo long. I couldn’t bear watching it. Did I? Yeah, love me a bit of angst. I really didn’t like how hurt Diego was, truly, but Five knew what Lila and he had was real and I can understand his anger. Do I condone cheating, absolutely not. I’ve been cheated on. But I’m also one for “the right person”, so in a FICTIONAL world I understand. I can also understand why Lila needed to end it ,for the sake of her children, because that’s what true love is, the love of your children. But he was there when she had to let her family go. He stood by her side and comforted her even though she had broke his heart. And thank BrOKe me!

There also seems to be a lot of posts about the REAL Five Hargreeves. Guys that is character development. Is it positive. Eh, ish. But not all people grow in the same way. Yes Five would do anything for his family. But I don’t think he “gave up”. Five has always been logical, from the very start. His sole purpose in life was to get back to his family and save the world. Save the people of that world, their lives, the very essence of life. And he did that. He didn’t give up. Five found out that his family was the cause of it all. He didn’t sacrifice them to be selfish. He couldn’t stand to watch his family die over and over. They would never rest, never know peace and they would spend the rest of their lives knowing that each apocalypse was their fault. It took courage to tell them. They could have kept going on. Klaus, would have kept using. Luther would still be in anguish over Solan (also where the fuck was she in all this? - anyway, no, another time) Allison would have kept loosing Claire. And every one of them would have kept loosing something in that particular time line that they cared about. I dunno man. I think Five is the same as he always was. He lived alone in the apocalypse surrounded by the destruction of life. He ensured it wouldn’t happen ever again. He did his job. He saved his family. The world.

So yeah, you’re all entitled to your opinion and you have your reasons for it. This is mine. I liked Five and Lila. The ending was, peace and love to the writers, bullshit - though bittersweet I suppose, but bullshit.

[elvestoneanzelote1]

Hello may I request a Platonic! Dazai x Mother! Reader.

Basically, Reader is Dazai’s biological mother, but of course he doesn’t know and grew up thinking he had no mother for the majority of his life, and Reader watched over him during his Mafia days, watching and protecting him in the shadows while putting up a front and working besides Hirotsu, who along with Mori knew they were related. So before and during the Dark Era, reader and Mori made a deal that if Dazai left the Mafia, she would be forced into isolation with no contact with the outside world, but if Dazai stayed, the reader would finally be able to speak with her son as a mother instead of a stranger. Obviously, Dazai left, and it wasn’t until the whole fiasco with Fyodor and the vampire outbreak that during the scene with Chuuya “shooting” Dazai in the head, he finally heard his mother’s voice of sorrow and anger shouting to Fyodor, “What have you done to my son?!”

(The ending is up to you and how Dazai reacts and if you write this as Yandere or not. P.S. I love your works and I am an absolute fan of your Zhongli/Albedo! Reader, Yandere BSD fic❤️)

𝙰:𝚗- 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝... 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝.

𝙷𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢.

𝙱𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝙳𝚊𝚣𝚊𝚒. (𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌).

𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚢𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚒 𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚊𝚒

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙵𝚎𝚖! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝙵𝚞𝚔𝚞𝚣𝚊𝚠𝚊 𝚈𝚞𝚔𝚒𝚌𝚑i

Part 2

What was a mother like for him...? Dazai does not know.

He doesn't remember his parents much either... Perhaps abandoned him? Perhaps he is worth nothing in the eyes of his parents... Even his mother must be ashamed to birth him... Right?

Dazai always felt incomplete as he Stared the happy families which he... Wish he had too.

That was until, Mori brought him to Port mafia.

Perhaps he truly belongs to... Bloodshed?

Perhaps not...

But his heart melt when you came to his life.

You were apart of Black Lizards... Well not that much but some... Connected mission you does so.

You were about 35 or perhaps more then that?.

To be honest... You yourself was shocked to see your son in port mafia.

Even if you want to approach him... Ask how the father was... You knew somehow he... The father must have past away leaving... Dazai alone.

Don't get y/n wrong... She was a victim of Teenage pregnancy... The father offered her money to birth a boy for him to inherit his property as a refine man

As your parents left a huge debt onto your life you agreed.

But somehow... Dangle yourself with Hirotsu your... Friend... Perhaps? You can say that way even If he is older then you but.

He was the one offered you to join Port mafia.

Unaware of the fact Dazai have no one with him... To call a family...

Only through Him appeared with Mori had you realise your guilt.

You blame yourself not trying to find the fact if your son was okay.

Perhaps money does blinded your motherly nature.

But... All you can do was smile warmly at him.

Despite Kouyou who take upon you too... She respect you like an older sister and watch over Dazai for you too when you are out.

But... Perhaps that was a fault on your part to be attach with your son... Who doesn't realise your his mother.

Honestly you were very much concern when he ask you to suicide with him.

It was... Heartwrenching on your part.

But slow it was yet, you stay with Dazai... Like a mother... No to ease your guilt for leaving him almost 13 years of his life.

He was an just a baby a year old when you left him... You can't blame him if he forget you... As you are the fault here.

"L/n-san! Did you know what happen today?" Asked Dazai who happily sat beside you and side hug you as you gently smile at him.

"What happen today? Dazai?"

"Today I burn a farm! It was accident but thankfully those people which we need to kill are dead now"

"So you completed your mission?"

"Yep! And I eventually hurt my head!"

"Are you fine now? Shall we go to Boss?"

"Nope! Just kiss my forehead and it will be better!" Said Dazai as you chuckle slightly yet does so.

He oftens stays beside you laying his head on your lap as you let him sleep.

He felt close to you... Perhaps if he had a mother... If she is alive maybe... Will she care like you do? He often thought that way while letting himself cuddle to you.

As much as he hate sharing your warmness you also care for Akutgawa... Well leading him to take some... Steps which concern you.

Akutagawa start avoiding you afraid he will disappoint Dazai.

Your ability was not for fighting more likely telepathy. You can talk to people afar through telepathy if you wanted to and... The fact you read mind because of it.

𝙿𝚢𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗: your ability name.

Perhaps that is the reason why 𝙼ori was fond of you... Short of way.

He knows Dazai is your son and you care a lot.

Despite him should not value much but for an tiny bit he kind of find peace been with you.

"Did you know, Y/n-chan"

"Hmm?" Your gentle e/c eyes side glance at Mori who hold onto Elise hands who on the other hand holds yours.

Afar it might look like a family but you aren't far from that thought.

"Some colleagues were wondering if we were married of sort before I... even became the boss you often stay around for me" said Mori as your gentle smile never wavered.

"Oh? But I do say, Boss you should get married unless you plan on dying single"

"Your indeed correct but I cannot find a women who is kind or tolerable for me"

"Are you searching for one?"

"Not really... Perhaps I already have someone on my mind" said Mori who stopped and faced you.

You blink slightly confused as Mori gently hold your left hand.

"There are women's that come and go even if I trust my ability as a sole... You have also become an important piece on my life, Y/n"

"...what... are-" his other hand gently stroke your face as your eyes widen staring up at him.

'I know you will read my thoughts... But I guess it will better this way...' Thought Mori to you as your eyes widen by his confession.

'Will you marry me y/n? And solely be apart of my life?'

"...but what if, I betray you?"

"Will you?" Said Mori who let out a chuckle as he stepped away abit as your mind race with thought of confusion as the only word came to your mind.

'Reject him'

"Well I will give you time to think..." Said Mori leaving with Elise who chuckle and walk away with your mind been blank of what to think.

Your heart was forever close for anyone except your son whom you love dearly as a mother should.

But... Loving another man? Yes Mori have been kind to you and you knew him when he was just an underground doctor.

You even met Fukuzawa too who told you to leave Mafia.

But you couldn't.

You can't leave your son.

And before that you couldn't.

You cared about Hirotsu.

Who is only friend of yours that was with you when your parents sucided themself.

Time past by as you were more likely ignore the question of that day.

As One day Dazai left.

He left without a word.

As much as it hurted you.

You knew it was better perhaps that friend of his have really change Dazai for better.

You could only wish to see your son been in good well.

Even if Akutagawa was hesistant he still stay with you as you cared for him as he was indeed your son student.

Both the siblings admit your like a mother for them and you even encouraged them to call you their mother of sort.

But...

When Dazai left you knew your fate was sealed.

"What do you think, Y/n-chan? Do you like white or red dress as a wedding dress?" Asked Mori while selecting dresses with Elise looking in choosing some accessories.

"Anything... Will be fine Mori-san..."

"Now now, You should call Ougai now no?" Said Mori who smile and gently hold your face sway away strand of hairs of yours from your face.

"After all, We will be together and you will be my wife soon, Isn't it lovely and honour for you to be my wife?"

"..."

He squeeze your face tighter as you try your best to smile a bit.

"Ye-yeah... Ougai-san..."

"Good very good... It is a shame Dazai will be unaware that I will be his soon step dad... Ah the irony but don't worry Y/n-chan I really like you... But more likely your ability is something which I cannot let you leave Mafia again" as Mori lean to your ear as you could feel his warm breath to yours.

"Never are you... Going to leave me, understood?"

"Y-yes Ougai-san"

.

.

.

.

.

.

But perhaps fate will bring the truth to your son... Well... More likely Ada told him the truth.

"...what do you mean?" Muttered Dazai as he side glance at Ranpo who told him the truth with Fukuzawa nodding with a frown present.

"Y/n l/n... Is your biological mother"

"...why did she left me then? And why did she come to my life again instead... Why?" Asked Dazai as he couldn't care if he is over showing his emotions.

As gentle as you are Fukuzawa frown that not a bit of Dazai resemble you perhaps the father infected him more.

Though some part he is slightly glad you never married anyone else after The birth of Dazai.

Either way, Dazai was asking what they meant truly.

"Your mother gave birth to you when she was only... 16 perhaps yeah... Been force to pay debt of her late parents she was offered money to birth a son by your father... Your mother was tossed away and given money when you were just a year old. Unaware of your life that your father passed away soon after and... Your Uncle took away your inheritance leaving you... Somewhere either way... Yeah it is y/n l/n your mother"

"...all this time... She was so close to me... Yet I never knew... I have to meet her and ask her about it.. If she know it too or even-"

"That's not the reason why we told you" said Ranpo as Dazai was abit confused as he quickly composed himself with a stiff smile.

"What do you mean?"

Fukuzawa handed Dazai a card who was confused with Fukuzawa frown present on his lips.

"Y/n was a close one even for me too... But perhaps in time she choose.... The port mafia boss Mori"

"...what kind of joke is this" muttered dazai as Fukuzawa nod.

"Either she is forc-"

"She have to be forced! Y/n- no mother never love Mori-san... And Mori-san value her for her ability.... We have to save Mother!" Said Dazai as he glance at Ranpo then Fukuzawa.

"Please... Since mother was close to you too, Save her from the marriage!"

"..." Fukuzawa let out a sighed as Ranpo side glance at the president and let out a chuckle.

"Seems... Like president gonna get another son beside me and I am getting a mother!" said Ranpo leading Fukuzawa to side glare at Ranpo with slightly flustered face as Dazai blink twice as his eyes widen in realisation.

"Even if... we save mother that doesn't mean I'm letting mother marry you!"

"...shut it concentrate on saving her from marriage first"

"Listen to your father, Dazai! And even Your older brother, me!"

"Ranpo/- San shut it"

"Now... you both are aiming me for nothing!"

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

..

𝙰:𝚗- 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚍𝚊𝚢/𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚕𝚕! 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚢/𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚕𝚕!

[scoobydoodean]

I have 2 spn accounts, a Deancentric blog that ships Destiel and another account that unintentionally follows a lot of Samgirl blogs. So one blog follows majority Deangirl blogs and the other incidentally follows a lot of Samgirl blogs. And here's the major difference I've noticed on the different dashboards.

Deangirl dashboard: Great meta analysis. Beautiful art. Level 1 and 2 headcanons (largely based in canon). Pro-Dean. Stumble across reblogs of Deancrit. Bitter Deangirl blogging. Generally fair portrayal and discussion of the positive and negative traits and actions of Dean, Sam and Cas. Deanhater anons.

Samgirl dashboard: An entirely different pool of beautiful art. Whole lotta woobie!Sam art where Dean is his abuser. Deancrit about Dean being an abuser. Bitter Samgirl blogging about how people will find any excuse to hate Sam. "How can anyone be Samcrit he has done nothing wrong ever." Level 5 headcanons (you literally ignored canon to make that up). More about how Dean is Sam's abuser. So many posts about how awful Samcrit is. "Do Deangirls really think that Dean cries himself to sleep at night thinking that ppl thinks he doesn't know how to read." I have yet to see any actual Samcrit posts (not even links or reblogs from Sam defenders), not even after literally searching the Samcrit tag for it. The Samcrit tag is full of Samgirls crying about Samcrit and no actual Samcrit. "Samgirls are feral, but we need to be bc of the hate ppl throw Sam's way."

I literally have to block so many people on the incidentally Samgirl dashboard bc I'm not on Tumblr to randomly stumble across a post on how Dean is a toxic stalker who abused Sam by changing Amelia's number in his cellphone. Do you have any idea on why Samgirls seem to feel so attacked all the time even though I literally only ever see *them* attacking Dean?

If you dig deep enough into any fandom, you will encounter people who fetishize "helpless victimhood". Some fandoms attract more people with those particular proclivities than others. Supernatural and Sam in particular attracts people who hold those sorts of aesthetic interests because of his relationship toward accountability versus Dean's.

Dean is a character with an overactive sense of responsibility. He blames himself for the Lindbergh baby and unemployment and every child murdered by a shrtiga from 1990 to 2005 because he went to play an arcade game when he was 10. He also blames himself for things like Jessica dying and Sam not being in school. Other characters pile on this blame frequently. John blames Dean for Sam getting hurt (1.18). Ruby tells him (and Sam) that Sam is a weak baby who won't psychologically survive without Dean there to protect him (3.11). Meg alleges that Dean is "dragging Sam everywhere" (1.16). Sam rewrites reality from 1.05 to 1.21 to make Dean responsible for his burning desire for revenge. Cas and Zachariah and Gabriel blame Dean when Sam breaks the last seal because he didn't stop Sam in time. Sam blames Dean for him drinking demon blood first because Dean wasn't there to protect him and then—in a complete 180—because Dean is smothering (4.04, 5.05). Dean generally absorbs blame when it is piled at his feet because he has been blamed for things he couldn't control for most of his life and thus he feels guilty and responsible for things even when him being responsible makes no logical sense. He's never a victim of anything—everything is always on him.

Sam, on the other hand, tends to eventually deflect blame because he can't handle the gnawing bite of it for long. It reminds him too deeply of being left isolated and alone as a child and the feelings of otherness and wrongness he developed through that neglect. When his actions ultimately have consequences he didn't foresee and/or that he finds undesirable, it makes him feel ugly and unaccepted and he can't face it so he eventually finds a way to make what happened someone else's fault—usually Dean's fault. Nothing is ever on him. He's always at least a little bit of a victim and Dean always carries at least partial responsibility for his decisions (1.21, 1.08, 4.04, 5.05, 8.23, 11.01)

In other words, Sam has an under-active sense of responsibility and Dean has an overactive responsibility and that dynamic—driven by their childhood experiences—places them into a vicious cycle of blame being cast onto Dean for Sam's decisions and Dean absorbing it. Dean absorbing it reinforcing the narrative for samgirls with a victimhood fetish that Dean deserves blame and that Sam truly is a helpless baby. They never watch what actually happens on the show to see whether this narrative that Dean is responsible for everything and Sam is a helpless baby lines up with the actual events that occurred onscreen because why would they? That would ruin their enjoyment. Sam isn't interesting to them outside of his capacity to be mourned as some sort of helpless martyr. And yes—they will cry and moan about how horrible and unfair Sam's suffering is, but it isn't because they're having a bad time. They're having a great time. They love thinking about Sam that way. They wouldn't be here blogging about it day in and day out for the last 20 years if they didn't actually want to see exactly what they're seeing.

Related tags of note:

#sams motivations

#taurus sam in the flesh

#In which Sam is not a helpless little waif with his hands cast over his eyes being carried along by the tides of the immutable sea

#sam the hunter

#sams follower/leader false dichotomy

#parentification

[shortie-stack]

I've seen a lot of posts comparing Bill and Ford (and for good reason, they are very much parallels and foils to each other) but I haven't seen as much exploring how Bill and Stan mirror each other. Where Bill saw Ford as a tool and maybe even sympathized with him because of their shared experiences (outcast by their peers for traits beyond their control, hungry for knowledge and prestige, isolated from friends and family), Bill sees Stan as the embodiment of everything Bill hates about himself. on the website, entering "Stanley" and clicking enter a bunch of times opens up pages from Bill's perspective about how stan defeated him. Bill maintains that Stan didn't actually beat him, that it was Ford's plan, that Stan just got lucky, but we know from the show that that simply isn't true-- it was Stan's plan and it was Stan that defeated him. It's interesting to note that bill is okay with giving Ford the credit for his demise, but Stan? unacceptable. we'll come back to that though.

To Bill, Stan is simultaneously everything he hates about himself and everything he wants to be. When listing all of Stan's faults, Bill calls him a "side character, a resume-inflating, cheap trick loving, past denying overgrown child protected by failure only by a forcefield of denial and shamelessness". who else do we know who ticks all of those boxes? Bill himself is a side character for much of gravity falls in the real world, but in the context of the show this statement shows his fear of not actually being anything special. sure he was powerful in his home dimension, but we see time and time again that there are other beings in other dimensions that are just as, if not more powerful (the axolotl, for instance). Bill takes credit for liberating his dimension when he really didn't, he "honors" his deals through loopholes and turns if phrase, and he shouldn't be throwing stones in a glass house, seeing as he's the one having a temper tantrum. Bill is also deeply disconnected from his past, if him telling us the story of the demise of his home dimension is anything to go by, and only digs himself in a deeper hole through putting on this cheerful, confident, powerful persona. Stan does the same thing, especially as Mr. Mystery. but the thing about Stan is that he grows and changes as the show goes on, while Bill's mindset is perpetual. They both were cut off from their family because of something they did (Stan messing with Ford's project, Bill by destroying his entire dimension), but Stan allows a new family to get close to him and chooses to make sacrifices to make his niece and nephew (and even his employees to some extent) happy. Bill on the other hand, surrounds himself with henchmaniacs, yes-men who just want to party and will follow him as long as he shows them a good time. Every depiction of Bill is a window for him to look through, and with so many in the mystery shack, it's certain that he sees Stanley, the embodiment of everything Bill hates about himself, getting what Bill thinks he could never have. and Bill hates it because it means that if Stan can grow and change and make peace with his past mistakes, it also means that Bill can too. But that would require Bill to actually be vulnerable and endure the pain that confronting your past (many, many) mistakes brings. He would have to acknowledge and accept that his home is gone because of him, that countless lives have been ruined because of him, and that the reason he has never been able to maintain close relationships is solely his fault. But he won't. And as a result, he will always end up alone, a king of ashes.

I think Bill thought of Ford as a way to fill his emptiness because of their similarities, and possibly also because he saw Ford as a form of redemption. Ford was brilliant and good and just like Bill and Bill saw that and may have thought, if he likes me there's no way I'm a monster. in a way, Bill saw Ford as the only one worthy of killing him because if it was Ford it was just a forgone conclusion: Ford hasn't made Bill's mistakes so he is automatically "better" than Bill and Stan, so obviously he could kill Bill. but to have it be Stan means that someone who has messed up in a manner similar to Bill has the capacity to be better. and that shakes Bill to the core.

[bethanydelleman]

Something about this whole Lydia thing confuses me a little .

Why did Darcy act alone ? Why didn't he inform Mr Gardiner of his involvement since the start not after the situation is settled ?

When he asked Lydia to leave Wickham, why did he expect her family to receive her when the whole town knew ?

I kept reading posts about how noble Darcy is for asking her to leave him. But honestly just because he does not care about reputation does not nobody else does. Heck, the whole family would suffer from social isolation, he is basically ruining what's left of the girls's chances of marrying well. He is not destroying just his own chances of marrying Lizzie, but with almost any gentleman she would ever come across. What was he thinking ?

At least, while married to Wickham, she has her reputation restored and she can go to balls and parties, if she leaves him she would be banished somewhere far away and for the extroverted loud Lydia, this is HELL.

And if he wanted simply to recover her, shouldn't he bring a relative alone so they would help convince her, surely that would help.

Honestly, the only sensible thing Lydia had done is refusing to leave him.

Darcy acted alone because he didn't trust Mr. Bennet to be a responsible adult so he waited until Mr. Bennet had returned home before approaching Mr. Gardiner:

But Mr. Gardiner could not be seen; and Mr. Darcy found, on further inquiry, that your father was still with him, but would quit town the next morning. He did not judge your father to be a person whom he could so properly consult as your uncle, and therefore readily postponed seeing him till after the departure of the former.

which, good judgment there, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bennet sucks.

As for the other thing, Darcy doesn't know what is going on in Meryton, he doesn't know that Mrs. Bennet is stupid enough to scream their bad news all over town. This whole affair could have been hushed up if Mrs. Bennet had half a brain cell. Lydia has family in London, they could have easily pretended that Lydia went to visit them.

Either way, I think in Darcy's mind, being married to Wickham is the absolute worst outcome for any woman. He hates Wickham and he knows all of Wickham's faults. To him, a sixteen year old being stuck with that sad excuse for a human being, forever, is worse than death or a cottage. Lydia didn't agree, but I don't think she's smart for that decision, she's short-sighted. And I'm pretty sure at this point that Darcy would marry Elizabeth either way, he'd probably prefer to not have Wickham as a permanent brother in law.

As for Lydia and the family's reputation, there must have been options or else Darcy wouldn't have given leaving as a choice to Lydia. He is very rich and very well regarded and everyone in Meryton now knows that Wickham is awful. So Darcy says she was kidnapped and is completely innocent and he saved her. Fortunately for the Bennet family, they never go to London, so this gossip will not spread far either way. No one knows who they are. Darcy marrying Elizabeth will give the Bennets the same reputation boost that it did in the original timeline. Lydia may need to lay low for a while, but having two very rich brother in laws can only help her marriage prospects down the line.

As for bringing a relative, I assume Darcy would have done that too if he thought it would help. As we know, it wouldn't have.