#borderline cruel frankly

[hereliesbitches--me]

I know media likes loving siblings that struggle together but let's bring back sibling dynamics that throw hands with each other because they are annoying but will protect each other as needed

Mia is the absolute worst as an entitled girl with "Special child" syndrome, she's practically a bully if she's not the center of attention, but none of it works on her older brother who will happily sit on her and hang her upside down from the staircase

[comicaurora]

I've been reading some stuff on punitive justice, and it made something click for me that I've observed a lot online but haven't been able to put into words before.

When someone does something wrong, that's bad, and the damage it does needs to be repaired while the person needs to try to do better in future to minimize repeating harm. We learn it in preschool - say sorry, don't do it again. If they keep at it, remove them from the situation where they can do the harm until they prove they're responsible enough to go back in.

So if it turns out someone DIDN'T do anything wrong, that should be a relief! There's no damage to fix, no internal errors to correct. Less work for everybody, literally no harm done. False alarm, all good.

The thing I've observed is, lots of people want them to have done something wrong. There's almost disappointment when it turns out there's no harm done. And I think that's because of this general undercurrent of punitive justice as morally righteous and desirable: someone does something wrong, you get to punish them. Turns out they're innocent? That's disappointing. Find another reason you get to punish them, or find another bad person you get to punish. But at the core of it is that desire to punish someone. Someone you can hurt in a way that makes you a better person for hurting them.

This particular brand of almost cannibalistic pseudo-justice is super common in tumblr, one of the most ostensibly liberal spaces on the internet; I see more borderline savagery in online discourse here than in the actually toxic parts of the internet that are just openly cruel for cruelty's sake. It's always thrown me for a loop, and has frankly also hurt me, because on the rare occasions I get personally dogpiled, it only actually stings when it makes me worry that I've legitimately hurt someone. If I did something wrong, or more realistically when I inevitably do something wrong, that would make it good and right for people to give me shit about it every day until I'm dead.

The thing that clicked for me most recently was this bit in Ijeoma Oluo's Be A Revolution:

Punitive justice is specifically, uniquely appealing to people who have suffered injustices. Of course it's the Tumblr zeitgeist. Everyone here is a marginalized person failed by at least one system. Punishing someone for perceived injustice is how someone the system has deemed worthless proves their value in blood, even if the person being punished hasn't harmed you directly - even if they haven't harmed anyone. "Righteous" anger isn't about the target in these cases, it's about the inflicter. This is how much my pain is worth.

And that kind of violent validation is so alluring and so very dangerous. It seeks an outlet, wearing the justification of justice. Who's in reach? Who's an acceptable target this week? What's a good reason to use?

Is there anything they could do that would make me stop?

[maxiemumdamage]

To me Azula is a tragic character specifically because while she was failed by everyone around her, it also would’ve been unreasonable to expect any of them to save her. Among those who wanted to help her, practically no one had the understanding or power to change her. They couldn’t get Azula to stop being cruel, in large part because they couldn’t change the circumstances that nurtured her worst traits.

Except Ozai obviously. Fuck him. He’s why Azula is like that to begin with. But the power and sway he has over her also made it borderline impossible for anyone else to make her change.

(MUCH more to say about this here:)

People tend to blame Ursa for Azula’s behavior first and foremost. And…yes, Ursa was pretty clearly closer with Zuko than Azula. But of course she was! Ursa’s son was constantly abused and degraded by his father — as per the comics, Ozai outright told Ursa he would do this for all of Zuko’s life in order to hurt his wife. Zuko needed Ursa’s support to have any sense of self-esteem and frankly, for his own safety.

Zuko needed his mother just to be safe and not be alone, while Azula needed her mother for moral education. Even if you don’t think Ursa’s priorities were the right ones…choosing her daughter over her son might not have been enough to change Azula anyway. It would’ve been devastating for Zuko without necessarily improving Azula in any meaningful way, because Ursa didn’t actually have the authority to meaningfully oppose her husband.

By the time it would’ve been evident that Azula had a super skewed moral compass as a result of being around Ozai so much…she still would’ve been like, eight years old max, for one thing. Little kids say and do a lot of fucked up shit, because they don’t understand morals or the world by and by large. For another, once it was obvious she was parroting horrible stuff from her father, Azula also would’ve had no respect for her mother. So what could Ursa do, by the time she realized she needed to do something?

We see in flashbacks that Ursa tried, even when her child didn’t respect her and she couldn’t enforce meaningful consequences for the bad behavior Ozai rewarded. Ursa scolded Azula for saying cruel things. She made Zuko spend time with his sister, rewarding Azula for any moments of kindness or cooperation (even when Azula was just faking it to get an opportunity to bully Zuko and Mai). She tried.

As for Ursa leaving…uh, if she hadn’t, Zuko would have died. He absolutely, 100% would have died if his mother hadn’t cut a deal with Ozai to put him on the throne in exchange for disappearing. She made Azulon and his ultimatum go away because that was necessary to protect Zuko.

Ursa did fail to morally guide her daughter. But to do otherwise would’ve been to neglect her son, then to sign Zuko’s death warrant. I’m not gonna pretend she didn’t choose one kid over the other — I just also think choosing to support the kid whom she knew her husband was mistreating wasn’t necessarily the wrong call.

And even if it was…choosing differently might not have done anything. Because Ursa could only offer affection, while Ozai wielded both the carrot and a stick. Azula would’ve likely still fawned to the more powerful abuser, still learned harmful behavior, and still internalized that her cruelty was not just necessary but acceptable. Rewarded, even.

There’s Iroh to mention as well. He admittedly had a lot more influence and ability to stand up to Ozai than Ursa did, but in fairness…that wasn’t his kid. He had his own son to worry about, and then he was grieving, and then…he chose Zuko too.

For the same reason as Ursa, I don’t quite blame him for it — Zuko needed help much more immediately. When Zuko was banished, Iroh did the right thing by going with. But I do think those in-between years in the palace were a time Iroh (still mourning, but still) had the chance to influence Azula a little. But…

…I’ve seen a post theorizing that Iroh dislikes his niece because she reminds him of who he used to be, and…I think that’s very likely. They’re the golden children of their fathers, the firebending prodigies, the conquerors of Ba Sing Se.

I also think it’s because he and Azula are so alike that he has no idea how to help her.

Iroh didn’t have a moral revelation about the Fire Nation’s conquest, not until it cost him his son’s life. His realization about war being wrong, subsequently becoming more worldly and gaining respect for other cultures, it happened only when the Fire Nation’s system stopped working for him personally. So he wouldn’t know how to make Azula see that system as wrong, to make her change for the better as he did. He can’t recreate his own reasons for changing.

Also, quite frankly — Iroh barely to not at all managed to turn Zuko off the Fire Nation’s propaganda. Zuko always had morals, sure, but he did not have any semblance of the idea that “war (of conquest) is wrong” or even “wow my father is abusive and terrible to me personally” after three years of travel with Iroh. Being an Earth Kingdom refugee and meeting the Gaang was when Zuko really changed. And I think Zuko (who got his face burned off at 13) would probably be a much easier egg to crack on the redemption front than Azula (for whom the cruel and abusive system has always worked, she’s fine with it as long as she’s the one on top).

I also am briefly going off topic here to say…I like the idea of Azula redemption. I agree that she is sometimes condemned too strongly, to harshly, given that she is just a teenage girl. But her youth doesn’t take away from her cruelty. She is someone who knowingly does wrong, because she sees it as a way to protect herself. A meaningful redemption arc for her has to acknowledge that, not just sweep it under the rug by claiming she always loved her victims.

Because yes, Azula’s loved ones who are of a similar age to her but have less power are in fact her victims. They love her, she loves them, but she does hurt them all the same. That also has to be acknowledged in the quest to redeem her.

Zuko and Mai and Ty Lee all flatly have no power over Azula — she has power over them, in fact, thanks to her status as Ozai’s favored child and just as a princess, respectively. Ursa and Iroh were adults who at least wouldn’t be hurt by trying to help Azula, but for her brother and friends? Changing her could be dangerous.

Zuko is nominally safer as the Crown Prince, but…he’s awful at politics and their infinitely more powerful Dad blatantly favors Azula. He can’t stand up to her. And the one time were shown that Ursa, trying to correct Azula’s cruelty, made her son play nice, feels cruel to Zuko. He gets hurt and humiliated for no reason but for his sister’s sake entertainment and (failed) moral education. It’s not his job to redeem his sister.

And then there’s Mai and Ty Lee, who may be nobles, but still can’t do anything to Princess Azula. In fact, even before Mai or Ty Lee have done anything, Azula is threatening their family and bodily safety, respectively, as a loyalty test. They cannot challenge Azula in any meaningful way without endangering their lives and safety. It’s not fair to expect them to fix her.

Who does that leave that Azula is even close to? The Gaang literally know nothing of her but “Zuko’s sister who keeps trying to kill us.” None of the Fire Nation Generals or Nobles will want her to change. Azulon rewarded her bad behavior almost as hard as Ozai. Lo and Li, maybe, but for all they’re the wise old ladies Azula takes advice from, Azula doesn’t actually interact with them very often.

Azula is a tragic character because, while she was a child who should have been redeemed and had better, it makes perfect sense she didn’t. No one could change her. No one could offer a sweeter carrot or bigger stick than Ozai. And by the time he was out of the picture, the story was over.

[nakahras]

᯽ wet dreamz • osamu dazai

synopsis • you’ve been having some dubious dreams about one (1) osamu dazai and you let it slip.

warnings • swearing, lucid dreaming, fem!reader, ņsfw, dazai (he needs his own warning, yes), nickname “bella” is used, hair pulling, some light hand stuff/teasing, oral (f -> m), no set dynamic (both parties switch), masturbation (f), clothed sex, edging, finger sucking, slight choking, creampie, overstimulation, pussy drunk dazai, this is a long one >.<, also mildly unedited

wc • 6.8k

a/n • ahahahaha i don’t know

his hands are all over you, all at once, but it’s still not enough. you can’t pinpoint why because in all honesty it should be borderline overwhelming. but it’s not.

maybe you’re just greedy. you’ve been waiting for this for so long that you’ve been dreaming about it. dreaming? something washes over you and, once again, you can’t place it. you shake it off internally. how could you pay anything much attention when what you should be paying attention to is the man underneath you pawing at your skin.

he’s demanding all of your attention and you’ll gladly give it to him. you don’t remember how you got here, or how you got his shirt off but you dip down and kiss his exposed and surprisingly sun kissed skin. everything is blurry, the feeling of his skin under your lips, the image of him shirtless underneath you and the sensation of his nimble fingers kneading at your ass. 

before you can overthink it, he gets impatient and guides your hips to grind down on his hardened crotch. your mind is the next thing to become blurry. you straighten up and throw your head back as the sensation of the friction overtakes your senses. you want more, need more.

as if the brunette could read your mind, he’s tugging at your panties. it’s only then that you realize, he’s pantless as well. things felt like they were going too fast and also too slow all at once. you sit yourself back down on his length and continue to grind down on him.

your head is swimming and distantly you hear ringing in your ears. you ignore it though, the sounds of his moans drowning out any other noise. his grip on your bottom tightens and he lifts your hips up expertly aligning himself with your entrance.

he’s about to sit you back down and stretch you out but the ringing gets louder and everything goes white.

᯽•᯽

you woke this morning in a pool of your own sweat — thighs rubbing together desperately seeking out the same sensations you experienced in your dream. 

now you’re sitting at your desk feeling extremely embarrassed and, frankly, frustrated that you had yet another wet dream about your coworker, dazai osamu. 

you let out a huff while typing up a report on yesterday’s case. of all people in this office it just had to be the most insufferable of them all. why did he have to be so gorgeous? why couldn’t you think the same of kunikida? hell, even ranpo would have been a better choice than dazai. you think your subconscious is cruel. laughing at you, making fun of you by giving you wet dreams. you felt like a fucking teenager. hell, you don’t think you even had wet dreams when you were an adolescent going through puberty. how utterly embarrassing.

you let out yet another exasperated sigh, brows furrowed and fingers typing furiously. you were making a spectacle and your deskmates had long since noticed your sour mood. atsushi and kunikida were the smart ones, they simply let you be, figuring if you wanted to talk about it you would bring it up. 

dazai, however, is nosey. his natural curiosity always getting the better of him. he builds a simple paper airplane and shoots it through the air. it lands right on your keyboard and your aggressive typing finally ceases. you stare at the airplane as if you’ve never seen one in your entire life. you refuse to look up, fearing that if you look at dazai you’ll be reminded of what your subconscious thinks of him. you don’t think you can handle that quite yet.

dazai watches, slightly perturbed, as you seem to try to make his little creation spontaneously combust. no matter how unsettling, dazai still isn’t deterred. atsushi shoots him a warning look, as if to say this wasn’t a good idea. the brunette blatantly ignores the boy and wheels himself over to your part of the desk, which was a show in itself since you’re on the complete opposite side of where he was sat. that means dazai has to push himself past either atsushi or kunikida. of course, him being the menace that he is, dazai chooses the harder path of going around kunikida.

you don’t see it because you’re still having a staring contest with your little gift but kunikida’s eye twitches as dazai swivels past him. the blonde was going to take the high road though. he was going to let it slide since you seemed to need the distraction. but dazai was clumsy and clipped his wheels on the ones of his partner’s chair. kunikida’s eye twitches and he can’t help himself.

”dazai…” it’s a simple warning. one that the brown eyed detective promptly ignores.

dazai makes it to you without another hitch and gingerly reaches over to replace the airplane with a paper rose.

you blink. stare some more. then finally look up. “dazai, what the fuck?” 

“oh c’mon, bella. you’ve been in a mood all day. i thought a rose would cheer you up enough to tell me what’s got you in such a sulky mood.” dazai pouts at you and it takes everything in you to look away for your sanity.

you can feel your cheeks heating up by just the small interaction. if these dreams persist, you’re not sure you can keep your composure. you were barely hanging on by a thread as it was. you distantly think maybe it’s your subconscious telling you that you need to get laid. you almost scoff at the thought.

yes. it has been some time since you last slept with someone, but there is no way that was causing the dreams. if that was the case you would be having dreams about more than just dazai. he was simply plaguing your mind and you think you might go insane if this kept going on. 

so instead of dealing with it like a sane person, because you aren’t right now, you decide to take it out on the very man that has been haunting your mind. “i’m trying to get my work done and i’m certainly not in the mood. go bother atsushi if you’re bored, dazai.”

you hear a small complaint come from across the desk and look up to see atsushi giving you an accusatory expression. you immediately feel guilty for throwing him under the bus and finally relax for the first time all day. you toss the weretiger an apologetic smile then whip around to glare at dazai for a moment.

”i changed my mind. you’re buying me lunch at the cafe. let’s go.” you don’t give dazai any time to answer. you save your work, shut your laptop and promptly stand up and walk off. you weren’t going to give dazai any room to argue. you figured if he didn’t follow then he wasn’t that curious and you got to enjoy a break in silence.

unfortunately you hear dance-like footsteps coming from behind you, indicating that dazai was, in fact, following. you both step into the elevator and about halfway down dazai finally opens his mouth.

”so, what’s got a beautiful woman such as yourself in such a mood today?” his smile is lazy and eyes dull.

you hate this. you hate when he acts like this. you do genuinely like dazai, just not this version of him. the shut off version, the one that puts on a facade and plays with people for fun. you don’t have much time to think about it though. the elevator jolts to a sudden stop and dings, indicating that you’ve made it to the ground floor. you scurry out of the small space and make your way to the cafe. 

when you enter your mood instantly sours seeing that it wasn’t lucy in today, but rather the waitress dazai is always making eyes at and wistfully requesting her to perform a double suicide with him. you muster up a smile to offer the owner and wave at him before taking your seat at one of the booths. dazai plops himself on the other side across from you.

the waitress comes over and you brace yourself for the encounter that’s about to transpire. dazai watches you closely, head tilting to the side curiously. 

“welcome, detectives, what can i get you started with today?” her smile is sweet and you feel bad for your previous annoyance. it’s not her fault dazai doesn’t understand the art of subtlety. 

dazai speaks up before you can get a chance to. “go on, bella, you order whatever you want.” dazai addresses his attention to the waitress next. “everything will be going on my tab, miss waitress.”

”how very generous of you, mr. dazai. i assume you finally invested in that life insurance policy i recommended?” her smile is sweet but her words are clipped and condescending. you let out a little snort as dazai starts to sweat a little. 

before dazai can quip back, you order. “i’ll take an iced latte and the sandwich of the day, please.”

“of course miss. what about you, mr. dazai?”

dazai almost shrinks at her faux warm demeanor. “i’ll just take a cup of coffee.” 

you raise your brow at him disapprovingly and before the waitress can scurry off you quickly get out, “can you make sure my sandwich is cut in half?”

she smiles at you genuinely and nods her head. after she walks off you catch dazai staring at you once again. you know he’s about to speak again and you dread whatever it is that’s going to fall from those surprisingly full lips of his. 

“so, are you going to tell me what’s gotten your panties in a twist all day?”

nice.

how eloquent of him. 

you scowl at him and hiss out, “could you not refer to it as that?”

”sorry, bella. would you rather i ask why you’ve been so sour all day in a different way?” dazai grins at you clearly pleased at getting a rise out of you. 

you huff and roll your eyes. “would you believe me if i told you it’s because i had a dream of you?”

”oh? did you now? what was the dream about? you must regale me with all of the details.” dazai sets his elbows on the table in between the two of you. his fingers intertwine and he rests his head atop his hands. 

it’s almost eerie, the way he’s looking at you but you can’t quite place why. you wince internally realizing your mistake. how the hell are you supposed to tell dazai that you fantasized about— no. you didn’t fantasize, it was a dream. a creation of your subconscious. not of your control. you want to shrivel up and die. 

how the hell are you supposed to explain that to dazai?

you don’t. it’s the only sane reasoning you can come up with. but now you have to scramble to come up with something to dazai. the longer you just blankly stare at him the more suspicious he’s going to get. you can see it in the way his eyes become hooded and his right brow shifts up.

dazai perks up a bit and, oh god, here it comes. the realization you’ve been dreading. “don’t tell me you dreamt about me in that way.” he hums dramatically. “what a naughty girl, thinking about your colleague in such a way~”

you involuntary freeze. sure you knew this was coming but there is no way he saw through you that easily. he came to that conclusion so fast and you know for a fact you aren’t an easy person to read unless you want someone to. he couldn’t have just picked up on your thoughts like that. no, you have to remind yourself this is dazai osamu. he could have done exactly that. regardless, you refuse to admit it to yourself, let alone dazai.

“absolutely n-“ you’re cut off by the waitress dropping off your drinks and the sandwich. 

clearly she understood what you meant by your earlier request because she brings you an extra plate. you thank her one more time before she walks off. placing the slightly bigger half of the sandwich on the extra plate and scooting it towards dazai.

“eat.” he looks at you curiously but obliges when you give him an expectant glare.

you know he won’t drop the previous subject but luckily for you he’s too busy with eating to make much conversation. you both enjoy your respective halves of the delicious sandwich in silence. it was peaceful, a stark contrast to what usually transpired when you’re with dazai. you observe him quietly, subtly, as you chew on the last bite of your food.

he’s picking at the bread after only two bites. his coffee was finished within the first few minutes of it being set in front of him. a clear avoidance. keeping himself busy with sipping on his coffee so he wouldn’t have to eat. the few bites were to appease you. unfortunately for him you know all of those tricks, maybe a little too well.

you cross your arms over your chest and think about this tactically, you know if you scold him outright he’ll brush it off easily. you have to think like him for a moment. what would he do if your positions were switched.

playing dumb. “you know, it’s not very polite to let a lady eat more than you…” 

you pout and look away from him, trying to seem embarrassed. you’re not sure if it’s worked. you’re honestly too nervous to look. you think it must look real because you’re now actually embarrassed by the probably god awful acting you just displayed.

but then you hear distinct chewing and peak over to something that pleasantly surprises you. he’s taken another two bites, significantly larger than the last two, because he’s almost finished with the sandwich by the time you fully turn to look at him. 

for the first time all day you finally crack a smile at him and let out a fit of giggles. dazai almost chokes on the sandwich from the sound alone. it’s a sound he’ll never get used to nor will he ever get tired of it. you’re too busy trying to calm your giggles to notice dazai’s internal struggle as he finishes off his own food all the while staring at you in amazement.

you take a few calming breaths and look at him, still all smiles. dazai resists the urge to clutch his chest, something in it stirs — an extremely alarming and foreign sensation for him. dazais nerves are suddenly on fire. he suddenly recalls what you said earlier, how you dreamt about him. he knows you planned on denying his earlier implications but the way you paused makes him think you were having those types of dreams about him. 

dazai’s fingers twitch at his sides. he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think of you like that. hell, he’d probably have the same types of dreams if he actually dreamt. dazai’s breathing shallows and he need to get away from you. his self control thinning with each passing second he thinks about you in the most intimate of ways. 

he knows it’s wrong. at least in your case you can’t control it. but here his is, shamelessly fantasizing about you like you aren’t sat right in front of him. dazai disgusts himself. he wants to bash his head in, his thoughts swimming, making it hard for him to focus. vision blurring and ears rushing like there’s water stuck in them.

dazai abruptly stands up and announces, “we should get back to work. kunikida will get on us if we take any longer.”

you’re so perplexed because when has dazai ever cared about what kunikida thinks about? then you notice it, the unmistakable bulge straining against the crotch of his pants. you swear you didn’t mean to look, it was just currently at eye level. you’re suddenly given an opportunity, something you need to make a decision on and quickly. 

as calmly as you can, you slide out of the booth and wave to the owner and waitress before grasping onto dazai’s hand and dragging the brunette away with you. dazai is far too dazed to protest at how assertive you’re being. you lead the way to the elevator and the ride there is painstakingly quiet and slow. the second the contraption dings and the doors begin to open you’re slipping through with dazai still in tow.

the lanky man is thoroughly confused when, instead of going back to the office, you shove the two of you in the supply closet. he wants to ask but something tells him he doesn’t need to. your body language gives way that you’re going to explain yourself.

thank god there’s a lock on the inside of this room. you really did not want to relocate to the bathroom for this. dazai is still dazed, unsure of what’s happening, just letting you toss him around like a rag doll. everything is still on fire making him feel detached from his body. the sensation is almost numbing.

“you know what’s so frustrating?” your breathing is just as shallow as his is now. the ride on the elevator working you up far more than it should have. 

although he’s detached, your voice anchors him. he looks down at your flushed face and he almost whimpers at the sight. he croaks out, “what is?”

“you. you’re so frustrating. your stupid act, your stupid need to play dumb, your stupid big brown eyes, your stupidly long fingers, your stupidly handsome face and your stupidly careless actions. y’know, you’ve had a hard on since you stood up at the cafe. practically shoved it in my face.” you have him trapped, his back is hitting the end of some shelves.

you don’t touch him yet. you look up at him and gauge his reaction. he seems to be battling with what he should say and you could laugh in triumph. you’ve never seen someone render the dazai osamu speechless, but you just did it with a few suggestive sentences. 

dazai takes a shuddered breath collecting his wits before grinning down at you after fully processing your words. “my apologies, bella. that wasn’t my intention, but what is yours? this is quite the damning position you have me in.”

your confidence falters but you quickly recover and click your tongue. “it would be rude of me to not help you calm down… especially if i was the cause.” 

you look away, embarrassed by your own proposition. dazai takes a moment. he knows what you’re implying, he’s sure of it, but he’s having a hard time wrapping his head around it. after what feels like an eternity— it’s not, you’re just being dramatic— it finally clicks in dazai’s head. you’re being serious, if the look on your face is any indication. 

the detective hums and reaches out. his hand cups your face and glides up into your hair, fingers tangling with the strands and tugging just a little too harshly to be considered gentle. he was needy, you could see it in the endless sea of honey that are his irises. something was stirring. 

“how am i supposed to say no to that? i’m a weak man, unable to deny a beautiful woman when she makes such an enticing offer.”

you don’t have time to bite back with a witty comment because his lips are quite literally crashing into yours. the second his chapped lips make contact with your own every single touch and action from him comes from a place of desperation. although skilled, his actions are sloppy and almost rushed. his free hand grips your waist and draws you even closer. 

your hands land on his chest to brace and balance yourself. you try to catch your breath but dazai is proving that difficult with how his tongue dances along your own. his actions steal your breath away from you and make your lungs burn, screaming for relief and air. 

the lack of air and the sensation of dazai’s tongue tangling with your own dizzies your head. you can’t get a proper thought out. instinctively your mouth is moving with his, tongue smoothing over his, and hands fisting at the cloth on his chest but you couldn’t move out of your own volition. 

dazai pulls your head back by once again tugging at your hair. you let out an involuntary whimper, making sure to stay quiet as you gasp for air. dazai dips his head down and speaks in between littering kisses on your neck.

“i thought you were going to help me calm down, bella. so far i’m doing all the work and now i’m far more worked up than i was in the cafe.” 

his words bring you crashing down to reality and you scowl. of course he would still tease you. he loves getting a rise out of you. 

you don’t entertain him, though. instead your hand travels down his torso and starts tugging at his shirt. you pout at him mockingly. “i didn’t realize some mild kissing would work you up so much. ‘didn’t realize you were so sensitive -- so needy.” 

dazai wants to quip back at you but as you’re talking you’re undoing his pants and your last word is emphasized by you shoving your hand down his pants. your hand almost falters when you realize he’s not wearing anything underneath. instead, though, you take your index finger and teasingly run it along his length. it feels endless, he’s long, you realize. you briefly wonder just how far, how deep, he could reach inside of you. 

dazai shudders at the feather like touches to where he needs attention the most right now. you lean up and with your free hand you tug on dazais collar to bring him down to your level. your breath fans over his ear and, god, he shudders again. 

you hum. “‘s this where you need attention right now?”

“yes.” dazai breathes out the word. clearly affected by the way your finger is twirling around the leaking tip of his cock.

you maintain eye contact with dazai as you sink to your knees. the implication alone has dazai’s nerves coiling tighter. he brings his hand up to cover his face, head falling back as he groans. his breathing becomes more erratic as you withdrawal your hand, he barely contain a whimper from falling past his lips at the loss of contact. but you make quick work of shocking his pants halfway down his thighs and finally freeing his strained length.

your mouth begins to salivate involuntarily. his cock is surprisingly pretty and just as you suspected — his length is impressive, definitely above average. the leaking tip is flushed pink and his veins are visibly throbbing. you want nothing more than to choke on it but first, you think you need to tease him some more.

you rest your cheek on his trembling thigh and stare up at him innocently. “osamu.” he could cum, right then and there with the way you say his given name.

dazai looks down at you. the sight in front of him bringing him embarrassingly closer to release. all dazai can muster is a hum of acknowledgment and even that sounds a little pained.

you smile at his obvious desperation. “if i help you out here you need to follow a couple rules. be quiet and no touching. think you can do that for me?”

dazai tries so hard to pay attention to your words but barely registers them. did you say no touching? no touching what? and him being quiet? a bold request of him.

you seem pleased with how quick he is to nod at you in obedience. you waste no time, ready to indulge both of your fantasies. you lick a long stripe along the vein on the underside of his cock. dazai is twitching at the one action alone. how embarrassing of him — you both have the same thought. 

the brunette’s fingers itch to touch you but his mind is coherent enough to remember your stipulations. no touching. how cruel of you. to resist that temptation when you’re making him feel this good is just downright wicked.

you don’t miss the way his fists clench in a desperate attempt to keep his word. how could you not reward him for that? listening to you like such a good and obedient puppy. your tongue darts out to swirl around his flushed tip. the taste of his precum floods your tastebuds and you’re instantly hooked like an addict to their drug of choice. dazai’s taste was your new vice. 

your lips wrap around his head and you hollow your cheeks. dazai is panting. his head spinning from the pleasure at just the slightest of touches from you. his head hangs back and he brings his fist to his mouth and bites down. he wants to groan, wants to whimper, wants to moan your name. but you’ve denied him that privilege and he has a feeling that you would be merciless if he gave in and disregarded your requests. 

you take more of him with each bob of your head and with each stroke of your tongue you unravel the tight coil that had formed in dazai’s stomach. he was already so close. what a sight it would be to watch you choke over him as he spills everything he has directly down your throat. the thought almost undoes him. he bites down on his fist harder and he thinks he may have broken skin.

you observe dazai and it’s all so hot. his pants, his facial expressions, the way sweat is starting to form on his face and cause his hair to stick to it. you can feel yourself getting worked and you’re impatient. thank god the weather permitted you to wear a pencil skirt instead of the usual slack you usually wear. you use your free hand to bunch up your skirt at your waist. the actions makes your movements on dazai’s cock a little sloppy. he hadn’t noticed yet but his brows furrow as if he’s starting to. you try to fix your pace but it’s too late. he is already picking up his head and peering down at you. 

you were trying to touch yourself. if his head wasn’t already spinning this is what would be what sent him into a spiral. you had the audacity to call him needy but then in turn do something like this. it was unfair. 

Dazai can’t help himself. “bella, are you trying to touch yourself?” it comes out as a teasing whisper. you don’t miss the amusement in his voice. 

you suppose you asked him to stay quiet, not to stay silent.

still, your brows furrow and you ever so slightly graze your teeth against his cock. the sensation is something dazai sickeningly loves. his eyes are rolling back into his head and he let’s out a short moan. it’s quiet and you’re quite annoyed that he’s found a loophole. 

you can’t deny that his noises aren’t doing something for you, though. you’re even more desperate than before to slip out of your panties. you maneuver around and manage to shimmy them off. it’s almost embarrassing how wet the crotch of them are. you try to care but you just can bring yourself to do so when dazai’s hips begin to thrust and force the small bit of his length you’ve been unable to touch down your throat. 

you gag around him and dazai’s grasping at the shelves behind him for leverage. you spread your legs the best you can, being on your knees like this and sneak your hand up your thigh. you can feel the heat radiating off of you. you run a finger through your slick and moan around dazai when the digit brushes your clit.

“fuck, fuck, fuck ‘s so good, bella. your mouth ‘s so perfect for me.” his voice is hushed and breathy.

you’re not even listening to his babble as your nose continues to brush against his pelvis every time your sucking him back into your mouth. gagging, choking, on his cock. your eyes are watery, tears spilling from that and the sensation coming from below your pelvis. your finger makes expert work of your clit.

it’s too much.

you can’t breath right, dazai can’t think right, you gag with every thrust, dazai can’t control his stuttering hips, your one hand is playing with yourself and the other reaches up to cup dazai’s balls. 

it’s not only too much for you, it’s too much for dazai. the added sensation makes nerve, every cell, every fiber that makes up dazai ignite. he was about to cum, he needed to warn you. he needed to open his mouth and say something but it just flapped, no noise was coming out.

you bob your head back and peer up at dazai, his erratic breathing becoming suspiciously loud. the look on his face is absolutely breathtaking — it’s flushed, almost beet red, tears of his own trickle down his cheeks in droplets. he looked like a fallen angel, beautiful and dangerous all at the same time. 

you moan at the sight. fingers traveling down to your entrance and slowly pushing through. you suck in a breath and fold your lips over your teeth to keep yourself from grazing his length with them. the initial stretch feels divine but your fingers themselves aren’t enough. you need dazai’s twitching cock inside your cunt.

you note that dazais cock is throbbing painfully and starts to twitch quite a lot.

oh, you realize, he’s going to cum. 

you smirk deviously. you push your mouth down on dazai until his tip is hitting the back of your throat. with your eyes still on him you hollow your cheeks and swallow. dazai almost yelps at the added stimulation. his head snaps up and finally his attention is on you.

“shit.” he hisses, this time a little louder, so you glare up at him. “sorry- sorry but- fuck- gonna cum, please, ‘m so close.”

the second those words leave his mouth you’re backing up and removing your fingers from yourself. dazai let’s out a mangled noise, something between a sob and laugh. it was almost unnerving but the blissed out look on dazai’s face tells you he’s enjoying this game far more than the average person.

you watch his chest heave, his breathing heavy. his face is as red as a blooming rose. you think it’s a sort of beautiful sight to see. dazai never gets flustered, so seeing him like this, you can’t help but to feel special. 

you stand up as you pout at him, mock empathy written all over your face. “sorry, did you wanna cum? don’t think i can have that quite yet. not when you haven’t even fucked me. right, osamu?”

there it is again, the sound of his given name falling from your lips. something in dazai snaps. the thread of his sanity that you’d been stretching thin ever since the cafe finally tore in two. his eyes darken dangerously and you only have a moment to realize the shift before he’s picking you up by your thighs and wrapping them around his thin waist. you can feel his stiff cock lightly bouncing against your ass as he flips you around and pins you against the shelves.

his head dips down and he lips scant across the skin of your neck. he’s careful to only leave feather light touches. scraping the rough skin of his mouth on one of your most sensitive areas sends a shock of electricity through your body. you so badly want to tug at his hair but you’re coherent enough to realize your fingers are still coated in your own slick. 

you smile slyly at the detective as he peers at you through his ridiculously long lashes. you grab his chin delicately and bring your soiled fingers to his lips. his eyes light up in immediate realization. he wordlessly opens his mouth, tongue lolling out a bit as he happily waits for his treat like a puppy, you can practically see his tail wagging. you let out a breathless laugh, because you think you may be screwed. dazai osamu has you wrapped around his pretty and lithe fingers and you think he already knew that. 

you think about making him beg for it but you’re so momentarily mesmerized by the brunette that you find yourself leaning in and gently interesting the digits into his mouth. dazai is quick to appreciate your offering. his lips encase your fingers and his tongue makes quick work of lapping up and savoring your taste.

dazai’s hip involuntarily rut into yours and you can’t help yourself. all the pent up frustration you’ve felt since the dreams started finally gets to your head. you’re desperate to feel him inside of you. a sensation you were always denied of, waking up before actually getting fucked by the very man holding you each time. you reach down to guide his cock then expertly shift your hips and he becomes perfectly aligned with your entrance. dazai is sucking on your fingers but his actions become sloppy as he watches what you’re doing with intense concentration.

you waste no time sinking yourself down on his length, he’s already well coated in your slick and eases into you. you bite on your lip to avoid making any obscene noises but dazai snaps you into reality when he carelessly moans loudly. you panic and shove your fingers further into his mouth. he hums appreciatively and if his hips rocking into yours didn’t feel so good you’d hop off his cock right then and there and leave him blue balled. you could bring yourself to do that though, not when you’ve been waiting for this for so long.

you settle for hissing out, “shut the fuck up, dazai.” 

dazai gives you a shit eating grin as he snakes an arm under your ass and squeezes before slowly shifting his hips away from yours, leaving you virtually empty, before sliding himself back into you at the same painstakingly slow pace. he repeats the slowed movements a few times before you’re slipping your fingers out of his mouth and bracing yourself on his shoulders. you try to move your hips on your own but dazai is quick to catch you.

“ah, ah, bella. can’t have you doing whatever you want right now. unless you want me to get louder, you’ll let me set the pace.” his voice is slightly strained and hushed, but despite his seriousness, you can hear the tiniest bit of teasing mixed in.

you let out a whine but resign to him setting the pace. in the meantime your fingers find their way to his hair and tug. dazais hips stutter, showing you that he is far too needy to take full control. taking full advantage of just how distracted he is, you grind your hips into the detective’s with each thrust and dip your head to leave sloppy wet kisses along his jaw and down his neck.

“shit, you’ve been so wound tight all the time lately that even your perfect cunt has a vice grip on me. it’s so perfect, feels so good.” you can tell how hard dazai is trying to be quiet and you note that you should reward him for that later.

it doesn’t take long for his pace to increase, his rapid movements making the shelves behind you rock and creak. dazai still seems displeased with the pace, his brows knitting together in concentration. you catch his eyes flitting to your neck and lingering there. 

you’ve always worn your tie loose, the first couple buttons if your dress shirt undone. it drives dazai mad. your neck and cleavage are always on display in the most tasteful way. he wants nothing more than to run his hand over your velvety soft skin and wrap his nimble fingers around your neck. now that he has the chance to do so, he can’t pass up the opportunity.

your grip in his hair tightens as he shifts you, keeping you up with one arm as he keeps his pace. you have no room to question him when the new positioning has his cock nudging your sweet spot so deliciously. your head becomes dizzy and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. 

dazai’s hand travels up your body, palm flush with your skin so he can feel every bump and curve. he starts at your upper abdomen and slithers it up. he completely ignores your breasts which you vaguely think was his goal. you have no time to act surprise over it bc his hand is gently wrapping around your neck. he wants to squeeze, fingers twitching, but he resigns to a light grip to simply test the waters. 

your response is something he wasn’t expecting. your eyes roll back and you let out a hushed whimper. that’s when he realizes, he wants to do this forever. he wants to fuck you senseless so he can see that beautiful expression on your face forever. so he can feel you tightly wrapped around him forever. dazai wants you forever. the fleeting thought scares him just a little but he has no time to dwell on it because the coil in his stomach is unraveling once again.

“dazai-“ your interrupted by him bringing you in for a sloppy kiss. you think the noises from the kiss alone are far more obscene than the noises from him bullying his cock into you, which is a hard feat considering those are, by no means, quiet or pure. 

when the brunette detaches himself he breathes out. “osamu- shit- ‘s osamu…”

“osamu. ‘m gonna cum. so close- please.” you let out a quiet sob as you babble.

dazai has no time to respond. it’s embarrassing, the way he can’t even give you any other warning but him shoving his face in your shoulder, grip tightening around your throat ever so slightly. the whimper he lets out tells you everything you need to know before he starts spilling his cum inside of you.

the throbbing of his cock and sensation of him filling you up has your walls contracting and you’re diving off the deep end yourself. you bite your lip hard. desperate trying to keep yourself from making more noise than the whines sticking in your throat. your vision blurs and and hearing goes muffled as your senses become overwhelmed by your high.

dazai is still rutting his hips into you, guiding you through your orgasm despite his twitches and obvious overstimulation. when you come back to your senses, dazai is whimpering a lot louder than previously. his grip on your neck is lost as he leaves soothing strokes on your side. you tug at his hair to lift his head so you can look at him.

his face is somehow even more flushed than earlier, you’re almost concerned. the look in his eyes though makes something stir inside of you. his glazed over and hooded eyes, completely unfocused. his lips parted as he’s letting out short and shuddered puffs of air. dazai has lost all senses but the feeling of him inside of you. 

“osamu. hey- look at me. you need to calm-“ you his when his rutting becomes more intense, thrusts becoming less shallow but hips and cock still twitching wildly, you have to stop him otherwise you’ll both lose yourselves in this supply closet and you can’t afford to do that when everyone is still in the office next door. “osamu we need to get back.”

dazai seems to have regained some of his consciousness. “again.”

you let out a breathless laugh, eyes glimmering in genuine amusement and adoration. “not right now. later. we need to get back. i have a case i need to finish working on.”

dazai finally fully comes back to you and he lightens up at the promise of later. that means this isn’t just a one time thing. something in that back of his head always told him if he crossed that line with you, things wouldn’t be the same, he’d only have one shot. but your words are such a relief he could cry. he can’t help himself, he has to clarify.

“later? after work and… again anytime after that?” his eyes are pleading and hopeful and you can’t help but melt under his soft gaze.

you nod and open your mouth to affirm his statement but you're rudely interrupted by a loud rapping at the closet door. “you two better have not done any of that by my emergency snack stash and you better clean up after yourselves. hurry up, i can't keep stalling and kunikida needs staples.”

ranpo’s voice rings throughout the room. you groan in embarrassment and bury yourself into his chest. dazai lets out a gleeful laugh still dizzyingly drunk on the idea of your promise.

[stars-in-a-jam-jar]

I'm seeing a notable handful of posts in the Amazing Digital Circus tag disagreeing on Gangle's character and I think the big thing about the difference in perspective is really just: How seriously are thou as an audience member taking the 'minimum wage job for a day' premise? (I will singlehandedly re-introduce 'thou' into the english lexicon you watch me, it's so much better than the general-you)

In a world where this is meant to be treated like a shitty little game, Gangle's behaviour in response to Jax misbehaving is really kind of unacceptable. Ragatha's more fucked up by the Stupid Sauce that Caine somehow decided was a good idea to include than she is by the dump in the deep fryer, Gangle did not need to threaten Jax with "horrible punishment" from the most powerful thing in their lives over what amounts to general disrespect and a minor inconvenience. Mr. Orbzman is an NPC and not a person, Jax shouldn't have to hold his tongue about it like he would at a real job where the customers are real people with real feelings. Pomni's feelings over and attachment to Gummigoo are more important than being a good little cashier and playing the game properly. Gangle putting Jax on cleaning duty for the bathrooms when they 'look like a biohazard' is absurd and demeaning because it's a long established fact that this is a digital world where bio-anything is completely meaningless, and she's just making him do unpleasant shit for no reason other than she wants it done and she wants him doing it. And her responding to his continued refusal to play along by locking him in an isolated room, strapping him to a chair, and Doing A Brainwashing To Him is Fucking Horrifying and borderline irredeemable.

Also: "If you have time to lean, you have time to clean." Is frankly an evil thing to say.

But in a world where this is a situation with real stakes, where failure or success in this endeavor Means Something, where Jax dumping Ragatha in the fryer is something that is hurtful and disruptive and unnecessarily cruel, where Jax refusing to keep his mouth shut until he's on break and out of earshot of the customers makes the day of the person he's badmouthing worse and might result in penalties from people above their heads, where Pomni leaving her post to try and talk to Gummigoo is both actively letting down her coworkers who are relying on her to do the job she's been assigned and an imposition on Gummigoo because They Are Strangers Now and there is no taking him back to the circus with her, where Gangle has been trusted with a position of responsibility and authority which has knock on effects for everyone beneath her and Jax won't even clean out the stupid bathrooms when they need cleaning— in that situation, Gangle's very manic and high strung about it and perhaps crosses a line with the whole 'summarily breaking Jax's spirit complete with a horror movie reference' thing, but She's Still Right.

Jax needed an attitude adjustment and nothing was working, so she goes a little nuclear on him. Pomni shouldn't be piling all this emotional baggage on someone who, right now, is a random customer. Gangle's very gentle with Ragatha when she's clearly out of it because she understands something is causing Ragatha to behave loopy and out of character, and in response, Ragatha says the colorful thoughtful gift that's been keeping Gangle together and allowing her to independently function at a level she's usually not capable of makes her annoying!!!

That's somehow so much worse than Jax saying he likes her better sad??? Because at least with Jax, he's expressing his displeasure at being ordered around by someone he previously called "submissive and agreeable" and not having any control over this situation. Ragatha's just saying something mean after telling Gangle she doesn't need help (she does) and thinks she could do a better job as shift manager (she has no proof of this).

And regardless of how seriously thou as the audience member are taking it and why, Gangle is taking it Incredibly Seriously. She is on 'If you die in the game, you die in real life' levels of emotional investment, this is all So Real to her, and anytime the others treat it like it's dumb and useless and hollow, it kicks up So Much Distress within her for reasons I'm gonna trust you guys to think on. And thou might think that is a detriment to her character in and of itself, or thou might be more endeared to her by it, but that is what's happening. So basically the reason some of y'all are coming out of this episode liking Gangle less and some are coming out adoring her is mostly dependent on if you personally are predisposed to take her side by taking the Hard Day's Work At Spudsy's Family Diner seriously.

[cadence-the-hypnotic-floret]

HDG and BPD

So Human Domestication Guide, as a setting, is very much built as comfort food for mentally ill, disabled trans folks (not judging, I'm at least two mentally ill sophonts 🤭), but one bit that didn't quite shine through to me until a moment ago is the Borderline Personality Disorder connection. More specifically, the "favorite person" phenomenon.

A floret's affini is their favorite person. They are utterly dependent on their owner, including on an interpersonal level. Thanks to biorhythms, the floret can feel what their owner feels, in a very deep, visceral way that directly influences their emotional state. They are desperate for praise and acceptance, the worst thing imaginable to them is disappointing their owner, and they often spend time gazing up at their owner in a hazy bliss, as though watching an angelic figure and being awestruck by their beauty as the rest of the world decoheres around them.

In turn, the affini is the perfect caretaker for their floret. The influence they wield over the person who adores them is typically clear and intentional. They promise to never abandon you, and they mean it in ways a real person never could, and can force you to believe them. They actually will take all that pain away from you. When you look upon them as larger-than-life, idealized entities, you're not so much putting them on a pedestal they couldn't live up to as you are accurately describing your relationship to them, and they foster that view intentionally and accurately. There is no equality between Terran and Affini.

This is, to put it bluntly, a relationship dynamic I am deeply familiar with. I have stared at someone for minutes at a time, certain that they have a halo and can do no wrong. I drove that same person away in no small part because the version of them that existed in reality kept chafing against the idea of them I was too infatuated with to get rid of. I have caught myself entering that same dangerous emotional spiral with a fellow author I've been collaborating with, thankfully quite early on.

A few harsh reminders seem necessary here.

If you seek the kind of mindless surrender a floret has from another sophont, check to make sure that the sophont you seek that from is aware of this, and make sure that you are seeing them, the person, not merely an afterimage in your head. Be careful! This dynamic is rife with opportunities for self-delusion and manipulation, and often, you cannot trust your rational brain to handle it well. I want nothing more than the absolution hinted at in Anathema in Blue chapter 4... But it would be deeply unhealthy and unethical to seek that out without dealing with some of my own baggage, or saddling the author with my perception of her author insert character.

If you are on the other side of this dynamic, particularly if you have the brand of narcissism that makes you want that kind of mindless adulation (typically talking about "Worship Kink" is a sign that you might wanna take stock, speaking from experience here), make sure you're aware of the dangerous power differential, and make sure your partner is aware of these warning signs. Being on the receiving end of an FP relationship can be incredibly rough, especially once you start to diverge from the idea of you they had in their head.

Oof. Not fun stuff.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to making a worship file based on Anathema in Blue chapter 4, because frankly this bee isn't leaving my bonnet until I process it. Have you read Anathema in Blue? Lady Lysanthae is bae.

🥰

[good-to-drive]

Hi 👋.

What can you tell me about George and John relationship?

Hi anon! 

Before I get into it, I want to recommend this writeup of their dynamic here. “Maybe they just genuinely liked each other” is a wonderfully straightforward explanation, because while their relationship was complex and sometimes fraught (as were a lot of John’s relationships, as often happens for people with serious childhood trauma and a personality disorder) the two of them make so much more sense if you accept that they just genuinely liked each other. 

I think this is sometimes overshadowed because their relationship didn’t really have the “everyone in the world must witness the specialness of this connection to prove to ourselves that we matter” of John and Paul, but then, George was generally a bit more adapted than Paul and hadn't incurred the same kind of attachment trauma, so it makes sense that his relationship with John would be a bit quieter and less desperate. (No hate to McLennon, I love McLennon too. )

I know I can't give you a thorough overview, so I just want to hit a couple of beats. There are some very erudite and articulate people on this website who can give you a beat-by-beat breakdown of their relationship, but my general understanding is that it was a sometimes fraught relationship, but a loving one, and far too short. 

The conversation around their relationship is often dominated by the fight they had shortly before John passed (John was angry that George didn’t mention him more in his memoir), to the point that a surprisingly large number of people are convinced they never liked each other in the first place and would have been at each other’s throats for the rest of their lives. Which is weird, because John was very much in the process of letting go of that pain when he was killed, he just didn’t have the time. 

This post really opened my eyes about just how painful it must have been for John to feel forgotten. I’ve talked about this a bit before, but microdosing abandonment trauma to punish a child is extremely cruel, and it’s not surprising that being rejected or ignored was extremely painful for John even as an adult (as is true for a lot of people with BPD). We can say that John may have taken it a bit too personally that George didn’t discuss him more in his book, and also that it makes a lot of sense that he would feel that way and it’s impressive that he had the strength to recognize he was being triggered and push back on those enormously painful feelings to recognize that he still loved George. 

I also think – and I’m just tinhatting here – that it might have hurt a little to see George basically reinvent himself after he disengaged from their dynamic. By the time The Beatles broke up George’s self-worth and sense of normalcy were pretty much totally shredded, and I’m not saying being on his own was universally positive, but, like most people once they’ve disengaged from an unhealthy system dynamic, he did reestablish his identity based on his new environment, relationships, and feelings. This new identity might have looked to John like it had little to do with the group dynamic that they had shared, and that might make him feel like he didn’t matter in George’s new life. Having his impact (arguably) underrepresented in George’s memoir would just be the cherry on top. 

I do think there’s also a bit to be said about control, need, and possession between John and George, but frankly nothing beyond what’s typical of someone with John’s particular issues. I’m reading a book right now called I Hate You -- Don’t Leave Me about borderline personality disorder, and while I didn’t pick it up with John in mind, it’s definitely interesting to get this perspective on his relationships and just how much pain he must have been in for so much of his life. 

That deep, deep need and equally deep fear – and the resentment and anger that come with living with that kind of pain – do seem characteristic of how John experienced close personal relationships. George set very firm boundaries with him, and while I’m sure he admired John in many ways, especially as a young teenager, he didn’t ultimately give John the hero treatment or hyperidealize him in the way that others did. It was more like a younger kid thinking an older kid is super cool, and then slowly growing up and realizing that the older kid is just another kid, and maybe even kind of a difficult one. It’s tempting to connect that to George’s disillusionment with fame and gilded idols in general, but to be honest, I think realizing that super cool dude is just a dude is actually probably a pretty normal coming-of-age experience. 

But the love was still very much there on both sides. You can see that with how hard John worked to get past his own pain and trauma to forgive George for (unintentionally) hurting him, and maybe even to forgive George for setting boundaries with him and, in some ways, moving on from the life they shared and becoming a separate person. And you can see it with George’s ready forgiveness of John’s anger, how the two of them kept coming back together again after every stupid fight. 

They were both rather difficult men (I know I said George was more adapted than Paul and John, but, if we’re being real, that’s a very low bar) and I think they really must have cared about each other to weather each other’s difficulties. There was a strong bond between them not based on hyperidealization or a need for validation but just on genuine love. It’s unfortunate that they were fighting at the time of John’s death, but they were also mature enough to know that they still loved each other underneath the hurt, and I think that’s what really matters. 

[doffysflamingo]

Eckles Delman (Thoughts)

Oh Eckles... you cute, lovable, horrible, cruel little thing. (ಥ﹏ಥ ╬)

I have a lot to say about this man in particular. As someone who is feral for the toxic yandere trope (iykyk), Eckles hit a lot of my personal checks in the checkbox. He's got this deep sense of loyalty towards Penelope, but he's also just this dark, brooding mess of jealousy and protective longing that makes him... borderline psychotic?

There's one scene in particular that really cemented this for me. It's when Penelope was in the garden speaking to Callisto, and it was hinted at that Eckles had been watching from the shadows. (Typical Yandere behavior tho, what can I say?). That made me wonder just how much he's been spying on her. Does he have ears and eyes everywhere? Just how much has he caught on about her life outside the Eckhart walls? Given how unhinged he has the capacity to be, I wouldn't put it past him if he's just been spying on her everywhere.

Anyways, all that is fine and dandy, like I said, pretty run-of-the-mill yandere type stuff.

HOWEVER. (ᓀ _ᓀ)

Without spoiling anything for anyone, let's just say much later in the manhwa he makes a VERY... VERY bad choice for the sake of his deep, undying, unconditional love! Ahahahahahahaha... BAD ECKLES! VERY BAD.

I think we all saw that this was coming. He was the easiest love interest. Just breathing in his mere presence was enough to shoot up his love meter like 20%. But it didn't make it any easier to accept when it happened. ┐(シ)┌ (My heart literally dropped in my chest, lol).

On one hand, I can understand why he did what he did. After all, he's only seeing things from his point of view. In his mind, the only person in Penelope's corner is, well, him. Everyone else is a threat to their bond, everyone else is something that takes her attention away from him, that takes her time away from him, and thus it's something he has to eradicate somehow.

BUT ON THE OTHER HAND GAH. (ﾒ﹏ﾒ) It was a very frustrating decision that I'm sure had everyone else lowkey pulling their hair out.

Eckles, you dug your own grave and buried yourself inside it.

(￣～￣;) and frankly, I don't know what redemption would look like for him at this point, especially from Penelope's point of view.

TLDR; Yikes.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Disclaimer: All these personal (and by no means "popular") opinions are based only on what has been shown in the manhwa thus far (~130 chapters as of 04/07)

[apothi-experiences]

Hey, just an heads-up, the following ask goes into gender dysphoria from the perspective of a sex repulsed ace man.

Seeing the kind of things other men post about women, how they express their libido, and just how sex-crazed a lot disgusts me. I can buy a lot are lonely and sex - with women - is their solution. Still. The obsession some can go through is ludicrous, not to mention, how gross and frankly cruel they can be about the whole thing.

I could go into more detail about it but I'd be making myself angrier. So yeah cishet men culture is disgusting, especially when everyone thinks you're a part of it.

I won't go too into detail with my response (as a cis female hah) but aside from a few exceptions I agree that cishet man culture can be. Insane. Like, borderline objectifying when it comes to women of any variety. You have every right to be pissed off

[citygirlyuno305]

Responding to the major arguments I’ve seen about Amane being guilty

TW for a lot of reasons

1. If you’re guiltying for her threats to shidou

Overly myopic and frankly lame view. Even if I assume she is actually going to follow through on this Kazui is available to stop her and help Shidou, and the threat of Shidou needing to tend to other injuries is countered by guiltying Kotoko and Mikoto. No new injuries means he will be less likely to be caught off guard.

Plus the plot shock of having a prisoner injure others has lost appeal, and Shidou’s popularity means that she is very unlikely to kill him off. Sorry, but thats the way it goes.

Also, the overly Machiavellian approach to guiltying her on this basis is illogical and, honestly, borderline stupid. Do the ends of protecting Shidou based on a broken victim’s threats really justify the means of breaking her even more? Especially when we have no idea if she will actually follow through, and when we consider the implications (see below) of voting her guilty twice in a row?

They don’t. This isn’t a question of whether you forgive her current mindset. It’s whether you forgive her for her previously committed crimes. And it seems MOST of you do. Conflating her current mindset towards Shidou with the justifications for her actual murder is clouding her analysis and we know the result is far from good.

2. if its because you want to discourage her mindset

That didn’t work last time and I have NO idea why you’d think it would this time. At this point a double guilty would reaffirm her belief that the only people who have ever forgiven her is the cult.

Plus, it would likely just make her more violent. So we see in her MV that her murder was precipitated by what she saw as hypocrisy with her victim’s compliance with the cult covenants- they abuse amane for interfering with fate by helping the cat, but then they themselves tamper with fate by killing the cat, which leads amane to say “well shit if youre gonna break your vow im gonna punish you exactly the same.” And she’s pointed out our own hypocrisy before with respect to voting. So to vote her guilty would, in all likelihood, make her more violent against us and everyone else. She will literally be confined and restrained, only accompanied by her own thoughts, our voices of disapproval, and her current mindset.

And, in the broad scheme, it’s mentioned that a t2 guilty will bring higher levels of restraints for guilty prisoners. Her MV already shows that she was heavily abused and that was a large part of her mentality when she chose to kill. If you think of amane as a real person instead of a character, it would make no sense to subject someone to further restraints if we are trying to break her of the mindset that she has. We would literally be treating her the same way her cult treated her, subjecting her to overly cruel and not AT ALL helpful punishment and physical restraint, and allowing other prisoners who do the same thing and present the same dangers (Fuuta and Kazui beef, Kotoko/Mikoto potentially) to walk around like nothing.

3. if its because you want to disavow the cult

I mean, see above under explanation 2. It doesn’t work that way. We have a baseline understanding of what a guilty vote does to her: it pushes her further in the cult. It is beyond me how anyone believes a double guilty could at all help her. We don’t know what an innocent vote would do, but we sure as shit know what a guilty vote does.

Plus being that she will be restrained and alone with her own thoughts, it’s fairly unlikely that she will have some miraculous change of heart with respect to her beliefs if we guilty her.

Those are the major arguments I’ve seen. Feel free to comment any other points influencing your decision.

[kinfeelings]

Stream of Consciousness: Looking Back, Labels & a Bit About Dysphoria.

I first began believing I was “strange” and “more/other than human” in elementary school (I distantly remember I had feelings of it before then but it became blatant in elementary) and then also the horrible daycare I was placed in for many hours after school ended. Probably had a lot, if not everything, to due with my undiagnosed autism and untreated trauma. I spent recesses wandering around the playground or digging in the dirt, stuck in my head, mostly ignoring my peers who wanted little to do with me anyhow, and then at the daycare, where it was near-constant torment, I was still always pretending to be Something Else. A non-canon OC Warriors cat, a tiger (sometimes even an aquatic “water-tiger”), a werewolf, many different things. Before elementary school and that daycare I was simply obsessed with thinking I was an ordinary house-cat every now and then.

Skip ahead years later and suddenly I am a teen in middle school scouring Tumblr, fixated on Tom Hiddleston at the height of the Avengers-mania. I begin hearing glimpses of something called “otherkin.” It’s so harshly ridiculed that I veer away from it immediately despite it vaguely catching my interest for some reason. More time goes by and I’ve become a young adult, who’s ready to learn more about this concept that I only caught snippets of before. I find I relate to a lot of it, but haven’t any clue what my kintypes are yet. I tried so many freaking labels, y’all. It was ridiculous. Meowth and persian pokémon, a sable working-line German shepherd dog, an Eastern water-spirit dragon, a Maine coon, Bluestar from Warriors, Star Catcher from My Little Pony, Zira from The Lion King, I even attempted to test out an archetrope…

None of these were true, but it’s good I searched, and developed more understanding of my identity.

I am currently twenty-seven, and I call myself: spiritual/psychological, alterhuman, voidpunk, and beastpunk. My current kintypes are as follows: feline cladotherian, all the eeveelutions including eevee itself (pokémon), and various fluctuating fiction- and OCkintypes. My favorite animals are felines, which is cool considering that I am literally all of them at once. I don’t dislike anything that I am, to be honest, which is pretty lucky—some individuals hate what they are, and I feel bad for them. Species euphoria comes to me as a sort of inner peaceful feeling, like all the bullshit of living humanly is ignorable and tolerable, like me-as-my-’types are having no trouble piloting this body I inhabit. I do recognize I value humanity and don’t scorn it anymore, which is why I choose to say I’m alterhuman instead of purely nonhuman. Though, I’ve been wondering about that, lately. Not that I’m going back to hating it as I did when I was younger, just that...am I latching onto the idea of being only a “human but slightly to the left” out of habit and fear of repercussions?

Someone in the OtherConnect Discord server told me “alterhuman” doesn’t imply either having humanity nor lack of it, it’s an umbrella term that includes examples of both. So I guess I was kinda mistaken? So I’m calling myself nonhuman from now on, too.

Dysphoria is a hellish time when it does occur for me, especially since I’m already mentally ill to begin with. Everything feels discordant, borderline painful; the air itself that I breathe has a blunt and mocking edge to it, cruel and relentless. You will never be anything you are within. Fuck my intrusive thoughts and anxiety disorder, frankly. They can kiss my ass.

[a-student-out-of-time]

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@danganronpasurvivoraskblog did their own take on this and tagged me, so here's my thoughts!

I was just perusing Tumblr one day, say SDRA2 in my recommended and looked it up on TV Tropes. It was pretty interesting-sounding, so I looked into it. Not much else to say, really : P

DRA. While SDRA2 is more visually-pleasing, I think DRA has a better and more well-crafted story overall.

Faves: DRA Chapter 4 and SDRA2 Chapter 5. Least Faves: Chapter 3 for both of them.

I have a lot of great things to say about the usage of both Akane Taira and Utsuro, and their implementation in the game...but I feel like I have to give Mikado credit for actually being a villainous force throughout all of SDRA2. We got to know him as a villain and thus all that characterization wasn't crammed into a single trial.

It's a toss up between Maku and Emma, because I feel like the two of them really had a lot of personal history that you got to see in their FTEs. Maku clearly regretted his actions, and Emma tormenting him with puns was pretty funny. The Void Theater segments honestly made me want to include them in my own story, given that there was a lot of history between the Voids we didn't get to see.

Yoruko. She really deserved a break after all that.

Faves: Kanata & Akane for DRA; Hibiki, Shinji, Setsuka, Yoruko & Sora in SDRA2. Least faves: Mitch and Tsurugi for DRA; Syboi and Iroha for SDRA2

A LOT. Frankly, the entire Another series barely utilizes anyone's actual ultimate talents, and instead relies on character quirks you'll probably forget about or actual literal luck.

Iroha. She doesn't do anything to improve anybody's situation; not the main group, not the Voids, barely even her own most of the time. She's borderline useless at the best of times, and at her worst, she's selfish, bratty, petulant, brainless and just a detriment. She doesn't change, adapt, contribute or even make for a particularly interesting character, so what was the point of her inclusion, much less her survival?

Kanata. There's so much more that could've been done with her character beyond just making her the pure angel who apparently had to die horribly so we would feel bad.

Anyone who's followed me for long enough knows my answer is going to be Hibiki. Nobody got screwed over as badly as she did. Say what you will about Yuki being reduced to a brain in a jar, at least he actually survived.

Once again, Hibiki, hands down. Her survival would've been so much more meaningful and interesting, and could've contributed so much to the story and themes, as well as the conflicts both Yuki and Sora were facing.

I don't really care about the executions, but I guess Syobai's would be interesting to see. It's pretty fitting for him.

Kinji's. It was a nice mix of thematically appropriate but also completely bizarre, as we expect from DR.

Not to steal an idea from WeebyNewz, but I think DRA's first chapter would've been a lot more interesting if Kiyoka was the one who killed Mitch while trying to protect Akane.

Faves: DRA Chapter 6 and SDRA2 Chapter 1. Least Faves: DRA Chapter 1 and SDRA2 Chapter 3.

Plot twist that got me: That Mikado actually got away with murder in Chapter 5, and nobody, not even Iroha, even realized until it was too late. She genuinely thought that she was the one who poisoned Teruya, but she got played just as hard. He was this close to winning and it was actually on his own merits. Least favorite plot twist: The reveal that Kizuna was actually fake and she was just looking for a chance to kill someone. I hate the way LINUJ talks about her as the most hateable character in the game, and he clearly wanted the audience to feel that way, yet went out of his way to give her some genuinely interesting and sympathetic qualities. That whole bit doesn't feel like she's revealing her true colors, but that her personality suddenly shifted for the sake of making her an antagonist. Her death was also needlessly prolonged and cruel.

Even if they didn't act like it in the game, the Voids did have a genuine level of camaraderie and friendship that was lost when Mikado took over and convinced them they had to set up this Killing Game. When Iroha said she wanted to use the bathroom after trial 4, she was really looking for a place to cry, knowing her only friends were all gone.

SDRA2, while I don't hate it, it has some of the weakest writing I've ever seen for a fangan. The game is so focused on self-indulgence and callbacks to DRA that it doesn't communicate its theme in any clear manner. It also has this pervasively cynical, jaded view of its cast where barely any of them grow or change at all. And as I always like to bring up, you can skip Chapter 3 and miss nothing important to the overarching story, Chapter 4 was a mess that derailed the narrative and Chapter 6 is one exposition dump after another. It's a messy story that clearly needed more planning.

Point 19 having been said, I really liked the scene in Chapter 5 where Sora and Yoruko finally have a heart-to-heart about Sora's fears about her identity. It was such a cathartic and emotional moment after so many chapters of garbage and mediocrity, not to mention bitterness and anger on Yoruko's part. I wanted more moments like these, where characters genuinely talk.

//So there we go, my 20 points for the Another series. Some of these are new, others are things I'll probably never shut up about : P

@despair-to-future-arcs @thenewfuture @askthedespairkids @a-tale-never-told @tired-writer-in-progress @spyrkle4 Do you guys wanna give this a go? I'd love to hear your thoughts if you wish to share

[reni-reads]

Reni Reviews

Before the Coffee Gets Cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi

Finished: 6th January, 2024

Genre: Imaginative Fiction

May be for you if you like: Time travel, "What if?"-scenarios, coffee, multiple protagonists

Content Warning: Death, loss of a child, disease

Synopsis

In a cosy back alley in Tokyo, there is a cafe which has been serving carefully brewed coffee for more than one hundred years. But this coffee shop offers its customers a unique experience: the chance to travel back in time.

Prepare to meet four visitors, each of whom is hoping to make use of the cafe’s time-travelling offer in order to:

1) confront the man who left them

2) receive a letter from their husband whose memory has been taken by Alzheimer's

3) see their sister one last time, and

4) meet the daughter they never got the chance to know.

But the journey into the past does not come without risks: customers must sit in a particular seat, they cannot leave the cafe, and finally, they must return to the present before the coffee gets cold . . .

Review

I've had a lot of thoughts on this book for a while, but now I'm at a spot where I can adequately verbalize them without rambling too much, I think. This format will be a bit different this time around because some aspects, like the characters, are just hard to discuss in absolute detail due to the nature of this novel.

So let me start with the premise, which I absolutely adored and still do! The concept of a limited glimpse back into the past to might achieve some closure is very interesting - and probably something most of us wish we'd have gotten some time. The execution, however, was not for me at all.

The writing style and narration, or at least the translation, were alright and I didn't have any complaints about them. The writing style didn't stick out to me in a positive way (there are no stylistic devices that wowed me), but also not in an overly negative way. It fit the lowkey atmosphere of the novel, but it might have been a tad too distanced for the topics - at least for my personal liking. Again though, this isn't really something I deem bad writing.

The characters were all pretty surface level, which is especially true for the four visitors, but also, sadly, the café personnel. We didn't get much insight into their motivations for doing what they're doing, or their personal lives, which made it hard for me to connect with anyone. They felt like plot devices and actors, which is... fine for this story. It sells the idea that these people are really just anyone, and no one special. Again, it fits the atmosphere of the novel, so it's good, just not for me personally.

But.

The progression of some storylines really bugs me. Most of them were deeply unsatisfying, which was expected - I knew I couldn't get my happy endings, no matter how much I wished for one. That's not how the intra-fictional rules work, after all. On an extra-fictional level however, I do wonder why the author chose the storylines he did. Most of the characters were downright cruel, most decisions were absolutely nonsensical and the last one was borderline offensive to me on a very personal level. I can't grasp the idea why it had to be that way - I personally don't even think it's something men should write about, in all honesty. It all had these preachy, pseudo-intellectual and pseudo-philosophical undertones, so it felt condescending and overall not enjoyable.

I won't be reading the other titles in the series, and frankly I don't believe the premise gives way for much more anyway.

Rating: ⭐️

Plot and Storylines: ⭐️

Characters and Relationships: ⭐️

Writing Style and Narration: ⭐️

Setting and Worldbuilding: ⭐️⭐️

Entertainment: ⭐️

Other Titles in the Series

Tales From the Café

Before Your Memory Fades

Before We Say Goodbye

Before We Forget Kindness

[carnavalesque]

𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓪,

With everything that's left of me, I write to you this letter. It feels empty, without you by my side. Do you know how much I need you back to me? Do you know the length I'm willing to go, just to ensure you're safe with me?

Nothing ever stopped me, you know that more than anyone.

The world is cruel, for separating me from you. Right when I need you the most - I don't always say it. I like to act as I'm your protector, as if I'm here, not the other way around, but believe me, that is, my dear, an entire lie. I need you, more than you can ever imagine. I hope that wherever you are, you are safe. I hope, too, that you're not too sad when you think of me.

I've always hated it, when you were sad.

May these words find you, before I do. Because I will find you. I promise that to you. And you know I'm not one to break my promises.

I love you, 'til the end of time.

𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂.

𝓢𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝔂 𝓒𝓸𝓻𝓭𝔂,

Last night, we celebrated. I don't even remember what, not entirely, because I feel like we always celebrate everything, together. I think that's what I love the most about you, about us. Anything could be a celebration, if you put your heart to it. I guess this is, then, the right time to celebrate you.

I am trying to stay focus, and not be my overexcited self, but please note it is a very difficult thing to do, because you are so you, and I am so in love with you, it's starting to look a little bit ridiculous. And borderline obsessive. Maybe people who believe the Earth is flat are onto something. Because I cannot fathom, for the life of me, how the Sun is supposed to spin around the Earth, when my whole world revolves around you.

Fuck all of the people who ever though they could take you away from me. Set, my father... they do not matter. They never did. You know why? Because you made me stronger. Because you made me realize they are things worth fighting for. God knows I would have stayed a doormat my entire life, if it hadn't been for you.

Baby, you were always so sure you were destructive, but can't you see you've brought me back to life? Even if we're messy, and clumsy, and sometimes frankly awkward... we are us. We are unstoppable. We are meant to be.

Written in the stars and all of that shit.

I am forever your little swimmer, crippled and all - I hope you'll forever be my favorite cheerleader, too.

Love you, from the bottom of my heart.

𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓝𝓪𝓻𝓲.

𝓜𝔂 𝓶𝓾𝓼𝓮,

I got a bit carried away, today. Valentine's Day is... a lot of pressure. How do I make sure you feel loved every day of the year, but today a little bit more? How do I make sure you understand you are enough for me? That I would go at the end's world for you, if that's what you wanted me to do? That I've lost you once, and that I'm never ever willing to do that again.

You won't be very surprised to find a painting in the living room. I think you're used to it at this point. Maybe bored of it? What can I say? I always told you, you've made me want to paint again. You are my greatest inspiration, after all. It is a painting of our very first date. On my rooftop. I fear I hadn't been honest with you from the beginning - but in that moment, I was. I wasn't a Serpent, I wasn't playing a game.

I was Junseo.

Just a boy, who's in love with you. Whose heart belongs to you. That's the version of me I like the best. The one you allow me to be.

I've spent a lot of time scared, my love, but of you, of our love, never. To this day, you're still the only thing I'm sure of, in my entire life. That, and the fact that I will marry you, one day. I have it planned in my head, entirely - but I'm afraid my proposal wouldn't compare to you, to your greatness, to whatever you deserve, because you do deserve everything and so much more.

Don't worry, I won't propose to you tonight. As romantic as I am, I wouldn't spoil my own proposal like that... or would I?

That's on you to find out, my love.

Join me on the roof, once more? Find once again the boy who loves you?

Always,

𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓼𝓽.

𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓵𝓪𝓷,

I will try my best to not derail in the three first sentences of this letter - but you and I both know that between the adhd and my utter obsession for you, it will be challenging as fuck for me. I'm banning myself from talking about your ass, by the way. Like, this is the only mention I'm allowing myself to make (your ass is so fucking great, by the way, this is SO unfair).

I went through my old pictures, today. Yoori asked if I had the selection ready, for the exhibition. I couldn't make my mind. Because everytime I saw a photo I took, somewhere in the world, it made me realize that it was a new place I wanted to make you discover. You should see the world, my Milan, not only through my stories, but with your own two eyes.

The world is so beautiful, you know? But never as beautiful as you. Or your ass.

Fuck. My rules.

Anyway, back to the pictures. This is the part where you might get a little mad. None of the pictures could satisfy me entirely. But I took some of you. Without you knowing. You're the prettiest, when you don't realize people are looking at you. Is it bad that those are the one I want to show the whole world?

I mean, as cliché as it sounds, you are my masterpiece. You belong in every museum in the whole fucking world, and I'll make sure of that. Those pictures... They are the one I chose. They are the one that make sense. Because you make sense, for me.

Don't yell at me too hard, tho. You know it makes me horny.

Because I love you, my pretty model,

Always,

𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾.

𝓜𝔂 𝓜𝓸𝓸𝓷,

Always fucking complementary now, aren't we? Do you think that's what people think, when they see us? That opposites do attract? That's bullshit. Nobody knows. Nobody's supposed to know. But I'll tell you what.

I think I'm doing quite a shitty job at hiding how much I love you. If Raven was there, she'd say something like "of course, he's the only person you're nice to, people have to know". I hate to admit, but I think she's right. It's not my fucking fault you're the only person worth being nice to, tho. Like, I don't know, is it my fault we don't know a lot of decent people?

Don't twist my words, by the way. You are far more than decent. You are... everything. I'm just really bad at this romantic shit. Doesn't mean I don't want it. I want everything, if it's coming from you. You're my little oasis in a desert. Wait. Is that a shitty metaphor? You're the one good at that, I terribly suck (that I do. We both know it.)

Wait, I think I can think of a better metaphor. I remember one time you told me about Saturn (see, I listen when you talk to me!) and how its rings are condemned to revolve around it, like its their sole purpose. I think you're Saturn. I'm your rings. Always revolving around you, with no other purpose in life.

And I know it sucks for us to not be able to love each other the way we want too. Don't worry your little head about that, baby. In this galaxy, and all of the others, I am yours.

I love you,

𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓢𝓾𝓷.

𝓙𝓾𝓫𝓮𝓮,

I'd have to warn you beforehand, this letter is going to be quite short. It's not that I am bad at words (you and I both know it isn't quite correct), but it's not our way to go, now, is it? We aren't especially the romantic type, after all.

Believe it or not, I wouldn't want it any other way.

I didn't even believe I'd call you my girlfriend one day. You'd work some magic shit on me, I fear. I don't want to be that person "oh but I sworn off of love, it can never happen to me again", I just... didn't care. But then I started to care about me. Why d'you bewitched me for, mh? Do you find it funny, to have me wrapped around your finger?

And yet, I regret nothing. You've made life a little more bearable, honestly.

Cheers to us, and our failed situationship.

I'm so happy we fucked the whole friends with benefits thing up.

Love ya,

𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓪.

𝓢𝓾𝓷𝓰𝓲𝓮,

You're coming back to me, at last.

Do I deserve it? Do I deserve your love? Your heart? You know I don't. And yet, you incredibly selfless man, you still give it to me. What have I done, for you to treat me so greatly, except bringing you pain, and suffering? You have no idea how much I want to take it back. How much I want to erase it, and start all over.

You've been in my life forever. This year without you has had to be the hardest year of my life. I earned it, I know it. I'm not trying to be spiteful, right now. But I ought to be honest with you.

That night, in the kitchen, I wanted to tell you that I loved you. That I did for a long time. And then, I ruined everything. I thought that, by running away, by isolating myself, I would protect the boys from the consequences of our own actions - even if I meant that I had to sacrifice you in the process. Believe me, it wasn't an easy decision. But I ruined your life, and Josh's too. I didn't want to do more damage on my path.

But I've missed you. Oh how I fucking missed you. How I longed, for you presence near me; I should've been really selfish, maybe. I should've stayed for you. You would've made everything a little bit more bearable. You always did.

You're amazing like that.

You have to know, too, that no matter what happened, my heart never belonged to anyone else than you. I've made mistakes, that I'm not proud of - but for you, I think I want to try to be a better person. You deserve that, at least.

Always will love you,

𝓢𝓸𝓸.

𝓜𝔂 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓫𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓻,

We searched for you everywhere, y'know that? Damn, girl, you weren't easy to find, now, were you? It's practically poetic, then, the way we still did find you in the end. The way I did. You and I know now the burden of our connection to Dong-Soo.

But do you feel the weight of our connection, too? Dong-Soo might be able to order me around, but you don't even have to. I'd obey to any of your words, like a good fucking dog, because it's you. It's always been you.

I don't care about that anchor bullshit that Dong-Soo fully believes in, it goes beyond that. You're my mate. Soulmate, if I want to be correct. I feel you, in all of me. I feel your soul, in my body, and your heart, in mine - that has to mean something beyond this pack, now, doesn't it?

I know, deep down, you have the urge to run away again. To go as far as you can. You can do so, you know? I'll always find you. Not in a weird possessive creepy way, but like... I'll come back to you. Always. Everytime you need me. Just call my name, and I'm here for you. As simple as that.

Because the pack might be family, but you, my love, are my world.

Forever yours, with our souls intertwined,

𝓗𝓪𝓮-𝓙𝓸𝓸𝓷.

+ 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒖𝒔;

𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼,

I know you hate that nickname. But you cannot help what you are, now, can you?

And I don't mean it in an offensive way, by the way. You are a princess. Let yourself shine, my doll, and this world could be yours if you wanted to.

I know I haven't been on my best behavior with you. Truth is, you're insufferably you, and I think I hated the way I liked it. God knows every strong man can become entirely weak when it comes to an equally strong woman. I remember a time when you were telling me off - and oh, how I thought that the only way I could actually make you shut up was by kissing you.

You would've loved that, I know it.

I just wished, sometimes, you were a little smarter with your choices. Laying low and befriending somebody like me? It's like you actually want to die, or something. But rest your heart, princess. My armor might not be very shiny, but I can make the effort of being your knight, if you want me too.

If you want me to stick around a little more, than is.

I think I'd like that, personally.

Hope this letter finds you well, (you and your goddamn traditions, right?)

𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓪.

[isuruu]

7, 14 and 21！

7: Have tattoos?

Not currently! I would love some!! , but it’s something that I’m not willing to take lightly. I struggle to figure out something that I love enough. That then would need to be transformed into an art piece that’ll be nearly permanently on my body.

Definitely considering finding/coming up with a cool design that would cover up my top surgery scars, but that’ll be far off in the future!

(My surgery is SOON so I don’t even have the scars yet. So it’ll. Be at least a. Year before I could get this one)

14: Biggest turn offs?

(Not gonna answer this one in the sexual manner it could be taken for, that is a whole other conversation haha)

But a turn off for just as a person, Honestly anyone who could be considered cruel I guess??

I once dated someone and he was heavily into cops, killing as punishment, and told me he would “slap the shit out of our kid” if they were disrespectful to adults, but especially to police. He told me I couldn’t do anything about it anyways even if I disagreed because he was so much bigger and stronger than me. That he could realistically do anything he wanted with me too. he also wanted to FORCE ME into having children.

I think actively forcing anyone into anything is despicable and quite frankly very scary.

TLDR: endorsing police+police brutality , and borderline? being abusive to someone and potential future children.

21: What I love most about myself?

My ability to sing, my sense of style, and my ability to make people laugh :)

[casspurrjoybell-19]

My Feral Mate

*Warning: Adult Content*    

 Chapter 4 - Part 1 - Echo

'Dad. Papa.' 

I could barely think enough to send the mind-link amidst the sobs and the pain that clouded my mind but if there was one thing I could focus on, it was that I needed to get him help. Him. My fated mate.

‘Help me.' 

I practically screamed, unsure if I was using a direct line to my fathers or broadcasting my frantic-ism to the entire pack. Frankly, I couldn't bring myself to care. All that I cared about was getting him better. What kind of cruel twist of fate was this? I finally find my mate, the only person in this world that the Goddess made specifically for me and now I have to face the possibility of losing him before I even have a chance to know his name? My soul quivered with an unbearable ache and I found myself rocking back and forth helplessly, engulfed in a torrent of never-ending tears and then, amongst the insidious fear that gnawed at my insides, a haunting sense of déjà vu also took hold of me then, reminding me of what Dad and Papa must have felt when they found me all of those years ago, wounded and bleeding out. It was a chilling realization, one that far surpassed even the darkest nightmares from my troubled past. Pressing my throbbing forehead against my mate's bloodied side, I tried my best attempt at self-soothing.

'Pumpkin?' 

Papa's reply came back at me with lightning speed but it still felt like an eon of waiting. I could practically feel the rumble in his voice, laden with concern. 

'Where are you? What's happening? Are you okay?'

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. My ears strained, tuning into the faint, reassuring thump of a heartbeat beneath my trembling hands, a lifeline that reminded me that my mate was still here with me, at least for now. Only then could I gather my scattered thoughts enough to form a string of coherent words.

'I'm safe. A little past the back of my garden. Near the eastern borderline.' 

I started, willing them to arrive right this instant and whisk him away to the infirmary. 

'There's a heavily wounded wolf here. He needs urgent medical attention. Please hurry.'

'You're at the borderline?' 

Papa's worry bit through the link and I winced, my inner Omega balking at the concept of upsetting our pack Alpha, even if he was our father but luckily, I didn't have to dwell on that too long, seeing as to how Dad was already on diffusion duty.

'We're coming, Echo. Three minutes out.' 

Dad reassured me and I let out a whimper of instant relief. Just a little bit longer and they would be here. Just a little longer and he would be saved. The stillness hung heavy, broken only by his slow, irregular breaths which transformed into a symphony of agony within my ears, resonating deep within the chasms of mine and my wolf, Sana's being. With trembling hands, I instinctively reached out, tracing my fingers over his tangled, disheveled coat, desperate to offer a fleeting moment of solace to the wolf destined to be mine.

"I'm gonna get you help, okay?" I whispered through shaky, unsure breaths. 

Over and over I brushed through his thick fur, unable to stop touching him. The obsidian strands were still magnificent, even their current state of chaos. 

"You'll get the help you need. Don't worry. You're gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay." 

The words just spilled out, as if their repetition could bring comfort to either of us but even as I caressed his weak form, mumbling sweet nothings, the stark reality of our shared destiny only crushed me further, searing right through my heart with a poignant ache that defied any worldly description. A thought pierced my skull. Frantically reaching for my gardening tote, my hands, stained with blood, fumbled for the small pouch attached to it, the one that held the accumulation of every speck of fairy dust I had gathered over the years. Without a moment's hesitation, I upturned the pouch, showering its contents over every inch of my mate's body that I could reach. The sparkling dust settled over him like a blanket, coating nearly his entire body in a pearlescent glow. With hope shining bright in my eyes and a pounding heart, I rubbed the magical substance as deep into his fur as I could reach, willing it to work and in that fleeting moment, when I heard the faintest increase in his heart's rhythm, my entire body slumped in on itself. It may have only been a small triumph but for me, it meant everything.  A glimmer of hope in the midst of despair and if fortune favored us, it would grant us enough time to relocate him to the infirmary.

"Echo, pumpkin, step away from him slowly," Papa's commanding Alpha authority was absolute as his voice suddenly thundered down from behind me. 

Yet this time, my body refused to flinch in response to the Alpha's order. Instead, my inner Omega wailed, clutching onto that perfect, blood-stained, obsidian fur with an even tighter grip. I couldn't abandon him. I simply wouldn't. Evidently, that pissed Papa off real bad.

"That wolf is dangerous, Echo. You will step away now," he boomed and my muscles quivered, barely able to resist the forceful demand. 

I'm not sure if I screamed, whined, whimpered, or perhaps all three at once but it was all I could do to hold on, to resist succumbing to the ferocity of my Alpha father's command.

"Echo, my baby," Dad's voice sliced through all the terror then and before I knew it I was turning around, my arms reaching out for him just like they did when I was just a child.

"Daddy," I sobbed, collapsing into his arms when he lowered himself into the grass beside me. 

His touch, so familiar and gentle, mixed in with his Omega scent eased some of the tension within me, like a gradually receding tide but even then, it was far from enough to wash away the agonizing pain that had taken root deep within my core.

"We have to help him. Please, hurry," I plea.

"Hush, my dear. I'm right here, Daddy's got you," my dad cooed tenderly, reaching down to cradle my tear-stained cheeks between both of his freckled hands. 

His bright green eyes were intense yet also soft as he urged me to meet his gaze and then there was only one, simple question. It burned as bright as the sun. 

"Yours?"

A rippling, hearty sob interrupted my response as I fell apart, safe within the space between my dad's palms and then, finally, I told him exactly what he already knew.

“Mine.”

"He reeks of Feral wolf and we have no idea how he ended up within our borders in such a state. We cannot afford the risks associated with allowing him deeper into our territory. He is dangerous," Papa intervened, his voice firm, dripping with equal parts contempt and suspicion, a tone I'd only ever heard him use when he was in those long, boring pack protection strategy meetings with the warriors.

I was grateful that Dad pulled me into his chest right then so that he couldn't see the way my teeth bared, canines lengthening as my wolf, Sana balked against such an accusation.

"He is our son's mate, Corey," Dad bit back almost immediately, tension crackling in the air between them. 

If he had one to spare, I had no doubt that there would be a chancel flying through the air between them right now, aimed directly for Papa's forehead. 

"We will help him."

My fathers were quiet for a long moment, no doubt having some kind of silent staring contest as I unraveled in Dad's arms but of course, just like he did ninety-nine percent of the time, my Papa heaved a heavy breath after only a few seconds in, reluctantly relenting to the irresistible temptation that was my Dad's will. Papa barked an order that, even with my increased hearing ability, I barely even caught above the constant rushing of blood through my ears but when Dad began pulling me away, lifting me from the ground with a steady arm around my waist, my deepest primal instincts immediately rebelled, protesting vehemently.

"No," I cried out, voice raw as my wolf, Sana practically crawled the walls of my mind, just as desperate as I to maintain our physical connection with our mate.

I clung to the fragile connection with our mate, terrified that it might be the only one we would ever have. Couldn't they understand? I needed him. I needed him.

"Let go."

Dad's voice sounded pained, wobbly in it’s utterance even as he utilized his Beta strength to continue to guide me backward and away from the one person that I needed more than air, the one person that was essential to my existence.

"I know, my sweet baby boy," he whispered, his hand tenderly smoothing my crimson-streaked hair, matted with a mixture of our mate's blood and my own sweat. "I'm not taking you away, I promise. I'm just moving us enough to give the warriors room to carry him back to the infirmary."

Dad's explanation managed to momentarily soothe the surface layer of my primal terror, granting me enough strength to endure being pulled about six feet away from my mate but beneath my skin, fear continued to fester, gnawing at my very core. As a group of approximately six of Dad and Papa's most formidable warriors approached my mate, that familiar fear surged through me once more, rising like a scorching torrent of sticky, molten tar, engulfing my throat. The moment the first warrior laid a hand on his fur, the force of my mate's thunderous roar rippled through the forest, scattering birds from their treetop perches and then, against all odds and despite the copious amount of blood he had undoubtedly lost, he struggled to rise onto his paws. Bright red droplets dripped from his canines and muzzle as he let out a menacing snarl, a deep rumble resonating from the depths of his being. Based on the towering proportions of his wolf alone, I had no doubt that in his human form, he would surpass even Papa's oversized stature. 

Yet, despite knowing this and understanding that with a mere swipe of his paw he could crush my entire being, my fear never stemmed from him. No, it remained only rooted in my concern for him. The warriors persistently attempted to find an opening, searching for a vulnerable spot to subdue my mate but as he thrashed his head unpredictably, his bloodied teeth snapping erratically in any and all directions, a realization struck me. Amidst my earlier grief, while I wept over what I initially believed to be my mate's lifeless body, I had failed to examine his injuries closely. However, now, as my father's men hurriedly devised a plan to restrain him, I could finally grasp the extent of the damage. It became apparent that at least one of his legs was broken, contorted at an unnatural angle as he gingerly avoided placing any weight on it. Deep claw marks marred multiple parts of his body, cutting through his fur and penetrating the underlying sinew but that wasn't all. Because through watery eyes, I could now make out what was unmistakable the worst wound, a gash that bled profusely as his muzzle stretched around it as he let out yet another desperate roar of self-preservation.

"Stop," I cried out at once, needing them to understand. 

"He's just afraid."

Dad cast a curiously sad glance down at me, green eyes flickering and with an unexpected surge of strength, I tore myself free from his loving yet confining grip, moving quickly, propelled forward by some kind of hidden resilience and within moments, I found myself mere feet away from my mate, cautiously inching closer, my hands outstretched as if offering solace.

"Echo," Papa scolded from somewhere in the background but I easily tuned him out, my conviction remaining unshaken. 

My mate wouldn't harm me. I knew he wouldn't. Every ragged breath he struggled to take sounded as if it were a desperate battle against the fragile thread of existence, threatening to snap entirely with each movement of his colossal chest. Witnessing his agony tore at my insides, the pain excruciating as it strangely entwined with an electrifying connection that throbbed between us, one that surpassed all boundaries of my comprehension. A shiver ran through me as I lifted my hand, brushing against the clammy, moist snout of my wolf. The touch of his damp muzzle left a crimson stain on my fingertips, mingling with the blood still trickling from his wounded gums and sharp, bared canines. A feeble cry of Omega distress escaped my lips, helpless against the grip of despair that clenched my throat, tormenting my fragile heart and tearing it to shreds because up close, the truth of the situation revealed itself in agonizing clarity. The wide, jagged gash extended right across his face, stretching mercilessly from his right temple and carving a path directly through his left eye, only to terminate below his left earlobe.

"His eye... it's gone," I choked, cotton plugging my throat, rendering it barely audible. 

"He can't... he can't see."

And then, only a few moments after I touched him, he surrendered to the weight of his broken body, swaying precariously. 

Time stood suspended in a cruel pause, my mouth agape, ready to summon help. Yet, before the words could escape my quivering lips, he crumbled, collapsing back into the unforgiving embrace of the earth below him and then, there remained only the haunting image of his limp form, sprawled out and motionless as he lay within a growing pool of his own blood.