#but it has taken me becoming an adult and living through years he never had to TRULY get it

[caffeineheroes]

Today is Halloween 2023. Do you remember where you were on this day in 2012?

Visualize it.

Now imagine your best friends were just murdered. You were betrayed and falsely imprisoned for their deaths.

You're still in prison and your name is Sirius Black.

Not until next summer do you finally escape, living off rats in a dilapidated house on your old school's property while hunting the man who framed you.

Freedom is snatched away a second time and you go back on the run, but at least you don't spend the summer in prison. Yet as the leaves bloom red and gold, you find yourself living in a cave, begging for scraps at a nearby village through frost and snow.

The following summer, you go back to the childhood home of your nightmares where you were physically and emotionally abused until you ran away for good. Or so you thought. You spend the next year locked inside, not allowed to leave. Visitors come and go, sometimes staying a few nights or even weeks. But the rest of the time you are alone with the literal screams of your mother's cursing and slurs echoing through the empty house.

Your last summer arrives, but you don't know it yet. You leave the house to save your godson and never return. You're 37 when you pass through the veil.

You were 33 when you escaped from prison.

And you were only 21 when your bright future was snuffed out.

---

We forget how young Sirius was when he went to Azkaban. Or what 12 years really means until we look back on how young WE were 12 years ago. How much we've changed and the experiences that shaped us. That whole time, Sirius was trapped in a time capsule of his darkest depression. And after all that time, he barely lived at all.

[extremely-judgemental]

I hated Cassian long before Nesta came into the picture. With SF, since it’s his narration, I hoped it would make me like him. Boy, was I wrong. Here are my reasons.

Cassian has a terrible childhood. He grows up in a camp where the adults are abusive and children are pitted against one another. He has to fight, bet and win supplies from other kids to survive. Until Rhysand’s mother takes him in. His life then takes a drastic turn and becomes far more bearable. Cassian’s basic needs such as shelter, clothing and food are taken care by Rhysand and his mother who live in a magical house that caters to them, while the other kids are scavenging for the same at the end of the day.

If you can’t confer this from the little we know about Cassian’s early life, I don’t think you will understand the rest below.

This is a huge privilege Cassian enjoys but never realises. No one else in the camp is ever subjected to this mercy. Cassian’s behaviour or view doesn’t change after experiencing the shift first hand and still carries the victim mentality after five centuries.

This is shown from the way he and Rhysand treat Azriel. He’s older than the two. He has no experience flying or fighting which is a common knowledge and everyone in the camp considers an ‘embarrassment’. Also, he has scar marks on his hands which are very obvious indication of his prior life. He chooses to learn to fly on his own, away from everyone because of the humiliation. Cassian admits, without remorse to the point of boasting about it, to seeking him out, beating Azriel up, and mocking him. This doesn’t happen in a training pit where they have no choice but to fight. Cassian then offers to help him learn, which is very similar to the ‘reach your hand’ tactic he uses with Nesta later.

He is clearly abusive to Azriel, a boy who’s been traumatised by his half-brothers, without a reason. None of his previous excuses of survival apply here as he doesn’t need it. The next day, Rhysand joins him.

A little tangent, I’m still convinced a little that both of them only chose to help this particular boy because of his shadowsinger abilities. They just didn’t want anyone else to get to him first. In the one year in between, they never took anyone under their wing. If they had truly wanted to help, they could have done very well without the abuse. Mocking I understand since it’s a hostile environment of young boys.

Azriel accepts them as friends which is often used as an explanation for Cassian/Rhysand’s good intentions. His own family treated him like a prisoner, his brothers torturing him whenever they pleased. He’s never met anyone outside the ones chosen by his family or known kindness in his life. He doesn’t see this as abuse because he wouldn’t be able to tell right from wrong. He accepts the two boys who beat him to pulp and then ‘help’ him because they are comparatively better than his true brothers who burned his hands for a laugh. It doesn’t make Cassian/Rhysand a better person.

Coming back to Cassian’s privileges. Rhysand is the heir of HL of NC. Other kids could hate him and beat him up in training but no one would threaten his life even if he hadn’t been the strongest. Illyrians may defy Rhysand and his family, but no one is stupid enough to kill one of them. Now, Cassian is literally adopted by the heir and Lady of NC. He reaps all of these benefits through his arrangement whether he admits or not, and through the whole year before he and Rhysand become friends until Azriel’s arrival.

After Rhysand becomes HL, Cassian is made his War General. Sure, he is powerful, and his seven siphons and the Carynthian status prove it. But in the eyes of other soldiers, he’s the one Rhysand favoured over them because they are best friends. It’s a common mentality in such situations and Cassian doesn’t try to prove himself to them.

Illyrians live only in Illyria and in bands. Cassian moved to Velaris when he’s a War General and expected to live among them. While the other Generals and Lords take care of these people, he lives in a secret city and only visits these camps for appearances. He doesn’t own a place here as he always stays at the same Windhaven house, also considering he doesn’t own one in Velaris either. He essentially strips himself away from their core identity and traditions while expecting them to respect him as their own when he lives like a prince since Rhysand.

He also destroys an entire camp avenging his mother right after he becomes a warrior.

During Amarantha’s reign, he’s in Velaris while Illyria is suffering. Since some of the bands are allied with Amarantha, they must have known Cassian and Azriel weren’t UtM, letting them believe IC has truly abandoned their people. Immediately after her death, the three hunt the rest of these bands and kill them instead of giving a proper justice/punishment. After all this, he expects them to obey his commands in a war without questioning him.

In the 500 years, he does nothing to change the lives of these people. There are few mentions of banning wing clipping which is not enforced though. He could have improved the lives of young boys by advocating for better conditions—hostels, proper meals, and clothes without having to fight each other for it, maybe a few new rules for this brutal training. But none of it. He hands out blankets in winter to his people. Given how much Rhysand and Feyre boast about their wealth, they could ration out these provisions for everyone every month or year instead of making it look like charity from Cassian.

In 500 years, he manages to start a female fight club which garnered like. . .20 women (iirc). It’s obvious it was just a plot leading to Valkriyes and for Nesta’s arc. Even then, these women are doing chores and then training. He berates the men around these women, provoking them and returning to Velaris, leaving them to endure more hatred/violence from their people.

He literally doesn’t do anything of importance. He trains, bullies, and picks fights. His dream to reform his race is pathetic since he literally does nothing.

And then there’s Morrigan situation. Everyone makes it sound like a favour he did to her. Cassian could have denied her. He did it only to hurt Azriel and tear the two apart. He admits to his jealousy, and to his regret which he feels after he gets what he wants. And he so vividly describes how the sex goes. This is how far this regret extends. Playing buffer means being in the same room as them so the situation doesn’t get out of hand, or interrupting the conversion to keep it comfortable. But he flirts with Morrigan knowing it hurts Azriel and exchanges inappropriate gifts with her in front of everyone including his mate.

I’m not going to get into the whole SF disaster here. But, there’s one scene in MAF where they visit the Archeron’s estate for the first time. Cassian has so much empathy for the Illyrian women doing chores in the camps but doesn’t extend the same to Nesta who had been doing it since their mother died (or at least after they lost their servants) and their family fell into poverty. He understands the struggles of being poor and his heart breaks for Feyre who once starved but not Nesta and Elain who must have gone through the same too.

Cassian is not a villain in anyone’s story but he’s a man child and bully. He’s a classic abuser whose targets and methods constantly evolve. He’s a hypocrite. He states how grateful he is to Rhysand but not to the perks he enjoys every single day. He loves to play the victim while abusing and hurting the ones around him. He loves to exercise his power and authority while pretending to be an underdog. Illyria being a fucked up place filled with cruel people is just an excuse for Cassian to be cruel. It’s a cover up for how ugly he truly is.

[thatonejumbledmess]

So I got this random ass DCxDP Idea out of nowhere, so just hear me out for a second.

Vlad steals the infimap again, tells it to take him to his future, he ends up on this random ass mountainside in what seems to be the middle of the Himalayas. Danny gets sent by Clockwork to go retrieve the infimap. By this time, Vlad has discovered an odd pool of ectoplasm just through one of the caves in the mountain he'd landed on. It seems different from usual, but doesn't have enough time to inspect it before Danny shows up and re-claims the infimap and leaves Vlad there, he'd been oddly more violent, especially after seen Vlad with the pool of ecto.

Noting the location of the odd pool of ectoplasm, Vlad attempts to return to Illinois, only to find that he's several hundred years in the past, rather than just somewhere in the Himalayas in current time like he'd thought. He's now stranded here with no way of getting back to his own time, as the technology to even attempt to do so wouldn't exist until at least the 1980s. So, he returns to the pool of ecto to try and figure out what to do.

Eventually, he decides to gain power for himself in this time, he changed his name, starts a cult surrounding himself and the pool, gathers resources using his powers, and has his new subordinates build a tenple for him around the pool. His subordinates need to be able to defend him, so he hires a master swordsman to teach them how to weild weapons, he ends up following alongside the lessons either from afar, invisibly, or both, so he can claim to have known this skill all along. Slowly, the group expands, and someone attempts to kill Vlad. He sicks his now assassin level subordinates on the attacker, and thus, the League of Assassins is born.

All is well as Vlad waits patiently to catch up with Time. He'd found out early on that the pool he'd dubbed the Lazarus Pit could heal the sick and kill the healthy, so he used this as an excuse for his ghostly immortality. He ends up having a couple of paramors and a couple of children, which makes his core sing. Then, oddly enough, a young man shows up to request training from the group, he almost looked enough like Danny that Vlad had to take a second to realize that it was several years to early for the boy to have even been born; let alone a young adult.

Turns out, the young man was Bruce Wayne. This was certainly an odd turn of events, as it turned out Brucie Wayne was Batman. This revilation didn't bother him for long, and Talia had taken a liking to the man, so he instructed her to keep an eye on him.

Things were going well, Talia had been doing well keeping track of the fine detective. And had even coerced him into a relationship with herself, that might prove rathar useful down the line. Danny was due to be born the upcoming year. And Vlad was making preparations. While he couldn't take the boy just after his birth, that would mean he'd never become a halfa, he could bide his time and become a part of the boy's life earlier on, and take him under his wing after the accident.

He wasn't expecting Talia to come to him and tell him she was pregnant. He tried not to think too much on it. He knew of Damian Wayne's existence, and this child was likely that same boy. However, what he couldn't get put of his head was the sudden revalation to how similar the youngest Wayne and Daniel looked. They were even the same age. He decided to put it out of his mind, but the thoughts were wrenched back to the forefront of his mind when he found out Talia was pregnant with twins. He didn't like this, Damian had been an only child as far as he knew, so why had things changed?

He became further concerned when he tracked down Maddie and Jack to attempt to re-insert himself in their lives, only to find Maddie wasn't pregnant. Something had changed, and Vlad was panicked. Somehow, Damian Wayne would now be a part of a set of twins, and Danny would either be born later than last time or not at all.

Vlad tried to look into when and where the change had occurred, but without complete knowledge of how the timeline had occurred before his presence changed it, he had no idea what could have happened.

That was until the birth of twin boys, Damian came out perfectly healthy. The second boy had been very sick, but Vlad would recognize those blue eyes anywhere. It was Danny. He immediately ordered for the infant to be placed into the pits to heal and promptly secluded himself to his chambers to have a mental breakdown.

This didn't make any sense! Daniel was Jack and Maddie's son! Not Bruce Wayne's! But this made all too much sense: why there hadn't been any photos of Daniel before age 8 in the Fenton household, how Danny looked just slightly different than his parents, but in a way that could have feasibly been explained by latent genes. But it wasn't latent genes, Daniel Fenton wasn't Jack and Maddie's biological son, was he? Then, the final nail in the coffin, Vlad was reminded of his and Danny's first meeting, the boy had immediately tensed uppon seeing him, and had muttered something under his breath, something Vlad had brushed off as an insult. But now he thought about it, his tone had been questioning, almost scared. Danial had called him Grandfather.

[trans-axolotl]

content note: discussion of suicide.

this next monday will be the six year anniversary of losing one of my friends to suicide.

when he died, my high school barely mentioned his death, even though for other students who died by things like car crashes or illness, there were so many public expressions of grief. they believed that having any memorials for a student who died by suicide would encourage other people to die the same way. in their rush to erase the circumstances of his death, they erased the memory of his life.

there are so many things i am angry at that high school about in terms of how they treated mental health (mandatory reporting and collaborating with cops, their refusal to recognize the ways in which that system led to peer-to-peer crisis support, their refusal to recognize the ways that trying to keep each other alive through trial and error was scary and exhausting, carceral disciplinary policies, etc etc etc). but i think one of the things i am still angriest about is the way they enforced shame around his death. it felt like they were retroactively blaming him for the constellation of circumstances that made suicide an option in his life. it felt like they were blaming those of us who missed him and cared about him and wanted to grieve him. it made those of us still there who were actively suicidal feel even more scared about the reaction if we did reach out for help from one of those mythical safe adults.

as an adult now involved in psych abolition/mad liberation work, it makes me so fucking mad to see the ways in which he was discarded by people in authority positions. and the older i get, the more options i have found in my life for making sense of the world and finding healing and community and support which were never available to him because he died when he was 16 and the only things offered to him were a carceral psychiatric system that blamed him for his own fucking death. it feels so incredibly unfair.

i miss him and i think i always will; i can't remember his laugh or the sound of his voice or his favorite color any more and that aches. this grief is so heavy and it feels harder in a new way each year, when i become older than he will ever be. sometimes meeting new comrades or seeing new anticarceral suicide support models hurts because i wish so fucking bad that we had that back then. i remember how close we came to losing even more people that year and i know it is simple fucking luck that i'm still here when he's not.

i remember another letter (never sent) that i wrote to a friend while they were in an ICU bed after a suicide attempt when i didn't know if they would live or not. i have spent so much time in the past 10 years begging for anything to keep me and my friends alive, but even in that letter i knew that there is so much fucking violence that is hidden beneath psychiatric logics of cure and safety that promise a "solution" to suicide. I knew that institutionalization, coercion, and shame would not have helped build a life more liveable for him or **** or any of the people i've loved and lost since.

there needs to be more fucking options for care and support that aren't so incredibly cruel to suicidal people. i know so many people doing incredible work in alternatives, peer respite, a million different frameworks for healing and liberation. but it makes me so mad every day i have to live in a world where there are still people restrained, locked up in psych wards, having all autonomy and personhood taken away from them. knowing there are dozens of people every day getting blamed for their deaths the same way he was blamed for his.

i miss him. i cared so fucking much for him. and he died by suicide, and all of those things are true. he has been dead for 6 years and he lived before that and the people who loved him want to remember all of him; our celebrations of his life should not require hiding the way that he died.

Image description: [1000 origami cranes in all different colors and patterns that are tied together in strings of 25]

(these were the 1000 cranes we made to give to his parents, in memorial and recognition of how much he meant to us.)

[queenshelby]

Daughter Dearest (Part Three)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (47) x Step! Daughter (21)

Warning: Infidelity, Smut, Dysfunctional Family

The next day, Cillian went to see his counsellor, the same woman he had been seeing every fortnight for the past two years, which is also when he had started marriage counselling with your mother. 

Enduring three years of loveless marriage had, of course, taken its toll on him, but now he had a different problem all together as, within a span of just seven days, he became somewhat  infatuated with you.

"Cillian," greeted the counsellor, opening the door to her office, and gesturing him inside.

"Niamh," Cillian greeted, as he walked past her and into the room, taking a seat on the worn brown leather couch, facing the armchair where the counsellor sat.

Niamh was a small, bird-like woman, with blonde hair perpetually pulled back into a messy bun and wire-framed glasses perched precariously on the edge of her nose. She was in her sixties and had a kind, open face that put people at ease, and Cillian had always found her to be a source of support and guidance, especially during difficult times in his life.

"How are you doing today, Cillian?" Niamh asked, setting down her pen and notebook.

He sighed heavily, rubbing his hands over his tired eyes.

"Okay, I think," he began, before diving straight in. "But, to be honest, Niamh, I'm just... confused and I need some fucking guidance," Cillian  said, his voice heavy with frustration and uncertainty.

"I see," Niamh said, nodding sympathetically. "Is it about what we discussed in our last session? Because, as I said before, at your age, not wanting to be intimate can be quite normal," Niamh said gently, referring to the fact that Cillian had lost his interest intimacy about three years ago when his marriage had become more than just slightly troubled.

He sighed deeply, rubbing his hands over his tired face. "No, actually, it's not about that," he admitted, meeting Niamh's eyes. "It's about something else.”

Niamh raised an eyebrow, but remained silent, signaling for him to continue.

"It's my stepdaughter," he confessed, "I have some sort of feelings for her. Strong ones, Niamh. I didn't see it coming. It happened suddenly, and now, I don't know what to do about it," he explained and Niamh leaned forward in her chair, her gentle eyes meeting his.

"Go on," she asked quietly, her tone supporting and understanding.

"I am attracted to her, not just platonically or paternally. I want her sexually and I feel guilty about it. I have never felt this way about anyone while I have been married, you know, but now, every time I see her, I am overwhelmed by a need to -" Cillian broke off, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

"It's okay, take your time," Niamh said gently, her words an invitation for him to continue when he was ready.

"Thank you," Cillian murmured, taking a deep breath. "It's just that, she's my stepdaughter and I know it's fucking wrong,"  he said, rubbing his hand over his face again.

"I assume that she is, uhm, your adult stepdaughter? Cliona? The one that has been living with you for a while?" Niamh asked after running through her notes, seeing that you had never been mentioned in these sessions before. 

"Cliona?" Cillian gasped. "No, it's her twin sister, Y/N. She moved in with us a few days ago," he replied, his voice filled with a sense of urgency.

"I see, and you are finding yourself attracted to her?" Niamh inquired, jotting down his response.

"Yes and it's making things really complicated. I haven't made a move. But when I am around her, I can't help but feel...enticed, and it's consuming me," Cillian admitted, his eyes lost in thought.

A moment of silence passed between them before Niamh spoke, "It's important to remember that feeling attraction to another person is not a crime, but acting on them in this situation can be problematic and harmful," she said gently.

Cillian nodded, taking that in. "I know, and I don't want to hurt her or my wife for that matter," he said, sighing deeply.

"Good. That's a healthy perspective," Niamh replied, nodding encouragingly.  "Now, let's explore this attraction you feel. What is it exactly about her that draws you in?"

Cillian sat up straighter, his gaze lost in thought as he tried to simply her feelings into words. "It's her intelligence and creativity I suppose. Her curiosity about the world is so captivating to watch," he explained, carefully choosing his words. "She's bold and there's a spark in her eyes - an unapologetic, fierce beauty - that I find incredibly attractive," Cillian confessed, his voice softening.

Niamh nodded, understanding the depth of his feelings. "It's understandable that you would be drawn to someone with those qualities. But as you already acknowldged, your feelings are complicated and can have serious consequences."

Cillian nodded solemnly, knowing that his feelings could potentially ruin his marriage and hurt his stepdaughter. "What should I do, Niamh? How do I move past this?" he asked desperately.

He was at a loss of what to do, and the guilt was consuming him.

"Firstly, Cillian, I want you to understand that it is completely normal to feel attracted to others, even if they are close to us." Niamh's voice was calm and reassuring, and Cillian felt a small sense of relief wash over him.  "So, it is important to take a step back and examine your feelings. Acknowledge them, process them, but above all, do not act on them until you have had a chance to carefully consider the consequences."

"I understand," Cillian said, nodding his head solemnly. "But how do I move past these feelings? Because I just want them to stop."  He sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

"I am afraid that you may not be able to ever truly move past these feelings," Niamh said gently. "And the only way forward, Cillian, is to address them, acknowledge them, accept them, and manage them."

Cillian took a deep breath, his voice filled with exhaustion. "Manage them, but how?" he asked, unsure of where to start.

"By making a conscious decision to distance yourself from her," Niamh replied, her voice firm but gentle. "Even in your own house, do not engage with her  unless absolutely necessary. Refrain from spending any unnecessary time with her. Focus on nurturing your relationship with your wife and your daughter Sadie."

Cillian nodded slowly, taking in her words. "Alright, I will try and do that ," he said, committing to the plan.

Niamh then leaned back in her chair, her gaze steady on him. "It's important to note that these feelings won't disappear overnight, Cillian. It will take time and hard work to manage them, but it's imperative that you do, for your own wellbeing and the wellbeing of your loved ones."

Cillian took a deep breath, his eyes meeting hers. "I know," he said quietly, feeling more resolved than ever to take control of the situation and do what was best for everyone involved.

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[krirebr]

I Know I Should Know Better 7/End

Pairing: Curtis Everett x Female Reader

Word Count: ~3.6k

Summary: Curtis has been working as your body guard for almost two years now. Standing by and watching you work and party your life away is becoming more and more difficult, but is there anything he can do about it?

Warnings: Angst, adult themes, explicit language, anxiety, but mostly, it's a goddamn happy ending, you guys!! Finally!!! All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Holy shit. I can't believe it. We've made it to the end of this series. Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who's been along on this ride. Your support of this story has really bowled me over. I so hope you love this ending as much as I do.

For this one, especially, any comment, reblog, or ask will mean so much to me. I can't wait to talk to you all about where we leave our sweet beans.

Curtis stood on the front step of your house, waiting to be let in. He'd never gone in this way before, not even the first time. But he didn’t work for you anymore. He was the boyfriend now. A guest. So he'd play by the rules he'd always been so annoyed with Colin and Johnny and the like for flaunting. 

It only took a few minutes for Jensen to open the door. “Hey man,” he greeted warmly. “You know you don’t have to stand out here. Come on, get in.” Curtis followed Jake in, then stood somewhat awkwardly in the entryway. Luckily, Jake kept talking. “I should’ve texted you, but I was really sorry to hear how that whole thing went down. It wasn’t fair to either of you.”

“Thanks, Jake,” Curtis said sincerely. “I appreciate it. And I’m sorry, for all the secrecy.”

Jake shook his head. “No, don’t be sorry. You didn’t owe me any of that.”

Curtis gave a slight nod. “I hope you at least got a promotion out of it.”

Jake ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, kind of. Although I’m sort of pulling double duty right now while we try to find a new driver. But I think the trip went well, so…” he trailed off and shrugged. “You found something, yet?”

Curtis just shook his head. Honestly, he’d barely started looking for his next job. He’d been tired of personal security for a while now, and this seemed like a good opportunity to see what was next. Figure out what he actually wanted. Growing up in foster care, he’d been too aware of how easily things could be taken away, so as soon as he’d started making money, saving had been a priority for him. He had a decent rainy day fund set aside now. He figured he might as well make use of it. And if he got to a point where he needed to pick up a short-term gig here or there, he was sure, with all of his connections now, that he’d be able to do that. “No,” he said, “I think I’m gonna take my time.”

“Nice,” Jake nodded. “Good for you. Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. I always liked working with you.”

That got a genuine smile out of Curtis. “Thanks, Jake, you too.” He glanced around your house anxiously. He thought he heard Michelle in the living room, but he didn’t know who else might be here, occupying your time. “Everybody still busy with her?”

“No, the stylist and makeup artists left a couple of minutes ago. I think she’s just getting dressed now, in her room. You should be good.”

Curtis nodded, patted Jake on the shoulder, and made his way through your house.

Two weeks apart. They’d been filled with constant texting, evening phone calls, as much checking in as he could manage in your busy schedule. Hearing about your appearances, junket days, meet and greets. You were finally back, as of that morning, but he still had to steal time for your reunion before the last of your late-night talk show appearances. Your schedule never stopped.

He took the stairs up to your bedroom two at a time and gave a light knock once he got to your door. It immediately swung open to reveal you standing right in front of him in your underwear. He barely had a moment to process before you were throwing yourself at him, filling his arms with you, burying your face in his neck. “I’m so happy you’re here,�� you breathed.

“Yeah,” he whispered, holding you as tight as he could. “Me too. Me too.” He shuffled you further into the room so he could kick the door shut behind him and then stood there with you in his arms for as long as you both needed.

You finally pulled away and he took his chance to look around. A rolling rack of clothing your stylist must have brought over was against one wall. Two outfits were laid out on the bed. Your suitcase was flung open in the far corner of the room, items spilling out of it. And then he took you in. Your hair and makeup were already done, but if he looked very closely, he could see the barest hint of bags under your eyes. Your smile was a little sad and you were picking at your nails, seemingly without realizing it. “How are you doing?” he asked, softly.

“I’m alright. I’m– I don’t know. I’m really tired, but,” you looked around yourself, “I’m happy to be home.”

He nodded. The exhaustion was radiating off of you. You’d told him in one of your late-night phone conversations that you’d barely slept on your trip. He wished he could wrap you up and tuck you into bed right now. “Were you able to sleep on the plane at all?”

You shook your head. “No, there’s just been,” you shrugged again, “too much to think about.”

He opened his mouth to ask what was on your mind, but you were already turning away. You went to the foot of your bed and stared at the outfits laid out there. 

“Which do you think?” you asked, your hands on your hips.

He looked at the two outfits. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking for. He didn’t feel like he really knew clothes well enough to offer any sort of an opinion. One was a dress, low-cut and mid-length, maybe. The other was a pair of shiny black pants, although not leather, and a billowy metallic tank. Each outfit had a corresponding pair of sky-high heels sitting at the foot of the bed. “What are you gonna be most comfortable in?” he finally asked. 

You sighed ruefully. “Yeah, I'm sure jeans and a t-shirt would go over real well.” After a moment of thought, you picked up the pants and blouse and started putting them on. 

You were both quiet as you put on the finishing touches. He helped you with the necklace and bracelets, his big hands carefully opening and closing the clasps.

You stepped away and turned to him. “What do you think?” you asked, a touch of shyness in your voice. 

He closed the space between you and put his hands on your hips. “You’re beautiful,” he said, sincerely. 

You just looked at him for a moment, studying his face for something, he didn’t know what. Finally, you asked, “You really do love me, don't you?” with just a touch of awe in your voice.

“Yes,” he said without a moment of hesitation, trying to infuse that one word with all of his certainty. 

He'd only told you he loved you a few times, since that first time, not wanting to overwhelm or pressure you. He knew he'd jumped ahead. You hadn't said it back yet which was fine. He understood. You'd get there when you were ready. But even if he was trying to go at your pace, he never wanted you to doubt him.

You kissed him unabashedly at that and it did something to settle the worry he'd felt since he laid eyes on you. You pulled back and grinned, the first real smile he'd seen from you since before you left for New York. “I'm gonna get yelled at for messing up my lipstick, but I don't care,” you said, before going in for another, shorter one. He gripped your hips tighter as you pulled your head away, giving him a knowing smirk. “Come on, I’m sure I’m already running late.”

He didn’t let go. Something about this time, just the two of you, felt too precious. “I don’t work for you anymore. I’m the boyfriend now, so I don’t fucking care if you’re late.”

You laughed, big and loud, and it quieted the rest of the unease he’d been feeling about how you were doing. When you were done, you leaned into his chest and just stood there. “I missed you so much,” you whispered.

“I missed you too,” he whispered back wrapping his arms around you. He took a deep breath, savoring the fact that you were there, in front of him, in his arms. Right now, he had you.

And then, of course, there was an impatient knock on the door. “I'll be right there!” you called out, then knocked your forehead against his shoulder, taking a deep fortifying breath. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, “you're so good at this. No matter what, this is something you can do. I've always admired the way you handle this stuff. OK? You can do this.”

You sighed and nodded into his shoulder. He was quiet for a moment, thinking. You’d talked, a little, about how upset you’d both gotten the night before you’d left for New York. He couldn’t help but feel that maybe in his frustration and desperation and worry, he’d come on too strong. He knew you weren’t upset with him, but– “I just want you to be happy. No matter what that looks like, I just want to help you get there.”

You moved your head from where it was tucked into his shoulder so you could look him in the eye. “I know,” you said, gratefulness shining in your eyes. “If I know anything, I know that.” You kissed him again, short and soft and sweet. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

It was an odd experience, climbing into the back of your SUV instead of sitting with Jake in the front. Michelle sat in the middle row, acting pointedly cold to him. That was fine, honestly. He wasn’t quite ready to forgive her for the things she’d said when the news of your relationship broke. He didn’t know when he would be. You deserved better.

You were very quiet. He wanted to ask, again, about what was on your mind, but he didn’t want to do that with an audience. So he held your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, and didn’t move a muscle when you rested your head on his shoulder.

Curtis couldn’t stop fidgeting. He was sitting by himself on what he used to derisively think of as the boyfriend couch. Michelle was on the other couch, focused on emails as always, while Tanya hovered in the middle of the room. There were snacks and drinks laid out on the green room’s coffee table that he was welcome to now, but he hadn’t touched them. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, filling up the big TV on the wall as you chatted with one of the countless late-night Jimmy’s. You looked okay. A little stiff. A little tired. But that was probably only because he knew all the signs to look for.  

You’d covered all the benign greetings and small talk and were now getting into the meat of the interview. Whichever Jimmy this was reached across his desk and held up a black paperboard-backed picture of you, twelve or thirteen years old, complete with braces and awkward pigtails. It was from that fucking show. 

He saw the anxiety flash across your face, quickly followed by your cheerful mask, although he didn't think he imagined the way it was more strained than usual. Tanya saw it too, judging by the way she took a step forward. 

Jimmy was blathering on about the recent influx of TV reunions and reboots and wouldn’t it be fun, wouldn't everyone just love it if there was some sort of reunion for this? The audience roared in agreement. 

You forced a chuckle that wouldn't have fooled anyone, pure panic in your eyes. And then you looked directly into the camera and Curtis knew, he knew, that you were looking at him. He tried to send you all of his confidence, all of his support, all of his love. All of his certainty that however you wanted to handle this, you could do it.

He was fooling himself, he knew, but he was sure that you felt it, because in the next moment you took a deep breath, turned to Jimmy, and said, “No, I don't think so.”

Jimmy just gaped at you for a second, clearly taken aback by you suddenly not playing along. He tried to cover with a good-natured laugh and “What? Oh no! Why not?”

You didn't match his tone. You responded seriously, “I really hated making that show.” There were a few audible gasps from the audience, but you ignored them. “Everyone did. It was a miserable place to be. Everyone hated each other. Everyone fought all the time. For seven years! I was a child and no one protected me from that. I went to work every day, as a child, in the most toxic environment. But I was making money. So I guess it was ok.

“And now, god, it’s been ten years! And everyone just keeps bringing it up. It’s all anyone wants to talk to me about. And I just can’t talk about it anymore. I really can’t. I’m not gonna do it again. I’m done with that.”

“What the hell is she doing?” Tanya muttered next to Curtis, who was standing up now, unable to take his eyes off you. Whatever you were doing, it was incredible.

He could tell that the host wanted to break in, he kept looking wildly off-camera to someone for help, but you just kept talking. You wouldn’t stop.

“There’s just– There’s so much I don’t want to do anymore. I’m not doing ok, you know? I mean, you must know. It’s all over every gossip site. I’m not ok. I haven’t been ok for a very long time, maybe ever. But I just keep going forward in the same way, because that’s all I’ve ever done since I was a kid. That’s all I’ve known how to do. But I think– I think I’m done doing that now. I want to figure out how to be ok.”

Curtis took a step closer to the screen. “Holy shit,” he mumbled, deep pride filling his chest, “she’s doing it.” 

“What is she doing, Curtis?” Tanya asked, somewhat hysterically.

He ignored her. He couldn’t see or hear anything other than you. 

Back on the TV, Jimmy cleared his throat and opened his mouth, trying to somehow stop his show from careening wildly off the rails. But you put your hand up to stop him. 

“Please, Jimmy, I know. You asked a simple question and you got all this instead,” you laughed, unabashed, and there it was. There you were. Curtis beamed at seeing it. “Just let me say this one last thing.” You looked directly into the camera again. “I– I am really proud of this movie. We worked really hard on it, and I hope you go see it.” 

A laugh escaped Curtis. God, you were so good at this, knowing exactly what you were contractually obligated to do. He glanced quickly at the other end of the green room. Michelle was standing now too, her mouth wide open in shock, while Tanya looked like she might have a stroke.

“And I think–” you continued. ”I think it might be the last movie I do for a while. The last anything. We'll see.”

A wave of murmurs went through the studio audience. Curtis had fully forgotten they were even there during all this, they’d been so quiet since you’d really gotten going, just as enraptured by you as he was.

“Ok,” you said, with a sheepish smile. “That’s it. I’m– I’m done.” Then you stood, took off your mic pack, gently laid it on the chair, and walked off stage.

As Jimmy awkwardly threw to a commercial break, Curtis raced into the hallway. He walked towards the stage as fast as he could, intercepting you about halfway there, a lost-looking PA trailing behind you. You looked a little shell-shocked but good. You looked so fucking good. 

He gently touched your face with both hands as soon as you were within reach. “Holy shit, that was incredible. You’re incredible. I can't believe you did that. I'm so fucking proud of you.”

“Yeah?” you asked, your voice a little shaky, your eyes a little watery. “I didn't– I wasn't planning to. But then he asked about the show and, I don’t know. I’ve been thinking a lot about all of the things you're always telling me. About living my own life and what I'm worth. And I just thought, ‘What if I actually do what I want for once?’ And, yeah.” You shrugged.

“Fucking incredible,” Curtis whispered and leaned in to kiss you. It was soft and a little desperate and so, so happy. 

So of course it was cut short when Tanya called out your name. You both turned around to look at her standing at the end of the hall, looking harried. “What was that?! How on earth am I supposed to clean that up?!”

“Tanya,” you said, your voice shockingly calm and firm. “Stop. There's nothing to clean up. You're fired.”

It took everything inside of Curtis not to whoop with joy or pick you up and spin you around. But, shit, he wanted to. He really, really wanted to.

Your gaze moved to where Michelle stood behind Tanya. “Sorry, Michelle,” you said with a frown, “you too. I don't think I'll need a team or an assistant for a while.”

“You need to stop and think about this,” Tanya said, her tone placating. 

“I already have. Thank you both, sincerely, for everything you've done for me, but it's time to try something new.” And then you grabbed Curtis’s hand and led him back down the hall. 

You quietly got your things from the green room and changed your shoes, then brought Curtis outside through a side door, far away from where fans were gathered, expecting you to run into your SUV.

You took a deep breath as soon as you hit the fresh air. “I kind of just want to walk around for a while. That ok?”

“Yeah, whatever you want,” he said softly, squeezing your hand. There were a few hours before the show aired on the East Coast. A few hours, hopefully, before the bomb you’d just set fully exploded. A walk sounded nice.

 You headed away from the studio and Curtis was content to follow your lead. You didn't say anything, which was fine. He figured you had a lot to process. 

After several minutes, you let out a long, deep breath. “Holy shit. I can't believe I just did that. Holy shit, Curtis, I just quit!”

“How are you feeling?” he asked, carefully, wanting to make sure you weren't wracked with regret.

You took your time answering. Then finally, “So relieved. Just so fucking relieved.”

He stopped you from walking, using his grip on your hand to turn you to face him. “I hope you understand just how incredibly proud of you I am. How brave I think you are.”

“Curtis,” you said quietly, ducking your head, clearly overwhelmed. 

“I mean it,” he said as he squeezed your hand and started walking again. 

After several more minutes of companionable silence, you slowed down a little. “So, where do you think we should go?”

He shrugged and glanced around the area. “I don’t know. I could eat. Think you can get away with ducking into a burger place?”

You laughed and he stopped short at how nervous you sounded. “No, that’s not– I didn’t mean–” You shook your head and he turned so he was fully facing you. “I don’t know, it’s just– You said a year, remember? Back on my couch, you said I should take a year.” You were avoiding his eyes now, and you sounded so shy.

Your couch. That night, however many months ago. When you’d let him really see behind the mask, and he brushed his fingers against yours for the first time. As he realized what you were trying to ask him, the weight of it, the enormity of what you were offering, all he was able to do was whisper, “I remember.”

“Ok, well, I thought that maybe we could do that. Take a break. Go somewhere maybe, if there was somewhere you wanted to go.”

It took him a minute, as he was flooded with so many things—how much he loved you, how much he wanted to do for you, give to you, how happy he was in this moment—but once he found his voice, he gently grasped your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Wherever you are,” he said, with the most conviction he thought he had ever said anything. He leaned in and kissed you. It was short and more chaste than he wanted, but he was too conscious of how out in the open you were. He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours. “Absolutely anywhere you are.”

You threw your arms around him and moved your head so your lips were right next to his ear. And then you said, so so softly, so that it was just for him, “I love you. I'm so in love with you.”

A warmth he didn’t think he’d ever felt before filled his whole chest. All he could do was just hold you, right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, murmuring in your ear just how much he loved you, too.

Eventually, you’d start walking again. You’d find a little restaurant to duck into for a bite to eat. He’d make you put your phone on speaker as you told Lloyd and Wilford they were fired. And you’d figure out what came next, where you would go, what the logistics of quitting actually entailed. Then you’d get an Uber home and show each other with your bodies just how much you cared. 

But for now, he just wanted to hold you in the middle of the sidewalk.

I love you all. Thank you so much for reading. 💜

Tag List

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[spiriteddreams]

Evermore

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader Warnings: angst, fluff, happy ending(? yea i'm pretty sure it is) Word Count: ~2.3k A/N: my flex is that i heard rwylm live so i won at life :D

seventeen — champagne problems Gojo Satoru slips through your fingers before you even register it happens. One moment you are dancing in the rain, Infinity not yet perfected as the cold seeps through your clothes. At seventeen you are both young and free, blissfully unaware of the consequences of your own actions as you fall in love. You may have fallen first, stumbling over the uneven cobblestone that protruded from the ground of Jujutsu High, but Gojo Satoru fell harder. Head over heels and far too arrogant for his own good, the holder of Limitless and the Six Eyes sweeps you off your feet and swears to offer you the world. He’s the strongest, and with his best friend at his side, there is really nothing that can stop the two of you. He spouts cheesy poetry with roses behind his back, looking away when you poke fun at the red that rises on his cheeks. You think you could bask in this moment forever, caught up in the adolescent innocence that was running from Principal Yaga during school hours and baking with Shoko in the middle of the night.

“This dorm is a madhouse,” you laugh, hand in his as you stumble to his room after narrowly avoiding being caught. 

Gojo grins back at you, “Well, it’s made for me!” A smile stretches across his face as he tugs you through the hallways. You ignore the way your friends watch with knowing looks, purposefully turning away to give the two of you space. When Gojo Satoru was seventeen, he didn’t quite grasp Infinity just yet, so the idea of space between the two of you, was impossible.

It is shattered in an instant and Gojo’s eyes become clouded with the weight of the reality of the jujutsu world. He drops your hand in the midst of dancing, leaving you standing in the rain, nothing to block out or distract you from the biting cold that stings against your skin. The death of Amanai Riko shakes Gojo to his core; both him and Geto, and he slips far beyond your reach. He’s there but he isn’t, and when you try to reach out to him, you feel as if he’s raised Infinity against you too.

The weight of the world seems to crash upon his shoulders as the applauses that he once reveled in became a dull roar in the back of his mind. Blurred faces haunt his memories and when you try to ask, Gojo shakes his head, mumbling that he doesn’t want to talk about what happened.

You don’t break up, but sometimes, you think that maybe, it would have been easier if things had ended then.

twenty — tolerate it Your heart drops when you hear that Geto has now been labeled as a curse user and is to be executed on sight. You refuse to believe that this boy that you’ve spent the last few years with in high school had suddenly turned his back to you, to Shoko, to Gojo. Gojo. 

“Satoru?” your voice is quiet but it cuts through the silence of his dorm room. You poke your head into the dark room, barely making out his figure leaning against his desk, head in hands and hair falling over his face. He doesn’t acknowledge your presence and when you step into his room, you feel as if you’ve fallen into a trap. The tension is thick and choking and you hold your breath as you approach him. His eyes are closed and you watch the steady rise and fall of his chest. The soft huffs of breath are the only sound that accompanies you in this silence.

“Satoru?” your call of his name for the second time makes his head raise, just barely tilting to acknowledge your presence. At twenty, you are caught between a teenager and an adult and amidst your own struggles, you realize that you don’t quite know what to do anymore. It shouldn’t have taken you this long to try to talk to him, because now that the distance has begun to stretch thin, you find that you are running out of things to say. How does one comfort a loved one who has lost another when, to him, you would never understand what it feels like to grapple with this turmoil. His words, not yours, remind yourself, mind flashing back to the last argument you had, one that ended with heaving chests and two stubborn teenagers. Only this time, you had Shoko to turn to, and Gojo had no one else. 

“Please, stop trying,” his voice is raspy but it hurts to hear. You realize that he’s far gone from your reach and this distance that you had once thought might be good for both you and him has instead come back around to tear you apart. “I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.” The cycle repeats and he shuts you out once more despite each tallied attempt.

You say “I love you” to a seemingly empty room, the words clinging to nothing but the dust and shadows that you feel like you’ve been talking to this whole time. 

twenty-one — happiness Gojo Satoru never flinches. He takes the punches without batting an eye and strikes back even harder, knowing exactly where it hurts. He knows which cuts will bleed the most until you are left with nothing but pride to grapple with. 

You break up with him when you are both twenty-one. Four years together is shattered in an instant. Your voice doesn’t waver, doesn’t break, and neither do you. But he just stands there, eyes covered by sunglasses and takes it. It’s not messy, there are no raised voices, just the weight of exhaustion of two lovers who have pulled a string taut. Loving turns to waiting for the other to take the scissors and cut the string, but both are too stubborn to make the first move. And when given the opportunity, when he slips you the scissors behind your back you make the final decision. Emotions feel like a whirlwind in the moment as you grapple with knowing that you are the one to end four years of happiness. 

“I’m moving to Kyoto, I want a new start and Utahime is looking for a new roommate,” you say when the worst of it has passed. A few months down the line and you find that staying in Tokyo is only doing more harm. You become caught between growing tensions and your own internal conflict. So when Shoko offhandedly mentions moving somewhere new, but still with hesitance in her tone, and Utahime reaching out with regards to her new apartment, you jump at the new opportunity. For some reason, Gojo is the first person you decide to tell. He glances at you with a smile, teeth peeking out between his lips. You freeze at the sight, horrified at the cruel realization that you can’t quite tell if Gojo is truly happy for you to be starting anew, or if this winning smile of his was already starting to turn into a smirk.

“Don’t miss me too much!” ever the tease, Gojo tilts his head down so he can make eye contact, as if giving you one last look at those beautiful eyes of his before he hides them away. You’ll miss those eyes of his, you think; those ever knowing eyes that seem to see through you and break past every wall that you’ve built.

He does see through it all, so in tune with your emotions and every little twitch of your eyes and lips. Gojo is well aware of his own faults in this fall, but stubborn as he is, and selfish in his want to keep things civil, he doesn’t say anything else. His heart drops at the news of your departure. He can keep himself emotionally distant but physically? Perhaps this time you’re the one slipping beyond his reaches.

twenty-eight — long story short Utahime tells you that Gojo has taken in a new kid. You choke on your tea at the words until she clarifies that he’s simply taken in a boy to Jujutsu Tech (not custody over another kid, you hope that poor Megumi is doing well dealing with this man-child). At twenty-eight you know you’ve moved fast past your teenage romance that was Gojo Satoru. Now, you laugh at the memories, looking back on faded photos and scrawled love letters that once swept you off your feet.

But still, you find that it’s easy to fall into bad habits. And this one just so happens to be named Gojo Satoru. Ever cocky and teasing with his words and touches, you find yourself spending more time at Jujutsu Tech under the guise of working with Okkotsu Yuuta. Gojo finds his ways to slip back into your life, whether it's to bring you sweets he picked up as he was coming in late to work, or try to pester you about what it’s like to live with Utahime. There are no issues with humouring him, after all, you’ve had seven years of reflection. 

But seven years later you find yourself in his presence again and Gojo seems to be making every attempt to win you over again. He makes no attempt to hide what he’s trying to do, and you’re horrified to learn that Shoko knows all about it and she finds it rather amusing. 

At twenty-eight, both you and Gojo have had a myriad of experiences under your belt. Maturity comes with age, and while that may be said about the both of you (for the most part), you realize that Gojo still holds onto some of that childish innocence and energy that he did when he was younger. You see it in the way he raises Megumi who responds to his guardian’s attempts with eye rolls and glances over at you for help. You see it in the way he teaches his first years, poor Inumaki, Panda, Maki and Okkotsu staring blankly as their teacher brandishes extra sweet pastries as if it were some sort of reward. 

It is that energy that he brings back into your life that has you stumbling back, indulging in late night invitations to grab food and reminisce about your teenage days. Now, with the alarming lack of physical distance between the two of you, you would be lying if you said the thought never crossed your mind, that if you had stayed, what might have been. 

And one night, when you find yourself tangled up in his arms, you run, cursing his name through confusion and frustration. Seven years down the drain and you feel foolish.

When Gojo wakes to the distance reinstated, he wonders if you both will survive this when it all ends.

twenty-nine — right where you left me You return to Tokyo Jujutsu Tech under Gojo’s request. He texts you out of the blue with emoticons that contradict the severity of the situation at hand. You return with hesitance, walking through old hallways lined with dust and memories of teenagers that ran through with no care in the world. The trek back to your old classroom is one that brings back memories in waves and you can only wonder why Gojo has asked you to meet there. Your old classroom, the one that he now teaches in, with chairs that groan when you sit on them and desks that have markings from your teenage days looks nothing new, and yet it’s unfamiliar. 

Gojo sits with his feet propped up on the desk, chair tipping back precariously as he rocks back and forth, head turned towards the open window with blindfold over his eyes. He sits there, not yet acknowledging your presence, as if he’s been there for ages. The dust from the room seems to swirl around him, but never quite settling on his hair and skin because you know that he has Infinity raised. You wonder when the last time he let it down around you was. 

“What a sad sight,” you joke, “I never thought you would willingly sit in those seats again.” Gojo turns at the sound of your voice and a smile crosses over his lips. You know that he could have sensed you from a mile away, so you can only wonder why he decides to play stupid like this, minding his own business, seemingly caught up in his own thoughts. 

“Sometimes I like to indulge in old memories,” he doesn’t make any effort to move so you take the step forward, crossing through the doorway to enter this room of memories. You’re both older and wiser now and yet you seem to abandon it at the door. 

At twenty-nine you both know what’s coming next. The world has gone to shit and it’s impossible not to see the exhaustion that weighs down upon Gojo Satoru. Your feet move first, then your hands and your body as you embrace him tightly. For a moment you are thrown back in time, locked in the fantasy of seventeen with your arms wound tight around him. To stay here forever, like this, together, is all either of you dreamed of when you were young and stupid.

Fast forward to the present and you find yourself in this same old familiar position with years of history to separate the two of you. In the back of your mind you wonder if this is the right decision to make. You know that Gojo has been trying to return to your life, attempt after attempt chipping away at ivy covered walls as you take every chance to run. But as October peers around the corner, you let yourself fall back into his arms.

And when it’s time to go, when the world calls for the strongest, when it asks for Gojo Satoru to once again make another sacrifice, you hold his face close to yours and throw out all thoughts that this could end badly. 

“I’ll be here, right where you left me.”

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3 a/n: spirit appears, spirit writes, spirit disappears (hopefully not)

[scoobydoodean]

so the mind wipe was a bad move in context, i think most people will agree with that (i agree with you that it was the worst thing dean did). but beyond that, it barely even makes sense logistically unless you extrapolate that cas removed every piece of evidence of dean from their lives, phones, house, and friends’/neighbors’ memories… so how do you think they should’ve handled lisa and ben’s exit?

Setting aside how unfeasible it seems to truly erase Dean from their lives, it also just doesn't make sense to me because I don't understand how or why that would ever stop people from using them to hurt Dean. Like I guess they make it in the show as if it did in fact work (and it's better than the alternative the show likely would have come up with of killing them off) but why on earth would someone like Crowley for example not use Lisa and Ben still to hurt Dean just because they don't remember him??? They don't have to remember him for them to be used against him??

Like from Dean's perspective though, I think it was was about erasing the "poison". Like he felt he was this monster whose presence had ruined their lives irreparably, and by erasing himself from their lives as if he never existed, he could erase the "ruinous" impact he had on them. I think one of the biggest catalysts for this is ultimately having to put a gun in Ben's hand. When Ben expressed interest in Dean's gun collection in 6.02, Dean swore that Ben would never shoot a gun. Dean appears to have a lot of trauma tied up in his childhood experience with firearms. Lots of American kids grow up shooting, but for sport at targets and usually starting with BB guns. Dean was taken shooting (presumably real guns) for the first time when he was "six or seven" years old (2.06) and when he was taken to do that, he knew he was being trained to become a killer—to hunt monsters and to defend his brother—and John was proud. Dean repeats the story to Jo fondly (because what Jo wanted was a fond story—and Dean really struggles to deliver one because of what he's going through at the time), but there's something melancholic too, and this moment in 6.02 puts that in context, as does 3.10 where Dean expresses all the pent up hurt he feels at being treated as a solider and a weapon by his father, as does 1.18 where Dean is no older than 10 and left alone with Sam for days with a shotgun to defend them both. There's fear that has to be buried there and experiences with violence or the threat of it that Dean simply wasn't psychologically equipped to deal with. Most(arguably all) adults aren't equipped to handle that kind of stress and he was a child. So having to put a gun in Ben's hand so he could aid in defending his own mother was the greatest betrayal toward Ben's right to be a child that Dean could imagine and he HAD to erase it because he couldn't deal with the idea of Ben holding onto even a tenth of the childhood trauma that Dean has.

At the same time, Dean is so caught up in self-hatred and the idea of himself as a ruinous force that he loses track of boundaries and that it isn't his right to decide. And one of the repeated things echoed by Lisa and Ben that Dean never really allows himself to absorb is that they truly loved him and they didn't want to trade the experience of loving him despite the hardships. Lisa was very clear about this in 6.01 and 6.02, and so was Ben in 6.14 (though I don't think he understands all the dynamics in play no matter how much he insists he did).

I don't have a real opinion on anything that should have been done instead. It isn't something I would change just because I don't think Dean made a morally right choice but it is true that it doesn’t make much logical sense. From a practical safety perspective, I think it would have made more sense and been pretty interesting if Dean erased his own memories of them. This would still be in theme with Sam's wall and Cas's secrets and Bobby and Sam hiding Sam being alive and how we hide things to protect ourselves or others (and isn't all the talk from Cas and Death about protecting Sam from his own traumatic memories also probably an influence on Dean's decision to erase himself from Lisa and Ben's reality?). But I think ultimately, Dean wouldn't erase his memory because he would see carrying that experience with him as a "lesson" with scars he needed to bear so he'd never let that desire for a home cloud his judgement ever again and ruin someone's "normal" life.

[wisteriadaydreams]

Hello! Hope you’re doing well!

I absolutely loved your Tanjiro x Haganezuka’s daughter piece! It was just too cute!

May I request one with Tanjiro x Urokodaki’s daughter? She’d probably be really strong and train with Tanjiro, finally convincing her dad to let her become a Slayer, only to get lectured after accidentally falling on top of him or something because Urokodaki can just smell the puppy love brewing between the both of them!

Sorry, got a little carried away! 💗 Tanjiro is just too cute!

I’m most likely going to come back here, so if it’s alright, I’d love to be your 🌺 Anon! Sending lots of love and good vibes your way!

TANJIRŌ W/ UROKODAKI’S DAUGHTER!READER

pairing: Kamado Tanjirō x fem!reader

genre: angst in the beginning, mention of canonical character death, fluff later on

Words: 7.5k (buckle up ppl, it's a long one)

a/n: I was so excited when I first read this ask! I’m sorry it took so long for me to get to it! And yes, you can 100% be 🌺anon (≧▽≦)

Urokodaki and his wife have had a hard time conceiving, and as they grew older, they resigned themselves to accepting that they will not have a child of their own, no matter how much it pained them.

In a way, they had tried to fill the void by adopting and taking in orphaned children, but that doesn’t mean they don’t come to love them any less. Some of them eventually leave to forge their own lives when they become adults, while some decided to follow in Urokodaki’s footsteps and become a Demon Slayer.

Knowing the dangerous nature of the job, he vehemently denied the request, but after seeing the relentlessness and determined nature of his child, he finally relented. When it came time to send his first student off to the Final Selection, he and his wife did so with a heavy heart.

When their child never came home no matter how long they wait, they buried their memories and a piece of their heart at Mount Sagiri.

(Urokodaki would refuse to train anyone else for years to come, but there are always those who managed to convince him otherwise.)

Nevertheless, his household is one that always ring with laughter and joy, a household that sticks together through the hard times, holding each other close and wiping away each other’s tears.

So when you came to this world, it was to a home overflowing with love.

You were their miracle baby, a blessing from the gods, the light that makes their world brighter. When the news was announced, there was not one dry eye in the house. Suddenly, everyone became even more overprotective of your mother when she was pregnant with you, and she had to scold her husband and her children several times for coddling her.

When you came into this world, your brothers and sisters take turns holding you, cooing and feeling their hearts bursting from the sight of your smile.

You grew up in a world like that — protected and loved and never lonely.

They would sneak you sweets and gifts they got from the nearby town, and sometimes those training would let you hold their swords for a moment, at the expense of being reprimanded by Urokodaki.  You were spoiled beyond compare.

When your mother was taken by a swift but deadly illness while you were still too young to register death, your family did what they always do — mourn in each other’s arms, and slowly piece everyone back together.

If possible, your father became even more protective of you. He has lost too much. His comrades, his friends, his wife, his students and children. It would break him entirely to lose you, too.

You grew up in a home that protected and love you, but also a home that grieves for the lost souls that will never be able to find their way back. Over the years, you’ve watched all of your father’s apprentices leave the safe embrace of Mt. Sagiri, a sword by their hip, a fox mask by the side of their face, and hope shining in their eyes.

“Otou-san.” You tugged your father’s sleeve. “Where are they going?”

“To hopefully make the world a better place.” “When are they coming back?” “Soon, my daughter. I pray every day that it would be soon.”

Many of them promised you that they will come back and play with you. Many of them broke their promises.

One year, your father rescued two boys, Sabito and Giyū, whose families were both eaten by demons. You immediately took to them, constantly trailing behind them and jumping onto their backs. They in turn dote on you, keeping you company whenever they weren’t training. You would sit on the ground to watch them spar with your father, twirling the grass under your fingers and giggling when they were swiftly disarmed.

You didn’t really understand why they were training. You had an inkling of the demons beyond the safe vicinity of the mountain from the stories your other siblings would tell you, but other than that you couldn’t grasp why they were serious about it.

“Sabito-nii, why are you and Giyū-nii training with father?” You asked him one day.

“Because there’s dangerous creatures out there who would stop at nothing to kill humans, and there are only a select few who could deal with them.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, (Y/N)-chan, maybe that’s just the way of the world. We’re no matched for the strength of demons, so we must become stronger.” “But why you and Giyū-nii?”

He patted your head softly, a tender but sad look in his eyes. “So that no one would have to go through what we went through.”

Their training continued, progressing from proper breathing lessons to when their blades are suddenly embraced by foamy, cerulean blue waves that twist around one another. Your eyes would shine with delight whenever you catch their fluid movements.

The day comes when both of your brothers have to leave, just like all the other apprentices before them. Your heart sank to the pits of your stomach the night before, making you unable to sleep even a wink. What if they don’t return as well?

The next morning, you stubbornly cling to them, refusing to let go even when your father scolds you.

“But I don’t want you to go!” You exclaimed.

“Come one, (Y/N)-chan. It’ll only be for a little while. Sabito and I will be back before you know it.”

“Promise?” “Promise.”

About a week went by without any sign of them returning, and you’ve never felt so on edge. You started to stand outside diligently to hopefully catch a glimpse that peach shade of Sabito’s hair and the deep blue of Giyū’s eyes, only coming inside when your father urged you.

Finally, one misty morning, you were out pulling weeds in the garden when you spotted a head of thick jet-black hair from up the road. Your eyes widened when you saw the familiar figure trudging down towards the house.

“Otou-san!” You shouted as you ran towards him. “Giyū-nii is home!!!”

You resisted the urge to tackle him into a hug once you saw his fatigued and wounded state. Nevertheless, your heart soared in happiness.

“Giyū-nii! You’re back! Are you hurt anywhere?” Your eyes roam over him, wincing at the amount of dirt on his clothes. But your brother was unresponsive and dazed, even when your father put a hand on his shoulder. Something itched in the back of your mind, and your stomach twisted unexpectedly when you felt like something was not right.

“Giyū-nii,” you began slowly, your eyes darting all over the place. “Where is Sabito-nii?”

His silence was answer enough.

Nothing was ever the same after that. You’re no stranger to lost, but it didn’t stop your heart from cleaving into two and the tears from running down your face at night. Not when a piece of you seems to die every time you’re met with your father’s silent grieving, or heard the sobs from your brother that he so desperately tried to hide.

You were both just children grasping with death.

When it was time for him to leave and officially embark on his journey, it was pouring like they had never seen before. Perhaps that was best. Perhaps then none of them would notice the tears.

Your home became quieter. Still filled with love, but more somber somehow. Laughter came a little harder for you, and each time you watch the sunset, you can’t help but feel your shoulders become heavier, as if the twilight was a corporeal thing that weighed down on you.

For a while, it was only you, your father, and the silence. But that all changed when a little girl around your age stumbled into your lives.

Like many siblings before, Makomo came to your home unexpectedly, and yet it also felt like fate. She lit up the whole house with her gentle smiles and brightness, restoring some of the warmth that have been lost.

You take to her immediately, spending your days braiding flowers into each other’s hair and running through the mountains until you can draw a map with your eyes closed. You felt your soul healing in the presence of her calming demeanor. She became a sister that you could unconditionally trust to always have your back. Imagine your horror when she too was determined to walk down the same treacherous path.

“Makomo-chan! You can’t!” You tearfully protested. “It’s too dangerous!”

‘What if she doesn’t come back?’ The sentence replayed over and over in your head like a broken mantra, and you were once more squeezed by multiple stabs of fear and anxiety. Your father shared the same sentiments as you, and firmly denied her request.

How could he forgive himself if he let someone as young as her entrench herself into such a cruel world.

But Makomo was resilient and stubborn. She would sneak out and practice with a sword and had even somehow been able to grasp the basics of Total Concentration Breathing. When asked, she only smiled mysteriously and told you that she had some help.

When your father saw that his warnings fell on deaf ears and after seeing how much she improved, he finally caved in and took her as his apprentice.

To say that you were unhappy with the decision would be an understatement. You watched her train and become more graceful and quick on her feet, dread pooling in your stomach with every progress and injuryYou and your father hugged her and sent her on her way, and it felt like goodbye. You prayed to any gods that were willing to listen to protect her and bring her back to you.

You stayed by her side, occasionally offering her tips from what you’ve observed from the other students. You bandaged every single wound, lightly chastising her and telling her to be more careful next time. Her only response was to smile and thank you. The more you did this, the more you couldn’t help but wonder about her willingness to put herself on the line to help fight demons, and whether if there’s anything more that you could do.

As you had expected, she passed your father’s final trial. That night, you sleep in the same bed as Makomo, putting your arms around her and pulling her so close that it was difficult to tell where you end and where she began. You didn’t want to let go.

You and your father hugged her and sent her on her way, and it felt like goodbye. You prayed to any gods that were willing to listen to protect her and bring her back to you.

The gods too, did not answer them.

The pain coursed through your body like a beast made of liquid fire, clawing at your insides and erupting from your throat as you cried in your father’s arms. You cried until you became numb, until every muscle in your body feels like it had been crushed by the weight of your grief. Her grave was marked alongside the others. Wherever she was, she held a piece of your soul with her.

It was you, your father, and the silence, once more.

One afternoon, you return from working in the garden to see your father reading a letter, Giyū’s crow perch on his shoulder. Your spirit lifts momentarily, relieved that he is still doing well.

It’s hard to read your father due to the mask he wears, but from the way he grips the paper tightly and crinkling it, it can’t be good news.

“Otou-san, what is it?”

He lifts his head to look at you, then fold the letter and tucking it into his kimono before going back inside. “I need to go for a bit, (Y/N). Stay here, and prepare for some visitors.”

You only manage to blink a few times before he’s out the door again. Even at his age, he is still as fast as a Demon Slayer at their prime. As you prepare the ingredients for dinner, you wonder who the visitor could be.

You get your answer later that day, when your father comes back with a young boy in tow. Your father looked like he didn’t even break a sweat, but the boy trailing behind him seemed as if though he’s fighting for every breath. With a basket strap to his back, you can understand why that’s the case.

“Otou-san, who is this?” “This is Kamado Tanjirō. He’ll be staying with us for the night,” he says simply. “This is my daughter, (Y/N).”

You bow in greeting as he walks through the door. You watch in curiosity as he unwraps the basket, unveiling a sleeping girl tucked inside.

You would have reacted in horror if not for the fact that your father is being so calm about it, but it doesn’t stop you from wondering what’s going on.

“This is my sister, Nezuko. She’s…um…” Tanjirō looks to your father, asking for help.

“We’ll take care of her,” your father says. You quickly catch on and run inside to fetch a pillow and blanket, temporarily laying her on the ground until you can arrange a futon for her. “But for now, you and I will be climbing the mountain.”

With those words, it dawns on you. Here’s another person hoping to become your father’s student and become a Demon Slayer. All of his prospects go through the same process, and climbing the mountain is only the beginning of the trials they will face.

When your father returns, he fills you in on the situation. Your heart drops in sympathy when you hear that their family was killed by demons, and flinch when it’s revealed that the girl sleeping so peacefully near the crackling hearth is a demon.

“Otou-san, how can this be? She seems nothing like the demons you would tell me about.” “You feel it too,don’t you (Y/N)? She’s different from any demon I’ve encountered before. It’s like she’s still human somewhere in that body of hers.”

You look back down at Nezuko. It’s difficult to reconcile the image of blood-thirsty demons that has been instilled into you since childhood. Those that pillaged villages and killed without mercy. Those that…

You clench your hands into fists. It’s definitely difficult, and if both your father and Giyū are willing to put their trust into her, then you can try as well.

The first threads of dawn are beginning to slip through the horizon, and Tanjirō has yet to return from the mountain. You fidget in your seat, your eyes flickering every few minutes to the door, ears train to see if you can pick up the sound of any footsteps. You’re torn between wanting to see him succeed and fail. If he does, then you’re afraid that he’ll become another lamb on its way to slaughter. But if he doesn’t, then which other path can he walk on to restore his sister’s humanity?

In the midst of battling with yourself, your ears perk up at the sound of heavy footsteps. You whip your head to the door the same time your father does, and a second later it slams open to reveal a dirtied and injured Tanjirō, blood flowing from his head and shoulder.

“I’m…back…” He pants and is only able to utter before he collapses by the door frame. You rush to his side, preparing to carry him inside and treat his wounds. You look to your father, who stands stoic and in silent contemplation. You know that he has made his decision.

Every early morning, even before the sun rises, your father and Tanjirō would make their way up the mountain to begin their training. You would look after the still slumbering Nezuko, and then bring lunch to wherever they are. After having lunch with them, you would stay for a while to watch them train. In the evenings, you would take care of any injuries Tanjirō incurred throughout the day.

Your talks with him are often short, something to fill in the silence while you bandage him up. You’re grateful that he isn’t the type to pry, and instead is content with letting the conversation flow wherever it may. Your heart is still healing, and you’ve yet to recover the strength to open those scars again.

But the more time you spend around him, the more you realize that it’s terrifyingly easy to put your guard down around him. It’s like he has a soothing and warming aura radiating from him, causing you to unable to resist melting in his presence. It feels both familiar and so wildly foreign to you, that at times you’re unsure how to act around him.

Your father is harsher on Tanjirō than with any of his other students, and you can understand why. His improvement is gradual, and it’s clear that he doesn’t have the raw talent that Sabito and Makomo had. But what he lacked in talent, he made it up with determination.

Even on what is supposed to be his rest days, he would be out swinging his sword and working on his breathing. During those times, you would make sure that he’s eating and not neglecting yourself.

“You’re thinking too hard about it,” you say as you watch him try to master Total Concentration Breathing. “You have to be more subtle about it. Here, close your eyes.” You stand up and approach him. “Try to imagine the air as water. Let it enter you.” You close your eyes and breathe along with him. “Imagine it moving through every part of you.” You trail your fingers down his arms. “Feel it in every cell and vein, feel it touch you and flow around you. See the difference?”

“I-I think so.” You open your eyes to smile, and that’s when you realized that his hands are now clasped tightly in yours, and the distance between you two is too close for comfort.

You drop his hands like they’re hot coals, a blush quickly rising to your cheeks. “Sorry!”

“N-no, it’s okay.” As opposed to your worryingly flaming face, his cheeks only had a tinge of pink. “But thank you, (Y/N)-san! I understand now.”

“It’s-it’s nothing. Just something I picked up while watching others train.” “Just from watching? That’s amazing! I’m surprised you’re not training already. You would leave me in the dust.”

“…You think so?” “I know so. Just last week you helped me with my stance and how to properly swing my sword. And you seem to already know how to do Total Concentration Breathing.” He pauses and begins his next sentence tentatively. “Sorry if this is rude of me, but I’m just wondering why you haven’t become Urokodaki-san’s student yet.”

You tilt your head, giving thought to his question. “Honestly, I’m not sure. I guess it’s partly because I know how it feels to be the person on the other side. I don’t think I could bear putting my father through having to worry about me like that. But at the same time, it’s not like I haven’t thought about it before. I don’t know though…”

Can you do it? Can you actually take up a sword and leave everything behind? Knowing that you're risking everything and never come back?

But…maybe then you can go and explore beyond the mountain. Maybe you can help other families sleep better at night. Children won’t have to look behind their back in fear of things creeping in the dark. No one would have to go through what you went through.

“Well, whatever you decide.” Tanjirō pats your shoulder reassuringly. “I believe it’ll be the right decision.”

“No.”

You’ve expected this response from your father, but it didn’t cause you to flinch any less. “But otou-san–”

“No means no, (Y/N). I will not allow you to become a Demon Slayer.” “But I’ve been watching you teach for years! I know how to do Total Concentration Breathing, and I basically know all the stances by heart. If only you would let me try, then I know I can master them!” “And you know perfectly well how dangerous is it.”

“Of course I know!” You can’t help but raise your voice a little. “And how many more have to lose their lives? I’m sick and tired of sitting around and doing nothing, waiting for the next bad news. I want to do something to help!” “And you’re already doing that by staying here and being safe.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be coddled and safe anymore!” Your chest heaves and you turn around, unable to bear looking at his masked face any longer. “I just wish you would believe in your daughter a little more.” With that, you walk out the door, ignoring the words of your father.

Your legs take you to the huge frothing waterfall a distance away from your house, a favorite place of yours when you want some peace and quiet. It’s just you and the sound of rushing water to drown out your thoughts. Or so you thought.

“(Y/N)-san.” Your soul nearly left your body. You wildly turn around to see that Tanjirō had followed you.

“Tanjirō-san! You scared me to death! How did you even find me?” He taps his nose and that’s all you needed to know. “…Right. Well, you’re welcome to sit next to me, since you’re here already.”

He takes your invitation. “I just want to know how you’re doing.” You hug your knees to your chest and sigh. “Thanks. Sorry you had to hear that, by the way. I understand where my father’s coming from, I really do. But at the same time, I can’t help but think he thinks I’m not enough in his eyes, like I’m still a baby that needs to be cocooned. But I’ve been by the sidelines for so long, always watching and worrying and feeling useless. If I have the ability to, I should stand up and do something. Shouldn’t I?”

“Hey.” Tanjirō places a warm hand on your shoulder. “You’re not useless. You take care of the whole household. You cook for us and remind us to take a break. You give me advice, encouragement, and always take care of me when I get injured. I think you’re already incredible as you are. But if you believe you can do something more, then I say go for it! I’ll support you!”

“Really?” You ask, eyes wide in wonder at his words. He nods, and you know it to be true. You feel your fingertips become tingly, and all the water in this world could not wash away the bubble of warmth in your body. “Thank you.”

You scoot a little closer to him, content to be in his presence. Nothing needed to be said that isn’t already felt in the blank spaces of your words.

When you return, your father is waiting for you, his arms crossed. You gulp, knowing that you’re in big trouble, but you stand your ground anyways.

“Tanjirō, go inside. I need to speak to my daughter privately.” “Yes, Urokodaki-san.” He gives you an encouraging look and heads inside, leaving you and your father alone. The tension is so thick you can cut through it with a sword, and your foot fidgets in anticipation of who will be speaking first.

“I made a promise to your mother,” your father begins, and that makes everything you’re going to say go back down your throat. “That I would keep you safe, and make sure no harm comes to you.”

You hang your head, that familiar wisp of sadness creeping up on you. Over the years, you’ve heard many stories about your mother, wanting to know everything about her to fill in the gaps of your memories, selfishly clinging to the last vestiges of her presence that you can remember.

“But I’ve also made another promise to her, that I’ll always make you happy,” he continues. “And if this is truly the path you want to take, then I’ll fulfill your wish.” You whip your head up at his words, surprise overtaking your face. “But just because you’re my daughter doesn’t mean I'll go easy on you, do you understand? If at any point I deem you not suitable, I’ll pull you from training.”

“Yes, otou-san!” “Good, then be up by 4 am tomorrow.”

If he’s already hard on Tanjirō, then he’s hard on you 10 times over. If Tanjirō has to swing his sword 1000 times, you have to do it 2000 times. If he only has to descend the mountain 2 times, you have to do it 5 times. If he has to stay under the waterfall for 5 minutes, you have to do it for 15. But you take it all in stride, finally being able to find an outlet for your pent up energy over the years.

You and Tanjirō becomes closer due to this, bonding over your shared misfortune of being tortured mentored by the former Water Hashira. One some days you would spar with him, eager to see how much you’ve improved.

Today, you’ve managed to disarm him and goes through the motion to pin him to the ground, but a miscalculation quickly cause you to lose your balance. Before you know it, you let out a yelp and is dragged to the ground with him. You brace for impact, but your fall is broken by a soft weight below you. That weight being of course no one else but your sparring partner.

You open your eyes and is mortified to see Tanjirō staring back at you, your noses almost touching one another. From this proximity, you’re able to see the closer the soft gradient of his dark maroon eyes, like embers blazing in the hearth. Your body is pressed against his, his arms settled lightly at your waist no doubt to soften your fall. Your eyes unconsciously travel down to his lips for a brief moment, but enough for you to begin scolding yourself incessantly for the intrusive thought that runs through your mind.

“Kamado Tanjirō!” Your father’s voice booms through the field. “What do you think you’re doing?”

You and him immediately scramble away from one another, faces so red that even a ripe tomato would be jealous. Your father stares down at the both of you, the silence even more unbearable with the menacing aura radiating from him.

“1000 sword swings from you, Tanjirō. And you, (Y/N), I’m going to properly teach you how to stay on your feet.”

You both shiver, the calm way he said it making it sound even more cold to your ears. “Y-yes sir.”

6 months go by, and Nezuko have yet to wake up. Even when the doctor assures that there’s nothing wrong with her, you still can’t help but worry about her. 6 months go by, and your father declare that he has nothing more to teach you.

You and Tanjirō look at each other with surprise. While you know what’s coming next, you’re astonished when instead of leading you up to the mountain towards a boulder like Tanjirō, your father leads you to the waterfall where you’ve spent countless days training.

You look to your father for answers, but he is quiet against the mighty rush of the water.

“This will be your final task. With your sword, part this waterfall in half. Do this, and I will allow you to attend the Final Selection.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of your sockets at what he said. Water in its essence is fluid and flexible, capable of taking any shape or form. It flows wherever it wants, unyielding to the obstacles in its way. How could you hope to conquer it with your blade?

“Otou-san! But–” “Prove yourself to me, my daughter.” With that, he turns around and leave without another word, no matter how many times you shout and urge him.

True to his words, he did not teach you or give you any more explanation. The first time you attempt to do what he wanted, all you got back was a mouthful of foamy water. You’re hit with the realization of how much you still have to learn. For the first 6 months, you devote yourself to honing your knowledge and fortifying your previous training. You work until you feel your arms fall off every night, until all the breathing forms are engraved into your very bones. And still, you make no progress.

There are days when you feel worthless, and the last thing you want to do is hold a sword. During those times, you resign yourself to sit by the river, skipping stones and filling your mind with questions and memories. You wonder how Tanjirō’s doing. Has he made any progress with the boulder yet? You can’t help but miss him. You’ve only realized how much time you spend with him once you’re apart. You miss having him there to encourage you when the training becomes too much, miss laughing whenever both of you would end up on the ground, tired beyond belief. Miss eating meals with him and sharing happier stories about your childhood. Miss tucking him into bed and sitting by him in this very spot even on nights when you’re both yawning.

Your father has forbidden you to go see him to allow both of you to focus on your task, but what’s the harm in one little peek? You know the way by heart, and soon you arrive at that familiar clearing. As you’ve expected, he’s already hard at work, but the person he’s fighting makes your blood turn cold.

You would recognize that peach shade anywhere. You see it every day in the sunset. You open your mouth, but no words leave them. You’re frozen, unable to do anything but watch as Tanjirō and your (dead) brother encircle each other. Blood rushes to your head and you feel like you might faint. Your vision becomes blurry, the dance of their swords become streaks of light. You brace against a tree, and out of the corner of your eyes you see another sight that makes your world tumble and your heart to lurch into your throat.

“...Ma...komo?”

Her smile is as gentle as you remember it. Everything about her is just as you remember it, like a pristine memory come to life. She nods at you and gestures for you to follow her deeper into the woods. Against all reason (of which you have none at this moment), you follow her drowsily. This has to be a dream. You’ve hit your head while making your ascent and now you’re dreaming. This has to be the only reason.

But then she leads to a spot so familiar to the both of you, and for the first time since you’ve seen her you have to wonder if you’re not actually hallucinating. She turns, and her voice is just as you remember it. “Hi, (Y/N)-chan.”

Gods, you feel like throwing up.

“Makomo...how...? How?” You’re only able to mutter. She sits you down and explain everything, about how she’s tied to this mountain, and how countless students before her have also found their way back here.

“So the person who helped train you...” “Was Sabito, yes.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I wanted to, I really did. But Sabito wanted me to focus on my training. And...he didn’t want to stop you and Urokodaki-san from moving on.”

You twist your hands into the grass, sorrow coiling tightly around your stomach. “So...I’m guessing that Sabito-nii is helping Tanjirō grow stronger.” “He is. Tanjirō has a lot of potential, he just has to learn how to unlock it. As do you. We’re all so happy when you began training, you know. You’ve become so strong.” “But not strong enough to finish my father’s trial.”

Makomo sits pensively. “Maybe you’re approaching it the wrong way. Remember what Urokodaki-san told us when we were learning the forms?” “Become one with the water. Do not resist its flow. Embrace it, and it will answer your call.” “I think that’s something to think about.”

You let her words sink into you. “Okay, I’ll give it some thought.” Makomo stands up. “It’s time for me to go back. But (Y/N)-chan, I must ask you a favor. Can you keep the truth from Tanjirō? We don’t want him to be distracted from his progress.”

“But can I see you again?” She shakes her head. “No, (Y/N)-chan. You must also focus on your own self. But know this. We are all watching you, and we will always be by your side.” “...Then this is goodbye.” “Only for now, we will meet again.”

“Tell Sabito-nii I still think of him. That every time I make mushroom nabe I would still remember him, and that there will be a day when I watch the sunset and feel happy.” “I will.” “Goodbye, dear sister.”

A few more months pass, and despite Makomo’s advice, you have still yet to put her words to good use, no matter how much you’ve tried. But you can’t give up now, not when you know you have everyone’s trust in you. 

It is near the hour of twilight, and you’re sitting on a rock underneath the waterfall, letting the waves pour down on you. Your eyes are closed, and all the sounds of the world are lost on you. You tune out the sensations of your body, your heart, your mind, every muscle and vein, until they’re nothing but water. You slowly rise to your feet and lift your sword, but instead of resisting, you succumb to the weight. You let it guide you, trusting it to show you the way. It answers your call. You swing.

You open your eyes, and your jaw drops. The current of the waterfall is perfectly split into two, the resulting drops of water flying from your blade like bejeweled dew against a backdrop of pink that extends its darkening arms toward the golden sunset. Entranced by the sight, you only notice your father and Tanjirō when they’re by your side. Tanjirō’s eyes are as wide with wonder as yours, while your father is hard to read as ever. 

“I had no intention of sending you or Tanjirō to the Final Selection,” he finally says. “I could not bear to lose any more of my students, nor can I bear to lose my only daughter. But you’ve surpassed all of my expectations. Perhaps it’s time for me to realize you’re not that same little girl who would cling to me anymore.”  He takes you into his arms, and no matter what he says, you’ll always feel like a little girl when you hug him. “You’ve become so strong, my daughter.”

That night, you’re barely able to sleep, and even though you should be sick of the waterfall at this point, you can’t help but sneak out to it one more time. It’s not long until you hear a pair of familiar footsteps joining you.

“Hey Tanjirō-kun. Can’t sleep?” “Yeah, I can’t help but feel anxious about tomorrow.” “Me too. Congratulations on completing father’s final challenge, by the way.” “That’s nothing compared to you. You were incredible! How did you do that?” You blush at the compliment. “I had some help.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, the action as normal as breathing. “What do you think will happen tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. But whatever happens, we’ll face it together.” You nod. “Together."

What makes Tanjirō so different to you? Why do you feel so drawn to him? Why does your heart sing when he is near? When did your eyes come to search for him, and why do you crave for these moments like they’re the air that you need to breathe? In the back of your mind, you think you have the answer, but you’ll have all the time in the world to decipher it.

You lift your head and stand up, extending your hand to him. “Come on, let’s go back.”

He slides his hand into yours, and it feels right.

The next morning, you and him are all packed and prepared. You never thought you would be the one on the other side, a sword by your hip and your father’s fox mask by the side of your face, saying a bittersweet goodbye to him.

Just before you two leave, Tanjirō turn back one more time, mentioning Sabito and Makomo in his farewell. You wince, and you can only imagine what your father’s reaction was.

“How come you’ve never mentioned them?” “...You’ve never asked.”

Thankfully, he didn’t pry anymore into the subject, and your journey to Mount Fujikasane is smooth. You’re amazed at the sight of the wisteria blossoms before you, so abundant that it falls like rain. You arrive at the main area, and after hearing the rules, the actual challenge begins.

You and Tanjirō agree that it would be best to head east in order to receive sunlight the quickest. Along the way, you encounter two demons, both of whom you two quickly dealt with. You watch as he prays over the disintegrating corpses, and at times like these you have to wonder how he manages to remain so kind when he has been broken by this world.

You proceed, when suddenly Tanjirō stops you in your path, holding his nose as if he smelled something foul. A scream from the darkness sends chills down your spine. The next thing you see fills you with horror. A demon far too big and monstrous to be considered befitting the level of an amateur slayer trudges through the forest, each of its heavy footsteps thrumming in your ears. Each of its limbs are veiny and as huge as your entire body, twisting and coiling around it like mangled flesh. You can barely make out where its main body is, let alone its neck.

It holds a dead man in one of its horrific hands, devouring him in one motion. Bile rises to your throat at the sight, and you feel your legs tremble and rooted deep to the ground. The demon seizes another man with its extended arm, your breath quickening when it opens its gaping mouth. Fortunately, Tanjirō recovered before you, and rush out to slice its arms with the second form of Water Breathing. You snap out of your fear only a second later, even out your breathing and sprint out to push the man behind you, your swords drawn alongside Tanjirō.

The demon becomes incensed when it spots your fox mask and rages as it curses your father’s name over and over. You listen in horror when it reveals how many humans it has eaten, but that is nothing compared to the fire burning in your blood when he says how many of your father’s students it has devoured.

Thirteen. Thirteen of your brothers and sisters. Thirteen souls that will never come home. Thirteen names that you can recite in your sleep.

The fire blazes into a vengeful inferno when you hear it describes the deaths of Sabito and Makomo with glee, as if they’re as trivial as bugs. As if there are not still those who mourn for them.

You advance with rage and with only one working thought in your mind. Kill.

The demon is even more amused at your reaction, and to your dismay no matter how many arms you and Tanjirō cut down, more would just grow back. One of them lands a hit on Tanjirō, sending him flying and hitting a tree.

“Tanjirō-kun!” You shout, your heart dropping at the blood on his forehead and his unconscious state. You’re left to fend the demon by yourself.

“Control your breathing, (Y/N)-chan. Do not worry about us, focus on saving Tanjirō.” You hear Makomo’s voice inside your head, and only then did you realize how you’ve essentially forgone every lesson your father has drilled into you. You quickly chastise yourself and regulate your breathing, standing your ground and working to divert the demon away from the unconscious boy.

“Tanjirō-kun! Wake up! Please, I need you!” You exclaim as you sliced another limb, your muscles starting to ache from how many times you’ve done so. You couldn’t severe every one of them all alone, and to your terror one of them escaped your attention and is targeting right at him. “Tanjirō!”

As if answering your prayers, he finally opens his eyes and move out the way. But you’re barely able to let out a sigh of relief before more come at you. You dodge and run to his side, your sword brandished and held tight, face-to-face with the enemy. You spare a quick glance to Tanjirō, both of you nodding.

“Together?” “Together.”

You advance, cutting down any obstacle standing in your way. At a warning shout from Tanjirō, you both leap in the air to avoid the arms underground. A limb lashes out to grab Tanjirō, but he’s able to utilizes that hard head of his. You both land on the arm, ready to execute the final attack.

“Tanjirō-kun, I’ll take care of its arms! You aim for the neck!” You carry out the Fourth Form and destroys anything blocking his path, and in a fast flurry of the First Form, it is done.

He is no more.

When there is finally time to rest and you’re done taking care of his forehead injury, you’re left to grasp with the ugly truth displayed right before your very eyes. So many lives lost, all of it fueled by hatred so deep that it makes your heart sinks. What would your father think when he realizes that a small decision of his may have led to his students’ demise?

“I’m sorry for not telling you the truth,” you whisper as you rest under the shade of a tree. Tanjirō turns away from you, and the action makes your stomach twist. He is silent for a moment before speaking. “It’s not your fault. To be honest, I had my suspicions, but I didn’t want to face them and realize that they’re true.” Another pause. “Do you think they’re at peace now?”

You grip your kimono where your heart rests. “Yeah. Yeah, I think they are.” You don’t lie about this, you feel your soul getting lighter.

“Will you tell me about them?” “Later,” you shuffle next to him, curling into his warmth as your eyes become heavy. “I promise.”

You spend your mornings like this, sleeping after a long, arduous night. Moving ever closer until you two fit like puzzle pieces, hands gripped tight in search of the other’s warmth, a confirmation that you both are still alive.

Against all odds, you both survived the 7 days.

Drained of all energy and adrenaline, the trek back home is just as taxing for your weary bodies. You support each other by lifting the other by the shoulder, praying with every step that you’ll soon see that thatched roof that you call home.

Your journey comes to an end when you see the light from that lone house near the mountain. Your shoulders sag in relief, and you would have buckled if not for Tanjirō’s arm around you. Suddenly, the door is kicked down, and out comes the girl that you’ve only ever seen in deep slumber. She looks even more beautiful under the moonlight, and you gasp at the recognition in her still human eyes.

“Nezuko!” Tanjirō rushes down to meet his sister, and at the halfway point she cradles his head into her chest, so gentle that it makes tears well up in your eyes.

You spot your father, his arms full of firewood, and a tired smile makes its way up your face. “Otou-san...”

Uncaring about the wood he just dropped by his feet, he pulls all of you (his children) close, and there is no stopping the torrent of tears from flowing down all of your cheeks.

“You’ve survived. You’ve come back to us.”

The days that followed allow you to recuperate and come to terms with what you have learned at the Final Selection. You all devote an entire day to clean and make offerings to the graves of those that are gone and spend the entire night reminiscing your memories about them.

It also allows you to bond with Nezuko, and once again you’re convicted to help Tanjirō find a way to turn her back into a human.

But those halcyon days are short-lived, and after receiving your Nichirin sword, uniform, and first joint mission, it’s finally time to leave.

("That’s a gorgeous shade of blue, huh Urokodaki?” “Of course, she’s my daughter, after all.”)

You stand on the other side, hugging your father and promising that no matter what, you will come back to him. This is a promise that you intend to keep. He fixes your uniforms, his fingers lingering as if he’s still not ready to let go.

“Take care of her, Tanjirō,” he says, and unexpectedly pulls him closer so that he could whisper something. You don’t know what he said, but whatever it was, Tanjirō becomes deathly pale and shivers uncontrollably. You look at them curiously, but none of them would meet your gaze.

Finally, you take your first few steps down that dirt path, sparing one final look at your world and everything you’ve ever known. But you’re not afraid, for you have Tanjirō by your side.

“We’re in this together.”

“There’s no one else I would rather do this with.”

©️ wisteriadaydreams

➺ All of the following works belong to me. Please don’t repost, copy, or steal my content off of Tumblr. Plagiarism will not be tolerated.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the Asshole for reporting my coworker a second time? (TW// Sexual Harassment, Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of Self Harm)

(🍫💵 so I can find it later.)

I work a job where I (22 F/NB) am a cashier at a local supermarket. I have a few coworkers close to my age, but most are either in their late thirties/early fourties' or are kids who go to the local high schools in the area.

Around the beginning of this year, we'll call him Abe (17~ M) attempted to ask out my coworker who we'll call May (16~ F). They'd hang out semi-regularly along with the other kids still in high school, and while they never caused trouble, they did tend to goof off and joke around a lot.

May refused him, saying she wasn't interested. For WHATEVER reason, he did not accept this rejection and continued to ask. This was an issue, as not only is it sexual harassment, but Abe is a cart-pusher and May is a cashier. He was already a pretty lazy employee (management was always upset at him because he'd get caught playing on his phone instead of working), but now he'd purposefully go through her lane at the supermarket just to ask her out repeatedly and beg to be with her. Every time he found her alone, he'd go right up to her and keep pestering her about it. She felt so uncomfortable and unsafe about it that she told our team lead, who agreed to stay by her side. This was spread to our management, who make sure she isn't alone so that he can't corner her about going out with her.

I have witnessed him doing it many times, enough that I reported it to HR when May refused to do it herself. They told me to get her into contact with them and report it to them, and finally I convinced her to do it.

There was a sort of peace period after that, where they weren't scheduled at the same time. But recently he's taken it a step further and has decided to come in on ANY day she is scheduled (even if he isn't) to keep trying to ask her out. Most of the cashiers are aware of the situation and got upset with him. One of the few who is around my age (and recently pregnant) even cussed his ears off for harassing her so much because it didn't look like management was doing anything. Abe declared that the pregnant coworker broke his heart, and now his behavior had gotten WORSE.

Abe would look at those who he'd "hang out" with at work and either try to guilt them into helping him win over May's heart, complain about her not living him, and talk about how "white people suck"/"white people are so shitty" despite BEING white (to my knowledge, please don't go after me in the notes about this) himself. He'd also stalk her work bestie around and trash-talked the pregnant co-worker, all while NOT DOING HIS JOB, by the way.

One of the habits he has picked up however is miming actions to his fellow minors. The one I heard him use mostly was of him pretending to shoot himself in the head.

But one day I was working as the customer service rep for the night (no one else could do it), and I gave him a polite nod when he walked past. He smiled at me and then mimed cutting himself.

This was not something I had heard of him doing before, but when I talked to my coworkers they said "yeah he was doing this too".

In the moment I had given him a very firm No, because it was not work appropriate. Abe insisted, and pretended to cut his wrists again.

I'm on anon so none of you know me, but I used to severely struggle with suicide and self harm from a young age. However I have gotten better since becoming an adult and have made MASSIVELY impressive strides to a happier life. From this, I understand joking about suicide, because if you joke about it with someone you are not only in a safe place to bring it up BUT are coming around to the idea of telling people that you need help.

Joking about self harm, however? I've never heard of it. It's an entirely different ball park. You don't joke about those things.

In the moment, I was in disbelief, and I felt sick. I even started mentally shutting down, to the point where I couldn't even do my usual tasks properly without being specifically told to start them. Everyone noticed. I even cried once I was in my car while my sister was picking me up and safe, because I was trying so fucking hard not to think about that time in my life when I had moved myself so far past it.

Right at the beginning of shutting down, I did tell a manager. I told the manager who worked the next day as well, just so that I'd be SURE something happened about it. Abe visited that day on his day off because May was working again, and I panicked so much at seeing him that I hid behind customer service until one of my work friends told me he had left- instead of staying at May's side like I usually would. (I put my mental health first- it was a tough lesson that I managed to learn last year to the point that I do it in my day-to-day. She wasn't left alone with him though, don't worry.)

It genuinely sickened me that he has been miming cutting himself to other minors, when I know that if I had been May's age and had seen that amidst recovery, I would have spiraled and started all over again. Abe's lucky none of them are like that (at least openly) and that I was uniquely affected whereas the others were just "creeped out".

I ended up reporting his actions towards me about a week after I convinced May to personally report his harassment, and then I found out that the first manager I talked to (who has a soft spot for him, he does use this to his advantage to get out of trouble at work) asked him what was wrong and his response was "I'm having a bad day".

Considering that he does this every day he comes into work, whether he's actually working or not, on top of everything else (and how it effected me)- I am very hurt and genuinely hate him after all of this when I hadn't hated him before (despite the fact that I have only hated 2 people in my life before that point). However, I don't know if he was joking about how bad he feels about the fact that she does not want him at all or if he's genuinely hurting himself, and I feel sick at the thought of my actions if it's the second scenario.

Even if he's sexually harassing my coworker, no one should ever feel like they deserve to be hurt or that they don't deserve life. That's what I believe. And I'm worried that, should Abe find out I reported him twice over this, that he'll yell at me and say that I'm an asshole for doing that (and I know it would happen, because that was his response with my pregnant coworker). I know I'm doing the right thing by reporting the continuous harassment, but my heart is genuinely conflicted now. He needs to stop, but what if my actions are causing this response? I could never live with myself knowing that I was the reason someone hurt themselves. My anxiety won't let it rest.

And so, Tumblr, I must know...

Am I the Asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[snarky-wallflower]

okay. i'm finally gonna try my hand at this analysis thing. @kmesons, i hope you don't mind that i've been spinning this in my head since yesterday.

for a bit of context, it's a bit of a running joke that i'm in my "curtwen arc" with a bunch of people - just a silly joke, right? and i always, always play curt.

oh boy, i don't think anything stays a joke in the spies fandom for long.

so. let's talk about how curt has been mourning a ghost for four years. let's talk about how he replayed the memories of their time together over and over again in his mind, of laughter and quick shots and the love there. let's talk about how curt has tried to commit every part of the owen he knew to memory - after all, "owen would want me to do this, so i know that i'll get through this". let's talk about how curt has spent four years lost in drink and regret and the memories of the man he thinks he killed. those memories are all he has left of owen - what else can he cling to?

let's talk about how curt saw owen for the first time, alive, and was taken aback by the sheer hate in owen's voice as he made reference after reference to the fall, casually insulting curt, calling him a fool and a coward. about how owen had given up on the beliefs that had first brought them together.

(the owen he knew never would have done that. the owen he knew was one of the few people he knew that treated him as an adult, as someone who was more than just a cocky spy. )

let's talk about curt chasing after owen, chasing after a ghost - but this time, he's physical, alive and real. curt could reach out and touch him this time, if he wasn't so sure that owen would take it as a strike, a blow to hurt. curt isn't even sure if it isn't that yet. owen still won't stop taunting curt, dragging him ever-so-closer to the edge, as a spiralling pit opens up in curt's stomach. owen is so cruel, so unlike the man he lost four years ago. the memories they shared are dissolving, falling just like owen did, as every insult, every blow reopens old wounds.

old wounds that owen had once helped him stitch together.

(the owen he knew would have rolled his eyes, would have made snippy comments as they traded blows, but he had loved curt. curt knows this like he knows the back of his hand. it's been four years. has he been wrong all this time?)

(god, what does it mean if he has been?)

curt has spent so long sustaining himself on memories of the time they shared that he just can't look at owen and not see the man he used to be. curt doesn't even blame owen for hating him, really. curt hates himself most days, too. but this? what about the beliefs they shared? what about making a difference? on the staircase, he can barely look owen in the eyes anymore, so utterly terrified of seeing what the man he loved has become. a poltergeist, a revenant, something dead walking the earth with hate in his heart. how he rants and raves, trying to get curt to see, which curt utterly refuses to. curt tries so frantically to reach out, to make owen someone he can save, but owen will never, ever be that person for curt again. there are so many versions of this scene, aren't there? but in this one, in so many, in every world where curt and owen simply cannot communicate--

(the owen he knew doesn't exist anymore.)

let's talk about how curt raised his gun. at the man he loved, at the man he spent so long mourning.

let's talk about how curt stared up at owen, raising his gun to his temple, and recognized both so much and so little in those eyes, in him. let's talk about how he recognized the spark in owen's eyes, but not the sheer betrayal behind it. how he knew the exact colour of those eyes, but not the tremble in owen's voice as he demanded to know what curt was doing.

the man he loved wasn't there anymore.

let's talk about how curt pulled the trigger.

let's talk about how curt has to live with that for the rest of his life, but he still pulled the trigger. how owen carvour after the fall was someone curt couldn't save, who didn't want to be saved.

...but especially not by curt.

after mourning a ghost for four years, agent curt mega ended it for good.

agent curt mega killed a ghost. but he killed a ghost with owen's face and owen's wit, owen's anger - you can't break the will of a man, but you can do so much worse, if you try. and oh, how curt's tried to destroy himself over the years. how he's just now destroyed the shell of a man that he built his love around, and then his grief, and then both again as owen carvour falls to the floor.

it will haunt curt. for however much longer he lives.

spies aren't forever. curt knows this better than anyone.

[donna-rinascimentale]

hiya! hope you doing well.

would you elaborate on the interpretation you were talking about in your Labyrinth post tags? what you said was really interesting and I never thought about it that way! 👀

also, hope you had fun watching! ✨✨✨

certainly.

i’d always been subscribed to the interpretation that the labyrinth is a metaphor for navigating coming of age, that the end of sarah’s hero’s journey is a means of balancing adult maturity with never losing a child’s sense of wonder and imagination. the fandom has thought up tons of explanations for where jareth falls in this scenario. is he a tangible antagonist, actively trying to get sarah to slip back into her old childish ways? a metaphor for adulthood, all that sarah is and isn’t ready for?

i think he’s all sarah’s creation. so does jim henson.

“He represents a lot of things that are a part of Sarah's world, what she's trying to figure out and what she's going through. … [Jareth] has no reality except what Sarah gives him, which she can constantly change.”

sarah seems to be very genre-savvy. she reads lines from a play titled the labyrinth, and she recognizes the puzzle of the two guards and implies she’s practiced it before in case she’d happen to encounter it. here, the labyrinth is a product of sarah’s fantasy, by which she navigates her adolescence and her parents’ divorce and her perceived lack of autonomy in a manner typical of a seasoned fantasy reader.

sarah is well aware that every fantasy hero needs a villain. the likeness she gives hers is that of her mother’s costar—as the former mrs. williams is a stage actress, shown in the photo on sarah’s vanity of her posing with a fellow actor who looks just like this jareth. sarah made jareth, made him as beautiful and dangerous as she believed he should be.

sarah made jareth.

to jareth, god is a sixteen-year-old girl.

imagine god, calling you by name, crowning you a king and giving you beauty and power. you were quite literally born for this. all you know is this role, building yourself and your kingdom just the way god wishes it.

then, god turns herself away from you.

you may feel betrayed. hollow, like you’ve been stripped of everything that makes you you. “you made me this way,” you might say.

Everything! Everything that you wanted, I have done. You ask the child to be taken, I took him. You cowered before me, I was frightening. I have reordered time, I have turned the world upside down, and I have done it all for you.

“i was playing the role you put me in. what was i made for, if not you?

i can’t live within you.”

Just fear me, love me, do as I say

“let me play the role of villain, the role you made me to fill.”

and I would be your slave.

“your will be done.”

god is a sixteen-year-old girl who hasn’t yet figured out the way she wants to be worshipped. it’s a heavy burden, trying to satisfy someone who doesn’t know what she wants.

but there is hope for jareth.

fandom rarely debates on how to interpret the barn owl at the beginning of the film. we’re pretty much in consensus that it’s a manifestation of jareth, but that’s never given much thought.

when sarah asserts her power and escapes the labyrinth, jareth has once again taken the form of the owl. in the final scene, when sarah celebrates with her friends from the labyrinth, reconciling her love of fantasy with her maturity and self-growth, jareth flies away, smaller and smaller until he’s gone. here we turn to the age-old metaphor of flight as freedom.

in moving away from escapism and becoming an active participant in her own life, sarah has freed jareth from the role of villain. none of the friends in her room are human. be reminded again that jareth bears the likeness of a man present (at least tangentially) in sarah’s real life, who would likely feel disheartened knowing he’s blamed for something beyond his control.

because sarah has no more need for a jareth, there is no more jareth. and that’s arguably best for both of them.

(p.s.: i go to the theater tomorrow! i have a sarah-esque outfit put together and everything. thanks for wishing me well & know tomorrow can’t come soon enough for me… this film has been among my favorites for many many many years and each watch makes me find more to love. best cult i’ve ever joined)

[luluplanc]

Review

Here’s my review of the Rising Sun documentary. Watching it made me feel really, deeply sad. This sentiment isn’t directed solely at The Rampage but extends to other groups I’ve seen featured in documentaries. There's often a recurring theme of placing adult expectations on young individuals, expecting them to handle responsibilities and demonstrate a maturity far beyond their years. I feel this pressure was particularly intense for the younger members, like those born in '97 and '98.

While I understand that being an idol is their chosen profession, I genuinely believe a different approach would have been better. Seeing them feel as though their spot could easily be taken by someone else was especially heartbreaking. Their anxiety must have been through the roof, and the stress they endured is almost unimaginable.

One member I felt especially bad for was Hokuto. I’ve always had a soft spot for those who come in without any background in music or dance, and for him, having no prior experience, to be suddenly thrown into such an intense training camp—it's hard to imagine the pressure. He even mentioned it was one of the most stressful times of his life. While it may look like a positive experience in hindsight, I can only imagine he must have been on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Furthermore, having them compete against each other didn’t feel right to me. They all shared the same goal of becoming idols, and it’s important to remember that, at that point, they were still kids. Imagine being a young teenager watching your best friend succeed while you don’t—that must be such a painful experience. They must have questioned their worth, thinking, "I’m not good enough," or "They’re better than me," or "I’m useless and never going to make it." That kind of pressure feels far too intense for such young people. I’m sure this doesn’t only apply to members of The Rampage, but from what I’ve seen, it was just too extreme for them. It’s clear that this experience has had a lasting impact—even now, if they aren’t giving 100%, they might feel as if they’ve failed or didn’t do well enough.

Reflecting on their feelings about the 2021 Tokyo Dome concert, I feel they’re being too hard on themselves. Despite the challenging circumstances, I believe they did an amazing job. Due to COVID, they couldn’t perform at full capacity, and their fans weren’t able to cheer, but I hope they understand that this was beyond their control and doesn’t reflect poorly on their performance. In hindsight, it might have been better to move the concert to 2022, but we can’t change the past; we can only look forward. Unfortunately, it seems this experience has stayed with them, making them feel like they missed a big opportunity. But at that time, there was nothing more they could have done. I truly hope they can appreciate that people showed up for them, and regardless of the numbers, if their fans were happy and satisfied, that’s what truly matters.

Lastly, I’m incredibly glad that from 2021 until now, all the members have worked hard to improve themselves, addressing what they once saw as flaws and celebrating the progress they’ve made. Although I couldn’t attend their 2024 Tokyo Dome concert, from what I’ve heard, they did an amazing job. Based on the documentary, it seems they felt delighted with their performance during the Tokyo Dome tour, and as a fan, I couldn’t be prouder. I’m so happy that they feel content with themselves and satisfied with this concert and all the hard work they’ve put in. I hope they continue as a group for many more years, as I feel they still have so much to offer to the world. I also hope they come to America soon—I’d love the chance to see them live. Cheers!

[viperwhispered]

I'm sorry this has been brewing in my head for a while and I need to share it with someone: Jamil and Kalim teaming up to topple to classist society of the scalding sands.

Post-OB Jamil and Kalim actually reconciling and having some character development. Kalim breaking down realizing that his coping mechanism of obliviousness did more harm than good. Jamil actually missing his friend. Both realizing that the problem isn't just their own flaws, but the adults around them. Jamil working on letting himself go while Kalim works to become more independant (he clearly has the skill + learning capacity, he's just been so babied he never learnt). Also, adorable scenario where Kalim and Malleus become besties over their shared quest for independence. Based on this, this, this, and this.

Kalim and Jamil's relationship becoming more genuine. Honestly, I believe that Kalim will end up sooooo sassy cause of Jamil's infleunce. Jamil using his sharp tongue and Kalim trying to do comebacks. Jamil just responds by giving a rating out of 10. Jamil finally getting the personal time he so desperately needed while Kalim slowly learns to genuinely trust others with his problems. Kalim finally letting himself get genuinely angry at his parents for how they managed to ruin both his and Jamil's lives by trapping them in a codependant cycle.

Kalim getting into his first fist fight with some classist prick and Jamil's response is asking if he won.

Kalim saying something very stupid and Jamil just giving a glare and it goes like this.

Third year rolls around and the two successfully schemed to give Jamil his rightful title of dorm leader without the nobles of the Scalding Sands rioting. I don't know how yet but I know it'll involve Kalim maxing out his "innocent puppy who just wants to do what's right" to indirectly shame his father for bribing Kalim's way into power. Nothing really changes much other than the fact that Scarabia is now running much more smoothly while still having the best parties. Based on this, this, and this.

They graduate and Kalim instantly gives Jamil the go ahead to be free. It all happens so fast that none has time to protest. Jamil spends a good two years traveling while Kalim does his best to learn the ropes as being head of the family. Based on this and this. Kalim successfully setting up a trade deal with Malleus and helping to open up Briar Valley to modernization. Jamil making a name for himself by taking part in multiple projects as he travels (archeological sites, restoration projects, reformation movements, etc).

The two reuniting when they're both called to work with Leona for his relief project in the slums of the savanna as part of his political reformation of the monarchy. Jamil helping to oragnize + plan the logistics while Kalim provides funding + trade opportunities. By the end of it, the slums have turned into a major tourist stop in the middle of a major trade route (sorry for the side quest, I have a thing for Leona keeping his promise to Ruggie).

Extra context: the position of grand vizier is traditionally given to relatives of the family head, like a brother or cousin. Ever since Jamil left, the position was taken by one of Kalim's distant relatives. This guy absolutely sucks at his job, is a classist ass, and clearly only had superficial training. Its clear he only got the title cause of his relation to Kalim and never expected to do much work. Kalim having to fix this guy's messes for years and being like "oh god is this what Jamil had to go through with me?".

Back to the story, Kalim spent years kneecaping the nobility with relative success and now has the ideal circumstances for an ideological revolution. But for this, he needs Jamil. So he invites Jamil, now famous worldwide for his sills & contributions, to come back for the fireworks festival. There, in front of all the major noble families (plus a few ex-classmates like Vil, Leona, Azul, and Malleus who're there for support), Kalim begins to berate his vizier and expose him for his incompetance and blunders, ultimately dismissing him. Then he turns to Jamil, gets on his knees, and begs that he take the position because he's the most competant person in the room. Jamil revels in the ego boost that is Kalim kneeling and agrees so long as he can negotiate his contract.

The two then go on a relentless campaign to topple the classist bullshit nobility and give equal rights to everybody.

Which brings me to the x reader romance scenarios (lets say thry discovered a way to travel to & from the reader's world):

Jamil marrying and taking his S/O's last name for an "official excuse" to give him his freedom. The Vipers may be endentured servants to the Asims but the L/Ns have no such obligation. During his travels, Jamil switching between staying in a shabby hotel and spending the night at his in-laws. His S/O being his rock and offering boundless support and patience. When Jamil finally gets the title of grand Vizier, he rejoices at the thought of finally spoiling his S/O like they deserve.

Kalim marrying an S/O who is both a sweetheart but also a maverick unafraid to do the dirty work. One who makes kneecaping the nobility a whole lot easier and puts an end to 90% of all assassination attempts. Kalim having absolute trust in his S/O and their methods. Kalim being relieved that any children they have will also go to school in his S/O's world where they'll be safe and able to live somewhat normal lives. Kalim being determined to reform society so their children can live without fear or hatred.

This took me a little while to get to since I wanted to give all of this a proper thought, but here we are.

Ngl, as a sucker for happy endings it is lovely thinking of how things could work out.

Honestly, just for Jamil and Kalim to open up more to each other would take quite a bit of work. I mean, years of habits to unlearn and years of baggage to navigate through. I really wish they would, though - and not just when one of them is overblotting. Plenty of learning for Kalim to figure out how to face the things he’s been shielded from, and for Jamil to express the things he’s been bottling up.

Oh but that thought of Kalim “sassing up” because of Jamil is so amusing tho. Him trying to emulate Jamil, which would just get Jamil even more frustrated - is Kalim even going to take this from him now? Or Jamil would just be amused at the attempt, one or the other. But if they could actually get more on the same wavelength about it, that could indeed make for some real fun scenarios.

As for Kalim’s parents… Yeah don’t even get me started on that one.

For Jamil becoming the housewarden… Yeah that first pic kinda sums it up, doesn’t it?

Which makes me wonder: how much does Jamil want the power, and how much does he just want the recognition? Now my memories of book 4 may be a little fuzzy at this point, but iirc the primary motivation was to eject Kalim - to get back the blissful solace of those first few months in NRC without Kalim there. So I do feel like just being allowed to "flourish" and show off his skills and capabilities would be some balm for the wounds in his soul, so to speak.

But also, considering Kalim was able to transfer schools just because of Jamil, pretty much, I’m sure if it’s up to him he’d be well able to give dorm leadership to Jamil without too much fuss. Like, I wouldn’t be surprised if he got the position more because of a “only the best for my boy” attitude from his dad - or maybe it was supposed to be training for his future responsibilities as the head of the house.

In any case, I would assume the family wouldn’t be super upset if Kalim is the one deciding that actually, Jamil should lead. Like, it certainly goes over much smoother if Kalim instigates it and hands the position over, rather than Jamil rising up against him (because how could a servant possibly oppose his master, how dare). Tho it would certainly still raise some eyebrows, I’m sure.

(But like, while Kalim presumably has had to deal with his own brand of neglect / not so helpful upbringing, he still seems to be the sort of a golden boy who’s used to getting his whims, so.)

For Jamil being freed - to my understanding they would need to figure out a way to do it without it bringing shame / consequences to Jamil’s family (at least, based on how jp talked about these things). Like, Kalim would need to be “powerful” enough in his family to be able to shield / protect Jamil’s family from those consequences.

(As a sidenote, I do wonder how Jamil’s family would feel like being offered freedom from servitude / a different position. Are they under as intense pressure as Jamil, with their own roles? I mean, obviously it would be difficult for them to be let go without having a way to make ends meet, but I do wonder if they’re simply happy & proud of their positions or if they feel anything similar to what Jamil does.)

At some point I also made a post thinking that even if Kalim might not be able to dismiss Jamil outright (once they both come to an agreement about this being a thing they should do), maybe Kalim could still make up reasons to send Jamil out to travel. A halfway point to true freedom, and hey, at least Jamil would get to enjoy spending some Asim money for himself.

Ngl tho, I’m all for a bit of an upheaval of the social order in the Scalding Sands. Really don’t know how one could even go about making it happen - such change is slow, would paint an even bigger target on Kalim’s back, and would make for some very powerful enemies. Slow process more than a revolution.

Though, decent labor laws and prohibition for child labor sure would be a good start, considering what Jamil went through.

Jamil would absolutely get an ego boost from that situation indeed of Kalim asking for Jamil's help, but I do wonder if he really would want to tie himself to the Asims / Kalim again. Interesting to ponder just what would have to change for that to happen.

But the allure of power might indeed be enough. Now, how interested Jamil would be to effect change at large, and how much he's concerned about his own personal position... I mean, we've seen him very willing to use others, and his experiences (for a reason) have left him in a mindset that probably means seeing power equaling freedom and also as viewing the world as haves and have-nots. So he'd definitely need to start having more concern for others (and not just the people he cares about, like his family) to really be genuinely interested and helpful to the cause.

I’ve never really considered / seen a concept of the twst guys living in a different world than their s/o but still regularly traveling to see each other, that’s interesting 👀 I do love the idea of Kalim with a fierce protective s/o tho.

Ngl, there was a lot to chew over here, but interesting thoughts about the potential futures. I also have to admit that I’ve put much less thought into understanding Kalim than I’ve put to Jamil, so I’m very much open to rebuttals about any of my interpretations about him.

It really is a shame that so far, books 5 and 6 only gave us glimpses of change with these two. Like Jamil being a little bit more willing to let Kalim actually do things or help. I know, I know, it can't possibly happen overnight, but pls, give us something to see if and how things are changing - or if we're just stuck in a new, precarious status quo.

Also I don't know if you've been making posts in your blog developing these ideas but like you definitely should, if you've got this much of a concept. I'm sure others would be interested too.

ETA: forgot to say, but I think for societal change, Kalim certainly would have the funds for lobbying and charitable work. And he does have his own kind of charisma to keep that sort of stuff together, too.

Also for the kids with our world s/o... That certainly would make inheritance and things interesting in the future. Sure, if Kalim has his as you outlined, there would not be so much of a position as the family head to inherit, but still.

Not to even mention the whole literally growing up between two different worlds.

[talesfrommedinastation]

On Neurodiversity and Parenting

Before I get into the meat of this, let me tell you about one of the best vacations I’ve ever had as a parent. 

It was a group of my good friends, all alumni of the same university. We all graduated in the same year, we had all been roommates, the works. But we are now super busy professionals, and hadn’t seen each other in years. 

So, we organized a 5 day long extravaganza in the desert. We rented a massive house with a HUGE, gorgeous pool, a game room, volleyball court, and plenty of bedrooms for the people coming. We had two married couples, two single people, and 4 kids in between the ages of 1 to 7. The area surrounding us had museums, outdoor activities, and a few breweries. 

It should have been hell, especially for someone like me, who has mild ASD, shoved into this house with all of these people. Noise, socializing, the whole kit and kaboodle. 

It was awesome. Why? 

My daughters (both of whom are very young) were always fed, watched over, and entertained by the two other kids and at least another adult at all times. Responsibilities were shared, and communication was crystal clear. I myself was never stressed out, worried, angry, or overwhelmed–all things that happen when you have ASD and loud, social activities are happening.  

We, as adults, all took turns with the kids and allowed ourselves to retreat and relax when it was needed. The kids, as a result, were all conked out by 7 pm, allowing us to mingle and chill on our own time. It was one of the few vacations I’ve taken as a parent where I came back refreshed and recharged. 

I bring this up, because many times, neurodiverse individuals are often infantilized, belittled, or even mocked when we talk about having families. Worse is the borderline eugenics comments, the ‘do you want more people like you in the world’ remarks. Which is disgusting, but not unexpected. 

I’m also writing this because our favorite neurodivergent clone, Tech, finds himself as the father of a small daughter in Far Past the Ring. I went through this storytelling route as I wanted to not only explore Belter vs Clone biology (more on that later) but also how neurodiverse folks can successfully parent. 

Far Past the Ring is not meant to be a found family fluff piece–it is an epic story of two cultures meeting, working together, and fighting for their right to live.

It’s also about the growth of Tech from a defective commando in a massive army to becoming a leader amongst his chosen people, the Belters of The Expanse. 

Besides, I do not like most of the formats in which Tech is presented with kids when it is written–he’s often seen as bumbling, cold, or irritated, none of which is flattering, or, to be perfectly candid, canon (The man can handle himself in battles and facing monsters, but not a whining kid? Come on now, his brother is Wrecker). I think it paints an unflattering picture of how neurodiverse people are interpreted as parents, and I find that both ableist and, quite frankly, ignorant. 

I say this, again, as a neurodiverse mother of two neurotypical girls, both of whom are bright, happy, loved children. 

So, let’s dive in. 

How to Successfully Parent as a Neurodiverse Individual:

- Support: Teamwork makes the dream work. This is one of the biggest things in successfully raising children, and one I hope you’ve gathered from both the story above and in Far Past the Ring. But it especially rings true for the ND parent, who might be exhausted socially and psychologically from being ‘on’ with a small child, constantly. 

I myself have struggled with this, as my daughters love their mama, and often climb, grab, yell, and scream, even when it makes me anxious and worked up (being touched out is AWFUL, let me tell you).

But having other outlets of affection and support for children helps an ND parent. Knowing that they had other people to help them makes me a better parent, and my daughters are confident in knowing that so many in this world love them. 

One especially cruel comment screamed at Tech by his daughter’s aunt in Far Past the Ring is that he is ‘not wanted, nor needed’. While this is tragic that Tanke Drummer said this to him (and has extreme ramifications throughout the story), she was not entirely incorrect. 

Omega 'Meg' Drummer, Tech’s daughter, was currently being raised by not only her mother, but also by two aunts, an uncle, and older cousins that were always there to take care of her in a massive family compound. She was also being raised in a culture that is very community oriented: a necessity for Belters to survive in a dangerous environment such as space. 

Hence why Sjael Drummer, Meg’s mother, is not especially angry or resentful when she sees Tech again. She’s had help and support, no questions asked, in raising their little girl. As she says in Into the Techiverse, Tech is a piece of the puzzle that fits in perfectly when he does arrive. 

The story would be much, much different if it was just Tech and his child’s other parent doing it alone. There would be a lot more stress, anxiety, and anger, no doubt.

But they are not, and that makes the difference.

Because of the communal nature of the Belters, not unlike those of the clones, and the large network of friends and family that live and work together on Medina Station, Tech and Sjael are not overwhelmed or stressed with their daughter. Additionally, Tech came into the picture when Meg was a toddler, not as an infant, so things are bound to be different. 

Later, when Tech becomes more entrenched within the Drummer family, when he’s worn out, there’s other family members to help, the man doesn’t even need to ask. Homeboy won the support lottery, per se. Speaking of which…

- Communication: It was mentioned in previous author’s notes, but being able to effectively talk to your parenting partner is even more crucial than your romantic partner, simply because you have other lives depending on you. In the case of my vacation example, my friends and husband are all massive talkers with no filters. 

Passive aggressive hints that my ND self would have missed–well, that just didn’t happen! When someone was exhausted, needed a break, or needed to do something (cook, clean, etc), it was either verbally stated or texted, and quickly adhered to. 

Tech, luckily, managed to knock up a Belter. The Belter culture of The Expanse is not only community oriented, but their communication style is very forward and blunt. Passive-aggressive, subtle behaviors are a waste of time to them. If something is needed by another person, it is stated quickly and without issue.

After all, Belters are people who spend their entire lives in space. As a result, things must happen efficiently, or terrible occurrences can happen. Not only that, but Sjael Drummer lives with her extended family, where everyone is either talking or communicating via text or message on their comms devices, a necessity for space living and survival that is a common part of Belter life. 

If our neurodivergent prince needs help, he can easily blurt it out and be helped, no judgment at all. And having that takes a massive load off of your back as a parent, especially if you are ND. 

- Have A Retreat: Admittingly, living in a house with tons of other people can be hell for the ND individual. I struggled with that as a kid in a massive Catholic family, but luckily, had a retreat for myself when I was overstimulated via my bedroom. Thus, I’ve learned, having a recharge station (like an office or a bedroom) is necessary for a successful ND parent. Currently, I have my office/studio in my home. 

As for Tech, he starts off with Sjael’s room, followed by other spaces as the story unfolds, such as spots on the Rocinante and the massive apartment that Clone Force 99 moves into at the very end of Far Past the Ring. Keep an eye out.

Additionally, he’s never overstimulated by his child, thanks to the supportive network he has. This stems from both from his brothers and his daughter’s extended family, going right back to the communal nature of The Belt.

I say all of this not only as a parent and an ND individual, but as a friend of many on the spectrum as well. I’ve seen some really struggle, and it’s usually due to one of the mentioned things above not being met properly. Where the ND parent is anxious from overstimulation, overwork, or just feeling too much, having help, communication, and an outlet makes them a successful parent.

Actually, I think it would help all of us as parents, now that I think about it.

[hey-loser]

TLDR: SRB Zoom Chat

In case you missed it, Sarah did a webinar on Zoom a couple weeks ago hosted by The Sunday Morning Transport to answer questions about Tears Waiting to be Diamonds. You can get a 60-day free subscription to access both the story and the Zoom over on Sarah’s tumblr, but for those who are unable to access for any reason, I received a request to provide a little recap, so here goes! Tried to make it somewhat organized but also it is going to be a little chaotic haha. 

New IOL Deets

The scene of Luke and Elliot getting together and confessing their feelings was almost only ONE SENTENCE LONG. Many thanks on behalf of the fandom to the anonymous critique partner of Sarah’s who told her that absolutely wouldn’t fly.

Elliot and Luke Post-IOL

Sarah says that Elliot doesn’t go over the border much, even though he is able to. Luke is afraid of Elliot going somewhere where he can’t follow, and even though Elliot doesn’t even think of it as a possibility, he tries to be respectful of it.

Pet names: Elliot sometimes will take classics and make them weird (like he does at the end of IOL). Luke will occasionally embarrassedly call Elliot “darling”.

Luke has fairly regular contact with the harpies. Elliot tends to spearhead their contact in terms of keeping up correspondence - he knows relatives even Luke doesn’t, and they often attend harpy festivals. According to Sarah, it’s a classic case of the in-law being the favorite kid. She jokes that he could have just gone to the harpies and lived with them when he was exiled, and they would have gladly taken him in.

WHY SARAH

TWTBD Parts 1 & 2 were initially meant to be published on consecutive Sundays. SARAH SUGGESTED THAT THERE BE A LONGER WAIT IN BETWEEN.

Why Elliot do that?

Even though Elliot has made some progress with his insecurities, he still thinks that Luke doesn’t truly know the worst that he can do, and just puts up with him. Over the years, they have worked through smaller issues, so he’s learned that he can be forgiven for these things (while before that he considered himself completely unloveable). Once he’s committed treason, he thinks that is the worst possible thing, something completely antithetical to Luke’s value system as a soldier, so he considers it inevitable that their relationship is over.

Sarah likened it to “the mortifying ordeal of being known” –  Elliot never holds himself back from being completely known, because then he can be loved for who he is. But Elliot doesn’t think that Luke knows the worst he can be (even though Luke obviously does and accepts him for it).

Luke’s Letters

Luke starts with angry letters, then more worried, then back and forth between the two. Some of the letters Luke sends to Elliot are well thought out and composed (probably because Serene helped him), while others are basically drunk late night texts that he has to admit to Serene later with shame (side note from me: anyone wanna write the fic that comprises all his letters? or am I gonna have to do that myself). 

Luke doesn’t even consider them broken up in the first place and was entirely unsurprised to hear what Elliot had done when he returned, while Elliot dramatically thinks they’ve been broken up for months. He doesn’t want to hurt himself by looking at the letters when he thinks he knows that they will say.

The meantime:

It had been a month since Elliot was exiled by the time Luke and Serene returned from war. By the time Luke arrives it has been almost four months. A lot of that time was spent figuring out what thad happened, possibly variously threatening people who had been planning on executing Elliot.

“A lot of Elliot’s diplomacy relies on the fact that there are people who will enact violence for him”

Peace is not a stable thing, and there isn’t an easy answer for it. As they get older, it becomes more difficult, since adults are held more accountable for their actions than children.

Serene and Luke actually were trying to figure out the diplomatic way to solve the situation: i.e., sending letters to form a plan once communication was initiated.  After getting no response, they tried to get him pardoned, which was difficult considering someone apparently has a transcript of a long speech Elliot gave that essentially said “I did it and I’m not sorry”. 

Luke and Serene would sometimes spontaneously decide they were going to go find him alone, and the other would talk them down from it, or they’d decide to go together, and Golden would convince them to wait.

Where’s Serene?

The story was unfortunately too long to include Serene, or even the few references to her that were initially included (such as Mark mentioning a rumor of the Sunborn Champion being involved with her).

Logistically Sarah couldn’t get Serene to the battle, since Luke would have flown to get to Elliot as fast as possible. She says that Serene definitely arrives within the day.

What happens after TWTBD?

Luke and Elliot have to have several conversations, starting with a yelling conversation, a tender conversation, and then the normal combination of yelling/tender/insults. 

“If Elliot says loser, Luke knows that he’s okay and so pretty much the first words that Elliot said to Luke in the battlefield were reassuring because when he says loser, he means I still love you, which is what Luke was getting worried about.”

Elliot puts himself in tall towers and high places specifically so Luke can find him.

Sarah specifically quotes “This Ain’t a Love Song” by scouting for girls: “I know I’m lost, but I’m waiting to be found”.

More IOL

Sarah has said this before, but just in case anyone has missed it: she definitely has ideas of what happens to the characters in the future. She has said she has a strong story idea which would also need another novel in between to explain the middle events – so essentially a trilogy. TWTBD would take place in between these second and third books – the second would explain the events up to TWTBD, and the third would continue on from there. To be clear, Sarah has not confirmed whether this is actually in the works yet, or whether these would take full-length novel form or short story form.

On Trans and Nonbinary Individuals in IOL (specifically in elven culture):

Sarah says there would be some more freedoms for nonbinary/trans elves or dwarves than in human culture, but they would be restricted in other ways.

Sarah acknowledges that the IOL universe has been represented in a more binary way thus far; she plans to delve more into gender beyond the binary in the future after taking time to get the details and complexity right.

Long Live Evil Information

Sarah’s new upcoming novel! The protagonist is thrown into her favorite fantasy novel, but is unexpectedly classified as an evil sorceress and cast out with the rest of the villains. From how Sarah talks about it, the novel delves into villainy in fiction and what truly makes a villain. It also explores the joy of finding magic even if you think you’ve reached the stage of your life where you’re past it. (I AM SO EXCITED)

Hopefully this was somewhat coherent!