#but like. I and me both know I do not have the self control for that
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So I’m a woman in STEM, and in physics specifically that has some of the worse gender ratios out of all the sciences and right there with most engineering fields that I also worked closely with. All through my undergrad, I was told I was so lucky there were “maybe up to 10?” girls in my classes, instead of being the ONLY girl in the classroom like it was for my professors.
But you see, this wasn’t because men didn’t want women in physics. They did!! It was just women were socialized differently so they didn’t end succeeding as much (if they even tried at all—a pipeline problem that was not under the physicists’ control).
There were plenty of ways this showed up, but a big one was “Oh men don’t listen to women just because they don’t talk right.” See, women phrase their thoughts and contributions with “I think” or “I feel” or “Maybe it’s…” while men will just blast you with their opinions like it’s the word of god or some shit “ACTUALLY ITS THIS WAY”. See, it’s women’s soft way of speaking that actually disempowers themselves. Men would listen to them right away if they were just assertive. Just writing this out makes me want to puke, and very early on I was calling bullshit on it. Primarily on two accounts: 1) Why is it the woman’s communication style automatically Wrong and the man’s way is Right? Why don’t we accuse men of being failed communicators because they don’t communicate like women? Especially when both styles have advantages? Why do the men get to be assumed superior? And 2) we all know the term for an assertive woman: it’s BITCH.
But even while I could see all that bullshit, I was still pulled in by the underlying premise: if you’re just good enough—if you’re smart enough, experienced enough, competent enough, and confident enough—you will be let in and treated with respect.
So I tried to be as smart and competent and infallible as possible believing that if I did that, I would earn that respect.
Until one day, I actually managed it. I became a subject matter expert at my company. I had enough knowledge and experience to stand out among everyone else. And I did it fast. I learned more and faster than my other colleagues until I was the go-to person for multiple huge projects, even being relatively young. I was more competent, more efficient, more confident��finally able to go toe-to-toe with my male colleagues, even ones with more years of experience, on their level because I got that good.
And they treated me like SHIT.
It sucked being treated like an inferior, but it was 1000 times worse when they couldn’t believe I was inferior anymore and therefore treated me like a threat. Even the other women were less eager to back me up. The antagonism, the put downs, the way they kept me out of key conversations relevant to my job, the constant lying and gaslighting, the retaliation—
Turns out, they never meant to treat women like equals. But they held that promise out like a dangling carrot, convinced no woman could *actually* match that standard. And when one did, when I beat them at it, ALLLLL the nastiness came spewing out.
And this from guys who I had previously thought if it were decently ok!
Women act the way they do because that “female socialization” isn’t anything cute or passive or harmless. It is vicious backlash whenever they don’t—often violent backlash. Women are intelligent humans with brains very competent in opportunity v risk analysis. And if you’re a woman looking to survive or just minimize self harm—you learn very quickly which behaviors will protect you and which will get you attacked.
Don’t you dare criticize women for choosing the behaviors that are least likely to make them the targets of your cruelty and violence And girls, don’t internalize this idea that women’s ways are inferior or weak. Do what you need to do, whether that’s saving your energy for what you really care about, or throwing out patriarchy’s rules and taking the lumps that come with that. There’s no right answer when the system is built so that you’re always wrong.
Women do things that make sense. Women have always been just as logical as any human when presented with the facts of their lives which they know intimately.
Was it worth it to work hard, fight hard, and stand up for myself at my job? I don’t know. It wasn’t the “feminine” thing. It didn’t succeed in granting me the respect I wanted. It made life a lot harder for me, really. But I also found out that I’m a lot stronger and more skilled than I thought I was. I learned a lot of cool science.
And I left that job. Because I could see there was no path left for me to be respected that.
TLDR: Women aren’t “assertive” because men turn into raging lunatic de-aged monsters when they are. That’s some pretty strong negative reinforcement
a lot of behaviors that get attributed to "female socialization" can be so much more easily and accurately understood as a person recognizing the power differential surrounding them and behaving sensibly in response to that.
like. does a woman politely listen to a man monologue at her because of some experience she had when she was twelve that magically cursed her to behave that way forever, or does she do it because the man has the power to hurt her and she knows it?
does a woman do all the dishes in her household because she is less capable of breaking out of a long-ago conditioned response than, like, your average trained dog, or is she doing that because she knows that all the men in the house will blame her if she doesnt and will make life worse for her if she speaks up?
maybe a lot of sexist patterns of behavior that are widely observed in society arent caused by women like, lacking willpower or backbone? maybe it is super fucking weird for supposedly feminist movements to imply this is the case when they talk about female socialization as the end all, be all of predicting human behavior?
isnt it both more useful and more respectful toward women to consider that they are perceiving their present circumstances accurately, and recognize when power is already being wielded against them, and take logical measures to deescalate and protect themselves because it works? is it not fucking clear to everybody that trans women in particular have to do this all the fucking time?
#will that stop me from being assertive? not exactly#but my strategies HAVE to be based around the fact that I am a woman#and the world is fucking sexist#and I will always have to work at least twice as hard to be heard#and deal with all those infuriating male egos#I’m probably gonna die mad about that
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Strictly unprofessional
A/N: the very requested part two to Strictly Professional. Thank you all for the enthousiasm, it was very kind of you all (both on ao3 nd tumblr), so hooray! also look i added a dni banner (im so proud of myself), made by @mikeykuns
Warnings: smut. like this is all smut (exept the ending) but yeah, unprotected sex (wrap ur shit up), cunnilingus, p in v, fingering, female reader, nanami is a sex god apparently, don't ask me abt positions, i don't even know
The door clicked shut behind you, the sound echoing in the quiet room. The air inside felt heavier, charged with something unspeakable. You could hear the soft drip of water from Nanami’s damp hair, see the way his chest rose and fell with measured breaths.
And God help you, that towel.
It was criminal.
It sat so low on his hips that it was barely hanging on. You forced your gaze upward, fixing on his face—his unreadable, devastatingly gorgeous face.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You tucked your arms around yourself, suddenly self-conscious in the oversized shirt and shorts you’d thrown on.
“You didn’t,” he replied simply, his voice steady. But the way his eyes moved—tracing the line of your throat, lingering on the curve of your shoulders—told a different story.
You hesitated, the words you’d rehearsed in your head earlier slipping away.
“I just…” You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding in your ears. “I couldn’t stop thinking about tonight. About you.”
His expression shifted—barely, but enough to make your stomach flip. A flicker of surprise, quickly swallowed by something darker. He stepped closer, his brows furrowing.
You blinked up at him, almost expecting him to make a move- to do anything.
Something in him snapped. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you toward him. The moment his lips met yours, the world tilted. His kiss was everything at once—soft and rough, controlled and desperate. He kissed you like he’d been starving for it, like he’d been holding himself back for too long.
Your hands found his shoulders, his skin slick and warm under your touch. You pressed closer, wanting more—needing more. His other hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and the feel of his body against yours sent a rush of heat straight to your core.
“Kento,” you whispered against his lips, your voice barely audible.
He groaned softly at the sound of his name, his grip tightening. His lips moved to your jaw, your neck, his breath hot against your skin.
“Yes?” he asked softly.
He smelled like soap and something distinctly him. Heat radiated off his body, wrapping around you like a second skin.
“You’ve been in my head all night. And I—” you admitted, your voice trembling. You broke off, biting your lip.
He exhaled sharply, and for a moment, you thought he might step back, ask you to finish your sentence, put that impenetrable wall between you. But then—
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” he said, his voice low and strained.
You blinked, stunned. “I—what?”
Before you could process, his hand came up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek. His touch was firm but impossibly gentle, like he was holding something precious.
“You have no idea,” he murmured, his eyes searching yours. “Do you?”
Your knees felt weak, your breath shallow.
“Why don’t you tell me?”
Something in him snapped. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you toward him. The moment his lips met yours, the world tilted. His kiss was everything at once—soft and rough, controlled and desperate. He kissed you like he’d been starving for it, like he’d been holding himself back for too long.
Your hands found his shoulders, his skin slick and warm under your touch. You pressed closer, wanting more—needing more. His other hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and the feel of his body against yours sent a rush of heat straight to your core.
“Kento,” you whispered against his lips, your voice barely audible.
He groaned softly at the sound of his name, his grip tightening. His lips moved to your jaw, your neck, his breath hot against your skin.
“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he repeated, his voice raw.
“Show me,” you murmured, your hands sliding down his chest.
Something dark flickered in his eyes, but instead of answering, he scooped you up effortlessly-fuck he was as strong as he looked, his arm sliding under your thighs. You gasped, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carried you to the bed. He laid you down carefully, his eyes never leaving yours.
He knelt over you, his broad shoulders blocking out everything else. For a moment, he just looked at you, his gaze heavy and intense, like he was memorizing every inch of you.
“You’re beautiful,” he said softly, almost reverently.
Your cheeks flushed, but before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, stealing the words from your mouth. His hands roamed over your body, sliding under your shirt to find your bare skin. His touch was firm, deliberate, leaving trails of fire wherever he went.
You arched into him, your hands finding his towel. It took a moment to undo the knot, your fingers trembling, but when the fabric fell away, your breath caught. He was perfect. Every line of him, every inch, was made to drive you insane.
You reached for him, pulling him down to you, and he groaned as your bodies pressed together. His hips rolled against yours, and the friction sent a shiver down your spine.
“Tell me what you want,” he murmured against your ear, his voice thick with restraint.
For a second, your breath hitched. He was so close, his body crowding yours like he wanted to shield you from the world, to claim you and keep you all to himself. The weight of him pressed you into the mattress, his heat seeping into your skin, and you realized you couldn’t think straight.
Also you kinda wanted to bite his perfect skin-
“Y-you,” you stammered, your hands clinging to his shoulders. “I want you, Kento. All of you.”
His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as if your words had snapped the last tether of his control. Nanami shifted above you, and for the first time, you took him in without interruption. The faint golden light from the bedside lamp played across his damp skin, highlighting every cut of muscle, every curve of strength that was somehow impossibly elegant. His body looked sculpted, as if he’d stepped straight out of some classical masterpiece.
Unfairly pretty, you thought, your breath catching in your throat. A perfect, living rendition of the David—but warmer, more alive, and infinitely more captivating.
He was all-consuming, and it was almost too much.
“Kento,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. Your hands roamed over his chest, marveling at the smooth expanse of his skin, the hard lines of muscle under your fingertips. He felt real and unreal all at once, and the way his body moved as he leaned down made your head spin.
“You’re staring,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the curve of your jaw. His tone was teasing, but there was a vulnerability there too, a quiet uncertainty that made your chest ache.
“Can you blame me?” you whispered back, your fingers tracing the line of his collarbone.
He huffed a soft laugh, but it broke into a groan as your nails dragged lightly down his chest, over the defined ridges of his abdomen.
“You’re dangerous,” he muttered, his voice rough, like he was trying to hold himself together.
You shook your head, biting back a grin. “I think you’re the dangerous one.”
His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world stopped. There was something raw in his gaze, something that burned hotter than anything you’d ever known. He dipped his head, his lips claiming yours in a kiss that was hungrier this time, less restrained. His tongue slid against yours, coaxing you open, and you moaned softly into his mouth.
His fingers splayed across your ribcage, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast in a way that made your breath hitch. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips swollen, his eyes heavy with want.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and almost reverent.
“Yes,” you said without hesitation, your hands gripping his hips to pull him closer. “Please, Kento.”
That was all he needed. In one smooth motion, he tugged your shirt over your head, his gaze sweeping over you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. He leaned down, his lips trailing over your collarbone, his hands skimming your sides as he kissed his way lower. Every touch, every movement, felt deliberate, like he was memorizing you.
When his mouth closed around your nipple, you gasped, your back arching off the bed. His tongue swirled in slow, torturous circles, his teeth grazing just enough to make your thighs clench around his hips. He shifted, his knee pressing between your legs, and the pressure sent a jolt of heat straight to your core.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Tell me,” you said, your voice trembling.
He lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours. “I can’t think straight when I’m around you,” he admitted, his voice rough with desire. “You drive me insane—in the best possible way.”
Before you could respond, his hands hooked into the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down in one smooth motion. His eyes darkened further as he took in the sight of you, his lips parting slightly like he was trying to catch his breath.
“Perfect,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. His hands slid up your thighs, spreading them just enough to settle between them. His touch was firm but reverent, like he was handling something precious.
And then his fingers found you, tracing the slick heat between your legs. You gasped, your hips jerking instinctively, but he held you steady, his touch achingly gentle.
“You’re so wet,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “Is this all for me?”
“Yes,” you breathed, your head tipping back against the pillow. “Only for you.”
His groan was low and guttural, and before you could process, he was leaning down, his mouth trailing kisses along your inner thigh. The anticipation was unbearable, your entire body alight with need.
“Kento,” you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair.
He hummed softly against your skin, his lips brushing just above where you needed him most.
“Patience,” he murmured, though his voice was as strained as yours.
But when his mouth finally found you, the world shattered.
The first stroke of his tongue had your back arching off the bed, a sharp gasp tumbling from your lips. Nanami groaned against you, the vibrations sending another wave of heat coursing through your body. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as he licked into you with slow, deliberate precision.
Damn him and his precision.
“Kento,” you whimpered, your fingers tightening in his damp hair. You couldn’t think—could barely breathe. Every movement of his tongue was devastating, every flick and swirl drawing you closer to the edge.
He pulled back just enough to look up at you, his chin glistening, his expression nothing short of worshipful.
“You taste incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with need.
Your cheeks burned, but before you could respond, he was back on you, his lips closing around your clit. The suction was gentle but relentless, his tongue moving in maddening circles that had you writhing beneath him.
“Please,” you gasped, your hips bucking against his mouth.
“Please what?” he asked, his voice low and teasing. His breath was hot against your skin, and the way his hands squeezed your thighs made you shiver.
“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice breaking.
His groan was low and guttural, and he didn’t stop—if anything, he doubled down, his movements growing more insistent. His tongue flicked against you with precision, and when he slid a finger inside you, your entire body tensed, the sensation almost too much to bear.
“You’re so tight,” he murmured, his voice thick with wonder. He added another finger, his pace slow and deliberate as he worked you open. “You feel incredible.”
Your head tipped back, a string of incoherent sounds spilling from your lips. You were so close, your body coiling tighter with every thrust of his fingers, every stroke of his tongue.
“Kento, I—” Your voice broke, your body trembling as the tension reached its peak.
“Let go,” he murmured against your skin, his tone both commanding and tender. “I’ve got you.”
And that was all it took. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your entire body arching off the bed as pleasure surged through you. You cried out his name, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he worked you through it, his movements slowing but never stopping.
When the waves finally subsided, you collapsed back onto the mattress, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Nanami pressed a soft kiss to your thigh before moving back up your body, his hands bracketing your waist as he hovered over you.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his brow furrowing with concern.
You nodded, a shaky laugh escaping you. “More than okay.”
His lips twitched into a small smile, and he leaned down to kiss you, slow and tender. You could taste yourself on his lips, the intimacy of it making your cheeks flush.
But then you felt him against you—hot, hard, and insistent—and the heat in your belly reignited. You shifted your hips, pressing up against him, and he groaned softly, his restraint visibly fraying.
Not so composed now? You thought.
“Do you want to keep going?” he asked, his voice strained.
“Yes,” you whispered, your hands sliding down his back. “I want you, Kento. All of you.”
His breath caught, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded, his jaw tightening as he positioned himself at your entrance.
“I’ll go slow,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
And he did.
He pushed into you inch by inch, his movements careful and deliberate, his eyes locked on yours as if he needed to see your every reaction. The stretch was overwhelming, but the way he filled you, the way he held you—it was everything.
The stretch was agonisingly delicious, you could feel every ridge, every vein. It felt like he was rearranging your insides, because Nanami Kento was not a small man. Nowhere in his anatomy was he.
Thankfully, he paused midway, letting you catch your breath, peppering your face with kisses.
Then he moved again.
“God,” he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder. “You feel… perfect.”
You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. “So do you,” you murmured, your voice trembling.
The way he filled you, the way he moved—he wasn’t just touching your body; he was touching something deeper, something you hadn’t even known was there.
Maybe that was your cervix- who knows??
"Ke-n-" You gasped, your teeth sinking into his skin, the tip of his cock bullying your insides.
He hissed in response, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his voice rough. “I’ve wanted you—so much.”
As the tension built between you, his Olympian control began to slip.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured against your lips, his voice strained, his cock moving in and out, and you were pretty sure your brain was loosing track of time and space, because his dick was pressing, each and every time, against your g-spot.
“It’s not,” you said quickly, your hands roaming over his back, tracing the strong lines of muscle beneath your fingertips.
You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your breaths mingling, the way he looked at you—like you were something fragile and sacred—made your heart thrum wildly in your chest. Add to that the rhythm of his hips snapping to yours, his cock reaching deep inside you, hitting all the right spots, and you were in heaven.
He shifted his weight, pressing you deeper into the mattress, and the feel of him—his warmth, his strength, his unyielding presence—was all-consuming.
Oh wait, he was kissing you again. You let yourself get lost in him, in the way he moved, the way he touched you, the way he made you feel like you were the only thing in the world that mattered- because in that moment, you were.
His hands moved to your hips, guiding you as he thrust to meet you, and the two of you moved in sync, a rhythm that was all your own.
And fuck, his cock was making you see stars, every thrust was so fucking good-
"Ah-a, Kento-" You tried to line up the words, to tell him how good he was making you feel, but nothing even made sense.
He groaned in response, his lips finding your throat, kissing and biting as he pushed you closer to the edge.
“So close,” he muttered. “I can feel you… God, I can’t get enough of you.”
His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve, every dip, like he couldn’t get enough of you.
Oh you were so gonna bruise tomorrow.
Inside and out.
"Ken- fuck I'm close." You gasped out.
"I know sweetheart."
Oh okay.
You groaned, and Nanami let out a broken chuckle, his hips snapping to yours faster, his balls slapping against your ass. He was going faster and faster, the fat head of his cock alternating between your g-spot, your cervix, your g-spot, your cervix....
Then he slipped his hand down to your clit, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing small circles and- oh!
You hiccuped, your back arching, your orgasm came on way too fast, too unpredicted, too soon.
"That's it sweet girl.." Nanami mumbled, but you were milking him, squeezing way too hard. He urgently pulled out, his cock twitching against your stomach, even as your poor cunt was spazzing around nothing, but Nanami was too much of a gentleman to leave her without company.
Naturally he quickly slot two thick fingers in your quivering pussy, with his thumb slowly rubbing your clit, working you through your orgasm.
It took you a second to actually connect your thoughts back together. As you did, he slid his fingers out, covered in your slick, which he quickly popped in his mouth and licked clean, because of course, why waste?
You looked down at yourself, blinking in surprise as you saw that he had came so hard it had squirted halfway up your chest, on your tits and collarbones. You'd only wonder about the physics of that later.
Then your eyes landed on Nanami.
Oh.
Your body was still humming, every nerve alight. Nanami was always composed, always so controlled, but the look on his face now was nothing short of… adoring.
He didn’t look at you like you were just there. No, the way his gaze flickered over every inch of your face, the way his pupils dilated as he admired you—he was looking at you like you were something divine.
A goddess, a force of nature. It was as if you had turned the world upside down, made everything else fade into nothing.
His lips were swollen, still parted, and his hair was a little mussed, a few strands falling across his forehead in that charmingly tousled way.
He was so beautiful, it almost made your heart ache.
You couldn’t help but giggle softly, even though you knew it would only make him more flustered.
"You're... you're incredible," he murmured, his voice hoarse, like he'd just run a marathon, but it was far more intimate than any casual comment.
“I could say the same about you,” you whispered, your fingers lightly brushing the side of his face. His skin was warm, flushed from the exertion, and you could tell he was still shaking, just a little.
But instead of basking in the aftermath of his compliment, Nanami—ever the caretaker—shifted beside you. His breath still coming in shallow bursts, he gently pulled himself upright and reached for the soft tissue box on the nightstand.
He paused, staring at your tits overall chest- where he had came... with a very specific glint in his eyes, oh? He liked what he saw.
Then he moved. You didn’t realize just how dishevelled you both were until he tenderly cleaned you up, his movements soft and careful, as if he feared even the lightest touch would break you apart.
You let him, unable to stop the flutter in your chest. The vulnerability of the moment made you want to combust. The man has just rearranged your guts, and given you two amazing orgasms and now this??
You had always known Nanami as a man of few words, but tonight—tonight he was nothing short of tender, every movement meant more to him than you’d ever truly known.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmured, his voice still thick with affection. You hadn’t even realized how still you’d become, how lost in his gaze you’d been, until he stood and gently helped you sit up.
You let him guide you to the bathroom, your body feeling a little unsteady, still buzzing from what had just happened. You noticed, as he helped you step into the bathroom, that his hands were steady—careful, protective—but there was a certain gentleness to his touch that sent a strange warmth through your veins.
“You okay?” he asked softly, his eyes filled with concern, his brow furrowed in that protective way he always had. There was no urgency, no rush. Everything felt slow and intentional. His every movement, every glance, was designed to make you feel safe, cared for.
Is he really this perfect?
Well actually you knew he was. You could see it in the way he took care of you, in the way his eyes softened when they met yours, in the way he treated you like you were something sacred.
You nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.
“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice feeling soft and content. “Just a little… dizzy. That’s all.”
Nanami chuckled softly, and you swore it was the sweetest sound in the world-yet you could tell your comment did inflate his ego.. just a little. He wasn’t just taking care of you in the physical sense. He was taking care of your heart, your mind.
When you finished, Nanami made sure you were settled back into bed, his body never leaving yours for more than a few seconds- he slipped into boxers, and gave you the clothes you had arrived in back (your oversized shirt and shorts). He covered you with the blankets, tucking them around you with a tenderness that made your heart ache.
You lay there, in the softness of his embrace, his warmth, his care. The space between you seemed impossibly small, yet in that quiet intimacy, it felt like the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you—safe, and wrapped in the afterglow of something beautiful, something real.
And you also felt a tiny bit smug, that you had managed to get this hunk of a man in your bed.
A/N: I hope this satisfies the people that were asking for a part two!! I absolutely had to call nanami a hunk bc uhhhh why not, it a funny word, in french we have a saying: "homme capable" (translates to: "capable man"), which i think defines nanami quite well.
Masterlist.
:)
#jjk#jujustu kaisen#nanami kento#nanami x reader#jjk nanami#jujutsu nanami#fluff#smut#jjk smut#soft smut#jujutsu kaisen nanami#nanami smut#nanami kento x you#nanami kento smut#kento nanami#nanamin#jjk au#aesthetically dying101#fanfic#nanami x you#nanami fluff#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk fanfic
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☆彡 peppers pt 2 ˳༄꠶
character: hwang in ho / 001 / the frontman
˳༄꠶ summary: five sfw and nsfw general headcannons for the frontman
sfw headcannons
★ as he proceeded as the front man, he acquired a fascination with betrayal within the games. it basically reinforced the belief that humanity would always choose the best for themselves despite the sacrifice of others, and deep down i think he gets off by watching the players kill each other
★ in some way he feels a bit bad for the players who vote to go home. he’s seen the process over and over again and knows that greed outweighs self-sufficiency and compassion for others; for him, these deaths aren’t as enjoyable to watch
★ he hates others that victimize themselves. it leaves him both simultaneously angry and stressed, because what do you mean you’re upset with the situation you got yourself into?
★ when he’s not in the games (as a player), the hierarchy and rules that he has for the staff is much stricter. he doesn’t allow barbarity; like guards threatening each other, fighting, or attempting to take advantage of another person. while he chooses to take players in and make them fight to win, he still has a moral compass
★ he HATES the vips. for him, sure he gets enjoyment of watching the games but he’s never found the need to bet on the players; if anything this further pushes the idea that humanity has lost it. because while others may view him continuing the game as psychopathic, he views it as demonstration to people
nsfw headcannons
★ as the frontman, he doesn’t really have someone that can please him. most of the time when he’s pent up, he’ll just use his hand and his imagination to get off
★ as the frontman, he likes to keep his sexual activities in private. but as a player, since he believes he has some sort of superiority over the others he wouldn’t mind fucking in public; not obnoxiously of course, but with the confidence, courage and no shame. late night sex with him would be so good, but since gi-hun suggests watch shifts it would be harder to actually participate in it (season 2 bathroom scene w/ the frontman when?!)
★ he doesn’t really like watching you ride him. he believes it gives you too much control. he wants to have all control over your pleasure; like whether or not you cum, how many times you cum, ect
★ he’d definitely make a sex tape with you if you were okay with it - but only when he’s not playing the games, so either after the revolt or if he’d never entered the games altogether. he’s the type to burn your sex tape on dvd’s. watching them on a video recorder or a mobile device is too tacky for him
★ he likes it when you whine for him; especially if you’re shy in bed. he’d go all gentle in the beginning, saying stuff like “come on sweetheart, you gotta tell me what you want” and “look at my beautiful sweetheart, so needy for me.” and when he’s finally inside you, he does degrade you, but it’s usually a mix of both praise and degradation
the end! i hope you enjoyed <3!
© cheetabites. don’t translate, claim or repost my works on any platform. jan 4 2025.
#★; ayuri’s sg headcannons#squid game#squid game 2#squid game season 2#the frontman#001#player 001#young il#hwang in ho#player 001 x reader#hwang in ho x reader#the frontman x reader#001 x reader#squid game x reader#squid game x you#squid game fanfiction#squid game fanfic#squid game imagine#squid game headcanons
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Connection check in part (2)
To check part 1, click here.
Your current energy
A. B. C.
Their current energy
1 2 3
Their current energy - Group 1
I get a very calm and steady vibe from this person regarding you and the connection. I feel like their expectations, intentions and feelings towards you are very clear in their mind and heart. The energy feels very balanced and mature. I get the impression that they feel very good in your presence and treasure the bond you share. When it comes to you, they are very open minded and have a "go with the flow" attitude. They do not overthink your intentions or feelings because I feel like they are pretty confident about their own and they have a lot of trust and faith in the Universe. This person has a very spiritual vibe. They cannot focus on their daily tasks because you are constantly on their mind. This person spends a lot of time day dreaming about you, visualizing how being with you would feel like. I get the impression that they would be okay with taking things further if you verbalized it. However, I get a frustration feeling coming from this person with that "turn your tongue 7 times in your mouth before speaking". I feel like this person is upset that you do not trust them. I'm getting the message that any fear you may have about this person is not true. For instance, if you're thinking "they must not like me because I'm too this or not enough that", spirit wants you to know that you're wrong. What you dislike about yourself may very well be what they love about you. This person would like to communicate with you more. They have a lot on their plate that they want to share but I get the feeling you're not letting them in. However this person knows that they cannot force you so they are chosing to surrender and let you see for yourself how serious they can be. They want to give you the time and space to figure out on your own how they really feel and think about you. They do not intend to run away. It's like they're saying "I'm here and I will not move, if you want me I'm okay with it and if you don't that's also cool". This person is ready for any outcome within this connection because they've made their peace with the fact that they cannot control everything and that you have free will. Though, they have a very precise vision of where they want this to go and I feel like they will do everything in their power to get there. This person is determined and rather than feeling defeated by your resistance, it actually motivates them to try harder. They have their eyes set on you and they do not intend to give up any time soon.
Their current energy - Group 2
The person that's on your mind is chosing to set their fears and doubts aside, to ignore people's opinion and give your connection a chance. I feel like they are slowly but surely opening their heart and trying to come to terms with the idea that love doesn't have to be a struggle all the time. That not everyone in this world is trying to harm them and that there is good both in and around them. I am mostly getting air sign energy from this spread but I also pick up on Pisces and Taurus. I get the energy of someone finally accepting their dreams and letting themselves experience everything they didn't dare to do before. They're finally embracing themselves and letting themselves be seen for who they are. They are done fighting, resisting love and finally letting themselves receive. I feel like this person struggled with their self worth and they are healing that part of them through this connection. By chosing to love you and giving this connection a chance, they are also chosing themselves. They are turning the tables over and doing what feels right to them for once, instead of following others' unsollicited advice. I feel like this person never once did something for themselves and now they are finally making their own well being a priority. They are finally daring to dream and imagine what this connection could become but also what they could become. They are cutting ties with toxic patterns and people that did not serve their highest good. This person is also realizing that whenever they were acting off within this connection, it was because they were projecting their own fears onto you. They understand that though they may be different from your past connections or from what you are used to, it does not make them any less worthy of your affection. They are finally seeing their own beauty and chosing to let that beauty be shown. They are healing their heart at their own pace. For some of you, your person may be taking their distances with you to further connect with their own truth. They need time and space to see the good in them if they wish to let you in. I sense a desire to start anew and take back one's power. The energy feels very peaceful here. Almost dreamy. I feel like this connection is taking a new turn now that they have gained clarity and done some shadow work. They have a lot of affection for you but they may have realized that what they loved in you was also within themselves and that they should honor that as well.
Their current energy - Group 3
Blue could be your person's favorite color. In terms of zodiac signs, I'm getting Gemini and Taurus mainly, also Leo was mentioned on the Azurite card. There's a lot of throat chakra activity going on here. There may have been communication blockages within this connection in the past. Your person has realized that they treated you poorly in the past. That their fears played a huge role in the connection's imbalance and communication issues you were facing. Through your interactions and the effect of this connection on them, they have been faced with a lot of their shadows. They needed a lot of courage to be able to overcome their fears around intimacy, being vulnerable and truthful around you. This person may have told you harsh truths or spoken badly of you behind your back and they regret their actions. This person understands that their judgment of you was false and when they were being judgmental towards you was because what they saw was a reflection of a part of themselves they couldn't embrace. This person was afraid of the depth of this connection and the depth of their own feelings in your presence. They were not capable of embracing the light that was shining on them thanks to this connection you shared. They were just not ready for it. With that understanding of the dynamics of your bond, this person is now choosing to be mindful and to see the truth. They are chosing to leave the past behind and move forward, renewed and rejuvenated, ridden of all their fears and judgments. Whether they choose to give you a chance or to go their own way, this person is not the same anymore. They are letting in more love into their life and softness that they didn't allow themselves to feel nor express. They may want to communicate with you about their awakening. I also get the feeling that spirit has been working behind the scenes to help this person get out of their state of confusion and see the connection clearly. Illusions were destroyed, their ego was quieted down for their heart to be allowed to shine through. When you met them, this person may have been struggling with depression, which you could have been aware of or not. I feel, thought, that your person did not want to admit that they were not okay. But interacting with you, they came to see that some things in their life needed to change. Some cleansing was needed. Most of it was in their mind I feel. It's like they failed to perceive you or themselves in a good way because their mind was clouded with negative self talk and false perceptions of love and relationships. Maybe they rejected you because of cultural differences or other factors. I'm specifically picking up on differences in communication styles or language barrier. Also, I'm getting a strong feeling that this person's friends played a huge role in them rejecting you. There were people around them that did not see your closeness in a good light and they attempted to get your person to hate you. Like spreading false rumors about you dating other people or saying stuff like "I heard group 3 doesn't like you, they spoke badly of you to their friends". But somehow your person came to understand that this wasn't true. I'm not sure what got them to change their mind about you but I really get this strong impression that they see you in a different light and have taken a new found interest in you.
Decks used : Crystals oracle, Threads of fate shadow edition, I don't care oracle deck, Soul truth oracle deck, Enchanted forest oracle cards, Beast Soul oracle cards, White Numen Tarot light edition, Spirit Junkie Oracle, Des potes en ciel Oracle
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"Once you get down to it, it's really funny how much our senses lie to us, omitting details to make everything seem so much simpler than it is.
"An open flame looks incredibly simple on the surface. Lashing tangerine whips that peel away at the air, giving rise to smoke and heat for seemingly no reason. At least, to your limited faculties.
"But to control something in the manner of a mage, a true mage, one must understand it, in its entirety. Study it, nurture it, consume and be consumed by it. As you might tell," I raised my arms from underneath my cloak, making a show of the myriad burn scars that plastered my skin oh so beautifully, "I've taken that crucial step, and I'm all the better a wielder of the arcane for it."
"Human," The judge interjected, "I am not here today to absorb the philosophy of a man who's brutally killed thousands of elven POWs." The disgust in his voice was evident. "I've seen the crystal images captured in your camps. Do you truly expect me to believe you caused such suffering with basic fire magic?"
I grinned. I couldn't help it. This was always my favorite part. "I do." I held in a small chuckle. Not yet. "Because you don't know what fire is."
The gallery behind me broke into enraged jeering at the sound of my proclamation. It took a full minute of the judge banging his gavel and shouting "Order!" before the racket died down. Finally, he glared at me from atop his bench once more, before explaining, "It is simply impossible for any human to perform what you've done. Even your strongest mages can't hold a candle to a mid-ranked elven apprentice. So tell me exactly wh-"
"That's just it!" I yelled into the courtroom. I couldn't contain it anymore, I had to speak my mind. I could feel my grin widening, threatening to split my cheeks at the ends. "You pompous twig-eaters have lorded your mastery of magic over mankind for far too long! Your raw power, your mana control, your casting speed, we can't compare to any of it! But you forgot what humans are best at," I let out a single laugh, which echoed through the deathly silent courtroom, before I swiftly contained it. I continued, "We can adapt like no other.
"We live nowhere near as long as you self-righteous pricks. Seven of our generations pass in only a half of one of yours. But we always make the most of our time. We study, and we learn, and we consolidate that knowledge on what those before us discovered, over and over again, until we finally learn the truth. And I," I met the judge's gaze, peering deep into his spirit, searching for the fire, "Am the first to discover it."
The elf sitting in front of me simply asked, "What did you discover?" His voice was a sumptuous mixture of repulsion and morbid curiosity, a cocktail I'd drank many times before whenever I regaled another with my knowledge, and was always fond of.
The hilarity of the situation was getting unbearable. I couldn't help but laugh through my words as I revealed, "Fire doesn't make heat," I fought down another fit of laughter, "It IS heat!"
Both the gallery and the judge simply stared at me, silence covering the room for a precious few seconds while I let them marinate in my knowledge.
The judge was apparently the sharpest one there. I could tell he understood the moment I saw his face of confusion twist into absolute horror.
Yes, YES, YES!
His voice now barely above a whisper, he stuttered, "You... you mean that... that it's...?"
"It's nothing more than a pretty little light show that our eyes use to make sense of the world?" If my feet weren't shackled to the floor I would've approached him, to get a better look at his dying soul. "Because that's all it is. Fire is not a producer, it's a product. You wood-brained aristocrats spend your whole lives so focused on only what you can see and what you can hear, that you never figured it out!
"What we call 'fire' is just a sensory representation of vast amounts of heat. And what is heat, if not pure, unadulterated energy. The force the drives all motion, all change, EVERYTHING that happens in the entire cosmos, happens because of energy. If you control fire, you control heat. If you control heat, you control energy. And if you control energy..."
"STOP!" The judge shouted, livid that his reality was being shattered. A common reaction. "Clearly you're making all of this up! Those pictures must have been faked, scenes staged with illusion magic as a fear tactic!"
Grasping at straws. This questioning never would've happened if that was what the elven high-council believed from the start. I smirked. "If you truly don't believe me, you can always come and remove this restraint collar, and ask me to prove it. It's either that, or accept that the humans are getting stronger than you."
Chaos erupted once again, my challenge being met with mixed response. The screaming only quieted down after the judge pulled out a wand and swiftly cast a silencing spell over the gallery, muting them until they were barely audible.
I kept my mouth shut through the whole ordeal, until the judge was staring daggers at me again. His rage and internal conflict were palpable in his expression, and it took a few minutes for him to make up his mind.
Then another few to cast every warding spell that he knew on himself before he stepped down from the bench.
Aglow with the mana from his wards, he approached the desk where I stood, until he was mere feet from my face. He was a good foot taller than me, but so much thinner, it seemed he would snap in a stiff breeze. His eyes were filled with defiance, a look of absolute certainty that he was right.
It was so lovely. Or rather, what it would become was lovely.
He drew a rune in the air, and I heard the latch of my collar click, before it fell to the ground. I stretched my neck back and forth, getting it used to it's full range of motion again. "You've made the right choice, your honor."
He chuckled, "I knew you couldn't do it."
Before he could react I launched out my right hand directly through all of his wards and grabbed him by the face. "You've given me an entire plater of new subjects!"
I started by boiling his tongue.
The Elf looks down to the lone human mage "You stand trial for warcrimes. Explain how you did it with just fire Magic" he said dismissively. "Well. Have you ever thought how and why fire burns?"
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What is Mage Viktor doing?
So it turns out I do have a take on what's going on with Mage Viktor, why he's messing with timelines in the way he is, and what he hoped to achieve by bringing Jayce to the torment nexus dimension and then sending him back to his own timeline armed with facial hair, trauma, and the ruthless determination to somehow stop his own Viktor.
Of course this is just my own reading; there are many ways you can interpret the reveals of the final episode. But it's become my preferred reading because it makes Mage Viktor come off as absolutely BATSHIT. The apotheosis of all Viktor's best and worst qualities. As he would be.
First we gotta lay out some fundamental principles about how I understand Viktor that will inform this reading.
Viktor was never being controlled by the Hexcore. This deserves its own whole meta, but tl;dr, I think it is directly antithetical to the core themes of the show to think that Viktor wasn't making his own decisions all through s2.
Over and over again in Arcane, we see characters become "monsters" and do monstrous things, and every time the thematic point is that this is still the person you love. When Vi says that her sister is dead because she is Jinx now and when Jayce says "my partner died in this room" THEY ARE BOTH WRONG. The person they love is different now but they're still in there and they can still be reached.
Viktor is transformed by something terrible happening to him (like many characters in the show!) but all his decisions are still his own and to me they seem like perfectly consistent--if extreme--extensions of what we know about him as a character before he gets a Hexcore heart.
So my analysis starts with the premise that Mage Viktor is not trying to free his past self from an outside influence. He's trying to hack his own character traits to make a different version of himself do what he wants.
Viktor is BOTH genuinely altruistic and compassionate AND deeply arrogant. This is such a banger combination and I think turning down the dial on either trait makes Viktor less interesting. I think Mage Viktor has genuine remorse about what he did in his timeline and he is, fundamentally, trying to find a way he could have stopped himself from killing everyone (within certain constraints; we'll get to that). When Jayce is able to show main timeline Herald Viktor his memories of what Viktor is about to do to their world, the first thing Viktor sees is not dead Jayce, or himself left alone in an empty world. It's all the ordinary people who are going to die terrified because of him.
I do not think any version of Viktor wanted this result. But Viktor is so convinced he is always right that his arrogance carries him right past the point of no return before he realizes oh actually I haven't freed everybody I have killed them.
So I do think Mage Viktor is trying to find a timeline where this doesn't happen, but he is not timeline-hopping in order to preemptively stop other versions of himself from making the same mistake. If he wanted to do that, he would just leave all the many many timelines where Jayce dies in a blizzard as a child alone. No Jayce who grows up obsessed with magic, goes around Academy rules to get the hex crystals, invents Hextech and gives Viktor the power to fuck everything up. Easy peasy.
But no. Instead, Viktor is actively going into other timelines and changing them at the point where Jayce would have died.
He is doing things that appear to make the sequence of events that leads to his world-ending magic blast WAY MORE LIKELY. And that's because...
Viktor is obsessively selfish when it comes to Jayce.
Mage Viktor wants to find a timeline where he doesn't doom the world but not at the expense of meeting Jayce and spending years doing science with him.
If the goal was only to prevent Jayce from dying in the blizzard, he could have done it quietly, waiting for Jayce to collapse in the snow and then transporting him to the base of the mountain, leaving before Jayce had any idea who saved him. Instead he makes SUCH A DRAMATIC PRODUCTION of it that Jayce remembers and can repeat the steps of the action years later, well enough that he actually produces a working spell from a barely-tested Hextech prototype. Mage Viktor wants that shit burned into baby Jayce's brain. He wants to make sure he fundamentally alters the arc of Jayce's life, bending it into a trajectory that collides with his own.
Viktor also (as far as we see) doesn't go the route of going back in time and killing his younger self, or steering the course of his own life along a path where he never meets Jayce. He doesn't even go for a timeline where he and Jayce meet each other but they don't invent Hextech. Now maybe it's the case that some time before our Jayce arrives in his timeline, Mage Viktor tried all that, and has figured out that none of those options work. (Maybe in some of those timelines Jayce is the one who goes Machine Herald, and there's no partner there to talk him off the ledge of ending the world.) But I think it's also possible that, now that he's gotten the experience in one timeline of spending years with Jayce making once-in-a-generation scientific breakthroughs together (which I truly believe is just as important a part of their relationship to Viktor as any romantic or sexual element might be)...he can't bear to deny any version of himself the chance of having that--even if the price is the rest of the world. Because a world where Jayce isn't his partner isn't a world worth saving.
So what I think Mage Viktor is doing is sitting there with his stubborn engineer brain and the husk of his dead soulmate, fiddling with the timelines like a Rubik's cube, going Not meeting Jayce CANNOT be the only option. There MUST be a timeline where Jayce and I meet each other and entangle our lives in an alarmingly codependent way AND we dodge the apocalypse at the last minute, I don't end up killing him, and we do not doom the world together. And I'm going to fucking find it.
So he's been hitting timeline after timeline, trying to find the combination of factors where everything works. He is not trying to preemptively save every timeline from himself, he is trying to prove to himself that meeting the love of his life doesn't doom the entire fucking world. It's devotion that is SO PROFOUNDLY SELFISH that he is willing to doom timeline after timeline, but driven by someone with enough compassion and pride that he doesn't want the guilt and shame of knowing he can only have this one life-changing thing if he ruins everything else for everyone, and enough arrogance to still look at this as a problem he must be smart enough to solve.
At some point in this process, I think he also figures out that Jayce is the only person who has any chance of reasoning with any version of himself. I think it's worth paying attention to the exact wording of his "in all timelines, in all possibilities" speech, because it's not just a love confession (although it is that).
"I thought I could bring an end to the world's suffering. But when every equation was solved, all that remained were fields of dreamless solitude. There is no prize to perfection. Only an end to pursuit. In all timelines, in all possibilities, only you can show me this."
And while this is some hella romantic cosmic soulmate level shit, it is also Viktor saying I need you, because you are the only person I have ever trusted enough to save me from myself.
It's the Hexcore promise all over again. Viktor knew he couldn't destroy his own creation. I read this not as Viktor being physically unable to destroy it because the Hexcore had some power over him, but not having the will to destroy it. Because this huge leap in Hextech technology was his big breakthrough and not (as I think he saw it) him supporting Jayce's dream. He knew he couldn't do it. So he asked Jayce to do it for him. Please, save me from my own pride, my desire to leave a legacy. I can't do it on my own.
It's a huge extension of trust, for Viktor to admit such a need. And now he's doing it again when the stakes are MUCH MUCH higher. I need you, because you are the only person who can show me the horror of what I am about to do and have me believe it.
Of course, the deep irony is that really the only person Viktor trusts to tell him he is wrong is HIMSELF FROM THE FUTURE. Astral plane Machine Herald Viktor is standing right behind Jayce, watching Jayce's memory of Mage Viktor telling him what the consequences of his actions will be, and that is the moment the horror sinks in and cracks him fully out of his machine shell.
But of course Jayce is the only person he would ever trust enough to carry such a message (from himself!!) to somewhere close enough to reach him.
It's not clear exactly how much of a detailed plan Mage Viktor has when he sends Jayce back to the main timeline, or how much of that plan he shares with Jayce. But I think he has figured out some broad strokes which affect how Jayce behaves.
(1) Jayce has to immediately go and kill commune Viktor. Squishing Salo is maybe a bonus side quest, but Jayce doesn't even take time to fucking shower before he heads for the commune. (I would love to see the part of the conversation where Mage Viktor is like yeah you know that pit you just climbed out of? Yeah the first thing you gotta do is go right back in there, all the way to the bottom, and find me looking like ethereal cyborg Jesus and blast a fucking hole through my chest.) Maybe this is because if Jayce waits around at all, commune Viktor finds a way to get to him and he folds and joins the cult. Maybe this is because there are just fewer variables involved in forcing Viktor to speedrun his own villain arc by Jayce repeatedly turning him down in one "perfect" form after another. Maybe Mage Viktor knows himself well enough to realize "yeah if you say no to me even ONE TIME but ESPECIALLY when you are HOT and SUFFERING I will go fucking apeshit and we can use that to our advantage."
(2) I think Mage Viktor has realized that he can only be stopped at the very very VERY last minute. He has to be able to see the direct line between what he is about to do right now and the arcane-blasted hell world he's about to create. Otherwise his ego will get in the way and tell him he is smart enough to figure out a way to somehow not kill everybody. Yeah Mage Viktor fucked that one up obviously, but I, main timeline Viktor, will be smart enough and well-intentioned enough when the time comes to simply not do that. I think this is why, for example, Jayce doesn't go to the commune trying to get Viktor to see the error of his ways. It won't work until it is allllmost too late.
Main timeline Viktor stops literally seconds before the point of no return. The arcane corruption spikes that we see everywhere in Mage Viktor's world are already starting to appear.
I think Mage Viktor knows that Jayce has to let him get right up to the edge, close enough to be looking over into the abyss, before he'll be able to pull him back.
But he knows Jayce can do that. That's what they do for each other, right?
This is why I think it was always the plan for Jayce to fight him all the way to the top of the Hexgate, and then surrender. Jayce has to survive until the end of the fight, and maybe for magical physics reasons he has to wait until Viktor sends the anomaly into the sky above the Hexgate. But once they get to the top of the Hexgate tower he stops trying to fight Viktor altogether. Maybe Mage Viktor told him exactly when it had to happen or maybe he just realizes this is the exact same place where he died in Mage Viktor's world; this is his last chance. But in any case, Jayce lands on the top of the Hexgate on his knees and he doesn't try to get up.
He waits, and when he senses Viktor behind him he doesn't try to fight or run away.
I think he knows, either because Mage Viktor told him or through his own intuition, that he has to let Viktor pull him into the astral plane if he wants a chance at reaching him.
How exactly he was going to get through to him and/or get close enough to share the memories before Viktor assimilated him...ehhhh I don't know if either of them had that figured out. The "you were never broken" part of Jayce's speech, while important from a character perspective...very crucially DOES NOT WORK. IT DOES NOT WORK AT ALL. Viktor is assimilating Jayce the whole time. You can see Jayce's astral body changing from the unique version that's still him (like his hands on the left, when he first enters the astral plane--which still look more or less human even though Viktor has already erased "imperfections" like the scrapes and cuts from his time in the pit and the arcane corruption that's spreading up and down his arm from where the rune is embedded) into a featureless gold blob like the other assimilated people.
You can watch the gold light creeping up his body steadily during those lines until it reaches his eyes.
The ONLY thing that stops this timeline from ending the same way Mage Viktor's does...is EKKO.
I think you can make the case that Mage Viktor sent Ekko to the no-Hextech timeline intentionally. But it is such a complex chain of causality for Ekko to get to the point where he's chucking a time machine at Herald Viktor's face that there is no way anyone--even a remorseful demigod with lots of time on his hands--could control every possible factor.
However elaborate Mage Viktor's plan was, and however determined Jayce was to keep his promise to him, it all would have failed if not for factors outside their control and random fucking chance.
Arcane is FULL of near-misses and what-could-have-beens and characters who are trying their best to do something getting knocked off course by consequences they never could have foreseen. Season 2 in particular introduces a persistent thread of chaos and the sense that even events that have understandable root causes are now spiraling out of characters' control. So it feels fitting that such a moment factors into the show's ending.
This is Jayce right before Ekko blasts through spacetime right above Viktor's head.
Yeah that guy was cooked.
The only thing that stops Jayce from being assimilated is Ekko breaking time to throw the Z drive at Viktor's face.
Which startles Viktor enough that he takes his hand off Jayce's head in the physical realm, and also breaks a piece of his machine mask off in the astral realm.
As he always does when one of his "perfect" bodies gets damaged, Viktor withdraws and tried to hide, enough that he lets go of the assimilation connection with Jayce.
Jayce starts to regain his own identity/autonomy.
And he gets a do-over. Exactly the same way Ekko used the Z drive to get a do-over with Jinx when he was trying to talk her out of suicide. Jayce gets another chance, and that's when he goes for "all I want is my partner back" and "because I promised you." Which works.
Mage Viktor's plan, I think, was for Jayce to help main timeline Viktor realize what he was doing before it was too late, and then give him the runestone, which allows him to release all the minds/souls that are connected to him before this becomes some runaway chain reaction of arcane power that swallows everything around him. (How the runestone does this exactly, and how the anomalies play into it, is stuff I am still thinking about. But tbh I am less concerned with the details of made-up magic physics than I am with the character beats.) Mage Viktor had accepted that main timeline Viktor was probably going to die in this process and he'd made peace with it. That's what "should" have happened anyway, if Viktor never found a way to forestall his illness, right? As long as this Viktor got to spend the best years of his life with his Jayce, it was okay.
I don't think Mage Viktor ever expected Jayce to stay there until the end. His goal was to save the world and spare Jayce from himself. And why would he plan otherwise? We know why Jayce stays, but Mage Viktor never got that part of the story. He schlorped up his own Jayce's consciousness with everyone else and maybe he only understood the depths of what Jayce felt for him in the moment that he was killing him. And main timeline Viktor certainly does not expect Jayce to stay. He's shocked when he realizes Jayce has no intention of leaving. No, that wasn't part of any master plan. That part was all Jayce.
#arcane#character analysis#viktor arcane#jayce talis#ekko#mage viktor#wizard viktor#arcane meta#jayvik#long post#seriously jesus fuck SO fucking long#i hit the image limit for the first time ever i think
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Chrollo Lucilfer NSFW Alphabet 🕷️
Minors DNI
⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Chrollo is such a gentleman, honestly. He’d get a warm wet rag and clean between your legs, apologizing when he bumps your sensitive clit. He def cuddles with you, too. He might even run a bath for you both to take together.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
His fav part of his body is ofc his chest/abs.
His favorite part on your body is your ass/thighs. I will die on the hill that Chrollo loves it if you’re on the chubbier side, loving the way your thick thighs and ass feel when he’s pounding into you.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
He wants to cum inside of you. Period. He doesn’t want to make a mess, and he loves the idea of marking you like that. He’d also stuff his cum back inside of you.
Btw he’s going to try to get you to squirt by fingering the hell out of your g-spot with those thick, long fingers of his 🤤
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
He literally wants to nurse on your tits. When he cuddles you, he wants to suck your nipple in his mouth, sucking on it until you can’t take it anymore. “Maybe some milk will come out of these soon for me, hmm?”
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
He’s had a few one night stands, but it’s not like he has them all the time. He’s experience enough without being a total man whore lol. He’s read a fair share of erotica books and def has picked up some techniques.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
He can’t decide between doggy style so he can slap your ass and watch it bounce and missionary with your legs on his shoulders so he can fuck you deeper.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Chrollo is super serious. He takes love making with you very seriously.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
He trims it when it gets too long. Carpet matches the drapes. With you, he doesn’t care. You can have a full bush, a landing strip, or be completely bare. You won’t hear him complain either way.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
He’s super romantic and likes to take things slow. He might start off giving you a massage before even initiating sex.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
He would do it a couple times a week before meeting you as a way to release stress. But he never does it now, why would he? Not when he has your warm pussy to fuck.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Dacryphilia (he gets turned on when you cry. Not when you’re sad but when he’s fucking you so good you start crying), bondage, orgasm control, choking (nothing too serious), spanking, dumbification, praise (giving and receiving), breeding. So many more. The only things he’s really opposed to is piss and shit lmao.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
In bed or in the shower. Usually just in bed tho.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Literally anything and everything you do turns him on. He really gets excited when you come out of the shower in just a towel. Or when you’re acting all cute and innocent.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Like I said earlier, piss and shit kinks. He also doesn’t want to severely hurt you. No cutting you or anything that could really cause damage.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Oh he 100% prefers giving. He will eat you out all night until you’re begging him to stop because your poor clit is too sensitive. And Jesus, he’s so good at it. He’s not opposed to a blowjob, but he’d rather just fuck you.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Starts out slow and sensual, then starts pounding into you like an animal. You’ve had to tell him he’s fucking you too hard before…
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
He’s not totally in favor of them, but if you ask he’ll not hesitate to satisfy you.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
He’s not one for risk taking really, he likes to carefully plan and be safe about things. But tbh in the beginning before you were on birth control he would fill you absentmindedly.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
He can last all night, thanks to his top tier physique. You’ll tire out before he will.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
He owns tons of toys—for you. Dildos, vibrators, clamps, whips, everything. He loves to tie you up sometimes and put a vibe on your clit, making you have screaming back to back orgasms.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Chrollo is a big tease sometimes. He’ll at times when he’s busy make you ride his thigh instead, telling you “you either cum from that or not at all, darling.”
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
He grunts, moans, growls, and yes, he’ll whimper. It’s rare, but it’s so fucking hot when he does it.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
He likes when you act like a brat so he can punish you. He’s so mean when he wants to be, and he enjoys putting you over his knee.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Oh baby boy is hung. 8”, straight, pretty cock, veins on it, a perfect slightly pink tip. 🫣
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Higher than you’d think. He’s pushed it away for so long, focusing on his duties, but with you? He’ll fuck you every night.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
He waits for you to fall asleep always, not wanting something to happen and be unaware. He’ll cuddle you to sleep, stroking your hair or your back and pressing kisses to your temple as you do.
#chrollo smut#chrollo lucilfer#chrollo x reader#chrollo x you#chrollo x y/n#chrollo lucilfer smut#chrollo x reader smut#hxh chrollo#h x h#hunter x hunter smut
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Well I’d explain through comments but you have those disabled, so I’m just going to do it through asks, it’s really quite simple, your idea of what BDSM is is operating off the assumption that only one party is benefitting from the pleasure (the dom) whilst the other suffers, and under the assumption that the sub will always be a woman (you never explicitly said that but with your view, I feel the need to mention that is untrue) and somehow the most important part of BDSM has slipped by you, 2 actually, 1. Consent is paramount if enthusiastic consent isn’t given it’s not valid consent, any couple worth their salt isn’t gonna do anything with a meek little “ok” as consent, and then
2. And I think this part is the most important for you BDSM never was and never will be a purely masochistic act, there is nothing inherently harmful about wanting to lend full control to your SO, nor is there anything inherently harmful about bondage, or degradation kinks, masochism is part of BDSM but it’s not all of, and to clear something up before I continue, masochism is not sadism, a masochist derives pleasure from pain, while a sadist derives pleasure from harming someone (consensually, we aren’t talking about serial killers) while yes it is a form of self harm, the biggest difference is going to be the fact that between a depressed person cutting and a masochist who likes to be slapped during sex, the masochist is the one who knows when to stop.
Honestly I think BDSM is the healthiest form of pleasure seeking, foreplay, safe words, aftercare (more important than you might think) all those things were popularized by or have backgrounds in BDSM. BDSM operates off of the fact that it’s what both sides desire, otherwise we would call that rape, hope this helped a little bit, please refrain from spreading misinformation and hatred in the future :]
"and under the assumption that the sub will always be a woman"
Not to be nitpicking, but here is something that I think that I haven't repeated enough in my blog:
When pointing out a trend, people is not stating that every single individual behaves according said trend. It's not that *always* something happens, it's that in the majority of cases said thing happens.
"1. Consent is paramount if enthusiastic consent isn’t given it’s not valid consent, any couple worth their salt isn’t gonna do anything with a meek little “ok” as consent, and then
2. And I think this part is the most important for you BDSM never was and never will be a purely masochistic act,"
I don't know exactly what it has to do with anything. I mean, in theory I can consent to being chocked and end up killed by my partner or with a stroke. I can consent to bondage my breast and end up with damaged tissue or even death tissue. In that case, it really matters that I consented? It really matters if it's a "purely masochistic act or not"?
The point of the post that bothered you was to highlight the false equivalence between being subjected to harmful practices and enjoy of midly unpleasant things like a sour candy.
How consent changes the potential harm of said practices exactly?
"the biggest difference is going to be the fact that between a depressed person cutting and a masochist who likes to be slapped during sex, the masochist is the one who knows when to stop."
I struggled with self harm for several years of my life, and yes, we do know when to stop. I mostly stopped when the injury was bleeding -just as I intended-, but that didn't stopped me from ending up with scars, and infections, and falling on a spiral of new methods of self harm given that after a while the previous ones didn't give me the effects I wanted. Because the effects are not purely physical, but with a great emotional and sensory load attached. Once you get used to cut yourself because you can't bear the pain or because you "don't feel anything", you then start coping with any uncomfortable situation with a new form of self destruction.
Now, I recognize that I don't know all the details of the BDSM experience, but given that painful and potentially harmful practices are being linked to sex, an act that gives people a potent load of pleasure and it's attached to complex emotions, psychological states, even ethical views or existential ones, that involve also other people and the way you bond with them, I doubt that BDSM is immune to the "spiraling" I mentioned above, after all, people who don't practice it also get bored of certain sexual practices and sensations.
"Honestly I think BDSM is the healthiest form of pleasure seeking, foreplay, safe words, aftercare (more important than you might think) all those things were popularized by or have backgrounds in BDSM."
In self harm that also happens, you mess up yourself, you cut, you bleed, and then you cure the injuries and cover them. You look up for essential oils and moisturizers so the scars don't end up being that big. Or you end up in the hospital and feel completely cared by the nurse and the doctor that listen for half an hour why you did that to youself.
You, even when you didn't want it, end up in a cycle of destruction and damage control, when sometimes you receive attention and care and tears spilt for you, which kinda reinforces that in order to get care, in order to be seen, you should keep destroying yourself.
What would prevent a person to end up in that situation if they practice BDSM? It's really so far fetched to worry over the possibility that women may end up in a dynamic where the only way to get affection or caring touch and attention from their partners is to "consent" to painful practices?
"BDSM operates off of the fact that it’s what both sides desire, otherwise we would call that rape, hope this helped a little bit, please refrain from spreading misinformation and hatred in the future :]"
I desired to destroy myself, I guess that calling that self harm and self destruction is hateful and misinforming. But seriously, I don't think you are making a great case in BDSM favor.
#radblr#radical feminist community#radical feminist safe#radical feminists do interact#radical feminists do touch#radical feminism#radical feminist theory
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You made such excellent points- in OG book vampirism is imposed on Mina by outside force and Mina actually can be cured from it if they kill Dracula. But if not Jonathan is ready to become vampire himself. Ellen meanwhile was born like that - with her psychic paranormal abilities. Orlok didn’t make her like that, that’s her forever part. But Thomas essentially wants her to be normal, while she never was in the traditional sense and can’t be normal and in his hunt for Orlok seems to believe that killing him would not only save but cure-fix Ellen too. It won’t. I mean Thomas is the one, who proceeds to have sex with Ellen when she’s not even feeling perfectly coherent, not entirely self, because he wants to show his masculinity or idk. Imagine if after Dracula’s attack on Mina and Mina telling about it Jonathan would immediately proceed to have aggressive sex with her instead of just comforting her, because he needs to reestablish his husband’s rights or something? Like that’s not. But that’s the part of why book Jonathan and 2024 remake Thomas are different characters.
Thank you - I'm glad you've enjoyed them, and they do actually connect to the scene you're mentioning here!
There is a lot to say about this particular sequence, mainly because it forces two characters to deal with each other and face the reality of their marriage, while both are emotionally stripped to the bone and unstable. The result is an incredibly revealing scene. It digs into the Hutters' insecurities, fears, hurts - and even though they largely fail to communicate within their fictional framework, the viewer gets a veritable feast of information regarding them both.
Throughout this scene, Ellen is evidently in a psychic trance; as demonstrated by Von Franz and his needle, during these "fits" she is at least partially astral projecting; her soul is not entirely housed in her body and she often appears to be sleepwalking (which might be a reference both to the original 1922 Nosferatu and Eggers' earlier project The Witch). In this state, she is also not in control of the baser, more physical, less rational passions and desires; she is unbound, stripped of her usual repression - and what lies beneath is a lifetime of neglect, loneliness, and disrespect, as well as all the pain and rage she consequently feels. This is not a surprise for the viewer, who has already witnessed her suffering, her lack of autonomy, and her argument with Harding; but it is absolutely a surprise for Thomas.
Thomas cannot fathom why Ellen would be angry with him; in his mind, he has done everything right - provided for her, prioritized their financial advancement, came back to try and save her from the monster he knows is after her. However, what he fails to understand that he has also cut their honeymoon short, that he left her right after that to travel to another country, that she never cared about wealth beyond being able to afford a somewhat stable existence; what Ellen wants, above all else, is to be known, understood, and respected - and Thomas has failed to give her that. He discourages her from talking about her dreams, he does not understand her priorities in life, and he cannot help but patronize her, even when he is attempting to express his affections. Her visceral anger is a shock to him, it catches him entirely off-guard, and then she drops a final bomb - "you could never please me the way he does."
What Ellen means here is that Orlok, a monster, is the only one who has ever understood her - because she is herself a monster. What she is trying to do is bait Thomas into exposing what she believes he truly thinks of her, now that he has seen what she becomes, liberated by the nightfall.* This is obviously a toxic thing to do, but Ellen is not a healthy or balanced individual, and this is a gothic story, so yes, she baits him (rather blatantly, in my opinion; but I've seen people confused about it, so who knows. Admittedly, I have a rather specific sort of practical background, as far as relationships go). Point is, what she expects from him is a rejection; and what she craves, desperately, is his acceptance.
What Thomas hears, however, is that another man has infringed upon what is legally his - and that his masculinity is in question, rather than Ellen's humanity; which lands a critical hit against his already damaged, patriarchal, 19th-century-misogynistic ego.
To fully understand his reaction, we must really dig into his overall narrative context. From the very beginning of the film, and throughout the story, Thomas Hutter's struggles revolve around his continuous emasculation. He is a low-level part-time employee at a real estate firm that is run exclusively by older, well-established men. He is played for a fool by foreigners who steal his horse (they were just trying to save his life, seriously, they didn't think he'd hike the fucking Carpathians on foot in the winter, but that's not how he perceives that situation). He is trapped in Orlok's castle - and, given the sexual allegories of vampirism, arguably assaulted. I'm not going to go into the full background of queerphobic stereotypes and opinions; still, suffice to say that not only would that experience have been traumatic (understandably so), but also that the act of submitting to penetration (here, biting) by another man has been historically seen as inherently emasculating and degrading. In the context of Nosferatu (or Dracula, or Interview with the Vampire, and others), this scenario is, on a largely Doylist level, a bodice-ripper fantasy; however, that doesn't make it any easier for Thomas to accept. To submit to another (even a richer, older, infinitely more powerful) man is a problem - but to enjoy that position is unforgivable.
All that to say - by the time Thomas returns to Wisborg, his sense of self-worth is in shambles. The narrative has assigned him the role of a Damsel in Distress, which he fits perfectly and obviously resents. Thus, when he hears yet another insult from his wife - who may be higher-born, but still his wife, and thus below him - he reacts accordingly, with fury.
Again, in anticipation of discourse wank - this is not a good thing; his reasons are clear, I understand them, I do not excuse him. What Thomas does at this point is attempt to aggressively reassert his claim and right to Ellen as her husband. He's rough, but uninventive; he also doesn't worship her the way Orlok did; and, ultimately, even as he tries to demonstrate his continued interest and desire for her, he ends up proving her anxieties. When faced with a hallucination - a fraction of her psychic gift - he flings her away. Crucially, he cannot "show" Orlok their love.
After that, he does try to reassure her, be gentle with her, declare his love - but, really, he might as well mark that off as another failure. She has seen how terrified he looked, and she will not believe a word he says.
The whole scene is a distillation of their dynamic. It's one disconnect after another, strung together by his inability to listen, her lack of trust, and their shared resentment. Thomas and Ellen's relationship is hindered at every turn by the misogyny, queerphobia, and repression that are built into the cage that is their society. The film is an exploration of that cage. Its bars are the driving force behind the plot.
* NIGHTFALL - the diurnal, or gas-lit (it's on the nose. it's SO on the nose) scenes are a visual shorthand for the "normal" accepted society. It is Rational (hence the scientific "gaseous" light), it is godly (sunlight), it is the domain of the Hardings and Sievers of the story. The moonlight and firelight provide a similar distinction to the scenes that delve into the Emotional and the demonic, removing the subjects from the usual societal restrictions; those light sources are generally considered to be magical, primal, raw. It's fascinating, seriously - if you ever watch this film again, try to pay attention to the lighting!
#nosferatu#nosferatu 2024#thomas hutter#ellen hutter#count orlok#orlok#nosferatu meta#robert eggers#lily rose depp#bill skarsgård#nicholas hoult#vampires#vampire#horror#nosferatu spoilers#horror film analysis
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Ideal No. 15
(7,119 words)
(A/N: Is this the longest chapter yet? LMAO, eat up! I had it mostly done before now, so IDK why it took me so long, if I didn't procrastinate, the total writing time was like three days, maybe. Plot bunnies are bitches, I guess. The moral of the story is: yell at me more in the comments! Only one or two more chapters to go!)
Thanks once again to @fyodorsushankaaa for all the encouragement!
He looks like a scared puppy, readying to bolt. I have to act fast.
It's impulsive, I know, but I'm not sure what else I can do, so I grab his bloodied hand. He flinches, hard, but I don't let go. I can't, too scared he'll slip away again.
"Dazai, you're hurt." Well, that much is obvious. I mentally scold myself. "What happened?"
He probably won't tell me if it's self-inflicted or not, but I need to know what sort of injury it is at least. The blood is spreading in a pattern that suggests a wound less controlled than razor lines. And Dazai doesn't cut himself, as far as I know. He kills himself with neglect.
He opens his mouth, then closes it, then again, then once more. Then he jolts up, trying to twist away. He makes a sound of pain so startling that surprise makes me let go when it should be my instinct to grip him tighter.
Without the support of my arms, he tumbles out of the booth. I rush to help him.
"I'm okay. I'm just a bit out of it because of the weather change, is all." His voice is raspy. He isn't even trying to fool me anymore. I won't complain. His admitting that something at all is wrong is a start.
I'll just do what I always do. Go along with it.
"If you were under the weather you should have let someone know."
"'M fine."
Suppressing a sigh, I try a different tactic. "It only causes everyone more trouble if you wait until you can't stand."
His wince makes me regret the words, but I have to say something to make him see sense.
"I-I'm sorry."
What does he have to be sorry for? I don't have time for that at the moment. He needs medical attention, but knowing him he won't let me bring him anywhere near a hospital. "I hardly care about that now. Come on, I'm going to take you back to the office. Yosano-sensei will treat you."
"No!"
He's hyperventilating, the first sign of a panic attack. Okay. I have to calm him down. What would calm him down?
Jokes!
"Dazai, your bandages are yellow. I will not allow you to let your writing hand rot off simply because you don't want to do paperwork. How am I to get you to do work, then?"
It doesn't work. Or, well, it does, but not the way I intended. He stops hyperventilating but then lapses into silence. "Sorry." He wilts.
We both sit awkwardly on the floor for a moment considering the situation. He has been eating more, lunch at least, but I can tell I'll still be able to lift him, easily. It scares me a bit, but I'm grateful for it now. It is easier to focus on his alarmingly skinny stature than the fact that he is, practically, in my lap.
His quiet voice comes from beside me, "T-the food . . ."
I don't want to ask him to speak up, but he's so quiet and his words are so slurred that I really am having trouble hearing him.
"I'm sorry?"
"The food, we shouldn't waste."
I want to shake him. That's what you care about? But I'm afraid he'll break.
"Of course, let me, uh, just."
He tries to leap away, I think, from my lap, but he just ends up rolling to the side a bit, his hand twisting further.
I hurry to the counter, give our order number, and inform her of the mess we made.
"Yes, it's almost done. Don't worry about the tea. It happens a lot. We'll be happy to pack your food in takeaway boxes for you, sir. But, may I ask why you're leaving so soon? Your order was marked as dine-in, was that incorrect? Was your experience not okay?"
The woman is so sweet, but what do I tell her? No, you're restaurant is lovely my colleague is just a bit suicidal. "Oh, it was fine, ma'am. . . . My partner is just feeling a bit under the weather."
She coos, glancing worriedly behind me, probably at Dazai, who must still be lying on the floor. "Oh my, I see. The noodles should help then. I hope he feels better soon. You two boys take care."
"Thank you, ma'am."
-
Dazai is indeed still on the floor. I look at him for a moment. There's no way he'll be able to stand long enough to get to the car. Given his state, what would be the most efficient and most dignified way (for both of us) to pick him up?
After looking at his tender hand hanging limply, I go with the cradle carry.
(A/N: The cradle carry is more commonly known as the Bridal or Princess carry, lmao)
"I'm going to pick you up, is that alright?"
He blinks, taking a moment to comprehend the words. He must be more ill than I thought. But, to my relief, he nods.
He's warm in my arms. Not like the warmth of a lover, but feverish warmth.
"Keep these steady, Dazai," I say just to break the silence.
He nods, not objecting to my using him as a shelf for the noodles. In fact, he crunches them as if they're far more important than tea-house takeaway.
The walk to the car feels long and short at the same time. Dazai isn't heavy, not at all, but I'm so worried I'll drop him.
As I lay him across the backseat, he grabs my arm. "No . . . Yosano."
"Dazai, you need a doctor."
He doesn't seem to get it.
"Please."
It's his eyes that get me. They're wide and round with innocence and fear, like a child's, like a stray cat's. He reminds me so much of Yozo that I can't possibly ignore his request. It would feel like abuse.
"Okay. I'll take you to my house, but you're getting first aid either way. I'm not going to watch whatever injury you have fester. Understand?"
-
The drive takes a bit longer because I'm so careful not to go too fast or hit the brakes too hard. I even avoid steep downhills, given that he wears no safety belt.
He sits up as soon as I park, indicating that he was not asleep as I'd hoped. I shouldn't let my disappointment show. I don't need him apologising for I don't know what, again. So while I fix my face, I carry the noodles in.
Of course, Yozoz makes her escape as I open the door. It made me a bit sad to see her go, but then I knew she'd have to leave eventually, and with the noodles in my hands I was in no position to stop her.
-
They fit nicely in my mostly empty fridge. I haven't had much time to shop due to my extended hours. This is not ideal at all.
I'm also lacking in bandages. I have plenty for Dazai's wound, but I have no doubt that the ones he wears like a bodysuit need changing and I don't have enough. I never thought he'd be here, at my residence. Oh . . . what am I doing? I'll need to order groceries.
Mourning Yozo's absence, but with new determination, I step outside.
To my surprise, the cat hasn't gone far. She paws at my car door, jumping up to the window. The relief I feel is more than should be warranted, considering she's a feral cat, but I feel it anyway.
"Move, Yozo. I need to open the door."
I don't expect her to, but she obeys. Trotting curiously to the left.
Dazai is even more out of it than before. He's like a child when they somehow make themselves heavier, only it's hardly his fault. Yozo watches me curiously as I carefully handle my colleague. She trails my steps, fascinated by the newcomer.
Once inside, I lay dazai on the counter and wash my hands at the sink. I have to swat soapy water at Yozo to prevent her from licking Dazai's wounded hand. She yowls in response. It's interesting how she acts with him as if he's a fellow cat in danger, not a human. Or maybe she thinks she's human too.
I want to start with the first aid right away, better while he's out of it, but his bandages are the one part of his body he keeps off-limits and I would never cross such a personal boundary.
I'll have to wake him, but I can wait a bit longer.
This is where preparedness comes in handy. I have an ear thermometer I bought but have never used. I take it out now, rubbing it with an alcohol swab and sticking it in Dazai's ear. He twitches but makes no move to stop me.
The device beeps, flashing a yellow 39 C. Not Ideal, but not life-threatening.
Hmm, another dilemma. Medication will help his fever and pain, but he hasn't eaten yet. There's no way anything is making it to his stomach right now, so medication will have to wait.
"Dazai, wake up."
" . . . 'nikida?"
"Yes. How do you feel."
He just shakes his head.
"You're running a mid-grade fever, so that's probably why you feel so poorly. Now, I need to take your bandages off to get to your hand-" He shakes his head before I finish, I can feel him trembling. I'm not sure how much of it is chills and how much is fear at the prospect of revealing what's underneath that he keeps so carefully hidden. "Please, Dazai, your wound is infected. It needs treatment. I won't go above the elbow, I promise. I swear on my Ideals."
He stops trembling, stilling completely, as stiff as a board.
"It's okay?"
An almost imperceptible nod.
There's disposable plastic on the counter, my sleeves are rolled, my hands are washed and protected by latex gloves, and I have everything I could possibly need save for surgical tools, and yet, I don't feel ready. But when am I ready for Dazai Osamu? Since when does it matter if I am or not? I just have to do it.
The bandages are wrapped so tight his hand must be purple underneath. I take the miniature scissors from the kit and begin cutting. The bandages come loose, but I have to peel them away from each other.
"Fuck me." I try not to swear, but the deeper I go, the tighter they're stuck with blood, plasma, and other bodily fluids that result from the inner layers of skin being exposed to the outside world. The bottom most bandages are closer to brown than white.
"M' trying."
"What?" What did he just say? He didn't mean- surely not . . .
"Said m' trying to fuck you, kun-i-ki-da~" His voice is strained with pain and slurred with fever.
Wh- Oh. He's delirious. Of course. As much as the returns of his clownery relive me, this is NOT what I had in mind.
"I'd do it so well, Kuni-kun."
Suddenly I feel as if I'm the one with the fever, the what creeping into my face, hands sweaty.
"Please, go to sleep, Dazai. You're not well."
"That's what the lady at the cafe said too."
"I'm sure."
I focus all my energy on tuning him out. Thankfully there's no smell, which means the infection isn't too bad. I sigh.
On the last layer, I hesitate. The bandages are still opaque enough that I can't see the skin underneath.
Dazai's other hand raises up in a sloppy thumbs up, then falls back down. He's exhausted, but I'm glad for his approval, and that he seems to be back to his silly persona.
I took a formal first aid course in High School, so the rest of the process will be easy, the most tedious part is cleaning until the water runs clear instead of red.
The skin is blistered, if he does have any self-harm scars, I can't see them. I'm not sure if that's a good thing. Some of the blisters have burst but the skin is still pink, not charred or brown. This looks to be a superficial 2nd-degree burn. Thankfully these can be treated at home.
Because this isn't exactly a fresh wound it isn't bleeding and I don't need to cool the burn, since it's at least a day old, which is good because it means I can treat it with less delay.
Given that the wound was covered, I suspect that the infection came mainly from not cooling the wound properly or allowing it to breathe, and the lack of antibiotic ointment, and choking his circulation did no favours. Scolding him would do nothing.
Once the wound is clean, I apply antibiotic cream and begin dressing it. Dazai doesn't flinch, he must be out.
I lean down, examining my work. I almost wish I hadn't done it. A cool bath would've helped his fever and the sweating, but now I don't want to wet the dressing, and he'd never allow anyone to see what's underneath his bandages. (Even if I thought I could handle him naked. As unprofessional as that sounds, I know my limitations.) With all the weeping, perhaps I should change it anyway. I have doubt that he'll do it himself even if he's capable.
I bin my gloves and the plastic sheet and wash my hands perhaps a little harder than necessary.
His fever isn't sustainable either, but I'll let him sleep for now, just to recover from the shock of it all.
Still, he can't sleep on my counter. I lift him as carefully as possible, he doesn't stir. I tell myself not to worry as I set him down on the sofa.
Yozoz climbs my leg, jumping onto Dazai's limp form.
"Off!" I whisper, but she doesn't move.
I have a spare bedroom, but I'm not putting him there until he's had a bath and some fresh clothes. I'll do that as soon as I can.
-
His face isn't relaxed as he sleeps, he frowns, his nose and eyebrows scrunched, still, I can't deny that he's handsome. And cute with Yozoz lying protectively on his chest, letting him use her to elevate his hand.
He twitches and shifts uncomfortably. He'll need pain medication soon, which means he'll need to eat.
Instead of staring at him, I need to order groceries . . . And I need to call in.
How do I even explain this? Better yet, how do I explain this without betraying Dazai's trust and alerting Yosano-sensei to the fact that he's injured?
I mean, do I even need to? He cuts work all the time . . . or he used to. Yeah, I'd better call.
I swear for the second time today and dial the president directly.
"Fukuzawa-sensei, this is Kunikida."
"Yes, Kunikida, what do you need?"
"Nothing. I was just calling to inform you that Dazai and I are on a private case and we won't be back for a couple of days. You can cut the time from my pay if you like. But I just wanted you to know that nothing is wrong, no one needs to come looking for us."
"Ah, I see. Did you pick up this case during lunch? Will you be reachable in the case of an emergency?"
I look at Dazai. I can't leave him, not like this. "Yes . . . and no."
"Are you out of the city?"
"No."
"Alright. Seeing as your paperwork is complete. I will bother you no longer. But please do call again if you two plan to be on the case for more than a week."
"Of course, sir."
He hangs up. I rest in relief for a moment. Now that that's cleared up there's the matter of my almost empty refrigerator.
-
Dazai wakes at the sound of the groceries being delivered.
"Huh? Kunikida?"
"I ordered groceries."
I don't think he understands me very well, but I'll only be going to the door, so I don't worry.
Yozoz hisses at the delivery man. I nudge her back, and she gives one final look of utter disapproval before retreating. I tip the man and take the bags inside.
When I come back Dazai has gotten into a halfway upright position, using his uninjured hand to pet Yozo.
"Be careful." The warning is a habit at this point.
"When did Kunikida-kun get a cat?"
I don't let his use of the third person worry me, it wasn't uncommon for him a few months ago."Recently. She was a stray."
"My, how charitable!"
I have to remind myself not to be relieved. He's only acting this way because of the fever.
"Helping the less fortunate when I can is in my Ideals. And right now, that includes you, Dazai."
He gasps theatrically, "Me?"
"Yes, you. You have a fever. You need to take medication. It'll help with the pain as well, but you need to eat first. Now come on."
"My, who knew the prime minister of meeting procedure land would make such a good doctor, and handsome too~"
I can't deal with this right now, him saying all these things. They say fevers make you honest, but he's clearly spouting, pardon me, utter bullshit. "Yes, first aid training is quite useful."
He frowns at my lack of reaction.
I set the groceries on the counter, and go to help him.
"Ahh, I'm so weak Kunikida-kun! I couldn't possibly move! Carry me!"
Ugh. Now that he's more alert, carrying him feels less like a medical necessity and more awkward, without the adrenaline from seeing him so hurt, but I'd take this over him sobbing on the floor any day.
I must admit I've had daydreams about having him in my arms before, but never like this.
He won't be able to handle chopsticks, so it'll have to be broth. I can make a simple one in under thirty minutes. As soon as I finish stocking the refrigerator and cupboards, I turn to find Dazai sitting at the counter. His newly dressed hand is splayed out on the countertop. He lifts it, flexing his finger. He makes no sound, but I've known him long enough to see that he's in pain.
He abhors pain. It doesn't make sense. This must not have been part of a suicide attempt. He'd never do something as painful as burning or boiling alive, so how did it happen?
I don't look at him, not wanting to invade at the moment. Instead, I focus on readying the ingredients for the broth, falling into the rhythm of chopping vegetables.
"How are you feeling? Does it hurt?" I ask, still not looking. If it were anyone else I wouldn't count on a coherent answer, and I don't with Dazai, not really. He would never admit the extent of his pain, but I know he's aware, at least. This man is a cockroach. He's come to work with temperatures like this and higher before and none of us noticed until he passed out dramatically on the sofa.
"It's fine."
"It is" not "I am". A clear lie.
He's as stubborn as an ox, more stubborn than I myself can be at times. I have no choice but to go along. I place the vegetables in the pan with the stock and set the temperature. "Good. You have to eat before you take medication. The broth should be done soon."
He goes silent for a moment, then, "Mmm, Kunikida is so kind, getting all worked up over nothing." His words are soft, a gentle smile, almost . . . reassuring. His voice sends a wave of warmth down my spine.
Still, the sudden return of his demureness is a bit surprising.
"This is not nothing."
"Well you could have simply taken me to hospital, it wasn't necessary to bring me all the way to your home. I'm sure I've caused quite a hassle. I'm not sure how I can repay you for all of this."
"You mentioned before that you dislike hospitals, so I thought-"
"It hardly matters. There was no need for you to trouble yourself, I feel guilty now."
"Don't, you're my partner, it was no trouble at all." The words feel forbidden. It's immature, but my feelings make calling him my partner feel more meaningful than it should. He's so observant, can he see my guilt? Hear my heartbeat?
"That's impossible. I wish I hadn't troubled you at all." He looks down as he says it, picking the his new bandages. He sounds genuine, bitter and upset. Like many of today's events, it doesn't make sense. After all he's done to pester me so far, how can he feel so guilty for this? Or is it something else? Is this for all he's done in the past? That would be ridiculous, but somehow I believe it. Nothing he ever did was that horrible, it's all forgiven now.
"Dazai . . ." I don't know what I should say, what I could say. He doesn't look up anyway.
"I won't trouble you anymore, Kunikida-san." It sounds so . . . final.
"Dazai, it wasn't-"
He's standing before I can stop him. I want to reach out to him, to stop him, but I know I shouldn't touch him much more, I doubt his aversion to contact has changed. Even with all his external polish and warmth, all those smiles, something frozen still resides within him, I know it. At times, I can feel its cold, like a gust of shivering wind, sudden, shocking . . . then gone.
And yet I find myself moving ever closer. Something deep in my gut knows I can't let him leave. I feel that if I do I may never see him again.
He sways, and sways and sways, and then . . . tips.
This time, though, I'm here to catch him. Again, he's too warm in my arms.
"Dazai, stop! You're in no condition to go anywhere. Please, sit, . . . stay. At least until you take medication. Then you can go as you please. But as your partner, it would be an abdication of my duties to allow anything to happen to you." There's that word again. Partner.
He whispers so softly, that I swear I mishear him, but it's quiet enough that I'm sure I don't. "Partner." Then he looks up. "Abdication, such a big word." The words are thoughtful, yet careless. He looks dazed. "Of course, you're just doing your job. Fine, but at least let me pay you."
Is he out of his damn mind? "P-pay me, what, you-?!" No. I can't lose my cool now. This isn't an office shenanigan. But then again . . . perhaps my scolding will be as grounding to him as his clownery is to me (am I the delirious one?)
"This is a favour, you will do no such thing. Now, stop talking nonsense!" I can't make myself call him an idiot, he still looks too fragile for that.
It seems to work, to my relief, he backs down. "Sorry." I don't like the bashful tone, but if it means he'll let me care for him without fighting, I'll take what I can get.
We sit, once again, in silence.
I'm relieved when the broth is done, busying myself with readying the bowl and placing it in front of him.
When I set it down, he looks at me for a long moment, then says a quiet "Thank you." and takes the spoon.
His hand shakes a little.
Right. I was so distracted by his attitude that I forgot a spoon might still be hard for him. What to do? For once, I don't know, there is nothing in my Ideals that tells me how to deal with an injured, delirious, Dazai Osamu in my kitchen.
"W-would you like some help?"
He looks up with wide eyes. Neither of us says anything.
A moment passes, and I can't bear to wait, so I take the spoon from his shaky hand.
He opens his mouth wordlessly and closes it the same.
We repeat the process, still silent, working like a machine, efficient. Both of us, I'm sure, are trying to distance ourselves from the reality of what we are doing. Before I know it the bowl is down to the dregs of vegetables.
Dazai nods once. "Your soup is very delicious, Kunikida-san."
"Thank you." The phrase is brief, almost curt, but I don't know how else to respond. My brain won't form words appropriate for this situation. I turn away, typing the last drops of broth into the plastic bowl the vet sent home for Yozo.
She laps eagerly, while I prepare the correct dosage of medication.
Dazai takes it without a hint of disgust, handing the cup back to me, then pushes himself up. It's too fast and he wobbles. I reach out but then retract my hands. He's not my charge, he's a grown man. He's fine. And he dislikes being touched.
I can't stand to see him go. Who knew I could be so selfish?
"Dazai, wait."
He halts but doesn't turn. His shoulders are tense. I shouldn't keep him longer.
"Just wait a bit. I will call you a taxi cab once the medication takes effect. Just for an hour, rest . . . please."
He turns so slowly I'm worried he's dizzy again, but he seems perfectly steady when he faces me. Then again, he seemed fine until he collapsed in the tea house.
"Alright. Where would you like me to sit?"
Anywhere.
"Wherever you feel most comfortable."
He nods, clearly uncomfortable again. Guilt makes my chest ache, I should let him go. He's made it this far. I'm sure he can handle himself.
"The sofa will be more than fine."
"Okay," I have to leave, I should. I have no business hovering like we're anything more than colleagues. "I'll be in the kitchen, cleaning, if you need anything at all."
"Don't worry. I won't."
-
I can't make myself stay away.
So here I sit, mere inches away from Dazai. He fell asleep almost as soon as he sat down, despite his insurance on feeling fine.
His breathing is even, but I can see him shivering against the fever. I leave him for a moment, just to get him a blanket.
When I put it over him he still for a moment, then rolls over, still fully asleep and pulls it tight around himself. The trembling stops, and I breathe a sigh of relief. He'll be alright.
But I won't.
Watching him like this feels wrong, a guilty pleasure. This was never meant for me to see. I feel like a pervert, even though watching him like this brings no sexual pleasure, only a warmth in my chest.
I can only stare as his chest rises and falls. His hair fans out over my pillows making them look like they don't belong here, no, not that. They, and he look like they belong, but under his head, they look like something novel even when I've had them for years.
-
After many hours of fitful tossing and turning, he really stirs. And I've done nothing but watch him this whole time. How much working time have I lost? And why does it not seem to matter at all?
I don't think he meant to sleep so long. It's dark out now, and he'll surely need more medication if he even wishes to attempt a full night's sleep.
I jump up when he twitches, hurrying away, lest he think my intentions are anything other than platonic.
"Kunikida?" He calls out.
"Yes, Dazai," I answer, strolling in like I didn't just bolt from the room. How many times have I lied in the past day?
"Thank you very much for letting me stay, and for the food, both here and at the tea house. You can keep my noodles. I'll catch a cab now."
He's up, standing on shaky legs before I can stop him.
"What?" The words fall out, clumsy and desperate. I hope he doesn't hear it.
He looks at me, appropriately confused. "Did I leave something, Kunikida-kun?"
My saving grace. The one thing I actually did besides watching him sleep."Your coat, it's in the dryer. There was some blood on the cuff, so I washed it." The perfectly reasonable explanation feels awkward.
"Oh, thank you again." He sounds so grateful it makes me uncomfortable.
"Please, don't thank me. You aren't troubling me. Your coat should be done in just a few minutes." I want him to stay longer, "Would you mind if I checked your bandages until then, I heard you tossing in your sleep." A small lie.
"I'm yours."
We both freeze.
"I-I'm sorry?" I sound like I'm choking.
His cheeks reddened, embarrassed that I made something out of that, no doubt. Especially when I've probably said similar things in reference to our partnership.
"I simply meant that you are the expert and are free to do what you want, er, need to."
"Ah, yes."
What do I do now?
Neither of us moves for a moment, like when you get stuck trying to pass someone in a door or corridor and do an awkward little dance. I don't want him to pass me. I don't want him to go.
Then he moves, walking to the counter, and placing his arm on it. I follow him, busying myself with readying the plastic sheeting.
He's in the same position when I come back, but lifts his arm and allows me to put the small section of sheeting under it.
I examine the bandages. I was right. As much as this is to keep him here, they do need changing. The wound is still weeping a lot.
"I'll need to clean and change it again," I tell him, but I think he may have guessed based on the way he eyes his arm.
The experience is completely different now that he's coherent. But he doesn't fight me on the removal of the bandages, I watch his face, his beautiful face, and on cue, he gives his silent permission.
He doesn't flinch as I unwrap it, eyes scanning the wound analytically.
He leans in, so close that I would barely have to lean down to kiss him. I'd never, of course, I could never. But the thought is very much there.
"I have seen far worse, usually I was the cause." He explains.
Right, the mafia.
Here, in this house, I could forget. But, I realise suddenly, that it doesn't matter at all, not when it comes to him.
The process goes so much more quickly this time. I hate that I wish it didn't, but before I know it, my hands are on autopilot, and he's in fresh bandages . . . and ready to go.
Where's he going to go? Surely not the agency dormitories? He doesn't want anyone to know he's injured. Or will he just hole up inside? Or does he have somewhere else? A street corner? I shiver at the thought.
He needs another dosage of medications since it's been so long. He must be in pain, but if he's driving, he should wait to take it until he gets back. I still don't trust him with a whole bottle. But I can send him with enough to get him through the night until tomorrow morning when I see him again. I'd best pick him up and take him here in the morning. Someone might see me and know I lied if I stay too long, and his dormitory isn't exactly sterile. (Maybe he's cleaned it? I've only seen it in glimpses.)
"You should take another dose of medication in about an hour. I'll send you home with a pill, you can pick up another one tomorrow when I change your bandages. It helps with the pain as well. Actually, I should take your temperature before you go. If you're still feverish, I'll drive you."
He nods, then cocks his head. "Come here? I appreciate it, but won't we be at the agency?"
Right, he doesn't know.
I told the President that we'd be out for a couple of days, just because I'd be in charge of caring for the wound since Dazai refused to go to a hospital or Yosano, but maybe that's changed now that he's not feverish.
"I was under the impression that you wanted the injury hidden. You told me you didn't want to go to the hospital or to Yosano, so I told the President that we were out on a case. He won't expect us back." It feels shameful and stupid as I say it now, but I press on. He needs to know. "I was actually wondering where you were going. You can't exactly go to the dorms, and I'd prefer to change your bandages here where I have my supplies . . . Or, of course, I could tell him we finish early if you would rather!"
He's just standing there, frozen. I can't read him.
After a while he says quietly, "You lied to the president?" The words are shocking. Of course, they are, I'm the last person one would expect to do that, I know.
"You seemed highly uncomfortable at the thought of anyone knowing so I . . . I just did."
He looks down. Even without a fever, I can see he still feels that way. "No, no, I won't make you lie further. I'll find a place to stay. An old mafia safe house should do just fine."
"Oh, Dazai, I didn't mean to-"
"You've done so much. I am fine now. I don't need luxury, just a quiet place to sleep." He looks pale.
He's not fine.
And I'm still not ready for him to leave, not ready to be alone with my thoughts.
He sits like a dutiful patient while I fetch his freshly dry coat. I'm not so deceitful as to wet it again.
He takes it, standing up once again.
"Let's do this again sometime, eh, Kunikida-kun?" The statement carries just a trace of his previous humour. His eyes are far away, the deep brown irises glassy.
Just as he reaches the door, I remember. I didn't take his temperature! Or give him the pills! I grab his wrist. He whirls around, startled, looking again like a caught animal. I wish he wouldn't, but I have to admit, what I'm doing is quite creepy.
"Wait. I need to make sure your temperature is down before you go. I don't want someone kidnapping you, eh?" The joke, like most of mine, falls flat.
Something sparks in his eyes . . . and then they go cold.
"Kunikida-san, I understand that you're just doing your job . . . but last I checked it's not your job to stop me from killing myself. Don't pretend to care so much, I am not your poor little charity case!"
Killing- who said anything about suicide? Is he planning to- Now? After he's done all this? Well, now there's no way I can let him go!
It looks like he's also realised his mistake. His eyes are stuck between wide open and narrowed to slits, it's odd. I take advantage of it.
"Dazai, please. I just wish to help."
He says nothing, to my relief, no sour words about my ideals, or my having a saviour complex. (I don't. I'm just ever so foolishly in love.)
I'm afraid that if I step away to get the thermometer, he'll run, so instead, I step forward, placing my hand under his fringe. The contact sends a spark through me, and it occurs to me that I've never really touched him before, a brush of the hand, maybe, and of course carrying him, but never this. He's still warm. Of course, he is. In my haste, I overlooked something important.
I learnt very quickly of Dazai Osamu's inhuman metabolism. It's how he processes all the junk food and alcohol so quickly. The medication must have worn off at least an hour ago. Has he been in pain all this time?
Oh, damn me!
"Dazai, I'm so sorry."
He doesn't look like he's heard me. He sways again . . . and then he's in my arms.
He weighs almost nothing against me, but I can't worry about that now.
"You know, Kunikida-kun?" he mumbles into my chest, "I think I'm still a bit tired from the medication. Maybe I will stay."
"Why did you not tell me?" But the question is more for myself. I know why.
I'm a task-oriented person. I need goals or I'll fall apart, I know this. So I make a list.
Check his temperature.
Make him eat something (somehow).
Give medication.
Attempt a cool bath.
Fresh clothes.
Sleep.
He's completely out. I can feel his breathing, slow and shallow.
Taking his temperature is easy, getting him medicated won't be. I ought to try a cool bath first before he can protest. It will help the most before the medication kicks in. I hate to cross his boundaries like that . . . then again, he seemed to give me permission when he agreed to stay.
Fortunately, I don't have to decide. He wakes when I move him, his breathing shifting into quick gasps. I want to tell him he's okay, but what use would that have?
"I'm going to give you a cool bath. You can keep your undershirt and pants on, but I need to get your temperature down, alright?"
He nods.
Thankfully, this bathroom was designed with two people in mind, so there's plenty of room for him on the counter. He mutters something that includes my name and the words "undress me". I think he's trying to be cheeky, but it falls flatter than any of my jokes ever have.
Getting into the bathtub is easy. He weighs much less than he should. I prop him up, but with the way he flops to the side, like a fish, I can't possibly leave him. He'll drown.
What to do, what to do? I can stay with him a bit, but I need to make more broth so he can take more pills. I'll think about it.
"Hey, you're just going to soak in here for a bit, so your body can cool down. May I wash your hair?" He's sweaty, so I may as well.
He nods, so I do.
The process is like nothing I've ever done. He "hmms" softly and I can feel him slipping into sleep under my touch. I thought that seeing him undressed (or in this case in just his pants) would be hard for me, but it isn't. All I can feel is concern, not pity, I don't see him as below me or anything, he remains my equal and as handsome as ever, but right now he just needs to be taken care of. He is not riddled with scars as I'd thought, but there is one, a large gash along his chest and other various small ones. It's hard to see them, though. In reality, the scars are perfectly visible, but when I look at him I don't see them, just those warm brown eyes.
The bath is working, and he feels much less hot than before. He's more alert as well. If he just stays in a bit longer he might return to a normal temperature, at least temporarily which would help until I can get medication in him, but I still have to cook . . .
"Okay. Here's a towel, you have to get out now."
He shakes his head, confused as if just having woken up. Did he really go to sleep just like that? He used to complain of insomnia. How ill is he?
"Don't wanna." His tone isn't clownish, but tired, so very tired.
"Dazai, I can't- you're not in a complete state of mind, you could hurt yourself."
"What if you could make sure I didn't?"
What's he got up his sleeves now? I make my scepticism clear on my face. "Perhaps, what do you have in mind?"
"I could sing to you . . . like in that movie with the little girl who's really an adult."
"What?" I'm not even going to ask.
"Like this" He hums a note, then another. I don't recognise the melody, but it's pretty.
"Fine. But If you stop, I will come right back in here, so don't try anything."
"Got it, Kunikida-san."
True to his word, he keeps humming as I start in the kitchen. The song is very nice. I'll have to ask him what it is when he feels better.
-
The broth, a slightly different recipe, to keep things interesting, finishes quickly. All that's left is for it to cool to an edible temperature, and to get Dazai into some clothes.
I'm only 8 centimetres taller than Dazai, so my clothes should fit him well enough. I pull out a pyjama set from the back of my drawer, it was a gag gift from Katai when I went to university, with a little nightcap and all. I leave the cap and take the folded set into the bathroom.
-
He looks so soft in the matching top and bottom that I can do nothing but stare. He sneezes, snapping me out of the trace. Right, his hair is still a bit wet. The last thing he needs is a cold.
He manages to stand, albeit with most of his weight on me, and follows me to the kitchen.
-
"Why are you doing this?" He asks as I set down the spoon. I helped him again. He didn't ask me to, even as a joke, and I wasn't sure he would if I didn't just- so I just did it . . . It would appear that, in some way, somehow I'm in this even deeper than I thought.
What can I say? Oh, I could say so much. What can I say that would be professionally acceptable?
"It's my job." AH, if there was an award for shit answers.
He sighs, "AH, right, duty-bound Kunikida-kun. Poor thing." The words are teasing, but I know him better than that.
-
He makes himself at home in the spare bedroom, out practically as soon as his head hits the pillow. When was the last time he slept in a real bed?
What do I do now? It's not that late, so I can't go to bed, but I can't go back to work, and there's now ay I'd let myself leave. I can't think of anything, so, as always, I stay.
He looks so peaceful, his breathing even, face relaxed. I gave him twice the normal dosage of medication.
Despite his apparent calm I can't help thinking that he should be in my bed. I want to hold him, to keep him warm and safe. I want him to know someone needs him, someone wants him. At first, I wasn't sure this new him even needed that anymore, but his behaviour today . . . I want to wake up and see his smile, a real one. I want to be the reason for it. I want to give him so, so many reasons to smile. And when he can't smile, I want to be there for him.
Looking at him like this, a sudden courage fills me. The courage to put pen to paper. I pull out my notebook and start writing, looking up every so often at Dazai's sleeping face, just to amke sure I phrase this thing I'm feeling right (if there's any way to physically capture it. I'd try even if I knew for sure there wasn't).
When I'm finally pleased, I close the book. It's dark out now. I must have been writing for much longer than I thought. Well, I guess I should get to sleep.
IDEALS [kunikidazai]
(A/N: I've been palying around with ship names for these two and came up with Ideal Human because together these two make one perfectly functioning person. Kind of like how Tachizaki is Midwinter Snow because if their abilities)
SUMMARY:
Dazai Osamu is the farthest possible thing from the ideal woman Kunikida Doppo has written so much about in his notebook.
And yet . . . Kunikida is hoplessly in love with him anyway. Kunikida doesn't belive he has a chance with his coworker, I mean, have you seen the way he flirts with women? Straight as the rulers Kunikida used to use in his maths class.
Dazai meanwhile is also inlove with uptight but still charming coworker. But how can Dazai ever come close to the woman Kunikida has in mind?
Will these two damn idiots figure their shit out or not? God, I hope they do, for all our sanity!
(Summary sponsered by Edogawa Ranpo)
Categories: angst, fluff, getting together
Warnings: N/A
Thank you to @wildroseroguefor inspiring me to write Kunikidazai for the first time. Rose has lots of Kunikida content on her blog, check it out.
#bungou stray dogs#bungo stray dogs#bsd#kunikidazai#kunidazai#Ideal Human#No Longer Ideal#knkdz#kunikidazai fic#kunikidazai fanfiction#kunikidazai fanfic#kunikidazai angst#kunidazai fanfic#kunikidazai fluff#kunidazai fic#kunidazai fanfiction#kunidazai fluff#kunidazai angst
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Danse and Hancock work only after blind betrayal because it’s the equivalent of the one closeted person you kinda pity getting kicked out after being outted and you and your like 7 other faggot friends take them in and help them do a 180 on their outlook on life and personal style and get them to weed (possibly grape mentats in this case).
#Danse forced to live in the state house cause like Hancock really does fuck all all day and has the space for him#and it’s just being like Danse I’ll learn brotherhood knowledge if you trip on these ne mentats with me once#and then Danse immediately regrets it cause they talked for hours and he felt out of it but he liked not remembering hating his life#this is both a good and bad scenario cause all jokes aside someone as rigid as Danse would have#issues with self control especially after BB because he has no one telling him what to do and not to do#like he’s an adult and can decide for himself but it’s like a parent that refuses to give their kid sugar and now as an adult the kid eats#only junk cause it’s like I can do what I felt I couldn’t before and not knowing when to stop#he’d feel guilt when doing it but the thought ‘I’m not in the brotherhood anymore so fuck it’ would be in his mind a lot#cause I don’t think the others would realize a BOS solider might not be acclimated culturally to wastelander lifestyles and just let him go#wild cause it’s normal for them but yeah Danse would have way too many curiosity and sorrow killed the cat moments#fallout#fallout 4#fo4#john hancock#hancock fo4#paladin danse#am I talking about them romantically or platonically you can take ur pick
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Honestly the worst thing about being raised by and around professors is that I can't really do the whole students bitching about professors thing even when I mostly agree with it, because my whole life I have been hearing the professor's side of the story. Every time someone talks about how ridiculous mandatory attendance or participation is there's a part of me that starts loudly protesting about how actually being in class is really important for learning, and it must be so hugely frustrating for the professor when students just don't show up to your class half the time and then when they do show up they're playing sudoku on their computer.
#dylan says things#and I say this as someone who historically has not been great about attendance due to things both in and outside of my control#and I know disabilities are a factor for a lot of people and I'm not saying they shouldn't be accommodated.#but I've had professors who have done truly so much to make it possible to attend their class. like you can go in person and on zoom#and a lotta wiggle room for making up missed classes#and people will still complain about it#and most of the time these things are only like 5-10% of your grade#and at a certain point it's like dude you're literally paying to go to school#and now you're complaining that you have to go to school and do school things#if you stop giving them all your money they will stop asking you do the thing you're paying to do#and again I am not exempt from this getting to my morning class is fucking impossible a lot of the time#and that sudoku thing in the main post was absolutely a self-callout#but like. idk. Professors are not evil they are people who are trying to do their jobs#anyways. I think I often find that my attitude towards academia is not aligned with my friends#like sometimes people will tell me that it doesn't really matter that much as long as i graduate#and I understand the sentiment and largely agree with it but also at the end of the day I want to like. Learn stuff and do good work#anyways. sorry for my weird rambling i just have a lot of thoughts about university that i never really share with anyone
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ive made myself more wet and pathetic
#new icon because im SUFFERING. im in HELL#its so bad. i had to sign out of discord so now im both lonely and stressed#because i KNOW im still gonna get dstracted. i just did making this URGH#how good are brains at working around things. i once set a 7AM alarm on my phone with snooze cause i was so sure my brain would#be too lazy and keep snoozing instead of actually turning it off. but nay it either kept sleeping through the alarms and snoozing#or actually managed to turn off the alarm half awake that i barely remembered it and then waking up late#i actually have a track record of climbing out of bed and turning my alarm off without remembering. which is impressive bc i have a loftbed#the other thing is setting fake deadlines so make myself panic into doing things ahead of time. but unfortunately that doesnt work either#because if theres one thing my brain will put all its energy into remembering its self assurance. meaning i WILL be able to remember#the real deadline even if i try to trick myself. cant ask someone to give me a fake deadline either#the only things keeping me going rn is that i have deadlines due at least 1 day between each other and excitement being able to talk with#crow after break. but you can see how well thats going <- ignores long term rewards in favor of short term pleasure#BTW CROW IF YOURE READING THIS IM SO SORRY TURNING OFF MY DISCORD WITH BARELY ANY EXPLANATION#im a huge fucking dumbass and i had barely enough impulse control not to block everyone in my dms because i realized that would send a real#really bad msg. youre not distracting me im distracting myself and i promise youre not annoying me i just really like talking to you and#thats why im just barely stopping myself from signing in. I WANT TO TALK TO U LOTS BUT AT THE SAME TIME IM KICKING MYSELF FOR DOING IT#you can be a little mad at me btw cause i definitely could have done that better but i was all over the place abt how to do it without#making u think im ignoring you. IF THAT MAKES SENSE. SORRY#yapping#doodles#puppysona#edit but last week i tried to schedule and give myself work periods and break periods using my class schedule#and reminders on my phone to tell me when to start and stop. can you guess what happened
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it's been a strange arc so far
when I was 19-21 and having an extremely imbalanced relationship with someone in their mid 30s I was like 'we are both adults so the fact that this is fucking me up is my fault'
when I hit my late 20s and saw how young people in their late teens and early 20s seem now I was like 'oh wait I was so fucking young I didn't know shit about my own limits or about managing relationships and I don't know why someone in their mid to late 30s would be into that except for nefarious purposes'
the weird bit is now I'm into my 30s - not even that far into my 30s - and while I still wholeheartedly believe that last thing about how young (and self destructive) 20 year olds are, I'm also kind of like 'huh, actually nobody I know that age has their shit remotely together and frankly the reason this fucked me up is because NEITHER of us knew what the fuck we were doing it how to cope, for different reasons and at different life stages, and there probably wasn't any malice or intent to control as much as there was Blind Flailing.'
#red said#this is about one specific relationship btw.#wanted to clarify that because there have been several men over 30 who fucked me up between the ages of 16 and 21#and i adamently do NOT want to keep pretending that was incompetence. that was predation. sometimes incompetent predation.#but with the person I'm thinking of? she really hurt me and the age gap and difference in life stage was a not insubstantial factor#but mostly she was just spiralling out really badly and i offered her something to hold and she did try to keep things balanced and safe#but she was very off balance at the time. so the fucking up was more that than it was about power or control#we were just both very stupid and very sensible at the same time which is a great way to dig yourselves deeper#and idk I'm like 2 or 3? years younger than she was when we met iirc#and the closer i get to her age the more I'm like yeah you know that's a human reaction. i can see how that happens.#and i kind of feel bad for the amount of bitterness I've held and malice I've ascribed because ultimately#i think it was just two people having different crises trying and failing to figure out boundaries around them#but this has come on really suddenly and it's kind of fucking me up as well#cause I'm frightened of falling back into patterns of oh it's never anyone else's fault that i got hurt#but i don't. thiiiiink so? bc it's really only this one thing. i am not making these excuses for other people.#idk. sometimes people just fuck each other up.#I'm not even sure i think it was a bad thing that it happened. a lot of bad happened but we also catalyzed a lot of change in each other.#i feel like the reason i keep picking at this is that it's complicated. it was not good. it was good.#she really fucked me up and she was a terrible friend to me at times. but she was also the first person to really look after me.#and she kind of helped me start to learn how to need other people. which was good.#when my grandma died she wrapped me in a blanket and cancelled her plans to watch TV on the couch with me#even though she barely knew me at that point#and she was one of the first people to consistently ask for consent and check in. and she did genuinely care about me.#but she also truly fucked me over a couple of times.#but mostly that was just because she was buried in a pit of despair and self loathing.#she seems a lot happier now. i hope she is. i don't know if i want to know her particularly but i think if she's happy she'd be nice to know
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#its sort of funny. i think my medication is working pretty well. i feel stable in a way i never really have before#is it the dopamine stablizer or is it my ion channels? whos to say. it doesn't matter. but it also doesnt change some things#the ways i think and react negativly to change. but it makes it easier to deal with. i still experience this strange dispaire on the#weekends or anytime im not working. i think the oddest thing is thst i dont think ive ever been this consistenly sad#not in a depressed sort of way. just a passing thoughts make me tear up sort of way. it doesnt feel out of control. it just feels like a#prelude to grief i guess. bc my mum is still in the hospital and its so hard to kno what that means from halfway across the country#my sisters are both home right now. they both live within 3hrs of where we grew up. one sister lives in the city my mom goes to for#treatment. so they have the opportunity to see her more than me. i dunno if they do tho. we dont really talk. i dont kno if they're as sad#as i am. if im overreacting bc i cant physically see what's happening. what the feeling is in the room. not that she would probably complain#shes the suffer in silence type. my dad keeps texting us pics of our shitty lil sunroom that hes redoing#to make my mum a lil sanctuary. he must be sad too. its his wife. hes staying with her in the hospital rn. i dunno its so weird#when i talk to my counselor she assumes i find out info thru calls or talk to my sisters abt it and i gotta b like nah we dont really talk#i get my info thru text. i havent talked to my parents on the phone in like a month. i dunno we just dont talk. so i dont kno how to reach#out and be like yo so whats up? shoulf i plan on coming home this summer for a bit?? like???#this is the disadvantage of leaving thr place where you grew up. probably when i finish my phd i should move closer to home#somewhere in the Appalachian mountains maybe. somewere in the eastern deciduous forrest. somewhere with thunderstorms.#but thats years from now. who knows what ill b doing. for now im just sad and tired and i dont quite kno what to do in the short or long#term bc im feeling the weight of my mental limitations rather intensely. but maybe im just being self limiting#whatever. i dont have a dead mum yet. shes not even on hospice care. things are just uncertain and dont look so hot#i just dont see how it can get better from here when chemo gave her secondary blood cancer and shes still full of tumors#i dont think im being that dramatic. it just objectively seems not great for survival#unrelated
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#thoughts#personal#mental health tw#it's complicated because I both want to address how fucking unhinged I very publically am at the moment#for which I am sorry if you have noticed#and also Not do that and pretend my weirdass behavior flies under the radar and I am being So Very Normal Right Now#which I feel we are past that point but also maybe who cares I don't think people notice but You Know#you get in the thought loop and then it's over#I used to have a private twitter to have weird meltdowns full of me immediately deleting everything I posted#and then I went “wow!! this is not happening anymore!! look at me being an adult about it!!”#and uhh lol#I didn't want it to happen here it's very humiliating to know you are Like This and not being able to affect it much#this too shall pass I suppose#normal posting (???) will resume shortly#I just get super manic when I have mental health cocktails like this + my brain Will Not let me sleep and I need to distract myself#all I want to say is: I'll be normal again at some point probably#it was on slow cook since maybe 9 months and baby it's here now#I'm supposed to go to my first industry event RIGHT after a very very tense burial and I'm already so disheveled like girl what#I'm so going to begin screaming at an industry legend for no reason and then immediately lock myself in a bathroom#anyway. common sense and self control will be back soon#and there are good chances I'll delete this post too at some point!! but. yeah.#it is what it is tm#hope you are as okay as could be#and if not all the courage and strength your way#sending many angry blue ganonpigs your way too. hope that helps! somehow!
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