#god they love each other so much it hurts

[stxrslut]

SILENT TREATMENT ❤︎₊ ⊹

pairing; rafe cameron x sweetie!reader

summary;  even after your little confrontation, rafe continues to neglect you, so when he tries to give you his affections, you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine, little do you know how well that may end for you

content; body worship, oral (f receiving)

authors note; continuation of this fic! requested by anon

last night was good, you wake up feeling relieved, happy to have finally resolved your issue with rafe. you can’t wait to spend time with him today. you roll over when you feel him stir, a smile pasted on your lips, “mornin’ rafe,” you grin, hand coming up to caress his sleepy face. he looks so pretty in the mornings. 

a little smile creeps onto his lips as well, his eyes peel open and he meets your loving gaze, “hi sweetheart.” 

you move to cuddle closer to him, but to your surprise he sits up. you sit up too, but don’t follow him as he gets out of bed and grabs his clothes. 

you tilt your head in slight confusion, but you keep smiling, “where you goin’? we only just woke up.” you’re dreading the next sentence to come out of his mouth. 

he nods absently, “yeah uh.. I just—” he points to the door over his shoulder, “got some work to do.” his voice trails off, and before you know it, he’s walking out the door. 

son of a bitch. 

you sit there for a few minutes in the company of your own silence. you can’t believe it. you’d had a whole fight last night, he’d acknowledged that he was prioritising work too much, and now, at seven in the morning, with no deadline, he’s gone back to it. without paying you a single glance at that. 

you get over it, sure, you are totally over it. you spend the day with yourself, but you can’t help but be peeved the entire time. in the evening you make yourself a meal, only yourself, one portion. rafe is nowhere to be seen, so why should you cook for him?

when he comes downstairs you are on the couch watching the tv with your meal in a tray on your lap. he walks over to the kitchen where the empty pot lies still on the stove. upon opening the lid of the pot and finding nothing his face falls, “you didn’t cook for both of us?” he asks, brows furrowed as he speaks to the back of your head. 

“I didn’t know you wanted food.” you say, “been workin’ all day, didn’t even know if you were gonna come down.” you take another mouthful of your meal.

“what am I supposed to eat?” his face contorts in slight frustration. he looks like a kicked puppy. he hadn’t had to actually think about what to get for dinner for ages, you’d always taken care of it.

“I don’t know,” you put a sickly sweet twinge in your voice, “you could get takeout… or cook. do you know how to do that?” you know it’s a bit of a mean comment but god dammit you’re hurt. he’s hurt you and you will hurt him back until he realises how shitty he’s treated you. 

it continues all week. the snarky comments and disregards of each other. rafe keeps to his work and you keep to yourself. 

you both ignore it with great passion. neither of you caring to acknowledge all the feelings, knowing that when you do, it will be a turmoil that you just don’t want to face.

of course it has to happen, and in a turn of unexpected events, it’s rafe who initiates the conversation. 

you’re just getting into your night clothes when he enters the room, speaking your name. he leans against the doorframe to talk to you. “you look nice.” he says bluntly. 

you smile, but you don’t look up at him, “thankyou.” you slip your nightdress on and then stand to walk over to bed. 

he sighs and meets you before you can sit down, “uhm.. d’you wanna.. maybe do something..” he asks, it’s awkward, he barely ever has to ask, normally it just happens. his hand rests on your hip. 

you shrug, “I don’t know.. I’m pretty tired actually.” you tell him, looking up at him, and yet it’s not an intimate eye contact like it should be right before you climb into bed with him.

“come on.” he murmurs, “let’s just.. be together y’know.” he smirks tentatively, rubbing your hip now, but you don’t return his energy. 

“no. I think I’d rather just go to sleep. you can lie with me if you want.” you make to move past him but he stops you, holding you back. 

“no.” he raises his voice slightly but quickly corrects his tone. “no— no you’re- you’re ignorin’ me.” he pulls you in front of him, his head cranes down just a little bit to keep your gaze. “I know why. okay— I get it but— I- I can’t make it up to you if you don’t let me.” 

you shake your head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about rafe,” you speak so matter of factly, “I just wanna go to sleep right now.” 

“no. no.” he pushes you back, “let— lemme make it up to you.” he speaks, frowning in upset, “I can show you I- let me show you that I’m sorry okay.” 

you furrow your eyebrows, it’s not like rafe to speak like this, he’s never sorry for anything he does, he believes every action he takes has a purpose and that nobody has a right to complain about them. rafe saying sorry is basically him admitting he’s completely and utterly pussy whipped. 

you stay sceptical though, “mhm. what are you gonna do to show me rafe? fuck me? again? for the one hundredth something time in our relationship?” you raise an eyebrow.

rafe stutters, thoughts faltering as you call out the plan he thought to be impeccable. “I’m- I’m not just gonna fuck you.. okay I- I-”

“you’re what? gonna make love to me? touch my innocence? be intimate—” the agitation in your voice starts to come through, you do just want to get into bed. 

his hands come to your shoulders, but the touch is gentle, not firm or commanding like it normally is. he hesitates for a moment and then makes a decisive noise. suddenly he’s lowering all the way to his knees, hands still firm on your shoulders.

“I- I love you okay.” he looks up to you, blinking away the tears forming in his eyes. his hands pull at your nightdress, tugging it off and discarding it to the floor. his hands run down your body. 

“love this body,” he says, “love you. love you so much.” he kisses your lower tummy, maybe in an effort to hide his now falling tears. you didn’t think your silent treatment would provoke such an emotional reaction from him.

“rafe…” you frown, hand coming to the back of his head as he looks right back up to you. you think about telling him to leave it because you feel bad, but then you realise that this despair in him could get you something good, and so you decide to be selfish. “show me.” you tell him, “show me how much you love me.”

rafe’s head lowers and he begins to move down your body. he starts to place wet open mouthed kisses on every spot that his face passes and his hands follow after. he works his way all the way down until he’s kissing just above your pussy. 

“god.” he exhales, “gonna— gonna show you okay.” his hands come up to support your hips as he brings his face down again and his open mouth comes into contact with your most sensitive spot. 

you seethe a breath, legs weakening from the contact but his grip on you is strong and he keeps you upright as he begins to move his mouth. 

he kisses and sucks with ease, tongue swirling around your clit. you have to hold back surprise at the fact he’s so good at this, you’re not sure he’s ever eaten you out before. 

he lets out little murmurs and breaths that seem to send vibrations through your entire body. you have to throw your head back in pleasure, you feel so good.

rafe comes back for a breath, pulling away with a pop. his lips and chin are glistening with your wetness, he looks up to you with wide eyes and swollen lips. 

“do you believe me.” he asks breathlessly, he looks so desperate. so desperate. you take sympathy on him, his hurt puppy look, those wide sad eyes.

you nod, “I believe you. I know you love me.” you smile down at him. he lets out a breath of relief, a smile forming on his own shiny lips. 

he keeps your gaze for a moment and then he goes back down, now with a newfound energy that just makes it so much better. with his face still buried in your pussy he makes to turn you around so that you can fall back onto the bed. you realise now, that you are in for a good night.

[crescenthistory]

hi there love! i hope you're doing well 🤍 if it's okay w/ u, i'd like to request a regulus fic (are we surprised? no-) with an animagus! reader. maybe reggie and reader got into a fight about something and reader's still holding a grudge. they refuse to change out of their cat (or any animal u choose!) form and regulus is trying everything to get them to change back. ending in fluff probably :D

~🍓

i'm quite alright darling, hope the same goes for you<3 this little drabble is written with the same cat!animagus!reader i've written for reggie so far in mind (whiskers, my love) since she's known to be petty...

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: fem!reader, minor fight (lighthearted), embarrassment, you're petty, regulus grovels, black brothers have poor people skills, make-up, background wolfstar and (judgemental) bsf!remus

"How long has she been like this?"

Sirius was eyeing Regulus funnily, seemingly drawn between wanting to laugh at him and wondering if maybe he should comfort him. Remus felt none of the latter sentiments and all of the former.

"Since our last class on Friday," Regulus replied miserably from where his face was buried in his hands, resting atop his knees. "She shifted immediately after."

"So... for over 24 hours," Sirius surmised.

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, based on how Regulus lifted his head from where he was practically bent in half, just to glare at his older brother. "Thanks for doing the maths, Sirius. Not the problem I needed solving, though." Throughout his sentence, his eyes increasingly narrowed at his brother as if his irritation grew with every word.

"No, your problem," Remus volleyed. "Is whatever the hell you've done."

Regulus groaned and buried his face once more.

Across the common room from the trio, a white and grey cat was pettily walking back and forth along whatever furniture it could reach. Its tail was standing up straight, whipping about in annoyance.

Remus poked Regulus in the ribs to get a response. "What'd you do, Baby Black?"

"I may or may not have corrected her in Potions in front of Slughorn, even though she may have been working on gaining his respect all term," Regulus murmured.

The chuckle that escaped Remus was finally one of understanding. "Ah," he said through a smile. "I believe that is what we in the business call a rookie mistake."

Regulus sat up with a jerk, hands moving emotively as he made his case to his brother and brother-in-law, where they were sat on top of each other in a plush chair. "But I've apologised! Profusely, and several times! I don't know what else to do?" The last sentence was voiced as a question, though it was not formulated as one. Perhaps the closest the younger Black brother could get to asking for help.

"Maybe you should give Slughorn a speech about how great she is."

Regulus quirked up at that, eyes zeroing in on Sirius. "You really think that would work?" Remus could have burst out laughing at the lack of sarcasm in the younger boy's voice.

"No," Remus said softly, while chidingly patting Sirius' knee. "Don't listen to him, you lot have the same amount of people skills. Do you know your girlfriend, Regulus?"

"Yes?" Regulus' voice was uncertain, looking between the boys with furrowed brows.

"What usually motivates her to hold a grudge?" Remus prompted then, ever patient.

He was quiet for a minute as he thought. "When she feels wronged. Like when Evan apologised for her 'interpretaion' of what he said instead of for him hurting her feelings, and she disliked him for three years."

Remus nodded solemnly. "And is there a reason she might still feel wronged by you now?"

Regulus' gaze finally fixated on the cat across the room, nodding too as the puzzle pieces slowly assembled in his mind. "I apologised for correcting her... but not embarrassing her. She probably feels like I was lording over her or something."

"Meaning..?" Gods, Remus was really laying it on thick here. The curse of the Black family.

"I should go tell her as much." Regulus nodded and moved to hurry over towards you, swinging around at the last minute to give the two boys an almost-smile. "Uh, thanks Sirius. Remus."

Then he was off.

Sirius turned his face into Remus' cheek. "No idea what he's thanking me for; you did all the talking."

Remus sighed, melting further into his boyfriend. "That's what I've been saying."

Regulus tenderly approached you, sitting down somewhat gingerly in a chair beside the table you were currently parading around. "Hi, amour," he said softly. "Can we talk?"

You just wagged your tail in response, in a fashion Regulus has come to learn means displeasure.

"Please love, I want to give you a proper apology. It would be best to do so face-to-face, no?" He reached his hand out towards you, an open invitation. You stopped for a moment to regard him, but then lightly slapped at his hand to get it out of your face. Regulus decided to take it as a victory that your claws were retracted at the very least – you weren't out for blood.

“Okay,” he said through a breath. “I guess I’ll just… talk to a kitten and look crazy.” Upon your quiet hiss, he amended, “Talk to a cat, sorry. Gods, I’m sputtering today, aren’t I?” That final part you seemed to agree upon at least.

“Amour, I am truly deeply sorry for embarrassing you like that. It was such a little thing, and Slughorn has been so unfair towards you this year. I didn't mean to set you back in your progression with him, though frankly, he is in the wrong there, not you. As am I. For someone who feels like he can go around correcting people, that was quite air-headed of me, yeah? The one person keeping me grounded is you, amour, please would you come back to me? You can give me a proper scolding if you’d like, I can take it.”

Regulus was pouring his heart out, and if he dared to hope, he thought your feline face might have softened. You walked closer to him, seemingly studying his face.

Then, you jumped off the table and ran away.

He sighed heavily, letting his forehead fall down to the table with a light thump. If you were going to keep giving him the furred shoulder, he might just stay here. It was hard work being a tosser who’s missing his girlfriend.

Before he could wallow further in his sorrows, he felt a soft hand be placed on his shoulder. A touch he would recognise anywhere.

His head flew up from the table to look up at you – standing above him, smiling softly and somewhat sheepishly. The hand on his shoulder grew bolder, squeezing, while the other came up to cup the side of his face. Regulus ignored any instinct to cower away and instead happily melted into your touch.

“Hi, baby,” you whispered, and he knew he was mostly forgiven.

Emboldened by this new development, he turned in his seat so that his body faced you, slotting you in between his thighs and letting his hands come to rest heavily at the top of your hip. “Hi amour,” he breathed out, reverent. “Thank you.”

“For what?” you laughed, and he knew you knew what. He indulged you anyway.

“Coming back to me.” His voice was murmured, eyes hooded as he stared up at you. “I miss you when you remain as Whiskers, you know?”

“I do know,” you teased. “That’s kind of the whole point, yeah? Make you think.”

He shook his head and leaned his forehead tentatively against your stomach. “A cruel punishment, but an understandable one. I truly am sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Regulus sighed when your hand migrated to scratch through his hair. “I know, baby. I just wanted to hear you say it. And–” at this point he could hear the blush in your voice “– at some point it just became principle. Too late to back out.”

Laughing against the fabric of your shirt, he moved to rest his chin against you, gazing up at you at an angle that was slightly uncomfortable but definitely worth it. He let a small grin slip. “Stubborn minx,” he whispered.

“Oi!” you chided gently. “You’re in no position to levy such accusations, mister.”

“I can’t imagine loving you more,” he said through a sigh, not even thinking over the words. They were just right, and demanded to be brought up.

If the way your body melted against his was anything to go by, you didn’t mind.

A booming voice cut the moment short. “You two are painfully dramatic,” Sirius yelled from across the room, clearly having paid attention to the whole make-up conversation. “Please never fight again.”

“And that’s coming from Sirius Black,” Remus added solemnly, earning himself an indignant swat from his partner.

“He’s right,” Regulus whispered conspiratorially to you. “I cannot be the most dramatic Black brother, that would be blasphemy.”

“Then I suggest,” you said before giving him a light peck, “you be on your best behaviour from now on.

A grin. “Yes ma’am.”

[kisses4reid]

scare | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, (part 1)

synopsis - you’re in a relationship with some one else and have a pregnancy scare, both your own reaction and spencer’s makes you realise that you’re not happy.

genre - bau!reader x spencer, friends to lovers, multi-part, pregnancy scare, reader has sort of a douche bf, one sided love (at first), angst and fluff

warnings - pregnancy talk, mentions of sex, unhealthy relationships, stress, sickness

w/c - 1.4k?? take a guess cause that’s mine.

a/n - i’ve got 9 weeks free. yeah, i have a job. and yeah, i have about 6 other hobbies i enjoy. but am i gonna make promises i can’t keep about writing more?? yeah. i am. here, enjoy. (pls lemme know abt mistakes it’s rlly late at night rn.)

The plane whirrs, small chatter from Morgan and who you assumed to be Penelope over the phone humming along with the music you try to distract yourself with. It isn’t working.

Because every song has its own special and quirky musical instrument that happens to sound like a message notification. And you keep getting your hopes up.

Your left leg started to bounce, your fingernails found their way to your anxious teeth. And Spencer noticed.

He noticed about halfway through the case, when you stopped talking as much, started drinking an influx of water, started discreetly taking pain medication. At first, he thought it was a simple stomach bug, and he knew your stomach didn’t agree with a lot of travel. But then you started getting nervous.

Spencer glanced at you a few times before moving, sitting next to you (attempting to be discreet). He can’t be discreet though, because every time he’s around you, his body does this weird thing where it can’t decide whether it should be instantly calm or instantly more nervous. Your presence stopped his fidgeting hands, his tired thoughts. But god, when he looked at you, it’s like his heart wants to see you for itself.

And right now his heart hurt, why were you scared?

You barely noticed Spencer sit down, usually you would, but your phone was annoyingly blank, silent. You turned it off and on three times, and re-entered the plane’s wifi password five times.

And now your stomach was grumbling, and not in the way that those nice small sandwiches can help out with.

“Are you okay?”

You jumped, taking your earphones out and staring at Spencer surprised. You laughed nervously, quietly, “Spencer! Sorry. Yeah, I’m fine.”

His warm eyes searched yours and for a second you could ignore the tight feeling in your chest. It made you think back around 8 months ago, when Penelope, your childhood best friend and now co-worker, created a pros and cons list for both Lloyd, and… Spencer.

It was unprofessional and inappropriate, especially when you decided to listen because you had nothing better to do. And especially when she started making some good points.

He squinted his eyes, and you sighed.

“Sorry, I’m just a bit antsy. Feeling a bit… off.”

You felt sick, and stressed, and like your thoughts were going to be the cause of your death. Because you’ve never been sick like this. And to your overworked brain, it only meant one thing.

Spencer’s a great profiler. And although the team collectively agreed to not profile each other, it becomes hard for Spencer when the girl he’s in love with is so obviously in distress. Even worse when he can’t be the hero.

“I can leave you to sleep if you want.” He says, getting up to leave.

“Oh, no. That’s okay. Honestly, I think sleeping would just make it worse.”

Ah, right. Travel sickness, Spencer thought. He gaps his mouth slightly and nods. He relaxes into the couch and looks over to you, heart picking up slightly as pieces of hair fell from your loose ponytail.

You looked over to the table he was previously sat at, the book you gifted him last Christmas open and nearly finished. You smiled to yourself, but it was bittersweet.

“You’re actually reading it?” You asked, looking back at him with slight surprise.

“Of course. I’ve read it 6 times already, it’s a great pallet cleanser- Just like you said in that Christmas card!” He smiled childishly, like he was recalling the first snow.

“I know right! It’s so simple but interesting, I mean I’ve only read it three times but to me I always found it to clear my head.”

Spencer angled himself towards you, “Did you know that the author actually interviewed his daughter’s teachers to see what ages teachers were more invested in compared to class sizes? He said in an interview that depending on a students intelligence, there’s an underlying emotional connection made between student and teacher,” he took a breath, “It plays into the intelligence to ego ratio that so many people claim isn’t true. Which I’m not trying to say you have a big ego, or that I do-“

You waved you hands, “Woah, woah. Why would I think you’re talking about me?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Well, you’re very intelligent.”

“Oh!… Thanks for thinking I’m intelligent, or smart.” You shrugged, “But I think you insulted yourself. You don’t have a 187 IQ for nothing do you?”

“You remembered my IQ?” He laughed nervously. His smile warms your chest like a candle. Like that candle he got you randomly in April, after you mentioned your favourite one being used up by your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend. Ugh.

You smile falters for only a second, “Of course. You only mention it to every person that second guesses you.”

He nods and smiles, “Must be my ego.”

You laugh, subconsciously bumping your shoulder with his. But- Jesus. Your stomach is queasy.

“Hey, uh, do you want some travel sickness pills?” He reached over for his satchel but you grab his forearm and smile as convincingly as you can.

“No, no. We’re landing soon, but thank you.”

You’re overreacting.

That’s what he said. When you texted your boyfriend of a year and a half that you thought you were pregnant he said, You’re overreacting. Two words, two hours after your first text, on his day off.

Maybe you are. You started feeling sick on a slightly more gory case, it’s lasted ever since the case started, you get travel sick as well.

The headaches are from the computer screen and stress. The stress is from fatigue. The fatigue is because of the lack of sleep. The lack of sleep is because of the headaches.

Why do you always do this? Always thinking that there’s something wrong with you. Always being the biggest person in your own life, selfish.

But… what if?

There’s a sudden squeak from behind you, and you instantly snapped out of it. You took a deep breath and looked at your surroundings. You were at your desk, standing, the strap of your bag clutched in your hands - god, your knuckles were white. Your eyes darted in surprise and confusion, and you jumped once again when Spencer spoke into the silence.

“You okay?”

“Um…”

You didn’t look back at him, only looking down at your shoes and taking a deep breath. You plastered on a smile despite the bile collecting in your throat.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve gonna go, the bus leaves at um…”

You took out your phone. He didn’t even respond to your text asking him to pick you up.

“I’ll drive you home. But uh, I gotta pick up some groceries. I hope you don’t mind.”

He curved to your desk and gently took your bag from your hands, glancing at the way you traced your knuckles and how the leather strap now had slight wrinkles in it. He smiled, warmly. And he started walking like you rejecting the idea wasn’t an option.

Which is wasn’t, because he knew you too well.

“Well, a cucumber actually has 3% more water than watermelon. So if you really want a refreshing snack, cucumber is your man.”

You smiled and raised your eyebrows in interest. He’s had many vegetables and fruits in the basket, not a lot of protein. Explained a lot.

My man, you thought with a smile.

My man, you shivered.

“I don’t like cucumbers.” You said like it was distraction, and he nodded, picking up some kewpie mayo as he you around to the next aisle. He glanced at you,

“I know. You say it’s tasteless. I like it.” He shrugged.

“I know.” You smiled, and he smiles back.

God, you wish you could bask in it, the warmth. But your chest was still tingly, and your heart hadn’t stopped aching ever since you got excited about an email notification.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay? I noticed you’ve been tense for like… a week.” He grabbed some pasta sauce and put his hand on your shoulder to turn you around - you obviously looked too far into your own head.

“Yeah, just feeling-“

“Y/n.” He turned to you, stopping your venture into the dairy aisle. His eyes were hard, worried. The fluorescent lights swayed slightly. A worker walked by the end of the aisle with a trolley full of food.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t,” he lifted one arm, wanting to rest his hand on your upper arm, to help you, “Don’t say sorry. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I have been feeling sick. That’s true. And I’ve been stressed and, thinking a lot. A lot.”

It felt weird to nearly tell Spencer about your relationship problems. It was like complaining to a doctor about healing crystals. It was like a slap in the face. Maybe that’s why you never did tell him about it, because it was facing your fears.

It was the pros and cons list made by Penelope.

But I’m overreacting.

“It’s nothing.”

Spencer sighed. You had that habit, of nearly opening up, and then shutting the door just as he was about to walk in.

You heard his sigh.

“Okay. I gave Lloyd my car because he has the day off, and he likes going to his friends houses on his days off. And, I told him something that should probably freak him out. But he doesn’t really care. I don’t think he really cares, about anything. At least about me.”

You started walking, because holy shit you’ve never said that out loud before, and Spencer followed you,

“Y/n, if you want to tell me something-“

“I think I’m pregnant.” You stopped, and started picking at your fingers, acting as if it was admitting to not knowing your left and rights, or that you don’t really like coconut.

His eyes widen, and his heart drops. It was like his worst nightmare coming true- jesus, how could he even think about himself right now? The girl he loved felt trapped with a man she thought might be the father of her baby.

Spencer gulped, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

You looked at each other, scared, you more than him. And then you cringed,

“God, I’m sorry Spencer. I shouldn’t have said anything-“

“No- Y/n, it’s fine. I’m glad you told me-“

“I haven’t even, like, taken a test yet-“

“Wait so-”

You spun on your heel and looked at him exasperated.

“So… let’s go get some tests.” He said (he hopes) calmly. He was really trying, to pretend to be calm and collected. That’s what you needed, a clear head to replace yours.

He paid for everything, even the 5 pregnancy tests and the over sized lollipop you put in the basket to ease your nerves later on.

The moon was high, you were about three hours late to get home now, and your head was attacking itself with rambles and aches and honestly, you were sick of it.

You shivered, huddling in your jacket and drawing only slightly closer to Spencer. His silence was like a hook, drawing you in closer and higher and taking every word you had been thinking that day to the tip of your tongue.

You looked up to him. His hair fell into his eyes, the breeze reddening his cheeks slightly.

It’s Spencer. You’ve known him for nearly 6 years, but it feels like you’ve known each other for ever. You know everything about him, and he knows everything about you. Well, not everything. He doesn’t know how you feel in your own apartment, how every anniversary had been forgotten even when it was the ‘1 year’ mark, how you felt like you were raising an over grown child who could drink.

He knows you’re strong, but admitting all that? I’d look weak.

You have looked weak in front of Spencer. He stayed overnight in your hospital room, he held you when you watched a little girl die, he wiped your tears when you watched a sad short film during your break.

You couldn’t hide anything from him.

“I don’t think I’m pregnant- Well, I mean I might be, but there’s a very low chance,” You started, Spencer’s jaw clenched for a millisecond, “I’ve just been feeling sick and… it could be because of stress from work, or just general stress- like, I don’t know.”

Spencer moved the grocery bag to his other hand.

“Kids are great, don’t get me wrong. Some people don’t get the chance to have kids. I mean…” You gulped, and Spencer finally looked down at you. But now, all you could do was stare at the car park’s concrete floor. Speaking out loud was like clearing your brain, the fog was lifting. “Lloyd doesn’t want kids. I do, at least in the future, not right now. I just hope it’s not with-“ You cut yourself off, and slow down a bit. Spencer matches your pace.

I just hope it’s not with him.

He gulps, and clears his throat, looking down at you with understanding eyes, “With everything that’s going on.”

“Yeah… yeah. You know, my job, my…” It’s no use lying to Spencer. He knows. He’s known, for a long time.

Your chest was tight, and you made eye contact with the pregnancy tests lying on top of Spencer’s groceries. The thought of going home, rushing to the bathroom, avoiding your boyfriend who was already waiting angry, made your throat close up. Because only now, when you were three hours late from work and ignoring his one attempt at a phone call, Lloyd texted, ‘I think you need to calm down.’ It was a bare minimum, and finally Spencer could see you realizing it.

No, ‘Wre you okay?’, ‘What’s making you think this?’ ‘Where are you?’

No. He was making you out to be the crazy one, the one to be over thinking, over bearing, too much.

You were confused. To put it blankly. And scared. And questioning your life decisions. And honestly you just wanted to curl up in a ball and to have Spencer make you bad cucumber salad at his warm apartment.

You looked up to Spencer but he was already looking down at you, reaching for his keys and nodding, “You can come to mine, it’ll be okay.”

taglist (open) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna @laurakirsten0502 @cultish-corner

[weltraum-vaquero]

A pillar, familiar

Summary: Jayce returns.

Word count: 1k

Tags: SFW, hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, Jayce being the world’s wettest dirtiest saddest guy, and being plagued by The Visions

Notes: Just a little drabble to tide over the fact that I desperately need to hold him but my brain refuses to write anything longer until I am provided context for what he’s been through.

Everything rings, frays around the edges. Fractals in his vision — a disconnect from his body, a forceful rebirth as different forms of him seem to conjoin themselves back into a disjointed, damaged whole. A whole that will not last, cannot last, damaged to its core, rusted in the cogs of its barely moving mechanism.

Jayce has learned far before however long he has spent out of this world that there is one thing to make his brain cooperate, and that still holds true. In spite of every other rule — of the universe, of himself — that has been shattered and cuts into his brain with the aftermath of his resurrection.

He needs a singular point of focus.

And Viktor, Viktor could, should be that. He needs to, he needs to, he needs to. He can’t fail, he won’t, but…

If the world has waited this long for him to be spit out unstrung and wrong, it can wait a moment longer. It can wait until he stumbles down dimly lit streets, it can wait until he trips over himself, heaving, nails digging into the wood of the still familiar door.

He pleads you haven’t changed — but does not expect it to be an answered prayer.

Jayce pounds his weary fist against the door, until it shakes so thoroughly the hinges protest.

The door opens and he is greeted with the curse of his own making pointed at him — all blue lenses raised, gem humming, barrel staring back.

“…Jayce?”

And then it’s your eyes that stare him down instead, and the buzzing, the fractals, the zaps — quiet. Oh, so quiet.

“Oh my god.”

He lets himself stumble into your arms, disgusting and filthy and weary to the marrow of his broken fucking bones.

“Jayce,” you choke out again, arms around his frame, pulling him close, squeezing him so tight it hurts good. A reminder of a constant, a pillar, familiar. You start to sob. He wonders if he’s still capable of reciprocating. His old self, the self you’d loved, would have been bawling. “Oh, Jayce,“ you croak, all of you shaking with the vehemence of your cries. “I thought you were… Jayce, where—? How?”

Familiar fingers thread through his hair the way they used to. Lips to his filthy cheek where they used to fit just right above the stubble of his five o’clock shadow, bottom lip now presses to his thick beard.

“I’m sorry.” Everything else is much too complicated, or too insignificant to put into words. “I-I’m so, so sorry.”

You pull him closer.

“It’s okay.” Your voice ripples down his spine in a soothing wave, every one of his aching muscles sags as if on command, and Jayce goes limp. His knee — the fucked up one — creaks, pops, gives. Forced into it just the way he had been after… after Salo, he kneels, and you kneel with him, brace his weight.

In the quiet of the night, you savor it, savor each other, for a long moment. Jayce swears he can hear the street lamps buzzing when your breath begins to settle, and something about it stings his brain like a needle.

You notice — you must have, because one hand comes up to cradle his face.

“Let’s get you inside,” you tell him, palm sliding from his middle to below his elbow, supporting him on his shaky way up. “I’ll run you a bath, I have some leftovers you’ll love, I still have your tea, Jayce, anything you want. Anything you need.”

And that sounds like everything he could ever want, or need.

But it’s not something he can afford.

“I want… to kiss you, please.” His voice finally comes out as broken as the rest of him feels when he pleads for it, man starved. Something in the edge of his vision pulses, darkens, he has to, he has to.

“Anything you need,” you echo your previous words, and he does need it. Both hands on his cheeks again, cradling him the way they used to when you would smile at him and call him puppy in the warmth of your kitchen on early mornings.

He puts his hands over your own and dreams of it as soft as his mind will let him.

“Come here, puppy.”

Jayce knows patience intimately. An ever present companion throughout his academic journey, as much of a partner as Viktor once was on his job.

And he kills it with the same heavy hands and heart that he will kill Viktor with.

His teeth hurt from how he hurls himself at you, into you, lips smashing like the crackle of lighting, he wants, he wants. He holds you like he wishes he could have before; before the voices and the visions and the pain and the aching fatigue, he kisses you like it’s air. Digs his tongue into your mouth to sample what is the first — and might be the last — taste in a long, awful time. You suck on his tongue and locks it up somewhere in the unfamiliar twists and turns of his altered mind and prays it’ll keep.

You’re the only one who’s waited.

“Come on in,” your voice is breathy when you pull away, the words hit his lips before they reach his ears. He envies how little you know. “It’s okay, it’s all gonna be okay.” Hands on the nape of his neck, he feels small. Not the puny kind, not like prey, but protected. “Oh, Jayce, I’ll take care of you.”

And Jayce Talis can still cry after all.

He clings to your shoulders, a crumbling, pathetic version of the man you once loved, and he sobs, makes an even more unloveable display of himself.

How he pities you for being still so eagerly up to the monstrous task.

“I c-can’t,” he sobs. “I can’t. I have… a promise to keep.”

[lara4eclipze]

“i wish you were sober"

— ( 🎲 ) take me where the music ain't too loud

— ( 🎰 ) angst , fluff , drinking , drugs, no label relationship , sort of good ending! , dw they become gir-

— ( 🎥 ) @wonysugar hii bae! , here's some angst for you :)) , idrk how I ended up with this but 🤞😘

this party shit , wish we could dip — go anywhere but here

you never knew what you and lara were , it was like you both were pining each other just waiting until one of you breaks and succumbs to love

she would be mad at you when you showed affection towards others but when she shows affection to others it's alright , it felt like you were getting fried in your own oil

you couldn't leave her — you didn't want to leave her , as much as it hurt you — you were never gonna leave her she was a part of you , someone who made you complete , you couldn't think about your college life without her

"I'm fine lara we should leave you know?—it's getting crowded in here" you wince as you took a look around seeing a bunch of teens passed out or drinking

"y/nnie come on!" lara manages to slurr out of her mouth , she was obviously intoxicated — she looked hypnotizing , her hair perfectly framed her face — lipstick smudged from drinking out of red plastic cups

"gosh your so b-boring" she hiccups, her hands now on yours trying to lift you off the couch you were sitting on

her words struck you — you were boring? for not participating in some stupid shit no teen should do? , "I just don't want to do this" you reason pulling back your hands and shooting her a sympathetic smile

"fine leave then" she suddenly bit — her tone was icy cold leaving no room for argument , she turns away from you and goes to a group of teens who were wasted

"okay...— I'll just go" you awkwardly mumble to yourself , you stand up and make sure all your things are in your bag — as you're walking out of the house you spot lara in the corner of your eye — smiling and flirting with someone

don't kiss my lips and please don't drink more beer

you wanted to storm over there and just scream at lara as if that was gonna make her sober — it really did fucking took a toll out of you , having to put up with this BS from lara — having to see her flirt with everyone but you

you check your watch and see it was already too late, by this point weird men start popping up in the party so you've taken it upon yourself to get lara home safely

"laru—we have to go" you lower your voice and whisper to her , she looks at you confused her eyes were half lidded and she reeked the smell of alcohol

fuck you fell for it again.

"I don't wanna go yet" she whines , her body slumped against yours as you tried to balance her, "I'm not asking if you want to , you're coming with me either way" you sternly declare

you turn to walk away still holding to her , she grips your shoulders and makes you face her — lara's lips soon was on yours , it felt soft and warm , she tasted sweet and almost like chocolate

as you both pull away you saw how her eyes were glossed over , her lips still having your lipstick on it some smudged over

"why won't you love me? hcc , I've done everything yet you never even tried reciprocating my feelings!" lara accused as the previous alcohol she has consumed made her sensitive , tears start to leave her eyes as she continues to reason why she had always wanted you

"i will always choose you over any of these people!" she screams , her voice broke as she kept on tearing up

you held her body , hugging her , as her tears fell on your shoulders — hiccups and many more thoughts left her mouth unfiltered

"I love you — don't you love me back?" she questions, looking up at you — her eyes were filled with tears her nose was red from all the sniffling she had done and god her voice trembled as if she was afraid of losing you

"I love you too , now don't cry I'm not gonna replace you ever" you replied using your handkerchief to wipe away her tears, she clings onto you and sniffles murmuring some thank you and I love you's

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

experiences have a really good way of worming their way into you, becoming intertwined with your very being and impacting the way you think and view the world

so. for example, neither of the stan twins like going to the doctor. but sometimes you have to, and it's an especially good idea when you're about to head out to sea for gods know how long

when ford needs something from the doctor and they dismiss him, his immediate response is to go 'okay, i'll just. not worry about it when i die in my sleep'

living with filbrick for seventeen years instilled a deep sense of 'when the authority says no, that means fucking no. shut your mouth' and when he met bill? that just made things so much worse. well, yes, this is uncomfortable for him and a lot of the stuff bill does really hurts and deep down he knows this isn't how he wants to be treated, but maybe if he plays along and pleases him, it won't hurt as much. maybe, eventually, if he's good enough, it'll stop hurting at all

it won't, and he's already good enough, but what else is he supposed to do?

later on, he was able to find the footing to stand up against his abuser, but that experience doesn't just go away. when an authority says no, he still finds it a little hard to argue against that unless his family is impacted by it

stan? he had a different response. he didn't like the way filbrick treated him, so he wasn't going to stand for it. would it get better if he played along? he doesn't know, cause he never did. he argued back and defended himself and ford. and got hurt, yes, and gained a deep fear that will never quite go away, but it's become a deeply ingrained response. it might not get better. so he's going to make it get better

sometimes it hurts people he doesn't want to hurt, he'll admit that. sometimes it hurts people and they end up in hell for thirty years

but sometimes it helps. he's found he can stand his ground better, and it helps to protect his loved ones. and it helps, when ford's gut reaction is to not fight back against the no. ford needs something, and stan is going to make damn sure he fucking gets it.

and when stan needs something, it rattles his core and makes him shake, but ford will make damn sure he gets it too

and sometimes, ford's response works out better. so, maybe, sometimes, it'll turn out better for them both if they work with it instead of push back

in this sense, the brothers help each other heal and balance out these responses. different situations call for different reactions, and sailing together has helped them navigate tight spots better

[therowdymagpie]

No because I NEED to ramble about The Princess and The Dragon(TW: Spoilers for the Pristine Cut.):

I got such whiplash from this vessel...she is just...SO aufghughaurigh, so unexpected and wonderful, one of the sweetest and kindest vessels in the game. Not to disregard the others, like the Shifting Mound has said, they are all different manifestations of our love for her and her love for us, but the Dragon (I call her The Dragon) FEELS different.

Literally I love the Specter route which the Princess and the Dragon derives from because we have a chance to have an actual, normal(kind of) conversation and because she is dealing with what happened in a realistic manner, sure she's angry at us but she really doesn't care, she just wants "to go home, wherever that is". But it's very important for the game to apply a certain Uncanny valley to her and every other Princess even the one from the Hero and the Princess, so that they have a reason to be dangerous, capable, slightly dehumanizing them at times, which OK SM and LQ aren't actual people but still the vessels just become something other than what we have been led to believe.

A ghost, a demon, a predator, a literal god, an eldritch horror made of blades, all of them are formed by our beliefs and expectations, they are the ways we perceive her, they are perspectives. It is a very skillful way to subvert the damsel in distress character that the princess has been shoved into, she is never JUST a princess and yet at the same time the Dragon is the only princess that is actually very human in how she confronts the fact that we are who we are and we do what we do to her with such Grace and forgiveness.

Now when it comes to the other Princesses, even if the Damsel is technically an innocent as well and doesn't try to kill us, her always trying to "make us happy" is the thing that immediately sets her off and gives us an excuse to believe she is strange and off-putting. Even the witch and the thorn , who make us feel terrible for hurting them at certain times because one can present a certain remorse and the other is simply broken so much that there's nothing else to hope for. Both of them immediately back pedal into being hostile if you hurt them again though, since that's what they have to do to survive. I could go on for each vessel but no matter how much we dig into the psyche of the princesses and find out that they have a genuine reason or a not genuine reason to kill us at all, they are all trying to survive and follow their nature, they all progress for their characters with a predictable unpredictability.

But the Dragon? She is SO forgiving, so kind, especially when in some cases, she shouldn't even be. We've killed her twice yet, much like the Specter, she doesn't hold a grudge, doesn't try to immediately kill us afterwards, she isn't following some twisted narrative of doing something that was always meant to be. She is just...curious and trying to understand why we're doing this, how she can get on our good side, how to work together to make the best of this situation. Out of all the vessels, I think she is the purest manifestation of Swifty's belief every time we see her that 'we are the only thing like her and she's the only thing like us', so they should be together, try should try to get along…right?

Also a funny thing I noticed is: The fact that we see things from her perspective kind of gives more leverage to some of the other princesses for being mistrusting and hostile, I mean we're a terrifying bird thing that is often quiet, holding a Knife and doesn't always answer you, often doing unpredictable actions…I wouldn't trust this either. And STILL, she says that even though we look scary, she doesn't mind, "Looks aren't everything" and tries to communicate with us, at the same time not being completely helpless. She speaks her mind, tries to be assertive and bringing up good points during the entire time.

Basically what I'm trying to say is, The Princess and the dragon feels like the most Princess character in the entire game, even more than the Happily ever after, even more than the Damsel, exactly because out of all the princesses she has the capacity to understand us and we have the capacity to understand her, it is so incredibly human and surprising.

For the first time ever we are dealing with someone who is painstakingly our equal, not above or below us, not our better, not our worse, not something out of our understanding but simply? Another confused inmate in this Twisted Concept, that tries to create the best case scenario where we both survive like us. The Shifting Mound calls her the empathetic heart...it's the first time we see her perspective of US for a change, it's how we have truly become ONE, even more so than The Wild and that breaks me...

[that-one-dudette]

This is like when dudes get #notallmen, and of course it's not all men, Chad, but it’s enough men for it to be worrying. Even more worrying and discouraging are the ones that indeed are not, but see the ones that do and keep being impassive or cover them.

There is nothing wrong with shipping buddie: a lot of the people that I follow here and I am thrilled by their content are either multishippers or shipped buddie before. (And that is also why I think it is nice that some guys use other names, like bobs, to identify the most radicalized people here.)

But it was not that far away, at the end of May, when that comment over bashing Tommy with a hammer came, and yeah, it was one comment from one person, but we all saw the amount of likes. I see posts here that say, “Now that we got rid of that man." Are you celebrating that we lost a gay, late-millennial male character in a show? The comments about the daddy kink, about the flirting, about LFJ voice—those were very reductive things that not just one person was saying and that too many people were liking (and honestly, thank God that Silken won’t know that the same people that were scolding him are the people that write that over a 40-year-old gay character). pff… the death threats...

We can talk about representation, but this is not about that: Representation is not a cake that you have to distribute and then is over; you can have as much as needed and demanded. Why do these people think that representing two men who, after 6 years of loving each other, discover they are in love is more important than showing queer people that go through life knowing that about themselves, overcome obstacles, and get a happy ending? Why is it ‘I get the representation I want or no one gets one’?

(The tweet about tarlos is particularly hurtful, because if you go to the link and see all the posts asking for buddie…. Here in tumblr is different, but twitter is another space, and imagine the queer people that saw a series making a happy and hot couple in the new show, and all comments are about ‘yeah, this doesn’t matter, we want the straights of the other show to kiss.’)

And yes, of course there are a few people on this side that are also being rude and crossing the line. It is like being in the Wave movie to see how in so few days a lot are getting very radicalized and trying to police people over how to ship. However, I find it encouraging that people are willing to respond to these posts, pose questions, and challenge these viewpoints. I think we are trying to keep a healthy fandom (maybe on the other side some are doing it to, I hope so)

the more and more time i spend on tumblr and come across insane Buddie takes and behavior, the more and more i am convinced that the small, vocal, toxic subsection of shippers who don't know how to behave are, how shall i say it?

homophobic

they don't seem to actually like gay men. the situation with richard siken is an example of that. what they appear to like is their made-up version of what gay men are like and what they do. there's no concept of nuance or an actual understanding of queerness that informs their ship.

and i don't think you do need to understand it. sometimes you can just enjoy something without looking into it differently. but if you're going to be out on main talking about Buddie this and Buddie that, then you absolutely need to do the bare minimum and inform yourself on gay culture and gay issues so you don't, you know, go after a gay poet because you didn't like his tone.

sorry, there's a reason gay men of his demographic don't take shit. it's because they took so much shit that a large percentage of them died. the ones that survived don't owe you a tone when you act like an idiot.

the internet is free. wikipedia is free.

use a search engine and educate yourself, just a tiny little bit, and stop fetishizing while holding onto homophobic attitudes

[vasattope]

Happy Lu Guang caressing Cheng Xiaoshi's tears away day

[ducktracy]

there are a lot of evil people in the world and a lot of darkness in the world and so it’s very important for me to stress that now more than ever is the time to spread kindness and compassion. combat the evil by not only not partaking in it, but actively refuting it. destroy the notion that being compassionate or generous or kind to someone is uncool or embarrassing or even scary. be the change you want to see. start a chain reaction. positivity only breeds more positivity. do an act of kindness for someone so that that person who is too afraid to do it themselves can see you, realize that they’re not alone, and perhaps sheepishly follow your example. and then the next person who is too afraid but sees that person can do the same. when bad news comes out about bad people or horrible atrocities in the world it’s such an easy impulse to despair, and obviously it’s important to feel what you need to feel. grieve. be angry. be sorrowful. be empathetic. but dust off your pants and get up and be a part of a chain reaction that, no matter how small the scale, and spread compassion and love and care. all the reasons why you might not—“it’s hard! it’s scary! people will make fun of me! it’s useless because there’s too much evil!” are all grade A arguments as to why you should. you have no idea how many people you could inspire to do the same. even if it doesn’t get you anyway far, you can at least say you have the nobility of trying. please choose love and please choose life. you are worth loving and you are worth inspiring others to love

[egophiliac]

What do you think of Rook's savanaclaw card? <333

I didn't get him (and I need to save my keys for Silver's birthday, sob) so I looked up his groovy, and I'm not over how incredibly dramatic and epic and cool it looks in direct contrast to the absolutely ridiculous context. just look at that dynamic action and his majestic sparkling tears and keep in mind that this is pretty much right after a bunch of characters have been dance battling for his soul.

and then even the actual moment of the groovy is just like

this is NOT a negative in the slightest, I love it all, this truly was an incredible update in so many ways

[buckbuckleybegins]

God i hope this is around what you imagined. This prompt tugged at my angst loving ass 😭

•

Christopher has always been the elephant in the room since he left. The one topic that sticks in Buck’s throat whenever he considers bringing it up due to the fact that he can tell Eddie is suffering—even when he acts like he isn’t.

It’s been months now since that day Eddie’s parents showed up at his door to take Chris away from him… away from Buck. And Buck always feels so guilty whenever he thinks this because… as much as he loves and misses him, Chris has never truly been his. Even if Eddie’s made him his godfather, writing Buck’s name in his will… Chris isn’t his. He’s Eddie’s. And whatever feeling of loneliness, emptiness, and hurt he feels whenever he enters Eddie’s house and isn’t greeted by those curls full of laughter, smarts, and love—Buck knows Eddie feels it a hundred times stronger.

“I need to take him back,” Eddie says, still pacing around his living room. Buck—sitting on the couch after Eddie called him, urgently asking him to come over—wants to stop him, grab him by the arms and ground him before he spirals into a panic attack. Because Eddie looks frantic, terrified. He’s staring at nothing in particular with wide eyes, sweat glistening from whatever terrible thought his imagination is serving him in that moment. “He can’t—he can’t stay there, Buck. I can’t lose him.”

“Okay,” Buck says, calm and steady. For the first time since he’s arrived, Eddie looks at him—teary-eyed and scared out of his mind. And God, Buck can barely meet his gaze without feeling the exact same emotions crawl up his own throat.

“What do we do?”

Eddie pauses, covers his face with his hands, and looks like he wants to scream but instead just sobs. Buck’s heart shatters into a million pieces at the sound.

When Eddie’s hands fly off his face, he looks at Buck with a different expression. It’s still sad, but now there’s a quiet, simmering resolution that wasn’t there before.

“I’m going to Texas,” he says, looking Buck right in the eyes. “I’m going to take my son back.”

Buck feels his throat tighten at Eddie’s words, and this time, it’s his brain conjuring images after images of things he really wishes will never happen. But Eddie is suffering, and his suffering takes priority over whatever fear of abandonment Buck could ever feel. So Buck just nods and helps Eddie pack his bags.

—

There’s a sense of déjà vu when they reach the airport, and Buck quickly pushes it aside—or tries to, at least. Because it comes back once again, a million times stronger, as he looks at Eddie’s frame just outside the glass doors, bags in hand, ready to leave.

Ready to leave him—

But Eddie looks back. A smile on his face and a thank you on his lips. Buck wants to grab him by the hand, pull him away, and tell him not to go. Not to leave him as well, just like everyone else in his life because this time he doesn’t know if he will survive it.

But Buck doesn’t. Because Chris is away, Eddie is suffering, and Chris and Eddie have always been his priority. Is their happiness as important as yours? Buck remembers and he loudly declares to himself that yes, it is. Their happiness is so much more important than his.

Eddie notices, though. He always does. Buck never has to speak for Eddie to understand him. It’s kind of their thing. Their BuckandEddie thing. No words needed when you understand each other to the core.

Eddie takes a few steps toward him, lets his bag fall to the ground, and—does something unexpected. He unclasps the St. Christopher medallion from his neck, slipping it around Buck’s. His hand lingers there, warm and grounding, as if passing on a promise.

“I’ll be back,” Eddie says, a soft smile on his lips, full of this newfound determination. “We’ll be back,” he corrects himself.

Buck nods, smiles back, and he can’t stop the tears from falling down.

But, still? Still, he believes him. He believes that Eddie will be back, Chris in hand and happy.

And he keeps that thought close to his chest, his hand clasped around the medallion—the promise Eddie just made him. This time, he believes it. This time, he knows he won’t be abandoned again.

So um.. does anyone wanna maybe write a fic where Eddie goes to Texas to get Chris and buck ‘abandonment issues’ Buckley is feeling anxious that Eddie won’t come back and then Eddie takes off the st Christopher medal from his neck and puts it on bucks as like a symbolic thing to tell him he will (cos buck will be like I can’t- then Eddie is like this way you can just give it back to me next time you see me ) and they have a moment™️?

[kentuckyfriedmegumi]

i have made a comprehensive list as to why i think that itadori yuuji and fushiguro megumi love each other and are soulmates (platonic or otherwise)

edit: i also may or may not have an entire stanza by stanza analysis of the first year trio’s songs if anyone wants that too….

i read the entire series from start to finish in one sitting for this. here it is:

saving each other without question or second thought (volume 1)

megumi: “i don’t want to let him die.” gojo: “personal?” megumi: “yes.”

yuuji eats the finger to save megumi.

note: in the manga he is not trapped in a curse’s mouth

their entire interaction during the detention center (cursed womb arc)

yuuji: “fushiguro! please.”

 yuuji to megumi before fighting finger bearer alone

Megumi: “it was a selfish, emotional decision.”

megumi telling yuuji why he saved him

megumi running back to grab the name off the body of one of the inmates because it’s what yuuji would have wanted

“what kind of woman is your type?” “as long as the person is compassionate (see also: has unshakable character, unwavering kindness, etc.), i can’t ask for more.” (chapter 17)

yuuji’s kanji quite literally translates to unwavering humanity. could be a stretch, but an interesting connection considering that gege does not just throw things around like that

not necessarily a moment where i think they love/care for each other, i just love it, but… (chapter 33)

“i don’t know what he was up to while he was gone, but if it comes down to a brawl without any cursed energy involved… itadori would win.”

nothing special, just megumi appreciating and acknowledging yuuji lol

before the exchange event, megumi noticing something happened to yuuji (junpei’s death) (chapter 33)

megumi: “itadori, you okay?” yuuji: “well, it’s a big job but i should be fine.” megumi: “no, something happened, didn’t it?” yuuji: “huh, what are you talking about?”

megumi can tell that something has been/is bothering yuuji, even after his insistence that he’s fine

megumi being worried about the kyoto students trying to kill yuuji; specifically, he’s the one who figured it out (chapter 36)

yuuji stepping into the fight with hanami after fushiguro gets the bud curse (chapter 48)

yuuji: “fushiguro, don’t worry”

btw, this is a direct parallel of point two, back in the detention center

megumi: “if you die again, i’ll kill you” yuuji: “i guess i can’t go dying on ya then”

yuuji checking on megumi at yasohachi bridge when tsumiki was mentioned to have gone to the bridge and being worried when megumi tried to send him and nobara back to the school so he could exorcise the curse by himself (chapter 56)

megumi telling yuuji to go after kugisaki from the domain, parallel of the detention center when yuuji told megumi to go after kugisaki (chapter 57)

yuuji: “if you get in trouble, you better get out too!”

after the fight at yasohachi bridge, both megumi and yuuji are protecting each other from their burdens (chapter 63)

megumi: “don’t tell him.”

explaining to nobara that yuuji eating the finger caused curses to start killing people

yuuji: “hey! don’t tell fushiguro. don’t you dare tell him”

yuuji to sukuna after being told that because of him people were going to die.

see: cursed womb arc; “why’d you bother saving me then?

this one is just another funsie thing that i wanted to add, but in It’s Like That, megumi is the first person that yuuji notices when he arrives at the diner, completely bypassing nobara and ozawa (chapter 64)

the entire fight with the inverse guy was just peak duo-ism, you can’t even deny it, there is so much content in there (chapter 94–98)

megumi: “itadori!” yuuji: “no worries, it’s just a scratch!!!”

giving parallels with gojo and geto when toji first snuck up on gojo

megumi, using rabbit escape: “let’s retreat for now.” yuuji picks up a bunny, bc of course he does

inverse guy: “man up and come at me!” megumi, pointing at yuuji: “that’s really more his style.” yuuji: throwing a fucking car

yuuji: “i’m heading into the station” megumi: “fine, but–” yuuji: “’if you die, i’ll kill you,’ right”

them just working together in general, we love to see it

fellas, is it gay to think of your friend during your last moments? (chapter 117)

“i’ll see you later!” “sorry… itadori…” megumi summons mahoraga and apologizes to yuuji.

post-shibuya arc, yuuji spends the entire time between shibuya and the culling games avoiding megumi in order to protect him (volume 16)

megumi and yuuji taking on the burden of the deaths in shibuya arc together (chapter 143)

yuuji: “i killed people! because of me, lots of people died!” megumi: “it’s our fault, don’t be selfish and give up all alone.”

megumi tries to explain to yuuji that they need to save who they can

parallels grandpa itadori’s last wish

yuuji: “no, fushiguro, it’s because… as long as i’m around… you will suffer!” megumi: “so start by saving me, itadori! … i’m begging you, itadori. i need your strength.”

yuuji has a purpose and a reason to keep going (see chapter 212: “thank you for giving me a role to play”)

yuuji telling yuuta to kill him if he ever switches to sukuna, without hesitation, in order to protect megumi (chapter 144)

yuuji: “sukuna is plotting something involving fushiguro”

megumi not caring about the dangers of sukuna so he can stick with yuuji (chapter 146)

megumi: “if that happens and i die, just have him (yuuta) kill you” yuuji: the point is to not let that happen

they just care about each other, your honor

yuuji trying to avoid megumi once again before the culling games (chapter 146)

megumi panicking at yuuji getting beat by hakari (more so than panda was) to the point where he was about to jump over the rail and start interfering (chapter 157)

megumi: oh no! if he gets hurt anymore… “itadori! that’s enough!”

yuuji (again) trying to avoid being with megumi during the culling games in order to protect him from sukuna (chapter 160)

yuuji: “i’m just worried!” megumi: “are you going to say that every time? it’s annoying a waste of time!” (he is stubborn, refuses to be separated from yuuji)

they are bickering like an old married couple here imo

megumi and yuuji are split up and start working to find higuruma. they are each told different locations and immediately think of each other (chapter 162)

megumi: “shinjuku…” i hope itadori is on his way there too… yuuji: “ikebukuro?!” is fushiguro there too?

another cutesy one that i just wanted to add: megumi smiling when he realized that yuuji got the points to add a rule to the culling games (chapter 168)

megumi waking up and immediately speaking to yuuji (he doesn’t acknowledge hana or anyone else in any way, shape, or form for like an hour (chapter 199)

megumi immediately notices something is up with yuuji when they learn about “the disgraced one,” and this has one of my fave duo interactions with them (chapter 200)

megumi: “itadori, what’s wrong”

always so akin to yuuji’s feelings bruh

yuuji switches with hana to communicate to megumi that sukuna is the disgraced one. hana is just staring lovingly at megumi, megumi is only concerned about yuuji

their cute little charades act, oh my god they are so fucking silly bro

megumi: i don’t get it. what’s he trying to say?

oh my god bro pls

yuuji: *nod nod* did he get it?

yuuji is fully resolved in dying because megumi and tsumiki (as far as they knew) are safe, so he is okay with dying as long as they can live

megumi is immediately worried about yuuji killing himself and dying to end sukuna

my god they are both so worried about each other all the time

megumi is quick to notice yuuji’s disposition towards hana (chapter 210)

megumi: “this isn’t like you.” yuuji: “you sure about that?”

megumi: “don’t be dumb.” yuuji: “i’ll apologize later…”

can they stop flirting in dire times?

yuuji thinking of both gojo and megumi as they gave him a role in the world (chapter 212)

maybe i should have done it sooner. i could have helped fushiguro and disappeared. thank you for giving me a role to play

megumi suppresses sukuna’s technique when he first incarnates in his body (chapter 214)

literally any point during the fight with sukuna where yuuji is locked in on saving megumi (shinjuku showdown arc)

“wake up, fushiguro.” (chapter 251)

i’ll do it as many times as it takes! “wake up, fushiguro!” (chapter 263)

“you’re right, sukuna. i have the ability to end your life. if you release fushiguro and return to me, i will spare your life.” (chapter 265)

literally all of chapter 266 bro this entire fucking chapter hurts me so fucking bad??????

megumi just wanting a peaceful life with his sister and yuuji

yuuji knowing and understanding megumi’s pain to the point where he knows it isn’t fair to force or expect him to want to live

“i’ve started to understand and emphathize with the decisions made by people who encounter unavoidable realities, like grandpa. for that reason… for that reason, i can’t tell you to continue living, fushiguro.”

megumi: “huh? what’s with that face?” yuuji: “nothing, it’s just that… it’ll be lonely without you, fushiguro.”

what if i was suicidal?????

megumi hears yuuji telling him it’ll be lonely when he’s gone and sees one (1) tear form in his eyes and immediately locks in, using his technique to throw sukuna off guard and allow yuuji to land a hit

yuuji smiling when he realized that megumi was fighting back

see chapter 168: megumi smiling when he realized yuuji got the points for the games

EDIT: OH MY GOD CHAPTER 268????????

megumi: “i think i’ll try to live for someone else.”

also, see yuuji and megumi’s theme songs that were selected by gege:

yuuji’s songs:

heart ni hi o tsukete by 9mm parabellum bullet – a song about two people struggling to recover from their traumas and pain and wondering if they will find love within each other.

the last line of the song is “will we love each other? will we not love each other? will we turn to ashes?”

itsuka dokoa de by kuchiroro – this song overall seems to be a sort of conversation that the narrator is having with an unknown person. there is mentions of belief, love, and a desire for a simple, mundane life.

love is mentioned a lot throughout this song (it’s 13 minutes long and translations are hard to find online though)

megumi’s songs:

hakujitsumu by uchujin – the song is about wanting to save someone, but also battling with their own internal struggles as they try to navigate their trauma.

“don’t disappear yet, i’ll rescue you.”

island in the sun by weezer – this song is about a narrator and their desire to run away with someone and live a peaceful life, away from their troubles so they will “never feel bad anymore.”

this song i feel reflects most with that idyllic life that megumi wanted to build for tsumiki and yuuji

[diangelodork]

LOUIS’ E4 COMMENTARY ‼️

(i had a feeling this would be his favorite and it is certainly the most notes he’s had yet!)

Dead Boy Detectives Episode 4 Initial Notes:

Alright lads lassies theys and gays we’re breaking out the good soup for this one

Another suicide warning hm

JENNY LESBIAN EPISODE

Snail mail sexting lmao

Secret admiring is almost never your soulmate I’m so sorry Niko

Also, just noticing the neck tattoo, metal as hell, that had to hurt sweet Jesus

Edwin reading that book like he’s 100 years old, fantastic subtle acting

Skipping around and reading astrology god if only

Men will do anything to avoid talking about their dad tsk tsk tsk

The type of melancholy that attracts me to large bodies of water

“People keep killing themselves” welcome to America, dead boy detectives… too much?

Wanna dress like this fucker when I’m old and crusty

“Those fish stick commercials that I like”

To be an itinerant young person

Hmmm memories or hints of joy and love lure them to their death… people without love torments by the promise of it??? Themes?? Too early???

Age gap discourse between a ghost and a furry I live for this kind of television

“I like your secret parts” ehh 🤮 but also that’s what she’d say to you fucking got ‘em

Lilith again

Dangerous women…

Kite enthusiasts too precious to die

Emotion and illogic THEMES

“LOVE REQUIRES NO LOGIC” I KNEW IT

Oh Edwin 😔

We all need a friend like Niko

“Probably high”

Stop looking without look within in crisis stop looking for answers of identity in other people and start looking at yourself

Tragic Mick!

Attracts evil seagulls ❤️

She’s gonna find the little people

NOPE WAY OFF ITS THIS FUCKER

Hit her with the cleaver immediately

Everyone needs a go to weapon

Come on my man NEEDS to become a walrus

Green represents emotional stability 💚

bait

YEAH

Damn Monty with the fit

Also Niko with the fit

Also Jenny with the fit

Ghost coffee!

Ah, close enough

ahhggEEWWWW AHHH

Mistreatment of dead children… institutionalization of childcare leads to suffering… eternal suffering in some cases

“You don’t belong here anymore” QUEER. THEMES.

OH MY GOD THEY STONED HIM FROZE HIM HOLY SHIT

Highlighting all the worst parts of life to make the child feel like they need you and your system

PUNK ROCK CHARLES PUNK FUCKING ROCK

Yeah it was a bit extreme now that I think about but she’ll be fineeeee

Need for love, false need for control, hurts him, themes

Case closed I guess indeed Niko

Please let Mick have some happiness by the end of the show

I love Niko and Edwin best friends so much UGH

SHES OPENING THE LETTERS AHHHHH

THEYRE BEING CANDID WITH EACH OTHER RAHHH

THE MUSIC IM CRYING

+bonus

[nobody tell him…]

GUYS I ANNOYED ONE OF MY FRIENDS WNOUGH TO WATCH DBDA!! im gonna be posting his live updates in the reblogs HEHEHEHEHE (the score is what got him to cave 👹)

[flowercrowngods]

@steddie-week

part 1 (bc this is one big 7 part story)

day 02: bittersweet & angst

1 new message

eddie The Problem munson: engagement party on saturday babyyyy 🥳🥸🕺

Steve’s been staring at the message for two days now. It's sitting in his notifications, staring at him like a painful reminder of what happened exactly seven days ago. A week. It's only been a week, and Steve somehow it feels like it was both only one day or seven months ago.

It's an almost liminal experience, walking through life without texting Eddie every second of the day – because texting him would mean opening his message. It would make this real.

And that's the last thing Steve wants.

"I'm not going," Robin declares as they're cuddling on the couch, wallowing in their misery as Mayday Parade's Oh Well, Oh Well is playing for the eighth time on repeat. "Tell me you're not going, Stevie."

"Robbie," he sighs, squeezing her tighter as she tries to wriggle out of his arms to glare at him.

"Steve."

"I can't not go."

"Yes you can." She pokes him in the ribs, but he doesn't budge. She pokes him again. "Not going to things is literally the easiest thing in the world. It's a hundred times easier than going to things. You should try it sometime, trust me. You go to too many things, and–"

"Bee," he hums to get her out of the rambling spiral before she can get lost in it.

"What I'm saying," he interrupts herself dramatically, "is that you can't do this to yourself. They're engaged. They're getting married. We're going to keep our distance until our brains and hearts and the traitorous little chemicals in our bodies catch up to reality, and then we get over them, and then we can go back and see them ever again. That's the logical thing to do, Steve. But you can't... You can't just go and get your heart broken and talk yourself into thinking it's the right thing to do. It's not."

Steve sighs into her hair and buries his face in her neck. He knows that. Technically, logically, he does.

But not going feels wrong. Wronger than anything else that's been hollowing out his chest and leaving nothing but emptiness and the ghosts of every smile, every touch, every baby, love, sweetheart, sunshine. Every imaginary future, every scenario where Eddie meant it. Meant those words, meant those smiles, meant it when he took Steve's hand to hold it.

But Eddie did mean it. Every time, he meant it; because he calls Argyle and Jeff and Gareth baby and sunshine and sweetheart, too. He takes their hands, too, leans in to kiss their cheeks and just holds them when he needs to. That's just the kind of person Eddie is. Always has been.

To go and assume he never meant it would be unfair.

To go and hope it could ever mean more when Chrissy has always been right there would just be stupid.

Well, good thing Steve has that kind of reputation with a few people anyway, so it's not even a statistical outlier, that one. It's not even worth a side note.

"I know," he rasps, his eyes beginning to sting as the next lyrics are carved into the empty space of where his heart used to be.

Oh well, oh well I can't live with myself As I'm climbing in your window to get to your bed.

And I'll be what you need, You can call me anything. Just as long as we're still friends.

Tears prickle in his eyes and he doesn't bother to hold them back. Not now, not with Robin. They've both been crying on and off all week, even though Robin took it better than him.

"I know," he sobs, wrapping his arms around her even tighter as she lets herself be held because she knows that's what he needs. "I know, I know, I know. But I have to. I can't just... I can't just stop, Bee."

"I know," she sighs, climbing out of his hold eventually to wrap her arms around him in return as he cries into her shoulder.

The world (read: his Spotify playlist) makes it worse by playing Sum 41's With Me next, ripping out even the newly carved words.

Robin holds him for the rest of the night, even as he finally opens Eddie's message and types out a reply.

—I'll come!

And especially when there's a new message immediately.

—hot 🥵❤️

He leaves Eddie on read after that.

~*~

Saturday rolls around in a haze, and suddenly Steve finds himself looking at the front door of the little house Chrissy inherited after her mother passed a few years ago. It's a nice little house. Quaint. Perfect. Everything Steve could ever dream of, actually. And she deserves it. All of this and more.

There's noise coming from the garden, where people are laughing and having a great time. A happy time, celebrating their friends and all the good things in life that come with a love well placed.

God, what is he doing here? He can't do this. There is no way.

He's just about to pull out his phone and call Robin, tell her he's coming home, or ask her to tell him everything's gonna be alright, when–

"Steve!" Chrissy hurries towards him, throwing her arms around him in a tight, warm, perfect hug. God, he loves her so much. He melts right into the embrace, wrapping his arms around her middle to spin her around with a grin.

She giggles in delight and tells him to let her down again, which only makes him spin for another round, his grin turning into a genuine laugh.

"No, I hate you!" she laughs, but still doesn't step away from him when he puts her down again. Instead, she leans up and brushes a kiss to his cheek. "Hi, asshole."

"Hi."

He grins and takes her hands in his, just smiling at her for another moment before his eyes trail down to a ring he's never seen her wear before. Ah. Right.

"Oh shit! That it?"

"That's it," Chrissy says, looking down at her hand to look at the ring with a fond, happy little smile, her cheeks flushing red. It breaks Steve a little, but it also fixes something inside him to see her so truly, genuinely happy. "Pretty huh?"

"Very," Steve breathes, hiding the lump in his throat with a sound of awe.

Chrissy hugs him again for good measure and then takes his hand to drag him into the backyard the same way she just came out front, through a little gate off to the side instead of through the house.

Steve loves their backyard because it's always covered in sheerly endless colourful strings of light that are wrapped around decorative arches or poles, framing the back doors and the canopy swing set on the lawn, and just give it the most homey and comfortable atmosphere.

"Stevie!" Eddie exclaims immediately and jumps off from his chair, interrupting a conversation he's apparently been having with Argyle and Nancy to run up to him with such a giddy expression that Steve wants to cry. His heart leaps in his chest, coming back to life and saying one last goodbye at the same time.

"Hi," he says, hugging Eddie close before he can so much as think about what he's doing. But no matter how hurt he is, there will never be a world in which he won't want to hug Eddie Munson. "Sorry I'm late."

"No sorries, it's fine," Eddie murmurs into his neck, staying in the embrace endlessly, and Steve takes the chance to breathe him in. He smells so good. So, so good. It clogs his lungs and renders him unable to speak.

But who needs to speak when they have Eddie in their arms? Who needs to speak when all they have to do is never let go?

Eddie squeezes him a little tighter, and Steve wants to cry. He slowly, gently pushes away from the hug and turns towards the other guests, greeting them with a grin, a hug, or a handshake if they're not familiar.

When he gets to Wayne, the man eyes him with a look that Steve doesn't want to read too much, and his embrace is just a little longer, just a little stronger than usual.

“You look tired, son,” he says by way of greeting, and Steve can’t help but snort and shake his head a little.

“Good to see you again, too, old man.”

Wayne eyes him for one moment longer, then breaks into a small smile and pats Steve’s shoulder before stepping around him to go grab another drink.

After that, the night passes in a blur of talking to his friends, trying to understand what the hell it is that has Nancy and Argyle arguing so profusely, but with smiles on their faces. He fails. But it’s good to see them again, so he just basks in it for a while.

Or, he tries, because every second that he’s not talking or listening to someone, his eyes flick back to Eddie. Eddie, who’s lifting Chrissy from behind and smacking a loud, wet kiss to her neck, her jaw and her cheek, accompanied by her delighted squeals and laughter.

Eddie, who’s looking larger than life, a happy grin permanently plastered on his face as he reminds their guests that Chrissy was his bisexual awakening.

“I swear, she just swept me off my feet after years of thinking I was only into dudes. Knew I had to marry her, but man, I don’t know why she said yes.”

“I’m settling, honey,” Chrissy calls from the other end of the table they’re sitting around. “Only in it for that rockstar money and all.”

The whole table laughs at that.

“Hear, hear,” Eddie snorts, lifting his glass in a toast. Steve and the others lift theirs, too, even though Steve’s hand and arm and whole body feels numb and he’s not entirely sure he’s breathing.

A while later, he grabs a drink and retreats to the canopy swing, illuminated in the soft pink flow of the fairy lights wrapped around it. Eddie’s eyes land on him for a second and Steve thinks that he’ll come over and join him — but then one of Chrissy’s friends says something that distracts him and seemingly makes him fall into a monologue of sorts.

Steve watches, feeling only loss and longing as he does. Eddie is a force of nature. A spectacle. Something beautiful, something powerful, something secret that only a select few get to witness. To know. To appreciate.

Staring as he is, blind to the rest of the world, he startles a little when the swing jostles with another weight settling on it. He didn’t see Wayne coming to join him, and he’s not quite sure whether he should be grateful for the company or apprehensive of what the man who’s like a father to him might have to say.

“How are you doing, son?”

He frowns. “I’m alright.”

Wayne only hums, and Steve’s frown deepens. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that tells him Wayne knows something. That he knows.

“Y’know,” he continues after a while, not looking at Steve but rather at his nephew and his fiancée. “I always figured it would be you.”

Steve crumbles. Yeah, me too, he wants to say, but that would be a lie. Watching the way Chrissy sits on Eddie’s lap with his arms around her, his chin on her shoulder as he tells her something that makes her laugh that cute, pretty, adorable laugh that Eddie then can’t help but join — that’s just something Steve would never compare to. Nothing he’d ever want to come in between.

Eddie and Chrissy are perfect. They’re happy. They fit, they match, they work. They worked so hard and treat each other so right.

They look giddy and serene at the same time, and it makes Steve’s eyes sting. Because he can never make Eddie look like that. He can never make Eddie look at him like that.

I always figured it would be you.

But he couldn’t. That bubbly kind of love, the sunshine kind of love. He knows that’s not for him. Steve’s too much for that. He would never be enough for Eddie — even if without Eddie, there’s nothing left of him.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Wayne continues, unaware of Steve’s thought spiral. “I love that girl, I do. Always will. I think she’s too good for Eddie. Don’t tell him I said that,” he adds hastily, and Steve smiles through the tears that threaten to fall again.

“They’re perfect,” he rasps, laughing wetly as Chrissy starts chasing Eddie, who’s hiding behind a very distressed Argyle, who just wants his brochachos to chill!

Maybe it’s a laugh, maybe it’s a sob. He doesn’t have it in him to find out or care.

“They are. Doesn’t mean they’re right, son.”

Steve sighs and tears his eyes away from Eddie. “Wayne.”

“I know, I know.” He lifts his hands in defence. “Shutting up.” After a long pause of holding Steve’s eyes, he asks, “Will you be okay?”

No, he thinks immediately, the lump in his throat too big to say anything. So he just shrugs and swallows. “Sure.”

Maybe. Hardly. Probably not. Definitely not.

"No matter what happens, you'll always be a son to me. You’ll always have a home with an open door with me, you hear me?"

"I’m not going anywhere, wayne," Steve says, though for the first time ever he doesn't really believe that. Maybe he needs to leave. To leave Eddie behind. Get over him. Cut out his heart and leave it here, run away to heal somewhere else, come back as a new person, or just stay away forever.

The thought makes a tear spill as an empty kind of desperation spreads it’s ugly wings inside his chest, and he's too frozen to wipe it away.

"You hear me?" Wayne repeats, gentler this time, but no less urgent for it.

"Yeah," steve rasps. "Thanks."

Another tear falls as Eddie gently pulls Chrissy closer to him and kisses her in the soft glow of the fairy lights above and around them. Their friends cheer. Steve wants to cry his heart out again.

“I—“ he swallows, wiping at his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. I can’t do this, he wants to say. For the first time, that’s what he wants to say. “I think I’m gonna head home soon.”

“You bring your car?”

He shakes his head, feeling foggy and dazed and empty and endlessly, endlessly sad. “Was gonna, uh—“

“Let me drive you.” There’s no room for debate or argument there, and Steve wants to crumble again, but still he shakes his head.

“Wayne, no—“

“I’m taking you, son. Make sure you get home safe, or I won’t be able to sleep tonight. Don’t wanna keep your old man up all night, do ya?”

Steve concedes with a fond eye roll and a grateful smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“That’s what I thought.”

They sit like that for another ten minutes — and if Steve leans into Wayne’s side a little, then that’s nobody’s business but theirs.

The car ride is quiet, but it feels weighted even as Wayne pretends not to see the way Steve keeps wiping at his cheeks as the silent tears keep falling, leaving him powerless to stop them.

I can’t do this, he keeps thinking over and over again.

“Just a little warning,” Wayne speaks up again as he pulls up to Steve’s building. “I think he’s going to ask you to be his best man, Stevie. Don’t do anything you’re not ready for, okay?”

I can’t do this.

He nods, numb again.

“I’ll do anything for him,” he breathes.

“That’s what I’m afraid of, yeah.”

He gets out of the car before he can find out what exactly Wayne means by that. The car stays where it is until the front door closes behind him, until he’s up in his bedroom and finds Robin already asleep.

Ten minutes later, he cuddles close to her and tries hard not to cry, but tonight’s memories have burned themselves into his mind. And he shouldn’t have gone. He knows. He knows.

I’ll do anything. I can’t do this. I’ll do anything. I can’t do this.

He can’t breathe, and Robin holds him through it, whispering sleepily to him as he cries himself to sleep, wishing for a world where he’s not absolutely and utterly in love with Eddie Munson, but failing to imagine one.

I’ll do anything. Anything but this.

tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen come back tomorrow for idk which prompt | read part 3 here

[skrunksthatwunk]

kinda thinking about how the women who serve as maternal figures/raise kids in yyh are never quite ready for it. genkai's an arguable exception, but like.. atsuko had yusuke at 15, shizuru's basically in charge of kazuma full time in her early 20s/late teens (depending on version) with very very absent parents, and even shiori is given a kid she wasn't expecting, in the form of an old, old demon rather than like. a regular, blank slate ass human baby. and although shiori seems to do quite well with kurama, kurama can never be honest with shiori about who he is, or much of what he's seen. if he was, it'd probably make things far more complicated and overwhelming. atsuko, no matter how much she cares for yusuke, Could Not Have Been and thus wasn't ready to have him at 15. her attempts to make the most of that situation have had middling success at best. shizuru has also been placed into a parental role. we don't really know how long she's been raising kuwabara, but that's.. probably still parentification anyway. she shouldn't have to do that, and she shouldn't have to do that so young. and i think some of her coarseness with kuwa is out of frustration with her own inexperience + inadequacy + uncertainty, his not cooperating, and their parents for putting this on her in the first place. the ones who know the full extent of their situation grow desperate and it squeaks out in unpleasant ways, and the one who seems unbothered by it is the only one who has no idea that she's in way over her head. and i mean. ok. gonna preface this by saying keiko is NOT yusuke's mom in any sense of the word. but she does take care of him in a way atsuko couldn't manage to. she's often looking after him and cleaning up after his messes and stuff. she takes him on as a responsibility, and that is, in a way, a caretaker role. not to say that it SHOULD be her responsibility, but it's how she ends up being.

and when the stress of trying to make someone take care of themselves or be kind or good or Whatever goes awry, again, the violence and arguing and distance and ugliness of caring for someone reveals itself.

and i wonder about that. for a series dedicated to physical fighting as a form of communication, what does it say that this extends to the complicated, quietly desperate situations of so many of the women/girls it depicts, whom our more central characters were shaped and raised by?

hell, even hiei touches on this, because hina loved hiei, but there was no way she was prepared for him, obviously, nor for the pain of losing him. rui (whom i also see as a sort of caretaker figure to hiei, inasmuch as either of them were caretakers) literally throws him off a cliff because she couldn't face down the village elders, and out of some mixture of care for hina and, likely, fear for her own survival. and the guilt and pain of that killed hina and deeply wounded rui.

it's like motherhood, this thing that's so often treated as sacred and beautiful, is a kind of stitched up, painful, eggshell-walking thing that hurts parent and child and it's just. oughh