#i feel like i do acknowledge the improvement i've made

[utilitycaster]

edit: thanks @wardensantoineandevka for sending me the post I reference below but couldn't find at the time, it's this one and I will also be reblogging it separately because you should all read it.

while I'm thinking about Downfall I really have been thinking extensively about the ongoing discussion of fandoms and particularly centering/prioritizing white queerness and more generally one's own experiences (and I cannot find one of the best posts about it, which is not by me) because, as I've said before, but notably about Circle of Needle and Thread and Downfall, Brennan is somehow known as The Communist DM and also at every opportunity his messages of class-based oppression get pushed aside by fandoms. In D20, the message frequently gets flattened into Capitalism Is The BBEG (to the point that D20 has somewhat depressingly caved to it) but in doing so generally erases the human element - the discussion becomes dominated by the terminally online anticapitalist types who really do want to treat capitalism as the BBEG that, once killed, everything will be fixed, rather than part of a complex system to be dismantled in a manner that preserves the most human lives. In Candela Obscura: Circle of Needle and Thread, Sean's story explicitly about losing everything to the wealthy and powerful was shoved aside by fans cranky that his character wasn't made explicitly queer and in love with Marion. In Downfall, Aeor's exploitation was acknowledged by fans but its imperialism conveniently forgotten in order to focus on those powerful within the system who hated the gods, not the poor of the city nor those on the surface, without protection, being used as nothing more than a source of cheap labor.

And the thing is: I obviously do not think that the world is lacking in empathy nor opportunity for straight cis white men, but the fact that people cannot take Brennan and his experiences as someone of a lower class - the most tame palatable version of that too, as in addition to being a straight cis white man he is educated, a native English speaker, sober, and housed his entire life - without needing to twist it into something closer to their (often middle-class) experiences or existing worldview is depressing and telling, and it has not improved. This was an issue with Campaign 2 (the post I cannot find touched on how Fjord and Veth's stories were cast aside or only engaged with using heavy headcanoning to make them more like the viewer because they were not explicitly textually queer, despite being explicitly racialized and about class) and it's gone metastatic in Campaign 3, and it really needs to stop.

I am hoping, still, that Campaign 3 serves as the endpoint of this sort of selfishness, and its fans will have some sort of realization (or, more likely if less good for the world, will leave this fandom to terrorize another) but I will say if this continues in C4 I will personally be calling it out in the moment - no more vagueing, if you say you're nauseated by someone bringing up their personal experiences with colonialism that happen conflict with your feelings about your blorbos you're getting nailed to the wall by name then and there and what happens to you is your business.

[scarletcomet]

I feel so depressed for no reason. I don't know what to do. I feel like I've tried everything.

[thewidowsledger]

Fallen Demon

© thewidowsledger - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairings: Demon!Natasha Romanoff x Summoner!Female Reader

Word count: 3.6k

Tags | Warnings: ANGST, bullying, FLUFF happy ending please trust me, this is my 'I lied put your clothes back on' trend entry

Author's Note: I honestly didn't feel satisfied with the first one I wrote since it was a rush, and I felt like I didn't give justice to the request of 🍠 this was still a rush since I wrote it in a 6-hours bus ride👉👈 but it came out the way I wanted to be and I hope y'all will like it as well. The real reason I wrote this is because of Hozier's DIWK cover, fudge I need it tattooed with every fiber of my being!

Navigation | Masterlist | Part 1

⧗

"I had to, and you must say it."

"No, no, please I can't. I cannot."

"Princess, please," Natasha pleaded, desperation lacing her voice as she called out to you. She never kneeled before altars nor had prayed to Gods, but never had she felt this urge, this need to be understood, to be heard, by a mere human.

⧗

A deep, foreboding sigh escaped her lips as she stood before the ritual circle, the symbols of summoning etched into the floor.

"How foolish," she muttered to himself, "to bind oneself to such a malevolent force once more." Then, she turned around to see you, kneeling on the floor.

Her smirk faltered as she beheld your naked body stiffed on the cold stone floor, head bowed submissively. The portal pulsed with an eerie light, casting long shadows across your trembling silhouette. Her eyes narrowed, curiosity and concern warring in their obsidian depths.

"To…what do I owe the pleasure, princess?"

You slowly looked at her, the fire burning in her eyes was washed with the tears that you had in yours.

"C-can you say I'm beautiful?"

With a wry chuckle that seemed too old for her youthful visage, she stepped closer, her bare feet silent on the stone floor. "Princess, your request is as intriguing as it is foolish. Summoning a demon for mere sweet words? Truly, the lengths humans go to…"

You felt a strange warmth of shame spread through your chest as you bobbed your throat, you forced yourself not to let any tear slide down from your eyes.

Her powerful form seemed to shrink as she saw the memories in your eyes. The laughter, the whispers, the isolation. You being called names, you eating in a comfort cubicle and you crying for being locked inside it.

I hate myself.

She heard it, she heard your thoughts. Her eyebrows furrowed as she suddenly grasped the depth of your despair, your self-loathing thoughts echoing loudly in the silence between you. She clenched her jaw but it cracked, giving way to a softer expression.

Summoning a demon for a mere compliment, trading your body, having your soul sucked for words. It was indeed stupid. Desperate. Foolish. Absur—

"Stop those thoughts of yours, princess. They're too loud and not good for someone like you." Her voice had an unexpected caring tone that made you hitch your breath. "Dress yourself, I don't want you catching a cold."

She watched as you scrambled to gather the folded clothes, her supernatural grace contrasting sharply with your human clumsiness. Her observant gaze fell upon the bruises marring your skin and the gum stuck in your hair.

She really tried her hardest not to take you from there.

Her eyes roamed over your improved appearance, a glimmer of approval in her gaze. "Much better," she acknowledged with a nod. "I like the shirt but it is practically a dress on you. Are you auditioning for a role in a horror film?"

You let out a giggle and the sound was music to her ears. "It's all I got, everything's in the laundry." You spoke shyly, tucking a hair behind your ear.

Then, her gaze drifted around your small room, taking in the cramped space with a hint of disdain. "Your room is...cozy," she commented, her tone laced with sarcasm. "I've slept in closets larger than this."

You laughed again, hell, she would thank Jesus for that laugh.

"It's my apartment," you started, "the one you've been to before was my bestfriend's house which was miles away."

"The witch's house," she muttered and you nodded, her lip curling slightly as she remembered the eerie atmosphere of the place. "No wonder it felt...off whenever I was there. It reeked of herbs and spell components. Anyway, has she noticed anything unusual about her beloved houseplant yet?"

Well, the plant was still the same, and your bestfriend hasn't noticed anything when she came back, only your disheveled state and the eerie vibes she said your aura is giving during that day. And she, in fact, did a cleansing ritual on you while you were asleep, you were grateful to still woke up but choking with the smell of her cleansing stick candles and her muttering some gibberish witch prayers you god knows what.

"It's still okay, don't worry." You offered her a reassuring smile as you sat on your bed looking up at her huge form, she is literally having a hard time leaning down since height is much higher than your ceiling. "We can sit on the floor." You said, and then you moved to an indian sit form.

She then hesitantly copied your movements, her big legs folding between each other. "Don't be so sure about that, witches have really strong senses and intuition." She groaned as she finally sat across you, the ritual circle between you both.

"You're being bullied, aren't you?" The accusation hung heavy in the air.

Her gaze narrowed as she studied your face, taking in the faint bruises that are now hidden in your big shirt, the slight limp in your step, the way you always seemed to be on edge. And then a wad of gum stuck to your hair, a cruel prank meant to humiliate you.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back tears. Your head was ducked, hiding your face behind a curtain of hair as you stared at your crossed thighs. The silence was deafening, broken only by the soft sniffles you were trying desperately to suppress. You then slowly nodded and removed your eyeglasses to messily wipe your tears.

Your parents decided to send you abroad to study, and you were utterly culture shocked by the prevalence of bullying. You hadn't expected that the portrayal of bullying from the movie and series you watched in high school was actually reflecting reality. What's worse is you didn't see that it would happen to you. From being homeschooled to having to go abroad to study, it was the most difficult thing. You only had one friend, Wanda, and she is not here to comfort or protect you the way she did when you were just kids. Wanda had even told you to get the used tissue or get a strand of hair from your bullies and have it sent to her so she could handle the business, but you would just laugh at your witch friend during call with your swollen eyes and reassure her that you could handle it on your own and toughen up.

You are grown now and you told yourself that eventually you need to protect yourself from others, you cannot rely on your family or Wanda in your entire life. But the thought of standing up for yourself felt impossible. All you longed for was someone to step in and put an end to the torment, and you had no idea how to protect yourself from others when you were so worn down by it all.

"You could've asked me to return the favor to your bullies…" she spoke carefully but with a little bit of threat.

Now, you shook your head side by side. "Aren't you supposed to be enjoying this?" you asked, your voice trembling as tears welled up in your eyes. "I mean, you're a demon. Shouldn't you be relishing in my pain and suffering? You should be enjoying people doing cruelty to others. That's how you feed yourselves, with the sin of mankind."

"Princess," she sighed deeply, like she is disappointed but she is. "Is that why you were naked earlier? You ask something of me and I…take you in return so you just prepared yourself right away?"

Her gaze burned to you as well as the shame burning like a hot iron in your skin.

"It's not that I, as a demon, necessarily enjoy your pain and suffering for my own sake."

She took a moment to compose herself before continuing, carefully choosing her words to ensure you would understand. As she spoke, you drew your knees up inside the oversized shirt you were wearing, making yourself smaller and more vulnerable as you listened intently.

"You see," she began, her voice soft but firm, "I…I was born this way. I was born a demon, and my purpose is to be a punisher of those who have done wrong."

As soon as the words left her lips, she paused, studying your expression to see how you were processing what she had just said and to make sure you're not uncomfortable about it. Then, she continued, "I don't feed myself with sinful acts or relish in anyone's suffering, princess. Instead, I feed on those who have made…contracts with me. That's how I sustain myself. That doesn't mean I am delighted to do it."

"Hey," you crawled and sat right in front of her, your knees touching hers. "You may be a demon but you're not evil. I know that."

The demon's mouth was wide open as she stared at you in disbelief. Your words had struck a chord within her, leaving her stunned and speechless. She had never encountered a human who saw past her demonic nature, let alone voiced their belief aloud so confidently.

"Do I make you suffer?"

"What? No."

"No, when I come to visit you whenever for…for the contract. Do you feel pain whenever I…whenever I…take you?" The demon never stuttered not until this day.

You reached her face and caressed your thumb on her cheeks, "No." It was just one word but you hope it was enough to reassure the burning demon.

She doesn't take joy in sin. Especially not yours, she would punish herself for it. Her purpose is to punish those who commit it and feed herself with those who willingly and mistakenly entered into contracts with her by taking pieces of their souls. You were binded with her and she had come and taken you twelve times as you can remember. And now, you summoned her once again, making it more difficult for either of you to break the bound unless for one thing.

The demon couldn't deny it anymore, she had grown…attached to you, even though she tried to keep her emotions in check. She cannot help but notice how your laughter and hums had filled her with an unfamiliar sense of warmth. How you had clung to her after she had just ripped your innocence bit by bit and pounded a piece of your soul out of you, and after, you would still be asking when she would come back. That's why she would painfully leave as soon as your eyes had fluttered shut as you drifted off to sleep so she wouldn't have to deal with your questioning right after you wake up.

She had taken a piece of your innocence and soul, yet the purity and naivety in your eyes remained intact. This world is too brutal and cruel for someone as precious as you, and all she longed to do was shield you from its harshness.

But a demon couldn't. You are wrong, she was evil—she is evil—her very nature is inherently evil. She was consuming you bit by bit, feeding herself with your soul leaving you weak. She was the very threat she sought to safeguard you against.

She was never terrified of anything or any Gods, not until she thought how your laughter would not bring warmth the hell couldn't bring her. She was horrified at the idea of taking so much of your soul that your laughter would no longer bring the same joy and comfort.

She has to protect you from her, from consuming you more until there is nothing left from you.

She will not be the reason you will lose that light.

"My name's Natasha." The demon spoke after the long silence and staring.

You frowned and quickly rose to your feet, "No, no," Natasha watched you paced back and forth to your apartment. "Why did you tell me your name?!" You shouted, the tears are already falling down the ritual circle beneath you. "Why?!"

"I had to, and you must say it."

"No, no, please I can't. I cannot."

"Princess, please," Natasha pleaded, desperation lacing her voice as she called out to you. She never kneeled before altars nor had prayed to Gods, but never had she felt this urge, this need to be understood, to be heard, by a mere human.

"No! Fireball, that's your name! That's what we agreed upon on what I'll call you!" You shut your eyes in denial, that was the silly nickname you gave her since she didn't want to give her name when you first summoned her. At first you were determined to know it so you would break the contract, but as soon as her visitation became more frequent, that mission was long forgotten.

"Why?!" her demon voice thundered through the room, it was the first time you heard her voice like that again, and you swear you feel like the whole building felt it. "Every human I've ever bound would go to lengths just to know my name, just to break away from me!" She roared, her eyes blazing with demonic fire. "Why?! Wouldn't you say it?!"

"Because I love you, Natasha! I love you!"

Her eyes widening as she stared at you, the demonic fire in his eyes flickering in shock. She blinked, once, twice, trying to process the words that had just escaped your lips.

"I never liked my name not until I heard you say it." She spoke with a solemn smile.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized what you just did, you frantically dropped to your knees before her. "No!" you exclaimed, your voice breaking with desperation as you reached out to cup her face in your hands. "Please, I take it back! I take it back!" you pleaded, your heart aching with regret.

"Hey, it's okay." Natasha's hand moved to gently hold your right hand that is on her face. "But that's not how it works, princess."

Demons are said to be creatures of fire and brimstone, devoid of human emotions and incapable of shedding tears. But tears streamed down her burning eyes, their tracks visible on her smooth skin.

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched her begin to glow, a faint, otherworldly light emanating from her form. You are helpless, unable to utter anything but the anguished plea of 'no's' as it left your lips on repeat.

"N-no…" Your body trembled, your tears streaming down your face as you shook your head sideways, then, you put the side of your head into her chest as if you're trying to hear her heartbeat, "No, please," you repeated once again, your voice choked with emotion. "I didn't mean to say it. I can't lose you, please."

You want to be with her, even if the means is her consuming you inch by inch, even if you're going to feel every bits of it.

"Please, say my name one more time. I like hearing you say it." Holding back tears, you shook your head defiantly, burying your face against her chest. Slowly, you looked up into her eyes, a broken, tear-stained mess.

You would meet the ends of hell to be with her.

Tenderly, Natasha reached out to touch your face, her touch gentle and warm. Her fingers grazed your skin as she softly cupped your cheeks, her eyes locking onto yours. A small, bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she gently caressed your face with her thumb.

"I didn't know what I did for God to bring you to me. But I would thank Him profoundly," she whispered, her words quivering slightly. "For you are an angel sent from heaven, a beautiful, unexpected gift. One that is unworthy of a demon."

You would beg God to be with her.

Your lips quivered, you shook your head once more, slowly and deliberately, as if trying to reject the reality unfolding before your eyes.

"I've never been to heavens not until I met you, Natasha..."

"I love you, Y/N. Know that our love will bind us together, always. So long, princess."

The knock at your door jerked you out of your dazed state, suddenly jolting you back to reality. You blinked, bewildered and disoriented, trying to make sense of the jumble of confusing emotions and disjointed memories swirling in your mind and in front of you. You couldn't recall what had happened, why there was a ritual circle beneath where you were kneeling, or why you were a sobbing mess, repeating a name that was now lost in your tongue.

"Hey! Are you okay there?!"

⧗

The senior night was in full swing, students were dancing and having a great time. But there you were slumped in your chair. You just didn't have the energy to get up and dance.

Some of your classmates came to ask if you wanted to dance, but you politely turned them down. You watched as everyone else seemed to be having the time of their lives. You tugged at the fabric, trying to get it to sit right on your shoulders. You fidgeted with the lace trim around the neckline, running your fingers over the delicate design. The more you fiddled with it, the more you began to realize how uncomfortable the gown truly was.

As you were messing with your gown, a voice suddenly spoke up next to you. "Hey, did you hear about Tracy?" asked your classmate Darcy as she took the seat beside you. "The one that sticked a juicyfruit in your hair in 2nd year?"

You looked up at Darcy, a deep sigh escaping your lips, "Yeah, it's not exactly something I want to remember. Cutting my hair shorter than I wanted wasn't fun."

Then Darcy said with a grin, "Well? That bitch wasn't here at the party because someone shaved her hair off during a sorority sleepover."

Your eyes widened in shock as you turned your full attention to her. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. "You're kidding, right?" you asked in not wanting to believe it. "But she's the president."

Darcy nodded her head eagerly, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "It's true, eyebrows included too," she said between laughs, clearly enjoying the shock on your face. "And, and, and remember Aris, the guy that sparred with you in gym class even though you told him you were just a yellow belt and he's a black belt? And you were almost sent to the hospital?"

"Yeah..?" Now that's a core memory of yours that you could only cringe when you remember it on a sunny day.

"Asshole lost his national tournament and he got injured for life after his sparring with the freshie transferee."

"Freshie transferee?" you dumbfoundedly asked.

"Yeah," Darcy nodded, trying to be demure once again after she just unleashed a not-so-very demure laugh. "So yeah…I'm just here to deliver that information, I feel like you have a right to since those fuckers did you wrong back then."

"Please have fun, Y/N, c'mon!" Darcy shouted as she was practically being dragged to the dancefloor by her date, Jimmy.

You sat frozen in your chair, your mouth hanging open in complete shock at what she had just revealed to you. Those two left a scar on you that is still healing up to this day, but still, after hearing what happened to them, you felt bad.

After a few moments, you shook your head, realizing that you needed to get out of there. The room was starting to feel stuffy and suffocating. You stood up from your chair and made your way toward the door, knowing that some fresh air would do you good.

The cool night air was refreshing as you stepped outside, and you took a deep breath, appreciating the moment of solitude.

But then a voice broke through the silence, "This party was a mess, huh?"

There was something about the voice that sounded oddly familiar to you. It was as if you had heard it before, but you couldn't quite place it. But still, you continued standing with your back to the stranger, not feeling the need to turn and address whoever they are. You simply minded your own business, enjoying your fresh air.

"I like your gown."

You were in the middle of rolling your eyes in annoyance, prepared to tell whoever was trying to talk to you to leave you alone. But as soon as you caught sight of the fiery haired girl wearing a suit, you felt intimidated and her face seemed incredibly familiar to you, and your initial reaction was to squint to try and place where you had seen her before.

"T-thanks," you replied, your cheeks burning up.

"Got a name?"

You managed to stammer out a response. "I uhm...it's Y/N," you said, feeling a bit self-conscious.

"Beautiful." She said before slowly walking towards you. "They call me freshie transferee which is so lame by the way."

"Wait…so you're—"

"My name's Natasha."

"Natasha…" you couldn't help but repeat her name softly, feeling a sense of familiarity in the way it rolled off your tongue. You swore to yourself, you have uttered the name before in so many ways.

Then, suddenly, her hand gently touched your face, causing you to snap back to reality. You locked eyes with her fiery gaze.

"You are as beautiful as the day I lost you."

[peppertoastuniverse]

more than a late night snack: – gojo satoru chapter 2: pocari sweat

contents: geto suguru & reader, gojo satoru x reader, tw!ptsd, suguru being a good friend, shoko cameo, satoru being down bad and not knowing it yet, you and geto basically bully gojo lol summary:  sparring with geto is always difficult, but with gojo’s new found interest in you, it’s proving to be a different challenge all together.

wc: 3.2K

“here, for beating this animal.” he offers the bottle of pocari sweat to you, ignoring geto’s eye roll behind him. gojo shakes the bottle slightly when you hesitate. “c’mon take it.” “… uh thanks, gojo,” suspiciously eying him. that was strangely… thoughtful of him. what’s his deal?

previous chapter ll master list ll next chapter

once again you were lying on your back, panting, his wide frame leaning over you with a small taunting grin on his face.

god, he was good. so fucking good – it almost infuriated you. he always knew what to do to get you into this position. geto was undoubtably strong and skilled, you couldn't help but call on him every chance you got – embarrassingly sometimes even twice a day. at first he was too gentle and hesitant with you until you practically had to beg him to show you no mercy – which is how you landed on your back for the millionth time that day. you groaned, feeling little annoyed, humbled and sweaty. a part of you thought he liked the extra cardio, but deep down you knew that there was a competitive part of him that just liked to win.

“ready to go again?” he asks slightly out of breath. geto gracefully unties his long hair from his messy bun, before combing his fingers roughly through his hair to redo the knot. a few months ago you shyly asked geto if he could help you improve your hand-to-hand combat and you were grateful when graciously he agreed. you needed the practice. so a few times a week you met geto at the school gym. he was a good teacher, giving you pointers here and there, encouragingly suggesting adjustments to your technique. you were improving, slowly but surely. you winced still on the ground, a frustrated hand passing over your face. “i know i pinned you last time, but today it seems impossible.”

“well, you’re more distracted today and a little more .. impulsive,” he thoughtfully hums, hand over his mouth. “what’s been on your mind?” “I.. uh..just – ” you exhale, hollow eyes looking to the ceiling of the gym. a part of yourself was still back in shirakawa were you could hear the distant screaming, smell the mutilated bodies and the blood pooled at your feet – “…hm?” geto prompts you patiently, crouching down to lay beside you on the gym mats, still looking into your eyes. geto was two opposites at once, a soft contradiction. he had an intense stare but a gentle way about him that made you feel heard and reassured but simultaneously you knew that if he really wanted to, geto would be able to coax absolutely anything from you without any real effort. his domineering strength matched his silent resilience and you weren’t sure what to fully make of him just yet. you stared into his amethyst eyes hesitantly, debating on if you trusted him enough for this yet. it’s not that you didn’t like geto, you were probably the closest to him in your year – but that wasn’t really saying that much –  like everyone else you kept him at a safe distance. but you weren't sure if you were ready yet.

sensing your reluctance, geto joins you in looking up in at the ceiling, hiding his almost clairvoyant stare ".. i'm only asking because i've been a little worried.” you hummed quietly in acknowledgement fiddling with your fingers that rested on your stomach, unsure of what to say or where he was going with this.

“…you've be more quiet, like in your head a bit more, you know? shoko asked about you the other day and even satoru noticed." he continues thoughtfully. geto wasn’t sure what was going on with you, but he felt as if you were slowly slipping away. retreating into some cruel sanctuary where no one could follow. he could almost see through you, a shell his words would go through, disappearing into the void that occupied your seat. you weren’t joining them in the kitchen for meals anymore and you seemed to be even more reserved than before, even skipping sparring practice with him using a thinly veiled excuse of fatigue. your eyes were clouded and were weighed down by the dark rings that hung around them.

you sighed unsteadily, focusing on specific a beam on the ceiling.

you were growing more and more aware of the weight that you were carrying for two weeks. the burden almost suffocating you pressing against your lungs, squeezing so deeply that you were nearly drowning from the inside out.  you were certain there was deep scarring left behind. the scars of regret, guilt and fear that reverberated in your cavity, in the voice of the little grandma that made you udon, the young girl you let braid your hair, the man who gave you some daikon just because, the woman with the short hair who- dead. all dead.

geto’s honeyed tone calls your name, tethering you back to reality. throwing you a buoy to keep your struggling mind above the rapids. geto’s presence was calming, and his smooth voice was helping chase away your racing thoughts. with him you felt comfortable, safe even … maybe he had the potential to be someone that you could fully trust. you reluctantly rolled over on your side to finally look directly at him, making a decision.

“i’ve been.. having these dreams.” “...dreams?” “mhm… of shirakawa.” voice trembling, hands curling into fists, voice shaking slightly.

a pregnant pause of realization. geto’s eyes widen in understanding. he chastises himself – that would make sense, why didn’t he see it earlier? your strange behaviour started after that mission, your face paled when ieri casually asked about it the other day. nightmares were an unspoken byproduct of the job of being a sorcerer. even geto had lingering thoughts of certain missions that have gone astray and was often disgusted with what he saw on the battlefield. overtime he was starting to grow saddened with how other sorcerers – his friends– were being affected by the horrors of the job. duty. a choice to suffer for the greater good – a necessary sacrifice. it was a sobering realization.

his hand taps antsily on his stomach he turns his head to you feeling your shy stare.  geto rolls over to his side, mirroring you, studying your struggling expression. gently he inches closer to you and reaches over. he engulfs your shaking fist in his larger warm hand. lightly squeezing, geto successfully easing your shaking. the rough waves of guilt within you calmed to the rhythm of his slow breathing. his quiet reassurance and acknowledgement of your struggles simultaneously squeezes your chest, protecting you from your intrusive thoughts. you shut your eyes as you feel his thumb moving back and forth  – a sympathetic reminder of his understanding. after some time, you open your eyes. "...thanks geto," you say faintly, not trusting your voice for much more, you already felt too vulnerable.

“hm? for what?”

“for.. for this.”

withdrawing his hand, his violet eyes soften as you see the beginnings of a small smile forming, "y'know you can call me suguru, right?"

“…I can?” “yeah! ‘course you can. we’ve known each other for like – what like almost 6 months now?”

“yeah, something like that...”

“yeah so, we’re friends right?”

friends.

“i.. yeah. yes. i guess we are friends.”

“so, my friends call me suguru –” he says easily, like being kind was the simplest thing in the world. he amazed you. "hmm, i dunno because gojo calls you baby. so… i wanted to be sure," you tease. "oh? you can call me baby too if that's what you're comfortable with." geto says amused, elbow upright to support his head, his bangs falling over his eyes. your surprised face carves out a chuckle, a rusty sound to even your own ears. pleased with himself, geto grins wider. he hasn’t heard that sound in at least a week or two but he had a strong suspicion that there a certain person was dying to hear it. geto liked that you were smiling again. “careful,” you warn eyebrow quirked, “gojo might get jealous,” eyes looking livelier, body bending into a seated position with a stretch.

geto snorts. “i’m sure satoru can deal.” “I think you overestimate gojo's maturity. just don’t blame me if he starts moaning and groaning for the next year about this…” “alright, just say he’s a little shit..,” you grin at his honestly, feeling lighter than you had in the last week.

“hey… c’mon let’s see if you can get me this time,” geto says rising to his feet challengingly. “oh, don’t worry – I definitely will.”

footsteps echoing, gojo walked through the halls. he carded his long fingers through his hair mindlessly, sighing. it was a rare day when he didn’t have a mission or class and he was bored beyond reason. he was restless - the accumulation of bottled energy within him swirling, brewing dangerously, threatening to bubble over any minute now.

he had already been kicked out of ieri’s room for complaining too much.

“ – but listen, i don’t really understand what the big deal is. suguru goes on and on about it like god’s greatest gift to man but it’s literally just soba and you dip that shit in a sauce. you even have to dip it yourself – like if im paying for that shit I’d want someone to dip it for me. why do I have to put in the effort when im paying to have an experience, y’know? and don’t get me started on the temperature, why the fuck is it col–“ “holy shit, gojo. give it a rest oh my god.” yikes. last name. “but shokooooo,” his voice going up in pitch gratingly, “these are very important thoughts from a very important person!” “and who would that be? you’ve been talking about zaru soba for like 20 minutes!” ieri counters, head leaning on her closed fist, not even bothering to look at gojo as she flipped through a magazine at her desk. gojo huffs, lip jutted out. “no one appreciates me here.” “dude, i told you, im in the middle of something!” “you’ve been reading for hours! you said you’d be done a billion years ago.” gojo whines lying on floor of ieri’s bedroom, foot tapping out an impatient rhythm on the leg of the chair that she was currently sitting on. she scoffs, half amused and half annoyed, light brown eyes flickering to blue. “go bug the others, then! they’re probably still sparring in the gym.” “ehhh? sparring, what now?” “mm?  yeah. suguru’s helping with their hand to hand combat. they’ve been meeting up pretty frequently.” not bothering to look up at what she knew was gojo’s dramatic pout.

he scoffed at the memory. they could’ve asked me to help them with sparring. why didn’t they ask me?

subconsciously he found himself at your door, his feet carrying him without his mind even realizing it. gojo found that his mind wandered to you a lot more than usual after that night. he couldn’t get your hollow expression out of his head, or your soft, gravelly voice when you were about 2 seconds away from slumber, or the way your warm body felt when he carried you back to your room, or how you would rock back and forth while waiting for the udon to cook. there was just something about you, he just couldn't help it. he was starting to see parts of you in places where he least expected it and it always bewildered him.

halting suddenly, chuckling as he decides to stop by the gym just to see if geto would want to go with him to the arcade and if you happened to there too, so what? but maybe he could convince you both to go… turning around with a new plan and a mischievous smile, gojo hesitantly stops by the vending machine.

you definitely couldn’t get him. once again you were on your back, sweating but this time panting heavily. geto’s figure towering over you. “this time was better. but you gotta remember to watch your left – “ before he could even finish that thought, you sweep his legs from under him with your left leg. geto lands on the mats beneath with a surprised grunt as you quickly pin him, throwing your legs on either side of his abdomen, sitting on him triumphantly.

“how’s that for my left leg?” leaning your face slightly down to his, grinning cheekily.

geto groans, shifting slightly “…this doesn’t count you know.” annoyed at the injustice.

you giggle breaks your annoyed facade, “what?! how does this no-“

you’re interrupted by an echoing thud. two cautious heads whip to the source of the intrusion. a cold bottle of pocari sweat curiously rolls towards you, the explanation following behind: a mop of unruly white hair. gojo runs his hand through his hair messily. a flicker of an indescribable expression flashes on gojo’s faltering face at the position he finds you and geto in. a mask of a grin paints his pale face – it doesn’t suit him. “ooOOOooooh fun! sparring looks like fun. can I join?” eyebrows wriggling suggestively. “ugh. grow up gojo” you say with a frown. gojo starts making his way to you both while picking up the abandoned bottle and placing it upright on the mat. “what? if you wanted to straddle someone as a friend you could’ve just asked me, babe. sugu never lets me straddle him and i’ve even ask-” “satoru. ” geto’s eyes narrow in warning.  

“fine baby, fine. our little secret then.” gojo grins widely, smile not reaching his frosty eyes. geto scoffs shaking his head, no doubt mentally running through his arsenal of curses trying to decide which one to unleash on gojo first. geto delicately pats your upper thigh to motion you to get up, easily taking the hint you rise to your feet. geto doesn’t miss blue eyes narrowing at the contact, fist tightening slightly, causing an amused smile to break on geto’s face. you stick your tongue out at gojo, already annoyed. geto had an increasing suspicion that gojo was interested in you regardless of what the blue eye boy said. he saw how gojo’s body would unconsciously angle towards you whenever you were around or the way gojo would stare when you’d talk to ieri with a small smile on your face during class or how gojo would act even more insufferable when you were within a 500 foot radius. “they got you again, eh suguru? looks like you’re losing your touch!”

geto exhales through his nose, smile gone, “i didn’t think that they would play dirty,” shaking his head.

“a pin is a pin, regardless of the situation. you said that you always have to be ready, right?” you say pointedly as you reach down to offer geto a hand to help him up. but before geto could accept, gojo rushes towards him effectively knocking your hand out of the way roughly. you tsked, annoyed at gojo’s brazenness.

“oh no, suguuuu! are you hurt? did they – what did they do to my baby?!” gojo wails dramatically, clutching geto’s arm before moving behind him to fuss his shoulders.

“what the hell, dude? mmpffffff get off of me, you–“ gojo’s two hands squishing geto’s face from behind attempting to climb onto the dark haired boy’s back in a makeshift piggy back. geto tries to shake his best friend off by grabbing gojo’s arms and attempting to pull him into a headlock, knocking off the dark glasses of his pale face in the process.

“what do you mean? last night you didn’t say that – “ gojo whines beneath the rough housing, grabbing at geto’s torso, barking out a cackling laugh.  

“you were the one who – “ geto counters, efficiently grasping gojo’s arms. gojo lets out dramatic high pitch squeal. gojo tackles the dark haired boy roughly causing geto to brightly burst out laughing. the two boys roll on the mat with fierce energy, a chaotic tangle of long limbs, grunts and mocking shouts. “babeee, help! suguru’s bullying m-“ he shouts at you, his lanky legs twisting to wrap around geto’s frame.

the assault stalls when gojo hears your bright laughter – the first sighting of water in the desert of his heart, unknown yet if it was a mirage. sensing gojo’s hesitation, geto slowly eases his hold on gojo, eyebrows raised, head turning to see the cause.

ah. of course.

panting, geto dusts himself off while watching gojo. his blue eyes watch your head thrown back, laugher etched even in your eyes. the smallest spark, the soft sunrise after two weeks of rain.

“you’re ridiculous,” you comment, head shaking.

“i’m ridiculous? you didn’t help me at all!” gojo counters childishly. you bend over to pick up gojo's dark glasses – a casualty from the boys’ recklessness. geto smacks gojo’s arm as he notices the obvious gawking at your backside. geto cocks an eyebrow judgementally, dude. gojo rolls his eyes exasperatedly in response, his palms splayed out, what?! I wasn’t looking!! gojo smacks him back.

obliviously, you open up gojo’s dark shades, inching closer to put them onto gojo’s surprised face, fingers grazing his flushing ears. he could smell the slight vanilla and lavender scent that he remembered lingered on your skin when he carried you from the kitchen table to your room two weeks ago. his mind drifted to the memory of how you felt against him that night. soft and warm. so close that if he dared he would be able feel your steady heartbeat against his skin contrasting against the fluttering of his. you were so close and yet not close enough. holding you, he wasn't sure who was dreaming.

hiding his uncharacteristically bashfulness, he makes no mention of your singeing touch as he bends down and picks up the energy drink, condensation building on the outside of the plastic bottle.

“here, for beating this animal.” gojo jerks his head in geto’s direction while offering the bottle of pocari sweat to you, ignoring geto’s eye roll behind him. he shakes the bottle slightly when you hesitate. “c’mon take it.”

“… uh thanks, gojo,” suspiciously eying him.

that was strangely… thoughtful of him. what’s his deal? you untwist the cap and take a small sip. cool and refreshing, slightly sweet but smooth and hydrating.

“seeee? aren’t you glad I thought about you? huh, huh?” he tapping at your cheek, cheeky grin on his face. you slap his hands away from your face with an exasperated sigh. “this is when you say, thank you satoru! you’re so thoughtful and wonderful and handsome and kind and so, so sexy–“

nevermind, he’s an idiot.

“hm, suguru, you want some?” you call out to geto, turning away from the white haired menace to offer the bottle over to him.

gojo whips his head to your face, narrowed stormy blue eyes darting between you and geto. he felt a foreign feeling take over his chest. it surges within him, breathing hard to burrow its claws along the bottom of his tense stomach, green eyed, hot tempered and absolutely ravenous.

he mentally makes a note to stop by ieri’s room again, he wasn’t feeling like himself –  must be some strange after effect from that last curse back in Osaka the other day.

..wait were you looking at.. suguru like that? why are you always thinking about him when he was right her– wait one fucking second. suguru? why’s he called suguru when i’m – 

he whines your name “since when do you call him suguru?” furrowing his white brows.

“… isn’t that his name?" you question, moving slightly closer to geto as he takes the bottle from your outstretched arm thankfully before taking a swing.

“yeah but you call me gojo!!” you and geto exchange a look.

“oh here we go…” you hear geto mutter under his breath, recapping the bottle before handing back to you. “uhh…. isn’t that your name?” “i thought we were closer than that, babe.”  gojo eyes you, glasses down his slender nose, crystal eyes theatrically watery.

“well the difference is that I actually like suguru,” you deadpan, stretching out your back.

“hey, don’t joke like that!” he pouts as he moves closer to you. hand over his chest like you’ve gravely wounded him. and you have.

“it’s only what you deserve, gojo,” you say lightly patting his shoulder before walking past him to go address geto.

"you’re so mean to me, babe!" gojo yells at your retreating figure. “anyway, same time next week?” you say glancing at geto, swiftly walking across the gym, holding the half full energy drink in your hand. geto chuckles, waving to you, ignoring gojo's annoyed mutters, cursed energy dangerously swirling.

"thanks for today, baby." you say over your shoulder, eyes bright. before crossing the threshold of the gym. you hear an incredulous shout:

“BABY!?!”

a/n: my love language is bullying gojo this chapter was very geto-centric but i can't help but love a princess -- head image credit: unknown! credit goes to the rightful artists dividers from: @/adornedwithlight

[beryllineart]

The Cost of Mercy

This is my 100th post, I wanted to do something special and I liked this idea. It was not originally going to be this long. (20 pages! Wow!)

Because this took me half a month to create, I think I'll probably do a little "making of" post just to discuss how the end result differed from my original plans for this comic. I wish I could say I have a backlog of art to post, but I don't, and this comic might have given me burnout.

Ughhhh, my stupid brain has been telling me non-stop how "talentless" I am and how all of my drawings look terrible and that made making this comic an uphill battle. But I did it, and I hope that eventually I can feel proud of it. In the meantime, I think I need to do a couple of art tutorials so my brain actually acknowledges that I've been improving.

(Update: took a break between page 10 and 11 which improved my mental state, I still feel it's important to acknowledge that time of low self esteem and how I pushed through it. Also, I learned what a pen stabilizer was on page 12.)

I deserve a small ramble about this comic, right? Actually, it's pretty much as long as the comic itself, so you have been warned.

Yeah, so, this was inspired by my Susie vs. Lancer comic. In that, Susie does not admit her vulnerability to herself in time and that leads to her making a mistake she regrets. I wanted to show Asriel showing false vulnerability (my headcanon of him being an actor coming into play here) and creating a betrayal similar to Susie's, only this one was on purpose.

"But Beryll," I hear you say, "doesn't Asriel think Frisk is Chara? Why on earth would Asriel kill his best friend?" Well, besides the fact that a) Asriel is both a god of hyperdeath and a LV 9999 maniac b) he's already killed Frisk dozens of times in this battle alone and c) the image of black silhouettes on a red background with a glowing white sword is too cool to pass up, I have a little interaction I couldn't fit in the comic that should explain things.

That's my way of reconciling the whole "I thought you were Chara" thing when Chara and Frisk do not physically look alike at all. Remember, Flowey's genocide dialogue in the Ruins says, "I have a plan to become all powerful. Even more powerful than you and your stolen soul." Meaning that he knows this human physically is not Chara come back to life, but something in their mannerisms or something is so similar to Chara that Flowey convinces himself that they are. And in this comic, Asriel was so desperate for Chara to remember him that he takes Frisk's soul for himself, in the hopes that when they are reunited Chara will come back as well. (And he had to get up close and personal because of the soul's annoying tendency to crack before he can take it, also, glowing white sword. That's why I don't show the heart as broken on page 4, even though that would give the off the "dead" vibes more clearly.)

And now we come to the part where he says, "Hey, remember that time you wanted to kill all of those humans? Want to try again?" I think Flowey has been holding on to the whole "kill or be killed" mentality because he thinks it was his fault that he and Chara died. He fears being weak and being a coward, which is why he became a sadistic LV 9999 psychopath. Again, the whole acting headcanon thing that I rambled about in a different post.

Asriel's last memories of being with Chara are of feeling Chara's anger towards the humans, and when they finally reunite, he can't accept that, as a ghost, Chara learned to let go of that anger, having realized their own mistakes and realizing that it was their anger that got them into trouble. But Asriel has been holding on to that anger that wasn't even his own, all because he believes that it was his fault that they both died, since he fought against that anger.

So yeah, Asriel and Flowey's strongest emotions are actually guilt. Flowey's got a bit of survivor's guilt because he was brought back, albeit as a flower. But most of the guilt comes from convincing himself that it was his fault he and Chara died. That guilt causes him to reject all of the positive emotions that come his way and hold on to the hurt for so long that he hardly realizes it's there, causing that empty feeling that he thinks is a lack of emotions. But if he ever managed to actually let go of his guilt, he would realize that he actually can feel emotions. I have never believed that soulless = emotionless, given the way Flowey acts.

I just want to say, when Asriel resets in this comic, I'm definitely imagining a thing like when Majora's Mask Link plays the Song of Time, where all of the souls are leaving him like Link's items leave as he falls through the void, finally waking up as Flowey. Also, from a mechanics standpoint, Asriel has access to several save files when he's got Frisk's soul. He can reset to the moments after he got Frisk's soul, to when Frisk took away his control over resets, and to when he was first brought back as Flowey. He can't go further back than that because he can't go back to a time he didn't have that power. The only reason he can go back further than the moment he stole Frisk's soul is because of the enormous amounts of determination from all of the souls he has, both monster and human.

Okay, now I want to talk about the ending of the comic. All sweet and nice because Flowey's finally learning to let go of some of the things that made him evil and mean, right? I'm writing this ramble halfway through drawing the comic, so I'm assuming how that ends. (Also, if it's not clear, Frisk has forgotten their entire time in the Underground before. To them, this is the first time they've been down here.)

Well, that leads me to wonder, how will Flowey act since he has decided to be nice and stuff? Honestly, I don't know how the boss battles would go, but I think he and Frisk would develop a genuine friendship. He would hang around places he's pretty sure have save points, maybe give some tips and share a joke or two. Basically, imagine something like what he does for Clover in Undertale Yellow.

But, because we can't have happy Flowey, let's give him a new source of guilt. Now, Flowey lives in fear of Frisk finding out what he did, how he preyed on their sympathy just so he could kill them and steal their soul. He's been acting nice now, and enjoying their friendship, but he can't convince himself to fully commit to it (acting headcanon mention three) because he's afraid he might lose that friendship. Which is why, when Frisk chooses to hug and forgive Asriel, he refuses both, since he remembers what happened last time they hugged (on page 4) and he doesn't feel he deserves forgiveness when they don't even remember the truly horrible things he did. (Again, I'm not completely sure what the boss battles would have been like.) <Actually, I've taken a few days since writing this ramble and have figured it out but will discuss it in a future post.

But Frisk is a determined kid, and after they watch the sunset with everybody (and decide to live with Toriel of course) they go all the way back to the Ruins where this happens.

I hope you are noticing the parallels between Frisk and Chara that help defend Flowey/Asriel's confusion, because I worked hard on integrating that. They are very much alike.

So, that's the end of my ramble. I guess a long comic needs a long ramble, huh? Despite my brain's attempts to convince me otherwise, I actually really enjoyed making this comic. If you did read this whole thing, good for you! I'm not the best at explaining these things in an understandable manner, so I know it might have been hard to read.

Also, January 16th is/was Appreciate a Dragon Day. So here's Douglas, who guards my things while I do art. (I did 6 pages today, so Douglas got plenty of work in.)

[harunayuuka2060]

Asmo: Hon? Is there a reason why you keep on staring onto the ceiling?

MC: ...

Asmo: ...

Satan: They're not going to answer you, Asmo. *flipping the page on his book*

Asmo: How can you be so calm? MC's awake, but they're ignoring us.

Satan: It's better this way. At least we know they're aware and conscious.

Asmo: ...

Asmo: Satan, are you alright?

Satan: Yes. Why do you ask?

Asmo: Nothing... Just...

Asmo: ...

Satan: You're on kitchen duty today. You should be going now.

Asmo: ...

Asmo: Okay. *looks at MC before he heads outside* Hon? Is there something you like? I'll cook it for you.

MC: ...

Asmo: ...

Asmo: O-Oh... Okay. I'll just bring you something... *then leaves the room*

Satan: ...

Satan: MC, is it really difficult for you to acknowledge that we're here?

MC: ...

MC: *slowly turns their head at him*

MC: I would appreciate it if you wouldn't bother me while I'm communicating with the owner. You're being disrespectful right now.

Satan: !!!

MC: Ah. Right. You all are so used to being pampered that you thought your needs are more important than anybody.

Satan: MC—

MC: They shouldn't have created a path for you to walk on.

MC: When you have led them to a dead end.

MC: *stops then stares back at the ceiling*

Satan: ...

Lucifer: Solomon.

Solomon: Yes, I've heard.

Lucifer: I think it would be easier now to fix them. MC has a sudden change in personality, but it is not an issue to any of us.

Solomon: ...

Lucifer: ...

Lucifer: Solomon.

Solomon: Sorry. I was thinking about something.

Lucifer: ...

Lucifer: Is it still about Thirteen?

Solomon: Yes.

Lucifer: Once Thirteen sees the improvement of MC's condition, I'm sure she will have the change of heart.

Solomon: I really hope so.

Diavolo: I'm not surprised. *after Lucifer told him that the relationship between Solomon and Thirteen had been ruined*

Lucifer: But then, sacrifices have to be made.

Barbatos: ...

Diavolo: Barbatos? Is there something wrong? You have been silent for a while.

Barbatos: It's nothing, young master.

Lucifer: ...

Lucifer: By the way, Diavolo. MC has been acknowledging me day by day. They would follow me with their gaze even though I disappeared from their sight. *smiles in satisfaction*

Diavolo: Ah! That seems like a great news!

Lucifer: Indeed it was.

Barbatos: ...

MC: *smiles to themselves*

Luke: MC?

MC: Ah, Luke. Is there something I can help you with?

Luke: No. *smiles* But I noticed that you were smiling.

MC: Well, I just feel happy to be able to talk to you like this again, Luke. *ruffling his hair*

Luke: *giggles*

Simeon: Luke?

Luke: !!!

Luke: S-Simeon?!

Simeon: *who has entered the room, confused* *looks around* Were you talking to someone?

Luke: Yes! MC has returned!

Simeon: ...

Simeon: Luke. *then smiles at him understandably*

Simeon: Should we go to the garden?

Luke: Hm! *looking at MC* You should go with us, MC!

Simeon: Luke. *kneels in front of him* You're free to think and believe that MC is here. If that helps you to feel better.

Luke: What are you talking about? MC is really here, Simeon!

MC: ...

Simeon: Luke—

Luke: MC is standing next to you! Why are you ignoring them?!

Simeon: Luke—

MC: Luke. *shakes their head*

Luke: But—

MC: He will not be able to see me.

Luke: *his eyes widened*

Simeon: Luke?

Luke: ...

Luke: Sorry, Simeon. I'll just stay here...

Simeon: I see... Well then. *stood up and leaves the room*

Luke: ...

Luke: Why can't he?

MC: *kneels in front of him; holding both of his hands*

MC: Simeon has given me peace. *smiling*

Luke: Are you not only saying that so I wouldn't be mad at him? Because to me, he has decided to forget you.

MC: I'll be honest to you... I don't think I'll be able to face him anyway.

Luke: ...

Luke: So if I had accepted that you were gone—

MC: Yes.

Luke: ...

Luke: I'm glad that I didn't.

MC: *holds his cheek with one hand* *smiles kindly to him*

MC: ...

MC: *murmurs*

Beel: *who's in charge of watching over them*

Beel: Is the real MC in danger?

MC: *looks at him*

MC: ...

MC: I'm surprised. You're different from the others.

Beel: ...

Beel: I had been with MC for quite some while.

Beel: So... You said something earlier. You said that they should be careful.

MC: Yes. I think that if they stay up there for much longer, there will be nothing left.

Beel: Up... there?

MC: Hm-hm. Up there.

MC: There's danger.

Beel: ...

Beel: How sure are you?

MC: ...

MC: *smiling for the first time* *but in an eerie way*

MC: I could feel it.

MC: The same thing they felt before.

MC: But much worse. *laughs*

Beel: !!!

Raphael: Michael, there's something I would like to—

Michael: *dancing to a doll that has an uncanny resemblance to MC*

Raphael: ...

Michael: Have you found them?

Raphael: ...No.

Michael: What a pity.

Raphael: What is that, Michael?

Michael: A new body of theirs. But this is nothing more than a cage for them that I designed.

Michael: Looks beautiful, doesn't it?

Raphael: ...

Raphael: Why would you need something like that?

Michael: Hm? I need something for them to trap to. Isn't that obvious?

Michael: Oh. You don't need to worry.

Michael: I made sure it wouldn't be like the first one we had.

Raphael: But this is—

Michael: *pulls the doll closed to him* This one might look fragile, but they will never be able to break this one.

Raphael: ...

[ctheathy]

*whisper* I dare you to write a smut fic about Foxie~

̶I̶'̶m̶ ̶j̶u̶s̶t̶ ̶m̶a̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶a̶ ̶j̶o̶k̶e̶ ̶n̶o̶w̶

You know what I start to enjoy writing on Tumblr more now

Achievement Through Appetite

Miles Prower x Reader

Suggestive Oneshot

Character + Artwork by Kayla Green

Author's note: ( ͡o ͜ʖ ͡o) You knew exactly what you were doing requesting my husband in here.

Miles[Operation Crimson]/Reader [Romantic Tendencies]

[Gender-neutral Darling|Female Darling|Male Darling]

Potential ⚠️TWs⚠️ :

!Female Reader! • The reader works for Miles in this • Suggestive fic/Situation that would eventually lead to NSFW • Touch starved Miles •

Miles groaned out his frustrations as his claws dug into his paperwork, not getting it to work. Tearing apart all of the papers he had been working on in defeat, ripping them to shreds. Emotions he wouldn't dare to show outside of the comfort of his own home. He was supposed to be composed and cunning, not... this..! Miles had been feeling unimaginably overwhelmed for quite a while now, and he is really not so sure why. His days hadn't been any different than his usual schedule. Working on his plans inside of his workshop, isolating himself from Sonic and the bunch due to how busy he was. But he couldn't shrug off this nagging and hollow feeling he felt.

“Taking your anger out on the papers isn't going to solve the problem, you know?” a soothing voice from behind him murmured, catching his attention as one of his ears twitched in acknowledgement. Miles sighed, he never enjoyed taking the advice of others... but he couldn't even find an excuse to back up his argument this time. Already feeling the guilt building up in the back of his head for tearing up the very work he's been working on for hours.

Swallowing his frustrations and sour mood, he turned around in his chair, facing the female behind him as he readjusted his position to a more casual posture and facial features falling back to a poker face. Miles gave you a glance with a blank look on his face, but he noticeably struggled keeping in his discontent for the way he felt. Your eyes just gazed back at his with a gentle yet empathetic look, a small smile that attempted to not falter by seeing him in this depressive state

“Seems like I've cooked up a meal at just the right time” you softly chuckled as you placed your free hand on your hips, raising an eyebrow as you showed off the tray with distinct foods with your left. A cup of tea on the corner while you kept the tray stable like a pro, not spilling a singular crumb.

“No coffee for you~ I'm not trying to make you even more bitter than you already operate as” you spoke with a joking tone, sending him a singular wink as you made your way over to him. And despite Miles’ noticeably bad mood, his eyes couldn't help but soften a little as you took your opportunity to send that playful remark towards him, despite you obviously just being thoughtful and remembering his loathing towards coffee. A tiny smirk of amusement began to pull at his lips as he let out a small huff, much to your joy.

“You never fail to amuse me, Miss _____” he hummed, as your appearance clearly improved his low spirits. And he couldn't help but feel his heart flutter a little while you laughed in anticipation. Glancing down at the tray of food you carefully placed in front of him, he felt a sense of genuine gratitude towards you. Many of those who worked for him would peace out and not look back as soon as the time of their shift ended, but you usually stuck around for a little longer. Making sure he was well fed every night before eventually taking your leave. And attempting to partially prevent the fox from overworking himself like he usually does. He's been known to be quite a busy worker after all ...and besides, you just felt this importance to look after him, especially since he oftentimes failed to do so himself. A sincere bond had been formed as soon as you received the job at his mansion, one that you both seem to value.

A lot.

“What's up with all the rush and impatience? There's nothing wrong with taking a break every now and then, you workaholic” you murmured with concern and a small scold, but the maternal love could be felt from a mile away. As you spoke, you placed both of your hands on each of his shoulders, your finger pads slightly pressing into his body as you did just that. Something that made Miles feel a rush of warmth through his body, making some of his fur stand up in alert.

Miles would be lying if he said that his feelings for you haven't been ... developing over time. It felt so wrong at first to enjoy your subordinate in such a passionate and perhaps even romantic sense, but he just couldn't help himself. Your caring and motherly nature pulled at his heartstrings more than any date could. And though he kept himself under control and tried to dismiss any feelings he deemed as inappropriate, he felt himself in a trance right now. He did not want you to leave yet

So as soon as you turned around and were ready to leave for the door, allowing him to enjoy his meal by himself, he instead grabbed you by the wrist with a gentle grasp. Catching you slightly off guard as he held you back. “no...don't leave yet” he requested with an assertive and slightly commending tone, but there was noticeably a hint of hesitance in it. Miles clearly felt more vulnerable than usual and that wasn't to be taken lightly. You sweetly smiled at him as you allowed him to continue grasping onto your arm, which he was pretty much just clinging to right about now.

You tilted your head to the side innocently, humming out a ‘mhm?’ in question as you wondered what he might need. Though due to Miles’ uncertainty on his face and hesitation with his movements, you decided to try and ease him into talking. As you placed your soft hand on top of his for comfort, he couldn't help but blush ever so slightly at the contact, his gaze drifting down to how you placed your hand onto his... like a perfect fit. But it were your next words that prevented him from chickening out, his heart skipping a beat when you tried to reassure him.

“Hey ...It's alright. Okay? Take your time, Miles. I truly don't mind staying longer for the night if you'd like somebody to keep you company”

And that was the moment that his control and will to keep to himself just broke. He was a goner. You got him. You won. His closed off walls just disappeared. Taking a deep exhale through his nose before Miles grabbed you by the collar, pulling you in for a deep kiss. Making you gasp out as he suddenly pressed his lips onto yours. He was not letting go of your frame. You just... he felt this need for you now. As if you were an oxygen tank, and he was on the verge of drowning.

Though surprised by the sudden gesture, you couldn't help but melt into it. His lips so soft and sensual, so careful... Leaving not only you, but him even more breathless as soon as he pulled back, looking at you with dazed, half lid eyes. Before closing them and leaning into you, feeling further at peace with himself more than he ever has. You felt his forehead touch against your own, and he actually enjoyed it. He didn't even care about all the "cheesy feelings" anymore. He wasn't even trying to deny it, he absolutely loved all of it... He wanted to feel your gentle touch again, he wanted your love more. He wanted to feel your love all day, all night. And you definitely didn't see this coming from him, you expected him to be cold and hateful, yet he's this romantic dude?

You could help but giggle softly, a smirk appearing on your face. “My goodness, Miles. I did not know you were such a hopeless romantic” you teased while fluttering your lashes, laughing out as soon as he looked at you with a half-scowling glint in his eyes and a small pout on his lips, internally questioning why you had to ruin the moment like that. “A sweet, old traditional confession was not your way to go, it appears. No "I love you" or anything? Sheesh, how mean of you”

Miles just scoffed before going right back in and passionately kissing you. It was pretty clear that he was attempting to prove his feelings for you without having to talk about emotions, as he kept kissing your lips with no regrets. It only became more apparent when he started to moan silently, showing his satisfaction as he kissed you. All he wanted now was to just mark you up and show you the feelings that have been bottling up, and he just couldn’t help himself this time. His hands started to rub your back, while his muscular arms gently pulled you closer to his body. Sometimes having to pull back for air as he was practically left panting. You turned your face a little and adjusted it so your lips would be resting on the crook of his neck, resulting in a shudder to emerge from him.

The fox seemed to be at the first stages of desperation at that point, he was completely unable to resist you. His heart felt like it was going to explode, the blood rushing through his veins like the sea waves crashing against the shore. The little pecks on his neck and the imitation of you rubbing his body now as well triggered a strong and sudden reaction from him, his entire body tensing up and suddenly pushing against you and your soft body as he groaned in pure desire.

Miles has never felt this amount of craving in one single night in his entire life, it was like his entire body was becoming one giant, sensitive nerve. He felt so much more vulnerable than he ever has, and it was causing an immense physical response at each and every little touch of your contact. His nerves on high alert by the unfamiliar sensations. It getting especially bad as soon as you started to add some tongue on his neck, teasingly nipping and sucking at his most sensitive spots.

Your tongue was doing wonders on Miles, swirling around on his body and teasing him, making him crave more. At that point, he just wanted more. More... more and more. Miles lost all sense of reality in his desires, he could only feel the sensation of your hot tongue, soothing him like a warm bath. He let out a low moan of pure delight as you pressed your body against him. Your movements were absolutely intoxicating. Your skin was warming up against his coat, almost feeling like fire and your scent was irresistible. He let you do whatever you wanted, letting you dig your nails into him as you held yourself in his embrace. Miles had completely lost control over his actions, his mind being too caught up with this overwhelming sensation.

“A-Ah...~” He whispered, his voice sounding like an animal's mating call “You're... destroying... me...” His voice sounded like a desperate plea, almost losing himself to the overwhelming desire taking over his body. Miles’ entire face twisted in pure lust, like a wolf feeling the warmth of a female in heat. His muscles became tight as he attempted to hold himself back, but all of a sudden he gave in to your seducing embrace. “Please... please...” He whispered with a deep voice, unable to form a proper sentence “More...”

As your caressing continued, Miles begins to whimper even more. He tries to reach his arms up towards your shoulders, wanting to hold you, but his arms just remain around you for now. His low and quiet grunts grow louder, as he can hardly contain himself at this point. He can't even think straight anymore as his brain has been completely hijacked by pleasure and desire. “M-My God. Your body is like a damn heatwave against my coat...”

The fox was losing himself in this moment, but it was only increasing the amount of desire he felt. Your body warmth was giving the effect of a heatlamp right now as your bodies began to slightly perspire. He felt like it was summer right now, as it seemed like time was going a lot slower since he just wanted this moment to last forever. He was losing all sense of reputation, self-control, and modesty, as he continues to let his primal instincts take over this exact moment. And he couldn't help but let out a ‘mnggh..’ as soon as one of your hands travelled over from his tall frame, towards the back of his neck. Some of your fingers pressing into his skin in order to try and keep yourself balanced.

Miles was completely out of it; his senses were absolutely destroyed. Your fingers sensually digging into the back of his neck was making him moan and groan, with you leaving his neck with beautiful red marks. He could feel himself beginning to drip in anticipation. He was... completely, utterly, hopelessly, hooked.

As your hand left the back of his neck and traced a path down his spine, his entire body began to tremble from the sudden touch. He let out a shuddering moan, his breath catching in his throat as he gulped for air, feeling his heart thump even faster than before. All of these touches, so affectionately... They were like a drug that had taken over his entire system. His arms wrapped around you and held you in place, so he could feel even more of you. His grip was tightening slightly, his fangs beginning to bite down on his lip.

The boy who was previously very cold and calculating, was now releasing small noises of pleasure, like that of a young puppy crying out to its mother while being fed. Miles seemed completely enthralled by your caresses, as your fingers traced along his skin and your body pressed firmly against him. His breathing was getting increasingly shallow and uneven, making the him completely lost in the sensation of your warmth and intimacy. Your scent made him lose control of himself, as he began to purr into you.

And it seems that the longer Miles gets showered with your affection, the more attached he felt himself becoming, and the harder it is for him to stop. He lets out a small grunt and leans his head closer to yours, wanting your lips to touch his again for just one more moment. He's never been such a mess up until this point, he just didn't care about anything except for what you were doing to him at this very moment. He just didn't want you to stop. His mind was completely flooded with love and lust, just the thought of you touching him more like this made him feel like he was floating through the air. His mind felt like it was filled with pure endorphins.

But as soon as you began standing on your toes, trying to get to his level of height, it resulted in his crotch unintentionally rubbing onto yours. The heat began to get into his head, Miles started to feel himself tense up and twitch uncontrollably as he starts to breathe in sharp, short breaths. He was now sweating heavily and his face was a bright shade of red by that point. He was holding in the loudest moans in his life, but struggles to keep it all in. His knees were beginning to shake so much after, until he finally lets out a long sigh and slumps over on you, submitting.

You were doing whatever you wanted and Miles was completely okay with that, he absolutely loved it. He was on the verge of madness, the amount of bottled up desire, need and happiness he was feeling was beyond comprehension. He was trembling so much that it was like every bone in his body was about to pop, his entire brain feeling like it was about to melt any second now. He was barely in control of his own body anymore, he let himself fall completely into your grasp.

Miles’ breathing was heavy and his lips were parted slightly, his words sounding like a breathless moan “Anything ...I'll do anything you want...” As his words came out, he leaned forward and pulled you to his chest, his body shaking so hard it looked like he was having a seizure. He whispered in your ear, his voice hoarse like an animal in heat, something not too surprising considering the current circumstances for him.

“I'll even... let you... be the top...” he murmured in a silent, seductive voice. Breathless as he let out yet another quiet whine filled with need, looking at you from the side with literal hearts in his eyes. Allowing himself to be swallowed in your temptation as soon as you whispered the final words in his ear.

“Expected nothing less from you, dear boss~”

[linkspooky]

Does it ever frustrate you (like it bothers me), that the heroes and civilians (and many of the fans) have no concept of "the big picture"?

I mean being optimistic is one thing, but the hero kids are going back to class, hero society is being rebuilt and the same structures are getting back in place with barely a question of what might change, if anything will...

Like shouldn't they know by now??!!

Hawks looked into the league of villain's pasts.

Deku was told directly by shigaraki what was wrong with their society in the last war.

There was a whole (plausibly canon) movie revolving around the threat of the quirk singularity, and still nobody cares.

Judging by the recent chapter, the civilians are the same as they always were, or have become even worse in their mindset.

And at least so far, the heroes haven't shown anything concrete in how they plan on doing things from now on, if their actions or beliefs made any real impact.

At this point it really feels like either:

A. The Lov (Toga, shigaraki and some others) make a miracle resurrection/recovery.

or

B.it's the cycle of violence until inevitable extinction...

Do you feel differently or the same?

Hello, friend.

I definitely share your frustrations.

I think this post by Tumblr User BNHAObservations might be onto the type of societal reform that Horikoshi might be going for in this epilogue.

So there's two approaches that you can approach to MHA, and specifically it's endings. BNHAObservations is using Literary Analysis. That is they're not talking about the work in terms of "thing good, thing bad", but rather assuming that everything Horikoshi put into his work is intentional analyzing the themes which Horikoshi is putting forward. What is the theme of MHA and how does Horikoshi demonstrate that theme with characters and events in story?

That's the question to ask if you're taking a literary analysis angle.

(By the way if BNHAObservations sees this I'm not criticizing your post in any way sorry if I give that intention I'm just using it as an example, and also reccomending people read it because it's a good post. This post isn't a response to this post I promise I'm just linking it to provide an opposite point of view from my own).

The second is Literary Criticism. While I prefer Literary Analysis, I've been taking a Lit Crit approach as to late because. My question is not "What is the theme of MHA?" but rather "Does MHA use the tools of storytelling to communicate it's theme to it's audience well?" So, let's discuss how Hori chooses to convey the themes of the fictional world he created.

So as I said BNHA observations has an answer to your question from a literary analysis perspective. The gist being "Horikoshi seems to be suggesting that the improvement to society will come from the public being more involved with stuff like community outreach to assist the heroes, and maybe with Spinner's comic the villains voices will be heard on top of that." Which is a valid perspective and why I linked it.

However, from my literary criticism angle I don't think that particular theme is communicated well by the story. This is why while I think acknowledging the cultural context of the story is an important perspective, it's just one perspective because MHA is still A STORY and it has to use the tools of storytelling to get those messages across. MHA can exist as a piece of cultural commentary and still be confusing about what exactly kind of commentary it wants to make, because it doesn't function as a story.

So here's the literary critcism angle of: Why is it so gosh darned frustrating that the public at large doesn't seem to have changed at all by the ending of MHA?

When you are a writer you can write anything you want. But if you want to write a story that people want to read you have to follow the rules of good storytelling.

There are reasons why storytelling rules exist. A story is a bond between author and reader, readers to other readers. It is a communication between humans and humans work in a certain way.

I'd also argue that literary criticism is something that exists across cultures, like for example I watch Japanese Horror movies with my friends. Japanese Horror movies are very different from american ones because what that culture considers scary is different. However, if I'm watching the movie that has bad lighting and uncreative camera work, and I criticize it on that grounds, I think the rules of what makes good and bad camera work and shot composition work across cultures.

To quote this post:

Storytelling rules are rules of communication. Rules for handling expectations and saying what you intend to say without it being misheard. Rules for tugging at emotions and pulling heartstrings in a good way rather than a bad way. Storytelling rules are lessons learned by authors of the past that failed to communicate what they needed to. They are not that subjective.

So to address your ask finally friend, I believe a lot of audience comes from Horikoshi's inability to get his theme across in his own story with the tools of storytelling, just what he wants to say about the the society that he's created in his fictional world.

The first is the very obvious discrepancy between setup and payoff. As an example I read the Sam Vimes discworld novels, which you could say is copaganda about a good cop who does his job. However, the story is not trying to be a deep analysis about the crimminal system, it's a fantasy story taking place in a deeply corrupt medieval city where the main character is a parody of Dirty Harry. In other words it doesn't bring up any of those deeper issues so I can just read it for what it is, knowing it's kind of dated.

MHA sets up these deeper issues in a way that calls to be addressed. It's made clear several times in both Shigaraki's walk, and his speech during the first war arc that there's already enough heroes and yet problems in this society persist.

Theme is basically the story asking a question and then providing an answer. The question is: If there are so many heroes then why are there so many people who don't get saved?

It seemed like the answer we are building towards is that heroes need to change the way they deal with villains, hence why everything post War Arc focuses on the main trio trying to save their villains without just putting them down. You have Twice's death at Hawk's hands, and the question of why heroes only save the good victims. You have the parallels between Shigaraki and Eri. You have Deku say "ONE FOR ALL IS NOT A POWER FOR KILLING."

Hori is an author who makes choices and he chose to deliberately bring up these issues and not address them, and that makes the story feel unsatisfying to read because serialized stories hook the audience by promising future development.

Read this story because you want to see how the Todorokis will find a way to unite their family. Read this story because you want to see how Bakugo and Deku will become the greatest heroes, by saving by winning and winning by saving.

Twice's death, Toga's question about if Uraraka is going to kill her, Shigaraki's walk, OFA is not a power for killing these are all things that mattered in the story and then suddenly didn't. If you promise a story is going to address something and then you renege on that promise the audience will find it unsatisfying. If I'm reading a murder mystery and it ends with everyone eating cake and the murder hasn't been solved (and that's not the point of the story) I will feel like the story has wasted it's time.

So it's not just a case of "MHA was never going to be a story of deep societal reform because it's a shonen jump manga" but these themes are brought up, and then never addressed again.

Which is where we get my second layer of criticism, the massive tonal whiplash. My Hero Academia seems like a story of how kids are going to grow up to be better heroes by saving their villains, until it's not.

My Hero Academia is not a tragedy, until it becomes a tragedy in the last five minutes. Every single person thought Shigaraki was going to be saved somehow, until he wasn't. Everyone thought that Twice's death was going to be the last death in the league of villains, because the kids were going to realzie they have to find another way than killing the villains, until it wasn't. The audience isn't stupid for thinking this was going to happen, that's what Horikoshi was foreshadowing in his story until he threw it out.

The worst part is the tragic tone doesn't work, because it's poorly written as a tragedy. Greek Tragedy revolves around the fall of the heroes (this is a japanese work and japanese theatre is different, but Superheroes are inspired by the greeks). If the villains failed to get saved, then it should be a failure on the heroes part, it should be devastating on the heroes.

Hawks failed to save Twice but he's fine, Deku failed to save Shigaraki (OFA is not a power for killing) but he's fine, the only hero who seems personally affected by their loss is Shoto who is losing his brother. If this is a tragedy then heroes should be the ones to fall because tragedies are about the tragic flaws of the heroes.

However, we get this tonal inconsistency instead where no consequences stick to the heroes and every single bad thing that happens to them gets magically done away with by plot convenience.

So Hori has shown that he can just handwave away whatever kind of grievous injury he wants, and yet he still chooses to go out of his way to unnecessarily punish the villains for their actions, in the manga that's supposed to be about saving them.

And even if we go with the "Well, their hearts were saved" approach, the manga fails to demonstrate how their hearts were saved. Naruto, a manga running in the same magazine, does this so much better with characters like Obito.

Look at Obito's sendoff in the manga. A character who also is responsible for directly harming the main characters and who went to war with the entire world.

Obito has a dream sequence where he realizes he could have always gone home and still tried to become Hokage and he wasn't beyond redemption. He lives long enough to assist Naruto in the fight against the final villain. He gets called awesome by Naruto for trying to become Hokage because they shared the same dream.

His last moments in the manga are Rin the girl he loved comforting him in the afterlife, by saying she was watching his suffering all along. His literal last action is to lend his power to Kakashi his best friend in order to fight together once more against the villain.

Shigaraki on the other hand doesn't even get the majority of screentime in his own death chapter, he gets two pages compared to AFO's five.

It's not just the fact they get unsympathetic deaths, the story also bends over to show that they deserved it. Toga doesn't want to accept prison for her actions so it's okay for her to commit suicide even though she's a young girl. Shigaraki didn't want to give up being the hero to the villains, so it's okay that Deku didn't save him.

People are discussing whether or not Spinner should be held accountable for not saving Shigaraki because of his character flaw of deciding to not think about things and go with the flow, but that ignores the fact that once again Spinner is not the main character. Yes, characters should be held accountable for their flaws, but the protagonists are the one who should be held the most accountable because the story is not about them.

Spinner and Deku both failed to save Shigaraki, but let's look at their punishment. Spinner is in prison for the rest of his life probably, almost became a Nomu, and has survivor's guilt for being unable to save Shigaraki in time due to his own actions.

Deku... has to live with the fact he killed Shigarki and will "never forget it."

If we are going for a tragic ending, and Deku is the center of that tragedy, than Deku should be the one suffering for his failures. Deku should be held just as, if not more accountable than Spinner.

Spinner is held accountable and that makes him a good character - but to what end? I know what it's to slide blame away from Deku, which is also why Spinner randomly says something racist at the end of his scene.

So in all it's not frustrating because MHA isn't some deep, thoughtful criticism of Japanese society. It's frustrating because it violates the rules of setup and payoff, and it also is extremely tonally inconsistent.

A common response to this is I've seen is "You should just like MHA for what it is, and not what you want it to be."

However my underlying problem is that MHA as a story seems to be very confused about what kind of story it is. That confusion shows in Horikoshi constantly throwing out his own foreshadowing, and the wild swings in tone from tragedy to a story about optimistic young kids who are going to be the best heroez eva. Hori can tell whatever story he wants, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's telling it well.

As I said Hori's indecisiveness shows by this point in the story. I've already discussed this with Class1aKids but it really seems like Horikoshi is setting up two things with scissors-kun:

He'll either be A) A new villain that Deku and the kids prevent from becoming the next AFO or B) a resurrected Shigaraki who can save the rest of his league and fulfill his role as hero of the villains.

At this point there's equal foreshadowing for both, and this is my personal theory but it truly seems like Hori is gauging audience reaction to see which path he should take. If the japanese audience is satisfied with the villains "hearts" being saved, or if he should bring Shigaraki back to let the villains end on a more hopeful note.

[aentrilon]

Mixed feelings

Fairy fern leaves have antipyretic effects by ingesting a dose of their substance but

by drinking an infusion of its seeds, you can slightly disappear.

Ingesting a substance of a gold coffin flower raises resistance to ailments

and, mixed with honey, resistance to flames.

An overdose of blood skull fruits will cause a state of apparent death but

with a proper dose, they have the effect of seeing persons not from this world.

Consuming amsolem fruits will give you nausea but

taken in combination with belladonna, they tremendously improve your potential power.

I'll never grow tired of so many poisinous and medicinal plants...

I was able to learn the effects of various kinds of plants these last two years...!!

...nevertheless, I still haven't discovered a plant that would wake up Percival I hold very dear...

No, I think you truly did your very best.

You were keeping on looking for new special characteristics by trying out poisonous plants with your own body.

It's just as your acquaintance told you, the mysterious magic power you have may be very close to the Fairies' trait,

because we are resistant to poisons and ailments.

I wonder how...

The thing is--

Hold on... a moment!!

Hahah...!! This is a new mineral...!!

I wonder what components it's made of...!

Hey, Nasiens, about that...

Yes... Like plants, some minerals can be made into medicine.

That isn't what I meant... How did you notice there was an unknown mineral there...?

How, huh...

I've always been able to tell where are the plants and mineral unknown to me... Well, you could say it's just my instinct.

...no, it isn't just instinct... Getting an idea of where the plants and minerals on the ground

is something only Giants can do!

Not a single sibling among us possesses the traits of both a Fairy and a Giant.

I'm a bit in a pickle here, I don't have tools to dig them out...

I should ask Zana and Jillian about it later.

Yet, more than anybody, he...

I don't detest you

but I don't acknowledge you either...!!

N-no... it's nothing...

Never mind that... you can forget about it.

...what am I getting worked up over...

There's just no way...

Even if he was,

my big brother is still...

Heeey, Sixtus!!

Can you come over and help us?

Get me out of here!

The heavy-drinker Rob got drunk and stuck himself in the hole!!

...sure!!

[cody-00]

This advice leaves me floored. If I read these panels a few years ago, who knows how my college journey could have gone.

A workshop class of mine had an assignment similar to the one in Blue Period where I had to discover a poetry collection of my liking. Then, I had to write a few poems in conversation with the author and a written response mixing analysis of the collection and the thought process behind my poems. Once that part was submitted, the class gave a brief presentation of their project. My confidence throughout the course was low for a few reasons. I've never been well-read in poetry but took an upper-level course out of necessity, thus being surrounded by smart, earnest, and more experienced peers. Furthermore, I knew a classmate secretly found me obnoxious towards the end of the previous semester in another workshop class, making me paranoid about whether I misread the quality of goodwill of my most basic actions and if many others felt a similar, justifiable distaste towards me.

Nothing felt quite right after sampling a list of collections recommended to me by my professor based on my style. I settled on one where some poems clicked, some didn't. Here's where the third reason for my insecurity kicked in: it was poetry within my home region—a place I have a complicated relationship with.

A hatred of where I grew up made the idea of escaping to an out-of-state college attractive, but lack of funds and merit landed me in an in-state university. Instead of being bitter about it, I changed my approach. I acknowledged that I was possibly an edgy young adult who needed a change in perspective from more like-minded people, leading figures, and academics within the region to truly appreciate my home.

That hunch still doesn't have a great answer (especially since I didn't follow my intended approach with as much determination as I should have), but my efforts led to a weird yet relevant consequence: the exposure to differing attitudes and perspectives from my own made me feel like an outsider to the very place I grew up in. Identifying and calibrating any of those people's attitudes and experiences with my own felt like a struggle, and knowing their prestige made me question the authenticity and accuracy of my self-concept. Putting my feelings into terms used by Blue Period, I feared that my perspective was no better than (and the same as) a tourist despite being a local my whole life.

The same self-skepticism crept in when analyzing my chosen poetry anthology. Inevitably, a fork in the road laid before me: do I express antagonism despite my ignorance in the field, the possibility of furthering distaste upon me amongst my peers in my resistance and implied negativity, and a cultural image that seemed so firmly established to where it threatened to undermine my own; or do I commit to an effort in understanding the work so deeply that it surrenders my ego?

The first option… I couldn't bring myself to do it… It felt too arrogant. All those fears compelled a conclusion that there must have been something wrong with me that needed to change. As a result, I tried to put myself in the poet's shoes by mimicking the collection's style. I thought that could have allowed something to click and, if not, I was at least maintaining respect for the poet.

My professor gave feedback on my submission. It's essentially the same idea Blue Period teaches and warns its readers about, with added salt to the wound of the implication that my presentation still hinted ambivalence despite not wanting to. Here's the screenshot:

Did Blue Period allow me to understand the meaning of my professor's advice? A final project for the course required revisions of a few poems of choice out of a variety written throughout the semester. I picked one of the poems from this assignment since a route for improvement looked clear. Despite understanding what my professor meant, the real possibility that those changes were motivated by catering to the one deciding my grade for the course erodes any confidence towards the ideal interpretation of substantiating a newfound maturity in my artistic approach. To clarify, I'm not criticizing my professor—the fact that she identified the repercussions of my problematic approach feels like a miracle. Yet, reading these recent Blue Period chapters let me go a layer deeper.

It's not a straightforward lesson, though. My story doesn't quite align with Yatora's, and identifying the differences allows me to learn from the story with more nuance. Yatora loves Bacon and knows more about him, contrasting with my attitude towards my poet of choice. More pressure was put on me in this regard, for there is a more unsavory aspect in criticizing a poet one has no real attachment towards versus one whom respect has already been made clear. My professor also notes a silver lining that comes with a willingness in trying learn from an author that one doesn't gel with.

Furthermore, Blue Period likes to show how complex and ambivalent navigating through the world of art can be, so I can't dismiss the possibility of the manga throwing a wrench in what seems to be one of the series' most straightforward lessons in a later chapter.

There's great comfort in being able to relate to something I thought was, if not nonexistent to others, left unsaid. Being able to capture this feeling is a testament to the realism in the manga's exploration of art and character work. Blue Period gives a reassurance and almost ironic realization that, even if I struggle to relate to stories near where I live, I can identify with even the most niche feelings and circumstances in stories on the other side of the world.

If I could have done things differently, avoiding antagonism still would've been the right choice, but I'd be looser in how I drew inspiration from my selected poet. Funnily enough, this stumble and the subsequent lesson could have been avoided. I initially disqualified a different recommended poetry collection (i.e., Obit by Victoria Chang) due to it only being accessible digitally. I read it a little before the course ended anyway and loved it. It's tough to call whether how things turned out was the most enriching path compared to a hypothetical scenario where I found and chose Obit instead, but I'd like to think so.

[dollfaceirene]

irene's 101 guide on how to improve your self concept

hear ye, hear ye! I heard you're tryna improve your self concept but have absolutely no idea where to start so i've made this post to help aid you and hopefully answer your question on the 'how' of improving your self concept.

Firstly, what is your self concept? Your self concept is basically who you perceive youself to be.

For example, if i was to say "do you think you can manifest a sp?" and your response was "ofc not, im not worthy enough" ya da ya da ya, then you perceive yourself as someone who isn't worthy enough for a sp.

Here are some reasons why your self concept may be a lil shaky & how to fix it

You always seek validation from the 3D

As someone who's known about the loa for like 2 years now??, it's basically the unspoken rule to not seek validation from the 3D of your desires materialising because,

a) the 4D (your imagination & inner self) is the cause and the 3D (outer reality) is the effect

b) The 3D = neutral, it will only reflect whatever assumptions, desires, etc that you persist in.

How to fix it?: Become present in your 4D/imagination, thats only what matters. Affirm you only seek validation in your 4D, visualise, etc because at the end of the day, it will always be 4D ➨ 3D, not the other way round!

2 . You easily waver

Wavering = switching between states, Do you find yourself persist in one assumption (one thats the new story) but as soon as you see the opposite in the 3D, you find yourself re-affirming the old story again? Then you're wavering!

How to fix it?: Have some self discipline! Whenever you find yourself affirming the old story, clock it then affirm/visualise, etc whatever correlates to the new story. Remember, the more you repeat the new story, the more the old story becomes dead to you because you will be so used to being fulfilled in the new story, you wont even bat an eye at the old one.

3. You assume you can't manifest 'large' manifestations but others can

C'mon now, nobody is born with ultra special manifestation abilities that make them manifest better than other people, everyone has the same limitless abilities when it comes to the law of assumption, if one person can manifest a mansion, why can't you? You are as capable as manifesting anything as anyone else!

How to fix it?: Honestly just acknowledge that you are among everyone who is a master manifestor, its litch in your DNA to be a master manifestor! I suggest affirming master manifestor-related affirmations to help you be fulfilled in the state of being a master manifestor.

TIPS & ADVICE

You may feel like consuming LOA content is good for helping you and stuff and its honestly fine to read LOA content when you are feeling unsure but it gets overwhelming when you overconsume content since alot of LOA content may contradict each other, as people write their advice based on their on beliefs. This is why i recommend just consuming "back-to-the-basics" typa posts and when you feel content, apply it! (instead of constantly looking from post to post on "how to manifest" when you already know.

2. Affirmation tapes are a GAMEEE CHANGERRRRR! I really recommend Indigo Detry's ones and listen to them when you are doing activities that dont really require concentration (e.g art, reading, etc).

3. If you're looking for good loa youtubers i really recommend Indigio Detry and Manifest it, Finesse it (GOATS FRRR😩😩)

OUTRO

I hope you enjoyed this post and it helped you in any way; please let me know if you have any questions as i would be happy to answer them <3

[shadowfloofster]

I've seen people say you can't compare the QSMP to the DSMP because they're both completely different servers with different starts.

The thing is you can compare them. Not the stories told themselves because of course they're going to be different as they're 2 servers with different starts with 2 nearly completely different sets of people.

You can compare the treatment of the creators by the fandom, players (other cc on the server) and admins though.

Foolish for example. He made SO many amazing high quality builds to use and be shown to people. Ranboo and Tubbo had him build a giant mansion for them to live in! Yet it was entered maybe once after being finished. Foolish was able to use his builds for his own lore maybe once. Only a few people like Bad really acknowledged them by messing around in the area of them or adding something easy to get rid of to them as jokes.

Bad's treatment on the DSMP was frustrating to watch. He was the butt of the joke every time he was around. People would constantly swear on his streams because it was so funny for them! They constantly destroyed his and Skeppy's house and griefed the front of it. No one other than his friends really listened to him about things. And the egg arc was supposed to be something that was a massive danger to the server! But how does the server and fandom not directly involved treat it? Like a joke. Bad and his friends clearly worked really hard on this arc to include more than just the 'main characters' and their small circle, yet it was brushed off as if nothing by the players and fandom, treated like it was stupid.

Quackity's lore just kinda- happened. There isn't much I can say as I don't remember a lot of it tbh which isn't a great sign.

Philza and Wilbur probably got the better end of the stick for lore due to being connected to the main lorr, but it still wasn't great for them either.

A lot of CCs not on the QSMP have mentioned how the communication for the server was terrible too. At the start of lore on the DSMP, it made sense as they were purely doing improve so there wasn't really anyone to run things through. But the fact the issue was bad the entire time made the CCs on the server feel ignored and not want to play on it.

It was rare for people to interact with others outside their already established circles unless they're friends outside the server.

Now with the QSMP

Foolish has built multiple things on the server and has been acknowledged by everyone at this point. Bad might mess with them a lot still and encourage others to join him but you can tell the respect people still have for each one. Vagetta wants a version of the statue Foolish built him on other servers. People and fandom admire his builds and always make sure that if there's any damage to it, it's easily undone. Cellbit has made the castle Foolish built him his home the moment it was finished, he's been using it since. He paid him fully and made sure he was fully supplied and had company while building, staying on for hours to talk to him as he built.

Bad is respected by everyone on the server. He's taken seriously by everyone. Everyone trusts him with their kid's lives. Phil asks Bad to babysit Tallulah and Chayanne if he can't. The french trust Bad more than anyone outside their language group. Forever trusts Bad the most on the server other than Baghera. If someone needs something they'll go to him. All the eggs love him and so does the fandom. He's part of the joke instead of the butt of it. He can laugh along with the jokes made, even ones directed at him. When people swear on his streams and he languages them, they immediately apologize and switch to one of Bad's replacements (fudge being the main one) and no one makes fun of it either! They don't start swearing relentlessly at him to annoy him.

Even though Quackity doesn't show up often, when he does people are happy to interact with him and update him on what's happened if he wants it.

People can be off the server for weeks without being isolated because they're not keeping up with major lore, especially as people are happy to update anyone on anything they want to know. Hell people can be on a lot without being involved in lore but still be included as much as anyone else! As soon as there's a threat to the eggs or a new way to protect them, it spreads to everyone like wildfire and everyone's taken it on within a week.

The new arrivals are always welcomed by the islanders already there. They support them and treat with the same respect they do with everyone else. They merge with everyone else nearly immediately and become part of the community without hesitation.

The communication with the admins is clearly amazing too. Philza has pointed out how appreciated he feels compared to other servers. When an egg dies unfairly they're quick to get back to them within hours. If there's a general issues they're quick to get back to them and fix things. People are allowed to have their own stories alongside the main one. Events are planned and discussed so everyones aware before it happens. Anyone who wants to take part is welcome to if it's a big thing due to how open they usually are (rescuing Cellbit and Felps, travelling to Bobby's death site, etc). Thinfs are adapted and changed when needed and all CCs are in the loop.

Being able to watch the QSMP and not feel like any POV I watch is being mistreated or ignored is great. I couldn't watch anything but lore streams with the DSMP because Bad was my main POV and it made me so uncomfortable to watch him being made fun of constantly and be treated as a joke.

The QSMP feels like a community of people, instead of factions trying to go against each other. DSMP was my first and only smp experience and while it was great at first, it quickly soured. The QSMP treats it's CCs and fandom as if they genuinely matter, making sure everyone is welcomed and no one is isolated.

[neptunescore]

Unpopular opinion

But I really think that if Logan had been able to go through F2 fully and develop like everyone else (except max) did, and was put on a ran that wasn’t Williams, he’d be a much better driver. I can tell he’s improving currently, but he’d be so much better if he was allowed to grow and thrive and then put into F1, but he was taken out of F2 early, dumped into F1, and expected to perform amazingly.

Not every driver can skip F2 or be taken out early and perform great. I think the old team principal set him up for failure but not sporting him to continue his endeavors on F2. He was doing well so the team principal wanted to get to him before any other team could and that ultimately led to Logan’s horrible first season.

And I also think he was done wrong by Williams this season too. I understand that he’s by no means the best driver on the grid, but he isn’t the worst either.

A lot of people don’t want to acknowledge the growth he has made since last year. His year was ruined before it could truly began. With what happened in Australia, the team took his confidence away, and things went down from there. He was so ready and extremely confident, but his car was taken as punishment for something that his teammate did to his own car.

I get that it was a decision based on who could get points, but what really did it was the fact that Alex didn’t get any points and then Logan got his busted up chassis

And even recently, Logan barely got upgrades. He was given stuff from last year. I think he would do so much better on a different team because Williams obviously do not care for him the way they care for Alex. I get that he hasn’t really been driving the way they want him, but to be honest, neither has Alex.

I don’t know, man, this is just my opinion, but I feel like if he was allowed to finish his formula 2 season and then put into formula 1 things would be better for him. And if he weren’t in Williams, then that would be even better. They are known as the worst team on the grid to put a rookie in.

Another unpopular opinion, but I genuinely think he deserves another chance in a team like haas. I know you’re probably going to disagree with me, but haas has a better car than Williams and they would treat him fairly. He would also bring the team many sponsors as the only American, so it would be a win-win.

We don’t know how he would perform in a different team with a better car, so I’m just saying I would like to see what would happen

Honestly I agree with everything uve said here anon, like wholeheartedly.

I'm just gonna add a few more things, but overall, we both have the exact same opinions.

I feel like ppl forget that williams is literally an OVERWEIGHT car, like u literally can't expect amazing results from them, and I know some of you are gonna talk abt how alex seems to be doing rlly well, but alex has been here since 2019. Not to forget that he was part of that redbull shitshow, like this man is fully trained in the art of surviving under stressful situations, and he's also an experienced driver.

I feel like there's more hate on logan bc ppl keep seeing how well Oscar's doing, and those 2 came into F1 at the same time. But you literally can't compare them. You can't. Oscar's one of the VERY few rookies who managed to adjust to f1 that quick, and logan literally just needs TIME like all the other drivers got when they first joined too. Not to mention how SUPPORTING mclaren is of oscar, while james vowels is out there already talking abt different driver options and williams is so blatantly unmotivating of logan. God, ofc it's just gonna affect his performance even more bc this is the ONLY team hes been with, and it's his SECOND year, he needs affirmations and support.

Oscar is also in an AMAZING car, and as I've said bfr, logan is NOT. Ppl rlly need to stop comparing them.

All in all, his situation makes me so sad.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

I feel like this is a horrible thing to say, but when I'm shown examples of when Marinette is having a hard time, it's hard for me to feel bad for her.

It's not like I think she deserves it and I certainly don't draw any joy from it, but I just don't feel any sympathy for when she's struggling.

My theory is that the show has toted her so much as the all-important one-and-only, all while ignoring everyone else's important moments and struggles, that I'm struggling to feel sympathetic for when Marinette is going through some sort of misfortune. Every single one of her struggles are always highlighted in such a way that it's supposed to be this incredibly-important thing that makes Marinette look so sad, but then she's comforted and validated until eventually, this struggle eventually gets resolved and she's all happy again.

But then there's Adrien. No closure about his mom, his dad, Natalie—nothing. He's slapped with all the responsibility of comforting and validating Marinette, who eventually gets her personal conflicts resolved without lasting impact.

I'm not saying Marinette hasn't done anything to comfort and validate Adrien, but his conflicts just feel largely brushed aside and/or downplayed in comparison to Marinette's, which are highlighted and emphasized as significant events.

I don't know if this makes me a bad person or something, and I do kind of feel bad about it, but I just struggle to sympathize with her when the show tries to make us feel bad for her.

Marinette is a fictional character. It's totally fine if the bad writing has completely turned you off to her and drained you of sympathy because the entire purpose of her existence is to entertain people. She's not some meaningful representation that you should want to connect with and understand to improve your world view or something like that. She's just a poorly written teenager in a bad kids show. As long as you're able to acknowledge that fact and own that this is mainly a writing issue - and it sounds like you are - I wouldn't stress about it. The writers have done a lot to make her unlikable! I totally get why someone would not want to watch a show starring her canon self. I struggle at times and I genuinely like Marinette! Her writing is one of the many reasons I just don't know if I'm going to watch season six.

I don't defend Marinette because she's done nothing wrong. I defend her because her faults are so clearly just bad writing and not some grand plan for the character where she's going to learn something, which makes me feel protective of her because I genuinely love the base character concept and what she could have been. It's annoying to see people treating her like she's the problem and not the writing because she's literally not allowed to learn lessons and change, so of course she keeps coming across worse and worse! Her flaws are genuinely fine for a serialized story, they just have no place in an episodic one where the characters stay largely stagnant.

For example, nothing about the season five conflict and final naturally follows the BS season four conflict where she supposedly learned to trust Chat Noir. As much as I don't agree that with that synopsis of what the conflict was, it is how Ladybug sums it up in the final:

Ladybug: Why don't you just give up on me? I've lost ALL the Miraculous! I'm the worst Guardian EVER! I wanted to control everything, I didn't listen to you, I lied to you, I kept you at a distance! Every time you offered me a helping hand, I never took it! I really made a mess of EVERYTHING! Cat Noir: We're gonna get them back one by one…until the very last. And we'll make sure this never happens again.

And yet none of this seems to impact season five. Chat Noir and Ladybug maintain all their secrets and they do absolutely nothing to track down the missing miraculous because the plot won't let them even though it really doesn't fit Marinette's character. She certainly hasn't given up controlling things because, once again, the show literally will not let her do that. The rare episodes where it happens always see her punished like when Alya handing out miraculous lead to SentiNino which almost lead Gabriel to knowing Ladybug's secret identity. Adrien suffers for similar reasons. So does Alya and so many other characters! I totally get why someone would not be able to look past canon's writing since it's not like the flaws are minor. I have the same problem with both Lila and Nathalie.

I just cannot stand Nathalie even though I know that she's as much of a victim as Marinette and all the other characters. None of Nathalie's flaws are her fault because she doesn't exist. It's just that Nathalie's bad writing hits me in a way that makes me despise her while Marinette's hits in a "protect and defend" way. There's no wider logic here. It's just a matter of what characters I connected with enough to look past the bad writing. The type of fanfics I read probably also helped...

My only real piece of advice on this topic is to watch your mental health and take a Miraculous break or even leave the fandom all together if you notice that your Marinette hate (or hate of anything in canon) is really messing with you. I've mentioned before that I'm debating about watching season six and a big reason why is that I don't know if it's going to be good for my mental health. Lila's writing has consistently got on my nerves, but she was a minor enough character that I was still having a good time. Given that Lila is our new big bad with the added bonus of how shitty season five was and the show may have hit a point where it's just not fun for me anymore.

Previously, I had issues with the overall writing, but genuinely enjoyed watching the show as the writers are pretty good at short form story telling, so canon was a nice mix of genuinely enjoyable moments and writing issues that were fun to talk about. That was not true for season five and I just can't picture how it will be true for season six. The only reason I'm even considering it is because I watch the show with my SO and he has a lot of fun listening to me rant about bad media, so I may still have a good time with season six. It would not be the first time that I suffered through a piece of bad media for the sake of a loved one who really wanted someone to rant about it with.

I'm not the kind of person who will tell people they're not welcome in a fandom unless they like X. That sort of gate keeping is ugly and often straight up bullying, so don't read this as me saying that you have to like Marinette to enjoy the show or that you need to disengage if you don't like X% of canon. As long as you're having fun and not forcing your dislike on others by sending clearly unwelcome asks or engaging with sugar posts in an antagonistic way or anything like that, then I'm going to defend your right to be in fandom even if we personally aren't going to get along and need to stay in our separate fandom bubbles.* All I'm saying is that it's important to know when to disengage from a piece of media. To keep track of when something starts consistently bringing you more sorrow than joy. When that line is crossed? It's time to move on.

The sad fact is that, while you may utterly adore a piece of media, you have no control of what that media will do, so you need to be very careful about trusting your mental health to total strangers. It's part of why I tend to be so critical of media. Analysis and plot pitches like I do on this blog are genuinely fun for me, but they're also a much healthier way to engage with a story than just trusting it to be good and getting burned when it isn't. There's a reason I avoid theory crafting. I've gotten really into that in the past and wound up hurt because I put way too much faith in strangers who ended up sucking at their job.

*Btw, the line about separate fandom bubbles was not aimed at you. It's just a general statement about how fandom works. All are welcome, but all do not need to directly interact. Curating your fandom experience is important self care. Blocking someone isn't some sort of value judgement. It's just sometimes a thing you need to do in order to keep from seething when you accidentally see their asinine hot takes.

[queenshelby]

An Illicit Affair

Part 41: Houses

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

When you arrived at Cillian's apartment later that day, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and anxiety. You had always been independent and strong -willed, but after your injury, you had felt vulnerable and helpless. Thus, having the man you loved look after you was both terrifying and comforting.

"Are you really sure about this?" you asked softly, looking up at him with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. You couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed by the thought of living with Cillian, even if it was only for a short while.

Cillian nodded, his eyes soft as they met yours. "Yes, I'm sure," he murmured, reaching out to gently push your hair back from your face. "I want to be there for you, to support you and help you through this difficult time," he explained gently, his voice warm and reassuring.

"And, if I'm being completely honest, I've missed having you around. So, if this is what it takes for me to spend more time with you, then I'm all for it," he continued, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

You couldn't help but feel your heart flutter at his words. It had been a long time since someone had cared for you in this way and, despite all the challenges that lay ahead, you couldn't help but feel grateful for Cillian's support and understanding.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion as you looked up at him with a mixture of gratitude and love. You couldn't believe that this man, who had once been your boyfriend's father, was now not only your lover but also your caregiver.

Cillian smiled gently down at you before leaning in to press a tender kiss to your lips. "You don't have to thank me," he murmured against your mouth. "I love you , Y/N. I want to be here for you, in every way possible."

***

Over the weeks that followed, Cillian did, indeed, take care of you and you were becoming more self-sufficient by every day that passed. 

Your body was healing but, more importantly, so was your heart.

You spent every day with Cillian, watching Netflix and ordering take-out food, or sometimes just reading books, talking, and laughing together.

Cillian was incredibly patient with you and always made sure to make you feel comfortable, never pushing you to do more than you were capable of.

It was a slow and steady recovery - physically and emotionally - but with each passing day, you found yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with Cillian.

As your body mended, you also discovered a newfound vulnerability in yourself that you had never acknowledged before. It was a strange feeling to be so dependant on another person, especially considering that your life before the accident had been one filled with independence and determination.

After a while, you managed  to get out of the wheelchair and start using crutches, which allowed you to move around Cillian's apartment with ease.

The physical therapy sessions in London were demanding and left you exhausted but, each passing day, you noticed an improvement in your overall mobility and strength.

The daily sessions were indeed strenuous, but with Cillian by your side, encouraging and cheering you on, it was bearable.

You fell into a comfortable routine, one which became your new normal.

"I want to get rid of these before we are going to the awards. I don't want to be there, in a fancy dress, with crutches," you told Cillian one morning, pointing at your crutches which were lean against the wall near the front door, but he reassured you that it would be fine.

"I know, but you shouldn't push yourself too much babe, alright? Don't worry about it. You will look stunning regardless," he said, brushing a lock of hair out of your face, and you smiled at him gratefully.

"You are getting an Oscar and I want to support you by not looking like an in injured little bird on your arm," you said, trying to laugh it off, but Cillian frowned, his eyes serious.

"I am not getting an Oscar Y/N. I am just nominated," Cillian corrected, positioning his fingers on your cheek to trace the curve of your bone structure.

"Well, I personally think you picking up that little statue is a given, but we shall see," you  teased, leaning into his touch.

"Well, I suppose we'll find out soon enough," he said, a hint of nervousness underlying his voice, but that hint of nervousness was not because of the impending academy awards. It was because of the ongoing legal battle against his ex-wife Danielle and the charges that had been brought against her. These were all matters he had shielded you from and you knew literally nothing about how bad things had become. 

Cillian was a great actor and pretended that everything was fine whereas, the truth was that, for almost two months now, he not only had to deal with some negative press because of Danielle's actions, but also with strenuous court proceedings and appeals with regards to her care.

Having been admitted to an institution for treatment, it was no surprise that she tried her best to manipulate the situation by using Max against Cillian, reminding him over and over again that his father's actions led her to do what she did.

She wanted you gone from their life after the mess you had created and the fact that you now lived with Cillian angered Danielle greatly. Danielle, however, wasn't the only one who was angered by this. Max, too was angry, but not just for the reasons as his mother was. He believed that, despite his protests, Cillian had chosen to put his relationship with you before his relationship with him.

"You should have ended this once and for all after mum found out and none of this would have happened," Max thus told his father during the last hearing in court just a few days ago, but Cillian remained adamant that you two, as consenting adults, were able to choose what it was you wanted to do in your lives.

"Max, it's not that simple. Your mother has manipulated our marriage for many years and I stayed with her to protect you from, well, shit like this," Cillian said, trying to remain calm while explaining the situation to his son.

Max sneered and shook his head. "Tell yourself whatever you want dad, but all of this is your fault. You had an affair with my fucking girlfriend for crying out loud, and then you're surprised when Mom goes off the deep end?" Max said, disdain evident in his voice. Cillian sighed deeply, running a hand through his short hair. He knew that Max was angry, and rightfully so. But he couldn't let Max believe that Danielle's actions were solely his fault.

"Max, I understand that you're upset. And I'm sorry for that, I truly am. But I didn't force your mother to do anything. She made a series of bad decisions, and now she's paying the price for them," Cillian continued with a heavy heart.

"She certainly is and you still got what you wanted, didn't you?" Max sneered before telling his father that he should end it now at least. He told him to choose between you or him, which  left Cillian torn between a rock and a hard place.

"Max, I am not going to break up with Y/N," Cillian declared, his voice firm as he looked upon his son with a mixture of sadness and determination.

"Then I don't want to see you again, dad. You may as well be dead to me," Max replied, his voice filled with anger and resentment. "You chose her over me, over mum, and it's fucked up," Max added, before storming out of the courtroom's foyer following the hearing.

Cillian couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt as he watched his son leave, his heart heavy with the weight of the situation.

He knew that Max was angry, and he couldn't blame him. But he also knew that he couldn't just end things with you, not after everything they had been through together.

"He will come around," Dermont said, who had come to most court hearings with his friend for moral support. 

"I hope you're right," Cillian murmured, his eyes clouded with worry. Max's rejection cut deep, and Cillian couldn't bear the thought of severing ties with his son permanently. "I can understand why he is angry and upset with me but, fuck, I cannot just end it with Y/N," he told Dermont as they waited for his solicitor who was still inside, talking to Danielle's attorney. 

"You aren't with her simply out of pity though, are you?" Dermont  asked, his voice carrying a slight hint of concern as he looked at Cillian with a curious gaze.

Cillian looked back at his friend and shook his head firmly. "No man. I actually have feelings for her," Cillian confessed, his voice steady but hesitant. "She's helped me see things differently, opened my eyes to things I never realized about myself. And I really love her," he admitted, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

Dermont nodded, understanding the gravity of Cillian's words. "Then you have to follow your heart mate and give Max some space to come to terms with this," he advised, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder in a comforting gesture.

Cillian nodded, acknowledging Dermont's advice. He knew that Max needed time and space to process everything that had happened, and he was determined to give him just that.

As the days went by, Cillian found himself becoming even more invested in his relationship with you.

Despite the challenges that lay ahead, he was determined to make it work, to support and care for you in every way possible and even though you saw staying with him at his apartment as a temporary solution, Cillian  couldn't help but imagine the two of you living together long-term.

He saw it as a chance to start anew, to leave the past behind and build a life together and when, one later afternoon, he came home with a few brochures for houses in a different suburb of London, you became curious.

"Suburbia, huh?" you said with surprise as you looked over the brochures Cillian had set on the coffee table. "Are you looking to move?" you asked, not knowing that Cillian wanted you to move with him.

"Well, I think us staying in the same apartment building as my son isn't the best of ideas right now. I want to give him some space. He deserves that and I was thinking that, maybe, moving out of the city would be a nice change," Cillian explained, a hint of uncertainty in his voice as he looked down at the brochures on the table. 

"Don't you have a house in Dublin?" you asked, genuinely surprised. You never thought about Cillian living in the busy city of London, at least not full-time.

He shook his head. "I am going to put it on the market soon. It holds too many bad memories to be honest,"  Cillian replied with a shrug, a pained expression crossing his face as he took a deep breath. You could sense the pain in his voice, the sadness that lingered behind his words as he recalled all that had transpired in that once happy home.

For a moment, you reached out to take his hand in yours, to reassure him that you were there for him, that you would be there for him through every victory and every loss. "I get it, but I am just surprised, you know," you simply said with a nod, squeezing his hand gently in yours.  "So, you want to stay in London then permanently?" you ought to ask  , a somewhat expectant smile gracing your features as you regarded Cillian with curiosity. There was a definite hint of hopefulness in your tone, one that you couldn't quite suppress.

Cillian nodded, looking at you with a steady gaze. "Yes. I want to make this work between us, and I know that your life is here, so it would make sense for me to live in London permanently, right?" he explained, a hint of determination in his voice as his eyes never left yours.

"Well, it would, but I don't want you to live here just for me," you murmured sincerely, looking up at him with a concerned expression. 

"I intend to build a life here for both of us, Y/N," Cillian replied, a gentle smile spreading across his lips. "It would be our home, a place for us to enjoy together, and, maybe we could even get a dog and, I don't know, have kids or something one day," he continued, his voice strong and steady.

"You want to have kids? And a dog? With me?" you  asked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the conversation.

Cillian nodded, a smile on his lips. "Yes, with you, one day, not right now," he said emphatically. "Unless you don't want kids, or a dog, of course," he added, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his voice. "I mean we could always just get a cat or something," he then stammered , quickly regretting the word choice as he saw the surprised expression on your face.

"A cat!?" you laughed, shaking your head and playfully fluttering your eyelashes at him. "I am, uhm, I am not really a cat person," 

you murmured, still chuckling lightly at how absurd the idea seemed, but Cillian merely raised his brows, a playful grin tugging at the corners of this full lips.

"Well, I can cater to your preferences then, how about that?" he asked, his voice still soft, but now tinged with a slight hint of challenge, one that, if you didn't know him, might have given you the wrong impression.

"Sounds good but, just to let me get this straight, you actually want me to move in with you permanently?"  you asked, placing the brochures down on the coffee table as you turned to face Cillian fully.

Cillian nodded, his gaze steady and determined as he looked at you. "Yes , I do want you to move in with me permanently," he said, his voice clear and strong as he took your hands in his. "I know it's a big decision and not one to be taken lightly. But I want you by my side, Y/N. I want to build a life with you," he continued, a hint of vulnerability in his voice as he looked at you with a mixture of love and hope.

You sighed softly, your eyes never leaving Cillian's as you considered his words. 

"Okay, but no cats!"  you said, laughing as you responded to Cillian's proposal. The idea of sharing a home with him felt both exciting and overwhelming. You had always been fiercely independent, but Cillian had managed to wiggle his way into your heart and life in a way that you couldn't deny. "And I will think about starting a family together one day, but not any time soon. For now, let's just keep practicing making babies, okay?" you winked at Cillian who broke out in a deep laugh. 

"Practicing sounds good to me," he smiled back before pulling you into another deep and passionate kiss, a promise of things to come.

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[funnier-as-a-system]

ik u have a big ask load still but wanted to point out: a lot of singlets have unhealthy relationships with themself, and I wonder if they could improve their life so much by treating themself like they were their spouse? Like would they attempt to fix any eating disorders they might have gotten? would they properly rest? Would them treating themself like how system with insys relationships do help them improve their life?

While I don't know if singlets treating themselves like their own spouses specifically would improve their quality of life, numerous people have found their quality of life has improved after treating themselves like multiple people, or like how headmates treat each other (in systems that get along, of course).

For instance, some singlets may be more motivated to take care of themselves if they see self-care as doing something for their future self. Or, by imagining one's emotions as a separate entity they must help or cooperate with (for example, anxiety as a skittish horse that needs to be gently walked through whatever is causing it distress), a person may be better able to handle their emotions. Personally, we find humanizing our worries and fears to be a great help in understanding and resolving them; by listening to our fear like we would a scared headmate, we are able to identify what is causing this distress and take steps to resolve it. I've always seen this as a plural-adjacent approach to self-care, and I've heard many tales of it improving one's life.

On that note, while running this blog over the years, I've received many submissions about posts that describe very plural-adjacent experiences that led to the poster taking care of themself. Have you noticed that I've gotten a lot of submissions lately about people eating better because they imagine characters from Dungeon Meshi telling them to eat well? That's just one example of this type of post that I get! It's not uncommon for people to take care of themselves because they imagine or visualize people or characters (or religious figures, in some cases) they admire telling them to do so, which is rather reminiscent of healthy intrasystem relationships, don't you think (especially ones with introjects in the mix)?

If you're looking in more clinical settings and are open to parallels that are less clear than the above examples, some therapeutic practices approach patients from the angle that every person is made up of multiple parts, and that treating each part of oneself with understanding will improve one's quality of life. IFS, or Internal Family Systems, is the most overt example of this, but it's also discussed in other circles; it's not a new idea in psychology that the mind has many parts that all work together, and that treating a patient requires treating, or at least acknowledging, each part of their mind. In some cases, these circles/practices help and encourage the patient themself to acknowledge and treat each part of their mind. You could find parallels in these therapeutic and psychiatric treatments to singlets "treating themself like they were their own spouse". However, I feel this may be drifting from the topic a bit.

I do think many singlets would benefit from practicing a form of "soft" functional plurality along these lines, by accepting their multitudes, multifacetedness, and complexity, and taking advantage of their ability to personify things to lend themselves some kindness. Hell, we thank our body for working hard to keep us alive, and that helps us have a better relationship with it! So, yes, I do think singlets treating themselves like their own spouse – or rather, as a separate, if connected, person they wish to do good to and for – would help them in many aspects.