#it’s patheticing absolute fallacy

[slowd1ving]

TALES OF A DISGRUNTLED CORVID ⁺ 　 . MOZE

Quite frankly, you've been assigned an absolute loser (unaffectionate) to work with after your dramatic exit from the Intelligentsia Guild. Whoever said this guy was too silent was wrong, as he verily proves himself as the bane of your existence with his ceaseless yapping. art credits to @code_tesseract on x!! and tagging @ilovechuuy4 as requested :3 pairings: moze + male cryptologist reader (will be part of a series methinks) warnings: male reader, mentions of assassination? may be a touch ooc since this is pre-release writing unfortunately, lowkey crack fic, pre relationship, business partnership of hating each other wc: 1.9k

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

There’s never a dull day when a certain Shadow Guard is your partner for an assignment. Truly, your life always sparkles brilliantly when the information pings on your Jade Abacus; without fail, everything gains just a bit more colour, a bit more vivaciousness. Pathetically fallacious, you might’ve described it as had you taken literature classes: mood hued with such dynamic chromaticity that you fear you might explode into little prismic rainbows. Always such a bundle of joy to be geminate with him. 

“Must you be so… disorganised?”

Oh, who are you kidding.

It’s always a dull day when you’re paired with Moze.

“Get out.” A particularly rude gesture materialises in your open hand as you stare at the door he practically kicked down. Apartments in this particular sector of the Xianzhou Yaoqing do not come cheap, and you half-wonder whether he’d eke out coin to console your landlord. Then, with an especially sour, lemon-like expression, you realise he would fork out his own money just to make your life more difficult. 

When you first got assigned work in the Yaoqing (read: kicked to the curb by the Intelligentsia Guild to gain real world experience), you really did expect your tenure to be plain office work. Letters, forms, public relations—these mundanities you anticipated. In fact, you would’ve relished such tedium; after decrypting endless scientific formulae and pondering your mysterious tomes, engaging in bureaucratic matters would be a piece of cake! A little treat for your weary eyes—if you closed them, you could still see faint imprints of equations in the theatre of your mind. 

But what you hadn’t factored into your (ahem) calculations was just how sharp the Arbiter-General Feixiao was: just how passionate she was about pursuing Abominations and ruthlessly eliminating them, just how frank and swift the Madam General was. You also forgot that out of all the flagships, the Yaoqing were one of the most militarily driven. A blunder most fatal. 

“Thy talents would be wasted in the mere administrative wing,” Feixiao gesticulated. “Come, child, put thy brain and brawn to use and track down these villainous curs most evil.”

“Goodness, Madam General!” you’d cried out pitifully. “My heart is thine for the keeping!”

Or something like that. Actually, it may have not all been like that. 

After all, you were kicked out (temporarily! temporarily!) partly due to your penchant for delivering heart-rendering performances to your professors to avoid taking on their extra work. Such moving renditions, that they had to let you go lest you broke their bleeding hearts. Had you known you’d be working in the shady corners of intelligence and decryption, you would’ve kowtowed to the Guild for utmost forgiveness. Probably. 

When your path first overlapped with the Shadow Guards’, you honestly couldn’t give two hoots about the rumours that followed silently behind their own noiseless steps. Your ears had perked somewhat at the gossip your colleagues threw back and forth—though, who could blame you. The job was no fun!

Weirdo with the crow feathers, they’d murmured. He’s so quiet. What a reticent chap. 

Of course, you’d disagree, and perhaps tack on a loser to the descriptions of Moze. You’d disagree not with the ‘weirdo’, but rather with the quiet and reticent adjectives—partly because he really does need to shut up more. 

And he needs to stick to his rumours more. If this loner’s made it a point to not work with people, then why oh why did the honourable Madam General decide your ancient science and study complemented his shady skillset? And why oh why does he never refuse her request? (You’ve conveniently forgotten how you always fold when it comes to her.) You’ve always worked alone too, for as long as you can remember; decoding the ancient equations in ruins and solving their gimmicky puzzles using your boundless wits is a job for one. 

As it stands, the people he investigates, the work he takes care of, sometimes intrudes into the realm of questionable rituals and summonings the Abominations and their ilk oft partake in. Thus do you find your career verging into some gruesome form of forensics as you stare down what would commonly be considered a murder scene: sigils and ancient alchemical algebra staring right back at you. He deals with the human aspect of intelligence: the psychology, the crime, the covert espionage. You deal with the technical fallout: the analysis of antique sciences is your specialty, after all. This has culminated in a begrudging partnership where both parties wish nothing more than to leave it. 

A business relationship, of sorts, founded on the mutual dislike (a weak description) of each other. 

“No.” He doesn’t budge from where he leans against the doorframe, but he does have the decency to swing the door closed behind him. Yet, it’s not out of any respect for the hallowed sanctity of your abode, but more because he’s sooo Mysterious and Aloof that none of your neighbours are allowed to view his visage. 

“You are—” a quick glance at your watch proves your point. For someone obsessed with keeping tidy, he sure does have messy time management. “—eighteen minutes too early.”

“And you still aren’t ready,” he counters, pointedly eyeing the loose shirt and comfortable cotton trousers slung over your hips. You yawn, tired already from his yapping. He’s been compared to a crow for as long as you’ve been here—and perhaps far longer—but to you he’s always been more like a little dog. Yap. Yap. Yap. 

This is precisely why I don’t work with others, you can almost taste his words—his thoughts. 

“You are currently the biggest hindrance to my getting ready,” you grimace. Casting a quick glance over his intricate garb, it’s no wonder he feels getting ready is such a lengthy endeavour: all straps and buckles and tough layers that makes him the walking fortress he is. “I’ll be on time.”

He doesn’t reply: laconic only when he acknowledges your point as unequivocally right, which is seldom. 

“Are you going to keep staring?” you snap as you sling the worn shirt from your body. Beneath the soft clothes is muscle hard-won through your frequent collaborations with the Armed Archaeologists in the Guild: days filled with more sparring and their stupid callisthenics than actually finding ruins. 

“Do you have to dress right here?” he counters, but it’s a futile argument—this apartment is barely big enough for you as it stands. Currently, he’s situated by the doorway, but you’re on the unseen boundaries of the living room and the tiny kitchen. Beyond is your bedroom and miniscule bathroom, of which neither have enough space to move comfortably to change. And you certainly aren’t going to sacrifice your comfort to appease his poor eyes; he’s seen worse for sure. Though, you doubt he’s ever seen a naked body that wasn’t in the context of assassination and the anatomy classes you know he’s meticulously attended for his shady work. Surreptitiously, you snicker at the thought: that there aren’t any lovers lined up for this weirdo. 

You toss the garment onto your couch, precisely because you know he’s grinding teeth over it; and there’s that tell-tale click of molar against molar. You even whistle a bit as you untie the neat bow holding your trousers to your hips; the fabric pools on the floor, and you don’t make any move to pick it up. 

There it is. His glower—red-hot and piercing through the flesh and sinew of your back—is heavy in this small space. What you don’t see, however, is how his eyes flicker briefly across your body, down the firm step of your legs as you step out of the trousers. Out of context, watching muscle ripple and twist as you strip forces crimson to seep into his face. This is an implication he’s absolutely disgusted with—with you. 

“If you have any more input as to what I do in my home, you’re welcome to pay my rent first,” you finally deign to reply, rummaging in the dresser in your hallway—which he knows has never been neat with all the clothes spilling from the edges. His eye twitches. 

“You’re an incorrigible man,” he retorts, carmine flush now from irritation rather than anything else. Irritation from the beginning, because it was never anything else. 

“Wow,” you blink, weighing your options between shirt A and shirt B. The cherry-red with straps, or the Prussian blue with straps, you muse, holding the shirts against your beloved grey cargoes. “You sound exactly like my professor. Same adjective and everything.”

When it comes to shameless people, there comes the very real risk of insults being nullified by the insulted through them simply agreeing. 

“No wonder the Guild kicked you out.” As you’re pulling the scarlet fabric over your head, you pause—it seems he’s finally hit a nerve. There’s a rare smile toying with his lips at the victory: one he doesn’t notice, but ghosts across his face nonetheless.

Now, there are many things you could reply to that with. Such as, did your parents give you a reason when they abandoned you? Nay, that is too low of a blow. No wonder you don’t have any friends. But he probably grapples with that bitter reality each morning, gnashing his teeth and beating his chest. 

“Bold of you to speak of being unwanted,” you comment matter-of-factly. Both insults it is then, wrapped neatly into an ambiguous tale of these eight words. His smile fades. 

With a slight gasp, you finally wrangle the tight material on—it’s armour, after all, a specific textile development by the Yaoqing for the protection of civilians and tourists alike, though you aren’t considered a tourist by your special work-abacus-plaque. It fits snugly against you: straps for knives sit tight against your forearms, while the harness that provides extra support for your torso rests neatly beneath your chest. The garb’s almost like a compression shirt from your home planet, except the Yaoqing has far more violent uses for it. 

“Didn’t Guard Zhí reject you?” He bites out, and it takes a minute for you to realise he’s talking about Zhí Hua, the best friend you’d made on the flagship—and your Shadow Guard drinking buddy. 

“Huh?” Dumbfoundedly, you pause in doing the buckles on your trousers, losing far more time than you’d bargained for. “A-hua is my friend.”

The diminutive doesn’t go unnoticed, which rankles him far more than falling prey to the rumour about you and his fellow Guard. No, both rankle him—likely because hearing about a workplace romance about you just disgusts him in general. 

“Pfft,” you snort out, finally done with the laborious task of adjusting the materiel and various other gadgets attached to your body. “I have got to tell her about this. Who knew your ability to gather information would be stopped by a rumour?”

The tightness in his chest lessens somewhat. 

“Besides, everyone already knows my heart belongs to the Madam General,” you sigh, clasping your hands to your chest in a dreamy gesture. It’s an ongoing joke: you professing your deep adoration of Feixiao after she gives you a pay raise for putting up with the so-called ‘reticent’ Moze. “Woah, what’s with the sour look?”

“Gross,” he mutters. 

As you step near the doorway to grab your boots, you lean into his space mockingly: and he recoils back in even more revulsion. 

“Of course, you wouldn’t know.” You pat his shoulder once, condescendingly, then promptly slip your heavy boots off the shelf. “Since there’s no one who loves you.”

And his glare as you shuffle your shoes on is poignant. 

 ₊  ⋆   ☾

[coquelicoq]

just finished my rewatch so i am here to bring you the important fax, such as:

how many dramatic thunderstorms take place over the course of 40 episodes of the double?

the answer may surprise you!

episode 1. the og. xue fangfei is buried alive by her husband, who then goes in for a lil psychological torture courtesy of the princess. meanwhile, su-guogong kicks down the door of a contraband salt warehouse and does a sick spin onto the back of a chair completely unnecessarily. for the aesthetic. you really get your bang for your buck with this one because it also features in at least ELEVEN separate flashbacks in later episodes (episodes 4, 7, 9 (three FBs), 11, 13, 17, 24, 27, and 32, to be specific).

episode 7. shen yurong comes to the jiang residence to give "jiang li" an entrance exam for fancy pants academy. she drops hella hints to her true identity and keeps bringing up how much it sucked to be abandoned on that mountain :) while a storm rages around them much akin to the one that made the whole live burial thing especially dramatic. as if being buried alive needed additional pathos.

episode 13. xue fangfei is called before the jiang family tribunal because she's got some explaining to do about what happened at the palace banquet (where, if you recall, jiang ruoyao attempted to set her up to be violated and disgraced, and instead found their cousin in bed with jry's fiance). of course our girl wipes the floor with these amateurs. she's bringing melodramatic precipitation to the table, and what do they have, a face wound? god's least favorite soldier (the concubine's son)? please. you gotta get up earlier in the morning than that to pull one over on this fake ex-nun.

episode 14. this one is maybe the funniest to me from a doylist perspective because it's just one single thunderclap/lightning bolt right after the emperor says to xiao heng, the princess hates you. she might even try...to KILL YOU. like bro this is not news to anybody lol. but at least the universe has a sense of dramatic timing. there is no other sign of this storm, not even rainfall, in any other part of the episode...the emperor summoned a stormcloud just for that one sentence and then was like okay i got what i needed, run along now.

episode 17. wins the award for cutest rainstorm. a drunk xue fangfei holds xiao heng's cheeks very insistently between her hands, looking up into his eyes as rain falls in her face. he takes off his utterly sodden cloak and wraps it around her shoulders, surely doing absolutely nothing w/r/t keeping her dry but at least seeming very tender about it. the rain is obviously integral to the scene, but i think the thunder and lightning are mainly here because someone involved with this production really likes thunder and lightning. we also get a flashback to this one in...

episode 18. the metaphorical masturbation scene (xue fangfei lies in a tub artfully draped in fabric nuzzling the soft petals of a rose while xiao heng does half-naked swordplay dripping with rain). again i think somebody was just having a lot of fun with the thunderstorm effects on set that day. rain would have been sufficient, but if there's one thing you can say about this show, it's that everyone involved agreed that "sufficient" will not suffice. we are not here to regular-ass things. we are here to double- or even triple-ass them. and when in doubt on how to achieve that, add some fucking meteorological event. some kind of audiovisual spectacle. it's literally coming down from the heavens. what, are we gonna ask for subtlety? from this show? not if we know what's good for us.

episode 20. xue fangfei has just asked the auntie down the street in huaixiang to testify on her father's behalf, getting down on her knees and begging, only to have the door shut in her face. ouch. if that's not prime time for some rain to mingle with her tears, her surroundings reflecting her inner state, i don't know what is. it's giving textbook pathetic fallacy.

episode 25. ji shuran meets with the imperial diviner who turns out to be her long lost lover she thought she had successfully burned to death!!! (ohhh sidenote i am just now getting the jsr-syr parallel with this.) honestly if they had neglected to punctuate this scene with thunder and lightning i would have been metaphorically holding the back of my hand up to the production's forehead to check for fever. it would not be a sign of health, given this show's general baseline.

episode 27. xue fangfei meets with jiang yuanbai's concubine, hu-yiniang, trying to convince her to help xue fangfei fuck ji shuran's shit right up. the weather didn't help her recruit the huaixiang auntie, but it works like a charm on auntie hu. (i'm choosing to believe the weather is a sentient entity and it's showing up to drench xue fangfei like a wet cat at irregular intervals like ⛈ im helping 🥰)

episode 28. the exorcism. fuck yes there's a thunderstorm during the exorcism. what are we even doing here if the showdown between olympic-grade synchronized charlatan choreography and mad-with-grief-mother-approved creepy ventriloquism isn't punctuated by bolts of lightning? don't waste my time. perfectly timed thunderclaps or gtfo.

episode 29. gotta have some thunder and lightning while visiting the tombstone of your brother who isn't actually dead (but you don't know that). definitely gotta have some rain so your crush can show up out of nowhere and lovingly hold an umbrella over your head. that's just basic science. step 4.7 of the water cycle.

episode 30. xue fangfei comes to the academy to rehearse the duet for the zhao envoy and dun dun dunnnn...only shen yurong is there!!! i am feeling distinctly menaced, but on her behalf, or on his? hard to say. on the one hand, he did attempted-murder her. on the other hand, she's xue fucking fangfei and he's the chump who attempted-murdered her. sweet dreams, bucko.

episode 35. consort li visits the princess in an attempt to get her diagnosed with Pregnancy...out of wedlock!! lots of thunder but no lightning until shen yurong shows up afterward and is like, hey honey i figured out how to solve this problem, just marry this totally other dude 👍 wanning is Not having a good day and the weather got the memo.

episode 39. what would u even do if ur lover poisoned you & took that opportunity to rescue his ex-wife from ur dungeon & walked out holding her in a bridal carry (after using knockout gas on her, natch) & when he saw u he tenderly placed her down out of the rain? what would u do if u had the hairpin u thought he had given u as a sincere token of love and commitment & this hairpin was sharp enough to impale a person & u could put it in his hand pointed toward u & then u could pull his hand right into ur abdomen? WHAT WOULD U DO if all this was the case BUT THERE WAS NO THUNDER AND LIGHTNING WHILE THIS WAS GOING DOWN?? i think i would just NOT impale myself on my own hairpin using my traitorous lover's hand. out of PIQUE. i know weather patterns are driven by atmospheric forces or whatever but come on man. that would just be rude. so thankfully the weather showed up to give the princess the dramatic accompaniment her iconic death scene deserved. she died as she lived: dangerous, vulnerable, electrifying. i'm buying the effects people a round for this one. they made it count.

so, 14 individual thunderstorms, plus at least 10 flashbacks* to one of those thunderstorms, for (at minimum) 24 total scenes featuring thunderstorms in 40 episodes. *(i say "at least" because i probably missed some. and there are 12 FBs mentioned in this post, but two of them were being remembered while another thunderstorm was taking place, so their scenes have already been included in the count of 24.) and that is not even counting 1) lightning in an imaginary what-if scene in episode 6 in which xiangqiao (one of jsr's planted servants) says "if i'm lying, strike me with lightning!" or 2) the magical lightning strikes that jiang ruoyao and/or xue fangfei may or may not create during the guqin exam cgi extravaganza in episode 11 (kinda hard to tell if that was lightning or not). if you count those too you start to wonder if the crew was getting some kind of bulk discount on lightning bolts from the lightning bolt factory...but that's none of my business 😌

[cal-flakes]

i’m in loveeee can you do dealer! rafe x reader their first time together smut

╰┈➤ corrupted by dealer!rafe

warnings: sex, choking, praise. (not proofread yet)

summary: dealer!rafe pounces on the chance to corrupt the good girl.

rafe sighed as he poured another drink, eyeing her from his spot on the couch, packets of powdered scattered on the table.

the way she moved earned a strain in his pants as he watched her talking to the people around her, the ribbon in her hair slowly coming undone.

he shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, gripping the arm of the chair. rafe was absolutely infatuated with her. the way she’d place a hand on his arm when they spoke, utterly oblivious to the filth running through his mind.

his attention was drawn away by topper’s slurred words, something about another line.

she whirled around the room, greeting each person with a friendly smile.

“ahh! what a pleasure it is to see you again miss y/l/n!” a tall blonde called from the drinks table, feigning a british accent.

eyebrows raised, she gave him an endearing hug. “it’s certainly been a while mr maybank!” she laughed, entertaining the accent.

rafe narrowed his eyes at the pair, jaw clenched. he hated the way she was so sweet to everyone on the island, pogue and kooks included. it made him furious to watch the suggestive glances she was given by whoever she passed, blissfully unaware of the dirty comments they made to their friends once she’d turned away.

truthfully, rafe had no right to feel that way, to scare away any possible interests when she wasn’t looking. they weren’t together. sure, they’d shared a few kisses over the years, childish crushes and whatnot, but they weren’t an item.

but in his mind, she was his. she’d been his since the day ward and rose has asked her to tutor wheezie. she’d arrive at tannyhill in the early evening, every tuesday and wednesday, to help his youngest sister with her english literature assignments.

she had no idea what she was doing to him, or so he thought, when she’d stroke a gentle finger over his forearm in the kitchen, or when she’d bend over to grab something she’d dropped, the supple skin of her cheeks peeking out under one of her numerous golf skirts.

the veins in his arms could’ve broken the skin if he’d gripped the arm of the chair any tighter. his chest heaved slightly as he tried to calm the unbridled rage building up inside of him.

he’d concentrated on his breathing for so long that he’d lost sight of them once he’d finally calmed down, scanning the room frantically for her small frame.

out of no where, he felt two frail hands grasp his shoulder. tipping his head back, he give her a tight lipped smile, jaw still tense.

prodding his nose from above, she grinned at him. “hello rafael..” she mocked, giggling at his sudden frown.

“hello y/f/n..” he sighed, looking up at the way the gloss on her lips reflected the dim light of the room.

“no shakespeare tonight huh?” he joked, watching as she rounded the sofa, taking the open space next to him.

y/n swatted his chest playfully. “we’re going through charles dickens now, idiot..”

the pair laughed through their small talk, sinking comfortable into their places on the couch.

y/n was in middle of explaining pathetic fallacy to him when a drunken party goer stumbled over a stray chair, spilling his drink over both of them.

leaping from his chair, rafe grabbed the boy by his shirt, snarling at him. “watch what your fucking doing!”

“rafe..it’s fine, honestly..” she pleaded, shimmying between the two. sighing, he let go of the boys top, making sure to shove him away.

“come with me, i’ll find a change of clothes for you..” rafe grabbed her hand, pulling her through the crowd of young adults.

entering his room, he rounded the bed to look through his closet. “i’d give you something of sarah’s, but she keeps her room locked when i throw parties..”

“that’s okay, i’m sure a hoodie will do, and i can bring it back next time i’m here..” she smiled, her song-like voice invading his senses.

he placed a large black hoodie on the bed before removing his own shirt.

she shrugged the hoodie over her head, facing the mirror. her brows furrowed as her eyes landed on the hem of the material, lingering around her mid-thighs.

a low chuckle drew her attention away, turning to look at him. the snarky words about to leave her mouth were disregarded when she took in the sight before her.

she couldn’t help he stare as he stood across the room, his bare back on display while he rifled through his clothes.

catching her in the mirror, he smirked. “something you like?” he asked mischievously, fiddling with the new shirt in his hands as he stopped towards her.

y/n’s breath hitched as the smell of his cologne suffocated her, closing in. “it’s okay if there is angel..” rafe teased, brushing a few stray hairs behind her ear.

she mentally cursed herself, unable to think of words to get her out of this. she had the opportunity to put a stop to his flirting, to simply back away and return to the party. but she didn’t want to, nor could she.

the desire for him to take her ran so deep, her feet felt as though they’d been cemented down.

all the deep and dark fantasies she’d had about him sprung to mind, baffling her in the moment.

y/n returned to reality once they were nose to nose. her lips parted slightly as their hungry eyes met, begging for release.

“fuck it..” she muttered, planting a wet kiss on his lips.

his hand wrapped around her waist instinctively as he deepened the kiss, tangling the other in her hair.

moaning into the kiss as he pulled, she pushed him back towards the bed, falling on top of him as his back met the mattress.

his roaming hands danced up her thighs, gripping her hips as she ground down on him. “fuck..” he muttered, hastily flipping their position.

he smirked menacingly as his chain now dangled above her, brushing her lips.

“tell me what you want princess..” he whispered, pressing teasing kisses along her neck, grazing his teeth against her skin.

she mewled underneath him while his fingers worked their way around her clothed clit. “you-your cock..”

“such dirty words baby..you gonna be good for me?” he taunted, discarding his clothes in a flash.

nodding, she let out a moan as he moved her panties to the side, pushing his fingers through her folds.

rafe released a heavy breath as he watched her features change, mouth agape as her chest heaved.

a content feeling ran through him as he watched the pleasure wash over her, pleasure he was giving her. maybe now, he could rightfully claim her as his.

she whined at the sudden emptiness as she clenched around nothing, rafe having retracted his fingers.

“so needy angel, be patient..” he cooed, pushing the tip of his cock through her wet folds, painfully slowly.

“f-fuck, rafe, faster..” she cried, the crescent shape of her nails digging into her shoulder blades. “what’s the magic word princess?” he teased, wrapping a strong hand around her throat.

“p-please, please!” y/n wailed, tensing at the sudden harsh thrust.

rafe moved at an angry pace, grunting and groaning as her walls closed around his length.

“you gonna cum for me baby?..” he groaned, rubbing her clit furiously as she trembled beneath him. tears cascaded down her flushed cheeks while she nodded, her stomach tightening.

“that’s it baby, cum for me..” he demanded, squeezing her throat as he continued drilling into her.

her frame vibrated as her release surged through her, strangled cries escaping her lips.

slowing his pace, rafe pressed soft kisses to the purple bruises littering her breasts, filling her up.

she whined as he pulled away, desperate for his soothing touch. he lifted her body carefully, worried any more rough movements would break her.

he slipped under the covers, pulling her into his side as he stroked her hair.

“im sorry if that was too much for you angel..” he cooed, revelling in the warm radiating from her. “it wasn’t, i loved it..” she giggled, nuzzling further into his arm.

“i hope you know, you belong to me now..” he smirked, eyeing the hickeys and bruises dotted around from her neck to her thighs.

[bethanydelleman]

Hiiiii. Wanted to say that I really love your blog hehehe.

I saw that you answered an ask about the 2005, and I wanted to know your thoughts on what I heard called the "Brontefication of Pride and Prejudice" in that movie. For a few reasons:

I love Pride and Prejudice and I love Romanticism but it is very definitely NOT a captial R Romantic novel to be sure.

Charlotte Bronte would fine "the brontefication of Pride and Prejudice" to be absolutely hilarious and I think Jane Austen would hate it lol

I haven't watched the movie but just looking at pictures from it... I can definitely see why they've called it this. It seems very much to be like a Bronte sister wrote the book instead of Austen. Which would be a fun combination (at least to me) for an original movie, but I don't work as a book adaptation.

Thank you!

I have to admit, I've never quite understood this criticism of 2005, so if someone could enlighten me that would be great. I watched this movie long before ever reading a single Brontë. I have gathered that it has something to do with the pathetic fallacy of rain during the first Darcy proposal:

But is that really Brontëification? Jane Austen does use weather for dramatic effect in her novels, Willoughby arrives for his confession chapter on a stormy night The night was cold and stormy. The wind roared round the house, and the rain beat against the windows (very Romantic of him) in Sense & Sensibility, Robert Martin and Harriet Smith see each other for the first time after the proposal letter when they are hiding from the rain in Ford's in Emma, and I have a whole post about umbrellas being used to show interest from men in Austen's novels. It's no tree being torn asunder by lightening or Heathcliff disappearing in a storm that shakes the house, but it is there.

I haven't watched many Brontë adaptations so maybe there is something I'm missing. What I noticed the most about 2005 is that people tended to stand in tableau, which doesn't seem very Brontë either. Plus, the Brontës are so different from each other! Also, Darcy in this one is clearly shy and not Byronic, though I'm not sure which Brontë hero is Byronic either.

Anyway, those are my thoughts. Those who understand this critique please enlighten me.

Also, it would be hilarious to tell Charlotte Brontë about it, since she hated P&P.

[pisspope]

Storm Warning (zeke x reader)

word count: ~1.5k (5 minute read)

cw: fem!reader, mention of suicide (extremely brief), general misogyny and themes of abuse (it's a 1400s knight au)

He’s… not who you expected to win.

Not that you expected all that much when your father, the king, had announced a jousting tournament for your hand. You were his first child, but his only daughter, and your claim to the throne was tenuous compared to that of your younger brother. So of course the most logical answer was to marry you off for political advantage, give your innocence away to the highest bidder like a prized breeding mare. And you swallowed it, accepted it, because what other choice was there?

You watched the proceedings with feigned interest, waved your embroidered kerchief at potential suitors as they wiped grease from their visors, everything that was expected of you. But your heart wasn’t in it, because how could it be, knowing what awaited you? A future of pushing out heirs to some backwater fiefdom, watching in the mirror as your youth deteriorated along with whatever shreds of joy remained in your pathetic existence. Maybe you should just take a letter opener to your neck before it was too late.

But part of you remained morbidly curious, you supposed. You wanted to know who cared enough, who was devoted enough, suicidal enough to risk their neck for the taste of you. So you took your seat, left hand of the king, and watched as silvered men maimed each other for the glory of your hand.

You didn’t think the victor would be Ezekiel Yaeger.

You knew Zeke quite well, actually. Son of a major lord, smart as a whip, beautiful flaxen hair, absolutely fucking insufferable. You had spent a good portion of your childhood in the same study as him, vigorously writing mock political treaties and debating them in front of your tutor. Even now you could see the raw anger in his eyes when you caught him in a fallacy, the way his jaw would clench when you found loopholes that made his ideas obsolete. It was honestly a great joy of your childhood, to see his cheeks heat up in embarrassment, to be allowed to be more than just a pretty face, to use your tutelage in political affairs in a way that felt more worthy of your intellect. And his anger felt like an affirmation, that you were his equal in every way that mattered.

So to have him fight for you as if you were an object, not a person deserving of respect, angered you more than even you had expected. Had a stranger won, had someone who didn’t know you like he did win your hand, it would’ve felt less like an insult. Then you could keep your wits to yourself, request a private study or a library and never let him into that secret, bright part of you that made other men turn in disgust. Men were barbaric, distrustful of a woman whose understanding matched or, God forbid, surpassed their own, and you had long ago learned to keep that part of you hidden. But Zeke predated that revelation; you knew he could ruin you.

So now you’re here, confronting him in the stables after the tournament, dismissing servants and stablehands to make sure this conversation is private. And he looks different, baby face gone and covered by a scraggly beard, grey eyes skeptical instead of optimistic. He’s become a man, you realize, that boyish anger replaced with a simmering rage that he will always do his best to contain. Until he can’t, you think, until you become the object that he will vent his frustrations on, giving you bruises and beatings that you will try to ignore as his dutiful wife should.

“I can feel your eyes, you know,” he says, startling you from your spiral. “Always could.”

You breathe in, peek from behind a wooden beam, and strengthen your resolve. Your thoughts leave your mouth, unbridled and unfiltered.

“Why?” you snap, words pouring from your mouth in a steady stream. “Why would you, of all people, compete for my hand like this? Do you know how insulting that is?”

Zeke turns to you, puts down his helmet next to the stable door, and takes only three steps to meet you. He’s gotten much taller. He crosses his arms, looks down his nose at you, and sneers.

“This is sad. You’ve become a fool since the last time we spoke.”

You suck a breath in, try not to react to his words, but you already know by the look on his face that he’s clocked your anger. And he is reveling in it.

“You dastard. I thought you, of all people, would respect me enough not to fight for me like some sort of prize to be won.”

“Oh?” he says, pulling off his gauntlets finger by finger, feigning disinterest. “And do you think any of those Neanderthals would ever see you the way I do? Would deserve you, even as a trophy?”

You want to retort, but you’ve had the same thought yourself. A life hiding felt like an inevitability, but that didn’t mean it was something you were comfortable with. But a life with the boy with whom you did nothing but argue? Surely that was no better.

“I wouldn’t want to be bound to a tormentor, either.”

He snickers, flexes his bare hand. “I’ve grown since we last met, princess.” Then he grins, a hunger in his eyes you’ve never seen. “I can torment you in different ways, now.”

And you know what he’s insinuating, know it in parts of you that you pretend are untouched, and yet you let yourself fall for it.

“Yes? Like what?”

He takes your face in his naked hand, caresses your cheek with the pad of his thumb. Every second passes slowly, that little touch reverberating through you like a bolt of lightning. He brings the finger to your chin, presses enough for the bolts to feel like a whole storm, and leans in.

“Like this.”

Zeke presses his lips to yours, and if his touch was a thunderstorm then surely this was Noah’s flood. You can taste the salty sweat of the tournament still lingering in his kiss, the adrenaline of the fight pulsing in his heartbeat. His other hand, still in a gauntlet, pulls you close, the clank of his armor echoing in the empty stable.

And, to your chagrin, he’s good at this. Kisses you in just the way you need, his tongue just barely darting past your lips, teasing at what else he can give you if you just relent. And you want to, God do you want to, but you can’t let him have this, not so quickly. Your relationship with Zeke has always been a give and take, and the last thing you want is to give in so completely, to lose to him once and for all.

Blessedly, he breaks away before things can escalate further, his eyes the color of the storm raging in your chest. You know immediately from his expression that his claims to torment you are a double-edged sword; that the clouds in his eyes reveal the tempest in his heart.

You look up at him, your eyes daring, challenging.

“Coward,” you spit. “Torment me again.”

And Zeke has always loved a challenge.

[ichirukilover]

I closed the door to Bl/each after the tragedy of 6/86 and briefly opened a window to LA, because well that pair is my weakness and it made me laugh how treacherously I/R it was.

So when weeks ago I saw a beautiful I/R fanart on Tik Tok (The anime came back, so the algorithm decided it was a good idea to torture me), and the response to a comment that said "They should have ended up together "was "READ THE MANGA", I was baffled. I mean, what did that mean? had I read a fake manga all those years and the "real manga" appeared Da Vinci Code-style after 2016? Was it all a Jump conspiracy? Have we been duped all this time?

That piqued my curiosity, so I wandered around several sites, reading publications from the "correct/canon/real manga" point of view; and well, you'll see even worse things the bible says.

Here are my favorites:

"The I/H was evident from the beginning, just read chapter 0": yes, because a one-shot that is a sketch of the general idea of a manga, that goes through many revisions and rewrites is absolutely determinant in the development of the main manga, and seriously, what exactly is the evidence?

"HM arc is the ultimate proof of I/H, he went to rescue her and even came back from the dead for her": well, so did her other friends and even R/enji and R/ukia, maybe they were all in love with her too. And about the resurrection...just...never mind.

"I/H are perfect for each other" Here I could do a whole essay from a psychological point of view that proves that it is an absolute fallacy and was more than clear in the FB arc, in real life they wouldn't work and would be a toxic couple. And God knows at least that boy needs therapy.

"O***ime looks like Ma/saki" * Bombastic side eye. Criminal, offensive side eye *

"O***ime deserves I/chigo”: Oh, so he was some kind of trophy for being a good girl, so it wasn't enough to objectify her, they also do the same with the boy.

"Ru/kia was a shinigami and I/chigo was a human, and she's much older than him, their relationship was impossible." *Everything but the rain entered the chat*.

"I/H fought together against Y/wach": And we all know how well they (he) did, right?

"W/D/k/A/L/Y": *sigh* that's what it looks like when you try to fix a mess and fail miserably.

"W/D/k/A/L/Y's scribble": ...

"Anime invented IR": The studio simply pushed something that was already implicit in the original material and they knew it would sell more, it's basic marketing. Most of us knew what was filler and what wasn't (rolls eyes).

And there definitely wasn't a parallel manga that magically made sense of that ending. What a disappointment.

And I/R are the delusional and lacking in compressive reading? It's so much easier to say you just don't like people ship I/R, instead of sending them to read the manga or giving lazy arguments. Pathetic.

This was long, but I just needed to vent or something, because I honestly found the whole situation absolutely hilarious.

My English is broken, so I hope I have been understood.

PS: So in my delusional mind I/R is right now enjoying his honeymoon on the beach *wink**wink*.

Blessings.

As someone that didn't leave after the ending and has seen all these "amazing points" take form and basically became the classic "IH and pro ending dudebro agenda" list, let me tell you, I was and still am baffled too. No matter how many times I read them, I still get shocked at how some really believe that bunch of BS, or better they keep repeating it untill they'll believe it.

You adressed them in a simple but direct and straight to the point way, I don't even need to add anything to what you said, agree to all of it, wait lol well maybe I could add the the pilot chapter lit has In0ue de0d at the end of it but what do we know, that doesn't seem to matter to them lol it doesn't have to make sense smh

In our delusional mind that ichiruki honeymoon on the beach is so vivid and real... I wonder why lmao

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

as someone who is an absolute sucker for pathetic fallacy in any shape or form, i can’t get over the fact that there’s been a uk level drought where i live over the last couple months and literally THE MOMENT miles was onstage playing 505 the heavens opened and there has been torrential rain all evening ever since

[tobiasdrake]

As someone who's kind of sick of media starting out lighthearted and goofy but then deciding to go darker and edgier over time, I absolutely love Kyoko and Misako's confrontation with Sabu. Spoilers.

Like. This is the guy. Top dragon of River City's premiere yakuza family. Recurring archnemesis of the franchise. Ultra-serious character without an ounce of wit or comedy to him. His whole presentation in the game is the unfunny super-serious Actual Bad Guy.

He's not pathetic like Ken. He's not goofy like the emblem bosses. He is a big man in a big suit who says serious things in a stern voice, and he's here to whip the game's tone into something much more dignified.

And. These girls. Dunk on him. XD It's amazing. Can't even be arsed to listen to him talk. They spend the entire confrontation trying to figure out why he's glowing, which he is actively trying to explain. Because screw him. He's played up like the ultra-serious guy but does anyone really care what this dipshit has to say? He's a clown!

This whole thing was so avoidable. The girls beat up his daughter over a misunderstanding, and now Sabu's caught up in the Sunk Cost Fallacy of wounded pride. He could just. Like. Run his crime empire and not fuck with Misako and Kyoko. That was an option this whole time.

All they wanted to do was buy a video game. That's it. That is their entire investment in this campaign. Those are the stakes. Whether or not they will get their video game is the whole conflict here.

It's just Sabu's wounded family pride compelling him to go to war with them. These literal children inadvertently embarrassed his family, and so to try and avenge that embarrassment, he breaks his entire crime empire upon them. When he could just. Not. Do that.

It would have cost him nothing to shrug his shoulders and go, "Well, that happened. Anyways." But for the sake of his bruised ego, he throws good resources after bad trying to prove that he's a bigger man than a high school girl. And fails.

[charliespringverse]

iwbft — wednesday: a brief summary of my annotations

all highlighted quotes: 89

· ouch/ow/owie: 7

· real/felt/relatable/so true: 4

· aroace: 1

· ☹/☹☹/☹☹☹: 4

I didn't find anything, but that doesn't mean nothing was there. — rpf shippers looking for proof

What's the point in being in The Ark if we're going to get stalked, harassed, have photographs leaked, privacy stolen, and never, ever be at peace? — read peace (part 3 in the folklore trilogy) by @ treacherousdoctors on ao3 xxx

I showed her the picture of Jimmy as my lock screen. I talked to her about Jowan. She probably thinks I'm absolute fandom trash. — UR GETTING THERE QUEEN KEEP GOING

You're not just doing this to try to meet The Ark, right?? Because you won't meet them. — foreshadowing innit

[...] the three boys who have kept me alive for the past four years. — this whole thing RLLY fucks w my head like . am i too autistic to fathom the idea of strangers being solely responsible for ur life & wellbeing or is it Weird

The fans gave us everything we have. I love them. I love the fans. — who are you trying to convince jimothy

Lister... I don't remember what Lister did. — HHHHHHHH 𖨆𖨆 𖨆 AGAIN

I look down and realise there's blood splattered all down my pyjama shorts and on my legs. I laugh. Why've I got blood all over me? What the fuck. — depersonalisation (note: this is double underlined)

The blood falls, with a soft 'plip', onto the table. Almost indiscernible from the rain falling outside. — pathetic fallacy babeyyy

'I miss home,' I say. He looks confused. 'We are home?' 'No, we're not,' I say. — AGONY

Part of me knows it's what God wants. It's the good thing, and the right thing, to help someone in a horrible situation. But another part of me knows that this is because of The Ark. Because I fucking live to serve them too. — mmmmmm

'I think we're your only dating options.' 'Rowan's straight.' 'Oh. Just me, then.' I whack him on the arm and we both laugh. — ☹ he means it

We don't ever talk about deep stuff, me and Lister Bird. — TRY (note: this is all caps, huge, and double underlined)

He was voted number one in this year's Glamour's 100 Sexiest & Hottest Men, MTV's 50 Sexiest Men Alive, and HerInterest's 100 Hottest Men in the World, all of which it was finally acceptable for him to qualify for, since he's over eighteen now. — creepy!

'Why else would anyone want to be around me?' he says. 'I'm Lister Bird. Why else would anyone want to be around me other than to get with me?' — ouchie mr bird !!!!!

Bliss raises her eyebrows at him. 'Is the word you're looking for "gay"? It ain't poisonous. — bliss laicon

[redbelles]

writing asks: 13, 51, 55 🩷

13. do you listen to music while you write? if yes, what have you been listening to recently?

answered here!

51. does what you like to write differ from what you like to read?

yes and no! i try to follow my own advice and read very broadly, but my favorite things to read (angst, romance, complex character work, etc.) are also my favorite things to write. the only real outlier is humor. i'm an absolute sucker for sharp, snappy humor in what i read but i cannot write it to save my life :/

55. have you noticed any patterns in your fics? words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

it's not a meg redbelles fic if it isn't about grief in some capacity! the sky is going to showcase some pathetic fallacy at some point! something is gonna be "bitter as [word]," and the word is probably "blood" which is fine and normal! bones! some kind of riff on "prelude to bruise" (as cribbed from saeed jones) is a big one! lots of extended metaphors because a bitch (me) simply cannot help herself!

i'm at least slightly less predictable in my original fiction, but at the end of the day, i am, at all times, a parody of myself ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

send me some fic writing asks!

[roydeezed]

Detective Conan-Case 230:Pre-Wedding Party Case

Case Round-Up(Chapter/File 793-795)

Happy Pride Ace Detectives! From my Shinichi Kudo’s to my Harley Hartwell’s to the Hercule Poirot’s, Sherlock Holmes’s, Herlock Sholmes’s, Benoit Blanc’s and even the Goro Akechi’s, I hope you all have a wonderful month! I’m back with the next case in which we get introduced to a new character. But before we get to that can I talk about how amazing this chapter cover is? It’s melancholy and has an amazing sense of perspective, really showing how the world dwarfs Conan. The rain coupled with the phrase, Flames of Fate, and the tragic events of this case turns the mood even more somber. Aoyama has always excelled at establishing incredibly tragic stories, from the pathetic fallacy of the weather and beat down atmosphere to the incredibly kind-hearted characters' gut-wrenched reactions, Aoyama always knows how to twist the knife. This chapter we get a case where at the reunion of Kogoro’s old classmates, the future wife to be of one of his old friends dies in a fiery crash. Kogoro, or Richard as he’s called in the official English translations, doesn’t believe his friend to be a killer despite the suspicious behavior we see of him, but a new character believes him to be the culprit with some clumsy detective work. More thoughts below the cut!

That’s right, this guy, Toru Amuro (or is the more common spelling Tooru Amuro?). Now, from following some amazing Detective Conan fan-artists and seeing that Zero’s Tea Time is a show, and the fact that he’s become Kogoro’s apprentice, I’m guessing he becomes a big part of the story. What this chapter and having that knowledge makes me think is that he’s taking the space of what Eisuke Hondou was supposed to be. I can see Eisuke being cut because he was unpopular or some such thing but his role still being important so Aoyama makes a replacement character. Because other than being older, he takes up the role of a clumsy detective becoming Kogoro’s apprentice. I welcome it though, he looks like a nice addition to the cast and I always love brown-town rep whenever I can get it. He's probably clinging to Kogoro for a specific reason and I look forward to finding out what that is.

With having Community on the brain already(this phrase probably sounds absolutely bonkers to anyone who hasn’t watched it), it was easy enough to imagine it being a case of incest when them being saved from the same fire was mentioned, but I learned a lot of things about twin genetics I hadn’t before. It was interesting. It’s a shame Elroy wasn’t there to encourage them. I kid, because it was quite tragic. This was one of the few cases where it wasn’t a murder. And having Toru barge in like that claiming it was, darkened the mood even more. Conan took Kogoro’s place but this is one of those cases where I believe Kogoro would’ve gone to hell and back to defend his friend. I always appreciate Conan’s acknowledgement at the tragedy of a case, his poignant wrap-ups remain a kindhearted counterargument to the stoic summaries of the noir detectives of old. 

[givemea-dam-break]

14, 20, 21 for the writers asks!!!🫶🏻🫶🏻

of course lovey! just answered 14 on my last one, but I'll copy the answer here :)

14. how do you write emotional scenes? do you ever feel what the characters feel? do you draw from personal experience?

i draw on personal experience! well, most of the time lol. for a lot of my angsty stuff, i might not have gone through what i'm putting the characters through, but i've felt strongly for other things and i'm able to kind of channel those emotions to describe theirs. i try my best to put myself in their shoes for a moment and imagine what they'd say, how they'd feel, and kind of just word vomit onto the page lmao.

20. have you noticed any patterns in your fics? words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

angst. grief. loss. all the terrible terrible feelings i keep putting you lot through haha. i really enjoy writing it, though lmao. i suppose i always make it rainy during my angsty fics (pathetic fallacy yk yk) and as for expressions... not sure, tbh. i've written so much at this point that i've probably written the same thing many, many times and not realised lol.

21. would you ever collaborate with another writer for a story?

i absolutely would! currently working with @ikeasupremacy on a fanfic for george karim (very sad, i warn you now), but i would so so so be up for collabing with more people it's very fun!

[safyresky]

😈, 🛒, ✨, ❌, and 👀!

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

Every time Jacqueline mentions @shittyelfchild in Frostmas, it is done on purpose just to hurt @shittyelfwriter because I love her >:)

I also made Blaise 6'1 just to be mean to Richard lmao. That was recent and a delightful overdramatic petty moment!

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

evil uncles. this one confuses me a lot. my uncles aren't evil, they're just. you know. thy suck. but they aren't evil and haven't like done anything bad to me? one doesn't like me and the other one is too right leaning for my liking most days (and also very inappropriate with jokes tbh)

i do a lot of fluff and hugs and such. i like hugs and fluff. they heal me as much as taking a bat to glass did sunday! lots of setting matching the atmosphere, like pathetic fallacy but instead of weather it's the location, location, location!

i very much enjoy imagery that's like. idk how to explain it. but it's like this:

SHIT LIKE THAT!!!! kills me dead EVERY TIME. I LOVE IMAGERY.

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

My dialogue fucking SLAPS. I am so fucking witty with these fucks it's ASTOUNDING.

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

ANYTHING miscommunication related. ESPECIALLY if it's v stupid like y sees x talking to z and hears something out of context and instead of asking them about it, ghosts them and dips. HATE that, REFUSE to write it!!! AH! IF IT'S GONNA BE MISCOMMUNICATION, IT'S GOING TO INVOLVE HUGE ELEMENTAL/MAGICAL BLOWOUTS. AH.

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

hehehehe okay okay okay. Okay. Okay. This one wip. That I have yet to start. BUT AM GOING TO START. Is STEAMY. Involves the following:

dite and jacquie spending the night together for the first time in the traditional sense (they fuck)

dite is the goddess of pleasure. so. it's mind blowing.

so much so. jacqueline straight up sprite sleeps about it

dite thinks she fucked her gf to death. she goes on an adventure and learns about sprite sleeps from, regrettably, jack

when jacquie wakes up she's MORTIFIED but dite is v good at like, spoiling her and they spa about it and she's like okay this was pretty amazing, i just had sex so good it knocked me the fuck out

THEN SHE LEARNS IT'S A) BEEN 3 DAYS AND B) DITE ASKED JACK ABOUT SPRITE SLEEPS AND TOLD HIM W H Y

JACQUELINE IS LIKE THIS IS MORTIFYING HE IS GOING TO ROAST ME I NEED TO HIDE AND PROMPTLY GOES TO SEE MELUSINE OF @kscribbs's fic Miller's Law fame (which, if anyone reading hasn't read it, please do! K is a brilliant writer and I LOVE LOVE LOVE ML sO MUCH. IT'S GOT ME AS BAD AS DITE GOT JACQUIE)

Idk why she does this, Jacquie just told me she goes to see mel about it and Mel was like "absolutely she does" and I went "cool, gr8, let's see how this goes"

Well, Mel makes her a cupperty and they chat and like she feels less mortified after Mel roasts Jack probably and then Mel's like "woman. you got shagged so good you literally went into a coma. let's celebrate that"

AND THEY DO

AND THEY GET VERY VERY WASTED ABOUT IT

AND THE NEXT DAY JACQUIE WAKES UP LIKE HA! THAT FUCKING HAPPENED! OH SHIT I MISSED ELLE'S BDAY

and when she texts Elle and explains why Elle is liek FUCK YEAH BUDDY, HIGH FIVE, GIMMIE THE DEETS AND LET'S CELEBRATE ABOUT IT

I have yet to start it but I KNOW the beats and some of the best lines of dialogue (my favourite being "I love your dress! It looks good on you! But it'll look even better on my bedroom floor >:)" followed by a squeaky 245 and Jacqueline going "sorry, it's going to WHAT?!?!"

My god. She's so funny. She gets so flustered around Dite. What a nerd >:)

ANYWAY THANKS FOR THE ASK! SORRY FOR THE RAMBLES, BUT ALSO NOT SORRY LMAO. I am dying to write the above thing but have yet to find the time/open the doc/work out the kinks of the mel and jacquie bits, but my god do I want to have this thing existing. it's so, so fucking funny ajhdfuiehorjeo

[corpsebrigadier]

When Wiegraf encounters a holy stone a storm begins and when Rafa encounters one a storm has just ended and I--an absolute and complete sucker for pathetic fallacy--act like my mind has been blown every time it happens.

[fursasaida]

was at the grocery store yesterday (!) and thinking about how there is absolutely no way I could possibly get a stranger to understand that they could accommodate my disability by getting out of my way so I can move faster. nobody has a mental model for "hello I have shark disease if I stop moving I will die" in like, a credible way, as opposed to "yeah, we all have somewhere to be, asshole, calm down." however this is a very appropriate problem to have in New York. contemplating whether I could consider this a type of pathetic fallacy.

[romanticnyctophile-nabila]

Today I want out, won a battle.

Limbs were numbs when house door was closing.

While riding to the destination, several moments were there;several moments when my intrusive thoughts had kisses with anxiety.

And everytime, I remembered my love,my absolute pretty one.

Everytime, then, I wanted to run towards and hug that human;as if hugging would cure my issues.

Yes,they wouldn't.

I realized, this is another rock bottom.

That person doesn't even exists in my life;yet I'm crawling back.

An imaginary, with average human follies & fallacies, yet I fancied that human, so much so that I wanted to hug.

I'm in an awfully pathetic position of life.