#it's very alarming that these people really believe that this is true

[comicaurora]

Hey, sorry if you’ve been asked this before, but I have ADHD and I’ve been following your comic for years and just now have started to write my own comic (partially because you really inspired me). But I’m really struggling with staying on the project even when it’s boring and getting myself to work on it in the first place. Do you have any tips on how to keep your brain invested or just to make yourself do the work at all?

I have excellent news, I literally just figured out something really important about this.

So when you're an ADHD kiddo or otherwise have difficulty staying on task in a structured environment where Task is the Priority, the main way people try to MAKE you stay on task is by removing your access to anything that is not The Task. No phone, no TV, no doodling, no going outside, etc. In practice, this just makes us miserable because it takes the boredom that's always simmering around a 2 or 3 and cranks it all the way up to 11. In the same way that you would have difficulty staying on task if you were in physical pain, this crushing existential monotony makes it very difficult to work. The work might get done simply because you have no other options, but it will not be done quickly or well, and it will take a while to recover from how much it hurt.

What I realized earlier this week is I caught myself doing this to myself. I had 42 pages of background colors to do, and I thought to myself "this sounds really tedious, but I suppose I have nothing better I can do." And I realized what I'd just thought, and got very alarmed.

Because back when I was an ADHD kiddo imprisoned by school scheduling and a million little factors that keep children immobile and restrained, I couldn't stop thinking about how big and exciting the world was, and how much I wanted to be anywhere but here. When I was feeling really crushed in I'd pick a random spot on the maps on my wall and just imagine being there instead of my bedroom. This was the impetus behind almost all of my creative energy. I've said it before - anything is a prison if you can't leave, and being in a prison makes it easy to imagine how amazing things could be outside of it. Aurora's initial worldbuilding was forged in the crucible of fifth grade misery. My enthusiasm for art and my creative drive are inextricable from my sense of wonder and yearning for excitement in the real world. Not escapism, but appreciation. Wonders unimaginable are out there, and I gain just as much joy seeking them out as I do conjuring them up in my head and sharing them with all of you.

So now that I'm a grown-up with actual freedom in every way I've been able to get, the idea that I was staying on task by making myself believe the world was small and not worth seeing was extremely alarming. It could keep me on task for an afternoon, but at the cost of slowly extinguishing the thing that made me want to make art in the first place - the hunger to experience and draw inspiration from all the myriad complexities in the world.

So what I've been doing is I've been purposefully and intentionally taking excursions whenever I catch myself thinking "I could take a break but it wouldn't be worth it, it's the same outdoors as always, I'll be uncomfy and unproductive and tired." Because that is never true. Every time I've put down the stylus and gone out, I've been renewed in one way or another, and when I come back to comfort fully recharged I get a lot of shit done. Because it is easier to work on anything if you remember why you wanted to make it in the first place, and it is self-defeating misery to just lock yourself in with it and tell yourself you're a bad person if you can't get it done.

I honestly don't know how widely applicable this is. I have worse wanderlust than anyone I know, so for me this has always been modeled as imprisonment vs freedom. I've also been extremely lucky to find myself in a profession that lets me set my own pace on literally everything I do. But I genuinely believe that when it comes to making art with ADHD, you need to give yourself freedom to move laterally, not just in the direction of obvious forward progress. We don't think linearly in any other part of our lives - art is no different.

[amateurvoltaire]

For the past six years or so, this graph has been making its rounds on social media, always reappearing at conveniently timed moments…

The insinuation is loud and clear: parallels abound between 18th-century France and 21st-century USA. Cue the alarm bells—revolution is imminent! The 10% should panic, and ordinary folk should stock up on non-perishables and, of course, toilet paper, because it wouldn’t be a proper crisis without that particular frenzy. You know the drill.

Well, unfortunately, I have zero interest in commenting on the political implications or the parallels this graph is trying to make with today’s world. I have precisely zero interest in discussing modern-day politics here. And I also have zero interest in addressing the bottom graph.

This is not going to be one of those "the [insert random group of people] à la lanterne” (1) kind of posts.  If you’re here for that, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.

What I am interested in is something much less click-worthy but far more useful: how historical data gets used and abused and why the illusion of historical parallels can be so seductive—and so misleading. It’s not glamorous, I’ll admit, but digging into this stuff teaches us a lot more than mindless rage.

So, let’s get into it. Step by step, we’ll examine the top graph, unpick its assumptions, and see whether its alarmist undertones hold any historical weight.

Step 1: Actually Look at the Picture and Use Your Brain

When I saw this graph, my first thought was, “That’s odd.” Not because it’s hard to believe the top 10% in 18th-century France controlled 60% of the wealth—that could very well be true. But because, in 15 years of studying the French Revolution, I’ve never encountered reliable data on wealth distribution from that period.

Why? Because to the best of my knowledge, no one was systematically tracking income or wealth across the population in the 18th century. There were no comprehensive records, no centralised statistics, and certainly no detailed breakdowns of who owned what across different classes. Graphs like this imply data, and data means either someone tracked it or someone made assumptions to reconstruct it. That’s not inherently bad,  but it did get my spider senses tingling.

Then there’s the timeframe: 1760–1790. Thirty years is a long time— especially when discussing a period that included wars, failed financial policies, growing debt, and shifting social dynamics. Wealth distribution wouldn’t have stayed static during that time. Nobles who were at the top in 1760 could be destitute by 1790, while merchants starting out in 1760 could be climbing into the upper tiers by the end of the period. Economic mobility wasn’t common, but over three decades, it wasn’t unheard of either.

All of this raises questions about how this graph was created. Where’s the data coming from? How was it measured? And can we really trust it to represent such a complex period?

Step 2: Check the Fine Print

Since the graph seemed questionable, the obvious next step was to ask: Where does this thing come from? Luckily, the source is clearly cited at the bottom: “The Income Inequality of France in Historical Perspective” by Christian Morrisson and Wayne Snyder, published in the European Review of Economic History, Vol. 4, No. 1 (2000).

Great! A proper academic source. But, before diving into the article, there’s a crucial detail tucked into the fine print:

“Data for the bottom 40% in France is extrapolated given a single data point.”

What does that mean?

Extrapolation is a statistical method used to estimate unknown values by extending patterns or trends from a small sample of data. In this case, the graph’s creator used one single piece of data—one solitary data point—about the wealth of the bottom 40% of the French population. They then scaled or applied that one value to represent the entire group across the 30-year period (1760–1790).

Put simply, this means someone found one record—maybe a tax ledger, an income statement, or some financial data—pertaining to one specific year, region, or subset of the bottom 40%, and decided it was representative of the entire demographic for three decades.

Let’s be honest: you don’t need a degree in statistics to know that’s problematic. Using a single data point to make sweeping generalisations about a large, diverse population (let alone across an era of wars, famines, and economic shifts) is a massive leap. In fact, it’s about as reliable as guessing how the internet feels about a topic from a single tweet.

This immediately tells me that whatever numbers they claim for the bottom 40% of the population are, at best, speculative. At worst? Utterly meaningless.

It also raises another question: What kind of serious journal would let something like this slide? So, time to pull up the actual article and see what’s going on.

Step 3: Check the Sources

As I mentioned earlier, the source for this graph is conveniently listed at the bottom of the image. Three clicks later, I had downloaded the actual article: “The Income Inequality of France in Historical Perspective” by Morrisson and Snyder.

The first thing I noticed while skimming through the article? The graph itself is nowhere to be found in the publication.

This is important. It means the person who created the graph didn’t just lift it straight from the article—they derived it from the data in the publication. Now, that’s not necessarily a problem; secondary analysis of published data is common. But here’s the kicker: there’s no explanation in the screenshot of the graph about which dataset or calculations were used to make it. We’re left to guess.

So, to figure this out, I guess I’ll have to dive into the article itself, trying to identify where they might have pulled the numbers from. Translation: I signed myself up to read 20+ pages of economic history. Thrilling stuff.

But hey, someone has to do it. The things I endure to fight disinformation...

Step 4: Actually Assess the Sources Critically

It doesn’t take long, once you start reading the article, to realise that regardless of what the graph is based on, it’s bound to be somewhat unreliable. Right from the first paragraph, the authors of the paper point out the core issue with calculating income for 18th-century French households: THERE IS NO DATA.

The article is refreshingly honest about this. It states multiple times that there were no reliable income distribution estimates in France before World War II. To fill this gap, Morrisson and Snyder used a variety of proxy sources like the Capitation Tax Records (2), historical socio-professional tables, and Isnard’s income distribution estimates (3).

After reading the whole paper, I can say their methodology is intriguing and very reasonable. They’ve pieced together what they could by using available evidence, and their process is quite well thought-out. I won’t rehash their entire argument here, but if you’re curious, I’d genuinely recommend giving it a read.

Most importantly, the authors are painfully aware of the limitations of their approach. They make it very clear that their estimates are a form of educated guesswork—evidence-based, yes, but still guesswork.   At no point do they overstate their findings or present their conclusions as definitive

As such,  instead of concluding with a single, definitive version of the income distribution, they offer multiple possible scenarios.

It’s not as flashy as a bold, tidy graph, is it? But it’s far more honest—and far more reflective of the complexities involved in reconstructing historical economic data.

Step 5: Run the numbers

Now that we’ve established the authors of the paper don’t actually propose a definitive income distribution, the question remains: where did the creators of the graph get their data? More specifically, which of the proposed distributions did they use?

Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to locate the original article or post containing the graph. Admittedly, I haven’t tried very hard, but the first few pages of Google results just link back to Twitter, Reddit, Facebook, and Tumblr posts. In short, all I have to go on is this screenshot.

I’ll give the graph creators the benefit of the doubt and assume that, in the full article, they explain where they sourced their data. I really hope they do—because they absolutely should.

That being said, based on the information in Morrisson and Snyder’s paper, I’d make an educated guess that the data came from Table 6 or Table 10, as these are the sections where the authors attempt to provide income distribution estimates.

Now, which dataset does the graph use? Spoiler: None of them.

How can we tell? Since I don’t have access to the raw data or the article where this graph might have been originally posted, I resorted to a rather unscientific method: I used a graphical design program to divide each bar of the chart into 2.5% increments and measure the approximate percentage for each income group.

Here’s what I found:

Now, take a moment to spot the issue. Do you see it?

The problem is glaring: NONE of the datasets from the paper fit the graph. Granted, my measurements are just estimates, so there might be some rounding errors. But the discrepancies are impossible to ignore, particularly for the bottom 40% and the top 10%.

In Morrisson and Snyder’s paper, the lowest estimate for the bottom 40% (1st and 2nd quintiles) is 10%. Even if we use the most conservative proxy, the Capitation Tax estimate, it’s 9%. But the graph claims the bottom 40% held only 6%.

For the top 10% (10th decile), the highest estimate in the paper is 53%. Yet the graph inflates this to 60%.

Step 6: For fun, I made my own bar charts

Because I enjoy this sort of thing (yes, this is what I consider fun—I’m a very fun person), I decided to use the data from the paper to create my own bar charts. Here’s what came out:

What do you notice?

While the results don’t exactly scream “healthy economy,” they look much less dramatic than the graph we started with. The creators of the graph have clearly exaggerated the disparities, making inequality seem worse.

Step 7: Understand the context before drawing conclusions

Numbers, by themselves, mean nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I could tell you right now that 47% of people admit to arguing with inanimate objects when they don’t work, with printers being the most common offender, and you’d probably believe it. Why? Because it sounds plausible—printers are frustrating, I’ve used a percentage, and I’ve phrased it in a way that sounds “academic.”

You likely wouldn’t even pause to consider that I’m claiming 3.8 billion people argue with inanimate objects. And let’s be real: 3.8 billion is such an incomprehensibly large number that our brains tend to gloss over it.

If, instead, I said, “Half of your friends probably argue with their printers,” you might stop and think, “Wait, that seems a bit unlikely.” (For the record, I completely made that up—I have no clue how many people yell at their stoves or complain to their toasters.)

The point? Numbers mean nothing unless we put them into context.

The original paper does this well by contextualising its estimates, primarily through the calculation of the Gini coefficient (4).

The authors estimate France’s Gini coefficient in the late 18th century to be 0.59, indicating significant income inequality. However, they compare this figure to other regions and periods to provide a clearer picture:

Amsterdam (1742): Much higher inequality, with a Gini of 0.69.

Britain (1759): Lower inequality, with a Gini of 0.52, which rose to 0.59 by 1801.

Prussia (mid-19th century): Far less inequality, with a Gini of 0.34–0.36.

This comparison shows that income inequality wasn’t unique to France. Other regions experienced similar or even higher levels of inequality without spontaneously erupting into revolution.

Accounting for Variations

The authors also recalculated the Gini coefficient to account for potential variations. They assumed that the income of the top quintile (the wealthiest 20%) could vary by ±10%. Here’s what they found:

If the top quintile earned 10% more, the Gini coefficient rose to 0.66, placing France significantly above other European countries of the time.

If the top quintile earned 10% less, the Gini dropped to 0.55, bringing France closer to Britain’s level.

Ultimately, the authors admit there’s uncertainty about the exact level of inequality in France. Their best guess is that it was comparable to other countries or somewhat worse.

Step 8: Drawing Some Conclusions

Saying that most people in the 18th century were poor and miserable—perhaps the French more so than others—isn’t exactly a compelling statement if your goal is to gather clicks or make a dramatic political point.

It’s incredibly tempting to look at the past and find exactly what we want to see in it. History often acts as a mirror, reflecting our own expectations unless we challenge ourselves to think critically. Whether you call it wishful thinking or confirmation bias, it’s easy to project the future onto the past.

Looking at the initial graph, I understand why someone might fall into this trap. Simple, tidy narratives are appealing to everyone. But if you’ve studied history, you’ll know that such narratives are a myth. Human nature may not have changed in thousands of years, but the contexts we inhabit are so vastly different that direct parallels are meaningless.

So, is revolution imminent? Well, that’s up to you—not some random graph on the internet.

Notes

(1) A la lanterne was a  revolutionary cry during the French Revolution, symbolising mob justice where individuals were sometimes hanged from lampposts as a form of public execution

(2) The capitation tax was a fixed head tax implemented in France during the Ancien Régime. It was levied on individuals, with the amount owed determined by their social and professional status. Unlike a proportional income tax, it was based on pre-assigned categories rather than actual earnings, meaning nobles, clergy, and commoners paid different rates regardless of their actual wealth or income.

(3) Jean-Baptiste Isnard was an 18th-century economist. These estimates attempted to describe the theoretical distribution of income among different social classes in pre-revolutionary France. Isnard’s work aimed to categorise income across groups like nobles, clergy, and commoners, providing a broad picture of economic disparity during the period.

(4) The Gini coefficient (or Gini index) is a widely used statistical measure of inequality within a population, specifically in terms of income or wealth distribution. It ranges from 0 to 1, where 0 indicates perfect equality (everyone has the same income or wealth), and 1 represents maximum inequality (one person or household holds all the wealth).

[lightseoul]

you and me? really?

synopsis. mina and kirishima invite you to a night out. they conveniently forget to tell you it’s a double date. (part 2)

cw. gn!reader, gradstudent!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (~23 yrs old), mina ashido x kirishima eijirou, fluff

word count. 1.7k words

Mina whines as you drag her into the bathroom of Kozue—the first red flag you should’ve noticed (who hosts a massive group hangout at an expensive ass restaurant?!)—but you’re far too angry to pay her any mind. She winces in disdain as you finally let her wrist go.

“Where’s everyone else?!” You whisper-shout.

“Uhh.. I might’ve left out a few details about this hangout.”

You can’t believe this girl. “No shit, Sherlock,” you sigh in exasperation. “Mina, you lied to me?”

Her eyes bug out in alarm, “I didn’t! I would never lie to you, you know that. As I said, I just omitted a few details.”

“Let me guess, like the fact that aside from you, me, and Eiji, the only other person attending is Bakugou?”

She lets out a squeak. Of guilt or excitement, you can’t tell.

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “Wipe that grin off your face. And you know he and I don’t really get along! And people can recognize you guys and think we’re on a double date. I barely even know the guy and his PR Team will be coming for my head tomorrow morning.”

“You don’t know that! You only met him once during the end of our patrol. He just gets extra snappy when he’s tired,” she giggles. “Oh, and don’t worry about the press. The chef owes Bakugou one—he offered to clear the restaurant just for tonight.”

You can’t believe your ears. Oh, to have the power and influence of a Pro Hero.

You shake your head in (another form of) disbelief, “So you’re not gonna say anything about you roping me into a double date?”

“Nope!” she exclaims cheerfully, turning her back to exit the bathroom. You follow suit, though unlike her, you’re not done with the conversation.

“How’d you guys manage to rope him into this, anyway?” You’d keep your voice down as you weave through the exquisitely prepped tables, but true to Mina’s word, there’s no one else around except Kirishima and Bakugou, who are seated at the far corner overlooking the city.

“Eiji used the same tactic,” she sing-songs. “He got annoyed earlier when he realized his predicament, but Eiji managed to talk him into staying. Said it would be cruel to leave you as our third wheel, or something.”

You chuckle despite yourself. Mina turns to grin at you.

“Right on.”

Turns out, dinner’s not half as bad as you thought it would be.

And regarding Bakugou? Well, the jury’s still out.

You can tell he’s barely fitting into the small chair beside you—which is actually regular-sized but dwarfs in comparison to his hulking figure—visibly uncomfortable.

He’s sporting a black long-sleeve, rolled up to his forearms, and slacks in light of the semi-formal dress code—the very code you panicked over earlier upon realizing that you didn’t have anything to wear. Luckily enough, you managed to dig out a good enough LBD, and opted to dress it up with some gold accessories you’ve had since college. And now you look even more like you’re on a date: matching colors and all. Great.

Kirishima, ever trusty Kirishima, just had to talk about your awkward situation among the group. (Which was incredibly unnecessary. Why not just ignore the elephant in the room?)

“We just missed the both of you!” he exclaims, while Mina, to his left, nods vigorously in agreement. “We haven’t caught up in a while. And, we figured we could be efficient and host a hangout instead—the four of us!”

Bakugou scoffs, looking away, “You guys are such a fuckin’ married couple already, with all that ‘we’ shit ya got going on. Makes me wanna gag.”

Your eyes widen in shock at his brazenness, but you can’t help but let out a stunned laugh.

His eyes flicker to yours at the sound. You could’ve sworn you saw the corners of his lips turn upward for a second before his infamous scowl took over his face again. Could’ve been amusement, but what’s that to you, right?

Mina pouts at his comment, while Kirishima only laughs wholeheartedly. Both brush it off, though, and you chalk it up to how they’ve gotten used to Bakugou’s bluntness after almost 10 years of seeing each other grow up.

“Anyway,” Mina interjects, “as we were saying, we missed you guys and also, thought both of you could use the company!”

“Ouch..?”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

You turn to address Bakugou, whose eyebrows are so furrowed deep into a scowl you’ve half a mind to press a finger against it so he wouldn’t wrinkle so early. “I think they think we’re lonely.”

You look at the lovebirds, “But thanks, though. I appreciate the thought and your inviting us out. It’s been a while since I took the time off of grad school and working part-time at Manual’s. Though,” you spare Bakugou a glance, who eyes you curiously, “I’m pretty sure he can get all sorts of company if he wanted to.”

What’s meant to be a factual observation turned into a flirtatious comment the second Mina and Kirishima lit up, both piqued with interest. Suddenly, you’re regretting all the life decisions that led you to this moment.

“Oooh, what’s that supposed to mean?!” Mina exclaims, clearly delighted, while Kirishima’s eyes flicker between the both of you, wearing a shit-eating grin.

You can’t bring yourself to look at Bakugou.

“What?” you’re exasperated at this point, “I’m just saying,” you gesture vaguely to the guy in question, “Bakugou’s objectively attractive. The three of you are!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I’m serious!” you spring to your feet, “Hell, your entire UA class is! Well, except for Mineta, I guess.”

You hear a suppressed bark of laughter to your left. Mina and Kirishima are cracking up now, too. Suddenly feeling self-conscious about getting all riled up over their teasing, you sat back down.

“I’m sure all of you have experience and can score just about anyone.” You finish your rant, glad you got to wrap it up nicely before the two could get even further with teasing you about Bakugou in front of Bakugou.

You hear him grunt in response and see him, through your periphery, look down at his fancy plate of Porcini Mushroom Velouté. Finally, someone who agrees. Though, weirdly enough, it didn’t feel as good as you thought it would..

“Sorry for teasing you, Y/N!” Kirishima laughs, albeit quite sheepishly.

Mina nods, “But really, though, we’re glad you could come. Both of you.”

“Has he texted you yet?!”

You look back at the course syllabus and mountains of textbooks stacked on your desk, and you can’t help but heave a heavy sigh, “Really? This is what you called and dragged me out of my deep work for?”

“Come on!” Mina always sounds so cheerful and perky, talking to her makes you feel like you’re not 5 seconds away from crashing and sleeping through what’s supposed to be a serious study night. “He hasn’t, has he?”

“Well,” you decide to indulge her, “No other man has texted me in the last 24 hours except my Uber driver, so I guess my answer to that is no?”

“Very funny, Y/N. Ha ha.”

You grin in amusement. Two can play at this game.

You can hear her mutter a soft curse at the other end of the line, “Damn that Bakugou! He’s sure taking his sweet old time. After all that trouble of getting him to accept your number.”

“Cut it off, Mina. You should’ve tricked someone else who could actually be a good match for him instead of me.”

“What?!” she actually sounded shocked, “I didn’t choose you because you were convenient!”

“Thanks,” you deadpanned.

“Y/N! Sure, tricking you into joining was convenient, because you are both my and Eiji’s best friend, though I don’t think I need to explain that.”

“Sure, go on.”

You can practically hear Mina roll her eyes, “FY fricken I, both Eiji and I think you and Bakugou are a great match. You’re both driven, smart, and no-nonsense individuals who think they’re too busy and grown for romance.”

“That honestly sounds like a recipe for disaster, Mina.”

“People like you think that! But trust me, once you find the one, romance doesn’t seem so bad after all!”

“It doesn’t matter,” you mumble. “The lack of texts says enough. He probably just doesn’t think I’m interesting. So cut it off, please?”

You should’ve known better than to expect Mina to let things go just like that.

“Didn’t you see how he reacted when you called him attractive? He got so embarrassed, all red in the neck and ears. Eiji and I couldn’t stop talking about it last night—we’ve rarely seen him like that.”

You huff in slight irritation (and embarrassment), “It’s because you guys wouldn’t stop teasing us. I’d be flustered too if my friends kept tormenting me like that.”

Mina cackles, “Well, you were the one that gave us classic material to work with.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“No, wait!”

You sigh for the nth time in this conversation, “I was busy trying to hype you up and convince all of you of your attractiveness, thank you very much. So no, I didn’t see his reaction.”

“Yeah, that was very kind of you,” Mina exhales wistfully. “Anyway, I’d dare say he even got disappointed when you started complimenting me and Eiji too!”

You could only hear a second of her high-pitched laugh before clicking the End Call button.

Normally, hanging up on your best friend would make you feel bad, no matter how angry or annoyed you were at her.

But this? This is an emergency.

You clutch your heart, which is now hammering at an alarmingly faster pace than normal.

Fuck, you think to yourself. You cannot be crushing on Bakugou Katsuki.

Before you can spiral and go into an I-can’t-have-a-crush-much-less-on-a-pro-hero-named-Bakugou-induced panic, your phone chimes, indicating a new text message.

You bring it up to eye level, and you can’t help but gawk when you finally see the message content.

Hey, it's Bakugou.

[reignpage]

Hi reign! Your Eden AU is everything to me 🙏 I was wondering if you’d be interested in writing mundane things about the boys and their readers? Something like the way they take their tea or what their night/morning routines are. I love the idea of knowing their characters more outside of their relationships 🩷

morning routine:

Gojo

Wake up early cause of his alarm, he has some morning classes and lecturs, doesn't go to them Goes back to sleep Wakes up in the afternoon Does some work if he feels like it, never really needs to revise, he's pretty smart Breakfast is pancakes and lots and lots of syrup, just whatever's in the pantry, or he'll go eat donuts, it's actually so bad Best believe, he'll start eating greens when he gets with reader

Reader

wakes up late too hates waking up hates the sun hates everything but forces herself to go to her lectures and classes, just don't talk to her (not that anyone does) won't eat breakfast, doesn't believe it in, think it's Big Cereal at work but is very healthy apart from that, eats a big lunch and likely goes back to sleep if her afternoon is free

Geto

often doesnt sleep at all cause he's kept up by nightmares and artistic ideas he just needs to put to paper doesn't eat breakfast, maybe drinks tea cause he's sophisticated like that somestimes goes off to ride on his motorcycle at 5am if he's feeling very restless or heads off to the garage to work on his bikes or get some business done

Reader

wakes up early, like 7am with the sun meditates eats acai bowls if she can be bothered does some reading, listens to true crime podcasts goes to every class and lecture goes to some societyes like book club and crocheting

Choso

asleep all day sometimes that's why he doesn't go to class, it's cause he's asleep he also likes to go home sometimes and just hang out with Yuji, sometimes steals him away from kindergarten paints a lot, just very angsty and emo does that thing where he hangs around a brick wall, leans against it all mysterious and smokes or goes to skateparks breakfast is a cig that's how he gets his abs frfr

Reader

wakes up pretty late likes to just paint whilst listening to music might visit some art galleries or go for brunch with her friends but most of the time she's in the art building in a studio's she's booked really getting lost in her art sometimes likes to bike around campus and say hi to people (she's actually pretty popular because of her general cheerful disposition) breakfast is something quick like toast or a bagel she buys from a local deli

Toji

hates waking up early but has to do it anyways goes for a morning run around 6am maybe shoots some hoops or whatever you call it idk sports and then goes back to sleep gets up late in the afternoon doesn't go to class very often has to maintain a certain grade and attendance but when you're a friend of Sukuna, well... breakfast is healthy bowl of fruit boiled eggs protein shake

Reader

wakes up at a normal time goes to every class and lecture so she wakes up when she needs to spends a lot of time just doing work and making applications but she puts on the recent voicemails from her Insider's Line as white noise and if she hears something really juicy then her attention gets taken away and she focuses on that breakfast is a candy bar or popcorn, she just can't be bothered to eat healthy cause that means going to the store and it's so far away (it's a five minute walk)

Nanami

wakes up early, 7am every day drinks coffee during weekdays tea on weekends/holidays peppermint or green tea to be specific reads newspapers, goes on every news platforms and reads up on current events likes to read any new scientific publication listens to podcasts (doesn't really listen to music) on his commute makes a healthy, balanced breakfast if he has time but most times he doesnt cause there's always just so much work to do

Reader

sleeps through every alarm has to be shaken away grumpy in the morning needs her coffee which is just full of sugar that's her breakfast doesn't go to her morning lectures unless it's the ones she shares with Nanami has one class with him and that's the only one she has 100% attendance, until now.... she only listens to upbeat songs in the morning so she can get pumped up

Sukuna

wakes up early goes to basketball practice goes to the gym does his homework catches up on family news and affairs, goes to family meetings and business trips etc etc attends classes when he's free or if the topic interests him but generally speaking you shouldn't expect him there eats a balanced breakfast, same as Toji cause he is an athelete and he believes his body is a temple and yada yada yada

Reader

Wakes up early too Has lots of work She has to meet the trustees or investors or potential students has to file this, fill out that, write this and so on and so forth not to mention being a law student and the buttload of readings to do very diligent though gets it all done somehow she goes to campus even if she has no classes very much from 9am to midnight and sometimes even past that if there's just a lot to do stays in the library all day breakfast is something quick like toast but she often doesn't have time to and just eats granola bars she gets from the canteen

night routine

Gojo

parties all night and if he's not partying then he's watching movies and shows gets takeaway for dinner sometimes he does have to go to the family and do some traditional bs like pray for their ancestors or something hatessss that but loves seeing his grandpa (the patriarch) tho sleeps around 2am, later if he's at a party sometimes he's not in a mood to party, he just likes the noise

Reader

watches true crime documentaries to unwind drinks some concoction she calls tea maybe smokes some dried rose petals or something goes to the hospital as often as she can goes to sleep at a good time but will be on her phone for a while also the type who needs to masturbate to sleep lol

Geto

doesn't really sleep again drives around or works out angstily stays up last in the studio, likes to shoulder the burden of closing and wrapping up so his employees can go ahead also likes to just go through his mail and dms for next pro bono case eats lots of meat, like steak tbh sometimes when he's extra bored, he'll actually attend a party with gojo and Nanami's reader regrets it very quickly though so they often just go out in the streets or sits on the roof and shares a cig

Reader

does face masks drinks tea salad and salmon type of girl watches true crime documentaries maybe does some drawing and painting or reads a book by the window very chill very classy clean girl energy fr

Choso

up all night paints vandalises private property listens to metal forgets to eat sometimes has to do family business stuff but he's usually allowed to sit out or just no directly participates they sometimes leave him to take care of the kids sometimes likes to hang around reader's place like Edward Cullen

Reader

Often with friends at night doing movie marathons or having dinner pretty social sometimes gets stuck in the art building she falls asleep as she's painting and she's been locked in a couple times has even gotten friendly with the groundskeeper comes home late sleeps pretty soon after that

Toji

sleeps at a decent time knows the importance of getting his sleep goes to parties like maybe 3-4 times a week sleeps with at least one girl a day tbh sometimes can't sleep, in which case he'll be at the gym or shooting hoops again likes to go see his brother when he can eats healthy again boiled chicken and salad or something equally depressing

Reader

sleeps late writes a lot reads a lot scrolls on her phone feeling a little envious of all the fun people are having when she was dating her bf, she'd always have to wait up for him cause he gets really drunk and doesn't know how to get home and she felt a lot of dread at him coming over and expecting sex but now she's just living her best life getting all the good sex she deserves with toji even goes to parties with him now

Nanami

Sleeps late cause of all the work he has to do eats pizza if Haibara's ordered in but prefers homemade meals reads until he feels sleepy pretty boring tbh unless he needs to jerk off cause his reader was especially bold that day

Reader

sleeps late parties all night sometimes she's all partied out and in which case she watches true crime docs with her sister or horror movies and sequels and complains about everything they go home pretty often too to go see their parents online shops until dawn sometimes very messy no routine

Sukuna

sleeps late sometimes doesn't sleep at all creeps around night like Batman goes to parties just to sneer at the drunk people also likes to cause trouble if he's bored so he'll make some guys fight or put something in the way so they'll trip and fall just likes to push people around him maybe tries to steal a girl's virginity or something eats pretty normal Uraume always makes sure he gets his 5 a day

Reader

sleeps late also sometimes doesn't get any sleep if she's very very busy or very very stressed stays up late dreaming of all the ways she can make her enemies suffer she's so me fr also stalks people online cause she likes to know what's happening around campus eats healthy tho lays out her outfit for the next day journals has a minute by minute schedule

[brigdh]

I want to talk about Izzy's rant to Ed in episode 10, the one that brings out the Kraken. I've seen a lot of different descriptions of what is going on in this scene – death threat, homophobic slurs, etc – and I don't think either of those are what's actually what's happening.

Let's look at it closely, line by line, and the way Ed reacts, from the very beginning of the scene.

Ed: Well, feels nice to tidy up a little. Can't believe I was living like this. Can you, Iz? Izzy? Izzy: I'm going to speak plainly. Ed: Wonderful. You know we share our thoughts on this ship.

Izzy, cont: This, whatever it is that you've become... is a fate worse than death.

Okay. So there we've got what some have interpreted as a death threat. But does Ed seem threatened? He's startled, certainly, put on his back foot – literally – but he doesn't look afraid or alarmed to me. He draws in a slow breath, assessing the situation, but overall seems more confused than frightened.

In fact he laughs it off with his next line:

Izzy then escalates the level of aggression in the conversation:

But Ed, again, looks more confused than anything. Check out that furrowed brow, that head tilt! This is a man going "what is your deal?", not a man thinking "uh-oh, you might kill me!".

Extremely noticeably, even when Izzy storms right up into his face, Ed holds steady. He doesn't run, doesn't lean back, doesn't hunch his shoulders or drop eye contact – there is no vulnerability or defensiveness in Ed's body language at all. Ed is in supreme control of this confrontation – look at the slow way he deigns to turn back to the paper Izzy's holding! As though he's making the point that he chooses when to turn, not Izzy:

Then we have the "homophobic slur". But watch closely:

Ed does not react to "namby-pamby", "silk gown", or "pining" at all. He doesn't even blink. He barely seems like he's hearing Izzy. His entire attention is on the picture.

Ed's body language and behavior changes at one word and one word only, and that is "boyfriend". As soon as Izzy says it, Ed's furious:

(It's even easier to notice when you actually watch the scene instead of using gifs, because Izzy really draws out 'piiiiiiining', putting a lot of time between the first half of the sentence and 'boyfriend'.)

Why is the use of the word 'boyfriend' so important?

Well, what has Ed been doing all episode? He's been crying in a blanket fort and singing sad songs, yes, but he's been keeping a careful level of mystique about why he's doing it. Ed often uses distanced circumlocutions instead of directly acknowledging his emotions, but he's doing it in this episode even more so than usual:

Here are the lyrics to his song:

(Version one, with Lucius) Hanging on By a thread Hanging on Shouldn't let go If I let go, all will fall Fingers bleeding down to the bone now Can't let go Nothing makes sense Hold on Hold on Hold... on

(Version two, performed for the whole crew) Just let go Make yourself let go Make it go away Away, away today Life's a hard sad death And then you're Deaaad

Notice something? There is no mention of Stede, or love, or break-ups, or abandonments, or relationships in general. All Ed discusses is a vague life-sucks attitude, which could apply to basically anyone under any circumstances. He seems pretty okay with people knowing that Blackbeard is having some sort of weird emotional breakdown as long as he convinces himself that no one knows it's specifically from having his heart broken

This is true of everything Ed says and does for this entire episode. He never once even mentions Stede's name, unless "Farewell, Bonnet's playthings" at the very end counts. The only thing Ed openly admits to feeling bad about is a fictional character who's having a hard time "holding on" (holding on to what? he never says). There are no allusions to heartbreak or romance anywhere in his dialogue.

Now, Ed's not stupid. I'm sure he knows Izzy and Lucius and the rest of the crew can connect the dots and realize that something bad happened with Stede, even if Ed doesn't fill them in on the details. But Ed is also traumatized, and has a whole host of coping mechanisms set up to help him avoiding thinking about things that he doesn't want to think about. If he's not a murderer because "technically the fire killed those guys", then no one knows he's heartbroken because technically he hasn't acknowledged it.

Until Izzy says the word 'boyfriend'. Suddenly the secret is out, and Ed can't handle it. Izzy knows his weakness. That's why this word effects Ed more than anything else Izzy says in the whole scene.

At the end of the confrontation, he hears the crew calling for another song. Look at Ed here. He looks as haunted, as disturbed, in this moment as he does at any point in Izzy's rant.

This is an important part of the scene, not just a closing note. Because if Izzy (the Caribbean's most emotionally constipated man) can see through him, obviously the whole crew can too.

Obviously Lucius – who advised Ed on his and Stede's relationship, who played along with Ed's 'fictional character' claim, who wrote down Ed's lyrics – can do so most of all.

There's a direct emotional logic to Ed killing Lucius because he had a fight with Izzy, and it doesn't involve Ed having been threatened or hate crime'd at all. Ed doesn't deal well with his own feelings (from Stede), so he chooses to become Blackbeard/the Kraken and gets rid of all the witnesses who saw otherwise.

[lillotte17]

The Music Room

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS‼- Do Not Read unless you have completed the Dread Wolf's Regrets quest!!!!

AN: I have not finished the game, so I don't know if this will actually be part of my canon yet, but the world is currently awful and I...needed to be making something. But as I said: I have NOT finished the game yet, so if you leave a comment (pls and thank) do NOT write anything with spoilers in it!!!

Okay, on with the show!

~

Rill finds Inquisitor Lavellan sitting at the harpsichord in the music room. All of the other rooms at the Lighthouse had seemed barren when they had first started using it as their base, and even this one had apparently been used as some sort of storage space -there was an alarming amount of cheese for some reason- but the quiet here feels different in a way that is hard to quantify. Peaceful, as opposed to desolate. The light pouring through the windows is always bright in here. Always warm. The murals on the walls were still vivid when they came. Colorful and new. The most prominent one bears the symbol of the Inquisition flanked by howling wolves.

The woman contemplating it does not look like the fearsome hero who closed a hole in the sky and stopped the southern half of the world from falling into chaos, though. She looks small. And tired. And sad.

Rill clears her throat, feeling awkward.

“So. Not trying to complain or anything, but when you asked to come here, you did say that you could help by giving us insight into Solas’ history and his way of thinking and… Well. You were pretty quiet in there while we watched those memories.”

“I know,” Aili sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry. I’m just… I knew some of it. Bits of things he told me himself. Things I figured out…afterwards. And I knew there would be more. More I didn’t know. He’s thousands of years old, so I knew that the story of his life would be more than what he had told me, but…”

“It’s a lot.” Rill hums in agreement.

“Bit of an understatement,” Aili snorts. Her gaze drifts down, and she runs her fingers over the instrument in front of her. “…I didn’t even know he played.”

“So, tell me what you do know,” Rill says, casually plopping down onto a nearby crate, “It’s probably more helpful than you think.”

“I know… I know that he hates tea.”

“Right. Noted. Probably shouldn’t offer him any of Lucanis’ coffee either, then.” Rill grins, folding her arms across her chest.

“Probably not,” Aili agrees, returning the smile faintly. “He has a sweet tooth, though. He loves books. Loves learning. And teaching, too. He was always happy to share stories about places he had been, or spirits he had talked to. He paints beautifully. And he sketches, too. He doesn’t laugh very often, but when he does, it’s…”

She trails off, her face creased with grief and faint traces of longing.

“I’m sorry.”  She says again.

Rill shakes her head at the apology but gives her a curious look afterwards.

“You said that Solas was important to you; I’m guessing you didn’t mean that you were just really good friends?”

Aili shrugs.

“I thought that we were…something.” She glances around the room again, eyes landing on the mural of the slain dragon and the mourning wolf above it. “Now I’m not sure if even that was true.”

“Is that something he would lie about?” Rill wonders, her eyebrows ticking upwards, “Because that would be some valuable insight. He doesn’t strike me as the sort to use seduction as a manipulation tactic, but he seems comfortable twisting the truth about everything else, so…”

Aili sits for a moment in silence, frowning in consideration before finally shaking her he in the negative.

“It’s… No.” She fumbles briefly. “I know that given…given everything we’ve seen, it might be hard to believe, but… He has a kind heart. Truly. He wants to do the right thing. He believes in justice, and he wants things to be fair. He wants to help people when he sees them suffering. And he blames himself when he can’t. He just…comes to the wrong conclusions, sometimes, and he struggles to ask for help when he needs it. He… There would be no reason to -no point- in lying about his feelings for me. I was already his friend, and I took his advice seriously. He had my ear and my protection. He wouldn’t get anything out of it unless his intention was to be needlessly cruel, and…he’s not like that. He isn’t.”

“Then why were you doubting that you had something?”

“It’s…complicated.” Aili sighs. “It’s about time, I think. Or at least, part of it is. He feels things deeply. Passionately. Even if you can’t tell which words he’s telling you are true, you can always tell when something matters to him. And this place… Mythal is everywhere. In every mural. In every room. Statues. Paintings. Symbols. Everything is about her. For her. Even now. Even after taking Flemeth’s power and essentially killing her himself. His love for her, whatever shape or form it might have had, has colored every aspect of his life since the beginning of the world. And compared to that…”

She taps a single key on the harpsichord, letting out a high clear note.

“Mythal is the All-Mother. The Protecter. The bright and beguiling moon. And I…I am barely a candle flame.”

“You’re the Inquisitor. The Savior of the South. People still call you the ‘Herald of Andraste.’ You disbanded the Inquisition, and still managed to bring enough people together to hold back the darkspawn hordes while I fight the gods up here in the North. I think you might be selling yourself a bit short.” Rill says with a curl of her lips, trying to be kind.

“There will always be heroes, just as there will always be despots. I’m hardly unique in that respect.” Aili replies, striking another key. “A puny mortal striking back at false gods probably reminded him of his own past. His own struggles. Maybe that was it. Maybe there’s even something about me that made him think of Mythal. I don’t know. I don’t know what he saw in me. Or thought he saw. But look around. There are a few Inquisition symbols in this room, but beyond that… There is no trace of me in this place. Nothing he held onto. Nothing he felt was worth keeping.” 

Rill frowns. Fidgeting with her hands. Itching to pull out a blade to play with, but uncertain if the move would been seen as a threat.

“Sorry.” She offers after a few moments of silence. “I try not to talk to him very often, for obvious reasons. It’s still a bit creepy, if I’m being honest. Even if I did, though, I don’t think his romantic life would be something he’d be keen to tell me about.”

“It’s not your fault,” Aili assures her with a smile that does not reach her eyes, “He wasn’t keen to tell me either.”

“The Fade’s a funny place, though,” Rill says, gesturing at their surroundings, “I’m not always sure which bits of the things we’ve found here are from Solas, and which things we brought along ourselves. Lucanis found a book he used to read as a kid. Harding says she can smell her mom’s cooking sometimes. Neve said she can hear the sea when she wakes up in the mornings. Things like that, you know?”

The Inquisitor nods.

“Not surprising, given the nature of this place and the person who built it.” Aili says. “This was a refuge. For spirits and slaves fleeing tyranny. And for Solas himself, too. It wants to be welcoming. It wants you to feel safe.”

“It was different when we got here, though.” Rill tells her. “Bit empty. Bit sad. Lonely, almost.”

“Sounds like Solas,” Aili sighs, something close to exasperated fondness.

“This room though…” Rill sits up straighter, turning her head to glance at the sunlight painting patterns on the already painted walls. “It was always like this. It may be small and tucked away, but it’s honestly one of my favorite places in the Lighthouse. It’s always a little warmer in here. The sun’s always shining through the windows. The quiet in here feels like…comfort. Like home.”

“I feel like you’re trying to lead me somewhere, but I’m not sure where it is,” Aili chuckles.

“Well, you said it yourself, didn’t you?” Rill grins back at her, “This is the only room with Inquisition symbols in it.”

Aili blinks. Makes a face.

“There are also murals of Mythal in here. Because she’s everywhere.”

It is Rill’s turn to sigh.

“Maybe she is. Maybe he couldn’t escape from her. Maybe he never will. What she did. What she made him do. What was done to her. But the library with all his memories of her is big and dark and gloomy. And the statues of her are stiff and aloof and cold. And the little room upstairs he shoved a cot into to sleep is…just depressing, really.”

 She catches the older woman’s gaze. Holds it.

“It’s called the Lighthouse, but the beacon at the top isn’t where the light is. It’s not in some huge memorial room dedicated to Mythal. It’s here. There’s a chair with your seal on it, almost waiting for you to sit and watch him play. There’s the paintings on the walls. There’s… Look, when did this become me telling you about the Dread Wolf’s heart?”

“I have no idea,” Aili laughs in earnest this time.

“Really though, this is a good room. I like to sit and read by the windows in here sometimes. The light in here always makes be think of summer afternoons. The air has a sweetness to it, too. Something flowery. Heather, maybe. Or Lavender.”

Aili starts, her eyes going wide.

“What’s wrong?” Rill asks.

“You said it smells like lavender in here?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“It’s…the soap I use. For my hair. I always have.”

“Well, there you have it!” Rill grins in triumph. “He kept your memory here. Away from his regrets. Somewhere bright and happy. Well…as happy as Solas gets, anyway. Not too bad for a candle flame, eh?”

Aili laughs again.

“Thank you, Rook.”

[sydneymykah]

☆☆THE STRUGGLE OF ROUTINE ☆☆

✧─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Some people can just get out of bed and automatically do what they need to do to get the day started. And the same people seem to be the ones we see the most on our screens. "My Morning Routine", "My weekly regimen", "What I eat in a day", and "My Nightly Routine". These people are seemingly put together and perfect like their said routines. But here you are slouched on your undone bed, still in your pajamas, wearing makeup from the day before after waking up after 12 pm. You meaning me, lmao. ☆...

☆The struggle of routine is something we all face regardless of what social media persists to tell us. But I don't really want to talk about how "social media is fake" because that's not even fully true. Some people really do live like this and have very structured routines for their day to day lives, granted it's what pays their bills but that's still technically their routine. But I'm more concerned about talking about how DIFFICULT it is to keep a constant routine. Especially in this weird time we live in.

ミ★I'm a perfectionist. I hate when things don't go the way I want and I tend to want things one way or not at all. But life doesn't live by those rules. Life will throw whatever the hell it wants at you, whenever it feels like it. As an individual you have to learn to work around it all. For me it's an inconsistent work schedule, minor (or major) inconveniences, mood swings, and of course the main culprit is laziness/lack of discipline.

☆We've all done it. On a random day of the week you're up way too late reflecting on your life and what you're doing with it. You suddenly feel the hyperactive urge to fix everything about yourself. You want the perfect body before the summer. You want your hair to grow longer faster. You want to get all your life goals written down and planned out dow not the last minute. You want to post a 1 minute video everyday on TikTok at exactly 3 pm EST and post at least 4 pictures to your instagram every other day. So you open the notes app and make an extremely specific, unrealistic, and way too intense routine to follow everyday. You set reminders, add 30 new alarms to your phone, you fill your amazon cart with stuff you believe you'll defiantly use. And after you make yet another playlist of YouTube workout videos you go to bed confident your life is gonna change forever after this...

Now one of two things happen:

You completely throw away the routine the minute you wake up the next day

Or, you do it for a few days but eventually burnout and find yourself back where you were before, now with just more useless junk you have no room for...

ミ★I have personally been both. But we can all empathize with this because if maintaining a routine was easy it wouldn't be such a successful phenomenon online. Out of the millions of views under "my morning routine" posts, many, if not majority, of them are people who wish they can live the way these people do. I think we as people have developed mindsets that are negative first, positive later. Ever since the quarantine we've been used to online overconsumption. The idea that "more is better", and the scare that was the virus has sparked this fear in us that is wasted time. Hence us wanting to build new giant routines in the middle of the night just to eventually abandon it because our minds and bodies don't evolve or develop like that overnight. Most the time the routines are grueling and just makes us feel exhausted over accomplished. When we don't see immediate change a lot people, including myself, give up then and there.

☆Im not here to tell you how to keep a constant routine or how to become more disciplined because all that information is in the palm of your hands. Honestly at the end of the day it's about your mindset. Realizing what is around you and remembering the reality you live in. You want that body? You want that hair growth? You want to post? It's all possible but here's where the issue lies:

ミ★We forget to forgive ourselves and to be patient with ourselves. We fall under the pressure to perform for social media as well. In this digital age we try to make social media real life 24/7 and put real life on the back burner. Everything must be aesthetic or else! Or if you can't keep a constant routine for a week you're a failure! But the reality is no one just wakes up in their perfect aesthetic one day and has this perfect routine down pat the first time. Another thing that we keep doing is what everyone else is doing. Another example of putting the online first before real life. We've forgotten the beauty of growth, and how things develop overtime. It reminds me of how small artists have the potential to blow up overnight. They suddenly have all these eyes on them and then the GP turns on them simply because their exceptions don't match the artist's personal growth. I think we do the same to ourselves. But regardless of what other people, social media or even what you might even say to yourself the best way to find a good routine is get to know yourself, not someone else. And to not go by others expectations. It's good to hold yourself to a high regard and to make ambitious goals. But you should remind yourself that you want this to last and you don't want to burn yourself out trying to perfect your life like it's a speed run.

☆When following creators who makes content like this I advise to follow people you relate to first. Not saying you can't follow those extremely aesthetic ASMR morning/Night routine videos because hell I watch them too. But know that I watch them for simply that. I've come to the point where I can watch that stuff and not feel incompetent or that I'm failing in life but I digress. Don't pay attention to the many trends and what's hot, just look for people who you might see yourself in, or people who have qualities similar to yours. Physically, mentally, ect. Because if you're a black girl who wants to know how to do a specific 4C hairstyle you're not going to the white girl influencers for tutorials are you? For me I watch Jackie Aina. Her and I don't even have the same tastes in certain aspects, specifically clothing and home decor but she reminds me a lot of myself and some of my values. Her content inspires me but doesn't make me feel like I need to reinvent myself overnight. That's not realistic nor healthy. I think subjecting yourself to that will just give you an identity crisis. Her content helps me feel confident and you should follow people like that too.

ミ★My purpose of this post is not "continue to be a slob" (I'm a Taurus stellium and Venusian. Girl we don't do that over 'chere.) it's to remind and to encourage. A reminder that what you see online isn't what real life is 24/7. Doesn't mean it's all fake, it just means that life doesn't just look like one thing. Social media just tends to make our vision a bit tunneled. Yes, some peoples lives surround what they eat in a day, what they do when they get out of bed, and the steps they follow in their nighttime skincare routine. But our attachment and overconsumption to these types of creators constantly fails to remind us that they're still human. Hell even when the human creators tell y'all "hey I'm human" they still aren't treated as such but guess what? They are! So are you. You are still human. Finding a groove that works for you will take time. And many times you will fail. You will probably forget to do something, you won't have the time for certain tasks, or an inconvenience will pop up out of no where that knocks you off course. But if at first you don't succeed, try again. Social media picture perfect propaganda (lol) has made us forget that life happens and that we will essentially always struggle with routine. Some things stick, some things don't. Some routines last a long time, some only stay for a day. We live in an age where everyone's trying to move as fast as they can to keep with the trends, keep up appearances, and to make up for lost time. And as much as I love the thrill of the fast life, how can I expect to see my growth, what I like, what needs changing and how to fall into a good rhythm when I'm too busy trying to keep up.

✧─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Xoxo, Sydney Mykah -☆

[spaceshipellie]

everything’s about you to me

ellie williams x reader

chapter two: this house is a graveyard

masterlist for other chapters *✧･ﾟ: wc: 3.7k

summary: in the midst of the apocalypse, you and ellie find each other after you’ve both lost everything. what started out as a mere safety in numbers pairing, turns into something imperishable. however, after some time you get separated, leaving you both to believe the other is dead. four years later you find a commune in wyoming.

warnings: tlou au, death, grief, burying a body, mentions of deceased loved ones, it’s sad sorry :( 18+ mdni

author’s note: i promise the next part will be less traumatic!!! it’s actually going to be very cute (i think anyway lmao) but back to this part!! thank you for all the love so far <3 lmk what you think

♪ ‘cause the world could be burning, and all i’d be thinking, is “how are you doing, baby?”

The sky was a mottled grey overhead as the three of you walked along the rural road. Nearly an hour had passed since the diner but conversations were minimal. From Ellie at least, who was reluctant to share much about herself. It was understandable, you wouldn’t be in a rush to share your life with people you had only just met. The time had allowed you to observe her though. She was wearing a blue button up with the sleeves ripped off and a grey t-shirt underneath, jeans, and converses which matched your own. Her hair was short and roughly tied up in a half up, half down.

You couldn’t help but ponder the reasons as to why she might be alone. She must have been about your age and the thought of being alone terrified you so you couldn’t imagine what she might have been through. Did she have a family? Friends? Where was she going before she met you? All of these questions swirled around your brain but you thought better of bombarding her with them. She seemed lost and forlorn and you didn’t want to do anything to upset her. Your attention was diverted when you heard coughing.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” your mom said, wiping her hand over her mouth. She then pointed up ahead to a farmhouse in the distance. “We should head towards that.”

You nodded and looked over at Ellie who looked back at you. Her lips tightened into a line as she nodded slowly. You prayed that you wouldn't find anything too terrible. Looking at the place, it almost seemed too good to be true. You mentally prepared for the possibility it was either already taken by someone or was hoarding a bunch of infected. Both of which had the opportunity to kill you.

It was another fifteen minutes before you reached the farmhouse. On approach you couldn’t hear anything, but you all cautioned yourselves as you moved towards the front door. Your mom, who insisted on going first, slowly pushed the door open with her foot, gun pointing forward. You gripped your bat and Ellie held the crowbar.

The door creaked as it opened, and eventually a jangle of cans came from above your heads. You winced at the noise, clearly set up by someone as an alarm. Nothing happened though. You relaxed your shoulders slightly as you moved further down the hall. Most of the doors were open giving you a peek at the kitchen-diner on the left side and a living room on the other.

“I’ll check upstairs,” Ellie said, shuffling past you.

You and your mom checked the downstairs rooms, each time meeting each other in the hallway and declaring nobody there. Ellie then returned downstairs.

“Anything?” You asked.

“No, all clear.”

A bang caused all of your heads to face the kitchen. You shared hesitant glances before slowly edging in that direction. It must be outside, you thought, because the kitchen was definitely empty. Your mom slowly turned the back door handle and again, pushed it open with her foot, gun looking left to right. The same noise sounded again.

“The barn,” you whispered.

The closer you got the clearer you could hear heavy breathing. It didn’t really sound like infected but why would a person be banging on a barn wall. You all slipped through the half open door, silence falling. You scanned over the room quickly.

“There doesn’t seem to be any–oh my god!” You involuntarily stepped back, accidentally bumping into Ellie. Your mom and Ellie both followed your eyes to the far corner.

“Shit.”

A man hung from a wooden beam with a rope tight around his neck. A wooden stool lay on its side on the floor beneath him. You only had a moment to take it in before the bang came again from what you now knew to be a stable door. It was followed by another rumbly deep breath. Ellie went over and slowly unbolted the door. A pinto horse with chestnut patches dashed out, neighing wildly and bucking.

“Woah, woah, easy,” Ellie soothed. Her hand came to touch its neck and the horse seemed to calm down ever so slightly. It was still very fidgety and loud but didn’t seem like it was going to run off as Ellie was now stroking its neck. You were amazed at what effect she seemed to be having on the distressed animal. You noticed something white had fallen to the ground after the door had swung open so you went over to pick it up.

“This guy left a note.”

“What does it say?”

“To whoever finds this, I’m sorry that you’re still alive in this fucked up world. If it’s any consolation, I have a pretty decent farmhouse here. Don’t get too many infected unless you go further than a few miles. There’s some food in the cupboards, ammo, first aid stuff. You should be alright here for some time if you’re smart. If you run out of stuff, there’s a town about six miles east. Though I can’t guarantee what’s left of it. And please take care of my horse, Harley. She’s a beaut and I know I’m a coward for leaving her on her own but I couldn't take it anymore. Good luck and thank you. - Jack.”

“God,” your mom breathed.

“Shit’s messed up,” Ellie said.

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking over at Jack's hanging body. “We should cut him down. Maybe bury him. The least we can do when he’s giving us his house.”

The other’s nodded. You walked over to him and picked up the stool, steadying it to stand on. You stood on the stool, your mom warning you to be careful as you reached up to cut the rope. You could see his face clearly now. His brown eyes were open and his face was sunken. His hair was matted and he was wearing muddy, navy overalls. The decomposing smell was faintly running up your nostrils. Judging by it though, he couldn’t have been dead for too long otherwise it would have been difficult to stomach.

You tried to hurry your sawing at the rope until eventually it snapped and his body hit the ground with a heavy thud. You wobbled as you dismounted the stool, searching around for a shovel. You wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. You spotted one in the corner and grabbed it before purposely walking out the barn door and round to the side of it, throwing down the shovel. Marching back in, you saw Ellie had already started to grab his arms and your mom went to grab his legs before she dropped them, doubling over in a coughing fit.

“Let me,” you said, taking his legs.

You and Ellie carried him out to where you had dropped the shovel and placed him down. You grabbed the shovel and started digging, haphazardly tossing the soil into a large pile. The atmosphere was gloomy and solemn. No one spoke as you kept digging, pausing to wipe your forehead, smearing mud on it.

“Want me to take over?” Ellie offered.

“No,” you said, a little too abruptly, “it’s okay.”

Flashes of your dad’s lifeless body cursed your mind as you ignored the ache in your arms. The way it had fallen in a bloody heap and there was nothing you could do. No way for you to reach out and touch him or tell him goodbye. Tell him everything will actually be fine and you can find him a doctor. Tell him thank you for keeping you safe. You could never go back and change your last moments with him and it killed you.

“Honey, I think that’s enough,” your mom’s voice was mellow yet concerned as she looked down at you.

She helped you out of the deep grave you had dug and you wiped your hands on your jeans, staring down at the empty pit. You and Ellie resumed holding Jack's arms and legs as you lowered him in, letting him drop the last little bit as you couldn’t reach. You looked at his face one last time, letting out a deep breath before picking up the shovel again and piling all of the dirt back in. By the time you were done, the wind had picked up and it howled around you.

“We should go inside, I’ll go and check that the horse is tied up,” Ellie excused herself as you and your mom made your way back towards the back door of the house.

“I’m gonna go upstairs” your mom said before making her way up there.

You looked around the kitchen, wringing your hands together. The last twenty-four hours had been a shit show and you could do with some peace now that you had found this place. You dumped your backpack and jacket on the dining table and started rummaging through the cupboards, remembering how the note had said there was food. Your eyes brightened upon seeing stacks of cans filled right up to the front. What a gold mine, you thought. You heard the floorboards at the top of the stairs creak.

“Hey, look at all this, isn’t it–” you turned excitedly with a can of ravioli in your hand, but your smile faltered when you saw your mom’s face. Her eyes damp and bloodshot.

“What is it?”

“Honey, I–” her voice cracked. You put the can down.

“Mom?”

“Honey, I’m sorry, I didn’t know until I…” her voice was strangled as she gestured upstairs.

Ellie then came through the door and stopped in her tracks as she noticed the tension in the room.

“Mom, tell me. Please.”

She cleared her throat.

“I was bit.”

Her words punctured a hole right through you, a lump forming in your throat.

“No, no, no, no,” your words got more rapid and desperate. This can’t be happening.

“W-where?”

Your mom pulled her top away from her shoulder and turned to show the gruesome bite mark on the back of it. You saw how the blood had run from it, some of it fresh, some of it dry.

“I wasn’t sure if it was just an injury or what until I looked in the mirror.”

She pulled her top back up and faced you again. You were crying, silently. In fact, the silence in the entire room was deafening.

“Please don’t leave me.” Your voice was hushed and weak. Your mom walked over and cupped your cheeks, brushing a tear away with her thumb.

“My baby, I’m so sorry.”

No one said anything for a moment, you just cried as she hugged you.

“I do not want to turn into one of those things and hurt you.”

You pulled back to look at her, eyes darting between hers.

“So what…w-what do you mean?”

“I mean,” she took in a shaky breath, “I’m going to take care of it myself,” her voice cracked and a sad smile stretched her lips and she nodded as if she was convincing herself.

“No,” you whispered, pulling her in for a bone crushingly tight hug.

“It’s better this way,” she said as she rubbed your back, “I’m going to take my gun, you still have plenty others here, and I’m going to walk as far as I can make it and you are not going to look for me.”

“I can’t–it’s not fair,” your voice was lost in her hair.

“I know it’s not, but hey, look at me,” she brushed your hair away from your face.

“You’re going to be okay, you hear me? You’re going to stay here, in this house, together,” she looked at Ellie as she said the last word before looking back at you. You tried to speak but she shook her head so she could finish.

“I need to know that you’ll do that for me, and that you’ll stay safe, okay?” She hugged you again, “promise me, baby.”

“I promise.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too, mom.”

“You’ll be okay.”

She gave you a final squeeze and pulled away.

“I probably don’t have long left so…” she dizzily looked around for her gun.

Your body involuntarily moved towards her but you stopped yourself. You couldn’t stop this. Nothing could. She coughed again and you could see her hands twitching. She shook out all the bullets from her gun except for two. You could tell she was trying her hardest to keep it together, but she could never fool you. The fear was making her face seem hollow and cold. Her fingers trembled as they clutched the gun. She looked at you one last time before leaving out the back door and that was the last time you ever saw her.

Ellie could see how your body was about to crumble and she moved quickly to grab you as you fell down to your knees. She knelt beside you and held your shaking body. Her chin rested on your shoulder and your eyes left wet patches on hers. It felt like the air had been knocked out of you. Everything you’d ever known was gone.

Even with everything you were feeling right now you felt guilty that this girl you’d only just met had to deal with you like this. But you were grateful she was there.

She stayed there until you were ready to pull away, revealing your bloodshot eyes and cracked lips. You slumped back against the counter and Ellie sat with her arms wrapped around her bent knees. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and her eyes looked glossy as she stared at the ground. Your head ached from the crying and your face felt swollen.

“I don’t know what to do,” your voice squeaked. She took a minute to answer and her jaw clenched.

“You can’t do anything,” she mumbled, defeatedly.

It was getting darker by the minute. The haunting silence was only disrupted by a moth tapping against the ceiling. You felt overwhelmed with groggy tiredness but equally you couldn’t switch your brain off. Normally you would go to bed thinking about what to do the next day but now, you didn’t care. You couldn’t think of anything to care about.

“Maybe we should try and get some sleep,” Ellie suggested. You just nodded, slowly.

Ellie got up and left the room and you heard her lock the front door, she came back in to grab a chair and propped one under the front door and one under the back door handle just in case the locks were dodgy. She also went round closing all the curtains and checking that all of the windows were shut. Meanwhile, you sat on the kitchen floor, feeling like a ghost. She grabbed as much stuff from the table as she could including half of your things before you willed yourself up onto your feet to grab the rest. At the top of the stairs, Ellie turned to you.

“Which one do you want?”

You looked at the two bedrooms and just pointed at one of them, not really analysing it. She went in and dropped off the stuff that was yours.

“Thanks.”

“S’okay.”

She went into the other room and put her stuff down whilst you put your gun and bat near your bed. You sighed a withered sigh as you looked around the room. It had a double bed which was made up with a duvet and pillows. It had a mirrored dresser on one wall and a wardrobe on the other. The furniture looked like it hadn’t been updated for several decades before the outbreak. The wallpaper was peeling off the walls in places and framed paintings of the countryside adorned them. It was a gift that you had found this place but it was a hard one to appreciate right now. Ellie came out of her room and leant her hand on the bannister.

“Um, goodnight then I guess.”

“Yeah,” you awkwardly bit your lip, “goodnight.”

Your head still pounded with the number of tears that had been shed over the past two weeks. It felt like you were going insane. You had mostly stayed cooped up in your room, not knowing how to handle the grief. Thankfully, due to the supplies that had already been in the house you hadn’t needed to go for a supply run yet. Ellie had left you alone, not wanting to interfere. The few times you had bumped into her there was a strained tension between you. You weren’t surprised considering this was an unusual circumstance for meeting someone new, but you felt strange about it nonetheless and hoped that in time, it would ease. After all, you were supposedly stuck together for the foreseeable future.

Up until this point you had been feeling a great sorrow where your whole body ached and you could barely tell that the days were passing. Now, however, you were entering a state of numbness, a complete disconnect from what was around you. It was as if the world had been chipping away at you piece by piece all these years and this had been the last hit before you had declined into nothing.

On the first night you had looked through the bedroom draws and had found some spare clothes to sleep in. You and Ellie had also managed to wash your own clothes with some rainwater you had collected and some soap you found in the bathroom. It hadn’t necessarily made them squeaky clean but it was better than nothing. It had also been relieving to have been able to clean your skin for the first time in a while. You were sitting on the bed with your knees bunched up against your chest and your cheek resting on them, eyes trailing over some of the pictures on the wall.

You sighed, pulling yourself up from the bed and slumping over to the mirrored dresser. Your devoid expression stared back at you. Your hair had been messed around from lying against the pillow for so long so you feebly attempted to tidy it before faltering towards the stairs. The floorboards at the top creaked under your weight and your hand gripped the bannister tightly, as if you would fall if you let go. With trembling steps, you made your way down and peeked through the open living room door. Ellie was slouching on the couch looking at a piece of crumpled paper.

“What’s that?” Your voice croaked so you coughed to clear it.

Her head shot to you as she was caught off guard by your presence. “Looks like instructions on how to get to the town.”

You shuffled over and sat beside her so you could see. She handed it to you, using her now free hands to rub her tired eyes. You observed the scribbles on the paper. It featured a roughly drawn map of squares and arrows, labelled with things like ‘road on the big hill’ and ‘supermarket.’

“Will be worth a try in a few days, we’re probably still alright for now,” she suggested. You nodded, putting the map down on the coffee table.

You picked at your hands in your lap, not knowing what to say. You and Ellie hadn’t said much to each other since you got here, events having not really allowed for it. You realised that you knew next to nothing about her. About her life, where she had come from, why she had saved you. Your eyes trailed down to the bandage on her right arm again.

“What happened to your arm?”

She immediately placed her left hand over it as if she was embarrassed or covering something up. “Oh, I uh, I got stabbed.”

You drew in a short breath. “Ouch.”

“Yeah,” she looked down at her arm, “it was pretty bad.”

Your sleeves were pushed up and she noticed you had a scar on your elbow.

“How did you get that?” She asked, gesturing to it. You lifted your arm, twisting it to look.

“Oh, that was from,” a puff of air escaped your nose, “it’s stupid and not as cool sounding as yours, I fell out of a tree trying to get a closer look at a bluebird.”

“Wow,” she snickered, “hope the look was worth it.”

“It was,” you looked down into your lap, running your hand over your arm, “you don’t come across many pretty things like that.”

You didn’t notice her looking at you when you spotted something behind the slightly open door of the cabinet the TV was resting on. You got up and crouched beside it, pulling the items out.

“CDs,” you mused to yourself, shuffling through them. Foo Fighters, Jimi Hendrix, Eagles, Tracy Chapman, Nirvana, Dolly Parton, Nickelback, and a few others.

“Too bad I can’t find the CD player,” Ellie remarked.

“Hm. It must be somewhere,” you said, fixing the pile of CDs, leaving them out on the coffee table as a reminder to look for the CD player. You stayed sitting on the floor, leaning on one of your hands and glanced around. You hadn’t really been in this room much. By the window was where the cabinet and TV sat then opposite was the dusty blue couch with a couple of limp throw cushions on. The walls were off white and much like upstairs, were covered in framed paintings. The windowsill was thick with dust and the moth-eaten curtains floated with the light breeze that was coming in from the open window.

“If you don’t mind me asking, where were you going before you came with us?”

Ellie stretched her hands and placed them on her knees, shuffling in her seat.

“Uh, nowhere really.”

“You didn’t have to be so nice to me that night, so thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

She looked down at the ground with squinted eyes, her head shaking a little.

“Well, I want to,” you murmured softly, “you’d barely just met me and not a lot of people would have been that way.”

You looked up at her but she wasn’t looking at you, almost as if it would hurt her to do so.

taglist *✧･ﾟ: @bellasfavelesbo @ximtiredx @abbyily @heartzjules @gold-dustwomxn @sawaagyapong @aouiaa @pinkigirl @nil-eena @ucannotcompare @cherriesxinthespring @blvebanisters @lonelyfooryouonly @ellieslegalwife @carmellie @iheartgeto @faceache111 @lveunoialv @jajsnjz @simpforellie @frickfrack-paddywack-ukulel-blog @unicycl @cass00x @lizziee-williamss1 @muthafuckingstargirl @kattirin @corpsebridenightamare

[molsno]

I've already written about why male socialization is a myth that needs to be discarded, but in the responses to those posts, I sometimes find tme trans people who concede that yes, the concept of male socialization should be rejected, but refuse to let go of their own supposed female socialization. this always makes me quite reasonably angry, for two reasons:

I dislike it when people hijack my posts about transmisogyny to talk about things that aren't transmisogyny.

rejecting male socialization but embracing female socialization is still innately transmisogynistic.

you might find yourself wondering how that second point could possibly be true. it's true for a lot of reasons, and I'll explain to the best of my ability.

"female socialization" is the idea that people who were assigned female at birth undergo a universal experience of girlhood that stays with them the rest of their lives.

right off the bat, this concept raises alarm bells. first, it is a bold (and horribly incorrect) assertion to claim that there is any universal experience of girlhood that is shared by all people who were afab. what exactly constitutes girlhood varies greatly based on culture, time period, race, class, sexual orientation, and many, many other factors. disregarding transness for a moment, can you really say that, for example, white women and black women in modern day america, even with all else being equal, are socialized in the same way? the differences in "socialization" only become more stark the fewer commonalities two given people have. to give another example, a white gay trans man born in 2001 to an upper middle class family in a progressive city in the north is going to have a very different life than a cis straight mexican woman born in 1952 to an impoverished family and risked her life immigrating to the us in the deep south. can you really say anything meaningful about the "female socialization" that these two supposedly have in common? I think that b. binaohan said it best in "decolonizing trans/gender 101":

Then in a singular sense we most certainly cannot talk about 'male socialization' or 'female socialization' as things that exist. We can only talk about 'male socialization**s**' and 'female socialization**s**'. For if we take the multiplicity of identity seriously, as we must, then we are socialized as a whole person based on the nexus of the parts of our identity and our axes of oppression. ... Indeed, it gets complex enough that we could assert, easily, that each individual is socialized in unique ways that cannot be assumed true of any other person, since no one else shares our **exact** context. Not even my sister was socialized in the same way that I was.

and while I could just leave it at that and tell you to read the rest of their book (which you should), it wouldn't sit right with me if I just debunked the concept without explaining exactly why it's transmisogynistic at its core.

now, I should preface this by saying that I believe trans people have a right to identify however they want, and I think that trans people deserve the space to talk about their lives before transition without facing judgment. there are tme trans people who consider themselves women and there are trans men who don't consider themselves women at all but nonetheless have a lot of negative experiences with being expected to conform to womanhood. I don't want to deprive these people of the ability to talk about their life experiences. however, I do want them to keep in mind a few things.

first of all, "female socialization" is terf rhetoric. terfs talk all the time about how womanhood is inherently traumatic, which they regularly use as a talking point to convince trans men to detransition and join their side. when your whole ideology hinges on the belief that having been afab predestines you to a life of suffering, who is a better target to indoctrinate than trans people for whom being expected to conform to womanhood was a major source of trauma and dysphoria? the myth of female socialization is precisely why there are detransitioners in the terf movement who vehemently oppose trans rights.

that's why when tme trans people talk about having undergone female socialization, it's almost always steeped in the underlying implication that womanhood is an innately negative experience. even if they don't buy into the biological determinism central to radical feminism, that implication is still present. because, you see, womanhood can still be innately negative because the result of being viewed as and expected to be a woman is that you are inundated with misogyny.

that right there is why clinging to the notion of female socialization is transmisogynistic. it allows tme trans people, many of whom don't even consider themselves women, to position themselves as experts who understand womanhood and misogyny better than any trans woman ever could. that's why I find it disingenuous when a tme trans person claims to reject male socialization but still considers themself as having undergone female socialization; how could they possibly benefit from doing so, other than by claiming to be more oppressed than trans women, by virtue of supposedly experiencing more misogyny?

by being viewed as more oppressed than trans women on the basis of female socialization, they gain access to "women's only" spaces that trans women are denied access to. their voices are given priority in discussions about gendered oppression. people more readily view them as the victims when they come into interpersonal conflict with trans women. they become incapable of perpetrating transmisogyny on the basis of being the "more oppressed" category of trans people.

how exactly could such a person not be transmisogynistic, though? if they believe that gendered socialization is a valid and universal truth that one can never escape from, then what does it even mean for them to reject the concept of male socialization? if they were to actually, vehemently reject it, then they would no longer be able to leverage their own "female socialization" to imply that trans women aren't real, genuine women on account of not having experienced it. and make no mistake - there are very few tme trans people who subscribe to the myth of gendered socialization that even claim to reject male socialization. most of the time, they're very clear about their beliefs that trans women have some "masculine energy" that we can never truly get rid of after having undergone a lifetime of being expected to conform to manhood. and as a result, they continue to treat trans women as dangerous oppressors.

that's why gendered socialization as a concept needs to be abandoned wholesale. there's nothing wrong with talking about your experiences as a trans person, but giving any validity to this vile terf rhetoric always harms trans women, just like it was intended to do from its very inception.

[thottyimagines]

Still thinking about Naruto in the year of our lord 2024 so I was wondering what your take would be on a Sannin swap, meaning team seven has different mentally unstable mentors from canon so they can be traumatized/educated in new and exciting ways <3

I've written a few about the potential dynamics between Naruto/Orochimaru, Sasuke/Tsunade, and Sakura/Jiraiya, but let me tell you about the different iteration that really and truly is my favorite:

Sakura/Orochimaru

Mad scientist, came-from-nothing ninja with insane chakra control reporting for duty.

Orochimaru takes one look at this pink-haired freak with a puddle of chakra who thinks she can stand side-by-side with the kyuubi and the last of one of the great dojutsu and says, would you like to live deliciously?

And Sakura says, of course I would.

It is not enough for her to succeed, others must fail. And Orochimaru loves and appreciates this about her.

Sakura runs away from Konoha with the promise of having a mentor who will teach her, who will focus on her, who will believe that she's more than her pitiful background and more than her overwhelming teammates.

She is, at first, foisted onto Kabuto. She frightens Kabuto.

When she gets good enough to replace Kabuto, which happens in a very alarming two years (max), Kabuto suddenly gets to live with the ever-present threat of becoming an experiment.

Orochimaru adores her and encourages her to steal any and all clan techniques and kekkei genkai that she can. Why should she be barred from knowledge if she yearns for it?

Sakura is the most learned woman in the elemental nations. She has figured out Orochimaru's Body Problem. She's replicated the Strength of a Hundred seal Tsunade uses. They are a plague unto Konohagakure.

She's gene splicing like nobody's business.

The only people who care that Sakura up and left are Naruto, Kakashi, a bit of Sasuke, and Ino. Except for...well, no one has that manic desire to bring her back, the way Naruto did when Sasuke went missing nin. They kind of view her as a failed experiment, though Ino misses her and thinks of her a lot.

Sasuke/Jiraiya

Such a miserable duo, but they kind of like it.

Jiraiya is strong enough to keep Sasuke safe, and he keeps the kid out of Konoha, which he really needed.

Sasuke takes to everything quickly and antagonistically. Jiraiya hates having such a talented student - he is, perhaps, even more talented than Minato - who is so desperately antisocial.

You know that one post that's like, someone who's objectively attractive but has negative rizz? That's Sasuke, and Jiraiya despairs on the regular, because this student of his should, in theory, take over this position as horny spy master with the way he effortlessly draws in beautiful women who can act as informants. Sadly, due to his personality, no one would ever believe that Sasuke is just charming these (knowledgable) women into bed with him.

Sasuke takes to sealing, and Jiraiya is petrified that he's going to come up with something to, like, replenish his clan at an alarming rate.

Sasuke gets rid of his brother with some sort of homemade seal that traps him in a Matryoshka doll or something. He didn't technically commit fratricide, but Itachi is suffering in that thing.

He comes back to the village looking way better than he did when he left. Jiraiya takes that as his main point of pride.

Naruto/Tsunade

Naruto, should he learn chakra control, is the ideal healer in that he has more chakra than should fit in a human body, even an Uzumaki.

It's the chakra control that is Tsunade's true challenge in teaching. And, good god, is it a challenge. Sasuke is already murdering his brother by the time Naruto can reliably aid in a minor surgery.

But once he finally learns it, Naruto is improving in leaps and bounds, as is his way.

He completes a Strength of a Hundred seal six months after he finally learns chakra control. Sakura has had hers for two years, and he does not know or care.

Naruto is saving people at unprecedented rates. Honestly, Tsunade struggles to justify making him a combat medic, because he's doing so much good in the hospital just staying at the village.

Naruto is Naruto, though, so Tsunade teaches him to brawl using her style.

He winds up on the most dangerous missions, due to the fact that he has a natural healing ability with his Kyuubi, and is now the most talented healer Konoha has (who insists on getting out there).

Honestly, I could see him winding up in ANBU, given those skills and traits.

His true hardship, after mastering chakra control, is realizing that his talk-no-jutsu isn't going to work all the time and that he can't derail missions to attempt it.

Naruto is a better hokage for it, in the end.

[queenofapeacefuldawn]

An Analysis of SPY × Family Chapter 99

Manga spoilers, and a very long post ahead!

I'd like to preface this with saying that all of this is my own analysis, and I'm not very smart at these things, so take this with a grain of salt!

This chapter was extremely heavy: with Henry realising his feelings for Martha, and how it echoed the main theme of this story: how war destroys relationships and how innocent civilians are forced to enlist out of fear for their families' safety.

The chapter starts off, continuing off the cliffhanger of the last chapter— it turns out to be a false alarm, but Martha leaves her feelings for Henry unsaid.

She begins writing letters to Henry, and they keep a regular correspondence to substitute for their tea parties--

The war continues to grow dire, and Martha's squad hasn't been given any combat training, yet, they're forced to go to the front lines, under the pretext of "serving your country" and "keeping your family safe".

Henry is obviously shocked and scared for Martha when he finds out she's on the front lines, but we never get to hear his thoughts with the introduction of this fucking bitch-

🤓☝️ lookin ass--

In this chapter, we get to see Donovan's own ideals, which are shown through his argument in the debate. Interestingly, Donovan is almost the same age as Demetrius is in the present-day. (At least, that's what I'm assuming-- Henry mentions being in charge of the middle schoolers, and Demetrius is a middle-schooler.)

He claims,

I have a couple of thoughts about this. First,

"I know that solving differences with dialogue and weapons is ideal". The phrasing of this is interesting, because it kind of sounds like he doesn't believe in that-- he just knows that solving differences with diplomacy instead of war is 'ideal', but does he really believe in that? I don't think he does-- and, his own definition of 'peace' is definitely... ambiguous. What does he think 'peace' is? Subjugating other countries with his own power?

He already has a strange concept of humanity and other humans' own ideals-- he believes that, at our core natures, human beings are liars. That the only thing we're capable of is war and destruction.

This is also very similar to his own ideals that we see in modern-day. He doesn't care about either of his sons, as he says, they are essentially strangers to him. And, you might have raised them (though with Donovan, "raised" is a stretch), you might be their own father, according to him, he will never truly know his sons. Which is why he doesn't even attempt to understand them. His own ignorance for human nature and for others around him is really what makes him a failure of a father-- we are never truly born "knowing" others. Yet, every day, we make an attempt to learn the people we care about-- and isn't that a little of what love is? Take the Forgers-- they are three strangers to each other, each concealing their own natures from the others. They're all liars, and yet, they're making an effort to heal; they're learning to love and they're learning to learn about the people around them, the people they care about.

This is his flawed ideology. In his world, humans are strangers-- humans are nothing to each other, they're always hiding their true intentions from each other. Humans can't be trusted-- humans don't trust each other, which is why war and destruction and pain is all humanity is capable of.

But it's really not. SxF's message is of how three strangers--- three orphans of a war they were forced to partake in--- come together and form a home. Yes, they are liars, yes, they're hiding their true intentions, but they're making a home for themselves, a home where one can be safe, where a young girl, who's experienced horrors no child should, can feel safe and in her mother's arms.

Which is why I think Donovan's ideology is so flawed--- and how beats of it echo in the modern-day SxF story, especially when Twilight meets him.

Yes, by mere dialogue, reaching a mutual understanding is idealistic, but the most important thing is to not stop seeking to understand each other.

Humans are flawed, humans are selfish, humans are kind--- there's a debate on whether, intrinsically, humans are good or bad. We're all given different cards to play with, but really, it's up to us to decide on our faith in humanity.

It seems like Donovan has a wholly negative view on humans--- we can never know each other's true intentions, and it's with this doubt that humans wage wars--- it's with this doubt that humans lie and kill and cause destruction.

It's because of this doubt that Desmond is planning a war himself.

Martha writes Henry a letter, and she talks about a dream where all the students are holding hands, circling Henry. She can't join them because her hands are filthy--- maybe it's guilt? Maybe she's feeling guilty, maybe she feels like she can't join the others because her hands are stained with blood.

She's scared. She's regretting joining the front lines. Her only solace is the letters from him. The only way he knows she's alive is the letters from her.

I feel like another story would have taken a turn, making Henry regret his own feelings for Martha because the war had torn them apart. Instead, Henry realises his own feelings and his own wants too late-- and it becomes the last letter he gets from her.

It feels like an extra gut punch, as in the beginning Martha was embarrassed to call him "beloved", but now, he's calling her beloved, and he misses her so much. He cares for her so much, and doesn't know how she is.

All he can think is---

His hands are stained with ink. The nib of his pen is almost breaking. Ink is bleeding onto the page. In Martha's dream, her hands are stained with blood due to her desire to protect Henry and her country. In Henry's reality, his hands are stained with ink due to his desire for Martha to come back, be with him again. The Soldier and the Scholar, each trapped in their own Hell.

Henry finds out that Martha's squad has been killed. Their lives were a "sacrifice" for their country. This is blatant propaganda, and, he feels they're sullying her memory by mythologizing her; by using her life, using her death as a way to snare more students into a violent and hopeless and painful battle.

He speaks out. He's punished.

He's been brutalised so much, that he needs to wear a monocle.

We learn more about Donovan's and Henry's own ideals. Donovan gives up on people who've disappointed him-- people who he deems as fools. Henry doesn't believe in that. He believes that everybody deserves to not be given up on--- every body deserves a person in their own corner.

Towards the end of the chapter, Henry's forced into a marriage by his father, believing it's "for the best", because the soldier he was waiting for never came back to him.

We cut to "Somewhere near the East-West border", to a home with a fireplace. Martha is just opening her eyes, and is severely injured.

This definitely isn't a safehouse or military barracks or a military hospital.

A home with a family, or at least a person, with a fireplace and a chopping block for firewood.

This place is also near the sea,

which makes me think it's somewhere near the south. (If I'm remembering the map correctly).

Edit: The map is faithful to irl Germany, which means the sea is to the north, not the south. Sorry for the discrepancy before!

I'm thinking someone rescued Martha while she was injured, and brought her to their place to rest and recuperate--- which is why she's presumed dead, and why Henry wasn't ever given closure.

The next chapter is no doubt going to be explosive--- the 100th chapter. I feel like this arc will segue into something bigger, something more heart-wrenching and painful (I don't know how that's possible, but I trust Endo-sensei.)

---

Thank you for making this far and reading this whole thing! I hope you enjoyed, and I hope I wasn't annoying with my hatred for Donovan lol.

Also, on a more light-hearted note, I explained the plot of SxF to my dad, and he's intrigued and wants to read the manga. I'm planning on showing him the first ep of the anime, to see if he likes it. I feel like he will.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hello it's me again! I just wanna say I am in love with your ror x child reader story because there so cuteeee

Anyway can I request a ror gods (Zeus, Poseidon, hades, Hermes, ares, Aphrodite, Heracles and Beelzebub) x child female reader

Basically the reader has a train station (she's basically the owner) that leads to Valhalla or helhaim and also the reader is the goddess of stars and travel

And she's often called the 'guiding light' because she guides people to where they go either alive or dead

But the other gods don't know what the reader looks like due to the reader not really leaving the station

But one day the gods needed the reader's help because there was a problem at Valhalla

How would they react that a child solved their problem?

The reader is very cheerful and happy-go-lucky but can also be serious and deadly

(Also can you maybe base the reader's clothes like the pic)

-Guiding Light Train Station is where everyone first arrives at following their death. It’s brightly lit, warm feeling, and runs very smoothly and quickly, with one of several trains running every ten minutes, keeping the station as empty as possible.

-The Goddess of Stars, who was also known as the goddess of travel, or the guiding light, is the station master, but looking at her, many would not believe her words to be true.

-You looked like a child, wearing a train station uniform that was way too big for you, adorable, bright and bubbly, you didn’t look like someone who would handle an operation like this for the newly dead.

-But it was true, Station Master Y/N wasn’t as well known as other gods, but while passengers were at her station, she did what she could to help them.

-Every person would go to the ticket counter, where a super advanced algorithm system would print the tickets of where someone was going to go, Valhalla, Helheim, or to a special place where souls were immediately reincarnated into new bodies. Occasionally you would have people who have tickets to Tartarus, in the pits of Helheim, but that was only for people who committed terrible things in their lives, their souls doomed forever be locked away.

-You helped the newest passengers board the correct train and disciplined the ones who tried to board other trains, like those who aren’t happy to go to Helheim try to board the Valhalla train.

-You were tiny but you sure were mighty, your strength didn’t match your petite frame as you dragged the offenders by their ears to their correct train.

-Usually, when most arrived at their destination, they forgot about you, now faced with their new destinations, and not many gods knew what you looked like, other than you were female, because you never left your station as there were always people arriving.

-You were patrolling around your station, skipping while humming before an alarm sounded and you turned instantly, looking up before running through the station, your arms out to the side before leaping up and landing in the arms of a Valhalla guard who oversaw the station with you.

-He had seen you leaping over the crowd and quickly lifted his arms to catch you before setting you down in front of the Valhalla train, which was still stationed, as it should have left several minutes ago.

-The guard saluted you and spoke, “Reports show from the travel map that the other train is still at the station in Valhalla, there is a disturbance with the track. Lord Zeus himself has sent a distress signal here for assistance.”

-You nodded, not looking at all worried, as this happened every now and then before turning, “Keep the other trains running on schedule.” He saluted you before picking you up so you were sitting on his shoulders so you could see the crowd waiting to go to Valhalla, which is the second busiest train, “Attention all passengers bound for Valhalla! We are experience technical difficulties at the Valhalla Station. Please be patient and you will be on your way soon!”

-Most weren’t bothered by having to wait, as the other trains to Helheim and Tartarus were now working double time to keep the station as low as possible.

-Your assistant set you down and  you leapt down onto the track and straightened your hat, “I’ll be back!” and like a bolt of glittering lightning, you were gone, racing down the track to the Valhalla station.

-Several gods were at the Valhalla Station, as they had been called to a disturbance, a fight had broken out and had actually knocked the train off the tracks.

-Hercules and Ares had tried to put it back on the tracks, but without much luck, as it was on a magic track that they couldn’t figure out, they even called Beelzebub and Odin for their help but only Beelzebub was available, as Odin was dealing with those who had caused the fight.

-A crack of lightning interrupted any conversations as you appeared, leaping up from the track before landing in front of the other gods, “Have no fear- Station Master Y/N is here!”

-They all blinked in unison, they had no idea that you were only a child as you turned, looking at the train off the tracks, squatting on the platform next to it, “What happened?”

-Hermes spoke, being the first to shake off his shock, “A fight broke out, one that was big enough that we gods had to come down and handle it, but during the fight the train got knocked off the tracks.”

-You nodded softly before turning around, “I can fix it!” your hands were on your hips and a big grin was on your lips as you went to the front of the train, where it was against the bumpers.

-Hercules and Ares, worried for your safety, approached, not wanting you to fall, Ares speaking, “Y/N, are you sure you can fix it, Hercules and I tried but we didn’t have much luck?”

-You nodded softly while reaching out to touch the train and it instantly vanished before reappearing back on the tracks, good as new, like nothing ever happened!

-Jaws dropped all around and Aphrodite spoke, “Oh my- how did you do that?” Hercules picked you up from the bumper that you were standing on and sat you back down, “These trains are created from my magic, being the Goddess of Travel. All trains, tracks, and stations are under my control.”

-Zeus chuckled warmly, reaching down to ruffle your hair gently as your hat was in your hands now, “My-my~ it’s nice to see someone so young working so hard.”

-Your cheeks puffed up in annoyance, hands coming to your hips, “I’m not that young! I’m just small because I’m travel sized!” Ares thought you were adorable, smiling fondly down at you before Beelzebub approached, asking about your magic and how it worked.

-You spoke with a smile on your lips, “It’s domain control to put it simply, everything to do with these stations are part of my domain, and I can control them at will, I can make the trains bigger or smaller, and the same with the stations. If I will it, it will happen.”

-Hades then spoke, reaching down to pat the top of your head gently, “So you’re the one who sends all of those new souls to Helheim and the various parts of the underworld.”

-You shrugged like it was no big deal, “Well there’s humans dying all the time and they need some place to go. I keep my stations working smoothly so no accidents happen and so my station is kept clear of troublemakers, like someone coming here to Valhalla who was supposed to go to Helheim or Tartarus.”

-This made sense and you beamed brightly up at them, hurting all of their hearts, “Come by my station if you want to take a scenic train ride. I have some available for gods or those who are here in Valhalla to go sight-seeing!”

-They all thanked you, some still in shock that you were able to fix the problem so easily, and you were a child on top of it before you hopped onto the train and crawled into a seat, sitting on your knees, waving at them and Hercules, Ares, Hermes, Zeus, and Aphrodite waved at you.

-They wanted to see you again, they had no idea that there was a child goddess who was working so hard.

-Zeus turned around, looking a bit confused, “Where’s Poseidon?” they all looked around as well, finding him missing.

-You sat back on your seat and flinched as you had gotten spooked by Poseidon sitting next to you, “What kind of scenic train routes are there? I need a break from my office.”

-You beamed, kicking your legs like a child, listing off the different ones available, all of them on Earth which he originally wasn’t keen on until you pulled out your phone and showed him pictures of the different areas.

-Many were stunned to meet Poseidon as the train arrived safely back at your station and your assistant was quickly loading up the next one, getting the station emptied out again as you showed Poseidon around, showing the different platforms as you led him upstairs to where a beautiful ruby red train was waiting with large windows on both sides, allowing panoramic views of the scenery, as well as private cars.

-Poseidon wanted to go to the Swiss Alps, wanting something different than the ocean and you hooked him up by giving him a beautiful private lounge complete with a fancy three-course meal and wines of his choosing.

-He was impressed, actually thanking you before taking a seat and you tipped your hat to him, “I will see you when you arrive back, Lord Poseidon. Enjoy your excursion!”

-He heard your voice once outside, “All aboard!!” and within moments the train took off and Poseidon leaned back, a deep sigh leaving him as he relaxed, ignoring his text messages from Zeus who said he was unfair for getting to your station first.

[kopivie]

share some hades!wrio headcanons? I'm actually SO invested i'm going to die

oh! i think i can come up with a few! it'll probably be some facts about him, and maybe some writing? (note: i'm coming back after finishing this and.. i got so carried away.)

(also as a side note, if i were to write a fic about this, i might use a lot of greek/ancient greek terms and words, so if you see something like that, please don't be alarmed.)

first and foremost, i'm definitely clinging to That One Part of wriothesley's canon lore of him abandoning the name given to him before his murder trial. canonically, he just picked up the name "wriothesley" from an obituary because he didn't want to use the one his foster parents gave him. what that name was, we will probably never know (unless it's said in his story quest, which i haven't done yet.) that said, allow me to jump into my hades!wriothesley hcs :D

"wriothesley" is a name that very few actually use. much like canon, people often refer to him as "your grace". however, he has many, many monikers; "the duke of meropide" and "king of the underworld" are just two of many.

underworld residents (or to overworlders, meropide prisoners) coined a bunch of new terms to refer to the elusive duke: aides or aidoneus (meaning "the unseen" or "the invisible one"), orcus (meaning "killer" or "the one who kills"), ditis pater/dis pater/dis (all meaning something along the lines of "rich one"), or clymenus (meaning "the illustrious" or "the revered one")

note: these are all actual names used to refer to hades in greek mythology.

no one calls him those names to his face or in his presence. those names are spoken in whisper -- saying any of those names seems to evoke a physical reaction to anyone who may have been in the fortress long enough to understand the weight behind those names.

hades!wriothesley is not a benevolent being. he is extremely objective. he seldom makes emotional decisions, which leads people to believe that at times, he has no emotions to speak of. (which isn't true, obviously.) his impartial decisions have cost many a life.

i think that because he doesn't rely on his emotions when making many decisions, that is the reason why he goes overboard when it comes to you. it's a little like shaking an unopened soda bottle for an hour and then suddenly opening the top.

wriothesley's love overflows, it gushes, it stains everything it touches. it seeps into every pore and changes you from the inside out. the problem with this, however, is that you resist this change initially.

you are receptive to his... i don't wanna call it advances, since that often has a negative connotation. wriothesley is anything but pushy and inappropriate. he's gentlemanly and chivalrous, so much so that you almost want to scream sometimes. let's call it courting — you allow him to court you, although you keep him at a distance.

why do you keep him at a distance? i... don't really know. perhaps someone can send in a suggestion. but the point is that you don't fully indulge yourself -- sometimes you do, but you become slightly distant and apologetic afterwards. wriothesley understands and is happy to be patient with you, but...

i think my suggestion for your hesitancy would be that you can feel the love that he exudes, and it scares you. you're afraid of what might happen if you allow yourself to sink too deep.

and that... that is probably why you resent him when he takes you to the fortress. that's part of the reason, anyhow. you were afraid of drowning and he literally took you to the bottom of the sea. in a metaphorical sense, he basically tied a brick to your ankles and dragged you down to his own depths against your will. you can't fight, you can't resist -- you can only endure. that is why you're angry with him.

"why do you resent me so?"

hades has the audacity to ask you such a question as you study a flower that he'd brought back from his latest visit to the overworld. you hadn't known of his departure, but when he gifted you this fresh plant, you felt something ugly and bitter stir within you. you became fixated on it, deciding to hole yourself up in your room to spend time with the only thing that gave you peace. you don't react to his question.

he stays quiet for a while, but he doesn't leave. after about five minutes, he inquires again. "please, blossom. i must know. i just wish to make you happy."

you all but slam your hand down on your desk. "happy? you want to make me happy?" you haven't raised your voice, but your tone is as icy as the vision that dangles from his clothing. "set me free. let me go home."

wriothesley is quiet again. "...will you at least look at me?"

the wetness in your eyes forces you to shake your head. "you haven't earned my gaze."

"and what must i do to earn it?"

"i've already told you."

"what else must i do?"

that gets you to turn around. "why are you so stubborn? what is preventing you from letting me go? you yourself can wander between the realms freely, but i can't?" your eyes sting with unshed tears, though the sensation doesn't last long. your frame trembles as you cry, and wriothesley cups your face to wipe the tears away. "do not touch me." you hiss at him.

wriothesley gives you a humorless smile. "you're not pushing me away."

...he's right. why aren't you pushing him away? "you haven't earned the right to touch me."

"haven't i?" hades is leaning in closer. you can smell peppermint on his breath. did he drink tea before coming? his thumb caresses your cheek. your eyes list to the side. "blossom," he calls you. "please."

you have a hard time resisting when he begs you like this. you hate how you let him get away with murder. he's trapped you here against your will, denied you of your freedom, and yet you still allow him to treat you like a deity. you allow him to do as he pleases. you don't feel threatened by him, no -- what you feel is his sincerity. his longing. his love.

you lock eyes with wriothesley. he's sharing a breath with you now. "wh-what do you want?" you ask. "you've already taken everything from me. how greedy can one man be?"

wriothesley's eyes glimmer in the lamplight. you can feel his gaze drop to your lips. his voice is noticeably deeper when he asks, "do you want to find out?"

you're not sure what you feel when he kisses you. the kiss is soft, sweet, and tastes of peppermint. his lips are warm, as is the rest of him. he licks into your mouth slowly and patiently, and you don't fight him.

because really, you've never wanted to push him away. you want to accept wriothesley for who he is, bloodied hands and all. you want him almost as bad as he wants you. and yet you just can't accept him in his entirety-- not as he is now. not when he's secretive and evasive. but his affection gives you some reprieve; his love gives you peace overwhelming, so much so that you let your own feelings shine through in moments like these.

you end the kiss first. you pull away, breathless, though you notice that he doesn't move an inch. after a brief silence, you finally speak. "you're too much for me." you murmur. "you'll be death of me."

wriothesley takes your hands in his. "for as long as i rule the underworld," he replies, "death will never find you. and that's a promise."

(also obligatory catte tag bc i need a fellow wrio lover to see this 🫡🩷 @catcze)

(p.s.: lemme know if i shouldn't tag you in this stuff, okay?)

[thestralluvr]

Lars Pinfield x reader headcanons part 2

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

his glasses are constantly breaking, lenses falling out, arms breaking, the bridge has literally snapped but he refuses to buy another pair.

avoids cameras like the plague.

a tech geek, he’s revamped a vintage camera.

his favourite movie is Vroom (1988), his favourite character is Ringe.

you’d think he’d own a super cool vintage car then, right? wrong he’s got a total shitbox that’s falling apart at the seams.

like the door is literally held together with duct tape.

his favourite show however, is drag race. his all time favourite queen is definitely jinkx.

cryptid believer, he’s definitely pulled all nighters researching them and comes to you with blood-shot eyes in the morning like “hey y/n did you know-“.

even working in the paranormal field he’s still a skeptic when it comes to hauntings, a fake until proven true kinda guy.

sets your alarms 15 minutes before you have to actually get up in order to get those mandatory cuddles in.

he adores the domestic moments between the two of you, even something as mundane cooking or cleaning together.

not big on pda unless he’s jealous 🤷 if someone’s flirting with you and not getting the hint he’ll wrap his arms around you from behind and kiss your neck, he can be possessive and it’s really hot.

but other than that, it’s usually hand holding, a quick kiss goodbye or hello, maybe an arm wrapped around you or hand on your thigh and legs entwined when working together.

but alone? he’s all over you, he can’t get enough.

his version of borrowing from people is secretly taking it then discretely putting it back when they realise what’s missing, he’d never admit it was him 😭.

poor babe puts a lot of pressure on himself.

he’d never admit if he was struggling with a certain calculation or something wasn’t adding up.

but you know, you can always tell.

so, when the moment arises you quietly ask him to join you for a break outside, 9 times out of 10 he’ll be able to figure out what he was stuck on once you’ve helped him clear his mind.

he’s forever grateful for you, what may seem like little things to you mean the entire world to him.

less sappy, you know that tiktok trend of boyfriends sleeping like they’re dead, got the plague, pharaoh’s curse, clutching their pearls? well that’s him.

his arms crossed over his chest, he’s ready for his coffin.

you’ve had to check if he was breathing a few times 😭.

if you’re american, he definitely mocks your accent.

if you’re not, you both secretly mock others’.

he’s constantly bumping into things, he doesn’t have much luck with corners i’m afraid. but hey, he’s tall with very gangly limbs i don’t blame him.

you’re always there, band aid box in hand with an unimpressed look on your face.

lars pinfield is the LEADER of the sassy man apocalypse.

the sass from this man, you swear you’re getting premature greys!!

in his hipster phase (referring to part 1) he got a septum piercing but he’s had it flipped up since.

the first time you saw it you were so taken aback.

“since when has that been there?!?!”

“uhh 2012?”

i think he’d have an industrial too but that’s just my opinion.

.

.

hopefully this was okay!!! i feel like you can definitely tell i’m australian by my writing 😭

[romkive]

Diluc Established Relationship Headcannons

Tags : fluff, established relationship, gender neutral reader

....::::**•°✾°•**::::....::::**•°✾°•**::::....::::**•°✾°•**::::...::::•°✾°•::::….

❃ Despite Diluc being a very stoic man, I strongly believe that he does show his love to his loved ones in a very subtle way.

❃ If you managed to be his partner, you really have to learn his language of affection. That doesn’t mean he is an unromantic individual, but after everything that happened the last few years surrounding the people that he loves and loved the most, he is a little bit more closed off.

❃ He is not the type to declare his love into the whole Teyvat so be mindful if you want to pursue a relationship with him. He prefers to show his affection in the safety of his residence where he knows that his staff won’t judge him or share what happens inside his home to other people of Mondstadt. But he can’t get away from the subtle teasing of Adelinde or when she shares stories of his childhood.

❃ Diluc seems the type that doesn’t vocally express what he likes or don’t. If you wear a new outfit you want to show him or you made him his favourite food, he won’t say that he loves it but his eyes will linger on you a bit more and the plate will be wiped clean in seconds. Sometimes though when the feelings that he has for you are overwhelming him, then is the moment that you will hear him say “I love you” followed with a speech that he may not say it much but he feels it every day. And you know what, everything he says is true

❃ Unfortunately, the boy is TOUCH STARVED. Being raised as the Ragnvindr heir, he didn’t have many opportunities to express what he wants. So don’t be alarmed when you two are alone that Diluc will pull you into his arms and ask you to stay there a little more. He doesn’t have a preference if he is the one being hugged or him hugging you but you being close to him relaxes him a lot. He especially loves for you to sit in his lap while he reading some documents and you to play with his hair.

❃ Diluc, personally, seems like the type that wants to be soft with you, he would hate if you from all people would see him as a harsh individual. So, when he holds your hand or pulling you into an embrace, his touch is featherlight to the point of being non-existent. He treats you like you are something fragile, something valuable that should not be tainted nor broken. You really have to explain to him that he will never be someone harsh in your eyes.

❃ His favourite place to kiss you is on your forehead or your cheek. Those places are also his favourites to be kissed upon. It reminds him of a much simpler time. Also, he loves seeing your face getting redder by the second when he is peppering your whole face with kisses. When he wants to be more romantic, he loves to take your hand and kiss your knuckles while maintaining eye contact with you. Or sometimes he loves to hold you by your cheeks and gaze upon your eyes before going for a kiss.

❃ Personally, I believe that he loves to give you everything that your eyes linger upon. From food that you are craving from Good Hunter to the most expensive dress that his eyes laid upon. Also make sure that he keeps the best grape juice (or wine if you prefer it) for you only. He absolutely loves seeing your eyes shine when he showers you with gifts.

❃ Contrary to popular belief, I strongly think that he would like you to be friends with Kaeya and the rest of the knights of Favonius. He doesn’t want you to just agree with everything he says or does and his disagreement with the knights is not yours to carry on. He loves for you to be independent and make your decisions. Also, he wants to deny it but you can see his smile when you are all in Angel’s Share and share stories with Kaeya and Jean.

❃ So, the point I want to make is give him time. He has been hurt emotionally and has been slowly trying to warm up to your affection. Never wonder if he does love you cause for him you are person that he wants to spent his whole time with you.

[rederiswrites]

I want to talk about my health journey over this last year, improving my function and getting better with fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue. But talking about chronic illness is so incredibly difficult. Look at the backlash people get for saying that exercise and sunshine and regular sleep really DO help depression. What I have to say is in many ways the same thing! It's an incredibly delicate issue, and very often, talking about solutions you can implement yourself sounds like blaming people for their own suffering. On the other hand, if all you hear is the conventional medical line that there's nothing but some medicine that sort of helps, that's where you're stuck. I was stuck.

I didn't want to hear that learning to fucking relax was going to be a huge component of my journey. That sounded like exactly the same shit the people who said "have you tried yoga" and the doctors who told me it was all in my head were saying! It's not, really. Not at all. It's missing far too many critical components. But uh....learning to relax is in fact incredibly important.

For example, yes, the pain is in my head. Pain is ALWAYS in our heads!! That is where the brain decides to interpret data received from the nerves as pain! It is ALWAYS heavily influenced by factors well beyond the objective experience. Science has thoroughly demonstrated that we can feel pain without an injury--indeed, that we can feel pain when the sensory input wasn't even on our body! And in the inverse, we can have injuries and not experience pain. Pain is not nearly as reliable a signal of injury as we believe it to be.

And yes! Yoga might help! It helps a lot of people! But if you go and do yoga with, say, a teacher who is not trauma-informed, or without at least some understanding of what your nervous system is up to, or the strains and trouble points in your body, you'll get little benefit and might experience harm.

The nervous system is our body's OS, in a very real sense, and for me as for many people, addressing that turns out to be really important to healing. But the nervous system isn't really designed to be user serviceable! So if it's being overreactive, constantly on high alert, keeping you in a stress response that physically blocks healing, feeling pain where there's really only a light and innocuous pressure, or maybe just a runaway inflammatory response that, like a highway traffic jam, is literally just creating itself-- well, fixing that is hardly a matter of just "oh silly goose you should stop that! It's all in my head!" But there are ways. Mindfulness techniques. Visualization. Meditation. I almost mistyped medication but it's actually true--a lot of the time fibro and ME/CFS patients get treated with antidepressants! It does help, for a while, but it doesn't change the underlying problem much.

For me, while I've tried and gotten benefit from some of those--actually, come to think, ALL of those things--pure information is my medicine of choice. Just exposing myself over and over to the message that you can get better, that people have, that there's nothing detectable mechanically wrong with me, to the science of physiology and the nervous system and pain. Books, TED talks, youtube videos, research papers, articles...

And most importantly, I had to commit. I had to reach a point where I said, I will do whatever it takes. No comfort, no habit, is more important than getting better, and I believe I can get better. No doctor ever told me that--I had to find survivors who had recovered online, largely by accident. Once I believed I could get better, working to achieve that goal became vastly easier. So I radically changed my diet. I restructured my days massively. I spent hundreds of hours consuming information that reinforced my hope and commitment and my understanding of the problems. I worked incredibly hard to get my sleep under control, and it's an ongoing process but there has been progress.

Today, I got out of bed before the second alarm that tells me to get off my phone and get up. Because getting up wasn't so crushingly hard. I didn't have a perfect night's sleep, but it was enough. Yesterday, and the day before, I worked steadily through the day, I accomplished my goals, and I didn't end the day crushingly drained OR bubbling with adrenaline from pushing myself beyond my normal limits. I don't need to recover, today. Because I didn't do more than I could sustainably do, and yet I made progress. I did laundry. Had great conversations. Planted three dozen tulips. Pulled weeds. Attended a webinar and learned how my state legislature works. Took care of the chickens. Ate a really healthy lunch that I enjoyed, and made the family a really healthy, delicious dinner. Caught up on the news with the family and then read a thought-provoking book. Made beads.

I still have a long way to climb on this spiral staircase. Probably the cold weather and midwinter will really challenge my ability to regulate myself and stay functional. I still have to incorporate regular exercise as a critical pillar of ongoing good health. I'm still struggling to find resources on meditation and mindfulness practice that I resonate with. (Three books in on that subject, one of which was interesting but annoying, two of which I actually quit in exasperation.) But I do really feel like I'm making progress that's not just luck or the usual fluctuation of symptoms. I am, in quiet ways, doing Pretty Okay. And that's a lot, when you've been bedbound.