#surely i am forgetting someone important. but alas

[taiturner]

TOP 9 12 CHARACTERS I LOVED IN 2023 ━ tagged by @seance & @ughmerlin (thank you so much, arianna & jagoda!💖). yes i cheated because i refused to make choices in the end, so sorry, this is a top 12✨. in no specific order outside of my top 5 obvious faves. also including only characters with new content from the year, otherwise i'd never be able to choose. probably not a surprise to anyone who follows me and has had to see these 12 faces over and over again... 😌

featuring Akilah, Taissa Turner, Sam Carpenter, Sara Myers, Henry Burrell, Jet, Grace Mukherjee, Layla Keating, Charles Haden-Savage, Sid, Jordan Li, & Hazel Callahan

tagging: @wyllhalsin, @cate-dunlap, @jameszmaguire, @ayoedebiris, @laylakeating, @jordanlayla, @eightynines, @craintheodora 💗 (if you've already done this pls let me know!!)

[vettelsdarling]

Hey Lissie! Another Hamilton 5+1 for you because I love the format, hehe. Straight to the point, here it is:

5 times Y/N woke up without Lewis and one time they woke up together.

I can definitely see a potential for angst and a bit of misunderstanding or yearning?! Lewis can either be a f1 driver or have it as an AU with another job! The prompt needs a good reason of “why” for the absence and I am more than certain your mind will come up with a brilliant answer. I am thrilled and again, have fun!

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Lissie note… I love this prompt so much ugh!!! I changed it a slight bit to falling asleep rather than waking up (just for dramatic effect). Thank you for the prompt, love<3

Things to note

Reader is a paralegal

Lewis is frequently gone for races

They’ve been dating for 4~5 years and live together

There is a tiny age gap but it isn’t that bad

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x gf!reader

Warnings: Slight angst???

Word Count: 5.3k+

Playlist recommendations: 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒, 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭💔, 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟💗

Taglist: @allwaysalleyway, @drugged-kitkat, @darleneslane, @littlesatanicassholebitch

His arms were warm. They were comforting to lie in and snuggle into. He trailed his fingers gently through your hair, as you slowly dozed off.

That was a dream.

The cruel reality of the real world, in the form of an obnoxious iPhone alarm, woke you up. It was already 6 AM, and your routine consisted of a hefty amount of self-care. This meant that you had about 10 minutes for a shower, 50 for hair care, and 30 for skin and makeup. Breakfast was out of the question. So much for self-care.

Before you left, you made sure to feed Roscoe and give him his well-deserved cuddles. Things had been hard ever since Coco passed, but Roscoe was still a happy spirit.

You went to the garage, noticing your boyfriend’s all too famous purple Mercedes. Your heart stung for a second, but you brushed it off. It was important to support his endeavours, instead of sulking about him.

You decided to go with your vintage beetle. Driving around in it was what kept you grounded. You’d gotten it for your 18th birthday from your parents. Not from your lover.

The fact that you didn’t quit your 9-5 paralegal job was also rationalizing, you didn’t stay home and leech off of your rich man. He was more than just a wallet. He was your partner. Besides, the media had already started to suspect that he wasn’t single anymore. Though he hadn’t been for years. The two of you had met coincidentally over a cup of tea with your boss. Lewis was his client and you were the first to oversee the situation before handing him off. That was about 6 years ago. For four, the two of you had been together. You had only given him your number regarding his case, but he’d taken the opportunity to ask you out.

Now, the two of you lived together in a mansion overseeing a large forest. It was quite far from your workplace, but you didn’t really mind. Having to wake up early was a small price to pay for the tranquillity of the surroundings. Although it would’ve been more tranquil, had you had more time with your lover.

Alas, there was nothing you could do about it.

1 |  Shades Of Cool

You sat there on your dreary chair in your dreary office. The white walls hypnotized you into thinking time was going much slower than it actually was. You stared away at it for a while, before someone knocked on your door.

“Hey, can you please do these briefs? I need to clock out for a dentist’s appointment in a few minutes. I promise I’ll owe you.” You accepted the pile and started going at it. Work usually made you forget the empty feeling of not seeing him often. Sometimes you even thought of staying all night. However, for Roscoe’s sake, you never stayed past dinner time. He couldn’t be alone for too long. It wasn’t fair to the poor boy.

It took hours and hours to get through the pile. You clocked out well past midnight and stopped by a pub to pick up some food before driving home. You knew a huge “sorry” was in order for your dog. He hadn’t seen you for several hours, definitely missing you.

You had 12 missed calls from him. Even though he was on an entirely different continent, he somehow found the time to call you. 12 times no less. You decided to call him back after finishing your dinner and making yourself comfortable next to Roscoe on your sofa.

“Hello, love.” You heard from the other end of the line, as he turned his camera on. There he was. His exhausted, but beautiful face. His hair wasn’t tied up. It was relaxed and so was he.

“Hey, Lewis,” you said and turned on your camera, showing yourself next to his beloved dog,

“Roscoe’s here too.” He let out a huff, which stirred a chuckle out of your boyfriend.

“How’s work? How are you doing?” He asked, knowing that you dreaded most of your coworkers if not all. Additionally, he knew that every day was the same at the office. You handled briefs and got files in piles by your superiors. It sucked.

“It’s okay… same old same old. How’s Spain?” You were so used to staying in the UK, you’d forgotten what it was like to travel. As a paralegal, you didn’t have the luxury to do so that often.

“It’s great. Did you see the videos I sent you? This car is incredible, darling.” You hadn’t seen them for one very specific reason; your heart would clench. It would simply give out at the sight of your boyfriend. Missing him was always a big problem, but with races being back-to-back… it hurt that much more.

“I haven’t had the chance to yet, no, but I’ll check them out later.” The hesitation in your voice must’ve been apparent, as he decided to ask into it,

“Something wrong?” You didn’t want to worry him, so you told a little white lie. You were simply just tired. That was it. That was all. Knowing him, he’d worry too much to focus on driving, which was the exact opposite of what you wanted for him. Besides, it’d be selfish of you to make his work all about yourself. Gosh, you really couldn’t stand your obsessive thoughts.

“Well, I promised Valterri I’d meet him at the gym. Sleep well, darling.” You blew him a kiss goodbye before shutting off the feed and turning over. Roscoe huffed and curled up beside you. It was dead silent except for the few wind rustles you heard from the open window next to the TV. It didn’t feel tranquil. No, you were lamenting the thought of being alone for so long. You hated it. It wasn’t an issue during the day. You had chores and you had work to do, but in the evenings when everything always gets quieter— your mind gets louder.

Roscoe was sleeping soundly next to you. Your hand stroked him gently whilst you scrolled through your Instagram feed. Naturally, you ended up on Lewis’ page. He was highly selective of who he was following. You, however, were amongst the few that he did. A smile spread across your face like room-temperature butter would be spread on a piece of bread. You didn’t appear much on his feed, as you liked being private. Though the posts you did appear in, all had captions with romantic undertones. You really were in love with that man.

I can’t break through your world, ‘cause you live in shades of cool…

2 | Sad Girl

The sun had already come to greet you. It was an early Saturday morning, which would’ve been peaceful— had you not forgotten about the LSATs. You woke up on the sofa that you’d passed out on the night before. Dried drool decorated the corner of your lip. What time was it? You checked your phone, only to realize that your battery was low and the test was in an hour. The sudden sound of your phone ringing sent you scrambling to answer it.

“Hey, are you on your way? I studied all night… Hopefully, we can do this.” Your friend, who usually sat in the cubicle opposite you, whined. She wasn’t a strong test taker, based on the fact that it was her 5th time taking the LSATs. 7 and she’d be all done. No more chances. In comparison to her, you were going in for the first time. You’d studied, but you had no idea how the whole thing would turn out. The tests only got harder and harder every year.

“I am, I am. The traffic is just insane at the moment. I’ll see you there.” You hung up and swiftly ran around the house to get ready. Roscoe was reasonably confused at the rush you were in. You kissed his wrinkly forehead before shutting the door behind you.

For nostalgic reasons, you decided to take Lewis’ purple Mercedes. It was the only one of its kind, so it’d make sense if some people recognized it. You didn’t care. It felt like Lewis was still with you, even if he was in an entirely different country. Speak of the devil, your phone buzzed. One message from him… “Good luck with the LSATs, darling”. Your heart clenched. You missed him so.

Traffic turned out to be light and breezy. Luckily, you made it in time for the test. Being a paralegal had its benefits, but it was and would always be a step below the real deal. You weren’t a real lawyer until you took the LSATs. Then, there was the deal with the bar exam as well. That was another story.

“Did you do good? I croaked. I’m toast. I’ll have to take it again…” said your defeated friend and munched down on her lunch that she brought.

“I don’t know. Maybe? I don’t really care at this point…” Of course, you did, but your mind was too occupied by the absence of your lover to hold an actual conversation. He expected you to tune in on his races whenever you had time to do so, but the fact of the matter was— you never could. It made your heart ache with longing. A painful longing for him to come back home. Especially on weeks when the race weekends were happening back-to-back. 

“I guess you don’t need to worry. You’ve got your boyfriend’s money to take care of you.” Although you barely listen to all of her blabbering about the test, that particular thing got through to you.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah. You’re literally dating a celebrity. You’re set,” she chuckled.

“Do you actually think you’re being funny right now?” She likely didn’t mean any harm, but with your pent-up agony and rage, it was hard not to let loose on her.

“Calm down, I was only kidding…” You’d made a scene. You were uncomfortable, things were awkward, and the only place your mind wandered to was Lewis.

“You know what, I’m sorry. I’m just really tired after the test. How about we catch up soon? I need to head home.” Your heart was pounding rapidly in your chest as you put the keys in the ignition. It almost felt as if you were an irrational teenager again. His absence did a number on you. It wasn’t always like that though. Throughout the previous season, he would always do whatever he could to see you in person. Whether it was bringing you with him, or flying back home. As the following season started, the two of you realized how unethical and harmful the solutions were to the environment. Coupled with the fact that you were trying to become a lawyer, there was no way to see him. No way to be held by him. No way to fall asleep in his arms.

That night, you stared into the ceiling for what felt like hours. The spot next to you was empty. Completely untouched. The sound of the gentle wind rustling the trees outside helped your brain work its wild imagination. Vivid pictures of Lewis played over and over and you couldn’t help but feel as though the two of you weren’t meant to be. You had conflicting schedules and you couldn’t just take a weekend off every week to go with him to his races. He couldn’t stay for your sake either. He had a job to do. A job that millions of people depended on for their entertainment. Were you an obstacle? All these thoughts drove into your heart like a stake. You wept. It was inevitable. You’d tried to not do so because you knew he wouldn’t want that… but it was hard. Too hard. Your vision was blurry and the sounds of the nature surrounding you were dimming slowly. You were falling asleep.

You haven’t seen my man…

3 | Off To The Races

Sunday morning was brutal. You woke up with a pounding headache due to having cried yourself to sleep. The sun made your situation much worse, blinding you as you tried to get out of bed. Upon checking your phone, you saw a slew of unread messages from your beau. All of them were minutes apart, making it clear that he’d been trying to reach you throughout the evening.

21:30- Hey, you’re not answering your phone, so I just wanted to text you instead. How are you?

21:55- Are you there? You’re usually not asleep at this hour…

22:45- I suppose you may be busy or asleep. In that case, sleep well baby❤️

22:46- Call me whenever you wake up

“Fuck,” you sighed and went to the bathroom. The reflection in the mirror seemed unfamiliar. You didn’t look like yourself at all. No, that wasn’t you. The face looking back at you had swollen eyes and redness coating the corners. Its mascara had been running and dried, giving the face a crustier look. It felt as if you were some little kid who couldn’t stand to be alone for the day, whilst their mother went out to buy groceries. It was embarrassing.

After feeding yourself and Roscoe, cleaning yourself up, and doing chores around the house— you decided that you’d turn on the TV to watch your boyfriend. You were too late for lights out, as they were on their 10th already. It didn’t matter though, for Lewis was in the lead. He had mentioned how good his car was, but you didn’t imagine a 20-second gap. It was pure insanity. 

Finishing on top, he ran to embrace the team with a smile. The cameraman followed his every move, and as he did so; Lewis came up to him and stared directly into the lens.

“I love you,” he said. Your heart keeled over and you felt your tear ducts get to work again. It was impossible to watch the rest of the celebration. You shut it off and went to calm yourself down. Breathing heavily in front of the bathroom mirror made you feel like a fool. Love made you weak, but it was a good kind of weak whenever your darling was around.

After a hearty nap, you woke up to your phone buzzing itself off your nightstand.

“Hello?” Your voice was jagged and rough from just having woken up.

“Are you okay? You’re not sick, are you?” His voice was breathy and exhausted. Physically, he was obviously worse off than you.

“Hey, no-yeah, I’m okay. I saw you out there today. You did so great, Lew.” His nickname was one that he adored. The way it rolled off your tongue made his heart flutter with joy.

“I’m glad you saw it. Did you… see the celebration?” He was obviously referring to the message he left for the camera. Your heart pumped faster and faster with adrenaline.

“I-uh… I did…”

“So?”

“I love you too. You know I do.” So much so that it hurt that he wasn’t next to you with his arm around your neck. You wanted to lean against his shoulder as he read you stories that his mother used to read to him. Fuck, it hurt.

“When are you coming back?”

“We still have a few things to do here. Thursday? I’ll be home for two weekends after that.” It was better than nothing, though hearing him say it felt like a long time. 

“I understand… I just hope you maybe miss me as much as I miss you?” Yeah, you stooped to that level. Your desperation was starting to reveal itself. Layer by layer.

“Are you insane? Not a second goes by without my thoughts being consumed by you. All I’ve ever thought of this weekend has been you. Staying safe for you, training hard for you, winning… for you.” For a moment, he almost sounded frustrated. But it was just a mask for how deeply he felt for you. The two of you sat in the same boat, rocking through the crashing tides of longing together. Each move was careful to not let the other drown.

“Are you crying?” He asked, careful not to step on any thorns.

“No…” you replied with a slight sniffle, signalling that you obviously were.

“It’s okay, I’m right here. I’ll be back home before you know it.” You wanted to hug him. You needed it so badly.

I’m your little scarlet, starlet, singin’ in the garden. Kiss me on my open mouth…

4 | Video Games

It was Monday, which meant that you could be distracted by your otherwise unforgiving job. Being a paralegal, your duties often consisted of briefs upon briefs which took up most of your 8 hours. You were crammed into a small cubicle with little to no space for any of your personal possessions. You’d hung a few pictures of Lewis and yourself and that was about it.

You stared into the dull computer screen, feeling the existential dread looming over you for every number you typed in. Your eyes were basically goo and the bags dragging them down were more apparent than ever. It would’ve been a pitiful sight for your coworkers if you weren’t surrounded by walls. 

“Hey you, wanna grab lunch together? Same place as always. It’s on me this time… since I owe you.” Even an invite to free food wasn’t enough to fully pull you out of your trance. You slowly forced your sluggish head to turn and meet your friend’s. The look of horror etched onto her face was enough to let you know you needed to get outside. 

“Sure… I guess.” You dragged your feet along the floor as you followed her to the elevator and outside.

“Is it Lewis again or shitty briefs?” She put in her sunglasses and led the way, locking her arm with yours to not look like she was dragging you against your will.

“Honestly? Both. I don’t get why I keep missing him this much, and I don’t get why some briefs suck that bad.” Lewis was one thing and briefs were more of a frustration. Nothing to cry over, really. You generally enjoyed what you did, so there was rarely anything to complain about. The job was cushy and allowed a lot of free time after hours. Team building exercises were scarce, but not to the point where conflicts arose every day. It was fine.

“We’ll have our usuals,” she said to the waitress.

“Look, you can’t control every aspect of your life. It’s meant to be unpredictable. Briefs suck sometimes, you’re going to feel bad about your boyfriend being gone— c’est la vie.” You knew she pulled that straight out of a podcast. At least the general gist of it.

“Whatever. I guess you’re right, that’s life.” You were just about to jump into a different topic when you heard Lewis’ ringtone from your purse.

“Sorry, I have to take this. I’ll be right back.” You scurried off to the restroom to take the call.

“Lewis? Why are you calling?” A bit harsh with his lack of context.

“Am I not allowed to call my girlfriend who, by the way, is very missed?” Just hearing his voice brought back the life that all those briefs drained you of.

“Of course you are… I’m just out for lunch right now.” You felt like a schoolgirl sneaking off to the bathroom to call your beau.

“Sorry, I forgot you usually do that. I was just checking in to say hi before I go in for a meeting.” His voice was so happy-go-lucky, it made you wonder if he missed you as much as you did him.

“… when are you coming back?” You heard a sigh on the other end,

“They’re keeping me here until Wednesday. I’m really sorry, babe.”  Of course. It was as if they didn’t want him to go home. Whilst you supported his job and did whatever you could do to show it— you wanted nothing more than for him to stop everything and be with you.

“It’s okay, we can wait. You should focus on your stuff, okay? Good luck with the meeting, Lew.” Luckily, he wasn’t able to see your face. It didn’t match your uppity voice.

“Thanks. See you soon.”

“Bye.”

You left the bathroom and went back to the table where your friend had begun eating. You followed suit and got back to the office after you finished.

After hours, you stopped by a deli to grab a sandwich to eat for dinner. Roscoe greeted you at the door with a huff and followed you to the dining room. The entire house felt empty without your other part to fill it with joy.

That night was another filled with tears and running mascara.

Pull up in your fast car. Whistling my name…

5 | Go Go Dancer

Your depressive slump had faded after the realization that you only had to survive one more night without him. You decided to call in sick and cash in on a few hours for yourself. It was going to be a personal day. You needed to pamper yourself. 

Your eyes were still bloodshot from all the crying, but your soul was cleansed of any negativity. Your favorite playlist was on and you began your day of treating yourself like royalty. All of your skincare was out on your vanity and Roscoe sat in the bed behind you. A warm bath was the first thing you did. Whilst flicking on a rom-com, you sat and soaked in the lavender-infused water. Thereafter, you retreated back to your bedroom. Your hair was up in rollers and your bathrobe clung tightly to your damp body.

Today was a day with no briefs, no worries, no salty bosses or annoying clients. You had all the time in the world for yourself. You ordered brunch and whilst you were waiting for it to arrive, you finished your skincare and makeup. After finding something to wear, you picked up the food from the awestruck delivery guy. He complimented your garden and your house. If there was one thing you enjoyed, it was gardening with Lewis. The two of you had worked tirelessly to make the front yard look perfect.

You ate quickly, drying your hair and styling it afterwards. Roscoe was fed and you were already through most of the day. 

You pulled out your nail kit from your stash of beauty products and laid out a protective layer on your bed. The playlist kept shuffling through some of your favourites. A gorgeous purple colour appeared before you under the tons of polishes you had. It was perfect and you knew Lewis would love it too. Not that you did it for him. You brushed layer after layer until you were satisfied with the result. It was glossy and simple. Just purple. Sophisticated, but not boring. The process was repeated on your toes as well.

After that, you decided it was time for some movies and popcorn. Lewis never really enjoyed things like popcorn, only ever allowing himself some dark chocolate with his espresso out on the veranda. So, you had to go out to get some. Since you lived quite remotely, you had to drive for a bit before the nearest store appeared. It was worth it though because you spent most of that night with comfortable blankets, popcorn, and bad rom-coms.

Roscoe was beside you all throughout the night, keeping you company with his huffs here and there. Pure tranquillity was what it was, and you couldn’t wait to do the same with Lewis the next evening.

The current movie had to be paused though, as you heard your phone ringing. It was your coworker.

“Hey? What’s up?” You asked, trying to sound hoarse.

“I just wanted to know if you were okay. Heard you were sick.” It sounded like she wasn’t fully sober and on public transport as well.

“Are you drunk?”

“No- yes- you tell me. We just went out for a drink after work today.” She was very clearly slurring her words beyond sensibility.

“We have work tomorrow, why would you ever do that?” Nobody had the guts to do something like that when your job consisted of aiding clients in stressful financial or legal situations.

“We don’t, actually. All of us were just fired on the spot today. He fired us all,” she chuckled and let out a hiccup.

“What?! What’s that supposed to mean?” Your heart sank. Your job… it was just gone.

“Yeah… I don’t know. I think he was in debt or something. Couldn’t keep it going so he decided to sink us all down with him.” You always pictured the CEO as someone with gravitas and money, but apparently, it was all a front.

“What do we do? Can’t we report it to HR somehow? Sue him for wrongful termination?” Admittedly, as calm and collected you usually kept yourself with work-related issues— you were panicking.

“There’s nothing we can do at this point. The entire company has gone to shit. Wouldn’t want to go back there if I was given a raise.” It sounded like she got off the bus, as you heard the doors open.

“You’re lucky you have Lewis. He can take care of you, right?” There was that dreaded guilt of leeching off of your boyfriend. It was a fear that kept gnawing at your ankles, eventually making it to your throat, knowing you had just lost your job.

“I… I don’t know what to say right now. I’ll call you later when I’ve thought about all of this. See you.” There was nothing more to say. It stung that you were in a position where Lewis had to take you under his wing. It felt wrong. It felt criminal.

You really couldn’t catch a break no matter how hard you tried. Something always prevented you from enjoying life as it came.

… and that night you didn’t sleep at all. You stayed up all night contemplating what to do, whether to sue, whether to leave Lewis and tell him to live a good life?! You were going insane. Embarrassment consumed every fibre of your being. The thought that you would depend on him for your survival…

I'm the girl next door, let me come in. I know I go-go dance but I do it for kicks. I never have to work ‘cause my daddy is rich…

+1 | Once Upon a Dream

You’d fallen asleep in the late afternoon after working on a lawsuit against your former boss. It didn’t matter if you’d get it thrown out of court. You just wanted to fight as much as you could. Your great lawyer friend agreed to help you out, representing both himself and you in the case.

Lewis tried to call you several times with no answer. He wasn’t one to worry about you, since he trusted you and knew you wouldn’t do anything stupid. He disregarded it and tried to enjoy his flight home. He was exhausted and just wanted to come home to his little family.

You usually called him before he’d take off, assuring him that you’d be waiting for him at the airport. However, this time was different. You didn’t call and you didn’t answer. His options were limited, forcing him to take public transport. He didn’t want to call a taxi, as they’d be able to note his address and could potentially put you in danger.

People took pictures and some asked him for signs. He didn’t mind it, though he was falling in and out of sleep. When he got off his stop, he decided to walk the rest of the way. The weather was fair and didn’t look like it would change for a while.

On his way, he stopped by a florist to buy you a bouquet of your favourite flowers. He knew you loved having them on the dining table to show any guests.

He wasn’t far away and could see the garden of your house from afar. Meanwhile, you were still buried under your blankets with the lawsuit on your laptop on the coffee table in front of you.

The sound of the front door clicking and closing could be heard, but you were too far gone in your sleep to notice. He called out your name with no response. You weren’t in the bedroom. You weren’t in the kitchen. No, there you were. Your face was buried in the arm on the sofa and the TV was still playing a movie he remembered watching with you some time ago. He saw your laptop, reading some of the contents that were visible on the screen. It didn’t quite make too much sense, but he didn’t want to pry in case it was private.

“Hey… I’m home.” He shook you gently and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Being something of a light sleeper, it woke you up almost instantly.

“Lewis?” Your eyes fluttered open, as you had to adjust to the light. You saw the face of your lover and embraced him in an instant,

“Oh, I missed you!”

“I missed you too, darling.” He stroked the back of your head as it rested on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t come get you, I was caught up with work and I fell asleep.” It wasn’t a lie per se. It worked… sort of.

“It’s fine. It’s completely fine. You seem distressed, are you alright?” There was nothing you could hide from him. One way or another he’d find out anyway.

“I lost my job. We were all fired.” He was almost as shocked as you were the night before,

“Are you serious? Why?”

“My best guess? The company was sinking.” You sighed and picked up your laptop. The document already contained 3 sections and 15 pages. You were, however, far from done.

“My friend and I are trying to sue. I’m not sure if it’ll hold up in court though.” Your face looked droopy and sad, something Lewis hated.

“You know what? It’s going to be okay. I know it seems rough, and it is. But look on the bright side. We can find you a better job. Better pay, better equity. Plus, for the time being— you could come along to my races. We wouldn’t need to be separated all the time.” He was right. Your job was cushy, but it had its faults regarding exactly the issues he pointed out. The feeling of missing him constantly didn’t bode well with you either. It was a win-win, really. You weren’t actually depending on him, because it didn’t hurt to ask for help every now and then. Especially when the two of you were so in love.

“Yeah… that’d be nice, actually. I do need to file this lawsuit though. I need it.” Lewis nodded in agreement and smiled,

“Of course, love. You do what you need to do. I’ll be here to help.” You closed the laptop and smiled back at him,

“I think we should cook some dinner. What do you have in mind?”

“Anything. It tastes amazing as long as you make it anyway.” The flattery never stopped. As cheesy as it was— you loved the sentiment.

“Right. I’ll see if we have some rotten eggs and spoiled milk in the fridge,” you joked and he chuckled,

“I love you, darling.”

“I love you too, Lew.”

That night, you fell asleep with his arms wrapped around you and your head on his chest. You could hear how his heartbeat synced with yours. This was complete tranquillity, and you couldn’t believe that this would be your reality for a long time now.

I know what you’ll do. You’ll love me at once. The way you did once upon a dream…

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻…

𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞��𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩! (𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙣, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨, 𝙙𝙢𝙨, 𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙨: 𝙒𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧(𝙨) 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚(𝙨) 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣.) (Please note that just liking the taglist will not put you on it!)

[insidemyrottenbrain]

Clamate auxilium - TSH (The Secret History)

TW: explicit content, questionable content

Your death leaves quite a toll on Henry and Camilla.

I encourage every willing pair of eyes that reads this to leave their thoughts, remarks and critiques under this post, be they one word or one hundred and one.

Hell is other people. When we are alone, we are absorbed in whatever is around us. In solitude, we all are (of course we are, because how could we not be?) an incorporeal omniscient presence that candidly studies humanity's mechanics undisturbed by reciprocal judgment. However, as soon as someone perceives us, we suddenly become the ones observed, and consequently, painfully aware of ourselves (the clench of the jaw, the body’s weight, the tongue between cheeks, the muscle strain). We get covered in labels, defined and thus limited. When painful death obeys fate, we lose all possibilities of changing how we look through another pair of empty eyes than our own. What we once were, the entirety of our souls and the darkest corridors get rendered into a misinterpreted, dehumanised fragment of other people’s minds. I am many things in Henry’s mind; hollow cheeks, cologne and smoke, long fingers turning yellowed pages, a melancholic existence and its absurd hands. Camilla, however, believes me to be rather imposing; long dark coats, cold forgotten coffee eyes, an untouchable paradox and its horrible mind. 

Immortality is humanity’s greatest wish. However, not flesh or rationality, but the absence, along with the longing, of their desire is this species’ most defining characteristic. I no longer am alive but I exist. I am deemed inhuman by the achievement of my desiderium through the unrequested aid of their minds.

You are curious, I am aware, about my death. However, you must realise that your curiosity is not reason enough for me to speak freely about such traumatising events. I suppose you are aware of Aristotle's definition of a tragic hero, yes? Ah, you’re not? Very well then, according to Aristotle, a tragic hero is “A person who must evoke a sense of pity and fear in the audience. He is considered a man of misfortune that comes to him through error of judgment.” There are a few characteristics one should keep in mind: ἁμαρτία (hamartia - sin, missed mark), a fatal flaw that causes the downfall of the hero, ύβρις (hubris - originally towards the gods), excessive pride and disrespect for the natural order of things, περιπέτεια (peripeteia - sudden change), the sudden reversal of fate that the hero experiences, ἀναγνώρισις (anagnorisis - recognition), a moment in time when the hero makes an important discovery, nέμεσις (nemesis - also the goddess who takes vengeance against those who show hubris), a punishment that the protagonist cannot avoid, usually occurring as a result of their hubris, and consequently, κάθαρσις (catharsis - purification, cleansing), feelings of pity and fear felt by the audience, for the inevitable downfall of the protagonist. While Aristotle’s characteristics are, indeed, a reliable guide in identifying and constructing a tragic hero, and respectively, a tragedy, some peculiarities might appear in certain texts and render the guide incomplete. I believe αἰών (aion - a period of existence, everlasting) should be added to the list, designating the extension of the hero’s punishment in a metaphysical form.

When can someone be declared dead? For the sake of the hypothesis, let us define death as the moment when someone or something ceases to exist. Does the exhaustion of the body, the death or the forgetting of the soul represent the beginning of eternal peace? I can rule out for you, living physical being, the exhaustion of the body, for I am quite sure I am not in the way that you are. Alas, our collaboration is of no use for if ever I were to find out, I would have ceased to be and thus unable to communicate, and if you were ever to find out your possibility of contacting me is nonsense. Everything is absurd and it tortures me when I know I am incapable of anything, nothing, expecthing, something, existhing, everything, deathing.

Henry and Camilla, of course, both attended the funeral. Camilla cries with the rest, she’s much more comfortable with emotional displays. Her mascara forms black rivers which shed on the upturned, disturbed earth that covers the casket. She is messy (indeed in a hypnotising way, the one in which girls usually are), but how could she not be? The previous night, she fell asleep sobbing quietly, her swan-like shoulders trembling. The pillow sheets smeared her makeup, but she, nevertheless, still laid her head on them. Over bumps ameliorated by elastic oscillations, she applied dust over dust, before the funereal in the aluminium mimic. What a storm of bows and angel white, what a deserved distinction. If I were to focus my all-knowing being on Henry, the story would go quite differently. The stoic is, as expected, unyielding. However, just as unexpected (due to the eye of the omniscient), his umbrella is (incredible, I almost would not have believed it) clenched in his pale hand! What a pitiful display of emotion from the cold season, wouldn’t you agree? He hopes I don’t, but I do know the ice in his eyes melted la veille au soir et aussi the exact number of tears that rolled over his dry cheek.

The word mourn traces its origins to the Proto-Indo-European root (s)mer-, which means to fall into thinking, to remember, to care for. Its sombre connotation likely stems from the natural link between memory (memoria-Latinae) and sorrowful experiences. Since memory and experience are deeply personal, one might assume that mourning, too, is uniquely individual. Yet this hypothesis falters when considering Henry and Camilla; two people, two pasts, two lives, two distinct memories, one irrevocably ensnared being (which is, assumingly, the reason for their similar past-time activities). They visited the grave, separately, each on their own; 4:12, 16:07, 00:01, 20:39, et cetera. “Et revertatur pulvis in terram suam unde erat et spiritus redeat ad Deum qui dedit illum” and so clothes shed on the grave. The dirt that covered the body stained them; Camilla’s inside, Henry’s outside. During the Bacchanal, her hair was red, but during the visits it was brown. I cannot imagine it must have been very pleasant for her, but she still tried and her lipstick stuck to stone. He was reluctant at first, he found the cold earth unwelcoming, but soon got used to it and found it bearable when his mind conjured the image of the dead. How he huffed and cried through his movements was so sad I wanted to give him a flower.

Your life is not only your own, death has more than one victim. It creates a paradox for those left behind, where change and routine coexist. Henry still brews two cups of coffee in the morning, irons the clothes that should have been picked up from his flat, and writes Julian’s assignments twice, placing one copy on the empty desk. Camilla is haunted by the absence of the scent which she inhaled with every chance, and fearing she might forget it, purchases a bottle. This unrelenting cycle is, of course, followed by the attempt at escapism. Inexorable fate makes them unconsciously aware of the invasion that urges them to tilt each other. Small, transitive comparisons morph into manipulations: similar enough hair, a habit adopted without question, the freckle forgotten. Their bodies reek of my remnants and it stirs them. What begins as unforgivable parallels turns into desperate symmetries. Every time they reach for me, their bodies meet, oblivious to the fact that I am. The illusion of the one who exists neither fully alive nor entirely gone becomes more alluring than any sin. Henry and Camilla murmur, groan and cry the two syllables that define an individual, and I do too, along with them, for I am here, wondering when I will be granted the mercy to draw my last eternal breath.

[apinkheartinmiddle-earth]

I was watching The Two Towers again recently and I realized something about Eowyn. Many paint her as this strong badass woman who doesn’t take shit from anyone, which is still true in a sense. However, people tend to forget that she is still a flawed character and has a long way to go in the story so far.

This was probably the intention of the scene, but when she was complaining about having to be with the women in the caves, it kind of left a bad taste in my mouth. The women of Rohan tending to the children and finding food is still an important task, after all. Eowyn was practically looking down on them because they weren’t doing the badass stuff assigned to the men. More so because she couldn’t be able to join the men in battle. She fails to see that someone needs hold the fort so that the warriors have a home to come back to. Without those staying at home, Rohan would fall apart.

It was good on Aragorn for calling the women’s duties an honorable charge because he knows damn well that their role is just as important as those in battle. I love how he holds them in highest respect for it and calls out Eowyn for how she talks down on them. Aragorn is calling out Eowyn for her internalized misogyny, basically.

Now, I am not going to drag Eowyn and call her awful (why the fuck would I, I literally love her). I’m trying to look at this from a place of understanding at how she could have possibly got this mindset in the first place. It just suddenly struck me that one of the reasons she probably thinks this way is because she didn’t really grow up with a significant mother or female figure in her life whose duties involved the home. She was raised by a man whose job was to command armies. Therefore, she has never truly understood why these women chose to hold the fort instead of going out into the trenches. Tending to the house and taking care of the children is an inherently thankless job but a very important one nonetheless.

Eowyn putting down these women and their duties was perhaps because of her lack of understanding, not because she held any resentment towards them. In fact, she probably wanted them to fight alongside the men like what she desired for herself. But it bears repeating that what she fails to see is that someone has to take care of matters at home. It would be amazing if the women of Rohan had the opportunity to go into battle, but alas, they have to stay there since they have little say in doing so. Sexist? Quite. But the women are still doing their job at home the best they can.

Weirdly enough, that scene of Eowyn complaining to Aragorn actually made her character development all the more meaningful to me. Remember by the end when she decided to become a healer and love all things that grow? Yeah, some people didn’t fuck with it because they thought Eowyn was going to become dainty and submissive. However, I rocked with Eowyn making that decision.

This was the turning point in Eowyn’s story when she realized that war fucking sucks and that her worth shouldn’t come from how many enemies she can slay or how traumatized she can get from the horrors of war. She finally chose to prioritize love, kindness, gentleness, growth, and happiness. That’s about the most badass thing someone can do, to be completely honest. As a result, Eowyn has surely grown from looking down on the mothers and other carers in Rohan.

This is in no way trying diminish her typical badass heroine characteristics, but to show people that she still really had a long way to go in spite of her obvious strengths. It’s just that her battling capabilities and desire to fight with the armies don’t necessarily make her better than those who are just trying to keep their families safe and fed at home. I love how she grew from this mindset and chose instead to be empowering in her own way without the need to put down other women who obviously had important jobs to do.

[raccoonfallsharder]

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip. part one. prepare for departure.

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip masterlist next part | main masterlist

angst, comfort, friendship, & fluff for @hibatasblog rocket & wanda | part 1/7 | word count: 1371.

rocket gets a very-important mission from danvers and needs a partner to go with him. enter the witch.

It is a well-documented fact (I know you know) that in the comic books, many of the marvel ladies have a thing for Rocket Raccoon. How could they not? Eyes like red beryls and pyropes, teeth and wit both so sharp they can kill long before the perfectly-aimed gravity-blast. Intuition off the charts, not to mention the things they've heard he can do with that tail...

Alas, this is not the comics. This is the MCU, some time between 2018 and 2023.

And while everything else remains more or less the same, Wanda Maximoff was not turned into ash.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” Rocket says, rolling his eyes.

Wanda isn’t sure what to call him. He looks like a raccoon, but insists that he isn’t one. Maybe he’s an alien. Maybe he’s something else. Either way, he’s rolling his eyes at Natasha, so hard that his whole head rolls with them.

“Look, I got a very important mission from Danvers, and Nebs is busy right now, working with Kraglin to make Knowhere a more hospitablistic place for Snap refugees. D’you wanna fuck over a bunch of Snap refugees, Nat?”

He crosses his arms and raises a brow up at the new leader-apparent of the Avengers. If Wanda hadn’t felt so — nothing at all, actually — she might have let a smirk curl the corner of her mouth. He’s kind of a brat, and he knows how to get under peoples’ skin. When she’d been a child, she would have found that entertaining. Endearing. She supposes she’d used to have a soft spot for scrappy survivors. Then she’d had to stop having a soft spot for anything but her brother.

Then —

“Goddammit, Rocket. Go to Washington, then. I don’t care. But we still need the Benatar.”

His challenging look turns into a glower. “Fuck off, Nat. What am I supposed to do, then? Drive your frickin’ car?”

Natasha flaps a hand at him distractedly from behind her desk. “Yes, that’s fine, take the car—”

The look he gives her is withering. “I can’t reach the fuckin’ pedals, Nat. So unless you’re giving me permission to take the whole inefficient machine apart an’ put it back together to suit my needs, you’re gonna have to—”

“I can’t spare anyone, Rocket,” the Russian snaps.

“And I can’t be alone right now,” he snaps right back. Wanda’s eyes flick back and forth between them. 

Natasha grits her teeth. “You said this was a mission from Carol?”

“Yes,” he hisses, tapping one booted foot impatiently. 

She closes her eyes and sighs heavily, leaning back in her chair and pressing her fingers into her temples. “Fine,” she says at last, drawing the word out — petulantly, Wanda thinks from a great distance. “Find someone who’s willing to go with you and I’ll tell you if I can spare them.”

Rocket doesn’t hesitate. Without moving anything but his arm, he’s brandishing a single dark claw in Wanda’s direction.

“I’ll take the witch.”

Five years earlier — in the first days after the Snap, before they’d left all their hope on 0259-S with Thanos’ headless body — everyone else had belonged to somebody. Cap and Nat had each other, and Nat had Banner and the arrow-guy. Rhodey had the rich guy who thought he was a genius, and the rich guy had that other redhead. Thor had maybe lost the most, but he had Banner too, and his buddies from Sakaar. The Dora Milaje had their whole sisterhood. Only Danvers might have been on her own — but as far as Rocket had been able to tell, Captain Marvel hadn’t seemed to have a lotta close ties she was mourning.

But Rocket — Rocket had nobody. 

Again.

Nobody except Gamora’s sister, whose name he’d kept forgetting.

Of course, there was the witch. 

Disproportionate number of redheads on this planet, he remembers thinking bemusedly.

He hadn’t been able to remember her name for a while either, but unlike everyone else on Terra, she’d seemed almost as alone as he was. And he hadn’t been able to help but watch her, his eyes slanting sideways to stare at her as she’d sat by herself across the room, hands anchored around upper arms. He couldn't make out the color of her eyes — they’d seemed impossibly dark, with rage or grief or something else, something haunted.  

Except for when they’d smouldered like furious banked fires. 

She’d never said a frickin’ word, either: face blank and beautiful as a statue’s. Her silence had felt more surreal than any other stupid thing he’d encountered in space, which he supposed was probably just because he’s spent the last four years with a family of weirdos who’d never seemed able to shut the fuck up. 

Still. He’d tilted his head when the other avengers had walked past her — watched as they’d seemed almost to forget she was even there. They’d barely talked to her, and once, when they’d been ordering lunch, they’d missed her entirely.

Uh — you didn’t ask the witch what she wants, Rocket had said to Nat awkwardly, and the assassin had blinked and her eyes had hunted the whole room before they’d finally focused on the other woman — like she hadn’t even known where her fellow-Avenger was. 

No. The witch had been an outcast. And Rocket has always known something about outcasts. His whole frickin’ family — both, some small part of his brain had tried to speak up before he could smother it; both families were made of the unwanted — his whole frickin’ family had been outcasts and misfits. It had made some part of Rocket’s heart suddenly stretch in his chest. It had reached with grasping fingers, trying to hang onto something he’d already known he’d lost.

Family.

The next day, Rocket had cleared his throat and told Gamora’s sister that he was gonna go starside to touch base with Kraglin on the Third Quadrant — to see if he still exists, he hadn’t said, but he’d been pretty sure the cyborg had picked it up. 

“You wanna come, Blue?” he’d asked — wincing when his nonchalance had been too thin to be believable. But the Luphomoid had inclined her head, eyes dark and steady. When that had been squared away — surprisingly a hell of a lot easier than he’d thought — he’d  shuffled to his feet, and headed to the bench outside the compound, where the witch had been sitting since sunrise.

He’d stood in her line of vision and stared at the sky too, shifting his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot, tail trying to tuck itself underneath him. It had probably been a full twenty minutes before he’d felt her eyes on him.

“I. Uh. I heard you lost your robot-boyfriend.” The words had been as clumsy as an orloni drunk on fermented Asgardian figs, but he’d been trying.

The witch’s eyes had flared, crimson-bright. “Robot?” she’d repeated dangerously.

Rocket’s ears had flicked back and he’d taken a step away, into the grass: hands extended, palms out.

“Hey, m’not trying to be a dick,” he’d protested. “I think I might be part-robot myself.” He’d stabbed a thumb over his shoulder toward the Benatar, where he could feel  his new blue companion staring holes in his back. “Gamora’s sister’s almost all-robot, too.” 

He could also feel the sister in question rolling her eyes. 

“M’just saying,” he’d muttered at both of them, hunching his shoulders and half-turning to kick a patch of grass. “Some of us are solo now.” He’d gestured at the cyborg again. “Might be good to stick together.” 

“I was used to being solo,” Nebs had pointed out, and Rocket had winced. “You’re the one who got attached.”

His ears had flattened. “Whatever,” he’d growled. “Just thought — whatever.” He’d spun again, kicking more grass, and muttered bitterly under his breath. “So much for trying to be the captain. So much for trying to look out for the damn strays.”

“You’re the stray,” Nebula had replied with a mutinous jut of her chin — and how the fuck had she heard him? That wasn’t standard Luphomoid hearing range. 

Rocket had cursed whatever aural implants Thanos had given her. 

Then the witch had made a strange sound behind him — a little huff of breath.  A disbelieving, agonized little shred of laughter.

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip masterlist next part | main masterlist

During a watch party for Avengers: Endgame on Twitter, Markus revealed the idea to team Wanda with the Guardian of the Galaxy captain actually made it into several versions of the film's script. "We had whole drafts with Wanda on a road trip with Rocket," Markus wrote, "but after the Vision plot in Infinity War, nothing we came up with was anything but wheel spinning for her character." CBR

[vampirememory]

PAC | Messages from the crystals

Hello friends! Today is a very simple pick a card, giving you messages from the crystals. Originally, this was meant to be a "what crystals should you buy?" PAC, but alas, I cannot help myself & the cards had other plans.

Messages are from my crystal playing cards (a visual crystal healing guide) purchased from five below! I'm glad to finally be able to use this deck haha.

NOTE! I am not an expert in crystal meanings. This means I'm mostly just reading the meanings off the cards and channeling off of the messages; if the meaning of the crystal is wrong...blame the manufacturer lol.

Pile one is the red & black butterfly, pile two is the my melody hairbrush, and pile three is the cherry emoji.

Pile One

Moon Stone ; Intuition, dreams, energy, & passion

Blue Lace Agate ; Stability, grounding, & support

Aventurine ; Good luck, manifestation, optimism

Antigorite ; Flow, intuition, & bloom

You might currently be struggling with something in your life (specifically heard love life). Whatever your intuition is telling you is correct, but make sure you discern between anxious thoughts and true intuition. Make sure you ground yourself, remain courageous, and flow with the current that life is flowing you through; it takes true strength to submit to the aggression of the waves, but once you do it'll be a much smoother ride.

Pile Two

Rhodonite ; Forgiveness, love, & emotional healing

Pryite ; Wealth, success, & protection

Tourmaline ; Calmness, stabilizing, & reaffirming

Alexandrite ; Energy, power, & passion

I was specifically drawn to the numbers on the cards, you got two fives and both the king of spades & queen of clubs. You might be dealing with a difficult period with your partner or someone you deem to be very important, your other half (a best friend? possibly a family member?). It may be very chaotic now, but give things time, once you both calm down, it'll be much easier to communicate and get your ideas across; you both still will work, you just need to take a breather & communicate. Forgive & understand.

Pile Three

Kyanite ; Sight, tranquility, & meditation

Rhodonite ; Forgiveness, love, & emotional healing

Yellow Jasper ; Wealth, success, & wisdom

Chalcedony ; Harmony, brotherhood, & good will

You may be coming to a point where you are forgiving someone that has hurt you. You aren't forgetting what they've done, but remember that forgiveness is for YOU. Once you forgive this person or this event, even if it's yourself, you'll find a lot of abundance and inner peace. What you need so badly is peace, and it will be coming to you. The number 7 might be significant.

Thank you so much for reading! As usual, feel free to check out my masterpost with more readings, or you can support me by purchasing a reading by clicking here. Thanks for the support, let me know which pile you picked and if it resonated or not :)!

[sylvia0106]

2 AM Thoughts-

A letter to self

" wish I could leave you my love but my heart is a mess " well it's raining I'm not. I could be doing a million other zombie works then thinking out loud but well eh. Here I come to let it out but it's so empty. People like me break our hearts on their own and look for people to take those parts because we think it won't fit in here anymore so we give and give heart, patience, love, affection, understanding, ourselves " atleast I can give to others what wasn't given to me " " when you aren't fed love in spoon u learn to lick it off of knives ". It's a consolation to yourself. You don't want others to suffer like you did but in the process you not only make yourself suffer even more but also make them rely on you so yeah everyone suffers isn't that just great. The words that you say the time that u give the patience that you put through everyday with them won't make them your first choice, they won't give you what you are wishing for and you do know what you are wishing for and that too that it won't any nearly be fulfilled let alone to heard. When you give people just take and they always will. True someone would give you back too but to what extent? A giver is never satisfied yet too happy if they get the barest minimum of all. You feel the need to earn it to finally be supported loved cared for prioritized made seen and heard for but that's not something to earn. People would be people even the ones you trust the most the ones who never seem to take advantage of you who give u what you give them they too are nothing but endless noises of people. No one's gonna come to you and tell you that you don't need to do things for the sake of them to do the bare minimum for you maybe they do return what you did for them but the thing is you'll constantly keep doing things to feel worthy to feel important to feel as if you matter and they'll keep being okay with it. Who doesn't like attention? Who doesn't like efforts and understanding and patience?. A people pleaser would always be taken advantage of silently subconsciously because you don't set your boundaries you tell people they matter. The problem with this world isn't that everyone's bad so you gotta be bad there's no place for good and that the world changes you to be this person. The world the people your life your choices things will always keep happening and affecting things will only change if you allow them. Good people deserve good people but do they get them? Always? No. They don't but do they anyway deserved bad people? They didn't. Being good is good and it's always gonna be good no matter how polluted the sea is in front of you but being good doesn't mean you let the bad just coexist to you the bad to do whatever it wants they both are surely relative terms which depends on morality of person to person but good people is what the world needs however that's not the reason that you keep being what you are because people say they need you. In the mist of everyone you often end up forgetting yourself and that is just about backstabbing your own self the world does need people like you but not people like you to be used or taken advantage of. Your weakness is your strength it will always be and their strength is their weakness. Bruh I be talking all over the place. You deserve better friends and better people and a heart that isn't earned but given to you chosen to given to you. You deserve yourself who does take care of yourself I yourself who does care about her scars and her pain too. You deserve alot and you should get that alot. Saying "no" to a help to a need to a stranger or to a friend or to anyone alas is okay. People don't need to understand why u did what u did and why you are doing what you are doing they won't ever understand because they are too busy in their lives. Stop looking into others lives so you don't have to face yours.

Sincerely, signing off

Sylvia

[ram-de]

joy

I'm happy.

That's it. That's the post. I wrote it first before I forget and before my mind is overtaken by other thoughts like worries and nervousness. I'm happy.

Met few of my high school friends who attended the same uni as mine. One of them finished defending his thesis, so... He's the first of the four of us! I think he's the coolest tbh. Cool. Very. We used to share a class in middle high. And even back then I thought of him as a very cool person. Smart and all. And now he's about to graduate...

Time is funny. With just how fast it seemed is. Until now, we haven't really talked or stayed in touch. Not me, but the other three probably do. I was a worrywart, an anxiety disaster and I stopped using Instagram since I'm too sad to see everything. I felt like I'm left behind. Coz I am. I felt small, and an afterthought. So I don't bother, though now I am indeed left behind. So, basically it's my fault I shut myself out.

But putting that aside. I'm happy. I was less anxious since I made sure to think of no expectations. I wished I could talk more, and be funny and like be someone who could be present in conversation. And I can spend hours wishing how I wanted not to be so awkward as a person. But at the end of the day, I think I walked a step. And I'm happy about that.

Maybe it's true that I'm so harsh on myself. Coz most of the time, people are kind. If there's one thing, I kind of want to attach a note and maybe just write something. I'm more confident pouring my thoughts and feelings over written text than verbal communication. I stutter and got shy a lot. But alas. Hopefully I could do some bouquets when they graduate? Would they... Would they want that? And am I allowed to do that? Coz I don't talk often through the years and it could be awkward...

That's for me to worry later. For now, I just wish I could. And if by then I grew a tree of courage that bore fruit for me to pick, then... Hopefully I'm brave enough to reach that.

It's just. Damn. What am I saying... I'm just grateful, I don't know what to say but it's warm and tingly and though I'm distant. Meeting them is a reminder that I used to spend some time with them. I look up to them. I adore them, ish, kinda. Maybe in a different timeline I could be more livelier, and maybe I could talk more. But I am what I am, and I'm here, aren't I?

I am getting sentimental. See? I went pass this. And the day isn't that bad with me around people. I missed being able to talk to people. Just about anything.

And now I'm at a park in the city. Hey.

---

Everything written below is all after I attended *The thing*

There's no expectations to be anyone but me. No expectations at all. So, face it, self. It's fine. It's going to be fine. They're good people. There's no expectation, just show up...

Grhhh.... Me and my reading comprehension and my assumption and ALL... Here is me, panicking. Fuck it I'll keysmash my nervousness HDHSBDBXUDBJEJSNSJSJS SJS+ZUEVEHHZJSJSJ VHGVSBSBSHAJKAHSHSHS

*** 10 minutes after ***

Okay. I think time heals all, including nervousness. Except this time, it's not healing but rather postponement! Because the other peeps are late. And here's the anxious me thinking they're probably talking on their own and discussing the new time and all. I don't know. Remember.

No expectations. What I'm doing is nothing, so it's okay. It's just gesture, that's all. Nothing important. Nothing... But what if I'm truly the one being left out from the convo? Or maybe they're already met up somewhere and they... Felt awkward around me so they don't want to spend time waiting with me to talk or stuff. Ugh... I'm reaching.

No expectations. Just breathe.

*** 20 minutes later ***

Fuck it's getting real. Ugh... Just walk... Just walk.... Whatever happens, no expectations. Don't. Don't run away. It's going to be okay.

I don't know that, but I know time passes and although it may seem like forever, it's not.

***

Even so, I felt so nervous and anxious and my heart beats. But it's fine. I promise. It's going to be. Ok.

[pagiecakewritesstuff]

11. MORPHEUS|DREAM OF THE ENDLESS X READER/OC

SERIES MASTERLIST

Past the rampage outside the palace, the cellar was eerily quiet, not even the screams of the dreamfolk could penetrate the thick underground walls. The damp air clung to my hair and clothes, as my cloak dragged after me, heavily on the floor. The two gods wrecking the gardens above ground escaped a while ago and declared their rule over the Dreaming, throwing its rightful ruler into the dungeons. I was inclined to ignore the situation for a while, hoping that Morpheus has everything in his grip, but alas, he was still too young. I had no doubt in his capabilities, but governing a realm was completely different to protecting it. This was a steep learning curve. I came to see him, though bound by ancient laws I wasn’t about to help him, but I had to know if he still had the spirit to fight on. 

There was only one cell. It's not often that someone has to be imprisoned in the Dreaming, and there are far better methods for holding someone. Yet they still decided to simply shut him behind bars. How beast-like. 

He huddled in the corner, a fuming pile of black fabrics and chains. He was immensely angry and scared, but the ice of his desperation broke as soon as he caught sight of me. He leapt towards the door, a cuffed hand reaching through the iron bars. On the wall behind him, I noticed signs of the Endless, scratched into the stone. An ankh, a sword, a heart, a ring, a flower. He improvised a gallery for himself, unable to access his own. He tried to call his siblings. 

“You came at last.” Even at a few thousand years old he still retained some of his boyish charm from before the time of his first love. Only now deep lines of loss and heartbreak grooved his elegant face. 

“I’m not here to help.” His hopeful expression dropped and suddenly I realized that I don’t remember the last time I saw him. “You know I can’t.”

“Of course. Neither can my siblings.” 

“Have you tried all of them?” 

He shamefully looked away. 

“Not Desire.” 

There was bad blood between Dream and Desire, I had no need to ask why he didn’t call on his sister-brother sooner. 

“You have to put aside your disagreements, otherwise you will rot in this cell for an eternity.”

“Or…”

“Again, I’m not about to break the rules.” 

His hand fell limply to his side. 

“Why you came then?” 

“I felt like I have to be here. It's been a while since I saw you too.”

The thousands of stars in his eyes flickered then died down. He pulled his tattered regal attire tighter around himself, the fabric making a tearing sound in protest. 

“You felt like you have to be here? Did Destiny set this up after he was unable to answer my call?” 

“No. We’ve been distant, he has a lot to do. It’s based on pure instinct that I’m here.” 

He quietly mulled over what I said, then returned to the corner of his cell, looking at the cravings that the etched into the wall longingly. 

“Tell me, will I ever get out of here?”

“I believe so, though I cannot say for sure. The future is not mine to know.” I leaned closer to the bars, so I could link my sight with his. “But the lesson you will learn from this is important, never forget it. You might need it in the future. Call Desire.” 

To my surprise, my personal room in the Dreaming is still intact. It’s a time capsule now, buried in the castle, collecting dust. I was free to leave and find it, the daemons don’t care much where I am as long as I don’t travel between planes. Invisibly the collar still clutches my neck and from time to time a strong hand yanks on it, checking if I’m still in line. 

I grab the duvet and pull it off the mattress, creating a swirl of dust that gently dances towards the floor in the light streaming through the window that I just opened recently. The air is heavy in here with the musky traces of loneliness and tears. Did he ever come here to think about me? It’s strange that he didn’t order Mervyn to demolish it after I went missing. 

Even my writing desk is here, tucked into a safe corner, away from the sounds and wonders of the Dreaming so I could concentrate. I should work now, but I can’t bring myself to do it. My mind is elsewhere, far, far away. Giving up I set my pen down, so it’s there as a reminder to do my job. But I will deal with it later. 

Suddenly through the keyhole, a tiny dancing flame skips into the room, not bigger than the tip of my finger. It’s curiously bright, and only now do I realize that the sun had dipped below the horizon. The flying cluster of flames beckons and I follow without a question. It takes me through a labyrinth of hallways, big and small ones alike, adorned with framed artworks and delicate wooden inlays. I know where we are going, and we stop in front of the exact door I was expecting. The flame dissipates. 

My hand hovers above the handle before I push it down the lock clicks open as a wave of darkness pours over the sill. This shadow of the night sky envelopes me as I enter. 

He stands by his bed, his back turned to me, like a column of stars and bright galaxies in space. This is his personal chamber, one I’ve visited many times before. It looks the same as the day he escaped his captivity. He didn’t even make the bed since, the wrinkles outline our forms tangled into each other on his first free day. 

“You called me.” For a moment I wish he wouldn’t turn so that I don’t have to face his blazing eyes, but then he does. His pupils are two effervescent pits, muddled with anger, yet there is so much pain that he tries to cover, but it bubbles to the surface. Over his hazy eyes, his eyelids flutter, fighting an escaping tear. His chin dips before he looks up again. I weather his silence. 

“A year.” He speaks finally. “More than that.”

I step over to the bed. 

“I would apologise, but that would only incite your rage.” As I pick up the blankets his hand lashes out, but he retracts it almost immediately. 

“Death knew.” 

“She found it out by an accident. And I didn’t tell her the whole truth.” 

His timbre is a searing whisper that slithers across the floor and bites at my heels. 

“So what is the truth?” 

Tentatively I let the magic that hides my chains go. Wearing it after all these months I feel bare without it, overly exposed, but this is nothing compared to what he had to endure, I remind myself. His lips part in shock and I take this moment to make the bed and smooth out our past outlines. He observes without a word. 

“I never meant to hurt you, Morpheus. I know I did, but I wish I wouldn’t have.” 

“Who did this?” I feel his looming breath tickling the nape of my neck. It melts away the touch of the iron collar in an instant. 

“The past Hell Lord, Lucifer Morningstar.” I turn, our faces inches away from each other. “There is no way to reach them now. We all know what happened.” 

“And your leash? Who holds it now?” 

“Azazel. Your hospitality demands that you don’t hurt him while he resides within your walls.” His closeness is encapsulating, and all of a sudden the room evaporates around us, bringing back similar memories from the past. His breath hitches in his throat and he bows his head, hands fisting by his side. 

“May I touch you?” Softly my words travel into his ears and Morpheus shudders. 

“Yes.” He speaks to the floor. “You may.” 

I gingerly place my fingers on either side of his jaw and almost immediately he leans into my palms, putting some of his weight onto me. His chest heaves as his heart crash against his ribcage with every beat. I’m no different. 

“Look at me please.” Reluctantly he raises his chin, clouded eyes staring into my soul and I can see the stars twinkling in them. “Can you forgive me for the pain I have caused?” 

“Only if you can forgive me for ever doubting you.” A tear trails down his cheek freely as we inhale each other's essence. His is dark, like burnt pine on a summer evening when the wind carries wildflowers across the valleys, but something more ethereal than that. His body is pressing against mine now, arms finding their way around my waist, and he just holds me, soaks me in. Due to him leaning against me my legs press against the bedframe. Morpheus is all pleading, a resonating shout bouncing around his soul, asking for what he couldn’t have until now. I offer him what he wants by angling myself in a way that he barely has to move to take it and against all of his desires he turns into a statue of disbelief. Shocked he pulls away, then comes back, testing me, eyebrows drawn together in a perplexed frown. His quick breaths skim over my lips and I can already taste his mouth on mine. I press my forehead against his, our skins burning up. 

His kiss is tentative at first, barely a touch before he breaks it, franticly searching for my eyes. I know he understands when his lashes flutter as he cups my face between his elegant, long fingers and pulls me in, flush against his torso. A low moan sounds deep from his throat as he takes my lips again, gently, needly. I embrace him and we fall on the bed, he is over me, still soaking in every bit of contact he can, afraid that I can evaporate from his hold in any given second. He has to stop for air, his cheeks flushed, overflowing emotions radiating from him in waves. 

“My Dream Lord.” Combing his hair back with my fingers I start to feel his weight over me. “I’m so sorry. I was so blind.” 

“Say that again.” He rasps, his words bursting with desire to belong to someone. “Say that I’m yours.”

“My Dream Lord.” I pepper kisses along his jawline, repeating this sentence. “My Dream Lord, would you let me love you when all of this is over?” 

Doubting, he pushes himself up again, but I grab onto his coat, stopping him before he can get too far. 

“Love of mine,” his arms tremble. “My kiss should be the only answer you need.” 

And as he kisses me again it’s like velvet flowing over my body, light, gentle when he pulls me up on the mattress, laying me against the pillows, all without his lips leaving mine. My fingertips trace his spine, kneading through his back muscles and he tenses up a bit before his body goes limp. He doesn’t pry, he doesn’t initiate anything more, he is just content to be touched. And there is a certain comfort in him draping over me, like a layer of protection between me and my captors. As his cold palm soothes the burning inflicted by my collar I sigh into his lips and feel a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. 

“Stay with me tonight.” He asks. “I’ve been lonely for so long.” 

I guide him next to me so that he rests on the pillow next to me. 

“If you wish me to do that. I want to make you feel loved, I’ve been a fool not doing that before. But not tonight.” He tilts his head so he can look me in the eye. “Not while I have a leash.” 

“I’m content even if I can only hold you.” Using his midnight black cape he covers both of us. “I will need time.” 

“Understandably so.” 

“Not how you think.” The stars dancing in his iris dim, and some start blinking as he is thinking back. “I haven’t shown myself to anyone since my escape.”

“I see.” 

“I feel tied to this form, but I find it hard not to hate it.” His nostrils flare when he sharply draws in air. His heart is still beating fast. I draw him in so his head rests comfortably in the crook of my neck. 

“Such things are hard to unlearn, but I will never ask you to do anything that you are not ready for.” 

“I know.”

Of course, he does. He always did… 

Taglist:

@sayumiht @intothesoul

[pooklet]

anon asks: unhelpful answers edition!

1. I don’t use the hair binner, so I’m not sure how that works. I’ve always used Wardrobe Wrangler to bin hairs (and I don’t even fully know how to use that). But making elders keep their colors isn’t part of that process, as far as I know. What I always do, when recoloring a hair, is just give elders the same hair color texture as adults. That’s all! So if I was retexturing a hair (ignore the old texture, I grabbed one at random) all the textures inside the bodyshop project would look like this:

It sounds like you may have downloaded some hairs in which the recolorer has given elders a different gray texture. I have no idea how to fix this after the fact other than to make a bodyshop project of the hair and replace the gray textures with the color that the younger ages have (assuming the recolorer hasn’t also deleted the elder stage, which is a whole other can of worms). Someone else might know if there’s another way to do without making a new recolor, but I’ve always just done that. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help!

edit: oh my god i’m so dumb. you can just export the adult texture and import it over the gray one in SimPE!! again, this assumes that the recolorer did not completely delete the elder age, but yeah. there you go! i cannot believe i forgot about that lol.

2. My own! I’m still using human ones for the moment cuz I haven’t been able to decide which alien ones to default instead. I use 32, 42, 47 and 51 from my Kids In Technicolor set. If you want the exact ones that I'm using, here you go! These skew darker than Maxis’s default S1/S2/S3/S4 range, so if your skins are mostly geneticized in keeping with Maxis skintones, mine won’t fit well in your game. If you’re just interested in the textures that I use, not the specific shades, you could default some different shades from that set, which you can find in this sfs folder.

3. Hi anon! It is a default slider, yes, and it’s toward the back of the “Face” section, which is the first group of sliders. :)

Edit: if you are making sims in CAS, you won’t have that slider available and will need to get the Bodyshop Sliders for CAS mod. Sorry about that! I never make sims in CAS so I forgot that slider wasn’t there! Thanks to @kayleigh-83​ for pointing that out.

4. Alas, I have no idea how that mod works! Modding is completely beyond me. But it does work in my game, you just have to have it in your downloads. If it’s not working for you, you may have some sort of conflict, and may want to test it using the 50/50 method in CAS. Don’t forget to backup your neighborhood first, and restore it after you have finished 50/50ing!

5. I have no idea! :( There are tutorials on making accessories but I’ve never braved them. But this looks like a really good place to start, if you want to give it a try. :)

6. Hey anon! I assume you are the same anon who has asked for Lilac a couple times before and I am sorry for the delay. He’s going to be up with the other spares after the next Cakebread update (in which Tiara is finally going to die) but since you have been so patient I have uploaded him ahead of time. Here you go! Everything is in folders, so you can delete anything that you already have. You can dump his sim file in your Savedsims (or I think he will still work fine in Downloads).

The floorplans and library were built by @skulldilocks​ and my versions  are missing some CC that I accidentally deleted, so here are some top-down pics she took for me: library, gas station.

[nikakistos]

The Perfect Closure of EreMika

The title is pure clickbait (as always), there will be lots of tags (as always) and this post will be huge. As always. So, let’s examine and evaluate the perfect conclusion of the most important relationship in Attack on Titan. We will analyze why this is the best conclusion they could have gotten and of course we are going to talk about what their scenes meant for their relationship, their feelings for each other and the themes of the story.

First, let’s ask the question: What was the purpose of this chapter? Ending the fight obviously, but also giving closure to the relationship between Eren and Mikasa. Now, there were 3 questions that needed to be answered in order for the two of them to have closure. 

Why did Eren say to Mikasa that he hated her?

What does Eren feel for Mikasa?

What would have happened if Mikasa had given Eren a different answer back in chapter 123?

Isayama answered all 3 of them in a spectacular way. Let’s see how he did it. The chapter literally starts with Isayama, via Mikasa, setting up the closure. This was achieved by having her wonder if this really was the end for her and Eren. Could it be that their last interaction ever ended with him saying that he hated her? 

Isayama answers that with a big, fat NO.

That’s the purpose of Mikasa’s vision. Mikasa’s vision is not there to introduce us to Alternate Universes or to portray her as a delusional fangirl that can’t cope with reality. It’s purpose is to answer the above 3 questions. And that it does.

Essentially, Mikasa’s vision is a “What if” scenario. If Mikasa had chosen the ideal for her answer back in chapter 123, Eren would have abandoned everything and lived with her. This means that Eren is also in love with her.  He said that he hated Mikasa, because he wanted her to forget him. That’s why he also asked her to throw away the scarf.

Mikasa though, being the truest representation of all major, positive themes in the series says no. She chooses to remember him. That’s essentially the meaning of life. That’s what Armin taught to Zeke back in chapter 137. Memories of everyday life. That’s the meaning of life. Back in Trost, Mikasa said that she couldn’t die, because she wouldn’t be able to remember Eren. Even back then, Mikasa always knew the true meaning of life. 

Afterall, the series heavily criticizes the usage of memory manipulation. Deleting memories or altering them have been methods empoyed by the Royal Family for years, hiding the truth from the people. One of the themes of the Survey Corps is remembering their fallen comrades and carrying on the torch. Mikasa forgetting Eren would be an insult to the themes of the story. As would be if Eren was revealed to have been sending fake memories and dreams to Mikasa out of pity for her. 

Finally, Mikasa decides to kill Eren. Not because he hated her or because he didn’t have romantic feelings for her. Because she had to save the world and because that’s exactly what Eren wanted. Back in chapter 133 Reiner foreshadowed Eren’s desires. He explained that it is very hard for Eren, mentally, to handle the murder of the entire human race. Through Reiner, Isayama reveals that Eren wants someone to end it all for him. That someone was Mikasa. That’s why Mikasa knew where to find Eren. His relieved face when he saw her swinging the blade said it all. That was Eren’s design and Mikasa delivered.

And so, the chapter that starts with Mikasa thinking that the only closure she would get with Eren was the “I’ve always hated you”, ends with the first and the last kiss between the two of them that puts all of her worries to rest.

Is Mikasa delusional?

I’ve seen this being thrown around, so i have to also tackle said point. No, Mikasa is not delusional. This wasn’t a fantasy that only she experienced. This dream of hers is the same dream that Eren had back in chapter 1. Eren experienced the exact same things she did in the dream. We even see him with his titan marks. It is clear as day that they shared these moments.

Also, i have to give credits to Isayama here for his usage of “itterasshai”. The word generally means “Go and come back safely” and is usually said to people leaving the house. For Mikasa, Eren is her home, but she is also home for him, as shown in the RtS arc:

These were the perfect parting words for the two of them. Nothing else could encapsulate their relationship better. Eren of course, won’t come back, but that’s the irony of the word here.

Moving on to the next point, Mikasa’s characterization in this final arc is about her seeing Eren for the person he truly is and stop ignoring his faults. It starts from the Marley arc and it concludes with chapter 123 where she realizes that this was simply part of Eren’s nature.

He always had it in him to become the monster that he became. However, he always had a different side to him. A side that had been shown to her a few times. At first, when he wrapped the scarf around her and later when he asked her “What am i to you”. Finally, it manifested as a desire to live quietly with her in their shared dream. It would contradict her development and characterization in the final arc, to have Mikasa start seeing an incomplete Eren again, after realizing earlier who he really was. Mikasa understood who Eren truly is and she accepted him and continued to love him anyway, even though she didn’t agree with his genocide. 

It is not out of character for Eren to run away with her either. At least not in that instance. The series highlights the moment that he asked Mikasa “What am i to you” as a pivotal one. Sure, under normal circumstances, Eren would have chosen to fight, but we saw him breaking down just moments earlier. The only person that could have saved him was Mikasa. Alas, that wasn’t meant to happen.

In any instance, the biggest indicator that Mikasa is not just a delusional girl who kissed the decapitated head of the man she loved, when he never really loved her in the same way, is Ymir’s face at the end of the chapter.

Ymir, as i have mentioned in previous posts, is a girl who never knew real love during her lifetime. She didn’t understand what she was looking at, when she first say a couple kissing with their friends cheering them on. And after that she was sentenced to a cruel life, with a man who never loved her and only viewed her as a tool. This girl, remembers longinly that scene of the couple kissing for 2000 years. She was waiting for 2000 years to see real love again.

She witnessed that through Eren and Mikasa. In a scene that would have otherwise been painted in a negative light, Ymir’s warm smile at the sight of the final act of love between two people who never got to be together the way they wanted to, clears any and all doubts regarding Eren’s feelings for Mikasa and the latter’s sanity. Eren reciprocates Mikasa’s feelings and he was alive for enough time to kiss her back, before completely fading away. Eren and Mikasa replaced the married couple and Ymir replaced the crowd that was cheering at them from 2000 years ago.

Of course, one might ask, could Eren really kiss her? Didn’t she just take advantage of him? No, he did kiss her. The way the scene was directed, it shows us that the events, which take place in their dream, mirror the events in real life. Just look at Eren’s lips one moment before Mikasa kissed him and compare them to the picture above, where they kiss. They are different.

 Also, you have to remeber that decapitation doesn’t kill immediately and does not immobilize facial muscles. That was the entire reason that Eren and Zeke managed to get the Coordinate. Eren survived long enough from Gabi’s shot to make contact with Zeke. Even his facial expression changes as you can see below:

More importantly, was there really any chance that Ymir would look at Mikasa beheading and kissing Eren, while also smiling in approval, if Mikasa was a delusional girl who was unable to understand Eren’s feelings for her up to the very end? Most of all, do you think she would have allowed him to die, without experiencing real love? She died in such a way and she stayed for 2000 years in the Paths waiting for someone to show her real love. Eren was her benefactor. Would she ever allow him to die in such a way, when she was being mistreated (sexually and in many other ways) by King Fritz? I doubt it. Actually no. I don’t doubt it. I’m sure this is not the way we are meant to interprete the scene.

Eren’s relationship with Mikasa, from the very start, is an allegory for the world of AoT. The world is cruel, but is also very beautiful. Eren’s story with Mikasa starts with him murdering in cold blood her kidnappers (cruelty) and then warmly and gently welcoming her to his family by wrapping a scarf around her (beauty). Their story ends with Mikasa decapitating him (cruelty) and kissing him (beauty).

Eren’s tendency for violence has always been portrayed as going hand in hand with his better side. That side has always been represented by Mikasa. It is only fitting for them to have their most beautiful moment happening almost at the same time as their most cruel one. This is how Isayama juxtaposes this duality:

If we interprete this scene as Mikasa being delusional and Eren not being in love with her we get a very disturbing and creepy scene, between an obsessed, psychosis-suffering girl who can’t understand the feelings of Eren, a genocidal maniac who never had any chance or willingness to live a normal life, even though there are hints of that, and a 2000 year old ghost who just happily smiled at the decapitation and forceful kissing of her emancipator. I am pretty sure this is not the message Isayama wants to send. Not simply, because it is a disservice to Mikasa as a character and to her relationship with Eren, which has been one of the most prominent and consistent part of the series from the very first chapter, but because it is also a huge disrespect to Eren as a character as well. Does anyone really think that Isayama would choose to write Eren’s death like that? Not a single important person in the entire story has gotten such an exit. Not even Floch. Even Zeke, who thought that his father never loved him and only used him as a tool, got to see that his father truly did love him, before finally dying. Of course Eren and Mikasa would get the same treatment.

What i mean to say is that Eren and Mikasa’s closure won’t be recontextualized in a way that will paint their feelings for one another and their relationship in a negative light. If anyone’s expecting that, he/she will be disappointed. Eren and Mikasa were confirmed as a canonical couple in chapter 138.

On the other hand, if anyone’s expecting that this wasn’t their real closure and that they will get an even happier ending, he/she is also coping hard. Eren died here in this chapter. There won’t be a scarf rewrap (i’m here to eat my words if it happens), because Isayama gave the couple a kiss. A kiss that was in the makings ever since chapter 50 dropped. And of course, there is not going to be a baby born to Eren and Mikasa. Like, no way it’s happening. Eren is not coming back to life as that would turnish the series and it’s ending.

In conclusion, Eren’s relationship with Mikasa ended in the same way it started. Violently and Beautifully. Tragically and Happily. They acted on their romantic feelings for each other the very moment they had to part ways forever. This is how Isayama hurts us. The essence of a bittersweet conclusion.

EDIT: EATING MY WORDS AS PROMISED. EREN DID REWRAP MIKASA’S SCARF. HE KEPT HIS PROMISE.

[askcharaandfriends]

I'm not sure the analogy fully holds up. Not killing someone doesn't mean there are no consequences. If a trial is so important, you can't forget that those end with punishments. AFAC has a history of characters getting off free. Gaster tortured inmates and children and was not punished. Asriel killed people and wasn't punished. Chara did the stuff they did and were not punished. Asgore turned himself in and his allies got the punishment removed. Unless things changed, it should be the same here

Goldy: Ahh, I love philosophical quandaries within Undertale! Brings me back to when I used them to make Grade-A research papers! Mia's given me the honor of responding to these.

WARNING: TEXT WALL AND SPOILERS FOR AFAC/POTENTIALLY FOR ACAF BELOW!

I'm really glad you've brought up the issue of consequences, because that's actually the answer to the questions you're raising about mercy here. Instead of "Why are they not punished," let's ask "Why CAN'T they be punished?"

Let's start with Gaster. Humoring what would happen if he were punished for his crimes, the fact that some of the kids were tortured would be an angle that wasn't brought up when the world's attention was on Asgore over the kids' fate in the Underground. That, on top of the fact that Gaster was Asgore's employee, would've led to people and officials to believe that Asgore knew about it and withheld information. Asgore would be tried for perjury, there'd be no plea deal this time, and the sovereign status of Monster Town would be imperiled, along with Monsters' legal status. Frisk would suffer the most; at the very least, they'd never see their found family again, and at worst, they'd fall back into Susan's clutches.

And I'm glad you brought up the kids too. It IS worth noting that in AFAC, we haven't seen any resolution YET. Which was honestly, IMO, a mistake on TQ's part in regards to proceeding with the story. We really should've focused immediately on the emotional fallout with the kids coming back and the fact that did so many bad things, instead of... proceeding to a wrestling match over a petty conflict that seems insignificant by comparison.

...Plus, there's no real way to punish the kids that doesn't seem too cruel, or doesn't match the magnitude of their crimes. What would work? Disowning them and leaving them out in the cold to die? How would that sit with Frisk, given what they've been through? Or... Imagine Chara and Azzy going up to everyone they hurt and going like "Hi, I murdered you ala-Saw, I'm sorry." At best, it would be treated as crazy BS, and at worst, it could cause them to recall it all like you've pointed out. It's just better to reform them and help them come to terms, trust issues be damned. After all... "restorative justice," right?

Finally, it's worth noting that practically NO ONE in Undertale is completely innocent. Papyrus threatening Frisk with death traps. Toriel doing literally nothing when she could've done SO MUCH to stop the war effort, or even just destroy the Door to Snowdin long before the second kid fell down. Sans doing absolutely nothing to honor his promise to Toriel. MTT exploiting his workers and abandoning his family. Alphys committing fraud and unethical experiments of her own; come to think of it, we forgave Alphys, so why not Gaster?

And finally, the fact is, every single Monster is more than happy to live on the Surface, enjoying a freedom that was bought with six counts of infanticide. Undertale is a metafiction that makes the player question our justice, and when we imagine the aftermath, we realize that not only is it not perfect, but that pursuing it can even lead to unjust ends.

Imagine that for a moment. Justice being a bad thing. Something that would necessitate an "escape clause" to knowingly subvert, pervert, or even avert its course. The ends do not justify the means, they simply outweigh them. Which is why I am inclined to say "So what?" to the myriad crimes we see before us in the story, callous as it may seem.

And that's why I love this game so much. I live for this. In the end, there is no justice. Only endings, and the resolutions we seek.

Hope this answers your question. TLDR: Justice itself would've been the biggest antagonist of all if we hadn't stepped in and swept it all under the rug.

[whumpy-arts-and-crafts]

Bound 7: Consequences

I may or may not have stayed up till 5 am to finish this. But alas, we have whump. A lot of whump. I am sorry it took so long. Hope y'all enjoy!

@equestrianwritingsstuff @epiclamer @itsleighlove @jadeocean46910 @flywhumper @suspicious-whumping-egg @onlywhump @dont-touch-my-soup @befuddled-calico-whump (tell me if you want to be added/removed)

Continued from here

The visits became weekly. Then daily, even twice a day sometimes. Vari told himself it was because Blake needed it. He needed treatment, food, company, and Vari was only repaying the favor he owed him. He knew, however, that deep down, he was starting to need it too. He needed it, perhaps even more than Blake did.

"Hey, Blake?" He half-whispered, the word echoing through the empty hallway, getting the hero's attention.

Blake smiled at Vari's sight, like he always did. It used to upset him, but without realizing, that feeling lessened overtime and was replaced by something else, something pleasant. Vari felt his lips curl into a similar smile.

Blake eyed him as he stood outside the cell fidgeting, with his arms behind his back. "Cookie boy!" He said and patted the concrete next to him. "Come here."

Sheepishly, Vari did. He sat next to Blake and revealed the object he had been hiding behind his back. It was a purple, purple and cream rectangular shape... a box, no... a book.

"You, you always say you're lonely down here," Vari explained, "so I, I thought you would like it."

Taking the book in his hands, the hero studied it carefully. It looked like it had been read over and over again, but by no means was it torn or dirty. It had been handled with care, like a precious item that was worth millions.

"It's the one thing he, he hasn't taken from me." Vari spoke, "It's like a friend. So I thought, maybe it would make you feel less lonely when I can't visit."

"I've never been much of a reader." Blake confessed, turning his gaze to Vari. He stared at the book he had been trusted with, almost scared to open it. Like it would break if he did. "Are you sure it's okay to give me this? It seems pretty important to you..."

"It's okay." Vari replied, "I-I can take it back if, if you don't like it, I just thought it could help you pass your time."

Blake dared to open it to the first page. He laid against the wall, turning it so Vari could see it too. "Read with me." He offered.

Vari felt his pale cheeks redden. He stiffened for a moment, but nodded, making his way to Blake's side. He didn't need to read; he knew what was written in every page down to the last comma. He could probably recite the whole book on a whim, but there was something so calming about being on Blake's side as he turned over the pages, as he explored the world Vari loved so much.

Hours that felt like minutes passed like a breeze, with the two bantering and commenting on the story like little kids discussing their favorite show, completely forgetting where they were, or what time it was.

They forgot, but someone else did not.

Vari shot up, his whole body convulsing and exploding with burning pain. Everything blacked out and the only sensation in his world was agony. He didn't need to look up to know what was happening.

"So that's where you've been dissapearing to!" Aurum growled, hauling him by the neck of his shirt.

Vari writhed in his grasp, tears beginning to stream down his cheeks. "I-I didn't-" he tried to find his voice, "I-It's not- I'm s-sorry, please!"

"Save it." The supervillain replied nonchalantly, "I am tired of you lying to me. I've given everything to you, and this is how you repay me?"

"I'm s-sorry, I-I'm so sorry, please, please don't-" Vari kept whimpering, squirming. He felt like he might pass out from the pain, but Aurum wouldn't grant him that favor. The electricity stopped, and Vari was violently shoved on the hard floor, panting and sweating.

Now that his every cell wasn't screaming in pain, he could hear a voice other than Aurum's shouting. It was still a fuzz, but it slowly became clearer.

"-him alone! He didn't do anything, I asked him to come here!" came Blake's frantic screams, along with the rattling of the cell bars. Vari mouthed a silent "Don't..." but it never reached anyone's ears.

Aurum's attention was now turned to Blake. "And he chose to listen to you, than obey my very clear orders?" He grabbed Vari by his hair, pulling so hard Vari thought he might go bald. "Is that what happened, mutt?"

"I-I... I-I didn't-"

"Stop it!" Blake cried, "It wasn't his fault! If, if you want to punish someone, punish me!"

There was a pause. A pocket of tense silence with only Vari's hard breathing and Aurum's piercing gaze cutting through Blake. Then, the supervillain began to laugh. He laughed and laughed, like he had just heard the best joke in the world.

"Oh, Ignis." He cooed, "Such a hero, aren't you? You'd hate not being able to save someone, wouldn't you? Even him." His boot connected with Vari's ribs, forcing a pained cry out of the villain. Blake clenched his teeth so hard he thought they'd crack.

"You care for him." Aurum continued, "It's adorable, how hurting him hurts you too. You're making this so easy for me."

Then suddenly, Vari was moving, his tired body being dragged across the hard floor. Aurum was mad. Vari could feel it in his grip, hear it in his tone. The last time he had made Aurum mad... the scars still stung, even though they had long since healed.

Blake's pleas felt further and further away, until Vari couldn't hear him anymore. He kept his hand outstretched, even as he was dropped into the dark room at the end of the hallway, with Aurum locking them both inside.

"Now, now." he seethed, grabbing a rodlike object from the wall. It resembled a cane, only its tip was coated in metal. "You grew attached to your new little hero, didn't you?"

Vari cried out when the cane hit his jaw with a sickening crack. "Do I need to remind you what happens when you do that?" Aurum snarled, "Have you forgotten about last time, useless scum?"

Another smack. Another crack from Vari's skull. Aurum's form began to become hazy and unfocused, and Vari couldn't tell if it was because of the pain, or the unshed tears.

Of course he remembered. He could never forget the blood, the tears, the screams, the pleas. He would always remember, and it would always hurt the same, no matter how many years passed, no matter how many of his wounds healed.

"N-No!" He shouted, "No, no, please! I-I didn't- I'm sorry! Please, please don't, don't do this. I-I'll never do it again! I'll forget about him, I swear!"

Aurum lowered to Vari's height to cradle his cheek, his thumb wiping away some tears that had been mixed with blood. "Oh, sweetie..." he cooed, "The fact that you're so worried shows that you still care. If only you would stop lying me."

Crack.

This time, Vari was knocked on his side, clutching his throbbing head. Aurum did not give him time to ease his pain. He stomped over and delivered a hit to his now exposed ribs. Then another. And another, he didn't stop until Vari was out of breath, shivering and crying at his feet.

"Now," he grabbed a handful of his hair, that had now come out of its bun and fallen into his bloody face, "what did we learn?"

"I-I'll n-never..." Vari sobbed, "I'll never d-disobey Sir again. I'll f-follow your o-orders, word for word."

A content smile spread across Aurum's face. He took out a handkerchief and wiped Vari's blood off the tip of the cane, then placed it back onto the wall. He spared him one last glance before exiting, leaving the metal door open.

Vari daren't get up, not then, not for the rest of the night. He remained curled up on the floor, shaking with sobs wracking his body. He was in so much pain he could not locate where it was coming from. Any minor movement made him whimper and cry harder.

He had known there was no other ending for him than this, that the safe place he found in Blake would be snatched from him, sooner or later. He had been expecting it, but it hurt just as much.

There was no safe place, no comfort to be found. He was a fool to think he could get away with this. He had learned now. He would obey, he would obey and he would be good. He would forget about Blake.

[thefanficmonster]

The Five Scares (and one revenge)

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing 

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having a tendency to scare people, Corpse has gotten used to his friends being jumpy whenever he appears from the void into a Discord call with them. However, the one who has it the roughest with the spooks has to be his partner Y/N. Basically: The five times Corpse scared Y/N and the one time they scared him

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your lovely request it was a real joy to write and I had a ton of fun doing so! Hope you have equally as wonderful of a time if you happen to come across it and give it a read despite the long wait you’ve had to endure which I apologize for. Love, Vy ❤

I

Having had to go home for the night to keep an eye on their roommate’s dog, Y/N and Corpse agreed to have a video call before they fell asleep. They didn’t want to appear like that typical clingy and cheesy couple but after spending almost a whole week curled up in Corpse’s apartment, the two would feel each other’s absence to a very saddening degree to the point where they’d even forget the other isn’t around and would call out to them. 

Letting the call ring, Y/N’s hand comes up to smooth out their hair. However, the touch reveals to them that their hair needs a bit more than a simple tap or a pat to be tamed so while they wait for Corpse to answer the call, they quickly head to their bathroom. Flicking the light on, their reflection greets them with the underwhelming news of the actual state of their hair at the moment: an absolute mess. They proceed to do their best with the single hair-tie they have handy. A bobby pin or two would be neat but they have no time to go and grab one right now, seeing as how they can’t recall if they even brought them back from Corpse’s apartment. If they didn’t, they would have to search their roommate’s room for some which would take an even longer amount of time.

Eventually, they manage to tame it in something closely resembling a presentable ponytail and exit the bathroom feeling more exhausted than before. With a loud sigh, they crash onto their bed, face-first into the sea of pillows, groaning at the slight sting of their muscles relaxing at last.

“Y/N?“ The decently loud mention of their name by a deep, familiar yet sudden and unexpected voice startles them to the point of squealing and jumping an entire inch away from where they were positioned.

They look around their room in a frenzy, wondering where on Earth that voice came from and how it could be here with them right now.

“Y/N, you there?”, before they could locate it, it emerges once again, helping Y/N get an ide of where it’s coming from - somewhere in the messed up bed sheets.

“Corpse?“ They finally find their voice, “Y-yeah I’m here. Question is: how are you...“ and then it all clicks, causing them to twist their face in an expression of utter disappointment and bury it in the palms of their hands, groaning.

“You forgot about the video chat, didn’t you?“ Corpse asks, amusement not even attempted to be hidden in his voice.

“Yup.“

II

It’s been one hell of a day. Y/N’s college lectures exhausted them to a max and their six hour job following their classes did nothing to help them AT ALL. Quite the opposite actually. Makes sense why they look, move and talk the way they’re doing right now: like a ghost, zombie and an elder combined in one. To add to their misfortunes for the day, they were met with the mocking ‘OUT OF ORDER’ sign taped to the doors of the elevator, laughing in their face with the information that their hellish experience for the day is far from over.

Just the thought of having to climb to the fifth floor made their stomach turn in the most unpleasant way possible, but the though of how long that would take made matters even worse. Arriving at their designated apartment, they have every right to be pissed, cussing their heart out. 

However, then comes a new problem: the inability to pinpoint the correct key. They proceed to curse themselves, the keys, the door handle and the door itself before punching the poor wood that did no wrong and just stands here, serving its purpose of keeping unwanted people out of the apartment it’s guarding.

Following their anger outburst and front-door-abuse, they proceed to try finding the correct key once again, this time slightly more calmly as to not accidentally miss it in their frantic rifling.

Right as they’re about to try the third key, however, the door opens. Well, it’s opened by someone on the other side, that someone being none other than their boyfriend Corpse who’s currently staring at them wide-eyed, one eyebrow raised, the word ‘confused’ basically written across his face.

While he’s processing the sight in front of him, Y/N lets out a little scream, jumping back and away from the door, a hand placed over their chest as their wide eyes scan their boyfriend who now seems equally terrified as a result of their reaction.

“Corpse?!“ They manage to gasp, barely hearing their own voice over the loud thumping of their heart and the rush of blood in their ears, “What the hell are you doing here?!“

The confusion on Corpse’s face deepens, reaching whole new levels as his eyes gaze deeper into theirs, searching for the meaning behind their bizarre question. “You mean...at my own apartment? What am I doing, at home?“

For a few seconds, the two just stare blankly at one another, processing everything that’s just happened. Suddenly, it all just kinda caves for Y/N and they burst out laughing, doubling over, their arms clutching at their stomach as they do so. Their laughter is contagious, so Corpse can’t help but let out a few chuckles himself.

“Alright, you’ve been driven to insanity, I can tell.“ He mumbles at his reckless partner, coming up behind them and wraps his arms around them, lifting them up and carrying their laughing ass inside.

III

Finally deciding to sit down and get this damn project started, Y/N already feels like they’ve had enough of it, burnout already creeping in and threatening to ruin their work and trip them up every step of the way. It wouldn’t have been so bad had the subject not been one they absolutely despise and wish they could get out of studying but alas they’re stuck with it.

They equip their headphones as soon as they plant their butt on the desk chair in their tiny room in their tiny roommate-shared apartment, putting their Spotify playlist on shuffle as they open a blank Power Point document. They work better with music blasting in their ears since the silence tends to be too loud and distracting when they’re trying to focus. So, that way they can also sing their heart out in peace and not get disturbed by the sound of their own off-key singing. Win-win, basically.

Singing ‘Never Forget You’ by Zara Larsson and MNEK, they get a little carried away, ditching the project to enter a full-blown music video they can imagine down to the detail in their mind.

However, there’s a surprise awaiting them.

As soon as MNEK’s part of the song begins, another voice apart from his echoes through their headphones, singing along to the song. Freaking the fuck out, they let out a loud scream, smacking the headset off them, sending the object falling and landing on their laptop keyboard with a crash that only serves to further startle their roommate’s dog which comes to check if they are being attacked or something only to be disappointed by the lack of action.

When pushing the headphones off, they did so with a force strong enough to snap the cable out of the laptop entirely so now the room is filled with the sound of that same foreign voice laughing his ass off.

A voice that belongs to no other than Corpse Husband himself.

“You gotta learn to disconnect from Discord calls, Y/N.“ The fucker says, still cackling wholeheartedly at his partner’s misery.

Pissed off or not, Y/N would have to admit he’s got a point. But they’d also rather never speak again than admit it so...

“Fuck you!“ is what they say instead, seconds before disconnecting.

IV

Making breakfast is not something either Corpse or Y/N are used to, mostly cause they both either wake up late or skip the meal entirely. Regardless, having been given a day off from work and having no classes since it’s Saturday, Y/N saw no better way to start their day off than to prepare a nice breakfast for them and their boyfriend to enjoy. Problem is: they aren’t the most skilled in the kitchen. Sure they can scramble an egg or make mac and cheese, but in order to do it correctly they are not allowed to have distractions of any kind. Not even music, that’s how you know it’s serious.

Seeing as how Corpse has never seen them cook, he’s obviously unaware of theirs. The dummy straight up waltzes into the kitchen, unintentionally remaining unspotted and unheard by Y/N because he’s barefoot and because they have their back turned to him.

“Whatya cooking over there babe?“

Y/N’s focus bubble, being as thin as it is and considering they initially thought Corpse was still asleep, they have every right to let out the yelp they just did, dropping the egg they were gonna crack over the pan in said pan in its entirety - yes, shell and all.

A moment of silence commences: regretful on Corpse’s end and frustrated on theirs. Neither of them dares to say anything to avoid triggering the other. Well, that’s the case until Y/N decides enough’s enough and they turn to look at him, a wide, obviously fake smile plastered onto their face.

“Scrambled eggs, following a secret recipe, property of the L/N family.“

Seems like your pre-breakfast snack is an extra large dose of sarcasm, huh?

V

“So, how was your day? You sound pretty chipper so I take it wasn’t a nightmare like a few days ago.“ Corpse comments over the phone, listening to shuffling and shifting as Y/N moves around the apartment, getting ready to head out.

“It was great actually. Got some important results back and, not to brag or anything, but they were higher than I expected.“ They reply, a genuine wide grin refusing to leave their face as they silently count the amount of money they’ve got in their wallet. “I’m gonna go buy a cake so we can celebrate it. It’s no small deal, trust me, especially not when I initially thought I’d fail both these exams to the point of being pitied.“

“Wait...-“ Corpse attempts, his voice suddenly sounding strained and urgent but that’s the very reason he cannot seem to find or get the right words out of his system. Not that Y/N gives him any time to figure it out.

“No Corpse, you cannot change my mind. Cake and beers, we’re celebrating toni- SHIT!“ They scream as they throw open the front door, bumping square into someone standing on the other side, almost dropping their phone.

Taken aback by embarrassment and fear, they leap back, their eyes searching for the ones of the person whose personal space they just invaded. Well, to be fair, he was the one invading their personal space by standing right outside the door to their - well, to Corpse’s apartment.

The fear and irritation die down almost instantly when Y/N recognizes the person standing opposite them.

“Mind telling me why we’re talking on the phone when you could’ve come in and we could’ve had a normal person conversation?!“ They snap, ironically enough - they’re still holding the phone to their ear.

So is Corpse whos is smiling guiltily, “That’s why I called, I forgot my keys, but I got...carried...sorry.”

Well, at least this serves as proof Y/N’s not the only forgetful one.

                                                            ~  ~  ~

Corpse has been stuck in his recording room for four hours now, never stopping his stream to take care of his basic human needs such as eating or going to the bathroom. This behavior of his has Y/N worried sick and unable to focus on the task at hand - an assignment they’ve been trying to finish for two hours now, sitting with their computer on their lap and looking hopelessly at the blank Word document waiting for them to fill it up while they are waiting for it to start writing itself.

Seeing as how neither are gonna happen, not until Y/N puts their mind at ease, they slowly put the laptop aside, standing up to carefully skip on over to Corpse’s recording room to check on him, stopping by the kitchen to grab him a snack and a bottle of water along the way.

The door to the darkened room is open a crack, as usual, suggesting they can enter without knocking - this also means he’ll probably not hear them even if they knock so the whole gesture would be pointless. Not that Y/N has a tendency to knock or anything... Waltzing in, they find that the only light in the room is the very faint and dark glow of the computer screen which is displaying a dark and dingy room from a first-person view of the protagonist of whatever game Corpse’s currently playing.

“Corpse?!“ They whisper-yell/hiss at him, trying their best to grasp his attention without startling him - they don’t need to be told that the game is of the horror genre and the last thing they need is for their boyfriend to flip backwards and fall out of his chair because they scared the shit out of him. “Hey?!“

Neither attempts prove futile so, despite their best instincts telling them differently, they walk over to him and tap him on the shoulder. The reaction, while within the realm of expectancy, is a lot more startled than they expected, accompanied by a scream on top of all. They’d never heard him scream in fear before, it’s quite amusing if they’re being honest.

They suppress a snicker as Corpse’s wide open eyes meet their squinting ones in the darkness, “Y/N...babe...what is it? Is everything ok?”

Y/N rolls their eyes, “No, everything isn’t ok. Your unhealthy habit of forgetting to take care of yourself, for example.” They put the snack and the bottle on the his desk, giving him their best disappointed-parent look before turning on their heel to strut their way out of the room. However, just as they are about to make their exit, they stop right at the doorframe, giving their stunned one final glance over their shoulder with a smug smirk playing across their face, “Oh and by the way, that’s what I like to call revenge.” Just like that, they leave, pushing the door back into its previous position.

And boy, is it some sweet, sweet revenge.

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[fear-and-loathing-in-leeds]

Dating Misadventure Story 01: XLL - 21.10.2022

Name: Xanthe Lily Lowrie  

Age: 20 

Instagram (for viewing only): xanthe.lily.lowrie 

Date: 21.10.2022 

Original Post Date: 24.10.2022 

Location: Leeds/York 

Purpose of Post: 

 This personal account is shared on several private forums: one focusing on the Yorkshire dating community (particularly Harrogate, Leeds and York) of potentially unpleasant individuals who use physical, psychological and administrative violence in the context of dating/relationships. Another forum provides general information on domestic abuse and violence inviting a huge number of people to share their stories: serving as an aid to notice and confront the early signs of a potential offender, and escaping/extricating from said offender. Owing to their success, I have decided to share my experience publicly with those who like a sensational read or find their own experiences have parallels with my own but did not have the luck I did, or to avoid being ensnared in psychological manipulations designed to undermine one’s mental welfare and personal volition under the guise of love/romance.

   Understand this, toxic people are very predictable because their MO are self centric, depending on the level of intelligence their strategies will be short or long term, and they involve some need to be in control at the expense of their victim, either totally or in specific interpersonal situations usually with attachment, amorousness and the relationship dynamic being at the root. Don’t be overwhelmed by the degree of convolution – it is a smokescreen for this very basic intent despite how elaborate it tries to showcase itself dating sites, social media and in person. 

First Date in a Near Year: 

   The following account is based on my first date in 11 months – a rather unpleasant experience but incredibly useful in ways beyond the scope of the initial experience, not only to myself but hopefully for others too who take the time to read these posts. I all of my 17 years of dating I have never quite had a date whose character and demeanor I found to be intensely offputting based on their superficial attempts to create situations that flatter her own self image and the persona they wished to deceive others with. It was a very strange thing to witness, this weaving of a deception whilst it was so obvious and awkward: if I could sum it up in two words they would be “mosiac" and "disjointed”.

Just for this reason alone, I would reconsider my pursuit of said person but there are many other reasons and causes for concern which I will elaborate on which the majority of you would regard as "red flags" whereas I concluded "hell to the nah" - not what I went on Bumble for.

Throughout, I explore my initial impression of her character and reactive behaviour to forecast their likely choices (as well what motivates them) and how I compare the types of situations that they would attempt to create combined with my basic axioms that constitute the situations I wish to maintain and the importance of protecting the sanctity of one's mental health. 

Bumble Dating Experience with Xanthe Lily Lowrie (F20): 

   For clarity, I (GN33) do not normally write an account of my experiences but this was my first date in a near year furthermore the distaste it created and my personal intense dislike towards this person on a intuitive level was something I wanted to explore for personal insight: not one I am going to forget due to both its content and its implications – in hindsight I dodged a bullet for sure. I had hoped they were more emotional mature alas not the case. Personal standards are there for a reason and I am not here to play "daddy" or be a therapist to someone who has not even begun to accept that they embody a lot of delusions, issues and pain derivative of a harmful toxic parental style. 

   It has to be emphasised, the main threat for all (but in particular men) are subversive and psychological in nature: hard to identify unless you know what you're looking for and mostly rooted in shame/devaluation (repressed or denied aspects of self): by the time we protest our distress we have already reached our breaking point as a result of the accumulation of micro-aggressions and compromises imposed upon us by an abusive partner who created, with intention, for this blow out and probably has a counter measure, justification and gaslighting narrative prepared.

This is, by no means, gender/sex specific. It is very a common phenomena I have had to address with law-enforcement officers and the judiciary in the past. Especially when dealing with men who are domestic abuse offenders to tease apart the truth of the greater dynamic shared in their relationship (mediating circumstances). Not so much in my personal life, as I tend to instantaneously accurately identify those who are propositioned towards this modality: there have been near misses. 

   Based on my own academic training and practical experience, I have learned to rapidly assess people quickly on a number of attributes and traits in accordance with the situations I wish to create and also the likelihood of them being a diminishing or detracting factor in terms of personal industry, investments and long term goals. Furthermore, I have my own private journals which explore the sum total of my knowledge as I apply it to my act of self creation and the path I wish to forge in the future on my own terms: and any person who wishes to be included on that mutually shared journey is held under the same scrutiny. This means a lot of people are “seen through” and become, in a greater sense, irrelevant – but attention and time are precious irreversible commodities. 

   In this account, you will notice that my intuition detects “clues” that predict the nature of a potential relationship with Xanthe: I believe fundamentally she would try to attempt initiate a one-sided trauma bond with herself on the reigns of control masquerading it as some dysfunctional brand of romanticism: she would be the psychological tyrant whereas I would just want to have company and fun. In response to identifying these toxic behaviours I would attempt a dialogue which she would try to use a DARVO approach (Deny Responsibility, Attack, Reverse Roles of Victim and Offender) to gaslight myself into having the problem because dealing with her issues would mean sacrificing both personal control of the situation and the collapse of the person she is trying to convince herself and others that she is without doing the actual shadow work or integration of one's darker selfish nature. I know such a dynamic is a futile approach as she wants someone to affirm the delusions of herself and validate the haphazard nature of her strategy to convince herself through others. 

   At it's source, in hindsight - Xanthe has some profound identity dysphoria and it comes across as aggressive overly affirming posts on her social media in attempt to control the narrative of herself which she secretly feels the opposite about. With the behaviour predicted, I would try to appeal to the source of it but it would be a futile endeavour for myself as there are things I simply won’t submit or bow to in order to try to get other people to understand: self respect, sense of pride and integral absolutism nor will I violate/compromise my own being. 

   My time and energy are precious commodities, unless I am being paid to do so or the benefits/likelihood of results is high then I have no interest in investing them - it was way beyond what my initial casual date with Xanthe called for and as such it was a situation I would willingly invite: I have better more fruitful and meaningful things and people in my life to be getting on with. As I detail my account, note Xanthe's gaslighting of the date in the form of a de-evaluative dismissal. It affirmed my suspicions the level of emotional maturity and regard she had for others - it enabled me a glimpse of the hidden tyrant combined her desired self grandiosity. 

   I have 7 years experience which simultaneously focused on education, domestic abuse, autism, mental health and relationships (the list is not exhaustive) – I did not look for these traits: they appeared through the virtue of Xanthe’s behaviour and statements. My intention was to just relax and not think about my work as opposed to apply it. With the other date I had the following night (update - I am still seeing this person), there was no stress or worry – I had a great time and it served as a comparative reference with my experience with Xanthe from the preceding night. 

 What I detail are subjective matter of facts which I observed combined with how my subconscious responded to being around her: signs of incompatibility of values, manipulation of would be emotions, and a person’s general sense of authenticity. I prioritize my time, attention and effort as I have a lot of work and future preparation to be getting on with – the nature of my work calls upon a vast cerebral demand and its optimum state is very receptive in general so I do not want to be inviting unnecessary suffering or people who create situations of unnecessary conflict/pain disguised as love/romance like some digitally based Ouija board that presents itself as a dating app. Life is full of unexpected issues and problems without other people inventing them due to unresolved trauma, issues and undiagnosed mental health problems/diagnosis. A majority of people usually want easy answers and comfortable sugar laden half truths so they can resume their capitalist grind without any deep change) and to have their desired ego narrative relatively unchanged: such a person is not my type and be yeeted back into the digital abyss as though we never met. As you can tell, I am not seeking a partner wherein I fulfil the part time therapist role which will probably end up in failure and efforts futile regardless. 

Pre-Emptive Safeguards: 

    I did not go into this date not protecting my identity, the organizations I work for and the people who I am affiliated with: past experience has revealed some people, in the face of rejection are very retaliative and will justify it. Nor did I pry into the background of Xanthe – I would form my judgments based on how I responded to her in moment to avoid preconceptions. I protected my identity by: 

 1. My first safeguard was a fake surname on my socials – owing to the socially sensitive nature of my work and the conditions of my contract combined with my past experiences of stalkers: it protects me, my employer and those I am affiliated with from any possible interference or sabotage.

 2. An additional safeguard, my initial birth name is used for any professional or academic qualifications, jobs and profiles I have amassed over the years until 2022: doing a google search will yield no critical professional information. 

 3. I did not mention any specifics about what I do: that information was deftly avoided. 

Pre-Date: 

   We spoke for over a week on Bumble and then Instagram, and my intention to meet was to have some drinks and a dance then disappear into the night (not unlike the Batman). Nothing heavy, nothing serious with no expectations except to relax from the few intense weeks of work I had. I had no long term interest or expectations nor wanted to regard the situation as anything more until I had ascertained the trustworthiness of the person concerned. She was young, but it could have been a wholesome night. Basically, no unwanted drama or some consequence later down the line: a nice clean wholesome fun. 

It seemed Xanthe had other ideas. 

The Date: 

   So there I was, chilling in my “safe space” bar – chosen because I have membership, I know the staff, the protocols and fellow punters: if I feel uncomfortable I can leave quickly. However I felt this would be a cool spot to share with her as she seems to exhibit some bisexuality and queerness although not overtly affirmed: at this point I was open to share some of my world with her to help her affirm and explore what she expressed an interest in the future. However, due to what has happened I will probably avoid the bar for a good six months until summer to reduce the instance of our paths crossing. Agreed to meet at nine, she arrives 20 minutes late after I told her that there was a lot of traffic and the city was heaving. This oversight made me wonder how much she valued my own time as a person, the thought flitted… she does not know Leeds so that might explain but her tardiness conveyed some lack of respect of my time. 

Initial Encounter: 

  She texts her arrival and I promptly greet her. We meet at the front entrance – it is busy so I suggest getting some drinks and then moving outside. I buy the first round because she does not want to use her card as she thinks she has forgotten her pin, so why not use contactless? Close to her limit? Immediately, I called bullshit but dismissed it but it struck me as irresponsible. All drinks were out of my pocket for the evening – I did not mind however her reasons prickled the beginnings of my mistrust. 

   On appearance, I was slightly underwhelmed - she was not as attractive as she presented herself online (I felt I had been slightly catfished) and seemed far less confident in person: very awkward in her movements - bordering clumsy. Overall very average and unremarkable. At the same time, she tired to make an effort for the occasion but didn't rise to the standard expected. "Looks aren't everything let's see what she has to say for herself." I thought. 

   We move outside, sitting at a table with a toupee overhead to shield from the rain… 90 seconds pass in our conversation, I feel this weird cold tug in my chest and my intuition flares: my adrenal system has been activated. I dismiss it: "Maybe I am getting ill?" As we are talking, a vague memory with similar parallels flits in the back of my mind – a deeply unpleasant feeling. I evaluate this slight tightness in my chest as “hmmm… maybe I’m cold?” and I affix the re-routing of my blood to my limbs to that as my body prepares for fight/flight.

   Recently, one of my ex’s from 14 years ago made some unsolicited contact after I told her three years ago to leave me alone, when rejected she will retaliate in some socially controlling fashion or try to interfere with my personal affairs (that is a story for another time). However, she is quite the threat as she was a contributing factor to some C-PTSD however I handle the major symptoms quite fine but it takes a longer time (a period of a few weeks) for the deeper neuro-physiological triggers to subside which also impacts how I perceive other people: it augments my hyper-vigilance. 

   I convey this fact to Xanthe that some of my ex’s have tried to communicate/stalk with me recently so I touch on the subject but she does not seem to handle the topic well and is dismissive. My intention was to forearm her against said resentful individuals, at this point not knowing that she would probably be another one of these individuals if I did date her. She does not seem to understand the potential harm she could be subject to. I can tell from her inexperience that she has not had anyone obsessively try to stalk or interfere with her life post-relationship – otherwise she would have known I was warning her to be careful (yet she herself is a potential offender). She asks, whether I should ask about her ex’s and I respond “If you wish to share that information then you can when you feel it is relevant”. I am not too fussed about her past as I was more preoccupied with seeing her in the present – I wanted to see what kind of person Xanthe was without her creating stories occupying different roles that flatter the persona she wished to create. 

Vibe Check: 

    This was not a first date to me – it was more a mental handshake to determine whether I should even begin to acknowledge her as a potential suitor amongst others. It would be the second date that would be the first one in practice. All that mattered was my lasting impression towards the end of the date as to whether I would continue. Would my suspicions be quelled or would they remain unresolved? So far, I was not convinced – I suggest we go inside to warm up. We do. 

Inside: 

   As we sit, we finish our drinks and I pay for the next round – determined to enjoy the company despite the gnawing dis-ease that was growing in my core. She protests that she will pay me back through a bank transfer or when we meet up again (assuming there would be a next time). The token gesture of her paying me back for around a measly £10 would be nice but I did not really care: t’was a drop in the ocean. Note her eagerness here to meet up again, and the assumption we would. My thoughts were that I was more than happy to pay for the next round but I did not desire repayment if there is some substance to the thoughts I had so fair regarding her nature. 

   I return to the bar thinking “Awfully bold to assume I would meet up with you again” – where does this audacious assumption come from? Has she never had a man say no to her? I think she has this idea that she was entitled to be the person who does the rejection and won't be able to handle it if she did get rejected. The statement, assuming there would be a next time… As though only her opinion and feelings mattered on situation. That one-sided conceited of her calling the shots – that subtle arrogance surfacing. She had assumed she was the dominant one and was in charge of the situation - yet she did not demonstrate any real power, intellect, charm or even virtue of character: it felt like I was dating a cardboard cut out of a person: maybe I would have had a more enjoyable time looking back if I had took out a sex doll? 

   I suspect I would have had better company for sure. 

  A way at the bar, it gave me a moment to think, without speaking to her. In response to how she was behaving and her overestimation of herself and the impression she was making, I decided to draw in any genuine interest and not be so engaging, charming or flattering – but just zen out when I returned with the second lot of drinks, to take a backseat and just vibe with the ambience of the bar. I intended to give the bare minimal level of personal engagement in our conversation as I looked over to the venue whilst I listened to her. Over the next hour, in front of the bars window, I focused on my dis-ease and what it was pointing it’s attention to: my intuition flaring up with every brazen, assuming and inconsistent thing she said.

   For the sake of simplification, I’ve extracted the more significant things I observed: 

 •We briefly discussed her mother and her partner: what was of particular concern was her attitude towards her partner/step-dad about how her mother could do so much better than him and did not really seem to respect her step dad yet he sounded like the main provider for the whole family unit. There was some old fashioned toxic masculinity values she had expressed mainly about the man being the carrier of the family and passively implied what a man should be whilst conveying a general disrepect towards men: there was this entitlement that appeared as this subliminal misandry: the dark face of feminism. From this, I figured a lot of her regard and opinions around men were derivative from her mother's toxic relations and behaviours. Other things she said about her mother suggested some deeper personality and dysregulation issues which Xanthe herself could also embody - with later behavioural responses: this increased the likelihood of what I suspected. 

 •On the topic of men, Xanthe exhibited a strong distaste to her biological father and her step dad. There was no appreciation of her current step dad but largely a lot of her benefits and life probably were in part owed to 60% of her step father's contribution. With this disdain towards men, it made me consider to what extent this disdain would surface with respect to myself and I would find myself the subject of it after her initial love bombing phase was over (not that I bothered to find out - she was not an attractive enough person to find out). 

 • She did not take well to being corrected – I pointed out that mycelium was not a plant but a species of fungus. Her response was “yeah, well same thing.” No, they aren’t but onwards: I am not going to give you a biology lesson on how different those two kingdoms are. I do not argue with people who cannot take a factual correction, yet their ego makes them ignorant – the amount of effort to refute a statement of bullshit combined with an adamant ego is a magnitude far more than the effort it took to say initial bullshit. At this point, I just resigned myself to just not argue or point out mistakes. If anything was a RED FLAG for later conversations we could had if we dated long term. I asked myself “If she was being this adamant about an inconsequential fact what would she be like when there were actual things at stake?” It was not the only example but it was the one that was the most obvious. 

 • An important assessment tool to determine a person’s humility arises from the proof of virtue regarding “truth” is how they respond to uncomfortable realities and their response to being corrected. I ascertained that how she felt was more important than universal realities suggesting her emotional fitness and her appearance of being right was more important than actually being correct. In greater context, it also indicates that Xanthe was likely to be a person of dual standards and would use a half truth to criticize and shame others for the sake of her own sense of satisfaction. At this point, I had decided not to be so open and withdraw my efforts – an inkling of disappointment as I beginning to realize that I was wasting my time. I did not want to encourage any amorous sentiments or accidentally make someone infatuated with me by being jovial and inclusive: a lot of people mistake this as flirting but I just like people – an accidental extrovert.

• I noticed that every time I started talking about a subject in depth she would scattily change the subject. Was this conscious or unconscious? It seemed like she wanted to exhibit some superficial impression of being more informed/intelligent than what she was – but when questioned the subject was changed suggesting that she did not really have an in-depth grasp of what she said she identified with. This was demonstrated when she stated she was into “Paganism” and I was excited so I seized the moment of potential mutual interest thus started talking about magic and spirituality for the subject to be changed once more. It was not the only example, she said she was invited to some Yule thing – and I responded “yeah, the winter solstice.” Overall, it seemed like some bad superficial attempt of appearing more diverse and interested in things than what she genuinely was. It seemed very inauthentic – a person who does not like being corrected and yet tries to exude some sense of intellectualism: struck me as very pretentious and superficial whilst also conveying her vast underestimation of myself that I would not instantly notice it. 

 • About 5 times during this date I got called “very pretty”  - it got old real quick. I had made little effort for our date. Smart casual: as though I was off to the University for a meeting with a colleague or doing some physical experimental therapy. I returned the compliment but I dismissed it as soon as I received it: I get told I am pretty all the time but I really don’t care for the evaluation: it has no real value to me. Want to flatter me - attempt to engage me on my deeper level. 

 • When she had her second drink, she is starting to get tipsy: her inhibitions and mask drop – her arrogance surfaces again. She proclaimed that she needed control of the relationship – my ears pricked up at that – my intuition and rational mind synchronized. With that, I listened carefully as she gleefully told me that she had to be the one in control and that in sex is the only time she is submissive. Her drink had made her intoxicated on the power of the possible romantic prospects she thought she had secured – blind to my discomfort and increasing disinterest. 

   It was at this moment, I understood that she had little trust of other people and very little self belief in who she was as a person despite saying “she was happy as the person she was”. It sounded so hollow. Again, I internally sigh. Slightly irritated with this phatic statement and the lack of substance underneath it. I rhetorically thought “if you were so happy with who you are you wouldn’t externalize control of others in a relationship to make yourself feel secure.” flitted into my mind’s eye. 

   So far, my impression was that she was misandrist who secretly was afraid of her own ordinary nature and lack of general talent whilst also semi aware but in denial of her own issues. I noticed that she tried very hard to be appear more charming and intelligent than she actually was: when tested she did not even demonstrate rudimentary levels of knowledge and skill. 

   I openly tell her that such a general need for control is based on a personality trait called “Social Dominance Index/Orientation” and that it links to ambition and linear fixed ways of regarding life and the self that have been internalized without much critical thought. I did not mention that those who have a high SDO combined with a lack of interpersonal awareness, empathy and consideration turn out to be people who gaslight. I was beginning to become vexed combined with the apprehension, disappointment and dislike. People with SDO who do not value or respect worldly and the personal truths of others will try to create situations and act in ways superficially that flatter their self image: they gain validation from the reception and affirmation of others which respects to their own self image and will not hesitate to act to get what they want but ultimately it is façade based on inauthenticity, externalization and profound inner insecurity. Their priority is to control events and narrative that their ego can accept, and if control is lost, they will lie or twist events to suit it then seek others to convince of this narrative (Hoovering - presentation of Narcissistic type behaviours). However, I did predict this after my rejection message. 

   If I was to choose to go beyond this initial meet up, then I would desire someone who does not seek control but rather equilibrium – an externalisation of control of others reveals poor internal emotional dysregulation and aridity within their own inner universe: a lack of firm solid foundation of self. The fact she had not picked up on my distaste was another example of her inability to read other people’s emotions and behaviours: I was masking but in the past some people have been able to pick up on it. She, on the otherhand, did not. 

   So she sways back from the toilet after going there a few times. After a few bouts of conversation and she went way to the toilet for the last time, I sighed. My general impression about this encounter was that I optimistically voted for a Green Party/Labour candidate and ended up debating with a Conservative/UKIP MP about situations and issues they have never directly seen or experienced themselves. They try to bluster through topics they knew very little about whilst having this unearned confidence that “they did really well.”. Instead of Caroline Lucas or Jeremy Corbyn I got the unpleasant frog neck of Nigel Farage or abhorrent real life Walter otherwise known as Jacob Reese-Mogg. Owing to my mounting dissatisfaction, I had organized to meet my friend shortly and I decided I was going to cut the date short. 

   When she returned, I chanced a glimpse of her phone and there was a snapchat suggesting that she would go to meet her friends. Phew, she is going to go soon. Based on her behaviour so far, the level of mistrust had reached an alarming level so in order to protect myself from future slander or liable. I recorded our conversation and when I left on my phone just in case. If she lied about what happened between us, I would simply share with her video of when I left with its metadata. Her pull away strategy (leaving early), was later revealed as a strategy to initiate control: short and sweet. She said, and I quote, “to keep you [me] wanting more.” – everything clicked when she said that – I realized what I was dealing with (aside from a spoilt white girl who’s never been told no or experienced rejection). I was eerily reminded of a drunk Arnold J Rimmer (from the cult TV show Red Dwarf) combining uncharismatic advances and fumbling lack of self-aware overconfidence with no read on their intended target’s increasing apprehension and dislike. In response, I decided to pull away and leave the venue but there was no signal to my friend which meant I had to wait a little while until I got one. 

Swapping Gender Roles: 

 Now pause for a second. If she was the man and I was the woman – if I had a guy who was adamant and dismissive of being incorrect, spoke of leaving with the intention “to make me want more” and then lied for free drinks as a courtesy: I would be (and was) severely creeped/insulted out. It was the same as a man, this psychological subtext was there. As mentioned about the psychological violence being subversive and invisible: the dark side of feminism. Yet, Xanthe felt it was perfectly acceptable conduct to behave in this manner. As the self appointed champion of feminist energy and values I am pretty sure she would be out spoken and love to occupy the victim and judgement role of this situation if it was reversed. Naturally, she was a feminist only when it was convenient to her I suspected. The general lack of self awareness was also a massive turn off.

Foul Stench:

   The strategy became apparent – it’s distaste fully realized and the gnawing in my gut was borderline physically uncomfortable. There was this impression she had deployed this before or vividly imagined some kind of script with someone else and was falsely sure it would succeed. However she did not know who or what I was at all nor could see into my inner universe: her arrogance was becoming more astoundingly obvious. After this statement, I decided to leave: put up a mask of neutral interest and engagement saying “I would like her to stay and so on” to be polite whilst biting back my tongue. I was hoping she would not invite me to where they were going, I did not want to summon up some feigned interest in a bunch of drunk 18 to 21 year old students at some cheap ass Wetherspoons bar and then have to lie: I had enough of feigning interest at this point to spare her feelings and simply wanted to leave at the earliest opportunity. 

 "Leaving you wanting more" : 

   Throughout, I had had been masking my ever increasing distaste until I could make sense of the person that was presented before me, as she was organizing an Uber, I received a text message from from my friend of her location. After her statement of “leaving you wanting more”, it was over for her – the realization of what I had encountered had occurred: it was a little freaky regardless of gender. Realizing she used romance as a subtext for her trying to tease and gain psychological control over their date (victim) - she drunkenly exposed this with her aforementioned statement – obviously not in tune with my distaste becoming more visible. When she thought she “had me”, she was like a shark who smelt blood in the water – the “leave me wanting more” remark was so funny, I laugh now in hindsight but at this point I was intent on removing myself away from her. 

 Internally, I conclusively thought "No thanks, I have had my fill of the very little you had to offer - I'll let someone else who deserves the bad karma partake of what it is you think you bring to the table." whilst putting on a mask of general polite proclivity to convince her that I was eager to hang out and "it was a shame that she was leaving early". I did not want to provoke a negative response as it was some drama I did not want to engage with. 

I'd Rather Just Go 

  After this statement was made, I decided that I was not going to hang around much longer – it was too uncomfortable to mask my revile and distaste. I stood up and said “Thanks for the night, I might see you soon.” 

  Immediately she yelled, blurting out “Are we not going to do a round of tequila?”.  

  I sardonically scoffed “Nope, I rather just be off, thanks.” whilst grinning like a Cheshire cat – it could not be helped. 

   I had become tired of masking and tolerating her poor behaviour, dual standards and overcompensation of her own insecurity. I barely contained my sassiness - with every step I made towards the back door a grim glee surfaced as I committed to leave. As I excited, I knew I had made the right choice as relief shivered down my spine and the feeling of disease quickly evaporated: I couldn’t help but smile. It was her, the source of my ever increasing discomfort and dislike: the moment I had left the adrenal system stopped activating and there was not this invading pressure in my proximity. 

   I was confident that I would never see her again after that night, and I was intent in wrapping up any online communication alluding to as such. Throughout, I did not want to quickly judge or jump to conclusions but here was all the evidence I needed from the experience. A lot of my hesitation was that I did not want to judge someone so negatively but I cannot ignore what I know to be true. 

Post Date: 

   From a subjective point of view, post date she behaved in a way I expected she would. Usually, after a date, it becomes clear in hindsight what your thoughts were or you learn, through reflection, what it meant and making sense of the patterns or specific nuances. After I see my friend, talking about the weird nature of what I experienced I thought of messaging her “that I had a nice night”. However, I felt that it was disingenuous for me to say such a thing so I deleted the message I sent. I walked home processing what I had experienced: there was some intrinsic sense of trust lost that went below the baseline I have for strangers – it was quite startling to see this within myself and I queried way as it could be useful in the future to understand this subconscious response that turned out to be eerily accurate. I go to sleep and I wake around 6 am. She has posted a new photo in the early hours of the morning on her Instagram and I noticed she had been looking at my stories – I decided to put her profile on restrict until I sent my departing message. I had a feeling she would try to get me to chase her or be the first to reply. I got on with my day, did some written work, then wrote this for my own journalist records for future reference and entertainment. I am of the opinion shared with one the greatest classic writer’s of all time:

  “I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train.” (Oscar Wilde by the way). 

I did not interact with the profile but my mid afternoon I noticed her attempt of trying to be sexy photo was deleted. Maybe she wanted the attention but since I did not interact or respond with her she took it down. I carried on with my Saturday as usual, went to York, came back. Napped and got ready for another date with someone else for the following night which was far more natural grace and flow: it was very useful to have this immediate contrast to draw a comparison between Xanthe on Friday and my other date on Saturday. Such is the life of a 30 something bachelor. 

The Final Rejection Message: 

   Sunday comes, and I notice she has been orbiting my Instagram stories every few hours (nothing worth mentioning – just basic humour and cats) but not interacting. My Instagram meta data revealed she had been visiting my profile quite a few times as well so she was waiting for a response yet too adamant/stubborn to initiate a conversation. The whole “I am ignoring you ignoring me” type deal surfaced – silly game to play. I smiled to myself, thinking "Are we really behaving like a 13 year old? That afraid of rejection?"

   From this, I anticipated that she won’t take rejection at all that well based on arrogance during the date and her mind game of ignorance. She will not take kindly to having her vulnerabilities or her self belief/assumptions questioned – I would say that she will deny that I rejected her and create a story to herself and to her friends: if she lies to her friends about her genuine thoughts and feelings combined with how events really played out then she has betrayed their trust for the sake of her own ego: this person has no integrity and is willing to throw a stranger under a bus for the sake of their own narrow world view and to avoid dealing with inevitable social and personal truths. 

Why the Delay? 

   My initial lack of interaction was born from a lack of certainty of how to approach the situation up until the Sunday afternoon. Based on what I observed I do not think she would take to positive enquiry too well and that it would provoke an argument, her conceit would also make it difficult to address any pathologies that I thought could be there as well and I was not really willing to pretend to date her in order to play therapist or gain sexual access neither: the latter would lower oneself. 

   I concluded, in a more general sense, that me trying to help or prevent her was futile owing to the resistance at being proven wrong. I shared online my predictions with a handful of friends on Saturday evening to see what their opinions were and to gain insight to my experiences with my meeting with Xanthe: the vasty majority agreed with my insight and were later in awe to the degree of accuracy to which I predicted Xanthe's behaviour after the fact. What I intended to convey in my message were some conclusions I made about her, these are as follows: 

 • That I was masking my true thoughts and feelings during our meet-up – if Xanthe was benign or trust worthy I would not have intuitively chose this course of action. 

 • It was going to be an awkward conversation if I delved too much into it and not one she is emotionally/spiritually mature enough for. 

 • I anticipated her to be dishonest with me and herself, to treat me as an object in response to being rejected: there’s a reason for this relating to her desire to write romantic stories through her degree – to not see other people as people capable of free will and choices – some of these which she will not like: and she will retaliate if a person behaves outside of this limited sphere of what she wants of them just like characters in the story of the desires and egocentricity. 

 • I have a clear set of immediate life goals and personal academic objectives, I know precisely the types of situations that maintain and augment it: and I know what detracts from it: what Xanthe was offering was not in alignment and would be very disruptive. In order to entertain her I would have to diverge significantly and not be my authentic/ideal self to which my intellectual rigour would be reduced. 

 • Considering how she was it would be a futile waste of time trying to get her to reflect and turn inward: to actually begin the path of awakening instead of this persona of pseudo-spirituality. 

 • Xanthe knew there was something in her psychology that was amiss but has not done anything about it, it was alluded to a few times and she even admitted to not being “emotionally stable” after her second drink. I found this to be problematic, as she was involving other people into her problems without herself owning her own issues to which she suspected herself of. 

 • A message of farewell: to paid heed and caution: I do not prophetize good outcomes as the person she currently revealed herself to be. 

 • The last line was to warn her that she will re-create harm and suffering in her future relationships due to the aforementioned issues and more. My message to her conveyed the aforementioned as follows: 

  “Ahoj there, As you can tell, the date did not go that great for you. Sorry, but I don't really feel comfortable around you as a person - I picked up on a few things that weren't conducive to what I'm about and the kind of situation I would like to develop. 

 There were a few other things as well, but I considered and weighed my options and decided that not really expressing them and taking a position of inaction is best. 

 I hope you find what you're looking for on Bumble and other saying websites, and I hope you can integrate your obstacles and pathology in a way that doesn't harm too many people. 

 A lot of my friends suggested I ghost you but it is not my style.” 

 I did not really see too much of an issue with my message – it was blunt and to the point: but after what I observed and concluded I figured it was best to not invite further involvement. 

Now, there was four options to this: the most likely I predicted with be deflection combined with demeaning which would confirm my evaluation and the type of person she was. The other three were, genuine concern (would have been astounded by this – as she was very self centric about her own needs and did not offer anything through the entire duration of our interaction), ignorance completely or an argument about “how she felt the same way too” or some outright attack on my person and character directly. In essence, it was a test of both empathy and maturity to which she failed. 

 She blocked after saying: “Lol you're wierd” 

 The misspelling of weird suggested there was some haste in that message but I did not think too much about it – the fact she blocked amused me though: did my rejection of her hurt her that much? I was going to say to her to have a natter from time to time because I foresaw her having a hard time due to her issues in future relationships to the point it will interfere with her life: primarily her studies. I believe the way she reacted had two purposes – to set the stage of the idea that if I pursue her that I was the one that would be interested and that she was the one in control in the way she dismissed: I had no interest in doing so - when I sent the message I had already accepted this was the likely outcome, if she responded more maturely we might have been decent acquaintances. I had other more interesting romantic candidates to focus on.

   Her reaction conveyed her disappointment and hurt - she wanted to lower my vibration in the same way I did her: it was a last futile attempt at controlling the situation through an out of demeaning dismissal that was not hers to decide. Instead, of addressing my discomfort or the fact that our encounter might have caused suffering she chose her own ego over through genuine compassion. If there was anything that cemented the fact my decision was correct it was this choice she made which was exclusive to her alone, rather than querying her own behaviour as what made me feel so uncomfortable. I expected it – it closed down the possibility of me wanting to help her as I knew the choice she at that point was to lie and try to convince herself that she was in control: I do not think anyone has ever rejected her before judging by the behaviour. There was some hint to rejection sensitivity dysphoria from this response but also an intolerance to being bested or outsmarted in interpersonal domains: I knew the game she was going to try to play and executed the winning move "to not play" . 

   She had humiliated herself on her date and here on social media when she chose this as her method of (not) dealing with the situation authentically or truthfully. Again, I saw through it. I knew where I was coming from and certain in my assessment of who she was and who she chose to be in respect to oneself: I don’t have any problem as I had other people who I dated over the weekend and others who I would date in the future who had far more to say about themselves and their lives. 

   In her head, she has tried to cheat the situation by pretending that she just ghosted after her date but she was obsessively viewing my profile and Instagram stories periodically up until I sent my last message: her record of her being in control or being the rejected party has been destroyed up to this point. I had hoped to give her the option to have a “natter every now and again” to maybe mediate her experiences but she was too proud and hurt to entertain it: too bitter and resentful. The “If I can’t have you, then I will hurt you” mentality – subconsciously seeing me as a commodity that rebelled so trying to punish me in response: I have to humorously point out... 

...that the date itself was the punishment. 

 I had a hard time masking my amusement at this point, on one hand I accurately saw someone who they truly are and my superficial assessment was on the money (thanks to the “tool” I designed) whilst on the other I found it funny yet pathetic at how audacious and inconsistent her attention seeking, orbiting and then deflect/denial dismiss response was. Her behaviour did not match up with her account nor the impression she tried to create. She did not have anything of substance to say in response so chose to try to call me “wierd”. Feeble! 

Never been told "No" - Spoilt White Girl Complex: 

   It is almost like she has never met a man before that knows their own mind, standards and what they want to maintain/create in their lives. Given the “wierd” (weird) aforementioned account and experience I concluded that I should share my account for others – however I am not interested in a response to it. I know what I observed and what the implications of the behaviour – she would drag other people into her own toxic abuse patterns whilst gaslighting it as romantic thus furthering her own confusion to the point it will globally impact her life. She believes she is fine as the way she is, but usually people who think that tend to not develop themselves earnestly nor see the ramifications of their own behaviour until it stops them getting what they want – not because they developed empathy or some moral fibre. She does not honour truth from something as mere as single date – she does not honour nor seek truth in all areas of life preferring a comfortable lie and convince herself. 

   Imagine if I had dated her for a while (weeks to months) and developed some emotional bond with her – and discovered this? How harrowing an idea! She will be punished by her own lack of integrity as she becomes full circle to the same place without growth. This is the crux of her karma. Due to knowing myself, what I wished to maintain and achieve and contrasting it with the behaviours/situations she offered. She believed herself deserving of me but she was not worthy – she has not even begun to have the ideological collapse associated with having her world view changed and being held accountable to her own behaviour. I hope, one day, that she does – for her own sake but it will not come at my expense but at the expense of some other more deserving shmuck. 

Closing Personal Thoughts: 

    Xanthe Lily Lowrie went into that situation mistaking my general sense of inclusion and curious nature as something far more than what it was and got her expectations up whilst also mistaking it as being invested in the idea of her. From a personal perspective, it is absurd to even begin to invest or regard someone in a romantic or infatuation until some sense of trust is established which can only be obtained through factual acts of respect, worthiness and honouring the place within each of us which lies in the other. With the abundance of opportunities and time I have created for myself there is no reason for me to tolerate someone who falls short of the standards I have established for myself and the criteria underpinning the future to which I create. If a person wishes to be a part of this story then they need to be worthy – and I am beholden to that statement as much as its enunciator. 

   I theorize that she saw me as a gateway to a number of opportunities with respect to her own writing prospects and would try to exercise some leverage to get what she wanted until she could be independent – as such I would summarise her as a person who facilitates opportunity and material resource based usury until she obtains what she selfishly wants. I do not see her being a person who gives much of herself nor has much to offer others but will demand or attempt to deceive her way to what she wants. Her superficial positive hippy vibe is based on an intolerance and dysregulation of her own emotions and she will only accept/entertain things that she deems as positive or make her feel good whether they are true or not. 

   Some of what I base my conjecture regarding Xanthe is actually derived from what she holds to do with her “Creative Writing Degree” at Leeds Arts University (initially she said Leeds University but lied) is that she wants to write Romance novels filled with secrets, betrayals and lies. In a weird way, this is quite a charming unique individual quirk but based on her interactions with me a couple of thoughts sprang into mind. Does she know the true extent of the emotions, turmoil and despair that comes with the territory of such hardships? Would she trivialize or even romanticize such relationship crises that result in the profound dilemmas of the self to point they can almost (and sometimes) take the very soul from oneself? She did not behave nor act in way that would suggest any direct experiences to such scenarios but then wishes to write about them? How out of touch is this person? I found it borderline offensive since I have worked with both domestic abuse offenders and victims – to have their experiences reduced to some novella from some out of touch 20 year old girl? Sounds like the female feminist wannabe equivalent of Jim Theis’ The Eye of Argon. 

The Standard of Friendship serves as the Bare Minimum: 

   Any friends I have, are devoted to a level of personal and moral development – there is an honesty and general sense of humility that appears when one comes to term with failure, mistakes, loss and bereavement. From a personal point of view, it is inconceivable for me to lie or twist events to myself – accept the facts and change the future, that is all I ever do. As such, Xanthe demonstrated a lack of courage to face awkward situations and the courage to accept negative events: and as such has not gained my respect. Her approach is to twist events and facts with herself in controlling the narrative, such is her ego. I am constantly astounded at the degree people will deny and lie about what is actually happening even to themselves – such people I have little respect of and generally avoid having anything more than a superficial interaction with based on necessity. 

"Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate." - C. G. Jung:  

    She behaves in away that will draw abuse and trauma to herself because she creates it in the dynamics of the situations she wants and how she forces them into being. A lot of the time, I think she will think "this is opportunity to make myself look good and like an aspirational leader." but really she is just a opportunity hog for shameless narcissistic self promotion so she can control the narrative about oneself. The fact she struggled with the rejection and tried to behave in way that hedged her bets was evidential and was not fooling anyone. She was ill-prepared for who I was and seemed to have completely underestimated me – the truth be told that she was only thinking of herself as she did not predict the nature of my reaction or response. And she will view any interaction I would try to have with her as stalking or so on as that is the only narrative she could accept when in fact: she would flip the situation and roles protect her fragile ego however such self deceit comes full circle. She will end up back where she started with worse far reaching consequences. Whether it is a good or bad thing, but I doubt she will meet another fellow like myself – with zero return and zero consequence. I got what I wanted, I went on a date – fucked around – found out what I wanted to know and made an informed decision to not continue dating said person. Life will continue as I directed whereas hers? Who knows. 

Moving Forward: 

   My resulting thoughts on the situation were that this person needs to seek a diagnosis for their current state (due to the nature of it – they adamantly will not) and will blame or find fault with the intention to demean/invalidate the choices and views of other people for being rejected, their problems and interpersonal hardships. I think, due to how she is as a person (from my direct experience, social media and general conversations) that she will only be forced to reconcile her issues when it stops her from completing university tasks and it impacts both the quality of the men she is interested in combined with the poor quality, lack of sincerity and constant instability in her relationship dynamics. As her relationships fail, I imagine she will attempt more overt and promiscuous means to secure what she wants but it will only attract people who will end up exploiting her. Any man who tolerates these types of behaviours and disrespect will not have discovered self respect, have high self esteem, come from a place of self perceived scarcity and will not be who they say they are. The irony being that only a low value individual will tolerate it or a person who knows to how to exploit it with very little personal investment for sex or someother misleading end at her expense. I am sure she will do a form of hoovering (convince others of her story for reassurance), I suspect that she will go so far to deny my academic and professional accreditations/achievements, if she does this then her level of intolerance to what I did and said would be bordering on the pathological and point to a Borderline Personality Disorder with narcissistic presentations of self aggrandization through the denial of expertise/substance that I embodied in my decision making. Her goal here would be to reassure herself that my perspective, the facts and opinions I based my judgment on were invalid: it is more projection of what she wants to believe to be true as opposed to actually being true. Any message I could send her potentially will be interpreted as stalking (even though I said in my main message that was it for me) because she wishes that was the case that I desired her and she rejected me. This would be an allusion to rejection sensitivity dysphoria which is endemic to those with BPD, PTSD and ADHD but I am not making any statements regarding this: the issue is more complex than that. She would be too proud to ever admit that I hurt her and defied her expectations – she will demonize and pretend that I had no significance and what I do is weird/stalkerish: but she plays herself because she will recreate this situation with someone else and the core issues remain undiscovered until they have already damaged her efforts of what she wanted to create for herself. 

Xanthe's Persona - Overestimation of Self: 

   Xanthe went into that situation mistaking my general sense of inclusion and my default curious nature as something far more than what it was and got her expectations up whilst also mistaking it as being invested in the idea of her. From a personal perspective, it is absurd to even begin to invest or regard someone in a romantic or infatuation until some sense of trust is established which can only be obtained through factual acts of respect, worthiness and honouring the place within each of us which lies in the other. Her intention was to establish a one-sided power dynamic as the status quo in the relationship, assuming her self as the dominant one already without really understanding or comprehending myself as being a dominant personality that operates in a more subtle and self assured way. The need to control the relationship comes from both a fear of rejection, some form of past abuse that took advantage of her attachment in the past and inability to emotionally regulate: based on this I suspect there is rejection sensitivity dysphoria especially after what occurred post date (see aforementioned). Just because she got a date and I was engaging with her she thought she it was secure but the fact this was the case revealed to me her naivety, conceit and foretold the kind of dynamics/situations she intended to create with me. 

   Throughout our interaction, every action she did lacked spontaneity and appeared to obey some framework. She did not respond well to spontaneity of actions or anything I did: a lot of her approach seemed pre-planned or scripted with a specific result. As a result, the whole thing seemed very controlled orientated from her especially towards the end and on my final impression of her on social media. This control of both others, the situation and the narrative seemed to be an attempt to externalize her emotions and expectations through the manipulation of others hence the lopsided need for control – but this was based on a lack of personal self emotional regulation and expectations so she tried to do as much as she could to “subtly” gain my interest which was also a tactic which she deployed online (overtly sexual photos but I told her that I was not that into that but I still found her pretty). It only really became apparent towards our actual date this was the case and she had a clear rigid agenda that would have come at my expense: I think she would throw me under a bus (metaphorically) if I did not do what she wanted and tried to control myself. I think this comes a lack of a concrete sense of being and self, being able to accept and be oneself and as such she attempted to control others to mediate her own desires and avoid sadness/disappointment. There was a fear of me in her actions that she communicated through this approach: rejection and freewill – when she thought she had my interest (due to drink) it was most apparent that she did not regard me as a freethinking person capable of acting out of her projected scenario. I was not really thinking so in depth about my behaviour or actions but rather just resuming my current life path uninterrupted and removing a distraction. You can’t manipulate or strategise people into liking you – you have to trust they see the beauty and value of who you are as person. 

Inauthentic Love - the Violation of Personal Volition:

    There is this culture amongst many young people and Xanthe demonstrates it in a very discrete way, that they think they can emotionally and strategically create situations within a relationship that attempt to psychologically string and ensnare the people they intend to date. What they fail to realize is that if a victim has been manipulated to like them or dote upon them, their emotions and the way they perceives things are not authentically or freely chosen: they don’t like you because they chose to but because they has been psychologically deceived and hijacked based on their own self esteem and insecurities (most men have them, deal with it). It is not real, and towards the end of relationship or after it – they realizes the deception and the regret stings. It is why there are so many tales of an attractive figures seduce people (excluding Gaunt) into situations of self compromise (Garden of Eden, Siren’s, Mermaids and even in Harry Potter regarding Tom Marvolo’s Mother Merope Gaunt) – the seduction and deception go hand in hand: the sorceress or enchantress intention haunts the more ambitious and controlling of women and the trait that connects these women is desperation and social dominance orientation wherein they imagine themselves in control of most if not all things in their lives. Without realizing it, such women do not realize that they have played their partner but more importantly that they played themselves (men do this too). Seduction, the most part, carries with it a degree of deception and the conceit of its enactor in how "attractive/crafty" they like to imagine themselves. 

   Love is a sacred emotion, whatever forms it takes. To abuse of it for personal gain or to remedy personal insecurities is really a coward’s game. In order to get what you want without it being freely given requires coercion and psychic violation. Considering the aforementioned, this is what I saw Xanthe attempting to do, to create trauma bonds, and my intuition instantly saw it for what it was having encountered it before. My self agency was not respected and she tried to violate it for her own selfish gain underneath the guise of romance: it was this which I base my prediction of my involvement with her as a negative diminishing person to my projective goals and objectives so she had to go. This is further supported in both how she tired to deflect my rejection message combined with her trying to find holes in who I was and attempted to professional discredit me in her own story to invalid the rejection and what I implied towards her. What I can conclude over this weekend was that Xanthe never saw me as a human being but rather an instrument to manipulate for her own finer feelings of amorousness, romance and validation but in her attempt to play me she ended up playing herself. 

 "Anyone who tries to play around with and disrespect love will be the one who ends up crying." 

   I despise anyone who tries to pervert love for their own selfish reasons and will thwart their attempts to do so. This motivation was overtly expressed with Xanthe who thought there was nothing wrong with the way she engaged and the one sided situation she wished to develop and it wasn’t my job to explain something so straight forward and simple: that should have been her mother or father’s role. I do not believe she will get in contact or show genuine remorse for her action nor her intentions. I have made it so that the idea of contacting me or reaching out will be discouraged severely. But she will be forced to develop accountability through the instrumentality of the relationships she creates in the future but with people who are far less self aware or will exploit her psychological weaknesses. In the end, it seems to be Xanthe who is the weird one – and secretly she knew it all along. I believe the only time she will get back in contact with me is if she selfishly wanted something, even "forgiveness" will be laden with an operand cost. 

Summary: 

 I hate to coin a stereotype to summarise this but really I just dated a spoilt white girl drunk on her parents enabling lack of accountability who got too used to having her own way and not being held accountable to her own narrow world view of toxic positivity: a potential narcissist in the making. 

  My above account, although factual in many ways in what I observed, experienced and thought are just my perception and are not alluding to a professional diagnosis. They are not to be taken as such and not stated as absolute matters of fact. To paraphrase or forward an excerpt without the whole body of text to others (including her) is not my intention nor would it be in my or her best interests. I am grateful for the experience I had as it better prepared me to what I need to avoid and enabled me to better select worthier candidates more efficiently. 

   I wish Xanthe what she both deserves and needs in order to become a whole integrated self realized woman and identify the toxic enablement and deceit of her own mother's pathology and how it has been implanted in her - harming her future relationships with people generally and stunted her development of a stable identity that is not dependent on those around her but comes from an intrinsic and authentic self belief.

[sporadiclilbook]

Songbird

Yan!Childe x Singer/Dancer!Khaenri'ahn! reader

Proof-read by: @choquackette

a/n: in a way, does this count as a songfic :D? Also I'm gonna use Lost in Thoughts All Alone for this. And to be fair you're pretty much like Shigure/Azura from fates in this

TW: Kidnapping

You are the ocean's gray waves

Destined to seek life beyond the shore

Just out reach

Your voice rang out through the crowd who was listening. Your Hydro Vision glowed as you made particles of water float around you. It created an illusion that made them looked like it was sparkling. It was mesmerising. To Childe, it amazed him how you used it so beautifully for a show. Unlike his more....bloodthirsty uses of his. To think a Vision can do something so graceful and morbid at the same time.

Of course he had his Electro Delusion but this is the Vision we're talking about. He uses it as a weapon while you used it for entertainment. To be honest, he never thought he'd see something like this. It was all thanks to a mission he has to do. Tailing a guy who was in debt to the Fatui and all. Childe think he was a fool. Instead of trying to make his business better, he wastes it on shows like these. But now that he sees you, he understand why. Your exotic appearance was a sight to behold. The only known person to have the same eyes as you was that Favonius Cavalry Captain and he only showed one eye. One already can make one look intriguing but having both made you look ethereal.

Yet the water ever change

Flowing like time

The path is yours to climb

Your dance was graceful, fluid movements that did flow like water. Childe think you could've been a good sword fighter if you were able to incorporate these movements into sword fighting. But for now he'll enjoy your voice and dancing. There's just something about it he loved so much. Sure fighting is always the one he loves but there's just something about you that he's attracted to. Was it your appearance? Vocals? Movements? Or those pupils of yours? He thinks it's quite silly, he doesn't even know who you are and yet......

A burdened heart

Sinks into the ground

Here he is, eager to look for you after this whole mission thing. If there's one thing he knows, is to not judge someone's prowess by appearance. Take the traveler for example. They have a petite form and yet they were able to defeat his Foul Legacy form! Who knows what you might have in store for him? Just the thought of you actually being able to fight makes him feel giddy.

Alas, all he can do for now is listen to your song. With that said, he didn't forget his mission. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw his target. The man was also in awe of looking at you. Too in awe of noticing his presence that is. He'll get right back to him when your show's over.

A veil falls away without a sound

Not day nor night

Wrong nor right

For truth and peace, you'll fight

He wondered if his siblings would love your singing. Sleeping to a lullaby sounded like a nice idea to him. Why he even thought of that was a mystery to him. Is this what they called love at first sight? He just can't help but wished to woken up by your voice that will roll out his name softly in the morning.

Sing with me a song

Of silence and blood

The rain falls, but can't wash away the mud

Within my ancient heart dwells

Madness and pride

Can't no one hear my cry?

The song ended and the crowd threw a round applause. You bowed and left the stage immediately. Childe, who hasn't forgot his mission, quickly trailed the guy he was after outsidd. "Ah! Hello there Mr. Wei Xing! I reckon you know who I am yes?" And so from there, he scared the poor man to the death with threats and grim reminder of the debt he owed. But Childe was feeling a bit merciful today "Tell you what I'll give you some more time on one condition." Wei Xing, his target, was confused. The Fatui giving a bit of leverage? Still, he would be an idiot to refuse "And that condition is....?"

Childe chuckled at his quick response. It's natural after all. All of his intimidation must have triggered his survival instincts. "Just answer me this. Who was that singer with a Hydro Vision?" Wei Xing was baffled. That's all he wanted? "A-as far as I know, t-their name is (Y/N). They're a performer that was passing by Liyue to gain more popularity across Teyvat." Childe hummed as he hears it. 'A travelling performer huh? Looks like I'll have to act quick if I want to meet them' There was moment of silence before he asked another question "When are they leaving?" "I-in a few days"

Childe let him go and as promised gave him more time for him to pay his debt. Should he fails again to do so.....he'll be history. He only had a few days to meet and talk to you so he has to be quick. Thankfully being a Fatui Harbinger does have it perks. One of those perks being having informants that can collect informations for you. And since this is no top secret info, it was quite easy to find out where you were staying and exactly how many days before you were gone.

As he wait for you at the road that led guests from Wangshu Inn to Liyue, he thought of what you might say. Maybe you'll recognise him right away? Or perhaps you were too innocent to notice the horrors of the Fatui. As he notices your figure walking on the horizon, he prepared to greet you casually. But then he was perplexed by your outfit. It seemed less travelling performer and more of a......fighter? Interesting. He drops the idea of greeting you and opted to follow your path instead.

He followed you until you reached a domain that was near one of the ruins. You stood in front of the entrance as he awaits your next move, intentionally letting his presence seep out. "You're not doing that much of a great job to hide yourself, Fatui. Or is it intentional?" Childe walks out from the spot he was hiding in and approached you slowly while saying "Well, isn't this a surprise? I just happened to be passing b-" His actions stopped midway as your pointed a spear at him. "Not a step closer, what do you want?"

Your starred pupils were sharped and narrowed. It held an intense emotion in it. Childe held up his hands in some sort of mock surrender and laughed a bit "Hey now! There's no need to get aggressive, is there? I was just curious why someone like you is doing here. Not exactly a good place to perform isn't it?"

"That's none of your business."

"Are you gonna go inside this domain?"

"...."

"If so, can I follow?"

"No."

"Please?"

"I said no."

"I'm very good at fighting you know. It'll be a shame if someone like you gets inju--"

Your spear was closer to him now. Threatening to slice him open any minute you wanted to. It didn't faze him at all. In fact it made him thrilled. He knew there was something about you that was enchanting and perhaps this was it. An unrelenting fighting spirit. In a blink of an eye, he immediately summoned his hydro javelin and parried your spear. You backed away in surprise but kept your guard up.

"Listen I have no time for you Fatui. Leave me be. I have more important matters to attend to." Childe just gave a fox-like grin at your attempt to intimidate him. "Is that so? Like what exactly?" You rolled your eyes at him. He was getting annoying for sure. "Like I said, none of your business." It looks like you might have to halt your plans for tonight. The Abyss Order can wait. "So, what are you gonna do little star?" Without warning you immediately engulfed yourself in a torrent of water and disappears. Childe was shocked when he sees it but still grinned. If you wanted to be a challenge then so be it. If he can't bother you during your 'missions' then he'll bother you during the day.

And that is exactly what he did.

For two days straight he kept trying to talk with you whenever you were out visiting the Liyue Harbour. At first you tolerated him but now he was insufferable. You were glad you were leaving as soon as possible next day but Childe was not having any of that. In just the span of two days his little curiosity had turned into a tsunami of obsession. Your expressions and reactions not to mention the little heart warming moments he saw you cheering up some of the kids in Liyue. He wants to know even more of you.

And precisely why he is fighting you right now.

As he has deducted, your move was as graceful as your dance. Your fighting style was as unique as your eyes. Something he has never seen before. You dodged his flurry of arrows, panting while doing so. How long has he fought you? It felt like an eternity. You tried to dash to him and deliver a swift strike but him and his stupid shield won't let you. You jumped back just in time before he strike his hydro swords at you. You can't even get an elemental advantage here, you had to mostly rely on your weapon.

"Well (Y/N), it's been a fun fight really. But why don't you surrender now? You're tired aren't you? I promise things will go smoothly if you just give up."

You didn't want to. There's no way you'll give up. What does he wants with you anyway? You only stared down at him in silence, refusing to answer. "Ah, stubborn now aren't we? I guess I'll have to use a little force...." He activated his Delusion and immediately dashed towards you, giving you no time to react. The electricity made you groan in pain. You use your spear as a stabiliser from falling to the ground but you were running out of energy at this point.

Before you could fall, Childe took a hold of your body. "See? It's not that hard to give up." You wanted to mutter a remark but darkness shrouded your vision before you fainted. You woke up in an unfamiliar room. Certainly not Liyue's architecture nor your homeland's. Your first thought was to look for an escape.

The door was locked.

Windows were barred.

The wardrobe had the clothes you brought with you across Teyvat along with some new ones.

There was a chain at your leg that's long enough to get you to the bathroom.

Your Vision and weapon was missing.

You waited in silence, pondering what to do. You certainly can't escape like this. But then you heard the door open. And as expected it was him. "Did you had a good sleep? You were knocked out for a while there." You scowled at him "Drop the act, where am I?" Childe hummed before answering "You're in Snezhnaya of course! Where else would I bring you? I'm quite lucky to be able to bring you here and visit my siblings! Say would you like to visi--" "Why would I do that?"

His grin dropped and his eyes stared at you. His eyes was....hollow...empty...devoid of any humanity in them. He walked towards you and you instinctively stepped back. He had you trapped against a wall. He lifted up your chin and let out a small but terrifying smile "Well, because your fate is in my hands. There's nothing you can do now, is there? But I'll forgive your behaviour for now.....if you sing that is."

You hated it. You hated the fact he was right. So you had no choice but to stay obedient and be his 'little songbird' until you found a window of opportunity. He lets go of your chin and sat down on a chair. With a heavy heart, you opened your mouth to sing.

You are the ocean's gray waves

Destined to seek life beyond the shore

Just out of reach

Childe smiled as you sing. He's sure you'll come around and fall in love with him soon enough.

Yet the water ever change

Flowing like time

The path is yours to climb

Shame that you can't meet his family yet. They would've love you. He can't wait for that day to arrive though. He can't help but feel joy. His little songbird, all his and no one else.

You are the ocean's gray waves.