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yanderes-galore · 5 months ago

Note

Your prompts 5, 14, and 26 with Gojo from JJK, please?

I wanted some diversity in the plots so... Cheater! Gojo manipulating you into staying with him. I have made yandere Gojo worse somehow, you're welcome.

Here's your pathetic ex who can't seem to live without you.

Yandere! Satoru Gojo Prompts 5, 14, 26

"Manipulation? No, dear, I'm just encouraging you!"

"It's too dangerous in the world. You need me, you should know that!"

"Look! We're bonding, just the two of us!"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Overprotective behavior, Possessive behavior, Toxic relationship, Cheater! Gojo, Mature themes, Stalking, Delusional behavior, Tension, Dubious affection (possible harassment), Implied stalking, Mind break (?), If you read a certain line right... possible murder, Forced relationship implied.

The grin Satoru Gojo wears around you makes your blood boil. Especially since you know what he's done. You know he's a liar, a liar who loves to string you along like you belong to him.

Truth is, you haven't belonged to him since he decided to touch someone else.

Even when confronted, Satoru just thinks he can lie his way out of it. He always treats you like you can't live without him. He always makes you feel like you're reliant on him.

It felt so good to hurt him when you cut him off, when you took all that power he had over you away from him.

It felt great to watch Satoru's smug expression fall away when he realized he didn't have you. You broke his confidence and left the man begging for you to not leave. He can change! He loves you and wants you safe!

It was just a fling, just a little bit of fun...

All lies.

You moved out and found your way to a friend's place to clear your head. For weeks you had received texts and calls from him. All pleading and begging... all wanting you back.

Satoru had already gotten rid of the person he was toying with to show he loves you. He sent you screenshots of the conversation. He sent you all sorts of things.

Satoru sent you pictures and messages. His pictures varied from him showing how much he missed you to downright lewd images and voicemails. All for you he'd say, like he didn't cheat on you.

Satoru is desperate without you. Of course he craves something he can't have. He ruined things with you... but he can't seem to let it go...

So he'll convince you he still belongs to you... that you still belong to him.

You knew things were bad news the moment you opened the door to your new apartment that your friend hooked you up with. The second the door opened, Satoru is leaning against the frame with flowers and gifts. You go to close the door on his face, but he keeps it open with his foot.

"I just want to talk...!" Satoru pleads, gaze determined. "Please, baby... please let me show you I'm sorry!"

Deciding to humor him, you let your ex in your house. He breathes a sigh of relief, giving a thankful smile as he walks inside. The moment he sits down on your couch, negotiations begin.

"Baby..." Satoru whispers, looking at you as you sit down on the opposite side of him. "They're gone now, I got rid of them. I only belong to you, okay...?"

"We aren't together anymore, Gojo." You saying his last name stings him, your tone of malice. "I don't care if you speak with them or not."

"Come on... you can call me Satoru, I'm your Satoru." Satoru answers, tone pleading. "Let me make it up to you... I'll give you anything."

You watch as Satoru strolls over to you, leaning against the back of your chair. His blue eyes are pleading, desperate... needy. He just couldn't let you go.

"It's too dangerous in the world. You need me, you should know that!" Satoru continues making his case, strolling in front of you to stroke your cheek. "I could give you whatever you wanted... I'll be all yours... just take me back and I'll protect and love you...."

You slap his hand away, startling Satoru slightly as you stand up. More lies, more falsehoods to keep you under his control again. You glare at him.

"Don't manipulate me. I know what you're trying to get away with. It isn't happening." You hiss, another wound to Satoru's heart. He doesn't give up, unfortunately.

"Manipulation? No, dear, I'm just encouraging you!" Satoru laughs softly. "Remember how happy we were? I just lost my way... maybe you can... help me find it?"

Satoru's voice deepens to a lovesick murmur as he steps closer to you again. Oh how he's missed you. Oh how he wishes you'd just let him spoil you again like a little pet.

He goes to give you affection, yet you keep your distance. Your hate for him makes him frown. Oh, he needed you...

Why won't you take him back? Don't you love him?

"No way." You growl, Satoru staring at you with need. "We are not getting back together."

"Then at least let me show you I still care..." Satoru weakly smiles, reaching out just enough to pull you into his chest by your shirt. You struggle against him but he's stronger. Your ex presses a delusional kiss to your forehead, blue eyes looking as though they'd devour you.

"I want to make it up to you..." Satoru whispers, moving his kisses to your cheeks. "I want to show you I can't live without you... that we're meant to be partners... that you're meant to love me...."

"Let me go...!" You growl, pushing against his chest. Satoru just looks amused when you do so. He likes your warmth against his skin.

"Nuh uh...!" Satoru teases, falling further into delusion. He plans to drag you with him. "Look! We're bonding, just the two of us!"

"This isn't bonding!" You hiss, causing Satoru to chuckle.

"Not yet~" He purrs, holding you as though you're merely having a tantrum. "Oh, baby... don't you miss me?"Satoru leans close, a devilish grin on his face. "I missed you... no one touched you, did they?"

"That's none of your business-" You counter, only for Satoru to push you onto the couch lightly.

"That's okay, no need to lie, baby... I already know no one has." He grins more, pinning you down. "After all... I can't keep my eyes off what's mine!"

"I'm not-!" You try to say, only for Satoru to cut you off.

"No need to deny it, dear. I can tell you miss this..." Satoru murmurs, looking into your eyes. In a way... yes... what he said was true.

You did miss this... as much as you wished it wasn't true... you missed his touch.

Yet aren't sure if you want to be his again.

"Just let me convince you, baby..." Satoru purrs, voice as soft as velvet as he leans close. "You'll see you need me... I don't need anyone else but you... promise."

With that, Satoru kisses your lips with a hungry force. The kiss is passionate and needy. As though he was a starving man. After some time... you return the gesture.

As much as you hate to admit it...

You're beginning to feel you need him again.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere satoru gojo #yandere gojo

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sophieinwonderland · 6 months ago

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Debunking Anti(-endo's)Misinfo. AKA: How are anti-endos so bad at sources????

(The original)

Oh, well good on you for trying to cover everything! Nice of anti-endos to finally start trying to use science to prove their arguments. I'm sure these sources will totally be reliable and will prove your points beyond a shadow of a doubt, and that you won't just be falling flat on your face with every single attempt at basic reading comprehension, and end up repeatedly make a complete fool of yourself.

Let's go!

Off to a pretty strong start, acknowledging that many endogenic systems don't have DID or OSDD. Sadly, that basic fact is something that seems to escape most anti-endos. So with this in mind, I think it's safe to say the goal of this post is going to be to prove...

You can't possibly have DID without trauma.

You can't possibly have OSDD without trauma.

You can't be a system without DID/OSDD.

Let's read through and see how they'll do at proving their points by the end. I promise you, the results... won't surprise you. 😉

Well, there goes that strong start.

The source here is a Carrd and so-called "common sense."

Meanwhile, in the World Health Organization's ICD-11, alters or dissociative identities are described as "distinct personality states." In the same page, it's stated that you can have multiple "distinct personality states" without a disorder.

This is information from the World Health Organization affirming that you can be plural without a disorder. And I think that prevails over your so-called "common sense."

See also these screenshots from the plurality chapter of Transgender Mental Health, a book published by the American Psychiatric Association:

Finally, I really want to put a focus on this line of logic: "you cannot have alters without having a disorder, this is common sense as it's not normal to have alters."

Normal has multiple meanings in different contexts. The ICD-11's boundary with normality uses normal to mean "non-pathological." But this post seems to be using "normal" in the lay way to mean "common."

And that makes this particular rhetoric extremely dangerous and harmful to many communities. "If it's not common, it's a mental illness," was the basis for homosexuality and being transgender being listed as mental illnesses. "Most people don't think this way, so there's something wrong with them."

This could also easily be used to pathologize Otherkin and other alterhumans as mentally ill because it's not "normal" to identify as an animal.

The modern World Health Organization and American Psychiatric Association recognize the fact that simply thinking unusually or differently isn't an illness or disorder.

Statements like yours do not exist within a vacuum, but harken back to decades past when any non-typical thinking would have you labeled as having a disorder that needed treated.

Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it.

Let's be thankful to live in a world today where our differences aren't considered disorders. And let's not resort to ideologies that threaten to return us to those days past.

Wait... who suggests this? Who are they? I think I need more info...

So... "some researchers."

Also, can we talk about how this starts off with "sometimes called multiple personality disorder." I checked to see if this was before the name changed in the ICD (which I believe was 2015) and it doesn't seem to be! Oldest archive I can find is 2020!

Rethink.org is a charity.

These are not peer-reviewed papers.

The page references "some researchers" without names or sources.

I have no idea who authored this or if they're qualified at all in this field.

This is a terrible source. A web page by an anonymous author citing other unnamed authors with no reason to think anyone who wrote this had any idea what they were talking about!

This says DID is caused by many things, and lists trauma as only one that's included. This doesn't back up the idea DID/OSDD can only be caused by trauma, and suggests the opposite.

Oh, and "it's also known as split personality disorder." 😔

Go home WebMD.

Usually associated with doesn't mean it's a requirement, and in fact implies that it isn't always.

"Is associated with." "Can be a response to trauma."

Reiterating that the first two goals here were to prove you can't have DID or OSDD without trauma. And these aren't doing that.

An association doesn't mean there's a causation, and it doesn't mean that association is there in 100% of cases.

"often develop."

Like with "usually", you wouldn't use the word often if if something always happened. The choice of wording implies you can have dissociative disorders without trauma.

Are... they messing with us right now???

I swear, you can't have a post that sets out with the goal of disproving the existence of endogenic plurality, and then use quotes that seem to consistently imply there can be other causes for DID and not pick up on that theme!

Oh, yay! We finally got a quote that's actually trying to argue the point we started with.

But, again, this runs into a similar issue to the ReThink.org one. This is a random independent organization. There is no author for this article. It hasn't undergone peer review like an academic paper would.

There is no evidence the person who wrote this article is actually educated in dissociative disorders.

And finally back to "usually."

You must be so proud...

Source Round-Up

There was a lot here, so let's just recap.

6 out of 8 of these sources only say that DID is "usually" or "often" or "can be" caused by or associated with trauma. These actually imply there are cases where it's NOT caused by trauma, going against the original goals of this post.

Finally, there were two sources, Rethink and Mind.org, which did suggest DID is just caused by trauma, full stop. But both of these are extremely questionable as sources.

Neither named their authors. There's no indication what the review process is for their websites. And "Rethink" merely said this is what "some researchers" believe.

So let's double back to those goals set at the beginning.

You can't possibly have DID without trauma: One source says this, but the reliability of that source is questionable. Another source says some researchers are saying this but doesn't name any researchers or cite those sources. Meanwhile, the other six sources imply that it IS possible for DID to exist without trauma.

You can't possibly have OSDD without trauma: Neither of the two sources that suggest DID can only be caused by trauma mention OSDD at all.

You can't be a system without DID/OSDD: None of the sources suggest you need DID/OSDD to be a system or to be plural.

So far, you've failed to prove you can't be a system without DID or OSDD. You've failed to show you can't have OSDD without trauma. And the case for DID being exclusive to trauma frankly looks weaker than before you started talking.

Incredible work so far!!!

And I mean that in the way that nothing about this is remotely credible!

Ugh. There is SO much wrong here. First, no sources for their claims about tulpamancy.

Now, tulpamancy draws its name from a Tibetan Buddhist practice called sprul pa.

This is not the same practice though. And the Tibetan Buddhist practice is NOT CALLED TULPAMANCY.

Something which should be obvious to anyone who knows even the most basic facts about language, with the -mancy suffix being derived from Latin. And tulpamancy as a practice generally isn't religious.

From Dr. Samuel Veissiere of McGill University:

The community is primarily divided between so-called psychological and metaphysical explanatory principles. In the psychological community, neuroscience (or folk neuroscience) is the explanation of choice. Tulpas are understood as mental constructs that have achieved sentience. The metaphysical explanation holds that Tulpas are agents of supernatural origins that exist outside the hosts’ minds, and who come to communicate with them. Of 118 respondents queried on the question, 76.5% identified with the psychological explanation, 8.5% with the metaphysical, and 14% with a variety of “other” explanations, such as a mixture of psychological and metaphysical.

When discussing the research into tulpamancy, we're not discussing a religious or spiritual practice that's been validated by psychologists.

We're talking about a primarily psychological practice that's been validated by psychologists.

And as for the DSM quote, it confirms that religious practices aren't a disorder. Cool. But it also implies that religious practices can result in multiple distinct personality states. Hence why they needed that criterion. It's not stated as explicitly in the DSM as in the ICD, but the implication is there, especially when taken together.

Whether you call these "alters" or not is up to you. Most endogenic systems aren't using the word "alter" to describe their headmates.

But regardless of the word, what the research is showing is that there are multiple phenomena which can result in people having multiple self-conscious agents sharing the same body.

I mean, you've still done a really bad job at showing DID and OSDD form purely from trauma, with many of your sources straight up saying the opposite.

And remember, a lot of mixed origin systems will say that their other headmates aren't caused by or related to their disorder. And there are documented cases of people with DID both having alters associated with DID, and having non-aversive entities they commune with outside of that, as Kluft references in this paper:

The woman he describes here, who experienced ceding control to another entity who talked through her, would qualify as a mixed origin system in the modern plural community.

SIX OF YOUR EIGHT SOURCES LEFT THE DOOR OPEN FOR DID TO FORM WITHOUT TRAUMA!

NONE CLAIMED OSDD COULD ONLY COME FROM TRAUMA!

NONE CLAIMED YOU NEEDED DID OR OSDD TO BE PLURAL!

Your sources are NOT claiming what you think they're claiming!!!!!!!

If this is "all the proof you need," to say endogenic systems aren't valid, it's clear you were only ever interested in confirming your worldview.

But surely you can't seriously think this will convince anyone who isn't already indoctrinated!

Not even addressing this in full. It's such a blatant strawman that it's not worth my time.

There are similarities between plurality and being LGBTQ. Especially to the many trans systems out there who are seeing anti-endos use the same rhetoric that transmeds have. Or like you did earlier, are endorsing the same types of views that led to homosexuality being pathologized until the 70s. But nobody is saying it's the exactly the same!

I'm not sure what this is specifically referring to. But it might be about the line in the differential diagnosis for DID in the PTSD section where it's stated DID may not be preceded by trauma or have co-occurring PTSD symptoms.

It does also say in another section that DID is associated with trauma, but it never actually says that's the only way to get DID.

This is a straight-up lie. Most sources used by endogenic systems are less than a decade old, with some being as recent as 2023.

Here's the breakdown of some of the dates in @guardianssystem's doc, for reference:

I mean, I feel like part of the reason nobody has been able to disprove it is because a lot of its more specific claims have been really hard to test.

But that's neither here nor there.

The bigger issue you'll run into is that the creators of the theory you're citing have stated that there may be other ways for people to be plural. Or as they phrased it, having "conscious and self-conscious dissociated parts."

The above quote is from two of the three authors of The Haunted Self, the creators of the theory of the structural dissociation.

The TOSD is made to propose a way trauma can cause dissociative disorders to develop. But it does NOT suggest you need to have dissociative disorders to be plural, and I doubt the authors appreciated their work being twisted like that

Final Grade:

F-

This started with three goals.

Let's look back at them one last time.

You can't possibly have DID without trauma.

You can't possibly have OSDD without trauma.

You can't be a system without DID/OSDD.

By the end of this, have any of these claims successfully been proven?

I don't feel they have.

The first claim is what all the sources tried to focus on. But most of the sources didn't say that and didn't support it. All but two implied that DID could possibly form other ways.

And for the others? Nothing suggests OSDD can only be caused by trauma.

And you failed to provide any sources that suggested you couldn't be plural without DID and OSDD.

You completely and utterly failed to find decent sources to back up your claims, and to make a compelling case for them, at every conceivable juncture.

If I were you, I would be embarrassed to have put out something of such poor quality.

What have we learned:

Non-disordered and endogenic plurality has been supported and validated across the psychological field, including the World Health Organization's ICD-11 and Trasngender Mental Health which has been reviewed and published by the American Psychiatric Association.

The creators of the theory of structural dissociation believe it might be possible that "self-conscious dissociative parts of the personality" might form without trauma and that this needs to be further researched.

Tulpamancy is a mostly psychological practice that has been studied and validated by psychologists.

Anti-endos are really bad at sources.

Conversely, the majority of endogenic sources are actual peer reviewed academic papers. And contrary to false claims here, many of the papers are actually very recent.

(Tagging some tags from the original post)

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ameliaenya404 · 26 days ago

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Love letters

Contains - mention of earthquake. Hawks x reader. Gn!reader. Fluff and light angst.

Love letters were something you never thought about. You easily forgot they existed in your singleness. And it continued well into your relationship with hawks.

You just simply forgot they were a thing, until he started sending you them whenever he was away on missions. Wether in the form of a long paragraph text or a real peice of paper mailed to your apartment, he sunk his soul and heart into every word for you.

You honestly couldn't express how much they helped when he was away for long periods of time, how often you read them over and over again in the middle of the night crying because you missed him.

The space in the bed next to you was empty and the letters did something to fill that empty spot with warmth.

You kept them in the drawer of the nightstand next to your shared bed. You took screenshots of all the texts he sent you about how much he missed you and had them saved in a folder on your phone to look back at whenever you needed him most.

Hawks had been gone for days now, sent off to an emergency site where an earthquake had destroyed. You could only imagine how bad it was down there and how worn he was going to be when he came home. He somehow still found time to send you a letter, even though every time you watched the news there were no updates other than the casualty number going up with each body found in the wreakage.

You hadn't opened the letter yet, but just as you snuggled beneath the covers and got ready to flick off the bedside lamp your hand hesitated, hovering before taking the sealed letter off the nightstand and placing it in your lap as you looked down at it.

You made quick work of ripping open the envelope, although careful not to tear the paper it held inside. You pulled out the peice of paper that was folded in half, and unfolded it to its full length.

The handwriting was messy and rushed but legible. All the I's were dotted with scribble hearts and the y's were cursive although none of the other letters were. It held personality.

His signature at the end was the same as it was in all the letters although it was far different than the signature he used for autographs. It was special just for you.

"Sorry for the messy look, I'm in a but off a rush down here. It's a mess, I'm glad your safe at home. I can't wait to get home and see you baby. I can't wait to get some proper rest with you. I hope your sleeping well. I hope you aren't worrying yourself, I know you tend to stress yourself out but I promise I'll come home to you, I always will. Have you been holding up well? Did that TV show you've been watching come out with any new episodes? I hope you've been keeping yourself busy. When i get back I want to take you out. To get you new clothes and maybe some new kitchenware, I got a sneak at the things you circled on those home magazines before I left. You can pick out whatever cute stuff you desire my love. I want to take you to a new restaurant when I get back too, I know a new place opened up not to far from the agency last month. I hear they have good chicken, we can go check it out together, yeah? I havnt been able to sleep without you. Or at all. They have me spread pretty thin between lifiting up all the heavy debris with my feathers for rescues and dealing with the aftershockes of the earthquake. It's pretty bad down here but I should be home soon enough and the minute I walk through the door I'm going to be all over you. I miss the smell of your body wash, it smells like mud down here from all the rain. I miss kissing you so much. I miss you baby but I'll be home soon. I promise. Stay warm, the weather's getting colder.

Take care of our nest and I'll see you soon dove - Hawks"

Tears spilled down your cheeks without you even noticing. You knew how stressed he was, he probably wanted to pluck so bad. It hurt your heart but his constant reassurance he'd be back helped. Because he was right, he always came back to you.

You folded the letter carefully and tucked it beneath your pillow. Glancing at the empty side of the bed and yearning. You huddled up in the blankets and shut your eyes.

"I'll take care of our 'nest', don't worry" you whisper to yourself, although it's really him you're speaking to.

#bnha #mha #hawks bnha #mha keigo takami #bnha x reader #hawks x reader #mha x you #bnha keigo #mha fluff #flufftober

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lunarw0rks · 1 year ago

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I would like to request 141 and Konig noticing that they needed something from the reader (presence, hearing the voice, something the reader gave them) to calm down and they notice they are in love with the reader and they're just "I'm fcked". If it was too vague you don't need to do it, thank you and be safe

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙✧⋆｡°⋆࿓ Needing You // 141 headcanons (+ k)

『♡』 masterlist ♡ rules ♡ ask box Warning(s): none, sfw + gn!reader Word Count: 641. A/N: might start answering requests in this shorter "drabble" format. It takes a lot less time on my end, and I think it looks better :)

SYNOPSIS; he realizes he needs you; a.k.a head over heels in love with you. ˚ ༘`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

price realizes when he feels his exterior soften. sure, he's still the same on the battlefield. but, even at work, when there aren't bullets plummeting toward him — you've gotten to him. he'll take the teases of his coworkers, all of it, only because you're there.

price is no less professional, no less of a leader, but even the most clueless on his team noticed how much... lighter he seemed. less tension in his shoulders, no more evenings with a half-empty body to cradle until he passes out.

he would never the subtle changes unless someone pointed it out (if they dared). you, with him, strong in the areas where he's weak. that's what a man like john needs.

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ⭑

simon realizes when he can't fight himself anymore. when he stumbled his way up the stairs after an exhausting mission, ripped his mask off his head, and wanted nothing but you. your touch, your scent, your roaming fingers, the whispers of comfort you provide him.

the mattress creaks under his dead weight as he settles into his side of the bed, wrapping both arms around your torso, gripping on like you were his lifeline.

in a literal sense, you were. you were the reason simon fought so hard to get home. he couldn't restrict himself anymore. once, it was him convinced he would poison you with his past, and now he only cared that you were a part of his future.

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ⭑

soap realizes when you've become a drug. him, wrapped around your finger so tight he'll never let go. once he falls — he falls hard. it's a bad habit of johnny's. but with you, this run is different. you understand him... or try to, and that's enough to make him sink to his knees in worship of you.

anything you need; it's yours. something material, something verbal, something subtle, something from himself. he'll have moments where he gains awareness of just how far he will go for you, yet he wouldn't change a second of it.

you stuck around this long for a reason, right? besides, he never learns his lessons, nor does he give up. he's your rock and that's how a man like soap wants it.

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ⭑

gaz realizes when he spends every waking moment wanting to talk to you. for a man so content with his own solitude, it's a striking contrast to who he was before he met you. video calls, text paragraphs, even letters if he's deserted enough on deployment.

[password locked for safety, of course] he has countless screenshots on his personal cell. sometimes they're of you half-asleep on call, a smile he caught in time, others are blurry because you were in the middle of moving.

his letters are an array of entertainment written just for you. sights he saw across the world, a joke he heard, what he wants to do with you when he's home — all a distraction from the warfare surrounding him as the ink glides across the paper.

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ⭑

könig realizes when you consume his thoughts. he's focused, driven, a calamitous workaholic, even. not for long, though. his work is still a heavy portion of who he is, and that's how he wants it to be. there's no way you'll ever be the highest priority — but you'll be the closest thing to it he can manage.

he finds himself searching for you first, no matter the situation. even when everything is in order, his eyes are glued to you. if he's occupied, you'll always get that voiceless nod from him, as his gaze wanders.

könig's touches become less about intimacy and more a reassurance to himself that you're still his.

————— ୨୧ ————— divider cred. - cafekitsune

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shiny-jr · 1 year ago

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how to steal a heart (I)

[ a dummy's guide on how to steal the heart of a poor pathetic man ]

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Female reader.

- Note: This has been an idea (heavily inspired by Howl's Moving Castle) I had in my docs since fall 2022. I was talking to a mutual about how writing on Tumblr vs Quotev feels very different. If I leave something unfinished on Quotev, I feel incredibly guilty which prevents me from posting new stories. However, on Tumblr, I don't feel as guilty. Not sure why. Anyways, I know most of my followers here don't care for my ocs, and I've been wanting to post this for so long. So instead of posting on Quotev, I'll post it on here just to get rid of the urge to share this story (might delete this later). This is the same story I posted that little screenshot of not too long ago, and that screenshot was basically just the prologue chapter. So yeah. Hope you enjoy?

IN WHICH THERE IS A SEAMSTRESS . . .

Black smoke concealed the window like a thick veil as the walls around her shook. It was a sure sign that the train was inching by. The screech from its whistle and clanking against the railroad tracks, so loud that it must’ve been heard over a mile away, only confirmed her guess. Her hands continued to cut smoothly through the linen fabric, separating enough to fulfill another order placed this morning. As the young woman worked to separate the colors and gather more material, the corner of her eyes caught sight of the smoke concealing her perfect view.

The train’s fading motion and clanging against the tracks was eventually replaced by chatter just outside her workshop. It all became background noise, as she began to utilize the sewing machine. Lines formed over the cloth, blending it and connecting so they formed an article of clothing. Needles, pins, and scissors cut and dug deep through the cloth. Buttons of all shapes and sizes were neatly organized in little boxes, so she could easily take what she needed. Time just seemed to fly as she worked so quietly and efficiently, oblivious to the hours ticking by. Any other noise fell on deaf ears, even as a knock resounded on the firm wooden door that happened to be wide open already.

A pause before the person tried again, knocking a little louder again. “(Y/n)?”

Snapping out of her efficient trance, the tailor snapped to attention and straightened her sitting posture. Gazing at the door and back the window where the sun was much lower than before, it took her a moment to figure out what exactly was going on and what time it was. It was later in the day, and the woman at the door was Dalena… Well, everyone called her Ma Dalena because she was a kind older lady who tended to see the young female tailors as her own children. At least, most of the tailors.

“We closed up five minutes ago. You can go now.” Ma Dalena gave an encouraging smile that displayed the dimples on her skin, showing signs of age evident by the wrinkles. Judging by her long dress and small woven handbag hanging from her wrist, it was probably safe to assume that she had evening plans. “Why not spend the rest of the day with us?”

Us. Correct she was again. As welcoming as the invitation was to join Ma Dalena and the other tailors, she wasn’t willing to join them anymore. Not after the first time when she dared to venture with them. After shifts, the tailors had a tradition of going out into town. Not that it was a bad thing. But they used their time cafe hopping, searching for flirtatious men to satisfy their need for affection. Oftentimes, they would get caught up with the pushy kind. And ever since some troops from the military have returned from their duties, well… encountering a bunch of men who hadn’t felt the touch of a woman in months, was not ideal. At least for her.

Taking her foot off the pedal to pause her work and silence the sewing machine, she pretended to consider the invitation before mustering a polite smile with a shake of her head. “Hm… It sounds nice. But I promised the client I would finish this so they can pick it up tomorrow. So I’ll stay, but have fun. Have another drink in my place, alright?”

Ma Dalena merely nodded in understanding, her polite smile turning somber as she turned on her two-inch heels and began walking to the front entrance. The chatter of the other tailors ready and eager for the rest of the day off, went quiet as she announced, “We’re leaving now. Hurry now if you’re coming!”

The chatter resumed, accompanied by the sound of more heels tapping quickly against the wooden floors in an effort for the straying members to catch up with the group. They complimented each other's outfits they spent days making by hand, discussing various fashion trends, gossiping about clients and others in town.

In a way, she did and she didn’t regret accepting the invitation. It may have been nice to have good company for once, but it never felt right when she was present within their clique. It was as if she were trying to forcefully add a puzzle piece to an already complete puzzle, which is why she stopped forcing it. She wouldn’t want to sit there awkwardly during tea, unsure what to say as they spoke so confidently and loudly. It felt as if she were an imposter, someone trying to disguise themselves to blend in. It was why she worked in a small separate room, away from everyone else. That, and because she was the fastest tailor there. Part of her wondered if Ma Dalena was beginning to dislike her since she turned down invitation after invitation. But how was she to explain what she was feeling, when it would only sound like whining?

Drowning out her thoughts with work to occupy the space in her mind, she pressed her foot against the pedal and began sewing once more. The loud hum of the machine filled her ears as it worked against the red cloth under her fingertips. This was the way it was supposed to be. Mindlessly spending her waking hours working at a craft she didn’t excel at, but was decent enough to earn wages in. All while wondering what could’ve been, and secretly hoping that maybe soon there is something that can be––

“Look! Look out there! It’s Reyes’ temple!”

“Reyes?!”

“Where? I don’t see it!”

“There! Over the hill!”

Now that was something you don’t see everyday. Everyone retreated back to the window, desperate to catch a glimpse, even Ma Dalena. Halting her work once again, (Y/n) too was the tiniest bit curious.

In truth, magicians failed to interest her, not that she had an opportunity to see them much anyways. But all those in Etére knew to be cautious of two particular magic wielders: La Bruja de Bruez, the Witch of Bruez, and Reyes Ladrón de Corazones, Reyes the Thief of Hearts. The pair were like the local boogeymen, tales of their horrendous deeds spreading and becoming bedtime stories for children in order to scare them into good behavior.

Ever since her youth, she heard stories of La Bruja de Bruez. It was said that she was a wicked woman who’s lived for over a hundred years. A slight against her is taken seriously, and she curses those she comes across. But she was no mere fairytale. The witch has been a thorn in the country’s side for a long time, as she terrorizes the towns she visits. There hasn’t been much action taken against her, because she’s so powerful that hardly anyone stands a chance and she’s so elusive. Besides, the royal family don’t particularly care if the witch curses a random citizen every month or so, as long as they don’t have to risk pawns in their own arsenal of magicians just to take her down.

Only a few years ago, a second magician with fearsome spells and a horrible reputation, appeared. Reyes Ladrón de Corazones, or more commonly known as Reyes, was another brujo many feared, although not as much as his counterpart from Bruez. There were rumors, yes, but they were more lighthearted with little evidence to ever back up the claims. While the Bruja de Bruez spared no one, it was said that Reyes chose to pursue only young beautiful women. If you asked around town, half of the population would consider him a threat, while the other half would giggle and whisper about his rumored good looks. Maybe that’s how he lured them in? With charms. Either way, he was a cause for concern. It was said that at a young age after abandoning his position as apprentice under the royal sorceress, the most powerful known magician, he not only challenged her but won and stripped her of her powers. Of course, no one can neither confirm nor deny it, as the king kept a tight lid on the situation and supposedly those who approach Reyes meet a terrible fate. But his abode was proof enough of his sheer strength. It was like a castle, a temple wandering on mechanical legs, rumored to not only be fueled by magic but also made of it.

Through the mist and low hanging clouds, just over the rolling hills on the horizon she could make out the distinct shape of a temple. A magnificent temple that appears so small from so far away. But she knew that it was a beast, a titan wandering the wilderness where very few dared to venture. It prowled around on its mechanical legs, spewing black smoke as the only trail it left behind. Reyes’ moving temple disappeared behind the clouds, seemingly vanishing from sight. Onlookers within the tailor shop could only awe and wonder aloud what the brujo was like, what was true and what was not, their minds creating horrible fears and outlandish fantasies that would take root as rumors.

Lowering her gaze back to her work, she resumed once more, but the rumors overpowered the hum of her machine until their words reached her. The other tailors proceeded back to the front entrance, marveling about what they just witnessed. Was he hiding from soldiers practicing their flights just outside the town? Did you hear that he literally steals the hearts of women, but only beautiful ones? Someone said that a pretty waitress on the other side of town had her own heart torn out and stolen by Reyes just last week!

The door was shut and she was alone, left with her work and the noise outside. Swiftly she worked, able to repair tears and wears with ease and create other things. Able to get lost in the work for much longer, until she felt the ground shake and the screech of another whistle. The afternoon train. It’s smoke covering her window once again. It was getting late already. Not wishing to waste the rest of the day by continuing work or go to bed with a book she had already read twice, she switched off the machine and organized all the tools back into their places. Brushing off all stray strings from her dress, she then rearranged her completed work thus far and prepared to have a different kind of day.

Today, she would try to make it a can be sort of day. Even if it meant just visiting a close friend like Lía at the bakery. Just putting out the effort to go out today was more than she was usually willing. Although wishing it would be something special, a proper can be day without even trying, was like wishing to be acknowledged by a person you admire but never once talked to, it was much like winging it on a test without studying and praying you would get a perfect score even though knowing that it’s almost near impossible. But it isn’t statistically completely impossible, so you cling to that thin shred of hope that’s as taut as a piece of string.

The whirring of small planes buzzed overhead, the flying machines brandishing their flags like the proud and numerous soldiers. On nearly every home and business, there was the flag hanging over the door, a symbol of patriotism and support of the war effort. (Y/n) quickly crossed the streets and reached the trolley station that would take her further into town. Right now there was not a soldier in sight, but that was sure to change the closer to the center of town she got. She only prayed that there wouldn’t be any trouble with them.

The trolleys were full, people all going towards the center of town, in the same direction the planes overhead flew towards. If she had to guess, most of the people within the trolley were likely friends or family of returning soldiers. All giddy from the victory high of a major battle just won.

While watching the scenery go by, she wondered how Lía was fairing.

It was because of Lía and her family that she now worked in a tailor shop. (Y/n)’s parents had met an unfortunate end while traveling outside the kingdom. They were doctors dedicated to a good cause, determined to stay in dangerous war torn lands to heal and treat the poorest of folks. While she was busy with school and often alone but checked on by family friends, her parents were saving people an ocean away in a faraway land where Milavi’s war had spread. They had been too close to Milavi claimed territory, likely mistaken for doctors healing rebels, and were thus punished for their good deeds. With no one left to turn to, her family’s closest friend, Señor Obregón, adopted (Y/n) and treated her as one of his own.

Señor Obregón was a quiet but respectable man that spent his time either working or with his family. He was the one that taught her how to sew, knit, and tailor, after she became curious of his skills. There were two other girls, Lía and Cova, a few years younger than (Y/n), which is why she became the oldest sibling. Lía was the beauty admired all throughout their childhood and still beloved to this day. She most resembled her mother, but she wasn’t half as vain. Cova was the youngest and somehow the smartest, as she was able to quickly grasp the concepts from lessons even in (Y/n)’s class, despite being a few grade levels apart. She mostly resembled her father and his own wits. Then there was her, (Y/n), who had… whatever was left. Of course she never held any resentment toward her sisters, since they were always well behaved but perhaps a bit annoying with their squabbles. Lastly, was Señora Obregón, Rosita, who she just called Tia Rosa for short, was never rude or dismissive to her. Tia Rosa was actually very outgoing and talkative, but she was the sort of woman that wouldn’t be caught dead wearing something from last season. She desired the finer things in life and settled for no less, which is probably why Señor Obregón ended up in an early grave due to working himself to death just to try and afford the luxuries his wife craved.

Immediately after the funeral, while they were still dressed head-to-toe in black and their eyes were puffy from crying, Rosita sat all three of her daughters for a conversation about the future. It would be impossible for her to keep them all in school, especially considering she hadn’t worked a day in her life. However, she wasn’t cruel enough to just toss her young girls out into the streets with nowhere to go. So, she devised a plan for each girl. Cova would be able to best utilize her smarts in a challenging field full of promise, which is why she was sent to a good witch in the next town over, to become an apprentice in magic. Lía was already very popular around town, she would thrive in a social environment like the bakery on main street where to this day men constantly asked for her hand. As for her, (Y/n), she would stay here in Obregón’s tailor shop, where Tia Rosa deemed was best fit. Afterall, she did know how to carry on the business, she had even helped their reputation grow substantially as more people came in every day and profits increased. Although, she hardly had the time to spend the earnings on herself, that’s what Tia Rosa was there for. Rather, never there for. She’d collect earnings from the business (Y/n) ran and would disappear for weeks or months at a time to another town or city. But that's besides the point…

By now, the trolley she was on was near the center of town that happened to be within blocks away, the streets became crowded with people walking on foot. On roads below bridges, there were lines of military tanks rolling by. Not much further in, the sidewalks were jam packed with hundreds, upon thousands, of people. Confetti rained down, banners and flags were strung from every corner and door. Every window was occupied as citizens cheered and waved at the parade of temporary victors, a show of military strength. Soldiers in their crisp uniforms marched in unified lines, cavalry on horseback carried large flags.

As the density of the crowds increased, and the volume of cheers and the parade along with it, she felt her heart beat louder. This was too much, it was too loud, she couldn’t even think…! But she had come this far, to go back home now when she was so close would be a little pathetic. Avoiding the commotion like a plague, she decided it best to take the maze of alleyways to calm her nerves. There were hardly any people on those backstreets, just the occasional stationed soldier. Focusing her gaze on the war propaganda posters on the brick and clay walls underneath window boxes filled with colorful flowers, she pretended to carefully study them as she increased her pace from a calm stroll to a quick speed walk, examining the items as if they were the most fascinating objects she ever saw. Really, she’d rather not make awkward eye contact with the soldiers on guard that watched her like a hawk, which is why she hurried along until they were out of sight.

Now that she was alone, with the crowds and their entertainment separated from her by walls of homes and businesses, she felt relief as the once loud sounds melted into background noise. For now she could concentrate on the address scribbled out on the folded piece of paper in her hands, and her anxiety could be replaced with confusion as she attempted to navigate these small hidden paths. This was only the second time she was on this path, since (Y/n) barely had time to ever go out due to work and her own incompetence. The first was on a holiday some weeks ago when the shop closed early, which granted her a few hours to venture on the main roads to the bakery where her friend worked. This was the second time, and she’s never taken the back roads, which was why she couldn’t tell left from right here.

Just in time, she looked up from her note to stop her feet from moving, as she came face-to-face with an obstacle. It wasn’t another dead end, this obstacle wore clothing and golden pins, and had a head that could easily look down from his height and see the top of her hat. Immediately she stiffened up and took a step back, hesitantly forcing her eyes to look up at the smiling soldier that casually leaned against the wall.

The young man only appeared amused as she jumped a step back in surprise. (Y/n) noticed that delighted sparkle in his eyes, as if her skittish self and startled reaction was his entertainment for the afternoon. Before she could open her mouth to mutter an apology and force her head down to continue ahead, the man leaned just a few inches closer to get a better look at her face hidden by the rim of her colorfully embroidered sun hat. “Huh, just like a mouse. Are you lost?”

A mouse… A skittish field mouse. Would that then make him a rat or a predator? Holding her tongue so not as to speak her mind, she merely shook her head. Offending a soldier would not be good. Not that she had the confidence to say the quick comeback that came to mind anyways. “No… I’m not lost.” That was a lie.

The young soldier persisted, refusing to move off the path as he continued to block her way. “You look lost. Say, what do you say to an invitation to tea? Afterwards, we can go over directions and escort you to where you’re heading.” Even his partner in patrol, an older gentleman, also a soldier but likely more experienced by at least a few years, moved from his post and approached in curiosity.

As the second man stepped closer, she could distinctly hear his polished shoes tapping in a steady rhythm as he stood beside his friend. Her own heart rate easily outpaced his steps, and it wasn’t increasing due to excitement, it was due to growing unease. Yes, she knew rationally that these soldiers likely meant no harm and merely wanted to flirt, but her mind could only conjure up the worst possible scenarios as she reminded herself that they outnumbered her, they were stronger, and they had their long firearms strapped to their backs. Keeping her head down, she replied, “Thank you, but no. I’m supposed to be meeting up with someone.”

Just like the first did, the second soldier bent down a bit to peer at her features. Just like his accomplice, he wore an amused smile as he shook his head and remarked. “A mouse? That’s not very nice. Don’t worry, you’re much better than a simple little mouse.”

Rolling his eyes, the younger soldier only continued, “If you’re old enough to drink, we can go to a bar if that’s more your style? Do you live around here?”

This was getting ridiculous. Did they never learn to accept rejection? No means no, even children could comprehend that. But for now, she was at their mercy, no one would come to help her here. It would be up to them to decide she was no use for any fun and let her go, or continue to persist for their selfish desires. “No. Please let me pass.”

Barely phased by her firm reply, the younger of the two turned to his partner and scoffed, “See? I told you the girls don’t like the beard you’re growing out. It scares them.”

It’s as if her plea went through one ear and out the other, not swaying them in even the slightest bit. The older gentleman merely rubbed the stubble on his chin, “It makes me look better. Besides, I’m sure she doesn’t mind. She might even prefer a man with facial hair.” Actually, the word gentleman did not describe him well.

In that moment she was wondering, would she truly risk it all just to snap back in reply? It must’ve felt so satisfying, but was it necessary? Later, would she come to regret her decision or revel in it? Would she seriously use this sprouting frustration, minimal not only compared to her current fears but also in the grand scheme of things, to temporarily push past her anxiety and say something…? Probably not. As annoying as these men were, like the constant buzz of a pestersome fly, they hadn’t caused any harm except to waste a bit of her precious free time.

“Ah, there you are, mi corazón. I was worried about you.” A smooth and silky voice interrupted.

#yandere #yandere guy #yandere story #yandere male #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere writing #yandere fic #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x y/n #yandere original character #how to steal a heart

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weebsinstash · 9 months ago

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so the screenshots are kinda janky but I was rewatching the whole scene with Ozzie and Fizz's morning routine and I remembered there were those shots of like, the imp staff who work for Asmodeus and

is she helping do the laundry in platform thigh high boots, an apron, and a thong 😅 is that her UNIF0RM? Does she pick that out herself??? Is Lust just SO HORNY that it's totally normal that Ozzie's housekeeper is half-naked? Is he banging the housekeeper? Are Fizz and Ozzie exclusive or is it an open relationship? their other imp staff member was literally fully dressed so is this an optionally slutty, pro slut dress code idk

Like I'm sorry I'm just sitting here thinking of Reader who, Sinner or otherwise, is down in the Greed Ring as another performer for Mammon and Fizz is eventually like, "look, working this job is my dream, but it isn't yours. you shouldn't be attaching yourself to Mammon if all you need is a paycheck. I've got a... close friend who always needs extra hands; let me introduce you!!" and you have no idea that he's literally organizing a meeting with The Actually Fucking Cardinal Sin Of Lust until you're standing right in front of Asmodeus himself and he's just so goddamn CHARMING like he'd have me SWEATING AND GIGGLING I'd be straight up embarrassing myself like "o-oh that's not what I expected your voice to sound like hahaha 🥴"

Ozzie assures you the ultra sexy type uniforms are totally optional, and you could be bringing him papers in an oversized t-shirt and crocs and he'd still think you're as cute as can be. But. LORD if you ever decide, "I wanna feel sexy and confident and everyone else is having fun" and wear something sexy. It has him WEAK. Him? Them? Prolly both of them tbh. Like. Ugh I KNOW these two can go from having the freakiest loudest horniest sex imaginable to like giggling and tickling each other in bed and I can just SEE them being SO SOFT for a Reader darling. All your jokes make them laugh or affectionately roll their eyes. They DEVOUR your cooking (I think personal chef/PA Reader would be cute, the boys wake up and you have breakfast ready for them and everything), they're always sending you memes and things that made them think of you, they have a special group chat (of just them) SPECIFICALLY for sharing photos of you or things about you or just, talking about you period. Gosh. Would there be cameras suddenly installed where there wasn't previously just so they can see all the cute things you get up to when they're not around. All the little improv dances and songs... all the times you bend over...

Like the hilarity of Valentino getting absolutely fucking CUCKED when "his" Reader suddenly disappears, and it's because you can travel through the Rings and you work for Ozzie now and Valentino had no idea until he saw a trending photo of you and Ozzie where you guys did a HOT HOT photo shoot together to advertise something, where you're either almost completely naked OR actually ARE completely naked, and it's because Ozzie made you feel safe and protected and unlike Valentino, Asmodeus knows what an intimacy coordinator is-

You can actually go to clubs in those booty shorts with your ass hanging out and wearing whatever else makes you feel sexy and confident now because the second some creep is coming up to you and not taking 'no' for an answer, the creep suddenly has a massive looming shadow over them as an ancient demon turns to you and respectfully asks. "Is this guy bothering you queen?" and then steps on him. In a BAD way :)

GOD ALSO I TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT THIA INTERACTION UNTIL I SAW THIS GIF AND. Asmodeus' VA previously described his type as "everyone" and he has a BBW on that fountain like 😩❤️ now I'm thinking of chubby reader who's gotten bullied and bodyshamed by Valentino (who is negging you and is actually down SO BAD) and then you run off to Ozzie who's like. "Baby you are GORGEOUS and if anyone ever says or does anything like that to you again, just let me know and I'll break their legs ok ^w^"

((Also. Non yandere related thing im seeing. He's one of the Cardinal Sins and imps are considered the lowest Hellborns and Ozzie not only has an imp lover but TONS of imp staff, like he is a pro body positivity anti racism fucking 👏 K I N G 👏 BANISHED FROM HEAVEN'S DISCORD SERVER FOR BEING TOO HORNY ON MAIN. i bet he would DESPISE that Heaven is discriminating and choosing who's hot, just, ugh i want him carnally (edit: i noticed they're actually all succubi/incubi and not imps but the point still stands lol))

#yandere x reader #yandere helluva boss #yandere hellaverse #hh #hb #sinprompts #ughhhhhh why is he so FINE

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crescentpaws · 26 days ago

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“surely crescentpaws’s sims version of fintante can’t get any worse right?” WRONG!

they’ve just started straight up refusing each other’s romantic interactions now 💀 can’t even kiss a guy anymore without him shoving you away from him smh. guys you are literally married come on

sigh. divorce arc is happing too soon

- their relationship bar got so low they’re not even friends anymore 😭

this screenshot is funny. WDYM ACQUAINTANCES. YOU’RE LITERALLY MARRIED 😭😭 (and they definitely are foes now… this is what the strained romance dynamic does to a couple i guess…)

- i had them go on a date (in their own house this time so they wouldn’t get mad at random outside forces) that was specifically designed to help fix bad relationships but… it didn’t really work at all

- they got into a physical fight 😭 guys stop it with the domestic violence come on now you’re better than this (no they’re not)

(fintan won. if you even care. he wins most of his fights these days (other than the grim reaper one lmfao))

- full red bars for both friendship and romance ❤️ yay ❤️ i’m so happy for them (someone needs to divorce them immediately)

- so that was probably the worst date ever.

- was curious to know if bronte was still attracted to fintan after all of this and he acted like it was a crazy thing to ask….

hm. do i need to bring up the “you’re married” thing again

- they literally do NOT care…. guys come on i am trying to help you… they’re too proud to try to work out their issues 💀

- sending them to couple’s therapy ❤️

- it worked a tiny bit??? it changed their relationship dynamic from strained to steamy which at least makes them more willing to be physically intimate… tbh i think this was my saving grace actually.

(bronte did not like it though.)

- basically then i just kept having them flirt & kiss over and over again until they didn’t hate each other as much 💀 at one point their romance bar was almost completely filled at the same time they were still in the red friendship zone which i thought was funny

okay ❤️ yay ❤️

(tune in next week where there is a 90% chance that this will happen all over again. (probably going to send them to couple’s therapy again just to be safe LMAO) i love when the game is canonically accurate <3)

#kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc sims #fintante

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strangersteddierthings · 2 years ago

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Bad News First, Eddie

Part One 🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇FInal Part

This was getting longer than both Steve and Wayne's parts combined, so I'm gonna break it into 2 parts. Posting part 1 now, and part 2 should be up within a day. Thank you everyone for the wonderful replies/reblogs. I screenshot them cause they keep me going haha.

Trigger Warning: Child abuse referenced, as well as one scene of a child being slapped. Use of slurs in a derogatory manner.

Bad news first, Eddie thinks to himself as he swings the trash can lid turned shield, this is a fuckton of bats. Good news, Dustin is safe.

The bats are overwhelming but he's holding his own. He can do this. He can buy them more time. He's done running away from the things that scare him.

Bad news, Eddie thinks, watching Dustin sob above him, I'm gonna die here.

Eddie dies. He knows this because all the hurt stops. The world has faded into itself, dimming to a blackness deeper than Eddie's ever known.

The afterlife is a bit disappointing if he's honest. He's not sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't nothing. Endless, unfathomable nothing.

He kinda hoped he'd see his mom or something, but that's delusional. If the afterlife was heaven or hell, he wouldn't end up in the one his mom went to, that's for sure. Too many sins under his belt for that.

Death is pretty boring though.

Time is impossible to track. He's tried a few times, counting seconds to make minutes but that's so boring he loses his train of thought. Ends up humming some tune or another before repeating the process.

The day he finds himself humming a Wham! song has Eddie a little panicked. He doesn't listen to Top 40 stations. He spent a good deal of time avoiding learning any Wham! songs, actually, so now that he's somehow gotten one such in his head...

This has got to be capital H Hell.

Well. Everyone in town thought he was on the road straight to it. Laugh it up, Hawkins. You were right. The Freak went straight down.

Eddie misses Wayne. He can't remember the last thing he'd said to him. When did he last tell his uncle he loved him? Wayne knew it though. He had to know it. They didn't say it out loud but they didn't need to. Right?

In the distance, Eddie sees something. A light? He's not sure what it is but it's something new. Something different.

The light leads him back into the Upside Down. The bats are swarming and he just crashed the bike- fuck fuck fuck, run. Run, Eddie, get the fuck out of here!

He's screaming at himself to run but instead his body stops. Turns. Pulls the shield and spear from his back and screams at the bats.

Eddie rips himself back, away. Crumples to the ground, folding into himself. Not that. Anything but that again.

A soft humming sound. Gentle, warm.

Loving.

Eddie unfolds himself to see what it is.

His mom smiles down at him, reaches out to ruffle his hair as she hums. Eddie knows the danger has passed and he is safe now because Mamma only hums that when it's safe.

"There's my handsome boy," she moves the hand from his hair to boop the tip of his nose. "How about we play a little game, hmm? The floor is lava!"

She scoops him up and plops him on the kitchen table. There is a crunching sound beneath her feet as she moves. Lava sounds an awful lot like Dad's broken beer bottles but if Mamma wants to play pretend then Eddie can do that for her.

His mother is beautiful. The most beautiful woman in the world. He takes after her in a lot of ways. Matching curly locks, the same face scrunch when they're angry, their noses, big brown doe eyes. Eddie even shares her voice, just a different pitch. The point is, Eddie's mom is beautiful and he's got enough ego left at four years old to think of himself as beautiful, too.

The problem, then, is that Eddie makes the mistake of saying it in front of his Dad. 'As pretty as Mamma,' he'd said. They'd, he and Mamma that is, were sitting crosslegged on the floor in the living room. Dad had been in the kitchen, Eddie could hear him puttering about. Mamma had booped his nose and called him the best looking kid in all of America.

Eddie nodded fiercly, "yeah! As pretty at Mamma."

It used to be a fuzzy memory, what happens next. A flurry of movement and shouting. Now he's witnessing it with terrible clarity. His dad's hand curling around his upper arm and yanking him into the air, crushing hard enough to bruise. His dad's shouting at him. He remembers not remembering the words but now they hit him like the slap his dad delivered to his face. "No son of mine is going to be a fuckin' fag, thinkin' he's some pretty little girl. Is that what you want, you little shit? To be a little girl?"

"Stop it! Stop it! Let him go, he didn't mean anything like that!" he hears his Mamma plead but his Dad won't stop shaking him and screaming. He bursts into tears because it hurts and he's confused and his Dad's never hit him before- "Hit me! Hit me! If you're gonna hit someone, hit me!"

Eddie gets tossed aside. He lands on back and sees as his Dad does exactly as his Mamma demanded. Eddie's never been so scared in his life, he can't watch. He scampers down the hall as fast as he can and crawls under his bed to hide.

If Eddie had to guess, that's the memory that ingrained his need to run.

He's reliving his memories. He's a little embarrassed how long it takes him to figure that out. They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die. They don't tell you that the quote flash unquote takes a really fuckin' long time. Like, you know, your whole life long time.

It's so strange to witness, too. Like he's both watching the memories as an outsider, but also through his own eyes. He has both the knowledge that he had when he died, and also no experience beyond what he's seeing in the memory.

He watches his Dad beat his Mamma, beat him, but also watches his Dad push him on the swings and slow dance around the kitchen with his Mamma. And that's the worst part, he thinks. That his Dad could have been an awesome one. If he'd stayed sober like he kept promising. He didn't though, couldn't. Hell, maybe it's even a wouldn't. He watchs Wyatt fucking Munson pick beer and drugs over him and his Mamma time and time again.

Couldn't even put them down long enough to be there when Mamma got sick.

Eddie is seven. He's just had his head shaved, bald as his Mamma now. He regrets doing it as soon as he sees his Mamma's smile falter when Uncle Wayne drops him off at the hospital.

"We match, Mamma," Eddie says shyly, eyes downcast. "I wanted to match..."

"Oh, baby, come here," and she's scooping him into a hug, genuinly smiling again, "I love that we match. So long as it was your decision to cut your hair."

Eddie realizes now why her smile had faltered. She thought Dad had shaved his head against his will, probably because long hair was for woman, as he liked to say. Eddie in the memory didn't know that, though, so he just cuddles closer and says, "Yeah. Uncle Wayne did it for me, so it would be nice and even, he said. Wanna hear what we did in school today?"

There is something looming at the edges of his vision. Eddie can't seem to make whatever it is come into focus. It's not a memory because those always focus. It's something else. Something new.

His dad teaches him to hot wire a car. Makes him learn how to pick the lock on car doors and handcuffs. When he sees how easily Eddie took to lockpicking, he makes him learn other locks, too.

Eddie misses out on school because his dad can't be bother to enroll him and Eddie doesn't know how to do it himself. He's too scared to, anyway. Afraid his dad will start swinging and won't stop until he's dead.

When Eddie is eleven, a lot happens. It was a pivitol age for him. He got his first crush (a boy named Jimmy) and a first kiss (a boy named Jeramiah). Eddie also ends up in the hospital because his Dad caught him kissing Jeramiah.

It's not his Dad that picks him up from the hospital, though.

Eleven is the age he is the day his Uncle Wayne moves him to Hawkins, Indiana.

He's also eleven the first time he hears Black Sabbath.

Eddie is also eleven years old when he decides that he wants good news delivered last. To end with something good.

He relives becoming himself.

Catching up in school because he's not stupid, but falling behind because he is kinda dumb (schoolwork never seemed as imporant as hanging out with friends, or starting a band, or playing dungeons and dragon, or any other number of things).

The relief he feels the first time he meets another person like him, learns there's another word besides faggot for what he is. Gay. The immense pleasure of feeling truly seen the first time he says that out loud to someone (it's his best friend, Jeff) "Bad news, Jeff. You might hate me for this. Good news, I'm gay."

Good, good news. Jeff doesn't hate him!

There's a fear that Wayne might be like his Dad regarding all this, so he can't tell him; won't tell him.

But then Wayne comes home unexpectedly when Eddie is a freshman and catches him with another boy's tongue in his mouth. Eddie has a panic attack that winds up with him in the hospital.

He remembers the paralizing fear when Wayne came to pick him up upon his release. Eddie had walked to the pickup numb and afraid. He climbed in, buckled the seatbelt, and waited for the worst.

Wayne climbed in and started the pickup but didn't put it in gear. Instead, he spoke, "Life is gonna be rough for you, boy. Rougher than it should be."

Eddie cannot make words form to reply. Can't do anything but shake.

"Eddie," Wayne says and he feels the seat move as Wayne shifts to turn towards him, "the bad news is, life is gonna be rough, but the good news? Living under my roof isn't. Won't be. Eddie, my boy, I love you. And nothing, absolutely nothing, will change that."

Eddie breaks, like a puppet with its strings cut, sags in the seat and sobs. Never, never had Eddie ever bothered to entertain the idea that this might be Wayne's response.

Eddie is a sophomore the first time he notices Steve Harrington. It's fucking awful. It's also amazing.

Because noticing Steve Harrington means noticing Steve Harrington. He's immidiately popular because he's good looking and good at sports.

Eddie's not gonna claim to know Steve, he doesn't. There's just these little clues that King Steve isn't a default jerk. For one, Steve doesn't partake in bullying. He stays silent. Lets it happen.

But Eddie's also been witness to two times when Stever did step in; both times when it was escalating to be a phycical altercation.

"Hey, Tommy, don't," Steve had said, not quite stepping between Tommy and the other kid, but enough to be within Tommy's line of sight. "The game is tomorrow. You throw that punch and your hand is gonna hurt like a bitch through the whole game. And I swear to God if we lose this game because you can't handle it-" Steve didn't finish the sentence, didn't have to. Tommy lowered his arm and scoffed. Walked away mutter about how the kid wasn't worth it anyway.

The other time, it had been Jeff he'd defended. Jeff hadn't even been doing anything. Just stumbled into some asshole from the basketball team and knocked him over. Eddie had been the one who'd shoved Jeff (because Jeff was teasing him) and he was ready to place himself in the way when Steve had beat him to it.

"Fucking relax, it was an accident," Steve stood face to face with Roger. Eddie and Jeff just stared at the back of Steve's head. "It's not Jeff's fault that barely tapping you knocked you down like a house of cards. Right, Jeff?"

Eddie and Jeff blinked at each other in a sort of stunned silence because since when does King Steve know either of their names? Steve turned to look over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. Jeff stammered out, "R-right. It was an accident. Sorry, man."

"See, he's even sorry."

Eddie reached out, wrapped his hand around Jeff's wrist, and tugged him away. He could not stay here and witness anymore of Hero Steve or he was going to embarrass himself infront of the entire cafeteria in the worst way possible.

That was the tipping point for Eddie. When he finally had to admit he wasn't just noticing Steve Harrington. He had a full blown crush on the dude.

Fuck.

Watching his memories play, Eddie realizes he spent far too much time in high school trying to get Steve's attention. Bumping into him on purpose, being antagonistic to his friends just get a response, or trying his best to use Jedi mind powers to make teachers pair them together for projects in the rare few classes they shared (this never worked; teachers liked Steve too much and hated Eddie).

Steve changes between junior and senior year and still doesn't notice Eddie. Eddie's kinda bitter about it.

Then Steve graduates, but doesn't leave. He's always hanging around, bothering the freshman Eddie's taken under his wing. He's not jealous that Dustin Henderson thinks Steve hung the moon. He's not. (he is).

Anyway, the bad news. Steve graduates but doesn't leave and Eddie can't get over his stupid crush. Good news, he and Steve share a mutual friend in one obnoxiously lovable freshman, so that's like one step closer to Eddie being Steve's friend, right?

The thing that's looming finally comes into view when his most recent memories come up. Or, more accurately, it -she- makes herself seen.

He's holding a broken bottle to Steve's neck demanding to know what he's doing here and then the scene pulls away from him until he's watching himself threaten Steve. The memory moves in slow motion.

"Eddie?"

He screams because Jesus H Christ nothing else in the afterlife has ever spoken to him.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to scare you," she says. Eddie can see her now. She doesn't look like either an angel or a demon. She just looks like a regular person, a girl with shoulder length brown hair, wearing jeans and a yellow shirt that looks too big for her.

"Uh, it's fine?" Eddie says, because what else is he going to say? "Who're.. who are- what are you?"

"I am Eleven. It has been difficult to reach you, Eddie. Had to try, though."

"What?"

Eleven nods, like someone has said something he can't hear. There is a long pause before she speaks again. "Do you want to wake up, Eddie?"

"What do you mean wake up?" Eddie feels like he might start having a panic attack.

"I am not good with words. Not delicate, Mike would say," Eleven says, "so I will be frank. You are alive. Can be alive. Doctor Owens says you retreated into yourself. To protect yourself. But it's safe now. It is all safe. The Upside Down cannot hurt you again."

Eddie feels the panic set in almost instantly at those words. The memory explodes into black and the girl vanishes.

The more Eleven shows up, the more aware of other things Eddie becomes. Occasionally the sound of conversation drifts in but it's far away, muffled. He can taste food on his tongue that he had not eaten. Feel a brush get stuck in his hair.

They don't really talk, he and Eleven. She takes her queues from him and since he's got no idea what's happening he doesn't know what queues to give.

"So, you're not here to like... send me on, or something?" He asks. They're sitting cross-legged in front of each other. Eddie in the outfit he died in and Eleven in shorts, a crop top, and an oversized jacket.

"Where would I send you?"

"Y'know. Like... Hell or wherever."

Eleven is silent a long time before she says, "I don't want to send you anywhere. I want to bring you back."

Back. He can go back? That doesn't seem right. That doesn't seem like it should be an option. "You mean like, back to Hawkins?"

"Eventually."

Eddie's not sure what to make of that. Is he gonna be a ghost? Because if it's Hell or being a ghost, the latter sounds infinity more fun. Plus, as a ghost he could probably check in on Wayne.

"Alright. You win, Eleven. Take me back."

Eleven stands up immediately, offering a hand to help Eddie up. "You have to want it."

"Want to be a ghost?"

"No. You have to want to be alive."

That makes sense, Eddie supposes. Wanting to be alive is probably what makes ghosts be able to like, be ghosts. "OK. OK. I can do this." He does a full body shake, dancing from one foot to another to pump himself up. "Alive. Alive. I want that. I want to live. I want to see my uncle again. Want to give Hawkins a big fuck you for thinking I'd end up in Hell. I want to see Jeff and Gareth! I want to haunt the fuck out of Dustin Henderson for trying to follow me! I want to know if Robin, Steve, and Nancy won! I want to know if they made Vecna pay!"

He is yelling by the end of it, and Eleven is beaming at him like she's proud of him.

"Yes! Yes! Now, wake up!"

Eddie does wake up. Sort of. He's already awake, sitting in what appears to be someone's living room. He blinks several times before exhaustion washes over him and he sags back into the chair he's sitting in. "Wh-" he tried to speak but his vocal chords don't seem to want to work.

"Holy shit." A voice says off to his side. It's vaguely familiar. Like a distant memory. "Call Owens! Call Owens right fucking now!"

Bad news is this. He's been stuck in his own head for several years. His fucking body has been moving around without him yet the amount of physical therapy he has to do is torture. Fucking Owens won't let him contact anyone until he gets the all clear from his new therapist. Oh, and his uncle believes he's dead.

Good news is this. He's alive.

#steddie #eddie munson #my fic #child abuse mention #eddies really going through it guys

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kanejbr3kker · 6 months ago

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Okay I need to vent. This morning I saw this on my fyp:

(btw I'm choosing not to reblog the original post and instead just post screenshots because this is definitely a rant and since the creator and I clearly have different opinions, so I decided it's just better to leave them out of this)

Anyways, I saw this and I got pissed. Very very pissed. And so I spent 2 and a half hours writing a whole three page essay explaining everything wrong with this.

So here it is. (:

First of all, the Darkling does every single thing listed here for Nikolai, excluding cutting people’s fingers off, but he does commit mass murder, which I personally consider to be worse than cutting off someone’s fingers.

Anyways, let’s first just address Nikolai’s reasons for doing each of these things and then the Darkling’s reasons for doing the same things.

Cutting the fingers off a man: Nikolai was a teenager who wanted to help his incredibly war torn country. He felt helpless, and even once he became a privateer, a lot of people still disrespected him because of his age, so he proved his ruthlessness by injuring one person, so he could help save his entire country.

Usurping the throne: First of all, Nikolai was second in line to the throne, and after Vasily died, he would’ve been first. Also, the current king was an ignorant rapist who let the rest of the country go to waste to fuel his own luxuries. Nikolai wanted to rescue his country from war and a ruler that was doing nothing to stop hundreds of people (many of them kids) from dying in unnecessary battles.

Lying to Alina/hiding information from her: All Nikolai did was hide his identity from Alina to get her safely away from the Darkling who had just kidnapped her for the second time in less than a year. Kissed her without her consent: Okay, let’s just preface this by saying Malina was what got me hyperfixated on the Grishaverse, so seeing Nikolai kiss Alina did upset me, but he did it spread hope to the Ravkan villagers. They were also already spreading around a fake engagement, so while it was wrong, it wasn’t like he was trying to manipulate her. Nikolai was just trying to make their marriage more believable. (I’d also like to address a scene later in the book where Alina actually wants Nikolai to kiss her, and he says no, knowing that she just wants a distraction and isn’t really in love with him).

And now for why the Darkling did all the same things.

Trying to usurp the throne: The Darkling hates the king, but not because he’s a terrible person, but because he’s ignorant and the Darkling knows he could be using the Fold to expand Ravka’s power. The Darkling usurps the throne so he can try and take over the country, not because he wants to save it.

Lying to Alina/hiding information from her: Unlike Nikolai, he wasn’t trying to protect her. The Darkling lied to Alina so she would believe that 1) he was in love with her and 2) he wanted to save Ravka. We know this isn’t true. When Nikolai lies, he does it to protect Alina, but when the Darkling lies he does it to manipulate her.

Kissed Alina without her consent: The Darkling tried to convince Alina he was in love with her so she would be easier to manipulate. Alina even says she doesn’t know how he feels about her, and that she doesn’t believe he loves her, but that she wants to be wanted by him.

And now for everything else the Darkling does:

Mass murder: He destroyed an entire town just to prove a point.

“Gifting” Genya to the Lantsovs, and then allowing her to be continually raped by them

for years. More than anything else, I feel like this proves just how terrible he is.

Killing his own mother: No explanation needed, that’s just awful.

Threatening to kill Mal to make sure Alina stays in line. He enslaved Alina. He put an unremovable collar around her neck that forced her to do whatever he wanted, and then promised to kill her boyfriend just in case that wasn’t enough.

Using kids as bargaining chips. Using grown people is bad enough, but kids. Sure, they’re Grisha, but they aren’t strong enough to fight back, especially after seeing their captor kill Ana Kuya, who helped care for them while they were in hiding. (Also just felt like adding that Nina was one of the students who he used as a bargaining chip. That’s honestly pretty unimportant, but if you needed another reason to hate him.)

Killing Alina’s mother figure: Again, he did this just to prove a point. He wanted to show Alina that he could hurt the people she cared about, and that was his only incentive.

So that the first 75% of my rant, but I also made the mistake of looking at the comments on that post and added a whole extra page responding to those.

Saying that the same thing can be applied to Kaz is so fucking disrespectful. Kaz is a traumatized teen. Is he violent? Yes. But he only hurts people who have hurt him, his friends, or other innocent people. Oomen nearly killed Inej, as well as the other crows, so Kaz hurt him because he cared about his friends and was mad that they were almost killed. When the Darkling kills people, it’s out of greed for power and the fact that he knows it’ll get a rise out of Alina.

And then this. Kaz calls Inej an investment because he values her. She said four words to him and chose to pay off her indenture. She ended up being not only an incredible spy, but an incredible friend as well. Kaz didn’t need to pay off her indenture, but he did because despite everything terrible that he does, he’s still a genuinely good person, and didn’t want to see a woman being exploited the way she was. An investment is something you value, which is why Kaz calls her one.

Also, Kaz makes a big point of Inej not belonging to anyone. He didn’t force her to get the Dregs tattoo, because he didn’t “want to be the one to mark her again.” He recognized that she was an independent person, and by not making her have the tattoo, he was giving her the freedom to leave Ketterdam when her indenture was paid off. Also, when Inej tells Kaz she wants to leave Ketterdam, he literally buys her a boat so she can leave. That’s not how you treat your property.

And as for the Darkling, he used Alina’s power to start a civil war. What he does is beyond redemption. The Darkling exploits and manipulates women. He abuses and assaults them to reach his own goals, most of which involve destroying the rest of the world so that Ravka stays in power. Comparing him to two kids who just do what they have to to survive is so disrespectful, and clearly you misunderstood the messages of the books if you think that Kaz and Nikolai are the same as the Darkling.

So that's my little anti-Darkling rant. I've already tortured my frienda with this, so if they didn't think I was insane before, they do now lol.

#anti darkling #darkling slander #grishaverse #shadow and bone #six of crows #king of scars #save shadow and bone

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rrxnjun · 1 year ago

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portrait of a blank slate. huang renjun

pairing: huang renjun x fem! reader genre: college au. fluff, smut, and the tiniest bit of angst. warnings: swearing, alcohol, angry man renjun, very bad dialogue, this is the most un-renjun fic i've ever written, dry humping, a heavy makeout session, unfinished blowjob word count: 5.8k playlist: no specific one this time but i listened to a lot of keshi while writing this, so have this playlist of mine to fit the vibes a/n: inspired by that one tweet describing how someone's art professor met his wife the same exact way, lost the screenshot and also the og post im so sorry!

turns out all it takes to save a life is a bad, bad college party, a few shots and a weird, magical coincidence back in a girl's dorm room.

It’s hard to believe that Huang Renjun is currently finishing up the art portfolio he needs for his summer internship program after procrastinating and angrily stomping at every single bad stroke of his paintbrush for the last few months.

Because he’s not.

He’s looking at the canvas with stern eyes, the smudges on the white linen so messy he could cry just by looking at them, and the more he tries to save the disgrace currently scribbled in front of him, the worse it gets and makes the levels of frustration in him turn into rage and fury, because let’s be honest– what is Renjun’s primary emotion if not anger.

And he tries hard to fix it again, he really does– he sighs heavily while doing so as he takes a smaller brush and tries to paint on a few hairstrokes to the portrait of Frida Kahlo he wants to execute– and in honest reality, it doesn’t even look half as bad as it does in the poor boy’s eyes when he takes a step back after holding in his breath and carefully piercing together the artwork. Maybe if there was someone else in the room– everyone but his annoying roommate Donghyuck, because that fucker always manages to make things even worse– they could talk him out of it, offer some words of consolidation, even, hype him up and tell him that with outsider’s eyes, the canvas looks beautiful and very well put together. But the truth is that there’s no one present right now, not a single soul in what feels like the whole campus right now, that could ease Huang Renjun’s frustration from what seems to be art block, when he throws the paintbrush to the wall (he’ll worry about the stain of acrylic paint later, when he gains consciousness) and puts a fist through the middle of the painting.

If he was a character in a comic book, his hand would go through the canvas and create a quite satisfying hole. He’s a real person, though– a weak one as well, to be quite honest– and his fist is stopped by the stretched-out fabric, making his hand bounce back, but now stained with all shades of brown and tan, which somehow only makes him even more mad and turns him into a furious animal roaming around free and causing uttermost chaos in his all true sense.

Nothing can stop Huang Renjun when he opens the drawer he keeps all his artwork in, taking out all the graphite sketches and colored pencil drawings, and then the next one containing the watercolor paintings and various other acrylic paintings done on expensive sheets of paper, stacking all of those onto one pile in the middle of the table. Not one thing is safe– except from the digital artworks he keeps in his iPad and his big A4 sketchbook he forgot about in the heat of the moment, since he keeps it on his nightstand– when he takes the big, heavy stack of art and runs, chimes towards the entrance of his and Donghyuck’s miniature dorm room, luck only standing by his side once in this whole evening when his said roommate opens the door and clears the way for him, looking at the poor boy with mouth agape in a slight shock.

“What the fuck are you doing right n–”

Donghyuck doesn’t get an answer. When he asks stupid questions, Renjun doesn’t tend to pay him much mind, settling on not engaging with the discourse if it doesn’t make much sense, so Hyuck should be used to the ignorance– he thinks this was a very valid question to ask at this moment, though. If he was curious enough, he’d even follow his roommate down the hall and watch him in his endeavors only to find out what’s the intention behind his angry stomping and the fierce look on his face. The truth is, though, he doesn’t care all that much.

That doesn’t stop Huang Renjun, though, as he chimes down the hall of the boy’s dormitory, kicks the glass door open (thankfully not the actual glass part, because that would for sure be expensive) and practically runs the rest of the way towards the bins at the end of the street, dumping the papers into the bin (forgive him for not recycling in his current state of mind) before he angrily kicks the poor object twice for good measure and turns on his heel, slowly, but still as angrily making his way back to his dorm room by stomping all the way up until the entrance.

The dorm guard doesn’t even ask for his dorm ID like he usually does– Renjun must have been quite memorable as he ran out of the building with 5kg of artwork of various sizes in his arms– but the truth is, the man isn’t as old and he saw the boy going out just a few minutes ago, so he doesn’t think it’s necessary. Renjun would appreciate the memo, although, when he remembers that the man always asks for the dorm ID, especially on the nights out when he comes back slightly intoxicated and too disoriented to look for the little slip of paper in his pockets, and on the nights when he forgets his dorm ID as well– the man was set on letting him sleep on the front porch of the dormitory once and it took Renjun 15 calls to get ahold of a sleeping Donghyuck and another 15 of him walking down the hall in slippers and pajama bottoms with his roommate’s dorm ID in hand before he could warm his bones from the cold slowly seeping into his bones on the January night– and that whole thing makes Renjun somehow even more angry at the whole situation.

And so when he comes into his room again, Donghyuck now sitting on his bed still in his outside clothes (something Renjun hates and would murder for), and his eyes land on the damaged canvas still waiting for him in the corner of the room, he wastes no time in opening his window and throwing it down from the second floor, not really caring where it ends up or if he’s gonna get a fine for violating one of the dormitory rules– to never throw stuff out of the windows..

“Dude, what is–”

“Don’t ask.” Renjun huffs as he closes the door and peels his clothes off, taking a towel that’s still hanging from the top bunk of their bed and aims towards the bathroom door. A true tantrum can only end in a cold shower, and that’s what Renjun’s gonna do as he washes his dreams down the drain and ends up silently crying himself to sleep tonight in agony.

It’s hard to believe Huang Renjun is currently at the best college party since the days of ‘megaparties’ of Johnny Suh, the senior that’s slowly halting his party performance due to stilling in life. Renjun was dragged to Lee Jeno’s party by his roommate Donghyuck after he mourned in his bed for approximately two days before it got too much for the poor gemini, promising and honestly thinking that alcohol is truly the best solution for the poor boy’s misery. Again, it’s hard to believe Huang Renjun is currently at the best college party of the year when he listens to the loud EDM music piercing through his eardrums and he swears he catches a glimpse of a couple dry humping on the couch.

Because he’s not.

He’s at a college party, sure. He’s also getting some alcohol into his system– because why not, am I right? He’s not the one paying, and that’s always enough of a reason to drink. Is it the best college party he’s ever experienced, though? Absolutely not.

It’s quite literally the worst party he’s ever been to. The music is too loud and the whole house smells of cheap vodka, people are pushing each other around and with the amount of alcohol in his system, the whole room feels like he’s on a boat, his stomach weak and his eyes hazy. Renjun must admit Hyuck’s therapy skills are kind of paying off– because at least now he’s not thinking about the wasted opportunity of a summer scholarship and is instead looking into the eyes of his cute classmate from History class across the room– but at the same time, he’s not thinking much of anything in this moment, and the glint of your eyes is the only thing he can focus on when you get closer.

That might be a good or a bad thing– depends on how the encounter goes. There’s a fine line between the amount of alcohol that’s just perfect for Huang Renjun to get rid of his usual shyness and speak to other, much more attractive human species, and the amount of alcohol that’s just perfect for Huang Renjun to black out and puke on the floor, efficiently making it impossible for him to chat up the cute classmate he’s been eyeing the whole semester and ruining his chances of ever being seen in a good light in front of the said person ever again. He prays intensely that he hasn’t crossed the line yet when you open your mouth and speak to him in the crowded kitchen.

“Renjun!”

“Y/N!” he tries to mimic your tone, a flashy grin settling onto his face when you approach him first. You two aren’t strangers, after all– you’ve sat together in class during various exams and also accidentally bumped into each other in the cafeteria, but what were your courageous attempts in making conversation with him and efficiently trying to make him more interested in you didn’t lead to your desired goal of getting invited out by him, instead leading him to think you’re just that friendly to everyone and not just him, making the chances of him taking the next step that much slimmer. Not tonight, though– he really must have had too much to drink.

“How are you?” you ask, clearing your throat as you bump into someone and decide to shift closer to Renjun, making the boy’s breathing hitch in his throat.

“Wonderful,” he gasps, and for some reason, the response laced in irony makes an excited laugh escape your throat, and the more he listens to your bubbly giggle, the more he wishes he did music instead of fine arts, because maybe if he was competent enough, he could mimic the sound in one of his songs and replay it over and over even when you’re not around.

“That sounds very genuine,” you note, which makes the boy laugh in return, making him wonder if maybe he could have the same effect on you– if you’re smiling wider now because of the sound of his laughter, or if you’re just amused at something completely else.

It’s pathetic, really– the gloomy boy that was trailing to this party behind his roommate Donghyuck is nowhere to be seen now, instead replaced by the cheap imitation of a ray of sunshine that you brought out of him only with the magic of a few words and the few drops of alcohol on his tongue.

“Oh, trust me, it was genuine,” he teases, and you only nod to his attempt at masking his obviously saddened composure from before.

“Having a rough week?” you ask, and you sound truly interested– something Renjun hasn’t found in the tone of his roommate when he insisted on dragging him here– and maybe that’s the reason why he just shrugs and decides to come clean and be honest with you. You seem like that kind of person that wouldn’t make fun of his troubles, the kind of person that would genuinely want to help– although he’s not seeking counseling tonight, he figures he can talk a bit about his shitty mood if it means that it gets the conversation flowing.

“A rough life, actually,” he snickers before he sees you eye him with a concerned look, “just joking,” he adds before he retracks back and fixes his initial answer. “Some things didn’t work out the way I wanted them to, so I’m kind of moping around for a bit.”

You seem to feel empathetic towards the boy, nodding and pouting at his confession. “Well, I hope things get fixed for you, Jun,” you mumble, tone of voice encouraging– and maybe he could dwell at the caring nature of you a little longer, only if it wasn’t for your use of a nickname for him that just oh so sweetly rolls of your tongue and Renjun wishes he could legally change his name to the nickname so he could listen to the way it sounds forever– scratch that, to the way it sounds from your mouth forever, which means he won’t change it, just so it’s reserved for you and only you to say.

“What about you, though?” he finds himself asking in the midst of his inner screeching.

“Me? I’m great, totally fine, having the time of my life,” you emphasize, the over-the-top expression on your face making the boy burst into laughter as you wave your arms around as if to show him your surroundings. “I am a party person for sure, you know, so this is perfect,” you joke, and Renjun seems to get the memo. If he’s being honest, he’s not sure he’s ever seen you at a party before– not that he goes to many himself, which might honestly be the reason, actually– you could just be at different parties in different times that hadn’t overlaid, but by the way you’re currently tensely sipping at the alcohol in your hand, he figures you’re not too familiar with the scene of college partying.

“Who forced you to go? Was it your roommate?” Renjun remembers the girl from another one of his classes– you two were always walking around together and often got to class at the same time. Figuring out that you two lived together wasn’t as difficult, and she surely seems to be the more extroverted one.

“No, actually,” you say, eyes glimmering when he seems to remember the girl you share a room with, “to my surprise, honestly. It was another one of my friends– Na Jaemin, not sure if you know him– but the moment we got here, he disappeared and left me alone to deal with my thoughts,” you click your tongue and Renjun finds himself totally mesmerized with you– amazed with everything about you; the way you talk, the way you lean on the counter and watch him with stars in your eyes (which might just be the reflections of the kitchen lights, but don’t tell him that), the way you slightly lean into him when he cracks a joke and earns a laugh out of you…

“They always do that,” Renjun scowls, “they drag the introvert in and then force them to survive on their own…” he shakes his head in disappointment, clearly distraught over the situation.

“Exactly! But if you ask them to come with you to a picnic, or to the library, they decline the offer. So much for being good friends,” you roll your eyes. Renjun finds himself smiling, and although he must admit that as every other college student, he himself would decline an invitation to a library if anyone asked, he’s like 99% certain that if it was you uttering out the question, he wouldn’t miss a heartbeat before joyfully jogging there with you.

“Ask me next time,” he blurts out, a poor attempt at flirting, “I wouldn’t say no.”

And it seems like tonight is the night where you suddenly get the last kick of courage needed when you talk to Renjun– maybe fueled by his coy smile when he said the previous comment, maybe just acting out on pure hormones– tonight's the night where he breathlessly takes your offer, still not thinking much of it, but igniting a curious spark in his own heart nonetheless, when you scratch the back of your neck in the last residue of anxiety, scrunching your nose at him and mumbling under your nose, barely heard above the loud music resonating through the living room. “Do you wanna sneak into my dorm room, then?”

Renjun almost chokes at your question– visitors in the dormitory are only allowed until midnight and as far as he’s aware, the clock is well after 2 AM right now, and he’s a male visitor, which is even more off the bounds in the eyes of the fierce woman guarding the entrance of the girl’s dormitory building. The more he stares at you, the more you seem to translate his silence into disagreement, which you panically try to undo with even more rambling. “I- I mean, since we both kind of hate this party and I think that if I drink more, I’m going to puke all over myself, so… My room is on the ground floor, so you can just climb in, if you wanted to. My roommate went home for the weekend, so there’s no one there, and we could– I mean, we don’t have to, honestly, but it’s kinda cold out and I thought we could both use a place more silent, ‘cause I really wanna head back now, but I don’t want to stop talking to you, y’know, and I don’t know if–”

“Okay, I’m down,” Renjun nods, efficiently shutting up your rambling, and when there’s a very apparent relief flashing over your face, he finds himself smiling in endearance at your antics, going as far as ruffling a hand through your hair in whatever kick the alcohol mixed with adrenaline gave him before you have him dragging his feet out of the house, both of your feet shuffling towards the campus.

The walk isn’t long, but he finds himself enjoying it. The condensation coming out of your mouths at the chilly weather serves more to the atmosphere when the both of you giggle out at absurd jokes and gossip, your voice breaking into soft hums when you sing a song under your breath in moments of silence that somehow feel both kind of awkward, but also kind of pleasant. He drags you by your hand to the other side of the sidewalk when a car passes by and you jump in surprise, eyes wide and glossy, mouth a little agape in an open-mouthed grin when his fingers stay intertwined with yours and you adjust your purse on your other shoulder, clearing your throat before you try to nonchalantly continue on with the conversation.

“I’ll go inside now,” you announce when you get to the girl’s dormitory building, breaking apart from the eager boy and coming closer to him when you confide the secret, “I’ll turn the light on in my room when I get there, so make sure to look out for the window. I’ll help you in, don’t worry,” you smile at him, and before he has a chance to reply, you disappear behind the glass door with a pep in your step.

Renjun finds himself sighing– now is the moment when he should realistically get relief, the moment when he’s supposed to relax for at least a second and prepare himself for whatever might happen in your dorm room– but when he slowly walks over to the left wing of the building and squints at the dark squares of windows, he wonders how in the hell he’s gonna climb in. Escaping out will be an easy task– the windows aren’t that high up– but coming in will be the problem. He guesses it’s the same with the whole situation– he bets the easiest part of the whole evening will be jumping out and running to his own room– how to survive the night in your presence and not go completely insane, he doesn’t know and wishes he had a manual to before he agreed to do this in the first place.

When the light goes on in one of the rooms and you wave at him from the inside, he finds himself involuntarily jogging towards the window, gears in his brain turning faster than the speed of light when he reaches the wall and you grin at him, opening the window and offering him your hand.

“If you grip the edge of the window and give me your hand, you can get in easily,” you say, watching as the boy cautiously looks around himself and scratches the back of his neck, mentally calculating his next movements.

“Have you done this before?”

“No,” you bashfully shake your head, “but my roommate did it twice, so I don’t think it’s that hard,” you note and nod at him, waiting for him to finally take action.

Renjun finds himself doing what he’s been told– and even though he huffs and almost falls over to his back (which would kill him, he thinks, since his physique is very close to a turtle’s), victory fills his veins when one of his legs finally ends up in your window, his body stumbling forward and almost toppling you over when the warmth of your room welcomes him as he lands on top of your desk.

“Welcome,” you laugh at him when he shakes his head in disbelief and takes off his coat, dropping it on top of the wooden table and watching you close the window behind him, so the cold doesn’t get in.

“That’s one way of inviting guests over, I guess,” he teases you, watching as you roll your eyes at him and go over to one of the beds. Renjun notices the room is different to the one he shares with Donghyuck– you and your roommate have two beds instead of a bunk one, the table is right under the window and you get a little more space over-all. You turn on the little lamp kept on your bedside table, and the boy watches you with interest as you cautiously walk around your own room as if it’s your first time seeing it, reminding him a little of a deer in the headlights, clueless and suddenly out of ideas.

Renjun finds himself laughing at your behavior– he finds himself endeared by it, the way you play with your fingers in nerves and try to think of anything to do in the intimacy that suddenly envelopes you when you invite someone over to your dorm room in the middle of the night– and when you aimlessly end up standing in front of him, your big eyes even bigger and glossier than before, he snickers at the state of you and shakes his head.

“Okay, so I know I was the one who invited you over, but now I’m kind of helpless in what we should actually do and all…” you giggle, a little embarrassed when you bear your eyes into his, your body subconsciously slotted in between his legs, his position leaning on the edge of the table allowing you and inviting you to do so.

“You’re cute,” he laughs at you, and before you have a chance to question him about the compliment, he has you silenced abruptly by his next actions.

“What do you–”

His hand is gripping your jaw and he leans into you, the newly found courage and affection towards you having him drunk on more than the alcohol, but also your whole presence– the way your hair smells when he’s this close to you, the way you pull the sleeves of your sweater further down when you don’t know what to do with your hands, the shyness in your gaze now that you have him in your cage– and his lips act on themselves when they press themselves against yours, soft but firm, tasting the strawberry juice mixed with vodka off your mouth, a surprised gasp against his lips more than enough to invite him even further in.

He feels your fingers tugging at his shirt and your skin growing hot under his touch, leaning back from you a little and finding you looking at him with a thousand different galaxies in your eyes, enough of a confirmation to him, but he’s a man– he still needs it vocally, when he grins lazily at you. “Was this one of the things you thought about when you invited me over?”

“Maybe…” you tug at your bottom lip with your teeth, a clearly battled grin trying to settle its way onto your lips.

“You should’ve just said so, then,” he smiles when he leans into you again, a little more confidently this time and kisses you again, again and again.

You stay under the window for a while, lips pressed hard against each other as you try to learn the curves of each other’s mouths by memory, lazy hands threaded into his hair and an arm around your waist now, steadying you in place. Foreheads pressed against each other when you break away for air, giggles resonating through the room when his lips make their way towards your neck and the softness of his hair tickles your skin, fingers threaded when you tug him towards your bed and you watch him kick his shoes off before you follow him onto the soft mattress.

His head falls into your pillow and you straddle his lap, your hair falling into your face when you look down at him from your position, the newly found dominance in your position charging you with unexplainable energy, and Renjun can’t help but smile at you sweetly when your eyes meet and you eagerly lean down towards him, fingers once again intertwined with his, hands laying next to his head. Your breath fans his swollen lips that you once again find yourself attacking, the contact overwhelming you and making it hard to breathe. Who knows how long the both of you have wanted to do this but never had the courage to– it’s a miracle that it’s even happening tonight.

And with the built-up desire, you act instinctively– hands breaking away from his when you grip his cheeks and give him one last peck, lips now traveling down his jaw and neck instead, having the boy shivering under the contact, your actions slowly but surely driving him crazy when you find his sweet spot and you get a satisfied gasp from him, a reward for your tonight’s efforts.

His hand grips your hip, and something about the burn of his fingers even through the fabric of your jeans makes you move on instinct, earning yourself a sharper hiss this time that doesn’t make you stop, however– quite the opposite, actually– as you break into a wide grin at the very evident effect you have on him, your movements slow and painful, but still having him harden under you.

Goosebumps appear all over your skin when his cold fingers capture the skin of your stomach when he aimlessly tries to find a place in your body to ground yourself, but the more he answers to your movements, the more encouraged you get. He tugs you back down so you’re facing him, which does nothing to halt your painful pace as he drags out yet another kiss from you.

“If we don’t stop now, it’s gonna be really hard for me to do so later,” Renjun huffs into your ear, which only gets you more excited.

“Who said I want to stop?” you ask him, fingers trailing up his side over his shirt, yet still making him fire up and flush in his cheeks. “Do you want to stop?”

“Do I look like I wanna stop?” he snickers, shaking his head in utter disbelief, hand traveling dangerously close to the cup of your breast.

“Let’s continue, then,” you muse, peeling yourself off him only the slightest amount, hands dragging themselves down his body until you reach the waistband of his pants, gently dragging the fabric down until he’s left in front of you only with a tent in his underwear, big eyes curiously and breathlessly watching you in your actions. He could be a gentleman and tell you you don’t have to, tell you to stop and come back up and that he will pleasure you first, but the more he watches you as you palm him over the thin fabric of his boxer briefs with the dangerous doe eyes of yours, the less he wants to do just that. In all reality– who is he to deny a blowjob from you? Or anyone, for that matter?

His whole body shudders under your touch, actions careful, but so painfully satisfying. Renjun watches your face with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, the reality of it all sobering him up and making him aware of each shift of your body, each centimeter your fingertip travels against his skin, each motion that slowly makes a bundle of nerves appear in his stomach. It only gets too much for him when you lean on your elbows, nails gently pricking the skin of his thighs as your mouth hesitantly greets his dick, and he feels like a virgin again when his eyes peel off you just in case he finishes just by watching you blowing him off like a highschooler at his first blowjob, forcing himself to watch the ceiling instead.

Eyes traveling all over your room– the closed window opposite of him, the bed on the other side of the room, the walls above your bed– he gets lost in the galaxy drawn on a piece of paper that’s plastered right above your pillowcase, and another graphite sketch of eyes bearing right into your soul, as if they were watching him in the act, and another one, of a deer that looks through the shade of the trees, before it hits him.

“Oh my god what the fuck–” he gasps, and his tone must have sounded too different to the satisfied moans that have been spilling out of his mouth up until now, because you abruptly stop your movements and your gazes lock, your eyes completely mortified.

“Am I doing something wrong?”

“Oh– Oh god no, fuck, you’re doing amazing, trust me,” apologies spill off his tongue at your distressed state, “it’s just– where… where did you get these?” he asks, pointing towards all the drawings taped all over your walls that he failed to notice in the heat of the moment before.

“Oh,” you cluelessly hum, eyebrows furrowed, “I found them spilling out of a trashcan close to the boy’s dorms when I was walking to class one morning, and they were so pretty I had to take them.”

“I– you like these?” Renjun asks, full of strange surprise and genuine curiosity. You’re now sitting back on your heels and looking at the boy with big eyes, still slightly clueless and very much in a weird state of distress– because why would a man ask you about the random artwork on your wall in the middle of a mindblowing blowjob?– before you nod with a slight pout, agreeing.

“Well, I wouldn’t have decorated my room with them if I didn’t like them, y’know… Why are you… why are you asking?”

“Oh,” Renjun repeats again, a dumbfounded look taking over his soft features before he sits up on the bed and scoots closer to you, a weird sense of euphoria spilling out every vein of his body when the held-back dopamine is released into his system. A wide grin appears on his lips before he stares into your eyes with a milky way mirroring behind his eyeballs, glittering orbs haphazardly gliding over your face before he reaches your lips again, pecking them one, two, three times before you break away and look at him with furrowed eyebrows, a slight crease right in between them.

“What are you–”

“I think I’m gonna literally cum just at hearing those words, Y/N,” he blurbs out before he kisses the tip of your nose again, completely endeared and close to a happy boy under the Christmas tree, and while you may enjoy that look on him, you’re still slightly confused. Huang Renjun sighs almost a little too dreamingly and smooths the wrinkle between your eyebrows with a careful swipe of his thumb, still not giving you any explanation.

“Renjun, I’m afraid I’m not quite following why this is so important to you right now,” you mumble, having your partner laugh airly– just as if all his worries escaped through the window and you fixed his life with a few drawings plastered on your wall.

“Those, dear Y/N,” he points towards the papers stuck to your walls, eyeing the specific one he worked for 3 hours on and kind of mourned the morning after he realized he threw it away, months of practice and art that maybe wasn’t even that bad in the first place ending up in the trash because of a fit of rage, “are all mine. Mine as in, I drew them… And then threw them out in the middle of a slight mental breakdown.”

You look at him for a few heartbeats, eye contact never breaking before you avert your gaze towards the artwork on the walls– it takes you a few seconds before it hits you– and you gasp, hurriedly looking back at the artist in front of you, stars glimmering in your eyes now as well, matching his excitement. “Oh my god, are you for real?”

“Yeah.”

“You drew all of these?”

“Yeah,” he nods again, breathless.

“This is an insane coincidence,” you snicker, and Renjun didn’t know he had it in him– maybe it’s still the effect of alcohol that slips off his tongue when he speaks– but he cages you in his arms as he kisses you again, a whole new world appearing in front of him when the cheesiness meets the comfort of your walls.

“You’d call this a coincidence?” he hums. “Maybe it was fate.”

Earning himself a sharp laugh, almost mocking him as you swat his shoulder, you fall back with him towards the mattress, and while the heated moment might be gone, you don’t mind at all. Renjun looks at you with a certain softness in his eyes, a pride swelling in his chest, and for a moment, it’s true and you truly did open up a new reality for him and changed his life forever, fixed all of his problems, if you will, because the appreciation it takes for a girl to tape up at least 20 of his messy artworks onto her wall after finding the stash in the trashcan on her way to class might just be the encouragement he needed to keep going with the craft.

It’s hard to believe that this shitty party actually brought him somewhere– not only to your bed, but also to your life, to a beginning of something new and a restart in something he thought he’d forever be giving up on.

“So… Do you need those back? Because I kinda like them here,” you giggle, and the crinkle of his eyes is enough of an answer to you.

“You can keep them. I’ll just draw new ones you can look at,” he muses, stealing another kiss from you and squeezing your hip, having you squeal against his mouth.

“Now, to get back to what we were doing before–”

#nct #nct dream #renjun #renjun x reader #renjun fluff #renjun smut #renjun scenario #renjun fic #renjun drabble #nct dream scenario #nct dream reaction #nct dream smut #nct dream x reader #nct dream imagine #renjun imagine

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gay-otlc · 2 years ago

Note

the people harmed by the 'save the poor confused daughters' rhetoric are trans WOMEN who are seen as the predators. if you are TME maybe shut the fuck about oppression you benefit from? 'oh no i am seen as the people who need to be protected from the evil bad transfems :(' you are the villain here

While trans women are seen as predators and the "save the poor daughters" rhetoric affects them in things like sports and bathroom bills, this ideology is specifically wielded against trans men & mascs. Because- and this may come as a shock to you- transphobes hate all of us and we are all harmed by their bigotry.

Specifically, in the post you're likely referencing, I was referring to the way TERFs are upset about people who were assigned female at birth, discovered they were attracted to women and identified as lesbians, and then transitioned into straight trans men. This isn't a made up thing. This is actually very common rhetoric.

They see trans men & mascs as lost butches. They see transmasculinity as the lesbian holocaust (which, in addition to being transandrophobic, is antisemetic as FUCK. but i won't get into that)

And this rhetoric is seen in trying to "protect" all afab children, not just lesbians. Conservatives have recently become outraged that an American Girls book marketed towards young girls, or young children perceived as girls, explained gender identity and advised readers to talk to a trusted adult if they were experiencing gender dysphoria, because a doctor could help them be more comfortable in their bodies (namely puberty blockers.)

Here are screenshots. This shit is real.

I am not seen as someone who needs to be protected from the "evil bad transfems." I am seen as a traitor to womanhood, a violent misogynist, a nazi in the so-called lesbian holocaust, a stupid girl who wants to mutilate her body and trick other girls into mutilating their bodies too.

And even if I was seen as a victim, if I was seen as a little girl who needed to be saved- that would be misgendering me. I'm not a fucking girl. It's not a privilege to be misgendered, and quite honestly it's transphobic to claim I should feel grateful that I'm getting misgendered.

Also, that's bullshit to say that I'm TME and I benefit from transmisogyny. I am not transmisogyny exempt. I have been harassed for going into a women's bathroom because I looked too masculine and the women in there thought I was an evil bad predator. So yeah, not sure how I benefited from that, considering it left me with nowhere safe to use the fucking bathroom.

You have no right to tell me I'm not harmed by transphobia. Go fuck yourself.

#transandrophobia #whooo i got an anon telling me i'm the villain for speaking out against transandrophobia!#transmasc rite of passage i think #you know what? i *had* been saying it was too long since my last anon hate. thanks anon

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tanoraqui · 5 months ago

Text

Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: Endgame...

I have no real notes on the 'escape from the dungeon' sequence, other than that it IS going to be fun to have an epic 'galloping away from total urban collapse/tidal wave' sequence in the anime.

This is technically accurate-ish but also totally not, nobody but Laios (and we the reader) knows what happened in that final confrontation, and I wonder if he'll tell them? He has no reason not to, other than it being...deeply Weird(TM) in the way that only Laios really is.

Namari expresses many feelings, including love, through violence, and I respect and appreciate that.

I tagged this before, but: future royal advisors lmaoooo. (I know Shuro has his own princedom to rule, but not yet, okay, and even once he inherits, lbr every time he visits Melini for diplomatic reasons, Laios is going to be like, "Shuro!! :D Come to dinner! Do you have any ideas about [infrastructure taxes/crop rotation/vigilante assassinations/etc issue of the day]?")

(Note 2: I also know his name is "Toshiro" but the characters haven't stopped using the mispronunciation, so I'm going with what's dominant in the story.)

He Suffers for this friendship :)

CHILCHUCK IS BEING MEAN TO HIS FRIENDS AGAIN! NATURE IS HEALING!!

THEY'RE BESTIES YOUR HONOR!!

Fun fact: this specifically, screenshot at 4:46am, was the point at which the combination of visibly lightening sky, mortifying threat of my roommates waking up early and seeing me still up, and the fact an eager Shuro/Laios hug signalled that clearly everything was going to be basically happy from here on out, all combined to make me finally close my laptop and get ready for bed...whereupon I read the rest of the comic in bed, because I REALLY needed to see Falin safely rezzed, for my own peace of mind.

Hell yeah time to eat! our! girl!!!

And btw, shoutout to Laios for, indeed, eating the Winged Lion. King shit. (/Yaad voice) (ah shit, is someone going to have to break it to Yaad and all the other villagers that their "prophecy" was a demon's manipulations? Or has Yaad picked that up by now while traveling with Izutsumi?)

Kabru: You know what you were doing, right?

Laios: 8|

Kabru: Never mind, don't answer that, so I can sleep at night ever again. Actually, never answer that, especially in front of any sort of press and/or foreign nationals.

I really like how the orcs aren't offering Laios kingship so much as sanctuary. The underground here is theirs, because nobody else ever wanted it, just like nobody ever wanted them. If Laios is going to be arrested by elves if he stays above ground, and Pattadol and Flamela with their oh-so-polite and flattering invitations trying to do, then he's an orc in all but name and form, and he's welcome among them for the rest of his life.

Laios: I need you to help me eat my sister!

The rest of the party, as one: We know this sounds insane and we're sorry about that.

HIGHLIGHTS OF THIS PANEL:

Marcille resignedly headlocking Izutsumi so she doesn't maul anyone in response to being swarmed

Shuro, under duress, defaulting to strangling Laios (again)

Laios rolling his eyes because he's so accustomed to and tired of everyone reacting overdramatically to his perfectly reasonable requests

Kabru just rubbing his temple. He has a headache. He's so tired that he's not even trying to talk anyone down from anything.

Chilchuck closing one eye like maybe if he pretends to be asleep he doesn't need to be involved in this.

Holm nervously saying that he can't because he keeps gnomesher (gnome kosher)

[happy sigh] politics!

I just love love love the 'all the random disparate allies you made along the way rally together at the end for an epic battle to defeat the big bad" - except the big bad is already defeated. USUALLY the way that works is:

Core hero party faces pre-plot climax interparty conflict, then resolves it

Rally disparate allies made throughout the journey to fight the Big Bad (note: allies may rally themselves; still counts)

Fight Big Bad first as a group, then winnow/isolate down to core party, then down to single Main Protagonist who faces and defeats the Big Bad in a character foil-heavy, extremely thematic final confrontation

Everyone lives happily ever after, the end!

In Dungeon Meshi, however, it was:

Disparate allies made throughout the journey rally together to...help the core hero party deal with their pre-climactic interparty conflict! (Marcille's monster army - which does still come down to the core party, of course)

Core party, then isolated to single Main Protagonist (Laios) faces and defeats the Big Bad in a character foil-heavy, extremely thematic final confrontation

Rally disparate allies to accomplish what Laios explicitly says was the TRUE goal all along: reviving Falin! (Via eating as a group because that's live! understanding! connection! life!!)

Everyone lives happily with continuous hunger, because that's what it means to live ever after, the end!

I JUST THINK IT'S NEAT

It is sooo notable, though by this point unsurprising, that the elves' chief consideration of the consequences of all of this is that "things" (magic, international politics, etc) may end up "harder to keep under control."

My personal theory/headcanon-until-proven-otherwise is that mana levels above-ground will simply never fully subside to their dungeon-era levels again, and dungeon mana levels will be correspondingly lower - it'll all even out, basically, though underground will still have generally higher levels. This means:

there will be more monsters on the surface, especially large ones

magic will be easier for all races (though limits on how much they can hold at once will remain)

"dark" ancient magic, which (I headcanon) is particularly defined by an assumption that there is a Shit Ton of mana to draw on, will become easier and thus more common...which is okay because "need huge power source to draw on" is no longer the first step on a slippery slope to "let dungeon demon consume the world."

corollary: Marcille is going to live her best damn life studying and innovating with the above

This micro-interaction is so sweet. Kabru isn't even talking to Laios, but he's still keeping him in mind, and he so casually says "my friend."

TO LIVE IS TO WANT!!! CONTINUOUSLY! YOU JUST GO ON!

It's so great and interesting how much the Canaries care about Mithrun! It'd be so easy for him to just be their royally-imposed boss, or their weird mascot that they have to take care of, and both of these things are part of the dynamic. But they also all care about him as a person! Fleki was smothering him like a doll a minute ago, but the instant there's real hope for his life, she's jumping on it breathlessly! They're all suggesting hobbies he could take up, and standing around rapt and breathless waiting to see if Kabru's speech works to get him back on his feet!

There's definitely parallels to be made with Laios here, in terms of adventurin party rolling their eyes affectionately at their leader and saying, "yeah, we WOULD follow this total freak into hell. That's our day job, actually. #onlysomeregrets".

Mithrun... /single tear

I just wanna see this panel in color SO BAD, though. The green grass, the pale brown earth and the paler birch trees, and the semi-translucent ice fracturing the dark red dragon meat, with Mithrun's pooling green cloak and these 2 guys standing amids all of it... It's going to be so striking.

I've decided that the one (1) headcanon I'm holding in total defiance of explicit canon is that TO ME, Yaad was the original concept art where's she's a fairy princess in aesthetic, the perfect princess-in-the-tower for a brave knight to rescue and so earn the right to kingship of the land.

She still ends up possessing her grandfather's body, to be clear, and having this and every other conversation. It just intensifies the "I survived 1,000 years of being a ghost by focussing all my hope on THIS TROPE and you are going to play it out!!" Sure, marriage isn't an option anymore but that's fine, that wasn't the most important part! If Laios doesn't know how to govern, then she (in her grandfather's body) will teach him! Or else!!!

TLDR Yaad's gender is Princess and I will not be taking counterargument unless it's very compelling.

Lol @ how 1 of these guys is the actual, legally appointed ruler of the island and 1 is the top local crime boss, and everyone, even Laios, know they're on equal footing (at best - the Island lord is not a competent man.)

Kabru of Utaya, PR Professional :)

This really is a fun little chapter, with Izutsumi's struggle to figure out what to do next mirroring Laios's. She's wandering freely, insisting on her own freedom - and nobody is arguing with her! Everyone takes it for granted, so much that she feels a little unwanted! While every conversation she walks into involves responsibilities to others.

Holy shit, forbidden civvies!Chilchuck. He has his sleeves rolled up and collar open and everything, sluttily baring his collarbone and a hint of chest hair... He's even implicitly about to get his forearms blood-splattered, while doing a domestic chore and explaining the importance of responsibility to his teen(?) adopted catdaughter. If he still looked like the 50yo tallman with 5 o'clock shadow that he equivalently is, he'd be the hottest sexyman on tumblr right here.

Even though it has vegetables! Because it's made with love and life!!

#dm lb #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #stopping here bc otherwise i bet i'll hit the 30 photos per post limit before i'm done #dungeon meshi spoilers

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