#unloving you

[steyrine-spieon]

Unloving you

I never fell out of love. I never thought of you differently. Our memories still remain in my mind, And I don't despise you for leaving me. I never fell out of love. But I've accepted the fact that you're gone. I know our relationship has ended, And I know for a fact that I've moved on. I never fell out of love. For my love was both genuine and true. Pure, innocent, love cannot be removed. But what's removed are my feelings for you. I never fell out of love. But I've moved on and I've healed since you left. I can't say I've unloved you, cause I didn't, But the fact that you're gone, I just accepted.

[txemrn]

Like Ships in the Night

Unloving You

Welcome to my new anthology series Like Ships in the Night! Ethan and Tatum spent 15 years apart from each other, but fate tried making them reunite sooner. Each story can be read as a one-shot (unless noted). You can check out the smutty prologue here!

🔞This collection of stories is intended for mature audiences only. By continuing, you agree that you are 18 years of age or older. TW for chapters will be included with each part. 🔞

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!OC (Tatum Erikson), Tobias Carrick x f!OC (Tatum Erikson)

Series Music Inspo: "Ships in the Night" by Mat Kearney

Chapter Music Inspo: "Unloving You" by Anson Seabra

Chapter Summary: It's been 6 months since Ethan and Tatum broke up, and even though their lives are going in different directions, one thing remains the same.

Word Count: ~4700

Warnings: language, mentions of infidelity and masturbation; there is a plot reveal towards the end of this story that can be triggering to some; sensitive readers, if you are unsure, please scroll down to the end of the story to read this TW; it's in red

A/N: Some of these characters/plots belong to our friends at Pixelberry. Huge thank you to my girl @ao719 for looking over this piece! 🖤 Not truly beta'd; please excuse my errors.

~🖤~

Tatum

When does it stop? The pain, the loneliness, the tears?

The love?

When you find that person, the one that gets you, the one that understands you and completes you… that person that makes your eyes sparkle without even trying, that makes flowers smell brighter or even your favorite coffee taste better…

How do you say ‘goodbye’? 

Can your heart even let go? Does it ever let go? When do you stop seeing them in your dreams? Smelling their skin in a light breeze? Hearing their voice in every song?

I fell in love. And now, I'm begging for someone to tell me: how do you fall out?

It's been almost six months since Ethan left me.  Six months. It feels like we were just together yesterday, whispering secret promises to one another as our eyelashes and fingertips danced in flutters across our bare bodies. It was simple, yet intimate. We acted as if we would be doing it everyday for the rest of our lives. 

And yet, we fell apart for what feels like decades ago. I mean, I'm a completely different person now, some days unable to recognize myself in the mirror. Still, in so many ways, I'm very much that broken girl who lucked out and found a boy. A lovely boy. A boy who gave me his whole heart.

Six months.  I miss him. And I still love him. 

I woke up to a text from him, inviting me to meet him for lunch before my clinic appointment. I didn't want to pass up the chance of actually getting to talk. So, with a belly full of nerves, I agree to meet him at a place near Edenbrook Hospital.

It was pretty warm out today in Boston. Getting out of bed has become easier for me over the past month, so I decided to enjoy my breakfast in the company of the rays of the early-September sun. The heat breathed life back into my skin, giving me a much-needed boost of serotonin. And just like that, something felt different about today. Better different.  

For once in the past several months, life isn't overcast and gloomy.  Although I wake up missing Ethan, I don't feel my usual sense of dread and sadness. I'm not overwhelmed with the stifling sense of doom or that life would be much better if...well, nevermind. Rather hope blooms in my chest, like maybe I can���no, like maybe I will overcome this. Today was going to be a good day.

I decided to venture out and explore. I moved in just before residency in July, and living with the crazy schedule of an intern, I never had a chance to explore the new city. And since Beantown will be home for at least three years, I might as well get used to it. 

After struggling to find something to wear, I strapped on my shoes and headed out to run some errands before I met up with him. I had an important conference call this morning with my advisor at Johns Hopkins, a board representative, and the residency coordinator with Mass Kenmore.  They've been incredibly supportive of my career decisions, especially after I turned down my residency spot soon after graduation. They understood my need for an interim hiatus, and were able to grant me my request with stipulations, which included working in a research laboratory part-time. Who knows? When I finally figure out my passion, my sharpened skills in pharmaceutical research may save lives… that is if I ever feel passion again.

Looking at my watch, I scury to catch the T to the medical district to meet him for lunch in fifteen minutes. Of course, it's crowded as I grip tightly to the metal railing of the moving tram. Shit, I hope I'm not late. He's trying to reach out after everything we've been through, and… well, I don't want him to think I'm not taking things seriously. 

My anxiety betrays me as I swallow thickly. Along with the abrupt motions of the locomotive and the overbearing smells of skunked perfume, body odor and fried food, my breakfast threatens to make an appearance. I close my eyes, taking some deep breaths. Slowly inhale through my mouth, slowly exhale back out. Slowly inhale… 

A hand grazes my shoulder; my eyes startle open only to find a kind, older gentleman with a Red Sox cap smiling empathically at me. Looking me over, he recognizes my situation, and kindly offers me his seat, guiding me to it. Maybe chivalry isn't dead. 

I graciously thank him, finding solace in the empty spot before checking my watch again. Eleven minutes. I think I'm going to be just fine.

With two minutes to spare, I walk into our meeting location: a bar called Donahue's. Since I’ve beat him here, I go ahead and get situated at an empty table where he can easily see and find me. I feel weird coming to a bar during the day–even the bartender gave me an eyebrow before I ordered my water, but I've heard that it's more than a boozy-place, that the bar food here is decent. 

A bell rings out as another patron walks into the dimly lit area. Not him. He grabs a long neck before joining a group of men in scrubs. I look to my right and see more people dressed in medical attire, which I guess makes sense; the bar is situated in the middle of several major hospitals.

The door chimes again, my heart dropping in anticipation, but it's a false alarm as a cute brunette in purple scrubs bounces into the place, ordering a round of shots. I hope this is the night shift…

I catch a whiff of something delectable, my stomach growling with demands. I grab a menu and begin to thumb through it, everything looking delectable. My mouth salivates as I make a mental note of their appetizers as I peruse over to their list of desserts. 

But then, I freeze. I'm suddenly paralyzed as an eerie, familiar feeling washes over me. Haunting me. Someone is watching. I can feel their stare. 

Glancing up, I gasp, the color draining from my face as my eyes prick with the threat of tears.

It… it can't be.

What's he doing here? He can't see me here. Not like this.

----------

Ethan

"Have a good one." 

I wave goodbye to one of the newest arrivals at Johns Hopkins. So bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Filled with so much hope of making changes in the world of medicine. He was probably the top of his class, 4.2 GPA, president of his pre-med club. Complete nerd.

I recognize him. I was the same way when I first arrived. 

Before…

He and his parents moved the last piece of furniture from my Baltimore apartment this evening. I relocated to Boston back in July to start my residency in a highly regarded, highly competitive diagnostics program.  Today is finally the last day of my lease in the old place, so I came back one last time to clean up and turn in my keys. 

And also, to get rid of that piece. I should've just thrown it away, but it was new, barely even a year old. It seemed like such a waste. I had listed it last week on a private med student bulletin board. 

Free bed. Good condition. Pick up only. Within hours, it was claimed. And I was relieved.

Just get it out of here.

I lock the front door as I turn to clean the master bedroom that is now completely empty. But, truth be told, this room has been vacant for a while. I hated coming in here. Well, after.

As the vacuum cleaner whirls to life, I push and pull across the carpet, gliding effortlessly… that is until I hear a giant clunk, followed by rapid tinks and thuds under the wheel.

Damnit.

Laying down the clumsy appliance, I squat low to the ground, looking under the bristles for the culprit of the noisy clog. And there it is. A hair-tie.

Her hair-tie.

Wiggling it free, I hold it in my hands, inspecting it. I stare at the taupe-colored elastic for a few moments before chuckling under my breath. What was I expecting the damn thing to do? Take my heartache away? Erase the pain of the past six months?

It really wasn't anything special, just another piece of trash to toss. 

Just like me. 

For as long as I can remember, I had a well-erected facade that gave the impression that I was tough while keeping people away. And it worked. I'm not jaded; it's just a fact of life that I learned when I was younger: people will let you down. 

I don't need others; I don't need help. Once you show vulnerability to someone, once you expose the weakest part of your armor, they know how to hurt you. And I refuse to be weak.

But then… hell, she happened. And for a moment in time, I had someone in my corner, someone I could trust, someone who put me, all of me, before themselves. Shit, even my own mother couldn't even do that, and Lord knows, my dad tried. But Tatum? Damnit…

Tatum saw my full potential.  She saw beyond my brokenness, my shit attitude, my shortcomings. I didn't feel this intrinsic need to prove myself to anyone anymore because this amazing woman believed in me–like truly believed in my intelligence, my skills. She made me believe I was meant for greater than what I thought was possible.

We called it love. 

I really thought it was.

But I was fooling myself. She fooled me, and now I'm left with thoughts and memories of a time that should never have happened in the first place.

[6 months ago…]

"Thanks for the ride, man," Ethan taps on the hood of his colleague's car before waving goodbye.  He throws his duffle bag over his shoulder before quickly jogging through the light rain to his apartment building

His research elective group had finished early in Houston on Thursday afternoon, and the students were given an opportunity to return home.  Several students wanted to take advantage of what otherwise would have been their Spring Break, so they chose to stay and explore Space City.  

Ethan, being a creature of habit, was ready to get home and get back into his daily routine. He hated living out of a suitcase, not to mention he missed his bed and home cooked meals. But most of all, he missed his girlfriend Tatum. Because their elective schedules ran at different times during the day, they weren't able to talk despite trying to exchange text messages. Tatum seemed to be having a difficult time about something–Ethan wasn't too sure, but he knew that coming home early to surprise her would make-up for all of the missed texts and phone calls.

Especially with what he was about to do.

Ethan finally reaches the covered porch to his home, shaking his head and arms to get rid of the excess rain droplets. He then checks his pockets to ensure he had everything with him: wallet, phone, keys.

And then his pulse begins to race, a crooked grin crawling across his stubbled chin. He had to check one more item… just one more time. He needs to make sure everything came back with him from his trip.

Setting his bag on the ground, Ethan unzips a secret side compartment that was holding a pair of socks nearly tucked away at the bottom of the pocket. After reaching in and grabbing them, he unrolls the socks carefully before reaching inside the reinforced toe to pull out a small, black velvet box. 

He tenderly opens the lid, and a lump suddenly lodges in his throat as a stinging surge of tears hits his vision. He was doing this. He was actually doing this.

As he stares at the diamond solitaire, all he can see is his Tatum, and the bright and beautiful world they created together. He never realized he was lost until she found him; he never realized he was drowning until she taught him to breathe again. It's like he was blind, but because of her, everything is finally clear.

She's the one. 

Ethan chuckles to himself as he closes the box, hearing his father's warning when he called to tell him that he was proposing to Tatum.  "Don't fuck this up, Ethan J."

Shaking his head, he slips the box back into his duffle before using his keys to unlock the front door. He gently pushes it open, hoping not to wake up his future bride.

Walking into the darkened apartment, Ethan is greeted with the alluring essence of home– that is until he accidentally trips over a pair of boots. 

A familiar pair of men's boots.

A pair that doesn't belong to him.

Suddenly a pained moan infiltrates the air followed by muffled sobs and groans. Tatum.

Was she… was she alright?

Ethan anxiously storms to his bedroom. He wasn't sure what he was about to walk in on. He knew something had happened to Tatum this week, something that really bothered her that spurred her to call and message him so many times even though they both knew they'd be out of commission. 

Shit. An abrupt flash of guilt crashes through Ethan's body. Whatever she dealt with, was she up early, crying about it? Was she having nightmares about it? Maybe even terrors? He didn't realize it was that bad. Shit, if only he had known… he needs to hold her. And love on her. Now.

He pushes open the door.

And the wind tears wildly out of his lungs, his body paralyzed, completely abandoned of sound thought or response. 

He blinks his eyes a few times, assured that something was wrong with his contacts. He can't be seeing this correctly. 

It's too dark. He flips the overhead light on because surely–surely–he wasn't seeing things correctly. 

But then she says his name.

In the most guilty, tear-ladened, shameful tone he has ever heard her utter.

Like a confession.

“Ethan?”

Time seems to halt as his heartbeat roars to life in his ears. A heavy weight presses into his chest as he begins to heave… and then gasp for air.  Bile creeps up the back of his throat, his jaw souring with ache. 

Ethan then abruptly keels over, hands on his knees, and begins to wretch.

[present...]

We should never have happened.

At least I keep trying to convince myself that.

Or maybe we should've…because it's better to have loved and loss… or some bullshit like that…

Goddammit, I hate her.  I hate her so fucking much. For making me care, for making me vulnerable, for making me believe that this was different, that we were special. 

And yet, here I am still thinking about her, wondering about her. Missing her.

She was my world. I gave her my everything; I shared with her parts of me that I was too stubborn, too scared, or too embarrassed to believe even existed.  

Now, I'm left with a wound that is ripped open daily by my incessant, self-inflicted thoughts of her.

And yet, I'd let her break my heart all over again.  If it meant I could smell her hair, feel each last strand pass through my fingertips, let wayward wisps catch in my lips as I kiss her? Just to have one more chance?  Ruin me.

And then I'd beg her to stay with me forever.

And yet, I'd let her break my heart all over again, if it meant I could smell her hair just one more time. Are you kidding me? If I could just feel every last strand pass through my fingertips, let those soft wayward wisps catch in my lips as I kiss her just one more goddamn time? Please, just wreck me, ruin me. Destroy me.

Fuck, Ethan, what is wrong with you? I'm sick of this nightmare, of her evading my thoughts and my dreams. I'm sick of feeling my body betray me, my cock still responding to even just the mention of her name.

She cheated on you. She fucked your best friend, you idiot. Remember that next time you're fisting yourself in the shower, murmuring her name…

Jesus, I want to forget Tatum Erikson. I want to forget her smell, her taste. Now with our apartment gone, I just want–no, I need her gone from every thought, from every single fiber of my being.

She's… my past.

Shoving the hair tie in the trash, I grab my cleaning supplies and the apartment keys and head out to my hotel room. I have an early flight to catch in the morning followed by a pretty packed afternoon back in Boston. A hot shower and a good night's sleep is the perfect remedy after today.

If I can keep my hands to myself…

---

Thank God, that trip is over. As soon as we landed, I got my carryon, picked up my truck and headed back to my shared loft in the city. I feel a sense of absolution, like things are finally taken care of, finished, as if finally turning in the apartment key was the missing piece of moving on from… well, you know. 

Here's to hoping…

I slept like shit last night…not that my dick minded. It got more attention than I intended on giving it in hopes of tiring myself out, both physically and mentally. Greedy little bastard…

Out of frustration, I gave in to temptation… and texted her this morning. Yes, I know it was stupid. It was really stupid, and it could possibly fuck me up further, not to mention it could really blur the lines between us. But to my surprise, she actually agreed to meet up with me at Donahue's for lunch. 

Sure, let's create more problems, Ethan…

I arrive early at the bar, saying ‘hello’ to a few colleagues as I stop to grab a drink. After the past few days, not to mention the interaction I'm about to have, I feel like I've earned myself a drink or two, both as a reward and for courage. 

"Hey, Dr. Ramsey!" The bartender smiles brightly, wiping down the bar. "The usual?"

"Hey, uh, yeah. Sure…" Ronnie? Ryan? Reggie? I'm a shit person. This guy knows my drink order, and I don't even have the decency to learn his first name.

"What brings you in during the lunch crowd, my good man?" He flips over a bottle, draining an amber-colored liquid in a tumbler.

"I, um," I stutter, pushing a hand in my pocket as I lean against the wooden ledge. "I'm meeting someone."

"Ohhhh," he nods as if I just told him a secret. He raises an eyebrow to me, "a lady friend?"

Guilty. "Sorta.”

He snickers, “an afternoon delight!” 

I can feel the crimson crawling up my neck. “Uh, it's… it’s complicated."

"Ain't it always?"  He twirls my glass towards me before dipping his head. "Good luck," he chuckles as he slides down the way to help another patron.

I give him a nod as I drop some cash towards his station. I take my drink and casually pull from it, enjoying the heated notes of citrus dancing on my tongue. Feeling the comforting burn, I survey the dimly lit area, recognizing a few other residents in other programs, but I keep to myself, waiting for her.

But then all of a sudden out of the corner of my eye, it's… fuck. It's her. Tatum.  She's sitting at a table alone, fidgeting with a menu, looking every bit beautiful as she nervously combs and tosses her blonde waves with her fingers. 

I smirk to myself. It's longer. I like it.

But there's something different about her, something I can't quite put my finger on. She's… sad. She has a staged smile on her pretty features, but there's a vacancy in her eyes; there's an emptiness in her demeanor, like she's broken, like she's… someone else. The Tatum I knew had a fire, a fierce joy that could ignite a room with one glance.

Is she… was this because…

Were we in the same boat? Is she miserable, still lost and sad over us? Over our break-up?

Oh, Tate baby…

Does she miss me like I miss her? Does she love me like I…?

Shit, what do I do? I can't just walk up to her, say, 'hello,' especially since all I want to do right now… is take her in my arms and hold her. 

Would she let me take away the pain? Would she give me the chance–give us the chance to work things out? Could she forgive me?

Fuck… 

Could I actually forgive her?

You're getting way ahead of yourself, Ethan…

I pinch the bridge of my nose before downing the rest of my drink. When I look back up, those glittering, ocean blue eyes are locked on me.

And fuck me… I can't stop myself.

I slowly start to walk towards her, a strange magnetism igniting my nerves as butterflies bloom in my chest.

Tate…

What will I say first? Should I hug her? No, you creep. I'll shake her hand. Are you for real? Hell, why am I so nervous? Breathe. Just say hi. And go from there. It's that simple. It's that…

But as I look up, I realize that things aren't that simple. Between Tatum and me? It would never be simple again. 

Not with him around.

My eyes catch a glimpse of why she's here, rather whom she's here to see, and a sudden surge of anger erupts in my veins, my hands balling into fists.

Without sparing a second further, I turn on my heel, and walk towards the exit.

I'm not the fool this time. I refuse to be the fool. I'm not doing this again. God, how could I be so stupid? It was just one look from her and I…

I quickly dig out my phone, hitting the send button to redial the last message I sent. To her.

She answers on the first ring.

"Hey, Harper," I nonchalantly adjust my jeans. "Can we… meet somewhere else?"

----------

Tatum

"Hey, baby." 

Tobias's mouth grazes my lips once, then twice, but my eyes remain trained on Ethan's back as he heads for the exit, leaving Donahue's.

And me. Again.

"Tatum? Earth to Tatum," he chuckles, waving his hand in front of my eyes, breaking my reverie. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." I blink back my unshed tears and force a smile. "I'm sorry, hey," I lace my arms around his neck, planting another kiss on his mouth in hopes he wouldn't notice my distraction. "How was your morning?" 

Tobias runs his hand down his face in frustration. "Let's just say I'm glad to be here with you."

"Me too," I slip my hand into his. "Thank you… for inviting me out to lunch so we can, you know, spend some time together."

"Of course, baby," his expression grows serious as he tightens his grip around my fingers. "I know," he sighs, covering up our hands with his other palm. "I know I've been a jackass to you. And I'm… I'm really sorry, Tate. I’m not exactly used to this, let alone being in a relationship.” He sighs.  “Life is just… changing, you know? So fast."

I playfully scoff into a smirk. "Tell me something I don't already know."  Tobias wiggles his eyebrows, acknowledging that I have him beat when it comes to life changes–not that it's a competition. This was definitely not one I was hoping to win. 

He grows somber, turning his gaze away from me. "You deserve better from me. I know that," his voice grows softer, "I've always known that."

"Tob," but… I don't know what else to say. Would my life be easier without him? Yes. Would my life be better without him? I… don't know. 

It doesn't matter now. 

I exhale slowly. "Do you… ever think that maybe we got a little ahead of ourselves?"

"No." He furrows his eyebrows, his thumb fidgeting with my ring as we fall into an awkward silence. "No," he says more assuredly, "I would do it again in a heartbeat." 

And suddenly, a frigid chill wraps around me, guilt hitting me like a pit in my stomach. He would do it again in a heartbeat? Really?

Because me? I don't think I would. 

He clears his throat, squeezing my fingers endearingly. "You know I love you, right?"

I slowly nod, the corner of my mouth curling into a crooked grin. He really is making an effort, more than what he has been doing since we moved to Boston. I should be happy that he's even trying to make a relationship work between us.

I look down at his large hands, and nod as a single tear falls free, sloping down my nose. He's trying, Tatum. He's not Ethan, but he's trying his best.

It's going to have to be enough. 

"And I love you, too, my little princess," Tobias croons as he lays his hands on my pregnant belly, hidden under the table. The one thing that has tugged on my heart strings through all of this is watching this former playboy become a father. He’s really starting to come around.  "Has she been moving around this morning?"

I nod, smiling at the thought of our growing daughter, kicking and doing somersaults. Maybe she'll be a gymnast someday, or even a dancer with these moves…

We're already halfway there and yet, my mind can't seem to wrap around the idea that what I'm feeling, what is developing and moving inside me is an actual human baby. According to one of my baby books, she's now about the size of an artichoke. I honestly don't know how big an artichoke is, but judging by the sudden shift of my stomach in the past two weeks and having absolutely no pants that fit me anymore, that is one humongous artichoke.

Tobias and I have made some mistakes and questionable life decisions in the past six months, but this little girl, the small flutters she gives me daily gives me an unexplainable joy, a hope that something beautiful can still be born from darkness.

It has to.

We grab a quick bite, satisfying my craving for all things cheesy and dipped in ranch dressing before preparing to head out for the afternoon.  Tobias thoughtfully helps me stand from the table, giving my tummy another tender caress before placing a kiss on my cheek. I'm still fairly independent; even though I already feel quite large, I haven't quite reached the stage of needing assistance. 

But I don't tell Tobias this. I actually think telling him would hurt him. He's terrified and unsure about a lot right now, but one thing he's becoming very good at is protecting me. The rest will come with time and maturity. I just need to keep reminding myself: he is trying.

"Ready for this 20-week anatomy scan?"

He also comes to all of my appointments now.  He's going to be a father.

I chuckle, unable to contain my excitement. I gently glide my fingers across the expanse of my belly before cradling it. "I can't wait to hear that beautiful heartbeat."

"Me, too." He kisses me before lacing his fingers with mine to leave the bar.

And maybe this is a lesson motherhood is teaching me: having a good day doesn't mean everything has to be perfect; rather it's me changing my outlook in seeing the potential of what's to come. 

I miss Ethan. Terribly. And I might always love him.

But I have a man right here by my side who is vowing to fight to change who he is to be the man I need him to be, and that our daughter needs him to be. Because he loves me.  And maybe someday, I will love him, too.

I might not see the whole picture just yet, but I have to believe something beautiful will come out of this.

I had a feeling about today; it's going to be a good day.

Right?

~🖤~

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~🖤~

Thank you so much for your support! Every like, comment and reblog means the world to me! 🖤

~🖤~

TRIGGER WARNING: Discussion of unplanned pregnancy

[sirenzserenity]

Unloving you..

Unloving you is so hard to do,

It's like trying to fight the rising tide

It's like catching the moon or

Telling the stars not to shine.

- Anson Seabra

[dreamluminosity]

Photos I got of Anson Seabra, Alec Benjamin & Jonah Kegan at the Lafayette in London {The Wonderland Tour, 15.5.23}

watch the video I got here.

[liriorachel]

Twelve hundred miles just so I could say, "I love you"

‘Unloving you’ by Anson Seabra is about the bittersweet emotions involved in a breakup. The main character is having trouble moving past his previous relationship with his partner, who has already moved on. During their long-distance relationship, he recalls the times he went above and beyond to be there for her and the times he traveled to visit her. But even though he understands that he must move on, doing so feels like an insurmountable challenge. He breaks down, pleading for assistance and expressing his loss of his companion.

The highlights are how things may get challenging after a breakup, when one side is OK while the other finds it impossible to move on despite all the effort made to make things work. The song is well-rounded by the dramatic instrumentals that support it.

On Twitter, Seabra posed a question to his followers regarding their favorite lines from the song. Fan responses included sentences that hit home for them. Seabra also shows off his songwriting prowess with a blend of sincere, from-the-heart expressions of words and metaphors that mirror his emotions.

[escapetoaesthetics]

"Loving can be painful at times. But it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."

I'm not sure how many people would agree with me on this, but I'd rather save myself from the heartbreak that follows by not loving them then. Being lost and finding myself again is a difficult task; I'd rather stay unloved and found. As someone who experiences extreme emotions, I would rather love someone from afar than love someone up close and watch them turn into a stranger slowly.

[camilapgoez]

I really really love you so much, I want you so bad in my life but... You don't want to be with me

[shadowtraveled]

"mithrun is the only real monsterfucker in dungeon meshi" is objectively the funniest bit you can get out of his everything, but in all seriousness i think his attraction to his love interest is deliberately overstated—and that makes sense, because romantic jealousy is a classic and digestible motive, which is explicitly what kabru was aiming for in condensing mithrun's backstory, and also because until chapter 94, mithrun wasn't willing to admit to the true nature of his desires.

but because romantic envy is both classic and digestible, it probably isn’t a unique enough or complicated enough desire to tempt a demon’s appetite. mithrun’s wish, as far as we can figure from kabru’s reduced retelling, was to have a life in which he had never become one of the canaries, and that carries like 3857 implications and desires within it. that’s delicious. his love interest acts as sort of a red herring to his motivation for making it, though. (side note: i'm saying "love interest" here because, keeping in mind that i barely speak japanese on a good day anymore, "想い人" is something i'd usually take as just kind of an old-fashioned and romantic way to refer to a lover, but in context i wonder if both the connotation of yearning and the vagueness are intentional, and i think this phrasing gets those aspects of it more effectively. anyway.)

mithrun considered his love interest to be untrustworthy. there was a minute where i thought that comment might be about a similar-looking elf (yugin, one of his squad members), but comparing the two…

the "sketchy" arrow is definitely referring to the elf we know as his love interest—the bangs go toward her right, she only has the one forehead ornament, and, most notably, her ears aren't notched.

every time she’s given a full-body depiction in his dungeon, she’s drawn as a chimera, with the body of a snake from the waist down. (side note: the “what if a dungeon has chimeras before reaching level 4?”/“then the dungeon lord is unstable” exchange just being mithrun grilling his past self alive is so funny. he’s so. but anyway) there are a couple things about this.

first, the snake part of the chimera appears to be modeled after some species of coral snake mimic

which, in the biology-for-fun manga, i… doubt is a coincidence, especially with the added context of the “untrustworthy” comment. the dungeon’s conjured illusion of mithrun’s love interest was a harmless copycat of a venomous original. for whatever reason, he felt this person was a threat and made up a "safe" version of her to be in a relationship with, and while it’s definitely possible to be attracted to or even love someone you find to be toxic and/or intimidating, when you take that into consideration alongside the configuration of her body, you get some interesting implications.

which brings us to our second point: if we assume that mithrun was not in fact fucking a snake, then sexual attraction, at least, was so far removed from his idea of a relationship with this person that he did not even bother to keep her dungeon copy human enough to maintain the illusion of the option of a sexual relationship. this is somewhat echoed in the depictions of their interactions, which also imply a frankly unexpected romantic distance. she kisses his cheek and he doesn't seem to react; she's at the edge of a narrow bed with only one set of pillows, on top of his blankets while he's underneath them.

the kiss is particularly interesting because it seems to contrast the text. kabru's narration tells us this was everything mithrun could have asked for, but mithrun is there looking unreadable to pensive, likely because this is right before the panel that makes it clear things in the dungeon are beginning to go wrong.

walking through this backwards for a minute, we have the physical barrier of his bedding and the spatial separation inherent in a bed made for one person, the emotional barrier of his mounting anxiety getting in the way of his ability to enjoy the affection he sought, and... the snake, which historically carries the connotation of temptation, yes, but also mistrust, barring physical intimacy. okay. ok. if a dungeon reflects the mentality of its lord, all of this might suggest that mithrun was not able to have any real desire for a relationship with this person. his unwillingness to be vulnerable or let another person in was insurmountable. but in that case, why was she such a focal point that she remained to the end, after his dungeon had stopped creating iterations of his friends to come and visit him? why would he get so upset over her meeting with his brother that he became lord of a dungeon about it?

well. mithrun's brother was also interested in her, probably genuinely. and mithrun had to win.

you have an older brother who your parents completely ignore, probably in part because he is chronically ill/disabled and almost definitely in part because he received a ton of recessive traits that resulted in rumors that he was an illegitimate child. you are aware, most likely because those same parents fucking told you, that you actually are an illegitimate child. but they keep you around because you had the good fortune of looking just like your mother. what can that possibly teach you but that you, like your brother, are disposable?

it's utterly unsurprising that mithrun, under these circumstances, developed a pathological need to be better than everyone around him. people don't keep you otherwise. i'd argue this is also why he says he looked down on everyone he knew while milsiril claims his dungeon reeked of feelings of inferiority—he sought out people's worst traits and prioritized them in his mind to protect his already extremely fragile sense of self-worth, and all the while he tried to be as likable and high-performing as he possibly could be. his parents disposed of him anyway, but even then he tried to keep up the performance. he was kind to everyone. he never once lost to a dungeon.

when he saw his "love interest" meeting up with his brother, what he saw was himself being replaced by a person his parents had always treated as worthless, and if that was what they thought of the child they'd kept, what value could anyone possibly see in the bastard they'd given away to die? mithrun and kabru tell the story like he wanted to win this unnamed elf's heart, but it was never about being with her. it was about cementing his worth, proving that he didn't deserve to be thrown away.

and so it's particularly cruel that his demon discarded him, too. but maybe it's also particularly gentle that, in the end, there was someone who refused to even consider giving up on him.

kui laid it out in three panels better than i could hope to.

yeah. it's love. you wanted to be loved, even when the only way you were able to understand it was through the desire to be wanted, and you wanted that so badly that the idea of being consumed felt like the promise of finally mattering to someone.

[hamoodmood]

I'm cooked

[ysabellious]

you are coming down with me / hand in unlovable hand.

[mydairpercabeth]

violently sobbing rn

[morganbritton132]

Eddie posts a Tiktok like, “If you are interest in someone, do not tell my husband. Steve is the worst person to tell. All he does is judge you and then criticize them.

Steve, off camera: That’s not true.

Eddie: It is true! Grant just - Grant, can I tell people this? …Cool - Grant just told us that him and his ex-wife have been talking about getting back together. And that’s great! A normal person would say ‘that’s great, man.’

Eddie: Not Steve. Steve’s response was ‘the ex that can’t cook for shit or the one with the big tits?’

Steve: It’s a valid question!

Eddie: Stevie, baby. When Robin told you she was a lesbian, the first thing you did was criticize the girl she had a crush on

Steve: Yeah, because she was a dud

Eddie: And when I told I loved for the first time, you winced at me like I was making a bad decision. You asked ‘why?’

Eddie: And i didn’t even say it first! You already said it a week before!!

Steve: I just think that you should have standards

Eddie: I do!

[bruciemilf]

Supervillain who finally has Batman cornered: Ironic, isn’t it? The most beloved hero in the world. And no one’s in your corner.

Bruce, sighing in relief because It’s Over, Finally:

Nightwing, walking in, saying absolutely nothing, ready to fight:

Red Hood, throwing away his guns and just squaring the fuck up:

Robin, hissing and snapping his teeth while pulling up with TWO swords:

Harley, happily walking in with the angriest smile you’ve ever seen and her hammer ready:

Selina, who somehow acquired three tigers:

Alfred, sleeves rolled and shotgun ready:

Batwoman, crashing through the building with the Batmobile:

Batgirl, somehow glaring so strongly you can feel it through her mask:

Talia, ready to snap a man’s neck with her bare hands:

Clark, blasting through the building with the rage of 100 suns:

Harvey, no guns, no weapons, just pissed off ex husband energy:

Wonder Woman, getting her shield and sword ready:

Green Arrow, taking the most lethal arrows in his arsenal out:

Ghostmaker, strutting in, ready to kill and piss Bruce off:

Thomas and Martha’s ghosts possessing two random civilians:

Supervillain:

Supervillain: please tell them not to kill me

Bruce, sighing harder: I’ll try

[goldyke]

Zac is out here repping for all children of shitty parents

[the-nightghost]

I wish I could undrown these feelings and learn to swim.

[shesmyevangeline]

not me crying over the ace rep in heartbreak high again. 'i feel like someone's always gonna be making a sacrifice if they'd want to be with me' i mean that shit hits so fucking hard. i've really never had a character i could relate to as much as i do to ca$h