#depression is very difficult to explain

[regular-gnome]

What's Anatomist up to lately? (I miss my bae)

They are mainly working, occasionally getting annoyed at how evolution makes things more difficult for them to work on

it's reference to the recurrent laryngeal nerve. The fun thing about it is that it's the nerve that innervates the muscles in the larynx, but it detours around the aorta on its way from the brain to the voice box. This is especially noticeable in larger animals where the heart and the voice box are far apart. For example, in giraffes, the structures are only a few centimeters apart, but the nerve can get 5 meters long because it travels all the way down to the chest and then loops back up. This is a result of how structures evolved from fish (with no necks) to large animals (with large necks). Evolution can't just "unplug" the nerve and optimize it, so next best thing is to gradually adjust over time

animation of the process | bit more info about it

[phagodyke]

ykw actually I am angry + disappointed w them. I've been pushing how I feel aside and trying to make it my own fault so it's all contained but I think theyve just been mean. and they really should know me better ik I try to pretend I don't expect more from them so I feel less hurt when they do things that upset me but we've been friends for years by this point. like come on.

[soshinysochrome]

Pre-cut fruit/veggies as an accommodation

I'm going to go on a rant that's been building up for a long time but needs to be said.

I just watched a video from How To ADHD where they finally articulated what I've been trying to explain to people for a long time; that buying pre-cut fruit and veggies is an accommodation.

Because holy shit, do people get angry at people who buy things pre-cut, like it's some kind of moral failing deserving of the vitriol and abuse that it gets. And it always comes complete with people smugly declaring that they take the time to cut their fruit and veg themselves, like somehow that makes them better than people who don't.

Lets get something absolutely clear.

Yes, we know it would be cheaper to buy produce and cut it up ourselves. Yes, we know that the added packaging is more wasteful. And we know that other people are judging us for it.

But here's the thing, starting with the fact that "taking the easy way" is not a moral failing:

Pre-cut produce is an accommodation.

I have ADHD, depression and seasonal affective disorder (seasonal depression). One of these by themselves makes taking care of myself difficult enough, but very rarely am I battling just one of these conditions at a time. And when it comes to cooking or preparing food, my options are very often either to spend a bit more to buy pre-cut fruit or veg, or not eat fruit/veg at all. Because if I buy produce I have to prep myself, at least one of three things will happen: 1) I'm going to forget it exists until it starts to make the fridge stink and it has to be thrown away. 2) I'm going to see it every time I open the fridge, feel bad that I can't bring myself to prepare it, worsening my executive dysfunction and depression, and making it even less likely I ever will prepare it. 3) I'm going to buy it, put it in my fridge, remember that it's there and beat myself up until it expires for being unable to bring myself to prepare it.

When people rail against those who buy pre-cut, what those of us who rely on it hear is that you don't think we deserve to eat healthily because we can't do it ourselves. Which sounds about as absurd as telling someone with glasses that they don't deserve to wear those glasses because they can't see without them.

Rant over. Leave people who buy pre-cut alone.

[wow-thisismylifeiguess]

Sentient Gotham

- Bruce regularly chats w her. Like, full blown conversations. He can see a physical manifestation of her like she’s right in front of him, but completely invisible to everyone else

- Zatanna does not believe him. She’s Gotham born and bred and a powerful magician, but she cannot sense a living breathing Gotham the way Bruce claims he can

- Constantine does believe him, but it’s mostly to spite Zatanna

- Gotham calls herself Bruce’s mom and frequently whines about him not calling her that

> “I had a mother. And a father. They’re both dead.” > “WHEN WILL YOU STOP BLAMING ME FOR THAT?!” > “When I’m convinced it’s not true.”

- Bruce’s kids also don’t believe him about the whole ‘I talk to Gotham’ thing for a long time and think he’s either lost his mind, he’s schizophrenic, or that he’s fucking w them

- they do eventually see and speak to her themselves

- Jason first sees her right before his death, which was an incredibly difficult task for her. It’s a combination of reasons. 1) like Bruce, Jason is a Gotham City native and has deep ties to the city, 2) he has deep ties to Bruce, 3) she was also there to comfort Bruce because she knew he wouldn’t be fast enough. But Jason sees this gorgeous woman who cradles his cheek and murmurs soft words to him that he’ll only end up remembering many years later

> “Your father loves you. He tried. So please don’t hate him. It’s my fault, not his.”

- Bruce frequently wonders why it’s him who can see her and no one else, to which she always just says it’s because he’s her son

- Bruce’s connection to Gotham…changes him. He is human, at least…mostly. But there’s an otherworldliness to him that grows over the years which he’s stupidly oblivious to for a very long time

- Gotham has beef w Alfred purely because he’s British

> “I could’ve raised you better than that man!” > “I do not tolerate disrespect for Alfred.” > whining, “But babyyyyyy. He’s an outsider!”

- she adores Bruce’s kids and frequently whines about how they don’t believe she’s real. But at the same time, Bruce is her absolute beloved

- after Jason’s death, she’s the one who basically sends Tim Bruce’s way to stop his self destructive behavior. Tim had been taking pictures of Batman and Robin for a while, but Gotham had fogged over his mind just a little bit to prevent him from putting the pieces together about their identity. When she stops, it finally clicks for Tim and it’s what leads him to becoming Robin

- the kids all have their moment when they finally can see and speak to her. It happens at different times, but the important reason as to why they’re able to do so is due to their relationship to Bruce and the length of time they’ve been around him. It comes at the moment where they’ve reached optimal and absolute trust in Bruce

- Bruce does actually call her ‘mom’, but it happened once and she will never let him forget it

> Bruce getting worked up during a conversation w Gotham in front of Dick and Tim > “Dick….who is he talking to?” > “You don’t want to know.” > “My mom won’t stop badgering me- No. No. I didn’t say that. I didn’t call you that! You can’t prove anything!”

- Gotham comforts Bruce often when he feels like he’s not enough. His failures weigh heavy in his heart, but she’s always there to talk him through it

> “Why me? Why am I the one you picked? I’m not enough. I never will be.” > “You are and you always will be. Bruce, you do so much for this city. For me. For your family.” > “It’s not enough.” > “You are only mostly human, Bruce Wayne. You have done things no one else could ever hope to do. If any one else were in your position, they would not have nearly enough strength as you do.”

- several months later, after Bruce is just idly going over case files, he remembers the ‘mostly human’ part of what Gotham said to him. He’d glossed over it before in his depressive spiral, but now he’s like !?

> “Gotham….” > “Yes, my dear?” > “‘Mostly human’. Care to explain what that means?” > awkward laugh, “Uh…..” > “Gotham.” > “I didn’t do it on purpose! I had no control!” > “Gotham.”

- order of who sees Gotham:

Bruce (obviously)

Jason (first time)

Tim

Duke

Jason (second time)

Steph

Dick

Cass

Damian

- the last three take a while but mostly because they’re not Gotham natives. Dick’s a little bitter about it because he practically spent his entire life in Gotham

> “You’re a traitor.” > “WHAT DID I DO?” > disgust, “Blüdhaven.” > “Oh. Whoops.”

- While Gotham is Bruce’s #1 Supporter™️, she is at times critical of his behavior and decisions. Particularly about things that damage his relationship w loved ones and things that he chooses to do in order to hurt himself

- she finds ‘Brucie’ to be distasteful

> “I didn’t raise you to be a whore.” > “You didn’t raise me to begin with.” > “STOP DENYING ME PARENTAL RIGHTS!”

- Gotham is, obviously, restricted to only appear within Gotham City’s borders. She’s only able to break through that restriction a handful of times, w the first being when Jason dies. There are a few other instances and she’s popped up on the Watchtower and jumpscared Bruce by accident. The JL were very confused and incredibly amused

- She’s able to take on the form of anyone, but sticks to a unique appearance of a woman w long black hair and pale skin. Her eyes are white and she’s typically dressed in a suit

> young Bruce, in awe, “You kind of look like me if I were cooler.” > “You’re plenty cool, Bruce.” > adult Bruce, tired, “Why are you in a suit?” > “Because I look cool, Bruce. You said so yourself.” > “I was ten!”

- she once offered to take on the appearance of his mother and Bruce shot it down so fast. She never brought it up again

- when Clark found out about her, he believed Bruce immediately. He’s the only one Bruce ever told who believed him right off the bat

> “You…don’t think I’m insane?” > “I do.” > “Then why would you lie and say you believe me?” > “Because I do. You’re insane about a lot of things, Bruce. But you sounded too serious when you told me about this, so why would I ever think you’re lying?”

- Gotham begrudgingly likes Clark

> “You hate Alfred for being an outsider, but Clark is in your good graces?” > “He’s an alien. It’s different.” > “He’s also from Metropolis.” > “Shhhhhh, don’t remind me. I’m trying to be blissfully ignorant.”

[trashytracktales]

Idk if you write about this topics since they are really sensitive, but it is something I’m currently struggling with and I would like to see how lando would react after finding out that the reader has been hiding a her struggle with mental illness and attempts of ending her life. Once again I know how sensitive this request is but I started reading your work and fell in love with it and thought that you would write this beautifully

Seasons change | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── This was a pretty difficult one-shot to write, even though it's not very lengthy. I know that mental health is still a topic of actuality that we all deal with in one way or another. The only thing that I want you guys to remember after reading this, is that you are not alone. I know that it may sound like a broken record, but it's true. Each of us has a Lando in our lives who will care enough to stand by you without ulterior motives or conditions. And if you really feel like you don't, I can be him for you. My DMs and ask box are always open, so don't hesitate to reach out if you need someone. You matter in all your forms 🤍

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

☆ summary ──── He's been away for work for a while now, but when Lando comes home to find his girlfriend at her lowest, they have to learn the hard way that love is about sitting with each other in the dark, not just chasing the light.

☆ pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

☆ rating ──── mature

☆ category ──── F/M

☆ word count ──── 2.6k

☆ date ──── Jan. 11, 2025

☆ warnings ──── 16+, established relationship, soft!Lando, mental health struggles, depression, suicidal ideation, mention of alcohol consumption and pills, emotional distress, vulnerability, guilt and healing, non-sexual nudity (bathtub scene, including tenderness and intimacy).

Please, proceed with caution and prioritize your well-being. If you or someone you know is struggling, these are some of the resources I personally used for years now & I think (and hope) that it might help you at some point:

☆ MENTAL HEALTH APPS

Calm

7 cups

BetterMe

☆ INSTAGRAM ACCOUNTS

idontmind

thefabstory (also an app)

getreformative (currently inactive, but great resources posted there)

talkspace

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THE APARTMENT IS too quiet tonight. A space that once felt like a sanctuary, now seems to close in on her, the walls pressing closer with each passing hour.

To anyone looking in, her life might appear perfectly ordinary, even enviable. She has a stable job that she loves, a couple of friends who care in their own way, and Lando. Lando, with his boundless energy, his boyish grin, and his unwavering ability to see the good in her even when she struggles to find it in herself. But beneath that polished surface, there’s a darkness she’s been hiding for as long as she can remember.

She’s not really sure when it happened, or what caused her to lose her spark. Most of the times, she thinks that she’s always been like this, but that can’t be right. Although, at this point in time, it went on long enough that she learned to wear masks and mimic people’s gestures. It’s exhausting, but it’s easier than explaining why some days she can barely drag herself out of bed, or why her mind feels like a storm she can’t escape.

Lately, the same storm has been relentless. Lando’s been away for weeks, hopping from one race to another, his life a whirlwind of fast cars, tons of people, and flashing cameras. She’s proud of him, of course, but his absence leaves a void she can’t seem to fill on her own, no matter how many phone calls they share.

She knows it’s not his responsibility to fix her, but without even knowing it, Lando does it every time he looks at her. In those moments, pieces of her heart are welded back together, giving her hope that one day, maybe, it will be whole again.

Of course, things aren’t that easy.

She’s always been a loner, someone who enjoys her own company more than the chaos of others. This is why she doesn’t go with Lando to all of his races. Over time, they’ve developed their own rhythm, and it only works when they both put in the effort to be together. However, she knows that he often works for both of them. She also knows that it’s not right to let him do this, but she doesn’t know how to stop.

But being alone isn’t the same as being lonely, and lately, the loneliness feels like it’s swallowing her whole. She tries to keep busy, to distract herself with work or a new book, but the dark thoughts always find her; a cycle she can’t break. They usually creep in at night when she’s most vulnerable, whispering lies she can’t ignore.

You’re a burden.

He’d be better off without you.

Everyone would be better off without you.

In spite of everything, she knows she’s lucky, though. She has a roof over her head, food on the table, and someone who loves her. And, somehow, knowing that only makes her feel worse. Most of the times, the guilt is suffocating — a heavy weight that presses down on her chest until she can’t breathe. She’s tried to push the thoughts away, to drown them in work or meaningless distractions. She tried to be grateful. But tonight, like many other nights before, they’ve won.

When Lando steps into the apartment, the soft click of the door is echoing in the stillness. It’s late — later than he’d hoped — and he assumes she’s already asleep, because he texted her hours ago to let her know he was on his way, but there had been no reply.

Dropping his bag quietly by the door, he toes off his sneakers and glances toward the dimly lit living room. The faint glow of the city skyline filters through the curtains, casting muted shadows across the floor. He moves carefully, not wanting to wake her, with a simple plan in mind: slip into bed, wrap his arms around his girlfriend, and fall asleep to the steady rhythm of her breathing.

But something feels off.

On his way to the bedroom, he spots the balcony door slightly ajar. A cool breeze sneaks through the crack, carrying with it the faint scent of something acrid. He pauses, his brow furrowing as he approaches the glass door.

That’s when he sees her.

She’s out on the balcony, her back to him, legs dangling dangerously over the edge. For a moment, he’s frozen in place, his mind struggling to process what he’s seeing. Then his gaze shifts, taking in the scene: some things are knocked over on the small table by the door, a small flacon of pills alongside a half-empty bottle of wine, and all the mess. The realization hits him like a physical blow, and his heart starts pounding in his chest.

But then, panic grips him as he slides the door open, stepping out onto the balcony. The sound startles her, and she turns her head slightly, her expression distant and unfocused. Her eyes are red-rimmed, and there’s an eerie calmness about her that chills him to the core.

“Hey, is everything okay?” asks Lando, his voice soft as he crouches beside her, careful not to make any sudden movements. “What… baby, what are you doing out here?”

She doesn’t answer immediately, her gaze drifting back to the city below. The silence stretches, each second feeling heavier than the previous one.

“Talk to me,” he pleads, his voice slightly cracking. His eyes dart back to the table, to the pill bottle and the wine, and he feels a surge of anger mixed with fear. “Is this—fuck. Did you take these?”

She shakes her head, a small smile curving in the corner of her mouth. “I’m so tired, love,” she whispers finally, her voice shaking over the hum of the city.

Her words hit him like a punch in the gut, and he’s suddenly aware of how fragile she looks, and how close she is to the edge. His hands shake as he reaches for her, gently gripping her arm. His heart beats so hard that he feels it throughout his body — his ribcage, in his throat, in the hand he tightens around her, to make sure he’s holding her with enough force.

“Okay. That’s okay,” he says, his tone soft but urgent. “Let’s go inside, yeah? I’m tired too, we can rest together. What do you say?”

“No… no, it’s not—” she tries to speak, but her brain is clouded by a mental fog, and everything around her moves too quickly for her to catch up.

“Come on, can you step back? Please. For me?”

His last question is what jolts her back to reality. For him? She would do anything for him. Lando knows that, and she soon realizes that he is using it to emotionally blackmail her. He always does that, and it annoys her.

She raises her head to look at him, her tired eyes meeting his, and for a moment, Lando thinks she’ll comply. But then, she pushes his hand away, a trace of betrayal crossing his face.

“No. It’s pretty out here,” she says, gazing down at the world that simply exists under her feet. The distance makes her stomach clench, knowing that all it takes it’s a small misstep for everything to end. Still, she doesn’t move an inch.

“I see that, love,” he agrees, “But I want to talk to you, and I can’t do that unless I make sure you’re safe. Did you… do this before?”

She nods slowly, refusing to look at him.

At that, Lando exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, trying to calm the storm in his chest. He knows her enough to know when to push and when to give her space, only this time around, he’s met with a weird combination of both. Luckily, his body decides what to do before his mind agrees to it and, cautiously, he climbs up to join her on the edge, his hands gripping the cold railing as his pulse pounds in his ears.

Her head snaps toward him, her expression instantly shifting, panic flashing in her eyes. “No, what are you doing?” she whispers, her voice cracking.

“I’m with you,” he murmurs, his voice tender, laced with fear he’s desperately trying to hide. “If you’re staying here, then so am I.”

She blinks, her lips parting as if to protest, but no words come. Instead, her gaze softens, the wine-induced haze in her eyes clearing. Slowly, she lets out a shaky breath and sits down on the narrow ledge, her hands gripping the edge. Lando follows her lead, sitting close but careful not to crowd her, his knee brushing hers. He hesitates for a moment before gently reaching for her hand, and he exhales relieved when her fingers close around his, grounding both of them.

They sit in silence for a moment, the distant city lights flickering around them.

“I’ve missed you a lot, you know?” he finally whispers, his voice barely audible, breaking the quiet. “I never… If something happens, I don’t want to have to miss you all the time—”

“Lando, I know,” she cuts him off. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” she continues, staring at their joined hands. Her voice is small, guilt creeping into her tone.

He nods, looking at her, “Whatever it is, you can tell me,” Lando says gently. “I know I’m away a lot, but if you need me, I’ll do anything.”

Her grip on his hand tightens slightly just as she turns to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she repeats, tears pooling but not yet falling. “It’s not your fault, Lan. It’s me. I… don’t even know. There’s nothing wrong, but at the same time, nothing’s quite right, either.”

He shakes his head, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Don’t apologize for feeling. It just makes me think now, because I thought you trusted me,” says Lando, his words cutting through her like a knife through butter. “I trust you,” he adds, almost like pointing it out.

She knows he does, her mind instantly replaying the moments in her head, the times he’d come to her with his struggles. When a race didn’t go his way, and he doubted everything he’d worked so hard for. When social media was brutal, tearing him apart with words that left invisible scars. When he felt hated and couldn’t understand why. He always talked to her, shared his pain, his fears, his insecurities. He let her in, trusted her completely. And now, here she was, shutting him out when he was only trying to do the same for her.

“Don’t say that…” she starts, but her voice catches, and her breath hitches. “I’m trying.”

“I know, baby. I know,” Lando says gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Can we, please, just go inside?”

The tears she’s been holding back for too long finally slip free, carving hot, silent paths down her cheeks. She looks up at him, her lips trembling as she whispers, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

His expression softens, and without hesitation, he lifts her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles, mostly to show her that she didn’t. The gesture is so simple yet so full of love that it sends a fresh wave of emotion crashing over her.

Lando doesn’t let go of her hand as he gently helps her to her feet, guiding her back inside the apartment. The night air clings to their skin, but it’s the quiet inside that feels even heavier. He doesn’t say much, just keeps her close, his touch steady and grounding as they make their way to the bathroom.

A little uncomfortable now, she leans against the doorframe, watching as Lando moves around, carefully. He runs the water, testing the temperature with his hand, adding just the right amount of bath salts from the container on the shelf. The pale lavender-scented steam begins to fill the space, creating a safe bubble for both of them.

When Lando finally looks back at her, his expression is warm and inviting, somehow hopeful. He steps closer, reaching out to gently cup her cheek, wiping away the tear stains that remain.

“You’re everything to me,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over her skin before his hands move to the hem of her hoodie.

She doesn’t protest as he carefully lifts it over her head, his touch tender, his eyes never leaving hers. For a moment, she stands there, feeling vulnerable under his gaze, but there’s nothing but love in his expression.

Her fingers tremble slightly as she reaches out to return the gesture, undoing the buttons on his shirt one by one. His eyes stay locked on hers, silently reassuring her, grounding her in the best way possible. By the time she pushes the fabric off his shoulders, the weight in her chest feels a little lighter.

They step into the bath together, the warm water enveloping them like a soothing embrace. She settles between his legs, her back against his chest, and his arms come around her instinctively. There’s no rush, no need for words. It’s just them, surrounded by the quiet hum of the water and the soft glow of the candles Lando had lit earlier.

He presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering for a moment before he rests his chin on her shoulder. “Promise you’ll talk to me next time?” he asks, his voice small but steady. “I know things won’t change overnight, I don’t expect them to. But I need to know you understand that I’m here for you. That I love you enough to listen, and feel everything with you.”

The words settle in her chest, heavy but necessary, like the first raindrops of a storm. For the first time in what feels like forever, she sees beyond the swirling chaos in her mind. The weight of his love and understanding wraps around her like the warmth of the water they’re sitting in. And then it hits her.

How life itself is the changing of seasons, a constant push and pull — a constant chaos. Sometimes, the sun will break through, lighting everything in gold. Other times, it will rain so hard she won’t see the way ahead. But Lando’s right. It will get better again. Then worse. And then better again. That’s the way it is for everyone. A relentless tide of ups and downs, joy and pain, hope and disappointments.

As she leans back into his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, she realizes the most important thing: it isn’t always black or white. Sometimes, it’s a hazy gray — a space where the lines blur, where the answers aren’t clear, and the path you find yourself on feels impossibly difficult to navigate. But it’s in that in-between, in the murky middle, that having the right person beside you matters the most. Not to pull you into the light or demand you leave the shadows, but to sit with you in the dark, holding your hand, letting you know you’re not alone.

She swallows hard, her throat tight, but not from sadness this time. “I promise,” she finds the strength to whisper. Her breath catches, and she turns her head slightly to meet his gaze, tears still pooling in her eyes. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I—”

“You deserve everything, my love,” Lando assures her, his lips brushing her temple, before placing a tiny kiss there. “And I’ll make sure you get it.”

His definitive tone sends shivers down her spine.

She closes her eyes, feeling the water ripple softly around them, and holds on tighter, knowing that no matter what storms may come, the most important thing is that they won’t lose each other’s touch.

And that’s everything to her.

PREVIOUS LN⁴ ONE-SHOT

MASTERLIST

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

[happiest-hotch]

The Brink of Collapse

Summary: Aaron and reader have been on the brink of divorce for a long time. And then suddenly he's there, and feelings come to a head.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: very angsty, talk of divorce, mentions of strippers

It's been an odd month.

Surreal, in some ways.

You and Aaron have been on the brink of divorce for a while, but once you finally said the word, everything changed. It opened up a new world of feelings and even more hurt.

It didn't seem possible to feel more hurt, but here you are, sitting on the couch, feet tucked beside you, and a glass of wine on the coffee table. You need it for your nighttime reading, the first draft of a separation agreement, your and Aaron's full names on the top.

It feels like physical proof that you and Aaron have failed. Every sacrifice that was made in the decade you had been together wasn't enough. All the love in the world wasn't enough.

It hits you in a deeper place in your chest than you knew existed, and it makes breathing difficult.

Those papers are a taunt you've been putting off confronting, but it's time. It's something you have to do.

Your eyes gloss over the words, but you catch yourself slipping into a defense strategy where your name is removed from you, and it's a draft divorce settlement of detached clients.

"Late-night reading?" His voice makes you jump, startled by his appearance in front of you.

You had spaced out, thought he escaped through the front door to avoid whatever this awkward situation could be categorized as. You find yourself wishing that he did as he looks at you, trying to profile your thoughts. Dick.

You're both trying to keep life somewhat normal for the children, not wanting them to be caught up in your mess which means when he's in DC, he picks them up for the day and drops them back home. You just thought he'd leave out the front door rather than come across the house to talk to you.

"It's not that late." You reply. "Do you actually want to do this?" You're not sure why you ask, not when it's going to hurt.

"Do what, Ms. L/n?" Aaron asks, but he knows. He walks behind the couch and into the kitchen, taking the open bottle of wine and pouring himself a glass without invitation.

"Get divorced." You answer before adding something you probably shouldn't since there's no need. "I'm still technically Mrs. Hotchner."

He doesn't chuckle at your quip, but he looks close. "You wouldn't be holding that if we didn't." Carefully chosen words, as expected. "I've always loved that part of your name."

You scoff, shaking your head. "That's a conflicting message."

Aaron shrugs, sitting down on the couch next to you. You kind of wish he hadn't. He could have just gone back to wherever he's staying and you wouldn't have to do this metaphorical dance.

"They're not mutually exclusive." He explains. You try to keep a neutral expression, but it's hard to hear that your soon-to-be ex-husband likes that you have the same surname. "I love the name, doesn't mean we can't get divorced."

"I won't be Mrs. Hotchner then." You remind him, but you keep it lighthearted in tone.

The air is getting too grave and when things get too grave, you both say too much. It's painful conversation, of late. No more 'I love you's and bleeding heart promises of fixing it. You both know you're beyond repair so you talk about that, and it's getting depressing.

He shrugs. "Not necessarily. Plenty of women keep the name after divorce."

Divorce.

That dirty word that's become your reality.

"I've not considered it." You confess. It seems easier to be honest about something little. "Would it bother you? If I kept it?"

He waits a beat, staring into the semi-opaque wine. "No. Not in the slightest."

"I feel it could get real awkward." You admit and he frowns, not understanding what you mean. "When someone says, 'Oh, are you related to Aaron Hotchner' and I have to say, 'Yeah, he's my ex-husband.' I mean, you know half this town."

Aaron considers it for a second, that thoughtful frown on his brows. "I hadn't considered it." Obviously. "You have my blessing if you keep it."

You chuckle humorlessly. "Thanks."

"This whole thing doesn't have to be adversarial." He reminds you, but it's not condescending. He's almost smiling, lips tugging up at the corners.

Your eyes narrow at him. "Have I done something to make this feel adversarial?"

It's snider than it needs to be, but he comes back professionally. "No. But I've seen couples in our situation start arguing, even yelling, at every step."

You snort out a laugh. "The life of divorce attorneys, right?" He's telling it like you don't know like you're not still in the job he left for the FBI. You bite your bottom lip, considering whether to drive the conversation in a different direction, and come to the conclusion that it might make the conversation lighter and with it, stop the clenching feeling of your heart. "Do you still remember the Beamounts?"

He laughs louder than you've heard in a while. That does the trick and gives you a quick breath of relief, but it's gone as soon as it's there. "I couldn't forget it." He assures you. "Do you still have her little card? The one you kept in your wallet?"

You're almost giddy listening to him laugh, and it makes you giggle as you recall it. "Yes! She ran those exotic dance clubs, I remember. I'm still not sure if I'm offended she gave me the card… like, I can't work out if she thought I might be interested and would want to come watch, or if she thought I'd like to leave seven years of school and a law career behind to strip."

"Do you want me to take care of that card? It's been in there for what? Twelve years?"

His offer throws you a little, but your reaction comes out as teasing. "Oh, do you need her card? Now that we're about to be divorced?"

"I certainly don't." Unsurprising, he has no trouble with women. "But I do want to preserve your wallet's purity."

"I think she gave me the non-explicit version." You explain to him. "I'm sure there are some racy ones out there for guys that are into that stuff..." Something prompts you to push it further. "Like you."

Aaron laughs again, and you get another breath. "Very occasionally." He assures you.

"There's photographic evidence, Aaron." You remind him, smiling softly at the photos Morgan showed you of some BAU boys' nights out. Aaron looked so uncomfortable, and you're sure he spent the entire evening refusing to look at any woman's assets. It makes your stomach churn knowing that, if the situation arises again, he won't act the same way. "Unfortunately, good old Mrs. Beamount is spoken for these days, so I guess the card has no use to you."

He hits you with something you don't expect, although maybe you should have since it's in line with your mutual reminiscing. "That was the first time we met. Just baby lawyers thrown into the craziest case."

"I remember laughing with you about how ridiculous it was." The first time you laughed together about that, you breathed deeper than you ever have before. "Do you remember the thing with the dog?"

He snorts with laughter. It's probably not meant to be as attractive a sound as it is. "That damn chihuahua he insisted was possessed? I remember being so annoyed because I knew the dog couldn't be possessed. I kept asking myself what I'd done so wrong in my life that I had a client expecting me to argue it." Hearing his thoughts now is different than just laughing about back then. "Then when we got there, the damn animal was barking and growling in a demonic way. That was the weirdest thing I've ever seen in my life. It was possessed."

The passion with how he talks about a damn dog makes you smile. "Now imagine everyone seeing that and having to argue it wasn't demonic." You remind him of what your position was as his opposing counsel. "I felt so ridiculous arguing it. And she wanted the divorce settlement to include him taking it to the groomer." You shake your head disapprovingly at the memory. "It creeped me out that she kept it in her purse. That was the ugliest dog I'd ever seen."

It's odd to be laughing with him, considering your precarious relationship circumstances, and even odder that it's about the first case. Surely it should be about what Eden said today, bonding over your kids seems less intimate than talking about when you met.

"I remember she even tried to make herself look more motherly and nurturing in court, by taking care of it during the proceedings." He continues.

It's like you're watching the whole thing again, but you know how it ends. "I was just praying she wouldn't start breastfeeding it." You say. "Her boobs were so plastic that I think if she put that rabid dog near them, he'd chew them."

Aaron loses it laughing, clearly seeing the mental image that worried you 12 years ago. "Okay, okay, that's enough." He finally manages to get out.

You finish off the laughter, letting it die down rather than continuing the conversation.

"What did you think of me?" He asks, a surprising tangent. "When we first met?"

You know he knows since it had been discussed it a few times between dating and marriage, wanting to reminisce. Why he's asking now, you're not sure, and why you're answering, you're even less sure.

"I thought you were a jerk." You admit.

He laughs, but he's thinking about whether you think that again now. "Yeah?" He prompts you to go on.

"That's what happens when you arrive at a mediation meeting five minutes late with Ferrari keys." You remind him with the same disapproving frown.

You can still remember when he walked into the big boardroom, dressed in a perfectly fitted dark blue suit with his hair longer than it is now and parted down the middle. Compared to now, he looked so young, just 25 and straight out of law school, not having seen the most awful parts of the world. He's different now. His shoulder bag switched out for a briefcase being the most minor change.

When he walked into the room that first day, you were equally as pissed off by and attracted to him. It's full circle that you feel that way again.

"I had to find parking." He reasons.

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. "You didn't valet your car?"

"After the Ferrari, things were tight," Aaron says, but it's a joke. You both know he has money, the separation agreement dividing your assets wouldn't be so long if neither of you had money. "What about after that?" He asks. Sadistic or masochistic, you're not sure. It hurts you to relieve it in your memory, but is it hurting him?

"I was leaving that meeting. As fast as I could, of course." You pause for his laughter. "And you were already in the elevator." It hurts to recall, just like you expected. "I wondered if I should join you."

You still wonder now, if you made the right decision that day. On one hand, you'd have none of the good memories, but on the other, you wouldn't feel like your chest was clenching and your heart was threatening to shatter with each breath.

You decide to keep telling the story. "And I did. And you made me laugh, right off the bat, both of us giggling about the ridiculousness of our clients."

"Not very professional." He notes with a smirk. "Opposing counsel gossiping about their clients."

Your eyebrows pull together in a frown. "Why'd you make the first joke then?"

He wants to tell you it's because he needed to make you laugh, just to hear it and see you smile. His fear takes over and he settles for a quip. "I mean, you looked uptight, but I could tell you weren't."

Your scoff is accompanied by you hitting his shoulder, both of you laughing and it suddenly hits you that you're flirting with him.

It must hit him too because what he says is out of left field. "Part of me wonders if the reason you're only just looking at that is because, on some level, you're hoping we'll fix things and get back together." Fuck! Aaron has always been a straight shooter, but that was far too much honesty.

You gulp, the saliva in your mouth drying up. "Hey, let's just not go there, okay?" You offer. It's not a conversation you want to be having. Your mixed emotions coupled with his ability to push you, it's not a good combination.

"Sure." He admits, but his tone suggests he's unhappy, and so does his sigh. You're begging him with your eyes not to push it, to leave the house and the conversation, and not make it awkward and hurtful. "I never wanted this to be an argument. Do you know that? I know I've never been great at communicating and all this, but I've always tried to do the best for you, always tried to... I mean, I've never gotten divorced before, so I'm still feeling out the right way to do it."

You're not impressed he's lying through his teeth. Both of you know he didn't "always" do his best at communicating. Those last few months, he barely spoke to you. In fact, this conversation might contain more words than an entire few months.

And is there a "right way" to get divorced? You don't know, but you wish you could stop picking apart everything he's saying, overanalyzing.

You're caught on the first statement. "This isn't an argument, is it?"

"I guess not, but there's a vibe." He points out. "Maybe I'm being hypersensitive. Listen, I know this is hard. I think we both knew this probably wasn't going to be the easiest thing, right?"

You avert your gaze from him, a few tears welling in your eyes. "Yeah, we knew that."

"Hey, look at me." He implores.

You tilt your head to the ceiling, trying to stop crying before you start.

"If you're not ready to do this, then please just talk to me." He says- begs. "Please talk to me."

It's ironic really, him sitting there begging you to talk to him when formerly, it's been you doing the begging for him to share his feelings with you. An embarrassing amount of begging, really.

"Please don't do this." You beg back. "I'm not interested in the idea of being vulnerable in front of you, okay?"

He sighs a bit, hands falling to his side. The look on his face you can read. He's upset about not being able to comfort you, and he's begging himself not to show it. What the fuck does that mean?

"Fine." He agrees. "It's... I don't think I ever fully realized how much this whole thing would hurt, but I'm seeing it now."

You don't thank him sarcastically for being obvious. It's twisted that he's spilling his emotions now, and it's hard not to be resentful about it. If he had just fucking talked to you when you begged him to every night in your last month together, you wouldn't be here. It's too little, too late.

"I guess." You agree. "We'll just get it over with."

It stings his heart, so he stings you back. Whether it's intentional or on reaction, you can't tell. "Maybe you're right and we should get it drafted and signed so we can be finished as soon as possible." But, most surprisingly, he flip-flops. "I miss you, Y/n."

It's the same rollercoaster of emotions that your brain is riding in your head, but at least you're not saying it out loud and confusing the shit out of him. "Don't say that, Aaron." You warn him.

He has the nerve to be surprised by your harsh tone. "...what? It's just a fact. I miss you. Why is that bad to say?"

"Because I missed you for four months while you had one foot out the door of this marriage." You finally snap.

Aaron looks stunned and it only makes you angrier and more upset. "I know," He tells you.

He knows, but he'd never do anything about it. You try to act casual, taking a deep breath. "Okay." You attempt to leave it at that.

He won't let the conversation go. "I should have fought for us."

"You still can." You're not sure why you say it, but you do. Maybe you give him one last chance because you'll regret it forever if you don't.

"I am more in love with you than I have ever been." He bursts out, unable to help himself given the chance.

It makes your heart soar and your eyes water. You sit there silently, wrapping your arms around yourself tightly like it might protect you.

"I never should have put you in a position where you felt like something was wrong with us." Aaron looks at you so sincerely that you can't help the tears running down your cheeks. "It got to a point where I felt like I couldn't fix it so I didn't try, and I'm aware that was the wrong choice every day."

"I don't know what to say." You tell him. "Why bother coming to this conclusion, and telling me about it, when it's too late?" Maybe you're protecting yourself more than you need to be.

Aaron shakes his head. "Because it isn't."

"Aaron." You shake your head, holding up the literal divorce papers that exist to remind him. "So much has happened in the last four months."

"Not too much, though." He emphasizes.

He's pushing a button that makes your emotions boil over. "I don't even know where you're sleeping." You remind him firmly.

"Holy shit, Y/n!" Aaron's quick to assure you of what might have been going on in your head. "No." He pauses. "I'm sleeping at my office." You can't say that doesn't relieve you. "You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever laid eyes on. Since the day I met you, I've never looked at anyone the same."

His strong assurances make you cry more. "I don't know if we can fix this." You admit, disappointed in yourself.

"We absolutely can." He pleads to you. "You said we should get a divorce because love isn't enough to make this better, but there is more than love here. I am committed to you and I want to fix this."

You continue your tears and he reaches out to touch your cheek, wiping away your tears with the pad of his thumb. You lean into his soft touch. "I do too." You admit, the realization alleviating some of the aching in your chest.

"You mean the world to me," Aaron tells you firmly. "I will do anything to get us back on track. I wasn't before and I know I was stupid for it, but I'm listening, Y/n. To everything you need and want."

"I think we need help." You confess. "Like professional help."

He can't nod fast enough. "I agree. We can get that."

You stop him before he can pull out his phone. "Tomorrow." You request. "I just want a hug."

He hasn't had you in his arms in far too long, and he reaches out for you. You lay on his chest, letting him wrap his arms around you.

"Wow, I've missed you." He hums, breathing out a deep sigh of relief.

You sniffle your tears, nodding in agreement. "Me too."

"Y/n, I will never let it get this far again," Aaron assures you. "I was stupid and I can't lose you. I love you."

You're sure you feel the same way. Everything definitely wasn't fixed and there was a lot to do, but one thing you're sure about is being married to Aaron Hotchner. "I love you too."

[darnell-la]

MADE THE FIRST MOVE

pairing: Robert “Bob” Reynolds x reader

summary: y/n knew her job as a hero would be difficult, and most people don’t look after Bob like she does. somehow, she enjoyed it, and couldn’t help but fall for the guy. sadly, his depression kept her back from showing any feeling. that was until he surprised her with the first move.

warnings: smut, depression mentioned, mutants, etc

———

Bob has always been an insurance guy. Ever since y/n got to know him, she’s tried to build his confidence. Even after he almost wiped out everyone in New York a few mo the ago.

The Avengerz live in the old Tony Stark tower, helping each other out in life, even after saying multiple times how they couldn’t stand each other.

Y/n and Bob were the only ones who loved being around each other. After a while, they’ve became close, so close Bob could barely function around y/n. It’s almost like his heart would stop any time she’d come around.

“I’m sorry about like this — Usually I’m fine, but he’s just being difficult right now,” Bob said, speaking above the Void who had started getting to close to taking Bob over again.

For the past month, Bob grew a huge heart for y/n, and Void began taking the chance to make Bog over think every possible detail about y/n and him being anything but friends.

“It’s fine, Bob — Really,” y/n said as she slipped off her house shoes and got under the covers. Y/n had been staying with Bob for the night to make sure he felt needed and wanted. Not in any sexual way, but as a friend.

She would be lying if she said she had no feelings for Bob. She just couldn’t bring herself explain it to him or anyone. She felt like it was wrong, especially with that Bob had going on with himself.

“Why do you do this? I know you see something in me, but y/n- I’m a grown man. And, adult, and I can’t even control my emotions. I suck so bad at it that if I feel too down, I could get rid off the whole city in seconds,”

Bob wouldn’t stop speaking down about himself, as y/n switched the TV off to have something going on in the background as they rested for the night.

“Bob, look — We’ve all got our problems, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve help. Why would I watch you and ignore you when u can help? You’re not bothering in any kind of way. Trust me,” y/n said as she turned to look at Bob.

Y/n’s stomached filled with butterflies at the way Bob was looking at her. “I appreciate you, y/n, you know that, right?” Bob asked as he scanned her face, falling in love with her for probably the thousandth time today.

“And, why is that?” Y/n asked, knowing why, but wanting him to speak about her in a way that may make her fall for him harder. “I mean- Just look at you. A gorgeous girl wanting to take care of me — That sounds like a dream,”

“I think you’re over exaggerating just a little bit,” y/n said as she went to tuck under her covers but Bob stopped her by moving closer to put his hand in her cheek. “Not even a little,” Bob said, feeling some courage to show her how much he appreciates her.

“I don’t know what to say,” y/n spoke low, now feeling shy. “You never have to say anything to make me happy,” Bob said as his eyes sprightly glowed yellow. “You’re perfect no matter what you do or say,” y/n was at a loss for words at the moment.

Bob has never been then type of man to have confidence and show it. This was very new for him and her, and she didn’t know how to react. She was happy, yet too shocked to say anything.

“I think I’m actually happy,” was the last thing Bob said before he leaned into y/n, connecting his lips onto hers. Before either of them could settle in, Bob deepened the kiss as he moved on top of her.

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable, and I’ll stop — I promise,” Bob pulled back to make sure he wasn’t ruining anything by his quick decisions. “I would never tell you to stop. Ever,”

That’s all it took for y/n and Bob to be sweating, moaning, and shaking underneath the covers. They both weren’t to experienced, or had a great person to do this with. Now, they finally do.

“I swear, I love you, y/n — I really do. You’ve changed my perspective on life — On living,” Bob said as he softly, but same time roughly thrusted down into y/n. “I-I’m glad I could h-help,” y/n stuttered as her back arched.

“I want you to — I need you,

[shall-we-die]

What about a timeline when dazai × fem! Reader adopted atsushi and maybe kyouka?

Or when chuuya and reader adopted aku and gin?

╔‌‌‌‌═══════════════•⊰•°༄༚

{We're a family now.}

☰[Main list]•⊰ Bungo stray dogs

↬[A/N]•⊰ I really loved this request 🫂

╚═══════════════•⊰•°༄༚‌‌‌

[Dazai]

When Atsushi was a child, you and Dazai took him out of the orphanage and took care of him. He was a lovely child who always looked at you with his bright eyes. Perhaps, it was a small window of light and hope for Dazai.

"Can I call you Daddy?" Okay, Dazai's heart melted completely.

It was probably the first time he felt he had to protect something, and that was his new family. Something not to be missed at all. He clung to you or Dazai most of the time, trying to learn new things and enjoying everything. Most nights he slept with you and Dazai. and you had to calm him down after his nightmares. Atsushi was afraid to let go of you and Dazai. So Dazai also tried to keep the bad things out of his mind by making him happy. Of course, he tries to put aside his scary, strange and suicidal side for the sake of this child as well. Dazai and Atsushi often get along. They like to read books together and then Atsushi runs to you happily and explains to you about the new book that Dazai has given him.

When Atsushi grows up, Dazai tries to do dangerous and strange things, you always have to shout at him or reprimand him. In fact, Atsushi has now become Dazai's father and has to take care of him all the time. Bath time is the best time for them, I mean... for Dazai. He jumps into the bathtub with Atsushi and they play together like children. You also have to bathe 2 children and dry their hair and give them clean clothes. Atsushi can cook food, and clean in the best way. In fact, he's more useful for the house than his father! Dazai also just walks around the house, or tickles you or annoys Atsushi in different ways.

When you send him to school, he's over the moon. Learning new things and making friends is like a dream for him. You and Dazai know about Atsushi's ability, but you don't say anything to him, as long as Dazai is there, you don't have to worry about these things, right? After a while you meet Kyoka, Atsushi is happy to finally have a sister, but Kyoka is just super cold. It's difficult to talk to her and she's depressed for a long time. But after a while, Kyoka gets used to you and spends most of her time with you. She goes to school with Atsushi and they both learn a little bit of martial arts from dazai. Of course, you threatened Dazai that if he bothered the children, you would divorce him.

Sleeping together as a family, is definitely one of your favorite activities. Going to the amusement park? Every wekend? this is fabulous! Kyoka likes to sit on Dazai's shoulder and look at people from above. After all, these long legs should have a benefit, right? Lots of family photos! you find a whole room filled with photos and family movie frames. Rabbit dolls, flowers and plants can be seen everywhere in the house. Now you have to take care of three children. Of course, two of them grow up very soon, and in the end, you and the two grown children have to take care of Dazai, because he's a child who never grows up. Dazai isn't allowed in the kitchen. Instead, Kyoka seriously asks him to sweep the house. But in the end, you find Atsushi sweeping the house, because Dazai has run away from home! Kyoka's demon usually wanders around you, maybe she wants to know that you are a good mother for Kyoka or not? But, by seeing your husband's behaviors, sometimes she massages your shoulders. Poor y/n, who can really endure Dazai all these years? You really have unlimited patience. Dazai... really tries for the family, when he visits Oda's grave, he asks him to guide him in his dreams. And he wishes to be a good father. I think it would be interesting for everyone in the agency to see a happy family, although Kunikida and Yosano always comfort you as if you were married to a sick lunatic and your life has been ruined.

And they'll do their best to help you raise two children.

┣━━━━━━━━━━━━━┅┅┅┄┄

[Chuuya]

Chuuya was constantly smiling with excitement, he was very stressed. cause you two were supposed to take care of two kids. every five minutes he would take his hat off his head and put it on his head again.

You happened to see two young Akutagawas on the street and decided to take them home with you. (they're about 10 yo) (Well, I wrote this because Akutagawa can have a happy family)- At first he was very wild and wouldn't accept to live with you at all, but by seeing Gin's face... he's an older brother And considered securing his sister. Gin was a quiet girl who clung to her brother most of the time, but when you took her hand and gave her a supportive smile, she was able to feel very secure. At least she could enjoy the hot chocolate you bought for her. Chuuya, on the other hand, was very happy to have become a father, almost crying over the idea of a happy family.

But, older Akutagawa was like a nervous kitten who didn't like Chuuya's caresses very much. Maybe he liked it and secretly enjoyed it? After all, only beauty, glory and love are emitted from Chuuya fucking Nakahara. He buys everything for them, even things they don't need. when you and kids enter the house and you want to show them their new room, you're faced with a mountain of different devices. And Chuuya, who's proudly waiting to hear the screams of children's joy, but .... Well, these children don't know many of those toys at all! Maybe Chuuya is a little upset now. The first night, when you help them take a bath, give them new clothes, and put them to bed on a large bed, Ryunosuke watches your movements all the time so you don't try to hurt them.

It may take a long time for these kids to trust you. Especially Ryunosuke. You may have to remind him over and over that you love him. Of course, these children get closer to Chuuya by seeing his skills in fighting. It seems that both of them want to learn something from Chuuya. it's difficult for Chuuya to hurt the children during training If they get hurt, Chuuya will suffer the most. And surely seeing the eager eyes of these children, to go to school, and to see the stationery, will cause Chuuya to have a heart attack. And little by little, you realize that you have become a family. Every day you and Chuuya help each other make breakfast for them and take them to school.

On holidays, you can watch Chuuya cooking and enjoy its beauty. Of course, Ryunosuke still has trouble bathing, so Chuuya has to spend a lot of time hugging him and going to the bathroom. Gin loves to learn about plants, she calmly helps you to water the flowers, sweep the house or make a to-do list... And Ryu and Chuuya? Well... now Chuuya is Ryu's father and his role model, so... he certainly likes to spend more time with him. Surely there are many times when Chuuya is embarrassed in front of Ryu. If you've watched bsd wan, you'll understand it better. Ryu doesn't care at all about seeing Chuuya's dancing in front of the mirror, tbh. Or, when he turns red due to drunkenness? Ruy doesn't care, but it's certainly embarrassing for Chuuya.

These kids are always thinking about the relationship between you and Chuuya. And they think it's very beautiful. Because in any case, children want to see a good relationship between their parents. When they get sick the situation becomes very difficult for you, especially Chuuya. He sits near their bed all night and takes care of them. Sometimes Ruy loses his self-confidence because of his illness, but daddy Chuuya is here, daddy Chuuya ya supports him and hugs him, caresses his head and says kind words to him. In your home, there's certainly a lot of love, there's no big punishment for small mistakes, no beating and humiliation.

There's not a Ryu who likes someone like Dazai Osamu! Chuuya does his best not to let anyone in his family join the Mafia. But if his children still want to do it, Chuuya supports them behind the scenes. Calling Chuuya "Dad"? Well, Chuuya fially had a heart attack. Maybe after a few years, these kids finally accepted you as their real parents. All three of them are strong, and you?... It doesn't matter at all that you're strong or not, these three are your bodyguards forever. "Mom is an important person, you dare to look at her, I will pull your eyes out of the socket." your children and your husband are super overprotective... they'll be upset just by one small "ouch" from you.

Ryu and Gin are shy, just caress their head and they only turns their faces immorally, but their red cheeks are still visible. Family dinner time? No one misses it! Even if you're super busy, you still sit around a small table at the appointed time, talking about simple things. A cool family? Yeah... you can go to the mall and buy different clothes for them and die peacefully from the intensity of their beauty. Just imagine that you could have such ahappy family.

[millieisawriter]

The spell (Javier's version)

first ending - javier escuella x reader

summary: the one where javier comes to terms with the fact he caught feelings for you, and the two of you learnt to love each other despite your differences.

first part

wc: 2.6k

all pics taken from pinterest

♡the people have asked for a second part♡

a/n: i don't usually tag people on my fics, but this time i did tag everyone who commented under the first part <3 ily

It had been a few weeks since that night in Javier’s tent. You hadn’t spoken to anyone about it, not even to the girl who became a friend to you – Mary-Beth. Despite that, the whole gang must have known about what had happened between you and Javier.

Why? Well, it was difficult not to notice the sudden shift in your interactions with Javier, or the lack of these. Normally, there wasn’t a day the two of you didn’t exchange a few angry sentences. Ever since the tent incident, however, you didn’t acknowledge one another’s existence.

“You’ve got to tell me what happened!” Mary-Beth insisted.

You rolled your eyes. There was nothing to talk about, not even to your best friend. What Javier had done felt embarrassing enough, you didn’t need anyone else knowing about it.

You had just sat down to fix your pendulum when the girl approached you. The chain, to which a crystal had been attached, worn from years of usage from even before you had acquired it, finally gave out and broke a few days ago. “There’s nothing to tell,” you stated.

“Don’t lie to your best friend,” she insisted, and you know she wasn’t going to let go of the topic when she sat down on the chair next to you. “Your… necklace broke?”

“It’s called a pendulum,” you explained, still focused on fixing the chain, “I use it for simple yes or no questions. But, yes, the chain broke a few days ago.”

“So, back to the previous thing,” Mary-Beth returned to the topic of Javier, “what happened? First you two couldn’t go five minutes without snapping at each other. Now? Not even a glance. You could at least tell me if you hexed him or something.”

You finally look at your friend, leaving the pendulum on the table. “If I had hexed him, he deserved it,” you scoffed.

The girl’s eyes widened. “Did you?”

“No, Mary-Beth. I didn’t hex him. But if I had, it would have been well-deserved is what I meant.”

“Then what? Whenever he’s not out on a job, he strolls around the camp all depressed like those funny english dogs.”

“The bulldogs?”

“Exactly!”

You laughed at the comparison. Mary-Beth wasn’t wrong, though, you noticed the change in Javier’s behavior as well. He became less visible around the camp, unless he was playing his guitar. And even then, as much as you didn’t know spanish, you could tell the songs he sang were rather sad.

However, Mary-Beth wasn’t going to let go easily. “Why are you keeping secrets from your best friend?”

“Fine,” you sighed, knowing there’s no backing away from this, “something might have happened between us.”

“Something? Like what? That’s a very vague answer.”

The embarrassment physically hurt you when you thought about that specific night. “You remember the night a few weeks ago? Dutch’s gramophone played, everyone was drunk, all that…” you paused, fiddling with your fingers underneath the table, “we may have ended up in Javier’s tent.”

Her jaw dropped, and she immediately slapped your arm. “No! You’re kidding! You and Javier? I knew something was going on! Oh my God. Was it good? It was good, wasn’t it?”

“That’s not the point!”

“What is the point then?”

The point was that what happened the following morning, hurt you. Even if you never showed it, it pained you to know Javier considered his desire towards you a sin heavier than the blood that stained his hands. And just like the blood, though washed off, left a scar on his conscience, the same way his prayer didn’t make his feelings disappear.

“Next morning I woke up to Javier praying. For forgiveness. For… me,” maybe for the first time you let the hurt show through your voice as you made the confession to your friend.

Mary-Beth couldn’t believe that. She heard Javier bickering with Swanson here and there, but she never took the Mexican for someone religious to that degree. “He didn’t!”

“He did,” you sighed, “I felt like… like I wasn’t even a person to him. Just… something dirty he had to wash away. But, of course, God doesn’t care about him being a damn criminal.”

“How could he do that to you? Have you talked to him since?”

“No. I figured everything between us is done. Anything that could ever be.”

Javier made it clear enough. To him, you were a mistake. A moment of weakness at most, and you didn’t hope for more. Getting over him would be preferred, but you couldn’t help that he happened to dig a hole in your heart.

And you were left wondering – was God going to forgive Javier for how he had treated you? Or was God okay with one of his sheep taking advantage of another human being like that? God didn’t seem to care about that, so maybe you really were the Devil, after all.

Your emotions clearly affected Mary-Beth. “You can’t let him get away with that,” she stated.

“You’re a romantic, I get it,” you replied with a tone sharper than you intended, “but he and I were never meant to be. We’re too different.”

“You don’t believe that. If you did, you wouldn’t be so heartbroken right now.”

“It doesn’t matter what I feel. He made his choice, and I’m not going to beg him to change his mind.”

Last thing you ever imagined to do was begging a man to love you. Not even last, you’d die before you do such thing.

Suddenly, both you and Mary-Beth shifted your gaze to a figure riding into the camp. It was Javier, returning from whatever business he was attending to. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had been on a visit to the nearby town’s brothel.

Your eyes held a slightly longing look as you watched the man dismount from Boaz, a look that stopped only after Mary-Beth had nudged your arm. “Completely not heartbroken, huh?” she teased.

You looked away, and tried to argue, but before you could come up with a good response, you heard the leaves on the ground being rustled by approaching footsteps.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Mary-Beth, with a knowing smirk on her lips, stood up.

“Don’t you dare,” the sentence came out like a threat from your mouth. You attempted to grab her arm, even yank the girl back onto her seat if you had to, but her slim arm easily slipped out of your hand.

A moment later, Javier stood in front of you. “I wanted to talk.”

“We don’t have anything to talk about,” you insisted, standing up so that you were on at least similar level.

“We do.”

“What, you wanna talk about how I ruined your soul?”

Javier flinched slightly at your hiss, but then looked back at you. “I’ve got something for you,” his hand went into the pocket of his jeans.

You wondered what it could be. If you had been accused of being a vampire, he could’ve brought you garlic, or a wooden spike. But how could one kill a witch in a way other than burning her at a stake? He wouldn’t even need a stake for that, you had burnt long ago from the embarrassment.

The thing you could have never expected was now dangling from Javier’s hand as he extended it towards you. “I noticed the one you used to use broke some time ago,” he said.

Your mouth fell open, but no words were conjured. Javier getting a new pendulum for you was not something even your cards could predict.

You stared at the pendulum, the delicate chain shimmering faintly in the sunlight. A teardrop-shaped crystal hung from the chain, catching the light and scattering fractured rays across your skin as you took it in your hand. It was beautiful, far more elegant than the one you had broken.

“Where did you get this?” you asked, an idea in your mind. “Did you steal it?”

Javier shifted in spot. “I saw this woman, she travels in a wagon similar to yours. Madam Nazar, or whatever she introduced herself as. I wouldn’t dare steal from her, she’s a bit scary,” he chuckled lightly. “Don’t ask me where I got the money, though.”

Your eyes finally met his when you finished checking out the crystal. “Why did you get this for me?”

“Because I was wrong—”

“You were more than wrong, Javier.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I shouldn’t have made you feel the way I did. I thought… pushing you away would make it easier. That I could forget how you made me feel, or that I’d stop wanting you if I could convince myself it was wrong.”

“And?”

“And I couldn’t.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you eyed the pendulum again. It wasn’t hard to recognize the crystal as clear quartz. Possibly the best one for a pendulum, clear quartz was known for providing clarity and amplifying energy.

“I’m sorry,” Javier continued, “I can’t change what I did, but I can tell you I never meant to hurt you. You’re… you’re everything I can’t stop thinking about, and I hate that I let my fear ruin what we could have had.”

The words cut through your ears. You closed your palm around the crystal and looked at Javier again. For the first time he finally looked vulnerable. As if the regret he seemed to feel was honest. For the first time, he didn’t build up any walls between the two of you.

“You can’t just walk back in here with a gift and expect me to forget how you made me feel.”

“I don’t expect you to forget,” he said. “But I hope you can forgive me. There’s something between us, and maybe it’s not a spell you casted on me.”

“I’m glad you finally see that.”

Javier sighed. “Let me prove to you that I’m serious. About you, about us, about your… magic, too. And that I don’t think you’re sinful.”

You had no idea what got into Javier, and it certainly wasn’t your doing, but he had changed. In the following weeks, he grew more interested in your beliefs, in your practices. Often he sat and listened intently as you explained tarot to him, or when you taught him about the pendulum.

One night, sitting by the fire next to Javier, you shuffled your cards. “Pick a card, Javier,” you said, spreading the deck on the cow skin rug.

The man’s eyes brushed over the cards as he hesitated. The deck was, obviously, facing the side with pictures down, so that he had to use his intuition. He had almost taken one card, when you smacked his hand away.

You lectured him. “Just point at it, don’t actually grab it!”

“Why not?” he asked, both amused and confused.

“Only I can touch my cards, it’s one of the rules.”

“What happens if I touch them?”

He was curious, which was good. Curious was way better than hateful, scared, or ashamed. The way Javier evolved, and warmed up to your witchy practices made you happy. You could now see that maybe there was a chance for your relationship to grow.

“Nothing, but that’s the rule. You love breaking rules, don’t you?”

He was persistent. “Would I die a painful death?”

Once again he attempted to touch the cards. Once again, you slapped his hand away.

“Stop acting like a child,” you were ready to collect your cards and put them back in the safety of your bag, “you changed, and I like it, but I don’t wanna have to cleanse my cards again, I’m almost out of white sage.”

“I’ll buy you some more, what’s the issue? How expensive can it be?”

“You’d have to go all the way to California, and have something to give in exchange to the Indians there. They don’t need money.”

“You’re more complicated than I thought,” he sighed, but it was playful this time.

“So don’t touch the cards! Tell me which one you choose.”

Javier’s gaze returned to the deck spread in front of him. He thought for a moment before pointing to one card, even though on the backside all of them looked identical.

“Great, let’s see,” you mused, taking the card and studying it before turning it to Javier. “Death.”

He scoffed. “That’s optimistic.”

“Don’t take the meaning literally. This card represents change.”

Javier tilted his head. “I think I know what’s changing.”

“Oh?”

“Me.”

He reached out, his hand gently brushing your face. His gaze traveled down from your eyes to your lips, and you knew what it meant. No sooner, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss so gentle as if he were scared to hurt you.

You let him guide you through the kiss as it became more. More in both, the touchable and spiritual meaning. Your hands found their way to his jaw and neck, meanwhile he grabbed onto your hips. This allowed him to confidently move you from where you were sitting next to him, to make you straddle his lap. Almost instinctively, you grind your hips against his, sending a clear message to the neurons in his brain.

Javier groaned into the kiss, and you could feel his grip tighten on both sides of your body. This time, you could tell, it wasn’t solely desire between you. And neither one of you was on alcohol. This time it was real, a real raw emotion, and the peak of everything between you. Your connection, your need for each other, your past tensions, and your current longing. All of these exploded between the two of you in that exact moment.

The moment was interrupted, of course. “I’m glad to see y’all making up,” Arthur cleared his throat, “but could y’all not fuck on display for the whole gang to see?”

You practically leaped off Javier’s lap, your face burning hotter than the campfire. “Arthur!” you hissed.

Javier, however, didn’t seem nearly as bothered. He smirked up at Arthur with the kind of cocky confidence that made you want to smack him. And kiss him again.

“Jealousy isn’t pretty on you,” Javier joked.

“Don’t have to be pretty,” Arthur shot back, “just don’t wanna see y’all exchanging spit like two horny teenagers.”

You knew Arthur was just joking, there was no real bite in his voice. He was secretly glad to see the two of you getting along. But that also doesn’t mean that being called out like that didn’t get you all shy and blushing.

You stood up. “Javier, let’s take this to my wagon.”

“Our wagon you mean,” he said, following you.

“Yes, our wagon,” you rolled your eyes.

Truth be told, the wagon had undergone a transformation since Javier started spending more time with you. More time, as in he was practically living there with you. As you walked in, on your left Javier’s rosary was hung on the wall. The beads were darkened with use, and the small brass crucifix blended nicely with a bundle of sage and sweetgrass that hung next to it.

The shelves along the wagon’s interior were equally divided. On one side, you organized your herbs, dried plants, and jars filled with ingredients only you could name. On the other side, Javier had placed the wooden icon of the Virgin Mary, her peaceful gaze watching over everything, just like she had watched you that one night which changed everything. Except, this time you didn’t feel judged.

You smiled to yourself. The clash between the sacred and the mystical was oddly fitting.

___________________________

people that seemed interested in a second part:

@zenyattaiscute @warmsideofthepillow03 @sockisanidot @esquilone @yolky555 @veronika272

[im-not-a-ghost]

How will you meet your next lover?

Group 1

Cards : 2 of pentacles, Knight of pentacles, Temperance, page of cups, ace of swords, 4 of pentacles

This feels like a work setting or at least a work related meeting. You might not necessarily meet them directly at work but your occupation may lead you to meet this person. I feel like either one or both of you are in a transition when you meet. If not, a period of instability. It's like you're not really sure whether you want to keep going in the direction you're headed to. When you meet, I feel like the connection is instantly going really smoothly. You and this person may be chatting right away, exchanging ideas and tips. However, I feel like both of you are on the reserve. I don't see anyone being at the origin of your meeting with them. You will likely be surrounded by people but they will not come into play here. It's just you and your person interacting with each other. I feel like both of you are single when this happens. The transition phase may concern your respective studies or career. There might not be much going on upon first meeting. But you will instantly feel attracted to them, especially to their mind. In terms of timing, I'm picking up on a few years. A little pigy bank was depicted on the 4 of pentacles card. So I'm getting the message that in order to meet this person, you will have to save money. Or you will meet them at a point in your life when you or they need to save money for a project. Maybe you live at a distance from one another and when this person meets you, you or they are only there for a short period of time. Which would explain the transition thing. Think about a tourist visiting a country and making acquaintances with the locals.

Group 2

Cards : 4 of pentacles, 9 of swords, Queen of swords, Magician, 6 of swords, King of pentacles

I am getting a work setting from this group as well. You might have felt drawn to group 1 too. For this group, I'm picking up on a difficult phase in your career. Maybe you've reached a stalemate. You're working really hard to ensure your future and stability but somehow you're not seeing any progress. This may lead to you feeling anxious or even being depressed. I see that during this period of time, you're not entertaining any relationship. You feel very guarded and hurt and the last thing you need is for someone to come into your life and see you stuck in this mess. Yet, that's what happens. This person is also single and very career focused. You may meet them at a time of their life when they're travelling for learning purposes. This person has reached a stale mate in their career as well. And in order to overcome this phase, they have decided to make a move and find an opportunity to learn more and get more resources. This person decided to force their luck so to speak. "If I'm not going to be given the sucess that I seek, I'm going to create it on my own, no matter how hard that may be" was their mindset. Neither of you expected to meet each other. I don't know why I keep talking in past tense. This could be an indication that you may have met this person already. I get a vibe from you that both of you are very witty and cerebral people. This may be what got you to interact with each other in the first place. I'm picking up on different zodiac signs which could give us an indication as to who they are or when you met them. We have Gemini, Libra, Taurus and Scorpio. So that gives us a time frame from mid June to mid November. You may have met them during Summer.

Group 3

Cards : Hierophant, 5 of cups, The World, 10 of pentacles, King of cups, 10 of cups

For this group, the place of the meeting may vary. What triggers this meeting is a loss. It could be the loss of a partnership in any form (person, contract) or of an important belief system. In both cases, this really affected you on a spiritual and emotional level. When you start to overcome this loss and feel a bit more optimistic about life is when this person comes in. You may be travelling abroad or interacting with a lot of foreigners online. Your job or studies are going well. You may be travelling or enhancing your presence online in order to gain knowledge, notoriety or resources. The person you meet is very generous. Right off the bat, you will get a very good impression of this person. They will make you feel safe and cared for like no other. One way that you can recognize this person is by how sweet and kind they are. They will gift you many things out of the blue, for no other reason than to make you smile. They will give you compliments out of the blue, reassure you very frequently, encourage you every step you take. This person is a very good listener and a reliable support system. When you meet and start interacting, you may be living at a distance from each other and thus use social media to stay in touch. I'm picking up on fixed signs very strongly, especially Taurus and Scorpio. When you meet this person, you will notice that a lot of things in your life are improving. It will almost feel surreal. It's like this person has unlocked a cheat code that you weren't aware of and now all you ask for is in your hands. Lucky you!

[speremint]

So in light of it being International Asexuality Day, I wanted to post a few panels from that time asexuality was discussing in Brimstone and Roses...

I remember when this episode came out, I was burned out and depressed as hell (the author's note is proof of that), but so relieved to finally be able to talk about asexuality and explore Laz's sexuality a little bit. It was just a very difficult thing to write for a multitude of reasons, but mainly I'm technically out to my family, really, about being Ace, and so discussing it on a large scale made me want to vomit.

I also wanted to try to keep the dialogue authentic and not a massive info dump, while playing up the fact that Bea is a big romantic.

She might not have been fully accurate with her discussion of asexuality, and I know a few people disliked that I didn't use the "right" terminology for explaining asexuality. I'm sorry. Regardless, it meant a lot to write this episode, and I appreciate the support and love it got, especially among my fellow aces.

Honestly, making this post still makes me anxious, and looking at the comments on that episode makes my heart race, but despite that, I'm still happy with this episode.

I'm sorry if I wasn't the most accurate, or if my definitions of asexuality stray from y'all's, but I was hoping the episode would be a launch-off pad for those who might resonate with Laz's confused feelings for people to do their own research, regardless of whether they believe they're asexual or otherwise, and I hope that it did help people with that.

[schizoid-hikikomori]

So much of the human experience is defined by how we react to things, even if we don't consciously think about it.

People like to define "humanity" as the emotions/empathy/sympathy/love you feel. Anhedonia and apathy combined with alexithymia is considered inhuman. No ordinary person would know this terminology, but when they see it in people, they consider it a "wrong" or "strange" or "inhuman" way to exist.

People might just assume you're depressed if you're not enjoying anything you're doing, or if you're unresponsive in a social situation. But when it comes to something dramatic, like a societal tragedy or a relationship issue or a death or something similar, if you don't react in the way you're expected to, you're judged.

These judgements could be in good faith, maybe they assume that you're in shock and you don't know how to react. But others will assume you're heartless and don't care at all. It depends on who you're with and how you navigate the situation overall, how your reaction will impact their reactions.

Beyond the surface level, it's also the little things, how you react to birthdays, holidays, marriages, pregnancies, medical events, children, elders, etc. We are a society highly defined by interaction with other people. When you don't interact as expected within your respective culture, you're looked at like something other.

I know what it's like to feel things, at least, I have some sort of memory of enjoying things and feeling strong emotions, but they feel so much like a distant memory far beneath the ocean's surface—muffled, colorless, far away, unreachable. Thinking back on memories don't trigger emotions for me anymore. Despite this, there's still things I don't like talking about, but that I can remember without triggering those traumatic feelings.

I'm sure the change seems drastic to people who've known me since I was a child. Or they didn't notice, which seems to be about right. I became so good at keeping things internal that there's so many things I haven't described even to my mother about my childhood, where she thought I was doing perfectly fine in the messes that were going on.

I started feeling like I was dying at the start of high school and that feeling never left. I feel like I've decayed and I've become something inhuman.

(Photo from the other night.)

Imagery like this was always something I connected with even as a child. Dark hallways, bare tree branches twisting up into the sky like twisted little things, dark churches (which I owe to having grandparents working at a historical church), dead forests, cemeteries, and other gothic imagery.

Now, it portrays the things inside of me that are difficult to verbalize. I do it in my artwork, I do it in my writing.

Even though my novellas are all very different stories, they contain very similar details, relating to an often cynical and unlikable protagonist, themes of bodily identity, neglect of self care, and how we appear to others. As for my art, I don't really like explaining it, especially my art that's unrelated to any of my stories. Writing artist statements for gallery showings and suchlike things has always been dreadful. I'd rather it just speak for itself.

So in the end, I consider myself something inhuman. It is not something I reject or am ashamed of, for I've lost my ability to feel shame. There's no reason to deny the truth.

[mooshy333]

Oop- the men are fighting 😱 🔥

I wanted to draw Mylo and Claggor in my design thoughts and style in general, so this isn't a specific AU art or anything like that. I didn't want to copy Jayce, so I tried my best with Claggors designed hammer he would use in battle and make it more of something Claggor would have made. And as it does have Hextech from wherever (idk yet) it doesn't function like Jayce’s, it's a power hammer >:), and OMG. Mylo was so difficult at first because of his style, sneakiness, and stealth, as well as his speed. And it took a while to come up with the perfect main weapon he would use that would fit his character, that didn't match up with anyone else, like a pistol gun would have been ideal, but the fact it makes me think of Jinx so it wasn't the right one, I wanted to give him a main weapon that would make me think of him and his character alone. So eventually I came up with the idea of a whip, and I felt it was perfect for him. So he got some brass-chained whips, one for each hand. I also just had the big main fight between Jinx and Vi in my brain and wanted to see if it was flopped :) I would love to honestly see a fight scene between the two— or any of them fighting and kicking a$$. I also hope that some of y'all will get the reference of the meme I added to make it less angsty and depressing war vibes 😂

Also, personal art message: I FINALLY FOUND MY ARTSTYLE I TRULY LOVE!! for the first time in a while, I approached this drawing in a completely different way, and I'm really pleased with how it turned out. I decided to let go and enjoy the process. Let me explain: I sketch all the time in my sketchbook outside of digital, and I usually allow myself to be free with it, not worrying about how good or perfect it has to be. However, for over a year now, I've been very strict with just my digital art, especially concerning the line work. I always felt the pressure to make the lines straight and as “perfect” as possible, which turned the creative process into more of a chore than something I truly enjoyed.

Typically, I would sketch, then clean it up before moving on to another layer for the lining, repeating this a few times just to nail the details. But with this drawing, after my initial sketch, I decided to loosen up during the lining phase. Instead of trying to achieve precision, I opted for a freer approach, using a darker shade of black to outline, almost as if I were sketching again. I also realized that relying on the “bucket tool” in the app I use was not the best idea; while it’s quick, it often left me with subpar results. So, I colored everything by hand instead, finding it not only faster but also much more effective. As I colored, I layered additional colors for highlights, details, and shadows, which helped maintain my mental ease throughout the process.

In short, make sure you enjoy your work, but don’t exhaust yourself striving for perfection, as it’s ultimately unattainable. I realize it’s perfectly fine to be loose and a little messy! Whatever your style is, it is unique no matter what. 🥰

[transmutationisms]

So, I’m becoming increasingly interested anti-psychiatry but there is one thing I’m really struggling with that I’m wondering if is something that you’ve ever struggled with/been bothered by or had to find some way to deal with. I have a brother who doesn’t believe in mental health. Like, the concept of mental well-being. He doesn’t believe in medication or therapy either. But, he also doesn’t believe in germ theory, or vaccinations, or frankly, most science. He isn’t explicitly a flat earther but he also argues that it hasn’t been proven either. For most of my life, I’ve argued with him about the mental health stuff because I’ve struggled with depression and adhd (or, I guess, the handbag of symptoms that gets called depression and adhd). I’ve had to insist “No, I can’t just go for a walk,” and “No, I don’t just need a planner.” So now here I am, learning about anti-psychiatry, finding a lot of it resonates with me, and also finding out a lot of what I have been told is scientifically proven, is not scientifically proven at all (like schizophrenia being genetic, for example). I guess what I’m asking is, is my brother right in this specific issue? Is the concept of mental health or mental well-being bullshit? And whether it is or isn’t, do you ever find it difficult to reconcile that being anti-psychiatry is going to make you look like an anti-scientific conspiracy theorist? I’ve had this same thing happen to me with fat-acceptance and still struggle with the fact that if I try to explain to anybody that the way we’ve been taught weight loss and weight gain work, and the way we perceive fat medically is largely false or unproven, people look at me like I said the moon-landing was faked. It’s especially difficult because I’m a teacher at a university and I feel like I have no choice but to just play along there when these things come up, or else my credibility as a teacher could be drawn into question.

right so this is rather precisely the problem with treating Science as intrinsically an arbiter of Objective Truth lol -- you can't just make metastructural rules about how to know when a scientific assertion is true, you do actually have to evaluate what is being argued & on what evidentiary basis. science is a human form of knowledge-production & it is fallible to the same biases and ideological commitments and weaknesses as any other human inquiry, & the scientific establishment can and sometimes does rally behind all kinds of nonsense -- like psychiatry. the difference between psychiatry and germ theory isn't that psychiatric claims are structured differently or are patently nonsense on the surface, it's that the underlying epistemological principles of psychiatry are circular, the evidence is consequently lacking & always will be, & its assertions continue to be clung to & defended because they are economically useful whereas germ theory has an extremely robust evidentiary base supporting assertions that are demonstrable & have borne out in both lab and real-world observations & trials. incidentally, treating germ theory like it must be true simply because Science Says So is imo not in fact good for scientific literacy & communication bc it results in many people having very little understanding of how to defend or evaluate it when it's on the ideological-hygienic chopping block. & it also leads many people to vastly misunderstand the incredibly slow & piecemeal process by which germ theory was even assimilated into mainstream scientific thinking in the first place: hygienists for decades after pasteur were perfectly capable of 'accepting germ theory' while in practice operating off a number of environmental-miasmatic principles, smth i would argue many people still do in practice today. im sorry i don't have a generically Im Pro Science answer for you here, i don't actually think science should be exempted from the same rigour & consideration we apply to literally any other form of inquiry and knowledge-production.

[fluff-n-cookies]

Hello :)

Could you please do and platonic Aizawa x daughter reader?

His daughter is in her teen years so she is being like really rebel and all that so they fought a lot, but one day she just breaksdown during one fight and starts crying and apologizing for being a shitty daughter?

I have been avoiding this for so long, and it's all because I have no idea how aizawa would handle something like this. because it goes against everything that Aizawa would try and teach his kid so this may be a little forcefully written, apologies.

TW : unhealthy parenting, mental illness, some suicidal thoughts, probably angsty shit, I dunno, read at your own risk.

We can start this by walking through how this may start in the first place. I think the best place to start is that reader's mom left her and Aizawa when she was very young, and Aizawa, assuming here he didn't understand how to properly tell her why her mother left her, never tells her why.

Now reader is very young so she might blame one of two things.

herself

her father

While both instances would technically work, I think the more favorable option is she blames herself since a young child would probably never blame an adult they look up to and hold dear as the problem.

Up to this point her father has been really kind to her so the only other variable is her, this spirals into social anxiety, low self esteem, and depression. all of which don't help when you have an absent mother and a neglectful father who is both a teacher and a full time hero, which leaves little to no room for children.

(this is also why I think it isn't realistic for Aizawa to keep Eri or a child without another non-hero caretaker. Fight me, I dare you.)

As time goes on, and this child becomes a teenager, she might not know how to properly express her feeling and after being misguided by factors like the internet, other adults, and "friends" she might take out the feeling of being abandoned on her closest caretaker and another source of her problems; Aizawa.

if you purposely yell at him or start arguments it's not going to be very fun because Aizawa has this complex where if his students or other heros represent incompetence or arrogance he expels them or ignores him rather than explaining it to them and helping them improve, this is especially with students.

and since he lacks a true connection with you as his daughter mainly because of his job(s) and past with Oboro which he is still trying to heal from keeping him from bonding with you, he'll treat you as a student like the rest of the teenagers he knows. and even then, you may actually be treated worse than his students because while he interacts with them daily, he interacts with maybe 1 hour every other day.

so from all that he simply ignores you, just stops interacting with you entirely, he's too tired for your bullshit. this action makes the wedge between you two even worse.

if you keep persisting though he will yell back but it's often really short and really loud. something like "SHUT UP" a cold "I don't care." before slamming the door in your face. He knows it's probably not right to do that to your daughter but let's face it. you're just this annoying teenager he legally has to live with if he doesn't want to lose his hero and teaching license.

this is where things actually get very interesting, because let's assume he stops approaching you entirely, you just live in the same house nothing more than that, and while you may act like you hate your father for ruining your family and neglecting you all your life on the outside, remember, you're still that little kid in second grade that blames yourself for your mother leaving and your father not caring for you.

so let's say you realize this and go back to blaming yourself for everything like you did when you where a kid but since your father stopped talking to you entirely explaining your faults to him maybe difficult.

this where my personal experiences come in, I've actually had this happen to me in my own life, and I truely hope that you'll enjoy it. thank you.

---------

why is it that the voices are the loudest in the dead of night?

the moon is gone, the birds are silent, there isn't a single light that shines on your tear streaked face, puffly, swollen, sad, just sad.

years of confusion, neglect, a lack of love in it's purest form.

all because of you.

it's all because of you.

it's sings so prettily, like it's a church choir spreading the word of the lord like it's common knowledge.

it's common knowledge that you are a terrible person!

it cackles.

the urge to strangle yourself to finally feel some relief has never been stronger.

lie awake in the dead of night, in pitch darkness, a proper scenery to match ones broken and cracked soul, be careful, you might hurt yourself, again.

however, one cannot weep in their wallows forever.

the night has to make way for the morning sun.

and a relaxed self pity has to make way to dread.

dread.

dread of him, he who you blame for everything, everything you know is your fault.

it's all your fault.

a click at the door,

the creak of the old wood and the hinges never oiled.

mild thumping footsteps that wander around the apartment that can barely hold your overflowing buckets of tears.

you can mumble out all your pleas.

pleas that this is all a terrible nightmare and your real life is actually one with a kind and loving mother and a supportive and encouraging father.

mumble out the little lies that you made up all these years to make yourself feel worse and other better.

"it's pointless to keep trying."

"I wish I wasn't here."

"why can't I just be happy?"

"it's all my fault,

it's all my fault,

it's all my fault."

the thin walls don't do those in mourning justice though.

for the wind is calm, the branches don't dare to move, the owls, the bats, the sleeping heros in training downstairs don't make a peep.

for the only ones alive, awake, aware, is a man beaten down and broken by society serving as it's protector, ignoring the one in most need of protection all this time. With him is a girl. a girl that's scared, scared of her mirror image that haunts her, a girl who's cried an ocean, screamed a thousand wails of pain, a girl lost in her own heart,

"No wonder no one loves you."

you lie again.

but keen ears trained from years of work with villains hears you, for the first time, he hears you.

not the rebellious teen he's seen yell out strings of pure hatred and fiery insults like he's her own worst enemy.

it's the girl who he saw waiting on the steps to their apartment all those years ago. waiting for her mama to come back home with the promise of cupcakes.

it's the girl who never smiled for the remainder of elementary school.

it's the girl who's heart withered way that autumn evening.

he heard the softest little voice in the dead of night. he heard his daughter cry

"No wonder no one loves you."

.

.

.

"But I love you."

for that whole night, for that whole night.

the peace was disturbed.

for that whole night, it seemed that the moon shone once again.

it may not be the sun. but it'll do for now.

Aizawa walked away shortly after that.

leaving a little girls and her mirror image to ponder.

ponder.

---------

Afterwards I don't think he'd talk about it too much, he's proabably approach you after breakfast the next morning and tell you "you can talk to him about it if you want." but not much more than that

he definitely would change his practices though. like getting you a therapist, taking the weekends off in favor of being around the house more.

he'll let you get used to his presence first like one would with a cat, and one day. maybe years later, or tomorrow, you'll talk to him.

you'll tell him you love him too.

and maybe.

just maybe.

the world will stop,

and everything will be okay.

[dimalry]

Second you in loving depressed, dark circle, chronic insomniac Azriel with demonic possession undertones. I feel like often he’s portrayed as very soft uwu baby or dark daddy dom when really he’s a workaholic grouchy introvert with a fucked up sleep schedule.

Do you think he has any connections to Hel in the larger Maasverse? I’ve had a theory for a while that he’s a descendant of one of the princes which would explain how he ended up with Truth-Teller.

Anyway, just want you to know that I picture your version of both Az and Gwyn when I write in canon, so thanks for the inspo!

Yes, absolutely! Though I’ve never thought of what kind of connection Azriel might have to Hel until now. Your ask got me to think…

What if Shadowsingers, rare as they are, were actually created by one of the Princes of Hel? I wish Truth-Teller wasn’t Gwydion’s twin, but rather a long-forgotten weapon once wielded by a long-dead Prince of Hel. Azriel could have discovered it eons later, feeling a strange connection to it, as it was the very weapon responsible for birthing his kind.

(Excuse my poor attempt at drawing shadow- soldiers/beasts. This is basically what I had in mind. This too)

Let’s say Shadowsingers were once a single shadow entity. But over time they split, with shadows becoming just one part of a person rather than their whole form.

A good number of them remain in Hel, but they've transformed into strange, nasty creatures. In Prythian, there are hardly any left, and Azriel may be the last. There are a few in Throne of Glass and Crescent City worlds, but they differ from Azriel.

It is very difficult to find any information about Shadowsingers. No one knows where they come from or how they came to be.

Who gave them the title 'Shadowsinger' anyway? What if it was simply a fitting name given by a mad scholar who first encountered someone with dark, shadow powers? What if these soldiers originally had a different name, given to them by the long-dead Prince of Hel?

And let’s give Shadowsingers the ability to shapeshift. I’ve always found it strange that Azriel is considered the best spymaster in the world, yet everyone knows he’s the Night Court's spymaster, which defeats the whole purpose of being a spy. It’s like imagining a Russian spy working in an American office, and everyone there knows he's a Russian spy. (Lol)

But what if Azriel could change his identity through his shadows? That would truly make him the best spymaster. He wouldn’t need to go through the trouble of creating fake identities; he could simply turn himself into one of Beron’s personal guards. People might know who the Night Court’s spymaster is, but they’d never know when or who he’s pretending to be. Additionally, he could winnow through his shadows instead of using the typical method. By commanding his shadows, he could transport himself anywhere, making him even more powerful than Rhys in terms of winnowing. He wouldn’t need to pause for breath like Rhys; he could take 10 people with him effortlessly.

Connect that to the shadow soldiers from Hel. They used to transform into whatever they liked (like this) and winnow with ease, which is why the war went on for like forever. The prince’s army was incredibly difficult to take down.

Shadowsingers still speak the language of Hel to this day. Azriel uses it to communicate with his shadows, and only Shadowsingers can understand this language—no one else. They don’t even have to learn it.

Okay, wait—can we consider that the winning side was the mother, leading her own army? That Gwydion was wielded against the Prince of Hel? Thus, the Maas universe was forged from the remnants of that eternal war ages ago.

And while Gwyn isn’t related to the sword like Azriel is to the dagger, nor to the soldiers who fought for the mother, as a priestess who worships her, she does have that little connection.

It would be quite amusing for the Fates to pair a descendant of those Hel creatures with a priestess who worships the Mother as mates.

Good god, I somehow pulled this out of my ass. Now I have to incorporate that idea into my story cause it‘s kind of awesome.

Anyway, I’d Iove to read your fic. It makes me happy to know that people use my art as inspiration 🥹

thank you for the ask! Have a lovely day 💕