#i will never be emotionally nor mentally prepared

[baeshijima]

okay so im rewatching the blade pv before i sleep and????

i think thats both il and dan heng depicted here, showing that despite the changes both he and blade have undergone, blade still associates the two as one even if dan heng is technically not the same as imbibitor lunae ;w;;

and their images overlap in his view much like when we see pre-struck blade in the pv reminiscing il, which then transitions into current blade staring at a figment of dan heng running him through with his spear like mentioned in the nameless honor light cone "nowhere to run"......

NOT TO MENTION THE YIN YANG CONTRAST OF LIGHT AND DARK, GOOD AND EVIL WITH THEIR PAST COUNTERPARTS??????

i am unwell end me now i hate their lore so much. (<- she says, like a liar)

[hoseoksluna]

STRAWBERRIES | jjk ft. jhs

pairing: ex-boyfriend!jungkook x oc (feat. soon-to-be-boyfriend!hobi & spectacled boy)

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 7.8k

summary: when your ex-boyfriend's fury burns you whole, you just might need to let hobi in to pour water over you and save you.

playlist: strawberries

pinterest board: j. / taglist: join

warnings: jungkook is nasty and mean and rly needs a trigger warning, oc is lost in her negative emotions and goes through a lot, sadness, crying, shame, longing for death, minor physical violence, oc and hobi take puffs of a shared vape <3, mental and emotional suffering, fighting, belittling, mentions of sex

note: this was an absolute pain to write as i'm not used to writing this genre of jungkook and i hope it's the last time i did skfskfsk, nah i'm just over exaggerating. i'm so happy i got this done in time. two updates in one week! wow. how did i do that? i hope you like this part. prepare yourselves for this jungkook and i'm sorry in advance..... that's all im gonna say. pls, validate me! asks, comments, anything. pretty please! i love you, my babies. big mwah.

You can still sense the ghost of his touch on your shoulder blades as you’re laying halfway on your tummy upon the crumpled bedding of your mattress. Your phone lights up and shuts off like the flickering of stars and all you can do is watch the wane and the rebirth, numbly, with the knowledge that death will never come, not when you’re still a living, breathing person because Jungkook is not the type of individual who gives up. Not easily, that is. 

Hobi left but an hour ago while you slept. Kissed you goodbye. Murmured onto your forehead that he would see you again and you merely nodded amidst the magnetic pulling of your dreamland. Couldn’t peel your eyes open due to the heaviness of your tiredness, which didn’t steal, in all peculiar truthfulness, all of your attention, however. You carried on your shoulders a question way heftier. A question of how your body is still able to submit to slumber, when your blood curdles beneath your skin, when it’s so icy that you’re shivering on top of the duvet. 

And the question didn’t leave when you woke up to your empty bedroom. It thumped, vigorously, against the nape of your neck. The very place Hoseok clutched when he poured his affection and admiration all over your body. 

You wish he hadn’t left. You believe he would’ve possessed your burden, pretending it was his all along. Believe he wouldn’t need to know the alpha and the omega of it. Would pout his lips the way you’ve learned he often does, take the pain from you as if it were a backpack filled with stones. And it does feel like that, your mistake. Your torso is swathed with a double rope, whose end is tied with a stone that you’re cradling in your hands. 

A few hours ago, you cradled Hobi’s face in your hands while he kneeled for you, and now you’re anticipating the death that will never come as your stomach hurts. 

But the memory of his touch is soothing. While your imaginary wings are flaccid and lackluster on the bed, his invisible hands are the force that pumps blood, feebly, into its membrane. Still warm, though a little less firm. It’s as if he were here in the flesh. 

Your body is asking for him, emotionally, however your mind is forbidding you from conveying your need for him to him. Logic is whispering to you that he’s spent the entire day with you, canceled his work meeting because of you. You couldn’t possibly ask for more of his time, for more of him when he had already given you more than enough. 

And besides, you can’t let your attachment reach this unhealthy depth. It triggers you, reminds you of the very thing that spliced your heart open almost a month ago. You don’t want to wander there, nor do you want to be pulled there if you were to ever let go of the reins. You can’t afford Jungkook’s life to entwine around your world again. Not when Hobi diligently dug a grave for it, threw its flesh down and covered it back with the soil, his straining muscles the very force that made you forget about… everything. 

You can’t do that to yourself. And most importantly, you can’t do that to Hobi. 

It’s the latter that propels you to fight. That gives you strength to raise the top half of your body onto your hands. You don’t give a fuck about yourself—you know full well that your life is cursed. Nothing good has ever come out of the events that creeped in until Hobi came along. And you don’t wish to break him out of a selfish intent. You don’t wish to break him because of him. He’s a pure angel, a saint with an honorable heart, a God that has his eye on you. You wouldn’t take it well, if the bane of the ambrosia of your life were ever to touch his lips. 

He’s here, and that’s stable. He’s here, and that’s the reason why you need to protect him. From yourself, from the poison, from the rotten apple of your ex-boyfriend current persistence in entering your space all over again. 

You don’t want to eat that spoiled fruit anymore, and so you simply won’t. 

This decision has shifted the atmosphere because your phone is no longer going off. You sigh a breath of relief, running your fingers through your hair, and you get up, a Virgin Mary that has become a warrior for her God, and you begin to dress yourself. 

You need some fresh air. 

Clothing yourself in a matching outfit—a  light wash baggy jeans, a cropped white tank and a denim jacket with your Nike’s, you grab your phone and keys and drift out into the night. 

Your hair has dried while you slumbered and it ripples in the gentle wind of autumn. The street is lit in a darkly yellow tone, also dried from the morning’s downpour and you stop in the middle of the road, where Hobi drove past while you teased him. You breathe in the freshness of the air in effort to inhale your God, in effort to bring him into your system and your chin quivers with weakened emotions, with a weakened wish that he was here with you, holding your hand, giving you the last bit of strength you need. You know his warmth would smooth out your blood, boil it to a temperature that would cook up your joy and bring it to your heart on a silver platter. Bring it to your mind and calm the hurricane within, feed it so it doesn’t wail anymore. 

And with another sigh, you will yourself to stop. Will yourself to stop needing. You will stumble and you will fall if you keep going down that road that has never shone brighter, that looks nothing like the one you’re standing in the middle of. And as inviting as it is, you close your eyes to get rid of the blessing reaching out for you—only to discover that it’s waiting for you there, too. A circle of light, of fire amidst a cloud of pure, pitch-black darkness. 

You want to scream, and much to your neighbors’ dismay—you do. 

It’s a singular, loud stream of your frustration, swaddled with the pulsating energy of your affection. And then your shoulders tremble. And it’s your tears that are louder than that murmuring watercourse in their very silence. 

You head to the convenience store down the street with your teardrops dotting the ground as if it were the rain. You don’t want your neighbors to detect it was you, who caused the disturbance, and tell your parents. You have enough fire in your orchard, you don’t need another filling of oil. 

You ask the very drowsy guy behind the counter for a strawberry ice vape. His round eyes, behind thick rimmed glasses that make them look even bigger, are barely kept open as he reaches for it with a flabby hand. Your eye catches the glint of a myriad of plan B’s right next to the shelf scattered with packs of lung burners and your heart constricts, a rivulet of emotion cascading down your cheek, caused by the fond recollection of Hobi’s intimate desire and you break—terribly, terribly break. Fruit trees crack in you, collapse to the ground with a horrendous thud and the berry bushes… they wither until they’re mere wisps of blackness. A picture of devastation. 

The boy blinks twice when he turns around, regarding you, and he asks for your ID, only to startle when you glare at him. He tells you the price and you pay with your phone, thanking him and saying your curt goodbye. 

One he doesn’t reciprocate. 

You probably gave him the fright due to the tears marring your pallid cheeks. You hope he isn’t there the next time you’re in the mood to douse your lungs with chemicals. 

Your hands are shaking as you’re tearing up the unnecessarily sturdy packaging. And your tears resume in their outpour when your manicured nails make your life harder than it already is. The tape folded over the top of the rectangular box is too thick and you hurt your nail beds when you claw at it. You have to use your teeth and the fucking thing finally gives in. 

You furiously throw it out in the bin. 

Feel an incoming calmness when you take a deep puff. And you do it over and over again until your cursed world spins, the plump swirls of smoke mingling with the night, never fully connecting. Not like you and Hobi. 

And your world tilts on its axis once your phone lights up in your hand and there’s no picture to be found on the screen. 

Your heart hammers, threatening to fling out of your throat. 

Hobi is calling you. 

And the thing is, you don’t really believe it. 

Your vision swims as another onrush of dense tears blurs the letters of his name. You stare down at your phone, dumbly, sobbing and not caring at all that the spectacled boy can hear you. 

You don’t know who does it—who swipes your finger across the screen and allows you to hear Hobi say the pet name that stole your soul. Who anoints your tears with strawberry-scented mollification while you fail to comprehend that the person you willed yourself not to need in order to not hurt him the way you were hurt somehow heard your cries and answered them like the God he is. 

Because it couldn’t have been you. Not when you’ve become a lifeless sculpture in the middle of a yellowly-lit street. A modern, urban art—awakening ugliness in anyone’s first impression. 

Not a sculpture of the angel you saw at the museum, the one Hobi took your picture with, though. 

You're a sculpture of a road kill. A wounded, small animal, laying on its side with its guts out. And Hobi places them, with gentleness you’ve never felt before, back inside, stitches your belly closed and picks you up, carrying you in his arms. All because he repeats the pet name—with a slither of panic this time.

He acknowledged that something is wrong, validated it. 

And somehow, it snaps you out of your vapor of numb sadness and shame permeates your body, cold sweat coats it—something beyond it, too. Something that makes you shiver so hard that your teeth begin to chatter, preventing you from speaking, your tongue twisted, lifeless. 

A reality check. 

You sent a filthy video of yourself getting rocked from behind to your ex-boyfriend, in which you screamed that your most intimate parts belong to another man. 

You’re not Virgin Mary. You’re Mary Magdalene. 

You don’t hear your pitiful crying fits, but Hobi does—and it is through his inhale of a trembling breath and his words that you perceive that you’re baring your ugliness to him. 

“Pup, what’s wrong? What happened? Why are you crying?” 

You squeeze your vape in your small fist, sensing those words doing something in you—something that untwists your tongue and lets you breathe like him, though in painful, quick staccatos. Your frail legs hurt, not able to withstand your tremor, and they give out. You fall onto your bum, the impact and the gravel shooting a spark of pain up your spine and you whimper, your tears soaking your neckline. 

“Hobi,” you call out, the last vowel breaking, teeth chattering, cacophonously. “I made a mistake. A terrible mi-mistake.”

He coos, sorrowfully, his loud breath still trembling—a strong rope nonetheless that you want to hold onto. That cord wouldn’t lead you to your death, wouldn’t scrape your hands with its harsh texture, wouldn’t be wrapped around a stone on the other end. 

“Breathe for me, baby,” he says and guides you to do it. You inhale the night air with him, feeling like there isn’t enough of it to appease your lungs, and you exhale. 

Somehow it halts the river of your cries and you do it again. Hobi lets you, patiently waiting on the other side, encouraging you and praising you. This time, it doesn’t sprinkle you with the sultriness of sin. No, you sense it cleansing you, giving you the kind of newness you stumbled across in his car this very morning. Your palm, the one that clutches your vape, opens and it rolls onto the ground. You grab it and when you wrap your fingers around it, you perceive that you do the motion around that newness. And your heart, your submission—they’re not letting up. Not again. Not when it’s him. 

“That’s it,” Hobi praises, a hint of calmness in his tone. “Can you try and tell me what happened?” 

You nod your head, even though he can’t see you, the newness gracing you with strength that spreads feeling into your legs and you stretch them out. Blood pumps in them and you can sense the direction it’s traveling to. You tighten your grip, open your mouth to talk. 

“I sent the video to the wrong person,” you utter, and along with your grip, your lungs tighten as well. No sobs escape you, no tears. Only gravely stillness, nothingness while your shame stands behind you, menacingly, a demon set out on destroying you, the curse upon your life a bracelet around its wrist, a knife in his hand, to which it’s attached. 

Hobi doesn’t say anything for a moment and you can sense his shock, its cold tendrils the ice that courses down your legs. An agony forms in your heart, stretches out an arm of regret and strikes against your ribcage, pangs of guilt and self-disgust seizing your body. 

“I’m so sorry, Hobi, I thought I sent it to you,” you continue, your voice splitting, though no external expression of it is evident on your countenance. It’s as if you were telling him the most ordinary of a thing. You rub your eyes with the back of your hand, taking a puff of your vape. It is only now that you can taste its strawberry savoriness and it suffuses your lungs with a mockingly sweet, feigned fume. 

Hobi hears you exhale and you hear him swallow, dryly. An exchange, most redolent of the one you’ve done many times earlier. 

“What are you smoking?” he asks, and it catches you off guard. You didn’t expect him to yell at you, nor did you expect him to scold you. Truth be told, your fragile state of mind didn’t let you expect anything of him, any sort of outcome. Yet this question still surprises you. It flattens lukewarmness upon your skin and you feel like nuzzling your face into it, needing more of it. 

You take a deep breath. “I bought a strawberry vape. Scared the guy in the store with what I looked like.” 

Hobi laughs through his nose, barely. That’s the real sweetness you know. The original one, from God himself. “I’m sure he thought you were beautiful. Should I beat him up?” 

The same sound leaves you and lightness descends upon you. You welcome it in, without a fight, and the sigh you let out is of a serene kind, at last. “Not at all and besides, I almost did it myself. He asked for my ID.” 

Hobi coos, the endearment prolonging—wafting through your ear down your throat until it clings to your heart. You snivel, your inkling to nuzzle into the apparition of him lining your body growing bigger until you submit to it. You graze your cheek upon your arm, propping both of them onto your lifted knees. Feel his caress, but faintly. It should be enough, but it isn't. Could never be. 

You open your mouth again to tell him to come get you, despite the fight rising in you, but Hobi speaks first. 

“I don’t blame him that he did. You’re just my little pup. But my adult, little pup. I’ll talk to him.” You hear a shuffling in the background and your breath hitches in your throat, your heart joining it, ascending. “Where are you? I’m getting in my car.” 

Your mind, where the war is coming from, wins. That quickly. Reminds you that if you face him and tell him what you’ve done, you’ll ruin everything. Ruin the connection, ruin the affection he carries for you. 

You’re hasty as you scramble your words, but as your heart descends back into your ribcage, it throws you a lifeline. It all happens in an instant and distaste pools on your tongue from the rapidness of it all. You never liked it, and you never will. 

The lifeline of your new life, created by Hobi, changes your words, but leaves the intention untouched. 

“Can I tell you who I sent it to?” you ask, taking a puff to relax the electricity of your nerves. The strawberry flavor only heightens it, though. Out it must go, then. So you can forget about it the moment you see his face. 

The shuffling halts. “You can tell me in person,” Hobi says, lightly, but you shake your head. You know he means well. Know that he wants to reassure you with touch, but it’s a risk you can’t afford. Not when the wrong kind of neediness is at stake.

“I don’t want to talk about it when I see you,” you push, pursing your lips, finding them in a serious need of a chapstick. You begin to nibble on the flecks of skin that stick out. “I want to focus on you. I want to forget.” 

No ounce of a lie in your words, though your intention still remains hidden. Rightfully so—him leaving you because of the storm of your mental state and issues is another risk you don’t want to have staining your hands with blood. 

You hear him sit down. Hear him play with his keys—and the clanging sound is oddly comforting. “All right. Tell me, then.” 

“I sent it to someone from my past,” you start with great difficulty, pause afterwards because a light pours in from behind. The squeak of breaks, the impatient buzzing of a running car. Your mouth dries, your torso turns around. A silhouette exits the vehicle and as the person emerges from the darkness and steps into the bright lights that it’s emitting, the name that slips past your lips is more of an acknowledgement of his presence than a disclosure of information. “Jungkook.” 

Jungkook stops right behind you like the demon of your shame did, with his hands in his pocket. You don’t feel warmth radiating off of him. You feel coldness, a wintry coldness so akin to the one that troubled your body before Hobi called. He zeroes his gaze down on you, piercing your irises with a fury that causes the fine hair on the nape of your neck to rise, painfully. The muscles of his forearms are clenched, oscillating as he drums his fingers on his thighs in the cocoons of his pockets. Your breath trembles, terror prickling you profoundly until it cuts your skin open and you whimper—you whimper with a sob.

“Who’s Jungkook?” Hobi asks, softly, and you close your eyes to incarcerate your tears, curling your lips under your teeth, terribly fearful that Jungkook can hear him. 

Cursed, your life is.

He shows no sign that he does—merely burns with that fury, patiently waiting for you to end the call. Your heart stills, ache replacing it, and you think it’s been wounded so much that it can barely work anymore. 

More than ever, you feel like that Mary Magdalene, face to face with the devil that tempts her to return to her vomit like a dog. 

Hobi calls your name, panics, and it’s another lifeline—this time thrown over your torso by his own hands. You have to fight, you have to stand up to this hell and walk the fuck away from it. 

“Baby, I gotta go. Please, hurry. Please,” you pule, stressing the last pretty word to divulge to him how grave the situation is that you’re in. Hobi lets out a breath, lowly and shortly, and it’s such a relief that he understood your vague message, that you can hear him scurrying to his feet and that comforting sound of his keys clanging. 

“I’ll be there in a few, pup. Tell me where you are. Are you safe? Do you have your keys?” Hobi spews, massaging your heart with his care and there’s no ceaselessness to your tears. 

“Down the road, like less than a minute away from my apartment. And I don’t know. And yeah, they’re in my pocket.” 

A bang of his door closing. Jungkook begins to tap his foot. You scowl at him, despite your fear. He doesn’t stop. You withdraw your gaze.

Hobi’s breath quickens. “Pull them out and use them when you need to, okay? Have them ready in your hand.” You nod, doing exactly as he says, without a thought spared. “Walk to your apartment building, I’ll meet you there. You got your keys in your hand?”

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, pup, I’ll be there soon. Do you want to stay on the phone with me?” 

You do, but you can’t. 

“I’ll go to my apartment now, Hobi. Thank you.” 

You don’t allow yourself to hear what he says next. Pulling the phone away from your ear, you hang up with a heavy heart. Your sudden, miserable aloneness enfolds around you, rigidly. But not as rigidly as Jungkook’s cold hand around your arm. 

The heaviness in your heart grows as its drum speeds up. 

“Get up,” Jungkook grunts, hauling you up onto your feet, awkwardly, causing you to drop your vape onto the gravel with the strength and hastiness he uses to do it with.

You stumble before you catch your balance and Jungkook doesn’t let go of his deathly grip on you until you do. Then, before your blurring sight, he bends at the waist and picks up your lung burner, skimming his eyes over it. Hands it to you with a scoff, his touch icy cold as he grabs your wrist and places it onto your palm. You sob, with ugliness that scars you, with such intensity that Jungkook’s narrowed eyes round and you pull your gaze away. You don’t want to see it. Tug your arm away from him, rubbing your wrist to get rid of the ghost of his fingers there, disgust flooding your bloodstream underneath. 

And even though he seemingly softened at your tears, it’s gone as quickly as it arrived. It didn’t touch his fury, not at all. 

“Baby, huh?” he seethes with gritted teeth, letting go of you so harshly that you almost stumble again. “Your pussy is his, huh?” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, rivulets of tears rolling down your cheeks, pain compressing your entire body. It’s at this moment that you will death to take you somewhere far, far away from him, because you’re too frozen on the spot to run away. 

“You’re covered in hickeys and you’re smoking that shit again. Was it really that good? Did he fuck you so good that you had to send it to me in spite? Did he fuck you better than I ever did?” 

Your sobs gain that same agony that prevents your lungs from inhaling. And when you open your eyes, all you can look at is your shadow and his, yours blackened so much that it digs a hole in the gravel, his furling with flames. 

And along with death, you will a little strength into your anguish. 

And most unbelievably, it slinks in, and your following words come as much of a surprise to you as to him. 

“Stop.”

His shadow stills, his tremor following suit. 

“You have no business talking to me this way,” you continue, your throat constringing, and you take a big puff of your vape—to spite him rightfully this time. It loosens the tightness and you open your mouth, not finished with your outpour. 

But Jungkook stops you. 

“I have no business? You crushed my fucking heart.” 

Your head whips and the sight of him causes your pain to rise in levels. Palms outstretched towards you, his posture slouches and the breaths he lets out are wretched, the sound of a tumultuous sea at night. One would think he’s the one being inflicted great emotional violence on, not the other way around. 

Jungkook raises a finger to his heart, licking his lips before he flattens them, as if the utterance of something so private, so fervent took all of his strength. He pants and you know it’s due to the fact that he can’t catch up to the thoughts rushing in his brain. And you wish you didn’t. You wish you didn’t know him so intimately. 

“This fucking heart has never stopped being yours,” he confesses and cringes at his choice of words, triggered. Your stream of anguish is silent as you take them in. “And you crushed it. Ruined it.”

There was a time, one that used to be nearly endless during those weeks in August you spent at the beach, healing from the breakup, when you longed to hear that confession. Prayed for it. Sough it when you grazed your fingertips along the sand. And now that it’s here—now that you’re tasting something so great, greater than your entire being, something so burnt as he voiced out your tendency to cause ruination—you wish you never heard it. Wish you never had the ears that carried that message to you. 

And there’s nothing you can do. Not as darkness swallows you, confiscating any bit of strength you had left. Your eyes sting from their downpour, face features droop. Your pain is an enormous stone and you can’t carry it. You can only chase away the heft. And you do—you take a puff of your vape. 

One that he rips from your mouth and throws it out in the bin, preventing you from doing so. You don’t yelp, you don’t claw at his arm—you merely watch him rid you of your only salvation for the night, watch him exert his power over you all over again, bursting your indignation into flames. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” you ask, your voice deathly, uncannily placid, carrying no tendril of the offense and anger you feel. Adrenaline courses through you, asking to be let out. 

And you just might. 

Jungkook turns around and spits on the ground. “Don’t smoke that shit.” 

It’s not hurt, what the expression of his arrogance produced. It unlocked the door, which kept your adrenaline and your darkened emotions at bay, invited them out. 

And so you lash out, using that freedom. 

You slap him. 

And he takes it. Without moving an inch. Still as a grand statue. You yearn to demolish it to smithereens, so you can never see him again, and you strike at his chest with your keys in between your fingers, pushing him. Affected from the force, it causes him to unwillingly take a step back and it feels fucking glorious until you catch stars flash in his eyes. 

“You’re hitting me because I threw out your fucking vape?” he asks, his voice coated with a dark bitterness that deepens it. His brows furrow, grimness casting a shadow over his face, hiding the glitter of the stars. “I’m laying my heart out to you. I’m here in the middle of the night because of you and this is what you care about? This fucking thing that harms you is more dear to you?” 

You push him again, fuming. Jungkook grits his teeth, takes your wrists and holds them in the air. You fight against it, but he won’t budge. Tightens his grip. And you’re a bird, locked in a cage—but you still have your voice. 

“I’m hitting you because I hate you,” you mutter, burning him with the vapor of your anger through your narrowed eyes. “I’m hitting you because I hate the way you think you’re still entitled to have a say in my life. And it doesn’t even matter whether I have a man or not. You let me go and the moment you did that, your control over my life? It went fucking bye bye.” 

You let him forbid you from smoking in the past. Needed it at the time, needed a father’s hand—and you liked it because you never had it. Never had a male care about you, about your health, about your actions. Your father never spared you a glance, never gave a fuck about you. He always had your mother handle you, blaming her for the way she raised you. 

But during those weeks you healed, being alone by the sea helped you unattach yourself from that, from needing Jungkook to tell you what’s right and what’s not. The moon doesn’t tell the sea which shells to wash up onto the shore—it does it by itself, handpicks them, makes the decision. And the more time you watched it deliver it to you and you collected them with gladness, the more you understood it. 

You’re never letting him have that power over you again. You’re your own person, carrying an armful of your right and wrong decisions—your own possessions. And so you will smoke if you want to. You will bring a man home on the first date. You will fall in love. And you will speak up. 

You twist your wrists, unrelentingly, until he lets go. You will win, not your mind, not your heart. The raw, brutal, unabashed you. 

You take a step back away from him, feel your blood rushing to the places of your body parts that he held, quick to recover them. “You don’t get to dictate my life anymore. You have no place in it. You didn’t have it then when I was by myself, and you most certainly don’t have it now.”

Jungkook takes in your words with a parted mouth, a red mark forming over his cheek, the light shunned from his eyes. The glorious feeling returns, blooming thin, translucent tissues of happiness in you. 

“Hoseok is his name, isn’t it?” he chunters, placing his hands back into the cocoons of his pockets, tilting his head to the side. 

Hearing him say his name is a taste of spoiled milk and bile springs up your throat, your guts longing to empty themselves out. You stifle it, you have to, clutching your stomach, feeling so horribly faint. Your hatred for him blossoms like that poison ivy you dealt with earlier in the morning. 

“Keep his name out of your mouth,” you spit, scowling at him, clutching your stomach harder—just like Hobi did when you brought him home. A sliver of nostalgia forces you to look behind you, in case you catch a glance of his car, but the street remains empty and sullen. 

“You can hate me as much as you want,” Jungkook mutters, his words swiveling your head back to face him, and your guts ripple. “Yell at me. Hit me. But don’t send me videos of you getting fucked. That’s not fucking right.” 

You bare your teeth, seething. “I made a mistake.” 

Jungkook nods. “Yes,” he hushes. “Yes, you did.” 

You shake your head. “No, you don’t understand.” Confusion pinches his brows, creating a wrinkle in the middle and he lets you continue. You lick your lips, your face dry from the way your tears have seeped inside. “I thought I sent it to Hobi. I was too tired, I didn’t see. I didn’t do it on purpose.” 

Jungkook scoffs, running his tongue over his bottom lip swiftly, mimicking you. “Don’t fucking lie to me, little girl.” 

You mewl, painfully, at the pet name. It’s as if he sank a dagger in the middle of your sternum. Weariness descends upon you and you rub your eyes, wishing you had your strawberry vape, your salvation, in your fist. And you find no traces of any grit, any determination to convince him that you’re being truthful to him. 

You turn around halfway. “Go home.” 

Jungkook opens his mouth, but the squeaking sound of brakes causes him to close it right away. You know it’s Hobi and the knowledge is more satisfying than the dose of chemicals Jungkook threw out. Relief washes over you, bringing along lightness and something that is kindred to joy. You don’t care that Hobi is about to see your ex-boyfriend. You don’t care about anything at all—you’re just so grateful that he’s here. And you’re willing to let go of your walls, of your war that you tend to be so submissive to. You’re willing to let yourself go and let Hobi take you, handle you, take care of you. 

You need it. As much as it pains you, you need him after this encounter with Jungkook. 

And when Hobi calls your name and you pivot on your feet to watch him walk, hurriedly, to you, your legs do give out after all. Because he’s caked in blood, a trickle of it flecked and dried on his brow, illuminated by Jungkook’s headlights. You land, awkwardly, on your bum and your wrist, wincing in pain, but it’s not his hands that lift you. 

It’s a pair of hands that you know to be cold and, despising the sting of it, you shriek, pushing him away. The motion leads you to stagger into Hobi’s arm that he opens for you, his chaste, feathery touch grounding you, giving you the sense of home, even when the look he gives Jungkook is anything but warm and friendly. 

“Hobi, what happened? Are you okay?” 

You take his shiny, sweaty face into your hand. Your eyes could fall out of their sockets due to how beautiful he is, even bloodied, alarmed and bestial. You need to know what happened. Need to clean him up. Take him home. 

But Hobi doesn’t answer you. Doesn’t look your way, only acknowledges you with his scalding touch. Stares down your ex-boyfriend with such contempt that you’re surprised the man is still standing. 

You’re so pulled in, so focused on him and his unwavering expression of detestation, which flatters you and soothes you, that you don’t notice that Jungkook is leaving. Hobi snaps his fingers at him and beckons him to come back. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Hobi barks, his fingers lowering and hooking around the middle belt loop of your jeans. 

Jungkook returns to that space of light, the black tank top he’s wearing making it seem like he’s hollow on the inside. Perhaps he is, he did hand over his heart. Wasn’t affected by your fragile state of mind, by your tears. Wounded you to the point that you will take days to recover. Only a person of complete nothingness would be able to do that. 

“I saw you at the museum,” Hobi continues, brows wrinkled. “Who the fuck are you?” 

You should speak. You should take this elsewhere, but you can’t. Not when you feel so small, like a little girl hiding behind the leg of her father who’s dealing with the boogeyman. And you’re reminded that this has happened before. 

Only the roles were reversed. 

In the wine-tinged room this morning while you were confronting Jungkook and his companion found him. She asked the same question, though the hostility she showed you could never be compared to Hobi’s unkindness. He emanates respect while she’s a condensation of insecurity. 

“I see you’re the Daddy from the video,” Jungkook laughs, humorlessly, dipping his chin before he lifts it in a very evident effort to reach not only Hobi’s height but his supremacy as well. He will always wish to overpower—it’s in his nature. “Trust me, you’re not the only one she called Daddy. Long before you came along, it was all I heard from her—”

You blink and Jungkook’s face is in Hobi’s hand. 

You gasp. You’re a witness to Hobi protecting your dignity as he squeezes his cheeks until Jungkook moans, pathetically, in pain. And all you can think about is how long he had that coming. For throwing out your vape, for his arrogance and now for the way that he spoke about you.

You don’t feel a slither of pity for him. 

No—your joy, fully, forms. 

“If I ever hear those words come out of your mouth again, I won’t hesitate to unable to you talk,” Hobi says with concerning seriousness and you shiver, grazing your fingertips along your collarbones after you fold your arms over your chest, touched, flattered, loved. A line of tears threaten to pour out of your eyes, but you hold them back. You don’t want to cry anymore—you’re sick of it. “Do you understand what I’m saying?” 

Jungkook’s nostrils flare, but he doesn’t say anything. Hobi waggles him before he lets him go and you swear you caught a tinge of whiteness scattering along his knuckles. Your mouth dries. 

“Now you’re dismissed,” Hobi finishes, turning around and grabbing your hand, tugging you back home. 

Your legs follow him, but your vision doesn’t. It remains fixed on Jungkook, on his heaving chest, on his reddened cheeks, embossed with Hobi’s fingerprints and the lines of your hand. His eyes are smothered with stars, a skyful of them, ones that expand until there’s no darkness left. 

And you’re witness to regret taking shape in them. 

And something about that tells you that this isn’t the last time you see him. 

Hobi had been in a car accident on his way to rescue you. He tells you of it as you’re cleaning him up with a lukewarm, wet cloth and your arm gets stuck in the air, unable to move, as you comprehend the life-threatening danger he underwent because of you. Another driver bumped him from the back while he was slowing down at the yellow light, wanted to race on the almost empty highway. Was under the influence, Hobi found out when he stepped out of his vehicle to grapple with him. Deemed it wasn’t worth it, especially when time was pressing down on him, and with a little manipulation and an installment of fear, the silly guy agreed to pay for everything and Hobi got his number. 

You wonder at how he managed to get back inside his car and drive when he hit his head on the steering wheel. You worry that he has a concussion. Suggest to take him to a hospital, but Hobi only shakes his head, reassures you he’s fine and once you completely clean the blood off of his brow, you can see a thin but bulbous scratch right beneath the fine hair, surrounded by violets and pinks. A different bruise from the ones bestrewn over his body from your mouth. 

Your heart aches. This is all your fault, the repercussion of your neediness, the finished work of your ruination. 

You grow solemn, your features drooping again, but Hobi isn’t blind to it. Cups your chin, lifts it, fondles it with his thumb. Pouts ever so slightly. Why is it a relief that you feel bursting in your chest amidst your lingering pain is something you can’t really understand. 

But he’s God. No wonder he’s able to mount such strangeness in you and make it work. 

“Did he hurt you?” Hobi whispers, cradling your other hand on your lap. He’s sat in your armchair, with you on his thighs, in the very corner of your dark living room, lit up coolly and solely by your antique lampshade. It’s where you read your poetry, where you recite it to nobody else but you, where you recharge your battery when your world exhausts you. The fact that Hobi chose to sit here instead of your couch speaks volumes, has a great meaning that you’re too weary to decipher and romanticize, but you like it. A lot. To the point that you’re comfortable enough to answer his question, despite the fact you looked forward to Jungkook’s absence in your alone time with Hobi.

“The way he spoke about me was the same way he talked to me,” you say, your voice coated with milky sadness. Your eyes instinctively drop to his hand holding yours, to his fist wrapped around your fingers. “He didn’t believe me when I said I didn’t send it to him on purpose.” 

Brusqueness clouds his eyes, but he remains gentle with you. “You don’t have to care about what he thinks, whether he believes you or not. You don’t have to prove anything to him. Your one word is enough,” Hobi says, drifting his hand down your arm until it winds up at his other one intertwined with yours and you sob, tearlessly. It’s precisely what you needed to hear without knowing it, the final touch to the closing chapter that had so abruptly opened. You carry it into your minuscule heart, sinking it there, letting it permeate its entirety, and you nod your head. “Did he hurt you physically?” 

You lay yourself down on his chest, on his bloodstained blue shirt, on his heart that you missed and Hobi locks you in, taking his hands and wrapping them around your form. You could fall asleep like this, forget and become the happiest girl in the world. 

“Not that much.” 

His heart quickens and you regret your words. 

“What do you mean not that much?” 

You’re quick to fix your mistake, not thinking it through. 

“He was rough with me. My legs gave out on me before he came. He found me on the ground and he lifted me up. Then held my wrists when I hit him—”

“You hit him?” 

You stammer, jumbling your words, deciding on just one. “Yeah.”

“Good girl,” he whispers, squeezing your arm, and this is the death you longed for. 

Never in your life had you ever experienced praise from a man in a non-sexual context and not gotten lustfully affected by it. The purity, the newness is so healing, so consequential that you can’t help but to stroke his clothed ribs in side to side motion, in appreciation and even a faint smile of fondness curls your lips, one that Hobi can very well see from above. He caresses the trace of it while it is still there, causing your smile to blossom, and you sense the orchard in you gaining life. 

“You went through so much emotional suffering today and yet you’re still able to smile. All because I praised you. You react so beautifully to it,” Hobi comments and you blush, his thumb skipping over to it, giving it the same attention, collecting it like keepsakes. You’d wonder at it, too, if you haven’t already acknowledged yourself, intimately, with his sovereign power of erasing past events. 

And you tell him, peeling your torso off of his chest. 

“It’s your doing. You make me forget about everything when I’m with you. It’s like it never happened at all. I don’t know how you do it.” 

Hobi smiles, the corners of his glimmering eyes crinkling. “If it’s my doing, then it’s yours, too. You should know how you do it.” 

You soften into liquid and it’s your heart that quietly weeps now. “You remember the poem.” 

He nods, gliding his hand up and down your side. “How could I not? It’s all I can hear in my mind. I kept hearing it on my way home and then on my way back to you.” 

That alone takes the unfateful events of the night  off of you like a layer of clothing, dressing you in strength. You need a giant puff of your vape, just to recuperate from being drowned in the sea of your past longing for this. And you reach into the pocket of your jeans, only to be reminded of what happened to it. 

It feels like a distant memory. So much had occurred that it slipped from your mind. You frown. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You purse your lips. “I thought I still had my vape.” 

“You don’t?” 

You shake your head. “He threw it out.” 

Hobi seems as offended by the information as you were when you watched it happen. And as much as you bonded over your sexual desires, the same connection clicks over this. 

“He’s such a dick. Let’s get you a new one.” 

He pats your bum and then you’re on your feet, tugged back outside, with a smile quivering your lips. And this time you follow him with your vision, too. Your eyes sail over his strong imaginary wings, on which the pink dominates the black, and you feel your own being upheaved, slowly gaining the vigor that they lost. 

And Hobi scares the spectacled boy in the convenience store. Not with his stained shirt, but with the way he provokes embarrassment in him by asking him if he wants to see his ID as well, staying true to the words he said to you over the phone. The boy didn’t even so much as peek at you, too afraid to do so. 

It made you laugh. 

Hobi double checked with you if it were the strawberry flavor that you wanted, and you changed your mind. Picked the blackberry one because you never had it before. Could use another dose of newness. 

He opens the packaging with you, struggling at first, but then he immediately uses his teeth. You smile so hard that your cheeks hurt. 

Smile even as he places it between your lips, but you can’t take a puff, can’t drop the presence of your happiness, even when he encourages you. That is until he inhales it first—you’re so struck by the beauty of it, of him that the muscles in your face let up. The smoke twirls around the feathers of his wings, adding just the right amount of white into its art, and you yearn to fall asleep on them. 

“Can you stay over tonight?” 

“Only if you take a puff.” 

He carves it between your lips and this time, as you’re so mesmerized by him, you wrap your lips around it and suck; suck in that heady, hefty, colorful flavor that pools warmly in your throat, blowing the smoke around his neck while he kisses your forehead. Takes you back inside. Dresses you in your pajamas. Lets you smoke in bed with his wings swaddling you and your little childhood bows-adorned bunny plushie. Lets you put the vape in his mouth as he strokes your hair. 

The night birds begin to sing and into their song your phone dings. You know who it is long before you prove yourself right. 

But it’s not a text message that disturbed their music. 

Jungkook sent you a picture. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist | READ part one | READ part two

[animeyanderelover]

Can I get another round with Yandere Merlin,Diane and Elisabeth, Derieri and Melascula with a human darling. Only this time the darling is a member of the sins being the eighth son of melancholy so unlike other humans he's actually very strong instead of being helpless.

I was trying to think of a fitting animal to represent melancholy and came up with a donkey... If you've watched Winnie Pooh you know exactly why.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, clinginess, manipulation, isolation

Donkey's Sin of Melancholy

Elizabeth Liones

👼​Elizabeth as a person has always cared for the people around her even if they were her enemies and this nurturing nature is amplified in her obsession. The princess wants her darling to be happy physically and mentally so having you being the embodiment of melancholy only stokes the flames of obsession within her. You're always draped in thick sheets of unexplainable sadness and sorrow and even you can't give her a reason to why you're always feeling so dejected which only encourages her obsession to make a fuss over you. Since there is no real problem for your feelings she has no way to approach the problem and help you with your gloomy emotions. Other sins like Ban tell her that she shouldn't fret so much over you since this is how you have always been yet Elizabeth strongly objects. She doesn't want you to dwell all the time in such dark emotions as she yearns to see you leaving that grim place your mind always seems to stay in. She swears to herself that she will make you happy and that she will free you from your own thoughts.

👼​That wish of her is going to push her to be overbearing sooner or later depending on whether we're considering her before she regained her memories or after she regained her memories. Elizabeth before remembering who she really is would be quick to coddle you, clinging to you all the time and doing everything to make you smile and make you happy. She's insecure, knows that you are very strong as a part of the eight sins whilst she isn't yet she still strives to be helpful to you somehow. If that can't be on the battlefield then it will be emotionally and because she is so eager about assisting you even if you deny her help more than once that can quickly turn into her being a tad bit too attentive and overbearing. If we're talking about Elizabeth as a goddess she would approach you more thoughtfully, emotionally more prepared to read your current mood and attempt to cheer you up from there. She's more subtle with everything she does but upon recalling her memories she has also learnt how to use her abilities again which means that she might use her empathic powers in an attempt to influence your emotions.

Diane

🐍​Growing up Diane has made acquaintance with loneliness, a terrible feeling that she has over the years learnt to utterly despise. She doesn't want to be alone anymore which is one of the major reasons why she ends up as clingy as she does when she falls in love with you. You have never once made any comments about her height nor her clinginess though, maybe because you are often elsewhere with your mind and your thoughts yet it is the fact that you don't speak up about it that ends up encouraging her tendencies to escalate. She thinks that your quietness and thoughtfulness are very attractive and only add to your coolness. Her feelings have never been a secret to the other sins because she can barely hold back the red blush on her face as soon as she sees you and instantly starts twirling her hair around with her fingers, trying to make herself look cuter so that she might be able to make your heart skip as much as you always make her heart skip.

🐍​It is your reserved personality that still makes her most jealous though. Even though she is definitely on a delusional side she knows that you tend to avoid conflict and never disagree even when someone asks you to do something that you don't really want to do. This is where she takes it upon herself to act like the protective wife and speak up for you instead even if she never asks you for your real opinion on the topic. Additionally her already quite bad jealousy only increases because she knows that you are not the most social person out there and prefer spending time in your own head rather than with the people around you which makes every slice of attention you give others so much more special and by extension even worse. Why did you pay attention to that person and not to her just now? It's such thoughts that only add to her pushy clinginess as she wants to hoard all of your attention as soon as you snap out of the place in your mind you find yourself stuck in on days. As your future wife she should after all be the one person you may most attention to.

Merlin

🐗​Merlin's interest in knowledge, science and everything she doesn't know of is an unquenchable thirst that has led her to suspend her own age so that she may have all the time in the world to learn everything she desires to know. Often refered to as a mysterious woman since no one can truly tell what she is really after it is perhaps no surprise that the woman shrouded in mystery takes an interest in the other sin who is often just as hard to understand as you. Despite being a normal human you possess strength that has allowed to join the ranks of the sins and it is your personality that only adds to her interest as you are not very talkative nor do you spend much time with others. If Merlin takes interest in something she is going to pursue it even if she has to use more underhanded methods yet her ambigious morality has never truly been something that has bothered her. She knows what she is doing yet she prioritises her own interest above any laws or morality that others may criticise her for.

🐗​She uses the information she has to her own advantage and attempts to manipulate you so that she can spend more time with you. Her laboratory is a place where people rarely enter, mainly because she uses spells to keep people out and it is a place you find yourself often coaxed into with the promise of receiving your peace in there without being surrounded by the other sins whose personalities can be a bit exhausting for you at times. Whilst she keeps up the polite and kind facade around you her eyes are constantly observing you and note every twitch of your muscles when she makes some smalltalk with you whilst subtly attempting to understand you and the way your mind works better. Sometimes your gaze meets her for a short moment before you retreat to the place in your mind she has yet to understand and when this happens she wonders slightly amused if you perhaps have caught on to what she is doing yet have decided to ignore the topic in favor of avoiding a confrontation and continue your current lifestyle.

Derieri

🔶Whilst Derieri is a demon who has never really respected humans and feasts on the souls of your kind she will begrudgingly give you some respect after she has clashed with you on a battlefield. You are not just a puny human who she could easily squash under her feet, you have experience when it comes to fighting and possess abilities strong and respected enough to let you be a part of the sins despite only being a human. She keeps such thoughts to herself though as she would never want to admit that she holds secretly such respect for you. The both of you have most of your encounters whilst fighting each other since her kind is considered the enemy and she gets very aggressive when she sees you and instantly assaults you. Partially because she absolutely despises the way you make her feel and the nonchalant behavior you keep up even whilst fighting for your own life. Another part of her though can't contain the excitement pumping through her veins every time she sees you as she finds herself enjoying the thrill of clashing with you, her seven hearts beating wildly inside her body whenever your bodies get close to each other.

🔶The more her feelings grow the more aggressive she finds herself getting when fighting with you as her hatred as well as her excitement only get stronger as a result of her growing obsession. Derieri finds herself in desperate need to know what you really think of her kind and if you share the same thoughts as most other humans have about her own kind. She doesn't want to get her hopes up yet a part of her can't help but think that perhaps you will be different. After all you are quite different from other humans with a thought process that she can't even comprehend and it partially frustrates her about you. Having clashed with you multiple times during fights and having witnessed your strength with her own eyes though her frustration only continues to grow as she realises that you are truly not an easy person she could simply get her hands on. For a mere human you possess an annoying amount of strength that she may enjoy during fights yet that also means that she won't be able to just easily take you even if she desires to do so. Intentionally or not, everything about you seems to be something that she adores yet finds frustrating at the same time.

Melascula

🌫️​Melascula's experience is going to be even worse than Derieri's is and this demoness handles it even worse. Whilst Derieri will simply brood and lash out if someone mentions you Melascula needs no such direct trigger to have an outburst. She refuses to acknowledge you and respect you despite having seen your powers on display and doesn't want to accept the growing feelings she has whilst thinking about you. She would accept every other excuse that could help her to deny her growing feelings for you and in such frenzy attempts to convince herself and everyone around her that her feelings aren't real she turns into a conspiracy theorist. You bewitched her somehow and maybe Merlin helped you by putting a spell on her because her obsession for you can't be something that was born out of her own feelings she secretly harbors for you. She experienes constantly short and frenzied meltdowns as soon as something even vaguely reminds her of you to the point where the rest of the Ten Commandments starts to leave her alone as no one of them wants to be the next victim of her ridiculous rage.

🌫️​Everything you embody she tries to ridicule all in an attempt to deny her own feelings, in distraught hopes that her attraction may disappear if she were to just remind herself enough that no power you possess will change the fact that you belong to the weakest and most useless race on this planet. Her twisted feelings are always revealed though as soon as she's around you, her dark eyes observing you and her body language almost lecherous as fighting against you only fawns the inferno of obsession within her. She wants to be adored and worshipped by you yet your attitude which is only utterly disrespectful in her eyes only enrages her further. Just because you are a little bit more powerful than the normal human doesn't mean that you can just casually disrespect her! You just wait until she gets her hands on you sooner or later. She will properly educate you on how to treat a sublime woman like she is with the respect and the worship she deserves all whilst keeping you by her side like a human pet.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for pursuing my polyamorous desires?

The context: I am an early-20’s nonbinary person living with my mid-20’s nonbinary partner.

We both come from decently crappy households, though for different reasons. When we met, I was going through an extremely rough patch in my life and dealing with instability on all sides; they were the calm in the storm. I was 18 and we have been together since.

Since passing 18 and 19 and 20 and whatever, I’ve had some new realizations about my gender and sexuality, including uncovering an “interest” in polyamory (specifically dating multiple people at once; I am uninterested in sex).

My current partner is strictly monogamous and will not budge, nor would I ask them to, for obvious reasons.

The issue(s): The “interest” is less of a passive interest and more of an active one; I find myself questioning daily how monogamy is considered “better” or “more long-term” when I constantly feel like something is missing, even though I don’t really know what it is. It is as though pebbles are being thrown into my lungs and they are slowly increasing in number and size.

I would not have financial stability without my partner and my partner would have extreme difficulty finding housing without me. I took the last few years to better myself and prepare for another depressive episode through therapy and learning emotional tools; my partner has made it very aware that they would not be emotionally or mentally okay without me and does not seem to want to develop the skills themselves. Our lease is not up until 2025 and neither of us can afford to break it or have anywhere else to go.

At this point I have two options: stay together and smother my natural feelings towards relationships and how they should function (current choice) or have a serious adult conversation where I share my feelings and throw myself into a pit for the sake of chance.

Not asking for advice though obviously! So:

TL;DR What percentage asshole am I if I break up with my current long-term partner to pursue polyamory, a relationship model I have never personally used but am extremely interested in?

[magic-hcs]

Hello.

Can I ask a bit of an angst scenario?

If their SO dies, who would be able to move on and find love again? Who would prefer to stay single? Who could not take it well?

In this scenario, SO and the skeleton would be more than 15 years together

Of course you can!

It became a bit longer then intended but the others will come soon.

Warnings: angsts, death, mention of alcohol, anger, depression

Time to cast some magic and see what we’ll get!✨

✨✨

(UT)

Sans: Sans will end up in a very depressive dip when you die. But luckily there is Papyrus to help him. He understands the principle of the thing; that you couldn’t stay with him forever and that it was your time to go. But, emotionally and mentally he can’t accept it. It’s *unfair*. Why did you have to leave so suddenly?

No matter how much time has passed, Sans will never take a new partner because you were his only one. Because he is not prepared to love so much and have it ripped from him again.

Papyrus: will be able to move on after some mourning and grieving. Can’t stay and mope about the past, plus that wouldn’t be what you would have wanted for him. He’ll have a picture of you surrounded by some plants or stones or stuff you like inside his home as a little memorial. He will greet that picture of you everyday and sometimes he’ll talk to your picture talking about his day and stuff. It’s a comfort for him and a way to pay respects to you. He definitely talks fondly about you when the topic arises. Stuff like: “THEY USED TO ALWAYS JUMP INTO THE PILE OF LEAVES ONCE I’VE GATHERED THEM ALL. AFTERWARDS THEY WOULD LOOK LIKE A MESS AND I WOULD CHIDE THEM BEFORE THEY’D PULL ME INTO TO LEAF PILE TOO.” It’s his way to treasure the memories of you and to look back at the good times. It feels bittersweet for him, but he likes to think that you’re still watching over him.

Papyrus won’t be looking for a new partner specifically, if it happens then it happens. He won’t ever forget you if it does happen, nor will he ever compare the two of you because each is their own person.

✨✨

(HT)

Bear: won’t be able to move on for the longest time and it’s not because he doesn’t try, he finds it hard to accept. How could his angel, his tiny, be taken away from him when you just got into his life. To Bear 15 years is a long time yet such a short duration of time. His soul aches and he mourns you by shutting down for a while, afterwards begins the crying. He couldn’t look at a picture of you without the sobs wracking his body. Afterwards comes the need to have anything that remains of you close by, pictures, videos, your likes, your dislikes, your stuff, your favorite smells, anything that reminds him of you.

Once he’s semi functional, he’ll still find himself accidentally making your lunch, or find himself talking to you when you are not there.

Bear will not take any partner.

Bean: With Bean it will heavily depend on how you’ve passed away. If you passed away peacefully due to like old age/without regrets then Bean will be able to move on more easily. He’ll thank life for blessing him with you. He is a bit bitter however, because he always thought he would go first, he deserved to go first actually. But he doesn’t let himself wallow in such dark thoughts.

But if you were torn from life too early and or violently then Bean will have more trouble moving on, it’s possible he won’t move on at all. Bean will need a lot of mourning time and time to cool down from his anger, because why did life rip you from him? Why did it skip him? Why did you have to go through such agony? It’s so unfair.

Bean is an old soul, he’s seen a lot and he’s satisfied with you as his partner. Even though you’re gone he doesn’t want any new relationship.

✨✨

(UF)

Red: Oh, Red has it hard. He’s filled with anger, with misery, with hate, with betrayal. He pretty much loses all his progress and regresses almost all the way back to before he left the underground. He drinks his sorrows away, he picks fights, the whole shebang. He’s hurting and he’s desperately trying to hide it, shove it away, throw it out the window, ignore it but it keeps coming back.

It keeps going like this until one day Charon drives him to his bar, which is strange in itself since Charon disapproves that Red keeps getting wasted in bars, but whatever, Red doesn’t care either way. Until he finds out that Charon didn’t drive him to the bar at all, but to a therapist instead. The first time Red just shortcuts away before even getting inside. But Charon is determined. The next time, Charon keeps a hold of him until he’s pushed into the building, and Red shortcuts again. Next time, the therapist greeted him while Charon dragged Red in the building. And the way the therapist looked at him made him feel like a challenge, as if daring to shortcut away again. Which pisses Red off. So he doesn’t shortcut just to prove a point.

He doesn’t talk at all during the first session. The therapist doesn’t talk either after asking if he’s going to say something, sitting there with their hands behind their head. That pissed Red off even more, deciding a personal challenge to try to chase the therapist off. The next session Red started cussing the therapist out, trying to rile them up. It didn’t work.

Next session, he tried getting in their face, tried scaring them, they asked if he was trying to prove something to himself. And that struck something.

The next session, Red started talking a tiny bit, still very aggressive. Slowly opening up bit by bit with each session. Therapy helps quite a lot and he’s slowly returning to the person he was when you were still around. The person you were so proud of. It still hurts, he still can’t find himself to move on. But Red is able to function again.

Red won’t ever take a partner.

Charon: Charon is struggling internally with himself; one side says it’s not his fault, that it’s ok, that it was your time to go and that you were proud of him. The other said he didn’t do enough, hasn’t been good enough. He finds a compromise by finishing any unfinished business you had left behind, fulfilling any last wishes you had written before you went. And after that is finished he can find peace within himself and be able to move on.

Charon will not take a new partner.

✨✨

(SF)

Razzle: After a very long struggle of accepting it and grieving and anger, Razzle is barely able to move on. If you weren’t taken by natural causes then Razzle will blame himself for not protecting and taking care of you enough. He’s able to go through life thanks to his brothers Coal and Mastiff supporting him through this, and a therapist.

He will not take a new partner for you are his only one.

Coal: Coal of course misses you a lot, he misses you every day and looks through your pictures often. But he is grateful for the time and memories he had gotten to spend with you. He draws and sketches you often, and in the beginning he’d often find himself addressing you only to remember you are not there. Despite being mostly able to move on, there are moments where he crawls in his bed, hugging your pillow against himself and starts to weep.

Coal, when given a lot of time, will be able to find a new partner but he won’t search for one. He will never forget you either.

Mastiff: Mastiff feels numb with bursts of anger. He’s going out on the field with his work way more, he’s almost never home anymore, always away for his work as a private detective. Coal and Razzle has to force him to stop overworking himself and refuse to acknowledge that you’re really gone. Because if he’s at home he’ll find the house eerily empty despite Coal and Razzle being there. He’ll find it vacant of your presence, he’ll find his bed devoid of your warmth, of your smell, devoid of you. And it only serves as a heart wrenching reminder that you are gone.

It will be a long time before he manages to become semi functional with Coal’s support.

He will not take a new partner. But he did take a lot of flings, especially in the beginning, desperately trying to get his mind off of you, but it doesn’t work, he only feels shame and is left unsatisfied. Once he worked through his pain some more he’ll stop with the flings, he won’t ever take a new partner though.

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Thank you for participating in this spell, I hope it was to your satisfaction!

[cruyuu]

Hey have you ever notices how sukuna has a lower emotional maturity than yuuji does?

Like one of the things ive noticed is that Yuuji has weaknesses and uolifts them, while sukuna eliminates them.

Hey Sukuna, why aren't you strong enough to protect your weaknesses? Why do you have to eliminate them? Or are you not strong enough to do so?

Man, sukuna physically is strong and poweeful (moreso than yuuji), but emotionally and mentally he's weaker than Yuuji, and that's becoming his downfall. (Along with underestimating Yuuji ofc haha!)

I forgot to add that Yuuji will probably be able to find a solution for his weaknesses rather than just eliminating them Sukuna can't, and that can be seen on how quick he is to cull things down with violence too! Fascinating how Yuuji is better at problem solving than Sukuna for long term solutions rather than Short term solutions like eliminating problems (which never truly solves them)

Hi anon!

This got a bit lengthy so more after the cut.

Well, there's something about him acting so unlike himself whenever Yuuji shows up and yet being this force to be reckoned with and spilling wisdom while fighting others. I wouldn't say he lacks emotional intelligence, it's just that he's too full of himself to reflect on things. If he dwelled on Yuuji more, took his time to understand who he is, he'd actually see through everything Yuuji is doing right now and would prepare for it accordingly. The same way he prepared for Gojo by taking Megumi to perfectly counter Infinity with Mahoraga (and can I add that his fight against Mahoraga cemented him as someone who's pretty experienced as a sorcerer?? Like sheesh).

Sukuna took being in Yuuji's body for granted, considering he acts surprised once he's in Megumi's body and is shocked at his strength, once he's able to really see him. If he just wanted to pay attention, he would've realized that Yuuji is a bigger threat to him than all others combined, considering he's capable of using Sukuna's own techniques, capable of strategizing and isn't just a regular human, but his vessel. Obviously, he's going to be strong. Obviously, if he could suppress him, he's not to be taken lightly at all but should be his top 1 priority.

Sukuna takes on the role of a mentor to others (specifically, to those he deems strong) but when confronted with Yuuji, that part of him just... disappears lol. He's a strategist, terribly skilled, but whenever Yuuji shows up all of that is... nowhere to be seen. He starts teasing him, mocks his strength, and doesn't even want to treat him like an actual opponent, an actual threat. This is all because he believes Yuuji to be insignificant but then that insignificance has a funny way of showing itself as everything but the said word.

His viewpoint (only the strong ones yada yada) is to blame. It's clouding his judgement and it speaks of stubbornness and narrow-mindedness which will be his doom.

Like one of the things ive noticed is that Yuuji has weaknesses and uplifts them, while sukuna eliminates them.

It's because they are different. Both are born into different eras and their outlook on life differs heavily. Sukuna didn't subject himself to change precisely because he had persisted for a long time and remained undefeated and hence didn't need to change his viewpoint while Yuuji slipped into cog mentality after his fight with Mahito and adapted mostly because he had to, if he planned to keep on trying to fulfill his goal. For Yuuji, his life matters little when it comes to others considering he blames himself for swallowing that finger and reincarnating Sukuna and hence he survives for others, not for himself, and meanwhile Sukuna had been surviving for himself all these years.

The thing is that Sukuna never needed to change (after all, he IS the strongest for a reason) because he never found an opponent worthy enough or capable of matching his rhythm and posing a threat to his very existence.

Yuuji doesn't seem to value strength nor does he fight to show off, while Sukuna values strength and loves showing off, nothing else. Yuuji cares for other people, and Sukuna just cares for himself so, of course, he wouldn't understand why someone would utilize their strength to save others instead of merely to fight. If he truly knew Yuuji to be selfless, and that he's inheriting his techniques, he would've realized that Yuuji might use them accordingly against him.

Again we go back to the fact that he continually kept turning a blind eye to him and then acted annoyed when Yuuji kept Black Flash-ing him. He acts like he's never even been in his body and like Yuuji truly is just your uninteresting human (and an idiot 😭) and not someone capable of change and great things.

Tbh, I'm kinda surprised he's still in denial about Yuuji's development, especially even after Uraume warned him about Yuuji, but everyone has a weakness and Sukuna's is definitely thinking that somebody who was made with the intention to house him won't have the capabilities necessary to grow in power. Like Yuuji survived a couple of fatal blows by Sukuna already and even that didn't phrase him (but what did was the fact that he learns! and improves! and uses his techniques! like ??? 😭)

But yeah, Sukuna does completely eliminate this nerdy side of him and doesn't try and dwell on things even if he definitely should. He stops to think and strategize against others but cannot when it comes to Yuuji. For one, he should've definitely stopped seeing Yuuji as an idiot who can't put two and two together considering Yuuji proved himself smart enough to utilize a Binding Vow to upscale the damage of his weak Dismantle (or Shrine), basically the way Sukuna, himself, had done in a fight against Gojo.

Maybe this is all just because he's too hung up on believing that he cannot have an equal? After all, he rejected to be born a twin by eating his brother and now believes himself to be untouchable. The fact that he survived certain death while just being a fetus is just adding to that arrogance.

Man, sukuna physically is strong and poweeful (moreso than yuuji), but emotionally and mentally he's weaker than Yuuji, and that's becoming his downfall. (Along with underestimating Yuuji ofc haha!)

Acting self-absorbed against Yuuji was his biggest mistake. Yuuji goes against his ideology 'only the strong ones survive' but if he was more open-minded, he would've kept an eye on him just in case and could've taken care of him.

That, however, places him as a total opposite to Yuuji and makes Yuuji his worthy opponent tho so I can't complain much about it. Sukuna's weakness is to be found in Yuuji (and vice versa) because, despite Yuuji wearing his face, he's still somebody who values others more so than himself. Fittingly, it is why he uses Sukuna's techniques in that way. Not to kill but to save.

Like these two represent two ways of looking at life- either through selfishness or through selflessness. One continually prioritizes himself while the other continually prioritizes everyone else but himself and both persist. That's why they're twins who (abnormally) continually refuse to acknowledge each other while acknowledging everyone else.

Fascinating how Yuuji is better at problem solving than Sukuna for long term solutions rather than Short term solutions like eliminating problems (which never truly solves them)

It all comes down to their differences, anon. Both of them are presented as just this one thing but are so much more, except they're refusing to acknowledge it. Yuuji's refusing to acknowledge that his life matters (which is shown through Sukuna- just how important it is to value your own life) and meanwhile Sukuna's refusing to acknowledge that others do matter (which is shown through Yuuji- just how much others are important for you).

Yuuji thinks of others, Sukuna doesn't. Sukuna's too used to violence, Yuuji isn't. At this rate, it's possible Sukuna won't even have the time to acknowledge everything about Yuuji before he dies but that is to be expected. After all, there's a trend that all jujutsu sorcerers die with regrets so Sukuna can join all others in the afterlife and mull for eternity about Yuuji (that's an interesting thought lol).

I don't necessarily agree that Yuuji is better at eliminating problems (or for that matter, that Sukuna might be better). Both of them are too much of a single thing, refusing to acknowledge other aspects of themselves. Yuuji doesn't want to be selfish, Sukuna doesn't want to be selfless and that's pretty unhealthy.

Imo, they have to acknowledge that and strike a balance to be just that. After all, that's what it means to be human! We're pretty complex and cannot be described as just one thing and nothing else and these two do a damn good job at showcasing that.

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

you're trans, right? how did you come out to your parents? how did it go? how would you recommend someone go about doing it if they aren't sure how their parents are going to react? (positive to other people's kids being trans, dislike trans women in sports, generally vote democratic). i'm ftm.

sorry if this is too personal or already been answered or something

-- aar

Lee says:

As a matter of fact, I am indeed trans! I specifically identify as genderqueer, non-binary, transmasculine, transgender, and transsexual, although that's neither here nor there.

I actually didn't come out to my parents-- I came out to my friends, and then more publicly to my classmates at school. Then one of my classmates told her parents about me being trans, and that parent met my parents at a party and mentioned that I was trans. Unfortunately it just so happened that while they were at the party and out of the house, I took the opportunity to cut my hair short at home. Yikes!

Anyway, I would fully recommend actually coming out over being outed, if you have the choice, because then you have some control over the start of the conversation and can initially let them know whatever you want them to know.

As always, safety comes first. Do not come out if you do not think you will be safe. If there's any risk of harm or severe negative consequences, you should wait to come out until you're in a more secure position, like being 18 or older, financially independent, not living at home, or at the very least, having a support system in place like a trusted therapist who can help you deal with the repercussions of coming out.

There's a difference between being genuinely unsafe and feeling uncomfortable. Most people will feel their fight-or-flight anxiety response kick in when they have a really scary and stressful conversation, especially when they're talking with someone who means a lot to them and has a lot of authority in their life. But being anxious about their reaction might make something feel unsafe, emotionally, even if you logically know that you are safe and they will not kick you out, abuse you, etc.

That doesn't mean that your feelings aren't real feelings though. If you think that you would not be able to cope if your parents don't immediately and fully accept and support you, then maybe it isn't the right time to come out either. Your emotional well being is important, and if you would be unsafe as a result of mental illness/extreme distress after coming out (if your parent's reaction isn't what you had hoped it would be) then you should consider that to be just as important as if you were physically in danger from an external source. After you've had some time and therapy and got re-stabilized then you can reconsider coming out.

Let's say that you've decided to proceed with coming out. The next step is to continue to gauge their attitudes. You've already observed some of their views. This can be a good starting point to understand how they might react. Remember, though, that parents' reactions to their own child can sometimes be different from their general opinions. So they might be fine with your trans friends, but not be fine with you being trans yourself.

You can't fully predict what will happen, but making sure you have a sense of what they currently think might help a little-- if the topic hasn't come up in over a year and you're working off of what you remember them saying far in the past, it's possible their views have changed by now.

But either way, you'll never really know what will happen after you come out, so if you want to do it, you just gotta go for it.

Now it's time to prepare. You may want to have resources ready for your parents, so looking to find those resources should be your next step. Are there local support groups for parents of trans kids and do you know of any peers whose parents have attended? They might have questions or misconceptions about being a trans man, so be ready to share some basic 101 information with them and don't assume they understand what it really means to be trans. Websites, books, or even contact information for a knowledgeable counselor can be helpful.

Think about what you want to say beforehand. What's the point of coming out? Do you want something to change, like having them call you a different name, use different pronouns, buy you different clothes? Do you want them to understand the nuances of your identity and know the right terms and words to use and what terms and words are offensive? Think about all of your goals, and then write down the key points you want to get down.

This is the time to consider your answers to the questions they might ask you, like "how long have you felt this way," "do you plan on medically transitioning," "what does this mean for your sexual orientation," etc. Even if you don't know all the answers yet and are still figuring yourself out, you want to have an idea of what you'll tell them, even if it's just "I don't know yet, I'm still figuring it out".

I'm personally not a fan of gimmicky/"cute" ways of coming out when you aren't sure whether your family will be accepting. So I would recommend just using a letter to initially come out if you're worried about getting overwhelmed or forgetting important details, and being prepared to follow that up by having a sit-down conversation.

Have a support system in place. This could be friends, other family members, teachers, counselors, or online communities who understand and support your identity. I always recommend scheduling an event with friends either for directly after you come out so you have an excuse to leave the conversation and go, or at least for the next day so you can decompress and discuss it with people who support you.

When you're as ready as you can be, choose the right moment. Find a time when your parents are likely to be calm and not preoccupied with other stressors (so not on their birthday, a major holiday, etc) and either leave the letter for them or ask them if they are available to have an important conversation.

This might not always be possible, but a peaceful environment can facilitate a better conversation. Choose a time and place where you feel safe and where you won't be interrupted. This could be at home during a quiet weekend afternoon, an evening after dinner, or during a walk together, depending on your family dynamics.

Finally, it's time to have the conversation. You should be clear and direct. Tell them "I'm transgender and that means I feel I am a man," or whatever language you feel comfortable with. Don't hint at it because they might not know what you're trying to tell them, just tell them exactly what you want to say.

It’s okay to admit if you don’t have all the answers yet. Transitioning is a journey, and it's fine to be figuring things out as you go.

But if that isn't the case for you, and you are sure, then you should be ready to stand up for yourself and tell them that. They might react positively, negatively, or be unsure, but their feelings are not your fault/your responsibility because you're living true to yourself. It's okay if they need time to process the information, but don't back down and let them railroad you into saying that you're not sure or didn't mean it if you are sure and do mean it.

Finally, be prepared for the long haul. Understand that your parents might need time to fully grasp and accept your identity. Patience can be challenging but is often necessary since it can take several months to years before they come around and truly support you. That means that one conversation is usually not enough. Be open to ongoing discussions and expect them to be sometimes awkward.

We have a coming out page with more info, although some of the links are old and broke (I promise I'll get to fixing it some day!)

Followers, any advice for anon?

[dreamsofminnie]

“When you are emotionally/ mentally unstable and you go to them for comfort.”

Characters-> Wanderer, Alhaitham, Venti, Tighnari, Gorou, Thoma, Xiao, Dainsleif, Heizou, Albedo,

Notes-> If you have ideas for any other characters that I can put in here, feel free👀 The wanderer one was self-indulgent,, can you tell ehe.

Wanderer

Rolled up in underneath your bed was a space of comfort and security for all your bad days. It has happened many times in these recent months that your boyfriend has carpeted the floor under it—which he denied he did for you, occupying the corners were pillows, and even cute mushroom plushies on one side.

So when he called your name from the living room with silence following, he knew where to find you.

Sniffling your eyes stare blankly ahead of you, back against the wall and facing the long side of the underside of the bed. A pair of feet crossed your view and stood facing where you were.

Scara knelt down and joined you in the hidden comfort zone. You immediately follow his body and clutch onto his side. He was never one for much physical touch nor good with his words. But his presence was enough. He was enough.

Scara’s eyes were downcast as he hesitantly rubbed shapes onto your shoulder, a firm grip letting you know he will be here for you every step of the way. He brought out two juice boxes, both your favorites, sweet enough to melt your worries with his warmth. He’d hold you silently throughout the night, his cape big enough to drape over your frame. As he would fondly watch you slumber in his grasp; vowing to keep you safe to see your sparkling smile again.

Alhaitham

“Aauuugghhh” Your shouts of distress into the pillow of your shared bed, was side eyed by your lover who shifted the paperwork on his desk. “Dumb studies. Dumb project. Fck the Akademiya and everyone.” The muffled groans in the pillow hid your teary eyes.

Alhaitham secured the sheets with a paperclip and bookmarked his opened book. He sensed your disturbed figure even when you hadn’t been home these past few hours. He felt something gnawed at you the moment you prepared a cup of coffee with little to no sweetness then what your always did.

“Y/n.” His call of your name was a call to look at him. He loves your eyes and smile the most. You adjusted yourself where you were peeking up at him but still most of your face within the pillow. “Who do you need me to fire for you.” He turned his chair to face the bed and leaned over both elbows on his knees, face closer to yours obviously noticing your tears.

You gaped at him. You knew he was still the acting Grand Sage, with only two more days till he resigns, but that power held is scary enough for a feeble scholar like him. You buried your head back and mumbled. “Myself.” You really felt like sht.

The wind chilled as the pillow was yanked away and an upset boyfriend had pressed an arm near your head holding one of your wrists, leg and body now propped up on the bed hovering over you. Your favorite pillow has been thrown and discarded off to the side in the fast paced shift in movement.

“Haithamm, my pillow?!” You tried not to shiver at his slowed breaths on your face and turned your head to morn for your pillow.

“Do you really find importance in that. I inquire that your words are of more importance. To me; as your lover.” You blinked away the remaining tears your pillow couldn’t rid of, which then got replaced by a finger rubbing them away. His gentle touch and soft gaze made you cave in. Your lips trembled as you spilled the events of your past few days. He adjusted you both so he was sitting up against the bed frame with you laying on his chest, hands around you, a wall of protection you deeply cherished.

Venti

The wind-rise tree was the best place to relax in, the sturdy branches could carry any weight you bring. At least for now, you used them to carry the weight of your despair. Your hand and leg dangling from the thick branch, staring off into the bright sky wishing you could whisk away like the clouds. Many hours of this felt like your forever.

However you weren’t alone; the entire time a certain archon sat right under you. Every shuffle and every sigh he heard, no matter if you were many feet above, it always felt close to his ears.

He wanted to smother you in his affection and tell you that everything will be better done together, but if you were really content to stay up there and not search for the bard for comfort, who is he to take away your alone time. You know that the wind will always be with you. And that is enough for him.

The wind blew gently around you, the smell of apples and wine would occasionally tempt you to find Venti and bathe in his relentless adoration. You were tired regardless, tired of the world and the pressures of society. The alone time was much needed.

A soft melody of a familiar lyre pulled you from your daze. “Venti..” A smile graced your lips, a success from Venti’s part, a smile he longed to see after hours on end of your dazed face. “I love you..” The song lulled you to your slumber, smile still played in your sweet dreams.

Tighnari

His tail swished irritably. He has been sitting in a bush watching from a distance, not at a bird, but at your figure sitting on a large tree root above a large canyon. Your face for the past hour has been sullen, deprived of affection for the world. Not that the world has any affection for, on your part.

Tighnari saw you a few hours ago, emotions still calmed, so what happened in that time you weren’t with him.

He was annoyed, not at you. Well, maybe a little for not consulting him in your emotional/mental spiral and sitting on the edge to a pontential plummetting death. But mainly on why he has to hide away while being too far away to protect you.

He popped out of the bush not bothering to flick off the loose leaves that made a home in his hair and clothes. He marched his way to you, careful enough to cover his footsteps. Once he reached you, his arms clutched your body, scooting you a bit further from the edge before sitting behind you. “Nari!..” Your head flickered to him but his arms that stayed around your waist and his head that plopped onto your shoulder prevented you to see his face.

His ears pressed onto your shoulder, clearly a sign of his worry, tail also curled around your waist, his body unmoving. “Sorry, did I worry you..? It’s been a little difficult for me lately.” You stroke his head and ears, huffing when his ears tickled your skin.

“Communication you lummox. Don’t take all the responsibility for yourself.” His legs slipped and crossed under your outstretched legs, now seeming as if you were sitting in his lap. He lifted his head and rested his chin on your shoulder instead, eyes finding and locking yours. You gave him a warm smile which caused his tail to wiggle, happy he could brighten your mood. “Alright my little forest ranger.”

Gorou

Gorou has never been as helpless as he could be now, on the battlefield he knew every route, and if he didn’t Kokomi’s manual was great guidance. Where was Kokomi’s manual to help him of all times.

You lay flat on the ground, relishing in the shallow Watasumi waters. In repentance of actions/emotions that were not allowed to be said.

Gorou sat beside you in panic, being his own lifeguard to make sure you were breathing every few minutes. “Can you please tell me what’s wrong Y/n?” You could hear the puppy eyes of hopelessness in him even under the shallow sandy water. Flipping over so your face could breathe above the water, and back onto the sand, you felt guilty for troubling your boyfriend to this degree.

“Gorou have you ever felt what it’s like to be at a loss.” You deadpan and glared at the sky ahead. His ears twitch as he went deep into thought. “Yes. On the battlefield there were a few times when we had to retreat.”

Your eyes flicker to his for a moment. “And what did you do??” The rippling water from the small waterfall swam around you, was actually pretty relaxing.

Gorou’s tail swished slowly in his seriousness. “The only route out was to step back. It’s not a total defeat but a retry of that once failure. And..” He smiled down on you, his brightness rivaled the sun above. “If I lose, I have you to come back to.” Gorou is too sweet today, you just had to drag him down into the waters with you with a grin.

Thoma

“Lovelyy, my dear, please open this doorrr!!” Thoma knocked lightly on the wooden paper door which you hid behind sulking. You were rolling around in agony for the past hours that Thoma who finished his workload for the day and came back to this, excused himself for a bit which gave you the insensitive to close the door.

“I brought you food. Though I don’t know what you're going through, please accept these as your coping mechanism instead of marking up the floor with your tears.” You were already up and at the door at the word food.

A large pout greeted Thoma as he guided you to the table and set down the goods he whipped up for you. Your head plopped onto the table with a thud munching on tri-color dango. Thoma noticed the dark circles under your eyes due to sleepless night over the thing you are stressing about.

It was Thoma’s turn to pout, “Why are you not getting enough sleep, is sleeping next to me not enough reassurance to your utmost protection.” You were startled and coughed into your dango.

“No nono, I just can’t help but have these thoughts keep me up at night. Sorry.” Thoma sat you up straight and poured you a cup of water. “No need to fret dear, I’ll always be here to support you. So...let’s go to the market today and help you find a good sleep essence for sleep.” Relief huffed from your breath into a smile, reliable and responsible, but you love his willingness to protect you the most.

Xiao

His face scrunched up, he hated this, humans were indeed complex. But you are HIS human, so what can he do for you. He struggled with answering this.

You both sat on the rooftop of the Inn as usual, and you were curled up in his lap sobbing your eyes out as your tears were running out. In a relief that you were starting to tire out from the previous bear-like grip you had on him, noise from inside the inn caught his attention, tugging you a bit farther from the edge.

He could hear two plates being set down, his order was ready. “Let me get something for you.” He mumbled as you tried to sit up straight while Xiao hurriedly grabbed the two plates and brought it back up to you.

The gelatinous almond pudding jiggled as if its purpose was to entertain and brighten you. It did. “I ordered this for you. Since i’m not good at comforting, and since this never fails to…make me smile, i thought it would to you as well.” He had forced out the word smile in hesitation in wording, and his gaze long gone from yours in embarrassment.

When he turns back to you after a few seconds of utter silence he greets that one smile he adores. “Thank you Xiao.” Your voice still raspy and dry from the leaked tears. You set the plate on each of your laps so you could nuzzle against his side while you ate the sweet almond tofu alongside him. The taste was endearing and so was the moment with your beloved that the events of your dread had faded away in the harsh wind.

Dainsleif

The repetitive sounds of hammering was conclusive in the acts of construction nearby…except it’s at an ungodly hour in the morning and it’s an Inn room, with you being the center cause of this disturbance with an onlooker who was only slightly peeved.

You were crouched on the ground facing the thick wall, slamming your head in anguish. All so tears wouldn’t spill from your eyes in front of your lover. Though Dainsleif would rather prefer the other over this, at least crying wouldn’t be as mind-grating, maybe.

“Enough. Are you trying to crack your skull open?” He was sitting on the sofa watching you and the door, in case there were any complaints he had to tend to because of you.

“I hope i do! The suffering is endlesss. Archons end me yourself you coward!!” Your voice was cracking with your plead, sniffles cutting through. Dainsleif has had enough of this antic and grabbed your collar and lugged you onto the sofa laying down on his lap.

You were flustered for a second, jolting up only to get forced back down. He placed his hand atop your eyes, closing them so now all your senses were focused on him, his voice, his touch, and his warmth.

“I awaken and hear your cries of panic first thing. Do you know how early it is? But not only that, do you not know that your harm is impactful on me.” His voice you could tell, was softer, your vision was covered but you could feel his emotions thoroughly. It unintentionally made you shed a tear, which Dain skillfully wiped away while maintaining your closed-off vision.

“Sorry. But now I can’t really sleep. Especially when i bashed my skull a little bit too hard, I think I killed a few brain wrinkles and cells.” Dainsleif stroked your shoulder with his free hand. “Would you like me to tell you a story. I have wandered the world for many eons there are surely some that would pique your interest.” You hmm with a smile. “Go ahead.”

Heizou

“My deeeerrrrr~ Your Sherlock has arrived.” He sat with you at the bottom of the small shrine’s gates stairs. Ghosts of shrine maidens have been perceiving this area, the sole reason why Heizou came. And the sole reason why you choose this area to mope, ghosts can’t judge you since they're already dead and mope here as well.

Heizou has just happened to hear from a birdy that you decided to venture off here alone. What poor defenseless boy can’t protect his lover from potential harm?

Your eyes tried no to make contact with his, Heizou being a great detective had its ups and downs, downs as in he can decipher how your physical state is right now. Your skin was pale and eyes red and puffy.

“Hm hum. Definitely been crying and loss of nutrition. Tut tut. Not okay Y/n.” He conjures up a lavender melon for you to graciously munch on.

“What’s gotten my honey bunch upset. Do I needa arrest a man.” His eyes glimmer mischievously at the end which was dead serious.

“No. Just please stay with me here a bit longer Zou.” Your fingers intertwined with his, squeezes of affection bounced back and forth. Your head rested on his shoulder as did his.

He hummed with a smile. “Would you like to hear how my day went? I was on forced patrol, welll, more like solving a small case that interested me this morning and turns out it was a whole fraud! A fake! The higher ups knew i would take that bait and used it to take me on patrol! So meann!”

You laughed at Heizou’s pout, fond of his adventure story. You would say the higher ups knew Heizou better than you can ever. “Maybe I should try that next time when I want to surprise you.” Heizou’s gaze stayed on your soft smile, agreeing to your comment but tranced by your face. “Your very kissable right now my deer.” His serious tone clashed with the lovestruck look in his eyes, you didn’t mind his physical affection on a day like this.

Albedo

Alchemy solves most of the world's problems, and he hoped it does for you. Bubbling in the flasks, Albedo was working hard on whatever he was making, which you idly sat by watching your boyfriend move so fluently. A large thick blanket shrouded you warm from the freezing temperatures outside the cave in Dragonspine.

Your tears have long dried in the biting winds and a large cup of hot tea sat in your hands. Albedo moved fast putting himself on a timer so when he was done he wouldn’t turn around to see you fall asleep on him.

Finishing the last touches in a few more minutes, he gently carries it over to you behind his back. You push the drink to the side and welcome Albedo into your blanketed warmth.

“Here you go, darling.” He placed a box in your hands, a luminescent flower head floated above it, shiny and delicate, the box was golden and had a small turn lever on the side. Albedo held and guided your hand to the lever and spun it, creating a soft melody, a tune that you have heard him hum it to Klee many times. It was so warm since it was a recording of Albedo humming the entire tune.

“That’s not all.” His lips curved up as he watched your glee. Albedo pulled the covers above your heads, trapping you both under the sheets. A golden glow of Geo resonance flew into the box and the trapped area you both were in sparkled in a starry sky. The projection was breathtaking, you would expect no less if Albedo told you that he took those pictures through an advanced telescope himself. Which he then admitted to.

A hidden easter egg was quickly found through your joyful eyes, was both your names inscribed together under a golden heart constellation. “For whenever you feel down, you can listen to my voice, admire my craftsmanship, or stare at the starry night sky. But just know I am more than happy to cover all three for you anytime.” You pulled you boyfriend close and thanked him with barrages of kissess.

~~~~~~~~~~~

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

One Captain's Daughter (Part 3) - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster / OC (Amara Blackwood-Mitchell)

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Light Angst, Daddy Issues, Arguing, Complicated Family and Relationship Dynamics, References to Pregnancy Scares; Female OC from Third Person POV

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Chapter Summary: Rooster contemplates recent events. The other Daggers make a discovery.

Part 1 Part 2

Master List

Rooster wasn’t expecting to run into both Mitchells in the span of ten minutes in the same aircraft hangar, surrounded by his fellow aviators, while they prepared to train for what appeared to be, at a first glance, a suicide mission. Nor was he emotionally prepared for it. Any of it.

Seeing Amara was the bigger surprise of the two, even though their paths had crossed only two years ago instead of nearly two decades. In the back of his mind, Rooster was always wary of missions outside of his usual squadron because of the inevitable possibility of running into Maverick. Amara was usually easier to predict and account for. If you didn’t want to see her, stay out of the DC area.

But perhaps the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

Amara was always two things, especially in professional settings: by the book and firmly rooted to the ground. The exact opposite of her father, and that wasn’t a coincidence. Not by a longshot. No, Amara Blackwood-Mitchell, or just Amara Blackwood in professional settings, had spent just about her entire life wanting to be the exact opposite of her father.

Looking back on it, Rooster guessed that her staunch anti-flying phase began after Maverick and Charlie split for the final time. Maverick was sent on a deployment not long after, which probably had something to do with Ice, that was supposed to last six months but ended up lasting nearly ten.

But after that point, Amara was never afraid to loudly declare that she would never be a pilot. Never. Under no circumstances. She had no interest in flying. It wasn’t that she was afraid of it—because she wasn’t—but it was more that she detested its existence.

And well, Rooster never understood her perspective until he got burned by Maverick himself.

Amara hated flying because she thought that naval aviators ran away from their problems with flying. Like Maverick did when life got hard at home. Amara hated flying because she thought that pilots didn’t want to be tethered to the ground, and so no one or nothing would be able to keep them on the ground. Not even their own child.

Amara Blackwood-Mitchell hated flying because she’d been replaced by flying one too many times in her life. And well, maybe Rooster had contributed to that tally sheet himself. And by ‘maybe’, he knew that he had. Unfortunately.

“Honda will be here for the duration of our training exercises and will be reporting back to the Pentagon on such matters. So, I would be on your best behavior in front of her for your own sakes,” Warlock stated, knocking Rooster out of his memories.

Mentally, it almost felt like he had been ejected from whatever memory land and fantasy realm he’d unwillingly fallen into, but Rooster shook it off. He tried to focus on Cyclone and Warlock, he really did, but he quickly found his eyes wandering again.

And after a moment of delay, Amara turned her head to meet his gaze once more.

~~~~~

Rooster was the last one into the locker room.

He took a quick shower, scrubbing the residual smell of the jet off of his skin haphazardly. His mind was clearly not in the locker room, or even the present. And Rooster knew that Hangman probably wasn’t going to leave for the day without getting in one last jab.

Rooster walked over to the lockers with a towel wrapped around his waist. Fanboy and Payback were sitting on one of the benches, discussing what had gone wrong in their runs. Bob was quickly changing at the locker beside Rooster’s own, and he nodded politely when Rooster approached. Coyote and Fritz were talking about carpooling to the Hard Deck.

And then came Hangman swinging in, sauntering over with a wide smirk on his lips.

“You’re not going to believe what I found out about our little observer,” Hangman announced, drawing the attention of the rest of the locker room. Though his jaw clenched, Rooster made no other indication that he heard Hangman.

“About Honda? The Pentagon rep?”

“Yeah. Turns out her last name is Mitchell.”

“Mitchell?” Coyote repeated back, looking surprised. “Like ‘Maverick’ Mitchell?”

“It’s not exactly a unique surname,” Payback pointed out from behind Coyote. “Don’t get ahead of yourself again, Hangman.”

“I’m glad that you said that Payback, because a quick Google search pulls up this picture."

That had Rooster turning around, a barely-contained fire raging behind his eyes. Hangman held up a picture on his phone of Amara smiling at a graduation ceremony. Charlie stood to her left, wearing the same smile as her daughter, while the one and only Pete “Maverick” Mitchell stood on Amara’s right. There was no mistaking it.

“Shit, that is Mav!”

“Wait, she's his daughter?”

“Her callsign is Honda though.”

“Still, Mav’s her dad?”

“So what?” Rooster cut in, causing the others to turn to him. “Doesn’t change anything. And it’s not any of our business.”

“No need to look all butt hurt,” Hangman replied, snatching the phone back from Fanboy’s hand. “It’s not like I was insulting your little girlfriend or anything, Rooster.”

“What are you? Thirteen?” Rooster scoffed, turning back to his locker.

“You were certainly staring at her like you were,” Hangman shot back at Rooster. “Like you’d never seen a woman in heels and a pencil skirt before.”

“We shouldn’t be talking about this. Any of this,” Bob interjected with more force than some of them thought he was capable of. “Regardless of whose daughter she is, she still deserves our respect. On and off base. Not to mention the fact that she’s writing the report on all of us. Pissing her off isn’t exactly a good idea.”

“Oh, calm down, Baby on Board.”

“Back off, Hangman,” Rooster warned him.

“Some of you guys need a cold shower,” Payback sighed, standing up. “And besides, Rooster and Bob are right—this information doesn’t change anything. Unless one of you wants to test Maverick’s protective tendencies?”

Murmurs of ‘hell no’ echoed around the locker room, which seemed to settle the matter. But the look in Hangman’s eyes warned Rooster that the matter wasn’t entirely settled.

Rooster turned back around to get dressed to leave while the other aviators started to filter out of the locker room. Luckily for Rooster, Hangman left with Coyote and Fritz, already talking about getting a nice cold one at the Hard Deck. He wasn’t in the mood for Hangman’s usual shenanigans today. Bob closed his locker before turning to Rooster.

“Don’t let Hangman get to you,” the WSO encouraged quietly. “He just knows that you’re his biggest competition and he’s trying to push your buttons.”

“I know. Thanks, Bob.”

“Of course. See you later, Rooster.”

“Bye, Bob.”

Rooster bid goodbye to Payback and Fanboy, who left the locker room shortly after Bob. And then he was alone with just his thoughts, which Rooster knew from personal experience was a bad thing. Because then his mind wandered into topics that he wasn’t ready to address. Topics that were apparently going to come up regardless of if he was ready for them or not.

Like his complicated relationship with Amara “Honda” Blackwood-Mitchell.

~~~~~

Two Years Ago

“What do you want me to say, Amara?” Rooster sighed, tugging at the curled strands of his hair. He picked his head up, staring across the room at Amara. She stood with her arms crossed in front of her chest, her lips pursed, and her eyes narrowed at him. “Do you want me to apologize?”

“I want you to stop running away from your problems!” Amara snapped, taking a step forward. “I want you to stop running away when things get difficult!”

“I didn’t run away!”

“Well, you certainly weren’t present either!”

“What the fuck do you want from me, Amara!?” Rooster got to his feet, more than annoyed now. “I was freaked out, okay? I’m not allowed to be freaked out!?”

“Of course, you’re allowed to freak out!” Amara argued back. “But you have to come back down after you freak out. You can’t just freak out, up and leave, and come back when it’s convenient for you again! That’s not okay, Bradley!”

“I never said that it was!”

“Then why did you do it!?”

“Why are we even arguing about this?” Rooster sighed, stepping out from behind the coffee table. “We freaked out over nothing, Amara. The situation’s resolved! Actually, there wasn’t even a situation in the first place.”

“Because what happens down the line when it wasn’t just a freak out over nothing?” Amara asked, starting to pace.

“Then we’ll deal with it then.”

“Will we?” Amara demanded of him. “We will handle it? Both of us?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Bradley, every time someone tries to have a hard conversation with you, you run away! You run away from all of it! You just tuck your emotions into your pocket and put on a smile and run off like some cocky flyboy to avoid your problems!”

“I’m here, aren’t I, Amara? What else do you want from me?” Rooster ran a hand through his hair, angrily tugging on the strands. “Jesus Christ, Amara, you weren’t even pregnant! So, what’s the problem!?”

“And what if it wasn’t!?”

“But it was!”

“You’re not listening to me,” Amara growled out. “What if it wasn’t? What if down the line we go through the same thing again and this time it’s actual positive? Then what?”

“I’m not dealing with hypotheticals. You aren’t pregnant, and you never were pregnant. Problem solved. Why can’t we just move on?”

“Because I’m not confident that you’ll be there like I need you to be,” Amara replied quietly. She stared up at Rooster with a softened gaze that had a semblance of tears forming on her eyelid. “And I can't live like this."

“Amara, you . . . I . . . this situation is completely different.”

“Is it?” Amara snapped, taking a step forward. “So, you’d be happy to call up my parents and tell them that we’re together?”

“Amara,” Rooster warned her, but Amara had her answer.

“And that’s why I can’t do this anymore,” Amara whispered out. She turned on her heel and picked up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder.

“Amara, wait,” Rooster sighed, trailing after her. “You know that I can’t do that.”

“As you’ve told me,” Amara stated simply as she gathered her things.

“Amara, come on. Amara, wait.”

“No,” Amara snapped, facing him once more. “I can’t do this anymore, Bradley. I can’t. I won’t.”

“What? Not telling your parents? That’s what you’re mad about?”

“The whole fucking thing!” Amara yelled, waving her arm around. “I can’t live a lie, Bradley. Okay? I can’t. I’ve tried, I tried because I wanted to be with you but honestly, I can’t. I can’t do it anymore.”

“I never asked you to live a lie!”

“Then let’s call up my parents right now and tell them everything,” Amara replied, holding up her phone. When Rooster stuttered out an incomprehensible excuse not to, Amara turned to leave again. “I can’t keep doing this, Bradley. I’m getting too old for this shit.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that this,” Amara gestured between them, “is not meant to be a long-term situation.”

“What do you mean? We’ve been together now for years!”

“Exactly! We’ve been together for years and I can’t even tell my parents who I’m going to see when I fly out to every corner of the fucking country and planet to see you! Like I’m some sixteen-year-old high schooler sneaking out of her bedroom window!”

“You know that there’s a reason for that.”

“I thought that at some point, you would want to move on with your life, Bradley. Move on from the past. Or at the very least, you’d stop the past from getting in the way of your future! But you’re right, there is a reason for that.”

“Amara, wait,” Rooster called, still following after her.

“Bradley, I’ve waited years! I’ve waited four fucking years of my life for you, and I can’t wait any more otherwise I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

“I just need more time,” Rooster pleaded with her.

“And I can’t give you more time,” Amara replied softly. “You’re not ready. And you might never be ready. And that’s fine. But maybe then you should be with someone who is okay living with that. And maybe I need to find someone with a less complicated history with my parents.”

“Amara—”

“—Bradley, I’m sorry, but this is too . . . it’s too complicated. It’s too raw, it’s too much. And I can’t do it anymore.”

“Amara, don’t leave. Come on, we can talk about this,” Rooster begged her, but Amara had made up her mind already.

“I don’t think that any amount of talking is going to help us right now,” she replied softly, taking a step back from him. “You have your boundaries, and I have mine. And they’re not compatible, Bradley. I don’t think that they’ve ever been. Not really.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You want to never speak to my dad again. Well, I want a future where the person I love can interact with my parents the few times a year that I’ll probably see them. And with what happened this last week . . . if down the line we were to have kids, would you be okay with them seeing my dad? Would you? Because I wouldn’t be okay with them not seeing him.”

“Why is everything about your dad?” Rooster demanded from her. “Why can’t we just be happy together?”

“Because that’s not the way the world works. I’m not willing to cut my dad completely out of my life forever for you!” Amara finally snapped. “And you’re not willing to let him back into your life for me for just a little bit.” She straightened up with her eyes shining with tears. “And that’s that. Isn’t it?” 

And it was. Until now, that is.

Tags: @xoxabs88xox @hangmanscoming

[thechikamorilegacy]

The Chikamori Legacy

Chapter Two: "Escape" (Part II)

November, 1988

“River, you’re almost done with your schooling. You’ve managed to do an entire year in half a semester.” River’s mother enthused, excited for her daughter’s prospects in university. “And you’ve kept an honour roll status doing it.”

“Yeah, Mom…” River sighed, “It just doesn’t seem the same…” she looked out the window as she trailed off. For six months after the acrimonious split in friendship between Haruo and River, River had been disconsolate; instead of going out with friends, she had poured her heart and soul into her schoolwork and painting and she’d had a unhealthy fascination with heart-break songs. She’d joined choir in high-school to feel closer to Haruo and his interests. Yet, Haruo had tossed all his interests out the window and had buggered off to parts unknown and if the Chikamori family knew where Haruo was, Yasunobu wasn’t telling. Fiona couldn’t help but be sad for her daughter. She had aged up into a young adult and she had blossomed into a beauty, wearing her hair stylish, long and flowing. River had started applying makeup and that had attracted the attention of many of the males at school but she had no interest in any of them. Even though Bebe and Fiona encouraged her to move on, she refused.

They don’t understand. I’ve lost half of my soul.

“Are you going to university?” Bebe asked.

“I don’t know…” River prevaricated. “I want to take the other half of the year off…I’ve put too much effort into getting through this schooling quickly because I just don’t want to deal with the school gossip, y’know.”

Bebe rolled her eyes, “Look, you can’t put your life on hold for him.”

River snapped in exasperation, “I’m not ready to put Haruo in the rear-view mirror; NOT without a fight!” she looked angrily at Bebe, “I’m prepared to fight for him, if that’s what it takes. Plus, I’m spent, I don’t have another drop of my energy for studies to go straight into university. I want time to recoup what energy I put out to get through Grade 12 in half the time it takes to complete it.” Nobody bothered correcting her that she had only taken a quarter of the time that it took to complete the school year. They knew what she meant. She was zapped, completely wiped out: mentally, physically and emotionally.

“So what do you plan to do?” Fiona asked.

“I’ve been thinking about traveling Vancouver Island and the surrounding islands just for something to do. Maybe take a few weeks in each place and take in the ambiance. I’ve always wanted to see the islands.” “I’d love to join you…” Bebe said, “But work hails. The only time I can get off is professional education...namely university and that’s a straight four year run plus my undergraduate courses that I can complete in an year. So it looks as though you may have to go solo if you’re gonna go…”

River didn’t want to say the real reason why she was going out to the islands. She was planning on tracking down Haruo and getting an answer out of him once and for all. And it’d better be one that I see reason for. Saying he’s not good enough for me isn’t a good enough answer. Nor is any answer that can be helped through therapy. River had never wanted to hurt Mayumi so much insofar as the way that Mayumi had treated her son. It was the reason he ran away rather than faced his own demons. And if Haruo didn’t face his demons, he wouldn’t be able to become a success. His mother’s voice would always fuel his perceived inadequacies and would haunt his very footsteps hindering any chance at getting past the deep emotional wounds that were always present.

...and he didn’t seem to want to do anything about it. A deep pit of despair opened up for River McIrish as she wondered what it would take to get through to the man that she loved deeply. Whatever plans she had in life had always included him and she didn’t want to do those things without him. I’m not giving up on him, he means too much to me.

But she also saw the path that decision would lead her to. And such was why she intended to give it her best to convince him to do what was necessary to heal himself so that at least he could have some semblance of a normal life. The simple fact was that he needed to break out of the self-recrimination and the constant Mayumi-inflicted mental tapes that kept running in his head. And the only thing that River knew was a potential solution was to convince him of the need that he needed therapy to heal and live a normal life.

The simple fact was that she didn’t know where he was and where to start looking. Her gut feeling was that he had headed for the islands. The only problem was that she didn’t know which one. The big main island of Vancouver Island was far too crowded and full of people for that to be a potential place for him to settle in. Haruo did not like being around people. He wasn’t social in the slightest and having to be around people was a source of absolute discomfort for him. The reason behind that was that he was highly suspicious of others and what they could potentially do to him. It wasn’t surprising after someone who supposed to unconditionally love him had treated him the way that Mayumi had. River suspected that Mayumi had absolutely no mothering instincts at all. Haruo had just been an achievement for her; a way to gain stature and recognition in the community. And once that was finished, she couldn’t care less about whether Haruo’s emotional needs were met.

I’m just going to have to track him down, island by island. She had no idea what it would take or how long her limited funds would last in order to search for him. She had maybe forty thousand simoleons, but traveling would take a large chunk of that and food and accommodation. She needed to pick the islands that seemed to have a small community, yet not too large.

Her sleep was getting seriously disrupted these past few days. She could overhear loud arguments coming from upstairs. Most of it was Mayumi bitching about her son and it reached a crescendo last afternoon. It appeared that Yasunobu was absolutely fed up with Mayumi’s behavior. He was tired of the way that she had treated his son and took out his anger on her.

There was finally an explosive shout in English, “GET OUT!!!”. It was a male voice and it was definitely Yasunobu’s, followed by a flurry of Japanese “Shuppatsu shita, modotte kitara koko de anata aitaku nai!!!”, a slammed door and then deathly quiet. Even the sound dampening built into the floors and walls had failed to silence the screaming and yelling coming from upstairs.

River could hear the truck starting and she glanced out the window to see Yasunobu driving off. The flurry of colloquial Japanese words had set her on edge and that had translated into River’s unsettled frame of mind. Yasunobu’s returning late that evening had resulted in another major argument.

“Doko ni ikeba desu ka?” Mayumi had asked, her piteous tone just an Oscar-winning performance by an actor.

Yasunobu’s reply was chilling cold, “Sukina tokoro ni, Mō kinishinai” River didn’t catch a direct translation, but the meaning was clear – it meant that Yasunobu was done with the relationship. That was how pissed off Yasunobu was.

There was another flurry of words, that River hadn’t caught because it was muffled by two walls and a floor upstairs as well as several walls and a bathroom and a clear slamming of the door and Mayumi was the one leaving this time, dragging along a suitcase headed towards the Skytrain.

[arty-ffxiv]

💖Just a gentle nudge to remind you that you're not just existing—you're thriving, even on days when it doesn't feel that way. You're a one-of-a-kind force in this world, bringing light and love in ways you might not even realize. You've overcome so much, and you should be proud of every step you've taken, no matter how small. The world is better with you in it, and you've already made such a difference just by being you. Keep going, keep growing, and never forget how important you are💖

Thank you, who ever you are. This message warmed my heart and has been a well needed reminder ♥

I've not advertised it much, but I've been on a FFXIV/ Tumblr hiatus for the past ~5ish weeks; this blog has been running on old, queued content since then. I'm feeling quite drained and burned out, and frustrated as I'd just gotten back into my creative outlets again.

It's the longest time I've taken away from the game, and I didn't want to step away so soon from the FFXIV Tumblr community again after returning from another long hiatus.

Putting more under the cut, for those interested in IRL stuff. Otherwise, please know that I'm ok, just taking a break.

I've been in a bit of a strange place mentally, since before Dawntrail dropped.

In the week leading up to the expac's early access release, I was made redundant from a job role that I really loved. I'd been in limbo regarding my role for a number of months, and hadn't anticipated any movement or news for at least another few months- things move slowly in the community services world.

I had a week of annual leave booked for the expansion release- I was keen for the break, and excited to be going into the new adventure with the new friends I'd made within the Tumblr FFXIV community.

2 days before I was due to go on leave, I was told I was having a meeting with HR and my line manager. I was advised to bring a support person.

My anxiety sky rocketed, and the next day I was given the news of my redundancy. I was given some options to mull over for the next few days- redeployment to another site, putting in an application for a more senior role with no guarantee I'd be successful, or to leave the organization.

As you can imagine, this put a big dampener on my excitement for Dawntrail. I'm grateful that the news came when it did, so at least my leave was spent with something to focus on instead of just moping about, but it just fucking sucked.

I was spending most of my time on leave in game, trying to keep my mind off work and the mess of emotions and confusion I knew I'd be coming back to. I enjoyed the expac- at least the first half. I wasn't emotionally prepared, or ready, for the second half.

I won't be going into details for those who have yet to finish the MSQ, nor to upset myself further.

The second half of the story was just too much; I spent my time in the last zone consumed with the thoughts of I'm not having fun anymore, I'm not enjoying this, let's just rip this fucking bandaid off and get through it, we can process all the feelings this is dredging up for us later.

Since finishing the MSQ, I've not really done much else in-game or really logged in again. I've been reflecting on it, and I think the ending of the expac triggered some deep-seated traumas for me. This, coupled with the grief and mixed emotions of moving into a new work environment, has really exhausted me.

I'm 5 weeks into my new workplace, and I'm enjoying it but am just so exhausted. While I'm still in the same organization, my workload is more than it was previously and I've lost the motivation I'd only recently gotten back for FFXIV and creating.

Hopefully now that I've gone through the motions of resettling and learning the ropes in this new space, my creativity will begin to come back. I can only hope.

[lumiereandcogsworth]

heyyyyyyy hey wait I forgot I follow up on this, you mentioned there was tea regarding Adam’s dad and his first wife 👁️ is that something you’re willing to share bc I am all ears

ahhhh yes yes yes. my LORE!!!!!!! i am absolutely happy to spill that tea. i did indeed mention here that adam is the product of his father’s second wife, not his first. so let me divulge all the stuff that went down before adam came around!!

so, first, some backstory on louis, adam’s father. he was his father, king antoine’s, firstborn. four years later, he has a brother named adrien. adrien dies of illness around age five, and young louis is devastated, but his father is tough and hard and tells his son to buck up! crying is for the ladies. a few years later, louis’s mother, anne michelle, also dies. louis doesn’t cope well with this at all, but he’s so scared of his abusive father that he hides his feelings once again. soon, king antoine remarries. he and his new wife have a daughter, and they name her genevieve after her mother. they entirely dote on genevieve, completely neglecting louis, leaving him to his own devices. he becomes miserable and cruel, and an entirely reckless young man.

when prince louis is 24, king antoine has a health scare that causes him concern. he fears he may not live much longer, and he sees that his son is in no place to take the throne, should he die. so, he arranges for his reckless son to marry an upstanding young lady, to ensure that louis could become king at the moment of antoine’s passing. louis is less than thrilled about his bride, but when they meet on their wedding day, there is actually a spark between them. her name is agnès claudine marie. she was chosen because their marriage would be politically advantageous, as well as look very perfect to the public eye. louis was all ready to loathe this new wife of his. but he just… didn’t.

agnès was firey and stood her ground. she challenged him constantly and louis was pretty shocked by it. (but also… turned on by it as well.) louis was still a very shitty person, like, agnès did Not make him a better man. but they sort of got along in their own twisted way. they appeared a perfect, prim and proper couple to the public eye, but behind closed doors they were very just… toxic and messy. and what made matters worse was that king antoine died shortly after they were married, so louis had to grapple with his father’s death (sprouting the classic, complicated grief that comes along with losing an abusive father), and handle being king, all while never being mentally or emotionally prepared for it, nor having anyone to lean on in the process. it’s ROUGH.

louis had such a quick temper and was insanely jealous. he got pissed at agnès for even so much as talking to another man at a party, even if he was right there by her side. after the parties would end, he’d throw things and break things and scream at her and she’d scream right back, bullying him just as much as he berated her. these arguments almost always ended in ridiculously hot sex. which is funny and i don’t know why i feel the need to mention it but. as a fake historian it’s my duty to share all fake facts. anyway.

eventually, louis and agnès had a daughter. they named her claudine. louis doesn’t feel MUCH about this, as he very much needs a son to be his heir, but he does care enough about agnès to not completely despise his daughter. he’s a pretty indifferent father at this point. although i’m sure he always made claudine feel fairly useless, just for being a girl.

about six years later, agnès became pregnant with their second child. tragedy struck, however, when she died in childbirth. she delivered a boy, but he did not live longer than a day.

THIS is really the turning point where louis goes from bad to the absolute worst. it’s all buried and complicated inside him but he’s truly devastated by agnès’s death. she was always so alive with passion he just never expected to lose her. and the fact that he loses their son, HIS SON, within a day, it just breaks him for good. he goes from awful to downright ruthless. he grows more wicked toward his daughter, seeing too much of her mother in her and blaming her for it. blaming her too, for not being his much-needed male heir. he also becomes a terror in his court, and in general just a horrible person to be around.

unfortunately at this point, the psychological damage that has been done to him just really causes him to spiral out of control. he’s blinded by unprocessed grief and unfounded rage. and the people are in an uproar! who will be their heir! where is the dauphin of france!! all this just makes him desperate to find another wife to give him a male heir. it’s all he cares about now. so, less than a year later, louis found someone. it was similar to prologue adam’s parties where the villages and towns were taxed to send all their maidens. and renée elizabeth aubert was the only daughter of five children. her parents OF COURSE wanted to give her the opportunity to marry THE KING!

and… it worked. louis saw her and found her to be beautiful. (oh, shall i mention here that he’s 30 and she’s 17?) renée wasn’t as tenacious as agnès but she was gorgeous and held her head high. she intrigued him. (and her mentioning that she had four brothers was definitely a factor for louis.) so, he courted her and married her swiftly.

renée settled into her new life as queen. louis distracted and enticed her with the finest clothes and jewelry, making her feel so very adored. she tried to get along with her step-daughter, claudine, who was around 7 years old at this point, but poor princess claudine was so traumatized from losing her mother and from louis’s abuse, so she didn’t really want to connect much with renée. so, claudine spend the vast majority of her time with her governess, who was basically raising her fully at that point.

soon, renée became pregnant, and successfully delivered a boy! huzzah!! adam is here!!

for a few years, things carry on. louis grows more twisted and disinterested in his wife and children. he hardly sees claudine, and he’s disappointed in adam thus far. (adam didn’t start speaking or walking until he was like 2-3, so louis was convinced he was just “stupid” and they all got worried he was possibly deaf. but renée knew her boy wasn’t deaf or stupid, because she actually spent time with him and could see that his mind just worked differently. and he always looked up at her when she called his name.) regardless, louis was also getting increasingly frustrated with renée, because she kept miscarrying pregnancies. (i think giving birth to adam very nearly killed her, and left damage that just made carrying any future pregnancy to full term impossible.) so, louis was now stuck with a useless daughter and a worthless son and a dysfunctional wife. and he made sure they all knew it! he continued to drink and be abusive. claudine sort of gets out of it, eventually going to live in paris for private tutoring and finishing school.

but! claudine would still come home for christmas, and other events. well, approaching one christmas, louis and renée had been away on a trip for diplomatic reasons. on the trip, renée had caught some sort of illness. when they returned, they kept adam away from her (for fear that the heir would catch it) but unfortunately, princess claudine was there, and caught the illness. renée recovered in a couple of weeks. the princess, however, died. she was 12 years old.

adam was 4, and doesn’t really have any memories of his sister claudine. especially since they didn’t really grow up under the same roof. but anyway, louis is just angered by yet ANOTHER death in this godforsaken family of his. and he, despite caring very little for claudine, IS saddened because she WAS his last piece of agnès. he decided to blame renée, since she’s the one who brought the illness home.

well. time carries on. some years later, when adam is nine and a half, he loses his mother, queen renée, to illness as well. he’s left alone with his father, and you know how the story goes…

anyway my take is that the de beaumont family is quite literally cursed by death and for generations they’re just plagued to lose people but Just Enough survive to maintain the family line. and adam, breaking his own separate curse by the enchantress, does then, in turn, break the beaumont family death curse as well. because true love conquers ALL. thank you 💙

[smokeys-house]

Sorry for your loss, Smokey. It is always hard to lose someone close

thanks I appreciate that. yeah it's been real hard. I don't wanna talk alot about it here bc my blog is sposed to be a place for folks (including me) to escape to. I don't even usually like to talk about or reblog world events or anything on here.

I'm gonna say a few things about the situation under a cut, but I'll warn you it's really sad. Death tw I guess. It's also very personal but I need an outlet.

I'm serious when I warn that this is going to be a hard thing to read, and you don't have to read this. In fact I recommend you don't. I'll try to be succinct.

So basically my mom died. She wasn't super old, and she was mostly healthy in regards to that kind of thing. She had a lot of medical issues but none that would have taken her out this suddenly. I'm not strong enough to talk about what things may have happened, we don't really know yet either way until after they look at her a little longer.

I lost my dad when I was 8, and my extended family is mostly estranged. My support network is very thin, but for the most part I think we've got it handled for now. I don't want to get too personal, so I'm being a little vague. It's kinda just. Me and my siblings right now.

My mom's dogs are also very distressed, one of them is having seizure issues because getting him his medication on time is challenging since my mom handled that. Her other dog had troubles eating so she used to hand feed her, but now that she's not around to do it she won't eat. She's a bit older, so we're worried about her.

I'm also fairly young. I won't say how old I am but I'm in my 20s so I'm not really prepared for any of this. We have a lot of issues to sort out like phone plans, bills, her house, her car, and all her like. Special retirement and life plan stuff and what not. Dying costs a lot surprisingly, and the funeral costs alone are over $10,000 USD. That's not a typo nor a joke. Everything's been so impersonal and hard. Going through catalogues and discussing plans with the funeral home they talk about it like it's buying a used car.

Of course aside from the logistics side of things, like the bills and figuring out how to get the money together and how to be a fully sustainable and "got-my-shit-together" adult right out the gates, I'm also going through another death in the family. I've got very few people left. There are many things I wish I would've said or done or asked. I had a near complete breakdown, I'd go into details on things but honestly it's just. Really really sad even for someone else to just read. Even now I'm either barely functional or I'm in full repression mode. The dogs keep looking for her, it's incredibly heartbreaking. I keep "forgetting" what's happened and why I feel so weird and why certain people are here or why I can't do certain things.

When I lost my dad, I lost my ability to tell time and dates. That's also not a joke. The grief effected my entire life until this point. I'm intellectually and emotionally stunted for a number of reasons, that included. I have been diagnosed with PTSD from how things happened with my dad. I'm not a well adjusted adult. I've had so many setbacks and issues that I'm basically in my third childhood now. I'm worried as to what will happen to me mentally following this. I've never been very stable. I've got a lot of issues.

Baseline, I'm not well right now. Things are going to be very hard in the coming days. Idk what's going to happen with everything. Financially, I don't make much and my siblings don't make much either. We don't have a lot of time to come up with the money and there are a lot of other considerations to make. Emotionally is one thing, but I don't even know if I'm going to have a home or internet. I think I will. But it's hard to think about just now. I'm not sure if I'll be posting donation links bc it's a lot of personal IRL information but if I run out of options I'll post about it I'm sure.

It's taking a lot just to keep things kinda ordinary typing on here. In truth I want to say a lot. I want to say a great many things. There's nobody for me to say them to. There's so much. There's so much

[carbonana]

Tumblr has always been a place to me where I ran when I was in discomfort. The moment when I was dealing with my PTSD at its peak and whenever I felt anxious. Wattpad has always been my first choice for fanfiction. I came to Tumblr because of @personasintro primarily and further explored this app. Perhaps love and interlude by @mangowillow was one of my first stories that I read on this app. Yes, I read smuts but that too when it's just a part of the story, not the whole story. I have always been a fluff person. I've yearned for comfort and assurance so when I used to read it in stories between characters, I felt it personally. I liked it. These stories were definitely one of them which were able to radiate their warmth to me. This app became more frequently used than Wattpad over time. A time came when I used to open Wattpad only on any update. Dealing with anxiety and not so good mental health was never a thing I got used to but I tried my best to not to feel too much of anything. I have certain other things too in life which need my equal attention and focus.

One day out of the blue I found an angel, he was beautiful inside out, purest, full of life and positive spirit. Just like everyone says, golden retriever energy. Like this was made for him. Being someone who never got so much admiration and importance, that too genuine was something different yet special and overwhelming for me. I loved him with all my heart. But my mental health issues never went away. That small voice in the back of my head and those damn negative thoughts always scared me of the future. I was happy to meet him but I was more scared to lose him. One day he openly said to me "Please don't leave me, I've always lost those people whom I loved. I don't wanna lose you". Those words were the biggest assurance for me. Finding someone who's scared to lose you as much as you are was a feeling I can never explain. My love for him was growing and blooming day by day. I wanted to have a future with him.

Some days back, I lost him. How, why, what happened..... A very long and dramatic story but I lost him. Neither he's wrong nor me, the situation, the destiny, the reactions are wrong. I Don't know if anything is going to be right any day or not but let's live in this hope. What's wrong with it anyways?

Right now, I am dealing with issues. Mentally drained, physically tired and emotionally broken. And let's not talk about it financially. I was like born broke. Hehe. Having an entrance exam after one month for which I've prepared for one year is not one of the best things that could happen to me in this scenario. But I am trying to deal with it. He's sitting on the complete opposite side of Earth and I know he's not okay either. I hope he'll find a solution to it too. And don't even ask me how strong he is. He is sunshine. I wish I could say my sunshine.

In all this chaos, I found another pure soul @parkdatjimin . I talked to her about everything despite not knowing anything about her and not telling her anything about me. Such a great friend she is. A calm listener, a sensible advisor and what not. Thanks to her for guiding me when I was lost.

I am waiting for the better days. When I will not only laugh but smile from my soul. I hope I'll meet him again one day. Anyway, anywhere but someday. I pray for him to be happier than yesterday and healthier like never before. He deserves everything. I wish I could be a part of his life but ig God has some other plans.

Thanks to him for giving me those days where I waited for his messages like a kid the whole day. I will never stop loving him. I can never stop loving him. May you get everything you want Mr. Caterpillar.

[focsle]

On the topic of mr Martin, your posts have me very interested in the potential of a past life of my own, which may explain some of my emotional states/responses/etc that I don’t have a good explanation for. I know you recommended to another ask a while back to go to a facilitator, but if that isn’t a feasible option for me, how would you recommend dipping my toes into the world? Exercises, techniques, etc? Thank you sm :)

I’m gonna link back to that first ask because that has all I have to say about it!

And I do wanna reiterate that while I’m happy to share some of my personal experiences, I never want to be seen as a resource or guide for other people to do this sort of work. It’s not something I want to take responsibility for, nor that I feel equipped to teach or be a voice on in any capacity. But there are other people out there who are equipped to do so and have written much about it, who can be looked to for guidance.

Again I think what’s most important is knowing that you’re in an emotionally good place to explore it, and also that you know how to protect and take care of yourself while doing it. Learning about this fellow has done more for my emotional wellbeing and self-understanding than…a lot of other things. But at the same time, after I first learned about him I wasn’t able to sleep (beyond like, an hour or two each night if I was lucky) for almost 10 days. It was dreadful. I don’t know if it’s actually related or just a coincidence that came out of nowhere, but I mention it because I was potentially met with a significant physical and mental upset in response that I wasn’t expecting or prepared for. It’s also work that inherently can be very emotionally intense—the memories might be intense or upsetting, the person might not be who you were expecting or might not behave in a way that’s in accordance with who you think you are now, etc. So it’s good to know how to take care yourself.

I went to a facilitator once to quickly get a baseline of the person I wanted to know about so I could revisit it on my own, and since then have got everything else myself on a much deeper level because I could explore more and didn’t feel as self conscious having to share it with someone else. But I felt comfortable doing that because I already knew the techniques to create that grounding and protection and had been practicing them on and off for years. I knew when to pull back and redirect when I felt like I needed to, and how to reorient myself to the Present. I wouldn’t recommend someone trying it without learning how to do those things and practicing them, which can take some time, especially if doing it by oneself. Again, there are folks who have practiced and written much on this—I hope you find someone who resonates with you! And good luck!

[paul-doyle]

Experts praise Olympic gymnast Simone Biles’ mental health honesty: ‘Conversation is critical’

Paul Doyle

CTInsider.com

July 31, 2021

Simone Biles stepped away from Olympic competition and into a debate about what it requires to thrive at a high level of athletics.

Biles, citing mental health concerns, withdrew after struggling on her vault Tuesday. Support came from all corners, but Biles has also been forced to explain and defend her decision.

On Friday morning, the most talented gymnast in the world used her Instagram account to further explain her decision.

“For anyone saying I quit … I didn’t quit,” she wrote while answering questions on her Instagram story. “My mind & body are simply not in sync.

“I don’t think you realize how dangerous this is on hard/competition surface. … nor do I have to explain why I put health first. Physical health is mental health.”

And that’s at the center of Biles’ decision. Her sport requires peak concentration. Any psychological or emotional disruption can result in disastrous — even dangerous — results.

Biles, 24, has talked about the pressure associated with being the face of her team, her sport, and the Tokyo Olympics. The four-time gold medal winner at the 2016 Olympics, Biles carried enormous expectations into Tokyo.

She has also dealt with trauma. Biles shared three years ago that she was abused by former USA Gymnastics team doctor Larry Nassar.

The other component? The Tokyo Olympics, delayed for a year because of the pandemic, are unfolding in empty venues. Athletes accustomed to performing before large crowds and with the support of nearby family are competing in isolation.

However the factors mixed, Biles was not in an optimal mental or emotional place.

So she stepped away.

“She made a very common sense decision,” said Stamford clinical psychologist Reid Daitzman, who has worked with athletes for more than 40 years. “Her mind and body were just not prepared for what she wanted to do. And she could have really hurt herself. I really respect her for the decision. I can’t imagine what it was like making that decision. But you really have to be aware of your body. A good athlete is always aware of their body.”

Daitzman said an athlete’s “optimal level of arousal” is the unique place where emotions during performance and competition are high — but not too high.

Biles, Daitzman speculates, knew her OLA was off.

“She made the correct decision not to proceed even though people who have never been exposed to that level might have said no, you’ve got to keep doing it,” he said.

Greenwich sports psychologist Amy Tardio, who works with college athletes at all levels, said athletes who reach Biles’ level recognize when they are mentally or emotionally distracted.

Athletes competing in a team sport can rely on others to compensate when they are not at peak form. But gymnastics, in particular, is a lonely venture — and it’s unsafe to compete if the mind and body are not aligned.

“You have a sport where the consequences and the degree of difficulty of her performance have catastrophic consequences if she’s not mentally there,” Tardio said. “So I think we have to respect her as an individual, as well. And I think that’s one of the issues with mental health — each individual, each individual athlete … Everyone's different. Everyone is human.”

How do athletes recognize when pressure and stress is unbearable?

Dawn Shadron, UConn’s director of student-athlete counseling and mental health services, said the school’s staff works to identify signs of distress.

“Our work focuses on identifying the source of their anxiety or stress and breaking it down into manageable chunks of information and examining what is and what isn’t in one’s control,” Shadron said. “We work to develop effective coping mechanisms to use ‘in the moment’ and identify additional supports the athlete can utilize while taking those next steps.”

Daitzman began working with athletes in an era when sports psychology was in its infancy. His client list has grown from high school and college athletes to professional athletes and those training for the Olympics.

Fast forward from his work in the late 1970s to a time when the conversation about “sports psychology” extends beyond performance. Mental health — the impact of competition and preparation and pressure — is very much part of the conversation.

“We’ve come a long way,” he said.

Said Tardio, “The conversation is critical. And I think the athletes and their peers are embracing it … the conversation alone is probably a first. These are very strong, successful, accomplished, determined athletes that are opening up these conversations and they’re willing to stand there and even feel the backlash of what that means.”

Shadron said that while the focus on mental health has increased over the past decade, the sports world remains at the “earlier stages of this discussion.”

“Fortunately the voices of these prominent athletes have amplified and advanced those discussions in important ways,” she said.

Indeed, Biles is just the latest high-profile athlete to speak about mental health. Naomi Osaka, one of the top tennis players in the world, cited her emotional health when she withdrew from the French Open and skipped Wimbledon. Michael Phelps, the most accomplished swimmer in Olympic history, has talked openly about depression.

Former UConn basketball player Breanna Stewart, among the best in the world, praised Biles for speaking out.

“Mental health is real and making sure that you’re in a good mental state of mind isn’t always the easiest thing,” Stewart said. “And especially here at the Olympics, you see that everything is heightened. The pressure is heightened, the pride is heightened, the wanting to represent your country and do everything you possibly can do to win is everywhere. I think for us as athletes we feel that and it’s making sure we have a happy balance.”

The change is immense, especially among the best of the best — Biles, Osaka, Phelps and Stewart have reached the highest level in their sports.

“Simone Biles has recognized her power and utilized her voice and her visibility on this world platform in a way that is inspiring and empowering others,” Shadron said. “The more that professional athletes can lead and live by example reduces stigma and promotes the importance of attending to one’s mental health as we do our physical health.”

The shift is generational. Shadron works with a population of athletes comfortable speaking about mental health, people who prioritize the emotional component of athletics.

“Discussion of mental wellness, good nutrition, coping mechanisms for managing stress, having a good sleep plan, good study habits, creates a sense of normalcy and supports a culture of well-being,” Shadron said. “The earlier we engage in healthy discussions about thoughts, feelings, and behaviors, the better.”

paul.doyle@hearstmediact.com