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ro-botany · 5 months

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The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far: What Heroes Tells us About Validar

I blame @the-priestess-of-dawn for this one. <3

One of Awakening’s worst dads has finally weaseled his way into the mobile game, and so, here we are. If I can make a serious analysis post about Groom!Robin of all units, then I suppose Validar deserves a post as well.

For the most part, Validar’s dialogue in Heroes is unsurprising. There’s a lot of gloating about his plans, a lot of mocking everyone else for being feeble. But there’s one very key place where that pattern falters, and when you really dig into that crack... what at first looks like a shallow villain turns instead into a hollow one.

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I’ve talked before about how the sprites in Heroes can affect your read of a character’s tone and ultimately change the meaning of their words. Such is the case for Validar’s 5* level 40 conversation. It’s easy to read it in a snarkier tone with his sprite sneering at you, but I invite you to read it without the visuals and really take it for what it is:

Askr's future is none of my concern. I aid you only to gain power for myself. I care not for the people of Askr. The evils of this world are nothing to me. I am an agent of fate. Whatever pitiful bonds you share cannot stop the inevitable! But do go on... I will enjoy your struggling.

Notice anything?

What I immediately notice is that for 4/5 text boxes, a solid 80% of the conversation, all the condescension and insufferable confidence is gone. There’s not one linguistic flourish, not one jab at Kiran or anyone else, not even any punctuation beyond the humble period. The sentences are short and to the point. And you know what it sounds like to me?

Like he’s reassuring himself.

He’s calmly repeating things that he thinks ought to be fact, like mantras. Oh sure, he’s trying to convince Kiran that he’s an uncaring shithead who’s only here to further his nefarious plans, but it sure sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of it, too. He only switches back to his usual sneering and mockery with the very last text box, as though he suddenly remembered himself.

What’s also striking about that conversation is how similar it feels to dialogue from other Grima-adjacent characters, and hell, even Grima themselves.

If you told me those first four text boxes were dialogue from one of the fallen Morgans (Future Past edition OR Heroes edition), I would believe you. They’re in a very similar state of mind, with a lot of lines dedicated to calmly repeating they’re only tools of Grima’s will. That they help you only to further Grima’s plans.

And while the phrasing of it is different, the underlying feeling of those lines is eerily close to some of Risen King Chrom’s dialogue, too. “I am the king of corpses” vs “I am an agent of fate”; both of them characterizing themselves as little more than weapons for a god to wield or discard.

We only ever see Validar in a vacuum in Awakening, but we can’t forget that the cycles of abuse that are the story's core apply to him too. I’ve written a lot about how Grima’s agency is constantly stripped from him. I think that if we can acknowledge how much that fucked Grima up in his first life and again as Robin, and how much it fucks up Morgan and Chrom in the bad timelines... We would be hypocrites to deny that that fucked up Validar, too. It must have.

The Grimleal have been trying to resurrect Grima for a long, long time, and Validar is one of the last born of that fucked up lineage. Only unlike Robin, Validar didn’t have the luxury of being swept away from the cult at a young age. No, he grew up steeped in the knowledge that he was born for one singular purpose. The brand he bears is just barely too faint for him to be an empty shell to hold their god, and so like his parents before him, he becomes living weapon and breeding stock. Expected to lead the Grimleal, as the one with the purest fell blood. Expected to produce a warm body suitable for pouring their mad god into.

The course of his life was decided for him long before he was even conceived.

He doesn’t have a choice.

Everyone he cares about and everything he knows is relying on him.

He doesn’t have a choice.

The Exalt of Ylisse hacks and slashes and burns through their home in the name of his god, and the whole damned world must answer for this suffering.

He doesn’t have a choice.

He is an agent of fate.

Validar never got to be a person, not really. He has only ever been a tool of someone else’s will and I think that’s left him empty. He gloats and mocks and insults and laughs about how much he wants it all to burn, but the fact that it’s all he ever does doesn’t paint a very healthy picture. He has no sense of self outside of how he can be useful to the cult. By all accounts he doesn’t even really think of himself as a person.

Many of the parallels between Validar and Robin/Grima start to make a lot of sense this way. The way they both bluster and monologue at least half as a cover, the way they cling to the concept of unalterable destiny to soothe the injustice of having so many choices ripped from them, the way they view every relationship as a means of controlling or being controlled. “Agent of fate” vs “wings of despair”. And I would bet money that Validar’s father was similar, because he too would've been brought up similarly. Risen Kings, the lot of them.

#fire emblem #fe awakening #meta #validar #grimleal studies #this one goes out to dawn for making me think deep thoughts about dad of the year over here #love how we're all posting new essays right after feli made that master post. lmao.#the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.... unless the apple's friends and family show up and throw it!#why do i title all these posts like high school essays

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lordelmelloi2 · 6 months

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Idk how many times I have to say it but if you support incest/incest "kink" unfollow me, my blog is not for you. I'm tired of people acting like the fantasy aspect of kink has nothing to do with reality. No one takes incest survivors seriously in general & the societal attitudes currently towards incest & incest survivors are leaning towards this type of abuse's normalization. When a group is already disenfranchised to that point where incest abuse is denied en masse or normalized within media and at times encouraged in certain groups, it is not something that IMO can be practiced as a kink without it being harmful. The same goes for any "kink" that roleplays pedophilic attraction. There are types of kinks that can say something about someone's perception and treatment of members of certain disenfranchised groups, if you know anything about kink and its impact on society or literally anything about psychological dynamics of kinks at all you would know this. Kink is not exempt from analysis. Anything to deal with the psychological dynamics of pleasure is not exempt from analysis nor is it something that should be simplified into "well it's just pretend" or "it's between two adults" as if all kink exists within a vacuum. It's the same reasons why even largely open queer kink communities draw hard lines at raceplay and other forms of roleplay in that vein. It's not a "moral panic" it's simply seeing how these attitudes affect the world around us, and centering survivors in the conversations about these sorts of acts. Centering those who have survived these types of abuses are the way that we stop the cycles of intergenerational abuse. And -- I should add -- the idea that you are not in control of what you do or do not find sexy, what kinks you do or do not engage with, the idea that you can not control your own sexual desires is a concept that denies yourself the agency over your own sex life and erodes your boundaries. This isn't to say that all desire is inherently harmful, but that desire to replicate specific abuses can and will cause you to lose boundaries that otherwise would give respect towards survivors of those abuses. Sexualizing incest, sexualizing children, those are not attitudes that exist in a vacuum. They are attitudes that affect survivors today and assist in grooming more victims of these abuses. Nuance is required in kink. Do not let people convince you that kink exists in a vacuum.

*Disclaimer: I'm someone involved in IRL kink communities, I go to forums, I know elders etc. everything that's involved with anything relating to sexuality deserves nuance and acknowledgment that kink does not exist in a vacuum and that this is still something that affects your psychological interpretations of certain things. Grace is given to those who are coping but when things spill into real life, when it begins to harm survivors and cultivate unsafe spaces for survivors... when it's an abuse that's normalized within society it's not subversive or deviant or whatever. It's already normalized. I do not speak as someone from a sexually repressive household -- actually vastly the opposite -- and I do not engage with reductive bad-faith takes about "puritanicalism" since half of the people who talk about these issues don't even know what that means or what context the term even applies to.

My blog is a safe space for incest survivors, CSA survivors, COCSA survivors, and grooming survivors. It will always be a safe space for abuse survivors. I will never condone abuse or the normalization of abuse and will always be critical of attitudes that contribute to the normalization of said abuses. I am fundamentally anti-abuse. I will never condone attitudes that contribute to abuse.

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shiningstages · 5 months

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@flovverworks | cont. from ( x )

There's a part of Shinsuke that's...flattered. To think that all his hard work had spread to the ears of other agencies; to fledgling producers like this fine young person...Not that Shinsuke wasn't young himself, but still. He doesn't think he deserves such praise, at least not without acknowledging all that he learned from helping out the Cinderella Project girls with their problems, while also letting them figure things out for themselves in painstaking moments. He was merely just a human learning how to deal with everything like everyone else, and yet...This Masaki Akira looked up to him. His demeanor all but crumbles for a moment, blush lighting up his cheeks as he lets out a fake cough into a fist, while the other hand rubs the back of his neck. But he keeps the eye contact, unlike Akira - it's the least he could do to respect such words. While he feels completely undeserving, his honor and maturity weighs out, and he should accept all of these wishes head on. Even though -

"N-No, please, you don't have to pay me for lesson or talks." Shinsuke is quick to wave his hand in protest, his tone on slightly reflecting the true worry that such a thought brings him. He hadn't really helped train up other producers in his own company, much less in others, and he was sure 346 Productions would have his head if he helped another company while getting paid by them. The look madam CEO would give him...it sends a shiver up his spine. "Instead, um...First off, I'm honored that you think so highly of me. Though I'm still learning, the fact that my work has affected you so is...I appreciate hearing those words." He bows again, blush growing as he's unsure how to exactly take a compliment. He feels like how Chieri gets flustered at handshake events, blushy and stumbling on her words...Now he gets it completely.

"And second...We can just have a chat sometime, if you'd like?" With that, he pulls out one of his business cards, presenting it politely yet hesitantly with both of his thumbs and pointer fingers gripping either corner. "If you want to talk a little right now...Of course, the Cinderella Project's performances come first right now, but...After this set, we can go into the green room and grab some food and water. Unless 21 Wizards is on next...I wouldn't want to disrupt your time with your idols." Even now he can see New Generations in his periphery from one of the monitors, performing on stage for thousands of adoring fans. He wants to keep an eye on them...But he also trusts them do to well without him. He could pull away even if Masaki just wanted to chat a little bit, at least until Ankira needed help with their props later on...

#;shinsuke #*shakes this thing back into reality* early stage idol au akira.............lil birb producer #though also akira you can't pay for services from another company!!!!!!!! that's illegal!!!!!!! i think?#^ shinsuke thoughts #holds cg producer close #i should probably put him in the oc category but he has enough personality in the anime to where i'm like #no actually i shall just make him That Man *vague hand waving*#but i do have................a different cg producer idea...............different branch.................more ideas at Later

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joons · 2 years

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I feel the main difference in your example of SW Vs abortion is it's "forcing ppl not to do something Vs forcing them to do it". For ppl who want to do SW, if laws are in the way, they can try find other stuff, they don't Have to do anything. For ppl who want an abortion, it's forcing them to carry a pregnancy to term. Someone who chooses to go into SW is making a choice. Someone who, say, was nonconsensually assaulted and impregnated did not choose to do anything. I feel like when you bring up "choice feminism" that's one aspect where the 2 things aren't equivalent. Hope that makes sense, this is a huge topic so I only wanted to point that one aspect out.

You're absolutely right that it is very difficult to discuss abortion because it has no equivalent. It's why I'm always frustrated with things like the "violinist" example because it just never quite works to draw an analogy that fits with the biological uniqueness of pregnancy and birth. I bring up sex work just to point out that things that seem like victimless crimes or bodily autonomy issues actually do affect everyone, so we cannot treat bodily autonomy as a cure-all or first principle.

To your example about forcing someone to carry to term, I would just point out how low the rate of abortion as a result of rape actually is (less than 1% of all abortions, with 98% being for financial and elective reasons), which means it can become a way of avoiding the central ethical question of abortion. It comes down to whether we think abortion ends a life, and whether a society has the right to expect that parents take care of their children. Even the Roe decision acknowledges that the state has the authority to protect the child after an early window, regardless of the mother's desires to continue the pregnancy. This puts us in the position of having to acknowledge how very arbitrary that window is and suggests that it is either completely moral to abort for any reason at any time or that it is a life from the moment of conception and deserves protection throughout the pregnancy. OR, at the very least, let's let people vote on such tricky issues.

I also think it's pretty easy to flip your example around. Banning abortion or limiting it forces people not to do something: not to murder. In 98% of cases, sex was had willingly and a child was the result, and that is not a surprise. Intervening in the pregnancy to kill the child is an action that interrupts the natural process that everyone knows occurs after sex. If women are to expect true choice and agency, then a good way to start would be weighing up the consequences before another person is involved whose death is not a viable choice we are at liberty to make. Saying we should be able to get away with murder because it's our choice and we don't like what happened is so infantilizing to me. We're adults and have to take ownership of what we do and the lives we are entrusted with.

#pro life

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after-witch · 3 years

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Title: Holding Time [Yandere Fyodor Dostoevsky x Reader]

Synopsis: How long have you been in the basement? How long would it take to starve to death? How long does it take for your lover’s corpse to decompose?

Word Count: 1960

Notes: Yandere, kidnapped reader, graphic description of corpses, abuse, violence, injuries, starvation

Dripping. Something is dripping from somewhere--or some thing. The sound is too regular, too maddening, and your eyes dart around the basement to find the source. Not that you could do anything to stop it, with your hands chained to the wall.

It would normally be hard to see in the darkness of the basement, but Fyodor has kindly provided you with a light, hanging above the alcove against the wall just opposite where your chains were lodged. The light is warm and not over-whelming; the type of lighting you might read a book or have dinner under, if the circumstances were different.

Right now, that light is hanging just above the corpse of your boyfriend, a corpse artfully propped up against the wall in a mockery of a sitting stance.

Fyodor didn’t kill him in front of you. Which, you suppose, was meant to be a mercy. But your lover’s body was fresh when Fyodor dragged it down the basement, thumping thudding sounds which still echo in your ears, and you��ll never forget the sight of his lifeless corpse laid out in full view. You screamed and screamed and Fyodor simply watched, before pushing his corpse into a sitting position, right across from you.

“You can have a nice conversation with him now, just like you wanted.”

That was weeks ago. You think. And no, you didn’t have conversations with your lover’s decomposing corpse. But you sometimes talked to yourself. Just to hear something, anything, other than the skittering of mice and buzzing of insects (thanks to the shortness of your chains, you can’t even swat away the flies that land on you, crawling and itching) and the emptiness of the space around you.

You asked yourself if you did something to deserve all this.

You asked yourself if you should have done something different.

You ask yourself if it was stupid not to give in, not to force yourself to accept Fyodor’s advances, physical and otherwise, instead of screaming and biting and telling him you’d rather be dead than around him another second.

That’s when you first ended up in the basement, but that wasn’t the end of it--no, no. The end of it (maybe the end, you think, is there more? Is there more that he can do to you?) was a dead body thrust in front of you. The end of it was realizing that the person you loved most in the world, the person you imagined spending the rest of your life with, was no more. Their hopes and dreams and wishes and wants and needs? All gone. All nothing.

Just like you.

You still can’t decide if it was part of your punishment or if Fyodor would have killed him regardless of how you behaved. Maybe he would have stashed his body in a warehouse somewhere, sealing it with cement, never telling you the details but instead resting easy knowing that there was no real competition for your affection.

You’re not sure which would be worse--giving in to Fyodor’s sick demands and never knowing that your boyfriend had been murdered, or refusing and spending the weeks here, watching his body go from warm and red to stiff then big and bloating and now--now this, wasting away.

You wish your chains were longer. Then you could at least cover his face, so you didn’t have to see him staring at you, eyes white and glassy and unseeing, or his mouth gaping wide, flies and maggots sometimes making their presence known inside. Sometimes the mass of insects makes it look like his jaw, unhinged and slack, is moving--and you spend hours with your eyes closed, peeking only to see if the inhuman effect has ceased.

You can’t escape the smell of decay. Your chains aren’t even long enough to let you cover your mouth, your nose, and your forced to breathe it in every second. Disgustingly sweet and sour and strong, something you’ve never smelled before in your life but you know you will never forget it. All tinged with the smell of your waste which is, at least, mercifully contained in a wooden pail shoved up against the wall. Your legs are weaker and it’s harder to push yourself up using the backs of your elbows, but you manage.

There are few mercies in this basement, but the bucket is one of them, and you dare not complain about the odor lest it be taken away from you, too. Besides, it’s not as if you do more than piddle a meager amount most of the time, anyway. You haven’t had food in--you don’t know. Long enough that you don’t have regular bowel movements anymore. Long enough that the sharp piercing ache of hunger has turned into something altogether new, a deep, dull carving ache--starvation. He stopped bringing food once he brought your boyfriend, once he left you alone with a dead body and your thoughts.

Your water supply is low and inconsistent. Fyodor doesn’t come down into the basement at all anymore, actually, and you’re not even sure that he’s the one tossing the water bottles down the basement stairs.

Sometimes they reach your grasp, sometimes they don’t. On good days, the three bottles thrown down at regular intervals all get close enough that you can pull them to you using your legs or feet. On bad days, your tongue swells up and you swallow nothing but spit.

You don’t have a mirror or any way of seeing yourself, but you can guess that you’re not in the best shape. Your muscles feel weak and cramped. Your wrists are sore, stinging, and you can see the slightest hints of red underneath the cuffs attached to the chains on the wall. Probably an infection, from pulling on them until your wrists bled. Your side hurts all the time, a dull ache that won’t go away.

You haven’t bathed, of course, but the stink of your own unwashed body--the smell of staleness and sweat and body oil--is nothing compared to decay. The smell. The sight.

Does his family know he’s dead? Does your family think you’re dead? Nothing outside the basement feels real, nothing outside the basement feels important. Your world has shrunk down to the grim reality that you’re starving in an isolated space with only the company of pests and a corpse.

And your thoughts, which are sometimes the worst companion of all.

You think about lots of things. You think about your life before all this, how you took it all for granted, how Fyodor ruined everything. You think about your life before the basement, even, the uncertain anxiety of what he was going to do next as you cycled through being handcuffed to Fyodor’s bed, to the dining room table, to the side table next to the sofa.

You think about your hunger. God, you didn’t know hunger could feel like this. You didn’t know it was possible to be so empty, so desperate for the smallest amount of nourishment that sometimes you lick your skin for the salt, the sweat, for the taste of something in your mouth.

You think about your choices. You think about how you threatened him, how you promised him that he was going to get caught and your friends at the agency were going to severely fuck-him-up. You think about how he took all of this with a grim smile, how he smacked you across the face, how he wiped up the blood on your lip and kissed you afterwards.

You think about how he gave you chances, after each time, until finally you'd crossed some line and he dragged you unceremoniously to the basement and clicked on the too-tight cuffs.

Maybe leaving his body behind wasn’t a punishment. Maybe it was a lesson. Maybe it was a forewarning of your own fate: you’re going to die down here. Like him. And then you’ll be nothing but a corpse, a sack of flesh animated by the wiggling of insects infesting your insides.

The thought of dying like this brings a low, throbbing horror into your body. Your chest aches. Your throat aches. Everything aches. All the time. But especially when your thoughts race to the future, a future you won’t actually be alive to acknowledge.

But you don’t want to die. You don’t want to die like this, especially, slowly starving and withering and sitting a few inches away from a bucket of your waste.

But that’s what’s going to happen if this goes on much longer.

Fyodor didn’t say he was going to leave you here to die. You thought he’d keep you in the basement until you begged to be let out. And, truth be told, you would have done so already, if he kept coming to see you--but he stopped, and the only face you’ve seen in the past few weeks has been rotting away. He didn’t even give you the opportunity to fix yourself, to apologize, to beg for mercy. Or whatever it is he wanted out of you. Obedience? Amusement?

It doesn’t matter that it wouldn’t be genuine, it doesn’t matter that you hate him more than anything in the world. What matters is that he kidnapped you and killed people in the name of keeping you and destroyed your life in every way imaginable… and now he’s just leaving you to die without giving you a chance to fix it.

Like you’re nothing.

He probably wouldn’t want you now, anyway. You’re a shell of yourself, aren’t you? Your arms are weak and your muscles weaker; and your skin looks sallow and you’re sure, you’re sure, that if he saw your eyes, they would be as glassy and dead as the corpse across the way.

You’d messed up, you’d let yourself become a shadow, a slip, a wraith of a thing stuck in the basement until it finally dies and frees up his time to find someone new. Someone full of life and beauty and anything but the stubbornness you couldn’t let go of, the pride that refused to let you see it was a life or death situation. Life--with Fyodor, sitting on his lap and letting him kiss you and touch you and possess you. Death--well, you see what that is now, an unceremonious bloating and wasting away. Maggots and shit and stink.

And you chose death--didn’t you? Unwittingly, unknowingly, but you chose it all the same.

If you had a do-ever, you know you would choose life. You would grin and bear it. You would throw yourself into it, you would do everything in your power to stay in his good graces, to stay upstairs--where you would be clean and fed and sleep on sheets and never have to understand what it’s like for your lips to be so dry that they crack open and bleed.

Maybe... maybe he didn’t even wait for your death to get someone new. You can hear sounds from upstairs, sometimes, undefined but surely there. Maybe he’s already got someone upstairs and they were smart enough to keep their mouth shut and their expressions neutral, pretending they weren’t horrified and disgusted by the person who ripped their life into pieces.

Maybe it was too late to beg on your hands and knees for forgiveness, for another chance. Too late to tell him that you were wrong and stupid and you want to be with him, upstairs, please, please, please.

And that’s what you say now, what your thoughts propel you to whisper into the stagnant basement air: Please. Please. Please. You say it so much that your throat hurts, you say it so much that you don’t know how much time has passed before there’s a sudden sound--a sudden light.

You jerk your head towards the light, the opening of the basement door at the top of the steps. The light hovers, murky, shimmering, like the sun viewed from underneath the water. The only sound now is the jingling of your chains, and then--

Footsteps, on the stairs descending.

One.

Two.

Three.

You hardly recognize your own voice when you cry out, wistful and hopeful and above all things, desperate.

“Fyodor?”

#yandere fyodor Dostoevsky #yandere fyodor #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere #afterwitch writes

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sepublic · 3 years

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Marcy’s Condition

I’m scared for Marcy. Seeing her so wounded, I just-

I really am afraid. Afraid that she’s going to need not just emotional and mental therapy, but physical therapy as well… Which, we don’t know how successful Andrias’ procedure is going to be, but still. It really sucks and haunts me how Sasha has that scar on her face, as a permanent reminder of what happened in Amphibia, of Reunion…

But not to compare pain, but Marcy is somehow even worse- Because she might just have that ENTIRE gaping scar on her chest and back, and… Remembering how she almost died, how she THOUGHT she died. The pain, the unimaginable horror and agony at being impaled. The reminder of everything that happened in True Colors, the pain and desperation, the betrayal… I can legit seeing it become an actual, medical trigger for Marcy. Sasha at least managed to cope with the scar on her face, good for her…!

But Marcy… I can easily see this breaking her. And it just leads to her always trying to cover up that scar and not look at it, which, is easy because she can accomplish that with any regular shirt, but still… It’s just the entire concept of bodily autonomy being violated, of being marked like that, and it worsens with the idea of Andrias turning Marcy into a cyborg, and/or his master possessing her. To already have her body so grievously hurt and wounded, to then be operated on like a test subject, to be controlled and puppeted with this entity inside her… It genuinely sickens me.

This girl suffered, and there’s always that permanent, visual reminder of it. At least with Sasha, you can argue how she brought it on herself, as a reminder of how she tried to kill Anne’s surrogate father and why this mistake backfired; It’s a learning experience, although trauma is trauma of course, so that is to be said VERY lightly and carefully. It’s not like Anne MEANT to scar Sasha; But Marcy… Marcy didn’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve to be impaled by someone she trusted, who took advantage of and manipulated her…

She was afraid of confiding her fears in with Anne and Sasha, and she found that in Andrias; And now, she’s likely to be even MORE terrified of opening up because of this! Especially with how Andrias has the AUDACITY to literally gaslight Marcy in her final moments, as she realizes she’s going to die and is dead, by saying “Look what you’ve made me do.” As if he hasn’t emotionally manipulated her enough, to imply Marcy’s violent death is all her fault, and/or that of the friends she loves and didn’t want to lose, was so afraid of being rejected by. Because I guess her soul hadn’t been crushed enough!

Not to mention… Getting impaled like that, having a burning blade through your spine… I’m just really afraid that when this is all over, IF Marcy gets to recover and heal; She might be paralyzed. She might be plagued with physical health issues for the rest of her life, because she’s missing an entire chunk of her spine; And, hopefully Andrias’ procedure can give Marcy’s body a full recovery… Ideal scenario, no scar, even!

But I can’t help but feel like being possessed by Andrias’ master, THAT could leave its own physical toll on Marcy’s poor body, and it just agonizes me to see this girl be violated like that, emotionally and physically. It’s depressing how Marcy briefly treats others more like NPCs in her game than people, because now SHE’s being objectified, losing her agency, in a way that is so much worse and totally undeserved.

Marcy doesn’t deserve to have to live with physical health issues for the rest of her life, for what happened; She’s a kid. She doesn’t deserve to be plagued with echoes of pain and physical trauma that constantly remind her of what happened, even when she’s not directly looking at the visual mark it left behind. And I’m just scared that when this is all over… I can see Marcy being bedridden, being in ACTUAL medical therapy, because I have a hard time imagining her being able to function without that.

What if she becomes physically sick and ill, still feeling the repercussions of her wound or possession or being modified against her will? I don’t want to imagine Marcy looking at prosthetics that Andriasgave her, for the rest of her life. There’s nothing wrong with needing physical aid, or medicine, or therapy to get by in life; But for Marcy, it could serve as a reminder of issues that came as a direct, unfair, result of her time in Amphibia; A loss of carefree health she once had… And she doesn’t deserve to be haunted like that.

I don’t want Marcy to be plagued by health issues, she’s gone through ENOUGH already, having the rest of Marcy’s life be permanently riddled and restrained because of her wound, it just… It genuinely leaves me in anguish. I don’t want to see Marcy in a wheelchair, as a permanent, haunting reminder that is intertwined in every aspect of her life, of what happened… A reminder she literally can’t escape because it’s her own body, and it’ll affect just about every breathing moment for her.

I don’t want to see Marcy struggle to breathe from damaged lungs. Or have her struggle with meds –I know that feeling- or constantly need a device for physical aid, something to be hooked up to often. I don’t want to imagine Marcy sometimes lying in bed at night, placing her hand over her chest, so she can feel her heart beating, to relieve and reassure herself that she’s still alive. Not after feeling her heart stop beating when she was first impaled… She’s so young, she has her whole life ahead of her, or should, and she had that violently ripped away from her, barely got to live with that kind of normal life before it was gone for good. She deserves to just breathe, carefree, and feel the sunlight on her face and enjoy life.

As a disclaimer, I don’t want to patronize people with disabilities or injuries. I don’t want to turn physical conditions into some inescapable tragedy that can’t be moved past, can’t be healed from; There are so many people who have managed to adapt and continue living as always. I’m sorry if I did that… But Marcy’s whole condition could be a brutal reminder of what happened to her, of that horrible thing that wracked not just her heart but her entire body. She shouldn’t have to suffer for that, for the rest of her life…

And I’m terrified for her mental health. Of her suffering from actual PTSD, being triggered by things that remind her of that moment. Of having nightmares and waking up in a cold sweat, heart racing, as she reaches out for Anne or Sasha for comfort. I can’t handle that thought, the idea of a kid in that sort of pain… It’s so unfair and she doesn’t deserve it. I can genuinely, plausibly see Marcy becoming depressed, becoming somber and morose for a long while, before she can finally heal and become happy and excited and curious in things that open way she does; And GOD, I’d be inconsolable if she felt suicidal, because how do you move on from that? Thinking her life wasn’t worth it without Anne or Sasha, that she literally can’t handle it… Combined with the possibility of abuse in more ways than one from her parents, how THEY won’t help, if they’re even allowed near Marcy after all this.

Does Marcy have anyone to even turn to when it all ends? I hope she does. I can only imagine her being constantly terrified of being alone, and needing company just to get by… She really deserves a therapy pet after all this, maybe Joe Sparrow could help. It just… It just sounds like Marcy’s whole life has been wracked with this kind of pain, and I don’t want to her pain get any worse, to see it get physically chronic. Any kind of physical pain could easily traumatize and push Marcy to her limits… And, there’s the possibility of good representation for physical disabilities, but also, I don’t want to patronize anyone, or speak over their voices, so again I apologize if I did.

I guess this just stems from me wanting to see Marcy’s pain be acknowledged and addressed so she can properly heal from it, can be validated and told that it was terrible and should’ve never happened no matter what… But maybe I can find relief in the denial that it didn’thurt her this badly, that Marcy is fine and doesn’t have to deal with that to begin with, because wouldn’t that be better for her? I dunno.

It’s undeniable that Marcy is going to be emotionally crushed after this… But does she have to stay, or become, physicallycrushed as well?

I just…

SOMEONE GET THIS GIRL SOME LOVE AND CARE AND THERAPY ASAP FOR THE REST OF HER LIFE AND LET HER BE WELL AGAIN!!!!!

I just want Marcy to be able to recover and heal… I genuinely hope and wish her emotional spirit will at least be able to move on after this, that she can still find joy and excitable fun, and get to be a kidagain, with her best friends like old times; Only better, because she’s at least grown. God, these girls and their trauma, and the inevitability of how it’ll haunt and hurt them… It leaves me inconsolable.

#amphibia #amphibia spoilers #spoilers #amphiba marcy #marcy wu #angst #ptsd #suicide mention

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luulapants · 3 years

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Listen, when we talk about insecurity, we’re always talking about how it affects the insecure person, but I think it is really important to acknowledge how it can negatively impact other people. And it may seem counter-productive to “put down” people who are already down on themselves, but hear me out.

People constantly read their own insecurities into other people’s words or actions. A person who’s paranoid about being bullied will interpret compliments as mean and sarcastic or read well-meaning jokes as teasing. My friend dumped a guy who is weirdly, obsessively insecure about his height, and he refused to believe her when she told him that it was his insecurity, not his height, that she couldn’t deal with. An author reads the comment “I wish there were 100k more words of this!!” and thinks they’re being criticized for writing something too short, when the commenter really meant that they loved it so much, they wished it would never end.

Then what do they do? They blame the other person, demonize their behavior, based on a scenario or motive that they invented in their own head. Now they dislike or even hate someone for something they didn’t even do. Now they’ve invented confirmation to feed their insecurities. They thought they’d be bullied and, hey, look, they were!

And what really drives me nuts about it is it’s so selfish. It’s so self-pitying, self-obsessed. Even if they’re kicking themselves and criticizing themselves for being unlovable and short or whatever the fuck is going on in there, it’s still a pity party. Self-loathing is self-obsession, my dudes. What’s more, they’re so obsessed with their own insecurities that they’ve A) removed personal agency from another person by not letting them speak to their own motives and B) directed a whole ton of negative energy at someone who doesn’t deserve it.

So here’s a few nuggets of wisdom I wish I could cram into everyone’s heads:

People are almost certainly not out to get you. They’re probably not thinking about you deeply enough to be out to get you. Most people are thinking about themselves most of the time, even when (sometimes especially when) they’re thinking about something else.

Take people at their word when it comes to social/emotional matters. People are honest more often than you might think, and even when they’re not, take them at their word.

If your friend says “I don’t mind if you borrow my car,” and you say, “Are you sure?” and they say, “Yes, I’m sure,” and then later they complain that they didn’t actually want you to borrow the car? Well, that’s a ‘them’ problem. You asked, they lied to you. You might be less a deceitful and passive aggressive friend at the end of the day, but honestly? That’s not much of a loss.

But if they say “I don’t mind if you borrow my car” and then you go off and sulk because you read some imaginary tone into their words and now you’ve decided that your friend doesn’t care about you or want to help you - hoo boy, buddy. That’s a ‘you’ problem. Because you’re not even really thinking about your ‘friend’ as a person at that point. You’ve invented a villain to victimize yourself with, and you’re just using their body as a stand-in.

Which leaves us with the last nugget:

When you’re not sure how something was meant, just ask. And don’t beat around the bush, just... ask the exact question you have. There are very few situations in this world that are made worse by asking questions.

Stop treating insecurity as a harmless internal struggle to martyr yourself on.

#rambles #insecurity #this is what i get for not keeping on my philosophy blog #it's bleeding in

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starglow-xx · 3 years

Text

there for you

edogawa ranpo x f!reader

fandom: bungou stray dogs

content: hurt/comfort

type of work: one-shot

synopsis: he’s had a bad day, and honestly? at the end of the day, he just wants to be held by you

author’s note: i finished reading bsd volume 14 (ch. 55-58) a couple days ago and im sad so i wrote this bc i want to give one of my babies some love bc he needs and deserves it

but no worries! this is spoiler free! it’s not related to the chapters at all

Your boyfriend is an egotistical man who can be rude, selfish, and unconcerned in most situations.

But it didn’t mean he didn’t care.

Ranpo loves his job, even if he complained that there were no interesting cases to get involved in or that he was too lazy to work.

He loves his friends, his family, even if he’s not the best at communicating with them or if he doesn’t tell them out right.

The development of the agency gave him a father figure, a loving and beautiful girlfriend, people he could call his siblings, people who looked up to him and trusted him with all of their being.

And that’s exactly the reason why he currently feels like absolute shit.

A couple months prior, the agency busted a group for drug and human trafficking.

Turns out, there were retired colleagues who witnessed the bust down. They watched their juniors fall into custody at the mercy of the agency.

The sudden attack caught the ADA completely off guard.

Not even Dazai saw it coming.

Currently, you were at home after the attack resting on the couch wrapped in a blanket and with a cup of warm tea in your hands.

It was way past dinner, and you were just waiting for your boyfriend to come home.

Ranpo wasn’t present when the attack had initially happened, but you and the rest of the agency met up with him at the hospital.

During the attack, the group had used a dangerous gas they had made along with machine guns.

Fortunately, you and a lot of the other staff and detectives only escaped with a couple of grazes and a nasty headache as you were all towards the back of the room and able to cover your noses and mouths quickly at the sight of the gas.

But Atsushi, Kyouka, and Dazai weren’t so lucky.

The three got the worst of the attack as they were the closest to the door and breathed in the most gas.

From the intel you all had learned later, the gas that was used in the attacks makes you dizzy, nauseous and causes immense body pain, attacking your inner organs.

They were unable to defend themselves properly; their bodies shut down almost immediately with the amount of gas that was now in their system.

Not to mention, their wounds from the bullets.

Fortunately, their wounds being fatal, Yosano was able to heal them, and even the effects from the gas were gone.

Except for Dazai.

Thou Shalt Not Die would have no affect on him for No Longer Human would only nullify it.

Dazai was rushed to hospital and put into emergency surgery; and a couple hours later, was put in the ICU where he still is now.

You take a peak at the clock on the wall.

10:37

It’s been hours since Dazai was put into the ICU, and hours since you left the hospital with your boyfriend’s encouragement and boss’s order.

You frown for you haven’t been informed of any updates regarding your hospitalized friend and that your lover hasn’t arrived yet.

It was unusual behavior for him as he never stayed longer than absolutely necessary—similar to Dazai—because as a clerk, you never had to stay for long hours like the front line agents.

It was even weirder now seeing as you—along with the other clerks—were dismissed from work early by Fukuzawa.

You pick up your phone to call Ranpo but you hear the door unlock and you immediately get up from the couch to meet your lover.

The moment he’s in your field of vision, you refrain from letting out a gasp.

Tired eyes was not a sight you would’ve ever pictured on your boyfriend.

Earlier, you were informed by two of your younger juniors—Atsushi and Tanizaki—that shortly after you and the other clerks had left the hospital, they’ve been on the hunt for the antidote to help treat Dazai.

Last you heard, it wasn’t going so well.

They couldn’t interrogate the group that had attacked as they had committed suicide in police custody via cyanide pills and all the other leads led to dead ends.

Even your boyfriend drew blanks.

It was obvious to you that he was frustrated with himself and the whole situation.

It was evident on the look of your boyfriend’s face; he felt defeated.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this shut down since Shachou was under the virus ability.

Your boyfriend locks the door, turns back to you and you walk over to him slowly, taking his hands and placing it on your cheeks, effectively holding it there.

With no words exchanged between the two of you, he rubs his thumbs across your cheeks with an uncharacteristic amount of gentleness.

With you still holding your hands against your face, he whisper softly to him, “How’s Dazai?”

He sighs before removing his hands from your grasp and instead pulls your head towards his chest, leaving it there.

“Still unconscious.”

You hum in acknowledgment, and you pull away from him, opting to intertwine both his hands with yours.

“I feel like shit.”

“You shouldn’t.”

You look up at his bright emerald green eyes, and he stares right into your bright (e/c) ones.

It’s not often his friends see the childish male with his eyes wide open, but in intimate moments like these—even the small ones—he has always had his eyes open.

With frustration in his voice he sighs, “I should’ve seen that coming. It was so fucking obvious.”

You gently rub your thumbs over the top of his palms and you softly try to comfort your boyfriend.

“There’s nothing we can do about it now; it’s already happened.”

He squeezes your hands tightly, as if you’re about to disappear right in front of him.

“You got hurt, and so did everyone else.”

You slip out one hand to caress his cheek, soothingly you whisper to him, “I’m okay, I’m right here. I’m still here with you.”

The twenty-six year old leans into your touch closing his eyes trying to calm himself down.

“The others are okay too, we didn’t get hurt too badly. Dazai will be okay too.”

Slightly scowling, frustration seeps back into his voice.

“I couldn’t even find the damn antidote.”

Knowing words wouldn’t be any help to your detective boyfriend, you lean in and the both of you share a soft kiss.

You pull away, and look at each other before Ranpo leans in and captures your lips once more.

This time, the kiss is more desperate, yet gentle; the stress of the day’s events evident, but he also kisses you as if you’d break at his touch, as if you’re about to fade away from him.

After a few minutes, you and Ranpo break away and the two of you let out short heavy breaths and you realize your hands are entangled in his hair and his hands cupped around your face.

You lean into his touch and you stare into his green orbs; his eyes still swimming with stress.

Once again rubbing his thumbs against your cheeks, he whispers to you so softly, you almost miss it.

“I think I just need a hug.”

Without hesitation, you stand on your tiptoes, reach up and engulf your boyfriend in a tight hug; your arms wrapped around his neck and his arms naturally finding themselves around your back.

You kiss your boyfriend’s shoulder and the two of slowly sway side to side; both of you glad to be in the other’s presence and glad to be able to share this intimate moment.

With his face buried into your shoulder, he closes his eyes and breathes in your scent only for him to realize you’re wearing one of his shirts.

He smiles ever so slightly and quickly pecks your exposed neck.

The master detective relishes in your warmth and melts at your touch.

He doesn’t think, no, he knows he can’t feel more at home with anyone or anywhere else.

You’re the person he can break down all his walls for, the person he’d fight for, the person he would love for all of eternity.

For every moment, big or little, happy or sad you’re right there with him.

You’re more than just his girlfriend; you’re his support system, his life, his home; much more than he’d consider the ADA to be.

He knows he might not deserve you; he can be an ass, he knows that, but he’ll never let you go; he’ll never let anything take you away.

He holds you tighter against him and presses a kiss to your shoulder before letting out a faint whisper.

“I cherish you above anything else in my life. I love you.”

“I will always be there for you, Ranpo. I love you too.”

reblogs and shares are appreciated! i hope you all stay safe! and just in case nobody told you they loved you today, i love you! you are enough! <3

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hacawijo · 3 years

Text

Alright, If We’re Gonna Play with Az’s Bonus Chapter, Let’s PLAY with Az’s Bonus Chapter (Pt. 2)

Yeah baby, part 2 of a PAINSTAKING close read lol.

Azriel winnowed into shadows before she could say anything he uses the shadows to ESCAPE, they are a coping mechanism, appearing at the door to Rhys’s study a heartbeat later. His shadows whispered in his ear that Elain had gone upstairs. It’s interesting that the shadows specifically report on Elain’s whereabouts here and not earlier, as well as later not reporting on Gwyn.

Rhys sat at his desk, fury a moonless night across his face. He asked softly, “Are you out of your mind?”

Azriel donned the frozen mask he’d perfected while in his father’s dungeon. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rhys’s power rippled through the room like a dark cloud. “I’m talking about you, about to kiss Elain, in the middle of a hall where anyone could see you,” he snarled. “Including her mate.” It is not out of line for Rhys to acknowledge that this was stupid. If for no other reason than that it would hurt Lucien if he saw/felt them.

Azriel stiffened. Let his cold rage rise to the surface, the rage he only ever let Rhysand see, because he knew his brother could match it. Which is the mirror to something that Rhys notes in ACOFAS, that they are similar in their darkness. Because Rhys is really the only person Azriel can be himself with, completely, I think it’s important to acknowledge that this is unprecedented ground for them and specifically for Azriel. This is the first time Azriel can actually voice ANY of these thoughts out loud, and only because Rhys saw them, he did not bring this concern to Rhys himself. “What if the Cauldron was wrong?”

Rhysand blinked. “What of Mor, Az?” Also very not out of line thing to ask. Feyre is the only person Mor has really told about her sexuality, and so to Rhys and co. AND Azriel, nothing about this situation has changed in the past 500 years. The fact that Azriel is able to get over Mor, without that confirmation of her sexuality, because of Elain, is significant I think.

Azriel ignored the question. Hmm yeah, but he can’t keep ignoring this question forever, and that’s another reason he and Elain did NOT kiss in this chapter. He and his family and Mor all need closure regarding their relationship. “The Cauldron chose three sisters. Oh boy, I have a lot to say about the number three later on! Tell me how it’s possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another.” He had never before dared speak the words out loud. NEVER BEFORE DARED TO SPEAK THE WORDS OUT LOUD. This is the first time he’s even verbalizing these thoughts - of COURSE he doesn’t know how to navigate this conversation. This is raw emotion being spewed out right now, enhanced by the unresolved tension from his interaction with Elain.

Rhys’s face drained of color. “You believe you deserve to be her mate?” So, he says that his two brothers ARE WITH two of those sisters, which is a way to acknowledge the fact that both people in each pair accepted the bond and that it was a mutually built connection. Then he says “the third was given to another” which is actually really different. He’s saying that Elain was given to Lucien by the Cauldron, suddenly one member of that bond is not an active participant - and this is mostly true! Elain has ignored Lucien diligently, and she hinted about her lack of feelings for him when she asked Feyre why he should be entitled to her affections just because of the cauldron and whatever amends he has made. I don’t like Azriel saying that Elain is something to be given as opposed to a person to be connected to, but I’m not sure exactly what it means that he did that. ANYWAY, Rhys really does supply the word deserve, and we have evidence from earlier in this chapter that essentially proves that Azriel does not believe he deserves Elain, anyway. He is having an argument with Rhys, yes, but it almost feels like he’s arguing with himself.

Azriel scowled. “I think Lucien will never be good enough for her, and she has no interest in him anyway.” (THE ONLY TIME ELAIN’S ACTUAL FEELINGS, ACTIONS ARE CONSIDERED IN THIS DISCUSSION BTW) Also, not that he doesn’t answer Rhys’s question. For Azriel, this isn’t necessarily about what HE deserves in this moment, it’s about what Elain wants. Almost certainly, Azriel DOESN’T believe that he deserves Elain, but he sees the injustice of her being forced to accept a bond with someone for political or spiritual/societal reasons. So while to Rhys it may seem like Azriel is is putting Lucien’s claim down in order to boost his own, I actually think Azriel is trying to distinguish a different issue - Elain’s agency. This same thing happened with Mor and Eris. ABSOLUTELY THIS IS NOT ALL LIKE THAT SITUATION BECAUSE LUCIEN IS NOT ERIS!!! I am not trying to compare their behavior. BUT, Azriel would have dueled Eris for Mor’s agency regardless of whether or not she chose to be with him.

“So you’ll what?” Rhys’s voice was pure ice. “Seduce her away from him?” Rhys, I think, misinterpreting Azriel and it’s mostly not Rhys’s fault. Azriel doesn’t communicate well and is not currently communicating well. That being said, I wish he would give Azriel more benefit of the doubt.

Azriel said nothing. He hadn’t got that far with his planning, certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to. HE HADN’T PLANNED ANYTHING, this whole conversation is just like a raw nerve.

Rhys growled, “Allow me to make one thing very clear. You are to stay away from her.” Well come on, now, Rhys, what if she doesn’t want to stay away from him? BE A FEMINIST RHYS, just add, “unless she wants to see you”!

ALSO, DID RHYS TELL FEYRE ABOUT THIS? MY MONEY IS ON NO, AND IF RHYS DIDN’T TELL HER ITS BECAUSE HE KNOWS HE’S NOT WHOLLY DOING THE RIGHT THING BY ELAIN.

“You can’t order me to do that.”

“Oh, I can, and I will. If Lucien finds out you’re pursuing her, he has every right to defend their bond as he sees fit. Including invoking the Blood Duel.” Another really big sign that this is going to play out Elriel style is the mentioning of the Blood Duel. Chekhov’s gun eh?

“That’s an Autumn Court tradition.” The battle to the death was so brutal that it was only enacted in rare cases. Despite being an outsider, Azriel had wanted to to invoke it when he’d found Mor all those years ago. Had been ready to challenge both Beron and Eris to Blood Duels and kill them both. Yes see? He would have done this regardless of Mor’s feelings toward him. Only Mor’s right to claim their heads in vengeance had kept him from doing so.

“Lucien, as Beron’s son, has the right to demand it of you.” But hey fun fact Rhys knows that Lucien is almost CERTAINLY not Beron’s son. Interesting to consider in context.

“I’ll defeat him with little effort.” Pure arrogance laced every word, but it was true. Again, Azriel is dodging Rhys’s points and is honestly being pretty immature right now, but he hasn’t actually said ANYTHING about an intention to pursue Elain with any of this. Rhys has filled in the blanks, and Azriel has responded to smaller aspects of Rhys’s macro-points with which he finds fault. I think this is also because he knows Rhys is right about a lot of the realities of the situation, but he is in the mood to be contrary right now, so he’s fighting back where he can stomach it.

“I know.” Rhys’s eyes flickered. “And your doing so will rip apart any fragile peace and alliances we have, not only with the Autumn Court, but Also with the Spring Court and Jurian and Vassa.” Rhys bared his teeth. Rhys’s motivations are based entirely on things that have nothing to do with Elain’s feelings, which is sad. But, they’re not insignificant considerations. Though come on dude you did pretty much enable Hybern’s arrival to Prythian by alienating The Spring Court with Feyre’s escape.“So you will leave Elain alone. YES, ALONE, because Elain probably is PRETTY FREAKIN LONELY If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her.” Low. Blow.

Azriel snarled softly.

“Snarl all you want.” Rhys leaned back in his chair. “But if I see you panting after her again, I’ll make you regret it.” I do think this is a really ungenerous description of what was happening downstairs with Elain. Their interaction was careful and consensual, we have painstaking detail to prove that, and it was far from panting/animalistic in action.

Rhys had rarely threatened punishment or pulled rank. It stunned Azriel enough that it knocked him from his rage. This is another person taking ANOTHER choice away from Elain. I think she may find out about Rhys doing this and I personally think she’s gonna be rightfully pissed.

Rhys jerked his chin toward the door. “Get out.”

Azriel tucked in his wings and left without another word, stalking through the house and onto the front lawn to sit in the frigid starlight. To let the frost in his veins match the air around him.

Until he felt nothing. Was again nothing at all. With Elain, he is SOMETHING. Because he feels things.

Then he flew to the House of Wind, knowing that if he slept in the riverside manor, he’d do something he regretted. He’d been so vigilant about keeping away from Elain as much as possible, Further evidence that Azriel never intended to fight Lucien or make a stink over Elain and had stayed up here to avoid her, and tonight... tonight had proved he’d been right to do so.

He aimed for the training pit, giving in to the need to work off the temptation, the rage and frustration and writhing need.

He found it occupied. His shadows had not warned him. I am not sure what it means that his shadows didn’t warn him. It could mean that Gwyn is protected from his shadows/immune to them. It could mean that his shadows wanted him to go see Gwyn - either out of a desire for Azriel to find some peace with her or out of curiosity as to who/what she is?

It was too late to bank without appearing like he was running. Azriel landed in the ring a few feet from where Gwyn practiced in the chill night, her sword glimmering like ice in the moonlight.

She stopped mid-slice, whirling to face him. “I’m sorry. I knew you all were going to the river house, so I didn’t think anyone would mind if I came up here and—“

“It’s fine. I came here to retrieve something I forgot.” The lie was smooth and cool, as he knew his face was. His shadows peered over his wings at her. They are… wary of her? They’re shy around her?

The young priestess smiled — and Azriel thought it might have been directed at his curious shadows. But she just hooked her coppery-brown hair behind an arched ear. “I was trying to cut the ribbon.” She pointed with her sword at the white ribbon, which seemed to glow silver. Some interesting language here and above (glimmering, glow etc.) to do with light, and again a juxtaposition between light and dark. But not a golden light, a colder/silver light.

“Aren’t you cold?” His breath clouded in front of him.

Gwyn shrugged. “Once you get moving, you stop noticing it.”

He nodded, silence falling. For a heartbeat, their gazes met. Gaze is definitely a romantically charged word, this is one of the tiny details that makes me unsure about the future nature of their relationship. He blocked out the bloody memory that flashed, so at odds with the Gwyn he saw before him now. I definitely do not think they are mates. I’m not closing the door on them being romantically involved, I don’t have enough evidence to do that, but I really think that if they were mates, Azriel would have known when he saw her at Sangravah.

Her head ducked, as if remembering it too. That he’d been the one who’d found her that day at Sangravah. Shades of Cassian’s reactions to Emerie’s wings having been clipped, in ACOFAS. “Happy Solstice,” she said, as much a dismissal as it was a holiday blessing.

He snorted. “Are you kicking me out?”

Gwyn’s teal eyes I have a lot to say about these teal eyes :) flashed with alarm. “No! I mean, I don’t mind sharing the ring. I just... I know you like to be alone.” Her mouth quirked to the side, crinkling the freckles on her nose. “Is that why you came up here?” I’ll talk more about this later, but there are a few small moments in the book where it seems like Gwyn might have a crush on Azriel, or some kind of special awareness/interest where he is concerned. I have seen almost no evidence that Az returns those potential feelings, except PERHAPS for the moment where he hears her screech and pays attention. But I think anyone would pay attention if someone screeched? Also he watches reverently as she cuts the ribbon, but that also feels like it would happen regardless of any romantic feelings he might have. But I don’t know for sure!

Sort of. “I forgot something.”

“At two in the morning?”

Pure amusement glittered in her stare. Better than the pain and grief he’d spied a moment before. So he offered her a crooked smile. He cares that she not be feeling pain and grief, as he does with anyone he deems good, and that is part of why he offers her the smile, as he clearly says right here. “I can’t sleep without my favorite dagger.”

“A comfort to every growing child.”

Azriel’s lips twitched. I think her irreverence matches his sense of humor quite well. He refrained from mentioning that he did indeed sleep with a dagger. Many daggers. Including one under his pillow.

“How was the party?” Her breath curled in front of her mouth, and one of his shadows darted out to dance with it before twirling back to him. Like it heard some silent music. This shadow is acting totally independent of him. She’s asking a simple question of Azriel at the moment, and he CAN’T hear the music he believes that shadow might be dancing to. Lightsinger evidence, I’d say.

“Fine,” he said, and realized a heartbeat later that it wasn’t a socially acceptable answer. “It was nice.” LOL I will say here that Azriel has to make a lot of conscious effort in this interaction. He makes himself respond in a specific way, which is not language that was used to describe his interactions with Elain earlier in the chapter. This could totally just be because he doesn’t know Gwyn that well, and certainly that’s a big part of it, but I think there’s something to be said for the fact that he is still filtering himself here with Gwyn in the quiet.

Not much better. So he asked, “Did you can the priestesses have a celebration?”

“Yes, though the service was the main highlight.”

“I see.” LOL

She angled her head, hair shining like molten metal. More glowing-type stuff “Do you sing?” I love Gwyn.

He blinked. It wasn’t everyday that people took him by surprise, but... which is great! Elain surprises him with the headache medicine in ACOFAS, Feyre surprises him with her intuition and tenderness throughout. I think this indicates that they will have a significant relationship regardless of its exact nature. “Why do you ask?”

“They call you shadowsinger. Is it because you sing?”

“I am a shadowsinger— it’s not a title that someone just made up.” It’s super-duper interesting that they actually discuss the fact that he’s a shadowsinger. When Feyre meets Azriel, she is curious, but specifically doesn’t ask follow-up questions or for expansion on the ability. Why specifically remind us here that Azriel is a shadowsinger and that Gwyn sings? If not to foreshadow something related to the ability and Gwyn?

She shrugged again, irreverently. Az narrowed his eyes, studying her. “Do you though?” She pressed. “Sing?”

Azriel couldn’t help his soft chuckle. “Yes.” I love Gwyn. She is the reason I now realize a lot of what I’ve been doing in my life is irreverence :P

She opened her mouth to ask more, but he didn’t feel like explaining. Or demonstrating, since that was surely what she’d ask next. So Az jerked his chin to the sword dangling from her hand. “Try cutting the ribbon again.” I love this so much. Maybe it is romantic, but I think that’s debatable. What’s not debatable is that it’s completely charming.

“What— with you watching?” It’s actually pretty funny that in order to avoid giving a demonstration of something that makes him vulnerable and puts Gwyn in the role of expert he flips it and makes her demonstrate vulnerability while he is the expert. Gwyn might be quite a bit braver than Azriel in some ways.

He nodded.

She considered, and he wondered if she’d say no, but Gwyn blew out a breath, steadied her feet and balance, and sliced. A beautiful, precise blow, but it didn’t sever the ribbon. SEE? Brave. I love Gwyn.

“Again,” he ordered, rubbing his hands against the cold, grateful for its bracing bite and the distraction of this impromptu lesson. Distraction is a notable word here. Azriel’s thoughts don’t really ever stray from Elain and his turmoil throughout this interaction, that’s what the word distraction tells us.

Gwyn sliced again, but the ribbon remained unyielding.

“You’re turning the blade a fraction as it comes parallel to the ground,” Azriel explained, drawing his Illyrian blade from down his back. “Watch.” He slowly demonstrated, rotating his wrist where she did. “You see how you open up right here?” He corrected his position. “Keep your wrist like that. The blade is an extension of your arm.”

Gwyn tried the movement as slowly as he had, and he watched her self-correct, fighting against the urge to open up her wrist and rotate the blade. She did it three times before she stopped falling into the bad habit. “I blame Cassian for this. He’s too busy making eyes at Nesta to notice such mistakes these days.”

Azriel laughed. “I’ll give you that.” I sense a lot of compatibility, just, again, not sure it’s romantic.

Gwyn smiled broadly. “Thank you.”

Azriel dipped his head in a sketch of a bow, something restless settling in him. Even his shadows had calmed. As if content to lounge on his shoulders and watch. This is another line that I think offers the most evidence for something significant between Gwyn and Azriel. It’s lovely that she has helped to settle something restless in him with the distraction - and I think it’s important to note that it might not have done the same thing had he encountered Emerie or another trainee on the roof. At the same time, maybe it would have. Also love that his shadows like to watch Gwyn. Lightsinger/Shadowsinger evidence! This all being said, I can’t really think of an SJM romance that is built around a comfort zone. I can think of many friendships that operate that way, but not so much with the romances. There’s usually nervousness and flutters and passion and… restlessness, somewhere in there.

But— sleep. He needed to at least attempt to get some.

“Happy Solstice,” Azriel said before aiming for the archway into the House. “Don’t stay out too much longer. You’ll freeze.”

Gwyn nodded her farewell, again facing the ribbon. A warrior sizing up an opponent, all traces of that charming irreverence gone. I love Gwyn.

Azriel entered the warmth of the stairwell, and as he descended, he could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. Could have sworn his shadows sang in answer. This feels VERY much like Lightsinger/Shadowsinger evidence. His shadows, as this chapter has demonstrated time and again, operate independently of him, and they react to Gwyn’s song. I also think it’s possible that Gwyn is sort of always singing, even when she’s not. Like she glows with song on some level, and that’s what his shadows are reacting to - because I don’t think she’d necessarily actually sing while attempting to cut the ribbon.

He slept as well as could be expected which means pretty much not at all y’all — he makes it clear he never expects to sleep well, but when Azriel returned to the River House to gather his presents before dawn, he found Elain’s necklace amid the pile. He pocketed it. Spent the rest of his day, even the blasted snowball fight, with every intention of returning it to the shop in the Palace of Thread and Jewels. How did the necklace get there??? Did Elain really put it there??? Seems like even more evidence that he assumes too much about her understanding of his feelings. Also, though, it seems really rude/OOC for Elain to do that. She gave up very quickly after he gave her a really thoughtful gift. SOMETHING’S FISHY.

But when he returned from the cabin in the mountains, he didn’t go to the market square.

Instead, he found himself at the library beneath the House of Wind, standing before Clotho as the clock chimed seven in the evening. Important to remember that this is one of the longest nights of the year, which means dusk is coming on later than it was when Nesta attended the evening service weeks/months prior- a service that started almost exactly when seven bells rang the time. It is very well possible that Azriel finds himself at the library as the evening service is happening. The one in which Gwyn sings. If she does have some kind of Lightsinger power in her, it may be that he was lured by that power instead of returning the necklace. Even if they always start at 7, he still arrives exactly at 7. The only point against this surmising that I’ve done is that Clotho led the service which Nesta attended, and yet she is here to greet Azriel. Either I’m wrong and the service is not happening at or around this time, OR the service can take place without Clotho occasionally, and this served the interest of the plot so that Az could speak with someone.

He slid the small box across her desk. “If you see Gwyn, would you give this to her?”

Clotho angled her hooded head, and her enchanted pen wrote on a piece of paper. A Solstice gift from you?

Azriel shrugged. “Don’t tell her it came from me.” Yes, it really doesn’t seem super romantic to re-gift a necklace to Gwyn. It just feels sour, if this is the start of a romance between them.

Why?

“Does she need to know? Just tell her it was a gift from Rhys.”

That would be a lie.

He avoided the urge to cross his arms, not wanting to look intimidating. He blocked out the memory that flashed— of his mother cringing before his father, the male standing with crossed arms in such a way that made his displeasure known before he opened his hateful mouth. This feels very important. We know VERY LITTLE about Azriel’s story, his past, and his family, and so I want to point out ANY and EVERY nugget we get!

“Look I...” Az searched for the words, his voice becoming quiet. “If there’s another priestess here who might appreciate it, give it to them. But I’m not taking that necklace with me when I leave.” I’m not exactly sure what it means that Azriel says this. It could be that he doesn’t want to make a thing of his potential feelings for Gwyn and so tries to deflect with this statement, both to convince Clotho and himself that it’s not about Gwyn. It could also mean that Azriel needed to be rid of the necklace, and wasn’t in the mood to fight with Clotho over an ultimately secondary (to getting rid of the necklace) impulse to give it to someone who provided him comfort and companionship at a time when he needed it.

He waited for Clotho’s pen to finish writing. Your eyes are sad, Shadowsinger.

He offered her a grim smile. “I lost the snowball fight today.” HE LOST THE FIRST SNOWBALL FIGHT IN 200 YEARS! And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t because Gwyn made him feel better the previous night. I think he lost because he is in anguish over the situation with Elain. Again, I understand that anguish shouldn’t necessarily be a romantic thing, but in SJM’s writing it often is. This is a romance series, angst is a thing, stakes are a thing. It’s not necessarily the most healthy, but it’s also not all-the-way unhealthy. He just feels strongly about Elain and there are a lot of obstacles between him and finding a way to resolve those feelings for good or bad.

I am a counselor for folks who have and are dealt/dealing with sexual, gender-based, and interpersonal violence, and if you want me to do an analysis of all of the relationships in SJM’s writing that aren’t wholly healthy, there won’t be any left over. Except for maybe Sartaq and Nesryn. they really do have their shit together. I suspend a fair amount of my disbelief and professional knowledge in reading these books because I love them and they are fictional :) Also, relationships are complicated. It’s pretty rare for me to work with a client that has a cut-and-dry, black-and-white story.

Now, in my PERSONAL NOT PROFESSIONAL experience, shit is messy, and messiness, even in real life, doesn’t always mean something isn’t worth the strife. Though absolutely abuse and assault are a whole other thing. I think it’s really good to think critically about relationship dynamics in fiction, because it’s a safe place to do great learning and reflection. I also think it’s important to consider that the rules of our reality are not necessarily the rules of the reality being written by an author. Maybe you personally find Azriel’s feelings toward Elain (as they have been expressed so far) are beyond redemption, and are unhealthy to a point where the relationship cannot be salvaged. But that is not realistically a reason that the relationship in question won’t happen. Pretty much any negative/toxic assertions that can be leveled against Elriel based on the VERY SMALL amount of first-person perspective we have in the relationship could be leveled against at least a few of SJM’s other endgame couples. Totally happy to get into this more and provide those examples :)

Clotho was smart enough to see through his deflection. She wrote, I’ll give it to Gwyneth. Tell her a friend left it for her.

He wouldn’t go so far as to call Gwyn a friend, but... “Fine. Thank you.” Not sure what this means. Maybe just that it takes Az a while to open up to people and call them friends.

Clotho’s pen moved once more. She deserves something as beautiful as this. I thank you for the joy it shall bring her.

Something sparked in Azriel’s chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn’s teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason... he could see it. And here we have the most romantic evidence for Az and Gwyn as a couple. Maybe he is falling for her and that’s why he can picture her smile. I really don’t know. I think it could also be that he is happy to be able to make her happy, in recognition of the comfort she gave him the previous evening. Maybe he can picture her because of her potential lightsinger status. Thoughts?

But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly. The image glowing, again, lightsinger-supporting language.

A thing of secret, lovely beauty. So now he is referring to Gwyn’s smile here. This is interesting, because Gwyn’s smile wouldn’t necessarily be a secret, but perhaps it is if you think of her as being hidden in the library, or that he’ll know about her smile and her receiving the necklace even though she won’t know that he’s the one who gave it to her. Or maybe he’s drop dead in love with her! Another thing that I don’t think is true given his stony attitude post-Solstice (when Gwyn is very much around) and the fact that he doesn’t seem to react viscerally to Gwyn’s kidnapping until Cassian points out that bad things could be happening to both her AND Emerie, as well as Nesta. He knows Gwyn just as well, if not better at this point, as he knew Elain when he reacted to HER kidnapping in ACOWAR. He was very riled, he was the one who noticed she was gone, he vowed almost immediately to go get her, knowing it might mean certain death (to be fair, he seems to have a bit of a death wish, BUT he’s still a pragmatist and doesn’t try to WASTE his life on things - either they’re essential to the court and/or Prythian’s wellbeing or essential to someone for whom he cares deeply.)

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #elriel #elain archeron #rhysand #gwyn acosf #acosf #acotar theory #acosf theory #azriel bonus chapter #azriel pov #azriel x elain #lightsinger #shadowsinger

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palbabor-writes · 3 years

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can I have a shoto todoroki x reader where the reader is giving him the silent treatment for some reason (he hurt her feelings on accident or forgot something important, like a date or something, whatever you come up with (: ) and he’s freaking out about it wondering what he did wrong? tysm 😌

hello, hello! apologies for making you wait so long, but at long last, here is poor Shōto, trying his best to work his way through this unfortunate predicament he’s landed himself in.

warnings: none, rated o for oblivious

You’d been a little quiet lately.

But, on the whole, that wasn’t too unusual. Everyone needs time to themselves, Shōto knows that and he respects the lull in your texts, the absence of your afternoon phone calls. You’re a busy side-kick and he’s got his own hectic rotations of hero work to shuffle through, too.

Sure, he tells himself, trying to resist peering at his phone for the millionth time, you’re just busy or you’re feeling overwhelmed. He gets that.

He doesn’t want to pester you, so he lets the radio silence linger, even though it’s starting to make him feel a little on edge. The two of you have been dating since he graduated from UA. And, what does that make it now, a little over a year? Yeah, that sounds about right. He really likes you, enough to bring you over to meet his sister and his older brother. You’d made a great impression on them and Fuyumi kept asking him when he was going to introduce you to their father.

Soon, he lied, ducking from her bright smile.

It’s not that he thinks you’d mesh poorly with his father, no, you’d be wonderful, like you always are, he’s just not wanting to go to the trouble. Not with him.

Deep down he knows it’s just because he doesn’t want to make Endeavor think he’s giving him a fucking inch. He couldn’t care less what his old man thought about you. Besides, it’s not like he doesn’t know about the two of you. He’s a pro hero, he’s got connections everywhere. So, no. Shōto doesn’t want to introduce you to his father. Endeavor knows you exist and he knows his youngest son his dating you. Yeah, that’s more than enough acknowledgement to go around, and it’s more than Endeavor deserves.

Shōto knows he has your support and affection and, for now, that’s all the approval he needs. It’s all he’s ever needed, really.

Things have been going so well, but he can’t shake that ominous feeling that keeps creeping over him.

It’s like there’s something he’s missed. His troubled mood doesn’t fit with the beauty of the spring that’s broken over Japan. No, it’s too gloomy, too dark without you by his side. He can remember the day he’d given you his number and asked you out. It had been under this sprawling cherry tree and you’d looked so happy. It made him ache a little bit, to see you like that. Crazy it’s already been a year, time really does fly when you’re with someone you like.

Wait.

He forgot to clock out. Eh, he can just send a message to one of the other sidekicks at his father��s agency. They know he can be a bit forgetful, so they’ll understand.

Now, let’s see if you’ll answer a text. He’s famished. He’s worked another 12 hour shift and put in some extra training, so he’s praying you’ll get back to him before he has to resort to going to a soba stand. Not that he’d mind getting some cold soba, but food always seems to taste better when he can share it with you.

After he sends you that text, he paces around one of the local parks, talking with a few locals and signing some autographs. Even though he’s making waves of his own now, his biggest claim to fame is being Endeavor’s son. He tries to not let the annoyance of his birthright bother him, but it does get frustrating when that’s the main comment he hears.

His phone vibrates and he excuses himself from a conversation with an older pro he’d run into, tugging his phone from his back pocket. It’s a text and it’s from you.

Shōto swipes across the screen and smiles at your answer. You had some time and you’d love to get some food. Perfect.

The restaurant he’d picked is quiet and tucked away from the main streets, but they had some killer courses, so he’s hoping you’ll like it. He’s already sitting at a back booth when you arrive. You give him a quiet smile and step toward him, a small gift bag in your hand. Huh, that’s odd, he thinks, scooting over so you can slip in beside him.

The two of you chat for a bit, going over your day and letting him softly retell a recent capture he’d done a few days before. He can’t believe he hasn’t had a chance to tell you yet. The time you two have spent apart has been long, too long, if he’s honest and he doesn’t like that he let it drag on. Anyway, it was one of his first successful solo missions and he’s so pleased by the proud grin you gift him. He likes to make you smile and he would love to see another one, but something still seems to be bothering you.

“You ok?” Shōto asks, his eyes tracing over the contours of your face, looking for some kinda clue.

“Sure,” you reply, but your voice still has that little hiccup, that shading of irritation.

“Do you not like the food? Or, did something else happen today? I know it’s been awhile since we’ve had a chance to get some dinner together, or to talk much, but my schedule should change next month, so that’ll give us some extra time.” He’s grasping at straws, at anything, but that arched brow of yours makes him prattle on, his uncertainty mounting.

“Um, are you worried about that team up? You mentioned it a few weeks ago, but I haven’t had a chance to look into that agency. At least, not that way I want to. No? Er, Fuyumi said she might reach out to you again. She asked if you had anything planned. She didn’t want to, um, give it away when we were talking. Whatever it is. I didn’t know what she meant, but I figured the two of you-”

“You really don’t remember, huh?”

Your voice has dropped the edge and you’re shaking your head, lowering your chopsticks and fixing him with a pointed stare.

“Remember? Remember what?” Shōto questions, tilting his head so the snowy side of his hair trails against his shoulder. Was there something you’d told him to do? He can’t recall anything. You’d said something about celebrating, a few days ago, before all the communication had broken down, but he wasn’t sure if you were meaning celebrating something with him, or if there was an event at your agency. You’d been there for a year. He knew they’d gotten you a cake. What...

You’re still looking at him and he ducks his head, fiddling with his food, trying to rack his overworked brain for some kinda clue. Ok. It’s springtime. That means it’s not your birthday, not yet. It’s not his birthday, that passed in January. So what...

His eyes land on that bag you’d carried in. It’s a nice green color and the tissue paper is white and crisp. Does someone else have a birthday?

“Oh my God,” you say, a laugh bursting from your lips. “Shōto, really? I mean, I guess I should be happy you just forgot. Honestly, I was thinking you didn’t want to acknowledge it, or something. I know it’s just been a year, but it kinda hurt my feelings when you didn’t even mention it. You’d taken me to meet your siblings and then you’d mentioned me in that interview, so I was thinking that you were going to plan something for it. But I guess...God, Shōto, has it really not clicked yet?”

You don’t sound angry, a little disappointed maybe, but he’s glad he’s not upset you too badly. He needs to slow down and think. It’s springtime and you’re here with him, talking about milestones in your relationship and you have a gift and...

Oh.

“It’s our anniversary. Well, it was. I missed it,” he says, ducking his head and clenching his fingers into his palms. Damn it, damn it, damn it. How could he forget that? All day, hell, all week, he’s been thinking about you, about how you’d met. How could he be so dense?

“Awe,” you smile, leaning toward him and giving him a peck on the cheek, “there it is. God, you’re lucky I like you so much. I still can’t believe it took you this--”

Shōto doesn’t let you finish that thought, lifting your lips up to his and kissing you until you can’t breathe, trying to pour all of his apologies and embarrassment into the caress. He could have lost you, he thinks, sucking on your lower lip and slotting you against him, not caring who sees the two of you. He’s never, ever going to make this mistake again. No, he’s going to engrave that date on every surface until all he can think about is you and him.

Notes: He’s such a goober and I love how dense that boy is. Honestly, it’s not his fault, since he was kinda raised under an Endeavor shaped boulder and I adore his awkwardness. I could see him totally doing something like this, too.

Anywoo, sorry this took so, so long ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

#asks #answered asks #pal muses #on the cuteness that is shōto #todoroki shoto #shoto todoroki #sfw #drabble

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tanadrin · 4 years

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I suppose because politics is what means I have no future of any kind left, so it's hard to be silly about it. And I seem to have landed myself in a sector of social media filled with people who are very smug about how smart and nihilistic they are, and I hate all of you with the hatred that only a miserable, powerless person can feel.

I don’t buy it. Unless you are quite literally scheduled to be executed at dawn, “no future of any kind left” because of politics is catastrophizing. People in very dire circumstances the world over often manage to build some kind of life for themselves; it may not be the life they want, and the suffering they endure because of the circumstances they are limited by should not be dismissed, but to say that someone in such adverse conditions has no future is to infantalize them and deny them the agency they do have to shape their life to some extent.

And this is an insight I’ve found important when dealing with depression in myself: even if one’s catastrophizing is not irrational (say, you’re a queer person stuck in an extremely homophobic environment, at minimum for the next 5-10 years), that does not mean it is useful. To put it another way: circumstance might justifiably make you angry and sad and frustrated. That may be rational. Deciding, in the face of that anger and sadness and frustration, to surrender to it is not rational.

So--assuming that you are not a political dissident due to be executed, nor suffering from a terminal illness which somehow for political reasons cannot be cured (if either of these things are true, you have my sincere condolences)--I have to say, this ask reeks of someone who’s depressed. If you are depressed, you will always be able to come up with reasons why happiness is unattainable for you, due to circumstances entirely out of your control. This is not a crazy thing to think, because if you are depressed and not treating that depression, most if not all the things you try to do will not solve your unhappiness because they are usually orthogonal to what is making you unhappy. Your very ability to accurately imagine future happy states and what might bring them about is suppressed by depression; for instance, you might, if you are depressed and you know it, rationally understand that exercise often helps with your depression, but be unable to motivate yourself to exercise because the intuitive link between if I do X I will feel better is broken by an internal forecasting system that refuses to spit out predictions other than “nothing I do will help with anything.”

A depressed state is not a psychotic break--it doesn’t cause you to lose touch with reality--but I think depressed people would sometimes benefit from treating it like one, because it does subvert your ability to accurately model the world, and therefore you can’t trust your own ability to reason or intuit about certain topics. I have both experienced this from the inside, and seen it from the outside: friends whose depression causes them to believe they are unlovable, and thus that nobody loves them, even when told (and shown) repeatedly that they are very much loved, and very important to the people around them.

In fact, you remind me of this post: depressed and anxious people who notice politics is depressing and anxiety-inducing, and that depressing and anxiety-inducing problems confront the world and society, and therefore conclude that their depression and anxiety are a rational and reasonable response to the world. But that doesn’t follow at all! A lot of responses to a depressing and anxiety-inducing environment are more useful that shutting down and withdrawing, or letting yourself be paralyzed; and even if there are negative external factors in the world affecting your life, if you have nothing in your life that is a sufficient source of joy to offset these things at least somewhat, then you have problems sufficiently severe that I don’t think your depression or anxiety can be laid at the feet of the world at large alone; more likely, you’re dealing with shitty personal circumstances, and these are far more likely to be tractable to your individual capacities than, like, all of climate change. And if you do have some sources of joy in your life, you can cultivate those further.

To put it another way: humans are very bad at reasoning about things on large scales or over large timelines. One reason we’re slow to solve problems like climate change is that we tend to be pretty blasé about remote and impersonal problems, which is actually often useful as well--because it means we’re capable of adjusting our hedonic barometer to create joy even in catastrophic circumstances. If you are constantly worried about big issues like climate change or the Trump presidency to the point where you can never do that, then the conclusion you should draw isn’t that you’re a uniquely rational human being with a uniquely accurate worldview, it’s that your brain is broken and you should not trust your intuitition.

Emotional states are not rational models of the world. They are tools our brain uses to motivate certain kinds of action. They probably have their origin in our social evolution, but this means they are extremely untrustworthy when it comes to complex, large-scale, philosophical, or impersonal issues, because these are not scenarios our brains evolved to handle before the advent of high-population, highly-stratified societies.

Now, I realize it’s hard to convince someone they are depressed and/or should seek treatment by rational argument (lord knows I’ve tried in the past!), because after all, if we were being perfectly rational, we would not feel depressed. We wouldn’t feel anything; again, emotions are contingent tools, not highly rationalized responses to the world! So I won’t belabor this point any longer. Instead, now I’m going to get annoyed with you.

Because here’s the other thing depressed people do--and I have done myself. They see people who are not depressed, whose hedonic barometers are functioning normally, and capable of experiencing joy even in arguably (or inarguably!) shitty circumstances, and they get mad at them. How dare you be capable of laughing at a joke, or sharing a meme, or having a nice day, when everything is so bad!

This is a common response, not only from depression, but also I think from grief, or fear, or trauma, or lots of other things. But it’s bullshit. I’m sorry, but you don’t get to demand that everyone feel your suffering as acutely as they feel their own. You don’t get to demand that just because you’re a pessimistic ball of frustration and anger that everyone else be, too. You get to--and ought to--demand that people treat you with empathy and respect, but that doesn’t mean they don’t get to make jokes about topics you find depressing as hell. Yes, even topics that personally affect you, and may not personally affect them (though, of course, a lot of times people assume the person making the joke isn’t personally affected by the topic, when in reality they are and the joke is a way of relieving stress and coping with frustration).

That calvin and hobbes meme I reblogged is an extremely generic political compass meme; the only relevance it has to the world today, I suppose, is acknowledging that, like, politics is a thing that exists. If you’re upset by that--how dare people laugh at politics, the source of all my problems--you’re being a dick.

And this leads my to my final point, which is this: while we are all of us owed compassion, we also owe others compassion. And people caught up in their own anxiety and depression and anger often don’t see the way their emotional states impose costs on the people around them. They often treat the people around them badly--worse, at any rate, than they normally would--and react defensively if this is pointed out to them.

I’ve done this. I have friends who have done this. I get it. It doesn’t make someone a horrible person! It doesn’t meant they deserve to feel the way they do. But it does create the second half of a twofold moral obligation. You see, I believe that the, call it “utilitarian selfishness” view, is essentially correct: if all humans are of similar moral worth (they are), and you can only help one person (often true), and that person is yourself, it is no less moral to help yourself than it is to help someone else. This is usually framed as a grant of permission: “you are allowed to be selfish sometimes.” But it’s also an obligation: “you should not be a dick--even to yourself.” You have a positive obligation to care about your own suffering! And you have a positive obligation to try to reduce the costs your suffering--your bad mood, your depression, your anxiety--imposes on the people around you.

Because I’m not a smug nihilist. I actually believe, with embarrassing intensity, in a large number of abstract principles. And while I believe circumstance or injustice can conspire to make people feel miserable and powerless, and I have the utmost sympathy for you feeling that way, no one is so omnipotent as to be able to truly excise our power to do something with our life that is rewarding to us, no matter how modest. Your subjective feeling of misery is not license to be a dick to people, or to misrepresent them or their motivations. And if reading my tumblr (or anyone else’s) makes you miserable, you have a positive moral obligation to stop, because you’re being a dick to yourself, which is no more justifiable than being a dick to me. And being a dick to me because you don’t like my Tumblr, because you’re miserable and I’m not, is pants-on-head stupid.

I, too, have been so convinced of my misery and powerlessness, and so utterly convinced of my inability to make improvements in my life, that I have yielded utterly to the feeling of myself as a despised, helpless, wretched thing. You can spend years in that state. A lifetime, even. I suppose it relieves you from the burden of having to try, which is a tiny shred of comfort when the climb up the hill seems so steep. But I have found that in the long run it brings no other relief; there’s no regression to the mean, just an endless prolongation of misery. It required some courage, and not a little determination, to try to climb out of that pit. Sometimes you struggle. Sometimes you fall back in. Sometimes it’s easier to believe there’s nothing beyond that place of unhappiness. But there is, and you can get there, and the choice of whether or not to reach it lies only with you.

#if you are in fact due to be executed ignore this #and you have my deepest condolences #but in that case how did you get on tumblr???#Anonymous

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

Text

Name part 2 (Todoroki x Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki x fem!Reader

Genre: Angst to fluff

Sequel to Name (part 1)

Word count: 1,445

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog

a/n: I had trouble writing this for some reason. I started off writing one scenario, but I ended up hating it after writing 500 words and then deleted the whole thing and started over, so I’m sorry if it’s not satisfying enough. I think I need to just write more angst I think I just need a break from angst, or I’m just exhausted from today because I was out all day.

I promise the ending is happy. This one is half the length of the original since this was one of the original endings I was considering for the 1st part.

I’ll probably pick right up with the other angst submissions tomorrow if I’m not still exhausted. Hopefully I won’t go overboard again...

Shoto didn't know how to feel once she left him. It didn't hurt as much as it would hurt for a lover to walk out on you, but he still felt the most amount of guilt he's ever been burdened with. He wanted to blame his father for putting them in this position to fail, but he knew how childish that would be. In reality, he was accountable for his own behavior, and he'd taken his anger out on an innocent person in the same situation as him. He should have commended her for being the bigger person. And now he's lost her.

His biggest frustration is that he never even got a good look at her. In his mind, her image is a fuzzy mix of color, no real outline of a body or face that he can remember. How could he have lived in the same house as someone for 5 months, but not know them like the back of his hand? Deep down, he knows that if he had looked at her, he would've internalized how human she is and would've treated her better than a doormat.

As he lay in bed after she left, all the things he wanted to apologize for but didn't get the chance to were still hanging in his mind, uncomfortably unfulfilled.

The next morning, Shoto decides he needs to apologize immediately. He hates the eerie loneliness of being the only person in the house. Even if he never acknowledged it before, in hindsight, at least he felt he presence of company. At least he had someone to talk to, even if everything out of his mouth was a critique. The walls seem to close in on him, the sunlight isn't as warm, and, most importantly, there was no breakfast waiting for him. A vain problem, but it sobered him to know she had still taken care of his needs through everything.

After fixing his own meal, he called his agency to tell them he's taking the day off and didn't delay in rushing to his in-law's house. The nervous pit in Shoto's stomach almost makes him throw up his breakfast, but he ignores it. All acts of courage require varying degrees of nerves.

On his way over, his father calls him constantly, probably to give him an earful about "ruining their perfectly-matched marriage." He doesn't need to hear it from Endeavor when he's already chewing himself up about it, and he turns off his phone to concentrate.

Shoto walks up to the family's door, smoothing his clothes and hair out. He feels akin to a boy picking his girlfriend up from her parents' house for their first date and trying to make a good first impression, except Shoto's already married his daughter and needs to make up for the awful impression they already have of him. Taking a deep breath, he pushes the doorbell, his heart hammering in his chest wildly.

Her father and mother answer the door, expressions less than pleased already.

"Good morning. I hope I haven't disturbed you." Shoto was raised with manners, and he hopes politeness with get him somewhere.

The two don't say anything in response to him. Understandable, given the condition their daughter was sent back in.

Trying not to be too disheartened under their malicious stares, the boy asks "May I come in? I would like to speak with you and your daughter."

"If Endeavor sent you, we don't want to hear anything you have to say," her mother scowls, rightfully so.

"No, ma'am, I am here without my father's knowledge," he responds earnestly, trying not to seem too firm about his tone or his face. He's trying to appear sincere, a husband trying to set things right from the bottom of his heart.

The couple exchanges glances, but let the young boy in without another word, which Shoto takes as a small victory. They lead him to their formal living room where they sit together on one couch and Shoto prefers to stand. A maid brings cups of tea and a pot to rest on the coffee table between them before bowing and shuffling away.

"I won't allow you to see my daughter," her mother states bluntly, "Not after hearing her crying over the phone for what you've put her through the last 5 months." The boy almost winces, the memory of overhearing the girl's phone call still fresh.

"You can say your piece to us and we may pass it on to her," her father adds, eyeing the boy.

Shoto breathes to calm the jumping nerves in his gut. One wrong move and he know he'll be kicked out immediately. He levels his calm gaze at the piercing glare of the couple in front of him. "I'm not here to make excuses for my actions. What I did was terribly wrong, both as a person and as a husband to your daughter. I accept full responsibility for my mistakes." He bows fully at the waist. "I apologize deeply for my behavior towards your daughter. I let my personal feelings get in the way of our relationship flourishing as she wished. I don't deserve it, but I would like to ask for forgiveness."

The parents are silent, leaving the boy to listen to his hammering heartbeat as he retains his position. The lack of response is ear-deafening to him.

"You many stand, Todoroki," her father instructs, the edge slightly lessened in his voice.

When Shoto returns to his original position, their daughter stands between them, remnant sadness still filling her eyes. It's the first time he's taken a good look at her. She's a head shorter than him, hair down past her shoulders, respectable composure. Even with a tired expression, she exudes calm.

He doesn't know what he should do now. The girl looks between him and her parents. "I'd like to be alone with him, please," she requests in a soft voice. It's a stark contrast between the voice that reported their divorce to him.

Though her parents are wary at first, she smiles to reassure them and they agree to leave the pair to talk.

All the apologies Shoto prepared start bubbling up his throat, unsure how to start or organize his thoughts. He's overwhelmed by how much he wants to say, composure crumbling under the weight of his words. "I'm so sorry about everything- I heard you crying and I- I'm an idiot for-"

"Funny how you can form coherent sentences to my parents, but not to me," she jokes lightheartedly.

Her small smile calms Shoto so he can gather this thoughts and try again. "I've done you such a disservice. I let my anger towards my father prevent me from taking care of you like I should have." He moves to touch her hand to comfort her, but he stops and redirects it to the back of his neck. "You must have felt so unwanted and lonely. I'm truly sorry for everything I've done or said to you. When I heard you on the phone with your mother, I had every intention of coming back and fixing everything, but you had already made your decision." His eyes meet her's again. "If you wish to continue with the divorce, I understand. I wanted to come and apologize to you because it's what you deserve. And, if you forgive me enough, we can start over and build a relationship as you wanted originally."

At first, the girl is silent, clawing at Shoto to be left in anticipation. Then, she tilts her head and asks, a cheeky grin on her lips, "Do you love me, Shoto?"

His hopes come crashing down at the question. "I'm sorry to say, but I'm not in love with you right now. Our marriage isn't like that."

She shakes her head at him. "I wasn't expecting you to suddenly have a huge change of heart like that. We're still barely strangers, though I do know way more about you than you know about me. As long as you're open to any kind of affection, it's fine."

His eyes widen childishly. "Does that mean-"

She smiles, finally showing teeth to him, and envelops him in a hug. He breathes out in relief and returns the gesture. A small voice in the back of his had notes how perfectly she fits in his arms.

"Who knows? We might end up actually falling in love slowly as time goes by," she giggles against his chest. "That's how it tends to happen in the movies."

The slight vibrations invoke a strange warmth to bloom within Shoto, not resulting from his quirk, and his eyes widen. Oh.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #todoroki angst #angst to fluff #shouto todoroki #todoroki imagine #todoroki scenario #request #ask #anon #female reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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saffronwritings · 3 years

Text

Be There

warnings: Parental in Hospital due to health, cursing

pairing: katsuki bakugou x reader

A/N: I get very nervous thinking about posting my work on tumblr but I figured I'd give a whirl. Please be nice :) Also I do not own the banner and if you want me to credit you let me know!!

Bakugou had noticed that you had been off from the moment you stepped into class this morning. Your normal cheerful demeanor had been shifted into one that was just complacent. Something about the way you forced yourself to talk to the rest of your classmates had bothered him immensely.

Although he would never admit it, he cared deeply for you. He had fallen for you little charms and even thought that you quirk was rather handy, being able to manipulate others with your hypnotic voice. There had been times where he thought you were using your powers against him, but plenty of times you had reassured the hot head that you only use it when necessary.

You had quickly found your way into the Bakusquad, as you had quickly bonded with Jirou and Mina. Not only that, but you seemed to not mind how ill-tempered Bakugou was. Even with his outbursts towards you at times, you seemed to just smile and act as if he had not hurt your feelings. He had noticed the times he had and made sure to apologize in solitude because he dared not show his soft side to the rest of his friend group. You personally enjoyed seeing these softer sides of the angry boy as you felt like he could confide in you. ‘

However, today was so much different. How could you have changed so quickly overnight and what was the cause of it? Did someone from another class say something to upset you once again? Those general studies students tended to say that your quirk was cheating and that you did not deserve your spot in class 1-A. Bakugou had time and time again scared away those sidekicks into submission. You had not said anything that was bothering you, and although the rest of the Bakusquad seemingly had not noticed, Bakugou did.

He stalked after you once class had let out and he had grabbed your wrist while in passing, dragging you into a vacant classroom. This had startled you enough to let out an embarrassed squeak. He closed the door behind him so no wondering eyes could disturb the two of you. “What’s going on Bakugou?” You asked confused, still seemingly dazed. “Tell me what’s wrong.” He bluntly stated, cutting straight to what was bothering him.

Your gaze suddenly shifted from confusion to acknowledgement. Of course, he was going to notice something was wrong. He was scarily perceptive. You waved your hand in front of you and attempted to fake laugh at his question. “Silly, Katsuki.” You teased, attempted to brush past him back out into the hallway. “Just tired from studying last night is all. We have a lot of our final tests coming up.” You lied, hand on the sliding door. He just scoffed and you could feel his eye roll even without looking at the blonde boy.

He watched you carefully as you stalked out of the classroom, avoiding the confrontation he was attempting to have. However, he was not going to force you to tell him anything you did not feel comfortable with. It was not his place to demand information from you. The last thing he needed was you pushing him as to why he wanted to know what was wrong. The thought alone almost set off tiny explosions in his hands. He wanted to squash whatever was bothering you to bring that smile of yours back onto your lovely face.

Kirishima had bothered him from time and time again about asking you out for a date. No matter how many times the explosive boy tried to correct him, Kirishima knew Bakugou was smitten for you. He kept it to himself, as much as he wanted to tell the rest of the squad. Bakugou scoffed and walked out of the classroom moments after you. He caught up with you and the rest of his classmates in the lunchroom. His apatite was gone though, watching you go about your day in a lackadaisical manner. Watching miserably from the sidelines had affected his own attitude.

“Jeez Bakugou, if you’re not hungry today, I’ll gladly take your food for you.” Kaminari perked up, staring at his uneaten lunch. “Piss off, Sparky.” Bakugou barked back immediately. “You’ve been so crabby today, so much so more than usual.” Kaminari replied, backing away from the blonde. He hated to admit it, but the stupid lightning bolt was right. Was he really going to let your bad day also affect him? Frustrated, he attempted to try and eat part of his lunch. When you gave him a concerning look, he just turned away and ate in silence.

Things really took a turn for the worse during your hero training. The two of you had been paired up together in a simulation fight. You had to retrieve a citizen from a collapsing building and fight off your other classmates. You were up against Momo and Ojiro. This normally would have been a cinch for the two of you, especially with how well you worked together. Even though your quirk relied on consciousness and influence, your combat skills were above the rest. Well, aside from Izuku and Katsuki that is. However, with your mind out of focus, you were easily overtaken by that Creation quirk of Momo’s. Aizawa had called the match and suddenly you heard multiple explosions go off.

“Bakugou, you need to chill.” Kirishima said, trying to lighten the mood up. “No! We lost because the Siren girl can’t get her head together!” He shouted, staring daggers over to you. You flinched back at his outburst. “Why can’t you just get over whatever it is you’re upset about and do your damned job as a hero! You can’t be this out of focus in the field or no agency is going to take you!” He barked more. There was silence throughout the entire class. You turned away to head towards the changing rooms when Present Mic had arrived at the simulation grounds, calling your name. The look of concern only etched itself further on your face seeing the look in Present Mic’s face. Everyone’s attention then turned from Bakugou to you. Watching as Mic whispered something to and watching your face change from upset to distraught.

Immediately you were quickly following Present Mic out of the training arena. The class erupted in questions, wondering what was going on. Aizawa quieted the class and tried to get the rest of his students back in order. “Listen, we need to finish this lesson. Unless you all want extra homework.” He threatened. The class quieted and returned to the lesson. However, something was not sitting right with Bakugou. Almost instantly he was regretting taking his anger out on you. “What do you think Y/N was taken away for?” Jirou asked quietly while watching Todoroki and Ochaco go against Hagakure and Iida. “I don’t know, it looked serious though.” Kirishima noted, with Kaminari nodding along to his statement. “I hope she’s okay.” Mina whispered. “She will be. At least I hope she will be.” Bakugou thought.

The next morning was even worse. Bakugou had barely slept a wink. He had texted you after school apologizing for exploding on you, and that he was just worried about you. You did not respond to his message. Even worse, the text message was not even opened. When he arrived in class, you were missing from your usual spot. If there was anyone who was almost as stubborn as Iida about getting to class early, it was you. “Is Y/N not here yet?” Kirishima asked from behind Bakugou. He had not even noticed he was standing and staring idly at your desk. “No.” He answered before going over and sitting down at his own desk.

The rest of the squad had arrived and found themselves gathering around Bakugou’s desk like they did every morning. Usually he hated this, but when you were around, he did not mind it as much. Your presence was clearly missing, and it was obvious that it bothered him. “Had no one heard from Y/N? I tried texting her last night, however, she didn’t answer me.” Mina had asked, looking at her phone once again. “Nothing on my end, I sent her a text as soon as we got out of school.” Jirou interjected. “Same here.” Kirishima chimed in. Bakugou stayed quiet, only getting more worried. He had tuned out their continuing conversation until Aizawa had entered the room. The Bakusquad had quickly dispersed and sat in their assigned seats.

There was a grim look on Aizawa’s face, and it had sent an unsettling feeling into Bakugou’s stomach. Once the class had quieted down, Aizawa had taken in a deep breath before addressing the classroom. “Y/N will not be attending school for the rest of the week. Yesterday her mother was admitted into the hospital and is in critical condition. She will be staying by her side in the hospital.” He stated, making the class gasp in surprise. Bakugou’s heart could have leap out of his throat. You could hear a pin drop from the class being so quiet. “We will write a condolence card for her and send it to her address by the end of the week.” He continued to speak but all Bakugou could hear was ringing in his ears. Had he heard his teacher correctly? Your mother was extremely ill. You had to have seen her health declining and had not said a word to anyone. Up until yesterday, you had played it off as if everything in your homelife was okay.

Aizawa had changed the subject back to what he was teaching yesterday. He was reviewing the material that was covered the day before. However, Bakugou could not stop the crackling in his hands. He slammed his hands on his desk and stood up. The eruptions in his hands going off, burning a spot on his desk. A few students jumped, however, most of them were used to Bakugou’s outbursts. Except, this time he was dead quiet. Everyone turned around to look at him, but before Aizawa could say a word, Bakugou was walking out of the classroom. “Bakugou! Where are you going?” Kirishima yelled after him. However, Bakugou tuned him out. His pace quickened as he traveled through the school. He did not bother to stop at his locker or change into his normal shoes. As soon as he stepped foot outside of the school gates, he broke into a sprint.

You had invited him over to your house once. Asking him if he could help you study for one of your exams. He found his feet doing all the work as he raced towards where he knew you lived. He was not sure what he was going to do once he arrived, but he knew he had to be there. Before he knew it, he noticed the street coming to an end and he knew around the corner was your house. Suddenly, he got extremely nervous, just leaving school to go comfort you. Would you even let him after yelling at you yesterday? He had to try. He slowed his pace as he approached your house.

You were sitting on your front step, weeping quietly with your head in your hands. His heart broke in half seeing you in such a state. You were just beyond the gate, but he was so hesitant to push the gate open. When he heard your soft crying turn into full on sobs, that is when he found the courage to push the gate open and was by your side in the matter of seconds. Before you could even process what was happening, he had pulled you into his embrace and held onto you tightly. “Katsuki??” You asked in surprise. “I’m sorry. I should not have yelled at you yesterday. You needed me to be there for you. So, now I am. And I want you to cry. I want you to feel safe around me. I’m never going to let you feel that way again.” He explained, holding onto you as if he was afraid to lose you too.

You started to cry harder and gripped onto him tightly. The two of you had stayed like that for a while. He just let you cry because that is what you needed. He dares not judge you for feeling the way you did right now. He was going to be there for you from now on. “Thank you.” You finally whispered once you had caught your breath from heavily crying. “Don’t thank me, dummy.” He answered back, “It’s what I should have done from the get-go. When Aizawa told the class what happened, I flung myself out of my chair to get my ass here.”.

“But why?” You asked, almost bewildered. You had pulled away from his embrace to wipe your wet eyes. You felt his calloused hand carefully caress your cheek, wiping away a stray tear that had fallen from your bloodshot eyes. “Do I have to spell it out to you?” He huffed. In that moment, you had noticed his face turn a bright red. Even though you had just lost your mother and your heart yearned for her, for just a moment you had felt it flutter. “This has to be the shittiest timing, Y/N. I don’t want to take away from your pain, in any way…” He started to say, tripping over his words. You immediately pulled him into another embrace, throwing him off guard.

“You will never take anything away from me. Thank you for being here for me. Thank you for always caring about me, Katsuki.” You whispered, making the boy even more flustered. He huffed in protest, but he knew he enjoyed the attention. The two of you separated from the embrace and Katsuki felt bold enough to lean in to kiss you, softly but a bit forcefully on the lips. This action truly shocked you for a moment. He quickly pulled back realizing what he had just done. “I shouldn’t have done that. I should go.” He said quickly, standing up from his seated position. Before he could bolt out the gate, he heard you say his name. He turned around only to find your face inches from his, making him blush immensely. You pecked him on the cheek and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go inside, yeah?” You asked. And although your eyes had been puffy and bloodshot from crying, snot was dripping down your nose, and it looked like you had not slept in days, he still found you so incredibly beautiful.

“Tch. Fine.” He grumbled, following in your lead, but not letting go of your hand.

#bnha #bnha fanfiction #bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #mha x reader #mha #mha imagines #bnha bakugou #bnha katsuki #reader x bakugou #my hero academia x reader #my fics #boku no hero academia #bnha oneshots #bnha blurb #bnha fluff #mha oneshots #mha fluff

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koi-has-joy · 4 years

Text

My Chubby Little Bunny...

Tamaki Amajiki x Fem!Reader

Words: 1,749

Warnings: Smut, male dom, praise, affection, slight angst

It had been a long day for you both. He had been patrolling since early in the morning and you had been called into work on your day off. But that was the life you both signed up for and honestly you didn’t expect anything less.

Finally arriving home you saw Amajiki lounging on the couch in your shared apartment playing Slime Rancher. Noting his dripping hair and the way his clothes clung to his physique you were already becoming impatient. With the stealth of a panther you shifted between rooms without alerting your boyfriend of your presence. Swiftly you changed into the most comfortable and sexy pair of panties you owned as well as one of his hoodies and some baggy sweatpants. Glancing at the mirror in front of the bedroom door you fixed your glasses and tied your hair into a messy bun.

Walking across the hallway into the bathroom you then spent a little time washing your face, putting on perfume, brushing your teeth and cleaning your various piercings. After you were finished you decided it was time to go greet your lazy suneater.

Strolling into the living room where he was laying you chose not to say anything, but you did want to be close to him. Standing in front of the screen that he was so fixated on he paused his game and opened his arms. You found yourself between his arms and on his lap in an instant. When he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into him he began to rub your back. With a sigh of relaxation you spoke into his chest “Hi honey, how was your day?” You tried to sound as normal as possible.

“My day was alright. What’s wrong bunny?” His voice was like honey, sweet and smooth. Of course he noticed, he always does. Right then you wanted to cry, but for what reason?

“Today some hate mail came through the agency directed at me.”

“Oh baby, you know what they say isn’t true. They’re just trying to make you feel bad.” Hugging you tighter he spoke directly into your ear.

“That’s the thing Tama. I think this time they’re right. And I know I shouldn’t be bothered by something this juvenile, something this childish but- ” You were rambling and speaking too quickly for him to understand. So, with a sigh you slightly shook your head as you thought for a moment. “They said that I was too fat to be a pro hero.”

“W-well they don’t know shit, that’s why they aren’t pros themselves.” He tried to make you feel better but he knew you weren’t going to budge. Moving his large hands to cup your cheeks he turned your face to look at him. “You are not fat, period. You are all muscle and could probably kick anybody’s ass if you wanted.” That alone made you chuckle. Slightly lifting the weight of doubt from your heavy heart.

Looking at the ceiling to hide your reluctant smile from his previous comment. Tamaki seized the opportunity and started to kiss your neck, moving his hands to your hips to keep you in place. Light, feathery kisses that made your skin tingle, every now and then he would stop to suck or lick a particular spot.

“Tama that tickles!” Pushing lightly on his shoulders he leaned back, allowing you to look into his loving eyes once more. Glancing between his lips and his eyes you surged forward and captured his lips into a searing kiss. Unconsciously you rolled your hips against him, luring a deep moan from within his chest. Swiping your tongue against his bottom lip, he quickly returned the advancement by dominating your tongue. He’s normally not this demanding. As you were thinking to yourself Tamaki moved his hands to grip your ass. Breaking the kiss with a slight gasp you wrapped your legs around his torso as he stood and carried you into the bedroom.

Setting you gently on the bed he cupped your face and nuzzled his nose against yours before taking a step back to remove his shirt. Running his fingers through his indigo locks you thought to yourself once more. How did I get so lucky? Interrupting your thoughts of admiration he spoke more confidently than you ever thought possible. “O-okay, y/n. I’m going to show you h-how much I love my chubby little bunny.” With a smirk he pounced, his hands were on you massaging, squeezing and caressing all over.

A flood of heat rushed to your core as he desperately striped you of your sweatpants and discarded them to who knows where. Sucking in a deep breath as he noticed the lacy indigo colored panties that covered your heat. “Is this what you wanted Bunny? For me to s-show you how beautiful you are? Is that why you wore my favorite, Bunny?” He didn’t need a verbal response because you had covered your face with your forearms. Laying on your back you felt his hands slip beneath his your hoodie. “And no bra? What a s-slutty little bunny I have.” He took your pert nipples between each thumb and rolled it. A soft moan came from behind your arms causing Tamaki to do it again and again.

The slew of appreciative mumbles and moans gave Amajiki the confidence boost he needed to do as he wanted. Lifting your shirt he plunged beneath it, licking and kissing all around your stomach and up your chest. Taking a nipple into his mouth he grazed his teeth over the mound relishing in the way you arched off the bed and into his touch. Wrapping your arms around his head as he sucked on your breasts you were driving him crazy. A particularly harsh bite just above the swell of your breast caused you to yelp and bite your lip. Finally retreating from under your shirt Tamaki removed the remaining garments from you both.

“Tama, you’re too good to me.” You held his face and saw nothing more than pure, inclusive love. When he slid his hot member across your dripping slit you nearly choked on the breath that you were unconsciously holding.

“You’re wrong you k-know. You deserve everything and more baby.” Placing one hand on your hip, the other guiding his aching member to tease your hole. Collecting your juices more and more as he would insert the head only to immediately retreat. The amount of self control Tamaki was showing was insane, he wanted so badly to fuck you into oblivion. Until you forgot what was making you upset, until you could think only of him. Tired of his relentless teasing you pushed your hips down onto his length a little releasing a grunt from him. “I’m in charge here.” He flashed you a smirk before he completely sheathed himself inside of you.

“Ah-fuck, Tam-” he covered your mouth with his now free hand before he whispered into your ear.

“You’re fucking t-tight bunny.” He painstakingly pulled himself from within you. Clawing at his back as he slowly began to move, you were moaning against his large hand. “You take me so well. What a good little bunny.” Feeling a wet stripe against his palm he leaned back to look at you. Your eyes were begging him to go faster, to make you feel good. Unable to resist he withdrew once more before slamming his hips against yours. The sound of skin against skin filling your ears behind the symphony of grunts and praises from Tamaki.

Uncovering your mouth he used his hand to caress your body. Every curve, scar, stretch mark was acknowledged and praised. He loved every bit of you and that was clear. Through every passionate thrust, pant and mumble, Tamaki showed you just how much he appreciated you for who you are.

Wanton moans and feeble attempts at sentences permeated through him. Feeling the way you were clenching around him, Tamaki gripped your hips with both hands to hammer into your cunt with a newfound vigor. “Are you close Bunny?” He had found the soft spongy spot in your core and he continued his assault. “God, I can feel you drawing me deeper into you. Can you cum for me? Cum around my cock, please baby.” With sudden urgency he began to rub circles into your clit, freeing a scream of pleasure as he pushed you closer to your release. Capturing your lips with his, he swallowed your sounds reveling in the way he made you a mess for him. You tangled your hands into his hair to keep him devouring you.

His ministrations slowed as you came, guiding you through your high and softly coaxing you back to this moment. “Thank you for being such a good girl.” he punctuated each word with a grunt and a particularly rough thrust. Growling your name he too, reached his high as removed himself from your core and thick, white lines sputtered onto your stomach.

Taking in the sight of your blissful and relaxed face Tamaki stood and went into the bathroom only to come back with a glass of water and a warm towel. He cleaned you off first, taking extra care to make sure everything was gone, then he wiped himself. Stepping into the closet in the corner of the room he grabbed a very large blanket and headed back toward you. Wrapping the blanket around you, softly he picked you up and carried you back into the living room setting you down on one end of the couch. He retreated into the bedroom once more and came back with his underwear on and the glass of water in hand. Pressing the cold glass to your lips you sipped gently, with a hum Tamaki set the glass down in the kitchen before joining you in the living room.

Turning the TV on he put on your favorite romance movie and parted the blanket and your arms as he rested himself between them. He rested his face against your bare chest, wrapped his arms around you as best he could and lightly nuzzled into you. Closing your arms around him you were both snuggled warmly into the blanket and with a warm sigh you kissed the top of his head before drifting into a restful sleep.

Once he was sure you were asleep and snoring softly he breathed in your scent deeply as if it gave him courage and uttered “I love you y/n.”

#Tamaki Amajiki #bnha #mha #amajiki x reader #smut #praise #male dom #late nights with koi #suneater #suneater x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #kFICS

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