#not done the book yet so i don't know what the tainted actually ARE or how they came to be but on the human front | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

silusvesuius · 3 months

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I’d read a whole ass book about you talking about Ulfric in both your canon and fanon version. He had a lot of potential as a character in the game but the end result felt like the writers put two hours of thoughts into his character but it was 90% plot related and everything related to his personality was squeezed into the rest of the 10%. I could literally live in his walls while playing and I still don’t get a good enough look into his mind. I had to feed off crumbs given to me through the civil war questline and his conversations with Galmar (also for some reason I was able to sleep in his bed after I was done with that questline which was odd but oh well) you can barely have a conversation with him about HIM. And one could go through a play through and completely miss a lot of details about his life with no problem at all. Like come on he could’ve at least had a journal in his bed table or something, how come a random fucking miner deep within an old cave gets one and he doesn’t. I coped with how “put together” he seems from the outside with assuming that he’s the type to bottle it all up and only allows that side of him to show when he’s alone with Galmar (again we could’ve had more dialogue with just the two of them) with him turning into a completely different man behind closed doors and resembling nothing to the cold hardy leader he appears to be sitting in his throne. But even with all of that we still got way too little content of him considered what we’re told he’s gone through.

But yeah anyways, I enjoy it every time you talk about your interpretation of him, I could spend hours just reading about it I ain’t even exaggerating *autism*. And I’d love to also hear more about your fanon depiction of him. These two versions might seem separate yet they feel so intertwined as if one is in a higher spiritual level. I dunno which one’s which.

So yeah keep being the amazing artist that you are.

THANK YOU LOOOL 💗 Yes literally my princess is so isolated in his own mind that he doesn't even write his thoughts down everywhere (he's afraid the th*lmor agents that are hiding in his closet will read his diary and relay everything to el*nwen) he has no good coping mechanisms. we will never know how he's feeling because the only times he talks about it is when he's bathing with galmar or something (it's too ecchi we can't be seeing or hearing none of that) or when he's really exhausted after an insanely long day, collapsing into his arms and starting to cry saying he's s//icidal, and before galmar can even say anything ulfric is like (Slicks hair back again and rubs off the snot and tears) "actually nvm i'm good"

they gave us the two crumbs of him seeming a bit like a paranoiac in 2 lines and then that one fruity af conversation between him and galmar and thought it's enough to keep us fed. and it is. And it is. (my bones sticking out) i will flip them turn them and make a pancake

if i was president ulfric would be would always be looking @ U sideways && like he's about to deck you in the mouth; unlikable, unapproachable, nasty, horrid, paranoid;... the list goes on

+ i love the tidbit of t*rygg actually admiring ulfric it's so funny to me. Don't try to befriend a traumatized war veteran guys now t*rygg is up there singing in talos' choir. he killed him for all of the reasons listed in canon but also because he hates seeing people be happy especially elves (el*sif). Shut up brainless, th*lmor-tainted... woman, DISHWASHER, get ready to be triggered by loud sounds for the rest of your life like me when i hear the clacking of heels

#ask #also i think ulfric just doesn't see his relationship with galmar as romantic since he's all he has it's like Super Mix #he just knows it's weird a little bit but it's ok cause he'll never find a wife (he's repulsed by women because of el*nwen)#(everyone say thank you el*nwen)#galmar calling him 'my lord' in that one convo still makes me kyaa

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papervo1d · 3 months

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fires of heaven thoughts, about 25% through:

the ability robert jordan has to both make so much and yet so little happen. i've noticed there's always about 200 pages of set up before the plot begins to kick off, and i feel like it's beginning. rand and aiel gang are travelling to cairhien. siuan has just found out the aes sedai gathering is at salidar. egwene is improving in her dreamwalking. mat is being mat. nynaeve and elayne are... travelling somewhere, to tar valon i think, which will be interesting to see if they do actually get back to the tower or not.

some small thoughts about rand thinking about the taint on saidin, of how to protect from it or heal it. asmodean claims there's no way to heal it, but perhaps rand will come across a way to protect himself from it at some point.

similarly, nynaeve talking about healing impossible things, like thom's limp and rand's wound. and the fact that she's been talking to the yellow sisters and the yellow eyes and ears, like damn make her an aes sedai already! well, i suppose she needs to break her block first, but still! i am loving the sheer amount of nynaeve we've got so far, she's my number one always :)

interested to see about siuan/min's plotline, i'm kinda itching to see what's going on with the runaway aes sedai and what on earth they're going to do now.

and lastly, i'm hoping for more from mat. he's tied with nynaeve for my favourite, but i don't feel like he's done much so far! not in this book, but not much in the shadow rising, either. i know he had the whole deal with the fox/snake people, but not much otherwise. i am missing perrin a little bit, only because i was so invested in his storyline last book! but he is overall my least favourite of the main lot, so if we're sacrificing perrin screentime for nynaeve screentime, i'm not complaining at all

#wheel of time #the fires of heaven

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disabledopossum · 2 months

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Where to begin...

This feels so foreign to me. Like a dream lost long ago.

Keeping a journal is about self expression, unleashing your soul in order to unburden the mind. It's something I think everyone should do at one point or another.

But, I haven't done this since I was a teenager.

A journal is meant to be sacred. Secret and for your eyes only.

Yet my privacy was destroyed. My room invaded. No longer a safe place in which I could escape from my home life.

To explain, I came home from school to find my Mother sitting in the living room with my sisters. They were reading my journal and laughing.

You know that moment where you feel the world tilt, and your heart sinks into your stomach? I felt like I was sinking into nothing. All I could think was: "How could she do this to me?"

After that, I burned my journal and never wrote my thoughts down ever again.

It was only after she started dating a new guy, after my sisters abusive Dad ( my Step Dad, Mom made me call him that ) was kicked out and arrested that things just got so much worse.

He was a different kind of abusive. Not physical, but emotional and mental. There is so much that happened during the course of such a horrible year. I could fill a large book case with my experiences and trauma.

I was kicked out at 18, because I began rebelling against them. Against my Mother.

No longer would I clean up after those slobs. I stopped going to the GED classes, because I knew she was going through my room. Trying to find anything she could to ensure I'd be locked up.

"Your brain damaged, honey. It's okay. I understand. We'll fix everything and get you help."

"Help." Her version of help was to lock me up in a mental ward for a fucking year. To have me pumped full of meds, so she didn't have to deal with me. I was nothing but a problem for her, because I looked and sounded too much like my Dad. With whom she had issues with, and refused to tell me why.

When she wasn't dating men, she actually had a kind and caring personality.

I have so few memories spent with my Mom that I can actually cherish. But there's a rusty tinge to them. There's an underlying malice, and disgust.

She was only nice when I obeyed her. When I was her "Doll".

I can remember so many times where I'd sit on the floor after a shower, and she'd brush my hair. Her play thing. Her precious doll.

I'm unsure if she ever saw me as a person.

Mentally and emotionally, I think I'm stunted. There are so many memories I carry with me from those early days. I can close my eyes and still smell her perfume, the brand of coffee she drank and those sunny afternoons when we'd lay in bed. She would run her fingers though my hair and I'd lay in her arms.

It all feels wrong. Tainted.

A Mother should not use her child for emotional support and a paycheck from my Dad. She used me to get back at him. For what? I don't know.

Constantly moving us all around the United States in order to make sure he never knew when we were. To hide me, but also make sure he kept paying child support.

I never really had a childhood. There was always screaming, things being thrown at me. My sisters tormenting me and pushing me into a seizure while my Mom laughed and mocked me.

There was so much medical neglect. She ignored when I was sick, and only ever really stepped in when I was at death's door. Did CPS ever step in? Maybe once or twice, but they didn't do anything and did not believe what I told them.

I was a Doll. A toy to be broken. An object.

There was no childhood for me. I was abused in so many ways.

Do I speak about this with the found family I have? Not really.

I know they want to help, and to give me the security I was denied as a child. But whenever I try to speak, the words get caught in my throat and I feel like I'm being pulled under the waves.

Part of me believes that if I do speak about what I endured, that one or more of them would think I'm lying. I know for a fact that they wouldn't, but my mind always does this.

Childhood was a war zone, and I did not have the ability to protect myself.

None of it should have happened. My Mother should have been kind, but she was a monster. An abused child herself that perpetuated the cycle she herself endured.

There were so many nights that I'd wake up to her screaming, fighting and thrashing in her sleep. I held my Mother while she cried.

I was always there to comfort her. But she never did the same for me.

Why did she hate me so much? Why couldn't I have a normal childhood?

This is only a small snippet of what goes through my mind. I feel myself drowning and I don't know how to ask for help or save myself.

#bpd #raised by narcissists #depression #cptsd #tw abuse mention #tw abuse #parental abuse

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shortie-wonderland · 4 months

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Not the Greatest Experience

Many people hope and dream of living in a different country and getting paid to do so. You would think in one of the most prestigious programs that gives opportunities like this, I would be ecstatic... But here I am. Halfway across the world and longing for what had been back home. You might be thinking, "How ungrateful!" or, "You just haven't found your purpose yet." Perhaps both are true simultaneously. It's hard though, getting yourself out of a rut, mostly when this experience has simultaneously taken something very precious away from you in exchange for a worse situation in that respect.

There is so much I could complain about from transportation to frequent diseases, to weird-ass men to the unusually never-ending heat. However, I don't mean to sound so ungrateful. This is just my reality. Or perhaps it's my perspective of reality, and that's where the issue lies. Or maybe it's not even necessarily a perspective but my lived-in experience as I don't have control over how it's handed to me. If I get beaten down by bad experience after bad experience, it's no wonder my perspective might be tainted. It is such that these bad experiences are simply my lived-in experiences at the present moment.

I wonder so often if I'm making the most out of my time here or not. Volunteering at refuges give me such a rush in my soul, but at the same time, how much of an impact am I actually making? I want to help the education system improve even at university level (way beyond my level of expertise), but I don't know how to go about it since I am not qualified fully. Such is out of my control. So much of this experience is out of my control that I feel swept away into nothingness, into purposelessness. But I can't fully take control out of my hands either, now can I? Then how would I get anything done? I need to actively look for those opportunities within opportunities that will at least do something -- enough to make me feel like I at least tried.

The motivation comes and goes in waves when I get inspired by a friend or something I see on the internet, but then the depression hits, and I retreat once again into my cave for days at a time. Perhaps routine will help with this; I'll eat an orange every morning and do yoga and then will be in the right mindset to actively work towards some of these goals little by little. A little internet detox also hurt no one.

You know how people say it takes 21 days to start a habit? I think it's true since I don't think about him nearly as much as I did before. I still do, but it's become more neutral/logical/patient-driven. I realize time won't speed up just because I worry and heavily anticipate the future. There are things he needs to fix and things I do as well, separately. I'm still in love with him. But it's not my whole being as it was at one point -- a low point. I'm reverting to loving myself first and getting to know myself again through books and solitude. I wouldn't mind going on a date or two here, but when I tell you I can't trust a single man here, I MEAN IT! Not to sound like an "I hate men" feminist, but I have been wounded a share of times. And men around these outskirts lie all the time about having girlfriends or even WIVES! Can you believe it. Girls are for the win anways, even if I am a good deal intimidated by them.

I'm glad I can find this as an outlet. Having my first therapy session after years of not, I couldn't have been more unconvinced and dissatisfied by it. (This is rich coming from someone who just applied to a Psychology/Therapy program.) Life isn't meant to be known and no one knows you like yourself, so you really just need to do what you know that will make yourself feel better and get out of the rut.

All in all, I really do believe this isn't the place for me. However, the aggravating experience may be much needed for my growth and will honestly do me a lot of justice in the end. I just need to grit my teeth and step in the beating sun and just put some sunscreen on and call it a day.

This turned into more of a rant and less of a narrative than I was wanting, but oh well. I hope I continue to grow and get through these growing pains. I need to take it in stride and give myself grace <3 I just need to TRY.

Anways,

Bless,

#my post #words #me #life

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n1kolaiz · 3 years

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"Man fears death and yet, at the same time, man is drawn to death. Death is endlessly consumed by men in cities and in literature. It is a singular event in one's life that none may reverse. That is what I desire."

Character Analysis: Dazai Osamu

Age: 22 || Ability: No Longer Human

I've done a lot of research concerning Dazai's character because of how complex he'd initially appeared to me. It is still a question as to what his personality type is; some say he's an ENTP while others argue that he's an INTJ, and his enneagram would most likely be 7w8 (The Realist), but that isn't the thing I'm going to focus on.

According to general databases and fan analyses, his temperament is dominantly melancholic. A person's temperament is basically how they react to and live in this world. For those of you not interested in such details, don't worry, I'll get to my point.

The melancholic behaviour is characterised by individualism, self-reliance, and reservation. People of the melancholic temperament are described as having been overcome with sorrow and depressive thoughts, which is beyond the feeling of "just being sad."

Nonetheless, they are generally calm beings, with a tendency to hide how they truly feel by keeping their composure, even in events that demand severe reaction otherwise. Other aspects of melancholic temperaments is that they are absorbed in the cruelty and tragedy of this world, and tend to get lost in their thoughts.

Sound familiar?

Dazai is seen to be as the comic relief of the adaptation, and he'd never fail to bring about a sense of lightheartedness to relieve the serious moments; we all know that for sure. Remember the time both him and Kunikida found Nobuko Sasaki in that godforsaken hospital, and how Kunikida asked him about his opinion on the current state of affairs?

But, despite having developed a calm and serene personality, Dazai's dark side was more apparent during the Dark Era. There was a type of intimidating and arrogant flair evident in his behaviour, or even on his face. It was the type of demeanour that came off cold and terrifying to the rather unlucky people he dealt with. In a moment's notice, they could literally die by his hands. And I believe most of them usually did. It was during this time, he was more brutal and vicious. He lacked remorse. Plus, Dazai's suicidal ideations were more dense during this Era, and his suicidal tendencies did not do anything to alleviate the depth of how dark his character was posed to be.

Side note: Unfortunately, people misunderstand this 'depressed' part of Dazai; they minimise his character so much to the point that people use only a single word to describe him: suicidal. He is, in fact, so much more than that. I'll elaborate more on that in a while.

"Hey, Odasaku, do you know why I joined the Mafia? I joined the Mafia because of an expectation I had. I thought if I was close to death and violence—close to people giving in to their urges and desires, then I would be able to see the inner nature of humankind up close. I thought if I did that… I would be able to find something—a reason to live."

Dazai's approach to life is that of an aimless soul, weary of the world's oppressions and exhausted from the concept of living itself. Nevertheless, what he said above about having an expectation made me realise something: he had a goal, which he wasn't that enthusiastic about achieving—seeking for a reason to carry on with life. So he joined the Mafia.

And there, he met Oda Sakunosuke.

Despite how resilient Dazai carried himself to be (especially during the Dark Era), this specific excerpt stands in direct opposition of how he effortlessly embodied all things daunting:

"With every step I take, I feel as though the earth has opened up into a bottomless pit as I fall endlessly. As Dazai pointed to his forehead and approached the muzzle, the look on his face – like that of a child about to burst into tears – had already been branded upon my eyes."

- quoted by Oda Sakunosuke, excerpt from Dazai Osamu and the Dark Era Light Novel.

When I read this, it sent my mind into a spiral of despair and confusion. It was so vague, yet it made so much sense. Dazai was desperate to escape from this life, but part of him seemed to live in conflict with his desire for death. I won't elaborate more on this, because this specific excerpt has personal meaning to me, as I'd expect it to have for others as well; so I wouldn't want to ruin anyone else's perception on it.

Back to my point: Odasaku was one of the only characters who managed to interpret the complexity of Dazai's mindset and was able to compartmentalise the specific details of his persona that made Dazai the way he was. Oda knew that Dazai wasn't just suicidal.

"For most things in life, it's harder to succeed than fail. Wouldn't you agree? That's why I should attempt suicide rather than commit it! Committing suicide is difficult, but it should be relatively easier to fail at attempting suicide!"

Others boasted about how he was just a suicidal maniac, and that was only because of how good Dazai was at concealing his own feelings whilst flamboyantly priding himself in new, risky techniques, which he sometimes elaborated on. But Oda, on the other hand, saw through his jokes, and empathised with his friend, never wanting to ever barge into his vulnerability without Dazai's permission, but still trying to be there for him.

"Listen. You told me if you put yourself in a world of violence and bloodshed, you might be ale to find a reson to live. You won't find it. You should know that. Whether you're on the side that takes lives or the side that saves them, nothing beyond your own expectations will happen. Nothing in this world can fill the hole that is your loneliness. You will wander the darkness for eternity."

Notice how Odasaku recognised Dazai's despair, before Dazai even dared to acknowledge his very own emotions? That was why, at Oda's death, he took the initiative to uncover Dazai's bandaged eye to show him that there was no use in concealing his feelings anymore.

Odasaku's last words to Dazai was to "be on the side that saves people," for he was aware that even though Dazai didn't believe there was a clear distinction between good and evil, he thought that perhaps Dazai would find meaning in his life, even if it was just a little bit of purpose.

In Dead Apple, we briefly relive this moment, but I'll write more on that some other time.

And when Dazai joined the ADA, he loses that dark side to him. No, wait, let me rephrase that: he loses a part of that dark side to him. He eliminated the raw sense of bitterness against the world from his face, and instead, he is seen to be a little more passive, and a little more adaptive. No doubt, he still does explicitly state his desire to die, but his wishes are very specific, if you know what I mean.

And a few years later, his journey with Atsushi began.

Atsushi and Dazai's relationship is just one of a kind. I think it isn't a matter of whether Atsushi needed Dazai, or whether Dazai needed Atsushi. It's the fact that they both needed each other. It's the way they both worked hand in hand, and how they sustained each other in ways they were lacking.

The two were polar opposites, but they had a tender kind of warmth embedded in their protectiveness for each other. Atsushi was just as lost as Dazai, but somehow, they worked together just fine. It was like their duality was meant to be. It was the type of symbiotic relationship, where their care for each other was implied, but very deep.

Does this also sound familiar... perhaps, in relation to Dazai's friendship with Odasaku?

Side note: Oda and Atsushi have the same enneagrams, which is Type 2, 'The Helper.'

There is a sort of balance that is brought about by two opposites. Odasaku taught Dazai many things, and I believe Oda learned a lot about a man's life from the way Dazai lived out his life with the innate desire to die. Atsushi sought for the right to live, while Dazai searched for a reason to live; in addition, Dazai validated Atsushi's feelings, and Atsushi was able to acknowlegde the amount of pain Dazai was going through.

Despite how Dazai's perspectives and beliefs stood in contrast with those of Oda's and Atsushi's, a type of inseparable bond connected the man who no longer felt like he was human, to the people who was the most human.

No Longer Human in the Japanese romaji is 'Ningen Shikkaku.' Ningen means "human," and Shikkaku means "disqualified." The late author, Dazai Osamu, wrote the book No Longer Human. He had gone through the rough throes of trauma and wrote this book as a semi-autobiography, whose plot was centred around a man who faked happiness, for he was tainted by the truth that everyone around him was fake themselves. He turned his life into a joke in order to protect himself from the delusions of this world.

This brings us back to the melancholic temperament, where a person was too deeply immersed in the sad truths of reality and the world itself.

And that's what Dazai's character and ability is based on: being disqualified as a human being, because he wasn't well-versed with what being human was actually like. The fabrications of being human sprung up all around him, but he wasn't willing to be fooled by how ingenuine the world truly was.

“I am convinced that human life is filled with many pure, happy, serene examples of insincerity, truly splendid of their kind—of people deceiving one another without (strangely enough) any wounds being inflicted, of people who seem unaware even that they are deceiving one another.”

- excerpt from Dazai Osamu's No Longer Human.

People who don't feel human emotions or don't react to circumstances the way humans do have a variety of ways of explaining how they feel inhuman. They are highly intelligent, which separates them from the average class of humankind, since they've analysed and untangled the truths of life in order to attain understanding, which they value above all else. But, this understanding of the world and its painful truths results in a deep kind of sorrow, which only a few people can seem to empathise with in order to help them out with that burden.

“Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.”

-excerpt from Fyodor Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment.

Don't you think that this deep sorrow that lies in the heart of the intelligent, makes them the most human of all? They're too human, to the point where they don't feel human. Perhaps, it is a type of defence mechanism, where the mind numbs the heart from feeling normal human emotion, because logically breaking down such concepts is easier than feeling them. But it comes at a price. The heart is willing to recklessly comprehend and fathom any sort of emotion, including pain in its true form, but the mind bears more pain in understanding such concepts because it seeks to decipher every single agonising detail of how complex human emotions are. The mind thinks, the heart feels. There is a clear distinguishing factor between the two. Whether feeling hurts more than thinking, or thinking hurts more than feeling, or whether both these processes work hand-in-hand to make up the reality of life itself, is up for an individual to decide.

Only a few people can seem to empathise with intelligent people who are deeply sad at heart, in order to help them out. As for Dazai, it was Atsushi and Oda. They never took away the pain, but they made him grow from it; it worked vice versa, too.

Of course, there are less tedious and more appealing aspects to the concept of Dazai's intelligence. Dazai was seen as a threat to his enemies because of how manipulation and his keen skill of deduction made up how sharp his mind was. Besides, no one could commit '138 murders, 312 cases of extortion, and 625 cases of fraud, along with various and sundry other crimes,' without having a certain level of intelligence, right?

Dazai had the moral alignment of 'chaotic neutral.' He was more focused on using his intellect to achieve the desired end results of a predicament, and he wasn't afraid to use the wrong means. A famous example was when he deflated the airbags of Ango Sakaguchi's car in order to gain the assured protection of Kyouka Izumi.

Justice is a weapon. It can be used to cause harm, but it cannot protect or save others.

Another example was when he blew up Chuuya Nakahara's car.

Just kidding. That was just a simple pastime (；・∀ ・)

His moral alignment points to what Oda said about him: the part where he mentioned that Dazai didn't really see any difference between good and evil. As long as his ends were achieved, especially if it were in the benefit of his fellow colleagues, he wasn't afraid to exploit, threaten, or endanger others' wellbeing. Because, at the end of the day, the end result triumphed the morally bad methods utilised to achieve it, correct? He always had a reason for his motives and actions, even if those actions were evil and inexcusable.

(eg. action: the psychological abuse he bestowed upon Akutagawa Ryunosuke.

motive: to enable him to hone his own ability favourably and to curb his arrogance)

But the consequences of one's actions will always catch up with a person, no matter what heights they've achieved.

Okay, we're reaching the end of my rambling very soon, I promise.

“If I had to go, I’d like to go out just as beautifully.”

“I’d prefer you don’t go.”

This part of the post is highly inspired by iwachuwu!!

An important factor of Dazai's development is highlighted BSD Wan's episode 10:

I'd like to appreciate that this scene focuses on how much Dazai actually means to Atsushi. When Atsushi responds with "I'd prefer you don't go," he said it lightheartedly for he thought Dazai was joking. But he wasn't. And once Atsushi absorbed the fact that Dazai meant what he said, he was overwhelmed with anguish at the thought of ever losing Dazai. Dazai, on the other hand, had a sense of longing on his expression. There was that look of pure desperation on his face. He was so desperate, yet he knew he couldn't act on his desperation due to a promise he'd made to someone dear to him. But keep in mind, Dazai is unpredictable, so we can never be sure of what's going on in that headspace of his.

Nevertheless, this time, Atsushi recognised Dazai's suffering, as no one usually cared to do, and Dazai didn't put in any effort to hide how he truly felt, as he habitually did. And this mutual emotional connection happened countless times during all the times Oda spent with Dazai as well.

To summarise,

Dazai's character had been carefully wired and patterned out in a way only a few would put in the effort to understand. Dazai was more than just suicidal; he was a being wandering from place to place with no specific aim. He was too smart for his own good. Dazai understood too well of how the world worked and deemed it void of any sort of hope.

Side note: Yes, the truth does come at a price, but it all comes down to how a person understands the truth. As for Dazai (both character and the author he was based off upon), well, it was quite tragic. But that's the way it is for some people, I suppose. But everyone has a different path to travel on, remember that.

His transition from working with the Port Mafia to the Armed Detective Agency was proof of how well-executed his character development was. It was two different personas morphed into what he is today: a womaniser with questionable morals a person who is still standing even after the rough refining process endowed upon him by the realities of this life.

However, he had people along the way come and teach him a thing or two, which perhaps made his life a little more interesting. Perhaps these people were passing clouds that hid the void out of sight for just a moment, and Dazai was always seen to be grasping on to these moments, and letting them go whenever it was time to let go.

His outlook on life makes his intellect look all the more intriguing. It shows that not only does his intelligence contribute to his own wit and shrewdness, but also the practical sense of realism that explains how tired he is of the concept of living because of the truths there are to bear.

However he's enduring the pain right now is by far the most bravest thing a person could commit themselves to doing. It takes courage, and it takes strength, but only a few would ever take the time to recognise such efforts.

Dazai has one of the most beautiful character developments, but I do hope that the development doesn't reach its end anytime soon.

fanart credits: @S7dOZPN3jWBB6cW on twitter

“Now I have neither happiness nor unhappiness.

Everything passes.

That is the one and only thing that I have thought resembled a truth in the society of human beings where I have dwelled up to now as in a burning hell.

Everything passes.”

excerpt from Dazai Osamu's No Longer Human.

#bsd #bsd dazai #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs wan #bsd wan #bsd dazai osamu #bsd characters #literature analysis #literature #dazai osamu #bsd odasaku #bsd atsushi #bsd analysis #bsd atsushi nakajima #.ryley.speaks

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a-mended-pact · 3 years

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Unsteady Keys: Chapter Four

🦇 Author's notes: Hey so I originally was probably gonna stop posting this series until I got much further but I decided to throw caution to the wind and post it anyway.

⚠️ Warning : this chapter contains smut! MINORS DNI. If their are anymore besides for basic criminal minds based stuff let me know! ⚠️

✒: Word count: 2,259

Part 5

Request are open! 💌

I was enveloped in the smell of spice and cedar with the faint scent of amber. The warmth of his jacket seeped into my skin as if it being draped over me would keep me here longer. How I missed being this young and carefree. Times were so much simpler here. I was naive to believe I could still have this innocence of what I thought my life would be like. I had plans, plans with him. If I remember correctly today was our first official date together. I couldn't help but laugh at the thought. I could feel my nervousness getting the better of me already as if I hadn’t already lived through these moments countless times before.

I ran through the courtyard, the sound of leaves crunching beneath my feet was music to my ears. The happiness I felt at the thought of seeing him all dressed up for me again was everything. The only time I was ever this excited to see someone was when I saw my wife in her beautiful wedding gown for the first time. She looked like a goddess but he was a god that chose to grace me with his presence only when I craved for him.

I finally reached him with a happy giggle. I was so excited to see him and to be close to him. What I felt was mind numbing happiness. It was ridiculous how badly I wanted to go back to this time. I hadn’t been tainted by my mother's illness getting worse nor have I seen the horrors of my job. I haven’t had the drug induced nightmares yet. I haven’t even felt what it was like to be imprisoned both physically and mentally yet. I missed this.

His hand grabbed mine as a smile passed his lips. ‘Are you ready for our first official date Reid?’ I nodded eagerly. I knew this wasn’t real but I didn’t care. I wanted to be here forever. Perhaps I was just romanticizing all of this more than I should. Him and I weren’t necessarily always level headed with one another. We often fought against one another in tournaments. When I went against him he would always show bitterness towards me. As if it was my fault I had an eidetic memory and he didn’t.

We were friends though. We did get along in a lot of ways. We were always eager to learn more about anything and everything together so when one of us would find out something new we just had to tell the other immediately. We would constantly discuss our thoughts on books. I was always so eager to know how he viewed things. Even if I didn’t see the same things the way he did.

He intrigued my mind to no end and that’s probably how I ended up here trying to see if I could see a whole different side of him than I ever have before. My lips were swollen from how long we were kissing on his bed. His hands cupping my face pulled me closer to him if that were even possible. He tasted of buttered popcorn and cheerwine from our movie date earlier. I never wanted this kiss to stop. His tongue grazed my bottom lip and I opened my mouth to allow better access. Who would have thought my first kiss with him would be a french kiss.

His other hand ran up my stomach underneath my sweater. To think I could get so turned on by a man was odd to me. Then again I never really cared. If I liked you, I liked you. I didn’t think it mattered what was between your legs. I was attracted to your mind. The mind was always such an intoxicating thing to me. A moan passed my lips as he moved his to my neck suckuling bruises into me as if there wasn't evidence that he had me on my back underneath him aching to be touched wherever he was willing to give me. My head shot back and my back arched up as he caressed me through my tightening jeans. A chuckle escaped him as he looked down at me. His brown eyes looked nearly black with his pupils blown so wide. ‘Who would have thought I’d have you under me like this on our first date Spencer?’ I moaned as his hand cupped the side of my neck making me keep my gaze on him. The sound of my first name on his lips drove me wild. He so rarely called me Spencer. He only did when he knew it would drive me crazy.

His lips slammed against mine in haste when did my sweater end up on the floor? God. Who truly cared. My mouth was watering at the sight of him taking off his slacks. I moved off the bed quickly just so I could be on my knees as he took off the rest of his bottom garments. Something about the way I knew I caused him being this turned on made me dizzy. I wanted to taste him. I just wanted him. I didn’t really care how. I leaned forward bringing my hands up to his thighs as he looked down on me. His cheeks were flushed as a smile formed on his lips. ‘I always mistook you for an asexual Reid. I never imagined you’d be on your knees drooling over my cock.’

He was teasing me and I didn’t care because it was true. I was in fact drooling. In response to his tease I kissed the tip of him before I whirled my tongue around him. I couldn’t help but watch him as his head fell down to gaze at me. His hand found it’s way into my hair. Fuck. If he could look at me like this forever. I’d gladly stay on my knees for him. I drew him into my mouth deeper still, swirling my tongue around on him before I gently sucked in my cheeks.

His moaning was intoxicating every time I made the smallest amount of movement he gave me his sweetest sounds. I couldn’t help but moan around him as his fingers entangled in my hair to hold my head steady as he started thrusting softly. He was being gentle enough to not hit the back of my throat even though he could easily if he moved just the slightest bit more. I was okay with it for a while until I noticed he was holding himself back and that’s when I put my hands on the back of his thighs and pulled him in deeper forcing me to take him in as deep as I could. I had to remind myself to relax my throat and to breathe through my nose.

I thought the sounds he was making before were enough to get the better of me. That was a lie. The ones he made as I let him continuously thrust into my throat were better than anything I could have ever imagined. I was so grateful I had an eidetic memory. I would forever pull this one from the back of my mind. He was so lost in me as he came down my throat. Tears were leaking down my face as I looked up at him, my nails clawing gently at his thighs as I relaxed myself back onto my heels. I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue drool dripping down my chin as I showed him I had swallowed everything he had given me.

He pulled me up kissing me aggressively, his tongue slipping into my awaiting mouth. As he started stripping me of my clothing, throwing me down on his bed once he was done. ‘You did such a great job for me Spencer. Time for me to make you feel what you made me feel.’ His mouth sunk down on me quickly making me hit the back of his throat immediately he wasn’t wasting any time. A whimper left me as one hand rushed to his hair and the other covering my mouth. I was always so sensitive. I didn’t know how to be quiet even when I pleasured myself to the thought of him doing exactly this to me. ‘Fuck!’ My back arched off the bed every time he bobbed his head up and down on me, hollowing out his cheeks with each upperward movement until I eventually heard a ‘pop’ his mouth coming off of my cock. As he licked up the underside. 'Jeez Reid I don't think I've heard you cuss before. How sexy.' As soon as he finished he sucked on the tip on my cock and I swear I saw stars. How could someone be so good with their mouth? I felt a tightening in my abdomen. My back arching up. 'P--please I. Oh god. Don't. Please. Fuck.' I couldn't form a proper sentence as he forced me deep into his throat and clawed his hands down my stomach. I started cumming moaning his name.

'Ethan. Oh fuck.' My voice was low and quiet, maybe he didn't hear me. Maybe. That was a stupid thought. I knew he was watching me. He always was when we were alone together. I could see him out of the corner of my eye.

'I know that look Spencer, I know what you were thinking about. Even after all these years I still know you so well.' I looked up at him breathlessly. He looked so different compared to how he looked then. 'Do you ever miss us?' He asked as he swirled the knife on the wooden table where he sat to the right of me.

'I would be lying if I said I didn't Ethan. You know that.' It broke my heart seeing where we had both ended up. I knew him being like this wasn't his fault. It was Cat's. I just had to figure out how deep the wounds were that she caused to the man I loved so deeply.

'If that were true then why did you marry her?' I could hear the sadness in his voice. The worst thing was seeing the tears stream down his face. Even though I was supposed to be afraid of my capturer, all I wanted to do was comfort him.

'You and I grew apart. We didn't talk for years. You were busy with your music career and I was busy with the bau. Then Y/N came into my life and she made me feel things the same way you used to. She challenges me, she pushes me to be a better version of myself. In a lot of ways she reminds me of you. Which is probably one of the reasons I fell for her so quickly.' Tears were in my eyes as I felt him unhook my cuffs and rub his hands against the scuff marks on my wrists.

'It was never in my intention to kidnap you or to do any of this Spencer. ' He sounded so broken. The sound of my name coming from him made me shudder. 'I just wanted you to know I didn't kill any of them. I abducted them but I didn't actually kill them. At least I don't remember doing it.' I tilted my head to the side. I was weary of the fact that he might be playing a mind game. Something about the way he was watching me as he unhooked me made me want to trust in him as if he didn't burn me and cut me with the very blade he probably used on the female victims.

I was careful not to say anything I shouldn't but I knew I needed to be as honest with him as I possibly could. I stayed seated even though he had unhooked me completely. 'If you didn't kill or hurt the victims Ethan then why do they look like Y/N? You were at my wedding when you two first met. You were the only one out of you and Cat that knew what she looked like.'

He sighed and sat on the floor in front of me sobbing as he laid his head into my lap. 'I was told that if I didn't do what she asked she was gonna hurt you. I didn't want that. I tried to tell you. I tried many times.' He was clinging to me as my hands moved to rest in his hair. He was a victim of Cat Adam's just like I had been with the whole Mr. Scratch ordeal.

'Ethan, what did she do to make you submit to her so easily? Threatening just me couldn't have made you agree.' My fingers twitched in his hair. I wanted to comfort him but now wasn't the time. I couldn't let my emotions for him cloud my better judgment.

He looked up at me and then looked down. 'She kept finding me. Everywhere I moved. No matter where I went there she was with another letter in my mailbox. I ignored them at first. Until she started sending me photos of you. You weren't aware of them. You looked high as hell. Completely gone. You were naked and covered in blood with a dead woman lying beside you.'

My back stiffened. Lindsey Vaughn. It all made sense now.

'I knew you'd never kill someone, you just don't have that type of viciousness in you. The photos were still being sent until I did what she asked.'

Taglist:

@sassymoon @rainsong01 @onlyhereforthefanfics @itsdars

#unsteady keys #spencer x reader #spencer x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction

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darkestdesired · 4 years

Text

The Gladiators Prize

@bugmanor

Warning:Smut,Water sex,swearing,Felix being a sexy and clingy Beast,Poor little reader never stood a chance.

Request: NSFW Felix x Innocent/Shy S/o.

An:I am so so so sorry this is so late,I hope this is ok! It's been a while since I've written smut but i am kind of happy with how this came out.

Gladiators had always been my favorite thing to study in history class,they were usually more beast than man.The stories always ended two ways but always with death,Either the lion or the man were leaving that arena alive.

Most of the time it was the lion.

But i never thought I'd actually get the chance to meet one in real life,That was until i found out that my entire college history class was going to the city of Volterra to visit some of the many wonders it had to offer. I was absolutely stoked,i was living by myself and had been wanting to move there my whole life,I was even saving up and nearly had enough.Might as well see what it had in store for me.

The plane ride over was exhausting but i was so glad when our bus finally arrived,Mrs.Gillard whistled to get everyones attention."Alright everyone,our hotel rooms aren't ready yet so why don't you all check out the shops while we wait." There was a wave of relief filled sighs throughout the group causing her to roll her eyes.She was always such a mean woman. I wondered around next to a few shops before deciding to lean against the wall of an alley,pulling out my favorite book about gladiators and blocking out the ouside world.

"Hello there gorgeous,what is someone as stunning as you doing here all alone?" I heard a deep voice ask,Looking up my face heated up immediately as i saw the devilishly handsome man infront of me.He was like a giant compared to me,but he seemed a bit starstruck as well as our eyes met.

"I-I uh.." It was as if my brain had completely shut down,he didn't seem to mind though since he chuckled."Didn't mean to surprise you cara mia,I simply saw a living goddess and wished to introduce myself." He reached over and gently took my hand in his before bending down and making a show of keeping eyecontact as he kissed my knuckles."You smell absolutely heavenly my dear,and what might your name be?" He said in a gruff sultry voice causing my knees to grow weak. "My n-Name is (Y/n)" i said like the utter mess that i was. He smirked down at me and stepped closer,i dropped my book and tried to move back but i was already against the wall.He listed his arms and successfully trapped me between his hulking body and the brick,The cape he wore blocked me from view from the wondering people that walked around outside.

"Such a lovely name..(Y/n).." My name rolled off his tongue like it was his lifes mission to make me faint from bliss. "My name is Felix Volturi Cara Mia,I suggest you remember it." I gulped,"And why is that..?" His eyes chuckled as what sounded like the mix between a growl and purring erupted from his throat."Because you will be screaming it soon enough."

This is it..This is how i die,i thought as he leaned his face closer,his eyes dark with lust."You are mine.." He purred.Something in me urged me to let go and live in the moment,But the sound of one of my classmates yelling my name broke me out of my trance. With a flustered face i quickly moved his cape and dove under his arm,not even attempting to look at him in fear that i might fully lose control.

He watched as i ran out of the valley and out of sight,bending down he picked up my book.He sniffed the book and purred at my scent,He chuckled when he saw the title of the book."Mmm we are destined my little flower,You can not hide from me."

Tossing and turning in bed i huffed before sitting up,I had been lucky enough to not have a roomate,but even that joy couldn't suppress the events of the day.I couldn't get felix out of my head,I had never had someone so attractive talk to me before,and especially not like that.Thinking back on it he looked a lot like the gladiators in my book,if i didn't know any better i would have assumed he was one.

Realizing i wasn't going to be falling asleep anytime soon i decided a nice bath in the tub that seemed more like a pool compared to mine back home would get rid of the heated fantasies that brought a blush to my (S/c) cheeks,Tredding my way into the gorgeous bathroom i undressed on my way there,not even bothering to pick them up on the way, before hopping into the nice steamy water.

I guess that's why i didn't hear the sound of the window opening.

Felix sniffed the air,causing him to lick his lips when he could still smell the traces of my lust,he thanked the gods when he saw my cute but sexy black panties laying onthe floor.Not even hesitating he picking them up and breathed in my scent,barely stopping the growl that threatened to escape.He stuffed them into his pocket before getting undressed,setting his clothes on a chair.There he leaned against the doorframe and watched as i played with myself,i forgot to shut the bathroom door.Since the tub was round i sat with my back to him,Not even realizing the danger i was in.

Sighing in pleasure i added another finger to my tight pussy,"Ah..Mm...Felix..." I moaned. Biting my lip i leaned my head back against the edge of the bath."That's right,say my name again Cara mia." My eyes shot open and i saw Felix standing over me with a sly smirk. Gasping i quickly turned and sat on the other side ,Blushing furiously when i saw the state he was in. "Do not be frightened my love,I told you you are mine." He stepped into the tub until he was knelt between my thighs.

"H-How..How did you get in here..?" I asked,Shaking despite the warm water that engulfed me. He chuckled,"I have my ways,Now let us continue where we left off,Shall we?" Leaning in he captured my lips,he started off gently and waited as i froze with wide eyes.It only took a a few seconds before i melted in and began kissing him back.

From there the kiss got more and more heated,His strangely cold hands grazed at my fragile skin from my shoulders to my breasts,He swallowed my moans as he kneaded my breasts and piched my now perky nipples.My hands held on his braud shoulders for support,Knowing if i let go i would likely sink into the water. Pulling away he licked his lips hungrily as he saw my blazed out expression,"Look at you,So needy for your gladiator hm? Does the idea of such a strong man claiming you turn you on? You are my prize for all of my victories my dear,it is time to claim what is rightfully mine." He pushed his knee forward and smirked,obviously pleased as i began to rut against his thigh involuntarily."That's it,Give into the pleasure." He grinned when he pulled away his knee,eliciting a whine."Do not worry my dear,I will give you what you desire." Grabbing my thighs and wrapping them around his waste he wasted no time in guiding his large member into my aching core.

He hissed and clenched his eyes tight in ecstasy when he was fully sheathed in my warmth,"Fuck..You are so tight my goddess..Tell me..Am i the first man to taint your sacred flesh? Tell me! For i shall hunt down any who has dared to take what is mine." He growled while mercilessly pounding into me once i had gotten used to his size. "N-No..I..I was.." He grinned widely,his dark red eyes glowing as he drowned in the beautiful sound of my moans."You are mine! Do you hear me? No one will dare to even think about taking you from me once i am done with you! Tell me you are mine!I will treat you like a queen." He reached down and grabbed my chin,not to hurt me in the slightest but to force me to look deep into his eyes."I-I am yours! Please Felix..Ahn..hah.." Tears poured down my cheeks,wrapping my arms around his neck he nipped at my neck,causing me to wriggle.

Now that i had accepted him he was going to ensure that i would not be able to walk for the next month.Leaning back he pulled me with him so that i was now riding him,He opted to watch as i bounced on top,enjoying the sight of my breasts bouncing.

"Forget all about the life you have lived before my innocent little mate,i am never letting you go again." I was so blissed out that all i could do was nod,running my hands down his stunning abs.

"Fe-Felix..I'm so close..Please..!"He licked a a stripe up my throat,relishing in the shiver the visibly rolled up my skin."As am i cara mia,Come for me!" With a few more harsh thrusts i felt my body spasm in the most amazing pleasure i had ever felt before.I could hear his grunts as his hands tightened on my thighs,"Fuck...(Y/n)!" He hissed.

I kissed his forehead before burying my head in his shoulder,letting exhaustion take over."All mine." Was the last thing i heard before darkness consumed me.

When i finally awoke i was dressed in an unfamiliar bedroom with my back pressed against a cold chest,arms secured protectively around my waist."Go back to sleep my love,You are home now." Felix's deep comforting voice said against my shoulder causing me to smile."Hmm.." Was my only response as i buried myself deeper into him and drifted back to sleep.

My gladiator kept his word,He never let me go.

#volturi imagine #twilight imagine #felix volturi #felix volturi x reader #felix volturi imagines #felix volturi imagine #twilight

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bxllafanficc · 3 years

Text

¡Skate/sing your hearts out! (Yuri Plisetsky x reader)

(part six)

Part one. Masterlist!

Summary: After last year's cancellation of Figure Skating Grand Prix, Yuri Plisetsky finds himself unable to bring out his inner skater after a year of doing nothing but enjoy life like a regular teenager. That's when you enter the picture; We Are Voice Grand Awards's currently hottest competitive vocalist come first place two years in a row. Just like the other competitors of Grand Prix, it turns out that Victor and Yuuri faces the same issue. With an arrangement between Victor and Yakov, they agree to travel to Japan and hire you as a mutual coach for Yuri and Yuuri to help bring back the emotion into their performances like before, maybe even more intense than ever. Yuri however, who's never experienced issues with his coaches before, for some reason finds this one particularly difficult to coexist along with in their (reasonably) odd partnership. Warnings: none

*Your POV*

(Next morning)

"A-achooo!"

You jolted out of your sleep when the loud sound hit you. Half-asleep, you fumbled after a potential threat and thrashed with your legs to get out of bed. Your eyes weren't even open yet and you heard a shocked shriek from Magnolia before something skipped across the sheets and disappeared. You threw the blanket off you, threw yourself to the left to shake it away and-

*Thud*

Ow. You opened your eyes, finally. There was no attack, obviously. If your dream hadn't been about being the captain of a pirate ship as you were in the middle of getting attacked by the Englishmen, there would've been no reason to react that way, you thought. The loud sound was the sound of a canon ball about to hit you, you'd figured. You let the impact of the floor stone you and you just laid there, thinking of what you were currently doing with your life; too tired to move.

"...(Y/n)? Did you- ... Are you dead?"

Hmmm, wait. Yuri, r-right. He saw that totally.

You rose to your knees and slowly peeked over the bedside, upon Yuri's weary gaze. Only your eyes were visible of course. No point in giving him the chance to see your red tainted cheeks after such an embarrassing act.

"(Y/n). What... are you doing?" His voice thick and dry, almost hoarse. He looked at you with his eyes barely widened. You then noticed how awfully colorless his skin was. Well, except for the redness around the base of his nose. Heavy bags under his eyes displayed on his features as well.

"What in the- Well you seem to have had a rough night, Plisetsky." It wasn't particularly an insult. He did look like the ceiling had been falling in on him and as if he had no choice to carry it the entire night. Yuri gave you a snort and leaned back in his bed.

"Shut up, Duchess."

You picked up your fallen blanket and placed it on top of the bed as you eyed the skater. Then the feeling of Magnolia bumping his head against your leg made you look down and sigh.

"Yeah whatever, Punk." You cradled the large cat in your arms and scratched his chin. 'Sorry, darling. I'll make it up to you...' You whispered in the cat's ear and kissed the top of his head. A purr started drumming from his belly but was quickly drowned out by another loud sneeze and a cough right after.

'Oh my, he isn't... Right?' You thought and the Russian boy sniffled harshly. Even Magnolia gave you a 'What's the matter with him?' look. You made your way to his bed and was met with swimming eyes. Even the stunning shade of blue and sea green had faded slightly and had been replaced with a grayish contrast.

"Yuri... Did you get sick from the waterfall yesterday?" You placed the back of your hand against his forehead and the heat hitting you almost made you retract it immediately. That, however, was done anyway by Yuri briskly swatting your hand away with a groan.

"'M fine!" He's burning up with a fever and he's laying here, lying straight to your face while looking close to passing out any minute. Another sneeze and you had decided what to do next.

"I'm calling Yakov that there will be no training for the following days. You get rested."

"No! I-I don't have such time! I'll practice anyway!" He sat up immediately and bore his gaze into you. You assumed that it was meant to be seen as fierce and energetic but it more looked like the kind of stare a drunk person trying to stare his way through solving a math-problem. You gently but firmly laid a hand on his chest at the intention to hold him back from straining himself any further. His gaze met yours with newfound shock and you ignored the feeling of a loud *thump* pulsing through your hand from inside his chest. A slight stutter was heard before you pushed him back down onto the mattress and held him still for a moment. 'Stay.' Was the message that thankfully got through.

"Rest and I'll be back soon, okay? You're not doing anything until you've recovered." Your words were stern but only a nod was seen from the boy as his eyes were intensely fixated upon your hand holding him down. Just then you noticed the rest of his face had turned red and damp from sweat as well, almost sure that it hadn't been there before. 'Oh no, his body turned hotter just now and his heart is beating out of his chest. Better get him some breakfast and call Yakov immediately before he dies or something.' And with that, you left the room and headed towards the kitchen.

You were making some hot chicken soup on the stove when Victor made his way into the hall and saw you, immediately stopping to see what you were up to.

"Smells delicious (Y/n). What are you making? Can I try?" He peeked above your shoulder and gasped lightly. Your shoulders were cradled by his arms from behind and he pushed his weight onto you, causing you to stumble.

"Pleaseeee?"

"Okay, okay! But just a spoon, alright? It's to Yuri." Victor sheered and waved at Yuuri as he as well now joined them in the kitchen. Next moment a spoon was dipped into the soup and the man started fussing about how great it tasted. He then made Yuuri try it as well meanwhile he stood beside you, taking low.

"A soup only to Yuri, huh? I'd say you're growing rather fond of him at this point. Is it 'made with love' as well?"

"Yuri's come down with a fever from yesterday's adventure. I cancelled his practice with Yakov for the rest of the week. Meanwhile, he said Yuri should think about choosing his music and a possible theme for his skating program this year so Yakov can go ahead and choreograph it in time for his return. Maybe you could help him with the theme and all that? I think he'd appreciate a little push into the right mind of thinking."

Victor fell silent and scratched the top of his head as he stared into the soup. You were heading to grab some red shiny apples and rinsed them under the water flow of the sink.

"How unfortunate that he'll have to postpone his practicing like that... Of course I'll help! Though, it's still a little suspicious of you nursing him back to health, I must say.

"Oh, just quit it, will you?"

"How are you feeling? You look pretty washed up." You pushed the door open and was met with Yuri scrolling on social media. His leg slumped over the other, laying on his back. You knew exactly why the media had been the center of his attention. Yesterday's news blew up around the entire world and people are freaking out on social media. But it wasn't just that. A few already silenced fans of the other figure skating idol's wrote about how it wasn't fair to the rest of the competing programs to have such an advantage. Some even went as far as speculating about Yuri Plisetsky already being so sure on winning this season's Grand Prix and with that, that arranged tour with you. As if he hired you as coach because of that. To get to know you before the big collaboration between the two competitions.

"I always do. No point in rubbing it in though." You put the soup down on a little nightstand you pulled in front of the bed. Followed by the soup came a glass orange juice and a tray with star-shaped apple-slices. He grabbed the spoon you handed him and gave you a quiet 'thanks' before attacking the food.

"That's really not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

"I implied you look tired. That's what washed up means." You grabbed a chair from your desk and but it beside him on the floor. He looked slightly bugged that you'd be staying so close to him like that. Maybe he worried about another person getting sick but probably not. It was you at risk in this matter and he didn't exactly care about you, you knew. And yes, getting sick is a down step for a singer since the recovery can be slow and painful. But you didn't really care this time. Besides, you wouldn't be starting this season of We Are Voice in a good month anyway.

"You meant ugly though." His words were subtle and caused you to blink, slightly dumbfounded. Why did he say those things so casually about himself?

"You're never ugly, Yuri."

Wasn't he the one with confidence and pride worth a tiger's during last season's Grand Prix? It feels a little out of place somehow. For him to put himself down after only been doing it to others before.

"Say what now?" He took an apple slice between his fingers and inspected it before chewing it up with a mouth of orange juice.

"... You're actually really pretty... if only your personality wasn't to nasty though..."

You just felt like saying it, honestly. You felt like maybe he needed to hear it. And the parted lips and the wide stare you received from him revealed that you just might have been right. But he quickly read into the following sentence of your exclamation and shook his head.

"H-Hey!" The insult clearly hit the right spot as well judging by the pout and the blush. You flashed him a grin and let a loud laugh escape your lungs.

"Just eat your damn soup,Plisetsky!"

"Hey um... " You looked up from the book you had been reading. Yuri was finished with his breakfast and had been eying you for a good long minute in secret before deciding to speak up. You had just decided to ignore it and figured he'd say something if he felt like it.

"I have been wondering. So the reporter called you The Aubade Duchess yesterday... What does that stand for anyway?" The events of yesterday hit you in the gut once again. The loud screaming and the now so familiar pressure around you. They had been calling you The Duchess of (nationality) ever since your first year at the senior league of We Are Voice where you came in third. You hadn't been competing as a junior the years before but you were immediately a favorite of the people. Then, your second year, you won first place and earned the word 'aubade' to your fan made title. Last year, even though your competition grew more hellbent on winning, you came in first place once again. Your own coach had promised your fans a third golden success for this years finals. The title kind of stuck as you grew up on the stage.

"Right, that. Aubade stand for 'a love song which is sung at dawn', I have been told. It's silly, really." You turned to watch a certain detail in the marble floor, expecting some kind of teasing to come next. But the room fell silent for a moment and your eyes sought the reason behind the reaction.

"It suits you." It had been quiet. But you heard it nonetheless. Yuri wasn't meeting your gaze either but noticed your stunned surprise anyway.

"W-well, I mean... No- maybe? I don't know! It sounds ridiculous, just like you! God, you're so clingy and asking too many questions all the time."

He's been acting so... strange from his usual behavior. Like the fever has turned him into a less tense and distrustful version of himself almost. Wasn't he able to think straight? Perhaps you should treat him as a drunk person after all.

Even though your hand had been previously swatted away, you still put it to his forehead anyway. It was as hot as the first time and the heat made you snap back to your current situation.

"Shit. You're burning up... maybe I should-" You were cut off by Yuri leaning into your hand and closing his eyes. His entire posture screamed 'about to pass out'.

"Your hand... feels cool and nice..."

What the hell? Yeah he's as good as drunk. Wait no- you should call an ambulance, right. This is really bad.

"Oh. Should I get you a damp towel?" You were just about to retract your hand. To leave the room and attend to his fever once again but you were stopped. The Russian Punk took a weak hold on your wrist and held your palm close to his forehead. He sniffled once more before nuzzling into your hand with a little sigh. One more sniffle and he was out.

Light breathing was heard and he was finally asleep. On you, though. You couldn't even reach your phone to dial the hospital. You didn't want to scream for help either because it might have woken him up. But then, you couldn't help but feel a tad of relief as you were finally given a (kind of) break for a few moments.

But you had stuff to do. Those towels wouldn't wet themselves and you better prepare them for him. You began the attempt to remove your hand as carefully as you could but were immediately cut off by the soft mumble of a sound asleep Yuri.

"Mm... Don't you dare go anywhere."

...Okay then.

#inspiration #yuri on stage #yurio plisetsky #yuri on ice fanfiction #yuri on ice fandom #yuri katsuki #yuriart #yurianime #yuri on ice #yuri plisetsky x reader #yuri plisetsky #anime icons #anime fanfic #anime #animelove #best anime

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squirrellybrainz · 3 years

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It's strange the things that stick in your mind, no matter how long the passing of time.

My dreams have been everything from repetitive, vivid n blurry, nightmares or night delights, sleep walking, day or lucid dreaming, even a combination of things....

Recall in a dream having to close my 'dream eyes' so I could squint thru to read the words in the dream book. So very hard n frustrating to do!

Yet, what really are dreams? Just head noodle nonsense, your brains way of organizing?, enlightenment? blips?

Some humans sadly (luckily?) don't even recall their nightly wanderings! So, then do dreams really mean nothing?

So far, dreams have been everything from amazing, to horrifying, confusing, predictive, n making me feel so many conflicting n confusing emotions, n even caused me to doubt reality, cuz sometimes the dreams are so real, they've been confused with memory at times, n so many feelings of deja vu.

I can still recall the recurring nightmares that took my grandparents away from me. Over, and over again....

Being trapped inside my own body watching or even experiencing horrid things happening around or to me that I couldn't control. People have told me about conversations, n things I've done, all when I thought I was asleep, n oft have no memory of happening.

Rarely, had some recollection of what happened during a 'sleep-walking episode', but if remembered, it always felt/feels surreal, or even hyper real, if that makes sense?

Growing up n being advised by a religious family member, I thought I was tainted. Vile. Evil. The thing to be avoided. Cuz you know Wilson Phillips is the devil's music n no one has ever heard of sleep paralysis!

Tho, even the horrors of dreams are worth it, methinks. When one can rewind a dream to make it better, yet stay fully in the dream, or to spend time making new memories with those long lost, sitting up laughing from a happy dream that's already faded from your mind, but the overall feeling left from the dream n the belly laugh pain is real n comforting....

The rare, but wonderful feeling of being one with everything, n wondering if you ever actually sleep n 'shut down' or, the experience of connecting with that 'one' feeling is so overwhelming, it causes a forgetfulness akin to a drunkards blackout?...

#lucid dreaming #sleep paralysis #nightmare #night terrors #dream #cant sleep #reality #i feel like im hallucinating #hallucinatory

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jordannamatlon · 7 years

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HBO’s prospective series Confederate will offer an alternative history of post-Civil War America. It will ask the question, according to co-creator David Benioff, “What would the world have looked like … if the South had won?” A swirl of virtual protests and op-eds have greeted this proposed premise. In response, HBO has expressed “great respect” for its critics but also said it hopes that they will “reserve judgment until there is something to see.”

This request sounds sensible at first pass. Should one not “reserve judgment” of a thing until after it has been seen? But HBO does not actually want the public to reserve judgment so much as it wants the public to make a positive judgment. A major entertainment company does not announce a big new show in hopes of garnering dispassionate nods of acknowledgement. HBO executives themselves judged Confederate before they’d seen it—they had to, as no television script actually exists. HBO hoped to communicate that approval to its audience through the announcement. And had that communication been successful, had Confederate been greeted with rapturous anticipation, it is hard to imagine the network asking its audience to tamp down and wait.

HBO’s motives aside, the plea to wait supposes that a problem of conception can be fixed in execution. We do not need to wait to observe that this supposition is, at best, dicey. For over a century, Hollywood has churned out well-executed, slickly produced epics which advanced the Lost Cause myth of the Civil War. These are true “alternative histories,” built on “alternative facts,” assembled to depict the Confederacy as a wonderland of virtuous damsels and gallant knights, instead of the sprawling kleptocratic police state it actually was. From last century’s The Birth of a Nation to this century’s Gods and Generals, Hollywood has likely done more than any other American institution to obstruct a truthful apprehension of the Civil War, and thus modern America’s very origins. So one need not wait to observe that any foray by HBO into the Civil War must be met with a spirit of pointed inquiry and a withholding of all benefit of the doubt.

Skepticism must be the order of the day. So that when Benioff asks “what would the world have looked like … if the South had won,” we should not hesitate to ask what Benioff means by “the South.” He obviously does not mean the minority of white Southern unionists, who did win. And he does not mean those four million enslaved blacks, whom the Civil War ultimately emancipated, yet whose victory was tainted. Comprising 40 percent of the Confederacy’s population, this was the South’s indispensable laboring class, its chief resource, its chief source of wealth, and the sole reason why a Confederacy existed in the first place. But they are not the subject of Benioff’s inquiry, because he is not so much asking about “the South” winning, so much as he is asking about “the white South” winning.

The distinction matters. For while the Confederacy, as a political entity, was certainly defeated, and chattel slavery outlawed, the racist hierarchy which Lee and Davis sought to erect, lives on. It had to. The terms of the white South’s defeat were gentle. Having inaugurated a war which killed more Americans than all other American wars combined, the Confederacy’s leaders were back in the country’s political leadership within a decade. Within two, they had effectively retaken control of the South.

Knowing this, we do not have to wait to point out that comparisons between Confederate and The Man in the High Castle are fatuous. Nazi Germany was also defeated. But while its surviving leadership was put on trial before the world, not one author of the Confederacy was convicted of treason. Nazi Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop was hanged at Nuremberg. Confederate General John B. Gordon became a senator. Germany has spent the decades since World War II in national penance for Nazi crimes. America spent the decades after the Civil War transforming Confederate crimes into virtues. It is illegal to fly the Nazi flag in Germany. The Confederate flag is enmeshed in the state flag of Mississippi.

The symbols point to something Confederate’s creators don’t seem to understand—the war is over for them, not for us. At this very hour, black people all across the South are still fighting the battle which they joined during Reconstruction—securing equal access to the ballot—and resisting a president whose resemblance to Andrew Johnson is uncanny. Confederate is the kind of provocative thought experiment that can be engaged in when someone else’s lived reality really is fantasy to you, when your grandmother is not in danger of losing her vote, when the terrorist attack on Charleston evokes honest sympathy, but inspires no direct fear. And so we need not wait to note that Confederate’s interest in Civil War history is biased, that it is premised on a simplistic view of white Southern defeat, instead of the more complicated morass we have all around us.

And one need not wait to ask if Benioff and D.B. Weiss are, at any rate, the candidates to help lead us out of that morass or deepen it. A body of work exists in the form of their hit show Game of Thrones. We do not have to wait to note the persistent criticism of that show is its depiction of rape. Rape—generational rape, mass rape—is central to the story of enslavement. For 250 years the bodies of enslaved black women were regarded as property, to be put to whatever use—carnal and otherwise—that their enslavers saw fit. Why HBO believes that this duo, given their past work, is the best team to revisit that experience is a question one should not wait to ask.

And all this must be added to a basic artistic critique—Confederate is a shockingly unoriginal idea, especially for the allegedly avant garde HBO. “What if the white South had won?” may well be the most trod-upon terrain in the field of American alternative history. There are novels about it, comic books about it, games about it, and a mockumentary about it. It’s been barely a year since Ben Winters published Underground Airlines.

Storytellers have the right to answer any question they choose. But we do not need to wait to examine all the questions that are not being chosen: What if John Brown had succeeded? What if the Haitian Revolution had spread to the rest of the Americas? What if black soldiers had been enlisted at the onset of the Civil War? What if Native Americans had halted the advance of whites at the Mississippi? And we need not wait to note that more interesting than asking what the world would be like if the white South had won is asking why so many white people are enthralled with a world where the dreams of Harriet Tubman were destroyed by the ambitions of Robert E. Lee.

The problem of Confederate can’t be redeemed by production values, crisp writing, or even complicated characters. That is not because its conceivers are personally racist, or seek to create a show that endorses slavery. Far from it, I suspect. Indeed, the creators have said that their hope is to use science fiction to “show us how this history is still with us in a way no strictly realistic drama ever could.” And that really is the problem. African Americans do not need science-fiction, or really any fiction, to tell them that that “history is still with us.” It’s right outside our door. It’s in our politics. It’s on our networks. And Confederate is not immune. The show’s very operating premise, the fact that it roots itself in a long white tradition of imagining away emancipation, leaves one wondering how “lost” the Lost Cause really was.

It’s good that the show-runners have brought on two noted and talented black writers—Nichelle Tramble Spellman and Malcolm Spellman. But one wonders: If black writers, in general, were to have HBO’s resources and support to create an alternative world, would they choose the world dreamed up by the progenitors of the Ku Klux Klan? Or would they address themselves to other less trod areas of Civil War history in the desire to say something new, in the desire to not, yet again, produce a richly imagined and visually beguiling lie?

We have been living with the lie for so long. And we cannot fix the lie by asking “What if the white South won?” and waiting for an answer, because the lie is not in the answer, but in the question itself.

#ta-nehisi coates #american south #african americans #black american #race relations #confederate #HBO #post-civil war #confederacy

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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She's the kind to be like "i'll kill for you", it's all fun and games until she actually means and/or does it. I'm assuming it's the same if not similar in the books? it's just so annoying to see a character treat everyone, including the man she is supposed to be in love with like shit and have it just be "well that just makes her a good mum" like idk this kind of devotion isn't healthy for her or Ciri either.

I read a lot of posts all over talking about yen and why people do and don't like her and it's all "you have to get past the cold rude arrogant outside to learn deep down she does care", or there was this one said people take what she says as who she is over what she does, as if she isn't saying AND doing terrible things, but there was this other one that was "actions don't define you as a person" that was a fucking ride to read through.

Anyway I'm just kinda miffed cause I went in to this trying really hard and wanting to like yen but she's so unlikable it's crazy. Maybe if her first few scenes weren't her being rude to Geralt for no real reason (and that snark about him and amnesia like BRO??) there wouldve been something to build off? Idkkkk

tysm for letting me talk about this! there's still so much within the series to look at and I adore it. apart from some things lmao BUT as with everything, there'll be bits you really just hate I guess.

You kidding? I love chatting about all this! XD

From what I've read myself and encountered elsewhere (I've gotten a lot of snippets from the later books as fans post excerpts for various arguments) Yen is a bit more complex in the novels than she's presented in TW3, especially depending on which dialogue options you choose. I mean, it's eight books. There are absolutely moments where I've gone, "Oh yeah, that's cute/sensible/romantic/heroic/etc." of her. She'd have to be a pretty static character to have that much content and not produce those reactions at least some of the time. That being said... she's definitely too similar in the books for my taste. Really, Yen was going to be an issue for me from the start, just given how her and Geralt's meeting goes in "The Last Wish." Her cruelty, brainwashing, and nearly getting him killed aside - because let's be real, an enemies to lovers-esque dynamic can be great - the wish itself always tainted their interactions for me. Yeah, yeah, I understand the theme of Geralt choosing his family regardless of what destiny or magic might say about it... but that doesn't erase that they are ambiguously bound by some kind of magic. We can read Yen's "You've condemned yourself to me" as just a lack of self-confidence, Geralt's love remaining a true thing no matter what any genies might have to say about it, but I personally can't ignore the very real, in-world, magical influence here. Every time the books discuss how often they've split, cheated on each other, fought, betrayed... but deep down they were still meant for one another, I'm thinking, "Are they? Or is that just the magical wish keeping two incompatible people tethered?" We can read them finding joy in one another despite the magic as something beautiful, or something tragic because what other choice did they have? Given how central that rocky relationship is to our protagonist's characterization and how awful Yen can be in general, yeah, she's still an acquired taste lol. She does get better later on, but how better I think depends on how you perceive her attitude at the start. Idk if you're into My Hero Academia or not, but I often compare her to Bakugo. Those who were already inclined to excuse his behavior hail the amazing growth he undergoes; those who couldn't stand him from the start (me) find the comparative improvement to still equal a pretty unlikable person. They're both undoubtedly better... but if you're starting that low, "better" won't necessarily be enough.

Oof yeah, I've seen those threads lol. One of my favorites was a discussion about whether Yen was a "bitch" or not (it also doesn't help when conversations about her character devolve into generic accusations of misogyny) and there was a response to the effect of, "Just because she's cold, judgmental, makes cruel remarks, and doesn't listen to Geralt doesn't mean..." and it's like okay, so we're just supposed to ignore all those traits - bypass them - to reach a "Yen is actually a kind person" reading? I have trouble with that lol. Honestly, the majority of my respect goes to those who are just in their fandom corners with their John Mulaney voice going, "Yen is a bitch and I love her SO MUCH." Like yeah!! I love lots of mean, awful, bitchy characters too!! There's no need to bend over backwards trying to prove they're actually a uwu poor baby whose every action was justified (outside of, you know, fandom joking like the "I've done nothing wrong ever in my life" meme). But yeah, I WANT to like her too! I don't enjoy being a part of a franchise where such a core, prominent character is someone I don't like spending time with. Who would want that?? So I've given her so many tries since getting into Witcher... and it just never sticks for me. I tried in the comics too only to come across a panel where Geralt dreams of Yen, but isn't sure if it was an actual dream, or a magical vision where they literally met. Vesemir asks if Yen was kind to him and when he responds that she was, he's like, "It was a dream lol." And yeah, that's the characterization! Geralt knows he didn't actually meet with Yen because the real Yen wouldn't have been that nice to him. And it's not in a funny "My real lover ALWAYS teasingly insults me as an act of kindness!" way but a much more literal, "Yeeeaaah. Yen just isn't that nice a person most of the time" and the examples we can point to when she is kind don't outweigh/erase everything else for me. In TW3 at least, she's very much the kind of person who will, completely seriously, blame you for getting amnesia. And you know the best part? She had it too! Not only that, but she actually recovers her memories earlier than Geralt and never looked for him and you also learn in the second game that she had a relationship with another guy while trying to remember who she was... so the fact that she's pissed at Geralt for going through the exact same thing (not seeking her out/relationship with Triss - only Triss was actively seducing him, so) is just wild to me.

But yeah, TW3 is a MASSIVE game that deliberately plays with different choices and perspectives. To say nothing of its "Life is hard and people need to be harder" worldbuilding. It would be a miracle if we liked every single thing in it lol. Like, Blood and Wine is probably my favorite bit of gaming ever and yet I just fundamentally disagree with CDPR's idea of a happy ending there. For both the main questline and a particular side quest the game goes, "This one is the correct choice ;)" and I'm like, "Lol not to my mind I'll take one of the 'bad' endings thanks!" Yen is just another example of that. The game clearly wants us to like her - she and Geralt are canon in the source material - but giving us the ability to decide who Geralt is means that we might just go, "Nope. Sorry. This 'correct' choice is one I'm passing by."

#witcher #TW3

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