(Notes from the Brilon Daily Times Archives, 1895)
Benedict Arthur Coldwell (Prince Benedict), born in 1866 as third son (fourth child) to ->Princess Sophia and her husband, ->Jonathan Coldwell, Duke of Tezan.
In 1875, B. Coldwell survived the ->Arnville Picnic Attack by unnaturally early crossing the threshold of magic and killing several of the attackers [1a]. It is understood this early access to magic caused a permanent memory loss [1b] [2] [3] [4] . 1876 - 1880 B. Coldwell was schooled in the ->Royal Preparatory School of Sorcery; from 1880 onward he was privately tutored by J. Coldwell [5]. First notable publication on sorcery in 1884. Engaged to ->Princess Catherine in 1884; engagement cancelled the same year. Bachelor since, despite various rumors [6] [7]. 1887 elected youngest member of ->Royal Society of Magic. 1894 B. Coldwell successfully proved accessibility of natural magic stored in thunderstorms [8a] [8b]. Appointed Minister of Sorcery and Magic in 1894 [9] despite ongoing conflict with Crown Prince (as of today: King) ->Rufus[10]. Unclear involvement in ->Wilkerton quake of 1895 (information classified). In 1895, discharged from all offices and sentenced to exile for high treason.
Okay, Gen Z, younger millennials, please tell me, are you aware of what the title Ms. means? And how to pronounce it?
Because I just listened to several young 20-somethings pronounce it Miss and talk about how it means you’re not married. And…I’m feeling weird about it, considering that’s the title I use.
(It means my marital status is none of your business. I use it because I’m married but I kept my maiden name so I’m not Mrs. anyone.)
These comments really are fascinating and it seems especially people whose first language isn’t English aren’t sure about this, which is fair. But as I suspected some young folks aren’t clear either?
It seems like Ms. has been conflated with Miss and Miss has fallen out of favor, which is fair, but the meanings have been confused.
So here:
Ms.has some antique origins similar to Mrs. and Miss (all short for Mistress) but was revived in the 20th century (mostly in the 60s and 70s) by feminists as an all-purpose female title.
The problem with Miss and Mrs. is that they are tied specifically to marital status. (Miss is SPECIFICALLY an unmarried woman and Mrs. is a woman who is married or has been married. Yes, even older women can be Miss and a widow is still Mrs. (of course if they so choose).
While Mr. isn’t tied to marital status for men, of course. So Ms. is the female equivalent to Mr., intended to be used both as a default term when you don’t know someone’s marital status and ALSO as a term of choice when you don’t wish to be defined by your relationship to a man.
This was very much a political thing, part of second-wave feminism (which of course has it’s flaws). (Ms. magazine was a feminist women’s magazine which popularized the term.)
It’s pronounced something like Miz or Mzz.
So for me, I’ve used Ms. basically since I got out of college anytime I’m asked for a title. First because I didn’t want my marital status to be a thing of concern in professional settings. And when I was living with my now-husband but we weren’t married. And then after we were married and I kept my own last name because IMO neither of the other options was relevant.
(The keeping your own name thing is a different discussion probably, but I did it partly out of desire to stay the same “person” and partly out of apathy. Also my husband’s last name isn’t even the same as his parents (because remarriage) so there was no pressure there to change it and he gave no fucks about it. In fact, he’s almost seriously thought about changing his name to mine because he likes my family better, lol.)
But anyway, I feel like it’s important to keep the intention of Ms. alive because it’s so very useful and needed to have an equal partner to Mr. And more useful than ever with so many situations where you may be married/committed but not using your partner’s name (ie. gay married, poly relationships, not legally married for reasons of disability, idk whatever).
But Ms. does NOT mean unmarried. It means someone could be of ANY marital status: never married, currently married, divorced, widowed, etc. It means “it’s not your business because you don’t ask a man his marital status the first second you meet him so buzz off.”
“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” Dazai asks quietly, looking anywhere but directly at Chuuya. “After all this time at my side, you haven’t realized?” Chuuya makes a noise that’s almost like a scoff, but he refuses to say anything, instead clearly waiting for Dazai to elaborate. So he does. “Everything I’ve ever wanted, I’ve lost. As soon as I gained it, it was already gone.”
“So, what?” Chuuya speaks after a moment of silence, “Is that your way of confessing you wanted me? Because you sure as hell lost me. You made damn sure that you lost me.”
“That’s probably the stupidest thing you’ve ever asked me.” Dazai replies, but it lacks his familiar bite. He swallows around the rest of the words he wants to say but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t push them down.
He’s spent years pushing away the words he wants to say, carefully selecting words that are almost what he wants to say, but not quite. He has spent all the time he’s known Chuuya carefully crafting a wall between them to keep Chuuya at a predetermined distance, to keep him just far enough away that Dazai didn’t risk losing him permanently. Because no matter how hard he pushed, no matter how many times he pulled away, Chuuya was always there. He always showed up in the knick of time if Dazai needed him, sheltered him from the horrors of the world, created his own personal bubble of comfort. It was as addicting as it was terrifying because no matter how hard Dazai tried to keep his distance, Chuuya kept slipping closer and closer to him— to his heart. And so he’d spent all the time he’d known Chuuya terrified that he would lose him permanently.
Because this— this wasn’t permanent loss. This was a drastic separation to avoid permanent loss.
“You bastard—“ Chuuya starts to turn away and that final wall that Dazai has up between them crumbles at the gesture.
“Of course I wanted— want you.” Dazai says without thinking, the words practically ripping themselves out of his throat. “I’ve never wanted something more.”
His words pause Chuuya in his tracks. Dazai finally looks over at him, looks at the rigid line of his shoulders, at the stiff set of his jaw in profile. He doesn’t honestly have any idea how he expects Chuuya to respond to the confession he never intended to give but at this point his only option is just to wait and find out.
“Youbastard.” Chuuya repeats, turning to face him. His eyes are hard and angry as he looks at Dazai, but there’s something else in there, too. Dazai has seen Chuuya pissed off more times than anyone else in the world, he was absolutely certain of that. But he’d never seen Chuuya look quite like this. “You do realize that you lost me through your own doing, right? That you did this? I wouldn’t have fucking gone anywhere if it weren’t for your shitty attitude!”
“Chuuya—“
“Hell, I still haven’t gone anywhere, have I? Not really!” Chuuya reaches out to grab the front of Dazai’s shirt and drags him across the small distance that was separating them. “No matter how big of an asshole you are, I keep coming back, don’t I? Here I am, right now, saving your ass despite all the shitty things you’ve done to me!”
“I was trying to protect you!” Dazai replies honestly.
“Protect me?” Chuuya roars and Dazai can feel the firm press of his fist against the front of his sternum. It’s not painful exactly— it’s more of a grounding feeling, something to keep him directly in the moment. “I never asked you to protect me! I’m perfectly capable—“
“Of course you didn’t! Dazai reaches up to grab Chuuya’s wrist, holding it in an equally tight grip. “You’d never ask me to protect you!”
“So then why—“
“Because I wanted to!” Dazai’s last tread of composure snaps as he stares at Chuuya’s incredulous face. “Because someone has to! Because losing you by putting some distance between us was better than losing you for good!” Chuuya is still staring at him with that mix of emotions that Dazai can’t quite place, his jaw clenched tight as if he were holding back his own outburst. “At least this way I know you’re aliveand you have a chance at happiness.”
There’s a long moment of silence that follows Dazai’s words and it echoes so loudly in his head that it makes him wish he could take all of those words back. Chuuya lets go of his shirt, both of their hands falling back to their sides as Chuuya finally looks away and breaks their eye contact. There’s a reason he didn’t tell Chuuya why he disappeared, a reason why he has fought so hard to keep his distance. Chuuya wouldn’t understand. He was too hot-headed, always thinking with his anger than any practicality, he wouldn’t—
“Without you?” Chuuya finally breaks the silence and it sounds like each word physically hurts him to say. “You think I can find happiness without you?”
“You hate me.” Dazai points out. Because Chuuya has said it almost every time they’ve been together since they were fifteen goddamn years old. Because the only thing Chuuya does more than save his ass is remind Dazai how much he can’t stand him. If he were to play Chuuya’s voice in his head, it would say I fucking hate you.
And sure, he knows that Chuuya doesn’t hate him in the sense that most people hate someone else. He knows that Chuuya feels some amount of the bond that he feels— like Chuuya had said, he was still here. No matter what had happened between them, no matter what bad blood stained both of their hands, they always found their way back to each other. So no, Dazai was secure in the idea that Chuuya didn’t hatehim hate him. But he had also thought Chuuya would be glad that he was gone, at least a little bit.
“Yeah,” Chuuya still doesn’t raise his head to meet Dazai’s gaze, his hat hiding his expression from Dazai. “I do. But for some godforsaken reason, I fucking love you more than that.”
The words hit harder than any punch Chuuya has ever thrown at him and Dazai immediately feels the wind being knocked out of him. “You do?”
Finally, Chuuya raises his head to meet Dazai’s gaze again and nothing in Dazai’s life— not a single thing he has ever gone through— could have prepared him for the way Chuuya’s eyes looked staring back at him. Nothing could have prepared him for a soft side of Chuuya, a vulnerable side. Chuuya had spent his whole life fighting for his own place in the world, letting people use him and toss him aside as long as it didn’t damage him more than he anticipated. He had spent his whole life guarding his heart and protecting his dignity and here he was, staring back at Dazai with every one of his guards down.
That act of vulnerability was more of a confirmation for Dazai than words could have ever been.
But Chuuya confirms it with words anyways. Because he had always been the one of them who was brave enough to say what was on his mind, to put the facts out there if they needed to be said, no matter what the repercussion was. He was the one who had all the guts between the two of them. Dazai had only ever been a coward.
“Yeah,” Chuuya replies quietly, his voice as raw as the expression on his face— as raw as Dazai’s blackened heart feels in this moment. “I do. Because no matter what ridiculously stupid scheme you’re getting up to, I want to be a part of it. Because no matter how many shitty things you say, I want you to stay by my side. You thought you were protecting me by leaving but if you had spared even a second to think about what I wanted, you would’ve fucking known that the best thing you could’ve done was to stay with me.”
“I—“ Dazai swallows around a dry throat, the words catching before he can speak them. He forces himself to try again. “I didn’t know that’s what you wanted.”
“You’re annoyingly brilliant.” Chuuya replies dismissively. “You knew. And if you didn’t, it’s because you didn’t let yourself, not because I didn’t show you.”
And maybe there’s some truth to that. Maybe there’s a lot of truth to that. Chuuya has always known Dazai better than he’s ever wanted to know himself. If he really thought about it, he probably did know how Chuuya felt, what Chuuya wanted. But he had been a coward— he’d been so afraid of losing Chuuya that he hadn’t ever considered another option. He had been so certain that he’d have Chuuya taken from him forever if he ever let Chuuya close that he had convinced himself that this was best for them, that this was what Chuuya really wanted. He had convinced himself that it was the only way, even though everything they had ever done together, every moment they had ever shared had been evidence to the contrary.
Like Chuuya said, he was still here, no matter what Dazai had put him through.
“I’m sorry.” Dazai breathes, trying to put every ounce of sincerity into his voice. It’s a hard thing to manage when he’s gone so many years without being sincere, he hardly remembers what it feels like to tell the truth. Though Chuuya is the person he’s always been he most honest with, the person that honesty comes easiest with.
“I don’t want your shitty apology,” Chuuya scoffs before adding, more softly, “I just want you.”
The words fill Dazai with a warmth he had never thought suited him, a warmth he had never thought he deserved. It feels good— foreign, but unbearably good. He wants to keep feeling this way forever. He feels invincible, like he could take on anyone— even fate— if they dared to try and step in between him and Chuuya.
“Are you sure?” He teases, smiling as he leans towards Chuuya,, “I’ve been told I’m pretty annoying.”
Chuuya rolls his eyes but his own lips quirk up in a smile.
“Fuck yeah you are.” Chuuya mumbles before reaching up to yank Dazai down by the front of his shirt again, crashing their lips together.
At this point, Dazai won’t even deny to himself that he’s dreamt of this moment more times than he can count. He can admit that he had never— not once ever— thought he would ever get to experience it. He can also admit that this is better than every day dream, every late night fantasy he had tried to will himself out of. Nothing in his imagination could have properly prepared him for the way Chuuya would feel against him— no matter how many times he had held Chuuya after Corruption, no matter how many times he had hauled Chuuya’s half-dead body out of some warehouse, he had never imagined it would feel this good to actually hold Chuuya. He had never imagined it would be the singular best feeling of his life to catch Chuuya by the belt loops and drag him closer, the other hand tangling in the long hair that Dazai secretly loved.
It was the singular best moments in all the years Dazai had ever been alive— it was better than the high of coming out of a battle successful with Chuuya at his side. It was even better than the knowledge that he was the only one who could properly be a counterpart to Chuuya— and that alone had given him a secret feeling of giddiness for years.
Chuuya makes a small, pleased noise against his lips and Dazai thinks fleetingly that this is the only moment in his entire life that he would actually be upset to die. Because this right here— this thing where Chuuya is actually his— is worth living for more than anything else he has ever encountered.
Finally Chuuya pulls away, but he doesn’t let go of the front of Dazai’s shirt, his other hand gripping Dazai’s shoulder with equal force. “Don’t you ever try to pull that shit again.”
“If you wanted to keep being part of my schemes, Chuuya,” Dazai is grinning so big it actually hurts. “You could’ve just told me that.”
“I really do fucking hate you.” Chuuya mumbles, his scowl as big as Dazai’s grin.
Dazai kisses the scowl off of his face with absolutely no hesitation, thrilled when the only response he gets is a returned kiss and the feeling of Chuuya’s grip on his shoulder tightening as if he were worried that Dazai was going to disappear if he let go.
This time it’s Dazai who pulls away, his grin still huge but his expression more serious. He feels like he’s brimming with happiness— not even brimming with it, he’s outright overflowing. “So we’re really doing this?”
“It’s about goddamn time we’re doing this,” Chuuya replies gruffly, but there’s no actual malice to his words. The edges of his sentence sound just the slightest bit breathless and a thrill goes down Dazai’s spine at the knowledge he caused this. “No backing out now, Mackerel.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, hatrack.” Dazai replies. “I’m nothing if not honorable when I give my word.”
Chuuya laughs— actually outright laughs at that statement, shaking his head as he steps away from Dazai enough to remind Dazai that they are, in fact, two separate entities and not just one being, no matter how connected their souls have always been. “You’re a fucking comedian if nothing else.”
Dazai tries to put on an exaggerated pout but he’s still overflowing with that foreign happiness that he finds it hard to pull off. A tragedy, really, but he’s willing to give up his excellent acting skills if it means that he gets to keep Chuuya instead. After all, his life has always been about compromises and this is the first time he doesn’t actually feel like he’s losing something— the first time he’s actually gaining something and it’s the one thing he’s never been able to stop himself from wanting.
“Now come on, idiot.” Chuuya nudges him before gesturing with his head towards the door. “I think we still have a fight to win.”
Chuuya starts off towards the door without any hesitation but Dazai stops him before he reaches it.
“Chuuya?” He calls before Chuuya can walk through the door. He’s not afraid— he’s never been afraid when going into a fight with Chuuya at his side, and he’s even less afraid now. But this is still something he has to say now, something he’s tried not to say for so long that he’s not even sure if he’s going to be able too say it. But the moment Chuuya turns to look at him, a questioning eyebrow raised, the words come out easily. “I love you.”
Chuuya’s grin is sharp. “I love you too, asshole.” He replies easily, “And I’ll fucking kill you if you ever forget that,”
I’ve been feeling down all day and even worse after seeing the news, so here’s a stupid video of me singing with an annoying snapchat filter because music should be something that makes people smile
Me: is sad because constantly being misgendered by friends
Also me: is afraid of coming out to my friends
Time for some name and pronoun validation
I like Ren they’re my friend. They like Naruto and their fave character is Kakashi. They’re also into game development and I think that’s really cool. They’re a very nice person and they tag me in stuff sometimes it makes me happy when they do that. I hope Ren can follow all their dreams and live a happy life.
Anyway hope that wasn’t too weird have a good day Ren!
![[it is a fucking mess]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/1aafc97211254f537e92172278ec590b/8c95da8510aad703-dc/s30x30u_c1/ead0b7bf81a43d52d3d37b7f12445e6b77c1a233.jpg){kind=small}
