#BUT SCAR FOCUSES ON EMOTION AND THE LONELINESS

[applestruda]

Yknow what more rambles timess

I'm still absolutely insane over @/cherrifire's tongues and teeth desert duo anamatic,,

When it first dropped i could've cried over how much I loved it and im still very much at that level

LIKEE

FOR ONE CRANE WIVES IS A GUARANTEED LOVE FROM ME

BUT ALSO I JWBQBQBQ

JUST HOW THEY WENT THROUGH ALL THE LIFE SERIES SO PERFECTLY

AND THE DANCE

jwjwkqkqnw its just so *chefs kiss*

Also I mean its made by cherri, I love their art to the moon and back

OKOK EDIT AND ANOTHER THING IS I CANT EXPLAIN HOW MUCH I LOVE THE START OF IT WITH THEM TALKING AND IT TRANSITIONING TO THE SONG jwbqjqnwn

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗟𝗗𝗔

　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N remembers her traumatic past, but Matt is there to support her and help her heal the wounds through a day on the beach and playing with toys while recording a video.

WARNING: Fighting, crying, cursing, toxic and manipulative parents, traumatic childhood, a mention of aggression. ANGST with a happy ending.

REQUESTD?: Yes, by anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

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The sun was radiant in the blue sky as Y/N, Matt, Nick and Chris arrived at the beach on a sunny Saturday, the sound of the boys' little cousins' desperate pleas begging to be allowed into the water filled their ears, along with the waves gently lapping on the shore and the smell of the salty sea, bringing a feeling of comforting familiarity to Y/N.

They quickly chose a spot on the soft sand that was close to the area where the children would play, spreading their beach towels and opening an umbrella to protect themselves from the scorching sun.

"Babe, can you put sunscreen on my back, please?" Y/N asked as she adjusted herself on one of the colorful towels, crossing her legs over the soft fabric.

"Of course, hon." With a gentle smile, Matt picked up the beach bag that rested on the sand, fishing out the sunscreen and approaching his girlfriend. He knelt, positioning himself behind her. "Bend forward a little, my love."

The boy opened the tube, squeezing it lightly and pouring a significant amount of the product onto the palm of his hand before setting the packaging aside. He brought his hand closer to her warm skin, watching a shiver rise up her back at the contact of the cold cream, starting to spread it gently on Y/N's back, his large and skilled hands massaging it with care and affection.

Y/N closed her eyes, losing herself in the comforting sensation of Matt's touch. She could feel the warmth of the sun on her skin and the cool ocean breeze caressing her face.

A loud, joyful scream from one of the children made her open her eyes again, looking up and focusing on where they were running, chasing each other while their hands tightly gripped colorful, plastic beach toys.

The laughter that followed them took her back to a time when she herself longed for that innocence and freedom, but rarely experienced it. Her childhood had been marked by absent parents and a lack of emotional stability that left deep scars on her soul, her mind recreating a scene extremely similar to the one she was experiencing at that moment.

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The sun shone high in the sky, warming the small playground where a 5 year old Y/N sat. She dangled her little legs on the wooden bench as she watched the other children play excitedly around her. The playground was filled with laughter and happy screams, but for Y/N, all she felt was loneliness.

Her parents, as always, were absent, lost in their own problems and worries. They rarely had time for Y/N, and when they did, she always felt like an intruder in their busy lives. She could hear their voices shouting at each other a few meters away from where she sat, while her father's phone rang incessantly.

As she watched the other children play with their parents, a lump formed in her throat. She desperately wanted to be like them, to have the attention and affection of her own parents, but she knew that this was just an unattainable dream for her.

Suddenly, Y/N felt a heavy hand on her shoulder, making her jump in fright. Her father was there, looking at her with an impatient expression on his face, the ring of his phone echoing loudly against her ear as the image of her mother with crossed arms and angry eyes appeared behind his back.

"Y/N, let's go. We have things to do." He said abruptly, not caring about the sad expression in her eyes.

"B-but daddy, I-"

"Now!" Her father raised his voice, squeezing the skin of her shoulder with significant force in his fingers, practically pushing her off the bench.

Y/N stood up immediately, her heart heavy with sadness and loneliness. She wanted to say something more. She wanted to beg for a moment of attention and affection, where they could play together on the seesaw or the slide, but she knew it would be useless. Her parents were always too busy for her, always too far away to listen.

As they walked back home, Y/N felt a feeling of deep emptiness settle inside her. That was just another normal day for her family.

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As her painful childhood memories resurfaced in her mind, Y/N felt tears begin to stream down her cheeks. She knew, even at the tender age of five, that her childhood was being stolen from her, that she was being forced to grow up too fast, to adapt to a world where love and attention were luxuries she could never afford to have.

The girl tried to hide it, wiping her face quickly and looking away to the horizon, but the weight of her memories was difficult to bear.

"And... Done!" Matt's voice interrupted her train of thoughts, waking her from her reverie. Matt's hand, now slathered in sunscreen, moved away from her skin, retrieving the tube again before rising from his sitting position.

Y/N whispered a gentle "thank you", blinking quickly to clear away the new tears in her eyes before her boyfriend saw them, a small sniffle escaping her, which she covered with a fake cough.

“Y/N, is everything okay?” Nick - who was standing a few meters away - asked, his voice filled with concern as he noticed the tears in her eyes.

Matt, who was next to their bag holding sunscreen again, looked up at his brother's question, his brow furrowed in confusion as he quickly turned around, looking at his girlfriend.

"I'm fine, Nick. I think it's just the sun." Y/N forced a shaky smile, rubbing her eyes with her closed fist, feeling a stab of pain in both of them from the roughness of her movements.

Nick accepted the explanation with a nod, but Matt could see the truth behind Y/N's forced smile. He approached her again, sitting next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders affectionately.

"Sweetheart, you know you can tell me anything, right?" Matt whispered softly, his voice gentle and comforting.

Y/N looked at him, seeing the genuine concern in his blue eyes. She was tempted to open her heart to him, to share the depths of her pain and anguish. But the fear of being judged or rejected still kept her hesitant.

"I know, Matt." Y/N muttered, her voice choked by the weight of her emotions. "I just... I was just thinking about some things, that's all."

Matt wasn't convinced, but he knew that pressuring her wouldn't help her open up. He just held her tighter, offering her silent comfort, his arm working to pull her so that she lay her head on his right shoulder, sealing the top of her hair for long seconds, the fresh smell of sunscreen surrounding their bodies.

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After leaving their cousins ​​at the triplets' aunt and uncle's house again, Y/N and the brothers returned to their childhood home, having the need to return a little earlier so they could record the video that would be posted that Wednesday.

While Nick organized the equipment and Chris set up the table that they would be sat while filming, Matt approached his girlfriend - who was carrying her bags back to Matt's old room -, worried about her somewhat distant expression.

"Is everything okay, petal?" Matt asked softly, walking alongside Y/N towards the bedroom.

The girl paused for a moment, feeling grateful for Matt's concern, but also determined not to make him worry about her, knowing the importance of recording that video, since they couldn't publish the one of last Wednesday.

"I'm fine, baby. I think I'll stay in the room for a while while you record." Matt frowned at her airy response.

"Are you sure? Don't you want to be with us, maybe behind the cameras?" His voice came out small, full of concern, but Y/N just smiled gently in response, appreciating Matt's gentleness but knowing she needed time alone to process her own emotions.

"No, baby. I think I need some time alone." Matt nodded, accepting her decision with understanding.

"Okay, I'll be here if you need anything."

A few minutes later, after a hot and invigorating shower that seemed to wash away all her sorrows, Y/N left the room, her hair damp, and a feeling of freshness surrounding her.

She was heading towards the living room to grab Chris and Nick's bags and take them to their respective bedrooms when she heard voices coming from the kitchen. Curious about the frequent laughter, she followed the sound and found the triplets sitting on the marble table in front of the camera, opening children's toys and testing them out as content.

An excited smile spread across Y/N's face almost automatically. She approached slowly, watching them excitedly, a small "wow" escaping her lips as she saw her boyfriend pick up the colorful cardboard package with a small lamb inside.

Matt, who was showing Snowy to the camera, turned around when he heard Y/N's footsteps, his eyes automatically lighting up when he saw her there.

"Baby! Do you wanna play with us? Look, this is Snowy!" His voice came out excitedly as he quickly showed the toy to his girlfriend, a childish smile gracing his face.

Y/N nodded excitedly, feeling suddenly energized by the relaxed and fun atmosphere in the living room.

"It's so cute, Matt! I've never had one of those." She responded just as excitedly, quickly moving closer to them.

Chris got up from his seat, taking a new chair and placing it on Matt's left side so that it was on the other end opposite Nick.

"Thank you, Chris." Y/N smiled in gratitude, sitting on the upholstered chair and resting her arms on the gray marble.

The girl looked at the lamb in Matt's hands with a sparkle in her eyes, feeling a wave of nostalgia and joy invading her heart. She reached out to stroke the soft fur, feeling an immediate connection to the toy that she never had as a child.

"Here, petal. Try it!" Matt handed it over quickly, the three brothers watching her as she tried to understand how the toy worked.

"This is like a toy I would like." Nick commented briefly.

"It is so cute!" Y/N squealed, her smile lighting up her face as she turned it upside down.

"Wait, I think you turn it on here." Matt leaned closer to her, bringing his right hand closer to the toy and pressing the small, almost invisible button.

Y/N shook the lamb gently, moving it in the air in the hope that it would make it react in some way.

"Wait, let me-" Matt touched the lamb's back after Y/N placed it on the table with a confused expression.

A surprised scream escaped Y/N and Matt as they saw the toy slowly begin to walk, the girl weakly slapping her boyfriend's shoulder as she frantically pointed at Snowy with her other hand.

"Oh my God!" Chris laughed, getting Nick's attention and watching the toy walk towards them.

"Let me put the leash on it!" Nick asked with a smile on his face, taking the toy and attaching the small lilac string to it before letting it walk closer to Y/N again.

Matt stared in amazement at the lamb, wrapping his right arm around his girlfriend's waist and pulling her closer, while his free hand held the small blue bottle, wanting to feed it.

Y/N laughed loudly, feeling completely at ease and free to be her true self. She never had the opportunity to have toys as a child, so that moment meant a lot to her.

As she played with the lamb and the other toys, Y/N felt overwhelmed by a sense of peace and joy, determined to enjoy every moment of the experience, keeping it in her heart as a precious memory of the childhood she never had.

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The sun was beginning to set over the horizon when the video came to an end. Nick and Chris were busy putting the toys into boxes to deliver to children in need the next day, when Matt approached Y/N with a mysterious smile on his lips, watching her return from his brothers' room after finally taking their bags to there.

"Baby?" Matt called softly, his voice full of restrained enthusiasm. "I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise? What is it?" Y/N looked at him quickly, eyes shining with curiosity and excitement as she felt her heart start racing.

Matt just shook his head, a smile playing on his lips.

"It's a surprise, baby. You'll see."

While Nick and Chris finished putting away the equipment, Matt led Y/N out of the house, quickly shouting to his brothers that they would be back soon before closing the door behind him.

The two walked silently towards the car, Matt quickly opening the passenger door for her gently before getting into the driver's seat, noticing from the corner of his eye his girlfriend bouncing her leg up and down anxiously.

The boy quickly brought his right hand to her leg, firming his grip there so that she stopped her frantic movements before stroking the covered skin lightly.

"Relax, pretty girl."

After making sure she was fine, the brunette started the car, driving down the long road, the sun setting painting the sky with shades of pink and orange as they drove away from the city.

Y/N curiously observed the route, trying to guess where they were going. The playlist she and Matt had created at the beginning of their relationship played softly on the radio, filling the car with a selection of their favorite songs that reminded them of each other.

As they got closer to the shore, Y/N felt a pang of anticipation growing inside her chest, her eyes darting across the landscape quickly as her mouth opened slightly.

"Matt, where are we going?"

"You'll see, babe. We're almost there." Matt just smiled, keeping the secret.

Finally, the car parked in one of the beachfront car spaces, and Y/N looked out the window, her eyes widening in surprise as she recognized the familiar scene.

"The beach?" She asked, confused. "What are we doing here?"

Matt turned off the engine and turned to Y/N, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"It's your surprise. Let's enjoy the beach. For real this time."

The sun was already almost completely gone when Matt and Y/N found themselves walking along the beach, their hands intertwined and their feet sinking into the soft sand, while their free hands held tightly to the pair of their own sneakers. The sound of the waves gently crashing beside them created a serene soundtrack to the moment.

Matt looked at Y/N beside him, seeing the mix of emotions on her face as she looked out to the sea, her eyes fixed on the waves, and her brow frowned tightly.

"Hey princess, is everything okay?" Matt asked softly, his soft voice bringing her back to the present while he squeezed her fingers gently.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes shining with a mixture of sadness and determination.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just trying to process some things." Her voice came out lower than expected, her tongue escaping her mouth and quickly wetting her lips in a nervous act.

Matt nodded understandingly, offering her silent support as they continued to walk along the beach. He could feel the tension in her shoulders, and he was determined to help her find happiness in that moment.

So, suddenly, Matt stopped and looked at Y/N with a mischievous smile on his lips.

"How about we go for a swim?"

Y/N stopped next to him, processing what he said for a few seconds before her eyes widened in surprise, a smile slowly stretching on her face.

"Right now?"

"Yes, right now!" Matt exclaimed, dropping his sneakers onto the sand and taking hers, doing the same before grabbing her hand again, running towards the sea and pulling her tightly behind him, a scream lost against the wind that hit her face.

The two ran across the sand, laughing and screaming in euphoria as the waves lapped at their feet. They threw themselves into the sea, the cold waters enveloping them as they jumped and played like two carefree children, their clothes sticking to the skin of their bodies, but that was their last worry.

Y/N felt a sense of freedom like never before. The salt water washed away her pain, while Matt's laughter filled her ears in joy. For a moment, she allowed herself to forget all the weight of the past and simply live in the present moment, surrendering to the happiness that radiated from each pulse of the sea.

"This is amazing!" Y/N shouted, laughing as she jumped over or into the waves alongside her boyfriend's.

"You are amazing!" Matt replied, a radiant smile lighting up his face as his eyes traveled over the features of Y/N's face, his dilated pupils almost taking the shape of two hearts.

They played and jumped in the waves until they got tired, with each moment sinking deeper into their brain like a precious memory.

When they finally left the sea and threw themselves on the sand, panting and exhausted, Y/N felt a sense of peace and calm invade her being. Matt lay down next to her, their hands touching lightly, both ignoring the strange feeling of the sand against their wet bodies.

Y/N sighed deeply, staring to the starry blanket of the sky above them. She pondered deeply before turning to Matt, lying on her side, the corners of her eyes reflecting the starlight.

"You know, I've never had a real childhood." She began, her soft voice thick with emotion. "I've never talked about this to anyone before, but I know I can trust you, and I feel like it's time to reveal it... after today."

Matt turned so that he was equally lying on his side on the sand and facing her, his eyes showing immense tenderness, encouraging her to continue.

Y/N took a deep breath before speaking again, her words filled with painful memories of her troubled childhood.

"My parents were always busy with their jobs and making money, the more money the better... They rarely had time for me. The only memories I have of my parents are of them yelling at me or at each other." Her voice wavered as she fought to control her emotions. "Sorry." She laughed in disdain at her body's reactions.

"You don't have to be sorry, petal. I'm here with you." Matt whispered quickly, lifting his free hand and bringing it to her waist, caressing the skin covered by her wet clothes.

Y/N closed her eyes before speaking again.

"I felt so lonely, Matt. I never had friends because I was always very closed off, maybe because of the events at home, and the fact that I was quiet seemed to scare the other children away..."

Tears began to form in Y/N's eyes as she relived the painful memories of her neglected childhood.

"I felt so lost and abandoned." The girl continued, her voice shaking with the intensity of her emotions. "I prayed so much to whatever was hearing me to have a normal childhood, with friends and play times, but all I had was loneliness and sadness." She swallowed hard. "You know, my mom used to hit me sometimes... Nothing very serious, she just got angry because of how I behaved so quietly and different from her." Y/N shook her head quickly, a sob escaping her throat.

"Baby..." Matt traveled his hand from her waist to her free hand, holding it firmly, allowing her to cry without interrupting, knowing that she would never go beyond her limit by telling him about her traumas.

Y/N smiled weakly through her tears, feeling grateful for Matt's comforting presence. She snuggled closer to him, sand creeping up her legs, laying her head on his chest, just below his chin, taking comfort in the warmth of his body.

"It's okay, really-"

"No, sweetheart, this is not okay. Please, don't talk about your pain as if it's all alright." Y/N sighed deeply.

"My dad called me last week..." The girl murmured, changing the subject as she played with Matt's fingers between hers. "He wanted to see me again. He said he missed me." She laughed, her laugh full of irony and sarcasm.

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Y/N's phone vibrated in her pants pocket, interrupting her as she tidied up her shared room with Matt, taking advantage of the fact that he was recording a video with his brothers. She picked up the device, her brow furrowing as she saw an unknown number on the screen.

"Hello?"

"Y/N, it's me." Her father's voice sounded on the other end of the line, and Y/N swore she felt her heart instantly freeze.

"Dad." Her voice came out indifferent, completely the opposite of her emotions.

"Hey, hi! Hm, I passed by your old room the other day and thought about you, I've been missing you, you know? And I'd like to see you. Can we set up a date?"

Y/N was silent for a moment, fighting a flood of conflicting emotions. She knew she didn't want to see her father, not after all the trauma he and her mother had caused herself. But she didn't want to be rude either; despite having grown up in a troubled home, she learned from life to be kind to everyone.

"Sorry, dad." She murmured finally, her voice firm. "I'm busy. I can't." Her father was silent for long, agonizing seconds, seeming surprised and angry at the same time. "That was all that-"

"What do you mean you're busy? Are you avoiding me?" Y/N took a deep breath, closing her eyes tightly and trying to remain calm.

"It's not that, dad. I'm just busy at the moment. I need to go..."

"That's unfair, Y/N!" Her father snapped, his voice rising in anger. "I really don't understand you. First, you left home at 17 and completely disappeared from our radar in such a way that I only see updates of you through your boyfriend's ridiculous YouTube channel. All you had to do was find a rich boy, so you totally forget about me and your mother. I fed you and gave you a roof over your head all your life, and you treat me like this? You're an ungrateful brat!"

Y/N felt tears well up in her eyes, a mixture of sadness and frustration flooding her body in an atrong shiver. She knew she couldn't continue this conversation if she could even call it a conversation.

"Whatever you say, dad. I have to go." She responded quickly before hanging up the phone, her trembling fingers moving automatically as she blocked the number.

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"I said no. I was so short with him. Do you think I was wrong, Matt?" She cried harder, her body shaking as the intense sobs tore from her throat.

"No, never! Baby, listen to me. Fuck your parents, okay?" Matt pulled back slightly, lifting her head gently so he could look into her eyes, seeing a strand of surprise pass through her pupils. "Fuck them for always treating you in a horrible way and totally contrary to how parents should treat their children. Fuck them for fucking your head so much to the point that you feel guilty for not wanting them in your life anymore."

Y/N tried to look away, but Matt's hand beneath her chin held her firmly - but gently - in place, stroking her jaw with his thumb lightly.

"You're amazing, Y/N. You're a strong, amazing woman, and I don't want you to feel guilty about everything that happened in your childhood because none of it was your fault! You don't have to be sorry for leaving them and growing up..." The tone of his voice was firm, while his eyes carried a tone of seriousness unlike any Y/N had ever seen.

Y/N scoffed, trying to shake her head no, her mind reminding her that she wasn't any of those good things.

"I'm serious, pretty girl. You're so strong, the strongest woman I've ever met." He whispered, loosening his grip on her chin slightly, moving his hand up so that it cupped her cheek, caressing the soft skin gently. "You can let it go, you know? You can let it all go. I promise."

"I love you. I love you so much, Matt." The girl murmured, pressing her cheek against his palm and closing her eyes slightly, her wet eyelashes caressing her flushed, wind-chilled skin.

"I'm always here for you." Matt reinforced, leaning his head close to hers and lovingly sealing her forehead with his lips for long seconds, exhaling the salty scent left by the sea.

"Now, how are we going to get back to the house with wet clothes like that?"

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[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: I'm back at my Azul lover era. Azul never did a wrong thing in his life, he is just a silly little octopus and oh so generous to help people in need. His hair looks so soft too, I kind of wanted to pet his head and put stickers on his cheeks without him realizing.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Soft yandere content, gn!reader, Azul's insecurities, fluffy.

Azul sat at his desk, scribbling some notes and making calculations for his latest business venture - or so he told you. In fact, you knew he was just writing down information about the new students to use at the most opportune moment. Distracted, you took to observe him, his soft smile that graced his face, the twinkle on his eyes, hair slowly cascading over his eyes momentarily as his glasses slipped through his nose.

He was so handsome, so cute when he was focused on something, you couldn't help but squeal and giggle, feeling your heart swell with love as the seconds go by.

He looked up, without a doubt being capable of feeling a distinct pair of eyes fixed on him and he found your gaze, lingering, intense and filled with an emotion he couldn’t quite place.

"Is there something on my face, angelfish?" He asked, trying to keep his tone light but unable to hide the nervous edge in his voice.

Your attention made him acutely aware of every little flaw he imagined in himself. Memories from his childhood surfaced, of taunts and jokes about his weight, the sting of rejection and the loneliness that followed making him isolate himself till he met the twins. To this day, he had worked hard to change his appearance but those scars ran deep and the insecurities lingered. You knew it.

And it hurt you to know that he may not think much about himself because of his fears. He was perfect in every way.

"C'mere, take a little break." You motioned for him to sit beside you.

Gathering his courage, he stood and made his way over to where you sat. You were smiling warmly but he could only feel his heart beating loudly.

You shook your head, still smiling. "No, nothing at all."

"Then why do you keep staring at me like that?" He pressed, his voice softer now, filled with an uncertainty that made your heart ache.

You reached out, gently taking his hand and pulling him to sit beside you. His cheeks flushed slightly at the contact, his fingers trembling ever so slightly in your grasp.

"Azul," You mutter, your voice tender and reassuring, "I look at you because I find you incredibly cute."

He blinked, taken aback by your words. "Cute?"

You nodded, releasing his hand to cup his face, your thumb brushing lightly over his cheek. "Yes, cute. You’re handsome and intelligent, but more than that, there’s something about you that’s just... endearing. I love seeing the way you concentrate, the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you're passionate about. The sound of your voice is so smooth and soothing. I love to hear you talking about your day and the things you've done."

Azul felt his heart swell with emotions he rarely allowed himself to feel. He searched your eyes for any hint of insincerity but found only warmth and affection.

Before he could find the words to respond, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. It was soft, brief, but it conveyed everything you felt. When you pulled back, you saw the surprise and happiness in his eyes.

"I... I don't know what to say," He admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You don't have to say anything," You replied, guiding his face to rest over your chest as you played with his hair so gently and calmly, twirling the strands. "Just know that I love you, Azul, exactly as you are."

He felt a weight lift off his shoulders, the insecurities that had plagued him for so long fading just a little under your gaze. For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he was worth loving.

[harlothane]

Theon and Fear - And at the end of fear...

George R R Martin’s ASOIAF focuses on the "human heart at war with itself". In doing so, it provides a compelling, complex and deeply touching exploration of human emotions. One of the dominant emotions the characters are faced with is fear.

I especially love how fear is shown in Theon's storyline. His backstory and the events unfolding in his six Clash of Kings chapters and seven Dance with Dragons chapters, taken alone, constitute a raw, emotional and unsettling account on the many faces of fear. What it does to people. How it changes them, motivates them, corrupts them and may regenerates them.

“Can a man still be brave if he’s afraid?”

“That is the only time a man can be brave.”

There is no need for a long look at Theon’s storyline to see in which ways Eddard Stark’s infamous moral lesson applies to his struggles. Here is a character that commits crimes in the beginning of his storyline, goes through hell because of his misguided choices (led by his fear), finds his courage as he faces true terror and accomplishes one of the most selfless and brave acts in the series to save a girl.

I do feel like I’m missing pieces of the puzzle writing that, aren’t I?

The misstep, I think, is to draw too hastily a parallel between Theon and the other Winterfell boys around his age – Robb and Jon (it's a common issue in fandom and actually had a negative impact on the reading of Theon's storyline, I think. Read : x).

Unlike them, at the beginning of the story, Theon already knows fear. Both Jon and Robb had a decent, secure childhood. While Jon surely has grounds to feel dissatisfied with what life has to offer a bastard like him, he did not grow up in fear. At the age of nine, he probably had faced rejection, loneliness and disdain. But not true, traumatizing fear like nine-year old Theon had to.

19 year-old Theon in Winterfell has already been scarred by fear. He is not a knight of summer in that regard, as his entire personality is a product of fear, to the point where it becomes hard to pinpoint what his true self consists of exactly (that becomes evident as we are invited to his internal monologue in Clash, which is full of inconsistencies, rewrites and contradictions related to the way he sees himself).

We know for certain that, as the story begins, Theon is already familiar with the fear of rejection and humiliation (inflicted by his brothers and felt as an outsider in the North), the fear of losing his loved ones and his home (inflicted by war and the soldiers fighting that war) and some repressed kind of fear related to Euron and possibly his magic. He’s been abused and is still suffering from the lingering fear of death, cultural isolation/exclusion and loneliness.

What fascinates me with this storyline especially is that there is never an easy answer. It is a feature of ASOIAF as a whole, to be frank. I suppose that as a horror genre lover, I am especially drawn to the way Theon's story deals with fear. How it corrupts, how it paralyzes, how it regenerates.

Fear as corruption.

Theon, a “shy” child, “in awe” of his brothers, has crafted a personality to guard himself against the threats most frightful to him (humiliation, being unloved and unwanted, abandonment).

A personality that existed to guard himself against the world and more precisely, the men in power who could use him. A personality tailored to please his captors and his father, the ones his life depended on. His clothes, in this regard, are another part of the armor. Their purpose is to please, seduce or appease the ones whose approval Theon needs at the moment (though I truly do believe he likes his velvelt and silks, he still immediately suggests his father that he would change it if it would please him).

Living with those fears of being unloved and unwanted changed him profoundly as harrowing experiences always do. Fear is the one constant in his early life. His personality developed around it.

Theon mimics Dagmer Cleftjaw’s smiles because the warrior was one of the bravest men he knew in his early days and a hostage far from home needs to channel that tough, invulnerable spirit.

Theon was a child who lived in awe of his violent brothers, so as a young man he acts accordingly, as if spilling blood makes you worthy, as if life were a game to win no matter the cost for the weak and innocent (no matter the price children and mothers pay, no matter the price he himself paid for his father’s ambition!).

I know the Theon we meet in Clash isn’t the most agreeable person ever. It’s the point.

In truth, he is a hardly a person. As in, a human entity with consistent memories to ground him (even before Dance, he represses memories, seems to have forgotten a great deal about the Iron Islands and I believe we may learn more about this in Winds), and autonomous desires and hopes (in spite of himself, he is constantly trying to fit the expectations of the men he fears/wants to emulate – Eddard and Balon).

Even the way he expresses his sexual/sensual desires feels at times as a performance meant to impress or prove a point… read : x or x).

He doesn’t even have a future, and he knows that deep down. As Robb is crowned though and devise a plan with him to ally himself with the Islands, Theon’s hopes rose up and that is how suddenly there was in the sky a comet that heralded his bright future.

He seems like a “closed book” to the world around him, but he was more of a blank page, really.

A mess of fears stitched together with a smile. Fear really is the constant.

What would you do, if you were constantly afraid? Cut from the rare people and places that gave you a sense of security?

What would you do, if – that’s the greatest irony – you were surrounded by people who thought of you as a thing to be feared, an animal to be tamed.

Interestingly, Theon is known to be brave in battle, perhaps even reckless. Robb states it plainly: “Theon has fought bravely for us.” Dagmer Cleftjaw knows Theon “is no craven”. In Winterfell, he is ready to die with the few men who stayed with him.

Being shaped by fear did not make him a coward. It made him desperate and unreasonable. For one, Theon knows fear intimately and there is no greater terror than the unknown, after all. He knows war. He knows death. He is still haunted by the battle of Pyke.

Still, he is eager to march with Robb’s army. Still, he wishes he could have faced Jaime Lannister on the battlefield. And still, he would have died for Robb, he would have died for his father.

He shouldn’t be so eager to march with an army led by the people who hurt his own family so deeply. War traumatized him already. It separated him from his family. It obliterated his future, destroyed his prospects. But his fear of humiliation, rejection, loneliness – it overtakes all. Then again, I understand that Theon in Clash can be difficult to empathize with to some, but if you read his reaction with the knowledge that this is a person who is constantly in a state of true, agonizing fear, I think it changes your perspective a little.

The horrible outcome of all this is that by trying so desperately not to be seen as a weak thing people can use for their political gain, Theon becomes it. For Ramsay and Roose. That is not karma. That is the definition of a tragedy.

It has been said before: Ramsay is a secondary-(tertiary) character, he exists to embody Theon’s worst sins and fears. That is his nightmare, breathing and living and flaying every piece of a carefully crafted personality Theon made in the North to stop being afraid, to reclaim power and control over his fate.

Fear didn’t allow him to be brave. It made him desperate, easy to manipulate. He takes Winterfell in a foolish attempt to be the person he thinks he must become. The self-made Prince. The heir who returned in glory. A worthy son of Balon Greyjoy.

That is the story he tells himself and others. In truth, it becomes apparent he took Winterfell in a desperate attempt to make his “almost-home” his at last.

In a desperate attempt to belong somewhere he could have everything – power and recognition and love. It is the type of extreme decision you make when you let fear overtake your reason. Any other choice would have been more reasonable. It wouldn’t have saved him from fear, though.

Most of Theon’s bad choices are a result of fear. It made him crave power with the same intensity as he secretly wanted love and recognition. In Clash, Winterfell itself, the castle, its people, embody his fear of rejection, of being unloved and unwanted. He represses it. Until he can't escape it even in his dreams.

The two desires, to have agency/power and love, clash violently in Winterfell, an arc in which Theon’s starts to completely unravel as he does everything in his power to be a hard man like his father, like Eddard (no matter how contradictory), while spying the tiniest hint of affection or gratefulness in his captives’ eyes.

After all, in his own experience, it is possible for a captive to admire and crave his captor’s love.

To want to help them. To be part of their family. And he seemed to expect the same from the people of Winterfell. Even in Dance (because torture doesn’t erase your past trauma!), he still believes he could have reasonably expected them to help him

His constant fear has twisted his view on loyalty (you cannot be loyal to someone who imprisons you), love and desire (he links lust and violence), power and justice (“hard men rule the world”).

It corrupts his desires, even. Of all the sexual encounters, or thoughts, he has, none seems genuine with the exception of Esgred, who is not a real person but the embodiment of the nonchalant, confidant attitude he wishes he could adopt as easily. She is everything he cannot be. She belongs. She commands respect. She has a family. And as she divulges her real identity to him, Asha becomes someone to fear. She is in his place. She is him, the heir, the son, while he is nothing and nobody.

Fear as a paralyzer

It is not surprising that Theon would smother from early on the parts of his personality that made him sensitive to fear.

His need to belong brings only fear (he will never be part of the Stark family, but he still dreams of it until he buries that dream as well).

His empathy brings only fear (he demonstrates in Dance his ability to connect with broken people used by the ones in power he could have shared experiences with but couldn’t because of his fear of humiliation).

It shows one limit to Eddard’s reasoning. Fear, sometimes, changes you in such a way that it hinders your ability to be brave (as in, to make the most moral choice against your own immediate interest).

Growing up with constant fear drove Theon to stifle his empathy, making it hard for him to protect other people, as you would expect from a prisoner whose life is a bargaining chip that hinges on his father’s and his captor’s will, from a man who cannot even help himself.

Growing up in constant fear jeopardized Theon’s ability to make long-term, realistic plans for his future, as he barely has any stable support to hold onto. His entire existence does not belong to him. NB: In this regard, it is logical that most characters he is paralleled with throughout his story (Jeyne P, Barbrey, the dead lady Hornwood, Holly who has the same cocky smile and arrogance as his old self, Alannys with her white hair and even Dany…) are women, who are more likely to be stripped of agency, must fight to claim autonomy and struggle to regain a semblance of control over their destiny.

He has many faults, though it cannot be said in my opinion that he did have a good choice to make and that he simply chose wrong by trying to please his father. There were only bad roads that led to imprisonment, death or ruin for him. Theon realizes this in Dance: he cannot bring himself to imagine a bright future. No, he regrets not to have died with Robb. He knows his path was filled with fear either way.

Fear is a paralyzer. It does, in a sense, alter Theon’s capacity to grow and evolve.

Fear makes him an apt survivor (he’d survive a horror movie in messy “final girl” fashion), with a great potential for adaptation. But it corrupted him in the process. Led him to embrace a (faux) cynical attitude, to be over-zealous with his own captors to the point of risking his life for them and most of all, to opt for cruelty over mercy contrary to his own (sometimes contradictory) values – in Winterfell, he hurt others, and it haunts him, but he stands by his choices.

His fear of being mocked, used and humiliated drowns every other motivator.

He is so afraid to be seen as he thinks the men of the world want to paint him: a weak creature to be used. Someone who needs to bargain and submit to keep his life. It is rather in line with his way of thinking that he would consider himself a whore after Ramsay subjected him to his power and abuse in Dance.

“Only a fool humbles himself when the world is so full of men eager to do that job for him.”

That’s it, that’s the philosophy. Theon has his moments of incredible self-awareness, and this is one, hidden beneath some moral lesson as a pretext.

It shows that:

He has a bleak, but rather realistic view relating to most men in power. They will abuse it. They will humiliate the weakest. They will do so eagerly.

He hasn’t met Ramsay at that point. He may instead be thinking of his brothers, of the lords who humiliated his defeated father, of his own father maybe, or perhaps (in my opinion) Euron.

His arrogance is a deliberate strategy designed to avoid the fate reserved to the most fragile people.

He doesn’t judge the men who abuse their power but doesn’t seem to view them in a positive light. Still, consciously or not, Theon sometimes acts like those men. Since he is mostly deprived of real political or military power, he does it in the context of his sexual relationships (that deserves an analysis, especially regarding how sexuality in his chapters is so often if not always depicted in a negative, degrading manner.). It’s a “eat or be eaten” kind of mentality he is struggling with during his Clash arc.

Fear instructs him to repress the slightest sign of weakness. There cannot be true loyalty, love or desire in such a state. You survive. You are barely living. You just survive.

The rare sincere relationships he forms are short-lived – Patrek Mallister is the son of an enemy family; Robb Stark cannot ever be his equal; his bond with Asha is poisoned by envy and fear, again, of his place being stolen by her.

Theon’s mind favors denial/dissociation and repression as a defense mechanism. It doesn't exactly help him to form sincere relationships with people. It’s a motif throughout his storyline that echoes the stakes relating to Ironborn culture in the story (they must remember their history or they’re condemned to repeat it – that’s the symbolic role of Rodrik the Reader in Asha’s storyline).

Most times, he tends to rewrite reality - consciously or not. Of course, he will be welcomed by Balon Greyjoy! Of course, his traditionalist father will agree to submit to Robb Stark! Of course, he, the hostage, will be given Asha's place that she (of course!) stole from him! Of course, he is destined to be one of those hard men who rule the world, not an eternal victim! Of course, he is not afraid, and even if he is, even brave men feel agonizing fear about other men seeing their weaknesses!

We soon discover how fragile this mechanism really is. The façade cracks more often than Theon would like. There are many instances of this, especially in his conversation with Dagmer ("I know you are no craven" "Does my father?") and Rodrik Cassel ("The noose I wore was not made of hempen rope but it chafed, it chafed me raw"). Worst of all, he allows Reek/Ramsay to amplify his fear. When I write "allow", I do not mean he did it on purpose naturally. But he is the one who freed Reek/Ramsay. He opened the door to a living nightmare. Reek/Ramsay quite literally haunts him in his Clash chapters.

What he cannot rewrite, Theon represses. It does not seem like it at first glance because he is prone to reckless decisions. It can lead one to categorize him as a vain egomaniac, not as a repressed person. His promiscuity doesn’t help, since we are wired to associate repression and modesty.

It is true terror that he is obligated to repress - and it is what comes flowing unbridled as he loses his armor in Dance. This kind of dread is mostly associated with Ramsay (there are so many instances I won't even go into it) and, well, Euron (the slight unease Theon felt about his uncle during ACOK can - and must - certainly be revisited with our current knowledge about him, the fact that in ASOS it is established that Theon revealed awful details about his uncle to Robb, and the now evident parallels between Aeron and Theon).

Fear as a regenerative force

In Dance, the "dread" Theon feels in the crypt of Winterfell is "familiar". And I think you can see it as his fear of being unwanted. Of belonging nowhere.

It makes sense: Theon fears what he truly is. A prisoner, a scared child and a pawn for men to use in their plans. It is the truth he can never escape, no matter how perfectly he plays the Hard Powerful Masculine Man.

Fear pursues him all his life. It is only when he has no fear left to feel (it was all spent in a cell of the Dreadfort; all his fear is caught by Ramsay, who is the embodiment of Theon’s insecurities) that he shows his more empathetic and gentle nature – although he still feels anger, bitterness and the occasional dread, of course.

Still, it is not a bed of roses. Theon is certainly more sincere. He is not putting on a performance for himself. When he lies, he is terribly conscious of it. He doesn’t manage to repress his traumatic memories anymore. It all comes back, flooding. Even such buried memories as the ones related to Euron.

In a way, Winterfell acts in his story as the theatre scene, the place where you can finally be yourself. I wrote a bit about this here. It serves as a catharsis for Theon. In Winterfell, he is able to find pieces of himself. Pieces he had forgotten. He starts to remember the childhood he had buried ("A son of the Islands" / the Euron related reaction in Winds).

Fear had been eating away at him. Fear had been controlling him, at times. Not that he wasn't responsible, but he certainly let himself be overcome by his crippling fear of humiliation (which, sidenote, I don't believe stems only from his status as a hostage but that is another story).

Fear had been breaking him piece by piece since childhood. Just like the rat he eats at the start of Dance - it had been eating him first! He had to defend himself against the threats even if it meant hurting and killing in the process.

It is in Winterfell that he finally confront his fears - that he meets the one essential fear he had been trying to escape: himself.

The lies become a motif, even. “False is all you were.” Theon never lied as a manipulator would, though. Most times, he does not seem to understand the coherence (or lack thereof) of his own actions – which is also a side effect of fear (or to be precise, the fear caused by childhood mistreatment). It causes confusion, alters your awareness and hinders such abilities as analysis and planning.

However flawed Theon was, he was a prince, he was a warrior and a friend, he was handsome, he took care of his clothes and weapons, he saw a comet and decided it shone for him. He wasn’t much of a real, sincere, coherent person, but it was the most functional version of himself he managed to be in his situation.

The man he pretended to be could never have survived the Dreadfort, though. He had to disappear. Was he even real? The façade barely made it through his Prince of Winterfell era. Chances are, had he escaped Ramsay, Theon would still have been forced to confront his true self one way or another.

He is stripped from all his usual defense mechanisms in a horrific torture labyrinth. He becomes the weak thing he always feared he’d be seen as. He cannot hide. He cannot lie. He cannot even smile.

Every single fear he ever had becomes his new reality.

Humiliation: check.

Being controlled and used as a thing: check.

Mockery and disregard: check.

Friendless and abandoned: check.

To escape from fear, he can only repeat the partition he learnt as a child hostage: apply the rules of the people who can cut off your head at any time, and be the well-behaved prisoner so you can rise again later and impress every the ones in power who can share their power with you (a very Ironborn strategy, actually).

Except, there is no escape this time. The flaying knife has cut through the armor Theon had crafted for himself. He has no way out (another motif throughout his storyline). He has no secrets left and no smile to hide behind. He cannot forget his status as Ramsay’s pet by exerting power onto others. He is the very last creature on the food chain this time.

And so, there is nothing to fear anymore.

The Dance chapters are filled with terror and dread, until Theon pieces himself together. Then he regains some composure, purpose and faith, even. He finds his courage within himself, where it always existed, in truth. And, in Jeyne, he finds a motivation. Saving her, a child prisoner, abused and terrorized, he also saves what little of himself he can.

The only time he can truly be brave is when he doesn’t have to fear becoming fully himself at last. Whatever that means, in the end. At the end of fear, something must remain. Something must be rebuilt. Piece by piece.

[erisweekofficial]

To close out the workweek, we have the AMAZING @a-court-of-mischief-and-madness!

Check out Midnight Revelations, an Eris x Reader series! (You won't regret it!)

Read on below to learn more about what drew them to Eris, their favorite fan theories and more! 🔥

What drew you to Eris Vanserra as a character?

I was drawn to Eris Vanserra because I relate deeply to his complex background and troubled past, which SJM only skims over in the narrative. I’m fascinated by how his difficult experiences and family dynamics have influenced his behavior and decisions. His character resonates with me on a personal level because I’ve encountered many individuals who, like Eris, have difficulty expressing their emotions. This struggle to show vulnerability and the resulting layers of hidden depth intrigue me. I find myself compelled by characters who, despite their emotional challenges, navigate their world in ways that reveal their true selves slowly, making them all the more captivating and relatable.

You have the opportunity to add three songs to Eris's daily spotify playlist. What songs would you choose and why?

For Eris Vanserra, these songs deeply resonate with different facets of his character: "Play with Fire" by Sam Tinnesz: This song perfectly captures Eris’s striking and intense personality as the heir of the Autumn Court. The lyrics and mood of the song reflect the dangerous allure and fierce presence he embodies, making it an ideal match for his complex and formidable nature. "I Wanna Be Yours" by Arctic Monkeys: Beneath Eris’s cold exterior, this song highlights his profound loneliness and longing for genuine connection. It speaks to his deep emotional scars and the void left by his stripped childhood, portraying his desire for a significant other who can understand and connect with him on a deeper level. "Daddy Issues" by The Neighbourhood: This track resonates strongly with Eris’s experiences of childhood trauma and the immense pressure from his father. The song’s exploration of fatherly expectations and emotional strain mirrors the intense challenges Eris faced growing up, providing insight into the burdens that shaped his character. These songs not only reflect Eris’s inner struggles and emotional depth but also enhance your understanding of his multifaceted personality.

When writing your fics, how do you choose which scenes or moments to focus on?

When writing my fics, I invest a lot of time in finding inspiration and exploring the uncharted aspects of Eris Vanserra’s love life. I’m particularly focused on crafting scenes where the female main character makes a genuine effort to understand him. I love delving into moments where she attempts to lift the heavy burdens he carries and uncover the cracks in his emotional armor. I often reflect on how Eris’s childhood might have reinforced the belief that "crying makes you weak," and I use this theme to add depth to his character. This belief, instilled by his past, has contributed to his emotional restraint and the mask he wears. Through my writing, I aim to show his struggle with these vulnerabilities and his deep-seated desire to be loved for who he truly is. My goal is to portray Eris not just as a complex figure, but as a human being yearning for genuine connection and acceptance.

What are some of your favorite fan theories about Eris

One of my favorite fan theories is the idea that Eris and Nesta could form a more powerful couple compared to Cassian and Nesta. As I delve deeper into this theory, I find it increasingly compelling, especially when considering their character traits and backgrounds. Eris’s intense and commanding personality, shaped by his experiences and the high expectations placed upon him as the heir of the Autumn Court, aligns intriguingly with Nesta’s fierce independence and strength. Both characters have endured significant emotional hardships and have developed strong defenses to protect themselves. This shared experience of struggle and emotional restraint could create a powerful dynamic between them. Eris’s ability to navigate his complex family dynamics and his hidden vulnerabilities might resonate deeply with Nesta, who also grapples with her own trauma and emotional walls. Their interactions could offer a unique blend of intensity and understanding, as each recognizes and relates to the other's hidden pain and strength. In contrast, while Cassian and Nesta share a strong bond, their relationship is characterized by more open confrontation and emotional rawness. Eris and Nesta’s potential pairing could introduce a different kind of depth, where their personal struggles and strengths complement each other in a more nuanced way. This dynamic could highlight a different kind of power and connection, making their relationship feel uniquely potent and compelling.

[katerinaptrv]

Scars

It was a racing day, this day used to be fun and exciting for Babe, the day he would do the thing he loved most in the world. But things had changed a lot since then, racing was not his only love now and not the priority anymore.

The accident keeps replaying in front of his eyes, his emotions starting to bubble up inside him. He felt anxious and afraid, he had so much more to lose now. Charlie’s fake death opened his eyes to it, the pain and loneliness he felt then that he thought he would never get over is something he would do everything to never experience again. His hand started shaking and drew the attention of his boyfriend that was getting ready beside him.

Charlie hugged him from behind and started to kiss his neck to relax him.

P’Babe are your senses bothering you?

Babe almost let a bittersweet smile at that, he wished his pre-racing anxieties were easy and simple to when they first met. Except that he really doesn't, nothing in the world would make him wish not to meet Charlie.

Charlie watched his face for a while then he seemed to understand, like he always seems when it comes to him.

It will be okay P’Babe, we will be fine, nothing to worry about, I promise.

But this was not true, there was a lot Babe could worry about, even if Tony had been dealt with, there are still people like Winner and Dean that are jealous of their success and would stop at nothing to stop them. And Charlie was so new to all of this, what if something happened?

Charlie seemed to guess again where his thoughts are heading to, since the next thing he says is:

Besides Jeff has checked my car like 50 times already, I am seriously concerned he will develop some kind of OCD with it. Dean’s move really scared him.

That was not as reassuring as his boyfriend thought it was.

Lets say, that a very unlikely scenario happens, i survived all of that already right? It would be fine.

That makes Babe turn to face him and give him a very serious look.

Charlie, don’t joke about it, I don't care about the placements, you will not take unnecessary risk and will drive safely. Ok? Promise me.

Ok, I promise. What about this, why won’t you listen to my heart during the race, this way you will know i am ok. 

He tells Babe seriously. It was actually a good idea, focusing on Charlie’s heart would help him ease his anxieties and drown out other stimuli his senses bring him during the race.

Now, is it only fair for you to promise the same right?

Babe could tell Charlie said this playfully, that he did not expect him to actually say it back. But like Babe said before things had changed, and he had no hesitation in saying back to him the promise. Being the first was not as important to him now, not as important as being with the person in front of him. So, he cradles Charlie’s face in his hands forcing him to look at his eyes and says to him seriously.

I promise.

Charlie gives him that puppy smile that makes Babe’s heart race in his chest since the first time he saw it and then starts to kiss him. After that they follow their usual pre race routine that makes Alan be thankful he never installed any camera anywhere near the locker rooms. 

[thatonesillyducko]

OC ask! Alone, desire, guilt, pain, and skin?

for this ask game! Oh hello! sis yeah, angst time! Let's go! (Warning: Long reading, so prepare to read deeply about her.)

── .✦Alone: Jemíma deals with loneliness in a practical and resilient manner. She tends to keep to herself and doesn’t open up easily to others (However, the more you get to know her, the more she will start talking to you.), but she has developed strong coping strategies to deal with feelings of isolation. She is highly disciplined and able to focus on her work, which helps her push through difficult times. She also finds solace in physical activities such as working out or going on runs, which help her channel her energy and clear her mind. She is a lone wolf at heart, but she can also find comfort in her own company.

ᯓ★-Jemíma may also have a small group of close friends that she can lean on for support and companionship. Additionally, her tough and resilient nature may allow her to push through periods of loneliness by focusing on her goals and staying focused on the present moment.

── .✦Desire: One thing Jemíma wants more than anything else in the world could be to prove herself as an elite soldier and sniper, to earn the respect and recognition of her peers and superiors. She may not be open about this desire, as she is a private person and doesn't want to come across as needy or desperate for validation. However, she is driven and determined to succeed in her field, and will do whatever it takes to earn that.

ᯓ★-But may find herself developing feelings for Keegan as they work closely together. She respects and admires his abilities and his intense and focused personality, and being attracted to him as a result. However, she may struggle with these feelings and try to keep them hidden, fearing that acting on them could jeopardize their professional partnership.

── .✦Guilt: Jemíma may feel guilty about a variety of things. For example, she may feel guilty about leaving her family behind in Mexico when she fled and left to the America, about the lives she has taken as a sniper, or the difficult decisions she has had to make on the battlefield. However, she is not one to dwell on her guilt.

ᯓ★-She is pragmatic and practical, and understands that her job requires her to make tough choices. She is able to separate her emotions from her work, and is able to move on from her guilt and focus on her mission.

TW!: Dark n' war and additional sensitive related topics, physical, emotional and psychological trauma, mentions of abuse, r@pe.

── .✦Pain: Growing up in a home marked by emotional instability and verbal abuse, witnessing her father's abusive behaviour towards her mother. Jemíma suffered from mental health, parent negligence, verbal abuse, emotional scars, including anxiety, fear, and low self-esteem. In nutshell, a combination of the emotional trauma from the low self-worth and fear in her home and outside, physical pain from the domestic abuse she witnessed, and the sense of helplessness and hopelessness she felt during the worst moments in Mexican Drug War.

ᯓ★-Each experience would have left a lasting impact on her, but the psychological toll of living in such a tumultuous and dangerous environment would surely have been her greatest pain. Additionally, the stress, anxiety, and fear of living in a city consumed by cartel violence would likely have had a profound impact on her mental and emotional well-being as well. The fear of losing her family, friends and the loss of her teenager innocence due to the constant violence and chaos around her have been one of the deeply painful and traumatic experiences.

ᯓ★-Plus, Jemíma have been particularly vulnerable to encountered 'people' who took advantage of her, either trying to exploit her for money or unlawful purposes, faced various dangers or difficult situations, r@ped 5 times without a fucking guardian by her side as a young teen while making her wandering journey to America to escape violence and live a better life.

── .✦Skin: With a traumatic past like Jemíma's, she would struggle with self-acceptance and self-worth. Her experiences of violence and abuse, both physical and emotional, could have left her feeling vulnerable and broken. Her father's abuse, particularly if it included demeaning comments and criticism, would have contributed to her struggles with self-esteem

ᯓ★-Verbally, he may have constantly criticized, insulted, or belittled her, creating an atmosphere of negativity and fear. Physically, he could have been violent, potentially resorting to hitting, shoving, or other forms of physical harm, making her feel unsafe and vulnerable in her own home.

ᯓ★- Over time, the repetition of these abusive behaviours would have left lasting emotional scars on Jemíma's psyche. However, this doesn't mean she wasn't able to acknowledge these experiences or that she was completely helpless.

[homesickwhispers]

showtime. (chapter 1.)

wordcount: 2.2k 🤍

chapter plot: Gabriella Gonzales, an emotionally scarred young woman who is trying to make her way into the music industry, finds herself reflecting on her past and present until she is surprised with an oportunity that will forever change her future.

chapter song: showtime by catfish and the bottlemen.

Cardiff always gets colder in the nighttime.

I could see my breath fog up in the air as I took a long sigh outside the venue.

Back in Brazil, we used to joke that we never had any seasons beside summer. The heat was a constant, companion, and right now its absence hit me hard almost like a friend I missed dearly.

Every single morning the sun didn't disappoint in having us dripping from sweat, soaking our clothes. Proceeding to tan the lucky ones and leave the rest of us mortals sunburnt.

But this felt like a lifetime ago. In a blink of an eye, I had gone from big groups trips to the beach to standing by myself in freezing winds and grey skies on the other side of the world.

It might seem stupid, but the cold in Cardiff wasn't just physical at this point; it was emotional, too.

Every gust of wind cut through me like a sharp slap, a reminder of what I'd left behind. The way the cold slipped under my cheap clothes made the loneliness seep deeper into my bones, reminding me of the home I could never return to.

But here I am, little old Gabriella Gonzales, complaining once again. As if I'm the first person to ever leave home. I know I shouldn't whine, but sometimes it feels like it's the only thing I truly have left.

I'm trying to be better—less of an ungrateful mess—but the truth is, when you leave your hometown, a piece of you dies. And you can never get it back.

People love the idea of leaving. They imagine the exctiment, the adventure, the new experiences, the chance to do great things. But the reality? It's knowing you've left a sadness behind that you'll never be able to undo. Knowing you'll never be completely happy again because a part of you is missing, and it's your own fault.

Since I moved from Brazil, it feels like I've lived thousands of different lives, each version of me more distant from who I was before. That's why, at the start of this year, I decided to write again. Not for anyone else, but for me—to track what's truly important.

I even bought myself a silly Gratitude Journal from the dollar store, and try to write in it every day. It hasn't made me any less annoying, but, at least I'm trying.

Gratitude Journal

May 24th

What was I grateful for today?

the sight of my breath on a cold night.

So yes, I'm working on appreciating the small things—the little reminders of how far I've come, even if it's just the sight of my own breath in the cold air. But where were we? Ah, Cardiff. Cardiff is a strange place. Don't get me wrong, I like it here, but if you'd told me years ago that I'd end up in Cardiff, I would've laughed.

Growing up, I imagined myself landing in cities like New York, Los Angeles, maybe even London. Those were the places where things happened, where people like me wanted to be. People who studied and worked their asses off to be part of this.

But as an immigrant woman with no industry contacts, I should have known the rules would be different for me.

Years later, though, here I am. Life brought me to Cardiff.

I read somewhere once that if you move to a new town, it's because there's someone waiting for you there.

I'm not much of a romantic by any means, but I like to keep thought close by, especially during the nights I think about packing up and leaving Cardiff.

Sometimes, though, it's hard to keep my hopes up.

It's been 9 months since I moved here and I've never really met anyone who made me realize I actually wanted to be in Cardiff or you know, anywhere else.

To be honest, the past years of my life were basically focused on getting enough money to keep it together every month. I didn't have the time to be walking around flirting and even if the opportunity was there, I was just too tired or too tense to think about any of it so maybe there's still hope out there.

I guess I gave up on the relationship mentality too long ago.

A loud sound coming from inside the venue startled me, jolting me out of my thoughts.

I straightened myself onto the wall as I heard voices coming closer to where I was standing.

The sound of Roger's voice—booming and full of excitement—echoed in the alley behind me, and I could hear him laughing, cracking jokes, as he walked towards me, a group of unfamiliar men trailing behind him.

I heard him before I saw him. "So, this is the place," Roger said, a hint of pride in his voice. "And this right here—oh! Hello, Ella! This is Ella, everyone. She's our brains, thinks for all of us."

I gave a small smile, nodding to the group of men, who glanced at me with curiosity. I was used to this by now. Roger brought in so many potential buyers that I'd become part of the welcome committee, though I didn't say much. Just a polite greeting and back to my quiet corner.

"Hi, how are you?" I offered as warmly as I could manage in the cold.

"These are some guys I've been talking to," Roger said. "We're about to head in. I'll chat with you later, Ellita. Big things happening tonight!"

"Sure, nice to meet all of you," I said, waving half-heartedly, noting how different Roger's energy was compared to my own.

As the door swung shut behind them, I stood there for a moment longer, trying to figure out what this "big thing" could be.

They call this place "The Happiness House". And don’t get me wrong, I love Rog but I've always hated that name. Very corny, and not fitting at all.

If happiness means doing drugs and getting wasted in tiny bathrooms soundtracked to some band whose lead singer is a misogynistic, please don't sign me up for it.

Rog owns this place, and is responsible for basically every single gig that happens in Cardiff. Nothing happens around here without him knowing or being involved in it.

I never understood how someone with this much influence had such a hard time letting go of this mess that was The Happiness House, but in his own words he is not a quitter. I'm glad he let his pride aside though and started looking for people to buy the place.

Roger wasn't one to be cryptic—he was more of a say-it-out-loud-and-see-what-happens kind of guy. But tonight, something felt different. His excitement was genuine, yes, but there was a seriousness underneath it, too, something I hadn't seen from him before.

He was good to me, though. He was one of the few people in this city who actually understood me—understood the pressure I was under, trying to carve out a place for myself in an industry that wasn't exactly kind to outsiders.

He'd been in the business since he was a teenager, just like me, and in a lot of ways, he reminded me of my own father.

That same relentless work ethic, the same ability to brush off setbacks like they were nothing. Roger was the kind of man who never gave up, even when he should have.

Like with The Happiness House. This venue that had seen better days, the kind of place that smelled permanently of spilled beer and stale sweat. Roger clung to it, refusing to give up on the place despite the mess it had become. It was like he had something to prove by keeping it alive.

I work really well with Rog. Obviously working in a tiny smelly venue wasn't my dream life and even though I was so grateful for the job that kept me around here for months, I never hid from him that I wanted more. Much more.

I wanted the excitement, the energy from the stage, I wanted to hear the fans, feel the music in the same way I could feel my heart pounding on my chest, I wanted the post-concert adrenaline, I wanted to be part of something so big I couldn't even believe I was a part of.

He was clearly aware of my motivations and my goals and actively helped me get closer to them. I was as grateful to him as I could possibly put in words.

As if he could hear my thoughts, I heard heavy stomps coming from the corridor, Roger was probably coming back to ask me for something. I corrected my posture once again as he opened the door with a warming smile.

“Oi, Ellita. How are you?" he asked, his voice softer now that the group was inside.

He was standing next to me and as the weak lights coming from the street hit him I could see he had dressed better today. Leather, even. Something was definitely up, maybe he was confident he found his people and it was finally time to say goodbye to the venue.

“I'm alright. What's going on?" I said letting my guard a bit down and casually trying to get him to spill some info. Which to be honest, wasn’t a hard thing for Rog to do,

"Oh, the folks are just settling in, and I wanted to rush back out here to talk to you. There's something important happening. Something big. For both of us—but mostly for you."

My stomach flipped.

"We need to talk."

Those words are never good. I could feel the tension building in my chest, bracing for whatever was coming.

I always get nervous when he is cryptic like that. I mean I guess everyone is nervous when your boss says "We need to talk." in front of your face instead of just getting their point across.

"What is it, Rog?" He paused, that same grin still on his face, and then asked,

"So, you seen the dudes? What d'ya think of them?"

"They're alright, I guess? Nothing really different from the other buyers you've brought in over the last few weeks." I shrugged, still trying to play it casual. Roger chuckled, shaking his head.

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong, Ella. They're not here to buy." I stared at him, confused.

"Then why are they here?"

He leaned in a little closer, his eyes twinkling like he had the best secret in the world. "You're not gonna believe this, chica. They're here for something else." He paused, letting the moment stretch out, and I felt my heart pounding in my chest.

"So this is the deal," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know that band, Catfish and the Bottlemen, right?"

My heart stopped. No. No way.

They'd broken up years ago. I remember practically mourning the loss of one of my favorite bands of the decade. I could feel the words catch in my throat, barely able to get them out.

“Wait, what? Catfish? I thought they broke up years ago. Are these guys... replacements or something? They don't exactly look like the band I remember."

Roger laughed, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Nah, chica, nothing like that. The band's still together. They've just been... quiet. But they're gearing up for a big comeback. And guess what? They want to do it right here. In Cardiff."

For a moment, I couldn't breathe. The weight of what he was saying hit me like a ton of bricks and I felt like fainting right on the spot.

"What?"

Roger's grin widened.

“You heard me right, Ella. They want to make their comeback right here, in our city."

I blinked, unable to process what he was telling me.

A comeback? Here?

My mind raced with a million questions, but the only word that managed to escape was, "What?" again, a little more panicked this time.

I stared at him, my heart racing, my breath catching in my throat.

Catfish and the Bottlemen.

Comeback.

Here.

“What?" I whispered, one last time, the weight of everything finally sinking in.

[tarot-by-tabitha]

Hi, well i would love to participate in your past life reading. Myself Jasmine, capricorn-sun virgo moon and Taurus rising.

I don't have much good memories from my childhood but if i were to say a memorable one it would be me when I was 3, i got on the stage of my school and confidently answered that i wanted to be a teacher and teach students when asked what i wanted to be when i grow up even tho that's not my aim now i was definitely way too find of being a teacher that I used to teach invisible students on my blackboard and be like a total teacher haha those memories are something I'll always cherish i was way too passionate about it.

Thankyou so much for allowing me to participate, have a wonderful day ahead of you. 🫶🏻🤍✨🧿

Hello 🌿 thanks for sharing your childhood memories ����

Sooo I got connected to one of your past lives, could be your recent past life around 1914-1945 in northern europe, could be Norway or Finland. could also be Sweden, Denmark, Estonia or Latvia.

Your Life in Northern Europe during the World War Era

In one of your past lives, you lived in Northern Europe during the World War era. Life at this time was difficult and you faced a lot of hardship especially due to oppression from the war and the control it brought over people’s lives. You were a strong person, someone who knew how to survive in tough times but you often felt burdened by the restrictions and struggles that came with living in such a difficult period.

Your faith in this life was either agnostic or atheist meaning you didn’t necessarily believe in a higher power or religion. You were practical and grounded, focusing on what you could see and do in the world around you rather than relying on spiritual beliefs.

Love, Loss, and Loneliness

In this life you lived as a spinster, meaning you didn’t marry. You had a deep connection with someone you loved but for one reason or another, the relationship didn’t last. The Loss of a Loved One card suggests that this person may have disappeared or abandoned you possibly due to the chaos and instability of the war. This loss left a deep mark on you and you carried it with you throughout your life.

Despite this, you had a lover’s heart. You loved deeply even if that love wasn’t always returned in the way you hoped. The feeling of abandonment shaped how you moved through the world, leaving you more guarded and self-reliant but you never fully let go of the love you once had.

A Life Close to Nature

You had a deep connection with animals in this life. The Animals card suggests that you were either a herder or simply someone who loved animals and found comfort in their presence. This connection to animals helped soothe some of the emotional pain you carried. Whether you worked with them as part of your daily life or kept them close for companionship, animals brought you a sense of peace and grounding.

The Trauma of Oppression and War

During this time, you experienced the heavy weight of oppression likely related to the war and the strict controls placed on people’s lives. You lived through a period of conflict where personal freedoms were restricted and many had to follow the rules of powerful forces beyond their control. The War card suggests that either you were directly involved in the war effort or deeply affected by it. You may have lost loved ones to the war or been conscripted yourself.

The trauma of living in such a tense and dangerous environment left its mark on you. You learned how to navigate difficult situations but you always carried the emotional scars of being forced into circumstances you didn’t choose.

Leadership in Your Own Way

Despite these challenges, your greatest lesson in this life was about leadership. Even though you may not have hold a formal position of power, you naturally guided others through tough times. The Ace of Pentacles and The Empress show that you had a nurturing, grounding presence in your community. You knew how to bring people together and help them through difficult situations whether it was offering practical support, sharing resources, or simply being a comforting figure.

You led through balance and patience, which is shown by the Temperance card. You were the person who could stay calm in a storm, offering practical solutions and keeping people focused on what mattered most. You were a leader not through power, but through wisdom and care.

A Long Life and Final Peace

You lived to an old age, and by the time you passed, you had seen many things, both good and bad. The empress card reflects your role as someone who took care of others and brought a sense of stability even in the hardest times. By the end of your life, you had found some peace within yourself despite all the hardships you faced. You understood that life is a mix of joy and sorrow, and you embraced both sides with grace.

The Lesson for Your Present Life

In this life, the lesson of leadership continues to guide you. You may not always feel like a leader in the traditional sense but your strength comes from your ability to stay grounded and support others, especially in difficult times. You have a nurturing presence and others often look to you for guidance even if you don’t realize it.

Your connection to nature and animals from your past life may still be strong in this one. You likely find peace and comfort in being around animals or spending time in nature. These moments help you stay balanced, like they did in your past life.

you may still carry some emotional weight from past experiences of loss or abandonment but your strength comes from your ability to move forward with resilience. You have a quiet leadership quality where you help others find balance without needing to be in the spotlight.

I hope you like your reading and please leave a feedback 🌿 thanks

[skylarstark4826]

The sounds of crashing waves permeated in his sleep. Or what little sleep he could get. Tech sighed and tossed again. Restless. 

Unexpected emotions ran high. The reunion between his brothers and him... was complicated. Too many unresolved emotions. Self-reflections and unwritten consequences finally manifested. It was too much to handle, all in one day. The whole event made Tech feel ... unwelcomed. The outlier, the odd one out even to his own kin. Tech was alone again, however this time... he was lonely. 

In his sorrows he heard a heartbeat in the form of a hum. In between the crashing waves and the rumbling thunder, there was a sweet and gentle hum. The thunder crackled louder. Still, no rain. Tech was accustomed to the storms and rough seas of Kamino. However, this storm felt different. He was never allowed to be a child. Yet, as an adult he found himself feeling like one. For once in his life. He was afraid. He was alone.  

Tech heard it again. The hum. The lullaby. It made him stir. It made him feel. Tech sat up at the sound. He reached over for his new goggles on the nightstand. He hesitated for a moment before grabbing and putting them on. His scars became irritated at the touch of polymer. 

Tech exited the guest bedroom. Crossed the undisturbed living room. There, on the balcony overlooking the raging sea, she hummed to herself as she stared out, lost in thought. She seemed unperturbed by the angry black clouds above or the violent sea below. Despite all that was raging around her – she kept humming the sweet song. 

“What... is that melody?” Tech unconsciously whispered, still standing at the living room’s entrance. Phee stopped humming and stood still for a moment. Tech shifted, uncertain of what that meant. Phee turned around. There was a gentle smile on her face, but her eyes conveyed... what was it? Sadness? Loneliness? Tech slowly realized, that there were many things he did not know. 

“Did I wake you, Brown Eyes?”

“Not at all. I actually find your humming rather comforting.”

“Do you now?”  Phee smirked. “Come, I could use the company.” Phee indicated to the empty space next to her. Tech walked over. Although they were facing each other, they were still a couple feet away. Tech questioned the distance between them. Have they grown apart?

“The song is called ‘Howling Love.’ It was a melody my mother made up when I was small,”  Phee tenderly said. Her voice a little hard to hear over the rumbling sea.

“What are the lyrics?” Tech adjusted his goggles.

“There are no lyrics. The hum is supposed to evoke a feeling.”

“What… feeling?”

“Listen… and tell me what you feel.”

Tech stood closer to her as he listened. He looked at the see without seeing. He searched for words but none came. Phee placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. She signaled him to calm down by lowering her hand down and back to her side. Tech sighed and closed his eyes. He let his mind wander. Phee kept humming. 

He remembered the storms of Kamino. His brothers’ sleeping quarters. He remembered the Marauder. All of that was gone. He reminisced about how much Omega has grown, how Hunter has become a father to her. How Wrecker and Crosshair are brothers to her and to each other. They out grown him - which was what he wanted. He wanted them to carry on without him. To live their lives to their fullest. Now that he had returned… what life was there for him? 

Tech slowly open his eyes in realization. He felt … a longing. A sadness of love to give. A howling love. 

“All my life… I was okay about who I was. Who I was created to be. A soldier of the Republic. I was proud of what I could contribute to the cause, to my squad… to my brothers. However… our lives as soldiers are over … ”  The unexpected pain stopped Tech from continuing. Phee stopped humming and focused on Tech with nothing but kindness in her eyes. 

“I am not of use … anymore. No one needs me.”

“You are more than what you can give.”  Her words were a jolt to Tech’s system. Phee closed the remaining distance between them. They were so close now. Tech could hear her breathing. However, fear still lingered.

“May I?” Phee held out her hand. Tech looked at it for a second.

“I normally don’t like touch but for you - I don’t mind.” As Tech took her hand - his fear melted away.

“Good to know.” They smiled at each other. He didn’t realize how cold to the touch he was while Phee was so warm.

“My apologies… I always have gloves on.”

“The gloves aren’t any warmer, Brown Eyes,”  Phee chuckled. Tech chuckled but only for a moment. Phee’s eyes grew sad as she looked into his large brown ones.

“May I?”

“You may.” Tech didn’t know what exactly she was asking but he trusted her.  Phee reached over and slowly took off his goggles. Revealing Tech’s impact scars on his face. A reminder of his former life. Their eyes locked without a lens between them. With the most gossamer of touch, Phee traced and caressed his scars around his eyes. Tech, deeply sighed.

“You are not inconvenienced by my return?”  The thought formed on his lips.

“I understand them… I do-” Tech tried to correct himself, looking away. Phee circled her hand around his face. Tech looked at her again. 

“Give them time. They are still sorting things out.” 

“When they do? Then what? Where do I fit in all of this?”

“Maybe you don’t. Not in the way you used to.” Phee let her hand drop to his shoulder.

“To adapt.”

“Not quite… more like to make your own.” Tech looked down, reflecting for a moment. What did he truly want now that he was at a point beyond his brothers. He looked back up into Phee’s soft eyes. He felt safe with her. He felt seen. He felt - accepted. 

“Tech, it is alright to chart your own way. Make your own maps. Your family and I will be right here when ever you need us.”  Before Phee could finish, Tech took Phee’s hand and pressed it against his face. He looked into her eyes with determination and warmth. 

“What if I said… ‘I don’t want to leave you behind.’ Will you be by my side as I navigate uncharted territories?”

“I would say ‘I didn’t repaint my ship for a crush.’” Smiles flickered across Phee’s and Tech’s faces. Phee brushed Tech’s face with her free hand. She took Tech’s hand and guided it to her shoulder and placed it above her heart. 

“Phee …I.” Tech blushed.

“Come, and really listen.”  Phee placed her own hand above his heart. Tech concentrated as he felt her heartbeat. Heartbeats never crossed his mind, unless it was for checking if a target was neutralized. However, this was Phee’s heart. A heart he never thought he would hear. A heart he wanted to continue beating. A heart that soothed his own.

“I have never… experienced a heart like this before.” Tech broke the silence after a moment.

“I thought that heart stopped. My heart stopped with it and I was having to learn to make it beat again … without yours.”

Without a second thought, Tech leaned in and kissed Phee’s forehead. They embraced, still listening to each other’s racing hearts.

“Out of all the wonders and treasures I have seen - none compare to the surprise of seeing you again and making my heart beat.”

Tech slightly pulled away, only to bring Phee closer in. There was no hesitation between them. Only a longing finally satisfied as their lips met with such tenderness and affection. The chasm created by loss and distance was erased with the greatest of ease. The menacing brewing storm around them was forgotten. In that instance, their budding love was all that mattered.

“Phee… Thank you.”

“Always, Tech.” Phee smiled as they longingly pulled each other in to kiss again. 

[luminalightsverse]

At Night when Everyone is Asleep

Warnings: Idk there is not much I guess. Maybe short mention of death? Maybe angst and fluff? Is that a warning? I really have no clue. I'm really sorry. 😅

Words: 1.242

It was already late and Plo Koon made himself comfortable in his bed. It was a long day again, a lot of paperwork, many meetings.

Plo was tired and couldn't wait to go to sleep, when he lay down in his bed that was way to big for him. But he loved having lots of space. Usually he was in tight spaces like the cockpit of his starfighter. So it was a nice change to be able to spread out a bit. Finally in bed it didn't took Plo long to fall asleep.

And he didn't know....

Comet was the first one to to crawl beside him. He was the youngest of his brothers. He was the one who had no problem showing his affaction. He was the one having no problem calling Plo "buir". He was even the first one calling him that and starting all of this.

Second was Boost. The second youngest and the most mischievous of the four brothers. He was always up to something, He loved to wrestle with his brothers and he always called Plo "general buir". He thought it was funny. Plo was his general after all but also his buir. So general buir it was.

Sinker was the third one to come into Plo's room. He was the second oldest and one of the more mature. He was the one always trying to keep his two younger brothers in line, to keep them out of trouble. He also called Plo buir but mostly when they were alone or just with his brothers. He was a soldier and Plo his general. It was important to maintain the image otherwise they might not be taken seriously anymore and that could cause problems. Problems none of them wanted or could risk. Their job was already hard and dangerous enough.

The last one was Wolffe. The oldest of the pack. The commander. The one with the most difficult job of all of his brothers. He always had to stay strong and focused, was not allowed to show any weakness, no fear or any emotions. He had the lives of all his men in his hands, his brothers, his general, his buir. Just one mistake, one wrong decision could be fatal and lead to the death of his family. He was under constant stress under constant fear of failure. He was the only one not to call Plo buir. Not because he didn't saw him as his father but because he was to scared. To scared to show his feelings. To scared to become soft. To sacred to appear weak. To scared to show the world who was important to him otherwise it could be taken away from him. He was a soldier, he wasn't supposed to be scared.

But he was.

Wolffe was the only one not to go to Plo's room. He was the only one to stay in his own bed, tossing and turning in his sheets. Not able to fall asleep. All his thoughts were spinning, revolved around his brothers, around his general, around every single man they lost, around every single brother they were yet to lose.

Wolffe was the only one of his brothers fighting alone through his nightmare. He was the only one who always lied that he was fine.

"What are you waiting for?" suddenly a voice sounded in his head. Wolffe widened his eyes and he looked around his room. No one there, he was alone. All alone.

He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. His desire deep in his chest to be more like his brothers. To be able to show his emotion like they did, to show his affection like they did. All of them looked up to him and didn't even try to hide it, showed their love for their buir without being ashamed. They didn't even try to hide their feelings for eachother, for their buir, for their older brother, who was so terrible broken.

"Kriff"

whispered Wolffe running a finger over the scar on his eye. It was already so long ago, the wound had long since healed but sometimes it still hurt.

"Kriff"

cursed Wolffe again holding back his tears. He hated the war, he hated this feeling that burned deep inside his chest. The feeling of loss and loneliness. The feeling of fear and hopelessness. He hated to fight, to fight in this war, to fight his emotions and he hated his life.

"Kriff"

he almost screamed, muffling his voice with his hand to not wake up anyone or to draw attention to himself.

"Kriff"

sobbed Wolffe quietly as he raised up from his bed and slowly trotted into Plo's room.

He had given up. This time he let his emotions win. He was a grown man feeling like a little child seeking the love and protection of his buir. He felt embarrassed. He was sure his brothers would laugh at him if they found out about this. Sure they showed their affection for Plo all the time. But they would never come crawling so pathetically into his room to sleep on his floor because they didn't wanted to be alone in their rooms. They would stay in their room and get through it like real men, like real soldiers.

Wolffe slowly opened the door and was taken by suprise.

All his brothers had made it themself comfortable beside Plo, sleeping peacefully with a smile on their faces. He couldn't see it because of Plo's mask but Wolffe was sure he was smiling under it too. Then Wolffe looked confused.

Mask?

Why was he still wearing his mask? And why could his brothers breath in here? Why could he breath in here?

Plo had a mechanism in his room to regulate the air so that he could at least take off his mask in his room. Wolffe had forgotten that himself when he made his way to Plo's room.

Wolffe noticed how he was getting too tired to think about it and made his way to lay down beside his brothers and his buir. At first he just wanted to lie down on the floor so it would be less embarrassing but now he didn't cared. Wolffe lay down right between Plo and Sinker.

"Good night brothers" Wolffe said before holding his breath while thinking about his next words.

"Good night.... buir" he finally let out, drifting slowly into a deep slumber surrounded by the people he loved the most. Surrounded by the people who loved him the most.

Maybe being a man didn't ment to be strong all the time. Maybe being a man ment to be weak sometimes and to seek for help if needed.

Maybe it ment to just let go and do what your heart tells you.

The next morning dawned and Plo was still between the pile of his pack. He didn't moved, didn't said a single word. He just lay there and listened to the peaceful breathing of his sons.

And he didn't know.

He didn't know his sons would come into his room again, sleeping beside him like they did every night since Comet called him buir the first time.

He didn't know that this time his oldest son would finally join them and stop his suffering alone in his room.

He didn't know he would hear Wolffe finally call him buir for the very first time.

He didn't know.....

Or maybe he did?

Okay this turned out to be way longer then I wanted it to be. This was supposed to be a story that only has a few sentences.... not more then 10.... Anyway thank you for reading and please let me know, if there's anything that I should put into "Warnings".

[noellexemerson]

(PEYTON LIST, CIS WOMEN, SHE/HER) Oh, is that NOELLE EMERSON I heard the TWENTY SIX-year-old is NICE But don’t let that pretty face fool you, they are also MANIPULATIVE. Makes sense seeing how they are a MONEY LAUNDERED in the SERPENTS gang. (leila)

BASICS

Full Name: Noelle Marie Emerson

Nickname: Noe, Elle, Eme

Age: 26

DOB: Feburary 25th

Parents: Donovan and Mallory Emerson

Siblings: n/a

Hair color: blonde

Eye color: Brown

Height: 5'5

Tattoos: tbd

Scars: tbd

Piercings: tbd

Sexuality: bisexual

Occupation: tbd

BACKGROUND Noelle was born into a life of privilege, but her childhood was far from idyllic. Her parents, both high-powered executives, were rarely home, leaving Noelle in the care of nannies and household staff. While she had everything material she could ever want, the absence of her parents left a deep emotional void. Noelle's early years were characterized by a constant longing for attention and affection, but her parents were more focused on their careers and social status, leaving Noelle feeling isolated and neglected. As Noelle entered her teenage years, the cracks in her seemingly perfect life began to show. She became increasingly rebellious, acting out in a desperate bid for her parents' attention. By the time she was in high school, Noelle had fallen in with a crowd that introduced her to a world of experimentation and risk. She started experimenting with drugs, initially as a way to escape the loneliness and numb the pain of her neglected upbringing. Her drug use escalated as she sought out more dangerous experiences, pushing boundaries and defying authority at every turn.

Noelle’s academic performance, which had once been stellar, began to decline. She frequently skipped classes, partied late into the night, and became known as a troublemaker. Despite her destructive behavior, her parents remained largely unaware, too absorbed in their own lives to notice the downward spiral their daughter was on.

After barely graduating high school, Noelle enrolled in a prestigious university, more out of obligation than genuine interest. However, the structure and demands of college life felt suffocating to her, and she quickly grew disillusioned. The expectations placed upon her only intensified her feelings of inadequacy and resentment. In her second year, Noelle made a drastic decision: she dropped out of college, abandoning the path that had been laid out for her.

After leaving college, Noelle found herself at a crossroads. She was drawn to the gritty underworld of the city, where she felt a sense of belonging she had never experienced before. It was during this time that she encountered a notorious gang known as the Serpents. The Serpents were a tight-knit group with a reputation for being ruthless, but also fiercely loyal to their own.

Intrigued by their lifestyle and desperate to escape her past, Noelle gravitated towards the Serpents. They offered her a sense of family and belonging that she had never found in her own home. For the first time, Noelle felt like she was in control of her life, even as she descended deeper into a world of crime and violence. She quickly proved herself to be resourceful and cunning, earning the respect of the gang’s leaders. However, her involvement with the Serpents also brought her into dangerous situations, further distancing her from the life she once knew.

Now in her mid-20s, Noelle is a conflicted individual, torn between the world she left behind and the dangerous life she has embraced. She is still struggling with the emotional scars of her childhood, using her involvement with the Serpents as both a shield and a weapon. Noelle is deeply loyal to the gang, seeing them as the only family she has ever known, but she is also aware of the risks and the toll it is taking on her soul.

As Noelle navigates this dark path, she is haunted by questions of identity and purpose. She wonders if she can ever escape the shadow of her past and find a life where she can be truly free, or if she is destined to remain a prisoner of her own choices.

[dprcailimait]

Iridescence (WIP)

I've been getting my ramblings together and as thus far. I have a solid idea of where to take my ideas.

TL;DR

Currently outlining a Berserk retelling spanning from the Golden Age Arc to Fantasia, focused on an AU where Griffith forcefully turns Guts into an immortal (Apostle).

For a frame of reference, I read the first chapter of the golden age arc, and this quote just summarizes perfectly what I want out of a Griffith/Guts post-Eclipse retelling. When I say retelling, I really mean a twisted, dark romance. They're fucked up courtship, where with every exchange, they mend a little piece of themselves they never dared bring up to anyone else.

Exploring Griffith’s psyche fascinates him, I’m debating where exactly in the Golden Age arc to start because I want to drill in the dread of loneliness into him. It’s gonna be subtle at first, but nonetheless there. I think it’d add on to the angst sandwich I want to make with this fic. Not just that but making Guts and Griffith blossoming lovers, not outwardly either to themselves or others but a blurred mix of the two.

I fleshed out my idea a little more clearly. Some plot points are very much lost in the word soup that is this fic lol.

Main Idea:

The turning point, where Griffith will turn Guts into an immortal, will be after they have fought.

Guts' primary motivation— his dream, and life’s purpose is Casca. He does not lose her, but he's trying to be a man worthy of Casca’s devotion. He needs to control his urge to chase Griffith, to not give into temptation but his inner demon coaxes his psyche into passivity— making him fall prey into thoughts, nightmare. Estranged lucid fantasies of his former commander.

It whispers of possibilities that ring bloody and sour to his sanity, but with the rusted aches comes an emotion rivaling even the sweetest kiss from his lover. And that terrifies him beyond all reason.

Guts dies while fighting Griffith, an entity he should know better than to challenge.

He knows defeat but the bitterness of an impending death comfortably sits on his tongue, soothing a pavlovian response in him to tear and thrash and glaze, endlessly enamored as a quick, seamless slash breaks his skin, muscles and bone.

The horrid, white-sear leaves him breathless— without the strength nor mind to scream or is it the sight before him. One of Griffith, his face ghosted with a smile he’s only known in far-off memories of a time long before his maturity. He’d be a fool to be scared of death but he’d be a liar to say it doesn’t cause him fright, losing Casca and the potential of being with her scares him,

But for now, for this singular moment of agony, he smiles. His mind wonders, fruitful in its fantasies and nightmares and for once, aimless in his struggle, he finds peace— as if being nurtured by the embrace of a mother, he’s satisfied. Seeing a glimpse, a crack in Griffith’s armor, lulls him.

While clashing, the past's excitement rekindles inside Griffith. His heart beats at his ears, singing of a long tattered wound. A scar left known in a far-off time beyond his conscious psyche, a deep seeded loneliness remembrance only pray tell him. The very one that clung to the man stumbling before him.

Then and there in the brief moment of their swords play, Griffith's blood runs cold as he watches the man he once grew to love and hate smile at him. His composure collapses with Guts’ dying breath, and, for the first time, in his immortal life, he processes the depths of his solitude.

In that moment, Griffith ruins his former friend once more by giving him the very thing he swore to take, his life.

[acfan120]

In general is there anything you can share about how magic works in your comic Tumbling Through Nosolus?

Short version: Think Avatar: The Last Airbender in how it uses its "magic" system with bending, but with Light and Shadow added into it, and powered by emotions.

Longer version: Magic is comprised of 6 different types: Fire, Water, Electric, Shadow, Light, and Willpower. Fire, water, and electric are as you think; you create or manipulate the element and use it to attack. The moment you stop focusing on it, any created substance will stay, but fire will quickly burn up and electric will disperse.

Shadow can't "steal away" someone's own shadow, but you can use it to conjure up shadowy hands to attack others with. As well, you can calm yourself enough to disappear into a shadow, though if you're struck while in that form you're shoved out of it, unless you have impeccable concentration.

Light Magic is basically healing magic; you imbue your magical implement with Light Magic, hold it to or on someone's wounds, and it will slowly begin to heal them. However, it's known to leave scarring behind, permanently marking your body if you've had a particularly nasty wound.

All magic revolves around certain emotions: Sadness and Grief for Water, Anger and Frustration for Fire, Fear and Terror for Electricity, Serenity and Loneliness for Shadow, and Love and Compassion for Light. However, much like actual emotions, it's more of a spectrum of sorts, and it's still not entirely understood how it completely works. The base emotions are just what seems consistent.

Now there's one Magic type that I haven't mentioned yet: Willpower Magic. It's something of a recent discovery, made known to the general public only about a hundred years ago. Its uses, unlike the elemental powers, are varied; it can be used to levitate objects and use them to fly, it can be used to create Hammer Bags, (pouches that shrink non-living objects that are put in them), and used to create Gateways; doors or structures that let you travel between two different points in the world.

All magic comes at a cost; fighting someone with magic will deliver a debuff to both your opponent and yourself; using too much fire will make you furious, water makes you sorrowful, ect. Going too mad by using magic can lead you to transforming into a Nephilim, a creature comprised entirely of that element. Even if you calm down a Nephilim, their body evaporates or falls apart, rendering the mage dead.

Willpower magic, on the other hand, has a more physical cost. When using Will Magic, it can cause anything from physical exhaustion, internal bleeding, and even death.

Magic can only be learned by the young. After someone reaches peak physical maturity, usually around 18-20 years old, they become incapable of learning magic unless they had already started, though even that can wane.

[majesticwren]

The Hanging Tree (Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley x OFC)

Summary: Are you, are you comin' to the tree? Where they strung up a man, they say, who murdered three — She is on a path looking for war as her fate foretold. And he has war within him. Both, thirsty for vengeance, justice and blood.

Words: 3.9k. Trigger Warnings:  Mention of Past Trauma, Mention of PTSD, Mention of Nightmares, Mention of Toxic Working Out as a Coping Mechanism, Mention of Injuries, Mention of Paganism, Strong Language and Verbal Abuse, Deano being Deano. Tags: @hirunoka and honorary mention to @literaryuppsala, thank you darling for all the support 💕 Let me know if you'd like to be added 🌻

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Chapter 2 - Goner.

She sat alone at one of the hotel restaurant tables. Her focus was lifted from her breakfast, as she looked outside the huge opened windows, over to the beautiful gardens underneath.

One of the perks of always getting up early was to get the best seats.

Summer was approaching. It didn't matter much though, since they would travel more often than not. But she did enjoy the brighter mornings and the soft breeze kissing her skin.

Valkyrie had a huge plate of fresh fruit in front of her and a bowl of oatmeal to the side. She had already dug through half of her food, enjoying feeling it filling her senses and stomach, giving her strength, but, as with everything since the night before, her focus was elsewhere, often broken and easily distracted.

She sat there looking peaceful, ignoring the room slowly filling up with other people joining her for breakfast, ignoring her duties and definitely delaying her practice and training schedule. Letting her thoughts run freely, making her float above a real sense of time and space, was much sweeter.

And every single one of her thoughts was focused on the man she met last night, Dean Ambrose.

The Gods had sent her in his aid as she had often found herself doing with so many other warriors, both there and through her past life. It was her fate and her nature, Valkyrie never thought too much of it, because her true calling came to her as naturally as breathing. It was so rare someone would impress her that much.

He had shaken her deeply, possibly without either of them realising it, and as soon as he left her alone, she felt the air suddenly tight around her. It was a weird feeling of longing. And soon melancholy clutched around her chest, leaving her feeling unbearably cold and missing something. Except she wasn’t allowed to feel something so intimate, private, and vulnerable like missing someone. Missing a man. So mundane. So out of her character. So inappropriate.

How could humans conduct their lives normally with such feelings?

But the reality was that she hadn’t been able to think about anything else but that strange, wild, beautiful man. And, even worse was that she didn’t even try to push those thoughts away. She couldn’t recognise the warm, fuzzy part of her soul that decided to embrace such feelings. But she wasn’t fighting it either.

From a certain point of view, it was a welcomed change. She was even grateful. For the first time in a long while, she actually managed to enjoy her time alone. Often, when the curtains fell and she found herself in an empty, impersonal room, knowing no one was around, made her feel scared of every dark corner and closed door.

Her problem wasn’t loneliness. She liked being alone. And her Gods were always with her. No. That wasn’t even close to her problem. It was that fear always followed every end of her day, clutching her heart every second, making it impossible to fall asleep comfortably or feel any other emotion or need. Sometimes her fear was so deep and dark it render her petrified as ghostly, filthy hands tried to grab her to drag her down into memories made of unspeakable evil that still, to this day, scarred her skin in several places.

She was indeed a warrior and she was sworn to avenge all the time she had lost and all the blood she had spilt by the hand of a hideous man. But even someone as strong and as relentless as her was often the victim of nightmares. And her nightmare in that forsaken place was a man that went by the name of Bray Wyatt.

With petrifying fear, anger often followed. And her anger was often consuming and impossible to control. But also, too great to be handled by her mortal body. It made her do uncontrollable things she hated, such as breaking things or punching walls, when her only desire was to destroy that man and wipe the world clean of his memory. Sometimes, her only way to find relief was to head to the gym and work out every thought and emotion to the point of exhaustion. Until only physical pain was left inside of her. Until she was so tired to collapse into a disturbed sleep. 

Not last night though. No. Last night, she was free.

She was tired when she fell asleep, with a warm feeling of satisfaction filling her belly. And she dreamed peacefully. And that morning, she woke up rested for the first time in months.

Being aware of what Dean Ambrose unknowingly gave her made it even more difficult to stay away. And knowing his wishes, but most importantly knowing she had enough honour to respect them, made her heartache.

She took a deep breath as the clear memory of Dean’s voice calling her angel made her tremble so deeply, she had to change position. It was as if her skin was suddenly exposed and extremely sensitive and that memory could brush over her, making her jerk. Though her lips bent under an unconscious smile and her stomach vibrated.

The moment she was having, lost in her own thoughts, was suddenly shattered as her chair was rudely pulled. She was turned around by strong, uninvited, unexpected hands, and when her eyes could finally focus, her face bent in an unimpressed pout.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Randy Orton stood proudly in front of her, before rudely grabbing one of the chairs around her table just to place it in front of her, so he could hop over it, sitting as close to her as possible. He wasn’t even trying to appear friendly. His face was constricted in an extremely annoyed expression as his gaze pinned her down dangerously.

She knew lots of men like him. Guys who liked to appear intimidatory, who liked to be scary, and especially, guys who hated having their paths crossed. But he was nothing scary to her. He was only another someone she had defeated advocating for someone who couldn’t. And like last night on ring, still now she wasn’t bothered by him. If not for his rude manner.

“My manager advised me not to do this.”

“Smart manager.” She dared to say, sending him a clear challenging look. And, Gods, how much she liked to see him flinch. He was so tensed up it was clear as day he was ready to jump her. And part of her almost hoped for it, she was ready to give him seconds.

“You think you are so great and smart, uh?” He hissed, shaking his head. “Behold, the mighty Valkyrie!” He pulled a theatrical gesture and as he raised his voice like he was pretending to introduce her to an invisible crowd, his annoyed tone was what attracted a lot of attention on them from the rest of the room. “You had no business interrupting my match last night. And you owe me a win.”

“I do not owe you anything. You fought dirty. Accept the consequences.” That being said, she was ready to leave but before she could even consider starting to walk away, he was on her. Randy grabbed her arm and gave her a strong pull, keeping her there.

“Bitch,” it appeared as if he said it only for the sake of it, “you should consider staying out of men’s business. Why don’t you return to whichever hole you rolled out of?”

“You are hurting me.” She pointed out not giving him the satisfaction to appearing particularly shaken by his words.

“The fuck I care. Next time you’ll cross me I won’t be as gentle.”

“Is that what you’ve been saying to yourself to justify your inferiority?” She knew she shouldn’t have said that. She knew she should have just bit her tongue. She knew better than just rattle an angry man. And yet, she couldn’t control herself or her anger.

He did call her a bitch, after all.

His expression trembled and his clutch over her arm became harder, to the point she started to fear he was trying to snap her bone. “Fucking cunt. You need to learn to shut your stupid mouth. Maybe I should teach you that-”

“Let her go.” Before he could spit more empty threats or she could hiss some more arrogant words that would only anger him more, a deep, unmoving voice interrupted them.

Randy grunted angrily as he raised his eyes towards the new threat. She couldn’t see the man who spoke, he stood behind her, and she didn’t recognise his voice, but by Randy’s reaction, he must have been imposing.

Randy’s attention slid back to her as he gave her a strong shake. “You’ve got guard dogs now!?”

She didn’t have time to respond that someone spoke for her.

“Do as he said or I swear to god I’ll tear you into pieces, Orton.”

She gasped loudly as soon as she heard those words. That voice and that tone, she recognised immediately. Her stomach trembled in response.

“You do not have the balls for it.”

“Fucking try me, asshole.”

Behind her there was movement.

Randy exploded in a fake, sarcastic burst of laughter and, still holding onto her arm, he pushed her to turn toward the two men standing by, so she could face them. “Fuck me. Are you her little puppy now, Ambrose?”

Dean had moved closer; his face was still bruised. Possibly worse than last night, but his healthy eye was giving off a dangerous, totally unstable look. Though, he was restrained by the man next to him, who had an arm pulled over his chest. The other man was taller and bigger. He had tattoos crossing his massive arms and shoulders. His black hair was pulled in a bun. And his handsome face was crossed by unmovable seriousness.

Roman Reigns. Of course, who else could stand by the Lunatic Fringe?

“Orton, I gave you a warning. Let’s not make a scene.” Roman's tone was deep, calm, and somehow soothing. Though, the thin threat hiding between his words was as clear as day.

Valkyrie now reacted, she turned towards Randy, pushing him off her. She didn’t want anybody to get into a fight. Not there. Not for no reason. “Just get out of here.” She warned him even if he didn’t appear too impressed. His hold on her arm was still firm and painful.

Randy took a step back but still pointed a finger to her face. “You better start watching your back, bitch.”

She didn’t think much of his words. Empty threats of a man with a wounded pride, she thought. And she was ready to just let him go, not to think about him ever again. That’s how unbothered she was by him. But she wasn’t the only witness to those words. And as soon as he disrespected her again, Dean snapped. He slipped away from Roman’s reach and was ready to charge and tackle Randy to the ground. Many, around the restaurant, gasped in anticipation of a fight.

That, if Valkyrie hadn’t intercepted him before he could initiate something they all would have to be sorry for later. She stepped into Dean’s way, taking only a fraction of a second to calculate the risk and deciding to ignore the fact that he could have hurt her too if he wanted if he had been capable if he was as unstable as everyone seemed to think. She didn’t care.

“Dean, no.” her tone was gentle as she arrested his charge, not hesitating to press her hands into his chest, “please.” Her beg seemed to make something inside of him click. He didn’t shove her to the side, but accepted her imposition, even if he was ready for a fight, dangerously close to kick-off. His breath was laboured and his muscles tense. He clenched his fists so hard she suspected the healing wounded skin on his knuckles must have cracked. He never lifted his crazed look from Randy.

And the longer he looked, the worse he appeared to be. Like a caged bloodhound desperate to go on a hunt.

The second she heard Randy mockingly laugh at him; she wrapped her hands around the sides of his face. “Look at me,” her hold was gentle but firm as she tried to pull his attention away from the man standing behind her, “Dean, look at me. It’s ok. I’m ok.”

Roman moved quickly around them and posed himself between them and Randy, not so gently inviting him to leave but still trying to diffuse the situation.

Valkyrie's attention was solely on Ambrose though. As soon as their eyes locked, she didn’t let his gaze go. It felt as if he was grasping on her to escape his own fury. He was showing her a vulnerable side of himself. It lasted only a second, but it felt like much, much longer. She dared to gently caress his cheeks with a brush of her thumbs, as her fingers slid through his sideburns and hair, encouraging him with a nod. “It isn’t worth it. I’m ok.” Her begging was becoming soothing chants at that point.

As she looked right at him, right into him, part of her was transported away by the thought of how beautiful he was, with his proud bruises and wild spirit. She really wished she wasn’t so weak, but there was something in the way the light hit his messy hair, making them appear fiery. So fitting. And surely there was something in the way he stood, tall and dignified, so noble, so strong. There was something even in the little distance that divided them, as inebriating as the thought of the possibility of all the things she felt the sudden need to fill it up with. And Gods, his crazed look-

She pushed all of those inappropriate thoughts away and started mimicking taking deep breaths, only so he could follow her queue and, possibly, find a way to sedate his desperate need for violence and destruction.

Then, as soon as he appeared more in control, he broke their moment. Wrapping his hands around her arms he pulled her hold off himself, immediately finding some distance from her, looking away.

She had to fight against the need to follow him.

Roman immediately slid by his side, giving him a strong pat on the shoulder. “All good, brother?”

“Good.” He mumbled, not looking anyone directly in the eye.

Roman seemed to be acquainted with his behaviour enough to simply give him another affectionate pat on the back of the neck. She wished her concern could be so easily lifted.

“Ok. He is gone.” As Roman informed Dean, his gaze travelled to Valkyrie. His attention was, now, slightly more focused. He offered her a grateful nod, but he was undeniably studying her. She couldn’t tell if he was amused or cautious.

Trying her best to ignore him, Valkyrie inhaled a deep breath, looking away.

The room all around them was filled with a small crowd, but by then everyone’s attention was back on their breakfast, as the chattering grew back to a normal level for a restaurant.

“Thank you.” She finally said, looking back towards the two men. Her attention immediately slid on Ambrose before she could think anything of it. He still seemed pretty shaken. He stood rigidly, fists clenched, hunched shoulders and neck, tense muscles and distant gaze as he did his best to avoid looking at anyone, especially her.

“No problem.” Roman politely replied, although they both knew he wasn’t the one she was hoping to talk to, clearly, since she was still hanging looking at Dean.

He flinched. A twitch shook his shoulder, causing him to roll his neck. An annoyed grin pulled his lips. “No. Fuck that,” he first looked at Roman, before finally directing his attention to her, “I do have a problem. Can you try and stay out of trouble for longer than a minute?”

There it was, the sudden flattering that made her stomach tremble at the quick thought that he could be worried for her.

"I-"

"No. Shut it. I won't look after you. I’m not a babysitter.”

“I didn’t ask you to be.”

“Funny that. Annoying, isn’t it?” He wondered taking a step closer. He was acting slightly over the top, but she didn’t back off. She wasn’t afraid of him.

“I was handling it. I am completely able to-”

He pointed a finger to his own chest. “I can take care of myself too, angel. Guess we don’t always get what we want, uh?”

Valkyrie rolled her eyes to the ceiling, wondering how many times they must have the same conversation. “You were incapacitated, choking on your own blood. Did you see yourself in the mirror?”

He rolled his eye to the ceiling too, clearly biting his tongue and doing his best to keep a safe distance. “Our debt is repaid.”

“That is not how it works.” She pointed out crossing her arms to her chest.

By that point, Dean was already walking away. “Do I look like I give a fuck?”

Valkyrie grumbled, biting her tongue and clenching her fists. He was annoying. So stubborn and proud. Though, probably worse of all, more frustrating than his behaviour, was the fact that she still cared enough to feel both disappointed by his last words and flattered by the fact that he still intervened.

That man was driving her insane and they hadn't known each other for even a day yet.

She turned on her feet, not having the heart to watch Dean just walk out of the restaurant without looking back even once. Just then she realised Roman was still looking at her. His arms were crossed to his chest as he was now relaxed, leaning on the table. His features had softened as a smile popped on his lips.

Suddenly feeling awkward, she looked away, clearing her voice.

“Thank you for what you did for him last night,” Roman’s words and his soft tone surprised her enough to bring her to look back at him, “we generally watch each other’s back, but last night I was incapacitated off the Arena. And Randy knew about it, which is the main reason he thought he could jump Dean without consequences.”

“That is cruel.” She came from a cruel and cold ancient world. The rules of her Gods weren’t always gentle, but self-worth in one’s accomplishments and morals were the higher values of her people. And it was a very rare finding in that age and place. She brought a hand to her chest, realising that every second longer she only slipped into caring for that crazy man more and more. And as that grew, she felt the need to break every bone in Orton’s body. Winning over him last night wasn’t remotely enough.

“It is,” Roman agreed, “and it’s cowardly. But I’ve heard you made him pay.”

Valkyrie nodded. “I am the consequences.” A cocky smirk appeared on her lips, and she didn’t feel sorry for it. “It is what I do.” She briefly explained as Roman seemed interested to listen. “Though, he doesn’t seem to be as appreciative.” They both knew who he was.

Roman’s eyes lifted over to the point where Dean disappeared. A soft sigh left his chest. “He is. He is just a really proud really prickly motherfucker. And he doesn’t trust anyone.”

A giggle escaped her chest as she nodded. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.” She took a brief pause and hesitated a second before words slipped through her lips. “What is his story?”

“Oh-” Roman shook his head trying to gather his thoughts, “why do you care?”

“I just do.” She tried her best to make it sound plain and irrelevant, but her words still attracted Roman’s sharp gaze. Now, he looked up and down at her. He wasn’t diffident, more like surprised.

“Well, fuck me,” he heavily fell on the chair, behaving as if he owned the table, he looked like he was just struck by an enlightening thought, “don’t tell me you care, care for him.” Valkyrie felt under the spotlight. She fidgeted, trying to find an answer that wasn’t the truth, but not a lie either. Though she didn’t even need to speak, Roman was already laughing. “Sweetheart, are you aware of the man you’re dealing with?”

“He got described to me as bat shit crazy.” She decided to finally sit back down, in front of Roman.

“Suitable,” Roman studied her, “and you don’t care.”

It took her a second before she shook her head. “I have my reasons to like him.” She felt it. She knew there was a connection even if he acted the way he acted and everyone seemed to have an opinion about him that wasn’t encouraging.

Roman offered a polite nod. He wasn't trying to investigate any further, showing her his respect and trust. In the end, he slid his arms on his knees, bending on the chair, and a sigh left his chest. “What the hell, right? You would find out regardless, sooner rather than later, am I right?”

Valkyrie simply nodded. And Roman nodded back. “Fair.” He then fell into a silence that seemed to last forever. His gaze drifted to an undefined corner of the room. “Some time ago, we used to be a trio. We trusted each other like brothers and watched each other’s back. We used to be called the S.H.I.E.L.D. advocating for justice and responding to no one but us. Until one of us decided to betray everything we stood for and worked on, not to talk about the ruined friendship. He stubbed us in the back and went rogue. Dean hadn’t been the same since. They were very close. After that, I was the only person Dean trusted besides himself. And even then, I still had to fight to get him to understand I wasn’t going to hurt him too.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Roman shrugged, looking back at her. “Don’t be.”

And yet his words were hardly a consolation. Knowing how deep Dean’s wounds were made her heart creak under the pressure.

“So,” Roman began again, “about his mental state, he had always been a bit crazy. He is chaotic by nature. You won’t see that ever changing.”

“I would have never expected that.”

Her answer seemed to surprise him. “He may be an asshole. But he is a good guy underneath it all.”

“I know.” Again, her answer seemed to surprise Roman, to the point the man melted into a huge smile, relaxing on the back of the chair.

“Then you are both fucking crazy.” He giggled, shaking his head.

“It doesn’t matter much, I think. He doesn’t seem to appreciate my presence much.”

Roman picked a piece of fresh melon off her plate and ate it without even bothering to ask permission. Again, he shook his head trying to hide a grin. “No. He just sucks at dealing with emotions or new people. With what I saw, you do rattle him. He doesn’t know how to behave,” he appeared to throw those words there distractedly, but the little look he sent her was curious, “you seem to be an itch under his skin he can’t shake. He might not want it, but it’s there.”

A wave of warmth washed over her as she tried her best to keep her inappropriate feelings at bay.

“Is that a good thing?”

Roman shrugged, trying his best to hide an amused smirk. “Not in the slightest.”

[chronically-peach]

why am I like this?

Kevin, Andrew and Neil (platonic) Rated G. 1.7k words.

Kevin is standing in the middle of the court when the feeling of loneliness hits him like a freight train. It’s well past midnight and he’s alone at the court. Silence looms over the building like a threat and Kevin can hear his own ragged breathing like it’s being amplified over the court’s speaker system.

After Riko’s death Neil and Andrew stopped coming to late night practices. Kevin promised himself he didn’t need them, Neil had just been there to practice and Andrew was only there to uphold his side of their deal. He didn’t need someone with him all the time anymore. Andrew’s job was done. He stopped Kevin from going back to the nest and their deal had long since ended. He knew that but sometimes he forgot; catching himself going to text Neil to come meet him outside. Sometimes he caught himself looking for a head of blonde hair and a body leaned against the Maserati. Kevin swore he didn’t need anyone but sometimes his heart ached too much to brush off and he questioned if he was meant to be alone forever.

Tossing his racquet to the side Kevin slowly drops to his knees, letting the suffocating feeling of loneliness overtake him. His mind wanders to his time with Andrew before Neil showed up. They were never friends, Kevin and Andrew didn’t have friends. It was against their nature, monsters don’t make friends, or so Kevin thought. Then came Neil and everything he thought he knew was tilted on its head. Andrew and Neil were friends, lovers. They were everything to each other. That meant Kevin was alone again.

Growing up in the nest Kevin didn’t know what lonely was. He didn’t understand that you could be lonely in a room full of people. It wasn’t until he escaped the nest and had to leave Jean behind did he realize the emotion he had been feeling for most of his life had been loneliness.

He often caught himself watching the team and their friendships. Matt and Dan had each other but they also had the rest of the foxes. Allison had Renee and Renee had Andrew. Andrew had Neil and Renee, and even though he would never admit it he had Nicky and Aaron as well. Neil had everyone, except maybe Aaron, though they seemed to tolerate each other more lately. Aaron had Katelyn and Nicky. Nicky had the other foxes, even if he tended to get on everyone’s nerves. That left Kevin on the outskirts.

Sure, he spent time with them. It was hard not to when they basically all lived together but he never felt wanted or needed. He knew his presence wouldn’t be missed if he was to up and leave in the middle of everyone hanging out. If anything they would probably be relieved, Kevin never brought much to the table in terms of conversation. He wasn’t kind like Renee or funny like Matt. He wasn’t loveable like Neil or even tolerable like Nicky. Kevin was the queen, cold and unapproachable and cruel. Kevin was a drill Sargent that didn’t know how to have fun and never laughed. His only interests were Exy and history. He was a cry baby with a god complex. Kevin was the personification of every negative personality trait he could think of.

He’s not sure how long he knelt there, his mind racing with thoughts of how nobody would miss him if he was gone. The voice in his head sounded exactly like Riko and for a moment it felt like he never left the nest. He was still at Evermore, knelt in front of Riko as the king reminded him of exactly how little he would be missed if he were to be killed.

Kevin didn’t hear the court door opening and closing behind him. It wasn’t until cold hands were gently brushing his cheeks that he snapped out of the state he was in. Blinking slowly he remembered where he was. It was late, he was at the court. He was practicing alone. He wasn’t at the nest, Riko was dead. He was safe.

The cold hands moved to his hair and started slowly petting his head. When his eyes focused he recognized Neil’s bright blue eyes and scarred cheek but there was something wrong. The redhead’s lips were pinched in a tight line and his body rigid.

“Neil? What are you doing here?” Kevin asked, his throat burned and he wondered just how long it had been since he last drank something.

“Kev, oh thank god.” Neil’s expression softened and he looked above Kevin’s head at something. “Drew, he’s back.”

Slowly looking behind him Kevin could make out the shape of Andrew a few feet away, his phone to his ear. This made Kevin even more confused, why were they here?

Looking back at Neil he scowled. “Neil come on, what’s going on? Why are you both here right now?”

The redhead laced his fingers in Kevin’s hair once again and looked down at him dumbfounded. “You seriously don’t know? Kevin you never came home. We were worried.”

“I was just practicing, god Neil you’re not usually the worrying type. What’s the big deal? So I practiced a little longer than usual, no biggie.”

Neil rolled his eyes, annoyance spreading across his face. “What time do you think it is?” He asked, exasperated.

“It can’t be any later than 1:30, maybe 2:00 at the latest.” This caused Neil’s eyes to turn dark as he called out to Andrew again.

Kevin could sense Andrew behind him before he spoke. “Wymack said he’s almost here, Abby is coming too. She said to keep him where he is for now.”

“Wait, I’m confused. What the hell is going on? You called my dad and Abby? I’m not a fucking kid guys.”

“It’s quarter to 5 Kev. Neil woke up and realized you never came back to the dorm. We called you and got no answer so we came to check on you. We found you where you are now, completely out of it. We couldn’t get you back from wherever you were so we called Wymack.”

Realization washed over Kevin as the reality set in. He was stuck in his own head for hours, alone on the court in a complete state of disassociation.

Looking first at Andrew and then back at Neil he couldn’t help but feel conflicted. Surely they weren’t worried about him, Neil simply saw he wasn’t in bed and went to look for him out of curiosity. There was no way his roommates cared that much. They called his dad because someone had to deal with him. He was always causing problems, of course they’d want to pass him off to his dad.

“I’m sorry for making you come out here for me. I’ll be fine, just a little tired I guess. Go back to the dorm, I’ll wait for my dad and Abby, maybe stay at his apartment for a few days to rest.”

Andrew made a dissatisfied grunt at Kevin’s words, softly flicking him in the back of the head. “Are you seriously an idiot Kevin? We’re not leaving you until your dad and Abby get here.”

Neil’s hand moved from Kevin’s hair down to his chin, gently grabbing it between two fingers he tilted Kevin’s head so they were making eye contact.

“Why would we leave you Kev? What kind of friends would we be if we did that?”

Before the words could set in Kevin’s eyes filled with tears. He willed them to stop but they still threatened to spill over so he tore his face from Neil’s grip and looked down at the ground. Friends. Neil had called them friends.

“Friends? Since when are we friends?” Kevin asked, his bottom lip trembling with every word. “I thought we were teammates.”

Neil’s voice was full of sadness when he spoke. “Jesus Christ Kev of course we’re friends. I thought you knew that.”

“Do you think I would just hangout with you if we weren’t friends?” Andrew asked, the apathy from earlier now gone from his tone.

“W-well I don’t know. I never really thought about it. Why would you be friends with me? Our deal is over, you don’t need to interact with me more than necessary.”

Neil slowly stood and Andrew took his place in front of Kevin, his hands hovering just above the nape of the taller man’s neck. “Yes or no queenie?”

“Yes.” Kevin breathed, the tears finally escaping from his eyes.

Andrew’s grip on his neck was firm but comforting. Kevin had seen him do this with Neil countless times, usually in the middle of the night when the redhead wakes them both up with a nightmare. Andrew’s tenderness was foreign to Kevin but he wanted to devote this moment to memory. The loneliness that had consumed him earlier was long since crushed beneath the strength of Andrew’s calloused palm and for the first time since he escaped the nest he felt safe.

They stayed like that in silence until the sound of Wymack and Abby entering the court echoed through the gym. Andrew released his grip on Kevin and stood up, moving a few feet away to stand with Neil so Abby and Wymack had room to get to Kevin.

After Abby deemed him healthy and free to go his dad clamped a hand over Kevin’s shoulder, squeezing tightly. “You know you’re more than welcome to come and stay with me but I won’t argue if you want to go back to the dorm with Minyard and Josten.”

Looking over at his roommates Kevin’s heart swelled. He felt warm from the inside out, the aching loneliness that had caused this whole mess was gone. In its place was a warmth Kevin hadn’t felt since before his mom died. He felt whole again.

“I’ll go with those two, I think we have some stuff to talk about. Thank you dad, seriously. And Abby too.” His dad squeezed his shoulder once more before leaving the court with Abby. Once they were gone Neil started walking around, collecting the balls littering the court floor.

“Help me clean these up so we can go back to the dorm. You need sleep, you broody bastard.” There was no malice behind Neil’s words and Kevin felt a smile spread on his face.

Maybe he didn’t have to be alone forever after all.