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olis-inkwell-symposium · 4 months ago

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Developing Backstory: Bringing Characters to Life

1. Where It All Started: The Character’s Origin

Place of Birth: Where did your character first see the world? Think about the impact of this place—was it a busy city where they had to fight for attention or a quiet village where everyone knew everyone’s business? This location doesn’t just say where they’re from; it shapes how they see the world.

Family and Upbringing: What was their family like? Were their parents loving or distant? Maybe they were raised by someone other than their parents—a mentor, an older sibling, or even alone. Family (or the lack of it) is usually one of the most significant factors in shaping who someone becomes.

Society’s Expectations: What was expected of them when they were young? Possibly, they were born into wealth, with all the pressure to continue the family legacy, or maybe they were raised to be invisible in a world where survival mattered. How does this influence who they are now? Do they accept or reject those expectations?

2. Childhood Events That Left a Mark

First Taste of Conflict: Think about the first time the character realized the world wasn’t a perfect place. Maybe they witnessed violence or faced betrayal. What was that moment, and how did it stick with them? This moment usually lays the foundation for the character’s emotional landscape—fear, hope, ambition, or distrust all come from these early life lessons.

Childhood Dreams: When they were young, what did they want to be? Every child has dreams—did they want to be a knight, a scholar, or even just someone who could travel the world? Did they have to give up these dreams? How does that lost dream shape them now?

Formative Relationships: Who was their first best friend, mentor, or enemy? Childhood friendships and relationships often create deep bonds or wounds that last into adulthood. Did they have a mentor who taught them everything, only to betray them? Did they lose a childhood friend that still haunts them?

3. The Teen Years: Where They Start to Become Who They Are

Trials and Tribulations: What’s the biggest challenge they faced as they grew up? Was it losing a loved one, failing at something important, or maybe being forced into a role they didn’t want? These teenage years are where the emotional armor starts forming—how did the difficulties they faced shape them into the person they are now?

Education or Training: How did they learn what they know? Were they formally trained by an institution, learning everything by the book, or did they learn through experience, like a street-smart survivalist? What impact does their education or lack of it have on how they interact with others?

Teenage Bonds: Did they have a first love or a first major falling out with someone close to them? These experiences often create emotional scars or connections that they carry with them into adulthood. How does that past friendship or romance influence their behavior now?

4. Key Life Events: The Big Moments That Define Them

Trauma or Loss: Was there a moment that changed everything? Think about a significant loss—maybe a loved one, their home, or a sense of identity. How does this event affect their worldview? Do they build walls around themselves or dive into relationships with reckless abandon because they fear losing more?

Victory or Failure: Did they experience a moment of triumph or devastating defeat? Success and failure leave their marks. Were they celebrated as a hero once, leading them to overconfidence, or did they fail when everyone was counting on them, leading to crippling self-doubt?

Betrayal: Was there a betrayal that shaped their adult relationships? Whether it is a friend, family member, or lover, betrayal often changes how we trust others. Do they close themselves off, constantly expecting betrayal, or try to rebuild trust, afraid of being left alone again.

5. Where They Stand Now: The Present Moment

What Drives Them Today: What’s the one thing pushing them forward now? Is it revenge, the need to restore their family’s honor, or maybe even just survival? Whatever it is, this motivation should tie directly back to their experiences.

Emotional Baggage: What unresolved emotional wounds are they carrying? Everyone has scars from their past—some are visible, others not so much. How do these emotional wounds affect how they treat others, how they react to conflict, and how they move through the world.

Current Relationships: Who’s still in their life from their past, and how do they feel about it? Did they reconnect with someone they thought they’d lost, or are they haunted by unresolved issues with people from their past? Do they have any ongoing tensions or regrets tied to these people?

6. Tying Themes to Their Backstory

Cultural or Mythological Influence: How does their personal story tie into the larger world’s mythology or culture? Do they carry a family legacy, a curse, or a prophecy that hangs over them? How does this influence their interactions with others and their perception of themselves?

Recurring Symbols: Are there objects, dreams, or people that keep showing up in their life, symbolizing their journey? Perhaps a recurring nightmare haunts them, or they carry an object from their past that’s both a source of comfort and pain

7. Character Arc: The Journey from Past to Present

How Does Their Past Shape Their Growth?: Every character has emotional baggage that needs resolving. How does their backstory drive their arc? Do they need to forgive themselves, let go of the past, or accept who they’ve become to move forward?

Unanswered Questions from the Past: Are there any mysteries in their backstory they need to solve? Maybe they’re unaware of their true parentage, or maybe there’s a forgotten event from their childhood that will resurface and change everything.

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annaesterella · 7 months ago

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Since almost every good fan of Yan-Batfam or something like that is getting into this (and I'm a fan of that kind of thing) LET'S HAVE A NEGLECTED READER

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀. ☆

But I saw that a lot of people liked the other fic, seriously people, KISSES DIRECTLY FROM ANNA! SERIOUSLY, I FELT LIKE A Celebrity (<⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠> ehehe) And this was the first time that a fic of mine gained so many views and I'm very excited, thank you to everyone who liked it!

F/reader (sorry guys, I don't know how to write M/reader)

I'll write a part II, bcuz is too long!

“Don't be silly! I would never be a Wayne.”

Well, first things first, when did it all started again? Haha not 500 time loops ago, but some years ago.. like the first child, you were from a circus, the difference is that.. well? Your parents were magicians, at least your mother... your father until you were 6 or 7 years old was just another distant memory but sweet, not yours, but your mother's... the incredible magic of the circus “Joie nocturne” a beautiful woman, yet another victim of the charms of the heartthrob, philanthropist, billionaire and owner of Wayne companies, Bruce Wayne. Of course, your mother, like almost all women, never forgot him, having him as her beautiful memory, after all, he gave her everything she needed.. you, her lil bunny! That's what she called you, before she was gone, like him, she turned into your distant but sweet memory, like a magic spell..

You felt so alone, the circus wanted to keep you, after all, you were their family too, but even so, he found out about you, and being a child, You wanted to meet your father. Still, feeling the pain of abandoning what you knew, you went. You had your 10 minutes of affection and then never saw him again. You met your two brothers, half brothers, Dick and Jason, and the buttler, Alfred, You thought your life would be like a funny family sitcom, HAHA, WHAT A JOKE. Of course, the oldest was excited to meet you, you were just like him, from a circus! The youngest was curious about the situation, yet he was kind to you and didn't mistreat you. The oldest gentleman, Even with little time, he treated you like your grandfather treated you, you then created an innocent affection for him, after all, he reminded you of your grandfather! After 1 or 2 weeks, they disappeared. Only you and "grandpa" are left.. Just like your mother, you developed an affection for magic... but just those stupid tricks left you bored... even so, it was affectionate to see Alfred pretending not to know about the tricks, just to see you smiling... soon you realized.. you weren't really a Wayne.. at most a visitor. They didn't have time for you, Alfred was still a buttler at the end of the day.

Time passed and you felt more and more alone, of course, you had Alfred, but... he didn't always have time for you. Soon more people appeared... and others disappeared... Jason was the first to go, and even with the short time, you suffered, he was kind... your brother for such a short time, you wished you had played with him more, and after that the house, which was already abandoned, became even emptier, soon another boy appeared, Tim, from a rich family.. and soon Dick went to another city.. you don't remember when, but now there was also Cassandra, Damian, Duke.. Steph.. you remember Barbara from a long time.. Even though the house was full, it was still empty... and you could only comfort yourself with the magic and the things your mother had left for you. Your little stuffed rabbit and its "magic" materials. Even though If you were his biological daughter too, Damian seemed to have more of Wayne than you,maybe because he was a vigilante, maybe because he was a boy? did not you know of course... so why bother? Soon, you stopped trying, you didn't want that anymore... crawling for affection? At your eighteen You made your choice. You wouldn't be a Wayne, you'd be a joie nocturne again. But would they let you? That night, you went to visit the circus, that was your favorite time of year... Halloween, and circus mixed together? Wonderful! So you saw that... the villainy... and for a split second, you wanted to.. do something.. Playing like a good girl, you approached the large bearded man and tugged on his sleeve, asking what that was all about. Maybe this was your chance to be something. It was funny at first, seeing their despair, your second family, trying to explain themselves, but you soon gave a smile, before stamping your foot on the floor, making a crowbar appear, helping to open it. That was the beginning of everything... you were finally someone... even if on the wrong side. Soon, the decisive moment arrived, when you returned "home", packed your bags, and like a magic spell, you disappeared, leaving only a white rabbit and everything you did in that house, in your room, every magic award, every cheap magic materials.

After a Patrol day, Dick he noticed something unusual in the mansion, perhaps because Alfred was visiting his homeland, but it couldn't be that, after all, Alfred had already done that before... Oh right! Birthday girl, his ittle bunny sister. He ran upstairs, knocking on the bedroom door, before entering and seeing only a stuffed rabbit on the bed, and the various magical things around the room, if not for the empty drawers and things, he would say you still lived there by the decoration and the fact room looks good, everything is well maintained, warm

Dick: Bunny?

He called, looking around the room, before looking around, seeing the various magic prizes, photos, top hats and magic kits. All given by Alfred or someone called "Mr. Joie nocturne" Could he be a friend of yours? What do you mean you had participated in so many contests and won? Why didn't you call? Or did you call? Where were you now? Why was everything empty? You went away. He started walking in circles, until Tim entered the room.

Tim: You will make a hole in the ground. I called you several times, why are you in this room exactly?

Dick: Y/N, she is gone.. and we didn't even notice or whatever, we didn't receive any notification, why didn't she notify us that she was moving, we... damn... we weren't going to help probably because we were on patrol, did we waver? Did she know we were on patrol? Does she know the truth?

Tim: Wait, too much to process.. what does it mean "She is gone" she left? Is that it?

Dick: Yes. Dumbass

And well, we can say after that, what happened was like "Oh shit" and then everyone was like "OH SHIT" while you were home.. happy! Getting ready for her first show, her first real show... too true. You thought as you put on your gloves and applied your lipstick. Then, with slow steps, you walked onto the stage, smiling, while waving to everyone, who murmured and whistled. So you decided to do your first trick for the night, the "bullet trick" The difference? There was no trick behind it, just you and your skills... after all, it was in your blood. Just as the bullet was about to go through your skull, you snapped your fingers, and then the bullet turned into a beautiful, bright purple butterfly, flying through the circus, soon coming back towards you and turning into your bow tie. Okay, a bit of a show on your part for the first trick, but you have to show that you have morals. Funny that meanwhile, his family was desperate, going so far as to call Alfred, who was now just as desperate. Then, the special time came, the circus then closed the lights and when it opened, all the valuable belongings, inside the boxes, Of course, you had to feign shock, some clowns trying to calm the audience, and of course, you were also feigning surprise, making your things "disappear" to join in the fun. You looked at the children, snorting slightly, as you made the toys re-appear, seeing some calm down, while the others widened their eyes in surprise. Soon, the "incredible" Bat-family appeared... seriously, for such an idiotic cause they came...? Soon you saw them walking towards you and everything fell into place.

Nightwing: — Y/N! I mean.. Young Lady.. we were notified of your disappearance, we will ask you to return home.

You frowned, as you looked at the audience. Hearing their screams increase, some of relief that the "Bat-family" was there, others of confusion at the situation.

: — I believe, I'm already eighteen, so there's nothing to worry about, Still, I'm with my family at the moment, so I don't understand why the complaint. Not to mention that we were robbed at that moment, so why specifically did they come to resolve a case like this?

You questioned calmly, while pointing at the audience, smiling, before rushing to disappear with your family, leaving the problem to the bats, after all, they were the "professionals." You could say that the shock was written on their faces.. you were so big, poorly dressed.. those presentation clothes didn't suit a little girl like you.. but still.. what you meant by "your family" Were you referring to those circus freaks? They weren't as good as they were, they were just.. ordinary people! Well.. now they had to solve the problem of theft... but that couldn't end like that, nope.

#yandere imagines #alfred pennyworth #batfamily x reader #yandere batfam #batfam x you #platonic yandere #neglected reader #batman #lol #fem reader #Spotify

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jinxposting · 1 month ago

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Jason Todd x Jinx! reader prologue

Origins

Your parents, not unlike a certain Dark Knight, were killed when you were young

Unsurprising given you were born and raised in Gotham

You were then taken care of by distant relatives

Though "taken care" is a generous term

They offered next to no affection nor attention in general, and with no friends your age you were rather isolated

This gave you time to develop the unique hobby of tinkering

Perhaps it was due to the nature of your parents demise (an explosion caused by a fight between the Bat and Bane) but you'd always had an interest in explosives

A morbid curiosity that only further fueled your guardian's distaste for you

And the direct cause of their other child's (your foster sibling) death

Unlike their parent your sibling was warm towards you, always encouraging your talent

The day you finally succeeded in your endeavors turned out to be the worst day of your life

You hadn't intended to hurt anyone

At the very least not them

Your guardian arrived home after work that day, greeted by a pile of rubble where their house once stood

And a corpse where their child once was

Your cries for forgiveness fell on deaf ears as they beat you, afterwards abandoning you in the remnants of your now decimated home

You'll never forget the look in their eyes

Nothing but pure hatred

You spent a few weeks on the streets after that

You survived on dumpster scraps and slept in alleyways

That was until you made the mistake of breaking into an abandoned warehouse

Piles of metal were strewn about, an old metal working mill you concluded

Your morbid fixation only seemed to worsen with the recent incident

You found yourself once again building your dangerous devices

Even more macabre, part of you hoped to go out in the same manor

Then one night, while you were finishing a grenade, you met them

A large group of muscled men filed into the building

They pointed their weapons at you, some guns, others baseball bats, but all directed at you

You should have been scared

But you were too numb to fear

You pulled the pin and threw the grenade as far into the crowd as you could

Blood

And flying limbs

You pushed past the remaining men only to be pulled back

"Just wait till the boss gets a hold of ya"

After a few moments of regrouping what was left of their forces the men greeted their 'boss'

"You mean to tell me this little runt killed a dozen of my men?" ... "Hahaha!"

That laugh

Everyone knew that laugh

Before you stood none other than the Joker

All smiles, he looked down at you

In one hand he held the remnants of your grenade

You could just barely make out the sharp toothed smile you'd doodled onto it

"This is far too crude to be mass produced. You wouldn't have happened to built this yourself, did you?"

You nodded

"Hahahaha!" He continued to laugh with unrestrained joy

"Harley, get a load of this!"

Out came Harley Quinn, the Joker's right hand

She gawked down at you

"This shrimp caused all this damage? Talk about an explosive personality!"

"Yes, precisely." the Joker kneeled in front of you, offering you the scrapped pieces of grenade "Not every day you see a gift like that."

His smile, albeit menacing, brought you a strange comfort in that moment

You took the offered scrap metal

"Where are your parents?"

"Dead."

"Oh? No siblings?"

"Dead."

"Them too, huh? And how did that happen?"

You looked down at the device

You didn't have to speak for him to understand

Another cackle sounded from the man

"Ha! You're quite the jinx it'd seem."

"Hey that's not a bad name, Puddin'!"

He stroked his chin in thought "It does have a certain ring to it, doesn't it?"

Joker stood back to his full height, looking off in thought

"You know, Harley. The Bat has his little protege, so who says I can't too?"

"Oh, Mistah J! You mean it? I always wanted us to have a little Joker!"

"Not a Joker, Harls." he turned back to you with a wide grin "A Jinx."

#dc comics #bat family #batman #jason todd #joker #harley quinn #jason todd x reader #villain reader #jinx reader #jinx jumbles

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rising-psyche · 5 months ago

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Jeffrey Dahmer and Borderline Personality Disorder.

{Borderline personality disorder is one of its diagnoses, a part and not the only one}.

Of all the mental diagnoses that Jeffrey Dahmer received before and even after his death, Borderline personality disorder is the one in which you see meaning in everything if you investigate what his motivations for his crimes were, as he declared. Not only that, but how his behavior appeared in his childhood and especially in his adolescence.

• What is Borderline Personality Disorder?

It is a mental disorder that is quite difficult to deal with for those who have it, characterized by emotional instability that manifests itself in all personal areas of that person. There is a hypersensitivity to everything where the bearer will always feel things around them in a greater way than others, which is why feelings and emotions are almost constantly on the surface - which makes Borderline people extremely intense.

These excesses that the disorder causes are far from being just something about the individual who has the problem, but something in which he sees himself under power to the point that his "overly emotional sense" spreads to his interpersonal relationships or the way he sees any contact with any other person where he feels the need for affection and permanence.

— The symptoms:

Extreme emotional instability

Impulsiveness

Constant insecurity

Feelings of worthlessness and self-deprecating thoughts

Negative image of yourself

Frequent fear of rejection and abandonment

Tendency to self-destructive habits such as drinking excessively, taking drugs, etc.

Strong irritability, aggressiveness when something upsets you and severe anxiety

Tendency to isolate

Need for affirmation to feel safe

If we look closely at the symptoms and how the disorder dominates the sufferer, it is easy to understand why this diagnosis is so logical in Dahmer's case. When you read about his life and what he himself said during interrogations, you see that he demonstrated all of these characteristics long before he became a murderer.

The reasons why the disorder may arise are vague to say, but generally the incentives come from the lack of family structure where the person grew up as a child, moments of maternal or paternal neglect and even witnessing the separation of parents during childhood - especially if it's a turbulent divorce like it was between Joyce and Lionel Dahmer.

And here I will explain why this can interfere with that child developing the disorder:

There is no doubt that Joyce and Lionel Dahmer were often more concerned with settling their own issues than giving the necessary attention to the effects that the problems between them could have on their children, and this was most triggered by Jeffrey. Descriptions of what he was like are typical, seen as withdrawn, shy and quiet, but his parents probably thought it was just "his way" and nothing more. Some of this may be true, some may not. Jeffrey never knew how to express himself or say at least a little about how he felt, so he expressed it in other ways. Perhaps the trigger for his mind to slowly become ill is the fact that he blamed himself for his mother's illnesses, which got worse after his birth (this is a common Borderline behavior that puts oneself in a position of "burden" and uselessness).

"Jeff's response was classic. He blamed himself for his mother's illness. He had known for as long as he could remember that she was depressed after her birth and that he had caused her illness. He must also have caused each relapse. He couldn't articulate his pain, for fear of pushing his mother over the edge again. He had to keep to himself, say little and do even less, to protect her, to keep some calm in the house. The more she saw of him, the worse it would be for her. His brother David said: '[Jeff] never learned to be open with his feelings of frustration…he went into the woods alone and cut down trees for firewood.' They could hear it banging against tree trunks from inside the house. It felt like vented anger". (The Shrine of Jeffrey Dahmer, Brian Masters)

Access to the emotion of anger was already present from an early age, but Jeffrey suffocated everything he felt for himself and we see how this continued throughout his life until, fatally, he lost control of everything.

When his mother divorced his father and left with David, even if Dahmer didn't express it at that moment when his mother asked him not to tell his father that they were leaving, it is clear that the feeling of abandonment hit him. His mother asked him to accompany them, yes, but it's fair to speculate that perhaps Jeffrey wanted her to give up and everyone to stay home.

"He was now almost eighteen, and perhaps old enough to look after himself, but it was significant that he was not consulted, and also that the Dahmers were so involved in their quarrel that they did not realize how dangerously disconnected their eldest son was now". (The Shrine of Jeffrey Dahmer, Brian Masters)

Many times, there were episodes of inattention and negligence on the part of their parents that would make an increasing difference from the beginning to the years. It's safe to say that his aversion to abandonment or at least his suspicion of it came from a solid foundation when he experienced it between his parents. When Dahmer decided to isolate himself so strongly and over time, his contained desperation for attention and some affection took on gigantic proportions and would finally become evident in a tragic way.

Dahmer's indifference during adolescence, from another angle, was just a camouflage because he refused expression. The disorder forms from adolescence to early adulthood, and here we have another characteristic point: obsessions as an occupation of the inner void. Dahmer developed his fascination with dead animal bones and had a cabin with an animal cemetery where he spent most of his hours. This can be explained as an escape, it was his first true interest and when he met him, he dedicated himself to it, worrying Lionel Dahmer who wanted his son to leave his own world instead of just experimenting with animal bodies and bones.

Another detail is how Jeffrey always used alcohol as an alternative to alleviate what he felt and didn't express it. During the period of separation, his self-destructive habit largely increased. So, he resorted to isolation and drinking as his technique to not suffer so much from the divorce.

It is surprisingly common to see this contrast in the formation of Borderline personality disorder: on one side there is a true purposeful loneliness that others may associate with "not caring" when, in reality, on the other side there is a great wound and a lot to be said. It's like a silenced scream.

"It was my way of blocking out any painful thoughts, just putting on an attitude of not caring or pretending not to care, to spare myself the pain of what was going on with the divorce. Maybe it started then. It was effective, it worked." (Dahmer in The Shrine of Jeffrey Dahmer, Brian Masters).

• Inside the crimes.

It is by emptying the mind to look at Dahmer's perspective on his actions that we can find one of the feelings that best fits this diagnosis.

Unlike someone who would kill simply for cruelty and pleasure, in his testimony, Dahmer stated that he killed because he wanted those boys to "remain." There were the morbid fantasies and again, the screaming urgency of not wanting to be alone again. He made everyone sleep with sleeping pills because according to him, that's the only way to make them stay as long as he wanted. Whenever one of them said they needed to go at that time or mentioned that they needed to go the next day, for Dahmer, it was like a threat where the desperate feeling of not being left screamed. As mentioned at the beginning of this post, one of the most latent behaviors of a Borderline is the panic of being left, abandoned. Here, of course, Jeffrey created criminal means in search of company, but if you look at the beginning and how he negatively withdrew throughout his life, in addition to dealing with dark thoughts and the prison of painful feelings, you realize how impossible it was that a good result would come out of it. He was seriously ill and no one knew either because of him or others who had investigated him before and although they did, they did not make a deeper study of his mind when Dahmer said he was "in significant psychological distress".

Even in how he kept the victims' remains because he "felt their presence like that" and didn't want to get rid of them because he "wanted to spend more time with them", there is great awareness of how a person with the disorder can be so desperate for a minimum of affection and contact that is unimaginable. Obviously Dahmer's problems were several and all complex, but the diagnosis of borderline personality disorder for Dahmer is coherent and assertive based on his speeches, history and also what, in his distorted vision, he intended when he murdered.

*****

The impulsiveness in his actions is also quite evident, since Dahmer's murders in particular were completely reckless and became sloppy. And about this lack of care that he started to have, we see how Jeffrey was someone who really had his self-esteem destroyed because everything that involved him, he didn't care what happened to him - part of it because he knew what he was doing was wrong, the distinction between right and wrong was never lacking (for this and several other reasons it is irrational to diagnose him as a psychopath, he was many things but psychopathy really doesn't fit).

It is important to highlight that the overwhelming feeling of emptiness is one of the "ghosts" of BPD, causing the individual to view his own existence as something often without purpose or meaning. It is an internal emptiness where nothing truly satisfies him, it is as if Dahmer saw no reason for anything on a daily basis because one of the things that depressed him was precisely this dense emptiness.

During school, as illustrated in the book "My Friend Dahmer", despite his shyness, it is notable how Jeffrey had long shown wanting attention and wanting to belong somewhere when he played embarrassing pranks. This is nothing more, within the Borderline spectrum, than the manifestation of a much observed feeling, which is the need for validation, belonging, to "fit in" with other people. This was his way of getting attention at the time.

Irritability always existed, but he rudely stifled his emotions and expressed them non-verbally, which would have been appropriate on several occasions. Instead, for example, hitting tree trunks with pieces of trunk was more viable.

It is a certainty that Jeffrey Dahmer was a Borderline and this can be confirmed only by evaluating the behavior, his triggers for crimes, childhood and adolescence occasions and others. This is by no means all, Dahmer had an absolutely vast psychic field and this is what makes so many people interested in him/his story.

#jeffrey dahmer #jeffrey lionel dahmer #jeff dahmer #Jeffrey Dahmer #psychology #informative #true crime #borderline personality disorder #analysis #serial killers #criminology #dahmer #jd #truecrime #truecrimecommunity #jeffrey dahmer case

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over-powered-reader-insert · 9 months ago

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Two Kings and a Heir

Ghost king Nico Di Angelo meets Ghost king Danny Fenton who meets Damain Wayne after some how being launched in to the dc univers ( Nico and Danny that is)

Danny needed a safe place as his univers is nolonger ( reaveal gone wrong)

Nico isn't sure how he got into the dc universe but he's knows that he's not in his new work any more ( takes place before the trils of Apollo)

Because ghost work diifertly in the dc universe Danny would have relearn how to use his powers: ie control over his ice core, intangibility, invisibility, ghostly wail, eco blast ect. His ghost sense is going haywire, half going off. There's no puff of mist leaving his mouth, but is has his entire body tense. Danny learns quickly that the ghost of this world works differently, no one but him can see them, and even then it's hard for him the see them half the time. ( it's just a slivery after image in hisn periphery but they disappear when he tries to look at them head on.)

Hunger still affects Danny, not as much as before the accident, but he's still half human and he still need to eat. Something cheep and greasy. There were no nasty burger here, just a place called bat burger where he clocks an nother kid around his age as being something more then a laminar but close to a halfa like him, developing core maybe?

Nico new that he wasn't in New York anymore when he woke up, and he's quick to learn that he's in jersey, in a city call gotham. A place that didn't exist before. he's half scared that he was placed in the lotus casino again, he knows that's impossable. but the fear lingers. ( it happens once but who's to say that it won't happen again?) Nico needed information, he don't know where he is, when he is , so he plans to summon a ghost. But first he needs a happy meal.

The clost thing to a mc' Donald's is a place called bat burger. There Nico meets Danny, and they both clock each other as pooled who has an extremely association with death, and the underworld. Another child of hades? Maybe.

Silent communication passed he tween the two of them. The cashier clears her throat, and Danny orders first before stepping to the side and lingering awkwardly behind the other boy as he places his order, a kids meal. The kid walks to a booth at the back, one shrouded in shadows. Danny is half compiled to follow, every time he meets a halfa they tried to kill him first and get to know him second. But so far this was going great. He joins the kid at the booth.

Silence lingers between then the boy stared out the window at the few passing cars, Danny decided to pick at napickn, a black stylized bat decorated the corner. How was she supposed to go about this with out fist flying? He's not at his strongest at the moment. He's been doing good so far at ignoring the ach of the vivisection wound. Hastily stitched half healed, sleeping and eating would heald the thing faster, he just need a place to sleep, and stock up kn canned food and granola bars. Maybe he could break into one of the abandon buildings.

" Nico." The boys said suddenly.

What?

Name, name, names. That was his name. He should-

" Danny! Yeah... call me Danny."

This was a good start, names are good. It doesn't matter that he's on the sudden verg of panic, or that he was getting a migraine from the constant half use of his ghost sense.

" son of hades?" Nico asked tentatively as I'd he was sharing a secret.

" what? No my dad isn't-"

" Hecate then, she's your mother right? Your too old not to know who your godly parent is, and you can't be unclaimed." Nico said in a rapid wishper, his eyes darting around the room as if expecting someone to attack.

" No wait, dude calm down, I think I know what's going on." But before he could answer they were called to get food. Looking over his shoulder the cashier looked unimpressed. Right food, the original reason why he's here.

Part two later

#dpxdc #pjo x dc #dp x pjo #nico di angelo #danny phantom #danny fenton #two kings and an heir

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brazilian-vampyra · 6 months ago

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ I'LL TRY TO FIX YOU

(english)

⿻ contains dark themes, if you don't feel comfortable, don't read it — ♡ ᵎᵎ

⿻ warnings: depressed!reader x killer!toji, strong language, blood, violence, mentions of past traumas ⤵

slowburn, sex, l-bomb, oral, toji smoking pot, lots of tears, age gap (toji is +30, reader is in her 20s), fem!reader, toji helping the reader to overcome this difficult situation — ♡ ᵎᵎ

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 was not always easy, you suffered a lot at the hands of others and were abandoned in an orphanage when you were a child. And it didn't take long for a family to adopt you.

But your rainbow was painted gray when you realized that family wouldn't give you the love you deserved. An abusive family that always puts you down. Even though they are rich and give you all the best, they neglected you all the years.

They didn't listen to your outbursts, they belittled your insecurities — and even increased them and caused many of them — and put you down when they could.

When you were around 13 years old you developed depression, and that feeling of sadness consume you day after day, becoming increasingly debilitating. This sadness and emptiness couldn't be normalized, but how were you to know it couldn't be?

You had no parameters and no family support.

With this lack of love and attention, you didn't have good relationships. You have fallen into the clutches of inhumane partners, that gave you crumbs of affection, and as a result you went through several toxic situations, leaving you alone all the fucking times.

Had God abandoned you? Could everyone live well but you would never have your happy ending?

Life was unfair, raw and fucked.

After some time with this emotional imbalance, death started to seem like a good thing. Maybe the best choice.

It was then that the crisis began, as well as the self-harm. The years of suffering accumulated scars on your skin, which became more covered every day by sweatshirts and jeans, as well as dark circles under your eyes.

You had already tried to end this suffering several times, but none of the ways worked.

━━ Am I too weak even for this? — you questioned yourself in a whisper between tears after a failed attempt.

Your parents were considerably powerful people in the commercial world, perhaps they got money in a dirty way and ran some nasty scheme to accumulate those digits in the bank account.

Since your childhood, you would hear suspicious conversations in the room, with strange people in meetings over cigars and expensive wine. The mansion had many security guards, it even looked like they were the president and the first lady of the country.

You never understood the reason for this excessive security. What were they so afraid of?

One night, you were wrapped in a blanket, lying in bed and looking at the wall while thinking about nothing. Your mind was as empty as the bottles of champagne they popped on the weekends.

Maybe this would be a good time to end this once and for all. Then you walked to the balcony of your room, which overlooked the backyard, and felt the cold breeze kiss your sad face.

You sat there and looked at the floor. It was very high. Tears began to flow down your face unconsciously, you felt incapable even at that moment.

That's when you heard a strange noise coming from the garden.

Then everything was silent again, it was okay, it shouldn't be anything you need to worry about.

After a few minutes, you heard a loud, terrified scream coming from your mother on the first floor, and then the sound of gunshots. It made you look back and wonder what could be happening.

In less than a minute, your bedroom door opened and you flinched in fright.

There was a peculiar man, you had never seen him in your life. Tall, muscular, dark hair, green eyes that made him look like a natural predator, black clothes, scar on his lip, skin covered in blood, a gun on his waist and he was holding something that looked like a sword with a chain.

Your tearful eyes met his cold gaze, and you felt a chill run through your body. Maybe it was the cold of the night breeze, or the fear of this stranger, but you didn't want to think about anything else and immediately jumped.

In an almost supernatural way, the stranger had crossed your vast room in a second and was now on the balcony. He grabbed you by the waist mid-air and pulled you back.

It's not possible that you were going to die at the hands of a stranger when you finally found the courage that was missing in you.

You began to struggle in the stranger's muscular arms, but he was too strong and was pulling you away from the balcony. The iron smell of blood was filling your nostrils and you felt like vomiting.

━━ Let me fucking jump, take your dirty hands out of me!

He didn't say anything, and he didn't even make an effort to keep you quiet. When suddenly he pulled something out of his pocket like a cloth that was placed on your nose and you started to feel your eyelids get heavy.

You didn't see much and you didn't hear much either, but you opened your eyes slightly and saw how he carried you in his arms like a bride, dodging the corpses of the security guards on the ground, the result of the bloody scene he caused.

The next day, you woke up.

You were in a considerably comfortable bed in a dimly lit room. The dark curtains hid the light from the cold day outside, but you could hear some car horns, the sound of an ambulance, a motorcycle accelerating, sounds of the avenue.

When suddenly, a male voice was heard outside the room, followed by another male voice.

━━ Why didn't you kill the girl too?

━━ The ad asked for her parents' heads, not hers.

━━ Are you going to babysit a grown woman? I'm not judging but I didn't expect that from you.

━━ I know how to handle myself, Shiu. Don't worry.

And then a door closed, probably the main one and the other man left. It was then that you heard the sound of footsteps approaching in the hallway, until the doorknob turned and that muscular man from yesterday entered.

You closed your eyes and tried to hide it, but it didn't work.

━━ You don't have to pretend to be asleep.

You slowly opened your eyes and noticed that he was wearing gray sweatpants and a black compression shirt. That skin was no longer stained with last night's thick blood.

Instead of saying anything, you remained sullen and quiet, like a helpless animal.

━━ I’m Toji Fushiguro.

He offered his hand to you, and yet reluctant and uncertain, you decided to hold it and shake it. The skin on his palm wasn't as soft as yours. It was calloused, a little harsh, the hands of a blacksmith.

━━ You didn't kill me yesterday, you just killed my parents. Why?

━━ By the look on your face, I must say I did you a favor.

━━ You're a hitman, aren't you?

━━ I think this is kind of obvious, but yes.

He went to the window to open the curtains and let in the gray daylight.

━━ Why aren't there bars on the windows?

━━ 'Cause this isn't a kidnapping, perhaps?

You found the man's actions quite strange and the way he was reacting to you.

━━ Look, why don't you get up and go down the street with me? We’ll go to the market.

He grabbed a pair of all stars and placed them next to the bed before leaving the room. You noticed it was yours, and on a chair was your backpack. Had he prepared a backpack with your things? That's weird.

You accepted what he had said and put on your sneakers, before leaving the room. He was in the apartment's kitchen, near the counter, taking out his wallet and keys.

━━ Here, have a glass of water first.

He took a bottle from the fridge and poured water into a glass for you. You took it and so you went to the market.

It was so strange to be on the street now, and that giant man seemed to be your bodyguard. How long has it been since you were outside? Depression has made you give up on leaving your room, so going for a walk was very weird.

On the market everything went well, it was much more normal than you had imagined. He didn't leave your side for a long time but it wasn't like he was suffocating you with his presence.

At a certain point he went to the fruits and vegetables area.

━━ I'm terrible at choosing these things, would you like to help me?

You helped him choose the best. For someone with a physique like that he was very lost on how to buy this kind of healthy food. Then you went back to the apartment, and he started taking some things out of the bags.

━━ Can you bathe alone or do you need help?

You didn't respond, what response should you give?

He sighed.

━━ I'm going to assume you need help. C’mon.

He led the way, heading to the apartment's bathroom. It had a bathtub, shower, a good-sized mirror, grayish stone sink, black carpet that absorbs water.

Toji bent down next to the bathtub and turned on the taps, so it started to fill. You took the opportunity to start taking off your clothes, even though you were embarrassed. First you took off your black hoodie.

He turned back and noticed that your arms and thighs were in a sad state. Your skin was wrapped in white bandages, completely stained with blood.

After all, you were alike in something. Both of you wore black clothes to hide the blood. Him for one reason, you for another but with the same purpose.

━━ After the bath I'll take care of it.

He rolled up his sleeves and dipped his forearm in the water to make sure it was at an ideal temperature for you. You then got into the bathtub, sitting down slowly and after taking off the bandages.

The water made it burn a little, and although it wasn't bleeding like before, your dermis was exposed with crimson marks.

━━ These cuts are deep…

That's what he said, before picking up a brand new bottle of shampoo. It smelled like honey.

━━ I know…

You felt ashamed of yourself for being in this situation. When did you get this bad?

He remained silent, after seeing how you shyly hugged your knees. You felt the honey-scented shampoo being poured onto the top of your head, then he could massage your scalp with the strong pads of his thick fingers. It was the most peaceful bath you've ever had in your life. There was a strange man — maybe not so strange after all — washing your hair, while putting liquid soap on your hands so that you could wash your body by yourself.

At the end of the bath, he took a very long, dark gray towel and asked you to stand up. Toji rolled you up like a package and took you out of the bathtub, placing you standing on the rug.

━━ Can you dry yourself? I'll get the medicine and your clothes, I'll be right back so I can take care of this.

You nodded and began to dry your body carefully. It hurt a lot and you had to do it carefully, patting it lightly with the soft fabric of the towel. And soon he was back. You felt so useless, you couldn't even clean yourself properly.

Within a few seconds, Toji knelt in front of you and grabbed a pair of panties for you to wear. The man's strong, calloused hands slid the fabric up your legs, carefully moving up until he could finally dress you. He also handed you a random blouse that he had gotten from your closet yesterday and you got dressed.

━━ I'll start with the thighs, okay? It will burn a little.

With that said, he took some medicine and started applying it to start cleaning the cuts. It burned a little, but it was bearable, even though you grimaced and suppressed a groan.

━━ I know it hurts, I’m sorry.

You endured the pain and so he cleaned the deep cuts on your thighs, applying antiseptic spray before wrapping them in white bandages again. Now he had gotten up and was cleaning your arms so he could repeat the process.

After this whole process, he combed your hair gently with a blue comb that was in a bathroom drawer. You were showered, completely clean, with new bandages and your hair smelled good.

That afternoon Toji tried his best to make you some good food. He wasn't much of a cook, as he didn't have much time for it and didn't even care about eating healthy. But he sautéed some vegetables and greens, along with some pieces of tender meat, and used olive oil.

Even though the kitchen was a little far away, he could see that you were sitting on the sofa in the living room, silently, looking at your bandages. Yeah, you looked like a mummy now with that brand new tape. And your empty eyes were between looking at your arms and thighs and looking at the huge window that overlooked the street.

━━ C’mon. Open wide.

He said, holding a white bowl in his hands and using a fork to feed you.

━━ What do you like to eat? I can try to do whatever you like.

━━ Good question.

It's not that you developed an eating disorder during depression, but you definitely no longer had an interest in food. You ate, but you ate less because the food suddenly became uninteresting. You only ate for the sake of eating, you no longer had the happiness of eating sweets, for example, you only ate on "automatic mode”.

It was as if you couldn't taste the acidity of a kiwi, or the sweetness of a papaya. The bitter taste of unsweetened coffee, or the tenderness of meat cooked with potatoes. Suddenly, food became just food, everything with a universal flavor like bland, edible pasta.

He was well aware of your depression, and he knew he would help you.

After that day, you started living with Toji in that apartment. The place was very clean and considerably large; well maintained. He took care of you, until you were able to shower yourself, feed yourself and many other things. Not to mention that he had also noticed the way you looked sad at your cuts with that white bandage, and that's why he always bought different bandages at the pharmacy.

Some were teddy bears stamped, others dinosaurs, even some little hearts. Somehow, he just wanted you to feel more comfortable in your own skin.

He took you out for ice cream, walked in the park, let you put whatever you wanted in the grocery cart, bought you new clothes and everything. You also got to know Shiu Kong, who "monitored" you sometimes when Toji needed to work.

The killer was still afraid that you would freak out and throw yourself out of a window.

This man slept on the sofa in the living room, which was actually a sofa bed. He always preferred to leave the bed in the room to you, even if it was a double bed but he wanted you to have your personal space. After all, it was a difficult stage in your life, and you were in the process of healing.

Your cuts, which were deep, were finally healing, leaving scars on the skin. Your dark circles were disappearing and your face was getting more colorful again, becoming healthier and brighter.

After a few months, you were much better than before. Not completely healed, in fact it was far from it, but you felt like you were slowly coming out of rock bottom.

Toji Fushiguro and you hardly spoke to each other. You only spoke the essentials, but it wasn't in a strange way that didn't make you create intimacy. And every time he arrived after a murder you were already in the warmth of your covers, in a peaceful sleep, late at night.

However, this time you were awake, as you had gone to the kitchen to get a glass of water. You heard the key turn in the door handle, and saw him enter immediately without turning on a single light. The iron smell of viscous blood entered your nostrils.

━━ Goodnight.

━━ Goodnight. I didn't mean to wake you…

━━ It's okay. I was awake — you said. ━━ Are you fine?

━━ Don't worry- oof. I’ll be fine, go back to sleep.

You looked for the switch and turned on the light in the living room, seeing what you already imagined. The blood stuck to the fabric of the shirt on his body, and made you notice a wet spot right next to the rib. You sighed when you saw him like that, you had never seen him hurt during all this time. The frown remained on his face, as if he was incapable of feeling pain, but you knew it was really sore.

━━ Hm… you can… take a shower and come back. I’ll wait for you here.

Apparently the older man had understood what you meant, and oddly enough he didn't complain or question it. You already knew where the first aid kit was and some other medicines were, so you took the white suitcase from a closet in the bedroom and went back to the couch. Toji didn't take long to shower, and apparently he had taken a cold shower because his skin was refreshing, and you smelled a very peculiar perfume. A woody perfume, striking with some notes of something expensive.

It was there that night that you saw him shirtless for the first time, wearing only black sweatpants and leaving a large part of his ripped body exposed. There was a huge cut on his rib, but he was calm, as if he didn't feel anything.

He sat on the sofa and you started cleaning it very well so that it didn't get worse.

You poured some alcohol on the cut, and it remained motionless. It must have burned a lot, but you couldn't tell if he didn't feel it or if he managed to hide it very well.

━━ You know you could be in bed right now, don't you? — his harsh tone of voice was already familiar. ━━ You could be having your princess sleep.

━━ You always took care of me. Is it hard to let me take care of you?

He said something like "hm" and decided not to answer the question, keeping quiet and letting you finish taking care of that wound. In the end he practically whispered a "thank you" and you were minimally happy with that, going to the bedroom again to finish your night's sleep.

A few weeks passed and you were getting a little closer, maybe tending to his injuries was enough for him to understand that at the end of the day, you were similar. One night you woke up crying after a horrible nightmare, and Toji came to your room to comfort you. The man sat in a chair next to you so you could go back to sleeping peacefully in that huge bed.

Well, you didn't say anything else about that night, and maybe it wasn't necessary.

One night when he didn't have any work, he was on the living room balcony, smoking something that wasn't an ordinary cigarette. The peculiar aroma entered your nostrils and you could recognize: he was indeed smoking pot. Sitting on a small sofa there, enjoying the night breeze and watching the city lights in the distance in the dark. You shyly approached, and he noticed how you looked.

━━ Come here… — he patted where you were supposed to sit, right next to him. ━━ I won't bite.

Somewhat awkwardly, you approached and sat down, watching him bring the cigarette to his lips and inhale the smoke.

━━ Toji…

━━ Hm?

━━ Can I ask you something?

He nodded.

━━ That night... why did you save me?

━━ Because the deal asked for your parents' death, not yours.

━━ But you wouldn't gain anything by saving me…

He finished releasing the thick smoke through his lips and a slightly uncomfortable and heavy silence fell between the two of you. Fushiguro looked up at the starry sky for a few seconds before sighing and speaking again.

━━ You know, girl. When I looked into your eyes that night, I saw myself.

You remained silent, trying to understand.

━━ When I was younger, people threw me into a pit full of curses as punishment… that was the damn day I had to learn to be strong. I was fragile, innocent and people made me cry a lot.

What a sad story. You never imagined that someone like him had gone through something like this.

━━ With this scar here — he pointed to his own lips. ━━ I became who I am today… — powerful words. ━━ And looking into your eyes, somehow I saw the same look I had. The same look of trauma, sadness, disappointment…

A few tears were gathering in your eyes.

━━ Fuck, I mean I couldn't understand why people who were supposed to protect and love me were hurting me so much. And in your eyes I could see myself.

Well, he talked more than he should have and shut up once and for all, but his eyes widened, as he heard a crying sob and looked at you, watching two tears running down your cheek perfectly. You weren't crying because of sadness, after many years you were crying because of something good. Although you couldn't identify this feeling very well, was sure it was something good.

Had he felt connected to you somehow? Did he understand your pain?

You had finally found someone as broken as you, but who hid it and played strong, so that you could rebuild yourself.

Instinctively Toji opened his arms and made to hug you, but he stopped himself because he didn't know if you would be comfortable with that. His look of hesitation was like a request for permission, and without even thinking you fell against his strong chest, crying into his white t-shirt, as his strong arms wrapped around your body weakened by tangible emotions. He hugged you tightly and remained silent, allowing you to cry in peace.

How long has it been since you received a hug?

Even more of a hug like this, comforting and true. The kind of hug where you can feel the heat of the person's body and feel safe and protected.

━━ Why do people always hurt me, Toji? Why? — you said, sobbing.

━━ Because empty and futile people need to hurt people around them to increase their ego and pretend to fill the void — he brought a hand to your head, lightly stroking your hair. ━━ Idiot people will always want to hurt amazing people. But look…

He distanced himself a little and cupped your chin lightly with his thumb, making you look up, eyes bathed in sadness.

━━ That night I held you, and I promise I'll never let you go.

Those were the most sincere and pure words anyone had ever said to you. You didn't care if they came from the mouth of a man who got blood on his hands, he was honest with you.

Suddenly, looking into those beautiful green eyes you felt a strange attraction. And apparently he felt it too, because he hadn't taken his thumb off your chin and was looking at you with complete compassion. You sighed heavily, your eyes teary and shyly brought your face closer to his. That was what Fushiguro needed to be able to bring his face closer to yours and finally touch your lips with his.

His lips were warm and soft, and you felt his scar but it didn't bother you, it was just different.

Toji then slid his tongue across your lips slowly, and you gave in. Now your tongues were touching and you brought your shaky hands to his face, while more tears rolled down your cheeks. You were crying with happiness knowing you were savoring a kiss, it wasn't just any kiss like all the others in your life, this one was real. He felt your nervousness and held your shaking hands, making you feel the warmth of his, as he put them on his shoulders so you could get some support.

It wasn't a needy kiss, it was slow. But certainly intense.

It was then that your relationship with Toji became more serious, more sentimental, more romantic. Now he slept with you in bed, hugging you so you felt safe, or bringing you to his chest so you could enjoy as a pillow. Your cuts were already well healed but the scars would remain on your body forever and were evident. That was horrible, you bitterly regretted having cut your flesh in moments of anger and sadness, but there was nothing you could do at that time, especially without support.

Some nights, he would come back exhausted after executing a few kills, and all he needed was to collapse into your arms and rest his head in your lap. Despite his size and strength, he was still a little fragile.

And he knew how to be delicate.

Proof of this was when the kisses became too intense and evolved into sex. I mean, he always tried his best to control himself and let you take your time. Fushiguro didn't want to pressure you into anything, he didn't want to take you to bed right away.

Giving yourself over to him was certainly one of the best decisions you had made.

That night, he gently held you in his strong arms and covered you with kisses so you could relax and enjoy the moment. You had already fucked a few times with some idiots but all of them were without much desire, just done for their please. But with Toji it was different, completely different.

You were sitting on his lap while you kissed intensely, moaning against each other's mouths and he took off your blouse, making your bare chest rest against his, which also no longer had any fabric inhibiting it. The man leaned you back a little and took the opportunity to kiss your arms, especially your scars. Goddamn, he was so fucking gentle.

The delicate kisses went to your chest, radiating tremendous heat through your body. So was that desire? The real desire?

He kissed your breasts and sucked them eagerly, causing some popping noises throughout the room along with your moans. He groaned against your skin and a trickle of saliva connected his lips to your nipple as he looked up.

━━ So soft…

Suddenly, you were already lying on the bed and he was kissing your thighs, caressing your scars. The thin fabric of your panties was already completely soaked by that liquid desire that dripped down your sex. Your legs were thrown around his strong shoulders as his hot kisses were dangerously close to your most sensitive spot.

━━ I’m probably all fucked with those scars…

You ended up leaving that comment on the air and Toji licked your clit through your panties, making you moan loudly.

━━ My love, sex is not a show. We don't have to be perfect all the time…

He placed a kiss over the thin fabric and then slid his huge hands around your waist, lowering and finally removing your panties. When you were completely naked, you felt a little ashamed, yes, but not that horrible feeling of wanting to cover yourself immediately.

Toji watched you as if you were a work of art; and to him you really were.

━━ Let me just take care of you, okay? Let me do my best for you…

The words spoken in a hoarse tone entered your ears and that was more than enough for you to enjoy this fantastic feeling.

Toji simply devoured you with an immense desire, and you squeezed his hair at times to be able to control your own body due to the stimuli. He held your thighs with his big, strong hands, squeezing a little so he could rub his face more against your wet spot just like his nose rubbed your clit. While he was eating you out, he grinded his hips against the mattress looking for some relief, ‘cuz those panties were so damn tight, his cock was throbbing.

For the love of the gods, he was splendid, simply perfect.

And besides giving you so much pleasure with his tongue, he also held your body tenderly that night, fucking you in the most affectionate way possible. He placed one of your legs on his shoulder and placed a small kiss on your ankle as he held it close to your thigh and was grinding his hips against you. Fushiguro's moans were profane, as profane as the image of him naked and slightly sweaty reflected in the dim light of the nightstand lamp.

The messy dark hair, the striking scar on his lip, the striking green eyes… wow, that's a sight to behold.

You couldn't tell if that was for the best, or if it was him fucking you in missionary, keeping your legs tightly crossed around his strong hips, as he was just feeling your warm pussy milking his cock while he intertwined his fingers with yours against the mattress. He kissed you in a way that took your breath away; that was a needy kiss.

You came like never before in your life, you had never come so hard like this. And this man did it effortlessly, just by touching you in the right spots and making you scream and beg for more.

Okay, that was a night to remember.

You were now officially his girlfriend. And you had finally found someone who could rebuild you while giving you the opportunity to put the pieces together to understand the complex puzzle that he was. Every day he surprised you more, and made you feel truly loved, truly wanted.

He kept buying you clothes, washing your hair with your favorite shampoo, taking you to amazing places and giving you affection. Especially liked lying in bed with him and putting your hand over his, which was much bigger compared to yours. That hand that caressed your body and also killed people for money.

Two mentally broken people who finally intertwined fingers and decided to walk this path of life together. This brings a reflection. The romance between a murderer and a suicidal is intriguing, isn't it?

He would kill for you. You would die for him.

[...]

𑊁📂 𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: random idea i had on a sleepless night, forgive any grammar mistakes.

XOXO little bats, kisses that taste like type o negative 💋

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen oneshot #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji smut #toji x female reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji fanfic #toji fushigro x reader #toji headcanons #toji angst #hades vampirona 🤸🏻‍♀️#hades writes

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bronzefuryfic · 6 months ago

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Rhae Targaryen

When the only child of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce is brought to King's Landing to meet with the rest of her family, she finds herself caught in a crisis of succession. The Greens battle for her support... and her affections.

Fic Highlights

Bronze Fury is a heavily green-centric fic from the perspective of my OC, Rhae, as she struggles with identity, love, and loss over the course of the canon events in House of the Dragon!

Canon-compliant, but greatly expanded!

This fic aims to enhance what I love most about the show! Rhae is used to add to the themes already present- providing additional motivation for the Greens, and facilitating more opportunities for them to talk and develop. HotD is the outline, and Bronze Fury stuffs it full with...

'Missing' scenes! Have you ever wondered what happened between the time skips? Who were these characters ~before~ tragedy strikes? And when it does... what do their transformations look like up close?

New storylines! Rhae has her own characterization, and her own goals, unique to her experience as Daemon's forgotten daughter by Rhea Royce. See her grapple with her legacy as Daemon's daughter and Lady of Runestone, as well as navigate her role amongst her new found family, the Greens.

Rhae has unique romantic storylines with both Aegon and Aemond!

If you are a fan of jealous!Aegon or jealous!Aemond, you will find it here in spades. This fic explores the jealousy between the brothers on all levels- not just as it pertains to their romantic rivalry! See them bicker, fight, make-up, then do it all over again. And again. And again.

Childhood friends to lovers! (And occasional enemies). This fic begins with the younger version of the green kids and follows them into adulthood. See how it all began. See how it all falls apart.

Pining! Lots and lots of pining. And co-dependency. And betrayal.

Rhae proves herself to be worthy of their infatuation. Their respective connections are heavily grounded in shared experiences (parental neglect, grievous injuries) and genuine feeling. You won't be left wondering why they're both attracted to her, or her to them- It's all very earned!

Rhae and Helaena are best friends!

We need more female friendships! And the one between Rhae and Helaena is tooth-achingly sweet, with an equal amount of time dedicated to their bond as with either brother. They have tea-time, they play with bugs, they pray at the Sept. They have sleepovers and talk about their freaky dreams...

Rhae gives Helaena the space to freely voice her own opinions- learn how she feels about her family, her future, and more!

Alicent and Criston as complicated parental figures!

Watch Alicent lure a motherless girl to King's Landing to secure her allegiance to their cause- by any means necessary. Private communications, private dinners... does Alicent truly care for the teenager she's brought into her home? Or is she merely a means to an end- fodder for the war, meant only to protect her children?

When your father is Daemon Targaryen, pretty much anyone looks better in comparison- and Criston Cole is no exception! Once fearful of the knight, Rhae quickly comes to appreciate his strength... and his tutelage. He's a tough instructor, but Rhae will put up with anything if it means learning to fight from the best of the best.

Dreams of patricide

Sometimes it feels that Rhae can trace all her problems back to a singular cause- that being none other than her father, Daemon. The Rogue Prince killed her mother and abandoned his daughter for fifteen years. Rhae thinks she ought to kill him for that... but not before understanding one thing: Why?

How is Rhae - a young, disabled, dragonless girl - ever going to face her father? Work. Hard, long years of it. Will her efforts to learn combat and claim a dragon be enough? Can she protect her new family from his wrath? Will she be able to avenge those who have already fallen victim to it?

Interested in reading? Check out the BRONZE FURY DIRECTORY!

Still not sure if it's for you? Feel free to send any questions you have! My anons are always on- let me know what you're looking for (characterization, plot, specific character dynamics etc), and I'll let you know if you'll find it in my fic!

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i-write-hurt-not-comfort · 1 year ago

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in the defence of Ruki Mukami - why Ruki's trauma has just as much influence on his actions as everyone else

i am sitting in the chemistry library at uni right now and am going to spend my time on the most useless task ever to avoid doing anything impactful. please don't take this too serious because i can't write meaningful character analyses.

so i've seen a ton of stuff around, because i know Ruki's not one of the best loved characters in the western fandom. well, of all the characters, i see nearly the most Ruki hate. and obviously everyone is entitled to their opinions, whatever. but what DOES bother me is the reason.

a lot of people say that Ruki's trauma doesn't correlate to his actions, or explain abusive behaviour in the same way that the other characters' do. and i would die for Ruki and we know this, but i've thought about it a lot and i have a Theory as for why some people seem to view his character this way. (i have also studied neuroscience at degree level and learnt about trauma and synaptic plasticity)

to summarise for those who perhaps haven't read all the games (my sources for all this is basically Ruki's MB, DF, and LE), Ruki was born as an only-child in Romania to a rich family, and his father was revealed to be a politician during the Ceaușescu period in Romania. they had a lot of servants, all of whom Ruki learnt from a young age to abuse. he admired his father very much and looked up to him, and his mother was good to him and was close to his father. it would seem like a very good, perfect family - although i'll briefly discuss later why this wasn't necessarily the case.

unfortunately, in the DL universe lore, Karlheinz and Ceaușescu were buddy-buddy politicians, and Ruki's father was eventually chased out of his position. during his downfall, Ruki's father became an alcoholic and began abusing Ruki's mother, verbally and physically. Ruki saw a lot of this as well: somebody he looked up to, admired and trusted, becoming an abusive monster in a very short period of time. i think that's part of why Ruki overlooks Karlheinz's crimes and sees him as a good father anyway.

not only that, Ruki's mother - once again somebody who nurtured and cared for him - turned out to be having an affair. and shortly after that, his father committed suicide: something Ruki actually walked out on.

that in itself is a lot more traumatic than i think people consider. a lot of the DL characters have long-term trauma, but intense sudden trauma, such as your "perfect" life falling apart due to an alcoholic, abusive father killing himself and his mother having an affair, has similar psychological impact. remember, these are people who were supposed to care and nurture him, he trusted them a lot, and they both abandoned him abruptly in very extreme ways. that's the number 1 root of Ruki's trust issues. he's been seen to cut Yui off entirely because he's scared of becoming his abusive father.

similarly, living in a "perfect" household as a spoiled only child can be inherently traumatic. i don't know about you guys, but i've met some (only some, not the majority) of very, very emotionally constipated spoiled only-children. a lot of children showered with materialistic affection are missing key emotional maturity developments. their outlook on life is very narrow and they lack the emotional components of attachment; this is part of why Ruki is quite emotionally immature.

not only that, but growing up as an abusive sociopath to "lower" members of society such as servants is a form of abusive on his parents' behalf. they did not teach him proper world awareness. some children are born as psychopaths etc, true, but the majority of "sociopaths" (diagnosed as ASPD) are that way because they were not taught remorse as a child. Ruki would've learnt to treat his servants that way because that was how his parents did (and we see his father being a dick to the servants in LE too i think), and that in itself is inherently traumatic too.

imagine then, with very little capacity for remorse or a concept of societal hierarchy, being thrown into an orphanage. Ruki is a dick to everyone, yes, but the shock of having everything you know challenged suddenly and without explanation or support is going to cause further trauma. i think people just don't like to consider the fact that a lot of "sociopaths" (again, ASPD is the correct label there) were victims too. he went from being the "master" to being "livestock" and that's going to very rapidly alter your young brain chemistry, entering a "master" mindset as a defensive mechanism. that's why he gets angry/upset/confused when it's challenged.

Ruki has a fuck ton of PTSD as well - he's the only character who i've seen literally throw up MULTIPLE TIMES when experiencing flashbacks.

but i think people generally know that, perhaps not thinking about it as deeply. my Theory as to why people don't seem to see this as being as "extreme" as the other boys' trauma goes further than that.

diabolik lovers follows this dynamic between the Sakamaki's vs Mukami's, whereby Yuma, Kou and Azusa (Yuma and Kou more strongly) have this mindset of "the Sakamaki's can't have trauma because they were rich" and obviously as readers, we're supposed to be like "um, no, the Sakamaki's can have trauma too" because they do.

with that said, Kou and Yuma do successfully get to Subaru/Laito and Shu's heads respectively with this narrative. especially Subaru and Shu who get really fixated with this "i was a spoiled, privileged kid" and because of that, naturally we, as readers, lean towards feeling sorry for the Mukami's especially.

obviously, Ruki is the odd one out when it comes to the Mukami's. he had a sheltered upbringing whereas the other brothers were fighting for their lives in poverty/on the streets, victims and witnesses of the civil war and orphan crisis. Yuma particularly pushes this "Ruki had it easy" notion too, and i've definitely noticed that a lot of people who don't particularly like Ruki tend to fall towards that.

this idea of "not enough" trauma has enough to unpack as it is and we won't do that to, but personally i think that all of Ruki's abusive actions are justified. no, they are not an excuse. none of the diaboys' behaviour is excusable, but i think Rejet did quite a good job of giving them enough fucked up backstory to make us as readers at least understand why that might be how they act.

and from what i see, it seems to be Ruki who people think is the exception to this the most, because his trauma isn't in the same vein as the rest of the Mukami's. the "rich people can't have trauma" narrative gets pushed so hard that i think people forget 1) it isn't true and 2) Ruki went through a ton of fucked shit as a kid, and i don't think any of his actions made me feel any differently than the other diaboys' awful behaviour towards Yui.

you can find Ruki boring, not interesting, or just not your type. but he very, very much has "sufficient" trauma to explain his toxic and dominating actions. thank u for coming to my TedTalk.

#diabolik lovers #ruki mukami #this is over 1.2k words btw this is insane

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litnerdwrites · 9 months ago

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So Nesta might also have second hand trauma...

+ Elain is a hypocrite.

“I went into the Cauldron, too, you know. And it captured me. And yet somehow all you think of is what my trauma did to you.”

This quote has rubbed me the wrong way since I read ACOSF for the first time. I reblogged and responded to a post by @simmanin where I discussed how Elain is a hypocrite for this line, since the IC have never considered what Nesta's trauma did to her. That was one of two thoughts I had regarding this quote, the second being how Nesta's reaction seems completely logical.

I think Nesta's response to Elain wanting to search for the Cauldron to be a form of real trauma caused, not only by her mother, her father's neglect, the cauldron, turning fae, the war and the shit ACOSF put her through, but also the trauma faced by Elain. This is a form of trauma called Secondary traumatic stress disorder.

Secondary trauma is most common in health care workers and mental health professionals, as well as others who help and deal with other people's trauma on the regular. This, to me, makes complete, logical sense. If you're exposed to so many traumatic experiences, even if it isn't directly, on the regular, then it makes sense that your mental health would also suffer for it.

There have been cases in which a person goes through trauma, and their family members, like siblings, develop secondary trauma as a result. Moreover, it's natural for any form of trauma to affect a person's relationships with friends and family, which we see happen to Nesta in how she distances herself from even Elain.

It makes complete sense that Nesta, who has set herself up as Elain's protector their whole life, and acts as more of a mother figure to her, would develop some form of secondary trauma when she almost loses Elain, or watches Elain endure suffering when shoved into the cauldron.

It wouldn't be far fetched for a parent/sibling to develop a form of secondary trauma after almost losing their child/sibling, in an accident or at the hands of another human being. So why is it that nobody considers that Elain's kidnapping caused even more trauma for Nesta.

While I'm not trying to say that it should come before Elain's trauma and experience, it also isn't okay to discount and overlook Nesta's just because her coddling of Elain is considered a bad trait. It isn't good that Elain is coddled like a child, but using it as an excuse to disregard the obvious traits of trauma that Nesta is showing is unfair to her, and just another example of Elain, perhaps unknowingly in regards to secondary trauma, thinking only about Nesta's trauma is doing to her. How she's upset by the way Nesta handles it, rather than considering that Elain's support is the one Nesta needs the most.

Nesta spend her whole life feeling like a failure. To her mother. Her grandmother. To Feyre. To Amren. To the court. Nesta grapples with feelings of self worth and views herself as a failure for being unable to protect those she loves so fiercely, which greatly affects her mental health and is a huge factor in driving her to want to commit suicide. The only thing she didn't feel like she failed at, was protecting Elain. Until the cauldron. Until Hybern. Until they were dragged into a war that Nesta wanted no part of, but got involved with because of Feyre's request and Elain's insistence.

Nesta tried to give to Feyre what Feyre gave to her in that cabin when she allowed her to use their home (despite Feyre's friends accosting her for issues that aren't theirs to address or comment on), and even then, she feels like she failed when the mortal queens turned traitor. Failed to make it up to Feyre, failed to protect her people, and when Hybern came, failed to protect Elain.

Now, for Elain to not only reinforce those negative feelings, but dismiss Nesta's traumas entierly, from the moment the war ended, is cruel. Elain is a hypocrite. She is a hypocrite who was quick to abandon the one person who's been in her corner for her entire life. While there are clearly issues between Elain and Nesta that need to be sorted through, especially in regards to how Elain is coddled and borderline infantilised by her Nesta, discrediting Nesta's trauma, the way she's accused of doing to Elain despite how Nesta sacrificed her own healing just to be by Elain's side and get involved in the war, again, at Feyre's behest, is not how you go about it.

Nesta appears to have a form of secondary trauma that stems from Elain's own traumas, and she's not the only one. I think tamlin's actions stem from a form of secondary trauma from watching how Feyre suffered and died under the mountain. It doesn't make what he did right. It doesn't excuse his actions. Nor does it excuse Feyre's, since one might argue that seeing her sisters dumped into the cauldron gave her a form of secondary trauma too (since Mor mentioned Feyre feeling responsible for what happened in acofs, and wanting to fix all their problems as a result).

However, it does explain them. Much like how Nesta's traumas, first and second hand, explain her actions. That's not to say that an explanation is an excuse. It merely provide a context from which to examine their actions can be examined and create a path to empathy and compassion. Whether they're forgiven and forgotten is entierly up to those affected by their actions (pretty much just Feyre and maybe Elain for the coddling), and in the case of fictional media, audience discretion.

Nesta has certain things she should apologies for (again, to Feyre mostly, and maybe a little bit Elain), I don't disagree with that. However, none of that can happen until Nesta is able to heal.

The quote above is the perfect example of Nesta being denied that, despite the delusion of the IC in thinking that's what ACOSF was about. Her trauma isn't considered valid by the Ic, or even her own sisters, which is why it isn't treated as such.

So to sum it up, yes. Nesta is thinking about what Elain's trauma did to her because it did have a very real affect on her. It caused real trauma that Nesta has to deal with. The dangers faced by Feyre and the entire court, cause her trauma. She suffers with the fear of losing those she loves so fiercely so that her mental health took a swan dive because of that, amongst other reasons. Yet nobody acknowledges that Elain's suffering, real and horrible as it may be, also caused Nesta pain. Hell, they don't acknowledge the pain Nesta's own suffering caused her, much less anybody else's.

Also Elain and the IC just prove that they have no empathy or compassion despite their own traumas being so similar to the hell they're putting Nesta through. Either their traumas weren't traumatising or the cycle of abuse broke the so badly that they can't even recognise the abuse they put others through.

#anti acosf #anti ic #anti inner circle #anti rhysand #pro nesta #nesta deserves better #nesta acotar #anti amren #anti mor #pro nesta archeron #anti elain #anti feyre #anti morrigan #Nesta's trauma needs to be addressed #preferably by a professional #but apparently those are off limits to Nesta for some reason #pro tamlin

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lawlietscaramels · 11 months ago

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reading my friends posts and remembering everything I love about how flawed and complex Misa is and has the potential to be if Ohba wasn't a COWARD/hj

like... she searches for basically a replacement for the authority figures in her life after losing hers..

she “loves” Light because he's Kira and the reason for that “love” is because he enacted that revenge that she couldn't. she admires Kira and is grateful to him and because of that she wants to serve him and make him happy like he made her- but she doesn't necessarily love him.

I think people forget that she was orphaned at an age that is 1) quite old enough to understand what's happening 2) not old enough to live without any guidance 3) not old enough to understand the world (the brain doesn't develop until 25 iirc) and a few more things I forgot HAHAJAJHAJAHA. But Misa's at such a fragile stage in her life when she's preparing to cross that threshold from child to adulthood, and she doesn't have the support she needs to do it. Even attaching herself to Light/Kira, who she subconsciously understands as a suitable protector, doesn't provide her that assistance she - everyone - needs at such a pivotal point in their life.

also, another person could easily take Light's place as a - I'm going to say parental but in the sense she needs comfort, protection, guidance - figure. Light doesn't show Misa very much affection at all, so if someone were to provide her with that love, she'd probably attach herself to them too - though I suppose I think Misa is very loyal, so I don't think she'd abandon Light completely, as we see pre timeskip (spent enough time together to form a genuine bond) but after memory loss (doesn't remember he's Kira).

I'm realising I didn't really make all my points for the opening statement. but oh well. Misa's character has so much potential to be interesting and have that internal conflict and it's mostly wasted :(

#these are mostly baseless theories #but they're so integral to my understanding of Misa I'm probably going to write her like this #can you tell i took a high school psych class and only paid 80% attention #death note #lei chats #writing #dn #death note headcanons #misa amane #misa misa #amane misa #light yagami

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bootlegramdomneess · 2 years ago

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The Bear Season 2 thoughts

After watching The Bear season 2 and letting things marinate, I think I’d like to share my thoughts. First, as a therapist, for me this show perfectly depicts trauma and its effects in its most raw form. It was so uncomfortable and heartbreaking to watch at times, I felt like one of the themes of this season is sacrifice. What are you willing to sacrifice to A. Discover your purpose and B. is it worth sacrificing so much for success? I saw this theme numerous times throughout the season particularly with the Star convo and from Chef Luca when Marcus asked if it is all worth it and the convo Carmy had with uncle Jimmy about the story of failure

The Xmas episode: This was hard to watch. I had to keep pausing it. Donna is so dysregulated and disturbed. But what I really want to discus and Mikey and Carmy’s dynamic. Mikey is so troubled. He is so unwell. Mikey is Carmy’s hero, but I think Carmy doesn’t see how deeply troubled his brother is. Mikey admires Carmy so much because Carmy was brave enough to get away from the family to pursue his dreams. So heartbreaking. SO MUCH DYSFUNCTION.

Claire- Her character wasn’t fully developed, but I feel like maybe it was done purposefully. We are seeing her through Carmy’s eyes and Carmy doesn’t seem to really know how he feels about her, or know her. He says he’s in love after being forced to choose a feeling, but really he’s only just connected with her. I think perhaps he is equating that feeling of enjoying being with her with love, or maybe even having sex with her with love. He latched onto Claire because she is good at comforting him. Many people who come from dysfunction struggle with this and will latch onto people who appear to be good at this. He’s with her because he thinks, oh, this is fun and normal. He used the term seeking “FUN” but he is searching for normality without a clue as to what normal is. Even deeper, he’s searching for a true path to becoming a healthy adult.

Carmy: I empathize with him so much. I do see Carmy has made some progress. His insight has improved a bit as he recognizes how much trauma he has experienced and how it has manifested in his adult life. He is trying. He is seeking to change. He has recognized the need to be less emotionally inhibited. His judgement is a little impaired though. He sort of thrives In Chaos. That’s why the alarm going off wasn’t bothering him. That’s why he created this entire scenario by getting in a serious relationship with a stranger. He is so emotionally inhibited: The excessive inhibition of spontaneous action, feeling, or communication, usually to avoid disapproval by others, feelings of shame, or losing control of one’s impulses. inhibition of Positive impulses (e.g., joy, affection, sexual excitement, play); (c) difficulty expressing vulnerability or communicating freely about one’s feelings, needs, and so forth; or (d) excessive emphasis on rationality while disregarding emotions. I think this is his main Schema. Yah boy is messed up and needs some one-on-one therapy. I can go on and on about this. There’s so much. Carmy’s actions are pretty on point for someone coming from trauma, dysfunctional parents, and alcoholic parents. He behavior breathes asshole, but really, he has a deeply wounded, lonely, angry, abandoned and abused inner child and his adult self needs some serious healing.

Sydney: I love how they wrote and expanded her character this season. I love how vulnerable they showed her to be. How hard she worked to deal with the growing anxiety. I felt her loneliness when she was eating that giant sundae alone, but I also loved seeing her in her element. Her dad is an ace. She has such a grounding, funny, hardworking energy.

Carmy and Sydney: my babies. Their dynamic is so sweet. So genuine. So raw and real. How many times has he had a panic attack and thoughts of Sydney grounded him? Like..sir. I also feel he’s trying to protect Sydney in a way, and I see this in the star conversation. Underneath his words he is saying: I had to give up so much to get this and I don’t want that for you. It’s hell. It’s fucking terrible pressure. You don’t want this, but also not saying it because maybe he doesn’t want to shatter or shit on her dreams and ambitions. The foreshadowing of the growing anxiety she’ll likely face in the next season with the receipt machine going off in her head was telling. I think this is what Carmy is warning her about. I love when she jokingly teases him. I appreciate how he notices things about her: “you like making people happy.” I like that she calls him out and communicates her needs to him. This is a slow burn. They’re so awkward. They want to hang out. I don’t think they realize they may have feelings yet or if they ever will. They are so much a like in certain aspects but so different in how they view the world because of how they were raised.

Lastly, Richie is the MVP for me this season. I have a soft spot for him.

#sydney x carmy #carmy x sydney #syd x carmy #syd adamu #thebear

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pleaseeeimjustagirl · 10 months ago

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Maybe You Have A Anxious Attachment…

Hey, babesss I recently realized I had an anxious attachment and it was starting to affect certain parts of my life specifically my friendships. I had a lot of friendships I was clinging on to because of my anxious attachment I was giving more of myself in these friendships and not receiving anything in return while people pleasing. All of this triggered from my anxious attachment and I wanted to share the things I’ve learned that could help you if you have an anxious attachment.

What is an attachment style?

♡ An attachment style is a kind of bond we form with others. We develop these kinds of bonds at a young age from the interactions we have with our parents/guardians. These attachment styles follow us into our adulthood.

♡ There are four attachment styles: secure attachment, anxious attachment, avoidant attachment, and disorganized attachment.

♡ Secure Attachment: You feel secure in your own space and can be open and supportive towards others.

♡ Anxious Attachment: You do not trust other feelings towards you and need constant reassurance.

♡ Avoidant Attachment: You have trouble opening up and showing your emotions.

♡ Disorganized Attachment: you do not trust. You either push people away or have an unhealthy need for closeness.

Where does your anxious attachment come from?

♡ This attachment style is formed when a child learns that they cannot depend on their parent/guardian to meet their comfort needs.

♡ This is a result of inconsistent or distant parenting.

♡ Most people with anxious attachments had parents/guardians who were easily overwhelmed, switched between being attentive to pushing away, and made the child feel responsible for their feelings.

Signs you have an anxious attachment?

♡ Codependency.

♡ Fears of Rejection.

♡ Fears of Abandonment.

♡ Overly Sensitive To Criticism.

♡ Issues With Jealousy.

♡ Low Self-Esteem.

♡ Feeling Unworthy of Love.

♡ Trust Issues.

What can trigger your anxious attachment?

♡ Arguments.

♡ Inconsistent Behavior From Others.

♡ When People You Are Close To Are Being Distant.

♡ Someone Important To You Forgets A Special Occasion

♡ Broken Trust.

How to go from anxiously attached to securely attached

♡ Learn Breathing Techniques. Breathing can help ground you in moments of anxiety before reacting pause, focus, and breath.

♡ Change Your Thinking. When a negative thought or idea pops up switch your brain to something positive (plans, shopping, and vacations)

♡ Learn to self-soothe. Learn to calm yourself down in a way that is relaxing maybe that is walking, breathing, yoga, or prayer.

♡ Reparenting Yourself. Healing your inner child is the most important part of shifting your anxious attachment to a secure attachment. Inner child journaling prompts, inner child books, and so many other forms of inner child healing. Talk to yourself the way you wished your parent would have talked to you. Pamper yourself the way you wish you had been when you were a child. Be your parent<3333

♡ Express Yourself. Instead of allowing all your emotions to build up express your feelings. I recommend journaling as a form of self-help. There are other ways like art, dance, and exercise.

♡ Surround Yourself With Secure Attachment. Build friendships/relationships with people who have a secure attachments you will be able to learn what a secure stable relationship is like.

♡ Practice Being Vulnerable. To go from anxiously attached to securely attached try to be more vulnerable while also creating emotional safety for yourself. Learn to express your feelings, needs, dislikes, and desires.

♡ Therapy. This is a must!!! Therapy is so beneficial when going through this journey having someone be there for you and guide you. I highly recommend BetterHelp!

♡ Practice Mindfulness And Gratitude. Mindfulness is being present in the moment you can practice mindfulness by doing meditation, walking meditation, yoga, and gardening. Gratitude is the practice of being grateful for the things you have in your life and your body. Say thank you to your body, hug yourself, and nourish your body with nutritious foods. Be grateful for the little things in your life especially the things you take for granted like walking and your bed.

♡ Self Care. Take time for yourself to do things that make you feel relaxed and loved. That could be booking a spa treatment, painting, reading, and skincare. There a many other forms of self-care.

♡ Be Kind To Yourself. This is not an easy transition you have lived with this attachment style your entire life it will take some time to change it so be patient with yourself.Positive self talk is important affirm yourself and cancel out negative thoughts with positive ones.

Healing is a scary process in the beginning especially if you’re going from people-pleasing and being anxiously attached to people to building boundaries and standards. But you need to practice all of these skills and techniques so you can grow.

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vellichorom · 7 months ago

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that post regarding papa.isa / papa.iwa doing numbers so i'm going further in-depth about my thoughts because i'm So Right

-- @/Zoeyhoshi, quoted around the time the Focus On the Hawks manga was initially set to be released;

( this is not an official description nor is it stated in the manga but could Probably be inferred by the given timeline of the game & regardless likely doesn't go without precedent; )

okay so now that that's out of the way,

here's a bunch of ryuuji & isa/shuu relationship thoughts that have caused me such brainrot ;;

perceive this as papa/isa & i kill you;

to ME ( & this is rather flavored with headcanon so bear with me ); ryuuji kawara, a man realizing a baby & then some beforehand too late that he's just No longer in love with his wife / girlfriend, spends ALL of his time possible at work, with his team of prodigy teenage exploits, honestly just dicking around & refusing to- you know, be a Responsible Grown Ass Man & do something about his life,

& he starts doting on the sad little partridge who's thrown himself into his work to an unhealthy degree & is no doubt having a hard time just being ALIVE after being orphaned & physically disabled by a terrorist attack when he was just a baby, practically hovering over his shoulder, making sure he eats, gets out & has fun, & this is EASY for ryuuji, because they both have a mutual interest in science - as well as each other. ( not in a weird way get out of here, )

& isa's been given the short end of the shit stick ALL his short life thus far; he was born into a rich family that abhorred him since day one for Never being up to their standards, has resented them & felt nothing for anyone around him Since day one, was involved in a terrorist attack that Physically fucked him up for the rest of his life, & was almost immediately indoctrinated into the extremist hawk party at like. age 6 & stayed with them onward. CAN YOU IMAGINE,

so isa's growing up in a sterile, hostile environment & having his progeny used to develop techniques & weapons against humankind. i can't imagine it's the warmest place to RAISE an already jaded child, let alone when they're destined to become the smartest one in the new world order, but i digress.

IN STEPS RYUUJI, showing him all the warmth & kindness that he's yet to experience from ANYONE in his life before, & oh my god. it's wonderful. it is indescribably luxurious- it's so fantastic that ryuuji kawara would be the Only Person that shuu would show respect for, the only person he'd ever do ANYTHING for, the person he would somewhat come to live for, no matter how much he denies it or portrays ryuuji like a fool under his breath.

ryuuji imprints on isa as though he were his own child & finds fulfillment & content enough just to pal around with him for the rest of his days, & isa imprints on ryuuji as though...

he were everything to him, likely. of course, construed to the mentally & emotionally stunted shuu iwamine as Romance, or something along those lines. familial feelings Must have died with his parents, & you want to tell him they probably just transferred to ryuuji during the extremely stressful period toward the beginning of shuu's young life? get out of here,,,

BUT IT'S IN FACT VERY POSSIBLE;

ryuuji loved isa & isa loved ryuuji & shuu still loves ryuuji !!!!! a man admired for his brilliance who also showed shuu the most tender affection he has ever felt in his whole life & that has warped him beyond belief & kind of caused almost everything in hatoful boyfriend to happen

& my god can you imagine being ryouta finding out about this; can you imagine your dad abandoning you prior to your birth & putting all his love & care into someone who screwed you & all your friends & literally almost all of your society over because of it. i can't help but imagine he tries not to dwell on it but... ouh, the resentment he harbors in his heart about it... unfathomable,

OHH my emotionally distant & stunted horrible idiot BASTARDS ryuuji & shuu..... not a week goes by where i don't think about them,

i hate them so much

here's also the abridged discord post version of this post jic i left out some details i wanted to discuss & i think i did

#twinkie talks #Hatoposting #Hatoful Boyfriend #Ryuuji Kawara #Shuu Iwamine #Isa Souma #YOU KNOW WHAT FUCK IT all of you look & know me #anyway don't argue w/ me on this i will Explode #they suck SOOOOO bad but they're such a duo.... they're For each other. fuckhead family #this is for you - people who agreed with me on that post #anyway the brainworms are coming for me so long

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myeuphoricmindset · 1 year ago

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Haunted by you | Eddie Munson

Summary | Eddie Munson's ghost is haunting the house recently occupied by Daisy Morgan. Having been deceased for years, Eddie becomes visible only to her. As she adjusts to sharing her living space with an otherworldly presence, their relationship develops into a compelling yet forbidden romance between the living and the dead. But, how could that ever truly work?

Pairing | Eddie Munson x OC

Warnings/Tags | 18+ only, Strained parent relationships with significant focus on maternal issues, Themes of feeling unwanted and abandoned are central, Cheating -though not involving Eddie Munson or the main character, alcohol and drug use, Profanity, Sexual content, and Mental health themes.

Fic Notes | This fic is set after the events of Stranger Things season 4. Seven years have passed, and everyone has moved forward since the defeat of Vecna and the closure of The Upside Down. This story won't revolve around Vecna or The Upside Down. While there might be occasional appearances by other Stranger Things characters, the narrative centers on normal life, void of supernatural plots except for Eddie's ghostly presence.

I don't have a fixed posting schedule, but I'll aim for weekly updates. I might post more frequently, but I'm keeping the dates flexible for my mental well-being. Rest assured, I won't leave this fic unfinished.

Word count | 4k

Read on ao3

August 1993

Embedded within our very DNA is the innate longing for maternal love and acceptance. When that love is withheld over time, our minds adapt, convincing us that we can do without it. However, a persistent yearning for that inherent love remains, a constant reminder of the void that's meant to be filled.

Even in death, Daisy’s mother couldn't find it within herself to love her daughter. Grace’s final moments weren't filled with apologies or declarations of affection for Daisy; instead, there was only a will assigning property to her.

With a chuckle, Daisy twirls the keys around her finger, amused by Grace's belief that a house could mend the chasm in her heart. It’s a testament to how detached she was from what love between a mother and child should be.

For the past six months, Daisy has been stuck in limbo, her presence tethered to this seemingly senseless house following her mother’s passing. Today, at long last, she clasps the keys in her hand—a significant stride towards ending this dreadful chapter of her life. Whether driven by resentment or anger, Daisy raises her middle finger to the sky, smiling with satisfaction as she bids farewell to Grace.

In the parking lot, a few passersby cast concerned glances her way as Daisy releases a breath. It's not just any breath; it's a sigh that unburdens her from a lifetime of pain. The ache will persist, but it no longer shackles her to Grace; now, her mother can only haunt her dreams. And she will take that as a win.

A huge smile is plastered on her face as she walks to her car and calls her realtor. The line rings twice before she hears his eager voice on the other end.

"Hello, Ms. Morgan."

"Walter, it's all set. You can move forward with putting up the for-sale sign. I'll send over the necessary paperwork soon. ” Daisy says.

"Absolutely, ma'am. Sounds great.”

“Oh, I’ve also turned on the electricity under my name while we work on getting it sold.”

“Wonderful. I'll arrange an open house for next weekend."

This house holds no appeal for her; it seems Grace hoped to tether herself to Daisy through the property. The faster it’s sold then the faster she can move on with her life.

"Thank you, and please, call me Daisy."

"Certainly," he replies apologetically.

She gives him a kind smile, almost as if he could perceive it through the phone, and says goodbye.

Music blares as Daisy speeds out of the lawyer's parking lot. Her sunglasses shield her eyes from the summer sun, her brown hair wiping in the wind, and her engagement ring glimmers brilliantly as her hand tightens on the steering wheel.

Things are finally looking up.

She planned to stop by the bridal store and try on her dress for the last fitting, but she could do that tomorrow. She just wants to relax at home with Nick and watch Pretty Woman. Maybe even recreate the bath scene, singing Prince while drowning in bubbles. That’s a perfect night.

The apartment's lights are on even though her fiancé isn't due back until seven.

"Nick?" Daisy's voice echoes through the apartment as she opens the fridge, her mind set on preparing dinner. A craving for pasta, rigatoni specifically, with grilled chicken, mushrooms, and onions fills her thoughts, her stomach voicing its approval with a rumble. Unfortunately, they are completely out of chicken and pasta. Wonderful, just wonderful.

Luckily, their apartment lies within walking distance of one of Nick's favorite Chinese restaurants. The prospect of takeout lifts Daisy's spirits as she heads to their bedroom to ask Nick if he wants his usual Kung Pao chicken.

The sound of the shower greets her before she enters the room.

"Nic—" Her words halt as her gaze falls upon the disheveled bed.

What in the world? The comforter hangs askew and pillows litter the floor in disarray. It’s an absolute mess and she could have sworn she made the bed this morning like she always does.

Before she can call Nick's name once more, noises emanate from the bathroom. Daisy cautiously pushes the bathroom door open. The sight before her is surreal: Nick and his coworker Mia are in the shower together. His hand rests on her thigh, the same hand that's wiped away Daisy's tears. His lips pressed against her neck, the same lips that proposed to Daisy. Mia's moans fill the air, reminiscent of the sounds Daisy herself has made. Her mouth goes sour at the sight.

Daisy remains rooted in place as if observing the scene from outside her body.

This can’t be happening.

Time slows as Nick becomes aware of her presence, the shower door flinging open, Mia futilely reaching for a towel, and Daisy retreating.

Nick's voice calls after her as she assembles a small bag. She can't answer, gripped by a numbing shock. The room's movements feel surreal, and Daisy navigates it like a phantom, a silent specter swallowed by her own detachment.

Pushing the front door open, the summer air snaps her back to reality as she approaches her car. Nick's voice recedes as she leaves him standing, towel wrapped around his waist and their shared future at his feet, symbolized by a single apartment key.

“Daisy!”

Betrayal is no stranger to Daisy, but it doesn't blunt the pain of misplaced trust. A sense of foolishness washes over her, as Nick held the secrets of her past, her vulnerabilities, her fears. Tonight he reinforced her sense of being an unwanted burden.

It’s too much to bear. She has to get the hell out of here.

Hawkins lies eighty miles from Indianapolis. Unintentionally, Daisy found herself heading north on Interstate 65, steering aimlessly while her thoughts were lost on autopilot. At some point during the drive, Daisy stopped for gas and picked up McDonald’s despite lacking any appetite. She mechanically consumed it, then pulled over on the highway only to throw it all up. All of this occurred while she was in a haze, unable to recall the process. She moved through these actions like a mere shell of herself. Reaching a new city without a memory of the journey ignited a surge of panic within her.

Daisy wasn’t just in Hawkins, Indiana; she found herself parked outside her mother’s house, now her very own. Mixed emotions surged within her as her hands tightened around the steering wheel, her focus unwavering on the imposing iron gate adorned with the “Morgan” insignia.

She will never admit that she'd memorized the route to her mother's house. A house she never intended to visit. It was always decided after the accident that she would never contact Grace again, but it gave Daisy a sense of control knowing where her mother was and not doing a damn thing about it.

Until now.

She would have driven to Sloan's place, relying on her childhood best friend's kindness to give her a place to stay while she figured out what to do next. Sloan had always been there, a constant pillar of support. But, tonight was not the night to ask for support. Sloan happened to be attending a significant work event with her girlfriend, Robin at her side. Months ahead of time, she had planned a stay at a luxurious hotel for this very evening. Even on a subconscious level, Daisy understood that intruding upon their special night wasn’t an option, even when her own life was unraveling at the seams.

Left with no other options, Daisy finds herself in an unexpected predicament—having to accept help from her mother, the last thing she ever wanted. Daisy understands her mother's presumed satisfaction in the afterlife, and it's a painful realization. Even though the house was hers, the idea of depending on Grace’s help for her own well-being bothered her, making her upset. She was meant to sell the home and ever step foot on the property.

It felt like her mother had won, even though the game ended when Grace died. But Daisy reminded herself that the stay isn't indefinite; it's just a temporary solution until she figures out her next step.

Her hand trembles as she inputs 0527 on the keypad. Time seems to freeze for a moment, and Daisy holds her breath. The tension snaps as the gate loudly creaks open, breaking the silence.

The driveway stretches, winding its way around towering trees and clusters of flowering bushes. Daisy remembers the land from before the house was built—a trailer park with families that got wiped out by a natural disaster in ‘86. Grace saw the chance, bought the land, and replaced the trailers with a mansion. The families from the Forest Hills were paid to leave, a deal they took because their homes were falling apart. They didn't have many options and didn't want to end up homeless. Most of them did not have insurance to take care of their homes and Grace paid more than they could ever offer.

One person with too much money took over a place that used to be home to many families. Instead of helping them rebuild, Grace paid them to go away. Daisy wonders about those families and the kids who used to play here; their laughter once echoed between the trees and now it’s silent. Hopefully, they managed to reconstruct their lives using the resources she provided.

As the sun set, its light bathed the house, creating a gentle radiance along its edges. The home stands on a grand scale, boasting windows that envelop both the lower and upper levels. Despite only being built seven years ago, Grace held a deep appreciation for history and it shows in the architecture. The Victorian-style home was crafted in a manner that exudes the aura of centuries past.

The focal point, the entryway, is crowned with two grand wooden front doors, standing tall and imposing, their well-worn elegance inviting all who visit. Ironically, Daisy can only assume that visitors to the house were few and far between during Grace's time.

Effortlessly, the key slipped into the lock, and upon entering, Daisy’s bag dropped onto the wooden floors, the sound reverberating through the expansive, vacant house.

"Hello?" Daisy's voice echoed through the space, although she knew well that no one would answer.

Still, she waited for a reply that never came—only the structural creaks and the soft hum of air circulating through the vents persisted. It was eerie, but at least she was not on the streets and the house itself was undeniably beautiful and fully furnished. Daisy had to admit that Grace possessed a talent for home decor. An artist at heart, Grace's creative vision shone through, not just in her painted canvases but also in the ambiance of her house.

Daisy admired the exquisite crown moldings that decorate the ceilings, intricate panels adorn the walls, and ornate chandeliers cast a warm, gentle glow. It was inviting even if she didn’t feel welcome.

Stained glass windows, with their kaleidoscope of hues, scatter fragments of sunset light. The grand staircase, an artful masterpiece that anchors the foyer, leads to the upper floor, its handcrafted banisters a tangible testament to the commitment to the minutiae.

All of it was stunning. It’s hard to believe that Grace was living in this while Daisy endured nights on a couch, lacking a proper bedroom, in a family that seemed indifferent to her presence.

She debated unpacking her bag but was overwhelmed by the day's events. She wanted to take the edge off, to forget. She figured Grace might have left some wine in the kitchen. Grace was rarely without alcohol nearby.

The kitchen was pristine. The house staff, paid ahead of time, had maintained the house and yard even after her death. They hoped to impress a new owner. Daisy wondered what they'd think when they saw the for sale sign at the end of the weekend. She couldn't worry about that now; it might push her over the edge with all that’s on her mind.

Daisy tossed half-empty wine bottles into the trash and found a corked bottle on the rack. She wiped the dust off a Pinot Noir named Goldeneye.

Never heard of it, but it’ll do.

“Aha,” Daisy muttered with satisfaction as the cork popped.

Holding the bottle, she walked to the living room. Taking a hefty sip, she hoped the wine would numb her. The smoky black cherry flavor lingered on her tongue. The house was quiet. Daisy kicked off her shoes, drank some more, and collapsed onto the couch.

"Fuck," Daisy muttered, looking around at her situation. Emotions surged, and she used the wine to drown them.

“Fuck!” She shouts into the emptiness, fighting tears.

Amidst denial and disbelief, laughter bubbled up, an unexpected reaction to her turmoil. Could this really be happening? Maybe it was a terrible nightmare, and she'd wake up soon. She gulped down more wine, trying to steady herself. She pinched her arm, in a desperate attempt to wake up, but the pain was real. She choked back a sob with alcohol.

No, Daisy told herself, forcing herself off the couch. Sulking wasn't the solution. What did she need now? Besides wine, music. Daisy searches the living room and it doesn’t take long for her eyes to spot the record player sitting pretty on the oak table behind the couch. The vinyls are displayed perfectly on a shelf. Daisy’s fingers brush the stack until she comes across Tell Mama by Etta James.

With steady hands, Daisy placed the needle down in the record, and the resulting music gently cradled her frayed nerves. She’s thankful she paid to have the electricity turned on or she would have been sitting in the dark.

For the first time in hours, a smile graced her lips as she raised the half-empty bottle, playfully spinning around the room.

“Sing it, Etta,”

The house came alive with echoes of the music. It felt different, there was a shift in the air.

But a sudden whiff of smoke caught her attention, and she slowed down. She frowned, puzzled.

Was that the smell of cigarettes?

It couldn't be. Chalking it up to the wine's effect, Daisy walked to the window and opened it, welcoming a draft of fresh air. She was beginning to feel hot and that was a sign that she’s had too much too quickly.

Examining the bottle in her hand, she was met with a shocking sight that widened her eyes—within its brown-tinted glass, a man leaned against the wall, arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

The sight paralyzed her momentarily, her scream of terror overpowering the music before the bottle crashed to the floor.

Dizziness engulfs the room, and she clings to the couch for stability. Her gaze shifts to the spilled wine staining the wooden floor, and then swiftly looks up to find the man.

But, he's gone.

"Who's there?!" Daisy's voice trembles as she retreats toward the kitchen, tripping over her own feet in her haste.

The music persists, accompanied by the lingering scent of smoke. Daisy snatches the phone off the hook, her fingers fumbling with the buttons as she struggles to dial 911.

"Get out now! I'm calling the police!" Daisy's voice wavers as she shouts, her unease palpable.

As she waits for the line to ring, Daisy stretches the phone cord to its limit as she reaches for a kitchen knife.

There is no ringing. The line is dead.

Daisy's heart sinks, and her face slumps as she presses the numbers again in frustration.

No. She forgot to set up a new landline under her name.

“No!” Daisy's exclamation filled the room.

A voice emerged from behind Daisy, “You can see me?”

Daisy spun around, stumbling backward. The same man stood over her with a confused look—a figure both captivating and haunting.

He was taller than Daisy, lean and lanky in build. His dark, tousled curly hair framed his face, the locks falling gracefully over his forehead and partially obscuring his eyes. Those deep brown eyes gazed down at Daisy with curiosity.

“Get back!” Her knife trembled as it rose toward him. “Get out of my house!”

His lips curled up as he leaned down, his face mere inches from the knife's tip. His gaze shifted from the knife to Daisy's widened eyes.

“You’re in my house, sweetheart.”

Without hesitation, Daisy thrust the knife into his neck.

A gasp escapes her lips as she realizes what she had just done.

But there is no blood, no cry of pain from him. The knife left no mark.

The man straightened, appearing unaffected and unperturbed. His fingers brush over his neck, and he examined them. A laugh erupted from him as he confirmed his lack of harm. The sound of his laughter startles Daisy. She struggles to comprehend how the knife had passed through him as if he were air.

“Impressive, but you have to try harder than that,” He remarked.

Daisy recoiled, her veins flooded with an icy rush, as he moved through her and vanished.

Through her... he had walked through her as if he were the wind rustling the leaves in the trees.

What the actual fuck is going on?

Gasping for air, Daisy struggles to catch her breath, her attempt to regain composure falling short. Her chest feels constricted, as though it might collapse under the weight of her racing heart, while her head continues to spin with disorientation.

This is it. She’s going to die.

In the same house as Grace? Hell no. The thought of that alone has Daisy scrambling to her feet.

Her eyes dart around, and he is nowhere to be found. A surge of adrenaline has her running to the front door. There is a phone in her car. She just needs to make it there and call 911. I’ve got this, she thought.

Daisy didn’t turn around once she made it out the door. She’s seen too many scary movies and they never survive when they slow down to check their back.

She closes the car door with a strong thud, locking it forcefully. Her phone is in the glove compartment, rarely used. It’s a new addition, and she isn't entirely used to having a phone on the go.

With shaky fingers, she dials 911. The operator's voice on the other end is a lifeline, reassuring and guiding her. The calm instructions provided a semblance of order amidst the panic that threatened to engulf her.

Dispatch is en route to her location and that helped Daisy breathe a little easier. Following the operator's directions, Daisy remained in the safety of her car.

She settled into the driver's seat, eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of the intruder who had shattered her sense of security while she waited for the police to arrive. The absence of the man did little to quell her unease; if anything, the tension remained palpable, coiled within her like a tightly wound spring.

Time seemed to stretch as she waited, every passing second laden with apprehension.

The flashing lights of the approaching police vehicles pierced the darkness, casting an eerie glow on the scene. Relief mingled with lingering fear as Daisy watched the law enforcement officers spring into action. Even though the immediate threat might have dissipated, the aftershocks of the intrusion still reverberated through her, leaving her on edge.

As the officers began their investigation, Daisy recounted the harrowing encounter, her voice shaky but resolute. She cooperated with their questioning, hoping that their presence would help dispel the lingering shadows that had taken hold of her mind.

However, the man who had broken into her home remained elusive. Even though the immediate danger had passed, Daisy couldn't shake off the feeling that she was being watched, which kept her on edge.

As the investigation reached its conclusion, Daisy's version of events started to unravel. No signs of forced entry, no trace of an intruder—her story seemed to be falling apart.

Doubt crept in, exacerbated by the officers' questioning of her sobriety due to the spilled wine and the discarded bottles. Frustration surged within her. They didn’t believe her. Of course they didn’t.

Internally, Daisy wrestled with the wild scenarios her mind had conjured in the heat of panic, like the memory of stabbing the man who simply walked away unharmed and how he disappeared in thin air. She kept these details to herself, focusing on the central truth: she had indeed seen a man, an intruder.

“Perhaps the alcohol took its toll and played tricks on your perception. We've all been there before, Ma’am. It's understandable,” the officer offered, his tone laced with a well-intentioned reassurance.

“No, that's not what happened!” Daisy's frustration surged forth. Her voice held a mixture of anger and determination. “I had maybe half a bottle. I’m not intoxicated. I saw a man, and he was in my house.”

A glance exchanged between the officers told Daisy all that she needed to know, and now her patience is wearing thin.

This day had tested her resilience. Her emotions teetered on the edge of tears, a precipice she was desperate to avoid.

Hold it together, Daisy. Tears will only add to their assumption that you’re insane.

“We're here to help, Ms. Morgan. Let us accompany you inside,” The officer suggested kindly. “It's getting late and about to rain.”

Walking back inside, Daisy's thoughts were a whirlwind of disbelief and vulnerability. As she stepped in, the house no longer felt safe. The officers' presence was comforting, yet it couldn't hide the truth: Her space had been invaded, not just by a stranger but also by doubts that made her question her reality.

“We've checked your home thoroughly. There is no one here. I can promise you that. Now, If you come across anything else suspicious or unusual then give me a call. Here is my card.”

The officer hands over the card, offering well wishes for the evening, then heads towards their car and drives away.

Daisy lingers in the doorway as rain begins to fall. She wonders if she’s losing her sanity—could she have imagined everything? Doubt sneaks into her thoughts like an unwelcome intruder, picking at her beliefs. Yet, the uncomfortable sensation in her gut persists, a reminder that things aren’t right. Her emotions converge, forming a bubble of anger in her chest. She’s tired of looking like a fool.

With a forceful slam, the door shuts behind Daisy as she enters the living room, her steps heavy and furious. She scans the room, finding it empty and shrouded in silence. The music has stopped, leaving only the wine stains as the only reminder. She scowls, her eyes fixed on the red-stained wood.

“Where are you?” Daisy’s voice reverberates through the room in a shout.

No response.

“Show yourself! I know you’re here.”

Silence. Total silence. Daisy’s face glistens with dampness, and she wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand. The tears, once contained, now break free like a dam bursting open.

Daisy pulls out her cell phone, her vision blurred by tears and sobs catching in her throat. With shaky fingers, she dials ten digits, and amidst the ringing, she eases down the wall, finding herself on the floor. Even though she doesn’t expect an answer, hearing Sloan’s voicemail gives her a small sense of comfort.

“Yeah, you reached Sloan. Leave a message and maybe I’ll get back to you.”

A loud beep sounds, and Daisy takes a moment to collect herself. “Sloan,” her voice quivers, “I need you. Please call me back when you can.”

Daisy draws her knees close to her chest, enveloping them with her arms as she lowers her head. This, she acknowledges, is her lowest point. Here it is, the culmination of losing her fiancé and her sanity, all within a single night.

Daisy’s attention is grabbed by a heavy sigh, causing her to look up. Everything in her freezes. There he sits, on the counter’s edge opposite her, absently twisting the ring on his finger.

“You know, there’s something about a girl crying,” he murmurs, drawing a breath before slapping a hand over his chest, “It just tears me up.”

Though his words carry a genuine tone, his eyes hold an elusive expression she can’t quite place. Daisy remains frozen, her gaze locked on him.

Their eyes meet, and he speaks softly, “You’re killing me, Daisy. And I’m already dead.”

Chapter two coming soon

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