#I’m a people pleaser | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

criminalamnesia · 11 months ago

Text

this was my original idea for the ending! (and it’s actually gonna be part of the second ending lol) but I wanted to give readers options (and also I felt bad for all the angst)

personally, i wouldn’t have opened the door for him at all lol

ok this is the end of the little tolerate it series— BUT I’m writing two different endings!! so here’s ending 1 :)

part one here and part two here

when he saw you that day on the street and tried to stop you, you had kept walking. hadn’t even turned your head, as if you knew it was him speaking.

of course you’d known it was him. he couldn’t blame you for ignoring him, honestly— he had been awful to you. he fully recognized that now, after years of being alone and mandated therapy and an honorable discharge.

he recognized how he let the one good thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he was too damn wrapped up in himself. but he had a right to be.

he had a right to not want to celebrate coming home. had a right to want peace and quiet once escaping from the sounds of war and death. he just should’ve communicated that with you instead of pulling away.

he’s grown. he understands now. and he knows you don’t owe him anything— hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if you slapped him across the face for this, but he needed to try.

he knew it was selfish of him. you’d moved on, surely. years had passed and you’d grown. he’s sure that naivety he once found charming is long gone, most likely from his doing.

he takes a deep breath, fist raised to knock on the door to your house. it’s small and quaint. something he definitely could’ve seen you picking out when the two of you had still been together. maybe not all of you had changed.

he’d gotten the address through Laswell as a parting gift. and he didn’t know why it was the one thing that came to mind— but it was, and now he’s here. standing on your porch with his fist in the air like a fucking creep.

he pushes out an exhale and knocks. all is silent inside the house, and he knocks again, the second one easier than the first.

“coming!” he hears you call from inside. he steels himself. readies himself for attack, for battle. it was something he couldn’t quite shake, even if he’d been retired for a year now. those instincts really never leave you.

the door swings open, and the smile you were sporting instantly drops.

“what are you doing here?” there’s venom in your tone. he doesn’t shy away.

“love—” he begins, but you scoff and start to shut the door.

“actually, I don’t want to know. get off my porch before I call the cops—”

before the door can click shut, he reaches a hand out and blocks you from fully shutting it. you look down at his hand, bewildered.

“move your hand.” you speak through gritted teeth. he stands his ground.

“love,” he starts again, pushing the words out quickly to avoid getting cut off again. “y’don’t owe me anythin’ and I know that. but can I at least apologize? please?”

you stare at him. he keeps his hand in the door, watching your face intently. he can’t tell what’s going on behind your eyes.

you take a beat. two. three. then you shut your eyes tightly as you inhale, open them as you release the breath, and open the door wider.

“you’ve got five minutes to speak your piece, and I hope you know I’m doing this for you, not me. I got over you a long time ago, and because I see myself as a halfway decent person, I’m going to let you do this. then you can leave and never come back. understand?”

he gives a small nod. “understood.”

you step aside and he enters your house, eyes already scanning his surroundings. it’s cute and airy, comfortable and full of you.

pictures of you and friends on the walls. lamps that look a hundred years old on end tables. big windows letting the sun shine in and onto a plethora of plants. colorful artwork and pillows and fabrics. it’s a house full of you, of life, and he finds himself envying it.

he doesn’t know why. maybe because it’s something so normal, and something he’s never experienced. he didn’t get that before he left home, and he certainly didn’t get it in the military. he still doesn’t have it now. he’s still struggling to figure out who he is without a gun in his hand.

“nice place,” he says, and he means it.

you roll your eyes as you walk towards the blue, comfortable looking couch situated to the right. he follows dutifully.

you gesture towards the couch, and he takes the hint. he sits down, sinking into the cushion, and watches as you move to stand across from him. he knows you’re putting distance between the two of you. he doesn’t blame you.

you were never the problem.

he was.

“five minutes, starting now. best believe I’m timing your ass,” you mutter out, pulling your phone from your pocket and tapping the screen. setting a timer, most likely.

best to get on with it, then.

“I owe you an apology, and I ‘ave since y’left. before tha’, actually. I was an ass, and I know tha’ now. you had every right to leave, and you have every right to hate me—”

you gave a mirthless, hollow laugh and crossed your arms over your chest. you were putting up your walls, protecting yourself.

“you put me in therapy, did you know that? years of it. broke me down and crushed me into tiny pieces. made me think I was the problem, that I deserved to be treated that way. ruined my trust and my confidence.”

your tone was bitter. your nails dug into the skin of your arms.

“you were never the problem,” he says, his words firm. he stand then, hands hanging loosely at his sides. “I was. I know tha’ now. I pulled away when I should’ve communicated, or hell— broke things off sooner.”

“so that’s why you’re here then? to tell me you wished you would’ve broken up with me before I broke up with you?”

god, that was not what he meant, and he struggled to find the way to put his thoughts into words.

“no, f’course not, love. I’m tryin’ to say I strung y’along, made things worse, and—”

“and what?” you interrupted.

“an’ im sorry, love. I know it probably doesn’t mean anythin’ anymore. but i am. deeply.”

you didn’t speak for a minute. your eyes studied his face. he knew you were probably taking in the obvious signs of age, of battles he came back from when you were no longer there.

“you going on a suicide mission? is that why you’re here? making amends before you die so you can face the afterlife with a clear conscience?”

he shook his head, taking a small step forward. “no. I— I was discharged. a bit ago, actually.”

“congrats,” you deadpanned.

“tha’s not tha’ point,” he sighed. “they made me go to therapy for a while. unpack all tha’ shit they put me through. and the shrink brought up you once, and it got me thinkin’—”

“so you’re here because your shrink told you to say sorry?”

“bloody hell, love, let me finish,” exasperation was clear in his tone, but he tried to reel it in. he reminded himself that you didn’t owe him shit. you could kick him out right now. he was here because of your allowance, and the second you stopped tolerating him, he’d be back on the porch.

you raised your eyebrows but kept your mouth clamped shut.

“I was an ass when I was with you, and tha’s on me, not you. I was dealin’ with my own shit, and havin’ you celebrate me and boastin’ about my bravery and shit— it didn’t— I couldn’t stand it. you don’t understand, love, and you never will— and tha’s not your fault. s’mine, and I’m still comin’ to terms with all tha’ shit. and I should’ve communicated tha’ with you instead of pullin’ away.”

silence filled the air between the two of you. he could hear the tick of a clock nearby. two ticks. three ticks. four. five.

“what do you want from me, then?” you spoke, and your voice was soft. he could hear the tremble in it— that old you slipping back in, and god he wanted to hold you.

he remembered loving you. he still knew what that felt like, even if was so long ago. and that love was creeping back in, that need to protect you coming back like a tidal wave.

“nothin’.” he said.

“nothing.” you repeated. he nodded.

the timer on your phone went off. five minutes, on the dot.

you clicked it off and looked at him. he was already moving towards the door.

“wait—” you called out to him, and as he turned back to face you, he could tell you hadn’t meant to. it had slipped out subconsciously, and he could see you fighting yourself on what your next words would be.

“I— I don’t forgive you,” you told him. “I don’t know if I ever will. but I— you don’t deserve to be alone. not after all you’ve done.”

he looked at you, the fingers of his hands twitching as he waited for you to speak again.

you took a deep breath and turned your attention to your feet. “I’m here. if you need someone to talk to about whatever. um— I—”

“it’s alrigh’, love. y’dont have to say anythin’ you don’t mean.”

you shook your head. “I do mean it. I admired you when we were together, y’know? you were everything to me— and that’s not something that ever fully goes away. I kinda hate you for everything you did,” you gave a small laugh. “but I don’t want you to suffer, okay? maybe we can— can get coffee or something next week. yeah?”

your eyes were glassy. he resisted the urge to reach for you. he was a protector, it was in his nature. he’d been too wound up in himself back then to realize that the trait he’d showcased on the battlefield should’ve applied to his home life, too. applied to his relationship. to you.

“yeah.” he nodded, his voice soft. he gave you a small smile. “tha’ would be nice.”

you nodded. he looked at you for a moment longer, taking in everything that had changed. but there was still the hint of that naive, youthful you, and that made him smile a little wider.

he turned and walked out the door.

————

author’s note:

muahahahaha ambiguous ending. do they get back together?? no?? do they ever get coffee?? it’s up to you!

this is ending one, keep a look out for ending 2 :)

#simon riley x you #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #I’m a people pleaser #I felt bad for so much angst lol

2K notes · View notes

daemon-in-my-head · 5 months ago

Text

Disclaimer that this is my personal opinion, but to me Durge never seemed like gods most special princess, at least not in the sort of ‘Bhaal spoiled them and they never suffered’ kinda way. The way people talk to/about them just never seemed to fit that claim to me.

Like, Bhaals introduction to them was killing everyone they ever held dear. Bhaals influence on just ‘normal’ Bhaalspawn that hold not nearly as much divine essence as Durge is enough to drive the individual mad and he genuinely enjoys sending nightmares and shit their way. Bhaal at the very least used the Urge to control their body 2 times but possibly far more often. The slayer eats away at your sanity/humanity every time you use it. The way Bhaal and Scel talk, the ��oh my beloved master/masterpiece’ but the second Durge tries to question something or wants an explanation Scel gets absolutely mad or dismissive and Bhaal just demands you to bent the knee.

Scels confrontation of a failed Durge. The aggression followed by self pity; read: I too am scared of bhaal and what he’ll do to me now, u should feel bad cuz I’m immortal and ur failure pissed him off so ill suffer for it. Scel just straight up imploding without giving Durge another chance to speak as he weeps. Also his refusal to talk afterwards despite chilling in ur camp.

Generally speaking, Bhaals whole ‘domination thru fear’ bit hes got going on. Be so extra and so purposefully cruel that people are too scared of defying you. One of his prayers ‘Bhaal embrace thee, Bhaal awaits thee, no one escapes Bhaal’. The looming threat of him being all encompassing.

That doesn’t sound like prerequisites for ‘spoiled child’ shit. It’s more so peak manipulation. Durge wasn’t rebellious cuz every time they were Bhaal or Scel would make it about them and fucking guilt trip Durge to Gehenna and back. Bet your ass anytime Durge ‘failed’ in even the most minor ways Bhaal and Scel would torment them and then pull the ‘it hurts me to do this but u understand why I have to do this’ card and just chip away at their being until basically none is left. Just, manipulating them into fearing a rebellion and shit under the guise of love and care. After all Bhaal extends his own will as a servant, one apparently direly needed, how could u ever defy his goodwill like that, yk? The urge must’ve undoubtedly protected you from the horrible upbringing ur adoptive guardians would’ve put you through, daddy just saved you from being ordinary, can’t you see?

They were conditioned to be the chosen they became. There is no love or some shit despite what Durge nd the other Spawn may claim. I do love my boy Scel but he too is abusing Durge in plain sight w the way he talks, omits information, forces a visibly painful transformation on a Slayer Durge and then just calls it fucking jimjams as though transforming into a gods avatar isn’t confirmed to eat away at your fucking sanity and humanity and having ur body ripped apart just fucking visibly hurts.

The fucking failed ending. Durges inherent death wish/desire for their own obliteration. Being referred to exclusively by a title and worshipped not for their own achievements but for their heritage. Thats not a loved or healthy kid, that’s someone who has absolutely 0 ego left and no chance of reclaiming any because the second it even seems like it their ‘guardians’ would pull yet another ‘but what about me’.

Tldr; I wanna talk more about the cult conditioning and the very much abusive sht going on there.

#people pleaser #but people is murder gods and their manifested will #the slayer info is from irenicus nd sarevok #mainly cuz irenicus fucked around w bhaalspawn #also stands to reason the whole cannibalism bit was more so a bit of rebellion nd Durge claiming personhood again #now I’m curious when it started hmmmm #cw abuse #bg3 #bg3 durge #durge

46 notes · View notes