#The Field Of Psychology Needs To Step It The FUCK Up

[gotham-daydreams]

Honestly, in a situation like not [] where they aren't willing to physically hurt the reader but psychologically mess with them? It's fucked but at the same time I have too good of an imagination. When it comes to neglect there's so many aspects of it that could happen and even if I'm pissed I could keep my mouth shut to the point I feel numb.

I mean they can't change you or break you if you just stay in your own head after all? Lil stories in your head to keep you busy, unholy amount of hours spent sleeping. I don't care if I waste away if it means not having to deal with people who won't even listen or admit that it's gonna take time to undo trauma and won't take the proper steps to undo it.

They take things up a notch and limit food or start doing things that prevent you from sleeping? Do it, at least the hat man will be a better friend. Can't break what's not there, the batfam always has this mindset that so long as they get their way that they would do what's necessary but that's entirely because they are all too selfish to actually really respect how you feel. And no amount of bugging me or yelling at me or trying to get a rise out of me will change the fact I can just slip into my mind and ignore it all.

The only way I'd ever stop being in my head and not even wasting time on them is if they actually tried to be genuine in fixing things and admit they fucked up and are doing it out of guilt. Either put down your pride or stay with a reader who will gladly stay tucked away in the crevice of their brain in an imaginary field of flowers with whatever lil character they make to enjoy the time in their head <3

Anyways I love your series and can't wait for more!! Please take care and hydrate!!!

I do agree! Especially in this scenario where they’re way more unwilling to physically hurt the reader, because... well, they want to hear your music! Like a little songbird, just tucked away from the public eye, just for them to hear you sing...

It'll definitely get on their nerves, and some will probably crumble under the pressure - but those that don't aren't actually the ones you should be worried about. I mean, of course they'll try to do everything else they can, and at that point - its a contest of willpower and to see who can outlast the other (and spoiler, most of them will definitely lose), but some are definitely more stubborn than others. After all, their 'love' is spawned out of guilt, obligation, and a messy mix of things that's turned into this ugly beast of a thing they see as love - if you aren't willing to take it, then that's fine, but you definitely aren't getting anything until you do.

Though, again, at some point the time and treatment definitely begins to effect them too. And that’s... not good, especially when some of them are known for their resolve, will, and general ability to withstand so much crap despite not even being superhuman (even if in all honesty, compared to the average guy, they may as well be). Them being insane does not help with that fact.

They'll begin to consider things they wouldn't have even thought of before out of sheer desperation and need. They'll think about it, plan it out a little, and before they even know it - they're losing hours of sleep trying to find ways to actually execute it. Hell - some may even act impulsively, and just flat out do it without giving it a second thought. Because they can't. They can't think. They can't sleep. Not without you - not after another month, another week, another day, another hour, another second without you.

They need it. Need you. Need your warmth, your presence - to feel like they're doing something right, even when its so wrong. Even if they've left you damaged beyond repair, some still want to feel like they can fix you, put you back together... and what better way to feed that delusion then to hold you in their arms? To do all of these things with you... even if you're not mentally there?

At that point, they'd sacrifice never being able to hear your music from you to get that. To have that fabricated connection. They'd give up that one thing that's been keeping them from harming you physically, and go all out.

[Which... descriptions of losing limbs, and general gore under the cut, it's not pretty but not super detailed either? Yes, it's towards the reader. Yes the reader is awake. There is no cut away, but some dancing around using some phrases repeatedly. Consider yourself warned and advised. Even if it's just descriptions - the family isn't playing nice.]

Maybe they'd start small... just a leg, maybe two, not even a foot- your legs from the knee down are going indefinitely. Maybe even the whole thing if certain people do it impulsively, and aren't thinking - aside from the fact that they need you close, but they just have to get these things out of the way. To lessen your struggle, to reassure themselves you won't run, of course - after all, you can't run if they just... take away that option, right? It's for the best, they'd tell themselves, they need to do this. They have to. You gave them no other choice- and now... now they had to make a tough choice. They have to do this.

If it's done impulsively, it's messy. I guess not having a lot of experience cutting off limbs or disabling someone isn't going to make things easier, who knew, am I right? Taking lives (for some of them), and beating people up is one thing, but cutting off arms and legs? It's weird to think about until you're the one doing it, and in a frenzy no less.

Some of the more impulsive ones you really have to look out for, because if they do it then it is painful, and that is no exaggeration. As much as they're thinking about you, they also aren't at the same time - at least not you in the present as they're doing the removal. You'll pass out from pain, or just the visceral sight right before you witness your leg getting torn off. Real messy stuff. It's not subtle at all, they barely hide it - if they even try to allow you that luxury. If anything, you see too much of it. Either way, you're out like a light, and left with whatever you saw as nothing is left to the imagination. Unless your fucked up mind makes it worse, to which- a lot is left to the imagination as that nightmare of a scene is messed with and mixed in your head like a toddler left in the kitchen.

Of course, the family will take care of the messy outcome, and get you to another room and everything (after all, they have one too many spar ones), but, well, that won't change the reality of the situation, will it? Hell, get one of the more rough ones pissed off or just do something one of the more impulsive ones doesn't like, and you'll lose your arms, and depends on who does it - you'll lose them just as you lost your legs, and you'll get to watch... before you pass out, of course.

Maybe they'll get you things to help, like robotic limbs and such, though its not that great and doesn't make things easier. Not even a little. They'll be able to control everything you do, essentially, down to what you can even touch or interact with.

You'll feel more trapped then you ever have before, as even your body, every limb attached to your torso is theirs. Theirs to control. To mess with, and just like before, they'll take it away if you do something that makes them upset.

They'll leave you more than just defenseless.

[ressonancee]

WESTERN WIND

Vernon is on the verge of freaking out - Vernon is chill, Vernon is calm, but everyone has a limit, and Vernon's limit is when he complains 3 consecutive weeks about his front wing and the engineering team doesn't do a thing about it.

✦ genre: F1 Alternative Universe, almost enemiers to lovers (but really just have a fight in the workplace now we are weird), smut, they do it without protection so - be safe guys love you.

✦ word count: 8.9k+ ✦ title inspired by Carly Rae Jepsen - Western wind

✦ Thea note: okay, this was a challenge!! This was written for a friend who enjoys the f1 world and isn't a carat - but we are working on it. I write for me and I write what i like to read and to me, Vernon screams lazy sex so that's that - that's really nothing more on this subject. reminder 1: i am not an english speaker so i am very sorry about any mistake but you don't need to be a bitch about it. Also, I may try to write every member but gooooood some are harder than others, and vernon was hard for me so i am sorry if the characterization is weird or when you are reading this you think shit this is not Vernon lol I reached a point where i was like yeah i'm giving up.

Vernon has always been obsessed with the idea of flying. 

Not taking an airplane-flying, but actually flying. The closest he got to this was behind a steering wheel. And he got so obsessed with the feeling - first the wind against his face, then the whiplash of going too fast.  He loved it so much that he just made a career out of it. 

And Vernon was good at it, one of the best really, first drive in his new team and all. But it is the seventh grand prix and the car still lacking and there is so much he can do with pure strength and strategy. 

He can't fight aerodynamics. He can't, and to be honest, he shouldn't do what the engineering team was supposed to. But he is one step away from getting out of the car and breaking the damn front wing with his bare hand in the middle of the box. Vernon, a lot of people don't know, but he has this kind of superpower when he gets incredibly mad his face is still calm, and nobody knows he is on the verge of freaking out.

But Vernon just handles the steering wheel to the guy next to the car and jumps off it without making a scene. On a scale of Fernando Alonso to Kimi Raikkonen Vernon leans more to Kimi's side, even though right now he may pull off a Nico Rosberg or psychological warfare like Michael Schumacher against the engineering team, he is not above it today. 

He is no Kimi Raikkone though. Vernon does prefer just being in the car. He enjoys being on the circuit running laps. He is chill with being on the go, traveling around, jumping on airplanes, and Vernon developed a near to perfect packing method - he travels with just a backpack, thanks god. Vernon doesn't love press tours, sometimes they are just insufferable. He doesn't love to have a run down when his week has been shit - trashed car or broken really. But otherwise, Vernon is cool with it, he laughs a little, he goofs with other pilots, he has friends - sometimes he goes out with Lee Chan the Haas pilot. Sometimes he cracks jokes with Mingyu and Wonwoo - the Red Bull duo. So sometimes press is actually fun, and even tho Vernon is an accomplished guy in his field pole and race win on his name he also still has idols on the paddocks because he is against names like Choi Seungcheol and Hong Joshua.

So Vernon enjoys his life really, he isn't one to overthinking about what choosing this type of life made him lose. He gained so much that it would be unfair to do that, to wonder what it could be.

But when Vernon feels like his team is not even hearing his complaint about how the aerodynamics of the car is fucked up Vernon wants to just crash the car and scream in the box. What the fuck? Fix the gooddamn wing for fuck's sake. 

But Vernon doesn't scream in the middle of the box, it wouldn't be good for the press, and Vernon is calm he is chill, but he isn't dumb. He does this when the engineering team, himself, and Choi Minho, his team principal, are in a more private area.

"What the hell? I've been complaining about the front wing since the Australia GP."

"We have been working on the wing." The engineering girl slash prodigy answers.

"And why the fuck is not working properly? This car will fly out of the track if a single drop of rain falls." Vernon continues because he is the one putting his life on the line really. Why no one is giving a fuck about what he has been saying.

"We are trying, you know about regulations we cant-" You try to say as if everybody doesn't remember that FIA is actually the worst ever and it is your job to care about regulations too.

"Oh my fucking God. I gonna crash this car in the first fucking lap I am not even kidding." Vernon says pacing around the table, he hates the whole can't do won't do FIA-related frustration. 

"Ok, Vernon you know we can't really do anything about it right now," Minho says arms crossed. "So stop bitching about it, and no you will not crash my car in the first lap you are not stupid." And now Vernon knows he can't really crash his car but he feels the urge to do it nonetheless, Minho can scrap his bank account he doesn't care, he can go fucking penny less but he will have his front wing fixed up.

 "You," Minho says pointing at you and you are actually relieved, you can take the screams of the team principal - even tho Minho is not near screaming, but taking shit from the pilot? Not gonna happen "For fuck sake take his complaint and actually do something about it for the next GP, you have like 5 people that could have been working for NASA in the team if he complains again about this mothefucker wing again I gonna have a stroke," he says leaving the room.

"Why do you guys only act when I bring Choi Minho to the room?" Vernon asks feeling dumb and to be honest disrespected. He knows he is young, he knows he is new, but he was brought to the team for a reason.

"Not that it matters," You say already picking the things around the table, probably from a previous meeting. "But he is my boss, not you Vernon."

"I am the one inside the car," Vernon says trying to attain some kind of respect or authority.

"Ok, that's not relevant to me whatsoever. I work designing a car that if we put a dog behind the wheel is gonna be fast so-" You say because you are tired this front wing nightmare has been going on for more than the australia grand prix actually, it's always the same problem, again and again, your team fixes it but it always comes back to life like a zombie or something.

"Did you just say that I am not relevant? Are you kidding me?" Vernon actually scoffs because of course he knew when he arrived in Mercedes that the team is bigger than him, he knew what all the critics said, but being treated that poorly by a co-worker? Fucked up man.

"That's not what I meant-"

"Yeah yeah yeah like Im just a dumb kid on the wheel, that's what you meant. I really thought we could build a nice relationship and all-" Vernon cuts you already opening up his overall because it is hot as fuck, like one step away from dying hot. "I guess the civil war thing going on wasn't in my plans but if you guys on the engineering want that I have no problem whatsoever in being a fucking dick."

Vernon says almost dashing to his trailer, fucking stupid overalls dangling around his waist because if one of the journalists asks him something about his wing or his time or how Kim Mingyu got the pole, Choi Minho is not the only one who will have a stroke. Health care plans and his life insurance will skyrocket.

After Vernon takes a shower, he realizes how dumb and idiotic he is. This happens a lot. Vernon doesn't really know how to deal with his rage, so when the anger dissipates, he just ends up regretting everything. 

Regretting is not even close to the proper word. When Vernon analyzes the chances of him fucking up his entire year because you simply do not rage war on your engineering team - that was like a rule, not a rule scratch that, it was a dogma. A rule you can break, if you try that shit on a dogma, you will root in hell. The hell being Vernon's worst nightmare - having the team ask him to pull aside to the other driver because he can't keep up, the reason? His shitty ass front wing.

But when the actual race comes and Vernon starts the race in third and finishes up in 5th place, he doesn't know who will drop dead first, him or Choi Minho. 

"Do we need a meeting between grand prix to fix this hellhole you guys have been calling a car?" His boss asks and Vernon can see you just rolling your eyes. Dude, that's crazy. Did you just roll your eyes to Choi Minho? That was insane. 

And Vernon coped the only way he knew - developing a wealth obsession fueled by hatred, all because you didn't give him his wing and a roll of your eyes at Choi Minho.

Before that, Vernon really didn't have a problem with you. Since he moved to Mercedes everything was great! Great team! New and more powerful car! Great teammate - Lee Jihoon, who actually took Vernon under his wing. The pre-season was great, and he didn't have problems with you whenever you two had to talk about the development stage of the car. 

Actually, Vernon finds you interesting really, that's not a lot of women in F1, and the majority of the women actually deal with public relations or team management like Kwon Boa. He always saw you around, really, always in jeans, tennis, and a Mercedes shirt. Sometimes with glasses, sometimes with a cap on. Always chatting with someone, sometimes writing things down on a notebook, sometimes explaining something. 

He didn't actually have any problems with you. He didn't have a reason, but now? Now Vernon can't really back off, can he? God, he was not a fighter and neither a hater, but he wasn't a coward either. 

So when his one-week break is cut short and people send him to Northamptonshire Vernon is angry because really: 1st he could use a few days off, 2nd between the Emilia-Romagna and the Monaco GP he had booked a crazy Airbnb in Cannes.

Now he was stuck in this hell hole of a place, in a way too cold meeting room, with like the whole engineering team and his boss. Not ideal. So Vernon's mind just wonders really, he thinks about how he needs to catch up on his favorite TV show, maybe he can check on his family later, or call his friend Boo Seungkwan - maybe he would call Seungkwan to Monaco is bouge enough for Seungkwan.

“And that's why we try to fix the front wing, but it seems like the aerodynamic problem is always back. Lee Seokmin actually did design another front wing at the start of the pre-season but you guys said that this one had a better grip” You finish the whole ppt-presentation, sometimes you hated your job so much, and by sometimes you meant the whole ppt presentation of a problem that we can`t actually fix because of regulations and because you guys main driver didn't do proper feedback in the first place. And now you have a problem in your hands, that to begin with, it wasn't even yours. 

“So the best thing we can do is?” Choi Minho asks and you laugh because right now you are not the one treating Vernon like a damn child on the wheel, it is Choi Minho, but Vernon is too engrossed in his own mind to notice or he feigns ignorance because it is Choi Minho who is talking, not you the mere translator girl for the engineering team. 

“We can try always the wet tire even if it's just light, and we can always use the soft tire at the beginning of the race it is the less durable but if he is in a good position to start with we can always call him back-”

“So, we did this three-hour meeting” Vernon actually checked his watch. It was a tree hour meeting for god`s sake. “for the resolution being soft tire and pray for a good pit stop? Are we crazy?”

“If you heard about FIA rules we cannot-” You try to speak but really, you don't even know why you start when you know you gonna be ignored by the man in the room and it’s F1 there is always a man in the room, always.

“Ok ok,” Vernon interrupts. “Just so you know that’s crazy, everything about this wing situation is crazy, we are just handling the championship, we are not even close to being - I don't know? 5th fucking place.” 

“We need to make the legal team re-analyze the rules,” Minho says contemplative and not really angry, and to be honest you wouldn't be either because it is true, but Vernon could be less bitch about it because it is not your fault either

“Just that? Ok,” Vernon says and he gets up because when Minho talks about the legal team it`s gonna take 4 to 6 days to actually find a loophole in the damn manual, but hey ok, it's fine, Vernon it’s chill, but not chill enough because the next moment his mouth is moving. “Maybe you could ask for the engineering team to work on that too I don't know just a thought” 

And you laugh, loud and clear. And Vernon is truly spooked. What the heck? Are you going crazy? Has the excruciating work and the insane hours with the weekly jetlag made you crazy? 

“Yeah Minho,” you say, picking up the papers. Why do you always pick up? Are they top-secret papers? Vernon never thought about corporate espionage, but it may be a thing. “Maybe you can ask your drivers for proper feedback when I ask them about grip and wings and start making them say whole sentences, not it's bad and a sad emoji. If we did send a form about this shit we wouldn't have this problem,” You actually leave them room, but Minho and Vernon continue listening to your voice down the hall. “Oh Vernon, how it’s going with the car. Make them say 4 whole sentences and not it's chill. Maybe that would help” and then you scream. “Just a thought."

“I mean” Choi Minho starts getting up too. “Nothing against a rivalry in the workplace, dang in my times, it was worse. But if I get an actual complaint - Humans Resources or Legal Team involved - I am so firing both of you, and I am not even caring about labor law or whatever.” 

And Vernon thinks it's weird how he was the first one to get up and the last one out of the meeting room.

So when Vernon actually arrives in Monaco - Boo Seungkwan, his best friend since birth, on his side, the civil war in his team is still going on at full speed. The tire strategy is still in place. Choi Minho still looks at him every five minutes like a babysitter. You still give a side eye every time you both share a room, Vernon is even more aware that you roll your eyes at everyone. Are you just discontent with everything?

But he doesn't think so when he sees you and Jeonghan, the team strategy, and Jun, one of the mechanics, laughing while eating lunch. Vernon is puzzled really why the fuck is he, Choi Minho, and the whole team getting side eyes and Jeonghan and Jun receiving beautiful smiles and even laughs? That's weird, more than weird, that's unfair really.

"What's going on in your head?" Boo Seungkwan asks, actually stealing a bite of Vernon chicken's breast. 

"Just, you know the whole war in the team. That's the girl that is actually making my life hell." Vernon says voice low like he is telling Seungkwan a secret, trying to be discreet. 

"That one?" Seungkwan asks loud and not caring about the top secret war going on, apparently. "Oh, Vernon, she is pretty."

"And?" Vernon thinks puzzled because really he never stopped to think about it. "Ok, ok, stop looking," Vernon says when he sees Jeonghan looking back at his table, grabbing Seungkwan and almost getting up and turning Seungkwan`s head himself. God.

"You didn't tell me she was pretty." Seungkwan acts like it was the most important thing ever. Missing the point, really, because the most important thing ever in this whole ordeal was Vernon's career and the probability of it ending abruptly. 

"Yeah, because it is not important, I mean…" Vernon trails off because again, he never stopped really, but thinking about you are pretty. Or at least not recently. Vernon thinks back when you two met in the pre-season and he may have blushed once or twice talking to you in the first days, but he wouldn't call it a crush.

"Hey Vernon," Jeonghan says, stopping at his side. "We will go over the strategy at 3 pm for the first free practice, so if you need anything, just give us a heads up before."

"Oh, sure man, actually I was thinking about the ty-" Vernon starts.

"Bye guys, if I hear one more driver talking about how they don’t want to start with a soft tire today, I'm gonna jump the nearest cliff." You say, lacing arms with Jun and just dragging him.

"Oh, she is feisty today," Jeonghan laughs. "Okay, anyway, you can bring everything to the team, right? I need to actually get some information with her so-" 

"Sure, sure man, no big." 

“Yeah," Boo Seungkwan just laughs, and laughs, he actually almost falls backward type of laughing “When was the last time you got laid?"

"Hm?" Out of nowhere? What the heck was going on in his friend’s mind? But Vernon actually needs time to think about it, fuck, when was the last time? Vernon didn’t even remember with whom. "I don't know a few weeks?"

"Months right?" Seungkwan answered in a heartbeat, chewing on a long French fries.

"Maybe dude, you know it is hard when I am always on the go." And it was hard, Vernon wasn’t lying. He didn’t enjoy the whole no-string attached really, and after he got a little famous - in a very niche type of famous he knew that, he was no rockstar type of guy, but still, he enjoyed it even less.

"Yeah didn't peg you for doing in the workplace kind of guy, always talking about how it is precious and nothing can disturb the paddock’s energy,” Seungkwan says making Vernon almost choke on his food.

“First, that is the rule that applies when you want to bring your boyfriend Kwon Soonyoung because last time he almost broke my trophy,” Vernon can actually feel the chill going through his body just remembering the scene that his traumatized brain conjures up, it was his first grand prix win and Seungkwan boyfriend almost knocked it down. “second we are not doing anything. We are actually enemies” 

“Oh,” Seungkwan stops, truly stops, dropping his fork and knife, and he stares at Vernon, but Vernon knows it is not a stare, Seungkwan is analyzing Vernon like he always did. “Well, that's even worse, because when it happens - see not if, I said when it's going to be a nuclear bomb, thanks good I am not going to Spain with you and me and my lovely boyfriend will be having a few days off in Monaco so…” 

The problem was that Seungkwan was always annoyingly right. Seungkwan was right when he said Vernon's last relationship wouldn't last more than 3 months. Seungkwan was also right about Vernon's first love and second. Seungkwan had this superpower really, Seungkwan was always there to see the picture better before Vernon did.

But Vernon always just shrugged and went to his next task, now free practice. And Vernon did slightly better than he thought - 4th place. So he wasn't actually totally dejected after the press asked him about the probability of rain. Everything was fine until Vernon saw the little orange cat hiding in the corner of the Mercedes trailer.

Vernon squatted and tried to call the little kitten really, it was tiny and made Vernon's heart break a little because when the cat was approaching him Vernon saw how he was limping, front paw looking hurt. Also, the little dude looked muddy. He may hate Vernon for it, but he needed a good wash.

"Hey," You say looking at Vernon who just started stroking the orange cat fur. "I was just-" You point at the water container.

"Ah yeah," Vernon says, giving you a nod. "I was thinking of finding something so this little guy can eat but-"

"We don't know anything around, same." You say squatting on Vernon's side and putting the container on the ground, little dude giving you both a meow.

"Could we-" Vernon starts but you just cut him.

"Make a trainee do the hard work? Make them go to the nearest supermarket, " you say, laughing a little, like you laugh with others. And Vernon thinks that maybe your brain is too fast, two-step forwards already, ahead of everyone, always.

"Yeah, I was thinking about asking someone or even the Grand Prix organizers to even get a vet around. I think something is wrong with his paw." Vernon points at the cat, and he stops for a minute thinking about how he is so used to being in the paddock but not really knowing his way around it. He strokes the cat again, almost feeling the urge to pick him up and go around asking if anyone knows a vet.

"You shouldn't be touching him." You say and Vernon feels a little offended. Did you enjoy telling him what to do? Vernon could take it, he didn't like it, but when it was about the race he could take it, but about a cat? Really? "Like, for health reasons." 

"Yeah, I was thinking about taking him to the trailer, but if he has fleas, that would be a nightmare," Vernon says hand still scratching the little cat like the rebel he was. 

"Can you-" You trail off, looking around, and Vernon can almost see your brain working inside your skull.

"What?"

"Look, we have like two options.” You say getting up and fixing your pants. And Vernon thinks that Seungkwan was actually right shit, you are actually and objectively pretty. “You can be an asshole and make someone do the job just because you are throwing a i am a star fit"

"Or?"

"You could totally do your I am a heartthrob bit on the communication team newbie, she kinda has a crush on you, so she would totally find Seb a vet place. Just don't let Minghao know.” Vernon just feels like a lot of what you just said goes over his head because it really doesn’t make sense to him, Heartthrob what? Crush who? Seb? 

"Are we calling him Seb?"

"I mean he just gives me Sebastian Vettel energy all around you know, he is kind of shy and orange," you say trying not to sound dumb, feeling a little anxious - because Vernon always made you feel this way, an uneasy feeling paired with his low voice.

"Yeah, I can see that” and Vernon smiles, dude the cat really looks like Sebastian. God - in that exact moment Vernon knows that his life is fucked up, he is picking a stray cat when the next 3 weeks he will be jumping from airplane to airplane. But look at him, Vernon can't leave Seb in a freaking paddock, in the end of the week everything will be gone.

"So? Which one? I'm pretty sure we can try just telling Minho you went rogue as the third option but…"

"The heartthrob one just-" Vernon can feel his forehead itch and the beginning of a headache. He can't do a heartthrob bit. What is he talking about? "Just show me the way."

"I need your keys," you say to Vernon, hand open in his direction "First we need a box and a towel. We can't let little Seb on the loose."

"He is a little difficult, though. Pretty sure he won't stay in the box," Vernon tells you already giving you his key.

"I think I can steal a few eggs for him on the way. If they are boiled, it won't be a problem. He seems hungry enough."

And Vernon actually plays with Seb until you arrive, a box filled with Vernon's towel - probably the one he used this morning, and a plastic plate full of eggs. And then you are already dragging Vernon around to the second task - the heartthrob bit. And Vernon thinks about how quick on your feet you are - figuratively, and literally, you walk really fast. Later, you tell him that is a job thing, not a you thing. Apparently to be an F1 engineer you need to think fast, walk quickly, and solve everyone's problems.

Vernon did the heartthrob bit - it actually ended up with the newbie taking Seb to the vet, you gave her a to-do list (1 - check his paw, 2 - check for fleas, 3 - don't forget the shots!!!) and Vernon's credit card. But Vernon still with a weird taste in his mouth. How did you know the newbie had a crush on him? That's totally weird.

But hey the trainee actually found a vet, and she brings Seb back with shots and a bath. And now Vernon is staring at his cat, thinking about how if he needs to call the hotel to check about the animal policy, maybe he could do the heartthrob bit to the hotel manager. Or he could leave Seb unattended, he could eat something, chew his race boot, or - then Vernon hears a knock, which is weird of course because Vernon doesn't actually receive visits in the motor home, people know that Vernon is sensitive about that - no fans, no press, no knocking when he is in the motorhome.

"Hi," you say as soon as Vernon opens his door, "just came to see the little guy."

"Oh, yeah sure," of course it was you, the only person who doesn't actually care about Vernon’s word and maybe well-being, but Vernon kind of understands, Seb is cute, "he looks tired tho."

"It's okay, I just came to give him some love." You say one digit going between Seb’s ear, squatting on the floor, letting Seb chill in his place, "Are you going to the hotel?" 

"I don't know,” Vernon scratches his kneck because it is true, he doesn’t actually have any idea what he is about to do, maybe he can take his race boots and everything essential so Seb doesn't chew on it, "I need to go but I can’t leave him alone but also I can’t sleep on the couch, it will fuck up my neck and also can’t just not sleep."

"You can go, I can sleep here on the bed, not a problem." You say sitting on the floor, Seb little groggy but wake, you pick him up and put him on your lap, and he just purr. What the hell? His cat is purring? For another person? What?

"I can’t let you do that,” he can’t because his cat is already in love and because he also knows that his motorhome bed is just uncomfortable. 

"Don’t worry, we are just-" you say finally looking at Vernon’s eyes, "co-parenting" You say and Vernon feels like a bomb just dropped, and the whole humanity just vanished, he can hear a pin drop.

"Co-pareting? A cat?" Vernon says like his brain is not really functioning.

"Yeah Vernon,” You start, and Vernon can see a small smile across your face, “people have different family arrangements. You, me, and Seb, divorced people with a kid, it's okay." 

"Divorced?" Vernon actually lets out a laugh, a scoff really. Why are you trying to mess with him ? This is not even close to normal.

"Yeah we are not on great terms but we sacrifice for him."

Vernon leaves - not because you said he could, not because you found a solution, but because it was the right thing to do for his performance really. Vernon leaves because his neck is a prized possession, and because he needs to sleep , he needs his best reaction time. And Vernon is an athlete. People may say that driving a car is not a sport, but people don’t know how much the g-force makes his neck almost break. But when Vernon lays in bed with his special pillow, Vernon can’t actually sleep. His mind goes back to his motorhome, to his just-for-stretching bed, and never actually sleeps. His mind, Vernon finds out, is going back to you sleeping in that awful bad, to the way you treat the little cat like it can break, and the way that every time your hand goes against the cat's fur Venon can actually feel the love.

Vernon is so fucked.

He starts to think that Seungkwan is actually right.

And Vernon can't actually sleep because you are tormenting his mind and Seungkwan's voice telling him 'I told you so' echoes in his mind.

Even tho not getting the eight-hour sleep Vernon gets what his system needs to be quick on his reactions -  Wonwoo and Seungcheol actually crash in front of him, debris over his head and Vernon has control enough to just not crash in the crash in the narrows streets of Monaco. Nightmare, really. Vernon finishes in third because of it, and even tho he is in the podium, he can't actually feel happy about it.

Maybe that's really why Vernon can't have his car with a fucked up wing because it can mean life and death. Later that day he makes sure to go check with both drivers - halo is ugly as fuck but saves lives.

Vernon is thankful that he doesn't have time to actually think about life and death because you are shoving him into a funny bag and telling him to put Seb inside and telling him that you actually are about to sit next to him. So Vernon ends up with a cat bag on his lap, Seb strangely chills about everything, your hand going inside the bag just to stroke his fur.

He ends up sleeping the flight, which is only about 1h40 minutes, but Vernon feels like he needed that nap.

The perception of time in the world of F1 is really truly bizarre. Vernon is always running, always thinking about how he can go faster, even when he is doing the press talk. Minghao walks faster, and explains everything for Vernon in 3 sentences, if it is a sponsor or if it is a journalist, if he needs to actually talk about the car, or if it is a 'content' bit. 

But when Vernon is going around the paddock and see you leaning against Jeonghan smile bright and full Vernon actually stops on his track, it is late, and everything is figured out in the paddock why the hell are you and Jeonghan laughing about?

"Come on, Vern," Minghao calls him, making his neck turn. "Come on, we have three more, and if I don't arrive in time for my dinner with Mika, she is going to kill me."

So Vernon lets Minghao drag him across the paddock. But his mind is still on the scene, you leaning and smiling against Jeonghan, and Vernon doesn't want to, but he feels jealous. He wants to be Jeonghan so fucking bad.

Vernon really doesn't have much time to think about it, he needs to sleep, watch his water intake, and think about his neck - his neck is his most important body part as a f1 driver, and he did think his neck was feeling a little funny. But every time Vernon sits and has time to himself, his brain conjures the image of you and Jeonghan in his eyelid.

Vernon doesn't think it was because of his neck or because his sleep was extremely shitty but the next day, his car crashes against a brick wall. Not great. Not ideal. Not fun either. So Vernon does what he needs to do. Even if he feels fine and got out of the car on his own, he needs his trip to the hospital. Turns out a few hours later, the medical team is sure that Vernon is not dying, but he may have a concussion.

When Vernon is back in his motor home to pick Seb back to the hotel (this time he actually made sure it was okay with the hotel's policy) he founds you lying on his useless motor home bed.

"Hey," you say getting up the bed "are you okay?"

"Yeah yeah," Vernon drops his bag on the floor and sits down by your side. "Just a concussion."

"Okay," you say, looking at Vernon, like actually looking at him searching for something. "I was scared it wasn't a pretty scene, Vernon."

"I know, but I'm okay," but Vernon is so so tired, he is okay and he feels okay but he feels the urge to just lie in this horrible bed and just stay in it, he doesn’t even care about his neck really - he can call for physiotherapy or something. 

"Still, the whole team was worried, you don’t need to act like it wasn’t scary,” you say and Vernon just feels so heavy, like his whole body is made of bricks, even tho he is ok with it, he is used to it really, but the crash still takes a tool on his body "and you should have gone directly to the hotel"

"I was just picking Seb up," Vernon just lies on that horrible bed and it doesn’t really seem that bad, or he is just so tired that even lying on the floor seems like a good option now. His mind is tired too - Vernon can’t even think.

"You didn't need to do that. You could've ringed me up, you know, co-parenting,” you say, voice small, and Vernon's hazed mind almost doesn’t catch it.

"Yeah," Vernon scoffs. Really, he didn’t even think about texting you,  "I don't think I have your number"

"Oh shit," You say picking up Vernon's phone and putting it in front of his face to unlock his phone, "ok gonna save my number you need to send me Seb pics I don't think you should bring him up, we have a week off you are probably going back to England right? You should hire someone to go see him daily or-" 

Vernon just feels the urge to actually kiss you. You are just there, cat on your lap, thinking about how Vernon shouldn't bring Seb around anymore, you are so so worried about his health and if he is getting stressed, and you go on about how Vernon just needs to let him rest in his place in England even tho it would be super hard for you because you are getting used to distress, every work day you pop up in Vernon motor home to say hi to the cat - and to Vernon, it all feels like a freaking lullaby, he actually nestles himself in the bed, searching for the better position to just sleeps. 

"See," you say to Vernon when you see how dozed off he is "you never pay attention." 

"I am paying attention," Vernon answers, eyes still shut but not actually sleeping. 

"You are not. You are zoomed out," You say, lying on his side, legs dangling out of the bed.  "What were you thinking?"

"Nothing really," Vernon says because he is not really thinking about anything concrete really, his brain is all over the place.

"Vern," you actually whine, "I thought we were becoming friends parenting the same kid"

"We are becoming friends" Vernon laughs because that is weird right? “I have your phone now we are definitely friends”

"See? So tell me, what's on your mind lately?" You try again, but Vernon just hums."You seem actually stressed lately. Is Minho bothering you? I  know the results are not great, but i promise we are trying" 

"I know, I know, don't worry about that." And Vernon feels actually bad because it is the first time he can feel that you are a little guilty, no scratch that, tired? Vernon can’t really catch the feeling, but he knows that you care. 

“I am not worried about that, I care about the results but you crashed today, the med team said you may have a concussion, and I don’t know if you are just zooming out in an ok way or zooming out in a concussion-induced way.” 

“It’s not the concussion the hospital let me go, it is just, I’m just tired” Vernon feels your hand on his hair, petting him, almost like you do with Seb, and Vernon just let himself sleep feeling the affection in the way your fingers travel in his skull. 

The thing is, even when Vernon is in his house in England he doesn't really feel at home, because it is a company provided apartment, and to be fair Vernon didn't put a lot of effort in it. So in his week off Vernon tries to focus on his physical training, on his neck, on his diet, on sleeping, but every time his phone vibrates Vernon just feels giddy and excited because 80% of the time it is just you reacting to Seb's pics Vernon sent.

Vernon tries not to think about how fast you answer his messages or how sometimes you send audio snips, and Vernon doesn't feel angry - he always hated audio message god. Vernon also hated calls but one night he actually video calls you and you are already in bed but you said you wanted to say goodnight to Seb but you and Vernon spends more than an hour chatting about nothing and everything. 

When the time comes, Vernon ponders; leaving Seb behind or actually flying with the cat. So he just calls Boo Seungkwan to babysit Sebastian - the hours of flight and the jetlag would just make him stressed, even tho Vernon thinks he is the worst person ever adopting a cat to just let him stay in an empty apartment even tho Seungkwan will make sure he is eating, and Vernon actually begged 3 times to Seungkwan check Seb's litter box.

To everyone's surprise, Vernon actually gets a pole position. To be honest, even to Vernon and his team it was a surprise, too. But it was a good one. You congratulated him, and that night, you and Vernon called Seungkwan and spent like 45 minutes talking to a cat and cooing together - like parents on a holiday.

Vernon thinks it's kinda weird really - how you two fell into this dynamic of sharing a pet, and in a way, you two turned into friends too. So when Vernon is ready to get out to his car you are the last one to greet him, and Vernon is not really superstitious but he thinks he will make sure that this turns into a new team ritual.

When Vernon crosses the finish line, he feels it - the feeling that Vernon always chased in a way. When he hears the screams and laughs on his radio, he feels he can actually let go and just enjoy. He did. He won a grand prix again.

And when Vernon is showered with champagne, hears his national anthem, and jumps to the crowd he thinks about you. He tries to find you really but Minghao just directs him to the press area.

“Hey,” you say, popping your head in the door crack after knocking on his door. “Heard you were looking for me.”

“Yeah yeah.” And Vernon feels sticky. His whole body is covered in champagne. He is looking like a mess, but god, he is so so happy. “Didn’t see you in the celebration.” 

“I was around. Saw everything, don't worry" You move and close the door acting like you guys didn't accomplish the best thing in the whole world because that's how Vernon feels like he is on top of the world. 

“No no-” Vernon's smile is so big, and he touches your arms, and he actually stops, and he looks at you. “We did! We actually did it!” 

“You did it" you say almost shoving him, but Vernon's hands don't leave your arms - hot and sticky against your skin, "don't need to be humble it was a great race on your side-”

“No no no listen, we both did it. We did it together. We are sharing this," Vernon says - smile still big across his face, he is so sweaty why do you think that seeing Vernon happy is the best thing ever? “Come on, say it”

“We did it” You say smiling, not even because you are happy with his win - you are, you are happy for the team, and you are happy for Vernon, but Vernon is so happy and in a way is so infectious you just can not smile like him.

“We sure did,” and Vernon hugs you, head dropping on your shoulder, “god-”

“What?"

“You smell nice," Vernon says voice muffled.

“Thank you, you smell like really nice champagne," you say with a laugh, god Vernon is so happy, and there is only one thing that would make him happier -

"And-” He tries to master his courage to say, “and I wish I could kiss you.”

When Vernon kisses you, he almost feels the breeze, almost feeling the physical sensations that involve flying, because, in his head, he is already 10 thousand feet high. He feels so out of it that Vernon just let you take what you want for him. God, you want so much. 

Vernon can feel it. He feels in the way your fingers hold his jaw. He feels in the way your mouth goes together, like two pieces made to fit each other. He feels in the way that you react when his hands hold your hips so tightly, whimpering in his mouth.

Vernon is not one to complain about speed, but when his whole world is spinning and everything is going so fucking fast he wishes he could stop the time, make it go backward, make it go slower. 

His whole life, he fought against the clock. If he was two seconds faster if he didn't waste milliseconds in the second curve. Vernon was always running, but now, fuck Vernon wishes he could go slow.

So Vernon chooses to take his time, not hurry. He kisses you slowly. The way that he trails his lips against your jaw is slow, and the way that his hands travel to your ribcage is slow.

"Vernon," you try to call his attention, to make him hurry, to make him speed up, but the only thing that Vernon gives you is a non-committal noise.

And Vernon thinks you are in a fucking trailer, with a not-great bed, and he has one better - bigger and with his trusted neck pillow but everything just shatters when someone knocks on his door.

And when Vernon opens the door and sees Minghao he thinks two things: Minghao is his worst enemy really, Minghao must hate him. The second one? Vernon asks himself how many wins he needs in his career to do a contract clause saying he is never doing press again, if someone asks him to do an interview or youtube content he is allowed to change teams before the end of his contract.

Vernon goes back to everything needs to move fast behavior. You two jump on a plane, and again, Vernon has his week off - while you need to go to Austria to check everything related to the engineering team. So when Vernon arrives and Seb purrs against his leg, he films it and sends it to you. When Vernon is chilling on his bed and Seb acts like Vernon's body is his personal pillow, he films it and sends it to you. When you say you are crying because you miss the cat, Vernon calls you and says you can knock on his door anytime. 

When Vernon arrives in the paddock the first thing he does is ask Jun where you were - meeting room, you had a meeting with Jeonghan and Minho, but when Vernon knocks on the door you are alone.

"You really did it." It's the first thing you say to Vernon.

"Yeah" He shrugs. "it was a promise."

"It looks good on you," you say, sitting in front of him at the table, hand touching Vernon’s hair, feeling the urge to ruffle it. 

"So, like, my last meal was airplane food, so I was thinking about taking you to dinner," Vernon says, and you just think how it is unfair that even tho he is not conscious of it, he is doing the heartthrob thing, the lazy eyes, the small smile, the unkept hair - now blonde.

"Hm-" you try your best to not just throw your papers and forget you have an actual job just because Vernon smiled at you, "I don't know if I am free, actually Minho was talking about going over the strategy with you so-"

"Yeah? Ok, I can call him and say the airplane gave me a headache so," Vernon picks his phone up and starts typing something, "I don't know Austrian food that well but we can always go to an Italian."

"Italian, I prefer Italian," you say, chin resting on your hand and just admiring Vernon. You are pretty sure if you were a cartoon, they would draw you with heart eyes.

"Nice."

You let Vernon wine and dine you. The restaurant was nice, and it was even nicer that you and Vernon sat side by side in low light, and you can just rest your head on his shoulder because you were truly tired and because every time you did that you could actually sniff Vernon a bit, and he smells so so good. 

You guys just chat about everything, and at some point, Vernon actually unlocks his phone and just lets you browse his gallery (90% of it is Seb's pics or videos, and the other 10% were the pics you sent him about your day - a coffee, a building, anything silly that made you smile), and looking at it made your heart melt.

In a silent agreement, you just hop in Vernon's Uber and end up on his hotel bed, with Vernon on top of you. 

Vernon kisses you slowly like he has all the time in the world - and you are weak enough for him, so you don't complain, you don't hurry him. To be honest you don't want him to hurry either, you are enjoying the way Vernon is nested between your legs, the way you can feel his weight on your body, and the way that his hands feel against your neck.

The way Vernon touches you makes you feel treasured, makes your heart full, and makes you want to make him feel the same way, and you try your best.

You try when your hands travel to his biceps, squeezing it the way his hands tighten against your hips. You try when your hand goes through his hair when he kisses your neck. You try when Vernon's hands travel under your shirt and you kiss his cheeks because it's the only place you reach.

Vernon doesn't think, and he doesn't try. He just does, and he accepts what you give him.

When Vernon outright grinds on you and you whimper, Vernon accepts it. When your hands claw at his shirt, he accepts, and when he gets off, you take his shirt off and see you doing the same. Vernon thinks that maybe you gonna give him more than he can take.

You don't rush him, you let Vernon watch you, but you feel rushed, so you get up as well, mouth. chasing Vernon's while you take off your bra. 

The way Vernon holds you makes your mind spin. The way his firm body feels against yours, and how his hands feel against your back. And even though you try, Vernon still kisses you slowly.

Vernon holds you when he makes you lie on the bed, "baby lemme just-" he says, giving your hips a small kiss, and opening the button of your pants, when he takes your pants off you can feel his digits traveling against your leg and you are sure he can feel the goosebumps on your skin.

Vernon's fingers close against your ankle, and Vernon brings it against his mouth, "Vern " you try to call him, and you feel dumb enough that you just beg. And Vernon kisses you again, one hand on your chest and the other grabbing your hips.

And you think you can take slow when Vernon is on top of you, legs tangled, his lips now on your neck. Every time your hips move together Vernon hums against your skin and you wish he was naked already. But when Vernon's lips find your chest you can't really complain because you feel so lost, he takes one of your nipples in your mouth, and he gives attention to the other one too, taking your nipple between two fingers and toying with it

When Vernon releases your breast with a pop you remember to call him, "Vern please"

"What?" He says hands toying with your panty line, digits hot against your hips.

"Your pants," you say, feeling your mouth dry, body buzzing.

"Oh right," Vernon says and you already feel remorseful when Vernon detaches his body from yours. 

You try to reach Vernon with your hands, palms against his skin, on his chest, on his abs, on his thighs. Everywhere - trying to placate the lack of the feeling of his body against yours. 

When Vernon finishes getting his pants off he holds your head, hand against your nape and jaw and he kisses you, and you feel a little better thinking he suffered like you did in those milliseconds that your bodies have been apart from each other.

And Vernon did, and when he stops to look at you, to really look, tracing his thumb against your mouth and you open just enough for your tongue to lap at his digit Vernon thinks he is going crazy. 

God, you are just so pretty on his bed, hair messy, trails of his kiss against your skin. Vernon knows he is so fucking lucky, and if he could he would stop the time, he would treasure every second - he would go so fucking slow he would make the clock go backward. You, however, don't really care, you just touch Vernon, hand under his underwear giving his dick a few pumps while Vernon's hands leave an imprint on your ribcages.

Vernon helps you a little, one hand on your hips and another one lowering his underwear, his dick finally free. When Vernon looks down, he can see how red his skin is - a blush coloring his chest, he can also see how your thumb just goes smoothly against his cockhead and Vernon thinks he might go insane.

"Do you need to-" Vernon asks while trying to return the feeling, hand going to your clothed pussy, pressing against it and making you whimper.

"No, no, I am ok," You say, almost in a way to make Vernon hurry up, "You can just fuck me."

"Yeah yeah ok," Vernon says, and you can feel the way his dicks enters you while Vernon's tongue lick his lips.

Vernon fucks you slowly, body pressed against yours, one of his hands holding your head - almost pressing you against his, his lips never leaving your cheek. And it is almost excruciating - the way Vernon fucks you, so slowly and yet so fucking good.

You try to tell him in the way your hands hold his neck, the way you feel his shoulder blades under your hands, the way you want to touch the expanses of his back. 

It's good, and you could live like that - in Vernon's warm embrace. But you are feeling desperate enough so you just beg, "Vern, faster", and not a second late Vernon is fucking you harder. He picks himself up, knees on the bed, holding your legs on the side of his waist. And god he hits you so deep, you just need a little more.

"Fuck you are so hot," Vernon says almost there when he sees your hand toying with your clit.

"I am so close," You say to him and you can feel how his hands tighten against your thighs, how he picks up his pace, how he fucks you harder.

And then it washes over you, and it hits Vernon - because of the way he continues to fuck you after it, but then you can feel his body against yours, his mouth chasing yours, and you just laugh between kisses because yeah, Vernon is a lazy kisser, that just how he is, but goddamn you love it.

In that weekend Vernon makes a ritual of kissing you, he kisses you every time he can really, but he makes a point of stealing a kiss before the free practice - in his motorhome. He does it again before the race, he ends up in second place. He kisses you again when you jump at him saying that he is the best - and he wants to argue because he just ended in second place, but it's you so he just takes it.

When Vernon is showered, clean, and not sticky from champagne he sees you sleeping in his horrible motorhome bed, and he just can't let you - you guys have a flight to catch.

"Hey, come on let's go home, Seb is missing you," Vernon says trying to wake you up.

[its-actually-minicika]

so, feel free totally ignore this if it makes you feel uncomfortable, but I can't stop thinking about a jace x reader fic where reader is sort of dealing with the aftermath of the battle of the gullet.

her and jacerys were involved romantically and when he dies, reader goes berserk and out for blood with the greens: she gets captured eventually and is left to rot in a cell in harrenhall or something, where she talks smack to aemond and reminisces about her time spent with jace...

idk maybe she breaks out and aemond falls in love with her in a reverse-stockholmly way?? it's more like he becomes obsessed and starts taunting her with Vhagar like he did with luke.

or maybe she ends up dying in the cell from exhaustion and all her untreated wounds (because there's no way canon book aemond would ever help the lover of an enemy lmao) and meets jace again in their weird version of westerosi heaven

idk i just need them both so bad lol

The Harshest Winters (!18+!)

Pairing(s): Jacaerys x Reader, somewhat implied Aemond x Reader ??? it's just really fucked up, man;

Warnings: major character death, strong language, mentions of SA, some spoilers for Fire&Blood, book canon Aemond, blood and gore, psychological horror, manipulation, manhandling, mentions and descriptions of sex;

Author's Note: whiew, this was definitely something! Thank you so much for the request, Nonny - I loved diving into this one :") I hope that this is to your liking!!

Part 2 is out now!

She was sentenced to forever remember him by name only - Jacaerys' face would dim with time across her memory, leaving only a distant face in the back of her mind.

As she rots in the coldest pits of Harrenhal, (Y/N) remembers him, day after day and night after night.

"Promise me you'll come back alive." The girl hushed into the quiet war room. Her eyes scanned over the firelit table, traveling to Jace's sprawled out hands and broad form.

His eyes lit up. Brilliant brown hues, filled with so much love for her. His calloused fingers, still trailing over the waters of the Steptstones, that versed well into the Gullet.

"I promise." Jacaerys spoke to her, tone serious and somewhat strained. "My love..." He mused at the notice of her furrowed brows, and took three wide steps towards her.

As his hands reached for her, she leaned into his warm touch, so palpable and real.

The two hugged for what felt like an eternity. The Prince of Dragonstone kissed the crown of her head tenderly, his heart beating in a calming tune, that could have once lulled the woman into the deepest of sleeps.

"You've never lied to me before." She sniffed into his wide chest, pressing herself against him with renowed ferocity. "Do not let this be the first time."

Jace only smiled and cupped her jaw soothingly.

The nights without him were the toughest.

(Y/N) was irritated, on the verge of frenezy - the ghosts of her past played cruel jokes on her health of mind, making her see red before her - his face, whenever she closed her eyes to sleep.

In the three weeks that she spent in the prison cell, after having been captured and enslaved by Aemond, not once had she seen his face apart from their first fated meeting.

How stupid she was, drawing her sword to him, engaging him in a field of falling men.

How could she not see his flock of Green Loyalists, who suddenly came behind her back?

The heavy wound in her lower abdomen and the numbness of her left foot were all her fault. The puss that was dripping from her daft fingers, as well.

At least she had beat the shivers, she told herself insistently. But how long will it be, until she meets the Stranger due to her horrid wounds?

Left all alone, trapped well within those four walls of damp stone, the girl could do nothing but mumble and think to herself:

Aemond Targaryen had fought bravely, she had to at least give him that. Although she too would have had balls of steel atop a dragon - and one not even close to Vhagar's size.

He had granted her the courtesy of letting her die in the pains of cold and hunger - flesh eaten away by the ghastly infection, rotting to a point that had one's stomach churn and wail.

A small tear rolled from her shut eyes, and her jaw clenched tight - no one would come to rescue her, and it was clear as day that even the soldiers who came to guard her cell at night stopped bothering to show up. Perhaps the reek of death proved to be too much for them.

Perhaps they preferred to sit outside, and bask themselves in the fine light and smell of putrid ash.

Perhaps.

Slowly, yet surely, (Y/N) tried to sit up straight, but a blinding pain sent her right on her exposed back again. She hissed from the pressure that her inexperienced bandage applied on her closing wound, but relentlessly tired to get up again and again.

Eventually, she stilled as she got up on her right foot, and leaned into the wall for help in supporting her raw weight.

"Fucking shit, fucking assholes, fucking Greens, nasty cock-suckers, fucking die...!" She sobbed into the breached wall, gripping the stone edges with all her might and heaving out one pained breath after the other.

"I didn't know I was keeping a whore alive, in the stead of a respected Lady." A croaky, albeit mellow voice rang out.

(Y/N) could feel her knee wobble in fear.

She bit her tongue in an attempt to stop her snarl, and steadied herself with her hands still clinging to the wall.

"Kinslayer." She spoke in a brittle voice, and cursed herself for the undeniable softness that was laced in her tone - she was far too weakened to talk to him. And much less to fight once more.

Aemond's nostrils flared, in a weird concucsion of both anger and grief. His jaw tightened as his hand curled into a fist.

"Traitor." He grates out in retaliation, but lets a bemused expression to curl up his lips. His face narrows, and a flicker, a spark of fury dances in his remaining eye.

"You grace me with your presence, Prince Aemond. You really shouldn't have." (Y/N)'s eyes trail to the sword that rests upon his hip, and she can feel her blood turn cold once his feet carry him so awfully close to her defenseless form.

Her chest rises and falls in pent up frustration. Even if she tried to, she couldn't kill him now. But maybe she could gouge out his good eye.

Before her thoughts can come to a close, Aemond cruelly smirks to himself, and unsheats his sword to lower it to (Y/N)'s face. "It's a pity. You've never been a beauty, but now you're rendered to almost completely useless." He tuts lightly, turning her face with each languid movement of his sharp blade.

"I had in mind to let my men fuck you." He remarks dryly, but lets out a disappointed sigh. "But I don't think any of them would get it up to your whorish face."

His words startle the woman, and her eyes widen in disgust, as her throat tightens in and over itself.

"No... A look so wild and a grisly body such as this are better suited for dogs than men."

(Y/N) is shaking with fear and rage alike. She takes in a deep breath, and closes her eyes to listen.

He's bluffing. This is a test. This is a challenge. And either way, he has a sword. He could cut you up in a thousand little red ribbons of flesh if you uttered the wrong word.

The girl repeats the same mantra in her head, and swallows thickly. Soon, very soon he will get bored of taunting her.

But why? Why, why come now? Why pay her a visit after weeks of captivity?

He wants you to do something for him, in exchange for fresh air and a clean set of clothes, a small voice inside her head whispers to her.

Aemond hums wistfully and brings a hand to play with her house's crest, that rests atop her caved chest in a twisted necklace.

"You are Elmo Tully's only daughter." He asserts calmly, and reaches to twirl around her darkened strands of hair. "The Lord of Riverrun pledged his banners to that withered cunt because of you."

His eyebrows raised in mock surprise, and his sword came to a halt below her jaw. Attentively, he grazed her skin with the hilt of it, paying attention not to break in a single cut.

"But now... there's no reason for them to fight on her side, is it? You're ours to spare or kill, and your bastard lover boy is rotting in the sea."

His words sparked a fire inside the girl's soul. Without thinking, she took a step forward, and gripped her hand atop his over the hilt of the sword. In just a second, her free hand had found a way to his pale face.

The aftermath of the loud slap echoed throughout the dark room, and Aemond grabbed the lady by the hair, bringing her to her knees with a strong, downward pull.

"I will put a muzzle on you if you don't behave, tie you down and feed you to Vhagar, but not before I berate you in front of everyone still alive from the Twins to Harrenhal."

A small whimper escapes her lips, and the One Eyed prince gives her one last harsh tug, before freeing her dirty locks.

"Look at the mess you've made." He chastises with a click of his tongue, bringing his grimy hand to her face again. "You dirty fucking whore, I should make you lick me clean."

His furious stare melts into an amused one, and Aemond the Kinslayer laughs.

"I bet you would love that, wouldn't you?" He cooed while glancing down at her, forcing a finger into her resisting mouth. "You've been Jacaerys' slut for so long, haven't you? Wouldn't you like to be fucked by a real man, too?"

Aggravated by his running mouth and exherted by all her remaining patience, (Y/N) bit down on his fingers, hard, drawing a metallic taste in her mouth and a guttural groan from Aemond.

"I thank you for your gentle offer. But I heard you're already busy enough with that - fucking a bastard of your own in the darkness of these cursed halls."

The Targaryen prince clasped her by the arms tightly, pulling the girl up on her feet and snarling in her face.

"For that, I will give you your brothers' heads."

"Mayhaps they will give me yours."

Aemond's hands would leave her bruised. Of that much, she was certain.

Another permanent reminder of his abuse on her, she mused, letting out a pained sigh.

She grazed the bottom of her lower lip, immersed in deep thought.

Aemond wouldn't kill her. At least, not until the last of her purpose ran up. He might have had Harrenhal secured, but that meant little to his usurper brother and the capital, especially when the Reach provided them with no other allies.

Aegon's cause needed her. They desperately needed her alive, to strike up a deal with her sickly grandfather, and convert both houses Frey and Tully to their side.

Family.

Duty.

Honour.

Her grandfather would do anything to ensure her safety - that much was, again, for certain.

And if Aemond wanted to win this thing, he wouldn't touch a single hair on her delicate head - he couldn't afford to set off the Riverlords.

Having said that, (Y/N) wasn't surprised when the maesters came flooding in, or when her clothes were changed and her bed replaced.

What did surprise her were Aemond's visits - after their initial clash, he came by her cell more and more often.

Sometimes he would speak to her. Ask her about the gravity of her wounds, if she found the lack of light scary. If any soldier made to guard her had talked to her or made her uncomfortable.

Those were what (Y/N) grew to call his "good days".

Most of the time, Aemond would come to her well into the dead of night, scaring her and making her lose sleep for days at a time.

He would apologize with a small quirk of his head, and simply stare at her. Stare for what felt like hours, until he would hum, satisfied, and make his leave.

It was during one of those latter visits that (Y/N) finally spoke:

"Has my grandfather turned his banners? Did he send any lease for me?"

Her question, although innocent enough, angered Aemond. He rose to his feet, eye wide in ire, and he punched the wall of the prison cell - hard.

"From this day onward, you'll sleep in a chamber more fit for a Lady." He hoarsely muttered over his shoulder, as he made his way up the twisted set of stairs. "Soldiers will escort you tonight. Tomorrow, a maid will bathe you."

Although hid from her field of vision, the Tully girl heard how his footsteps came to a halt. The One Eyed Prince clasped his fists painfully, and gritted lowly:

"If you try to escape, you'll meet your end by the way of my blade, My Lady."

The night Lady Tully stepped outside of her prison cell was supposed to be one of the happiest of her entire life.

At the very least, the girl found the night sky to be of a comforting beauty - and the lack of sunrays would be good for her eyes, that got so used to the engulfing darkness of the Dungeons.

Still, she couldn't wait to see the sun.

... Her contentment was short lived - as soon as the smell of ash and blood had hit her nose, the girl almost collapsed.

No matter where she looked, she saw only the bites of fire. Where it spread - over the fertile lands she loved so well -, it left dust and cinder in it's wake.

Her home was ruined.

The fields she used to play in... gone.

The grief and anger replaced the sadness and despair. (Y/N) felt herself shake to the core, and, as she was dragged to the highest tower in the Harrenhal Keep, she swore to kill Aemond for what he'd done.

Yet, a much merrier resolve was going on back and forth in Aemond's chamber, who, after his interaction with (Y/N), was left very wanting and more than frustrated.

Alys was writhing beneath him, mewling in pleasure at his rough touch and merciless pace. Her dark hair was sprawled all over the goose feather pillows, covering her face and lustful stare.

"Mmhh, faster... faster!" She urged him with a breathless moan, moving her hips in unison with his, meeting his thrusts half-way.

Aemond groaned, holding her firmly by the nape of her neck, and closing his lilac eye tightly. His loins were begging for release - a release that was coming very hard to him.

Thoughts that disassociated him from what was happening at present surged through his mind: what he would have to do tomorrow, where he would have to take Vhagar.

Did (Y/N) reach her room yet?

The latter of them sent a pleasant shiver down his spine - with renewed vigour, Aemond pounded into the woman under him. He had found the lead towards his release, and he was not about to let it go.

Images of (y/h/c) replace the dark whisks of hair on Alys' head - her soft skin, her beautiful (y/e/c).

(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N)...

His member twitches urgently inside of Alys, and Aemond continues to defile the Tully girl in his mind, imagining how her face would twist in pleasure as he slowly entered her.

He would be gentle. So, so gentle - he would make her into a babbling mess, so numb from bliss, that her legs would shake around him. He could be selfless with her, find his high only after he was satisfied with the orgasms he pulled from her.

Aemond moaned loudly once he felt Alys tighten around him, and soon spilled out his seed, panting wildly.

Finally, he opened up his eye, and felt the disgust and dissatisfaction that came after his mind-blowing release.

How could he, the Prince Protector of the Realm, think of his nephiew's lover during sex? That ugly, headstrong and frogish looking girl - making the Crown Prince lose his mind in want and lust.

Shit.

He had to see her.

He had to touch her.

He had to have her.

He craved to feel her - even if she were to slap him as she did months ago; he would take anything she gave him. And he would enjoy it tremendously.

Aemond sighed, still planted deep above Alys - he peeled himself from her lean arms, and rolled his shirt back and over his head. Next were his trousers, shoes and leather tunic.

"Where are you going, my love...?" Alys whispered, pressing her naked body on his working back.

Aemond hums expectantly, and turns his body to trap the woman in between the cold wall and his budging arms. He brings his hand out to caress her skin, toying with one of her breasts, until he pushes her roughly against the wall and pulls her by the hair.

"I told you not to call me that" He muses coldly, letting go of the fistful he grabbed mere seconds ago. "We talked about our arrangement, Alys." He tuts lightly, grazing her jaw with his long index finger.

Aemond sighs and lets go of the caged woman, as he straightens his back and begins walking towards the door.

"I want you on the bed, with your legs spread waiting for me. I won't be too long."

Curse Aemond and his meticulosity, the young lady chastised inside her head. The tower in which she was supposed to spend the rest of the war - or however long Aemond wished her to, really - was at the highest level possible. There was no way for her to jump out the window and survive the fall.

But, should there be a need for it... death by falling wasn't the worst of fates. If you managed to break your neck, that is.

A shuddering thought, (Y/N) scorned herself, and not one she could afford at the moment.

Jacaerys was dead - and part of her would be lost with him forever. Above all else, she wanted to feel his soft kiss again, his strong arms protecting her, his gentle caress that never failed to give her butterflies.

One day, she would find him again. One day, they'll reunite, and be back together - as the Gods intended to.

But that day was still far away.

She prayed her grandfather hadn't turned his banners against Rhaenyra's cause. She hoped that her family was safe, and that Riverrun didn't suffer the same fate the fields near Harrenhall had.

Jacaerys was dead. But above all else, she had to stay alive. Fulfil his wish, take care of both their families, until she could allow herself to rest.

Her shaky hand reached for her eyes. She had been crying.

The dirt on her cheeks must have washed away, leaving streaks of her paling skin to poke behind.

She would avenge him. She would avenge them all. Even if that was the last thing she ever did.

The brisk opening of her chamber door made the girl jump in place and turn rapidly on her heel.

Behind the oak aperture, a head of shoulder-lenght silver hair could be seen, followed by a pair of untrusting violet eyes.

"Didn't your mother teach you never to enter a lady's room without knocking first?"

The reprimantion left her lips before (Y/N) could catch herself.

She had to remember that no matter how much Aemond needed her, he was still quick to anger - a true prince of the Blood of the Dragon. Brazen, relentless, cruel.

She was a first daughter, yes. But a third child, coming after two strong boys, that hence secured the Tully line from before she was even born.

He was a man. She was a weakened woman. They were near a window at a plenty ample height, and even she had heard what happened to Queen Helaena.

His footsteps approached her slowly, like a predator would it's prey. It took everything inside the girl to stay put in place, fighting his empty stare with her own.

"It's cold outside." Is all Aemond said, before he strutted towards the open window and closed it back up again.

A myrriad of questions were on her mind. But 'Why are you here?' was replaying the most.

Her back was turned on Aemond. (Y/N) was frozen in place and, although she knew how dangerous it was not to look at him, she feared that a singular look of the man who played a part in killing the love of her life would be far too much.

Seconds turned to minutes. And minutes felt like they were turning to hours.

Before long, Aemond let out a low hum and grabbed a piece of her modest gown with two of his fingers.

"I'll have a nightgown be made for you tomorrow." The Targaryen prince concluded, gingerly letting go of her sleeve.

Without another word, he turned his body stiffly, and walked towards the doors that separated her from the outside world. As they closed and clicked with the turning of a key, the girl let out a relieved sigh, and quickly glanced upon the floor.

"Fuck you, you fucking piece of shit, you Gods' damned fucking asshole." She hissed in utter resentment, snarling at the place the one eyed prince once stood.

At least the promise of the morrow could bring forth a better day.

If she ever wanted freedom, she had to make Aemond trust her. But that was easier said than done. And it would take time.

So far, he had taken her outside twice - both times, during nighttime. To not be seen by anyone, and to be able to walk with the Prince without being perturbed or interrupted by keen eyes and weary mouths.

They walked in silence: neither knowledgeable enough in the other to know what to converse about.

And as they made their third and final round of the garden, the girl took in a deep breath, and whisked her skirts gently to one side.

Aemond, like all the other nights before that, escorted her himself back to her secluded chambers, but stopped abruptly at her door.

"Where is your bretheren?" Aemond demanded to the knight assigned to watch over (Y/N) coldly.

His body stiffened momentarily, until a muffled voice could be heard past his helmet. "He went outside to take a piss." Sensing Aemond's stillness at his words, he added hurriedly, "Your Grace."

Unconvinced, yet unwilling to press the matter further, Aemond hummed, and opened the door, to allow the woman to step inside.

Like all the other nights before that, he stepped inside as well, to stare at her and later leave himself to rest in his own right.

(Y/N)'s hands were tightened in fists, and the woman strutted to her bed to play with the silk bedding.

"Thank you for bringing me here. You're... so very kind." She forced herself to say the words that left such a bitter taste in her parted mouth.

For a while, Aemond seemed stunned. He felt his jaw clench in anticipation for her next words. His eyes trailed over her, mesmerised by her tempting form, so meek and small and perfect.

Had she always been so beautiful?

"Hmm." He purrs from deep inside his throat, unable to form any other sentence. His lilac orb being glossed over with something akin to fear and lust - how could such a lowly girl spark such a consuming feeling within him?

The tightness inside his trousers becomes unbearable, and Aemond can feel his palms gripping over his thighs.

"Well..." (Y/N) finally turns to face him, biting her inner cheek. "G... Good night, Prince Aemond."

He takes in a sudden breath, and has to restrain everything inside him not to walk towards her and take her over the mattress.

But she was still a Lady. And he had to be patient. There will be more than enough time for that, he told himself pleasingly.

Still, his cock twitched into the confining space, and the girl had to stop herself from gagging at the sight.

Men were really just mindless beasts, after all. Yet she had to at least be thankful - she now knew for certain she wasn't indifferent to him. There were worse things to be working with than lust.

Lust was better than ire. Lust was better than... nothing.

"Good night, Lady (Y/N)." Aemond's groggy voice echoed through the empty room.

Seemingly satisfied with what he told her, the Targaryen Prince shot her body one last hungry gaze, before leaving to hold her under lock and key.

A minute, maybe two pass, until the girl's body can relax into the soft bed. Her eyes go over the ceiling, and she starts recounting her steps.

A sudden click of armour alerts her of what is going on outside - she shifts and turns, eyes fully on the door.

Had Aemond come to her again?

Dread seeped into her veins. Had he come to rape her? Use her? Or perhaps he grew tired of playing host, and was ready to kill her.

Not sparing another second, she swiftly jumped back on her feet, and reached for a candle holder, clasping it tightly within her hand.

Her breathing accelerated, until... the shining helmet of the knight outside greeted her tentatively, instead of the terrifying white hair she'd grown accustomed to.

"My Lady!" He breathed out, relieved, and hurriedly showed her his face.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and hot drops of tears suddenly threatened to escape them.

"Ser... Ser Cain? Is that really you?"

"Aye, my Lady, in the flesh." He remarked happily, closing the door, before (Y/N) surprised him by running towards her sworn protector, with an embrace that could shatter stone.

"I thought you dead after the battle at Tumbletown...!" She hushed into his chest, swaying him from side to side.

"It should take them more than usurping bastards to kill me!" Cain Waters assured her. His body pulled away from hers, and he spoke back in a more serious tone. "I'm here on order of your father. I'll take you to a safe place. But we must leave now."

"How...?" The girl questioned hopelessly, "The Kinslayer is ruthless, and he keeps a close watch on every corner of the keep at all times."

"Not all the time." Cain offered her a reassuring squeeze, smirking slightly. "I have reason to believe he's occupied in his chambers right now."

His attitude turns somber, and he reveals a hood tucked in his breastplate. "Wear this, my Lady. I'll keep guard outside until you're ready - but be quick about it. We'll have plenty of time to talk after we're out of this horrid place."

(Y/N) didn't need to be told that twice - she made great haste dressing up, and, before she could realise it, she was running down the stairs with her heart hammering out of her chest.

She felt as though she was in a trance. Ser Cain knew the castle like the back of his hand - no doubt, her father had been planning her escape for a very long time -, and, by the will of the Gods, the two traveled unspotted to the burnt forest behind the Gates of Harrenhall.

"Our horses are tied here." Cain huffed at the heaviness of his armour. "My Lady, give me your hand."

He mounted the woman on a tiny black horse, and secured her belts in place. He then turned to his own mare, and ensured to tie their bridles together. Before long, both horses broke into a dizzying gallop.

Thus (Y/N) Tully and Cain Waters managed to get lost into the night, right from under Aemond's nose.

The rays of sunlight shone over Aemond's bare form, still entangled with the one of Alys Rivers.

His limbs felt heavy - though none of match to the uneasiness he felt in his heart.

Wordlessly, he peeled himself off the warm body that laid next to him, and dressed up to pay his cherished captive a morning visit.

His dull footsteps bounced in the echo of the war keep, as Aemond's marching came to an abrupt end.

Nothing looked out of the ordinary.

Nothing, save to say for the unguarded door to the girl's chamber.

His blood ran cold, and his hand jerked open the entry to her resting place, only to find it... empty.

There is a scream from deep within that forces it's way from out of his chest. An anger so blinding, that it threatened to burn and extinguish any and all who would dare come his way.

Anger isn't a good look an anyone. But on Aemond One Eye, it looked downright terrifying.

A punch is thrown on the nearest wall to his trembling form. Then another. And another. And another.

Vhagar's mighty roar all but breaks the sky in two - and those who lived to tell the tale swore it echoed throughout all the Seven Kingdoms.

An exaggeration, no doubt, though not the most far fetched one in their bloody story.

The tearing skin of his knuckles lets a numbing feeling wash over Aemond. With his eyes upon the rattled fields, he lets out a low chuckle.

"I'll find her. I'll find her if I have to burn down all of the Riverlands."

They say that everytime a Targaryen is born, the Gods flip a coin.

[leoslosttoolbelt]

What I think the demigods would major as and why

these are personal head canons dont take them too seriously :)

Percy: Education. I know that we usually hc as a Marin biology kinda guy but I genuinely think that he wouldn't be too fond of the workload but instead want to work towards being a teacher and being the kind of teacher he needed as a kid, y'know? Alternatively, I can see him being into something like baking and pastry art to take over Sally's shop.

Annabeth: Architecture. I really don't think I need to explain this one to y'all but yeah she's an architecture girly. But if we want to branch out I can also see her studying law and working in the area of Child Protection.

Leo: Astrophysics. I have this head canon of him panicking because of the sheer amount of choices that he's presented with and choosing the first one of the alphabetical list. Lucky for him, he's insanely good at it AND it'll pay well in the future. He minors in mechanical engineering and realises that although he has all the practical knowledge because of his father, his theoretical knowledge isn't as strong lol.

Piper: Food Science. I'm trying to be unique here because yeah, she could do environmental studies but I also think it would be super cool to see her learning about food and developing new vegetarian versions of food because it's something she's visibly passionate about in the books.

Nico: I can see him getting a history / philosophy related degree for his bachelors just for him to get a  doctor of philosophy (Ph. D.) in mythology or folklore. His hyperfixation runs deep and he sure as hell is going to fuel it as much as he can.

Jason: Doesn't go to college!! Is severely burnt out <3. No but like idk man I think he'd legitimately want to take it chill if that makes sense? Maybe he'd do a business major just so that he can get a job somewhere but I can't think of somewhere he'd fit in nicely. Jason does have a lot of part time jobs though!!

Frank: Nurse! Nursing school! Despite being the son of Mars I can see him being in the medical field because he wants to help people in need. It's a long journey with lots of ups and downs but finally getting his degree makes it all worth it.

Hazel: Geology because rocks. And also women in STEM!! This one directly correlates to her powers in the books as well as both of her parents! On the other hand, I can see definitely see Hazel studying in the field of archeology with the goal of being an archeologist and then eventually a museum curator :)

Reyna: Psychology!! Listen, I know this seems out of the blue but Reyna gives me the right vibes. Everyone is skeptical at first because they don't think she'd fit the mold of a clinical psychologist but that's okay because Reyna wants to further herself in research! She studies Neuropsychology and becomes a prominent researcher in her field! Please tell me you see the vision.

Will: From what I can see in the books, Emergency Medical Services degree seems like the right field for him. He's already basically a paramedic at Camp Half Blood so he knows it's naturally the right step for him. On the other hand, for something a little different - he seems like the kind of guy who might be interested in studying cinematography or art history maybe.

Travis: He studies Economics because he's so fucking convinced that he can become the next Elon Musk if he studies this. Alternatively, he studies music because he wants to travel the world and like sing with the wind and all that shit.

Connor: he's a communications major because he's a really popular youtube and technically doesn't really need to go to college but oh well he can study communications.

Drew: She goes to cosmetology school as the first step to start her own makeup and skincare empire. She's super nice to all of her clients and helps out all of the other students when they're having trouble with something! I will not tolerate any Drew slander let my girl breathe.

Pollux: Chemical Engineering. He got influenced by watching breaking bad and somehow landed himself a degree in chemical engineering. He doesn't know how he survived that degree but it doesn't matter because he decides to not give a fuck and open a coffee shop that becomes really popular because all the drinks are to die for.

Thalia: I don't really know the right terminology but she has an art related degree / tattoo apprentice so that she can work as a tattoo artist!! It fits with the thalis vision and also she is the eldest daughter who loses it lowkey so she doesn't follow your usual education route. Tattoo artist Thalia for the win!!

[dangermousie]

This feels like a love triangle.

I don't mean romantic (though as someone who shipped Borgias, go off in fanfic anyone thus inclined) but you can tell LJY feeling left out, feeling jealous really because while I can joke that Hyun is serial killer catnip in terms of wanting his love/approval/interest, the serious answer is that LJY, who was only abused for his otherness long before he did anything heinous (and perhaps he never would have, if he was treated well - it's a mixture of nature and nurture after all), yearns to be loved like this.

He sees Min, the "monster" be loved so unconditionally and so thoroughly, and feels the loss because he never has been. His obsession with Hyun isn't so much that he sees himself in him (there may be some of that - I genuinely don't know if LJY was like Min "born different" or if LJY was normalish but abuse and isolation turned him that way and if it's the latter I can see him seeing himself in Hyun who is also a little odd but not a psychopath by nature; but probably could have become one thanks to daddy) as that he is drawn to the fact that Hyun sincerely and utterly loves someone who is like him and thus is supposed to be by societal definition unlovable. LJY has never received love but this shows to him that in some alternate universe he could have; that nobody is irredeemable to such a degree that they cannot be loved by someone.

PS The longer it goes on, the more I wonder at the dad's insanity. Here is how it works in dad world. Here is my evidence my son is a psychopath who will start killing at any moment:

1.There was a short period where after trauma related to his mom's death he wet the bed (love that even his shrink friend goes WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU)

2. He's really really smart. UMMMMMM

3. I once saw him burying a dead animal he said he found dead. Also, neighbors said some animals in the neighborhood died. UMMMMMM

4. He (why he assumes it's him and not his other kid but separate question) drew some crayon pics of people with two heads. UMMMMM

5. The serial killer psychopath who has been arrested tells him that he's met his son for three minutes and his son is totes like him. Because a serial killer officially known for lying and manipulativeness is super good character witness who always tells the truth.

Now that he's drawn absolutely absurd conclusion based on no evidence, possible course of action:

1.Observe some more for a while just to confirm because the evidence seems awfully thin.

OR

2. Get son professionally evaluated. There is a whole field of study about psychology and people who get PhDs about it and specialize in this.

OR

3. Just hope for the best and treat him well; he's pretty little no need to freak out yet.

OR

4. We are gonna lie to everyone he went to study overseas and I am gonna lock him up in the basement where he sees nobody except for me, no playing with other kids, no fresh air, not even his little brother, as I tell him he's a monster so it's for his own good. Bonus: his little brother is totes gonna grow up normal in a home where one day dad locks up older bro in the basement for no reason he gave to you and you never get to see him again.

If you picked 4, congrats you are the dad, who's not just abusive but dumber than a post. You are guaranteed to grow yourself two psycho kids but also if you jump to such far-fetched conclusions on such scant evidence, I am forced to conclude that most criminals you caught were probably innocent (unless you got lucky) since if you apply the same absurdity to your job, you must have railroaded a ton of random people. "This man is the one who killed the old lady! He has blue shoes! Blue is the color of the devil!" You are about a step away from that.

[rosewaterandivy]

caught in the throes

Summary: Were you praying at the Lares shrine? || He supposes it could've gone better. || a crawl til dawn blurb

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

WC: 522

Warnings/Themes: 18 +, MINORS DNI. Series contains graphic depictions of violence and sex. Psychological horror/trauma, botched forced sterilization, abortion, memory loss, body horror, dark and sacrilegious themes, and mutual corruption.

A/N: been missing my babies, so i figured a blurb was in order.

Please do not interact if you aren’t 18+.

Nota bene: Reblogging, commenting, and liking my work is always appreciated; reposting, however, is not.

Enjoy! 💜

series masterlist | playlist | currently spinning:

TO: DIRECTOR OWENS

FROM: ██████████ █████

ACTION: EXTRACTION 

STATUS: COMPLETED

4 JAN 1996

SUBJECT: Operation successful. Team apprehended the volatile subject with minimal injuries incurred. Subject had to be sedated for transport and has remained stable on board. En route to base; anticipated arrival 0800. 

Bruises bloom on her cheekbones, mottled and purple and he knows they’ll be gone by wheels down. Aside from a few scrapes and bruises, she remains serene and maybe it’s the cryo talking but he’s never seen her that beautiful. But it’s a tragic kind of beauty, like Ophelia in the river hair tangled among the waterlilies. In the back of his mind, the dark depths of his heart he’s always known that when the reaper comes for her, it would be a fool’s errand; beauty like that is too cutting to be buried under a tombstone.

The jet remains quiet, the steady pulse of machinery and coiled tension in the cabin. He can sense Hop’s apprehension as he steps toward him. A few steps closer and then:

“Don’t,” He warns. 

Robin perks up at that, her lip thankfully clotting now, shouldn’t have ever been in the field but here they were. And it had been them, of fucking course who else would it be, that had taken most of the licks; her assaults always had a flair for the dramatic. Rob huffs a disbelieving laugh as Hop comes to a halt several feet away; and oh, he’s never loved them so much.

Love, the word feels foreign on his tongue. Love, it’s a complicated thing. He knows what he has with Rob is a forever deal - a sister, or as close as he would get to one now, and the father he never quite had. The pair of them seeing her that feral, well… it was upsetting to say the least. Since Steve’s rescue, they’d created some semblance of family, or normalcy in what could only be described as a clusterfuck of a situation. But he knew that the hollow ache in his chest wasn’t matched by anyone at present. 

Hop, bless him, has always been careful - with his words and his actions, always slow to judge and never one to assume. 

“Steve,” his voice is soft and low, soothing, “Ya need anything?” 

The thought is nice, and he knows the old man means to help but there’s nothing to be done. He knew in completing this extraction, the one favor he’d needed from Hop, that there was a chance she’d be too far gone; who’s to say that the miracles worked by intensive therapy and a cocktail of meds could be successful again?

And god, he could kick himself - he really could, but he’d already lost so much time. Months gone to cryo, then recovery and therapy, followed by that joke of a recruitment attempt from Owens. He could fall to his knees in tears from all the years wasted in not having her. But he was desperate to get her back, he would claw his way to hell and back if it meant she was safe. 

He runs a thumb down the slope of her neck in thought, “No, I’m good.” 

He watches as her jaw tenses and god, she always was a teeth grinder, wasn’t she? He can feel rather than see Hop nod and fuck off back to the cockpit, leaving him and Rob to their silent observations.

Everyone wants to be saved, right?

Only time would tell.

[subliminalbo]

Dirty Work: As Deep as You Can Go

Fuck this is bad, oh god, shit, fuck.

Okay, I know what you're thinking. Hot girl walks into an interview with the head of the Department of Psychology and immediately gets hypnotized. Total Romero cliche, I know. Fuck. This sucks.

What am I even doing here? I'm not qualified for a public relations internship! I should have known this was a setup. I should have run the second I saw I was interviewing with Dr. Fielding instead of some cat mom lady in administration. Is this job even in public relations? I hate it here.

"Can you hear me, Andrea?"

"Yes, Dr. Fielding."

Oooh fuck this feels weird. Was that my voice? How did she make me say that? How is she doing this?

Alright, calm down. Let's piece it together. Fuck. It literally just happened. Why can't I remember?

Okay. The interview was going fine, I remember that. I nailed it, even. Huge win after the CVS debacle. The interview was going fine and then...then what? Dr. Fielding says,

"This feels like a good fit, Andrea. But I do have one more line of questions for you."

And I say...what did I say?

"Hit me, doc."

"For these questions, Andrea, I need you to go deeper."

Ohhhh fuuck! That was it, wasn't it? Some kind of trigger. It didn't take me immediately, but it did something. My shoulders straightened and I started listening. I turned off my smart ass charm and just let her inside my goddamn head.

How did she say it next?

"Just focus on me now, Andrea. Breathe. Breathe and listen."

And I repeated it like her fucking parrot. I couldn't stop focusing. I couldn't stop listening.

"Breathe and listen."

"I want you to think of the deepest place you've ever been to, Andrea. That place you go to when you need to shut out the rest of the world. I want you to think about that place, and then I want you to go even deeper."

"Deeper."

How did the trigger even work on me? Must have been something she planted. Must have been working me the entire interview. Could have been anything. That way she spoke, that way she tapped on her keyboard, that way she kept repeating my name.

It's all so suspect now. It couldn't have just been one thing. It was everything.

All about this. All about getting me here. Trapped down here as deep as my mind goes. Leaving me open, mindless, obedient

"Compliant, pliable, agreeable. Can you be all of that for me, Andrea?"

"Yes...

Dr. Fielding.

"Now I want you to come back to me, Andrea. I want you to climb out of that place so deep, deeper than you've ever gone, deeper than you knew even existed. But first I want you to find every part of you that still resists this, every part of you that doubts the power that I hold over you. I want to find that part of yourself, Andrea, and I want you to leave it down there, forever. So deep down there that you'll never find it again."

Doesn't feel so bad...down here forever...down here so deep where I never have to worry, or question, or think. Never have to think ever again. Never. Forever.

The world seemed to blink with Andrea's eyes. One moment she was answering Dr. Fielding's questions, and the next she was standing, shaking the professor's hand. She didn't know why she was smiling. She didn't know what had just happened. She asked the first, stupid question that came to her mind.

"So...I got the job?"

"Yes," Dr. Fielding smiled back. She stepped around the desk, placing her hand on Andrea's back, and she began to walk her toward the door. "Of course it's only part time. You'll work on a contingent basis. As needed."

"How often is that?" Andrea blinked again. She felt like she had a hangover.

"Oh, it's hard to say. Campus incidents seem to be more frequent these days, hence the need for your position. Of course Dean Pierce and I are relying on your discretion while you're employed with his office. Everything you do will be strictly confidential. I'm assuming you're comfortable with payment under the table."

"Sure," Andrea said slowly, still catching up to the conversation. She wanted the extra cash, but it was hard to imagine there wasn't some communications major who was more qualified for the job.

As Andrea stepped through the door into the hallway, Dr. Fielding snatched her by the wrist. Andrea yelped in surprise. Her skin was soft, but her touch was numbing like a snake bite. Why did she suddenly feel like putty in this woman's hands?

"Andrea," Dr. Fielding called out.

"Yes, Dr. Fielding," Andrea said without a thought.

"The money is only a perk. Never forget the real reason you're here."

There was no hesitation this time.

"I have no choice," Andrea's words came out slow, deliberate, a truth from the absolute bottom. As low as she could go. "I am a loyal student of Carpenter State University. I proudly serve Dean Pierce. I must protect the legacy of this great institution."

I must obey.

[yutasbimil]

Oxymoron

vyn x fem!oc | tears of themis ff. (psychology major!lead) ✦ (8/8) [series fic] !!! also posted on my ao3 acc! { here } tags: hurt/comfort ♡︎ cw: heavy on (self) angst; suicidal ideation; graphic and morbid descriptions on said thoughts, negative self-talk, skewed self-perception, mentions of attempts, self-harm. triggering topic on neglect and invalidation of family/relatives. it all eventually wraps up nicely with comfort! ;w; If I were to encapsulate Yule x Vyn's relationship in a song, I think this fits them nicely :') ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။ | ‘you were good to me’ by jeremy zucker, chelsea cutler + supposedly this is a 'x reader' fic but got too heavy eventually, I apologize truly ;; word count: 3.6k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

do not repost © yutasbimil (2024)

cont.

Her waking life seems to be a walking oxymoron. Yule keeps contradicting herself of her beliefs, relearning everything from the truth that was built by someone else for her.

Maybe as to why she is at constant war with herself.

Now she’s crippled in taking her own steps after being locked up for so long in other people’s chains.

But she keeps caving in.

At most it stayed stagnant as ‘suicidal ideation’ to her, ever so lingering like a cycle.

Not till recently, a door peeked off an attempt and showed up a possibility at the doorstep for Yule. 

And it scared the crap out of her.

Never she had seen a suicidal attempt an option.

As killing herself brought so much distress and inconvenience to her, the idea of her bones, guts, and body splattering all over after jumping skyscrapers, or by the cliff where she rots just doesn't bring justice to her body.

Even physically harming herself like cutting slits in her skin just brings inconvenience to her. The blood spilling, the healing process, the scarring…  it's too much of an inconvenience so she just relies on other means of self-harm.

To starvation, dehydration, oversleeping, punishing herself by lying on a pool of her own sweat and limiting herself to any means of ventilation, and just sleeping for hours on end just to avoid everything.

Major Depressive Disorder with tendencies to self-harm huh?

Not at all real!

I’m miserable! I was born on a Wednesday, I am woe!

Although I have aggression and display such hostility, it is only to myself. Yet it isn't enough of an acknowledgment that I want myself gone?

How much begging on my knees is needed to be done?

The noose just brings a cone of shame type of feeling onto her as she doesn't like her body to be seen in the aftermath.

Even after dying, you're still shamed.

And she doesn't want that.

On the contrary, she's embarrassed at most having to think this morbidly that it brings Yule to shame if she ever dies sad and as a psychology advocate in the field.

A mental health advocate dying of suicide? Oh Lord, the shame.

As if we're immune to the mental distress and agony, but alas, it's hard for people to understand that people are most likely prone to such anguish of humanity.

It's difficult for Yule to grasp that she's back in this state.

But the last time she had bed rotted? Much so that she stayed almost two weeks at worst in her bed with little to no eating, drinking, and bathing herself— It just made her parents fucking mad for acting such a way.

An insolent fool, why are you acting so pathetic?

No such words came out of their mouth but the looks on their faces didn't show any sign of concern. If anything, it's just having such a disgrace of a human coming out of their womb.

And when they demanded her to open up, which she did multiple times FYI— All they did was dismiss and invalidate her.

Yule is tired, beyond expended but she has no other choice but to just continue on to carry her flesh and bones walking this earth.

New profound demons emerged along the voices in her head to “Do it.” Do an attempt to just get it over with to prove your point, Yule.

Show them how serious you are…

The whispers have been stronger and viler ever since. But she doesn't want to cave in.

At the back of her mind, it's not at all worth it to prove a point. Pointless. How serious and severe her mental ache is… it brings more gape and hollow to her already void heart the idea of dying in actuality.

“I don't like the idea of dying, I just want to disappear out of thin air.”

And it just goes on as a cycle.

You achieved all that and yet you're depressed?

Exactly. No matter how many heights I reach… All I ever wanted was a hand to reach out to me when I was in desperate need of help.

But it's just going to be dismissed.

I want to jump off and disappear.

She had dissociated since yesterday, even the packing and unpacking of her things were more organized than her array of thoughts.

Yule could only breathe in as she heard a knock outside the bathroom door.

“You need help with anything, dear?” Vyn checks up on her, she’s taking longer than usual as he noticed.

Yule blinked, blankly looking at the unkept reflection mocking her as it showed a tear-stained face she didn’t even notice had emerged.

“N-no, just… will be done after this!” she cleared her dry throat, mouth grubby as her croak echoed in the bathroom walls. 

Vyn simply responded ‘alright’, and let her be with her business.

The bathroom door creaked open as Yule dragged the door a bit too timidly, trying to not make a sound but opposite it did. 

By the looks of it, Vyn had been waiting for her as he sat by the sofa with a tablet at hand, looking casual as he read through the screen. Vyn briefly scans her as well, retaining his glance at her for a moment to acknowledge her presence in the living room. But he kept quiet, respecting the space she needed.

Yet here she is, being unreasonable towards him…

Even as Yule gets the vacant seat across him, she quickly gets swallowed up with guilt. She scrunches up her long skirt, lowering her head. Yule can’t even look at Vyn. “Can I sit beside you?”

Vyn looks up to meet her shaky eyes, he nods and pats the space beside him.

Yule can’t help but tear down her walls.

Tackling Vyn’s figure a bit, Yule is enveloped in the silver-haired male’s arms as she bursts into tears. Vyn encapsulated the petite lady into their safety net, hovering his hand slightly over her head.

Yule hugs him tighter, barely coherent. “V-vyn… I-I…” she tried to muster words, but she could only manage to bury herself in his chest.

Vyn just stayed quiet, holding her and shushing her to calm down. Yule only clutched to his shirt as she sipped in another breath.

“Sorry about what I said earlier, and how I acted as a jerk. I warned you beforehand but that was still out of line. I’m sorry…” Another intake of breath. “I don't know what came over me, but I know it is still wrong and I want to make up for it.”

Even in the previous instances, the sudden outbursts are quite telling. It masks her shame of the obvious relapse. Even as how she interprets it... it's her catching up on a lot of suppressed emotions that she exploded to tears.

Even simmering down her tears once it starts is difficult. It just resulted in her crying for hours as she felt helpless.

She feels empty yet again.

Yet, it spiked fear in her system.

Her eyes maintained such shakiness due to panic, about how? How could I ever make up to Vyn after that instance?

“I just feel helpless and it was not the right method to ask for help when you're being warm towards me. Always, just being kind when I least deserve it.”

Vyn had to rebut her on that.

“No one deserves to be punished for trying, and I can see that with you, love.” Vyn caresses and brushes her hair, feeling the hotness of her tears and breath near him. He hopes to lighten up the heaviness she feels in her strained breathing. “You deserve kindness the most on how people can be quite ignorant of their actions, and not the reaction of people towards their behavior.”

So I am making sense and just reacting towards their actions?

But… it’s still not pretty and kind. Vyn seeing me like this…Her abandonment issues heightened her anxiety.

“I-I don't know I just, feel unworthy and I want you to leave me as it's easier than to deal with this whole mess.” Her breath hitched at the thought, and she quickly took it back. “But—! I don't want you to prove it either that I am that easy to leave and unlovable—”

“You really just listen to what you want, hmm?” Vyn clasps his hands on both her cheeks to make her look at him. He sees his reflection through her dewy eyes. “Didn't I say I won't leave despite your attempts to throw me off? I am not that easy to be unfazed.”

His doting eyes bring her more tears, especially his words. “You’re so worthy, more than worthy. You deserved to be loved.”

He kisses atop her head, to her forehead, looking at her deeply once again making her meet his golden eyes. “I'll never get sick of understanding you and standing by your side. Never that I'll get weary, I get tired as I'm human, yes, but then I'll rest… Nothing a little slumber, even in the comfort of another, beside each other. Hmmm? Isn’t this proof enough that I remain holding you like this that you are worthy, Yule?”

“Vyn…”

“I love you more than enough to stay.”

“I feel ugly and disgusting. I haven't properly cleaned myself— there are others better, prettier, and saner than me. Not broken...” she voiced out but her endeavors were blocked by the stroking thumb by the side of her lips. Vyn’s eyes remained unwavering, contrarily, it’s in the midst of softened to deepening eyes striking back at her.

“And do I care? I don't care about other people as they're not you, Yule." Vyn pressed. "And you are not broken, don't call yourself such statements.”

Alas, her attempts to run away didn’t work as usual. 

“Again, I’m sorry." she breathes in. "I’m ready now to talk…”

Finally sorted out her thoughts, Yule vented out as to why she doesn’t like visiting home, on what had happened. But that’s the usual conversation laid on the table in their household. Nothing new.

She only went back to get some of the important documents she had forgotten in their home. 

“That was what occupied your thoughts since yesterday, hmmm? Explaining your dissociation since this trip began, love.”

Yule nods, and Vyn begins to piece together how much it makes sense. Her antsy behavior when it comes to time, she got so used to strict and unreasonable curfews. It was as if her body was still in panic mode, and it showed through her jitters. It really stuck even though she’s now free and already is an adult.

Being caged for so long has long-lasting effects like this.

Yule got caught up in her flow of venting, she felt her breath hot and tired. She craved water. 

“Sorry, we’re supposed to have fun and forget our usual daily lives for a moment.” Yule laughs dryly, guilt catching up her skin, but Vyn’s hand caught her consciousness first, cutting off any means of shame to develop.

“You’re supposed to let off some steam, that’s the purpose of this trip after all…”

He reaches out to her cold hands, yet his are still colder than hers. Even so, the softened gaze in his eyes radiates warmth. Like sunlight gently peeking out the curtain windows ever so slightly at mid-late morning.

She heaves in a breath to ground herself.

“Is that why you asked me on my day off to go somewhere all of a sudden?”

“Not sudden but… I had been planning since to make sure everything would go smoothly. Such a surprise needs intricate planning.”

The hints of perfectionism are reflected in his reasoning then again. But he admits a slight slip-up to his plan, a hiccup if I may.

Vyn noticed Yule was extra cautious and might have triggered her anxiety due to him ignoring her or being suspicious these past few days, adding to her abandonment issues resurfacing.

He’s guilty of this.

“I apologize it's not the best execution as it made you overthink and almost caused rapture in your trust in me. Most especially that it was an inappropriate timing due to your recent unpleasantries. But I hope you understood my intentions…” 

“You didn’t know fully what happened to me…” she shakes her head, sighing out of relief. “This made up for it, don't worry. I know your intentions very well, love.”

“Yes, but I still should've done better, I apologize, m’lady.”

Seeing her finally softening up, to her stable breathing and relaxed eyes. He can finally somehow rest easy.

Vyn continues to stroke his fingers on her hand, bringing it up close to his lips to gently caress it. “You told me last time that you wanted to visit this place, so your wish is my command.”

“I only mentioned it briefly, but you took that much thought into it?” She smiles to herself. “Your attention to detail is truly exceptional, Will.”

Feeling more loosened up and at ease, she reached and tugged the hem of his polo shirt.

“Vyn… I still feel disoriented, I’m embarrassed to ask this but… can you help me with my hair?”

“Sure, no worries…” He heaves her in to fix her posture as he’s back-hugging her. His tone showed no hesitations, whatsoever.

“But I’m giving you a heads-up I haven't washed it in days.” Yule goes onto a blabber then again. She’s just afraid of being vulnerable and him seeing her state like this, her condition of being lazy and tactless over her hygiene.

That’s when she knew it was getting bad.

Her basic functioning is blighted.

Also, this answers her attempts to avoid kissing him or anything and just isolates herself as she feels paralyzed to do anything.

Again, Vyn is that observant of her habits, it no longer hinders his interest in her.

“Want me to prepare a bath for you as well? Or… we can take a bath together?” The perk of his silver brow hints a sliver of mischievousness.

Though, the suggestion seems so convincing if it means getting refreshed. It didn’t show or imply any lewdness from the silver-haired man at all.

She could only let loose and be vulnerable; bare-naked in his presence on how gentle Vyn handles her.

-

The simple gesture overwhelms her, even with him tucking her in bed.

Vyn smoothed and brushed her hair with his fingers. He laid a chaste kiss atop her head as he whispered a soft good night.

His voice ever soothing her senses. Quite opposite of her sleepless nights in her childhood bedroom. The neon star stickers on her bedroom ceiling bring more blinding rays than calm slumber. And the random noise in their house is like storm clouds hovering over her head.

But being in his presence and his sound of breathing, equates to a calm pattering on the roof of a tranquil rain, and their shared bed a laid out like a cloud to soundly sleep in.

Lifting her chin up as support, Vyn wipes off the tears that she didn't even notice already leaked out beyond her consciousness and control.

“I'm sorry for how cruel the world has been to you, love.” He softly speaks, and he laid kisses by her eyes. “You don't deserve any of this travesty on your character.”

“No, we don't, Vyn… we deserve more than just survival." There's lightness in her chest saying this, she pulls him closer to her chest, enough that they attune to both their heartbeats. "We should be able to live.”

We deserve better, and on how Yule is crying right now, it is encapsulated in her endearing gaze towards this man.

It’s to let out all the pain, and how she yearns for a soft, easy-going life. That’s what she wanted all along. The calmness. And she’s eternally grateful that Vyn is the one to open her eyes to the possibility that she deserves this.

She deserves the light to live, to rest easy, to be able to breathe. And the privilege of living to share a breath with another.

“And your turmoil towards what they're doing is as it should, it's of reason… and does not reflect nor imply blighted blemishes on you as a person.

You are human after all, and you should be allowed to be human with vast and depth of emotions.

As not everything is black and white, my love, and I know it has been difficult for you to navigate through the opacity and hues of the grayness of it all… But I will gladly be of service to be your strength in this journey with you.”

His words serve as a soft reminder, but also shatter her in the sense that she wakes up. It's time to face reality. That everything coming up to this point in one’s life matters to shape a person, but it shouldn’t dictate you on your desired, deserved future.

It is still a matter of one’s hand how we navigate through life. But it’s also a nice reminder that she has a helping hand to count on as she journeys further ahead.

Yule truly needed that wake-up call.

This is a reminder to keep trying. To live on.

“You're no longer alone, and I hope I don't bring you shame that I am not the first person in mind to hold on to when you need help.”

“But now, I have to keep ingraining it in my mind to think of you, always… will that be alright?” Yule cups her hand on his face, tracing the mole residing by the side of his eye.

He beams, putting his hand over hers. “You have my full permission, love. And vice-versa.”

Reciprocated, as their love for each other.

Feeling the restlessness vanish, his words are the only thing grounding her tonight.

He continued his list of reminders, as tonight seemed to be the night she needed it the most. And hopefully, the last time she would be wrapped in intense anxiety instead of a warm blanket.

“You're more than that Yule, and you know that as to why it brings you so much remorse on how opposite their actions towards you with your real, actual worth.

You no longer have to be so hostile towards yourself, I'll be here every step of the way to lead you back whenever you go astray from what's doing you good.”

Like a good nudge to her timid figure, it nudged Yule to his side of the bed more, more certain with her full concentration on his.

“Their vile treatment of you gives a disservice to your kindness, and you're usually a patient person but you are put to the test when it comes to them.”

Vyn wipes the last of her flowing tears, now turning to a halt as his words assure her.

She feels seen; she feels loved.

“I hope I bring you calm instead of triggering your fight or flight mode.”

Yule laughs, in disbelief at how this is turning her overwhelmed with emotions, but now she feels safe letting her walls break loose as Vyn accepts her vulnerability.

She pulls him close to her chest, to let him know how her heart is beating at a fast pace. At most that he is one of the reasons she wants this heart to keep beating.

And only if she can stop one’s heart from breaking, it would be his, it is Vyn’s heart that she wants to protect with her dear life as well.

“I'm usually under the water, muffled at most, drowning with rage and darkness of an abyss-like pit.

I have been long lost in this labyrinth in my waking life. But upon meeting you, it was as if fate— destiny, whatever force the universe had brought us… I have resurfaced into calm waters.” With every softness she could gather, it is placed with a kiss they share.

“You keep me afloat.”

He kissed her back, and as if eons passed on how profound the feelings scattered across the warmth of both their chests. Tugging and pulling in between the skies and seas, it is left suspended.

Tranquil.

“And you are my anchor, you ground me and keep me safe from straying away. And at last, upon dreading destiny, I have come to love and accept it as it led me to you. Perhaps this was fate.”

And they wouldn't like it any other way.

They keep each other well-balanced.

Besides not getting enough sleep due to insomnia and uneasiness, she’s only able to make up for the lack of it with Vyn beside her. His presence serves as serotonin.

She hasn't had a good night’s sleep for a long while.

Her calm disposition displays the apparent glow of her recovering and getting better in being more liven up. And truly Yule’s more invigorating aura was driven to this point as they have come to a full circle. She comes off more regulated, happier.

She has been trying for so long to get off the seemingly helpless cycle.

Now she has someone quite opposite to her nature to accompany her hand in hand.

Yule is ready to accept and throw anything else that’s disheartening, as love is what's valued above all.

The golden eyes of Vyn brought her back to the ground. Being lifted and carried with such care she no longer felt the cynic air of dismay.

Just gentleness and warmth.

He embodies the tea aroma he loves so much.

He is love.

One wouldn't let oneself be this bare without trust, it is never uncomplicated to lay a doormat to welcome intimacy that easily again. Especially after mishaps after mishaps; the mass of catastrophes had led one’s heart to be numb.

But perhaps, it is love that was felt as to why their walls were torn down beyond the windows of one’s soul. No doubt if they hadn't let themselves be vulnerable, if they didn't try once more— this wouldn’t be their decided fate.

To love an unlovable person, that concept stayed an impossible decree for Yule not till it was proven wrong by Vyn. And for him, to fall in love at first sight when it is one of the most straying thoughts in his system, but then, Yule managed to breach through his walls at first glimpse.

As much as they see each other’s foundation as fallen debris, a dilapidated land.  

It gives them hope that people can always start anew, now that they have each other… Together, they can make a home for one another.

※ my masterlist | #enjeiwrites ※

[ohworm-writes]

“Uh - fireman schlatt”

BITCH I AM FOAMING AT THE MOUTH SUDNRUJSNDJEJDNDJEJJDJ

ELABORATE. I BEG. I WILL GIVE YOU A SMOOCH! TWO SMOOCHES!!!

I mean, if you insist… 🤭😋

Fireman Schlatt who, when he eventually decided to drop out of college and to an extent the field of computer science, didn’t know what careers he could consider.

Fireman Schlatt who decided “ah, what the hell” and went to one of those job fairs and, lo and behold, the fire department was there, passing out pamphlets and whatnot.

Fireman Schlatt who became so enthralled after learning and listening about what being a firefighter is like that it kept him up at night just thinking about it.

Fireman Schlatt who excessively researched training regimens and went over past exams about a million and one times that he might need to know if (read: when) he becomes a fireman.

Fireman Schlatt who, although he had to wait another year and a half to even begin the process of truly becoming a fireman, spent all of his time studying, training- or doing both!

Fireman Schlatt who passes both his physical and written exams with ease, as well as his medical, psychological, drugs and background tests/checks, and you best believe that he’s breaking with pride about it.

Fireman Schlatt who finally- finally graduates from the Fire Academy and cries, screams and loses his mind with joy, feeling so fucking accomplished by everything he’s done and all the steps he’s taken since to reach his goal.

Fireman Schlatt, who hangs up his black and yellow striped suit in the Ladder 131 house, which is, of course and akin to him, located in Brooklyn.

Fireman Schlatt, who has the absolute pleasure of working with a few of him buddies in the firehouse, sharing stories and messing around with eachother like brothers.

Fireman Schlatt, who gets so many people trying desperately to flirt with him and get his number, but he brushes it all of like it’s nothing.

Fireman Schlatt, who swears up and down that his mutton chops make him fit the rugged look that this job typically sports.

Fireman Schlatt, who, when he’s not either working hard in the field as a fireman or playing with his two feline companions that love to lay around the firehouse like lazy sacks of potatoes, spends his free time working out, preparing himself for whatever situation is to come.

Fireman Schlatt, who is nearly always the first to a scene, a silent giant who puts his all into protecting his community and making sure everyone, no matter who they are, are safe in the community he helps work to protect.

Fireman Schlatt, who has to many burns, scars, buts and bruises than he can count, but kids and adults alike adore him and his presence, and can always rely on him to take a ride in the truck and wear his helmet, should they ever ask.

Fireman Schlatt, who is so unbelievably proud of his job and place in the community, and feels so lucky that he was ever given the opportunity to work in a field like it.

[mae-gi-writes]

OUTSIDE BOUNDARIES || VERNON CHWE (part one)

what happens when ball of sunshine meets Mr. Grumpy? When you make the sacrificial decision of shadowing Dr. Hanson Chwe to scramble for your TA hours, nothing could’ve prepared you for the way in which this grumpy ass charms his way into your heart.

Genre: romcom, university au! Student! Reader x professor! Vernon, svt members…

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE

—————-

He always looked so darn sullen.

With those dark locks falling across his face and those intense orbs hidden behind steel-framed glasses, Dr. Chwe was the subject of pride of the Psychology Department. He was the best professor by far, a lecturer that gave his facts outright, and was never one to be found mingling among his peers. Cold. Tough. Dark. Those were the adjectives coined to his name.

But you were desperate.

You waited till his final class ended. It was late evening and it was icy cold, gusts of wind slamming against the building walls with such force you could feel it rattle, even through cement. As the students walked out and the chatter dispersed across the corridors, you quickly slid inside the lecture hall only to find him by the podium.

This hall was specially designed for lectures, rows and rows of seats that ressembled a theatre room and a stage for the professor, with a screen to project any slides of particular interest.

"Hello," you called tentatively, trying to get into his field of vision. He paused in his paper rustling, looking up with a frown.

You continued regardless, shuffling forward so that you could get a closer look at him, "Hi, sorry to disturb. Dr. Chwe? I'm Y/N, a graduate from the music department."

"Yes, and?"

"I'm looking for a TA job with you--"

"No."

"Wha--" you blink up at him, "I haven't even given you any argument yet."

"Why is a music major asking for a TA position in my department?"

"Well Dr. Hong told me to ask you specifically, to help me out this one time because music and psychology are interrelated. And plus, I'm working on my master thesis and it has to do with their relationship--"

"Irrelevant. Find a professor from your own department," with that, he closed his folder of testpapers and made a move to walk out. You quickly stepped before him, chin high and trying hard not to tremble in front of his tall frame. He was slim, and yet he looked like he could crush you with one single glance.

"Wait. Please," you held up your hands as if in surrender, trying to ignore the way his scowl deepened, "please. I really really need this opportunity. Like, I don't even need you to read my research, just please make me your TA and I promise I'll--"

"Even if I could, I can't. We're not in the same department."

"We're in Bachelor of Arts both, that's good enough right? Right?" You wondered whether begging on your knees would convince him, "I swear I'll be good. Ask Dr. Hong, he's the one who recommended you. Said you could help me."

"He...said that?" Dr. Chwe looked suspicious, eyes narrowed and stance cold.

"Yes! You can ask him. I can call him right now--"

He stopped you, palm held in the air and a grim expression clouding his features, "I will talk to him."

"But I--"

He didn't wait, pushed past you with his stack of papers and ignored your protests that kept following him out in the corridor until the door closed right in your face.

Well, so much for an attempt to find a reliable spot in academia. You were so fucked.

----

If there was one thing you had learnt from this whole encounter, it was that Dr. Chwe did not like being disturbed when it wasn’t class time. Oh, he was helpful to his students alright…until the lesson was over. Then the beast took over, devoiding him of human emotion and contributing to the bastard-y tag that he received amongst gossipers.

Nevertheless, he was a popular Professor at the University of BurnBridges and you couldn’t deny his talent. He had a way of dealing with people — not surprising, considering that he was a psychology professor — that made you feel like you had both the responsibility of the knowledge shared and that you were an active participant in this fostering of information. He understood you more than you could understand yourself, which came from his countless observations as he walked around the campus perimeter.

(Not that you’d know. You did not stalk him throughout the day just to see what his routine was like. You did not wish for him to seek our Dr. Hong out of his own will. Not at all.)

A week passed with nothing on the radar. You probed Dr. Hong in hopes that he’d help you out. He was the beloved maniac of the Music and Theatre Department, as crazy and as gentle as he was. If Dr. Chwe was a big, sulky wolf then Dr. Hong was the lovely puppy abandoned on the corner of the street. Everyone loved him.

“I tried, Professor, I really did,” you kept on whining every day after class, “but it’s been a full week and he hasn’t responded yet.”

Dr. Hong just laughed, “he’s probably busy with corrections. It is mid-term season after all. If I ever bump into him I’ll tell him to re-consider your offer.”

“Tell him that it doesn’t have to be legal or on paper,” you were desperate for him to hear you out, for if you didn’t have a position by the end of this week, you were considered dead meat, “I just need my TA hours filled and he can show me how to grade his papers—“

“Do you even know a thing about Psychology?”

A voice cut through your conversation as cold as ice and you whip round, only to find none other than the said person in question standing by the door and looking as annoyed as ever.

You briefly wondered how he would look like without the scowl. Probably ten times more handsome.

“I—Yes of course I do! I minored in Psych! That’s why I’m asking you whether you— well, I’m sure I’ll be able to help you in some way,” you stuttered out before you lost the courage, inwardly wincing at how the words made it out of your mouth. Wow. So not cool Y/N.

“Y/N’s been in my class since first year,” Dr. Hong prompts, “and she hasn’t yet disappointed me. So I’d say she’s a firm package.”

Dr. Chwe looked like he was ready to chew his colleague’s head off for supporting you and yet, the latter didn’t seem fazed in the slightest, “come on, Vern. You need a TA anyway—“

“I do not need a TA.”

“Surely you do. Every professor has one. It wouldn’t make sense for you to grade all those papers, and who’s going to hold your seminars for you?”

“I already have someone doing that for me.”

“Nakamura’s only doing it because she fancies you,” Dr. Hong rolled his eyes playfully, “come on Vern. If ever you have any trouble, you can come straight to me.”

Dr. Chwe’ s gaze flitted from your face to Dr. Hong’s, the scowl deepening with every second like a storm slowly rolling in and shadowing his features. It was a surprising duo that boggled you, the sunshine puppy Dr. Hong and the moody Dr. Chwe together in one room, looking like the best of friends.

But that soon went out of your brain the moment Dr. Chwe sighed, turned around and started walking out of the room. You scrambled up after him, “wait Professor, I—“

“Be in my office on Monday. 8am. Don’t be late.”

He spat them out like venom before the door slammed shut, leaving you with Dr. Hong in a mixture of confusion and excitement.

Slowly, you turned towards your professor, “Did he just…” trailing off without knowing what to say next, you saw Dr. Hong burst out laughing.

“That’s it, Y/N. You’re in.”

You were in. You still had a chance to make it through.

———

Dr. Chwe scared the shit out of you.

He didn't hesitate to bite your head off at every mistake, every chance he got. He loved taunting you, seeing you struggle to cope with the material prepared, loved dumping testpapers in your arms for you to correct till early morning hours. He especially enjoyed asking you questions in the middle of his lectures so that you'd have to scramble for a response on the spot, blush littering your cheeks and fingers fumbling.

You knew it wasn't fair, but you also knew that it was an opportunity that wasn't supposed to be yours in the first place. You had just gotten lucky because the psychology department wad one TA short and really needed the help.

Still, seeing Dr. Chwe every day traumatised you to no end.

"He looks like he can kill me. I can't even talk when I'm around him," you kept on complaining to your buddy Minghao. He, also part of the music department, had the luck of getting the famous Dr. Woozi, composer, pianist and singer. God knew what strings he'd pulled for that.

"At least he's hot," Minghao commented.

"Yeah well, I don't think that comes in handy."

"I think you should bribe him with food."

You shot him a look, "that's a terrible idea."

You decided to test out Minghao's theory by bringing him a coffee during your next TA meeting. Something small, yet significant and helpful. Everyone loved a bit of caffeine, right?

"Here you go, and extra shot of espresso just for you," you set it down with a flourish and fought hard to keep yourself from smiling, expression faltering whrn Dr. Chwe looked up at you as though you had just placed a dead corpse on his desk.

"What?" You tried to lighten the mood, "I thought coffee would cheer you up, considering you look like only had one hour of sleep."

"I had three, thanks for asking."

"Oh I wasn't, but please," you motioned towards the said cup, "go ahead."

"I...don't drink coffee."

"No way," you sat down at your desk, grabbing the pile of testpapers that you would have to start grading pronto, "how are you still standing? Energade? Tea?"

He favoured ignorance, proceeding to flick through the department documents. You pressed on, "do you prefer soda? I know some people prefer soda but that's like, really not good for your health. Or maybe-- oh wait, you're a hot chocolate fan aren't you?"

The slight tense of his shoulders was enough to give him away. You couldn't help but stare, "no way," you half-murmured, "you have a sweet tooth, don't you?"

Dr. Chwe turned away from you in determination to stop your sudden onslaught of questions.

"Oh my gosh, you know sugar's really bad for you right? It's worse than caffeine. It converts into fat and gets stored in--"

"I don't think I asked for a biology lesson, miss Y/N," he snapped. His dark orbs flashed to yours over the document papers, shadowed with irritation, "with all due respect, you have papers to grade."

"Oh yes, sorry, yes." You quickly focused your attention on the papers at hand. The atmosphere tightened with unease, a knot of nervousness coiling at the bottom of your stomach as you grabbed your pen and flicked through the pages.

Clesrly, he had no wish to talk and converse about trivial things other than work. It did hurt your pride somewhat. But you tried to brush it aside. You weren't here to entertain him after all.

But during that same week, you left him two chocolate cookies.

No thanks, no receipt of acknowledgement. But when you noticed the empty wrapper in the bin the next day, you stifled a smile.

“I saw someone left you cookies,” you remarked a few hours later when still no acknowledgement had been made, “how generous of them.”

Of course. There was only you and Vernon in this room. No one else had access, so it was easy an easy guess.

He grunted, muttered something incoherent under his breath and proceeded to read the document in his hands. But you weren’t going to let him off so easily this time. Sliding your hand onto his desk and leaning over so that you were in his peripheral vision, you wriggled your eyebrows suggestively, “So? Anything you want to tell me, Dr. Chwe?”

“Get back to work.”

“Aw come on, not even a thank you? I—“

He glanced up. His eyes were cold ice, “last week’s quizzes, are they done yet?”

You paled, “no…”

“I want them on my desk this afternoon.”

IIt was supposed to sting but somehow it didn’t. Not as much as it should’ve. Maybe because you were slowly getting used to his porcupine nature, but the moment you sat at your desk you noticed the small cup of coffee, still steaming hot, right beside your keyboard. The smile on your face widened tenfold, though you kept quiet about it.

Dr. Chwe was — at least to you — not so bad after all.

——-

“Y/N will be distributing the test papers from last week’s quiz. You will go through it with her but before you do, I’d like a quick word,” Dr. Chwe’s gaze flitted from face to face, the class of 20 sleepy students looking back at him through heavy-lidded eyes as he stepped towards the lecture podium.

You were sitting at the side on standby, ready to take over once he’d depart. A few weeks had gone by since your appointment as his TA and things have settled down somewhat. It seemed as though Dr. Chwe’s personal vendetta towards making your life miserable was put on hold, probably because he actually needed you now that midterms were coming up.

You busied yourself by distributing the papers, nodding as they mumbled out ‘thank you’s’ while Dr. Chwe droned on with the explanations. For the most part you didn’t listen, your mind drifting in and out of focus. It had been ages since you had played any instrument whatsoever, and time was an issue when every spare second was wasted on that stupid thesis paper, so who could blame you for thinking of what musical notes would go well together instead of listening to behavioural theory?

“I’ll leave you to Y/N then, if you have no questions for me,” Dr. Chwe nodded at you, snapping you out of your daze. You hurried towards the front, quickly mumbling your goodbyes before taking over, “alright, let’s go through the test paper for any common mistakes. Before we begin, do you guys have any questions?”

It wasn’t until class had ended that one of the students came up to the podium, greeting you shyly behind round spectacle frames.

“Hi, I’m Mingyu.”

“Hey you alright? Anything I can help with?” You look up from your folders and zipping up your pencil case in the process.

“Uhm not really no,” he flashed you a shy smile, “i just wanted to ask you if you were going to be present at the Departmental Olympics this year.”

“Oh, uh—“ you tried wracking your brain for excuses. You didn’t loathe exercise but you were so bad at it you’d rather stay on the sidelines, “I didn’t even know we were having the Olympics this year. When is it?”

“In two weeks. I’m running event for our department, along with a few other psych majors.”

“Ah that sounds great!”

“yes, and uhm—we were wondering if— if you would play,” he stammered over his words, “for the psych department.”

“I’m not really though,” you smiled in what seemed to be an apology, “I doubt they’d allow that.”

“They said it was fine, as long as you weren’t playing for the music dept,” he put his hands together, looked at you with those melting doe eyes that he knew worked on everyone, “please?”

“I—“ “There’s free food,” he persisted, “and you get a free coupon for a drink at the after-party.”

in the end, you had no choice but to say yes. He had, after all, the powers of someone who couldn’t be argued with. Not to forget his dashing looks. It was hard sometimes, good-looking people had their way too easily and you cursed yourself the moment he’d exited the room with a victorious grin.

You asked Dr. Chwe if he was going to be present, which resulted in him scoffing at you like you were a complete idiot.

“That’s just a waste of time,” he said, “I have better things to do.”

“Well, maybe you can take a break from all those things that you need to do,” you hid your grin from behind the coffee cup you were sipping on.

He scowled at his computer screen, “and what? Socialize with people I don’t give a shit about?”

“Would you rather rot here with your test papers?” You looked over at him, “come on Dr. Chwe. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the break. Plus, sports can be fun.”

“No thanks.”

“Or are you such a sore loser that you can’t participate just for fun?”

His eyes narrowed into slits, jaw tensed, “I am not a sore loser.”

“Oh yeah?” You tilted your head with a smirk, “feels like it though.”

That was enough to make him sign up the next day.

You almost spilled you entire cup of coffee down your shirt when he told you through a mumble jumble of words behind his computer screen and if you didn’t know any better, you would say that he was…embarrassed about it.

“So what changed your mind huh?” You asked, laughter falling from your lips despite the glare he was sending your way every five seconds. He looked like a grumpy cat, “did you decide it was worth a try?”

“Shut up.”

You cracked up, “you are such a sore loser, Dr. Chwe.”

“I said shut it,” his head snapped up from his computer screen, “and it’s Vernon, not Dr. Chwe.”

Vernon. It was weird to hear his name— his actual name — roll out from his own mouth. You weren’t used to being so chummy with the professors when you were still a graduate student yourself. But ever since you’d gotten to work with him, you had to admit that you’d gotten comfortable in his presence. He was like that sour colleague that found everything so revolting that it made up for your lack of entertainment. In short, Vernon was fun to be around most of the time, when you got used to him. Because he never meant anything that came out of his mouth.

No. You were certain that behind that permanent grimace was a young man with a good heart.

“So what sport did you sign up for?” You leaned over your desk and placed your chin into your hands.

Dr. Chwe— Vernon — glanced up at you, dark strands falling across his eyes that he brushed away impatiently, “volleyball.”

“Wait really?!” You couldn’t hold in your excitement, “I signed up for volleyball too! I’m in team red.”

“Team blue.”

“Oh pffft,” you rolled your eyes, “you suck, Dr. Chwe—“

“Vernon.”

“Yeah yeah, so I guess I’ll see you across the field.”

“Don’t come crying to me when you lose.”

“Oh we’ll see about that,” you grinned and tried, in vain, to stop the small bubble of fluttery feelings seemingly blooming in the middle of your chest.

———

A/N: Part 2 will be up soon! <3 enjoy for now! I have never seen a Vernon fic where he is not a shy boi so I really wanted to try this side of him out. Not sure i was successful but mehhhh ._.

[sea-owl]

Daphne being a sex historian, what college would she go to? Who would she meet? Kate? Edwina? Marina?

Honestly, I haven't thought much of it beyond that one post. Sex historian Daphne would probably be my go-to career for her though in modern aus like spouses friend group.

We all have those occupations we give the characters should we stick them in the modern world, some are obvious others I've thought about. Here's some mine that I have set at the moment.

Bridgerons:

Anthony - Lawyer/CEO. Spefically, he is the heir or head of the Bridgerton group, taking it over after Edmund passed.

Benedict - Artist. It is an easy one that transfers into the modern world. I can also see him potentially doing things like graphic design.

Colin - Travel writer. Another easy one, and I think he would go a step further and do either a blog or travel app.

Daphne - Sex historian. This one took some thought, at first I thought Daphne would run one of those mommy blogs but then I paused and remembered that Daphne didn't get married until she was 21 in the books and girl would probably want something for herself outside her marriage and family. Since discovering her sexuality was such a prominent thing in her story, I thought ok how to potentially transfer this into a modern world? Well, Daphne, in the books, said if she was curious about something, she looked it up herself and Violet was bad about explaining sex so it kinda became Daphne became curious and somehow turned it into a career.

Eloise - Psychiatrist or something in the psychiatric field. This stems from Eloise's interest in the humanities in the books. It's also something I see her getting into in college. I see her going into gender studies at first, with her current what she thinks is femenism ideolgy, but then she gets humbled in university, and it causes her to change over to psychology.

Francesca - Music. Francesca is the one I'm most on the fence about, but her professionally doing music is a nice option for her.

Spouses:

Simon - Lawyer/Engineer. So originally, I went with a lawyer because it matched Anthony and the whole house of lords thing with Simon being a Duke. Then I remembered Simon actually likes math and would probably fit well as an engineer. I want to say he started as an engineer and because law school doesn't care what your bachelor's was when he went (forced to go) he became a lawyer after.

Kate - Vet. I debated before settling on vet, at first I thought to make her a business rival to Anthony but then thought about the way she calmed Anthony down in the show, and at one point I believe they said something close to her being good with animals. So vet she became, plus with this she can take Newton to work with her.

Sophie - Tattoo artist. This was a debatable one, too. What eventually led me to tattoo artist was that Sophie wouldn't need much in a college education. If she's good at art and finds a willing tattoo artist to take her on as an apprentice, Sophie has the ability to make herself a career.

Penelope - Writer. Again, it's an easy one. I like to believe she does copywriting and an author.

Phillip - Bontanist. Why would I separate Plant daddy from his plants?

Michael - Night Club owner. I picture Michael starting in the army just as he did in the books, and then when he got back, he went well shit what do I do now? Goes back to school and decides fuck it I'm gonna open a night club. His charismatic ways are very helpful in his business endeavors.

Gregory, Hyacinth, Gareth, and Lucy I'm still playing with on what I would want their occupations to be.

[fairycosmos]

do you ever feel like you know you need therapy but you feel like it won't work on you? like i've had Problems since i was a child and i've been on the internet long enough to research and learn most if not all the most common tricks and tips that a therapist would give me so i feel like, apart from maybe giving me meds, it would be a colossal waste of money.. i still know that i need help somehow because i've been rawdogging life for the past 25 years and im Tired, but it feels pointless to spend more money than i have for someone to tell me i need to get away from my abusive family and ~ practice mindfulness ~ lol

absolutelyyyy ive had this feeling and honestly i think meeting therapists you're incompatible with only intensifies that thought process like.....ive had these lifelong problems and you want me to spend my hard earned money that could be going to rent or food on some stranger that is telling me to breathe through my deeply rooted illnesses? it absolutely IS frustrating and i think your feelings of discouragement/burnout/exhaustion are completely understandable. the field of psychology has so many fucking issues that are fed directly into how MH professionals work with patients. im not even sure i have like an answer or a solution to it because i struggle with this exact same thing!

but i guess what i would say is that its important not to discredit the fact that every therapist works differently and every counselling experience is wildly different. you may very well know all the common tricks and tips for dealing with your specific state of mind (i totally agree btw, the internet had made me extremely hyperaware of my own mental issues for better and for worse LOL), but there is always something solid to be offered when you find a professional you feel comfortable talking to, who offers an outsiders insight. even if it's just getting a weight off your shoulders for that one afternoon. therapist shopping is extremely expensive and obviously inaccessible to most, so im not suggesting that - i guess my main point would be don't give up on ALL forms of mental health support available in your community hust because working with a few professionals didn't work out, bc it's so so common and it doesn't mean youre doomed or beyond help. you will always deserve that space to talk and to feel heard, even if you can half-guess what they might tell you in response. it's unfathomably difficult to find a strong, consistent therapist that you bode well with (i would give anything for one LOL) but i do think they're out there and that there are useful tools to be found in therapy or counselling or even just reaching out and being vulnerable in general. what i have tried to accept recently is that asking for help isn't going to solve any of my problems - it is not going to make things normal or easy because i have a neurodivergent brain and i have truly been traumatised. it is just gonna give me the tools and the suggestions i need to get through the day. and i still haven't found that myself - but i think it's likely that it's out there. and it's a step up from rawdogging life, if not a solution to life itself.

im sorry, i know this is not the perfect example or anything close to it. i myself breakdown often because i feel like it's so hopeless and difficult and relentlessly painful. but i urge you to always be open to accepting help if and when it is in front of you. even if it seems pointless. sending a massive hug your way. X

resource / resource/ resource / resource

[starblaster]

I don't comment on systemhood or my plurality very much with this blog but, because I have noticed so many other systems following me lately, I want to say this:

Psychiatrists don't understand plurality. The entire 'field' of psychiatry, extra especially in the west, is utterly lacking when it comes to possessing any nuanced understanding of how trauma functions and how it impacts the brain. Singlets, especially singlet psychiatrists, don't understand us; traumagenic or endogenic, they don't fucking get it and they never will. The idea that endogenic systems are supposedly causing singlets in your life to develop the 'wrong ideas' about you as a traumagenic system is completely fucking preposterous. Their existence is completely separate to your own, and singlets' opinions of us already don't matter; we are still plural regardless of whatever singlets believe about plurality. Expecting every system and every manifestation of plurality to be palatable and digestible and 'correct' to singlets, and holding every other system you meet to those expectations, is ridiculous and disprespectful.

You do not need to be contributing to the problem of systemhood being chronically misunderstood by participating in lateral aggression against other systems. No matter who is reading this, you are not the arbiter of who is and isn't a 'valid' system, and you are not the authority on systemhood/plurality just because you are also a system.

I don't fucking care if you "don't understand" endogenic or mixed-origin or schizogenic or borderline or otherwise non-DID/non-OSDD1 systems. Like it or not, they still exist regardless of what your opinions are and their existences have absolutely no material impact on you and your own journey with plurality. They aren't "giving systems a bad name," they're not "stealing resources," and they're not "invading traumagenic spaces." The whole of 'endogenic systems' as a group are not hurting anyone, and it actually doesn't cause any kind of measurable 'harm' whatsoever to accept them as valid systems.

Individual/specific endogenic systems who you may have encountered speaking negatively about those of us whose plurality has been traumagenic and life-long do not reflect all endogenics, and their words/actions have absolutely no bearing on whether endogenic systemhood/plurality is legitimate or not. Your personal feelings, including being personally offended by an endogenic system or traumagenic supporter of endogenic systems, also have nothing to do with whether or not endogenic systemhood is real.

I am the host of a 'diagnosed-as-DID' traumagenic system of dissociative identities that experiences amnesia. The entire sysmedicalist ideology did nothing but make me doubt myself even after I had subjected myself to being psychologically evaluated several times (which just ended up retraumatizing me each time due to my history of being abused in the psychiatric system). It was endogenic systems and their allies who helped me embrace my plurality and systemhood, because what sysmedicalists call a 'community' is a panopticon; it's nothing but constant intracommunity surveillance and policing of one anothers' identities and existences, abiding by 'rules' suggested decades ago by singlet psychiatrists drafting new editions of the goddamn DSM.

You do not need to "understand" another system's identity to treat them with patience, basic dignity, and respect. Talking down to endogenic systems, online or otherwise, is a fucking embarrassing waste of your time. I seriously do not give a shit who you are, you are not the gatekeeper of 'valid systemhood', because none of us are.

Focus on taking care of yourselves, not on 'preserving' the so-called 'sanctity' of systemhood. The onus is ours to step up and have each others' backs because the singlets and psychiatrists sure as fuck don't care about us!

[russiasredguardian]

❛ are you saying you care about me? ❜

go back a handful of years and he might have spat back a knee-jerk response. barked a laugh at her inference perhaps. scoffed at her question or slung back a litany of sarcasm or vitriol.

but it wasn't back then - this was the now and present and maybe there was a psychological thread that needed pulling about them having become staples in each others lives, about being the certain presence when others came and went ... but he definitely wasn't about to tug on that thread.

the whole fucking thing might unravel if he went picking at a loose end.

did he care about her?

love had been there before - back then. but that love had died a tragic death and he'd filled up the chasm of grief with the martyrdom of the red guardian. hadn't that been the ideal back then? sacrificing your personal life in order to better the prospects of the homeland. a throw-back the stalinistic mantra of not one step back.

he didn't use the l-word now. he'd used it before and he had allowed himself to be vulnerable and that whole life had been torn away from him with no closure. there was probably another psychological thread to be tugged at there too - a shrink would have a fucking field day picking him apart; pointing out how he chose not to use that particular word because if love didn't exist, then he didn't run the risk of having that person or thing taken away.

he hadn't answered her question and alexei could feel her eyes lingering on him - not a glare. no, that felt different. this wasn't accusatory, it was hesitant. a brief pause that had her wondering if she should have asked that question to start with, but he wouldn't ignore it. because those years had also taught him that she found just as hard to be vulnerable as he did.

' — i care about what happens to you. '

@taliaromanova

[snaillamp]

1, 4 and 19! In love with your writing btw<3

Ahhh thank you!!! <3 back at ya!

1: What are your favorite whump tropes?

A list of ones I don't like would be way shorter ahaha. I'm a sucker for sickfics, fainting and hidden injury. When a big, tough stoic character is so cool, calm and collected and then bam they start sweating, fainting and being all delirious... solid stuff. Also absolutely love whumpees being knocked out if you couldnt tell from my writing. If they're unconscious I'm there.

Love a good little stabby stab too, but a fun little trope I've tried to include a couple times if the knife to the throat and drawing a teensy little bit of blood. That visual in my head is always so great and the whumperflies are insane.

I also love soft fluffy stuff, team members looking after their Leader is a solid fav and the tough character cracking and becoming the fluffiest caretaker for whumpee is where it's at!

My writing contains my favorite whump tropes, I don't really write anything I don't like cause why would I? That being said if it was requested I would try my best, some of the prompts for JOD I didn't like turned out to be my favorite stories to write (Day 27 as an example might be my favorite story I wrote from the entire month, we might need to visit Enjar again?)

I also write different tropes depending what I'm studying at the moment! I recently started ~trauma studies~ so I hope it improves my physical whump a little more. (I'm a 2nd year uni student. Transferred from nursing to paramedicine at the end of last year and I have to do first year again yayyyy...) I was doing a lot of CPR as well as assessments for illnesses last semester (cardio-respiratory, abdominal and neurological) and last year did medications, life support and wound dressings. I have to try really hard not to do the step by step of aseptic non-touch technique or describe in detail how Rescuer inserts and OPA when I write lmao.

I usually resort to "And caretaker applied the dressing and went away" instead of "Caretaker lined up the dressing and using the fold method, applying the dressing cleanly to the sterilised skin" cause thats way too specific.

Anyway, the point of that ramble is that I use it to practice for my assessments, it helps me wrap my head around concepts I'm struggling with and it's good inspiration and fun to use my free time in an effective way. Whumpee fell over and broke their leg? Snail is on the scene! Whumpee had a seizure? Snail is doing AEIOUTIPS to figure out why! I love medicine as a science, that shits cool as fuck!

I don't tend to post those ones as they are kinda long, boring and kinda personal as the Caretaker is me. It feels like writing what is effectively fanfic about myself and doesn't make me feel right, I'm not a super boastful person really. I have posted a couple Cranky Whumpee is an example of when I did a mental check of how much I remembered about wound care and what I needed to study up on (the massage was just cause I wanted a massage). It keeps me interested in my more boring skills, prevents skill erosion and is good practice for writing and medical care, my two favorite things!

**I would like to clarify however, that I have a love for whump and a love for medicine but they are too seperate things. I don't get whumperflies for my patients and dont like to imagine scenarios in whump similar to what I have done irl. I got into whump as a thing after I began studying. I did not decide to study these things because of whump. I've always had an interest in medicine and almost everyone in my family are in the medical field in some capacity.** - thank you potential employersssssssssss :)

✨we love ethics here✨

damn thats a long answer sorry for the essay :) im coverin my ass lmao

4: Do you prefer physical whump or emotional/psychological whump?

It really depends on the whumpee and what's happening. Physical whump is more fun to write, but psychological whump is a close second. Love delirium and all that jazz. Emotional isn't as much of a favorite cause I just can't get into it as much as the others, idky. I guess it just feels mean which is weird cause I happily write about people smashing Leader's ribs or whatever. Do love an emotional moment tho, fluffy emotional caretaking is the best.

maybe its cause I was a touch starved child but hugging, cuddling, being close just is nice to write about and I love giving my whumpees something nice as a treat.

19: Who are your favorite whump bloggers? Tag them!

I love this whole community but a few favs are

@allthewhumpygoodness - it says it in the name folks

@whump-or-whatever - the prompts here are so good

@hufflepuffwritingstuff2 - I love the sense of humor in their writing

and last but certainly not least: @fallenwhumpee - Surprise!

I love your work it's awesome! I think we both like similar things which is so cool. You may have noticed me scrolling your blog a few times before sorry for the spam of notifs <3

I could list more but also I would be here all day. To anyone new in the community I recommend finding a tag you like and just going at it, find stories and prompts from people and just follow them all! the whole community is lovely and talented!

other answers

[tlacehualli]

"Something is going on." Her tone is sharply accusative, certainly not laden with a layer of something charmingly, makeshift, and sweet, heterochromic gaze drilling into smaller statue, arms crossed over her chest — LACROIX, coming in late, uncharacteristically frantic, a mess even, you had given her something calming and told her to come back first thing in the morning, there was not much else you could do until given medicine had taken effect. The geneticist takes one step closer, mere inches from the other. "Why is it that every time Lacroix shows up unprompted and in need of my care, you seem to be in the middle of it? Tell me, Sombra dearest, are you trying to meddle with my work? You know how I feel about people that create unsightly messes." Tone now slightly more sugary, distorted fingernails tapping against her forearm; it was nearly nighttime, one had thus already changed out of regular getup for the sake of something more casual, lab coat merely thrown over barren arms for the sake of displaying professionalism. "DO NOT LIE TO ME, SOMBRA. Remeber, I will know if you do."

The report was done, finally. She sends it off with a wave of her circuit hand and lets out a little sigh. It's quieter in her head now, although there is a train of thought growing louder and louder - there's a bottle of tequila in her room with her name on it and she's going to lock herself in there (maybe with the Widow) and she's gonna drink and she's gonna let out all of this shit buried inside -

Ah. 'Course not. Not yet. Sombra turns and she's catlike again, already slipping into the role of deceiver, of chess player, and she smirks and her eyelids flutter as she looks up at the geneticist with slightly reddened magenta eyes. It's late. She's exhausted. The redness isn't borne out of tears just yet.

"I mean, statistically speaking, the Widow and I have approximately 76% and 85% of our missions together respectively," she rattled off, the calculations and reasonings flowing from her like so many of her half-truths. Accurate, to a point. "Be kind of weird if most of the times she comes back like that don't involve me somehow." Her smile is pretty and sweet too and her lack of height is used almost to her advantage. She shifts her balance on one foot back and forth aided by her hips; it would almost be girlish and seductive if it wasn't coming from her. Instead, it's openly mocking.

"Why ever would I wanna mess with our little experiment? I worked real hard on that, you know. I don't think I need to remind you why she's gonna end up psychologically unstable sometimes when you gave me the blueprints and I wrote the code. I'm just the one in the field cleaning up all of your messes." The last sentence is made sharper by the hacker's pointer finger at Moira's sternum - a reach, but not too much of one.

"If you need me, I'm gonna be drinking 'cause I'm fucking tired. Buenas noches!" She turns, flipping off the geneticist over her shoulder as she goes.