#but my body soundly rejected it

[entitled-fangirl]

Foolish.

Gwayne Hightower x reader

Summary: Gwayne’s wife feels self conscious after birthing their daughter.

Warning: body image issues, smut mention towards the end (there’s not smut but like there is so 18+ please)

A/n: based on an ask from forever ago!!

Masterlist

………………………………………

It had been almost five months at this point, and Gwayne was beginning to worry.

Her body had given him a precious little girl, and he wanted to praise her endlessly for it. Her recovery had went smoothly to his knowledge, no tears or aches from it at this point, and still he wondered why she had not initiated anything with him.

She was most likely skittish. She always had been skittish about this stuff, but he had hoped that she was not regretting their actions now that they had the consequences.

He sat in his solar, his mind plagued by all of these thoughts.

He scribbled at the papers but his mind was entirely elsewhere, and by the time he had to restart a letter for the third time, he gave up. Tossing the pen aside, he stretched out his aching shoulders and legs as he stood up to address the problem itself.

…

Y/n Hightower walked around the room, the babe rested securely in her arms as she swayed.

Her lips pulled up as she admired the babe. The spitting image of her father. Bright fiery hair to match the deep blue irises of her eyes. She was a sight to behold.

But it made her thoughts shift back to Gwayne. And immediately an unease of guilt came with it.

Five months she'd put it all off. The conversation. The rejection she knew she'd receive if she tried.

Before the birth, and before the pregnancy at all, Gwayne had proudly shown off his wife like a prized possession- a perfect thing that would make even the most well off lord jealous. He adored her with everything he had and he was happy to do so.

So pregnancy felt like a death sentence.

If she were to even live, how could Gwayne show off a woman with the scars and marks that she now was marred with?

She had lived, and now she bore the remnants of what their daughter had left behind. Marks of her body stretching, a loosening in her skin, her bones in her hips occasionally requiring attention. She had indeed recovered but she was not as she was before.

And she knew Gwayne would notice it soon.

"And how is our precious gift?" His voice echoed in the room when he stepped in. His hands were held behind his back, a sway to his steps.

"Oh," she sighed. "She's wonderful. Sleeping soundly."

Gwayne stepped behind her, his arms wrapping around her frame. She inwardly cringed. She was so scared of his mind in this moment.

But whatever she worried he may have noticed, he paid no real attention to.

He leaned over her shoulder to kiss her cheek, peering down at the babe. "She is comfortable with you. She knows how safe you are. I believe she feels what I feel."

The woman's brows furrowed. "And what's that?"

His voice whispered in her ear, "That you are the most wondrous woman in the realm, and she and I am grateful for you."

Just like the compliments he used to pay her. It's almost as if nothing changed. But she knew things had changed. So much had changed. It was eating at her.

That, and his wandering hands over her hips.

"Gwayne," she gently chided like she always did when he'd grow handsy.

"Why not? Why can't I enjoy my wife's beauty for a moment?" Hopefully he'd finally get an answer to her avoidance of him.

"You know what I'll say."

He sighed. He did know what she always said. 'Not today.' Not today felt more like a promise to 'Never again.' He hated to push like this, but he was getting nothing to help mend the bond, and he'd do anything to save it.

"You've been feeling well. The babe is asleep. We'll stop when you wish." He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "I just want to admire my wife."

"You don't.”

Her answer was so swift. So sure. She fully believed that he didn't want to admire her pretty form.

"I do," he argued in confusion. He now stepped around to look her in the eye. "I promise you that I do. Why would I lie?"

Her eyes avoided his like hiding a deep secret. She used the babe like a shield, keeping her attention on the young child in hopes that Gwayne would drop the issue.

"Love?" He tried as he head tilted down to catch her eye.

It worked, and her pupils fixed on his. "It's complicated."

"It's not," he reasoned. "There is nothing complicated for us. We love each other about all else." A thought came over him. "Don't we?"

"We… we do," she drew out, almost like a question.

He was growing frustrated. "Please. Lay the babe down so we may discuss something of importance."

"Gwayne-"

"-Do as I say." It was a snap, one that Gwayne had never done to her. Not like that. Usually it was with a teasing grin or a kind smile. This one was of expectance.

She knew this was the conversation she had been putting off.

His rejection of her.

He knew this was the conversation he had been putting off.

Her rejection of him.

The two lovers felt the air around them grow cold as they simply stared at one another. How horrid it felt to be unwanted.

Gwayne was a merciful man. She knew that he'd have the heart to send her back to her father if this is how it would go.

But a life away from her child would be torture.

The destruction of her body. All for what?

"Alright," she mouthed, for no breath came from her lips.

With shaking hands, she placed the babe in the small bed Gwayne had spent the time to fashion himself. She recalled the curses he strung together when he had gained a rather deep splinter and she was the one to pluck it from his skin. And the night they spent after that. Seemed Gwayne liked to be taken care of quite a lot.

But she forced it from her mind. Now was not the time to reminisce.

When she turned from the crib, she saw the tears that pricked at her husband's eyes.

And how her heart screamed.

"Let us retire," he softly suggested. "I'll have someone look after her. Come." He held his hand out.

She took it, though it felt right, she began to question if it truly was.

The walk to their chamber was silent. But it spoke volumes.

Once inside, Gwayne didn't want to wait longer. "Your mind is so plagued. I wish you'd speak."

"Was is there for me to say? You're the one." Her voice quivered at her last declaration, "Just do it. Send me away.”

"Wh-Why would I do such a thing?" He asked in a horrified tone. How could she even think he would let something like that happen? His wife. His bright light.

"Don't pretend you haven't noticed it all, Gwayne. You're wise. You've seen the changes in me. I'm not the same prize you once had."

"Prize? What are you talking about? You're my wife."

"DO NOT PRETEND YOU HAVE NOT NOTICED IT ALL, GWAYNE!" She shouted at him. "I'm different now. And if you do not love me anymore, just say so!"

Gwayne merely gawked. Even if he tried to form words, nothing would have left his throat. Did she really think that? His blue eyes stared at her in confusion.

"Gwayne," she whined. She wrapped her arms around herself. "Say something. Please."

"W- You- I…" He stopped to regain his bearings, taking a deep breath. "I love you."

Her brows furrowed a bit. "You do?"

"Yes!" He almost shouted on accident. "Yes. Of course I do. And you…?"

Now the confusion turned to her. "I… I love you more than anything," she stated as if obvious and he was a fool for questioning so.

His head quirked to the side, then an amused scoff from his lips. His hands found their way to his hips. "Then what are we fighting over?"

"I've changed."

"In what ways?" He challenged.

"Well," her arms gave an over exaggerated shrug, like he should already know what she meant. When his stare continued, she huffed. "Just… my body is different."

"You've recovered well. Haven't you?" What started out as a statement turned to a worried question.

"As much as I can," she remarked. Her self consciousness was showing once again. She wished she didn't have to spell it out for him.

Gwayne's hand reached out to her hip, tugging her lightly to him. It was comfortable. It was normal. He had done it a million times before. "It seems the only fight happening at this moment is the one in your mind." He brushed another stray here from her cheek. "Tell me what fills that head of yours."

Her voice was a whisper as she looked at her husband. "I only think of you."

"And our little girl," he said with a quirk of his lips. "So tell me what thoughts you have of me."

"My body has changed too much for us to be as we were. You'd be so unhappy."

The thumb that was caressing the woman's hip bone paused. "All this because you believe I'd be unhappy with your body? Answer me."

A curt nod.

"You-" He sighed and brought a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I had a bath set up but I think you need it far more than I. C'mon."

The copper tub sat on the other side of their room. He had ordered a servant to do so prior to him leaving his solar, and that had been a little while ago now that he thought about it.

When he tried to gently push her in that direction, she took offense. "What are you saying, Gwayne?"

"Love, I just meant… " he sighed, "Get in the tub.”

Even when frustrated, Gwayne had never led her astray and she hoped it would be the same now. She stepped to the tub, dipping her hand in to find that it was not cold. A decent temperature.

And when Gwayne went to pull at the laces of her dress, she panicked. "Wait!" She spun around to see his worried expression. Her hands grabbed his wrists. "I don't want to do this."

He frowned. "I've seen you bare before, my love. Many times," he remarked, a grin on his face when her cheeks flushed. "C'mon. Do this one thing for me."

"Was giving you a child not enough?" She sassed back.

He scoffed. "Love. You know what I mean. Let me wash you."

She studied him for a minute. "Fine."

Turning her back around, Gwayne unlaced her bodice and slowly helped her undress. As soon as her soft skin came to his view, he placed soft kisses on her shoulder and up her neck.

The sight of her shift falling to the ground made her stomach twist.

Gwayne knew her so well. Her hands came up to cover herself, but he caught her wrists quickly. He nipped behind her ear. "Get in."

He helped her in, kneeling down at the side of the tub. He took extra care to not look at her body in the water in respect to her. At least for now. His gaze stuck to her face and shoulders. "You foolish girl," he teased sweetly, His fingers grazed over her cheek. "Do you truly believe I'd leave you because your body gave me a child? Hardly. Hardly, woman."

She leaned into his touch.

"May I wash you?" He asked softly.

Her bottom lip tucked between her teeth in thought. A nod.

"Alright." He pulled himself around the tub to kneel behind her, pulling her hair over her shoulder to expose her shoulders and back. When his fingers ran down her shoulder, a shiver moved down her spine, making him smirk. "I dare to say that you've missed my touch."

"I think I have," she admitted.

Gwayne's rough hands handled her gently, rubbing the soap over her arms and shoulders gently before pausing on her chest. A silent question was on the tip of his tongue.

Her head leaning back. That was an answer.

His hand ran over her breasts and he took note of the way her breath caught each time. Swollen with milk for their daughter. It's true that that was different than before, but Gwayne loved it. "So pretty," he muttered under his breath.

His hands moved lower, moving down her stomach and over the small stretch marks across the skin there. He didn't pause. Didn't falter. He continued as if he didn't even notice them at all. He carefully washed her, taking his time and being extra gentle, muttering praises under his breath.

Lastly, his hand ran down the inside of her thigh, moving up to gently graze over her clit. She jumped, but a little groan came from her throat. She grabbed his wrist. "I need you."

Oh how those words affected him.

…

A few hours later, Gwayne massaged the oil onto her shoulders gently, pressing his thumbs into her shoulder blades in a relaxing way. He had massaged all of her at this point, and she was barely awake, the massage and the past few orgasms leaving her out of it.

He kissed her head with a grin. "Thank you, my sweet lady wife. For everything."

She only hummed.

How foolish of them to ever doubt each other.

…………………………………..

[fictionalcharactersaremypassion]

Don't You Wanna Hold Each Other Tight?

The moonlight was streaming in, dimly lighting up the room. 

They still hadn't got around to hanging up real curtains. That on site manager bitch bugged the shit out of Ian about the makeshift one Mickey put up so it was taken down with the promise that they would get an actual one soon. 

“Yo,” he said, glancing to his right, “you awake, Red?” 

Besides him, his husband yawned. “Why? You want another round, Milkovich?” 

“No,” Mickey muttered, his face flushing a little even though it was stupid to still feel awkward over this shit. “Thought you might want to cuddle or whatever. I know how your needy ass gets.” 

Ian was already scooting over, whispering, “My needy ass, huh?” 

Mickey knew he'd come a long way since their teenage years, but there were some things he struggled to initiate on his own. This was one of them. There’d been times he did, usually when Ian was having one of his low episodes, but otherwise it was like something kept holding him back. 

It frustrated him, for this was something he did want even though he’d never actually fucking admit that. Why the hell couldn’t he just do it? Kissing Ian was no problem. God, Mickey didn’t mind being manhandled, even in front of the family, although that had led to plenty of stupid ass remarks from Lip and Ian had to hold him back from attacking the motherfucker. 

But getting into his personal space, curling up against Ian’s warm body was the kind of gay shit that made him hesitant, that voice of Tarry reminding him of what a fag he was being was distant by now, but there all the same. 

“Don’t act like you ain’t,” Mickey sucked in a breath when Ian’s long fingers trailed down the side of his face, leaving a line of fire on his skin. On his lower jaw, he cupped it, those green eyes smoldering with such desire that nearly made him fucking melt right there. 

God, his teenage self would be horrified at how fucking soft he’d become. 

Maybe it’d always been there, always a part of him that he never knew existed until Ian made almost every single wall of his built up over the years crumble into smithereens. Years of trying to mold himself into the perfect son for his shitty father was simply useless once Ian Gallagher came into his life, showing Mickey what he was capable of and who he could be without fear. 

Ian’s lips pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, lingering there for a second or two. Mickey’s stomach was fucking fluttering from the tender smile that came when his husband pulled back. “What do you want, Mick?” 

“Just...be close with me or whatever.” 

Ian’s strong arms opened, allowing Mickey to roll over to be in his space. His husband’s heartbeat was under his ear, beating soundly. He didn’t even realize he was sighing contentedly at first, or inhaling deeply from how good Ian smelled. 

How the fuck did he ever reject this at one point? He’d been so fucking stupid and didn’t even know it. 

The blanket was draped over them both now, one of Ian’s hands in his hair, threading through and lightly scratching his scalp. It felt so damn good. 

“Love you, Gallagher,” Mickey said drowsily, cheek squished against Ian’s chest. 

“Love you too, Mickey,” Ian whispered warmly. 

[only4sunghoon]

Thoughts about boyfriend Jay […]

Jay as your busy/workaholic, but still caring boyfriend, fem!reader, fluff, also contains a little bit of make-out and touchy stuff, but def not smut.

Thinking about boyfriend Jay who wakes up early in the morning just to prepare breakfast for the two of you while you sleep soundly in your shared bed, like the early bird you clearly are not…

Boyfriend Jay who will act all mysterious while getting ready for work only to come waddling to you, frown on his face as he holds the tie in front of you. His eyes pleading you to do it for him. He always cups your face into his palms before planting soft kisses all over it finishing with a tender kiss on your lips before he puts his shoes on and leaves.

Boyfriend Jay that will come from work tired, stressed and stiff from sitting all day in a chair in front of a screen, will always smile sweetly when he sees your shoes messily left in front of the door as he will arrange them next to his. He will greet you with a low voice, nearly a whisper as he plops down on the couch next to you pulling at his tie so that he could feel more relaxed. He will ask with the calmest voice “What would you like for dinner?”. You insist you do the cooking, but he just refuses, only settling for a “helping” hand from you.

Cooking with boyfriend Jay is always just him doing all the work and you being lifted up by him and placed on the cold surface of the kitchen counter near him, handing him the ingredients he needs. Sometimes Jay can’t hold himself back and just sets his body between your legs, caressing your thighs slowly in an up-and-down motion, while his face leans closer to your, whispering small compliments or words you heard a lot of times, but still have your heart skipping beats, like: “I love you”, “you are so beautiful”, “I am yours and you are mine” and maybe one of your favourites “I am so lucky to have you in my life”; he would kiss your lips tenderly right after those words, the sweet and patient kiss slowly turning into a make-out session, your arms around his neck while his hands traveled along your body, making sure to feel every small detail in your body shape. This will usually go on and on until the smell of burning food snaps you out of it or Jay’s phone suddenly rings in his pocket.

Boyfriend Jay that most evenings he keeps his eyes in his laptop, working on never-ending tasks he always gets from the higher ups even after he is out the office. You would try to get his attention by squeezing his shoulders in a manner to giving him a massage as he groans out at the sudden pressure on his muscles. When you ask him if he wants a massage he would usually reject with the excuse that he “has work to finish” when in reality he craves that massage and a goodnight sleep the most. Jay instantly gives into your touch, his tasks out the window and eyes shut close as his head falls forward a little. “Can you press harder there?” “Here?” Jay just nods the pressure making his shoulders relax and his eyes open ever so slightly. “Do you want to give me a full massage?” you jerk a brow at the request, but accept nonetheless, maybe you could make a move on him while you’re at it.

[cambion-companion]

hi, i’m not doing well. i had to give up my cats today, and my heart hurts a lot. i was wondering if i could request something soft if you have anything in mind. even some headcanons would be fantastic. i’m just heartbroken that i had to give up my babies on top of everything else i’m going through.

Oh darling I am so sorry. My heart hurts for you. I will most certainly write something to help in what little way I can.

Lips

Aemond x reader | soft fluff | admiring Aemond's mouth | trying a new lipstick leads to interesting shenanigans

"It's a lovely shade, perhaps a bit too red for my complexion." You smacked your lips together, having applied a thin layer of your newest cosmetic. "What do you think, Aemond?"

"I'm not the authority on differing shades of lipstick, my dear." Your lover leaned against the doorframe, watching fondly as you sat at your vanity. "It does look lovely on you...however I can think of other places it could be as well."

"Aemond." You scolded gently, rolling your eyes at him. "You're terrible."

"Hmm, so I've been told."

You rose from your seat, crossing to where he stood, wrapping your arms around his trim waist. You placed your head upon his chest, relishing the familiar smokey scent of him, the sound of his heartbeat in your ear.

A gentle finger hooked itself under your chin, lifting your gaze to his. "Are you well, my dear?" Aemond's violet eye drank in your features as it roved over your face.

You suppressed an instinctual grimace at the question. "I've...been better."

"I heard what happened. You need not disguise your pain for my sake." Aemond dipped his head, brushing his lips against yours before pressing a soft kiss to your mouth.

He pulled away slightly, your eyes fell to his plush lips, a giggle bubbling from your chest as you saw that your lipstick had transferred onto his skin. "You look quite dashing in rouge, I must say!"

"Gods..." Aemond moved to rub the back of his hand against his pretty mouth, but you caught his jaw with your fingers, pulling him back into your warm embrace. You kissed him soundly and he didn't put up a fight, even as you smooched his cheek theatrically, leaving behind a suggestive stain.

He pressed his forehead to yours, your gentle laughter mingling as you savored each other's comforting warmth.

"Come, let me clean you up." You led him to the sofa where the two of you sat.

"Something I am accustomed to saying to you." Aemond grinned as you swatted his shoulder.

You patted your lap. "Lie down."

"As my ember commands." Aemond laid his long body languidly across the cushions of the sofa, his head pillowed by your thighs.

You took your time, combing your fingers through the silver hair that fanned out across your legs. Tracing delicate fingers along the contours of his face, rising to lift the eyepatch from its place and set it to rest beside you. The sapphire gem glittered up at you, contrasting beautifully with the lilac of Aemond's remaining eye.

"You're lovely, my prince." You said honestly, continuing to run your fingers down his cheek, touching where your lips had left their mark.

"I...thank you, Y/N."

You smiled, nodding at him as you dipped a cloth inside the warm water of the wash basin beside you. "Sȳz taoba. Accept the compliment, don't reject it."

"Call me a 'good boy' again and I may not be able to lie still upon your lap, Y/N." Aemond's eye had dilated slightly at your praise, he gazed up into your face as you began dabbing away the rouge from his skin.

"Promises, promises." You murmured, earning yourself another low chuckle from the prince. "Now hold still, I'm going to clean your mouth. Can't have the court thinking you've caught some sort of skin ailment."

"Perish the thought."

"Stop talking, Aemond."

"Oh, right."

He closed his mouth, still watching you intently as you began gently rubbing off the lipstick. They were so lovely, his lips. The shape of his mouth something you had not seen before in man or woman. The sharpness of his cupid's bow tempered by the lush fullness of his top and bottom lips. When they were not pursed in displeasure or focus, Aemond's mouth was quite a pleasant thing to look at.

"Must be quite the stain." Aemond quipped, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, his eye crinkling at you.

"Mmhmm. Now hush." You pressed a finger against his bottom lip, studying the softness of his skin there, and how your finger could easily slide into his mouth with just one movement.

You traced the shape of his upper lip, having discarded the cleaning rag back into the basin. The curvature of his mouth fascinated you, and the more you studied it the more you wished to feel it pressed against your heating skin.

"You're clean." Your voice came out as a whisper, your eyes following Aemond's fluid movement as he rose to a sitting position, his face inches from yours.

"Cannot say the same for my thoughts." He intoned, his breath mingling with yours, his eye falling to your own parted lips.

"Are they ever?" You leaned in closer, craving the taste of him.

"On occasion." Aemond brushed his mouth against yours, your noses bumping. "Though certainly not when my lover has been caressing my lips with such fervor."

"There was a lot of lipstick on them."

"Hmm." Aemond's hooded eye was unfocused. "Shall we explore the possibilities of what else your pretty mouth can mark?"

"I could be persuaded." You reached up, tangling your fingers in Aemond's long hair, pulling him into you as his own hands stroked your sides.

He groaned quietly as you slowly pressed a kiss to his parted lips, electric arrows shot to your core as he bent you back against the cushions, leaning atop you as he deepened the embrace.

The shape of his mouth hot against your own awoke molten fire in your belly. You opened your legs to him, hugging his waist with your thighs as Aemond's tongue stroked along your own.

He broke away, his hair falling in a silver curtain to frame your faces. "We have to prepare for the feast that has...probably already started." Aemond sat up, looking regretfully down at your prone body as you arched against the sofa. "We will pick up where we left off after the festivities."

He raised your hand to his lush mouth, placing a kiss to each of your knuckles. "I know you're suffering, however silently, Y/N. Believe me when I say I will make you forget your troubles...if only for a little while."

"Your very presence eases my pain, Aemond." You cupped his face in your hand, caressing his bottom lip.

Aemond turned his face into your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. His fingers rubbing soft circles against your wrist as he held you to him.

"You may want to, ah, bring the wash basin over here." Aemond smirked mischievously as he donned his eyepatch once more. "We've made a bit of a mess. One that would be obvious in origin to those at the feast."

"Oh!" You touched your face self-consciously. "Wouldn't want the ladies of weak constitution to faint at the scandal."

"Nor the over eager men to draw swords for your honor."

"They wouldn't."

"You'd be unpleasantly surprised what bored lordlings get up to during their days at court."

The two of you helped each other clean the marks from your skin, it had gotten all over the outside of your mouth from the passion of your kisses. Aemond bit down his chuckles at your state of disarray after you shot him an arch glare. Once tidied and dressed, you walked forth from your chambers arm in arm, descending together to the great hall. Your mind quite preoccupied with memories of Aemond's soft mouth beneath your fingertips and what lay in store for you at the end of the night.

[holdmyhopeinyourhands]

After sitting down and thinking over the mercedes/ferrari/lewis team switch story, I feel angry. Angry and disappointed. Forget the car, forget the terrible design concept that has taken Mercedes out of championship contention. Forget the lack of faith they had in Lewis's vision or ideas. I could live with all that. After all, they have million of engineers and money and experience, and perhaps they knew better than Lewis in how to get the car up to snuff. No, what pisses me off? What makes me sick to my stomach is how they kept looking past him. Kept looking past the man who built them, carved them into his back, and looking instead towards this hypothetical future that they insisted would happen soon, happen soon and without him. For the past couple of seasons, Lewis has faught tooth and nail for his contract extensions to reflect his worth. Fought tooth and nail to be even considered as brand ambassador, only for them to soundly reject him as if he isn't the face, body, and soul of that team and the damn sport itself. The fact they have been screaming bloody murder and digging their heels in every time he's asked to be given at least one of his championship winning cars says it all.....They've always looked past him, through him. He was standing right there, and they've always eagerly kept looking at a future without him. How they were going to build off of his success without him. How he was the one lucky enough to have them, but they could move on at any time because, hey, who would pay Lewis what they paid him. Who would treat Lewis even with modicum of respect the way they are? They never worried because they never assumed Lewis was worth more than what they assigned him. Mercedes lost Lewis not only because they ignored his opinions. They lost him because they decided they were worth more than him, and stepping on his back to climb to their next great stage was acceptable. Fuck you Mercedes.

[amaramizuki666]

Shared sensation part.6

Danny walked through the main doors of his haunt. His beloved nestled soundly aginst his chest, sleeping peacefully. Danny didnt care that this man was a clone of the soulmate who rejected him. Danny has nothing aginst clones. And elle will be ecstatic to know her new dad is like her.

On a more personal note, danny dosent hold any grudge aginst his darlings original. Sure his previous soulmate may have rejected him but they where kids. And after haveing a few years to think about it, it made since to danny why his previous soulmate would brake their bonds.

Danny isnt stupid he remembers the pain. The pain that his soulmate endured nightly. Danny figured that his soulmate cut the bond to protect him. So sure he dosnt hold any grudges aginst the guy, but he does wish the guy would have talked to danny before destroying the thing danny cherished most. So no, no grudges, hes just a bit bitter.

"Danny your back after than I thought" sam says as she walks up next to him peering over his shoulder to see the boy sleeping s look soundly in his arms. "Damn hes cute, better not fuck this up dumbass" sam states and danny nodded at her words. "I wont be. He is mine and I will keep him by my side" danny says passively as he continues down the windy halls of his haunt.

"And what if he wants to be in the liveing realm? The GIW are still a threat you know" sam says her voice like static as she topic turns to the GIW. "Then we will live in the human world until he is ready to live here, and with the GIW I think I could use a side project. I've let them live far too long" danny says his voice like ice, his haunt bending to his emotions starts to frost over.

"Well ok then be careful, ttyl I got to go meet up with tuck for a gaming sesh" sam says and leaves. She knows when to not push things. She was bad at that before. Always wanting to know, always pushing boundaries. But over time danny relized she was just testing him, to see if he will leave her too. Which fuck that she is one of his fright.

Danny is taken from his inner monologue as he reached the doors to his room. They opend on his command and gently closed themselves behind him.

His room was decently sized. The walls where a dark purple that mixed into the starry sky of his selling. He had a balcony, a vanity, a dresser, a rug with star shapes on it that looked like he bought it from target.

Danny walked over to his large king sized bed and layed his beloved down gently. Danny examined him. Danny looked at the boys shut eyes and peaceful expression. The halfa moved a strand of his loves long raven hair from his face smiling softly.

Danny's eyes trailed down to the bloodied one peice tight black body suit his darling was wearing. Then his eyes traveled down to the silver bracelet clampt tightly to his beloved's wrist.

Danny scowled and reached over grabbing onto the bracelet. He let his ice corse through his palm to a point. He then grappled the bracelet and snapped it. Danny dosnt want his other half to think lesser of himself because of his clone status. Elle whent through that, being in Danny's shadow, and he wants to spare his love the pain.

Danny sighed and stood up walking over to his wardrobe and pulled out an oversized sweater and some black work out tights for his love to change into when he wakes up. Danny would do it for him but he doesn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"Ugg" a soft groan echos through the room and danny is beside is bed in moments. He watched (unblinking like a creep) his beloved's azure blue eyes flutter but stay shut.

He can tell his love his takeing stock of his surroundings. He sees as he slows his breath and focuses on his other senses. Danny knows his love noticed him beside him. He love seems to have been trained.

But by who? Did they take him put of his pod occasionally to train him? Or did they stuff knowledge into his brain as they grew him?

"I know your awake" danny says his voice soft yet firm. He sees his loves body stiffen. His core hums with hurt as his loves fear of him. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise" danny says trying to coast his love to stop the charade.

His beloved's azure eyes open and hold his gaze with a glare. One that says try me. "Who are you? what do you want with me?" The man asks firmly, his unwavering gaze feels like a storm at sea ready to drag him to the depths.

A grin tugs on phantoms lips. "I'm danny phantom, king of the dead and never born. And as what I want with you, surely you can feel that for your self, cant you?" Danny says his voice taunting as he rests his hand on his hip.

The man sits up slowly studying danny looking him up and down as if searching desperately for something. Danny waited for his loves replay. "Danny? As in danny Fenton?" The man questions his voice and face lack any emotion. Danny is the opposite his face probably showed the considerable shock he was in. That was not the replay he was expecting to that statement. How did his love know his human name?

Part. 5

[s2pdoktopus]

So my oc as Madoka Magica character

Bethany Miden

She, alongside her twin brother was adopted by a man when they were 5. They love him a lot and he loves them, they lived happily together as a family. A few years later their dad fell in love with a woman who rejected his feelings. This upset the 10 year old Bethany as her dad was clearly brokenhearted by the event. Kyubey appeared before her during this, promising to grant her wish. She wished for the power to "destroy" the woman who rejected her dad.

She became a magical girl then she and the woman met in the middle of a labyrinth. The woman is also a magical girl. A strong one, who had been doing this for almost a decade. She knew the truth behind the magical girls, having the experience of her former group turning into witches. She was horrified to see her co-worker's daughter as a magical girl. Bethany fought her, due to her wish she was more powerful, although clearly inexperienced. It was during this fight that the woman found out how and what Bethany wished to be a magical girl for.

Bethany was soundly defeated by experience and the woman explained to her that her dad was a wonderful man. She would love to have the experience of being with a man him, but she also thought that a wonderful man like him deserved to be with a real human being. Not a hollow body with its soul cut out. Bethany calmed down after hearing that the woman actually liked her dad. Bethany then encouraged her to tell her dad and let her dad decide. Bethany firmly believed that her dad would still choose to be with her despite the zombie situation because Bethany knew that her dad would love her all the same if she revealed her magical powers to him. The woman firmly told her that she will make sure that her dad knew.

After informing Bethany's dad about the situation, he was distraught. The woman promised him that she will make sure that Bethany lived by any means necessary. Their relationship blossomed from there. When her dad and the woman married, the woman promised that as Bethany's mother, she will find a way to make her a normal girl again.

*Due to her wish, she is always stronger against her mother.

*though she respects the woman who would become her mother, she likes to pretend that she doesn't

*now at 15, she's better at fighting but still not experienced enough to defeat her mother

Lucifiel Elheim

Lucifiel had what many would call, a perfect life and she has nothing to ask for. Her best friend, Enea, doesn't have what she has. It wasn't a surprise when Enea ran away from home, still, no one knew what to do when he did. Search parties are deployed and the entire neighborhood participated in the search. Luci joined too, together with her three dogs. After a week no sign of Enea appeared, the search effort dwindled. As if a response to her distress, Kyubey offered to grant her one wish. The 9 year old did not hesitate and wished to find Enea. With her new power, she located Enea in a labyrinth.

Luci was 9, new at the job and a little bit insane. While her first emotion at the sight of the witch was fear, it soon turned into anger when she saw Enea at its clutches. The anger turned into a single-minded determination to save her best friend no matter what. Her first agenda was to retrieve Enea. Her charge was reckless, it involved using her pendulums to tie the witch down or as distractions as she approached the arm that held her friend. Her second plan after that, was to run in and attempt to stab the witch to death with the pointed part of her hairpin. Thankfully Bethany saved her before anything that stupid happened. They brought Enea to the hospital. He was severely dehydrated but otherwise, will live.

Enea found out what Luci sacrificed from Bethany and her mom. He felt very guilty and decided to make sure that she is as happy as he could make her to be.

*Bethany's mother, the de facto leader of their unofficial group, has tasked her with looking for other new magical girls so they could prevent their early deaths

*Doesn't look like it but she has promised Kyubey that she will use her power to find and destroy each and every single one of them and their creator if they ever attempt to turn her sister or her friends into a magical girl

Rihoka Adlao

When she was 11, robbers came into their house and murdered her parents. The murder was witnessed by her brother and ever since he's been catatonic. Her older sister, fifteen at the time, took on the burden of providing for them both. Rihoka was left with the task of caring for her brother and there was not a single day that she never wished for, more than anything, her brother to be well again. She seized this opportunity when Kyubey offered.

During her first battle against a witch, she was lucky that Luci had found her since her weapon, a bell, wasn't all that suited for fighting. She joined their unofficial group and offered great support when the witches they're fighting stronger witches.

Rihoka, unlike Luci and Bethany who seemed to not care all that much what they must do to survive or Bethany's mother who has the experience of fortifying her emotions, felt very uncomfortable about the reality of what they must do to live. To her, it's like eating a poor girl's soul, reducing all their pain and grief into a means to an end. Due to her compassion, ironically, she needed to ingest more grief seeds to survive. It weighed on her so much she almost ate all of the group's reserved seeds. Feeling like a burden, she was resigned to becoming a witch, this way she can be a seed that would be useful to the group and her sister would not worry about arranging a funeral. This all came to a stop when her sister found out about everything and wished to take all of her magic powers to herself.

Rurika Adlao

Rihoka's big sister, Rurika is considered to have a lot of potential by Kyubey. Contracting Rihoka was more of a ploy to get her into making a contract as well. Rurika started worrying over her sister when her usual shy but helpful personality turned into avoidant and depressed. Kyubey helpfully filled her in on the details and Rurika didn't hesitate to wish to take Rihoka's power for herself, effectively turning Rihoka back to being a normal girl. Rihoka felt guilty about it, crying to her sister and asking why she did that. Rurika simply said that Rihoka is too kind, unlike her big sister, she can't do some despicable things, and that's not a bad trait to have.

*she has all of Rihoka's previous powers

Bethany's mother

(she has a name in a long bond paper somewhere in my portfolio somewhere lol)

She's currently 25 years old. She's also someone with a lot of potential. She was contracted when she was 12, her wish was to excel at everything.

She lost many friends in her long tenure as a magical girl, to keep despair at bay she always finds new things to do; to help others, to save her friends, to save other magical girls and now to ensure that the children she found herself saddled with will have a bright future. She's very selfless but lately she found herself wishing for selfish things like seeing her children graduate.

*during Rihoka's time as a magical girl, she was incapable of helping them fight witches due to pregnancy.

[written-in-flowers]

I’m not sure if you’re taking requests, then again this is not so much a request more a thought that popped into my head after watching the premiere episode and feel free to use it.

After watching Blood and Cheese unfold, I thought oh my god, what if both Otto and reader are overcome with terror that their son was also a victim because Daemon’s favorite past time is causing pain to Otto and drawing his ire. And the two rush to their son’s room only to see he is unharmed and sleeping soundly.

I'm not really taking requests right now, but wow this would be suspenseful for sure.

I imagine reader maybe coming upon Helaena in the hallway holding Jaehaera, absolutely frantic and hysterically crying. She can't get a coherent word out of her, but by the blood on her skirt and on her neck, something terrible has happened. She calls for a guard (because for some reason there happened to be none in this big ass castle) concerned for Helaena and her child. Yet, by the time anyone has figured out about Jaehaerys, it strikes her that Daemon likely ordered this hit.

Daemon who hates her husband.

Daemon who enjoyed causing pain to his enemies.

Horas, your six-year-old son who laughed easily and loved reading.

Leyanna, your three year old daughter who loved playing hide and seek with her Septa and playing with wooden swords.

Their nursery was in the Tower of the Hand, which was outside Maegor's Holdfast. You both knew of the tunnels connecting one to the other for easier access. The ratcatcher would know about them. Otto, who has arrived by this time, comes to this conclusion as well. The two of you lock eyes, Helaena's and Alicent's lamenting sobbing falling on deaf ears.

"The children!"

It came out of you both at the same time. Rather than send a guard, you and Otto rush out of the room. Panic struck you in the chest, your heart pounding in every breath as you rushed through the passage hidden in a panel. Otto held you hand, a torch held up high, as he led you through Maegor's secret passage from one area to another. The idea of your children's sheets covered in crimson, their small bodies mutilated beyond identification made you sick. If Daemon hired them to kill a child, what stopped him from killing two more? Just to hurt you, the woman who's rejected all of his advances. To hurt Otto, the man who has been his enemy since the beginning of Viserys's reign and now Aegon's.

"Horas! Leyanna!" you shouted their names once you broke through the passage into the tower. You rushed up the steps, "Leyanna! Horas! Alise!"

"My lady?" your handmaiden appeared, frightened and confused.

"Where are the children?" Otto asked, hurrying behind you.

"They're...They're in their beds, my lord!"

"Children!"

You broke through their bedroom door, panting and teary eyed. In your panic, you scanned the nursery several times before you found them.

"Mama? Mama, what is happening?"

Horas, brown hair messy from sleep and eyes blurry, rubbed his eyes as he sat up. Unharmed. You turned to Leyanna's bed, seeing her begin to cry from being woken up so suddenly. Relief came out in your tears. You sat at Leyanna's side, picking her up to hug her tightly.

"Papa?"

"Horas! Thank the Seven!"

He went and hugged the confused boy, kissing his head and rubbing his back. "And Leyanna?"

"She's fine," you breathed, unable to stop your tears now. "Thank the Mother. Thank the...Oh my sweetlings."

"Mama, why are you crying?" your daughter asked, awake and worried.

"I'm just happy you're here," you answered, not wanting to explain it.

Even though tragedy still struck the family, and your heart wept for Alicent and her children, but as you held your children, you felt nothing but relief.

***

so much for no requests lol I would've done with Rosebud series, but by the time The Dance happens, the children they have would've been much older.

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Shun the Light - Ch 22 - A Gift

Masterlist

Author's Notes: So I'm thinking this will be the end of this particular series. NOT the end of Dante and Matteo's story!! Think of it like one book in an ongoing series. Next time I post I'll start a new series with a new title and new chapters continuing where this one leaves off. Otherwise it would just trail on indefinitely because I don't really have a set END end in sight for them. I never do, I like to always leave room for more. But I do have ideas for contained story arcs that I can group into series.

Also, re: the title - at first Shun the Light was in reference to literal light - the sun for Dante, the moon for Matteo. But as the story developed it also meant them rejecting any possible happiness for themselves out of fear/grief/trauma. And I think they've reached a place where they're letting a little light in now, so I want the next phase of their journey to grow from that.

Content Warnings: werewolf whump, poisoned, illness, fever, stomach ache, dehydration, dizziness, exhaustion, biting, drinking blood, comfort, caretaking

----

Matteo sleeps soundly through the day, but when night falls he grows restless. Overheated, he kicks off all the blankets and removes everything but his boxers. Soon he's awake, writhing with discomfort on the empty bed.

Poison still lingers in his system. It wages war on his body, and it is only because of his inhuman nature that he doesn't succumb to it. The thing that got him into this mess is the very thing keeping him alive.

Half-delirious, he tries to call for help but his throat and mouth are so dry. He props himself up on one arm and reaches for the glass of water on the nightstand. Moving makes him dizzy. The room blurs and turns upside down and Matteo drops heavily back onto the mattress. He muffles a groan into his pillow.

Please...

Matteo lifts his arm again and fumbles for the glass...only to knock it over. It shatters on the floor, spilling water everywhere. Shit. He groans again, rolling onto his back. His breathing is becoming erratic, his heart beating rapidly.

The sound brings Dante to his door. At first he taps politely and Matteo barely hears it. When Matteo doesn't respond, Dante cracks open the door.

"Matteo? Oh my god - what happened?"

The bed dips and Dante's hand settles on Matteo's heaving chest. Matteo tries to open his eyes to look at him but whenever he does the room spins. He tries to speak but is so parched he can only manage a hoarse whisper.

"D-don't feel good..."

Fingers brush his cheeks, wiping away tears. Then a cool hand is on his forehead. Matteo gasps; it's almost too cold, but he needs it so badly, he feels like he's boiling alive...

"Matteo? Matteo, look at me."

The words barely reach him through the haze of heat and pain. A sharp pang in his stomach makes him wail and claw at the sheets beneath him.

Suddenly Dante's presence is gone. Matteo whimpers and feels around for him but he isn't there.

"Don't leave," he pleads.

Hands hold his face and brush his sweaty hair from his forehead.

"Shh. It's okay. I'm getting more water. Can - can you look at me?"

Matteo forces his eyes open. Dante's face is so close he can see nothing else. His silver eyes start to glow.

"Breathe. Breathe deeply, slowly. That's it. Good. You're doing good."

A shudder runs through Matteo.

"Just breathe. That's all you need to do. I'll be right back."

Then he's gone again. Matteo's eyes flutter shut and he focuses on breathing in and out, in and out. His racing heart calms enough to pull him from the edge of a full blown panic attack.

Dante returns quickly with two glasses of water which he sets on the bedside table. He sits beside Matteo again and gets an arm around his shoulders to prop him up. Matteo tries to do some of the work but he can barely move without help. His limbs feel heavy and useless.

"You're burning up," Dante remarks as he manhandles Matteo into a sitting position. "Okay - drink."

He holds one of the glasses to Matteo's lips and cups the back of his neck to keep him steady. Matteo drinks slowly at first, then starts to chug the cool water down desperately.

When he's finished he has to take a moment to catch his breath. He lets his head droop onto Dante's shoulder, his hot forehead pressed against Dante's neck. He tries to form words, to thank him, but with his thirst solved now all his other pains come into sharp focus. The worst of them is his aching stomach - made all the worse by gnawing hunger. It's been over four days since his last meal.

"Ah - ow -"

"What? What hurts?"

"Stomach," Matteo mumbles. "Ngh!"

He starts gently rubbing his stomach to try to relieve some of the pain. Dante nudges his hand away and replaces it with his own, moving in light, slow circles.

Matteo clings to Dante's shirt, struggling to catch his breath. Suddenly he feels a pinch on his arm. Before he can put together what it is, he's out like a light.

-

Upon waking, Matteo feels heavy and weak...but no pain. It has been replaced with a pleasant numbness. His fever broke while he was out. A gentle breeze from the cracked window feels amazing on his clammy skin. It is nighttime again; he slept for almost twenty-four hours.

Something moves in his peripheral, startling him. Matteo tips his head to the side and opens his eyes.

As his vision clears Dante's form comes into focus. He's in an armchair with one leg crossed over the other, reading a book titled Common Poisonous Plants and Mushrooms of North America. In one hand he's holding a jar of blood. Every now and then he'll grimace and quickly take a sip from the jar.

Dante looks as healthy as ever, like no one ever laid a hand on him. His skin is smooth and almost human in coloration. His face is no longer gaunt nor his eyes hollow.

Matteo yawns and it draws Dante's attention away from his reading.

"Finally," Dante says, putting the book and drink aside. He sits at the edge of the bed. "I thought I might have put you into a coma."

Matteo lifts an arm and sees the fading puncture marks.

"You drank my blood."

"Yes. It was disgusting. I still can't get the taste out of my mouth." He feels Matteo's forehead. "But I think it helped."

"But won't you get sick?"

"So far I feel fine."

Even so, Matteo can't help feeling guilty.

"You didn't have to do that," he mumbles.

"I didn't know what else to do. You were in a lot of pain, looking it up would have taken too long."

"Well...I appreciate it." Matteo sighs. "I'm pathetic. First day back and you already have to be my nurse. I swear it's not usually this bad. The last few months have just been rough."

"Hm. Maybe I'm a curse," Dante says. His tone is light but there's an edge to it, like deep down he might really mean it.

Matteo nudges Dante's leg with his head. "No way. You somehow made it bearable. Usually I do this alone."

"That must be hard..." Dante traces over some of Matteo's scars. Matteo shivers and he pulls his hand away.

"No, wait - can you, um - "

Dante waits for him to finish. Matteo chews at his lip, embarrassed, wishing he had kept his mouth shut.

"Can you just..." He falters again. Instead of trying to talk, he takes Dante's hand and brings it to his cheek. "It feels nice."

"Oh." Dante looks surprised.

"You don't have to -"

"Scoot over."

Matteo does as he's asked and Dante sits on the bed beside him, leaning back against the headboard. Once he's settled Matteo leans his head against Dante's thigh and Dante cups his face with one hand.

"You're all sticky," he states bluntly. "I almost forgot about sweat."

"You don't sweat?"

"No. It's actually kind of a problem. I get overheated very easily."

"Huh. I never considered that. Guess I have a lot to learn about vampires."

Matteo falls silent, just thinking. Dante seems to understand that he needs the company, so he stays where he is. He picks up his book and continues reading, only removing his hand from Matteo's face to turn the page. Occasionally he'll even run fingers through Matteo's hair.

"Is this strange?" Matteo asks quietly after a while.

"Hm?" Dante lowers the book.

"Is it strange that this doesn't feel strange?"

"...what?"

"I just mean - we barely know each other. But I feel really comfortable right now. Does that make sense?"

"I think so."

Dante is quiet and Matteo hopes he didn't ruin what was such a nice moment, something he really really needed.

"Maybe it is strange," Dante replies. "But we're strange. I drank your blood before I even knew your name. Normal people don't meet that way."

Matteo lets out a relieved laugh. "Yeah, good point. Nothing about this is normal."

He looks up at Dante and sees something new and wonderful.

Dante is smiling.

It's not bright like the sun but bright like a candle. It is small but genuine, and it's just for him. Matteo is the first and only person to see him smile in almost fifty years. It feels like a gift.

Matteo closes his eyes and remains tucked against Dante's side. He hears the rustle of paper as Dante returns to his reading and his hand returns to Matteo's hair. Another gift.

I don't know how I'll ever thank you, Matteo thinks, far too content to break the silence.

But as long as I'm here I'm going to try.

[immacaria]

  Rain hits the window, water rolling down it as busy men run on the sidewalk beneath. The room is pleasantly cold, the kind of cold that keeps you from getting off your bed and makes you miss appointments. Not that there are any appointments for Morpheus to attend this morning.

  He watches the water rolling down with lightning brights the dark day outside his room and feels the warmth of covers and a human body around him. Under him, Hob is sleeping soundly, every now and then letting out a small snore that gets both of their bodies trembling. He also has no appointments to attend this morning.

  So, instead, Morpheus - because he is no longer Dream of the Endless, but rather Morpheus Gadling - watches the water and thinks about everything he left behind. A particularly large drop is racing towards others, getting bigger and bigger, and he thinks of the Dreaming. He is no longer Dream, barely an Endless anymore.

  He has renounced his crown, laid down his staff and passed the throne to another. Now, all he is is an immortal being without any power or influence. Yet there's no other way he ought it to happen.

  His son, Orpheus, is alive and well, living in the Dream along with Daniel, who is now Dream of the Endless. His people are being taken care of. His family has kept on living without his presence, as many times before.

  And his husband, well, his husband now sleeps under him, sweat has cooled on his skin and red bite marks slowly fade against his neck.

  Hob Gadling, his dear husband, the one who waited century after century, the one who never stopped hoping and wishing for life, the crazy human that refused his sister's gift. Like him, Morpheus will not age or die, unless explicitly saying so. They will be together forever, as long as they can handle each other.

  It was not easy, Morpheus admits, to get himself to understand. After being imprisoned for over one hundred years, he was not alright. He was slowly crumbling at the seams, disappearing in front of his people and family without caring. Hob had been the one to force him to realise what was happening and, this time, he was not rejected.

  The large drop of water reaches the windowsill and, as if on cue, Hob starts to stir underneath him. He moves his head to the right, watching Hob's nose twirl from side to side as his hands begin to look for him. His eyebrows furrow for a moment before warm hands wrap themselves against his waist and they relax again.

  A low chuckle leaves Morpheus' mouth as he reaches out and plants a kiss to Hob's jaw. Then another. And another. And another. He takes his time - because they got time and lingers on every spot, savouring the richness of his beloved's skin.

  "Beloved." He whispers against the point between ear and face and smiles.

  "Darling." There are little, tiny holes over all times Hob perforated his ears and he kisses every and single one of them.

  "My love." He strays over to his eyes and brow, lips moving against them lightly.

  "Husband." He says at least, kissing the bridge of his nose and the corners of his mouth.

  Under him, Hob groans, hands twisting against his waist and opens one eye ever the slightest. He takes a deep breath as thunder rolls outside the room and a sigh leaves his mouth. There's just enough light in the room for Morpheus to see his shiny eyes and his dark lashes and his lopsided smile.

  "Hullo." Hob says, pulling him closer. He presses his nose against his cheek, inhaling deep.

  Since Dream retired, leaving the Dreaming for Daniel and becoming a mere immortal, their mornings have been like this. Lazy, slow, comfortable. Old people, Matthew said once, they were old people.

  Not that Morpheus minds being old along Hob, not when it means he gets to have this. Every morning they spend some minutes here on the bed, just basking on each other's presences and feeling their hearts - Because now he had a real one, not a creation of his, inside his chest - beat together in synch, marvellously alive. And when they are ready to get up, they go to the kitchen and he gets to see Hob making tea and breakfast for them, hair sticking to all possible and impossible directions and quietly mumbling the songs on the radio.

  "What are you thinking about, dove?" Hob whispers and Morpheus knows he is smiling. Lately, Hob is always smiling. Whenever he turns to him, a smile appears on his face, one of admiration and surprise as if he can't really believe he got to have Morpheus there every second of every day for the rest of their lives, as if this was an impossible thing to achieve.

  "About how much I love you." He whispers back, letting himself be pulled closer, almost to the top of the other man. "About how this was never something I thought possible. About how all of this is because of you."

  "Sweet flaterer." Hob says and kisses the corner of his mouth. 

  “It’s all your fault.” And when Hob laughs, he adds. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

.........................................................................................................................

  This is for the Dreamling Nation Server who has just got out of an angst war that lasted two days and left us all in pieces and my amazing sib @milenaalaire. I’m going to especially tag @quillingwords, who was having a depressive moment in the server’s channel, and Auntie @mathomhouse-e, who was suffering with Hounds.

[lyssiesleakedmemos]

Chi never loved me

My lips spill like a fountain, my fingers type faster than I can comprehend consequence, phones scattered around as electronic evidence databases at the ready to site any sources one might question. I am shamelessly open with the trials and tales of my life and those who crossed my path in the comedy and tragedy of it all.. but I couldn't be honest about him.

Chi consumed a larger time frame in my story than any one you've met.. and yet I've never mentioned him. For the sake of remaining cordial, for the sake of protecting his image for the sake of clinging to a peaceful delusion.

There was nothing to tell right? That would have been the story. Hushed were the voices in protest, overlooked was the pit in my gut. Only after years of reflection would I see it for what it was beyond a difference of opinion, incompatible mental illness and 2 people who were better off friends.. all still true. It was only when I finally spoke faster than my mental guards could shut that I said, "he doesn't love me, never did." That I realized I was no longer speaking to the person next to me rather, myself.

7 years was a long time to never come up with anything he loved about me but it probably only took me 7 days to realize how much he hated being alone. I think I still crave validation and find my worth somewhere in the kind words of men because there was once a time the person I was told loved me most only ever had criticism of me. I wasnt funny nor smart. Every joke i landed was a product of bias, every game he lost was rigged. Never fully crossing the lines that felt clear and clinical. No, he can't be a narcissist and this isn't emotional abuse.. he's just mean and maybe I can fix him. The years grew dull and frigid. But I wasn't a prize anyway, I thought, that was truly all I deserved. I was his useless stressful burden so I gave him credit for every little thing. Like I was a house plant and him keeping me alive was enough. Maybe it would have been forever, but then of course I got sick and everything changed.

I don't have it in me to retell the full agony of what it's like your body rejects your own esophagus. A year of choking on bile all through the night that makes never waking up at all a peaceful fantasy. Regurgitating every foolish effort to consume nutrients until even water is too challenging to get down. Becoming truly undead as every vital plummets.. no sign of life. A man in a chapel once mentioned sickness and health and while that ring still sat on my now boney finger Chi was nowhere to be found.

He didn't leave the party he was at when I told him I was having chest pains, he suggested apple cider vinegar and when he finally made it home he discouraged me from going to the ER. I told him I was scared of dying in my sleep and if I never woke up he'd regret those words.. he slept soundly that night. It was only the next day at work when it had gotten worse that coworker demanded I go that did. I was in surgery within a couple hours of admission.. He later boasted that it was probably good he never took me the night prior because the doctor that diagnosed me likely wouldn't have been in.

As my condition deteriorated he grew colder towards me.. telling me he wished he had my disease so he too could "get skinny." Even bragging about how substantial his burger was placing it into my frail hands so I could feel the weight of food I could no longer swallow. The most unbelievable bit is that I never saw any of this as intentional torment.

One day I came to him sobbing after finding people like myself online and finally not feeling alone and was greeted with laughter as the only response. Perplexed on where he could have found comedy in any of this, I looked up to see he was scrolling on his phone looking at memes the entire time. None of this apparently caught his interest.

In the days leading up to surgery when staying up right became a chore I could hardly get through a day of work.. One day, too faint to lug car parts, I called Chi to take me home. I felt a sort of rare comfort when he told me expected the call and saw I wasn't doing well that day. Only in the very next breath to tell me he bought concert tickets and once he dropped me off he was leaving for a city over an hour away. An artist I recently introduced him to. I sat on the couch in silence so I could hear that my heart was still beating until Storm found out I was alone left work and rushed over to watch over me while I nodded off.

He never softened, he was no less critical of me in what could've been my dying days. My family, friends, acquaintances and Storm were left to pick up the pieces he should have been there for. But I was too sickly to hate him, even when left me in the hospital shortly after waking up to beat traffic. Perhaps, it was the anesthesia still making me kind the next morning when he texted me in the hospital telling me he finally fucked his GF last night (poly remember but still fucked up right?) And when that next day they told me they wouldn't let me leave until my vitals came back up.. he took off the day of work.. to spent time with her and never came to see me. I watched the people's faces around me twist in disgust and I didn't understand.. because this was my normal.

I don't think the surgical wounds healed before he made new ones in me, he began comparing me to his superior gf and the ways in which he preferred her as a lover. I justified the cruelty for my own guilt of not wanting him to touch me anymore, something I entirely thought was some personal failing of mine. The impossible correlation between his cruelty and my lack of libido.

I don't know which straw was the final but I remember the brain fog lifting and on the other side was only red hot rage. Only once I let myself hate him did I want to hurt him the way he did me for 7 years out of "love." But the night we split my loaded gun of revenge jammed, tearful goodbyes and promises to remain in eachothers life were all either of us could manage.

To this day were praised for the grace and dignity in which we seamlessly transitioned into friends. So even in those moments where I'm overcome with memories of his worst stunts, I grin and bear it. But it's not all facade.

We are much better friends than partners, he has learned the occasional lesson and from a healthy distance shows me little pieces of compassion I was once screaming out for. Most days I pretend we met in this place and I know nothing of the past or his potential to destroy.

I know for the sake of opening up about my trauma I'm likely undoing years of mystery and calling into question every time we defended eachothers names. That's why this entry was started months ago and has narrowly survived deletion time and time again. The truth is I don't want you to hate him.. I couldn't manage to myself for more than a few fleeting moments. When I say he never loved me I don't think it was malice, I don't think he could. He was only ever sick himself and the great tragedy was for all he downplayed my illness, he completely neglected his own. If chest pains were an indication that it was time to start therapy he would have died of a heart attack, in a sea of people, in some city, with live music playing.

I still root for the reality that one day Chi is thriving. He'd be an unstoppable force of talent, humor and high energy.. I always told him I thought he could accomplish anything and everything.. I stand by that to this day.

[eclipsecrowned]

For any of the deen dee ocs in any combination: // anonymous

due to the number of prompts (which i love, not going too bonkers but still giving e a wide array to work with) i'm putting the questions themselves under a cut and answering each with a muse chosen by a random generator. page stretcher under this readmore, consider checking it out on my blog.

What plot points would change due to the inclusion of your character in canon?

None, she's ostensibly a trophy in Orin's bedroom :)

Realistically, though? If there was another prisoner in the Goblin Camp, a beautiful and feral woman wrapped in several lengths of chain waiting to be uncovered by the party? I mean, you have a genuine Evil companion even in a Spare the Grove route, the Lady MacBeth and fierce angel of death in one at your Tav's ear. She unsettles. Other Companions probably aren't too fond of her. Maybe unimportant NPCs start dropping after long rests -- or maybe Miruna paces the camp at night, praying to deaf gods for the patience the player shows her. Perhaps a final battle plays out differently, with two Chosen against the player, vying together for dominance of the Brain, or perhaps she is only staring in shock at the body of a former beloved, then looking to the player wordlessly, begging with her eyes that they not leave her as this man did.

The player having the chance to mold Miruna. For acceptance or rejection of her to change the shape the narrative takes, especially into Act 3. The player has multiple ways to interact with her that will shape her ultimate fate, whether with disdain for her Urges, support for her redemption, or agreeing with her stance that 'I am not evil, but the demands made of me are.' Does the player believe in second chances, or is there a point their tolerance of her runs out -- after a particular scripted death, after the reveal of her history, in a Temple where she is killed to stifle her dark father's influence on the world, or in the end, where the player can no more ignore what she is or the damage her choices have wrought?

What changes do you think would be made between your muse as they exist in your head vs how they would be treated as part of canon?

I mean. Canon for 3 already soundly nuked my PC's narrative from orbit. His wife was ousted from the party and her character butchered in the aftermath, his post-game adventures were routed by the canon GW settling down in the Gate, Ismail just cannot catch a break. And to top it all off, the novels keep trying to make him some basic white boy named Adrian or something? Wild.

Jokes aside, if Ismail was treated as the canon GW/Bh**lspawn, I think canon would definitely whitewash him -- but not in the traditional sense. I think his being a True Neutral who only really makes a stand in the face of great evil (such as his father) and otherwise believes in balance would be a little too spicy for the era of game he existed in. He'd get a nice new paint job over his morality to be an In Name Only Neutral. He'd also likely get mischaracterized from the straight man of the party off of which his Companions can shine to a willing buffoon alongside his sequel besties Haer'Dalis and Jan.

Knowing Bioware in that era, he's a white guy, too.

God help me I fear what his romance with Vi would be made into. From a genuine respect and sympathy to 'I Can Fix Her' bait or a young guy who got caught in the talons of an sexy sexy but oh so evil seductress. Comments by returning companions in 3 that his son was the only good to come out of that union or something equally insulting to the Ismonia dynamic.

What would their haters dislike about your character? Is it a petty complaint? A mischaracterization of the character or their intentions? Are they just a woman in a largely male-centric series?

Gruff, not conventionally attractive, not romanceable by the majority of players' (cis dudes) Tavs... Aurelia'd get the Astarion treatment where people probably need to sit down with haters of a certain degree and go 'no put in words to me what about this character makes you uncomfortable, show me on the doll what aspects of her character are so viscerally repugnant to you.'

People could be petty, racist, misogynistic, and lesbophobic in a single swoop. Instead of someone with flat affect who is clearly teasing half the time, she'd be taken for a stone cold bitch who is needlessly cruel to companions. Everything she does is the worst. She's a cheap Lae clone. Her pragmatism is evil rather than practical. Her neutrality is evil, actually. Fandom has already proven that a canonical Druid talking about the element he works with is so annoying and cringe and they're aiming that at a white dude. Aurelia would get it worse for talking about nature. The thing she also protects as a Ranger. Her habit of slapping nicknames on her Companions? How disrespectful. Also her hitting on Lae'zel/Karlach/Shadowheart/the PC is clearly predatory and uncalled for. She's literally as bad as Cazador for being open about her attraction/appreciation for women. Also her being half-Gur is just crudely shoehorned in and for fake woke points.

She was also totally the last character developed and it shows in her writing. Clearly just there to meet a quota. She's just so annoying. Ignore that if she were canon she would definitely not be a last minute addition and have a clear arc/narrative to accomplish in addition to helping the PC beat a brain into submission.

What controversies/drama would your character incite in fandom?

I have briefly touched on this before, but unless someone was playing teen Tav or followed the HC that Lae'zel is also incredibly young, Sybelle is the youngest member of party at a stated 20. No problem, right? She's a professional in her field and by the standard of her society and race is a grown adult. Any greenness is actually the result of being a reclusive academic for her entire coming of age, not of any inborn immaturity/innocence/childishness related to her age, and damn sure not as a result of her autism.

Good luck convincing fandom of any of that, however.

She's 20. If you ship her with any character beyond Wyll (canonically ~24) or Lae'zel (fanon early twenties) then why do you support grooming/exploitation of children? Shipping her with Gale/Shadowheart/Karlach is right out unless you want the discourse of all discourse -- and forget about shipping her with Halsin, Astarion, the Emperor, or any character with an extended lifespan and centuries of life experience. And sure, people are allowed to be uncomfortable with age gaps, or to not want to see certain characters shipped for any reason. But there'd be a lot of unnecessary moralizing around someone, say, preferring to see Gale and Sybelle's dynamic as mentor/mentee or father figure/heartwarming orphan. It's not just that someone doesn't like the ship when romantic or is discomforted by a different read, it's that the ship is predatory and only backed by degenerates.

Also she's autistic, so she's so babygirl and a sweet bean and if you even think of 'sexualizing' her by acknowledging she is a grown adult who is capable of feeling sexual or romantic attraction, then you're some kind of pervert. I mean, she's never been out in the world before! What a wholesome innocent baby. Not a single sinful thought behind those big baby cow brown eyes. There's not a chance she's actually interested in living life rather than reading it and making a double entendre at the player about anatomical studies -- No, wait, go back, delete that footage, you can't sexualize an autistic child of 20, the devs are perverts too --

Also she's of Shou descent, so any attempt to depict her as an attractive young woman is fetishizing her. I'm too white to get into this except to say I have seen some friends on the dash grump about how my peers in fandom like to gatekeep how characters of color can be portrayed even by those of shared background. And I just know Sybelle is not getting out of that hellhole unscathed.

Are there ship wars? Are they a popular character to ship, or the kind of character that gets shuffled off and away from shipping for whatever reason?

I can see the many branching paths off of this. Roxelena is a big tiddied bard who is both poor little rich girl and desperately seeking purpose. She's so latchable for Power Fantasy Self-Insert types to push their fav they're projecting on towards -- imagine the edgiest straight guy trying to write fic where Lena is the standard hero reward to a wildly OOC Percy or Artemis type.

On the other hand, she's a big beautiful woman so she's automatically a fat slag to most. There's definitely a contingent of fandom who oh my god just didn't realize that they didn't write Lena into their shipfics, or into any fic at all! It's totally not fatphobia gaiz! She's just such a girlboss that doesn't need a disgusting man! Ignore the fact she's pretty open and available sexually and easily distracted by men's asses!

On my mutant third appendage, the back and forth about her sexuality. To wit, Lena is bi, and was initially designed as a ship oc for a genderfluid PC in a certain piece of media. But she attended an all-female bard college where she remains infamous for her... plucking techniques, shall we say. She's also not conventionally attractive, so she must be a lesbian. But wait, what about her being bi? Well, she's not actually attracted to women, because she flirts with a character who is masculine -- even if more in the way a peacock is masculine. She's straight. But what about her being bi? This point can no longer be heard over the screaming match between the other two.

In like actual real life Lena 'fandom' I think Pupper is aiming for her to be part of a Half-Orc/Tiefling sandwich, while I paid him actual legitimate money to draw the other party Tief touching her boobs. Vote now for Team Mollena or Team Fjorlester.

How does fandom characterize/mischaracterize your characters ship in fanworks?

So here's the thing. Unless the party -- be that in tabletop play, as a Companion in 3, or played in a podcast -- were to go to Evertide for some reason, Mystery's canonical partner will never be seen. She's not a ghost in the narrative, dialogue allows Myst to talk about her and their daughter and get a sense of her history with him, but she's never present in it, either.

Canon would likely state she's a human, she and Myst arrived as outsiders to the city around the same time, and he gave her a post at his shop to get her out of a life scrubbing chamberpots. They've been together for over a decade now and have a daughter to show for it. He's out in the world trying to find whoever tried to hurt her in an attempt to rob the shop several years ago. There's a bit of an age gap between them, but he'll note that their experiences measure up when tallied.

This would give fandom a lot of ground to play with or ruin. Is she a former Adventurer herself? A farm-girl come to the city to make her fortune? A traveler who fell on hard times? How does this reflect on her dynamic with the worldly and charismatic Myst? Is the age gap significant and shift the perspective of the ship as equal, no matter what Myst says, or is it negligible and Myst is only being self-conscious about his own mid-life crisis? Does the fact he was once her employer change the power dynamic inherent to their interactions, and does it become better or worse depending on where the age gap falls? Does his refusal to marry her or recognize her as anything beyond 'partner' denote a mutual doffing of convention, or hint at a deeper hesitance to commit or even a questioning of the relationship, and if so, is he the one resisting, or her?

The gamut runs from 'old married in every way but ceremony couple who tease/fuss but are clearly devoted to one another' to 'wife guy myst and his sweet younger housewifey' to 'myst is a bad bofriend actually and his partner is a victim of that power imbalance' to 'they're actually qpp life partners and just happen to share a kid.'

Be honest. What song is playing over an AMV/tiktok of scenes between your character and their love interest?

I spun three times and landed on Lena each time. God Himself is trying to get me to shame myself on a public platform. Fuck it. Mollena hours.

Angstier ones that acknowledge canon/his fate probably go feral for Francesca. The themes of loving despite the imminent heartbreak, the determination of love in every life, the attestation that love was worth any pain, it'd all play wonderfully over animatics or beautifully edited fanart compilations of Lena not just with Molly but his... Other halves, as it were.

Her being a bard, I can see bardcore covers being popular for both of them. I keep thinking specifically of that one cover of Willow. The idea he's this enigmatic force of nature that dragged her out of her sheltered existence and gave her a taste of chaos and adventure. I beg of thee please, take my hand, foil my plans, thou'rt my man...

[thundershieldevents]

Thank you so much to everyone for participating. What a fun event and now it's time to give give everyone a read, like, and comment. 💖

Master Post

[ART] They Asked Me How I Knew (My true love was true)  by Sagacity for AzureTiger

Rated: T Summary: Steve and Thor (battle-husbands) have to swap suits for ~reasons~. Hilarity ensues. Ficlet included.

Bottled with Love  by Espressosaur for ABrighterDarkness  

Rated: G Summary: Thor is in dire need of a love potion but ends up desiring something completely different.

A Fall From The Sky, A Dazzling Light  by hafital for TheUltimateUndesirable

Rated: E Summary: What if Steve was found in the ice a year earlier? And, when Odin banished Thor from Asgard, the Bifrost sent him to Brooklyn, instead? A What If story.

[ART] Babysitting  by AzureTiger for endlesstwanted

Rated: G Summary: Steve and Thor look after a toddler.

White Noise of Love  by TheUltimateUndesirable for shaggybeetle

Rated: T Summary: Learning to focus on himself, Steve struggles with it sometimes. One time specifically so far which involves an older blond graduate hell bent on pursuing him. Apparently nothing matters to Thor, as long as he is himself. An odd concept to understand as he focuses on the concept of love, until he finally realizes they together they can be the same thing.

got this feeling in my soul  by Sivan325 for Espressosaur

Rated: G Summary: "I overheard my soulmate talking. I may be just reading it wrong," Steve replied but didn't elaborate, trying to figure it out in his mind. "That is interesting. What did you hear?" Tony asked. "I think he is a serial killer," Steve replied, and added, "I heard him saying the words - body, bury and you are next."

Cupid's Arrow (or Loki is a Dick But Maybe Actually Helpful Just This Once)  by badwolfbadwolf for HaniTrash

Rated: E Summary: Loki decides to play matchmaker with Thor and Steve by shooting them both with Cupid's Arrow. Enduring the effects proves to be quite... difficult. And/or amazing.

Safe as Houses  by NachoDiablo for Sagacity

Rated: E Summary: Steve takes a weekend cabin getaway. Thor stops by. Things get out of control. Steve's fine with that. Or: Werewolf Sex in the Woods.

The Best Is Yet To Come  by HaniTrash for badwolfbadwolf

Rated: E Summary: Steve has been careful to keep his relationship with Thor a secret from everyone—including his own teammates. He doesn’t want it to affect their dynamics. But when they’re discovered, things go much differently than he’d expected.

Keep Up   by shaggybeetle for hafital

Rated: E

When I Imagine You in Front of Me, I Wake Up Right at the Moment of Kissing You  by endlesstwanted for NachoDiablo

Rated: T Summary: Tired of Natasha’s insistence on pairing him with someone, Steve gets a truce when he gets her to accept going on a date with someone of his choosing. And of course now Steve has to find the perfect date for her, that seems to be no other than the man he is in love with.

Calling the Bluff  by ABrighterDarkness for Sivan325

Rated: T Summary: It was a joke at his expense.It had to be. It wasn’t the first time, and frankly, Steve had no patience for it. There was no other explanation. Steve didn’t trust it, not at first, soundly rejecting the loud, boisterous requests to take him out. To court him. Because, really? How gullible and naive did they really think he was?

[katealpha]

Art commission from DrakaNoms

https://www.deviantart.com/drakanoms

The end of winter was approaching. The almost constant snowing that came with it would end as well. While some would of course be thankful for the warmer weather that would follow, some would miss the number of benefits they felt winter brought. For Kate in particular, it would be the sights. As much as she liked wearing flowers in her head hair and seeing plant life bloom, she enjoyed in equal parts the moonlight that was almost reflecting off the snow around her as she walked slowly on her own through the woods that surrounded her territory’s western border.

This was around the same place that she followed her father over a year prior to finding out that she was being married off behind her back. The memory stung, despite forgiving Winston for this infraction on her. After all, it was what brought her and Humphrey together, and more than that, led to her current condition. Joining her on her late night patrol through what was now her forest was the litter of pups the charming omega put in her just months after their marriage. Her pregnancy was in its final stages. In fact, Kate could just feel that she didn’t have much more than a couple weeks left. This of course didn’t stop her from going out to make sure her pack could sleep soundly, especially her Humphrey. Being this far along, her hormones were raging like a bear that had been woken up from hibernation, and much of that maternal energy went to her smaller, weaker mate. Even though she felt heavy and weighed down by her growing pups and body, she welcomed the feeling. Feeling her low hanging belly sway to and fro, feeling the warmth the life within her brought to counter the chilly night air around her. It made her feel oddly satisfied with where she was in life.

The tan furred alpha kept her nose up, her hazel eyes scanning all around her. As a fully trained alpha, she’d be able to see most attacks coming. She fully expected one after her pack became open in its rejection of many of the outdated “pack laws” that had been imposed by force for generations. After the blind adherence to those laws from her stepfather nearly got her and her pack trampled, she was quick to toss much of them away when she took her father’s place. While the pack largely accepted these changes over the last few months, Jate knew word would get out, and if any other packs were anything like the tyrant Tony was, they would have motivation to take action against her.

If this were to come to pass, Kate would be there to meet them head on at the edge of her land with a message told by her enlarged and swaying belly. That she was the wife of an omega, and proud to show the evidence of it. After she let this thought bounce around on her head and let out a soft chuckle. Kate found a stump of a tree and lifted herself up slightly by straightening her right leg, boating her round physique to whoever might or might not have been watching her. With a determined expression, she continued her rounds about the dark and snowy forest, mother and unborn pups refusing to yield to any cold breeze that blew over her…

————————————————————-

At last I begin another story involving my account’s namesake! The long wait for this astonishing piece from Draka was well worth it. Fun fact; the snowy background wasn’t something I asked for, but it works so well now that I see the final result. For those wondering, this takes place two or so weeks before the first big Kate commish I got from Convexpert that I’m sure you’re all familiar with. I really hope the rest of you enjoy this piece. I will be sure to bring you more Kate and maybe more Alpha and Omega stuff in the future.

[hasanyoneseenmyspoons]

Megan Rose is 21 and lives with Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, a whole body disease that disrupts digestive functions, joints and muscles and comes with multiple co-morbidities (additional chronic conditions that relate to/are caused by the other). She says that her doctors do not seem concerned that she doesn’t sleep. “It’s something they’ve never been able to help with, it doesn’t seem to be a focus to them that I can go days without sleeping. There’s always other things that need addressing more importantly than my sleep.”

Emma, 25 and living with multiple illnesses, says the same of her medical experience. After finding a medication that combated both pain and insomnia, she was told that she was “too young to be on it regularly” by her doctor, who rejected a repeat prescription request. Ageism is a common feature of our experiences with medical professionals, many of whom still believe that illnesses are in our heads or that our pain can be worked away with exercise and a positive outlook.

The regular pain experienced by people living with chronic health conditions is compounded by regular insomnia to produce the phenomenon of painsomnia. Often the nighttime pain is not responsive to our prescription drugs, which we may have taken earlier in the day in order to complete the mundane tasks of living. Painsomnia differs from insomnia (which I experienced myself prior to becoming disabled) in that it is the overwhelmingly loud feeling of physical pain that wakes you in the middle of the night. Many people know how difficult it is to function the day after a night of poor rest, let alone after multiple restless nights. When you factor in consistent physical pain, the end result of painsomnia is often unbearable.

We often lack the language to talk about our pain with enough precision to describe the specificity of the torment in which we are embroiled. Most people’s understanding of pain is acute: a bruise or a broken leg. People who experience periods know the monthly dread of pain but most have a few weeks of relief in each cycle; for them (unless they have a health issue linked to hormones), the pain is something you can prepare for. I describe my pain using objects or violence so as to elicit the adverse reaction in others that I have to live with myself. It feels like hot oil dripping, like barbed wire tearing, like scraping nails down my spine.

[notjustanyannie]

Megan Rose is 21 and lives with Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, a whole body disease that disrupts digestive functions, joints and muscles and comes with multiple co-morbidities (additional chronic conditions that relate to/are caused by the other). She says that her doctors do not seem concerned that she doesn’t sleep. “It’s something they’ve never been able to help with, it doesn’t seem to be a focus to them that I can go days without sleeping. There’s always other things that need addressing more importantly than my sleep.”

Emma, 25 and living with multiple illnesses, says the same of her medical experience. After finding a medication that combated both pain and insomnia, she was told that she was “too young to be on it regularly” by her doctor, who rejected a repeat prescription request. Ageism is a common feature of our experiences with medical professionals, many of whom still believe that illnesses are in our heads or that our pain can be worked away with exercise and a positive outlook.

The regular pain experienced by people living with chronic health conditions is compounded by regular insomnia to produce the phenomenon of painsomnia. Often the nighttime pain is not responsive to our prescription drugs, which we may have taken earlier in the day in order to complete the mundane tasks of living. Painsomnia differs from insomnia (which I experienced myself prior to becoming disabled) in that it is the overwhelmingly loud feeling of physical pain that wakes you in the middle of the night. Many people know how difficult it is to function the day after a night of poor rest, let alone after multiple restless nights. When you factor in consistent physical pain, the end result of painsomnia is often unbearable.

We often lack the language to talk about our pain with enough precision to describe the specificity of the torment in which we are embroiled. Most people’s understanding of pain is acute: a bruise or a broken leg. People who experience periods know the monthly dread of pain but most have a few weeks of relief in each cycle; for them (unless they have a health issue linked to hormones), the pain is something you can prepare for. I describe my pain using objects or violence so as to elicit the adverse reaction in others that I have to live with myself. It feels like hot oil dripping, like barbed wire tearing, like scraping nails down my spine.