#deeply traumatized and hurt by everything that has happened to her

[ongeloof]

And hope to die | ao3 | masterlist

Summary: A continuation of the 'wholesome apple boy' Caleb fics I started before he was released. I'm still getting the hang of his voice. You wake up from your reoccurring nightmare about Caleb dying, only to find that he's alive, but you keep having trouble trusting that this isn't all still a dream. Caleb takes care of you, through your anger and your disbelief. Your boyfriend drops by, and Caleb is on his best behavior in sending him back on his way. Caleb x mc, Caleb x f reader. This story contains: angst, fluff, a traumatized and deeply angry mc, codependent Caleb and mc, nightmares involving serious bodily injury and Caleb's death, nsfw sexual content, cheating [mc may or may not sincerely think it's just a dream, sorry nameless boyfriend, you can't help not being Caleb].

It’s always the same.

No matter the season. 

You are falling.

Not flying.

You are falling. 

The fall is endless.

The terror of hitting the bottom never lessens.

There is never relief, never growing numb to the sensation of plummeting, of the imminent end.

You fall through rain

You fall through snow.

You fall through cherry blossom petals.

You fall through sun drenched, blindingly blue skies.

You fall, and there is nothing, and no one, to catch you.

Until you fall into his body.

As always, it is he who catches you.

You sit up, panting, big chest heaving. You feel the strength in your arms, your powerful thighs. You smell your own sweat.

You turn, and you see yourself. You, not the Caleb you, the body you’re currently in.

You look wrong. Small, fragile, vulnerable. That’s not you. You’re indestructible. You can survive anything.

You hate that this is how he must see you, as you look at yourself through his eyes.

You turn. Look out the window. A bright, sunny day.

You’re at the dinner table, there is news on the TV. Explosions throughout the city.

You’re worried about Gran, you’re worried about Pipsqueak, her new, dangerous job.

You’re carrying secrets that even though you’re inside him, he won’t reveal to you.

The dinner continues. You watch yourself respond to your Hunter’s watch, you follow yourself out the door, concern rising, frustration that your help is being rebuffed. You send yourself into the cornerstore. You buy vinegar, condiments, what you demanded he buy to keep him busy. You return to the bright, sunny day.

You argue with yourself. You snap at him, cut off his complaints. Lie to him. You’re so frustrated with yourself, why won’t you just listen to him? Let him continue to shelter you, as he has done for the only part of his life that matters to him?

You turn, lead the way back to your childhood home. You say something cutting, sarcastic to him, trying to create more distance, keep him at arm’s length, he who is you, whose body you’re in. 

Your heart hurts, beats painfully. You go in first, as you have been ordered to do by your princess. 

It happens so fast, but there is still pain. So much pain. And then—

You fall into your own body. You wake up, slowly, painfully. The fire is raging, consuming the carcass of your childhood home. 

You’ve been here before.

But this time, he’s outside the house. Instead of his necklace, it’s his big body tossed over the walk leading up to the house. He looks intact, whole in way that you know is impossible.  

You crawl to him, hope surging, despite the impossibility. Maybe this time, it’s different.

Maybe this time, there will be a different ending.

You crawl to him—everything hurts. You push yourself up on your arms, lean over him. 

He’s so beautiful. He could be sleeping. His sweet eyes, closed. His long, straight nose. His full lips slightly parted. You just need to wake him up.

Caleb.

You call to him. You call to him, softly, and then loudly, as he doesn’t respond. You reach up, caress his cheek, as you remember him caressing yours so often when you were younger.

Open your eyes, Caleb.

He doesn’t move. 

You’re desperate. You’re yelling now, screaming. Your throat hurts.

Caleb. Caleb. Caleb.

You’re desperate. You let yourself do something you’ve never allowed yourself to do before.

You lean down. You lean down and press your trembling, panting lips to his.

You kiss him. A soft press, first. Then harder. 

Wake up, you say against his lips. Wake up.

Wake up, you beg.

You frame his cheeks with your hands, touch him tenderly, fingertips drifting along his skin as you kiss him, over and over, untethered from gravity. 

Wake up.

You kiss him for a lifetime.

Finally, he opens his eyes.

You make a noise in your throat as he opens his eyes, and he kisses you back. His lips meet yours, press for press. Soft and alive.

You stare into his pretty purple eyes, the pink shimmering in the flames of your childhood home.

You could fly, with the relief, the realization that he’s not dead. That he’s fine—he’s fine, and he’s kissing you back.

You draw your hands from his cheeks, slide your fingers into his soft, soft hair, pull him closer.

He smiles against your lips.

You can pull harder, if you want.

You grin, laughing breathlessly. You’re overcome with relief, with desire. You slide your hands further into his hair, around the sides of his head, toward the back of it, to cradle it in your palms.

Your fingers don’t meet. They meet air instead.

Empty air.

You pull back. Stare into his face. He smiles at you one last time, before closing his eyes again. Before going limp. You tenderly turn his head in your hands, reluctant to pull your gaze from his beautiful profile. But you do. You have to.

You let your eyes drift, over his soft brown hair, the curve of his precious ear. To where his hair, his bone ends.

You stare at the back of his skull, no longer intact—you stare at the gaping wound of where his mind, his brain, the core of him should still be.

But it’s empty.

You start to scream.

It’s always the same.

You wake up screaming.

It’s always the same.

Sweat-soaked. Heart broken, and yet still pounding so hard in your chest it feels like your ribs are breaking, all over again.

Again, and again, and again.

You hate falling asleep. You hate waking up.

It’s why you’ve never spent the night at your boyfriend’s.

You meet him somewhere, out. Surrounded by other people. Have nice, pleasant dinners. Take in a movie. Go back to his place. He makes love to your body with his body that doesn’t remind you of Caleb because he’s shorter, less muscular. He smells wrong. 

Not bad. 

He’s just not Caleb.

But he was there, in the blurry haze of the aftermath of Gran and Caleb’s deaths. A nice, inoffensive presence, across the bar. 

Normally you wouldn’t have accepted his offered drink. He didn’t look enough like Caleb. Sure, he was tall, handsome. But not tall enough, not handsome in the right way. He would have done nothing for you before.

But after Caleb dies, you can’t stand to be reminded of him, when before, you tried to find him in everyone you met. Poor facsimiles, but enough for one night of fantasy in your head.

When you tried not to call the nice guy back, after the first time you went home with him, he persisted. For weeks. Sending cute, self-deprecating texts. Flowers to the reception of the Hunter’s Association. When can I see you again?

He was dogged in his pursuit of you, as you left him on read. As you accepted the flowers, gave them to Tara, to Nero, to Simone.

One day, the pain was simply unbearable. You needed a distraction, from your twisting, racing thoughts. From the same nightmare, every time you went to sleep. 

You called him back.

But you still never slept at his place.

Now, you wake up from the nightmare, as you always do, with your throat raw, your heart wreckage on the ground, knowing that you are simply moving from one nightmare to the next.

The nightmare of reliving what happened to Caleb, and the nightmare of waking up to a world where he’s dead.

It’s always the same.

Except this time it’s not.

There are arms around you. Warm. Big. A scent you’d know anywhere, in any lifetime, fills your nose. You want to cry. You’ve learned not to trust these aftershocks of the nightmares. Where you’re so desperate for the world to still contain him, that you hallucinate he’s here with you, holding you tight. You can’t believe it. You squeeze your eyes shut, tight, tight, tight. 

You try to roll yourself into a ball, a little shrimp, he used to call you, but the strong arms don’t let you. He holds you fast against his own body, where you’re lying… somewhere. It feels too cramped to be the bed.

“Hey, Pipsqueak. Open your eyes,” a boyish voice you’d know anywhere, in any lifetime, murmurs in your ear. Even as he grew huge, worked so hard to gain heavy muscle, his voice stayed so cute.

A cheek, rough with stubble, against your own.

You can’t. You can’t, only to find this is not real, again. This has happened to you, so many times before.

“It’s not a dream,” the voice says. “Open your eyes, let me prove it to you.”

You want to cry. But you do as he says, every time. How can you not?

You open your eyes and see Caleb looking down into your face—his expression soft, warm. Everything you remember of him.

You feel like time has stopped. You’re disoriented, on your couch. Faint, orange-tinted light pours in through the windows of your apartment. As if the sun is setting. It’s always this way, waking up from a nap, the rare times you have time to actually fall asleep during the day. As if you’re coming from another life, from such a great distance. But now it’s even more disorienting, as the dream of Caleb alive and warm underneath you feels so, so real.

“Caleb.”

It’s all you can say.

“That’s right,” he says, full lips curved in a soft smile, eyes crinkling at their edges. “It’s me.”

He’s stretched out on the couch, one arm bent behind his head. His chest is bare, as it was before you fell asleep. You’re lying on top of him, head lifted from where you’ve been resting it against his big pectoral. He runs his metal thumb languidly across your lower lip as you look up into his face, as he looks down into yours.

“You’re dead,” you say, your heart pumping, pumping, painfully in your chest. The nightmare is still with you. You’re afraid to believe him when he says he’s here, that he’s real. That the nightmare is over.

“I felt like I was, for awhile,” he says gently, letting his thumb fall away, moving his new arm across your back, his big, hard hand, clutching your hip tighter. The pressure is a little too hard. You like it. Maybe it will leave a bruise. “But I’m not dead. Check for yourself,” he invites you. His hand releases you.

You sit up, straddling him, his hips. You stare at him. Let your eyes drink him in. The healthy curve of his intact arm, leisurely bent behind his head. The soft dark hair in his exposed underarm.

“You can do more than look. Why don’t you touch me, if that’s what you need? I’m right here, and I’m real.” He sounds amused, teasing. As if the past year is something you could ever joke about.

You can feel the anger, the fury, close under your skin. But you’re not ready to release him yet. You’re not ready to punish him yet. You’re not ready to retreat again, as you have done for years now, ever since he left you stranded on the ground amidst the wreckage of his broken promises. Right now, in this orange-soaked, suspended moment in time, you can’t resist accepting his invitation. You’ll be mad at him, soon. You’ll make him suffer, soon.

You can’t help it. It’s in your nature. He should know. He’s the only one who knows.

You trusted him with everything, with all of you, and he left you, and then he let you think he was dead.

If he’s actually alive. If this all isn’t still just the cruelest nightmare you’ve ever had. You don’t think you’ll be able to survive waking up and finding him in the ground again.

You shake your head, the feelings inside of you so big, your body can hardly contain them. You can’t bring yourself to decline his invitation. You need to touch him again, to feel him. After so many years of your hands being empty, even as you were touching other people.

But you have to carve out an escape route, even as you accept his invitation.

You will never leave yourself exposed, vulnerable, like you spent years being with him, again. Only in this moment, hanging suspended, spinning lazily between the nightmare and the truth, will you let your heart finish what it starts every time you wake—you allow it to jackhammer through your ribs, crack them open and allow him to see inside.

But he needs to know that this moment is a clumsily drawn card, slipped into his pocket. Caleb’s right to a time out in a fight, valid until the end of the day of its use. 

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you say. “You’re a stranger to me still.”

His face falls. He looks so hurt, for such a brief moment. But then he takes a breath. His eyes soften. You recognize their indulgent affection from when you were younger, and trusted him. “Whatever you say, Pipsqueak. I’ll accept it, whatever you need to say to yourself, for however long you need to say it,” he murmurs.

You reach forward, cover his pretty, gentle eyes with your hands. “I mean it. Don’t look at me like that.”

He laughs, and it sounds infinitely sad. “I’m just lookin’ at you like I always do. I can’t help it.”

You run your fingers over his face, trace his thick, dark eyebrows. Let them drift across his forehead. You take your thumb, and smooth the frown there. He closes his eyes. 

You move your hands, sending your fingers into his soft, silky hair. You let your blunt nails drag across his scalp, and you feel him shiver underneath you. 

You swallow, terrified. Pause your hands in their trajectory that you know you must follow in order to reassure yourself that he’s here, that he’s okay. That the nightmare is finally over.

But you’re so, so scared.

You’ve been here before. Your hands in his hair. Moving towards the back of his skull.

“Caleb,” you plead.

He opens his eyes. The colors of a rainbow oil slick, the colors of his evol, the colors of your dreams. 

You clench your teeth. You’re trying so hard not to cry in terror.

His eyes drift from your face to your neck. 

He reaches up with his silver hand, slips his index finger through the silver chain around your neck. His necklace slithers from underneath your shirt as he pulls. He keeps pulling, gathering the excess length of the chain in his palm, the faint clinking of the metal necklace against his metal hand loud in the quiet room. When he has most of it fisted in his hand, he continues pulling, gently.

You don’t try to resist—you let him pull you down to him. You rest your forehead against his, your hands still clutching his hair.

His breath is warm, sweet against your lips. 

You’ve had this dream before. Your heart is racing, in terror, in response to his proximity, after being so far apart for so, so long.

“Caleb, wake up.” You can’t help it. The plea comes out of you without thought, without effort, like it always does.

Your hot tears hit his cheeks, despite your clenched teeth, your effort to keep them in your eyes, where they belong. He has no right to see them. He never had any right to see them, even when you trusted him.

“I’m awake, baby,” he says against your mouth. “I’m right here. I’m right here, and I’m never going anywhere again.”

He’s promised you before. Promises you’re not sure he ever intended to keep. “You’re dead,” you whisper.  “You’ve been dead for so long.”

“I’m not,” he insists, for the first time sounding a little desperate. A little impatient. As if he has any right to feel impatient. As if he has any rights at all, if he’s actually alive. If he’s actually here, under your hands, and this isn’t the same nightmare it always is, with a more bitter flavor. “I’m not dead. Touch me. Keep touching me,” he urges, softly. “Until you’ve convinced. I’m not goin’ anywhere. Take all the time you need. Just touch me.”

You let his words fill you. You let him nudge against your cheek with his nose as he asks this of you, let his breath in through your parted lips.

You clench your teeth again, brace yourself. “I’ll never forgive you, if you’re lying again.”

He laughs, breathless, eager. “But you’ll forgive me, if I’m telling the truth?”

You tighten your fingers in his hair, hear a little gasp pulled from his lips, puffing against yours. “You’re in no position to negotiate. All I said is that I’ll never forgive you if you’re fucking dead,” you bite out. “If I wake up from this, and you’re still dead, I’m going to take a bulldozer to the cemetery. I’m going to reduce your headstone to rubble. I’m going to gather the gravel in a big fucking sack, along with everything of yours I still have, every last scrap of paper, piece of fabric, your stupid little model planes, the tiny, pathetic number of things salvaged from the fire, and I’m going take my friend’s yacht to the deep ocean, and I’m going to weight the lot of what remains of you. I’m going to fucking sink it. I’m going to make sure that the last bit of you is as far as you can get from the sky as possible, forever.” You breathe. You breathe, and you whisper, “And I might have to tie it around my neck, and go down with it, if you’re fucking lying. I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

He stares into your eyes, and you’re too close to tell what the rest of his face is doing. He doesn’t blink. 

You take a deep breath. Let it out. You don’t care if your breath stinks from your nap. He’s probably fucking dead. And you’ve felt dead, for longer than he’s been dead. What does he care? What do you care? “So no, I won’t forgive you if you’re telling the truth. But I won’t bury you as deep as I possibly can if you are. You can fuck back off to your precious, wide open sky. In either case, you don’t get to haunt me anymore.”

In the silence that follows your promise to him, there is only your breath. His breath. Your heartbeat, and his. The city outside your window is just a quiet ocean you’d like to drown your dead brother in, the cars are waves breaking on the shore.

“You have to keep living,” he finally says, as if nothing else matters to him. “You can have everything else. But you don’t get to die.”

“You don’t get to decide what I can, or can’t do anymore, Caleb Xia,” you snarl, and your anger gives you the courage to force yourself to send your fingers further into his hair, curving around his precious head.

You let out a sob when your fingers meet each other at the back of his head, with his hair, his scalp, his skull intact underneath. 

“Caleb,” you keen, and he finally moves. 

He surges up, taking you with him, your hands still buried in his hair, clutching the back of his head. He wraps both of his arms around you, metal and flesh, and squeezes you so, so tightly. You bury your face in his neck, and you wail like an animal.

“This doesn’t change a fucking thing,” you sob. “You’re not dead but you’re dead to me, do you understand? I don’t give a shit where you’ve been, or what you’ve been doing. Fuck you, Caleb. You let me believe you were dead for a year.”  

He holds you even tighter, absorbing all of your fury, all of your hate, all of the feelings inside you that are too big for your skin, like he has always done. “I know,” he whispers. “I know.” He lifts his left hand and holds the back of your head, gently, gently, and rubs the other along your back, up and down, up and down. He listens as you rip yourself open and let all your venom out, soaking him in it, and he holds you, and he soothes you, and he takes it all.

The daylight has drained from the world while you were exploding in his arms. The lights from the city are the only illumination in your otherwise dark apartment, as you finally slump against him, utterly exhausted. 

“Feel better?” he asks, turning his head, nosing along your temple.

You refuse to answer him, even as you try to snuggle closer to him.

He just laughs softly at your mutinous silence, your traitorous body that refuses to let space come between yours and his yet.

“How about a shower? Might make you feel better.”

“Nothing will make me feel better,” you grumble. You sniff his neck, savoring his warmth, the familiar smell of him, and then deliberately rub your snot and your tears into his skin. 

He just laughs, like he’s ticklish, when you know he’s not. Or like he likes your snot and your tears all over him. 

“Idiot,” you say.

“Hey now, be nice.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “C’mon, Pipsqueak. A hot shower, and then a hot meal. I’ll make you whatever you want.”

You sigh. “I don’t have any food, remember?”

“A hot shower, a trip to the grocery store, and then a hot meal,” he amends the evening itinerary.

“Sounds like work,” you complain. “It’s my day off. I don’t do any work on my day off,” you lie. Because you often work on your days off. It’s another thing that bothers your boyfriend.

Shit, your boyfriend.

You remember the events from earlier today. Seeing Caleb through the crowd. Leaving your boyfriend behind. Letting Caleb take you home. Even though you have no idea how he knew where you live, how easily he got here, without looking at his navigation system while he drove. He has never been here before. You never invited him after you moved in.

You stiffen in his arms.

“I’ll do all the work” he interrupts your racing thoughts. “You don’t have to do a thing. I’ll take care of everything.”

You pull back, feeling like your face is twice its normal size, your eyes puffy and raw from all of your crying. “I promised my boyfriend I’d call him later today.”

There’s another flash of emotion on his face, there and gone again before you can decipher it. “It’s not every day you reunite with your closest friend back from the dead,” he says carefully. “He’ll understand, right?”

You stare into his eyes. He looks so earnest. He sounds so reasonable.

You don’t miss how he still refuses to refer to himself as your brother.

Closest friend.

Tara has never taken weeks to respond to your texts. Has never missed an important event for you.

Xavier has never made you think he was dead for a year.

Sylus has never broken a promise to you.

Rafayel responds to your texts immediately.

Zayne disappeared for years, but didn’t make you think he was fucking dead. 

You wonder who your closest friend is, now. 

You wonder who your brother is, now. What he’s been doing, the time he’s been gone. 

What else he had to pay, to attain his resurrection.

You think about retrieving your phone from your coat. Calling you boyfriend. Answering his questions about Caleb that he probably has.

But you don’t want to. 

You’re a liar to the world, but you’ve always had a hard time lying to yourself. You’re not quite ready to face the outside world. You want a little more time to indulge in the focal point of your inner world, so warm and solid beneath you, his arms around you, before you toss him back to the outside world and never speak to him again. He’s still dead to you, like he was before he died. Even though he’s alive.

He’s alive.

“Caleb,” you say, helplessly.

He smiles in response. “Yeah.”

Now that you’ve been emptied, for now, of all of your rage, your grief, your resentment, the relief is so big. It’s filling you, like helium. You could float away, without Caleb’s evol, you’re so full of it.

Caleb’s alive.

You don’t want to stab yourself yet, to pop the helium-bouyant balloon of your heart by tearing yourself from him, insisting that he leave, returning to the life you’ve made without him.

Is it so wrong to fly with him, for just a little longer? 

Caleb’s right to a time out in the middle of a fight.

“I’m tired,” you grouse. “The bathroom’s too far.”

When he realizes you’re conceding, he makes a little helpless noise, in the back of his throat. You feel his big chest expand, contract, as he sighs, closing his eyes. Then he smiles, opens them again.

 “Aaaall right, message received.” His voice takes on a customer friendly tone. “Wait one moment, please. Caleb’s personal delivery service is activating.”

You laugh as he shakes his body, and yours, while making brr brr noises, like an engine revving and shaking the chassis of a car. “You’re so stupid.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you, the motor’s too loud,” he says cheerfully, standing effortlessly with you still in his arms, your legs tucked around his waist. He carries you through your spartan apartment, to the bathroom. He nudges open the door with a foot, surveys the small space.

“You have a bathtub,” he says, lifting an eyebrow.

“And you have eyes,” you snark.

“I do have eyes, thank you for noticing, little puffer fish.” He smiles down into your face.

You scowl at him. “Puffer fish?”

“You cried so hard that you puffed up like one.”

You glare at him. You know your face and eyes are swollen from crying, but he has no right to tease you for it. “And whose fault is that?” you accuse. 

He lifts his left arm from under your ass and runs his hand over your hair, tucks a lock behind your ear. “All mine, Pipsqueak,” he murmurs, and his voice is filled with such familiar, sorrowful affection that you immediately deflate. “How about instead of a shower, you take a bath? That would be more relaxing. I’ll give you a massage, after.”

He’s been gone for so long. He’s not dead. He’s alive. You can’t say no, right now. Not yet. You want everything from him, like when you were younger.

Before he left you in pieces on the ground.

“I want bubbles.”

He laughs, caresses your cheek with his thumb. “Then you’ll have bubbles.”

You lean into his palm before resting your head on his metal shoulder.

He looks down at you in surprise. “Why not choose the soft shoulder?”

“Hard or soft, doesn’t matter,” you mumble. “It’s you.”

Inexplicably, his face flushes. He blinks, and then shakes his head. “One bubble bath, comin’ up.”

He sets you on the closed toilet before turning to the bath, fiddling with the knobs. He paws through your bath products along the edge, and then underneath the sink. He then turns to you, hands on his hips. “You have a bathtub, but no bath bombs? You only have shampoo and shower gel, you don’t even have stuff specifically for bubble baths.”

“Already breaking another promise?” you ask, softly, before you can stop yourself.

His teasing smile fades. “No, baby. You’ll get your bubbles.” He turns, and you watch his broad back, the muscles shifting under his soft skin—he’s right here, healthy, if no longer whole in the same way as before, with his metal shoulder shining under the soft bathroom light. His cargo pants are slung low over his hips. You can see the dimples of his lower back, the meaty curve of his ass before his pants begin. You want to touch him. You want to bury your face against his ass, use him as a pillow.

Your mouth feels empty.

He bends down and grabs your shower gel. He pauses, stares at the label. As if seeing it for the first time.

You feel your cheeks become warm, but he doesn’t say anything.

He shakes his head, squeezes the bottle. The viscous liquid forms a long, slow drip into the rushing water. 

Caleb’s scent fills the small room.

The bubbles build.

He turns around. His eyes are a lovely, dark indigo. His face is still serious.

He looks like the Caleb you remember. Mostly.

He was big then, but he’s even bigger now.

His arm is different, of course. 

He has that same angry, hungry look you remember that he’d sometimes get before he left for the DAA.

But there’s something else now, another layer to the complicated expression on his face. He’s looking at you with intention, in a way that you never remember seeing.

He squats down before you, looks up into your face.

“You’re going to undress now,” he says, voice low.

You swallow. Your heart is racing. “Am I?”

He nods, slowly. “Yeah, you are.” 

You stare into his beautiful eyes.

Part of you, the currently drained angry, abandoned, grief-filled part, wants to tell him no. 

That part of you wants to tell him to fuck off. He has no right to order you around. To tell you what to do.

That part of you wants to tell him that you have a boyfriend, and that when he’d help you like this when you were younger, it was unhealthy. Codependent. Dysfunctional. 

But he’s here, right now. He’s alive. After so, so long. You are filled with helium, looking into his beautiful, serious eyes. If you flicked an unlit match against the metal of his arm, you’d explode.

“Do it for me,” you order him.

He smiles, and it’s a smile you’ve never seen before. You can see his sharp canines, glinting like his arm.

He reaches forward with one big hand, and it envelops your foot. He pulls it into his lap, and he slowly, slowly peels down your sock. He sets it on the floor, and then pulls off your other sock.

He then slides both of his hands, the metal one cool, his other warm, even through the fabric of your tights, up your calves. He parts your knees, runs his hands up the inside of your thighs. 

Your heart is racing, so, so fast.

You gasp, when he lifts his hands right before his thumbs would meet where your thighs do, and instead gently hooks his fingers under your waistband. “Lift,” he tells you.

You lean back, place your hands on either side of the toilet seat, and lift your ass.

He stares into your eyes as he pulls, peeling your tights, your underwear, off of you in one long slide. By necessity, you close your knees again to ease his way.

The tights pool at your feet.

He doesn’t look away from your eyes.

He lifts his left hand, slides it between your knees, parting your legs again.

He still doesn’t look down.

He stands, takes a step forward, to stand between your now open legs.

His hips are at your eye level. Your eyes widen as you see the big outline of his dick, clearly hard, beneath his cargo pants. It looks painful, trapped down his left pant leg.

Your mouth feels so empty.

He looks down at you. “Lift your shirt.”

Your mouth is dry. If you could hear anything over the gushing water of the bath’s faucet, you’d probably be able to hear it clicking as you swallow again.

But there’s only the water, your heartbeat, his command in your ears.

“Do it for me,” you counter.

His skin, beneath the soft brown fur trailing down his stomach, sweeping across his big pecs, is flushed.

He leans down, gathers the fabric of your shirt in his hands, and lifts.

You raise your arms, and he gently pulls the shirt off your torso, letting it join your tights at your feet.

There’s only your bra, now.

He doesn’t look away from your eyes. “Take off your bra,” he murmurs, and you barely hear him over the water.

You lean back on your hands. Widen your legs. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat, between your legs.

“Do it for me,” you say, one last time.

His nostrils flare as he exhales. His eyes look so dark. 

He leans down again, but this time, he runs his hands from your hips, up along your sides, until he’s holding you firmly along your ribs. He lifts you to himself, pressing your hips against his, your breasts against his chest.

His cool, silver arm is a steel band across your back, as he fumbles with the clasp of your bra with his other hand. You share his breath as he looks into your eyes as his hand works.

Finally, you feel the relief that only comes when you take your bra off after a long day. He gathers its fabric in his fist and gently tugs. You lean back in his arms, and he lets the straps fall from your shoulders, along your arms. 

He pulls you back to him, pressing your breasts back against his chest, skin on skin. He lifts you, like a princess, turns with you in his arms, and then slowly lowers you into the steaming water of the bath. The bubbles envelop you, come up to your neck.

He turns off the faucet, and the ensuing silence leaves your ears ringing with your ever-present tinnitus. Then he stands next to the tub, looking down at you, as if from a great height.

“Soak,” he says, voice hoarse. “I’m going to the store for dinner stuff. When I get back, you better still be in this bath. I’ll help you wash your hair.”

In the warmth of the bath, surrounded by the smell of Caleb’s shower gel, pinned by his intent gaze, you can only nod.

“Oh, before I go,” he says. He flicks his hand in a lovely, graceful gesture, and his necklace lifts from your neck, caught in a shimmering, rainbow haze. Your hair is caught in the same weightlessness, floating around your face, allowing the chain to drift over your head without obstacle. Once the necklace is free, your hair gently falls back down. Caleb catches the necklace in his hand.

He bends down again, offers it to you. “Put it on me,” he says, an echo of a playful order from so many years ago. This time, he sounds authoritative. Like he’s used to giving serious orders.

Time compresses. You are laughing with him on a sunny day, heartbroken that he is leaving, hopeful that you’ll see him again soon.

You are looking up into his dark, stranger’s eyes from the bathtub, heartbroken, missing him, mourning him even as he’s standing right in front of you. You’ve already lost him, all of your worst fears come true.

“Don’t you have hands?” you ask, quietly. 

He snorts, softly. “Yeah, yours.”

He stares at you, waiting.

You suddenly realize you’re scared that if he walks out the door, you won’t see him again.

“If you want it, you have to come back to get it.”

“No,” he says.

You look away. Clutch the tag of the necklace in your wet hand. “Then, no,” you mirror him. As you always have.

“Look at me.” His voice is softer, now.

You refuse.

“Be a good girl, and look at me.”

You swallow again. Feel that familiar warmth in your chest, between your legs, when he calls you that.

When he used to call you that.

You obey him. Look back at his face, filled with that sad affection again. He’s so handsome, it hurts. You missed his face so, so much.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, a reward. 

You want to cry, it feels so good to hear him praise you again.

“Put it on me.”

You reach up, the bubbles sliding over, down the naked skin of your arms. He leans down further, turns his face to run his nose along your cheek as you focus on closing the clasp shut at the back of his strong neck. When you’re done, you rest your palms on the sides of his neck. You feel his thumping, living heartbeat under his skin. He presses his lips softly against your cheek  before standing again.

You look up at him, as he looks down at you.

“I don’t need the necklace as an excuse to come back. I’ve come back, from very, very far away, because you are enough to pull me from the dead.” His soft, silky brown hair falls over his serious, furrowed brow. “I’m going to make you believe that I will keep every promise I make, from now on.” His full lips are set in a determined line. “Starting now. I promise I���ll be back in less than half an hour, to wash your hair. Okay?”

Despite the sincerity in his words, you don’t trust him to come back. You’ve been here before. He was sincere, before. Or so you thought. You don’t want him to go. Not yet.

“Caleb,” you say. 

“Yeah, Pipsqueak.” He smiles down at you, and its warmth reaches his eyes.

You stare at him. You tell yourself that you’re going to toss him back to the world soon, anyway. What does it matter, if he leaves you here again, right now, instead of you kicking him out at the end of the evening?

At least this time, if he breaks his promise and doesn’t come back, you’ll know he’s not dead.

Maybe it will be even easier this time, if he doesn’t come back. You’ll survive, if he never comes back, as long as you know he’s in the world.

“Hurry up,” you say. Instead of, Don’t go. Instead of, Don’t ever leave me again. Instead of, Kiss me before you go.

His eyes drift over your face, and he rubs his left hand thoughtfully over his chin. “I can tell that you don’t believe me.” Before you can scoff at him, argue, lie, he continues. “I’ll just have to prove it to you. I’ll prove it to you, as many times as I have to. Until you trust me again. Be back before you know it.” He turns, and he walks out the door.

You want to scream.

You shove your hand in your mouth instead and bite down, so hard that you can feel your skin breaking.

You don’t make a sound.

You hear your front door shut.

The bathwater is hot. Your bathroom is filled with steam. You draw your knees to your chest, wrap your arms around them.

You think about the dream, and remind yourself that his head is intact. You think about your memory, and remind yourself that he survived the fire, despite everything. That he’s alive, if not entirely whole, anymore.

You want to get out of the bath. You want to crawl into your bed and pass out. You want to wake up, ten years from now. Maybe that’s enough time, to no longer miss him this much.

But he told you to stay in the bath.

So you stay.

You refill the hot water, each time the water begins to cool. 

He’s still not back. You hug your knees.

Your neck feels empty, without his necklace around it.

Your mouth feels empty.

Just as you’re deciding to accept that he’s not coming back, you hear your front door opening again.

You turn so fast in the tub, the water sloshes over the side. “Caleb?”

“Still in the bath?” he calls from your hallway. You can hear him smiling.

You want to throw something at him. How dare he smile, while you sat here, terrified he wouldn’t come back?

You hear rustling in the kitchen. Your fridge door opening, closing.

And then, there he is, in the bathroom doorway, filling it like he always does. He’s so big.

“Ready to wash your hair?” he asks, eyes crinkling at the corners with his smile. He’s wearing a shirt again.

“Caleb,” you repeat.

His eyes soften. “Yeah, it’s me.”

He walks over to you, squats next to the tub.

You can’t help yourself. You throw your arms around him, soapy and wet. He makes a surprised little “Oomph” sound, but he hugs you back.

“You’re gettin’ me all wet, Pipsqueak.”

“You were gone for so long,” you whisper.

He pauses. Seems to hear what you’re really saying. “But I’m back now. And I’ll never leave you alone that long again, okay? Cross my heart, and hope to—”

“Shut up,” you choke out. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

“Okay,” he says, indulgent. “Then I’ll just say, I promise.”

You’re not satisfied.

You’re so pissed.

“Is your arm waterproof?” you ask.

It takes him a second to respond. “Yeah. Why–?”

Before he can finish, you use all of your strength, all of your hunter’s training to brace your legs against the side of the bathtub for leverage, and pull.

He was already a bit off-balance, squatting awkwardly as he leaned over the tub to hug you. You successfully drag his big, stupid body into the tub with you. Water sloshes over the side.

“I want to drown you,” you huff, as you pull him down on top of you, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Well don’t drown me before we get your hair washed, or before I make dinner. That would be a waste of today’s perfectly good Caleb’s personal delivery service, wouldn’t it?” His voice has a sing-song, teasing quality to it. Its familiarity, its playfulness, makes you ache.

You clutch him to you. “That’s the only reason I haven’t done it yet,” you lie.

He laughs softly. “Sure,” he murmurs, pretending to believe you.

Eventually, the water cools again. He sits up, his sopping wet shirt clinging to his defined chest, his soaked pants outlining his big dick, still hard.

It has always been like this. His body, reacting to yours. His complete disinterest in acting on it.

He never said anything about it, so neither did you.

You used to think it was just normal for guys to constantly be hard, until you started fucking them.

He kneels above you and then strips his t-shirt, letting it hit your bathroom floor with a wet splat. He watches your face as he unzips his pants, as he shimmies out of them, water splashing over the sides of the tub again. You’re going to have to use up all your towels to clean up the mess.

Finally, he’s just in his soaking, plain black boxer briefs.

Your mouth feels empty.

He leans over you again. His necklace dangles in the air between you, dripping water. You want him to lean further down. You want to pull the tag of his necklace into your mouth with your tongue and suck.

He makes another little helpless noise, deep in his throat. Breathes through his nose. “Let’s wash your hair, Pipsqueak.”

You let him clamber out of the bath. You melt, as he runs his fingers along your scalp, as he shampoos your hair just the way he always did. You close your eyes, and just savor the feeling of his hands on you.

Instead of moaning, like you want to, you ask, “Where have you been, Caleb?”

His fingers pause. And then resume making you feel so, so good. “Skyhaven.”

It’s like a punch to your chest. He’s been so close, this whole time. 

So close, and so far. 

You want to cry. “This whole time?”

There is only the sound of the water, rippling against the sides of the tub. A droplet from the faucet, splashing. His smell, all around you. From his own body. From his shower gel, the shower gel you’ve been using ever since he left for the DAA.

“Yeah,” he finally answers.

“What have you been doing?” you ask, through clenched teeth. You don’t want to cry again. You want to ask him why.

But you don’t want to know why, yet.

“I got a new job. I’ve been working.”

You have a million questions. You’re too exhausted to ask them.

“Do you still get to fly?” you ask, instead of What happened to you? Why didn’t you come home? Why didn’t you tell me you were alive? Why now? Why not six months ago? A year ago?

He huffs in disbelief. “You’re worried about whether I can still fly?”

“Your only dream was being able to fly. It would make me sad, if you couldn’t anymore.”

He’s quiet for a few moments, before he takes the handheld showerhead and gently rinses the product from your hair. All you hear is the water trailing through your hair, past your ears. He sets the showerhead back in its holder. “Flying wasn’t my only dream.”

You open your eyes. He’s looking down at you, but he’s leaning over you, so his face is upside down in your field of view. “It wasn’t?”

“No, baby.”

He doesn’t elaborate.

You’re too tired to ask.

He finishes caring for your hair, like he used to. When he’s done, he wraps it gently in the type of towel you always use for your hair. He helps you out of the bathtub, but his eyes never leave your face.

He wraps you in a towel. Lifts you in his arms, like a princess, and carries you to your bedroom. He sets you on your feet.

You meet his gaze, as you let the towel fall, plop softly onto your bedroom rug. He refuses to look at your body, but he makes that noise again. Like he’s in a little bit of pain.

You turn, dive under your duvet. He tucks the edge of it under your chin. “You still use my old sweats as pajamas?” 

“Yeah,” you yawn. Your stomach growls.

He laughs, heading into your closet. “I’ll start dinner before we finish your hair. Just rest while I take care of everything.” You can hear him opening drawers, searching for his sweats. After a few minutes, he emerges, wearing only the sweatpants, slung low on his hips. He’s clearly not wearing underwear anymore. You try not to stare at how big he is.

You lift your eyes back to his handsome face, trace his long, straight nose with your gaze. “Caleb,” you say.

“Yeah,” he smiles. “It’s me. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

He approaches the bed. Stands over you.

Time compresses. You are a kid again, and he is watching over you, making you feel infinitely safe in a world that taught you that nothing and no one is safe.

You are a teenager, and he’s lifting you from your bed after a nightmare, he’s clutching you to his chest, tucking you into his own bed, singing you lullabies in his breaking, teenage boy voice.

You are an adult, dreaming that he’s still alive, that he’s finally come home to you. But you know that when you wake up, the nightmare will begin, all over again.

“I promise,” he says, as if he can read your mind, just from looking at your face. “Dinner’ll be ready in a jiffy,” he says, turning, walking out of your bedroom.

You lie there, listening to him in the kitchen. Cabinets opening. Burners flaring to life. The fridge opening, closing. You fall asleep to the safest sound you’ve ever known.

It doesn’t take long for Caleb to orient himself in your kitchen. You have the absolute basics. A couple of pots, pans. Mismatched plates that look thrifted. Glasses that are clearly just jam jars repurposed for drinking.

He pauses, stares at a lovely set of crystal wine glasses that is jarringly incongruent with the rest of your things. 

He wonders who gave them to you.

Then his gaze catches on the world’s best hunter mug he had gifted you, after you had graduated. You had taken it with your fake smile. He was convinced at the time that you had gone home and immediately thrown it away.

He holds it in his hand, notes how its rim is chipped. It has faint rings of tea stains that are really hard to get out by just hand scrubbing. 

He looks inside your other mugs. They’re all pristine.

You wash his mug by hand, and you use it a lot.

He smiles.

No matter how angry or betrayed you feel, you still use his shower gel. You were wearing his necklace. His clothes are still in your closet, even though you had never invited him to your place, after you had landed your position with the Hunter’s Association. You clearly use his mug every morning, to—he grimaces at your half-empty jar of instant coffee—to drink your tea and your shitty morning coffee.

He lets his mind drift as he measures out rice, washes it, gets it cooking in your little rice-maker. As he pulls out your one, crappy plastic cutting board and sets it on the counter. As he takes your pristinely sharpened kitchen knives, and begins chopping vegetables. 

He’s secured his place as Colonel in the Far Space Fleet, as he was ordered to do. Things should be stable for him, for a while. Which is why he finally gave in to the desperate need to see you again. To weave himself back into your life, after being ripped from you a year ago. Long before a year ago, really.

Caleb Xia is a liar. 

He’s not going to let you keep him out this time. He was lying when he said he’d accept anything you said you needed, including acting like he’s dead to you, except your death.

He will accept nothing less but your hand in his, and your moans against his mouth. Your genuine smile, directed at him. 

He knows better than anyone how quickly circumstances change. How even on the sunniest, calmest of days, your plane can be knocked out of the sky. Each day is all you, he, anyone has, really. He’s not going to waste any more time. It’s a lesson from the book he used to read you. He had to leave his rose, for awhile. But now he’s back, and he’s going to give her everything she needs, whether she wants it or not. He should have learned this sooner. He wants to look at the world with the eyes of a child, instead of the eyes of a responsible, societally proper adult.

He has always been childishly selfish. He’s just not going to fight it anymore.

He looks around at your empty apartment, remembers the spoiled girl he used to know. But he can’t find her in this stark, deprived existence. He’s going to fix this too.

He’s a selfish child, and he’s a man with a plan.

It’s simple, really.

He’s going to prove to you, day in, and day out, that he’ll keep his promises to you. That he’ll show up, and be there for you, when you need him, and when you think you don’t.

He’s going to start with feeding you, and then a trip to the grocery story and the mall tomorrow. You need a full fridge and shit-ton of bath bombs, now that he’s back in your life.

The doorbell chimes.

He looks up, frowning.

He sets the knife on the counter. With his evol, he doesn’t need it for human threats.

He pads, barefoot, to your hallway entrance, checks the video feed next to your front door.

Ah. 

The minor obstacle in his plan.

He pauses, activates the cloaking function on his arm. He looks like a normal guy again, now. Nothing mechanical about him at all, not him, nope. He opens the door.

Your boyfriend is fidgeting on the other side, focused on his nice monk-strap shoes. Nice shoes, for a nice guy who works in a nice office.

Caleb knows that you need more than nice to be happy. That you need more than nice to be safe. Protected. Satisfied. Filled.

Despite his carefully cultivated mask, Caleb is not a nice guy.

But based on everything Caleb has been able to dig up on this guy, he’s a nice guy.

He’s just not the guy for you.

The guy lifts his gaze, eyes growing wider as he takes in Caleb’s sweatpants, his naked chest. “Oh, I must have the wrong—” he starts, but then he finally meets Caleb’s eyes, and his voice dies in his throat.

Caleb smiles at him. Wide and genuine. With that little slip, this asshole has revealed that he has never even been to your place before. Incredible. Caleb hasn’t even been back a day and he already has one over on this dude. “Hey, man.”

The guy swallows. Looks like he’s been hit by a truck.

Caleb just keeeeps smiling at him, letting him squirm. He’s certainly not going to be the one to break the silence. He’s got all the time in the world, on this side of your apartment doorway. He leans against said doorway, folding his arms. He doesn’t mean to flex his big biceps in the process, really.

Your boyfriend’s eyes flicker to the necklace that Caleb has the feeling you’ve never taken off since the day he died.

It occurs to him that this guy has fucked you while you were wearing his necklace. His augmented hand forms a tight, painful fist, without his permission. Sometimes he loses control of it, when he’s upset. He forces himself to focus on the fact that now the necklace is around his neck, and your boyfriend is staring at it. His fist relaxes. The pain in his arm recedes to its normal, low hum. Like a constant, distant bruise. The pain in his heart, on the other hand, throbs.

Your boyfriend frowns, shakes his head a little. “I’ve been texting. And calling. But she hasn’t picked up. Can I come in?”

“Oh, that’s my fault. I’ve been keeping her really, really busy,” Caleb says, cheerfully. “I wore her out.” He doesn’t mean to make it sound like an innuendo, honest. “She’s in bed, asleep. I’ll tell her you dropped by though.”

Your boyfriend’s frown deepens. “We had plans tonight.”

“Did you?” Caleb asks, eyes wide, innocent. “That sucks. But it’s not every day that you reunite with the closest person in your life after being separated for a year, you know? Can you maybe cut her some slack, take a raincheck?”

Your boyfriend sighs, runs his hand over his mouth. “I just… I just want to make sure she’s okay. She’s been really messed up, since you…” he pauses, looks at Caleb strangely. “Since you allegedly died.”

Oooh, he’s pulling out his fancy legal jargon. Caleb nods. “Well, as you can see, I got better.” He chuckles. He’s just a harmless idiot, after all. A meathead soldier boy. “And she’s fine. Just tired. She’ll call you when she’s ready. I’ll tell her that you dropped by,” he lies.

Your boyfriend stares at him for a moment longer. Caleb can tell how desperately the poor asshole wants to say something about how fucking weird this whole situation is. But he’s too polite. Too nice. He still cares about social conventions, and appearances. Obviously, he cares more about these things than he cares about you.

Because if his and Caleb’s situations were reversed, Caleb would have already torn the door off its hinges and removed this guy, permanently, from his path to get to you.

But right now, Caleb is inside your home, and this idiot is outside of it. And if he just disappears this perfectly nice guy now, you’ll ask questions. You’re a Hunter now. Which means you have to uphold the law and worry about optics. You’d probably be mad at him when he inevitably tells you the truth, because he can’t resist your cute, pouting face. Or your scary, angry face.

He can’t resist you at all, really.

He just needs to show you that this guy isn’t worth keeping.

All Caleb cares about is regaining your trust, and showing you the one fundamental truth of his universe.

You are his. And he is yours.

The world can end tomorrow, for all he cares. As long as you’re in his arms, nothing else matters.

The guy you’ve been using as a distraction for the past six months is nothing, in the trajectory of your life with Caleb, his life with you. A blip on the radar, after a little turbulence.

Now, he looks doubtful about Caleb’s reassurance that he’ll tell you that your boyfriend dropped by, so Caleb smiles even wider. “I promise I’ll let her know. Cross my heart, and hope to die.”

The guy winces at the reminder that you’ve been grieving Caleb for the last year, and seems to accept that he’s the one who’s being callous in this situation, as opposed to you, for not following through on the plans you had with him tonight. Then he nods in resignation, and he leaves.

Caleb smiles with teeth, shutting the door to your place.

He pauses at your coat, fishes your phone out. 

He snorts. Apparently he didn’t like the text Caleb sent saying that you’d be busy with him for the rest of the night. He sent a bunch of texts, sounding increasingly irritated about you flaking out on plans with him, and called five times. But the texts don’t directly reply to Caleb’s terse message blowing him off. The guy just comes across as unreasonably aggressive.

Caleb smiles. Leaves the messages and the calls untouched in your phone. He slips the phone back in your coat pocket, still on silent.

He whistles as he returns to the kitchen. He sautés the vegetables. Sets everything out in covered bowls, on a wooden tray he finds in the back of one of your cabinets.

Time to wake up his princess and feed her.

He grabs the massage oil he picked up at the corner store along with the food and heads back to your bedroom.

You’re out like a light. So, so pretty. He sets the tray on the floor next to your bed. He gently removes the towel from your hair, which is still damp but drying really prettily even without much effort from him.

He pulls down the duvet, and you make a soft noise of protest at the cool air hitting your naked skin. He stares down at you for a few moments, just drinking you in. 

You’re so, so beautiful. He feels his body reacting, like it always does, to your proximity, your lovely skin on display for him.

He gently nudges you onto your stomach, sits down down next to you on the bed. He pours some of the oil into his hand. It smells really good—it has arnica oil in it, for your no doubt sore muscles. He knows how hard your job can be on your body.

He places his left hand on your back, and it looks so big, against your smaller frame. He slowly rubs in the oil, smoothing his hand over your muscles along either side of your spine. Between your shoulder blades. Up the line of your graceful neck.

You whimper softly, shift a little.

He loves you like this. 

He loves you when you’re telling him that you want to drown him. When you’re telling him you want to bulldoze his grave.

And he loves you when you’re liquid under his hands, letting him move you however he wants.

He leans down, presses his nose into your damp hair. He presses his cheek against the back of your neck, not carrying that he’s getting oil on his face.

He keeps rubbing you with his warm, living hand, savoring your skin he can feel under his fingertips.

You wake slowly from a dream. A dream, where Caleb was alive.

You had tested it and everything. For the first time, Caleb was intact under your hands. It wasn’t his necklace on the sidewalk, or his empty skull under your fingers.

He was alive, and breathing, under you on the couch. Over you in the bath.

It was such a lovely dream. You’re so grateful for this reprieve, after an entire year of night terrors.

Your body feels so good. He’s rubbing your back, like he used to do after track practice. His big hand slide leisurely along your sore muscles.

You must still be dreaming your lovely dream.

You roll over, turning to look up at him. He makes a surprised little noise as you open your eyes, smile up at him.

“Caleb,” you sigh.

“Yup. It’s me,” he says, watching you carefully, but speaking with an upbeat note in his voice that rings false to you. “Delivering your massage, as promised.

You’re naked in the bed, the duvet only coming up to your waist. “What a lovely dream,” you say, reaching for him.

He lets you, his big body pliant under your hands as you rest your hands on his shoulders, pull him down to you.

“It’s so nice to dream about something else, for once,” you tell dream Caleb. “I always kiss you, but in the end you’re dead.”

Dream Caleb’s lovely lilac eyes widen, and he makes that cute little whimper in the back of his throat.

“Does it have to be a dream, Pipsqueak?” he asks, his lips hovering above yours, as you’ve pulled his face down to yours.

“You never kissed me in real life. It will always only be in my dreams. At least this time, you’re not fucking dead. Hurry up. Kiss me.” You’re getting impatient. Who knows when you’ll wake up, and he’ll vanish under the harsh morning sun? “My mouth feels so empty.”

He hesitates. “Do you still smoke, baby? When you’re anxious, or drinking?”

You nod. “I know you hate it. That it’s not good for me. But you never offered me anything else that I actually wanted to replace it with. And you’re fucking dead now, so you don’t get a say, anymore.” You sound mulish. Petulant. You don’t care. You’re mad at him, even in this lovely dream. He left you, over and over and over again.

“I’m not dead. I’ll prove it to you.” He leans down, runs his warm, wet tongue along your lips. “And this isn’t a dream.” 

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” you say, laughing softly, because otherwise you’d cry.

He smiles against your lips. “You don’t have to trust me yet. I’ll prove it to you, as many times as I have to. Open your mouth.”

You part your lips obediently. He lifts his necklace with his silver hand, places the tag, the apple charm on your tongue. “Suck.”

You close your mouth, wrap your tongue around the pendants. You suck, as he tells you to.

“You fucked your boyfriend wearing my necklace,” he says, nosing along your cheek. He caresses your cheek with his warm left hand, then lets it glide along your jaw, down your chin, over your throat. Over your clavicle.

He rests his big palm between your breasts.

You nod. 

“Why?” he asks.

It’s just a dream. It doesn’t matter what you say, whether it’s a lie, or the truth, because Caleb isn’t actually here to receive your answer. He hasn’t been, for a long, long time.

He gently tugs the necklace from between your lips. He puts the wet pendants in his own mouth and sucks, as if savoring your saliva.

You tell the truth. “It’s the only way I could stand for him to touch me.”

He opens his mouth, lets the necklace fall from his lips, swing into the space between his body and yours. The pendants hit the back of his hand, where it’s resting on your sternum “Why are you with him, if you can’t stand his touch?” He sounds so, so sad.

“What does it matter? You’re dead. I’ll never have who I want touching me, now. He’s nice. He cares about me. There are very few people left who do, anymore.”

You don’t want to talk about this, in the precious few moments of this lovely dream. “My mouth feels empty,” you complain. You want him to hurry up, do something. You want him to help you.

“Because you were such a good girl and answered my questions honestly, I’ll give you a choice.” He leans down again, kisses you softly. Your first kiss from him on the lips, ever. What a lovely dream. You’re full of helium. You’re surprised you’re not lifting the both of you off your bed. “You can have my thumb.”

He kisses you again. The strands of his dark hair sweep across your forehead.

“My tongue.”

His lips are so soft, as they press against yours yet again.

“Or my cock.”

You want all three. Everything. You want everything. His thumb, fingers, hand, wrist, fist, his tongue, his ear, his cock, his balls. For years, you’ve wanted everything of his. “Don’t make me choose. I don’t want to have to choose. I want you to choose for me.”

He pulls back from your lips, lilac eyes drifting from your eyes to your mouth, and back again. “All right, Pipsqueak,” he says indulgently. “But first, you have to admit this isn’t a dream.”

You scowl at him.

“It is a dream,” you insist. “Because you’re fucking dead.”

He frowns in turn, brows furrowing. “I’m not dead. I know you don’t trust me not to break promises anymore. I’ll spend as long as it takes proving to you that you can trust me not to leave you again, but it’s time for you to admit that I’m not dead.” He sounds stern. Your big brother, lecturing you to stop doing things that aren’t good for you.

“This is just a dream,” you insist. He doesn’t get to tell you what’s real and what’s not, after so long. He never accepted his big brother role, anyway.

��Fine.” He looks angry, hungry. “Then you only get my tongue, until you admit this is real.”

He leans down, licks your lower lip. You glare at him. He reaches up with his left hand, slides his thumb between your lips. You taste the massage oil, bitter. He opens your jaw, gently. “I know you can’t bring yourself to continue denying me,” he says, sweetly. “Let me in,” he coaxes.

You open your mouth wider, and he licks into it. His fingers fall away from your mouth, drift down your body, to one of your breasts. 

He makes that same helpless noise, as he thumbs along your sensitive skin, squeezes. As he rolls fully on top of you, chest to naked chest. He presses you into the mattress as he kisses you deeply, as his tongue fills your mouth. You suck on his tongue, curl your arms around his broad back, put your hands back in his silky hair. You shift your hips underneath his. 

He’s so big and hard—the only thing between your body and his, the gray sweatpants.

He bucks his hips, once, and you moan. He pulls back, tongue leaving your mouth. You make a little noise of protest. “Caleb.”

“Pipsqueak.”

“Why’d you stop?” you demand.

He looks sheepish. “I’m gonna come really fast in my pants if we keep going.”

“Then come, dummy,” you lean up to kiss him again. You want his tongue in your mouth again.

He looks frustrated. “This is our first kiss, and our first time making out. It’s not every day that I get to kiss you for the first time. I don’t want to just come in my pants within two minutes.”

You laugh. “What, Captain Caleb doesn’t have any stamina?” You run your hands down his back.

He hangs his head. “Not when it comes to you, no,” he mumbles.

“I won’t hold it over your head forever and ever,” you tease him, reassure him. “It’s just a dream—”

He leans down, shoves his tongue in your mouth before you can finish. He pumps his hips, and his big dick presses between your legs in a way that makes you feel as empty as your mouth was feeling earlier. You whine. “Caleb,” you plead, around his tongue.

He reaches down, slips his left hand between your legs. “I’m not gonna lie, Pipsqueak, I’ve dreamt about this before, yeah. But this is real. You’re so wet. Fuck.”

He pulls his hand back, stares at it, the wetness glistening along his fingers. He snaps them.

Rainbow shimmer bursts, soaks your body and his. 

You both begin to float. He leans down, kisses you again. Slips his hand back between your legs. Two big fingers slip inside you, and his thumb presses into your most sensitive spot.

“Caleb,” you whisper, moving your hips as he moves his hand. He pulls his hand from your body again, and you whine, but it’s just to flick his wrist. He fills you again.

Time slows.

He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you, and his forearm flexes, as his fingers, his hands make you feel so good. Your pleasure builds, so slowly. His hand moves languidly inside you, his fingers in your wet, slippery places, but the pleasure doesn’t lessen. It keeps building, and building. He grasps your neck in his silver hand, squeezing just a little. Like he’s afraid of squeezing too tight, and is overcompensating by making his touch as light as a feather.

You float together, caught in a cloud of your pillows, your duvet, his shimmering evol. He slides the hand holding your neck down your back, until he has a handful of your ass, and he presses your body securely against himself, rubs himself against your thigh through the soft sweatpants.

The slow trajectory of his hand moving feels like it takes hours, as he continues to work his hand between your legs.

Hours. Days. A month.

He has slowed time using his evol, in order to make you feel as good as possible from just his hand on you, just his tongue in your mouth. You laugh a little, because you suspect that he's probably also trying to to make up for the fact that he's on a hair trigger right now just from touching you. But he seems to take your laughter as a challenge.

“Caleb,” you gasp, as his thumb presses harder, circles faster against you, as he adds a third finger inside you. You forget everything else except how good you feel, and with a graceful flick of his hand, his thumb, you come with a muffled cry, deep in your throat. The pleasure feels like it lasts a decade.

He does something with his fingers inside you, a subtle gesture that feels really, really good, an aftershock of climax, and then time speeds up again.

He jerks his hips into your thigh a few more times, his hard cock rubbing through his pants against you, and then he groans. 

He pulls his fingers from inside you, lifts them to his own lips. He shoves them in his wide mouth and sucks them clean, while holding you tight.

"No fair," you complain. You grasp his shoulders, push away from him a little. He looks at you like a kicked puppy, but then furrows his brow as you gently pull him up, up, until you’re floating, face level with his big hips. You pull down the band of his sweatpants, down past his still-hard dick, sticky with his come. You lean forward, and lick him with the flat of your tongue. He smells so, so good. Like Caleb, clean sweat and clean laundry, but also bitter, salty, a secret part of him you’ve never smelled, tasted before. You lap at him, and he groans again. You take him in your hand as best as you can despite how big he is and lick him clean, like a lolly pop, as he bows over you, gently palming the back of your head with both of his hands, as you both drift in the air above your bed, caught in the shimmering net of his evol.

You pull away after the silken skin of his firm cock is clean again. He pulls you up to him again, body flush against yours, and kisses you, tongue plunging into your mouth. You taste yourself, and you taste him. He rolls your bodies in the air, until he’s under you, and then he snaps his fingers again.

You both fall back to the bed in a soft thwump of duvet and pillows. His body cushions your fall, and the mattress cushions his.

You rest your chin on his chest. Smile at him. “What a lovely dream,” you say.

He frowns at you, like he’s in pain, eyes a dark indigo. He wraps his arms around you, palms the back of your head as you rest your cheek on his chest. “It’s not a dream, Pipsqueak,” he says, but he sounds resigned.

“Promise?” you sigh, but you’re already yawning. Drifting back to sleep.

You don’t hear him say, “I promise. Cross my heart, and hope to die.”

[bwat5-blog]

Saying Goodbye: Arcane's Songs Of Grief

**Spoilers For Arcane**

Working on a Jinx post the other day it occurred to me I'd never really delved too much into the music even though it is SO IMPORTANT to the story. This is less critical analysis and more just something that interested me so if you don't care I don't blame you! But I get something out of it every time I get to spend time thinking on and digging into this show, so maybe you will to. This won't be too long as quite honestly I feel that-

A: These are fairly self-explanatory

B: I don't have the mind for lyric/poetry analysis and never have

1. Vi's world falling apart

Goodbye: song by Arcane, Ramsey, and Riot Games Music Team ‧ 2021

So this is the song that plays at the end of season 1 act 1 when we were all collectively saying something to the tune of "OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?!?"

It was a beautiful and tragic moment in the show and seriously set the tone for the rest of the story. I see this song as Vi's perspective as her world is completely falling apart around her.

Vander is dead

Mylo & Claggor are dead

Her possible last interaction ever with her little sister was deeply traumatic for the both of them, leaving her with crushing guilt over her loss of control and hurting Powder

She has literally been kidnapped and imprisoned in an adult prison without cause or trial (there is no pit of hell deep enough for you Marcus)

"I can hear the sound of a heartbeat before it goes out Won't ever leave my memory of bloodshed all around, And I can see a tear on my father's face before it falls out" :

Vi is hearing Vander die and telling us she won't ever be able to shake the memory of all this death and pain. And that comes back around unfortunately...

"Oh, my enemy, how could I have ever let you down?

Oh When all these trees saw us grow Cut our teeth and make our bones right here We'd play with shields made of stone Share our dreams and sit our thrones":

I see this as all about Powder/Jinx and Vi's crushing guilt over how they were parted. The trees watching them grow and the place where they played and dreamed of better days clearly being Zaun. But the line that is so indicative of Vi's trauma here is "how could I have ever let you down". As her guilt over how things happened will go to impact the course of her entire life.

"Be still, 'cause I see smoke up ahead and I got steel in my hands We will return like warriors, I swear, that we'll find glory up ahead Tell me

Where is my home? I don't recognize the faces anymore, no Where is my friend? The one I've known since I was only just a kid

I think it's time to say goodbye Goodbye, goodbye Goodbye, goodbye, woah":

This entire last section speaks to Vi's future when she returns to Zaun. Her entire world has changed. Powder has become Jinx. Ekko is a rebel leader and a warrior. The demon (don't yell at me Silco people I'm talking Vi's POV) who took her entire world away from her sits in her father's house. And when Vi returns she returns with fury and steel aiming to reclaim what she lost. Until she has no choice but to admit the world she knew is gone. Which takes us into our next song.

2. Jinx loses everyone

What Could Have Been: Song by Ray Chen and Sting ‧ 2021

I'd call this the song that captured the world's attention from Arcane. I mean having Sting alone was huge but this whole sequence was once again so beautiful and horrifying at the same time. Vi spends the whole show trying to get through to Jinx up until this point and you want to believe she is going to pull it off. Jinx is recognizing what Silco took from them, and the Council is starting the vote for Zaunite independence.

But it all falls apart. Silco is dead, and Jinx feels like Vi cannot love her anymore and feels rejected by her after everything that has happened. And this song begins, taking us into Jinx's POV as she lashes out in this moment of terrible grief and loss and angry. I'm not going to do the lyrics for this one like I did above because they are all pretty clear and direct. As Jinx makes the long walk to her destiny and fires the weapon that will destroy her people's chance at independence, she is telling Vi, Silco and the world how they have wronged her.

But the trick with Jinx is to remember she is an unreliable narrator. So when we are with her in this moment seeing it through her eyes we have to remember we cannot take everything at face value. So even though throughout the show we have seen Vi's guilt over what Jinx has become driving her, and after Silco's death Jinx essentially seems to blame Vi for what follows because she cannot "love her like she used to" because they are different. Where does that missile actually go?

I am the monster you created You ripped out all my parts And worst of all, for me to live, I gotta kill the part of me that saw That I needed you more

I hope you know we had everything And you broke me and left these pieces I want you to hurt like you hurt me today and I want you to lose like I lose when I play what could have been Oh, what could have been

Why don't you love who I am? What we could have been

I am your ghost, a fallen angel You ripped out all my parts I couldn't care what invention you made me 'Cause I, I was meant to be yours

I hope you know we had everything And you broke me and left these pieces I want you to hurt like you hurt me today and I want you to lose like I lose when I play

I want you to hurt like you hurt me today and I want you to lose like I lose when I play What could have been

3. Death touches Caitlyn Kiramman

I Can't Hear It Now: Song by Arcane, Freya Ridings, and League of Legends ‧ 2024

This song takes us into Caitlyn Kiramman's POV as she is plunged into the darkness of her mothers death at the hands of Jinx. Once again visually and musically it is a stunning moment. There is a notable difference to this one compared to the other two that I wanted to mention.

Vi's song-"Be still, cause I see smoke up ahead and I got steel in my hands, We will return like warriors, I swear, that we'll find glory up ahead Tell me"

Even with all of the loss and grief and pain in the rest of the lyrics there is a moment of hope. A promise of justice and righteous return

Jinx's song- "I want you to hurt like you hurt me today and I want you to lose like I lose when I play What could have been"

Full of anger and blame and hurt . Nothing positive but A LOT of emotion.

Now let's look at Caitlyn's lyrics:

There is an ocean so dark down below the waves Where you watch while these dreams gently float away And there is a silence so soft it's only memory Like the way your voice always sounds when you sing to me

But I can't hear it now Just tell me how to keep breathing while pretending I'm not drowning I don't know if I could I watched the door close for good 'Cause I couldn't keep it open

I just watched as the door closed for good 'Cause I couldn't keep it open

Just tell me how to keep breathing while pretending I'm not drowning I don't know if I could I watched the door close for good 'Cause I couldn't keep it open

Vi and Jinx are full of emotion and pain and loss but they are expressing it, even if it is misguided or negative. Caitlyn is drowning in her grief but trying to force herself to keep going and failing, and blames herself.

"But I can't hear it now ,Just tell me how to keep breathing while pretending I'm not drowning"-

Caitlyn so badly wants to hear her mother's voice again but she cannot. And she is trying to go on, be the new head of her house, testify before the council and everything else while maintaining her composure when inside she is completely and utterly destroyed. I mean for gods sake, revisit the moment she finally is alone with the person she can show vulnerability with:

it's like she barely makes it to Vi before her legs give out...

"I watched the door close for good 'Cause I couldn't keep it open"-

These are the last words of her goodbye to her mother. Not a lament of how the world is changed and she has to say goodbye. Not an angry accusation at those who wronged her. But blaming herself...

Conclusion:

Anyway! I hope you get something out of this. I did by writing it. I love the music of this show, and as a life-long band nerd and music lover seeing a show weave it's music into the storytelling in such an original way was truly special to me. Thank you for reading and take care!

[annalacerda17]

I've been thinking about the fandom's attitude toward trauma, and I find it deeply problematic. I'm going to ramble a bit about it.

Here's the thing, either people completely dismiss the element of trauma in the story, or they turn it into a free-pass that can excuse any future shitty behavior from the character.

Specifically, when it comes to Wei Wuxian, I see that his childhood trauma from losing his parents and being left to beg on the streets, and from being made a scapegoat by Yu Ziyuan - who was extremely abusive towards him, both physically and emotionally - to the war, the trauma of being thrown into the burial mounds, and everything that happened from the moment he created the ghost path of cultivation until the first siege of the burial mounds and his death, can all be minimized or all together dismissed by certain parts of the fandom when analyzing his actions in the first life. That's part of why I hate takes that portray Wei Wuxian as oblivious to Lan Wangji's feelings or too emotionally unintelligent to understand the romance, when, actually, there was a ton of shit going on in his life and he absolutely had no energy left to think about romance, of all things. The trauma also becomes progressively more relevant when we look at Wei Wuxian's actions towards the end of his first life - because traumatic experiences kept piling up - and when we get to the battle of Nightless City and later the first siege of the Burial Mounds, it's basically impossible to separate Wei Wuxian's actions and reactions from the trauma he'd endured up until that point.

On the other hand, the certain parts of the fandom really emphasize Jiang Cheng's trauma way beyond the point where it would be relevant to do so.

Yes, Jiang Cheng had an awful childhood because his mother was abusive towards everyone around her. And I can excuse his poor temper when he was a child based on that.

And it's true that losing his parents and sect was traumatic. However, the problem is that in Jiang Cheng's case, his trauma has frequently been used to justify and, in fact, to excuse, all the atrocities he went on to commit in his adult life.

Wei Wuxian, despite his trauma, never became the abuser. In every instance where he used violence, it was either during the war, or he was provoked first. He never took the initiative to be violent or to hurt others otherwise.

Jiang Cheng was completely different. He lashed out because of jealousy and a desire to satisfy his own ego, he betrayed Wei Wuxian and the Wen Siblings, knowing that he owed them his life. And yet, his stans will insist that his past trauma is enough to excuse this behavior. I'm not going to go into how Jiang Cheng's actions were entirely voluntary in this post. Suffice to say that the book makes it quite clear that he turned against Wei Wuxian not because Wei Wuxian's prominence hurt his ego, and the other sect leaders exploited that. But the Jiang sect wouldn't have been in danger had Jiang Cheng chosen not to turn against Wei Wuxian.

I suppose my point is that at some point, trauma can no longer excuse bad behavior. And in this case, when a sane adult chooses to commit genocide, that choice cannot be excused by anything, not even by a traumatic past. When his stans say that he was a victim, they forget about his victims. Sometimes, a victim goes on to become the perpetrator.

In the novel, several characters have extremely traumatic pasts. Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, Jin Guangyao. Most characters, really.

MXTX draws very clear parallels between Wei Wuxian and several of those characters. Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao both have a lower background in a world that bases a person's value on their birth. Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian both lived with Yu Ziyuan for several years, they both watched Lotus Pier fall, they both lost Jiang Yanli. Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang both came from a lower social background, they were both street kids at one point, they were both victims of societal injustice.

And yet, Wei Wuxian chose to break the cycle of abuse. No matter how much abuse he endured, how traumatic his past, he didn't go on to become the next monster, the next abuser. On the contrary, he actively chose to be kind and just and nurturing. He was only ever violent when he was forced to be so - when he had to defend himself or others. Even in Nightless City, after he'd just lost Wen Ning and Wen Qing, he wasn't the first to attack.

On the other hand, Jiang Cheng, Jin Guangyao, Xue Yang, and many others chose to continue the cycle of violence and abuse. And at some point, the trauma in their pasts can no longer excuse their later choices. Those three characters, for instance - I know there are others but I'm not going to list every single MDZS character with a traumatic past who went on to become shitty people themselves, otherwise I'd be here all day - ruined many lives themselves, often those of people who were completely unrelated to their own traumatic pasts.

And if their actions are excused because of trauma, then what about their victims? What about the Wen remnants, who were old, disabled people, and a toddler, all innocent of Wen Rouhan's crimes? What about the people Jiang Cheng captured and murdered under the suspicion of the being demonic cultivators, on the off chance of them being Wei Wuxian? And the book doesn't even confirm that those people were actually demonic cultivators, they were taken because they were suspected of being such. And nowhere in the book does it say that any of those people did anything wrong at all. And what about Qin Su and her child? What about the entire clan Jin Guangyao framed for murdering his son and exterminated under such an excuse? What about the people of Yi city? What about Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan and a-Qing? What about the nameless, innocent victims who didn't get justice?

A traumatic past can never excuse the trail of victims they left behind.

[paulyenvol6]

When Dawn Breaks

Based on this request. Thank you so much for the idea and I hope you're going to like it :) It got really angsty and intense so read the warnings carefully!

Contains: angst, violance, mentions of blood and death, dominant and brutal Daemon, suicide thoughts, mentions of rape and non-con sexual activities, crying, anxiety, panic, forced marriage, reader has gone and is going through traumatic experiences

Wordcount: ~3,715

Masterlist

You inhaled deeply tasting the salty air on your lips.

It was the only thing you could do and had the power over. Breathing. Keeping yourself alive.

You had your eyes closed but nobody seemed to mind as the septon continued to speak but his voice was far away only just reaching to you through your clouded mind.

You inhaled again but then opened your heavy eyelids as you had felt the air brush over your arm that was covered with goosbumps. You stared right into Daemon's grey eyes that were narrowed and dangerous regarding you as though he was thinking about all the terrible things he was going to do to you and you couldn't stop your face from drawing in fear. There was this roaring in your ears overshadowing everything else and you were mesmerized by him though in the worst way possible.

And then it was over. The septon pronounced you man and wife bowing in front of the rogue prince and then left the scene.

You on the other hand were frozen. Stiff and still you stood in front of where the septon had stood refusing to move an inch and not even flinched when Daemon took hold of your arm.

"Come with me," he threateningly hissed out seemingly not eager to cause a scene in front of most of the court but you shook your head squirming in his grip.

"Fuck you. Fuck the whole pack of you, you filthly bastard," you spitted kicking him with your feet when Daemon tightened his grip dragging you with him without looking out for your physical well-being.

"Save your fucking breath, sweetling. You're going to need it when I claim that little body of yours."

He simply wanted to hurt you, that much he knew. Seven hells, a part of him already regretted his choice to wed you right now because he wasn't eager to spend his time trying to break and tame you but now it was too late and truthfully, he was looking forward to spending the night with you.

"Let me go. I swear to the gods, I will – "

Daemon turned his head looking down at you with a smug smile on his face pursing his lips at you.

"What will you do, huh? You think you have any power over me? After I killed your family and everyone who gives a shit about you?"

That was the point when you broke tears streaming down your face so sudden that you hadn't even noticed them welling in your eyes. Blurry images of the mess that had been the last days appeared before your eyes and you wanted it to stop so badly you pressed your hand against your forehead refusing to revisit all of it.

Your brother beheaded in front of your eyes. You had wanted to turn your head away but some invisible force had made you watch it with watering eyes too stunned and shocked to have any further physical reaction to it.

At some point your knees had hit the ground everything around you happening in slow motion, your lungs unable to inhale the air around you and a stinging pain behind your brow. You had sat there for what had felt like hours but then someone had grabbed your arm and at first you had ignored them staring at your dead brother whose blood had soaked the sand of the beach.

It had been your mother trying to pull you up to flee and perhaps it had been your fault that you hadn't managed to. She had urged you, dragged you with her but you simply hadn't been fast enough the rogue prince stepping in your way seconds later, the blood of your brother glistening on his sword.

Your mother had begged him and had fallen on her knees in front of Daemon pleading for your life in exchange for hers and today you felt like throwing up at the way you had merely stood there without an expression on your face as you had waited for everything to be over.

He would kill you, you had been certain. The only question was how much time he would take and if he would rape you before. Your mother had pulled you on your knees as well and you had watched the sand beneath you while waiting and waiting. Your mind had been blank the noises around you just a distanced humming in your ear but when it was silent all of a sudden it had hit you hard. There had just been a quiet bump next to you and then your mother had laid sprawled out next to you.

You hadn't been able to bring yourself to cry. Nothing mattered now, you would follow your mother shortly after and mayhaps see her soon after you had left this wicked life behind but Daemon Targaryen had been true to his reputation and hadn't granted you this kindness. He had let you live.

His feet pushing against your knee he had gestured you to look up to him and when you hadn't followed his demand he had yanked your hair back taking in your tear stained face and then exhaling loudly. You couldn't remember what he had said because this whole day was blurry in your memory, a real fever dream. But he had taken you with him to his army's camp chaining you to a chair in his tent while you still hoped to be redeemed soon waiting for him to behead you with his sword.

But the day hadn't come and nothing significant had happened either. Daemon had rarely come to the tent leaving you with nothing to do except to cry about your family and refuse to take any food that was being offered to you until 5 days ago the rogue prince had announced that he intended to wed you.

You had watched him utterly star-struck, no word of resistance escaping your mouth and it wasn't because you desired to wed him but rather because you were a lifeless shell. You were alive but in some way you weren't. You couldn't move, you couldn't breathe and you certainly couldn't spreak. You thought maybe you would never be able to speak again but today had shown you that you could.

Because that was how you had ended up in front of the septon marrying Daemon Targaryen, the man that had murdered your entire family and let you live only to humiliate and disgrace you further. Your insults were the first words you had ever said to him but now that you had started you couldn't stop.

"Kill me. Kill me and if you don't do it I will do it myself and kill you too. I don't care about anything but I won't live this way. I won't be your fucking wife to plant your heirs inside and I would rather drown or be burned alive than…than this."

Daemon chuckled lowly as if you had just said the funniest joke he had ever heard not at all impressed with the gravity of your words.

"You most certainly are not boring, little one. I wouldn't have thought so. I almost believed that you can't speak at all."

Your face drew with pain as his hand around your arm tightened preventing you from as much as flinching and then you found yourselves in front of the red keep. Daemon walked inside looking more than unbothered and indifferent and lightly spoke to you as if it was an afternoon like every other.

"You know, I would have liked to celebrate our union with a feast. I was actually eager to show you off to my friends but it is not fit to hold festivities for a marriage like ours, I have been told. But don't worry, sweet girl, we will have enough opportunities to feast."

"You will die for this. You will be punished for all your crimes and if I won't kill you the gods will judge you."

Daemon ran his eyes over your face as if he pitied your naivety.

"The gods don't care about either of us. That's why I have to do the gods' work."

You didn't know what to reply but also didn't have a lot of time to think about one because he kept moving pulling you with him until the two of you arrived in his chambers. You had been completely silent the whole way the only sound being your sobs and whines but now that you were in his rooms, the seriousness of your situation showing, you eventually broke down thinking that there was only one way to move him left.

"Please," you cried blinking at him through a veil of tears. "Please just don't hurt m-me. P-Please…"

The corner of his mouth curled as though all of this was just an amusing game to him cupping the side of your face as he looked you up and down.

"Oh my… There she is…," he mumbled with a low voice. "I think I like you better that way. Now let it all out, that's right…"

You jolted away from him refusing to let him touch you but still felt so vulnerable under his piercing gaze as you bawled your eyes out.

"You know that you won't change anything by doing this, mhm?" he whispered not letting you out of sight for a moment.

"You can cry all you want and perhaps I actually do enjoy to see your pretty face like this but I will claim you and hurt you if necessary. It's sweet, really. I'll give you that. But if you think that I'll let you off you don't know me."

He took a step towards you which made you twitch and walk backwards until you felt the wall behind you. Your eyes were wide, your pupils dilating in panic as he examined your face his eyes never having looked more dangerous.

"You're so pretty. Has anyone ever told you that? I just know that you're gonna feel so fucking perfect when I fuck you. And I think you're a maiden, isn't that right? Because you're always such a good well-behaved little girl that wouldn't just give her innocence away before marriage. I'm glad you didn't. Because now I'm gonna be the first one to feel and mark you as mine. You're gonna bear my children, be my little fuck-toy."

You dropped your head tears soaking your clothes and his as well because he was so close now that he placed his left hand on the wall right next to your head while his right wrapped around your chin.

"Shhh… It's not gonna be so bad. Maybe at some point you won't be in pain anymore if you're a good girl. If you relax for me. But it's also fine if you don't because that's only gonna make it better for me."

Then he suddenly let go taking a step back from you like he had just changed his mind and aimlessly walked around.

"I'll be back soon. You're gonna stay in here doing whatever the fuck you want. You better be ready when I return, little girl. There are guards outside so don't even try anything, they will tell me if you only attempt to disobey me and I will not go easy on you."

He flared his nostrils one last time before walking to the door, utterly unbothered by the way you were still pressed to the wall sobs relentlessly leaving your body.

Once Daemon was gone you waited like this a few more minutes too scared that he might come back. The only noise was your heavy panting but you almost expected the door to open any second, him storming inside and taking you now but it didn't happen.

When you believed you were safe for now you pushed yourself away from the wall and almost instantly fell to the ground your wobbly weak knees not able to hold your body up. You sniffed but then slowly rose from the floor again making your way to the table to sit down on one of the chairs.

But the blood in your veins was throbbing urging you to get up right now and do something; anything to prevent the threat that was hanging upon you. There were guards outside, yes and Daemon had made clear that he would punish you if you just attempted to flee. So maybe through the window?

You approached it and felt your head spinning at the view. You were high above the ground the people of king's landing looking like ants from up here so that definitely wasn't an option. You swallowed loudly biting down hard on your lip your eyes still fixed on the window.

What were the alternatives? There hadn't passed a second in the last days when you hadn't wished to be dead. Now you had the chance. You could open the window, jump and never return to the rogue prince's claws. You would trick him, take away what he believed to be his and perhaps in the afterlife think about his frustrated face.

You gulped again taking another step towards the door to freedom feeling your heart pound loudly in your chest. But then all of a sudden your mother's face appeared before your eyes. The person that had offered her life to Daemon so you could live. It had been her only want to save your life and now you were alive; now you were a breathing creature and a part of you was certain that she knew. She had wanted you to live and now you intended to throw it away only to join her in her death?

There was a burning ache in your chest that seemed to pull you back from the window and feeling fresh tears in your eyes you clung to the backrest of a chair, your knuckles turning white from the grip. No, you couldn't do it. Right now it looked like you didn't have any prospect in your life, but at least you had to try and fight. You wouldn't give up that easy.

Inhaling deeply you looked around in Daemon's chambers as though you would find the solution in here. Your eyes were still running over the different objects placed on the table but the longer you stared the more your newly found motivation faded. Your situation was helpless as there just wasn't a way to escape from this room without getting caught before you could even set a food outside the red keep.

And in addition to that you were running out of time. Daemon hadn't specified when he would return and it drove you insane to know that he could enter these rooms any minute.

You eventually ended up with a plan that you weren't even convinced of yourself but you had a feeling that you had to do something. You would curse yourself for the rest of your sad life if you didn't try and so you rose smoothing up the wrinkles in your dress and glanced at the closed door. All you had to do was pass the guards and sure, there would be a lot more people to stop you from escaping but you didn't want to think about that just yet.

You slightly opened the door peaking out of it and immediately saw one of the guards turning to you and stepping in your way.

"What is it, my lady?"

You didn't even have to fake to look sick because you were certain that you were pale as a ghost as you pretended to stumble on your feet pleading for help with your glossy eyes.

"I need help. I'm not feeling well, please. I don't know what it is but… I'm cold and hot at the same time and I…"

You left the sentence unfinished reaching out to grab the wall in order to support yourself and saw the guards exchange a brief look.

"I'll go and get a maester," was all one of them said and after the other had nodded he quickly got moving turning around a corner and then there was only one enemy left.

This second part of your plan was a lot more risky and tricky because truthfully, you didn't have one. It was all about taking advantage of the guard's surprise and so you sank down a little further closing your eyes.

"Please. Can you feel if my body is heated?" you asked with a thin voice and triumphed when you heard him come closer.

The guard kneeled down next to you lightly touching your forehead and that was the moment when you gathered up all your strength and kicked him in the side. It didn't work as well as you had hoped but it gave you enough time to jump to your feet and run.

You heard a loud curse behind you but all you could think about was running like your life depended on it and mayhaps it actually did. The air was roaring in your ear along with the sound of your own heartbeat. You felt a uncomfortable stitch in your side but your legs worked automatically carrying you down the stairs and you were so focused on not losing your balance that you didn't even pay attention to how close behind you the guard was.

The dream shattered when a cold hand wrapped around your upper arm which instantly made you panic and you let out a loud shriek your whole body shaking and trembling with the attempt to make the person let go off you.

You kicked around you, your hands hitting against the person's chest repeatedly, anything to free yourself but nothing worked and in the end you were just a crying mess that would have fallen down if your captor hadn't held you so tightly. Only now did you realized that it was Daemon Targaryen himself who had caught you and you knew that things would be over for you now.

The prince dragged you with him up the stairs and the fact that he hadn't said anything to you yet – at least you hadn't perceived any words – scared you. It was like he was saving his fury and you feared that it would crash down upon you once the two of you would be alone in his chambers.

You heard a noise above you, a new pair of boots walking down the stairs and then Daemon's voice cut through the air for the first time since he had found you.

"It's alright, Dalton. I'll take care of her."

You wanted to scream and beg the man not to leave because you didn't want to be alone with Daemon at all costs and you were certain that whatever Dalton might do to you was nothing in comparison to what awaited you now but you remained silent. It just wasn't possible for you to speak up.

Within seconds Daemon had brought you back to his chambers and roughly pushed you to sit on a chair while he towered over you. Too scared of seeing his angry face you dropped your chin to your chest focusing on the floor beneath you and shrieked when he took hold of your hair forcing you to raise your gaze.

"You stupid little slut are gonna look at me when I talk to you."

His eyes looked almost black and his jaw and mouth were clenched with blind rage. Then his hand came down hard on your cheek making your head turn and you immediately touched your stinging skin choking on a cry.

"I told you to look at me," he growled adjusting your head again and then wrapped a hand around your throat.

"What did I tell you, you filthy whore?" he whispered threatingly and it was worse then if he would just shout at you.

You tried to shake your head but Daemon reacted to it by squeezing your neck tightly so before he would kill you you mumbled a few words which made him losen his grip again so he could hear you.

"Y-You told m-me to stay i-in here," you managed to press panic controlling all your senses.

"That's right," Daemon purred still not letting go of your neck and then smacked you across your face again only that this time he didn't grant you the freedom to jolt away.

"I told you to stay in here. And I told you that I wouldn't go easy on you if you try to leave. And now I come back and find you running down the stairs. How do you expect me to react to that, mhm?"

You squirmed in his grip although you knew that there was nothing to do except enduring his outburst.

"You expect me to guide you back to our rooms and reward you with a kiss?"

Your eyes once again flickered to the ground below and this time his hand enclosed your neck so tightly that he prevented air from entering your lungs which left you choking and trembling under his grip.

"You dirty slut. You lying stupid slut are gonna pay for this. I'm gonna lock you in my fucking chambers if that's what it takes for you to obey me. You will regret this mistake and I'll make sure you won't ever even just think about doing something like this again."

With these words he reduced the pressure allowing you to inhale again which you greedily did. Then he completely let go off you stepping back which surprised you so much that you stared at him anxiously expecting him to snap and hit you again any second.

But instead Daemon opened the first buttons of his shirt and once you realized what he was doing you found that you would have preferred to just have him slap you again.

"I will take what's mine now. And seven hells, you have missed your chance to get a gentle treatment, little one," he dangerously whispered watching you with hungry eyes.

"Cry all you want, complain and beg all you want, I don't care. But when dawn breaks you'll be mine. Every inch of your body is going to belong to me and I will have claimed you in more ways than you can possibly imagine."

[sepublic]

Amity obviously forgives Luz for not mentioning she helped Belos find the Collector for a lot of rational reasons. But among them, let’s consider that…

She knows firsthand what it’s like to unfairly blame yourself for doing something an abusive adult pushed you into doing, that had a traumatic impact on loved one(s); And so you hide this secret believing others will feel the same way, especially from your (future) girlfriend that you don’t want thinking any lesser of you, because you don’t want to sabotage this new, wonderful thing that has happened to you. But instead of admitting it of your own volition, someone else does it for you, and you expect to be hated but instead you’re loved and reach resolution.

That’s the beauty of S2 Lumity onwards; That after Luz put in so much compassion and patience towards Amity and her unpleasant side, Amity is repaying that same favor. It’s her side of the relationship now with someone who’s trying to love but has also been deeply hurt and become difficult, but is trying to accept they can love themselves too.

It’s heartbreaking for Amity to see in real time what happened to her, happen to Luz after Luz rescued Amity from that; But maybe a lot of that framework was already there too, and so Amity is understanding her girlfriend better too, in so many ways; What it was like to handle Amity herself at first, the trauma Luz hides so well, etc. Amity’s appreciating her girlfriend even more than she already did, knowing Luz had her own baggage all along but kept trying. Luz isn’t the perfect fix-everything girlfriend either, she needs help too.

I wish we could’ve seen Amity and Camila bond over their concern for Luz’s spiraling state and have a Mother/Daughter-in-law moment, particularly in For the Future (with Amity being preoccupied beforehand). But at the same time, Willow had a similar conflict and needed that focus more. It definitely made more sense to have Camila and Willow together, plus Luz needed someone to look after her while Camila received private advice; The girlfriends needed a proper conversation with each other in S3 where Amity could comfort Luz after her self-isolation in the previous episode, which we see here.

And Luz is allowed to have what she gives out. What goes around comes around. All the people Luz has helped are coming back to help her too, and when she asks why, it’s because they remember what she’s forgotten; Not just the help, but that they themselves know firsthand. And that was Luz’s wish, was it not? To be understood.

[luv-lock]

Will Jason in Jaybird ever become mentally healthy? Because, I know that Jason is a victim and that this is dark fic series. But, I do wonder in the small bits of sanity he has, if he will ever regret it.

Tho, loving the story, and do wonder if you received a previous asked of mine, cuz my internet was fucky on the last ask.

Sorry love I didn't got your previous ask. But it's ok I'm going to answer your question and well if you guys want to know anything about the story just ask, I will gladly answer.

Anyway let's dip in. First of all I had plan to start a new series about what will happen afterwards. So yeah I will explain more there but here's a shortcut:

Jason’s mental health in Jaybird is a complex thread that runs through the entire story. On one hand, he’s a victim—a deeply traumatized individual shaped by his death, his resurrection, and everything in between. On the other, his choices in the story are his own, steeped in anger, pain, and an obsessive love that he can’t seem to escape.

So, will Jason ever become mentally healthy? Probably not fully—not in the way we typically imagine. But that’s not to say there’s no hope for growth. Even in the darkest corners of his mind, Jason has moments of clarity, bits of humanity that shine through. Those moments are crucial because they show he’s capable of change, even if he’s not ready to embrace it yet.

Does he regret what he’s done? Absolutely, but it’s layered. It’s not just guilt; it’s this deep, gnawing realization that he’s not the boy she used to share candy with on the balcony. He’s become something he doesn’t recognize—and worse, he’s hurt someone he loves. But regret doesn’t equal redemption. Regret is passive, and Jason’s journey is anything but passive. He’s constantly wrestling with his pain, his anger, and the tiny sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, he can be better—not for himself, but for her.

When the story moves forward, their relationship shifts too. It’s quieter, more strained. They don’t immediately go back to what they had, and maybe they never will. There’s a lot of avoidance, a lot of hesitance, but there’s also this undeniable pull between them. They can’t stay away, even when they know they should. It’s toxic, yes, but it’s also deeply human.

Jason calls her “Doc” now, and she still calls him “Jaybird.” Those little things matter—they’re pieces of the past that neither of them can let go of. They argue, they push each other away, but at the end of the day, they find themselves back in the same orbit. It’s messy, it’s painful, but it’s also real. And in those quiet moments, when they’re sitting on a balcony sharing a cigarette instead of candy, there’s a sense that maybe, in some small way, they’re healing—not perfectly, not completely, but enough to keep going.

[devildomwriter]

you said the brother's seven sins are based on their PTSD symptoms can you elaborate on it, please?

I’m not sure how I phrased it but when I mean is much of their personalities can be attributed to PTSD.

Lucifer’s need for control stemming from a situation where something traumatic happened that he had no control over.

Mammon’s need for instant gratification (serotonin) through things like gambling. Hoarding treasure to make sure he has a little financial security. Kleptomania is also a more uncommon symptom is some people with PTSD based on specific traumas.

Leviathan shells himself away in his room and becomes obsessively passionate to the point of blocking out the real world. He’s also self deprecating and afraid of socialization.

Satan’s fits of rage, lashing out before he can be hurt, learning things obsessively to avoid feeling inferior or like a burden. The need to constantly put down the person he feels inferior to.

Asmodeus being obsessed with gratification, validation, and recognition of others.

Beelzebub eating no matter the situation. Food is a big coping mechanism for most people and he’s eaten so much his stomach is a bottomless pitting meaning he needs to keep eating more and more.

Belphegor sleeps to avoid the waking world, school, socialization, generally everything. He also redirected his trauma of the war on humans because he needed something to blame and couldn’t otherwise cope.

Simeon wrote his trauma and loneliness down and created an ideal world with the brothers, one that he could control. He also acts as though nothing has changed since the war, still treating them exactly as he did, even calling them by their old nicknames.

Diavolo is bubbly and friendly because he’s deeply lonely and wants friends. He has people pleasing tendencies not only due to the pressure of his position but because of the rejection and strictness of his own father.

Mephistopheles is prickly and angry towards the brothers because they take Diavolo’s attention and Diavolo was the sole reason he was born and who he was raised to stand by. All that he is is meant for Diavolo.

Raphael is quick to defend himself with spears, likely trauma from war. He’s hyper observant and generally tries not to react to things or give away what he’s feeling. He’s built a metaphorical walls around himself.

Solomon never gives away what he’s feeling, avoids talking about himself, manipulates others before they can manipulate him, and has desire for dominance, power and control. He also seeks validation and praise for his work, especially from a human, since the human world rejected him as a child.

Thirteens’s trauma is based solely on Solomon’s cooking and she does what she can to avoid, lash out, and take revenge through her various pranks.

Michael collects mementos and reminders of his friends, storing them safely away and immediately recognizing when something was missing. He also maintains strict control of the friends left in his life likely keeping an eye on them to make sure he’s not left or betrayed again.

[venomwrites]

So, I felt conflicted about everything in the last chapter. Which I think is a good thing. I get Cait should have talked with Vi about her decision. But I also understand her need to do something for herself. And I've loved that Cait went and did it regardless but also in the end gave Vi a choice to be a part of it. Plus the reconnect of intimacy with the dropped badge was a nice touch because Cait actually recognized Vis trauma.

And I feel for Vi. I do. That is some fucked up shit that happened on that bridge. And not her fault. And Cait should have been more mindful of that. And I need that to be recognized. But here is the kicker: I understand Vis conflicted emotions but I also understand Vander's anger.

Because: Vi is not responsible for her trauma. But as you said: She is responsible for working through it. And what she went out of her way to do is hurt Cait. It's a trauma response. And it makes sense to lash out. But it's no excuse to do it. It's no excuse to go out and hurt ppl. And she did so deliberately. And it's conflicting in the best way. Because on the one hand, the person Vi cares about so so much, who kept her alive, goes off to join the force who hurt her deeply. But on the other hand Vi goes out of her way and maybe only temporarily to hurt Caitlyn who fought hard to keep them alive in a way traumatizing her in return.

It's a great thing! I was conflicted writing it!

I really love what you said at the end because one of the things that really drew me to exploring this AU was how Vi and Caitlyn would experience the Bridge. And we know Vi's trauma, but imagine being Caitlyn who gets tear gassed in her living room. And we see that trauma affecting them as they grow up. Caitlyn has now experienced a taste of the brutality but for all her resources she can do nothing except try to make this one Zaunite a bit less miserable. And Vi grows up filled with anger towards Piltover but also aware that there is at least one Piltover person keeping her alive.

I tried to plant this seed that Felicia, Vander and everyone else thought Vi's soulmate was someone in Piltover with resources, but no-one considered it was the Kiramman's. Vander even says to Cassandra that he wondered why she called off the Enforcers on the Bridge. So Vi's Soulmate is both directly responsible for her survival and very connected to her parents death. I think it leads to a lot of complicated feelings for Vi regarding her Soulmate even though Caitlyn did not do any of those things directly.

Vander doesn't want Vi to make his mistakes. He doesn't want he poisoned by the anger that poisoned him. That's why when he sees her being deliberately cruel to Caitlyn with the face tattoo, he calls Silco. It's almost past the point of whose right or wrong, it's kind of forcing Vi to see that she can have the anger but it's going to cost her a lot. It's almost an echo of the 'who are you willing to lose' scene in the show.

That's why I loved that scene where she finally says to Caitlyn you really hurt me instead of lashing out. And I think that's what lets Caitlyn say Vi hurt her too. The violence turns from physical lashing out to words. They grow past their predecessors because they don't descend into the same violence. Even though it would be justified. When I was a kid learning to cross the street, my mother used to tell me you can have the right of way and still be killed by a car.

Now for the acknowledgement of the trauma, this came up in my other fic but Caitlyn actually takes off the bandage. She has the VI tattoo in her official Enforcer's license. She does it so every time she takes it out she remembers what Enforcers did to Vi and her family. It's a reminder to consider her actions in the line of duty.

And then when Vi becomes an Enforcer, their licenses match.

Also. yes I loved the dropped badge. Especially in the wake of Vi deciding to go with the other Soulmates (which Cait didn't even tell her about to spare her from it). I love that when Vi decides something is more important than her anger, Caitlyn shows her she's always been more important than the badge.

[simkjrs]

umineko witches & the problem of the scapegoat

info: i have not read past episode 4, and am currently on a re-read through the question arcs to try solving the mysteries before challenging the answer arcs. contains spoilers for episodes 1-4.

upon rereading episode 1, i was really struck by the scene where battler refutes eva's reasoning that "proves" that natsuhi must have killed kinzo.

he comes up with a ridiculous possibility for how kinzo could have escaped the "closed room" that eva set up. and it's stupid. but, battler argues, "you cant prove this stupid thing didn't happen, so there's still room to believe in someone i want to believe in."

sound familiar...? it's because that's the reasoning beatrice uses to argue that magic can exist. you can't prove that magic didn't make it happen, therefore, it's not wrong to believe in magic.

let's called this "witch style reasoning."

why did battler argue? not because he really believed what he was saying, but because he just didn't like the situation.

witch style reasoning is not about "reason," it's about emotion. because battler doesn't want to doubt his aunts, he argues to establish that he doesn't have to. notably, emotion is tied to "red, the color of passion," in opposition to "blue, the color of truth."

since beatrice and the witches are the users and representatives of the "red truth," one would think that battler, as their opponent and the user of the "blue truth," should embody the merits of the blue truth.

but he doesn't! his goals are set by his emotions in the moment, and as exemplified in his argument with eva, his "argument" is not about finding the truth, but about making room for what he wants to believe.

in many ways, battler shares the virtues and thinking style of the witches. this naturally leads us to our next question...

what role do the witches play?

the obvious answer, of course, is "the antagonists."

however, i think the more important answer is that the witches are scapegoats.

battler wants to believe in beatrice so he can blame an outsider for the deaths that have occurred, instead of suspecting people he knows and cares about.

maria believes in the existence of the evil witch in order to explain why her mother, the one she loves so much, could be so cruel to her. in order to love her mother, she needs the witches to blame.

ange is able to see eva, her abusive guardian, as a hurt and traumatized woman, but only after she "realizes"/"blames" the black witch who has been making eva act that way:

(thank you @/demonanata for posting screencaps from your manga readthrough so i could use them instead of rereading 500,000 words for the scenes i needed)

to the characters, the reason why witches "exist" is because they can then be blamed for all the evils of the story, instead of the people close to them.

by scapegoating witches, battler, maria, and ange are all able to see natsuhi, rosa, eva, etc. as the flawed and hurting humans that they are. it makes it possible for them to love & reach out to these people who have deeply hurt them, and ask, "why did they do that?"

by blaming the witches, you can see the people who have hurt you as human.

but wait a moment...

yes, you may have noticed the problem.

the witches are also flawed & hurting people who are hurting them!

once you start seeing the humanity & suffering of these family members who have done terrible things, you must also ask yourself: why can i not do the same thing for the witches?

with the way the game has been set up, to believe in the witches is to blame them for everything. conversely, i believe that to love them & accept them, you must refuse them as a convenient scapegoat, & thus, deny their existence. you must, instead, face the people around you not just with love, but with truth; and you must not just face them with truth, but also with love.

we can see the limits of witch style reasoning in the episode 1 argument between battler and eva. battler declares that he defends natsuhi for the same reason he would defend eva -- that he doesn't want to doubt either of the people he knows!

this emotional appeal is enough to reach the hearts of two almost certainly guilty people*. his faith and love has touched their hearts. however... it's not enough to erase what has been done.*

to deal with what has been done, you need the truth.

for that reason, i think that the emotion vs truth dichotomy set up in the question arcs is a false dichotomy, because you need both in order to love & understand someone who is difficult, and hurting you.

the witches' desires

this is the explanation that ange gives for why people can become abusive, but obviously, it also applies to the characters blaming the witches for their suffering. thus, the witches cause suffering, and they exist because of the way people try to escape their suffering. this makes them a symbolic stand-in for cycles of abuse.

beatrice,necessarily stands for the suffering passed down from kinzo, to his children, and then to his grandchildren; she professes to care for characters like battler and maria, but they suffer under her game just the same as characters she hates, like shannon. she immerses herself in a family that has caused her much pain.

bernkastel and lambdadelta, though lacking a "real world" counterpart, clearly keep reenacting toxic patterns with each other; their "love" for each other involves torture, abuse, confinement, and so on.

notably, the witches exist as "timeless" and immortal entities, which means that... they are playing these kinds of games forever.

the witches are powerful. they are in control of the repetitions of suffering they are in.

but are they happy?

the witches want battler to accept them, which means fully embracing their world, their magic, and their style of living. it also means embracing the endless cycles of hurt that they inhabit, inflicting suffering on both others and themselves.

but let's go back to the question of what it means to love the witches. if you see them as people who are suffering, who are deserving of love, then the right answer isn't to accept their existence and be drawn into their rhythm. instead, you should refuse to scapegoat them ("accept them"), stop them from reenacting the cycles they are in, and bring them back down to earth where the games stop and they must move forward.

i think this is going to be battler's biggest challenge, because he's totally a "red" passion person, so as soon as he opens his heart to the witches, he would be totally led around by his nose and just dive into the witch style of living without understanding that... what makes the witches "happy" is not good for him OR for them. if he cares about them, instead of accepting them as-is, what he should do is to stop the cycles from continuing.

battler is a great witch-style thinker (important note: i think he'd make a great witch), but with all the parallels being set up between himself and kinzo, he's also a perfect stand-in for the mistakes of his family. as someone who is bad at "blue truth" thinking, he's sort of fucked because emotionally following either the witches or his family will lead him down a bad path no matter what.

though of course, i don't think a pure "blue truth" path would be good for any of them either -- it seems like it would be a path without enough love or compassion for the people who are involved.

in the end, all these things come back to the question of how to love a difficult -- and indeed, bad -- person. i'm excited to see what the story will do!

*an abridged summary of my episode 1 first murders theory: i think natsuhi conspired with the servants to kill her husband and the other ushiromiya heirs so she could take control of the estate & blame kinzo's death on someone already dead; whatever happened, i think the siblings all started suspecting each other and killed each other due to a mix of paranoia/greed/fear, with eva & hideyoshi emerging as the survivors; then, believing that they had already killed the killers, eva & hideyoshi let down their guard, & were thus murdered by the servants.

[gx-gameon]

As I get back into Yugioh while also watching one piece an idea won’t leave my mind.

What if after Bond Beyond Time, Yusei goes to take Jaden back to his time. They leave Yugi and head to drop Jaden off. But the Crimson Dragon doesn’t stop at Jaden’s time. Instead taking both of them to Yusei’s time.

Yusei feels awful. He was suppose to bring Jaden back to his time, but he messed up. He has no idea how the Crimson Dragon brought him back and forward in time other than it did. It called to him and he listened. He can’t do it on command. It’s not his fault but he feels like it is.

Jaden is a little freaked out. But weirder things have happened to him. So he reassures Yusei that it’s alright. Maybe he was brought here for a reason. Maybe once that reason is done he will be able to go home. He’ll figure it out.

And Yusei stops his over thinking dead in its tracks because, “what do you mean you’ll figure it out? We’re in this together. You’re not alone.” And Jaden, who is so deeply traumatized by the dark world and is still pushing everyone away, is a little overwhelmed.

His friends always leave it up to him to solve the problems. Jesse always helped, as did Jim and Axel, but for the most part Jaden is left to solve everything. Yusei barely knows him and is already offering so much. A place to stay, help getting home, it’s more than Jaden feels he deserves.

Especially when they meet up with the other Signers. Once Yusei introduces them all and explains what happened, they are all instantly on board with helping Jaden find away home. And it’s been a while since Jaden’s been surrounded with this much support.

So he stays with them for a while. After all he is there for a reason….

But he bonds with the Signers.

He helps Akiza with her powers. She already has a strong grasp on how to use them but being around Jaden makes her more comfortable using them. She’s always felt like a monster and being around the other Signers has helped a lot, but being around Jaden, who has such a good grasp on his powers that he can actually teach her things while also making her feel normal is awesome. The two become very close with Jaden taking on an older brother role for her. (At first he was ready for this to be like Cyrus and Hassleberry, but there isn’t the same level of hero worship. Yes Akiza looks up to him but she treats him as an equal. She really values her friends and being seen as normal so she doesn’t treat him like a savior and it’s really nice for Jaden. For both of them)

Luna and Jaden also have a close relationship as he is the first person she’s met who can see spirits as well. Wing Kuriboh and Kuribon are constantly playing. He’s able to teach her how to reach the spirit world safely and be more comfortable with her powers. She not only Aliza’s level of mastery but she has raw power and she’s very lucky Jaden came along when he did to help her master them.

Leo is much the same but also so different. Jaden is really confused when everyone is telling him about being Signers. He understand the idea, he can see the power. But he’s confused why everyone is acting like Leo doesn’t have powers, he can see the kids aura and it’s got the same crimson tint that every other signer has. But Leo is also bursting at the seems with power, he just can’t access it. And he tells them that. Leo is pumped. He’s a Signer to! Are you sure? This is awesome! Jaden is very clear that Leo’s powers are blocked but unblocking them at all at once could hurt the kid so they will have to do it carefully and slowly, with Jaden helping him master his new powers before they unseal anymore. It’s a slow process and exhausting for both. But Leo is pumped. Jaden is his third favorite person ever!! (1st being Luna, and 2nd going to Yusei)

Needless to say the twins adore him and look up to him as an older brother just like they do with the rest of the signers.

Crow and Jack respect him as a duelist and are glad he can help the others with their powers. Crow brings out Jaden’s goofier side as the two joke around. Jack reminds him so much of Zane and Chazz and yet at the same time he’s so different.

Jaden really admires Yusei, Jack, and Crow’s strong bond and brotherhood.

Jaden and Jack to but heads because of Carly. Jaden meets Carly and instantly recognizes her power and talent and tries to help her. At first she hesitates because she doesn’t like her powers. Plus this is Jack’s friend and Jack has been avoiding her and she just doesn’t know why. But slowly she starts coming around. Her and Jaden get along well and she starts helping out team 5D’s with the WRPG.

Jack though thinks that if Carly is around him she might remember her time as a Dark Signer and he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want her to hurt. He also doesn’t want her in danger and the WRPG has become dangerous. He snaps at Jaden over it, as it’s easier to blame Jaden than talk to Carly about all this. Jaden doesn’t know about Carly being a Dark Signer and the two argue. He thinks Carly is a great addition to their team, and she deserves to learn how to control her powers, Jack just wants her safe.

Eventually Jack and Carly talk and he gets his head out of his butt. He and Jaden talk it out later.

Yusei and Jaden become best friends (you could see it as Starshipping if you want but I’ll probably keep it platonic) Yusei is a calm stable presence that Jaden has needed for a while. He’s a pillar of strength when everything seems to be going crazy. On the reverse Jaden is a sources of strength of Yusei. He’s so out of his depths with all the magic stuff that comes easy to Jaden. It’s nice to have an expert with them. All Yusei wants is to keep his friends safe, but he never has to worry about Jaden, he does anyway, but Jaden always comes through, he’s become a pillar for Yusei as well. Someone to lean on.

I’d probably change the villains of WRPG or maybe this takes place before the WRPG. Because I want Sayer/Divine and the Arcadia Movement to be the main problem. (I read that they were suppose to be the main villains of Yugioh 5D season 2 but because of Carly’s voice actors involvement with a real life cult the story line was scrapped and Carly’s role was reduced. I want to work with the cult so I’m working with the cult)

But anyway. Jaden is starting to feel at home here. He still needs to go back, rainbow dragon is burning in his deck box. He needs to return to his time, needs to return Jesse’s family to him (my spiritshipping heart) but he also loves his new friends.

And this is where one piece comes in because it’s time for Water 7/Enies Lobby.

Jaden is taking the twins out one day. Maybe they got out of school and they are waiting for the rest of the crew to show up. But the twins run an head and as Jaden goes to catch up, someone bumps into him and whispers in his ear. “Welcome Supreme King.”

Jaden freezes.

How could anyone here in this world, in this time, know that name. He turns on his heel and sees the stranger waiting for him. They have a cloak hood pulled over their head so he can’t see who this is. But they beckon him to follow, he’s not going to until they make a threatening gesture towards the twins, who’s excited voices are getting farther and farther from Jaden.

So Jaden follows. If they are going to have it out he doesn’t want the twins in the cross fire. But they’re not fighting. In fact Jaden is ambushed by Sayer/Divine who tells Jaden they know exactly who he is. That he’s going to help them with creating an army of Physic Duelist and help them attach the City. Jaden laughs and is ready to fight, until they threat his new friends. After all “you already murdered one friend group. Do you really want to be responsible for the death of another?”

The reminder of his friend’s deaths in the Dark World rattles Jaden. Enough that he’s willing to make a deal. He’ll help Sayer/Divine. As long as Team 5Ds is untouchable. Sayer/Divine can’t go after them.

It’s a deal.

So Jaden ‘Betrays’ Team 5Ds there are hurt feelings all around. “How could this happen? Why would Jaden betray them? It doesn’t make any sense.

So they start digging, and find out that Sayer/Divine is going to use Jaden’s power as a batter for his Physic duelist when they attack the city. But that still doesn’t explain why Jaden betrayed them.

Maybe Misty shows up and reveals Sayer/Divines plot

Maybe Carly figures it out. Maybe Sayer attacks her because ‘she’s not technically a member of 5Ds and Jaden protected her. She is present for their little back in forth argument. Because Jaden says she’s untouchable because of their deal and Sayer/Divine want to kill Carly because she knows to much now. But he has to fold because he want to keep Jaden under his thumb, so the solution was kidnap her but Jaden resist that to long enough for Jack to show up and get Carly out. (At this point he thinks Jaden is a traitor who is trying to hurt Carly so he attacks Jaden and Sayer/Divine.

Or maybe Jesse shows up in this time period. He went to the Spirit world looking for Jaden and Rainbow dragon and got dragged forward in time. He hears everything and explains Jaden’s history in the Dark world. While he wasn’t there to see it he got all the details from talking to the Gx crew and Jaden/Jaden’s spirits.

I think a combination of idea two and three are best. (I want Jesse to show up.)

Now that they know that Jaden has sacrificed himself to keep them safe, they won’t stop till he’s back safe with them. It’s a race to Jaden now. Can they get to him before Sayer/Divine’s plan is complete and he drains Jaden’s power/life.

Jaden deserves friends who would fight from him. Plus him get his own “I want to live.” Moment like Robin in Enies Lobby is very important to me.

Sorry if this sounds insane. It’s been bouncing around in my head for a week and needed out.

[klaus-littlestwolf]

A Failed Escape -Elijah M.

Warning: This fic depicts an abusive relationship and Non/Dub Con as well as eluding to threats of suicide, if you aren’t comfortable with or are triggered by these things than please do not read any further. This is a very Yandere!Elijah portrayed from the same Police!Elijah and Doctor!Klaus universe as I’ve written before. I hope I have done well in the request that was sent in, I don’t usually write Elijah like this.Smut ⚠️ Dead Dove:Do Not Eat!

For @moonlight-melanin I sincerely hope it is everything you wanted it to be🩷

Y/n didn’t believe him when he told her how far from any help they were, she had only tried to escape once and it was a massive failure…not to mention traumatic.

The trees scratched at my flesh painfully as I ran through the dense woods, trying to find a road, a house, any kind of civilization to get me away from him.

I had trusted Elijah. He had made me feel safe and protected, and then he locked me away and betrayed my trust, ensuring that I would be his forever. I love Elijah, despite everything he has done I’m still in love with him, and I hate myself for it.

I had been running for hours at this point and still not found anything but trees, exhausting myself and eventually collapsing against a large oak tree. I tried to catch my breath as my muscles aches and my thighs burned, exhaustion taking hold of me quickly and pushing me to rest my eyes for a moment…just a moment.

Waking up was disorienting. My body still hurt but I was laid on something comfortable when suddenly I felt a sting on my leg causing me to flinch and open my eyes.

‘Lay back down Y/n. I’m almost finished with these cuts.’ My blood ran cold as I heard his voice, looking down and seeing Elijah was cleaning the blood from my legs, the thorn bushes doing more damage than I thought. ‘Did you really think you would get away?’ He tossed the first aid kit aside and looked at me, waiting for an answer but all I could do was stutter. ‘I warned you, you wouldn’t find anything out there. I did you a favor telling you that, I didn’t want you to get hurt and look at you now. The closest person is 10 miles away and that’s if you so happened to choose the right direction, which of course you didn’t…is it that terrible here?’ He asked, his eyes cold and hard as he looked down at me.

‘N-no…you’ve been good to me.’ I stated, trying to calm him down.

‘And yet you ran away. You ran through the woods while I wasn’t home like you were desperate to escape me. I saved you, I’ve taken care of you, given you better than that idiot ever did or could and you do this?!’

‘Elijah, I’m sorry. I…I got scared when you-you said I couldn’t leave, I shouldn’t have-‘

‘But You Did! You Left Me!’ He shouted and I tried to pull my legs to my chest, his hand gripping my calf so tightly it felt like the bone would snap. ‘I love you! You’re my everything! My life, and you ran away-‘

‘I love you too, I-‘ all of a sudden his hand was wrapped around my throat and gripping it tight, cutting off my ability to breathe which left me gasping and clawing at his hand.

‘Don’t you lie to me! You left me! You abandoned me! I gave you everything, I risked my job helping you and bringing you here, saved you from ruining your whole life and gave you someone who was here for you! Worshipped the ground you walked on, And You Left Me!’ He was now leaning over me as he held my throat and with the last bit of strength I had I clutched into his shirt and tugged at it pathetically, watching as his eyes widened and he looked down at his hand, releasing me and allowing oxygen to flow into my lungs. I gasped deeply, painfully as I took in air and felt my throat still burn and ache in agony from his strong grip. ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry.’ I was shocked as he said this, staring at him in silence. He had just choked me within an inch of my life and he was apologizing? ‘I’m so sorry Bunny, oh baby!’ He suddenly hugged me around my waist, head on my stomach as he held me firmly and apologized over and over again. Eventually I reached down, running my fingers through his hair to calm him, afraid of him getting worked up again.

‘I’m okay.’ I told him, my voice strained and he looked up at me with soft eyes. ‘I’m sorry too-‘

‘No. No baby, it’s okay. I know I scared you when I told you that you can’t leave I just…I love you so much. I need you all to myself, and you make such bad choices on your own that I need to protect you. I never should have hurt you. Please forgive me?’ He begged, moving to press his lips to mine sweetly and while I should have been repulsed by it, there were butterflies in my tummy like every time Elijah kisses me so sweetly. ‘I can make it up to you, I can make you feel better. I promise.’ He pressed his lips to mine again and his needy attitude was different than ever before. His hands pulled my shirt off before connecting our lips again and trailing his lips down my jaw before kissing my throat tenderly. He had never been this gentle before and I wasn’t sure what to do with it, so startled I couldn’t find it in me to object to anything he was doing. As he unclipped my bra and tossed it to the side he kissed down my collarbone and over my breasts. ‘So perfect, my beautiful girl.’ I gasped as he sucked one of my nipples between his lips and couldn’t hold in my moan at the feeling. He had always been rough and desperate with my breasts but his gentle treatment was doing amazing things to me, all while he pulled my shorts and panties down my legs carefully, not wanting to hurt any of the cuts on my skin. He kissed down my stomach, pushing my legs apart to make room for him before kissing my clit several times, sending jolts of pleasure up my spine as he did.

‘Oh God!’ I screamed as his lips sucked my clit hard, tongue coming out to play with it roughly and I couldn’t keep my hips still as he did, but unlike ever before he didn’t stop them, allowing me to grind against his mouth desperately. ‘Ah! So close! Please?! Eli, please!’ He pulled back suddenly, lifting me up and causing me to squeal, hauling me up and laying back on the pillows as my knees settled next to his head.

‘Take what you need Bunny, sit on my face until you can’t take it anymore.’ His tongue peeked out again, teasing my clit and prompting me to grab ahold of the headboard and grind my pussy down against his mouth. He moaned, sending a vibrating feeling through my clit, the fingers of my right hand finding his hair and holding his head still as I ground my hips down and felt that tight feeling in my belly snap.

‘Oh fuck! Yes! So good! Don’t stop, please?’ He didn’t move, not pulling back for air even once as he shoved his tongue deep into my cunt and fucked me with it. His nose was rubbing against my clit as he did and I couldn’t help riding his mouth roughly as I climbed so high so fast, being thrown into a second orgasm less than a minute after the first. Elijah was seemingly desperate, trying to continue sucking on my clit again when I pulled away, the second orgasm making me too sensitive to continue immediately and I crawled back down to lean against him and see his wet mouth. ‘That was amazing…you’ve never done that before.’

‘I want to make you feel good baby, I only ever want to make you feel good. I hate it when you make me hurt you.’ I was startled by that as he grabbed his shirt and wiped his face clean, that was when he took hold of my hips and pulled me down farther, having removed his pants and pushing himself into me, stretching me deliciously but still uncomfortably as I was so sensitive. ‘I’m gonna make you feel so good baby!’ He pulled back and shoved himself into me again before beginning to move my hips with his hands and making me ride him.

‘Oh God! So Good! Don’t stop Eli! Please don’t stop?!’ I begged as he continued thrusting up into me at a steady pace, picking up speed as my third orgasm teetered just on the edge.

‘Never! Never gonna stop Baby, I’m all yours, forever. You know that right?’ He asked, almost whining as he forced me to look down into his eyes. They were soft and desperate but there was still something dark, deep inside of them that was always there. ‘You know how much I love you, don’t you? More than that boy ever did or could, all he did was hurt you, get you in trouble, the kind of trouble that would have ruined you if I wasn’t there-Fuck-I love you so much Bunny…you-you love me too…don’t you?’ The worry and fear in his eyes was enough to make me want to be sick.

‘Yes! Yes Elijah! Love you so much!’ His cock was pounding into me almost painfully hard at this point and I was so close to the edge I would have signed my soul to Satan if he just let me cum!

‘You won’t leave me again…Promise me! Promise me Bunny, you won’t run away from me again-I can’t live without you Baby, I won’t! I’ll die without you, do you hear me?! I’ll Die!’

‘Never leaving you! Never! I Promise! Please-Please I Can’t-‘

‘Cum for me Bunny, my good girl!’ He slammed his hips into mine painfully hard and as I felt him cum the tightness in my belly snapped and I cried out, collapsing against him as he pulled me into a deep kiss. ‘I love you Baby, I’m so sorry. I’ll never hurt you again, never.’

Later that night I found myself freshly showered and clean, thanks to my police officer boyfriend. Elijah brushed his fingers through my hair, resting my head on his chest as I began drifting off, completely fucked out after he jumped me again before the shower, twice during, and again after. His fingernails against my scalp felt magical as he tried to relax me enough to fall asleep in his arms.

‘No more running from me, okay? If I have to come and search for you again, it won’t be this much fun…’ I shook my head instantly as he said this, knowing that I never want to relive this moment, even if it means I never get away…maybe staying with Elijah isn’t so bad…it could be much worse.

‘No more running away…and no more hurting. Promise?’ Elijah leaned down, kissing my head with a smile on his face.

‘Promise. I love you…my little baby Bunny.’

Elijah Mikaelson Masterlist

[fischyplier]

Misfits and Magic Season 2 Episode 2 "Magma and Mingle": My Thoughts and Analysis

So here are my thoughts on Evan and Sam. Am I the only one that doesn’t see their relationship progressing into romance? I can understand that in this season Brennan and Danielle are having more scenes together. At this point, Evan and Sam's relationship feels platonic to me, but who knows what could happen in the next few episodes. I prefer platonic relationships because they feel more interesting than just romance. Also want to take the time to say, I love and appreciate all the hard work that went into this and every season of D20. Thank you to the crew, the players and Aabria cause misfits and magic has become very near and dear to my heart!

Click below to read more, warning long post:

Anyways, Evan has gone through a LOT of traumatic experiences since childhood and continues to till this day. Evan's body is riddled with scars, broken bones that healed wonky, etc. He got stabbed on a bus at night trying to retrieve a talisman for Boodle 10 months ago. And I would not be surprised if he's been through more but hasn't had the opportunity to tell his friends or elected to say nothing. I can't help but to read too deeply into the quote "dream small". Is it cause I feel that Evan has learned to dream small in order to not get his hopes and expectations too high? Just a theory... A game theory! I'm sorry.

After 3 years of no contact the pilot project are back! But they haven't really had the time to sit down and catch up. In the video below, Sam says "I feel like there's a lot of things that when we talk you don't tell me." Which kinda leads me to believe, Evan doesn't want to worry his friends so he bottles up his feelings and doesn't open up. And when he does it's always with a smile and jokes to mask the hurt. He isn't just sad, he feels like a burden and tries to not take up space. I can really relate to this.

Even Brennan says Evan is in deep pain. The breakup he went through didn't help but there is more under the surface we as the audience still don't truly know. The experiences of being a lonely unhoused teen is the reason why Brennan chose "belonging" as Evan's ideal track. Because that is the one thing he's been deprived off, humans are social creatures and need to interact with others. What happens to a developing brain when that is taken away? When all you know is your shadow, loneliness and hunger? So when his friend says we can talk, he takes that as a serious invitation. Evan now surrounded by friends wants to do everything in his power to protect those he loves. He doesn't expect it to be reciprocal. You can see that when he says "if I've ever done a bad job about being here for you, I'm always here for you" after Sam says we can talk. When Brennan tears up with that incredible delivery of "I missed you"... I keep rewatching that part! Evan is always on the go, needs to be prepared, needs to be ready when shit hits the fan. Sam has created a safe place where he doesn't need to be hypervigilant and can relax, maybe open up and be a little vulnerable.

Sam is rightfully concerned that something deeper and terrible is going on with Evan.

When Evan continues kicking a half dead Salamander that isn't a threat to any of his friends, a darkness in him wants to kick it mercilessly for pure enjoyment. That even his eyes turns black. The first thing Sam does when she sees this is to attempt to drench it in water like Jammer did. Cause she said that this has become "unnecessarily dark" and that "this is freaking her out". That she'll even resort to spitting on the creature if it means that Evan will stop kicking that crap out of it. The water cools and stops the creature. Sam is a great friend that sees Evan do something twisted and wants to help so desperately. You do not have to be falling in love with someone to do the right thing! I still think they should just be friends.

I love that in this season we can really see their friendship blossom and not just be surface level chit chat. As they get closer hopefully they can help each other in ways they really need. In the preview for the next episode Evan says, "I don't see you the way you are afraid people see you." Sometimes it takes someone outside of your point of view to see aspects of yourself you are too close to see. And I think that's beautiful.

That leads into my next point, no I don't think the progressing of their relationship means that romance is in the air. I can't remember where I read it but another person said it best, intimacy doesn't mean romance. You can get close to someone, be a shoulder to cry on and depend on without developing feelings. You can love and respect your friend and keep it at that level but develop on that intimacy of a great friendship. I feel like it made the most sense for these two to get closer in this season because they have more in common now. Before it was just the fact that they were students learning magic at Gowpenny and being NAMPS (non magical person or let's be serious MUGGLES!). But now Evan and Sam have both underwent break ups and that's something they can really connect on. I really hope they don't get together right after cause that sounds like a rebound and to me, story wise pretty boring. And in my honest opinion, jumping into another relationship right after being with K is a little too soon. Evan needs a friend not a lover, at least for the time being. He needs to keep his inner darkness and insecurities in check. That or a therapist.

Hopefully this doesn't age like milk, and if they do get together I guess I'm wrong! :3

Thank you if you read till the very end, here is a gif of Brennan giving you a thumbs up!

Why? Cause you are pretty cool!

Please consider liking or reblogging this post if you liked what you read. And I'd love to hear your thoughts on this episode and if I should continue!

[wingedshadowfan]

⚠️arcane s2 act ii spoilers⚠️

listen to me and listen well. i'm gonna analyze the caitvi breakup scene conflict in detail (and tell y'all why caitlyn is not the villain y'all paint her out to be)

first of all, caitlyn has every reason in the world to hate jinx and want her gone. there are more neutral reasons like the fact caitlyn is a police officer and jinx is a threat to piltover and zaun's law and order, any material property she can reach and basically everyone around her bcuz she's insane, unstable and more than capable of causing damage. then there are deeply personal reasons: jinx tried to blow up caitlyn and vi on multiple occasions, kidnapped caitlyn (god knows what she did to her before vi joined the tea party, but other fans have pointed out cait was so traumatized she went from not exhibiting any fear of jinx before to shuddering when seeing her after), tried to get vi to kill caitlyn, killed her "father" silco on accident, blew up the council, killing caitlyn's literal mother among others and causing injuries and damages. caitlyn at this point might even believe jinx is the one who organized the massacre at the statue reveal ceremony. she even acknowledges how easily jinx's actions and the trauma they've caused her have undone a lot of the work caitlyn has put with the help of vi by her side into seeing zaunites as people despite the way she was raised. all of her anger at jinx for this, for taking her mother, for all the pain she's caused, even her fear make caitlyn desparate. she starts taking more drastic measures in order to catch jinx like using more violence/threats towards innocents, which is the one thing vi tries to address with her. caitlyn promises she won't change. but she already has, as an unconscious and natural reaction to what she's experienced.

earlier, caitlyn doesn't offer vi the police badge just bcuz she's mentally stripped vi's zaunite identity from her and now sees her as a topsider and one of "the good ones" (i bet she's started to do that too, as alluded to by maddie's words abt caitlyn saying vi went after silco alone, but caitlyn does this just so she can compartmentalize better and separate her lover vi here next to her, from her mother's killer jinx who's taken so much from her in zaun), but also bcuz she needs vi's help to get through zaun and find jinx. as she's just lost someone, she badly wants to be able to keep vi close, on her squad, in her line of sight, in order to protect her and make sure nothing happens to her on the potentially deadly task of finding and eliminating jinx. (i want to add smth else here: notice how vi feels guilt for failing to keep others safe and feels responsible for protecting the people around her, so she tries to distance herself from them, like not letting powder go with the big kids, and fights short range, keeping enemies close to her and away from her allies so they can't get hurt. caitlyn does the opposite, she's a long range sharpshooter so she tries to keeps her loved ones as close to her as possible under her watchful gaze, far from her enemies.) it's never implied she wants vi to be a cop forever, or perform any such duties outside of this jinx mission. she's still at fault for not understanding what putting on the uniform would mean to vi - a betrayal of her family, her home, everything she's ever known and loved until now, which vi isn't ready for and caitlyn can't rightfully ask of her. yet vi doesn't say that to caitlyn (and continues to not say anything when their squad of misfits starts gassing up the undercity) and takes it because she sees no other way. she knows her chances alone against jinx aren't looking good.

vi can't bring herself to kill her sister (despite the fact that she's mostly gone, incredibly dangerous, unstable and could've easily killed vi and caitlyn - even accidentally, like she killed silco) and doesn't want her to die either. we can even look at what caitlyn thinks needs to be done with jinx and what vi thinks needs to be done with jinx as a cultural difference betw the two bcuz in zaun where survival is essential, family is everything, you're bound together by what you've been through and you need each other to survive so you don't just cut family off, you don't judge them harshly, leave them or turn them in, but in piltover where that's not the case, there are laws and people who serve to enforce them like caitlyn so if you're a bad person who's done bad things, there's a way for you to be dealt with. vi doesn't realize she wouldn't be able to kill jinx or let herself feel that way bcuz of the amount of guilt she harbors for "creating jinx" and the responsibility she carries for jinx's actions (smth she internalized bcuz of vander teaching her that as a leader she's responsible for whoever chooses to follow her) - again, jinx stealing the hexcore, kidnapping/torturing cait, almost killing the two of them, blowing up the council, etc. so she offers to deal with jinx herself, which caitlyn doesn't want, knowing first hand what jinx is capable of and maybe even suspecting vi's weakness before vi can - caitlyn even says that she's scared that if either of them goes after jinx alone, she'll return in a box. and instead of listening to her own feelings and telling caitlyn about them, vi again decides to "toughen it out" and pull through with it. she tries to seem stronger, more ready and certain when she tells caitlyn to take the shot, but her fear of being faced with having to kill jinx becomes even more evident in the fact she basically indirectly asks caitlyn to do it for her so she doesn't have to.

when the fight breaks out, the danger is very real. sevika can take caitlyn down easily as she's a long range shooter, not a close combat fighter. while cait's fighting tooth and nail, jinx and vi are dancing around each other the way teen girls fight compared to other fights they've had (jinx hitting with her wrists, vi stumbling, etc). they're not fighting to the death bcuz they don't want the other to die. when vi finally pins jinx, who's seemed quite normal until now btw, as if she's finally in her right mind (like smth in that mind can be salvaged), vi notably hesitates. a lot. and before she does anything or moves so caitlyn can shoot, isha jumps between vi and jinx with a gun to vi's head. and here's where i need y'all to be fucking for real. the fear and anger caitlyn must've experienced in that moment are what made her completely lose it, i bet she fully had an out of body experience. now, caitlyn isn't a great shot, she's an excellent shot. if she shoots the gun out of this kid's hand, she saves vi from her brains being blown out of her head. if she misses, worst case scenario, she takes this kid's hand out. she takes the fucking shot to save vi's life, a calculated risk even if she does it rather on reflex. we even see how the bullet flies way closer to vi than to the kid because she's self correcting potential aim errors away from the kid.

now that the kid isn't pointing a weapon in vi's face anymore, instead of pulling the kid from jinx and hauling ass so caitlyn can shoot again safely (see: bcuz she doesn't want jinx to die), vi stands up and starts telling caitlyn not to shoot, even getting in front of her. caitlyn is verbally but not really mentally responsive to her surroundings in this moment, that's how gone she is. her vision tunnels onto jinx and she tries to keep shooting until sevika pulls the lever and we exit combat. vi reasonably confronts caitlyn for shooting at a kid (after caitlyn stops hitting the wall like a woman gone), which she only does because of her fear for vi and fear of jinx (and what she might do next, or if they let her get away) because she feels betrayed, since caitlyn just told her she wouldn't change. she did changed - she became more brutal, but she'd already changed long ago, when she lost her courage, her mother, her progress and when she came to love vi.

and now it's caitlyn's turn to confront vi. vi didn't have the guts to tell her she can't kill jinx, that she can't wear the uniform, that she's not okay with gassing zaun up, and even encouraged her to shoot, so cait was under the impression that this was it. that they were going to end jinx for good. when she says "i thought you were different but you're not", of course she might mean she thought vi was "better" than other zaunites, but i think perhaps even more than that, she means she thought vi had also been changed in the same way by the trauma jinx had caused caitlyn, that she'd finally let go of her hope powder was still somewhere inside jinx and realized how truly destructive and dangerous jinx is and how that necessitates killing her. while vi is immunized against the terrors, caitlyn has never experienced anything like this in her life, which is why she doesn't understand why vi doesn't understand, why she wants jinx to live despite everything.

while vi doesn't seem to understand, she's ready to try to. she's let her guard (and gauntlets) down, she's open and attempting to talk to caitlyn who has shut off completely and refuses to even look her in the eyes (which is one of the primary ways in which caitlyn connects to people). vi tries to stop her from leaving and caitlyn strikes her, as hard as she can, purposefully hitting her in her stab wound which she helped vi recover from herself - almost as if condemning their past relationship and everything they've been through. not only does that physically bring vi, someone used to taking hits, to her knees - it completely incapacitates her and breaks her heart. she can't even follow. she's officially lost the last good thing she had, the one person who cared about her.

both of them are left feeling betrayed and hurt. some of these conflicts could've been avoided by simple communication, others were by design of who they are and where they come from.

[basofy]

Do you have any character analysis on lisa armstrong? I think theyre neat

ahh i have plenty inside of my mind but i dont think a lot of that has made it to tumblr, a lot of it is my own feelings about her mixed with things ive seen other people say, it's a little hard to say what was lisa really like given the limited amount of scenes with her that we got in which we've seen her acting manipulative out of desperation (that one ending with bernard) but also bottling up her own sadness and clinging onto the few good things in her life (that conversation between her and brad in the definitive edition, lisa keeping her mother's necklace etc) plus all the stuff we can see in the first in which shows lisa's terrible and mixed feelings over the situation she was put through, i think she would have it hard to completely sort them out as that is stuff that most of the time you understand better only after youre out of those circumstances. i also feel that some bits of the first are there for people to resonate with in their own way, which i think is a good thing

personality wise i always saw her as being in similar terms to brad in the sense that they couldve been sweeter people had their surroundings not shaped them to a strong extent. i tend to see her as someone who is sweet and playful but also very erratic and not in control of her own emotions, also not in touch with whats considered normal by others around her, so i think she would accidentally cross boundaries or hurt other people's feelings, all the while being more vulnerable herself than she'd admit. she's a bit of a troublemaker to me and i think she would find it hilarious to make other people uncomfortable (like randomly bringing up traumatic experiences or even joking about them like that one "i'm hanging in there" dialogue of hers 😭) but would feel guilty about it immediately after, she has severe mood swings!! also i realized that in my mind she tends to appear as partially nonverbal?? being more of an observer that speaks mostly if she deems it necessary lol. i think that's a me thing

i think all the while she is someone that deeply desires some peace, this is what she looks up to the most and why some of her interests revolve around mundane and not too exciting stuff (gardening, tea parties) she wishes to feel at ease and not having to be on a state of alert all the time

a thought that i share with a friend is the possibility of lisa not really being suicidal, as a strong part of her character revolves around wanting to escape her torment, both physically and mentally, and that she took the decision to end her life at the sight that nothing was changing, after trying everything she could think of. we see her being able to make friends like bernard, being interested in learning karate like brad (an opportunity that was denied to her), holding onto the memory of her mother who she presumably found help in until she could barely remember her anymore, and even taking the decision to make berny mutilate her to force marty to leave her alone. she tried! she tried to live and really wanted to but ultimately nothing worked her way and she did not find purpose in continuing to endure the same torture everyday, that's how I see it at least

another important trait i find in her is abandonement, things like brad leaving the house without her, her mother dying/leaving (i'm still unsure of which it was? but to me it made sense that mama armstrong died when she was little), her grandfather not wanting to take her in because he didn't want to train a girl, and the whole dilemma around marty. (not to mention nobody in her neighborhood doing anything for her and brad but that's more of an extra complaint i think about sometimes lol many such cases) the feeling of being left to deal with abusive circumstances completely on your own, without even being able of understanding why is any of this even happening and if you could've done something to provoke it, which to the player it is very obvious none of this was lisa's fault but in her own mind it's really possible the thought could've crossed her mind that it was her fault somehow (the religious trauma implications in the first do not help). i should note here the very important fact that lisa has zero clue why was marty the way he was and that when she had the chance to do something to escape him, she decided it was her responsibility to be the one to get hurt in order for the abuse to stop. she's just a child left to process all this stuff on her own and she thinks it was her appearance that lured marty in somehow, because to her what else could it be? at that point she was considering anything.

i think this is why berny was such an important presence in her life, who she saw as a friend and romantic interest but also as an opportunity. someone to rely on in the way she couldn't trust anybody else. and there's a lot of criticism in regards to how her actions affected bernard or why would she tell him to harm a little animal as practice but i always assumed she was sort of desensitized/apathetic and didn't realize bernard would also become scarred by the experience, he was not the one getting cut! is what i think she thought. and the assumption that she harmed animals for fun is just a straight up lie lol

i have a lot to say that's more headcanon territory bc it's little things that i analyze from the first; for example what i interpret as her having complicated feelings about marty, as hinted by the song names, a detail i really like, or those nice marty npcs which i've seen people describe differently; as either, a time where marty used to be nicer (which brad would've been the only one to know of) lisa wishing that she had a normal, caring dad, or marty possibly playing it nice to lure lisa in and take advantage of her, terrifying but possible. this mixed with all those other horrifying deformed depictions of marty all around, which signal towards his image becoming ruined to her, and all the objects such as fridges or beds covered in filth showing that marty's abuse haunts her in every corner of the house, she cant even walk around her own house peacefully. the constant mention of religion is important too because to me that could be lisa noticing the hypocrisy in marty being devoted to a god while being a terrible person himself.

something i think about a lot is how brad and lisa reffer to marty differently; when encountering marty again in painful he reffers to marty as "dad" and we know he doesn't like to be called that by dustin or buddy, clearly tying the world to marty. in the first, there's a vhs tape simply named "marty" in contrast to mrs armstrong vhs being actually named "mom". i think brad sees it as, he doesn't try to take the role of father away from marty, he forces it onto him to signal that it was his job to take care of him and lisa yet he forever failed him as a dad, while lisa takes that title away from him, in a "you're not my dad, never were" type of way

there's another theme that shows up briefly but it's the topic of being grateful, saw someone interpret that royal world as marty manipulating lisa with "everything he does for her" "i put a roof on your head and food on your plate and this is how you treat me" etc etc an abusive parent classic, also the "You think my struggle is funny?" dialogue that comes off as guilt tripping, that and the religious symbolism makes me wonder if she has conflicted feelings over being thankful

things like tricky rick's origin as a personification of the abuse lisa endures feels to me like her reaction as a lonely child (i have the hc that she created him on purpose to help herself describe what was happening to her) and the fact that she only ever physically harms tricky rick but not marty, is rather always running away from him and complying to his demands, maybe hinting that she wishes she didn't have reasons to hurt him or that she doesn't feel capable of doing it in contrast to how much power marty has over her. (i keep wondering if the finger you find in lisa the first could be marty's or hers,,)

i think a lot of the first makes this emphasis on the fact that lisa is a kid forced to grow up too soon, so you see all these terrifying signs of abuse interpreted through her child lenses. i think so much of the white flowers and how they posses this symbolism of "purity" showing these little remaining bits of lisa's innocence, or her inner desire to be pure. i could talk about everything i find in lisa the first but it's a lot 😭 but i think these are the things that come to mind more

some of the stuff in the first can feel a little conflicting/contradictory but i think that makes sense for the type of torment lisa is enduring that makes her go through every thought and every emotion. though of course, this was made before lisa was turned into an actual character, but i still like to tie the stuff from the first to her. during the old versions of painful and joyful lisa appears as more of a haunting memory of a person that brad and buzzo failed, and then in the definitive edition there's these small bits where she is rather being missed for being herself and not just out of guilt, the DE has its flaws but i really liked the lisa stuff! (minus the ohh lisa is controlling my mind bit with buzzo but we don't talk abt that)

i think overall lisa is a character that every player interprets differently and that's part of her charm as a character that was made as a tribute to a real person, i like how helpful she is to victims and i wouldn't think of my interpretation to be the correct one but i'm happy with how i see her

MUCHO TEXTO

[nova885]

A deep-dive into Nessian’s relationship

There’s this dissonance between Nesta and Cassian. It’s felt keenly throughout Nesta’s indoctrination healing arc, but it also seeps into the very foundation of their relationship.

~~~

Cassian values the physical approach most when it comes to practically everything. His ‘love’ language is corporeal, shown through lusting over Nesta’s emaciated body sex. But even then, the sex isn’t gentle. There is no aftercare. He makes a remark that would seem funny only to someone like him, right before he leaves Nesta behind after a most traumatic event.

~~~

When it comes to helping Nesta find her strength, he disregards her already existing ones. Maybe out of ignorance, obliviousness or because he doesn’t view them as worth pursuing. Her sharp intellect, her steel mind, her discernment, her courtier’s tongue, her education - they’re all dismissed.

Instead, Cassian forces Nesta down a path that she herself acknowledges isn’t the only way. It’s simply the one path he happens to know, that is the most convenient… and physical.

~~~

When it comes to Nesta asserting her boundaries lashing out, Cassian never actually questions the why beyond a surface level, if at all. Instead he pushes more rough sex, physical training and food intake control onto her in reply.

The mind can’t be healed through strictly physical approaches.

But how can Cassian help Nesta in a non-physical way when he doesn’t know her very essence, her core values, the full extent of her childhood trauma? To be loved is to be seen. The worst part is that he never bothers to learn.

~~~

Cassian never sits down simply to keep Nesta company, without demanding anything in return. No sex, no mission, no forced conversation. Just silent company, if that’s what she needs, to show her she’s not alone.

He never puts in the time or effort to make Nesta feel safe enough to open up about her past. And no, asking insensitive, blunt questions that trigger her, only to snap at her reaction in return - that’s not the sort of conversation any traumatized person needs.

When you feel that your approach is insensitive and triggering, you don’t snap back at the person. You adjust to their pace. You don’t smash their head against a wall repeatedly in order to try and break said wall down. If you truly care and wish to help, that is. Does he care more about ‘fixing’ and moulding her than he does about the actual person that is Nesta, with everything that makes her her?

And yet, with Nesta and Cassian there is no meeting her half-way. No compromising. No approaching matters on her terms.

Cassian decides on Nesta’s behalf that he takes in stride all of her discomfort and pain, if it means he gets his way. That is a deeply worrying attitude to have in a relationship toward your partner.

~~~

Nesta has never been in control of her own life. People and things keep happening to her, keeping her firmly trapped in survivor mode. There has never been time to assert boundaries, none that aren’t immediately broken anyway. There has been no hand that would guide her rather than harm her.

So Cassian and the IC taking that very fragile control Nesta has finally managed to acquire, in a way that is so abrupt - that can easily feel violating to a survivor like Nesta - is a big deal, to an extent they can’t comprehend.

~~~

Cassian refuses to change his ways. He refuses to self-reflect and admit to himself that his mindset and his approaches are the problem. That his boundary-pushing is triggering. That his abuse tough love is causing Nesta to spiral mentally.

He so graciously ‘accepts’ Nesta’s apology about hurting his feelings with her rejection. When in reality he was the one to follow her home after she expressed multiple times that she wanted to be left alone. Once again not taking no for an answer (🚩). When in reality he was the one to scream at her in public.

After the blatant physical and emotional abuse that was the hike, he treats her with a kernel of kindness only after she breaks down and expresses her devastation about hurting people (informing her own sister about the on-going reproductive abuse). He lets her shift the blame entirely onto herself when in reality it’s his lord and savior Rhysand’s fault, that Cassian was willingly complicit in. And then he immediately resorts to sex. Again.

Those instances show that he gladly lets Nesta believe she is in the wrong, when objectively she isn’t. He accepts her apologies instead of offering a much-needed one of his own. With that sort of behavior, Cassian contributes to Nesta’s self-destructive, spiraling thoughts that lead her to believe he is too good for her. Even when she outright tells him that she doesn’t deserve him, he doesn’t correct her.

This is toxic, not healthy. It doesn’t matter if it stems from obliviousness or intentional manipulation. Both reasonings are bad enough at this point.

~~~

Some relationships are more physical than others, which is okay, but it seems like in Nessian’s case they’re overcompensating for the lack of emotional connection with physical connection. Take away the sex and 90% of their relationship goes with it.

Nesta and Cassian’s issues are rooted in a lack of understanding and effective communication. There is no conscious effort, none of the emotional depth that is crucial in order for them to comprehend each other’s feelings and thought processes in a sufficient amount for an actual relationship.

How tiring does it get, having to spend a lifetime translating your soul? Especially when said lifetime spans over centuries?

[mistmarigold]

I was just thinking about the possibility of Wen Yifan going for therapy (probably not since it’s so rare) and it made me realise other things about her especially regarding her self-awareness.

When she’s talking to her friend about the chicken soup, buying things for herself and Sang Yan, it made me think about how the friend had said earlier that Yifan doesn’t share much. Obviously we haven’t really seen them prior to their present selves so it’s just clues but is Yifan starting to open up more because she feels somewhat at peace now? Or is it something to do with Sang Yan being back in her life?

For the former, it feels a bit untrue bec she’s still constantly being harassed (different forms) and still in survival mode for the most part. And her body is constantly on alert - her reflexes are sharp and quick (with her trashy housemate, the workplace men, other men - god i feel sick - and also her aunt).

But even with that, I do think Sang Yan’s presence in her life has made her more open / relaxed? It’s almost like a loop or closure - she hurt both of them when she parted ways with him. But now with him back in her life, maybe her body/mind recognises the safety, comfort and ease in her life before everything went to shit.

She’s still not as emotive as her teenage self perhaps but she smiles and laughs more easily. There’s ease in the way she moves, more confidence and assurance for herself. Even with all her reflections about Sang Yan and her life - it’s like she has thought about all of these things for years but she’s only letting them out now (which is probably true). There’s no hesitation or confusion but more resignation that this is what happened.

This goes back to the therapy thing as well because I feel like often times people think therapy just helps you with being more self-aware or trying to make sense of things. With Yifan, she already is aware of everything. She knows why she is the way she is and how she got there. She also knows how to survive, protect herself and takes quick actions to get there. She’s not meek or pushover about her boundaries either (with her family or with the ex landlady). But still, she is deeply traumatised. Despite being aware of everything, she still can’t get around to buy the things she wants. So really, I am curious if she will actually go for therapy and get professional help.

Sang Yan is amazing, no doubts about it. His presence alone is helping her so much - mentally and physically. Trying to take care of her through food is also so healing because she has traumatic history with it as well. But still, there is room for professional help regardless.

Although given how she is, it would be in character too for her to not go for it. She can’t bring herself to buy things for her, it’d be such a huge block to actively seek therapy to get better. Especially when she’s not really in rest mode with her family, men and society constantly traumatising her. So I don’t know how it’ll go (also how many shows actively portray characters seeking therapy…. So yeah.)