#i promise i will force myself to learn at some point

[championofthefade]

I’ve been thinking about this a lot myself lately. Not sure I have all the words to articulate it correctly, however. I genuinely am uncertain if this makes sense but here are my thoughts:

Justice and Anders merge together at the end of Awakening willingly (assumed and with some nudging done by Nathaniel if he’s alive still). Justice is then inside of a man that is angry at the way the world treats mages. Whether it had been Anders’ anger that twisted Justice or not, living in Kirkwall of all places definitely didn’t help as OP said. (Look at how Justice reacts with Karl in Anders’ companion quest.) Justice is being denied his purpose actively in Kirkwall. There is a clear imbalance between the mages and the Templars and there’s nothing that could be done to improve it, no matter how hard you try. An injustice of a system that doesn’t work for either side, imo. (Fuck the chantry, honestly.) The way we see it play out is that Anders writes his manifesto (in a rivalry) and is possessed by Justice when the Chantry goes up in flames. That was Vengeance, acting on its own accord because there way no other way to get results. Peace was thin as it was, even before Meredith’s Right of Annulment or Orsino’s turn to blood magic. Peace was a bandaid solution at best (imo) and probably wouldn’t have worked in the long run.

Lucanis and Spite, on the flip side, did not merge willingly. In a banter with Bellara, we learn Zara had used a method she learned from a cult in Orlais used to corrupt Seekers since they are immune to demons. This made me think of the Order of Fiery Promise, who force fed Cassandra’s apprentice, Daniel, red lyrium (he said it felt like a demon). Lucanis compared it to a “parasite in uncooked meat”, which is probably how he sees Spite, as a parasite (initially before coming to an agreement). We know that Spite is referred to many times as a Spirit of Determination (Seer Rowan, Compassion, Solas, and Hall of Valor Arena Isabela announcement), and he was possibly twisted before being forced to possess Lucanis because Spite probably didn’t want to possess a body (Solas parallel?). In spite of the year of torture and being forced to become an abomination, Lucanis walks a very poorly thought out plan of drinking coffee and not sleeping to avoid being possessed. Because it doesn’t always work. There are a few gaps I think needed to be filled in regards of just how much influence Spite had on Lucanis like Justice had on Anders, but I digress. In the end, Spite and Lucanis are able to come to an agreement (depending on how you play) that they could agree to complete ‘contracts’ together as a team. Examples of this is if you say save Caterina or get revenge for Illario’s betrayal.

My point is, Lucanis and Anders had different approaches to their possessions. I don’t think either of them fully came to terms with being abominations, but they found a way to live with it. And depending upon how you play their stories, mainly Anders in this, it’s a matter of can you still see the man or is it the monster he was afraid of becoming.

i think it’s a little unfair to compare spite and justice’s ability to act normal against each other, or to act like spite just being a misbehaving cat diminishes how hard it was for anders justice to cope with possession. spirits in the material world get upset when they can’t fulfil the pure ideal they seek. spite is a creature of spite and gets to kill people trying to hurt it basically all the time. justice is a creature of justice and was living in fucking kirkwall

[olexxx]

Hey, is there a reason you don't draw Glenn or Myk in any of your group picture art?

thank you for asking, actually theres no reason beside im just really bad at drawing them :') humanoid characters i can draw no problem, but i definitely need more practice to draw Glenn

[caitlinsnicket]

viktor relationship headcanons

warnings: if you squint, you might see something a little intimate, but other than suggestions, there's nothing.

a/n: surprised myself by not only writing this so quickly but also by not including any filth. wow.

masterlist | 🍉 | ko-fi

He lives for shoulder kisses, treating them as a sort of stress reliever.

You visit his lab, bringing him a cup of tea (to make him sleepier and get him to bed quicker), and as you pass by, you lean down to kiss his shoulder.

Even through his shirt, he can feel your warmth, and as you leave, he manages to relax a little more.

Sometimes, before you go, he'll hold your hand and kiss your knuckles, his lips wandering down your wrist and arm until you start pulling him away from the workbench.

On good days—the days when he doesn’t feel as much pain or discomfort just from breathing—he asks for your help removing the harness he wears around his middle section.

He doesn’t actually need the help, but he loves the way your skin feels against his, especially during such an intimate moment, and he savors every second with you.

Putting the harness back on is a hassle, but it’s easier now because you understand.

It’s one thing to force your help on him, and another to ask if he needs it. He appreciates that you ask—and that you back off when he tells you to.

Another bittersweet aspect of your relationship is that he’s always cold. While it’s uncomfortable for him when he’s alone, it’s the best thing in the world when you’re around.

He’ll shiver slightly, and you’ll appear out of nowhere, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders and pulling him close, tucking his hands under your thighs and kissing his nose until he’s boiling hot.

You also insist that he drink more warm beverages (except coffee—you banned that from your apartment ages ago), wear thicker clothes, and even use masks in the lab because his colds are always worse than expected.

Viktor insists he’s a grown man perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but when you hold his hands in yours and blow on them, he swallows his pride and lets you. Your love comes in waves like these, and he’s learned to catch as much of it as he can.

He doesn’t pay much attention to his appearance. While that unintentionally makes him a hundred times more attractive, it becomes a problem as he grows more important. It’s hard to explain that he can’t show up to an important meeting looking disheveled and that he needs to fix his hair before leaving the house.

So, you sit him down on the little bench you use to get ready yourself, using some of your products to tame his hair, smoothing down stray locks and ensuring he looks polished. The entire time, he fights to stay awake because of your gentle touch, eventually resting his face against your belly and breathing you in.

When you’re done, it’s a bit hard to get him up and out the door, but you manage by peppering kisses on his cheeks and nose. His heart races at your affection, and he promises to return as soon as possible so the two of you can be together again.

At some point, while redecorating the apartment for the millionth time, a picture falls out of one of his books: it’s him as a child, holding up a toy boat with a huge smile on his face. The sight makes you momentarily consider starting a family right then and there, so you call him over to show him.

He stutters, trying to snatch the photo from your hands, but you stop him, giggling at his embarrassed expression.

"You were so cute as a kid! I mean, you still are, but you looked so small! Baby Vik!" you tease, and he buries his face in his hands.

You end up framing the photo and hanging it on the living room wall, right beside one of your own.

But his absolute favorite thing the two of you do together is bathing. He never saw the point of it before—showering was easier and more practical—but now, he needs at least one bath a week just to keep going.

You fill the bathroom with bubbles, scents, and soaps, and he gets to sit back and relax with you in the warm water (which soothes his pain) in a dimly lit room. He loves it: your hands gently touching him, the care you take to ensure he’s comfortable and content in the tub, and even washing his hair for him.

He finds it almost pathetic how completely in love he is with you.

[tsumuus]

The air was charged with excitement and anticipation as athletes from around the world gathered in the Olympic Village for their first dinner. The buzz of conversation filled the dining hall, a blend of languages and laughter. Toru Oikawa, the star setter for Japan’s beach volleyball team, scanned the room with his trademark confident grin. His eyes landed on a table where a group of female beach volleyball players were seated, their camaraderie evident in their animated discussions.

Among them, one woman caught his eye. Your laughter was infectious, your presence magnetic. You were talking to your teammate, your eyes sparkling with excitement. Oikawa nudged his own teammate, who was busy devouring a plate of pasta.

“Who’s that?” Oikawa asked, nodding towards you.

His teammate glanced over and shrugged. “No idea, but she’s definitely out of your league.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes. “Watch and learn.”

With a self-assured stride, he made his way to the table, flashing his most charming smile. “Excuse me, ladies,” he said smoothly. “Mind if I join you?”

You and the women looked up, some blushing, others giggling. You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “If you’re looking for an autograph, I’m afraid you’re mistaken. We’re not celebrities here.”

Oikawa chuckled. “I’m not here for an autograph. Just thought I’d introduce myself. Toru Oikawa, Japan’s beach volleyball team. And you are?”

You exchanged a glance with your teammate before responding. “yn ln. Nice to meet you, Oikawa.”

He took a seat beside you, undeterred by your cool demeanor. “You know, yn, I heard the best way to relax before a big game is to spend time with someone interesting. How about we go for a walk later?”

You smirked. “And you think you’re that interesting, do you?”

“Absolutely,” Oikawa said with a wink. “I promise, you won’t regret it.”

You laughed, a sound that made his heart skip a beat. “Sorry, Oikawa. I’m here to win gold, not to play games. But good luck with your matches.”

He watched as you and your teammate stood up and left the table, your laughter echoing in his ears. For a moment, he was stunned by the rejection but quickly brushed it off. There were plenty of other fish in the sea, after all.

The next day, Oikawa and his team decided to catch the women’s beach volleyball games before their own practice. The stadium was packed with cheering fans, the atmosphere electric. As the match started, Oikawa’s attention was immediately drawn to the court where you and your teammate were playing.

You were a force of nature on the sand, your movements precise and powerful. Oikawa found himself captivated, unable to tear his eyes away. Your skill and endurance were unmatched, and as the match progressed, he could feel his admiration growing.

“Wow,” His teammate muttered beside him. “She’s incredible.”

Oikawa nodded, his eyes never leaving you. “Yeah, she is.”

When the final point was scored, securing your team the gold, the stadium erupted in applause. Oikawa watched as you celebrated with your teammate, your joy infectious. In that moment, he knew he had to see you again.

After the match, Oikawa made his way to where you and your team were gathered. He approached you with a confident stride, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Congrats on the win, yn,” he said, his voice warm. “You were amazing out there.”

You turned to him, a hint of surprise in your eyes before it was replaced with amusement. “Thanks, Oikawa. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I couldn’t miss a chance to watch such an incredible match,” he replied. “You really stood out.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. “Is this another attempt to ask me out?”

“Guilty as charged,” Oikawa admitted with a grin. “How about we celebrate your win with dinner tonight?”

You shook your head, still smiling. “Sorry, but I’ve got plans with my team. Maybe another time.”

He sighed dramatically. “You keep breaking my heart, yn. At least come watch our game tomorrow. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

You hesitated for a moment before finally saying, “We’ll see.”

Despite your noncommittal response, Oikawa couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope.

Throughout your time at the Olympics, you and Oikawa seemed to run into each other constantly. Each encounter was filled with your usual banter and playful teasing, creating a tension between you that was impossible to ignore. Oikawa's persistence never waned, and each time, you would laugh and turn him down, but always with a smile.

One morning, you were in the gym, focused on your workout. The rhythmic sound of weights clinking and the hum of treadmills filled the air. You were in the zone, completely absorbed in your routine, when a familiar voice interrupted your concentration.

"Hey, yn! Need a spotter?"

You looked up to see Oikawa, grinning from ear to ear, a towel slung over his shoulder. You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile tugging at your lips. "I think I can manage, Oikawa."

He feigned a look of disappointment. "Oh, come on. Let me help. I promise not to distract you... too much."

You shook your head, but moved aside, allowing him to take position behind you. As you continued your reps, you could feel his eyes on you, and it made your heart race a little faster. Despite his playful demeanor, he was genuinely helpful, offering tips and encouragement.

After your set, you sat up, wiping sweat from your brow. "Thanks for the help. Didn't think I'd see you here so early."

He shrugged, taking a seat on the bench next to you. "I could say the same about you. Thought you'd be sleeping in after that intense match yesterday."

You smirked. "Rest is for the weak."

He laughed, the sound warm and infectious. "Spoken like a true champion. How about we grab a smoothie after this? My treat."

You shook your head, still smiling. "Nice try, Oikawa. Maybe next time."

He sighed dramatically. "You keep breaking my heart, yn. But I'll keep trying."

Another evening, you found yourself in the dining hall, scanning the array of international cuisine laid out before you. You were reaching for a plate of sushi when a hand beat you to it.

"Great minds think alike," Oikawa said, holding up the plate with a triumphant grin.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing another plate. "Don't you have your own food to eat?"

He shrugged, following you to a nearby table. "Food tastes better with good company."

You sighed but didn't protest as he sat across from you. As you ate, the conversation flowed easily, filled with your usual banter and playful teasing. He regaled you with stories of his teammates and their antics, and you found yourself laughing more than you'd expected.

"You're not so bad, Oikawa," you admitted after a particularly funny story about his teammate's failed attempt to cook ramen.

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning shock. "Was that a compliment? From the great yn? I'm honored."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Don't let it go to your head."

He leaned forward, his expression turning serious for a moment. "I mean it, though. You're pretty amazing, yn. On and off the court."

You felt a flutter in your chest at his words but quickly masked it with a smirk. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Oikawa."

"We'll see about that," he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

One afternoon, you decided to relax by the pool, hoping to get some peace and quiet. You found a secluded spot, laid out your towel, and settled down with a book. The sun was warm on your skin, the sound of water splashing around you creating a soothing background noise.

Just as you were getting lost in the pages of your book, a shadow fell over you. You looked up to see Oikawa, dripping wet from the pool, a wide grin on his face.

"Fancy seeing you here," he said, shaking his wet hair like a dog, droplets of water splashing onto you.

You held up your book as a shield, laughing despite yourself. "Do you follow me everywhere?"

"Only when you're somewhere interesting," he replied, plopping down on the towel next to you.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't suppress a smile. "And what makes you think I want your company?"

He shrugged, stretching out beside you. "I figured you could use some entertainment. How's the book?"

"Better before you showed up," you teased, closing it and setting it aside.

He laughed, a deep, genuine sound. "Always so harsh, yn. So, how about a swim? Bet I can beat you in a race."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Is that a challenge?"

He nodded, eyes sparkling with excitement. "Absolutely. Loser buys dinner."

You considered for a moment before standing up. "You're on."

The race was close, both of you pushing yourselves to the limit. You felt a thrill of competition, matching Oikawa stroke for stroke. In the end, you won by a hair, emerging from the pool breathless but triumphant.

Oikawa climbed out after you, panting and laughing. "I guess I owe you dinner."

You smirked, wringing out your hair. "You can keep your dinner. The victory is enough."

He shook his head, still smiling. "One of these days, yn, you're going to say yes to me."

You laughed, grabbing your towel. "Keep dreaming, Oikawa."

As you walked away, you couldn't help but glance back, finding him watching you with that same mischievous grin. The tension between you was undeniable, but you were determined not to let him win so easily.

As the Olympic Games drew to a close, Oikawa realized his time was running out. On the last day in the village, he made one final attempt to find you. He went to your room, but it was empty. He searched the dining hall and common areas, but there was no sign of you.

Desperate, he spotted your teammate and rushed over. “Where is she? I need to see her.”

“She left for the airport about an hour ago,” your teammate replied. “Her flight isn’t for another three hours, though.”

Heart pounding, Oikawa hurried to the airport. When he arrived, he scanned the crowded terminals until he finally spotted you at the baggage check-in.

He jogged over, slightly out of breath. “Wait!”

You turned, surprised to see him. “Oikawa? What are you doing here?”

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “I know we’ve only known each other for a few weeks, but I couldn’t let you leave without telling you how I feel. I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re incredible, and I can’t stop thinking about you. Can I at least have your number? Maybe we could go out sometime once we’re back home.”

You looked at him, your expression softening. “How did you know I was here?”

“Your teammate told me,” he admitted, his eyes earnest. “I could have asked for your number from her, but I wanted to do this right. I wanted to tell you in person.”

You smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made his heart race. “That’s surprisingly romantic, Oikawa.”

“So, will you give me your number?” he asked, hope shining in his eyes.

You nodded, pulling out your phone. “Alright. Here’s my number. And maybe, just maybe, we can go out sometime.”

He grinned, relief and happiness flooding through him. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

As you walked away to board your flight, Oikawa couldn’t help but feel that this was just the beginning of something amazing. He watched you go, his heart light with anticipation for what the future might hold.

a/n not my best, a lot of it is just empty words idk how to explain it lol, but lowk a bit loooooonger than i thought it was gonna be lol

masterlist

[the-moon-files]

so... my interpretation of guide!reader may be vastly different from others but with my vast assimilation of yours and others content, this is my variation of the one I like envisioning involving concepts such as yours (Humans are NOT Hylians and Guide!Reader) so this is my official start to the ramblings *DEEP INHALE*

when I read the post about reader losing their sord and just punching the monsters and it is working along with the other links being amazed

I imagine that because of the fact that hylian's are so light that they didn't put that much into the growth of physical arts

they can punch and kick fine but that's more so used for scraps agents one another, rather than in fights against monsters

hylian's don't have enough strength or weight to have it be worth it on the battlefield

its much more worth their time and energy to learn things like swordsmanship or artery, and be nimble

but guide dose have: the muscle, weight, durability and training necessary for such a strategy to be worth it

It would be more effective for the reader to use the Muay Thai and Taekwondo they worked so hard on instead of learning something new

_*looking respectfully

I can imagine that this levees them beater of physically than most (*cough* me *cough*)

leveeing them much more prepared

along with giving them a lot more... muscle...

Link's(-wind):... please crush me between your thighs

Guide!Reader: what?

Link's(-wind): what.

I know that it has been said that reader is shorter than time, but I personally like them slightly bigger than time

you know... forehead kissing rang

so it's only slightly less awkward to pick them up

I think their deep honey like voice could be compared to their slightly dark honey-colored eyes

someone like legend would appreciate how their eyes turn golden in the sun light, shining like no ring on his finger

Hyrule loves how they feel different from the cold sweetness of sugar water, instead they feel like rich honey and warm cinnamene

wild remembers them as there very first true companion and comfort

to wars, an immovable force, never leveeing their side

that's all I have fore now, but be warned...

I'll be back!

and I'm putting them in a dress (:<

AHH SORRY FOR LATE REPLY U HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH IVE BEEN HOGGING THIS TO MYSELF

Martial arts reader/Mc my beloved <333

U sent in ART TOO??!!!! 😭🙏

i love stuff like this sm ur style is so 😳💌💘💝💖💓💞💕❤️‍🔥🙈

The bit abt hylians not needing as much/making intricate martial arts/making their body be the weapon is so peak worldbuilding, if i had an official stamp to say smth is canon in my little HaNH AU (Humans are Not Hylians) i would stamp this 10x over

Acc u know what one sec

Since u made art, have some shitty meme art in return

LMAO its shitty but i hope u know it is the biggest support i can give you, like GOD the ART i keep coming back and Also. Looking Respectfully.

And this is the biggest thank you i could give for sharing this w/me!!

Ok spam headcanons?? Sorta

CONTENT WARNINGS: MILDLY SUGGESTIVE? CONTENT, 16+/18+ MATURER AUDIENCES RECOMMENDED.

COULD YOU IMAGINEEEEE

How the Hylians view Wrestling.

Like, your knuckles/elbows/knees (the parts where thers not as much fat to protect) start to bleed punching armored monsters/arms get tired and you just-

Wrap ur legs around a lynels neck and spin around their neck, using your body weight to drag and lay that bitch Out.

(This is a Real Martial Arts move Ive fucking seen a gif of hold on i NEED to find it- FUCK i cant find it but try youtube and see if yall can find it, its So Real i promise, it was on tumblr at one point)

Who's swooning? Not all 8 Links, nope-

Links, externally (+Wind genuinely): Hahaha, u can crush a watermelow open between ur thighs?? Omg thats so cool- !! 😃

Links, internally (-wind): omfTRIPLEGODDESSES- DID U SEE THAT?? IT WASNT JUST ME RIGHT??? SO WE ALL LOWKEY WANNA,, RIGHT??? 🙊😶🙈😳😳😳(Making eye contact w/each other and communicating this silently, everyone going super red/turning away/ears twitching)

Wind makes you do like another 4 watermelons bc its genuinely so impressive to him (does he think its hilarious to watch the others get all embarassed? Hell yeah- what else are little brothers supposed to do??)

Okay but OG asker/Snack Eater DID NOT emphasize how insane a Muay Thai fighter in HaNH AU would go???

If u dont know, Muay Thai is DEADLY-DEADLY kinda martial arts, like it has been considered assault with a deadly weapon before i think/been banned a lot of other fighting places outside its country of origin? I think its Thailand?

Anyway Thailand is fucking crazy for not having a higher rate of murders acredited to this martial art, bc guys, they use Elbows and Knees in their moves.

Like. That's banned/outright no moves created/or at least taught, a lot of the time in other martial arts from diff places.

Like that kills people. So easily. 😃

Like, the Chain already knows ur deadly, but when u reveal (having done the Honorable/Give Them A Fair Chance Thing) and not used Elbows or Knees yet, only to get into the harder enemies like boss fights and suddenly get real close (!!! What are you doing Guide Back Up-!!)

And whip out an elbow, crack the motherfucker straight in the head, and watch the thing immediately flatline right before their eyes??

Its like seeing a biblically accurate angel descend.

Like their in awe, but also scared? But its also like feeding into the awe?? Jaws have dropped.

U tell them that Elbows and Knees are even banned back home, and every single Link is like "Understandable. Obviously. But also, oh my goddess?? A move even the Humans banned?? Bc its so deadly???"

Wind: "..."

Wind: "...hey. Can you kill Gods? ...Can you kill Ganon?"

(The entire Chain goes silent in shock before exploding into Exsistential Crisis Mode, it takes Time/Wars like 5 minutes to recover from this information/experience enough to get up and calm everyone down lmao)

ALSO???

On a completely diff note-

Shorted Links, Taller Guide Reader my beloved?? <<<3333

Oh i def been leaning towards some Links are taller bc i think the imagery of you picking them up easily is funny (what can i say I live to embarass/try and fluster Time/Twi)

But you being taller?? Sign me tf up babe I have NOTHING against that, and am ALL for it????

Like u go thru a triangle portal/wake up from playing Loz and the Links are all shorter than you?? blessings rain down upon us like????

Twi/Time/Wars (who i headcanon as the tallest Links, in that order, along with Sky when he stops slouching lol)

And for Twilight to just be forehead kissing height?!

(He might've realized he's got a thing for lowkey feeling like worshipping ppl taller than him, bc other than the few humans who did live in Ordon, he was the tallest Hylian)

Time adores looking up at you, like u swear you saw his ears flapping a little

Wars is just,, 😀😳👉👈🥺 h-hey

Like flirting is infinitely harder when theyre a head taller than you, the poor Captain has found

(Yknow bc im personally 5"3, or abt 160cm, i think itd be even funnier if no matter what height you are, ur still taller than the tallest Hylians LMAO, Four our here actually being 3-4 ft tall like hobbits lol)

Omg (i know, i PROMISE, i KNOW) that its not canon at all, but i think itd be funny if the hylians most common hair color was blonde/most common eyecolor was blue/green,

And its rarer for ppl to have brown eyes/dark hair

Like the opposite of a lot of American beauty standards, ur seen at the Y/N, the main character for having darker features

(Lowkey inlcuding skin tone bc, and this is canon, have u seen the skin tone diversity historically for Loz games lmao 😅)

Ok im done sorry for rambling

Thanks again for this!!

___ TW: Hurricane Helene talk below ____

Fair Warning: I WILL NOT be tolerating any condescending/hateful or otherwise negative responses about the effects of Hurricane Helene.

People have died. Myself/my friends/my family/my coworkers have been affected. Be respectful.

You will be blocked/possibly reported for hate speech.

This was like Hurricane Katrina for us, because these areas were NOT prepared for hurricanes.

Those most affected are Mountain communities, we're supposed to have more mild weather, and the last time this happened according to older locals was decades ago, if then.

...

Hey!! If u read my tags of my last reblog, im doing better, we got back to town and realized our powers back on, and then the next day luckily our water was back on too

(its not drinkable but at least we can flush the toliet/shower 😭)

Luckily too by this point the water distribution/rescue crews are here,

DUDE. We were/are so fucked Biden came to look at us 😃

Im personally still on the lookout for missing ppl (my coworker has missing family in the town nearby and in telling my friend over there to spread the word)

And cellular service is back up, but they may jut be bc they brought in temporary towers/Tmobile is giving out free service for everyone too

Its slow going still, all these developments are taking days to achieve if u cant tell

And no pressure, esp if u dont have the spare money,

But if you could donate to help my city/the cities nearby who are still very isolated bc theyre smaller, along with helping our homeless people who no doubt are worse off, thatd mean to world to me/all of us!! <3

Here's some links for that, even if its just tip money/money for a coffee, anything helps!

https://pay.payitgov.com/ncdonations

https://crowdfund.charlotte.edu/project/44126

https://www.chabadasheville.org/templates/section_cdo/aid/6606696/jewish/Hurricane-Helene-Relief.htm

Thanks for reading, and blessed be those still in need of rescue, from human to animals, and to those who have passed.

May those you left behind find peace.

<3

Peact out,

🌙

[oksurethisismyname]

A continuation on my transmasc postpartum Sanji thoughts, this version had top surgery at some point in his life.

When Sanji got pregnant, one of the unfortunate prenatal questions his amazing Dr. Chopper asked was “do you plan on chest feeding?” For someone else with less trauma around being fed and their body, this question wouldn’t be awful. But for Sanji? This question hits him like the sea train hit Franky. It rips him up. His thoughts spiral.

Can I even do that? Do I still have those… organs or whatever the fuck? What if my baby can’t eat because of me fuck shit I didn’t think it through enough I wanted to look a certain way holy shit I can’t believe I was so selfish I can’t -

It’s not hard for Zoro or Chopper to see Sanji spiraling. Honestly, Chopper expected some dysphoria but he didn’t think this would be the moment. Zoro has to gently pull Sanjis hands from his hair. After some uncomfortable moments of calming down, Sanji shares his concerns. Chopper doesn’t lie, doesn’t sugar coat it. It’s possible he can still chest feed which is why he asked if that was something he wanted or planned to do. It’s possible there won’t be enough milk, they can’t really be certain ahead of time, so it would be smart to think through alternatives.

So they make a plan. Sanji tirelessly researches safe breast milk alternatives, with Robin and Choppers help. Goats milk? Cows milk? There was one book that suggested donkey milk but where would they even find that? One island in the new world feeds infants a mixture of wine and honey but Chopper is adamant that, while he respects and learns from different cultural medical care, this is not one that should be practiced.

And when the baby comes, they miraculously latch and Sanji thinks maybe it’ll be ok maybe he’ll make enough maybe he’s capable. And then it’s every 2-3 hour feeding, regaining birth weight, nursing and then having some goatsmilk while held in a chest feeding position. This goes on for weeks? Maybe? Sanji can’t tell, he’s waking up every 2 hours. Zoro offers every night to feed the baby so Sanji can get 4 hours of uninterrupted sleep but Sanji can’t accept that help. What is he good for if not this? His job is to feed his crew and his child. If he can’t do that what’s the fucking point?

When the baby finally gets back their birthweight and starts sleeping for longer stretches, Sanji allows himself to rest. Chopper is constantly bringing him electrolyte drinks and protein packed foods; Nami has started forcing him to sit with her when she’s on deck sunbathing to get some sun on his skin and fresh air; Zoro is changing every diaper claiming that if “sanji deals with what goes in the baby all by himself, I can deal with what comes out.” Sanji kicks him softly in the shin for that.

Months pass and Sanji is depressed. He barely has the effort to shower let alone care for this baby. He thinks he hates this baby. He’s suffocating on intrusive thoughts. His thoughts scare him. He thinks about throwing the baby overboard. Dropping the baby down the stairs. Pouring coffee on the baby. Why can’t he stop thinking these things?

What kind of monster hates his own child? I swore I’d never be like them is this the beginning am I losing myself will zoro have to keep his promise he’ll be devestated I can’t believe I put this burden on him fuck I’m so useless I can’t even -

Zoro, Chopper, and Nami hold what some might call an intervention. They know he’s struggling with post partum depression and they think maybe if he stops chest feeding that will help. They tip toe around it until Zoro finally says it aloud. He’s never yelled at a woman before but he screams at all of them, Nami included. He yells. He cries. How dare they tell him what to do with his body! They don’t fucking get it! The only time he feels connected to that baby is when he’s nursing. It’s the only time he looks down and feels actually connected, actually useful, actually wanted by this child.

He doesn’t stop chest feeding. He gets worse. Around month 7, the baby starts gnawing on his nipples. It fucking hurts but he’ll get through it. He’s dreading when he’ll need to start weening. What if they don’t ween until the baby’s 2 yrs old? Will he even live that long? He doesn’t share those thoughts, he knows they would scare his crew.

He’s getting treatment for his post partum, he’s doing his best to get better when he has the energy to but it’s so hard.

And then one day, the baby won’t nurse. They’re distracted, they’re full, they’ve started eating soft solid foods and purées recently. Sanji breaks down crying, sobbing because if he can’t do this one thing what’s he good for?

Surprisingly, or maybe not, it’s Luffy who is able to calm him down. He’s so straight forward, everything is an adventure or a battle to win.

“Sanjis the best cook in the world! You did such a good job feeding all of us, especially the baby! You did it! That baby is strong and big and chunky with the fattest cheeks like when I’m eating a lot of food and shi shi shi they’ve got those thigh rolls and Robin says that means the baby is healthy and I think I saw them eyeing my turkey leg oh my gosh that was so good can you maybe more? Please please please please”

Sanji sits there repeating the words in his head, over and over he thinks I did it. Yeah. I did do it. I did it. I did it. I did good.

[yesimwriting]

Promise

a/n yes im using the princess! reader who's about to be forced into a political marriage with anakin again,, and what about it the vibe is so fun to me, also i love jealous anakin

warnings: 18+!!! smut (he broke me down) written by someone whose only experience comes from fanfics, so pls be nice,, also written in 1st person bc that was the vibe when i started and i didn't realize this was going to get smutty (i'm sorry yall😭 it's still my best tense)

Summary: As a princess, your future is set in stone. You'll marry someone your father picks for you to aid your country. All of this you've accepted...until you befriend Anakin Skywalker, who was originally assigned to guard you during a time of political unrest on your home planet.

----

He's still near the door, arms crossed and expression as stoic as it was when he first interrupted my meeting to escort me to an urgent consultation with my father.

I understand that publicly we need to remain as indifferent as physically possible and that any sort of friendliness we display needs to seem completely surface level. But we're not in public anymore and usually the transition from appropriate indifference to something much warmer is instant.

"...How urgent is urgent?"

The question is more for our sake than anything else. I want to hear his voice outside of the stiff way he interrupted the meeting with that last suitor. He had barely looked at me as he mumbled something about my father. I want it to feel light the way it usually does between us. I want him to make one of those jokes that always has me rolling my eyes or to smile or--or to do anything that makes him feel like Anakin.

The urge to study him begins to make it hard to just stand there so I turn towards my vanity. What I'm wearing isn't exactly inappropriate for a closed door meeting, but it's more formal than I'd like and a little itchy. If I have time to change into something more standard, I'll take it. "If I call Raina in here I can be in something a lot more comfortable in five minutes."

No response. I smooth my hair back with my palms, eyes subtly shifting towards his reflection in the mirror. Anakin's taken the slightest step forward. "Anakin?"

His head tilts downwards, eyes briefly meeting mine in the mirror before darting away. There's something about the way he's holding himself that would feel bashful it was less stiff. "There is no meeting."

"What?" My head instinctually snaps in his direction. Anakin's already watching me. "You--you made up an emergency?"

This is--Anakin interrupted a meeting with the first suitor that didn't make my skin crawl. I wouldn't have been thrilled to walk down the aisle with him, but I could have likely learned to be content with him. At least he believes that women can do more than just be brides and raise children. He'd allow me to participate in some community work to bond with his people and I'd be able to visit home.

But that's besides the point. He could have been the most repulsive candidate my father had found for me and it still wouldn't have justified what Anakin did. I don't walk out of meetings. Ever. If my father finds out about this...

"Do you have any idea what my father will do if he finds out?" I sit the edge of my vanity's seat with a tired sigh. There has to be some excuse. I could blame it on sickness or a misunderstand or--

"Then I'll take the blame." Anakin's words pull me out of my thoughts. His voice is still stiff and lacking its usual warmth in a way that only adds to my unease. Why is he acting like this? "I'll tell him that it was my fault and that I misunderstood your schedule debriefing."

My fingers dig into the soft fabric of my dress that's pooling over the seat. "Don't." My voice sounds so small, so vulnerable I have to hate myself for it. "He might take that the wrong way and--" I exhale slowly, forcing myself to cling to rationality. "And he might arrange your removal."

Anakin scoffs. What is his issue? "Like that'd bother you."

My throat tightens. After everything we've been through, after telling him things that I've never been able to tell anyone...How can he just dismiss all of it? And why is he being so mean? "What?"

"You've found your ideal suitor and now you can get married and be sent away and never--" Anakin cuts himself off, eyes tearing away so quickly like there's painful about looking at me. "You don't need me anymore."

Oh. That's what this is about. "Anakin." He's staring at some distant point on my wall. "That's not true. You know it isn't."

Everything about him remains stiff. "You were smiling." He briefly glances at me, eyebrows drawn together so sharply it tugs at something in my chest. "A real smile, not your practiced one." Anakin lets out a sigh that feels as pointed as a sarcastic laugh. "And you laughed."

"What?" I'm not miserable in one meeting and now he's acting like I hate him. "I--I might have been making the best of it because he's the first suitor who didn't spend the entire time listing off the requirements for his bride, but that isn't the same as liking him." And even if I liked him, would that be such a terrible thing? Would it really undermine our entire friendship if I found a way to be married and not miserable? "I'm going to have to marry one of them at some point, and I d--"

"Don't marry him." Anakin blurts the sentence out in one wavering breath. The letters run together so closely it feels more like a single word.

For a moment, all the shaky request does is sit between us. I've been on several outings and meetings with potential suitors and Anakin's never reacted like this. What was so wrong about this last one? "Don't marry him? What do--"

Anakin's eyes finally meet mine. The way he's looking at me stings, all glossy eyes and a pouty frown that's trying its best to be harsh. He seems more pained than angry and that's somehow worse.

Don't marry him. The words too strained and small to be about just the man from earlier. Don't marry him means don't marry any of them.

Oh.

I scratch the back of my wrist as Anakin's eyes drop to the ground. He knows that I have no interest in marrying for my father, but even if I did, why would that bother him?

With a sigh, I push myself to stand. Why it upsets him doesn't matter. So much is already weighing on him.

Anakin doesn't look up as I start walking towards him. "I--I can't promise that." My nails dig into the skin of my palm. "I wish I could." The words leave a bitter taste in my mouth. "But it doesn't matter." Anakin's rigid as I carefully extend my hand and bend my fingers against his forearm. "You're always going to be important to me."

He pulls his arm forward instinctually. My hold on him loosens, but before I can take my hand back, Anakin adjusts his to squeeze mine. He's holding on just tight enough for it to feel uncomfortable, but I don't mind it. It's grounding.

"Until you're married." He's staring at where our hands sit between us. There's something I should say, something comforting and easing. Nothing's coming to mind. The reality of the situation is set in stone. I'll have to marry eventually and that--that will change things. But it'll never change the way I feel about Anakin.

Anakin, who always listens when I need to purge all of the resentment about the rules that control my life. Anakin, who sits with me when I can't sleep. Anakin, who has the worst sense of humor that can always pull a smile from me even when it feels impossible.

He moves our hands, releasing my hand at my side. The brief loss of contact makes my ribs feel cracked. "No." It's instinctual. "It's--" I reach forward, hand reaching for his arm. "You're the only person I can tell anything to, the only one that never expects anything from me and just--just likes me for who I am."

The realization that Anakin might be the only true friend I've ever had hits me hard and fast. All of that and a part of me has always been selfish enough to imagine what it'd be like to live in a different world that could allow for more. Though, that's barely been a thought that I've allowed myself to have. Neither of us are in a position to get attached to anyone in that way, and even if we were, Anakin wouldn't see me that way. Besides, his friendship is no small thing, so it definitely takes the sting out of the impossible.

"Who wouldn't?" The comment comes out so soft, so absentminded I nearly melt on the spot.

A lifetime of being a daughter instead of a son has a reflexive a lot of people attempting to crawl up my throat. I swallow the bitterness like bile before I can make this about me and settle on a much lighter, "You'd be surprised."

Any lift in his expression falls again. "You don't see it."

I do try to think about it, but nothing that makes sense comes to mind. "See what?" Anakin pauses, lips pressing together. I'm expecting some kind of response. Instead, Anakin shakes his head once dismissively. "Tell me." His lack of response has me gently shoving his shoulder. "I thought we didn't keep secrets."

He lets out a small breath, we're so close I can feel the warmth of it against my skin. "It's nothing." When my only reaction is to glare, he reaches for my hand. "I don't want to talk about them anymore."

Strange. What does whatever he's talking about have to do with what we were talking about? Yes, the suitors want to court me but they want me the same way they want an ornament or my father's leniency in a business deal. Before I can remind him of this, his hand finds my shoulder.

If Anakin notices the way I freeze, he gives no indication of it, he just trails his thumb up and down the start of my collarbone. It's not the first time he's done this, but until now the gesture has been reserved for late nights when I can't sleep. I'm so used to it being soothing that it immediately gets rid of any fight in my system.

"You've had more meetings recently."

I nod, still too focused on the feeling of his hand on my shoulder. "It's a busy time...celebration season is always elaborate, and things are...tense."

He nods. If there's one thing he knows about, it's the precariousness that seems to be reaching everyone these days. But my time with Anakin is limited. He's been assigned to be my personal guard during the celebration season since the year a political protestor took my mother's life. The season always feels like it will be long, but time always slips away quicker than it should when it comes to Anakin.

I know I shouldn't do this. He doesn't need any type of encouragement after what happened at today's meeting, but something's clearly been weighing on him and I do miss him. The additional events, the public outings, the suitors...all to save face as the threat of war continues to become a more pressing issue. "My father had most of my afternoon blocked off in case that last suitor wanted extra time."

Anakin frowns, his thumb stopping its outlined path across my shoulder. He is so dramatic. "I shouldn't be telling you this because it might sound like I approve of you making up an emergency, but if you don't have anything to do, we can catch up."

He tilts his head, a hint of a smile turning up the corner of his lips. "Catch up? We're together all day."

I extend an arm, gently pushing him. First, he basically throws a fit because he convinced himself it was possible for me to like a suitor more than him, and now that I want to do something with him, he's trying to make fun of me. "I mean about before you came here. We've barely had time to talk since you've gotten back."

"Okay," his thumb brushes back down where my collarbone meets my shoulder, "We can talk." He squeezes my shoulder before retracting his hand. "The garden or the library?"

Our two most frequented spots. I grin. "The garden, the weather's nice today." He smiles, taking a step back. "Give me a minute to change. I turn away from him, walking towards my closet. "I've been ready to take off this dress since Raina put me in it this morning."

Raina spent longer than a minute trapping me in between scratchy fabric and a stiffly structured top. All of those ties and buttons that I still can't reach. Ugh. I wonder if calling Raina in will lead to more attention being drawn to the fact that I left early. Technically, the official meeting would likely be over by now but my father wanted it to go well. He kept things open in hopes of it lasting a little longer.

It's probably better not to ask. Drawing any attention to me and Anakin isn't the best idea in general. We're good friends, which is okay in front of some people but wrong in front of others. Raina is a little skeptical. It's nothing personal against Anakin, she just knows me too well, which means she reads into things.

I stretch my arm back as far as it'll go and manage to undo the bottom of the lacing and a few buttons. Anything that's more than halfway up my back is impossible to get to. I twist and turn and push and I can't reach.

"Everything alright?"

Anakin's voice carries through the short hall. I sigh, giving the fabric one last desperate tug. "Everything's fine I just..." I squeeze my eyes shut before pinching the bridge of my nose. "Can you come here?"

A brief wave of silence that leaves my face burning lingers until the sound of footsteps ends it. Anakin appears in my closet's doorway. "You're okay?"

"Yeah," I mumble, "Yes, I just--I can't get the buttons." As if to make my point, I try again in vain, trying again to reach the tiny clasps.

"You need help?" Anakin's voice comes out lower than usual.

Maybe he feels just as awkward about this. "If it'd be easier, you could just call in Raina."

"No," I can hear his weight shifting off the doorframe, "I can do it."

He takes a few steps forward. Before I know it, he's directly behind me. Anakin smooths a hand over my hair before gently moving it over my shoulder. The way heat begins to crawl up my neck makes me glad that my back is to him. His hand settles against my back.

I pull my arms forward, crossing them in front of my chest. He takes over, fingertips grazing against my back. The longer he works, the looser the dress begins to feel. I should be feeling cooler now that I'm getting closer to just being in my thin layering dress, but all of my earlier warmth and discomfort is now rising up my face.

"Raina put you in this this morning?"

I nod, "Raina woke me up earlier than usual today to make me up." The final button is pulled apart. I have to keep an arm at my chest to keep the dress from pooling at my feet. "I think this might have taken longer than my hair."

The comment is meant to be lighthearted. Instead of taking it that way, Anakin lets out a breath as his hand settles against my hip. "Won't things be easier when you don't have to worry about finding a husband?"

Now it's my turn to sigh. I make a point of pulling his hand off my side. I wander further into my closet. "You know I want nothing to do with this." My grip on the dress tightens, my sudden movement making it harder to keep the heavy dress on. "And if you honestly think I find any joy in being packaged in suffocating fabric and bodices so structured that they stab into my ribs every time I breathe, then you don't know me."

I turn around and let go of the dress, allowing the gown to pool at my feet. I step out of the puddle of fabric before reaching for one of my hangers, a casual day dress that I've barely looked at.

"I didn't mean it that way." His voice comes out low, almost reluctant. It's not enough to ease me, so I make a point of scoffing. Something warm pulls on my forearm. Before I know it, I'm facing with him. Oh. Anakin's closer than I thought he'd be. "I'm sorry." He exhales, voice tight, "Don't be mad, princess."

I keep my expression neutral. Though I'm in no mood to be reminded of my title, Anakin has a way of making it feel like a term of endearment. "If you're bothered by my situation, I understand that." He's staring me with such intensity I have to make the conscious choice to not look away. "I really understand that, but do not treat me like this is my choice. Not all of us are meant for more and can do whatever we want."

"Not whatever I want," he whispers, voice strained.

Now it's my turn to wish I had bitten my tongue. Anakin's told me enough of the stories for me to know that while sometimes the fact that he gets to leave and be an active source of good makes me wish my life was different, his isn't exactly easy.

His eyes hold mine for a beat before drifting downwards. For whatever reason, that makes me aware of the fact that this is likely the least dressed I've ever been in front of anyone. Sure, Anakin's seen me in pajamas and casual wear, but the silk dress under my gown is thin and low cut.

"And don't say that this is what you're meant for." He pulls my arm down with his hand, letting his fingers interlock with mine. "I've seen you in meetings and the way that you care about your people. You don't need to do this."

Again, it's like he's trying to convince me to change my mind. Like this is something that I want. I don't understand what he's trying to convince me to do. "Try telling that to my father."

I'm not sure what it is, but something about Anakin's expression looks a little flatter. Maybe even disappointed. I get it, this isn't exactly a fun topic, and we have no reason to dwell on it now. It's not like I'm getting engaged tonight. And I rarely get time to just be around Anakin, my future marriage has already taken enough from me, it doesn't need to take this too.

"Why are we still talking about this?" I pull my hand back, ready to grab my dress. "It's not like anything's happening now, let's just go to the garden like we--"

Anakin reaches forward before I can turn around, his hand finding my shoulder.

"I--" He cuts himself off, "There's been a rise in meetings with potential suitors, it's not as easy to ignore as it used to be."

I know exactly what he's talking about. All of my energy has been focused on not thinking about that. But that's because it's my inevitable future. How could this possibly matter this much to Anakin? "Ignore what?"

"Do you have any idea how difficult it is to know what they're feeling? What they're thinking about you?" Anakin's breath catches itself in his throat, his thumb slipping beneath the strap of my dress. "What they're thinking about doing to you?"

Heat rushes to my face. I try to swallow to clear the lump in my throat but my mouth has gone dry. "Anakin?"

"I've spent so long trying to let you go."

What? Is he--is he saying that he-- "What?"

He tilts his head downwards, "You don't need to do this. I--"

"Don't say it." My hand is quick to grab the one he has on my shoulder. Push him away, I should push him away. My hand won't move. The one person I've always known I won't ever be able to have.

"Why not?" He asks the question so innocently, like he couldn't ever fathom a reason for me to shut this down. After a moment, his eyebrows pull together, a small frown playing at his lips. "You don't want me?"

If this was any less serious, that would have made me laugh. That is, most definitely, not the issue. "That's not true."

He relaxes slightly, his thumb trailing down my shoulder. Before I can explain issues that we both are definitely aware of, he leans impossibly closer. His weight on mine is nearly enough to make me forget the concept of logic entirely.

"Anakin," it's meant to be a warning. The breathiness of my voice takes away all of its severity. "We can't." I'm arguing for more my sake than his. He already knows all of the reasons that we need to agree to remain just friends before things get any more complicated. "What I want doesn't matter. Nothing I've wanted has ever mattered." He hasn't moved away, but at least he isn't trying to get any closer. "And even if it did, it's not like we'd suddenly be able to be together."

Anakin's hand adjusts on my shoulder, his grip tightening. He has the audacity to look like he's not sure what I'm talking about. "The Jedi code?" He blinks, still giving no indication of understanding why everything about us is impossible. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you why that matters, chosen one."

He scoffs. "I don't care."

I place my free hand on his chest, willing myself to create some distance between us before my judgement finally lapses. "You can't--you can't say that." My eyes squeeze shut, "I know that it's unfair, but time will pass and you'll feel rational again, and it'll be easier."

"Don't do that." The harsh quality of his voice nearly makes me step back. "Don't treat this like it's a political compromise."

Something about me trying to keep things together the only way I know how is hurting him. I don't know how to get through this without taking the emotion out of it. Still, I don't want to make this harder on him. My hand moves up his chest and rests on his shoulder. "I didn't mean it like that."

He nods slowly, visibly relaxing at my touch, "You're only pushing me away because you're afraid."

"What?"

Anakin's thumb drags across my skin. "You're afraid that if you let yourself even admit that you might want something that your father hasn't decided for you, and that if you're selfish for even a second, your entire world will fall apart."

If it came from anyone else, I'd be offended, but coming from Anakin, it just makes the real reason why I can't just say it and give in hurt more. "That's not it." Anakin doesn't respond. He wants me to say more and I'm not sure that I can. "It's--" What I'm afraid of is that I let myself admit that I want Anakin out loud, I'll have to decide whether or not I want him more than everything I've been working towards my entire life and that I won't like my own answer.

"It's that," I start over, staring at my hand on his shoulder in case looking at him directly will make the confidence I've gathered to wither away. "That if I let myself think about it, about you--like that--for longer than a moment, I might want you more than any of this."

He pauses, likely thinking through his words. Maybe he'll try to promise me that he wouldn't make me choose while not understanding that being with him at all makes that decision for me. Or maybe the amount of care I'm implying will scare him into second guessing this.

His hand slowly moves off of my shoulder. If my deep, dark secret has finally gotten him to understand why we're better off as we are, then maybe it's worth how hard it was to get out.

His fingers settle against my jaw. Slowly, he gets my head to turn. I look at him, expecting some kind of rejection to be written across his face. Instead, all I see in his eyes is a pool of emotion ready for me to drown in. "Would that have to be a bad thing?"

This time, the softness of his question doesn't feel like an attempt to dismiss our reality. It's so genuine it turns into a physical ache between us.

I'm reminded that despite all of his talent, confidence, and sense of humor that I've tried so hard to enjoy less, he's still a boy who's experienced so much heartbreak. The council constantly dismissing him and refusing to grant him the title he deserves, the loss of his mother, all of the expectations on his shoulders...

Would it be such a bad thing to want him more than anything else? To love him more that much?

I tilt my head back, just enough to press my lips against his. Anakin's quick to reciprocate, turning the barely there press of lips into something else with no warning. He shifts his weight so that he's fully against me. My back hits the wall of my closet before I realize what's happening.

It's heavy, my bottom lip being pulled between his teeth. The hand that's not still cupping my jaw settles on my hip, the silk of my slip dress crumpling between his fingers. I pull my head back, Anakin attempts to follow, teeth tugging on my lip one last time before letting us separate.

He doesn't let me get far, resting his forehead against mine as we both struggle to catch our breaths. "I'm sorry, I should have--"

"Don't be sorry," I manage between slow pants, "Not for that."

Anakin smiles, and for once, I don't mind feeding his ego. "I can feel how much you need me." The urge to squirm away and hide any potential embarrassment is strong, but I have no way to act on the impulse. I'm pinned between Anakin and the wall of my closet. He slowly pulls my dress, exposing another inch of skin. "Do you think any of your suitors could make you feel like this?"

I shake my head, "No." That's an easy thing to get out, "Only you."

Another tug that has more fabric pooling around my waist. "Promise you won't marry him." His head dips forward, his lips brushing against the end of my jaw. "Any of them."

My eyes instinctually shut. I need to hold it together. "You--you know I can't just--" He places an open mouthed kiss against my neck. "Anakin."

"Promise." An order.

I exhale, struggling to focus. "It's not--" Another kiss. "It's not f--air." My voice cracks on the last syllable as Anakin moves further down my neck. "You know I'd never break a promise I made to you."

"What's not fair is having to watch you meet with men who look at you and to know that this..." He pulls the strap of my dress off of my shoulder, exposing more skin that he immediately presses his lips against. "Is what they want to do to you."

What? I had never thought that my suitors fantasized about anything, everything about those meetings always feel so cold and political. I'd question it if I could bring myself to care about the revelation with Anakin's teeth pressing into the pulse point of my neck. "To have to watch them look at what's mine."

"Anakin..."

One last shift of fabric and the hem of my dress is now over my hips. His hand leaves my jaw and skims the waist of my underwear. "Promise."

His fingers finally reach where I need him most. My eyes instinctually shut at the sensation, a wave of pleasure I've never felt before nearly making me jump. Noticing my tension, he presses a gentle kiss against my cheek.

I have to give him something, and maybe that'll be enough to at least put this conversation off until I'm in a position to negotiate. "I'm yours." My ability to form sentences is quickly fading as his finger presses into me. "Can't that be enough?" A small part of myself hates how easily I'm cracking. "For now?"

Anakin does the meanest thing imaginable, he stops. "Promise me."

A pathetically desperate whine escapes me. He can't be serious. He won't walk away now just because I can't immediately promise to never marry anyone.

He straightens enough to pull away from the crook of my neck. "Anakin." I meet his gaze, and behind the harshness of his eyes, I see that he means it. "You know I--I can't--"

"We can work it out." That genuine side of him returns, softness bleeding back into his expression. "All that matters is that you want to."

"Of course I want to."

He leans forward again, forehead pressing against mine, "Then promise me..." Anakin's eyes briefly shut, "Promise me you won't marry anyone else."

I let myself take him in, how it feels to let him consume me entirely. It's too late for me, anyway. I wouldn't be able to will myself to walk down the aisle the same way I couldn't force myself to push him away. "I promise."

His lips are on mine in an instant. When I don't part my lips fast enough, he hooks two fingers between the waistband of my underwear and tugs them down my legs in one, swift motion. I gasp, giving him all the access he needs to drag his tongue against mine.

He moves back, beginning to press his lips against my jaw. "Anakin."

"Say it again." His fingers find the spot that makes me see stars. "Promise me that you're mine."

A whiny breath slips past my lips, "I promise." His teeth drag against my throat and my nails instinctually dig into his shoulder, "Only you."

A rough sound escapes from the back of Anakin's throat. He removes a hand from my hip to adjust his own robes. I'm too distracted to realize what he's doing until it's obvious. "Again."

I reach my hand forward until my fingers are wrapping around his length. "Only you, Anakin." He groans. "I--I won't marry anyone else." Anakin places his hand over mine, guiding my hand up and down his length. "I'm yours."

He buries his face in the crook of my neck, "Maker, you're--" The rest of the sentence is murmured into my skin at a pitch that I can't make out.

His fingers press into me even harder. "Anakin," my whininess would be embarrassing if I wasn't so distracted by the coiling feeling in my stomach, "I--I--"

"Tell me," he lifts his head enough to speak the words into my ears, "Tell me that you want me."

My eyes screw shut, "I--It's more than want." It feels like a confession. "I need you."

Another strangled breath escapes him. Anakin pulls away enough to line himself against my entrance. He presses in slowly, the feeling in my stomach reaches a height I didn't think possible. "Anakin."

"You're so," he's getting the words out through gritted teeth, "Tight." Anakin pushes in even more. A gasp escapes me. "Say it again." I'm too lost in what I'm feeling to form the words. He pulls back before pushing his entire length in with no warning. Anakin shows no reaction to the pitchy whine he forced out of me. "Again."

"It's--it's only--you," I pant. "I won't marry any-one else--just--just please, Anakin."

His thumb presses against where my nerves are at their most on edge. I can't breathe or focus on anything. "Please what?"

"I need you."

He rubs tight circles against me and picks up the pace. My head falls against his shoulder, eyes squeezing tight. "Look at me." I--I can't keep my head up. Anakin's hand tugs at my hair, forcing me off of his shoulder. "Look at me."

I force my eyes open. "Anakin."

"Feel good, hm?" All I can do is nod. "Can't even talk anymore?" His lips find their way against my jaw. "What would all your suitors say if they could see how easy it was for me to get you like this?" His lips find a spot on my neck that leaves me dizzy. "First breaking all the rules and now you can't even talk." It's hard to focus on anything that isn't how he feels. "Who has you like this?"

I take a shaky breath, "You, Anakin." My voice is shaky, "Only you."

His lips press against mine. Hard. I give in entirely and it's all teeth and wanting a closer that doesn't exist. He pulls away just as quickly, "I've got you, princess," he exhales, "come for me."

My body knows what to do more than I do. I cling onto him. Anakin's thrusts become less even without losing speed. He continues until an all consuming pleasure has my body practically shaking. My orgasm hits so fast and hard I can barely hold myself upright.

"Oh, you're squee--" Anakin cuts himself off, pulling out before he can finish inside me. "Maker, you're perfect."

After it ends, I expect to be filled with some kind of regret or remorse. Instead, all I feel is a sense of peace as I recover with my forehead pressed into Anakin's chest. He keeps his arm around me loosely. "It's just you and me, princess."

I nod against him weakly, desperate to accept what he's saying. "Just you and me."

He smooths circles against my back. "We'll figure it out together."

It's not an easy thing to believe, but trusting Anakin is natural. I finally lift my head to look at him, "We have time." I don't know how much time, but it's definitely not happening today, and if I can push this until our political crisis becomes the ultimate concern, my father won't bring it up until this is resolved. Maybe if I prove myself as a leader, he'll see that I can be more. "I'm tired."

He smiles lazily, "You're saying I tired you out?" I roll my eyes. "Come on, we have some time before you have to meet with your advisors." Anakin squeezes my shoulder, thumb soothingly tracing a pattern against my collarbone. "Stay with me?"

I have to bite my tongue to keep a much too emotional always from coming out, so I just nod. He takes my hand and leads me into my bedroom. Anakin helps me into bed before laying next to me.

Drowsiness pulls at my eyelids. I fight against the exhaustion as best as I can, but Anakin's gentle touches and whispered terms of endearment aren't making it easier.

"You can sleep," he finally whispers, "I'll make sure you're awake with enough time to get ready for your next meeting."

It's tempting, but after all of this, all I want is to be near him and to--to talk to him and absorb his presence before I can't. "But--"

"I'm not going anywhere," he says, reading my hesitance easily, "We have time."

My eyes are already closed, "Promise?"

Anakin's head dips forward as he presses a chaste kiss against my temple. "I promise."

[pedgito]

just saw an asks where you are talking about mean eddie mocking you and it did something to me lmao. could you elaborate on that with a little blurb. maybe ur riding eddie and it just feels so good that your legs give up on u and he is being mean and sarcastic about it till he takes the lead

author’s note: i couldn’t remember what i said about that so just enjoy really playful/mean eddie, this would’ve been longer but i’ve been struggling a bit lately, still i hope you enjoy!

cw: 18+ (minors dni) mean!eddie & mean!reader (but it’s all playful, slight dom!eddie (if you squint), protected sex, multiple orgasms, aftercare, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 1.8k

Eddie was an antagonizer in its purest form, never malicious but always with an endgame in mind. It would start as subtle teasing, off-handed comments that would have you retorting back in such a manner that Eddie couldn’t help but smile, knowing he’d get you back for it later.

He’d crowd behind you at your locker, hand clasped over yours where it’s gripping the metal and whisper against your ear, “Keep wearing stuff like that and I’m not gonna be able to handle myself.”

You could wear anything and Eddie would have the same response, but that was beside the point. His free hand slips into the open hole of your ripped jeans against your upper thigh and squeezes, forcing a surprised laugh out of you, muffling it with your hand as you ducked your head into your locker, elbowing him gently with your other arm.

It was an everyday occurrence now and you’ve learned the only way to shut him up is to react, even if you’d regret it later.

“What? So you can fuck me in the bathroom again?” You tease lightly, “A whole three minutes? I know you can do better.”

Eddie shrugs, “Can you blame me?”

His attraction toward you was never-ending and intense, something you’ve never experienced before him. Eddie was the kind of suffocating love you always wanted, soaking up every moment of it.

“Part of me thinks you like the idea of getting caught,” You smirk half heartedly, “kinda fucked up if you ask me.”

“You’re one to talk.” Eddie replies, ignoring your obvious jab.

You laugh softly, leaning forward until your lips are barely touching, eyes glaring into Eddie’s, “Is that what you want?”

Eddie makes a small noise of confusion, still playing into your act.

“You wanna fuck me, right here?” Eddie wouldn’t dare, he’s not that asinine, but he enjoys the back and forth, the deep fire in your eyes as you speak to him. Your hand tugs at the hem of his shirt, hand resting just above the belt of his jeans, twisting the shirt in your hands slightly before pulling him toward you abruptly, pressing a bruising kiss against his lips.

“Too bad,” You answer for him, “I need to focus on this English test,” Eddie scoffs, rolling his eyes—you were perfectly fine, up to aces with all of your work and there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that you wouldn’t pass, “and Principal Higgins is watching us—so you should probably get to class.”

Eddie chances a glance to his left, realizing just how right you were. He looks back quickly, familiar smirk on your face as you pull away, reaching behind you to close your locker.

“Stay out of trouble?” You ask, tone soft and warm toward him.

“No promises,” He replies wearily, scratching at the side of his jaw, mindful of the eyes still watching you both, “everyone’s out to get me, remember?”

“You’ll stay out of trouble,” You assure him again, eyeing him briefly, eyes dragging from head to toe, “right?”

And he can see it in the look you give him, the salacious grin on your face. There would be consequences—or metaphorical consequences, not that he didn’t have a way to counter them, but he nods.

“Mhmm,” He agrees, nodding slightly. “Promise.”

But, promises didn’t always hold up and we’re bound to break at some point.

And it’s no surprise when you find Eddie in after school detention with an even more shameful look on his face than earlier in the day, dragging his feet up to you in a leisurely manner as he wraps his arms over your shoulder, slung around you loosely.

“You never listen to me,” You complain with amusement, letting him press a light kiss into your hair, the smirk evident in his face even if you couldn’t see him. “Do you?”

Eddie thinks for a moment, briefly, “No.”

So, by later that night, it’s almost a constant back and forth, neither of you daring to break until Eddie gets his hands around your thighs, pulling you tight against him, burying himself even deeper.

“What was that?” He asks, a patronizing lilt in his voice, breath coming out in pants. “I didn’t hear you.”

“I can’t—“ You breath out, shoving his hands away weakly, “no more, Eddie, please.”

He’d already managed to make you come twice, quickly working his way into a third, his hips moving gingerly as he listened to you, though he was obviously enjoying your torture, his eyes lighting up at the feeling of your muscles twitching involuntarily under his touch, too weak to even raise yourself up onto your knees.

“Fuck—you really got a fuckin’ mouth on you when you like to think you’re in charge,” Eddie laughs slightly, “baby, that’s never the case.”

And even if that was true, you don’t really mind.

“Eddie,” You plead, hands shoved against his chest in an effort to push away slightly, “come on.”

“Do you really wanna stop?” Eddie teases, fingers slipping into the dip where your hips meet your pelvis and rocking your hips slowly, eyebrows knitting together in pleasure as your mouth drops open, a broken gasp leaving your lips.

Your eyes are barely open, riddled with exhaustion and hanging on by a thread.

“Didn’t think so.” He comments off handedly, “Look at me.”

You shake your head petulantly, lids falling shut as you breathe deeply, savoring the deep penetrating feeling of Eddie inside of you, hitting the spot that made your entire body ache, skin feeling white hot.

Eddie slaps your thigh lightly, a gentle warning.

“Hey,” Eddie chides, “you can handle it, right?”

It’s the same tone you used on him early, only countered toward you. He knew exactly how to get under your skin.

“Shut up.” You pout, blunt nails digging into his chest.

Eddie grunts softly, tutting his tongue against his teeth.

“S’not as sweet when you’re on the receiving end, is it?”

Eddie drives his point even further with a sharp thrust of his hips, hands squeezing impossibly tight against your skin.

Your mouth falls open further, which Eddie mimics in a way that drives you mad, face contorting into a mix of frustration and yearning, begging him to give it up—whatever act he was playing or devious plan he had in the back of his mind.

But, Eddie was stubborn.

“I know you wanna say it,” Eddie tells you, “Say it—say my name, sweetheart.”

You sigh heavily, head tipping back, “Fuck—Eddie,” Eddie makes a quiet noise of approval, “Eddie—“

“See how perfect you sound when all you can think about is me,” Eddie seethes, grunting as the rate of thrusts grew faster, forcing you to fall forward, hands digging into the soft fabric of the pillow, “so drunk on my dick you can’t think of anything else.”

“I’ve got plenty of thoughts in my head.” You retort.

Eddie huffs a laugh, daring you to challenge him.

His hands grip your own, clasped between his warm palms, his hips suddenly unmoving.

“Do it yourself then,” He instructs, “yeah?”

But, your body was entirely too weak, hips aching from the stretch and muscles screaming protest—you just wanted to rest, have Eddie wrap his body around you and lull you to sleep, but instead you were here, reaping the consequences of getting under Eddie’s skin all day.

Your movements are slow, without any real rhythm, just a desperate grind of your hips, seeking the friction.

And it’s frustrating, face again furrowing in annoyance as you rocked your hips jerkily, eventually giving up, slight frown on your face.

“Say you’re sorry,” Eddie says, “for teasing me, making fun of me—“

“God, you’re unbelievable—“

Eddie makes a pointed face, eyebrow quirking in amusement.

The smug bastard. He didn’t care for an apology, he just wanted the satisfaction of seeing your crumble under his will.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” You say in exasperation, “but Eddie, I can’t—I really can’t take anymore—“

Eddie nods, pulling you down toward his chest and flipping you in one slow, fluid motion, bodies never disconnecting.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” He smiles, leaning down to capture your lips in a deep, hurried kiss, hips moving quickly against you, his fingers finding your clit almost instantly and it’s all too overwhelming, body pliant to his touch but aching for release, “you still with me?”

You nod slightly, forcing your head deeper against the pillow, eyes shut in exhaustion as Eddie pressed himself against you, mouthing at random parts of your skin, delicate touches to remind you he was still there, his hand still an igniting pressure against your cunt, fingers working quickly over your swollen clit.

“Hey, eyes,” He nudges softly, squeezing at your thigh, “look at me, babe.”

You peek at him slightly, laughing at his righteous grin.

“Just one more,” He promises, his early words seeping back into your thoughts, “that’s it.”

And when it hits you, you don’t even have the energy to make a sound, mouth falling open as you grip at Eddie’s shoulder, bound to leave bruises from the tightness of it. He makes sure to carry you through until it’s all over, snapping his hips a few more times until it’s over for himself, having held out for longer than he’s used to—it’s guttural, the groan that escapes him, hands fisting in to the pillow beside your head to avoid squeezing you too hard.

“So, about those three minutes—“ You start lightly, attempting to wean Eddie back into consciousness.

“Had to prove a point,” Eddie explains through staggered huffs, “how’d I do?”

“Do I really need to answer that?” You ask profoundly, hair matted to your face from the sweat, chests touching with every breath you took.

“Just checking,” He chuckles, pressing a messy, closed mouth kiss over the tip of your nose, “gotta piss me off more often, sweetheart—this is pretty fun.”

“Fuck you.” You reply playfully, kicking him off weakly until he’s falling to his back on the mattress, “I can’t even feel my legs.”

Eddie disposes of the condom discreetly while you slowly slip your underwear back on, crawling back up the bed lazilyy until he’s flat on his stomach, hands reaching for the tender flesh of your thigh.

“Let me take care of you then,” Eddie smiles slightly, those his words are laced with dangerous undertone—it’s all teasing, but it earns a familiar look of warning his way, “I meant like, a massage or something. You know, not everything I say is dirty minded—“

You offer a pointed glance his way, seeing right through his bullshit.

“Okay, most of it is—but come on, let me.”

You sigh quietly, nodding in response.

His touches are just as gentle, if not more.

It’s a reminder of how well Eddie balanced all of it, the hard intensity of his exterior alongside the delicate personality woven on the inside—it’s nothing like you’ve ever experienced before, but it was everything you needed.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[your-turn-to-role]

also. i absolutely adored what lovm did with the pass through fire quote

but then it makes me emotional about the original context, so i have to share that too (minor plot spoilers ahead)

because it wasn't originally to do with the ashari at all. it was from patrick rothfuss' guest character, a blacksmith named kerrek, who helped vox machina fight against the dragon in westruun, and helped keyleth personally through some difficult stuff (he may yet appear on lovm, but given the context of the quote now i doubt we'll get all of it)

and a little after kerrek's episode, patrick rothfuss actually made a legit letter from kerrek to keyleth, with a present inside, and left it with matt until whatever point in the plot she was able to recieve it

which by coincidence was one of the hardest moments in the whole campaign for her

and this letter had marisha legit crying in the episode, because it's just. so beautiful, and so needed. and it goes:

Keyleth,

I write to let you and your companions know that the repair of Westruun is proceeding well. I will not bore you with the details. Suffice to say that our children are well-fed and safe, our elderly and infirm are cared for and comfortable. Without the help of you and yours, this would not be the case.

The folk in charge argue constantly, but that is to be expected, and it is no bad thing. They all want the same good things in different ways. I listen, mostly, and do what I can to make sure that they listen to each other. Without listening, nothing good can happen.

The town... when I say the repair is going well, it is a hard thing for me to talk about. I am not a particularly clever man, and much of this is new to me. When you make a mistake with metal, you can melt things down and start afresh. It is irritating, and it costs in time and soot and sweat, but it can be done. There is a comfort in iron, knowing that a fresh start is always possible. But a city is not a sword. It is a living thing, and living things defy simple fixing. Roots cannot be reforged. They scar, and broken branches must be cut and sealed with tar, and this makes me angry, as it always has, and my anger has no place to go.

It was easier when I was young. I could use my anger like a hammer against the world. I was so sure of myself and my friends and my rightness. I would hammer at the world, and breaking felt like making to me, and I was good at it. And while I was not wrong, neither was I entirely right. Nothing is simple.

I do not work in wood. I am not brave enough for that. There is a comfort in iron, a promise of safety, a second chance if mistakes are made. But a city is more a forest than a sword. No, it needs more tending than that.

Perhaps a city is like a garden, then. So these days, it seems I have become a gardener. I dig foundations in the earth. I sow rows of houses. I plan and plant. I watch the skies for rain and ruin. I cannot help but think that you would be better at this, but circumstance has put both of us in our own odd place. You are forced to be a hammer in the world, and my ungentle hands are learning how to tend a plot of land. We must do what we can do.

Did you know that there are some seeds that cannot sprout unless they are first burned? A friend once told me that. She was... she was a bookish sort. I think of gardening constantly these days. I wear your gift, and I think of you, and I think it is interesting that there are some living things that need to pass through fire before they flourish.

I ramble. You have the heart of a gardener, and because of this, you think of consequence, and your current path pains you. I am not wise, and I do not give advice, but I have come to know a few things: sometimes breaking is making. Even iron can start again. And there are many things that move through fire and find themselves much better for it afterward.

I have enclosed a gift. Once it was a sword, but it has changed. It is a small thing, and silly. Please forgive an old man for his foolishness. Still, I hope it brings you some small comfort.

Kindly, Kerr.

and the present inside the envelope? a ring, engraved with the phrase "I have passed through fire."

[vnti-vnxiety-recs]

Destruction In My Mind 2 (M)

★  PAIRING: Toxic! Stalker! Jaemin, Switch! Jaemin x Reader/Mentions of Reader x Mark

☆ WORD COUNT: 10k

★ GENRE(S): smut, thriller, angst,

☆ SUMMARY: When your relationship spirals out of control with Jaemin, he resorts to kidnapping to keep you all to himself. It's been months since you've been held captive, and Mark is the only one who may be able to uncover the truth of what happened to you.

★ ☆ WARNINGS: Toxic relationship, manipulation, swearing, various acts of sexual intercourse, hate sex,unprotected sex, DEATH, GUNS, DARK THEMES, YANDERE, STOCKHOLM SYNDROME, KIDNAPPING. STALKING, BLOOD, VIOLENCE, CAUTION MFER IDK WHAT ELSE TO SAY

☆★ NOTES: (Part 1) I wasn't originally planning on writing a part two to this, but a few people requested it, so I challenged myself to see where I could take the story. Honestly, I don't really enjoy writing about dark themes or angst, but it was interesting. I hope you guys enjoy this, because I'll probably only be sticking to one shot after this.

Today was like every other day for the past few months: dull and unremarkable. It's been months since you last had contact with the outside world. Jaemin would attempt to casually strike up a conversation, like he didn't lock you away in a room away from the rest of the world like an evil stepmother in a fairy tale, except that the very prince who was supposed to save you was the one who locked you away. Ever since Jaemin told you that Mark had stopped by to look for you, you had hoped that maybe someday he would find you, but as the months went on, you began to doubt his efforts. Part of you had actually hoped he would stop searching; you knew it could be dangerous if he got too close.

You would soon learn to trade your silence for forced smiles and fake laughter. Jaemin had promised to leave Mark alone if you entertained his conversations. You hated him.  You despised the false compassion he displayed, doting over you when you rejected his meals and insisting you eat something. You hated how he acted sulky when you turned down his offers to watch movies together. You especially hated him for bringing back designer clothes whenever he upset you. What's the point of a designer if there's no one to show them off to?

You think If he wasn't a raging sociopath, he would make a good boyfriend. You could be living your best life if he wasn't easily overtaken by jealousy over the smallest things. Sometimes you indulge yourself in fantasies where he's your sweet boyfriend rather than the monster that imprisoned you.. Reality always hits hard when you find yourself staring at the locked door that keeps you imprisoned.

Some days you hated him to death, and others you found your heart warming up too quickly at the thought of him. It's when he returns from long business trips. Those are the days when your heart is most vulnerable and craves him the most. The day before those long nights away, he would bring you food, filling up your fridge with at least two days worth of food. He bought you every book you had circled from a catalog he brought to you. bringing you anything you requested.

The first time he left you, he even got you a cat to keep you company. When he was away, you would use that time to find an escape, but after hours of prying at your door and window, you would give up. You always end up playing with Luna instead.

After days of being alone with nothing but your thoughts and Luna to keep you company, you would practically crave human contact. On one of those many lonely nights, the thought crept up on you. Maybe this was also a part of his plan; was this a way to break down your defenses as well? If it was, it was working because when you heard the automatic lock to the front door opening and the heavy thud of his bags on the hardwood floor of his highrise condo, you couldn't help but call out to him.

You didn't care about the mind games as you leapt from wherever you were in your room and made your way to your door. He can barely even get it open before you throw yourself into his arms. His smell, his warmth, and his voice all amplified during the time he was away. Those days are the days you melt into him. Those days are the ones you let yourself forget. Those days you let your hands wander. And those days are the same days you go to sleep the most satisfied and wake up the most tormented.

After three days away, Jaemin had returned. You practically threw yourself at him the moment he stepped into your room to check on you. You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him passionately, before jumping up and wrapping your legs around his waist. You're too preoccupied with pressing yourself against him to notice the cunning smile that kisses your lips. When he doesn't immediately kiss back, you whine into his mouth, and it draws Jaemin back into the moment. 

Whatever he was holding clatters loudly against the floor as he drops it in favor of gripping your hips before lowering them to grip your ass. He has you pinned up against the same door he entered as you both hurriedly pull off each other's clothes, laying hot kisses in their wake. You're too impatient to wait any longer, so you haphazardly push his slacks past his hips enough to pull him out of his briefs before you tug your panties to the side. Catching the memo, Jaemin takes over, ripping the crotch of your panties for easier access. You position him at your entrance, and Jaemin thrusts in shallowly. You open your mouth to complain, but Jaemin quickly snaps his hips again. re-entering deeply, effectively shutting you up.

Not a single word has been exchanged since he walked through the door; the only thing filling the room was the harsh slapping of skin and heavy panting as his hips picked up pace. The door soon joined the cacophony of noise as it creaked against its hinges ruthlessly. You came over his length again and again; it was like he was making up for all the days he had left you alone. He didn't stop until he felt your slick heat push him out as you squirted.

The things that happen on the nights you spend with him cause war between the part of you that loves him and that part of you that wants nothing to do with him

You couldn't help but give in to your needs, even though you hated yourself for it. You could never quite reach your peak; your fingers could only take you so far. It didn't help that he would always come to you on those nights in his best suit and sporting his most expensive cologne. He would always tease you, cooing at your wandering eyes as they undressed him. On those nights, he would let you use him until you wore yourself out, leaving him to clean you up. He never stayed the night in your room because he knew that would only make it harder for you in the morning. He knew you hated him for it, but that just made him want you even more.

It felt like a never-ending cycle for you, but lately, even when he wasn't gone, you craved him.  He noticed the cracks forming in your hard exterior. He was overjoyed when you started striking up conversations with him, asking him to read a book with you or to play a board game. He hadn't had to beg for your attention lately; he had you exactly where he wanted you.

Or that's what he thought.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Jaemin had entered your room early one morning and gently shook your shoulder to wake you up.  You thought he was about to tell you he was leaving on another trip, but instead he sat beside you, petting Luna, while you dragged yourself out of your sheets to sit up properly.

“You've been so sweet to me lately; it got me thinking,” he said. When he stops petting Luna, she leaps from the bed. Your tired eyes follow her as she exits the room through the door.

The open door

Jaemin was never one to leave the door open. He always locked it behind him as he came and went. Jaemin was never one to take chances. Until now, it appears. Your gaze returns to him in anticipation.

"I think you've been locked up in here for too long. You need fresh air…sunlight," he finishes.

He doesn't go on, watching your reaction and testing you with just his words. He waits for you to say something, but you don't. You think you made the right choice because he's smiling now as he continues.

“The house is too big, and it feels lonely sometimes. I was thinking about leaving your door open now so you can roam freely. This house is your home too. I trust you.”

Freely

Being locked in a multimillion-dollar condo above the clouds isn't exactly liberating. You control your reaction. Of course he wasn't going to let you go free; he was probably waiting on you to ask him if he would.  You try not to look disappointed in his proposal and return his smile. 

“That means a lot, Jaem," is all you can manage as you lean in for a hug, your smile fading the moment he can't see your face.

 By free, Jaemin meant limited, which was probably better than what you had. Jaemin's condo was enclosed in large glass windows that let in plenty of light. He also had a sprawling terrace that wrapped around the perimeter of his condo. You were only allowed to spend a maximum of two hours on the terrace with his supervision. You convinced him to buy a hammock and beanbags for you so you could read out there during the summer. You had more room to play with Luna as well. You would run up and down the halls with her toy wand as she chased after you.

This must have been part of his plan to delude you because you almost forgot you were being held captive. You even had access to Jaemin’s room and used his shower from time to time, as it was bigger than the one in your room. It wasn't until he plopped down next to you on the living room couch one evening that you realized how far his trust in you had gone.

He let you know he was going to be gone for the night because he had an overnight business convention he had to attend; he wouldn't be back till morning. It would be his first night away since you were given access to the entire house. He told you the same rules applied and gave you a kiss on the forehead before walking to the front door, where his bags were already waiting, and like always, he leaves without another word.

Just like that, he was gone. You stayed glued to your spot on the couch. He's joking, right? Is this a test? What if he comes back early? A thousand questions are running through your head. YYou do the only thing that comes to mind: you wait. For the first hour, nothing appears out of the ordinary. Another hour passes, and the house remains silent, exactly as he left it. You get up from your seat in the third hour and search the house. You dash for the kitchen; you need a weapon—anything that will give you an advantage.

You searched every cabinet and every drawer, but there was not a knife in sight. You couldn't even find a butter knife. You notice something else is missing just as you close the last drawer. There were no forks either, not even a chopstick. Anything with a sharp point had vanished without a trace. It wasn't until now that you realized that every meal that you were served was pre-cut and prepared. You never even questioned the lack of silverware because you never needed one.

You almost trip over yourself as you hastily make your way to the balcony. You try the handle but realize it's locked. It seemed to have an automatic lock that could only be controlled remotely. Without wasting time, you rush to his office but not a pencil or pen in sight. The bathroom was next, but there was no floss.

You try to calm yourself down, but your frustration with your shortcomings grows. Luna notices your condition and begins to whine and rub herself against your legs in an attempt to comfort you. You don't even notice as tears well up in your eyes and you begin to cry. Luna is gently picked up and cradled in your arms.

“Your daddy is a liar; he doesn't trust me." As you kiss her soft fur, you chuckle bitterly. 

In defeat, you make your way back to the living room. You shift your weight to get comfortable on the couch. You're about to re-start the TV when you notice a paper weight on the TV stand beneath it. It's almost hidden among the other trinkets that adorn the surface, but the light from the TV reflects off of it, drawing your attention slightly. You reach for it, and the cool glass warms against your skin. It's a good size and fits comfortably in the palm of your hand. It's a clear glass ball with an angry blue wave frozen in the center, as if captured just before the wave crashed. The wave was at its peak, frozen in time, waiting to crash down, but it never would. In a way, you were just like the angry wave trapped in the glass. You decided this would have to be your weapon. You amble to your room and stuff your makeshift weapon under your pillow. Your spirits were lifted by the minor victory. There was one more thing you wanted to double-check.

There was only one way out of here, technically two, but you don't think Jaemin has enough bedsheets to make a rope that could scale 20 stories. You quickly arrive at the front door and begin to inspect the lock. The lock was identical to that on the balcony door. There was no physical lock to turn to open the door; everything was internal and automatic. The only way to unlock the door was either by the pin code on the outside or, as you guessed, by a phone remotely. He didn't have these locks when you first came to his house.

You take a step back from the door and laugh hysterically as it all begins to make sense. You laugh all the way to your room, where you find the paperweight under your pillow. It was pointless hiding it because he saw.

It was a test.

No sharp items in the house, not even a pencil? All the locks have been changed, and he just so happens to let you out of your room out of the kindness of his heart? Jaemin is not kind, and he's definitely no fool. You were naive to believe that the man who had isolated you in a single room for months and denied you all human contact could possibly trust you. He had to be watching you, and you notice it as you trudge back into the living room. The faint blinking of a red light perched on the high ceiling of Jaemin's highrise.  He really was watching you the entire time. 

There was no meeting, or maybe there was; at this point, you couldn't trust his word. This was all a test to see if your “good behavior” would last. And just like the naive fool you were, you fell right into his trap.

“I know you're watching me, Jaemin! I'll kill you! I fucking hate you. Do you hear me? I fucking hate you!” You scream and scream at the blinking light until your voice is raw, but the camera doesn't respond; it just blinks mockingly at you. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

You awaken to sunlight hitting your face as you stir awake. You must have screamed yourself to exhaustion last night and fallen asleep on the couch. You move to sit up when the cool glass of the paper weight knocks against your skin. You were clutching onto your “weapon” all night, waiting for Jaemin to show up.  From your vantage point on the couch, you looked around the apartment, but there was no sign of him The house was as silent as ever. Just as you're about to get up and search the rest of the house, you hear the mechanical gears of the locks on the front door unlocking. You perk up and grab your paper weight, arming yourself as best you can. You wait for Jaemin to walk through the door, but he doesn't.

In your confusion, you slowly make your way off the couch and towards the door. You approach it with caution, expecting him on the other side. You raise your weapon into the air, ready to swing down and strike whoever is on the other side. You swung open the door, but no one was there. In fact, the corridor was unusually quiet. You shuffle out into the hallway, your hair sticking up in all directions, armed only with a paper weight. Real intimidating. 

“Jaemin?” You call hesitantly. No response. 

You don't care if it's a test, and you don't care if he's watching. This was the closest you have ever gotten to escaping the 3000 square feet you've been confined to. You're booking it down the hall until you reach the next door, and you beat your first against it, calling for help. You're making all the noise you possibly can with whatever voice you have left from screaming all night. No answer, so you move on to the next door.  You pound on every door in the corridor, but no one answers. You scream for help as you reach the final door on your floor. You pound on the door mercilessly until you hear a noise from the other side..

“Yes! hello!? Please open the door! I've been kidnapped and i-” you begin, but your begging stops as the door opens, revealing the owner of the condo.

“You’ve been kidnapped? No sweety, what you've been is naughty” Jaemin coos from his spot in the open door.

“Wha-what?” You can't breathe.

So much is happening, Too much is happening, and None of it makes sense as your head spins.

“You silly thing," Jaemin says, casually leaning against the doorframe, ”you know they told me when I had these built that the walls were too thin. I didn't think it would come back to bite me in the ass though,” Jaemin mockingly knocks on the wall closest to you. The hollowness mockingly echoes back at you.

“I don't understand,” you manage.

“I own this building, princess. Everyone on this floor,” he says, taking a step closer.

“the floor below us,” one step closer

“and the floor above us has been relocated.” He stares down at you coolly. “I didn't know how much of a fight you were going to put up, so I moved everyone out a month after I locked you up,” he whispers tauntingly.

"Funny enough, the only screaming you did up until now was when I was-” you turn away before he can finish, humiliated. This whole time, you played right into his hands. 

“No point in running, princess; nowhere to go," he laughs.

You ignore him, swiping at the tears that threaten to run down your face. You storm back to his apartment, knowing he's not far behind you because you can hear his footsteps as he follows. He's right, there is nowhere to go, but right now you need to go anywhere he is not. You slam the door in his face angrily when you make it to the apartment, but he catches it and makes his way in behind you.

“You really want to make this worse on yourself, don't you?” he says before reaching for your arm to turn you towards him. The moment you feel his hand enclose around your elbow, you spin on your heels and strike him with the paper weight.

You drop it the moment you realize what you have done. You were angry, you were scared, and you were frustrated with his mind games, but you had no intention of actually hurting him. You acted out of rage; you weren't thinking clearly. You can only stare in disbelief as blood drips from his brow. His head is still slightly bowed from the blow, and he stumbles a little. Blood continues to drip down onto the floor.

"Jaem, I-I didn't mean to; I just-” You didn't know how to finish your sentence.

He finally lifts his head and looks at you, blood dripping into his eye.

“You want to hurt me?"

"No, Jaem i-”

"That's it, isn't it baby? I give you everything, and this is how you repay  me."The way he speaks to you holds no warmth as he wipes at the blood staining his perfect skin.

“I didn't," he says, wrapping his bloodied hand around your throat, gripping harshly as he pushes you into the wall. He leans into you, barely a breath away. You almost expect him to kiss you, but instead he leans in to whisper in your ear.

 “You want to kill me? then do it right.” The next thing you know, he's pushing away from you and releasing your neck. He bends down and picks up your paper weight. He takes your hand in his and places the paper weight in your palm once more.

“Do it.” He stares you down patiently, waiting for your next move. You shake your head as tears roll down your face freely.

“DO IT!” he yelled this time. You cry even harder and shakily throw the paper weight at his chest. You look pathetic, trembling in front of him.

“You want to hurt me, right baby? You want to leave me so bad? Well, the only way you're gonna leave is if you kill me, so do it!” Jaemin spits angrily.

“I won't," you cry. 

“And why not?” Jaemin waits for your answer. 

“Because I'm not like you!” you yell angrily, pushing at his chest. You pound on his firm chest, your cries becoming weaker with each blow. Jaemin waits for you to relax before grabbing your chin. Jaemin waits for you to calm down before he grabs your chin.

“No, that's not why pretty.” jaemin tuts.  

He grips the back of your hair and drags you to the living room's floor-length mirror. He forces you to look at yourself in the mirror. You stare at yourself in the mirror. Your disheveled hair and tear-stained face stare back. Your eyes rake farther down your face until they reach your neck. You gasp in shock.

Right there, sitting prettily against your neck, was a bloody handprint. His bloody handprint possessively stains the skin of your neck. You can almost still feel the ghost of his touch in its wake. Jaemin's other hand trails up your body until he reaches your neck, fingers barely grazing the marks he left, afraid to ruin his work.

“You don't want to hurt me baby, because you're scared to be without me, hmm?” He teasingly whispers in your ear. “You love me, and you don't want to leave me; I can prove it too. I'll tell you a secret."

He breathes down your neck as he turns you towards him and away from your reflection in the mirror.

“Down the hall on the left; there's an emergency staircase; if you take that down, it will lead you right out of here.” He kisses each fingerprint left on your neck slowly so as not to disturb the mark he's left on you. When he's finished, he takes a step back and looks at you, waiting for you to make a move. Your lips quiver, and more tears fall, but you remain still.  

“That's my girl,” Jaemin mumbles to himself before kissing you.

You can't do anything but cry harder, but you return his eagerness because he's right. He's right, and you hate him because, just like the handprint on your neck, he's got you in a chokehold. Your hatred seeps into the way you return his kiss. And grip at his hair as he lifts you onto his hips to carry you back into your room. You bite and tug at his lip, none too gently, as you kiss him. As Jaemin enters the room, he "accidentally" bumps your head against the door frame.

"You did that on purpose, asshole." You groan in pain.

“When have we ever played nice princesses?” he smirks before throwing you down onto the bed, making your head hurt even more as you bounce roughly against the mattress.

He's crawling towards you on the bed. You're not done being a brat, so you kick at his chest and shoulder, pushing him away from you. You refuse to make this easy for him, but he just grabs your ankle, pulling you towards him.

“You wanna brat out?"

“When have I ever played nice?” You use his words against him as you struggle more.

He pecks your lips hesitantly, knowing you like to bite, before kissing you deeply, prying your legs apart to settle between them. Just as he expected, you bite into his lip again, but he suddenly grinds deep into you, and you let out a choked moan. You push at his shoulder and try to close your legs to push him away. You were soaking through your panties already, and you knew he would be able to feel it soon. You were wet the moment you saw how pretty his handprint looked painted against your skin. You try to turn away from him and shake your head away from the kiss.

“I hate you,” you mumble against his teeth.

"I know,” he says, kissing your neck.

“You disgust me.” You try again.

“That right?” He slips a hand between your legs, patting against the seat of your panites.

“Because you're soaking princess,” he states, and you can hear the wet sound his fingers make as they make contact with your core.

You're mortified. You try to push him away again, but he grabs your hands with his free hand and pins them above your head. Resting his forehead against yours, you can feel the blood on his forehead begin to grow cold and sticky as it dries from the initial blow. He shushes you gently as he slips his fingers past your panties and into your core.

“Listen to how wet you are baby; I'm the only one who could make you feel like his,” he coos as he fucks you onto his fingers.

“Your all fucking mine, you hear me?” He kisses you again, swallowing your moans while he curls his fingers up into you.

"My fucking pussy,” he mumbles as he licks into your mouth.

“Fuck…you” you gasp in between moans. He releases you as he pulls off completely.

“I've been too good to you, but I forgot sluts like you need to be taught manners.” He stands at the edge of the bed before grabbing your ankles again and pulling you down the bed, flipping you over onto your stomach. He pulls your hips off of the bed until your feet are planted on the floor and your upper body is still bent over the bed. He pulls your hands behind your back and holds them there as he delivers a harsh slap to your ass.

"I spoil you too much; that's the problem. Think I won't ruin you?” He presses your arms into your back as a signal to keep them there before he lets them go. He pulls your bottoms off along with your panties and slips his fingers back inside your warm cunt.

"Greedy cunt. Swallowing me so easily. Uh-uh baby, you weren't going anywhere,” you can't see, but he has to bite his lip to hold in the moan that threatened to spill out as you practically dripped down fingers.

He pistons his fingers in and out of you quickly until you're a babbling mess and your thighs begin to shake before he's pulling them out and leaving wet slaps against your cunt. He forces you to count them each time he pulls out and lands another hit against your abused core.

"Don't you dare mess up or else your starting over,” he would threaten when you would stumble over your next number. 

"12...13...14...15..." you would count each time he meanly slapped your pussy until he would shove his fingers back inside you. He'd fuck you with his fingers until you're shaking all over again. It wasn't until you got to 20 that he let up.

“I'll ask again, who do you belong to?” you pass the point of comprehensible words as tears run down your face again.

“Don't make me repeat myself,” Jaemin says as he yanks your head up from its place buried in the covers.

"You,” you cry as shivers run down your body.

“And who does this pussy belong to?"

“Nana!” you sniffle.

“That's right, baby.” He releases your hair, and you fall back into the sheets.

“Are you ready to be Nana's good girl now?" He mumbles as he kisses the back of your head. 

You nod pathetically.

"Are you sorry for hurting Nana?"

You nod pathetically again.

“Get up there then,” Jaemin slaps you ass as he signals for you to climb back into the bed.

You plop down tiredly at the head of the bed and watch as Jaemin strips himself of his clothes. You think he's going to reclaim his position in between your legs as he climbs back into bed, but he chooses to lie beside you instead.

“Show me how good you are,” he says as he throws your leg over his hip and manhandles you until you're sitting on his waist.

“I can't—please, I can't."

He raises a brow at you, and you know better than to argue, so you lift your hips and sink onto him. He slips inside easily, and he's gripping your hips as he helps you ride him.

“There you go-fuck,” he moans as you lean onto his chest for leverage and begin to throw your hips the way you know he likes. 

He looks up at you pathetically, chest heaving, as you ride him just like you did all those nights before. In these moments, he knows you need him just as much as he needs you, and it drives him insane. His arms lay uselessly beside him as he gripped the sheets at the rough pace you chose. You look down at him as the power dynamic starts to change. You knew if you rode him hard enough, he'd start begging like a useless slut. It was moments like these in which you had any control over him. You can feel anger begin to bubble up in your chest at the thought. You despise how weak he made you.

Before you know it, you feel your hands travel from his chest up to his neck as you steal the breath from his lungs. You grip tight as you watch as his eyes begin to roll, and if the way he white knuckles your hips isn't sign enough that he's close, his heaving chest and insistent whines are.

“Your so… such a…fuck.” He struggles, “Good girl,my good-”

He can barely complete a full thought. You're so close, and you're just about to finish when suddenly you're on your back looking up at the ceiling. Your mind is still trying to catch up as you feel nothing but deep harsh thrust s as his hips slam into you. The quick pace creates a fog in your mind and all you can do is take it. You finally meet Jaemin’s eyes and he's completely gone. The power dynamic has been switched again and it was right  before you could even finish your fun. Jaemins eyes are hazy as he shivers with each thrust. He leans down to place messy kisses into your mouth that end in him panting against your lips. Still upset that he ended your turn so soon, you wrap your legs around his waist as you drive your hips up into his, meeting his thrust. 

Jaemin shakes his head as he attempts to pin your hips back down into the mattress. You challenge him with a nod as you tighten your hold, fucking against him harder. It was just fucking; there was no making love anymore. You're both in a fight for control as you feel your high approach. Soon you're both drunk off the other as you grab, push, and tug at each other selfishly in an attempt to get off. Thrusts have grown sloppy and wild as you arch your back into the sheets when the cord in your belly finally snaps. Your legs finally grow weak as they fall pathetically from around his hips. Jaemin groans at the feeling, and after a few more aggressive shoves of his hips, he's spilling into you. He pulls back to watch as his love seeps out of your abused cunt. He pushes it back in,and the last thing you see before sleep takes you is how he licks his fingers clean at your combined taste.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Mark vowed to never give up. People told him how ridiculous he was for trying so hard to find someone he only worked closely with for such a short time. For some reason, Mark still felt indebted to you. You did so much for him when he broke his leg and showed him and everyone that you worked with so much kindness; you didn't deserve this. So he never stopped looking.

When Mark learned you had quit your job, he knew something was wrong.  You definitely would have reached out to him about it. Not to mention, when he went to check your social media to see if you had updated or hinted at a new job, he found that they had all been deleted. He even did some digging to find your old apartment complex, but when he inquired about you with your old landlord, he was given the cold shoulder.

It was like you were wiped off the face of the planet. His only lead was Jaemin, but it was almost impossible to get close to the guy. Mark was sure Jaemin had something to do with your disappearance; he just had to prove it. He couldn't do this on his own, and there was only one other person he could ask.

Every day for a week, Mark would press Jaehyun to hear him out. He tried every guilt trip, bribe, and threat in the book, but Jaehyun wouldn't budge. Jaehyun had recently gotten promoted a few months after coming back to the office after his wreck. He would use his hectic schedule as an excuse to blow off Mark.

"Dude, please just talk to me; I just need one thing.” Mark begged early in the morning.

“Keep it down; I'm not talking about this right now." Jaehyun sternly reprimanded him.

Mark looked over his shoulder before pushing Jaehyun into an empty conference room.

“You're the only one who can get close to him; you were literally promoted into his department. I just need you to get in close to find out some information.”

“She’s gone. Let it go, for all we know he could have-” Jaehyun pauses. "Listen, drop it; I've already warned you.” Jaehyun huffs frustratedly.

“We won't know until we dig deeper!” Mark argues, “Look, your department just exceeded the projected goal for the year, right? All you have to do is convince your team to host a party at his place in celebration. I don't know; just get in and see if anything is off.” mark pleads

Jaehyun doesn't reply, but Mark takes his silence as a sign to continue.

“The whole department will be there if you sneak off; no one will notice. Once he becomes CEO, you're next in line to take over that department. It would be weird to exclude you, so you would have to go.”

A few beats pass, and Jaehyun sighs in defeat.

“Fine, I'll see what I can do.” Jaehyun breathes.. Just before Mark can celebrate, he continues, “But if nothing comes up, you drop this, alright?” jaehyun bargains 

“I promise, I'll drop it.” Mark raises his hands in surrender.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

For the next two weeks, Jaehyun would slip the idea into casual conversations and subtly mention that the department's hard work deserved a celebration.  Every now and then, a coworker would suggest going out to drink, but Jaehyun would decline, instead proposing a private party. 

“But I mean, who has enough space for that, right?” Jaehyun would joke before another one of his co-workers jumped in to mention Jaemin’s huge condo.

“We should get Jaemin to host it; I heard he's getting a few floors of his building renovated so we wouldn't have to worry about noise.” Seojun added 

"Yeah, he always treats us to drinks; I doubt he would mind taking the party to his house this time,” someone else chimes in.

Jaehyun got the entire department talking about it and even got Jaemin’s grandfather to back the idea. As the CEO, he said it would raise morale and show the employees how important they are to the company. He said that once Jaemin became the CEO, he would understand the importance of showing gratitude to his employees. That's how Jaemin was cornered into hosting a cocktail party the following week.

Jaemin mentioned it casually to you, saying you wouldn't be able to come out that night. He'd block off that side of the house, and the party would be hosted mainly on the highrise terrace. You counted the days until the party. If there was any chance of getting someone's help, it would be then.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

It was the night of the party, and all you could do was press your ear against the wall and listen in on the conversations. You were curious about who showed up; would Mark be there? It was a company party, according to Jaemin. Did that include every department? As you backed away from the door, you huffed in frustration; the voices were too muffled to make out. You wanted to scream for help, but Jaemin warned you against it before he shut you in your room hours before.

You pace your room anxiously. Even Luna got to attend the party! Jaemin said it was because she was well-behaved, unlike you.

It isn't long before Jaemin comes in to check up on you. He slips into the room quickly before shutting the door behind him. He must not be staying for long, because you notice he doesn't bother to lock it. 

“I thought you might be hungry, so I brought you some appetizers from the party.” Jaemin smiles as he hands you a plate of assorted sliders.

"Thanks; I was getting a little hungry.” You laugh nervously as you take the plate from him.

“Is everything okay?" He asked curiously.

It's now or never. You only needed a second, and you had to think fast.

"Actually, I was trying to take a shower, but the facets stuck in the bathroom. Could I take a bath in your room?” You pout at him.

“We have company princess; you'll have to wait." he replies

"Then, can you see if you can turn the knob?” You ask, putting your plate down and gesturing for him to follow you to the bathroom.

He makes a sound of acknowledgement as he follows you to the tub. You stand by the door to the bathroom as he walks past you to inspect the shower. When he's not looking, you quietly turn the lock on the bathroom door. You know it would only stop him for a second, but that's all you needed; you just needed to get in earshot of the party and scream for help.

The shower knob turns easily in his hand, and the shower sputters to life. Just as he looks up at you in confusion, you grip the handle to the bathroom door and shut it behind you as you sprint across your room for the door. Your heart pounds in your chest as you hear him pull against the door to the bathroom. The lock keeps him locked in for a few seconds before he realizes you locked it. You're already out of the room as the lock on the door clicks open. You run down his long hallway, and you turn the corner into the living room. You can see the terrace from where you stand, and it seems as though everyone is outside as they bustle around a table, chatting and drinking as the night continues.  You run into someone before you can take another step, their drink clatters to the ground and you look up. 

“JAEHY- '' He covers your mouth before you can continue and pushes you back into the hallways, out of view from the balcony. It isn't until you can't be seen that he uncovers your mouth.

"Jaehyun, please, you have to help me." You continue your rambling; you don't even realize he's still pushing you back towards the way you came. “Jaemin is crazy, and he's keeping me here against my will and-” You hit a familiarly firm chest.

“And?” The voice behind you speaks.

All you could do was look up at Jaehyun with hurt and confusion.

“I'm sorry” was all he said before you slung over Jaemin's shoulders and carried back towards your room as Jaehyun followed. You're too stunned to speak.

Just as quickly as you left, you find yourself locked back in your room along with a new guest.

Once your shock wears off, it doesn't take you too long to put two and two together.

“All along… You're working together.” You don't even question it.

"Well, not all along,” Jaemin points out. “His accident was on purpose, but after seeing how obedient he was afterwards, I thought he might be useful."

“He offered me a promotion, and in exchange, I had to make sure the people in the office didn't get suspicious.” Jaehyun interjected, “It was easy until Mark came back; he really doesn't know how to give up.” Jaehyun finishes.

“What is wrong with you? You were my friend!” You yell incredulously. “You sick freak, I thought I knew you!"

You wanted to cry, but you refused to show any more weakness. You would never forgive him for this, and you would never forgive either of them. You wouldn't allow your heart to falter any longer. You despised Jaemin.

“You've made quite the scene, princess." jaemin tsks “We better be getting back to the party, princess, or our guests will wonder where we went. I'll deal with you later, '' Jaemin smirks. He leads Jaehyun out of your room and closes the door behind him.

You're left with your thoughts once again. Jaehyun's betrayal left a gaping hole in your heart. You would never expect him to do something like this; granted, you would have said the same thing about Jaemin. You can only hope that Mark won't let you down.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Mark stops looking. That Monday after the party, Jaehyun told Mark that nothing was out of the ordinary. There was no sign of anyone else living there, and Jaemin acted normally. With no further leads, Mark decided it was probably for the best to let it all go. Maybe everyone was right. Maybe you did just get a new job and quit. Whatever the reason, Mark hoped you were alright wherever you were.

If only he would have kept digging.

If he had kept prying, he would have found out that later that month, Jaemin moved out of his condo and into a small, inconspicuous house on the outskirts of the city. If he had asked around, he would have found out that one of the guests at the party had seen a glimpse of you as you bumped into Jaehyun, but they would later “quit” as well.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

It's been a year since you moved into the new house with Jaemin. Jaemin had decided to move you guys out because of Mark's insistent poking. He also wanted to be farther from the city,less people to worry about. You have lost all hope. You had no fight left in you. What was the point when Jaehyun was right? Who would come looking for you at the CEO of the country's largest corporation’s house?

After the move, Jaemin’s grandfather had been riding his ass even harder about preparing to take over the company, and because of that, he's rarely home. It wasn't until recently that the title was officially handed over. You start to wonder why Jaemin even keeps you around anymore. He's grown far too busy for you now. Some nights, the thought keeps you up. What if the only reason you're still here is because he hasn't found the time to get rid of you yet? Jaemin had gotten two more cats to keep you company, hoping that would make up for his absence.

Sometime in passing, Jaemin mentioned that tonight a gala would be held to celebrate his promotion and commemorate the start of a new era for the company. The entire company would be there; it wasn't an event that he could miss. Once again, he dons his finest suit, wears his most expensive cologne, and styles his hair up away from his forehead. Jaemin always looked the best like this, but your heart didn't beat for him the same way anymore. Your anger and frustration towards him outweigh any feelings you have left for him. He leaves again for the umpteenth time this week without bidding you farewell.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

It was Mark's first time attending an event of this caliber. The company had rented out a large convention center for the occasion, and it was decorated beautifully. There was a main room with a walking platform near the front that had a podium and screen. That must be where Jaemin would give a speech later. In the room across from it were the food and refreshments, and there was a clear area for dancing and socializing.

He'd been there an hour and Jaemin still hadn't delivered his speech. He spent the majority of his time conversing with various department heads and socializing with coworkers in his own department. He ate from the refreshments table when he wasn't catching up with someone. He had no idea someone had been watching him all night.

When it came time for Jaemin's speech, the party moved to the main room. The lights had been dimmed, and the screen behind the podium displayed various slides of stocks and other information related to the leadership change. It was the first time he'd seen Jaemin all night. As he climbed onto the stage and took the podium, everyone applauded and cheered. Jaemin started his speech, and he was as charming as ever. While everyone was focused on his speech, Mark felt a buzz in his back pocket. Wanting to remain professional in a business setting, he ignored it. It wasn't until the second buzz came through insistently that he decided to slip his phone out of his pocket and check the notification.

There were two unread messages from a private number.

You can find what you've been searching for 1942

(Address attachment)

Mark's breath caught in his throat. Was this a new lead after a year of silence? His brain was telling him to ignore it, be respectful, and put his phone away, but his instincts were telling him this would lead him right to you.  He was curious how you were doing after all this time. He feels like he's done nothing but let you down all this time. Not anymore; he wouldn't do it again. The next thing he knows, he's pushing through the crowd to make his way to the exit.  As he rushes out, he attracts the attention of a few people, one of whom is Jaemin.

Jaemin was finishing up his speech when Mark left. He had tried to walk down the stage as swiftly as possible without causing a scene. Once he was down from the stage, he had tried to immediately catch up to Mark; he knew something was up, but he was stopped by his grandfather.

“I'm so proud of you son; you're finally stepping up like I knew you always could,” he praises.

“Thank you sir,” Jaemin says humbly, shaking his grandfather's hand.

“Come on now son, enough of the formalities! I've already given you the title of CEO.” The elder laughs joyfully.

“Right grandpa,sorry. It was nice catching up, but I have to  go."Jaemin tries to slip away again but is stopped by his grandfather who claps a proud hand on his shoulder.

“Nonsense! The night has only just begun. I have some business partners I want to introduce you to,” his grandpa says, successfully trapping him. His grandfather leads him away from the exit and back into the crowd. Jaemin can only grit his teeth as he's pulled further and further away from his exit.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Mark speeds through the dead of the night to get to the unknown address; he knows he only has so much time. He didn't know where the address would lead him, but as he pulled into the driveway and spotted Jaemin's car, which looked way out of place, parked in the driveway of a small house in a suburban neighborhood, he knew exactly where he was. This heightened his sense of urgency.

The only conclusion that Mark could draw was that Jaemin must have moved because he was hiding something. After all this time, Mark might finally find you. It's not until he's at the front door that he realizes he has no way in. He looks down at the lock on the door. It's an automatic pin code lock that requires a 4-digit code. Mark quickly pulls his phone from his pocket as he reads the message again.

You can find what you've been searching for 1942

He enters the only numbers he sees on the screen, and the door flashes green as the lock clicks open. He tentatively opens the door, slipping through quietly and closing it behind him. He walks down a corridor, and as he nears the end, he hears the sound of a television. Before turning the corner, he can see the light spilling into the corridor.

 “You're here early, what? They realize how crazy you were and that you weren't a good fit for the  company."A voice jokes harshly.

There you were, sitting on the couch watching TV in your pajamas, lazily stroking a cat as it purrs in your lap. Mark was relieved you were safe; honestly he had expected you to be in worse shape. He should have known Jaemin would spoil you while in captivity.

"Y/N?” he says hopefully.

You jump at the sound, causing Lucy, one of Jaemin's new cats, to leap from your lap. You slowly turn your head, not believing your ears until your eyes confirm what you've heard.

 “M-mark?” you whisper.

When you call his name, all the air in his lungs escapes . It's been over a year since he's heard your voice. Your eyes well up with tears as you leap over the couch to embrace him. You're immediately engulfed in his arms. You take in his comforting scent and cry even harder.

“I looked for you for so long, and the entire time you were right under my nose, I knew I should have never given up.”

“What took you so long? I was waiting for you,” you choke out as you hug him tighter.

“I had a hunch Jaemin might be up to it, and I had someone look into it. They didn't find anything and said I should drop it. I thought maybe you really did just move away.”

“Who told you that?” you ask. Whoever looked didn't do a thorough job, because, alas, here you were.

“Jaehyun,” Mark says, and it all makes sense.

“Jaehyun is a traitor! I was so close to getting out, and he helped Jaemin catch me during a stupid dinner party!” you explain

Mark remains silent for a moment, almost as if he doesn't believe it. He needs to shake it off; there are more pressing matters at hand.

“Catch me up later; we have to leave before Jaemin gets back.” Mark rushes as he goes to grab your hand. You're about to leave when you notice a figure standing in the corridor.

“Too late,” Jaemin says, announcing his presence.

“Let her go Jaem."

Jaemin points a gun at Mark before he can finish his sentence. Stunned, you both take a staggering step back. Mark shields you behind him.

“You're not taking her anywhere,” Jaemin says a little too calmly.

"Jaemin, put down the gun seriously. Let's just talk it out.” You try, but he holds up an irritated hand at you.

“Be quiet. Time and time again, I've forgiven you, but you never learn. I'll deal with you next,” he says. “Right now it's me and him; you stay out of it.”

Mark pushes you away, and you take the hint, stepping back away from the conflict. Jaemin circles Mark, his weapon still drawn as he berates him.

“You just never knew how to give up. You're lucky I'm a man of my word, or else I would have killed you a long time ago." jaemin snarls

Mark stays silent as his eyes track Jaemin's every move. Mark knew he had to be careful; he had trained in weapon disarming, but that was only for a few days. He knew fighting back would greatly increase the odds of losing his life, but he had to do what he could. When Jaemin took a step closer, Mark jumped into action. Mark moves to grab Jaemin at the wrist; he maneuvers the gun so it's pointed away from him as he grabs it and spins it away. Jaemin fights back against the motion and attempts to take control of the gun again. Both fight for the weapon, but in the effort to gain control, the gun slips from their grasp and clatters noisily against the hardwood. You make a move for it, but Mark reprimands you.

“Stay back! It's dangerous!” he warns. 

In that split second that he looked away, Jaemin gains the upper hand and gets him in a chokehold. Jaemin is relentless, and Mark is struggling to flee. You can only cry out as you see the fight slowly leave Mark. He's on his last breath before a force pushes them both to the ground. They fall over onto the glass table that sits in the middle of the room and shatters under their weight. They roll in agony attempting to get back up off of the broken glass but stay down. You look up towards the figure that pushed them and you meet face to face with Jaehyun wielding the gun that was discarded earlier. Mark is the first one to notice the new threat. Jaehyun once again has the gun pointed at him.

“Jaehyun please!” you beg

“Jaehyun, do it! Shoot him if you want to keep your position!” Jaemin coughs weakly, still fighting to pull himself up from the glass shards.

All Mark can do is shake his head, pleading silently with his eyes.

“DO IT!” jaemin yells

Jaehyun pulls the trigger, and you close your eyes as the shot rings harshly through the small house. Soon after you hear a thud, your knees feel weak, and you slip down the wall as you cry. You don't bother to raise your head at the footsteps that approach you. You don't care what happens to you at this point. You're ready for it to just be over.

A gentle hand rests on your shoulder, and another caresses your face.. You open your eyes at the touch, and marks equally as teary ones stare back at you. You gasp in shock as your eyes trail to the other set looking at you. Jaehyun stares back apologetically before he lowers his head in shame. You throw yourself into Mark's arms again, and he groans in pain. You release him immediately, and he laughs.

“Its ok. Just a little sore after being thrown into a table is all,” he says sarcastically as he eyes Jaehyun jokingly.

“Sorry man, I didn't know what else to do." jaehyun apologizes

“What's going on, Jae? I thought you were helping Jaemin." You say in disbelief.

“I had a change of heart; Mark was right. I did nothing but turn my back on you when all you did was show me kindness. It kept me up at night. "Jaehyun grimaced in regret.

“Were you the one who sent the text earlier?” mark inquired

“What text?” you ask.

“It's how I found you." mark answers

“I thought you might be able to handle it, but Jaemin was able to slip out of the venue earlier than expected, so I came just in case." jaehyun explains

At the sound of his name, you pull yourself up onto your feet. If the mark is in front of you, that means the one Jaehyun shot was...

As you look over at the shattered glass table, a fresh wave of tears starts up as you inspect the scene. Jaemin's body is bleeding out over the glass shards. They twinkle red in the light of the room, and like always, he looks beautiful. The glass crunches under your feet as you walk closer. You don't even wince at the pain as you kneel next to him. He looks at you silently as ragged breaths wrack his chest. A weak hand raises to reach for you, but it falls. You grab it and interlace your fingers; you despise him. You wanted to despise him, but as he took his last breaths, you couldn't bring yourself to. You did love him in a sick, twisted way. Even when your heart was filled with nothing but rage, hurt, and frustration, a small part of you still loved him. You secretly wished for a normal life with Jaemin. That's what compelled you to lean in and kiss him one last time. You kiss him gently, and when you pull away, his eyes are closed dreamily, as if he was sleeping, but you knew. Jaemin was still and quiet, but above all, he was beautiful as he lay there, and that's how you would always remember him. You were pulled up and away by Jaehyun and Mark. You grabbed a few of your things, and you left.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

The police wasted no time investigating the death of the newly appointed CEO. It was initially classified as a break-in, but that was later debunked, given that nothing was stolen.  They went on to believe that his death was premeditated, and that someone in the company was jealous of him for his new position, but everyone seemed to adore him, and his grandfather revealed that he would not have chosen anyone else to run the company in his place. The police were also unable to locate the murder weapon, which made their job even more challenging.

After a few months of investigating, the case was closed and dismissed due to insufficient evidence. Jaemin's grandfather was livid and sued the city, but you're not sure what came of that. You started over in a new city. You and Mark started seeing each other and took in Jaemin's three cats. Jaehyun continued his position at the company, and despite the fact that you never heard from him, he seemed to keep in touch with Mark. You believe he was protecting Mark in his own way by telling him to give up on searching for you.

It would take you a very long time to truly heal from what happened, and sometimes your heart would still ache for Jaemin, but you would overcome it. You were sure that with marks by your side, you could overcome anything.

[poohsources]

🐝  *  ―  𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑬𝑮𝑬𝑵𝑫 𝑶𝑭 𝑲𝑶𝑹𝑹𝑨 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

❛  so, i sort of started a civil war ...  ❜ ❛  i am so sorry for turning my back on you as my mentor.  ❜ ❛  i needed to understand what real suffering was, so i could become more compassionate to others.  ❜ ❛  what's the big idea with making me train this early in the morning? the morning is evil.  ❜ ❛  oh, i'm sorry. did i put you in a difficult position by fighting the giant force of pure evil that was going to destroy the whole world? maybe your administration could have handled that.  ❜ ❛  fighting is something the old me would do. that always made things worse.  ❜ ❛  let's go on a vacation, just the two of us. anywhere you want.  ❜ ❛  it's all right. people usually assume that i'm daddy's helpless little girl, but i can handle myself.  ❜ ❛  the world is in trouble ... i have to go help.  ❜ ❛  i'm impressed. no one has ever gotten the better of me like that.  ❜ ❛  i assure you, i have a plan. and i'm saving you for last; then you'll get your duel, and i will destroy you.  ❜ ❛  when we hit our lowest point, we are open to the greatest change.  ❜ ❛  i did what i had to do to survive and protect my little brother.  ❜ ❛  and ... what am i going to find if ... i get through this?  ❜ ❛  we should always learn from those who came before us, but we must also forge our own path.  ❜ ❛  why don't you come and find out?  ❜ ❛  if you look for the light, you can often find it. but if you look for the dark, that is all you will ever see.  ❜ ❛  you need to make decisions based on what you want. don't make the same mistakes i did.  ❜ ❛  i don't know what i'm supposed to be doing half the time.  ❜ ❛  right, friends. no, no, i didn't mean to imply.  ❜ ❛  i do like the idea of putting you on a train and sending you far, far away.  ❜ ❛  you need me, but i don't need you.  ❜ ❛  you swore your loyalty to me and i gave you a chance at greatness. this is how you repay me?  ❜ ❛  i told you dating a teammate would be a bad idea.  ❜ ❛  stick around five minutes and you'll find out who's bluffing.  ❜ ❛  wait! we can't fight them all. we need to be smart about this.  ❜ ❛  you know, it's okay to be scared. the important thing is to talk about our fears, because if we don't, they throw us out of balance. i'm always here for you, if you want to talk.  ❜ ❛  what i'm trying to say is, as much as you drive me crazy ... i also think you're pretty amazing.  ❜ ❛  see, that's what i admire about you, [ name ]: your willingness to go to extremes in order to get what you want. it is a quality we both share.  ❜ ❛  ending a relationship is kind of like pulling off a bloodsucking leech. you just gotta rip it off and get it over with. you'll feel a lot better afterwards. trust me.  ❜ ❛  don't tell me you are still mad about everything that happened?! i did some good things, too!  ❜ ❛  all right, hold on. will you quit ignoring me and tell me what's going on?  ❜ ❛  how about, for now, i just promise not to show up at your house and attack you again?  ❜ ❛  what would you do, if you were in charge? help me be more like you.  ❜ ❛  i wish you were putting up more of a fight, but it was still fun.  ❜ ❛  please, just let me say one thing, then i'll never contact you again.  ❜ ❛  i'm not sure i'll ever be able to forgive you. but that doesn't mean i shouldn't try.  ❜ ❛  i came here to look you in the eye and tell you that you have no power over me. i will no longer be scared of you.  ❜ ❛  but if you had any other options, you wouldn't be here now, would you? we may have been enemies once, but for now, our interests align.  ❜ ❛  you don't have to apologize for anything. i'm just so happy you're here now.  ❜

[physalian]

On Hyper Independent Characters (and how not to make them the bad guy)

So many characters with “trust issues” are painted out to be cynical little gremlins who just need to ~open their hearts~ and ~let the love in~ like doing so, repeatedly, has only proven them right every single time, but this one love interest will swoop in and save the day.

The people who write these characters tend to do so in bad faith, as if their fears and trust issues are unfounded nonsense, like they’re wrong and Negative Nellys for being wary.

So!

From experience (thus this is hella biased), here’s some thoughts on writing an independent character with trust issues that isn’t belittling.

1. It’s likely not that kind of trust they have issues with

I said this before a while ago, but “trust issues” paired with an extreme sense of self-reliance isn’t “I think everyone is a liar,” but rather “I think everyone is unreliable”. It might stem from a place of constantly being let down, of constantly having the people in their life drop the ball on major events, but also little things, even something as simple as “hey yeah I’ll totally do the dishes” and then they continue to sit there, forcing the person to be a nag about it, or just do it themselves.

These kinds of personalities tend to grow up surrounded by unkept and empty promises, where, while it might not be every single occasion, it happens one too many times for them to keep giving the benefit of the doubt. Even when people have the best of intentions and mean it when they say they’ll do XYZ in the moment, and they really just forgot, the person they made the promise to is impatiently waiting for them to remember 12-day-old dishes.

2. Why don’t they just remind people to keep their promises?

If you’re in my boat, many people with commitment issues are also narcissists or just mean, who, if you even gently remind them, make you out to be a nagging, impatient brat. And to avoid hearing that again, you just don’t speak up. Too many times where ‘forgetting’ has been from a source of a weird power fantasy, intentionally screwing you over, leaves people sitting in a state of unknowing whether it’s benign neglect or very much on purpose, and afraid to voice their concerns to be proven right.

If you’re not in my boat, chronic “forgetters” aren’t going to change without intervention. So if I ask you to do the dishes once, and you forget, that’s one thing. If I ask you twice, three times, four times, nagging over and over again, then the benefit of the doubt is shredded, and I can’t help but assume that the “forgetting” is on purpose. Either weaponized incompetence or something more benign, doesn’t matter. Even if you have some executive dysfunction, that's an explanation, not an excuse, and the people you live with aren't your maids.

Either way, these personalities might grow up with a whole slew of self-worth issues, and be reluctant to make plans with people, invite friends to important events, or get excited about big milestones, because they’re so used to people they care about “forgetting” or canceling last minute that the only one they can trust to reliably show up is themselves.

3. Why don’t they just communicate these fears?

See the “narcissists” in point 2

4. Isn’t it lonely never letting people in?

Fuck yeah, it is. The thing is, though, that if you spend your whole life learning how to do everything alone—pay your bills, do ‘couple’ or ‘friend’ activities, run errands, take yourself out to places—the idea of having to squeeze in the wants and needs of someone else might start to sound incredibly inconvenient.

If you’re so used to being on your own schedule and reaping the benefits of being a party of 1 in crowded spaces (I just took myself to dinner at a place with an hour long wait, able to be seated immediately at the last remaining barstool), of not having to wait for someone else to confirm plans, negotiate who’s driving, negotiate a time to meet up, food to order, a movie to see, a roller coaster to ride, a game or streaming service to buy—everything is entirely under your control, sacrificing convenience for the chance that the person you invite actually shows up on time and is invested as you are isn’t really worth the risk.

That's not to say I don't enjoy when I get to do things with friends, but I can equally enjoy doing things alone as opposed to whining about it.

Personally, while I can daydream about having a romantic partner, that thought is always immediately followed up by the understanding that they’ll be an inconvenience to my independence. But I’m someone who’s always had to do the emotional labor in a relationship, who’s always the most organized, the most mature, the most level-headed in tough situations. Always been the person in groupwork who does all the work. The idea of being “a team” is a fantasy meant for other people. “Team” to me is “me and this deadweight that I have to drag around”.

5. How I’d like to see this represented in characters

Dropping “the one” into their lives and having this person swept up, broken out of their little pessimistic shell, in some epic romance, as if they only needed to find the right person and nothing at all goes wrong… is bad faith.

It’s bad faith because it minimizes this kind of independence as just a little mood problem that can be fixed right quick, that it’s inherently wrong—what was all the fuss about?

What I’d like to see is examples that prove they’re not crazy. Big and little things. Dishes, and big events. Then, they can meet “the one,” but not without some trial and error. A lifetime of “people suck and are unreliable” isn’t going to be snapped away bibbidi bobbidi boo after one good date. This magical person will have to show up, and keep showing up, and keep showing up, and the one time they don’t, because they won’t, then A and B can hash it out like adults.

6. How this person might act

I’ve never actually met somebody like me and we’d either be best friends or loathe each other. But this person might be the most reliable friend you’ve ever had, because they’re so afraid of becoming like everyone in their life who let them down before. If you ask a favor of them, it gets done with supernatural haste.

This person might also have their own commitment issues, where instead of failing to keep their promises, they punish themselves by keeping promises they hate, showing up out of spite and resentment because they said they would, lest they be called a hypocrite.

They might under-share or not speak up about accomplishments in their life until the time for hype and anticipation has passed, lest they share expecting the same level of excitement only to be met with apathy. They might not show visible excitement about objectively exciting things, because they’re so used to plans falling through that they won’t believe something is happening until they are physically in the location and it’s staring them in the face.

Thus, they might look frequently bored or unhappy and unmoved by something important to you, or something you thought they’d like (especially if you’ve let them down before, trust is a privilege, not a right).

7. What I’d like people to understand most of all

First, that some of us tend to live by the “if you want something done right do it yourself” mantra, so actually asking somebody for help with something is admitting that X cannot be done alone, which makes failure to keep a promise even worse. As in, if A goes out of their way to admit they can’t do F alone and risk being let down to ask B to do this one little thing for them, and B still drops the ball, A is going to sit there and think “this is why I have trust issues”.

Can’t speak for everyone, but yes I do acknowledge that the suffering in silence isn’t helping anyone and am working on it. Counterpoint: Weaponized incompetence is very real and an adult should not have to remind another adult to keep their living space clean, at the bare minimum. Agreeing to do a thing is at least equal responsibility on the inviter and invitee and "you didn't remind me" isn't a valid excuse.

But most importantly, if you have a friend or relative who is fiercely independent, I’d implore you to learn one thing: Do not make promises that you can’t keep. And if shit happens and you have to cancel even when you had the best of intentions, have the decency to tell them and make the best effort you can to reschedule ASAP, instead of putting the impetus on them to do the rescheduling. Make it absolutely clear that you do, in fact, care, and weren’t going out of some apathetic sense of obligation.

I cannot count the amount of times I have asked a friend to do something for me, they eagerly agreed, and then my very real deadlines come and go and they say absolutely nothing, so I have to nag them, and nag them, and then they turn it back on me with a “obviously you can see that I’m busy and you’re not paying me for this” when all they had to do was say “no I can’t help you” (two whole humans; we are not friends anymore).

The ability to be approached with a request for a favor, step back and think about it, and go “No, I don’t think I can do that in that time frame/at this moment I’m going through a lot/with the skill the task requires” is apparently ridiculously rare. I’d infinitely prefer a no upfront than a yes, bank on that yes, and then wait around hoping someone follows through.

Not saying anything is really rude. If you agree to X, the person who asked you is fully expecting you to do X. They shouldn’t have to be lining up backup plans and last minute helpers scrambling to do the job you promised would get done.

—

Not exaggerating when I say it happens in so many areas. I’ve needed very important things like recommendation letters, or actual paid beta readers on a very hard deadline and still scrambled at the last minute to find replacements that sometimes cost real money for rush fees. I’ve been left waiting at an event for an hour minimum only to finally receive a ‘hey I can’t come’ text and then go home. I’ve told people multiple times, “hey, if you’re going to do X, please do it like this and have some consideration for my things that you’re borrowing” and just… be ignored.

As somebody who gets whatever’s asked of me done immediately, no matter how busy I am, man is it hard to keep accepting “sorry I forgot” as an excuse, from multiple people, multiple times.

The nice thing, though, the big benefit of hyper-independence is that I have learned so many skills out of a compulsion to just do it myself instead of gambling with the accountability of another flighty human. Handyman things for my home and my car, but artistic things, too. So there’s that.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Every writing tip tells you to read a lot to write a lot, but I have been having a hard time reading after I started writing. Everything seems so predictable, you start a book and notice a hero's journey and boom you know exactly what the story is going to be, or after you learn how to foreshadow you get all the little references and know exactly what the thing is leading to. It just feels boring. Do you know any way to overcome this?

Trouble Reading After Writing

Honestly, that really is the one big drawback to being both a reader and a writer. Once you have a grasp on how to tell a story, flaws in others' stories are more apparent to you. And that's what's happening, unfortunately... if the hero's journey is that obvious, even to another writer, that's a flaw in the storytelling. If the foreshadowing references are that obvious to you, that's a flaw in the storytelling. Because top quality writing should generally pass muster even to other writers. And I say "generally" because it's all subjective anyway, so what seemed predictable to you may still not be predictable to another writer.

So, where you're at is where a lot of more experienced writers find themselves... the books you're going to enjoy will have to clear a higher bar, and sometimes it can take some time to find authors who meet your personal criteria... but you will. You may want to take advantage of e-book deals, library books, ARCs, and samples for a little while as you try to find books and authors that work for you. Because I'd say probably the number one key to this stage in your writing/reading relationship is to not be afraid to DNF. I used to really struggle with DNF-ing, so I would force myself to read the book and end up reading like a page a day if I was lucky. My personal rule is I give a book 3-5 chapters. If I absolutely hate it by the end of chapter three or so and it shows no promise or merit, I'll happily DNF. If it shows some promise or merit, I'll give it a couple more chapters to see how it goes. If I'm not invested enough to keep reading of my own volition, I'll DNF then.

But... keep at it, because you will find writers and books that work for you. Also: if you've read enough that you're to that point--where you understand storytelling so well that you can spot the flaws in others' stories--you're probably past the point where you need to be reading voraciously. Because the whole point of reading voraciously as a less experienced writer is to learn how stories work through firsthand experience. So, don't feel like you have to be inhaling books if you're past that point. Read what you want, when you want. A lot of writers don't read a lot while they're writing.

I hope that helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[wingedblooms]

Blooming with life

@offtorivendell and I were chatting about the cover for the next book and while there are several options for what might be depicted on the cover, the one that makes the most sense to me (and makes us scream) is the Cauldron (blooming with life, vines and flowers and creatures spilling from its iron lip). It hasn’t been used on a cover yet, and assuming Sarah will continue with one romantic pairing per book, it would align perfectly with what Elain and Azriel’s story would contribute to the overarching plot.

Let me preface this by saying that I do think the three Archeron sisters embody (or are vessels) for the three faces of the Mother, and they will likely need to come together at some point in this storyline (the dream). But if anyone’s story is connected to a force that once bloomed with life, and is tasked with uncovering its secrets to help it and the land bloom again, it’s Elain. The quiet, gentle gardener who glows like the dawn and smells like a promise of spring. She might even be able to use the language of creation to (re)write her own fate. It doesn’t seem coincidental that Azriel has been present or connected to Elain’s major moments involving the Cauldron (her forced rebirth, naming her powers, questioning the mating bond, using TT to rescue her family, being forbidden from going near the Cauldron, etc.). Their story is tied to the Cauldron and what we’ve learned about it (from the original trilogy to the spin-off books to the crossover). Sarah has left hints that it is still important, in general, and specifically in Elain’s journey with Azriel:

acotar

Feyre gives us our first glimpse of the Cauldron from the living (Spring Court):

I found myself overlooking a rose garden, filled with dozens of hues of crimson and pink and white and yellow.

I might have allowed myself a moment to take in the colors, gleaming with dew under the morning sun, had I not glimpsed the painting that stretched along the wall beside the windows.

[…]

At first I could do nothing but stare at its size, the ambition of it, at the fact that this masterpiece was tucked back here for no one to ever see, as if it was nothing—absolutely nothing—to create something like this.

It told a story with the way colors and shapes and light flowed, the way the tone shifted across the mural. The story of…of Prythian.

It began with a cauldron.

A mighty black cauldron held by glowing, slender female hands in a starry, endless night. Those hands tipped it over, golden sparkling liquid pouring out over the lip. No—not sparkling, but…effervescent with small symbols, perhaps of some ancient faerie language. Whatever was written there, whatever it was, the contents of the cauldron were dumped into the void below, pooling on the earth to form our world…(acotar)

acomaf

Elain emerges from the Cauldron. It tips onto its side by itself, as if influenced by an unseen force. Elain rises from the floor, like the earth in the mural, glowing with immortal light and beauty.

And as if it had been tipped by invisible hands, the Cauldron turned on its side. More water than seemed possible dumped out in a cascade. Black, smoke-coated water.

And Elain, as if she’d been thrown by a wave, washed onto the stones facedown.

Her legs were so pale—so delicate. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen them bare. The queens pushed forward. Alive, she had to be alive, had to have wanted to live—

Elain sucked in a breath, her fine-boned back rising, her wet nightgown nearly sheer.

And as she rose from the ground onto her elbows, the gag in place, as she twisted to look at me—

Nesta began roaring again.

Pale skin started to glow. Her face had somehow become more beautiful—infinitely beautiful, and her ears … Elain’s ears were now pointed beneath her sodden hair. (acomaf)

acowar

After Elain was Made in the Cauldron, Azriel is the one to name her power, freeing her from a murky realm where dream and reality entwine:

“A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.” (acowar)

Feyre wonders about Elain’s new, inner sight and how it might be connected to the Cauldron.

Elain had been told—by Amren. She now sat at the table, more straight-backed and clear-eyed than I’d seen her. Had she beheld this, in whatever wanderings that new, inner sight granted her? Had the Cauldron whispered of it while we’d been away? I hadn’t the heart to ask her. (acowar)

Feyre questions the mating bond system, wondering why Azriel and Elain aren’t mates and who determines it.

“Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?”

“I’d keep that question from Lucien.”

“I’m serious.” I turned toward him and crossed my arms. “What decides it? Who decides it?”

Rhys straightened his lapels before plucking an invisible piece of lint from them. “Fate, the Mother, the Cauldron’s swirling eddies…”

Azriel is the first to notice Elain’s absence and risks his life to get her back, inspiring Feyre to join him.

From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.”

Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s eyes glowed golden in the shadows.

Nesta said, “Then you will die.”

Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

With the shadows, he might stand a chance of slipping in. But there were wards to consider, and ancient magic, and the king with those spells and the Cauldron…(acowar)

Armed with Truth-Teller, the blade Azriel gifted to her for the battle, Elain—rather than the Cauldron—answered Feyre’s pleas, somehow appearing just in time to deal Hybern a killing blow.

For a moment, I thought the Cauldron had answered my pleas.

But as a black blade broke through the king’s throat, spraying blood, I realized someone else had.

Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.” (acowar)

While connected to it through a living link, Feyre learns that the Cauldron adores Elain, gave her such powers (plural, baby), and would not harm her.

The Cauldron seemed to realize what she’d done, too, as his head thumped onto the mossy ground. That Elain…Elain had defended this thief. Elain, who it had gifted with such powers, found her so lovely it had wanted to give her something…It would not harm Elain, even in its hunt to reclaim what had been taken. (acowar)

Both Elain and the Cauldron are described as blooms in bleak and barren settings, which seems to be a hint of their intertwined role/power that is reinforced in the spin-offs and crossover.

She was a rose bloom in a mud field…[…] If Elain was a blooming flower in this army camp, then Nesta, she was a freshly forged sword, waiting to draw blood. (acowar)

-

The Cauldron shattered into three pieces, peeling apart like a blossoming flower (acowar)

acosf

Cassian reminds us that the Cauldron is hidden (and supposedly asleep) in Cretea, worrying that no one could control it if it awoke.

A chill skittered down Cassian’s spine. He trusted the Seraphim Prince and the half-human woman to keep the Cauldron concealed, but there would be nothing they or anyone could do to control its power if awoken. (acosf)

Nesta reminds us of the time the Cauldron stole Elain and its song called only to her:

Elain had been stolen by the Cauldron and saved by Azriel and Feyre. Yet the two terror still gripped Nesta, waking and asleep: the memory of how it had felt in those moments after hearing the Cauldron’s seductive call and realizing it had been for Elain, not for her or Feyre. How it had felt to find Elain’s tent empty, to see that blue cloak discarded. (acosf)

The Inner Circle discusses the Cauldron-Made Trove, and Feyre and Amren remind us that like calls to like, which is why the sisters can help find them.

“What does it have to do with the Cauldron?” Nesta pushed.

“Like calls to like,” Feyre murmured, looking to Amren, who nodded. “Because the Trove was Made by the Cauldron, so might the Trove find its Maker.” (acosf)

Elain offers to find the Trove when Nesta admits to her fears, and Nesta forbids her from going anywhere near the Cauldron.

Amren said, “You tracked the Cauldron—”

“It nearly killed me. It trapped me like a bird in a cage.”

Elain said, “Then I will find it. I might require some time to…reacquaint myself with my powers, but I could start today.”

“Absolutely not,” Nesta spat, fingers curling at her sides. “Absolutely not.”

“Why?” Elain demanded. “Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways.o You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.”

“Then go off on adventures,” Nesta said. “Go drink and fuck strangers. But stay away from the Cauldron.”

Feyre said, “It’s Elain’s choice, Nesta.” (acosf)

Nesta gives us a glimpse of the dusk service where priestesses worship the Mother and the Cauldron and the Forces That Be (Fate). A sacred, possibly interchangeable trio, which is deeply connected to creation and the earth:

The music was pure, ancient, by turns whispering and bold, one moment like a tendril of mist, the next like a gilded ray of light. It finished, and Merrill spoke about the Mother and the Cauldron and the land and sun and water. She spoke of blessings and dreams and hope. Of mercy and love and growth. (acosf)

Nesta finds the carved rose Papa Archeron made for Elain and places it next to a figurine of a primordial goddess:

She plucked another figurine from the mantel: a rose carved from a dark sort of wood. She held it in her palm, its solid weight surprising, and traced a finger over one of the petals. “He made this one for Elain. Since it was winter and she missed the flowers.”

-

Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn’t let herself dwell on why she’d felt the need to set the rose there. Why she hadn’t just thrown it in a drawer. (acosf)

Nesta makes a bargain with the Cauldron, so it is at least somewhat awake and seems to be influenced by, or working alongside, a luminescent hand (maybe a gentle gardener’s hand?) that intervenes on Nesta’s behalf.

And as it faded, dark ink splashed upon Nesta’s back, visible through her half-shredded shirt, as if it were a wave crashing upon the shore.

A bargain with the Cauldron itself.

Yet Cassian could have sworn a luminescent, gentle hand prevented the light from leaving her body altogether. (acosf)

After their almost-kiss on solstice, Azriel dares to question the Cauldron, which he appears to revere.

“What if the Cauldron was wrong?”

Rhysand blinked. “What of Mor, Az?”

Azriel ignored the question. “The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it’s possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another.” He had never before dared speak the words aloud.

hofas

In the crossover, we learn more of the Cauldron’s history. Life once blossomed from it, but—as if echoing Azriel’s question to Rhys—it was warped by the Daglan (Asteri).

“The Cauldron,” Azriel amended. Bryce shook her head, not understanding. “You don’t have stories of it in your world? The Fae didn’t bring that tradition with them?”

Bryce surveyed the giant cauldron. “No. We have five gods, but no cauldron. What does it do?”

“All life came and comes from it,” Azriel said with something like reverence. “The Mother poured it into this world, and from it, life blossomed.” (hofas)

-

The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the Daglan captured it and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction. And the horrors it produced … those, too, my parents would turn to their advantage. (hofas)

The Under-King leaves us with a look at the Cauldron from the dead. It was misconstrued as a goddess over time, explaining interconnected, if not interchangeable, terms (Mother, Cauldron, Fate/Forces That Be), but she is a force and her name is Wyrd.

The Under-King lounged on a throne beneath a behemoth statue of a figure holding a black metal bowl between her upraised hands. Symbols were carved all over the bowl, continuing down her fingers, her arms, her body. Ithan could only assume it was meant to represent Urd. No other temples ever depicted the goddess, no one even dared—most people claimed that fate was impossible to portray in any one form. But it seemed that the dead, unlike the living, had a vision of her. And those symbols running from the bowl onto her skin … they were like tattoos.

[…]

“And she,” the Under-King went on, gesturing to that unusual depiction of Urd towering above him, “was not a goddess, but a force that governed worlds. A cauldron of life, brimming with the language of creation. Urd, they call her here—a bastardized version of her true name. Wyrd, we called her in that old world.” (hofas)

Tags: @elriel-month 💕

What do you think will be on the cover, friends? Do you agree it might be the Cauldron, or will it be something else, like the Harp or even…a Pegasus?! Ramiel?

[plasticfreckles]

🌙 the ~activity~ one solavellan enjoy🌙

He does not need to see her face to know that, somehow, her mind is not with them.

So he leans over her, ignoring the strain in his wrists from having them rendered immobile between their hips.

"Vhenan," he murmurs, and a shudder chases down her spine where his breath touches her skin. "Come back to me."

She shuffles to rest on her cheek, to look back up at him as best she can while still being planted face-down in the pillows.

"I am here." Her hips push back against his, underlining her words and taking him in further.

"Your mind is elsewhere." He leans up, sits back on his heels. The lack of her is wet and ice-cold on him. "Do you wish to stop?"

She turns, taking care not to hit his face with her foot.

"What makes you think that?" She reaches for him, pulls at his hand and curls it into her breast. Her nipple is hard and sensitive under his palm.

"I am claiming you, and you're not resisting, but you're not participating, either. Not anymore."

He had pulled her up from between his knees after innocent flirts, not so innocent touches and enough wine to alter the mind, trailing kisses down her front before gently turning her to her knees and taking her. Her face had sunken into the cushions of her own accord.

At some point, she had stopped rocking back to meet him, stopped struggling to breathe, stopped reaching for his hands in the crook of her hip and pushing down on the small of her back. Even stopped swishing her hair out of her face, over her shoulder and underneath her body.

"Do you require different touches?"

She blows a strand of hair out of her face.

"I.. I am afraid I will upset you. With what I have to say. And we're having so much fun."

"You aren't having fun, vhenan. But I cannot please you unless you tell me."

Something in his expression makes her lean up on her elbows.

"Solas, no. It's nothing you did wrong, I promise you." She climbs into his lap and kisses him, softly, gently, filled with so much affection it pushes the air out of his lungs.

"If you'd prefer to mount me-"

"Solas." The tone makes him pause. They both have to cross their eyes to look at each other, but they will both bear it for now. "I am a grown, independent woman. If I preferred to mount you, I would not offer to be bred like a dog."

It starts to dawn on him that maybe he should not force this conversation, that maybe she did not want to share this concern with him-

"Whenever I had sex before, it never lasted this long. They didn't. So, when you made me cum so often I lost count, and you're still not done. " A nod downward, the remains of their desire making the air cold on him. She draws in a breath, shallow and hasty. Like it was the first time they saw each other. "I started to wonder. How long is he going to take?"

She looks at his mouth now, hands curling loosely around his throat. More hair falls into her face; he brushes it away.

He doesn't say what he thinks, if you could wonder, I am not claiming you as well I should, as well you deserve.

"I suppose I'll just have to adapt to your stamina. A whole new world," she breathes into the space between their lips, one hand slipping down and thrusting up and down on him, but he holds her by her shoulders.

"A moment. How long has it lasted, before?"

It's a devastating information that is about to be uncovered, he can feel it. She hums in contemplation.

"The last one I had? I would not have gotten to the point to wonder. I wouldn't even cum unless I did it myself. He wasn't even that fresh. No excuse, really."

He groans, not entirely because of her motions on him.

"Foolish young men." The lot of them, to get to know Lavellan so carnally and not endeavor to worship her every freckle, to make her peak so often, so intense she can no longer tell north from south. To not take the time to learn what pleased her and then spend as much time as the world had to offer to turn that knowledge into action.

"I always thought it common knowledge that the one receiving peaks at least twice more than the one offering, and first, too."

Solas struggles to put voice behind his thought. Lavellan is too close, too eager, too skilled-

He steals the kiss that had lingered between them, finally. Fingers crawl from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, the other hand tightening its grip on him the way his fingers dug into her skin. Renewed desire wet-hot on his thigh where she grinds down with movements so subtle he almost thinks he imagines them.

"That sounds like so much fun. Show me."

"I will, so long as you promise to stay here, with me. Rest your mind. Let me draw your thoughts from your body."

"Take me. Whichever way you desire. Ea nar."

If there's an excited little chuckle from her lungs when she slides off his thighs as he rises, turns her back around and to her knees, wrapping her hair around his hand and wrist like a leash, he won't tell.

🌙

"ea nar" is what happens when u sit me in front of Project Elvhen too long. I've never been good at grammar, but the good thing is, if it is wrong, I can just say its on purpose bc Lavellan is still learning and Solas too horn knee to correct her rn :D

Ea: to be + nar = your, yours

also i read the The Truths Between chapter where they smash last night and it is hands down on of the best-ly written scenes I've read in my life and if Biowares invented video game men hadn't ruined me for real human men before that chapter in their fic would've done it <3

also i finished trespasser instead of working on my thesis and I need them to smash SO HARD in veilguard u got no idea

[y-rhywbeth2]

Something I love about BG1+2 is how it simultaneously plays and subverts the demigod/chosen one narrative (which continues in BG3, except with only the subversion. (And Halsin is not joking when Durge tells him what they are: Do NOT advertise that you're a Bhaalspawn.))

I've always been fond of the set up in Saradush in ToB, where the surviving children of Bhaal are being corralled into the besieged city under promise of protection against the entire world - because basically literally the entire world is trying to kill the Bhaalspawn: Your more powerful siblings want you dead; your mortal neighbours, and likely your nation itself either thinks you're inherently evil and are ready to kill you, or you represent such a threat that they're ready to drive you out and/or kill you just in case. Case in point: the aforementioned siege outside the city walls with the army that wants you dead currently raining giant flaming rocks of death over your head.

Some of these guys have no idea what they are, or what's happening, until attempted murder happens.

Like this discussion with one of your random brothers, a guy called Alexander:

Alexander: "You don't look like one of the locals. Are you a child of Bhaal as well, lured here like the rest of us to face our inevitable end?" Charname: "As well? What do you mean?" Alexander: "I myself am one of Bhaal's progeny - or so I've been told. I guess Bhaal's blood runs thicker in some of his children than in others." Sarevok: "By your snivelling manners, I would say Bhaal's blood runs very thin indeed in your veins. Bah-why do I even waste my breath tormenting this cowering cur?" Alexander: "Uh... is there anything else I can help you with?" Charname: "How did you get here exactly?" Alexander: "I wasn't brought here by Melissan, like some of the others. My home village was burned to the ground by a dragon who claimed to be hunting me. My friends... my family... they threatened to give me to the dragon if I didn't leave. So I did. And I heard a lot of other Bhaalspawn were coming here. *sigh* Now I almost wish I hadn't come."

Spoiler alert: He dies. Every single Bhaalspawn in that city dies*, along with everybody except a handful of commoners (*except maybe Viekang, who was not particularly inclined to murder me, so Murder in Baldur's Gate is weird.)

You, a simple peasant from a farming village one day come of age and learn that your absent father was a god, and you are forced to flee forces that are trying to kill you (in this case, your much more powerful half-brother)... it sounds like the start to some kind of fantasy epic, but instead of any fancy destiny you end up in a war torn city surrounded by castoff divine bastards just like you, terrified and unwanted, and then you die, and are forgotten.

And that's what being a Bhaalspawn is!

Whatever grand lies Bhaal tells you in your dreams about how you're special and great power awaits you (if you behave and do his will), your job is: sow death, faith, fear and chaos wherever you roam, strengthen Bhaal's power, and then be a good child and die for Father. No exceptions, save perhaps one, who is explicitly a special prophecy child, and even then is supposed to be doomed by future FR canon because they're still Bhaal's "pawn". There's also Imoen, who might be spared simply by proximity to said prophecy child keeping her alive. Non-game "canon" screwed her over hard. (FR canon and I have a complicated relationship, it must be said. All copies of those books are to be ritualistically burned.)

idk where I'm going with this, I just love how bleak the situation in the city is. No grand destinies, only a discardable pawn to be used, abused and consumed.

...And also that part where Tethyr sends an army to kill you because obviously you are guilty of "crimes against [Tethyr] and, indeed, all of humanity!" by supposedly killing a whole city: They admit they can't prove it, but you're a child of murder, you were born guilty even if you didn't actively do anything.

No, really:

General Jamis Tombelthen: "You are guilty, [Charname]. Of this there is no doubt. And we will not risk your further endangerment of us all. You are a spawn of Bhaal and responsible for the destruction of the city of Saradush*. Your execution has been ordered, [Charname]. May the gods have mercy on your soul."

* I implore you to move with great urgency to intercept the Bhaalspawn before they can do any more damage. Whether or not they are responsible for what occurred in Saradush, we cannot allow them to continue and cannot afford the time for trial... - Tombelthen's orders, courtesy of the Queen of Tethyr