#i try not to wish ill will but i genuinely hope no one ever has to suffer through being their 'friend' ever again

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

today just will not let me rest huh. reasons are in the tags but i get very emotional just be warned

[anjelicawrites]

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Synopsis: your marriage to Aemond would be a win, if it wasn’t for his dreadful, drafty quarters, you’re supposed to share with him. When you decide to live in another set of chambers, because he seems to ignore how unhappy you are, you two are bound to butt heads.

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, crying, fighting, brief description of illness, a bit of manhandling, quick talk of cutting off Otto’s tongue, Aegon tries to be a good older brother but fails miserably.

A/N: reader is AFAB, they/them pronouns used when needed. They’re called ‘wife’ and the only descriptor is that they have to crane their head to look at Aemond’s face

A/N 1: thank you @peachysunrize for screaming with me about it idea!

You arrange the brocade pillow on the old settee in front of the roaring fireplace: isn’t it lovely to have an interesting book to start, a warm blanket and a hearth to fight the first chilly nights in King’s Landing? Instead of a dreadful, drafty room? You had to choose, and picked the first option; unfortunately your husband isn’t on your same page.

Speaking of the Stranger, a rapid hail of knocks, hard and booming, falls on the sturdy wood of the locked doors.

“You are expected for dinner, wife!”

Aemond’s cold, angry tone carries through the door and you elect to ignore it.

“I’m not hungry, husband.”

You try to keep your tone light, pretending not to hear how cross he is with you.

You don’t know that outside, in the corridor, your husband is in the company of his brother, the king, his sister, the queen and the crown prince Daeron, who has come over from Oldtown for the wedding. Your sovereigns have accompanied their sibling in the hope to mediate this rift, so early in the marriage.

“If you don’t come out immediately, I will break down this door!"

“You can do as you wish, husband.”

“Perhaps you should try to be more courteous? No one wants to be addressed with such a tone.”

If Aemond didn’t love Helaena the way he does, he would have snarled at her, queen or not, instead he takes a big breathe, trying to douse the flames of rage burning in his chest.

All Targaryen siblings stare at Aegon with surprised eyes: where does this wisdom comes from?

“My wife is being extremely difficult.” He growls, low enough that you can’t hear him.

“You can win more battles with your wits than with your fists.”

Truth to be told, Aegon is trying not to laugh and be an arse towards Aemond; now that he’s king he genuinely wants to do better, but to witness Aemond lose his control because you have a spine of Valyrian steel, it’s not something he ever expected from you.

“Will you join us for dinner?”

Aemond is trying to keep his tone on a lighter note, gentler.

His fist almost connects with the door when you answer with a curt ‘No, thank you’, and all his siblings whisper to him to try and keep his composure.

“It would make all of us, me above all, very glad if you joined us. Please.”

His patience is hanging by a thread, one wrong word from you and he might explode.

“I am not hungry, I have already told you.”

Aemond doesn’t know if it’s your disrespect of his authority as your husband, or how disinterested you sound that throw fuel to the flames of his rage, not that he cares now that he can only see red.

“Then starve, wife! See if I care!”

With that he stomps away, his heavy footsteps echoing in the stone corridors.

Helaena stares at Aegon. If you asked Daeron, he’d tell you she looks like someone who is pondering very hard why she’s married to an idiot.

“How many days ago was the wedding ceremony?” Aegon murmurs.

“A month.” It’s Daeron’s laconic answer.

“Any insides from the Gods?”

From behind the locked doors, you’re burning with your own brand of anger: how dares Aemond address you in such a tone? You’re not a servant, you’re his wife! He promised to care for you, keep you safe and sound, only to forget his promise when the first issue appears on the horizon! Also: you don’t consider your request outlandish, if only he had been open to an adult discussion!

“They will need time, and patience, to find a common ground.” She answers.

“This marriage is doomed to a sad end, then.” The king says, heading to the huge dining room: he needs wine, and he needs it now!

When the marriage between you and Aemond was being arranged, you were happy and dismissed your sisters’ doubts about the union, mostly because they all were appalled by his looks, by his scar, the very characteristic you found captivating about your future husband.

You were sold on the marriage when you finally met him in person: tall and imposing, averse to stupid talks and apt with a sword, Aemond had piqued your interest to the point you forgot he had been marred as a child: you knew he was your match.

Despite having the blood of the dragon flowing through his veins, he had always been respectful of you, during the long courtship, focused on knowing you, once you arrived in King’s Landing, without being improper, which made you believe there could be some true interest, from him, that he wasn’t simply honoring his side of this political deal.

Even during the wedding, when your hands were shaking in his, he had stolen moments to murmur in your ear that he couldn’t stop the whole ordeal, but he could make sure the two of you would be present for the least amount of time needed; he had stopped the whole wedding cortège from entering his chamber, now your shared marital room, to assist to your first coupling. With a firm voice he had put his foot down, until every single person had left, and had calmed your fears, once you were both under the soft cotton of the bedding.

What went so wrong that such a good union, was already on shaky grounds after a month?

His bedroom.

The wedding night you didn’t had the chance to truly take in the room, you were running on too much adrenaline and too little food to truly notice anything but how sparse, and masculine, the furniture was.

The morning after you had woken up chilled, despite the blankets covering your half naked form, to a room without a hearth to fight the cold drafts you could feel attacking you from all sides. That same morning you had noticed that the arched windows opening on the side of the room had no glass panes to protect the room from the wind, or rain: why a person of the standing of Aemond could accept to sleep in such a dreadful place?

“What’s so wrong about it?”

He had asked you two nights later, as he was preparing to join you to bed.

He was still wearing his leather trousers and the linen undershirt; he had looked at you surprised, as he was carefully folding his jerkin, ready to lay it on a chair.

Inwardly, the way he shrugged off your concerns felt worse than him raising his voice at you, it made you feel as if you were lying about the very goosebumps adorning your skin, or how cold your hands felt, even through you were bundled in a thick dressing gown.

“It’s cold, and drafty, husband.”

“I don’t feel it.”

As a dutiful wife, you had tried to ignore the chill constantly present in your bones, even when you were in the company of your new family; you could be having tea with the dowager queen, or be chatting with the queen in her sunny room, surrounded by the tiny cages housing her small animals, and you’d still feel like you were freezing.

Your toppling point came a week after your wedding day, when you woke up with a sore throat, a runny nose and a fever. Your husband had been by your side, his menacing presence causing the Maesters to scurry about in fear for their lives, yet, when you told him that it was the drafty room you two were sharing that caused you this illness, he had stared into your eyes, and told you that you were in the wrong, that your marital chamber was perfect.

As soon as you felt like you could walk without the whole room spinning around you, you ordered your servants to move all your belongings, most of them still in your trunks, in a bigger room in the same wing, one left unused for years, but adorned with thick panes of glasses at the windows and a hearth so huge you could sit in it and don’t be scorched by the flames.

Late in the afternoon, when you had started organizing your belongings, your husband had entered your new room, his presence so hulking that your maids had squirreled and hid in the furthest corner they could find, with their eyes lowered, trembling like leaves in winter.

“What is the meaning of all of this, wife?”

For the first time, you could feel the displeasure in your husband’s voice, kicking years and years of teaching into overdrive: your first instinct was to find a way to please him, make him happy, the way you were told while growing up, then you could feel a sneeze climb its way up in your nose, shutting down the voice of your mother, already complaining in your head.

“I told you, husband, that I felt cold in our room, I have even fallen ill because of it. I asked you to change it to another and you denied my request. This is the only solution, since you love it, and I don’t.”

You’re desperately trying not to start a fight by keeping your tone light, but firm: you know your husband to be a smart man, one you had discussed issues upon issues during your betrothal, why this silly problem should be any different?

You can see the way his expression hardened and his stance resembled the one you saw him adopt in the courtyard, with his feet planted on the ground to carry his weight and his shoulders slightly hunched.

You had walked closer to him, planting yourself right in front of his bigger frame, head craned to look into his eye.

“You will order your maids to bring all your belongings back to our chambers. I will not hear another word about it.”

“No, I will not go back to that dreadful room.”

Silence fell, broken by his pensive hum.

“And I will not sleep without my wife by my side.”

“You are welcome to join me here, where it’s warmer.”

“Or you could be reasonable and put a stop to this nonsense.”

“The only unreasonable one is you, husband.”

He left without another word, and you expelled a breathe you didn’t know you were holding.

“Then it seems we are at an impasse.” He said, coldly.

“That we are.” You answered, crossing your arms in front of you.

You thought sleeping without you by his side would mellow him, would let him see your reasons, instead he was colder than ever, during a silent, and tense breakfast you shared with the dowager queen, who tried, fruitlessly to start a conversation with either of you two, to lighten the gloomy mood, without success.

“My brother is an idiot.”

The king had told you that same night, minutes before dinner.

“Good, because you are going to need it to win this battle.” His hand had landed swiftly on your shoulder, in a reassuring pat. “Your king is with you in this tussle.”

“Pardon, Your Grace?”

“Aemond. He’s as smart as he can be dense and stubborn.” Aegon had continued, offering you a goblet of wine.

“I can be as stubborn as he is, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

You had curtseyed briefly, not feeling the hard stare of your husband on your back.

You didn’t know it, later than night Aemond had cornered Aegon, needing to know his intentions towards you, barely curbing the desire to slam his brother against the wall for having touched you, not knowing that Aegon had no ill, or sexual, intent towards you, he was trying to do better, to be better.

Aegon’s casual tone had stroked Aemond’s rage.

“Which side are you on, Your Grace?” He had hissed the question from behind clenched teeth.

“The one that’s funnier, brother, and your wife is hilarious, I can assure you.”

“I will not accept disrespect being done towards my wife.” He said, his voice like a cold draft.

Aegon knew why Aemond didn’t trust him, he had never given him a reason to, yet he was still hurt by his brother’s low opinion of him.

“I have no ill intention towards your wife. I had only showed them my support, because you’re being daft and unreasonable, and you know that.”

That had hurt Aemond’s pride, that his deadbeat older brother felt that he had the grounds to criticize him, when it had always been the other way around, all because of you.

The morning after you had woken up feeling warmed and well rested.

One of your servants had already lighted up the fire and you knew a scolding hot bath was waiting for you in the adjoining bathroom. You felt bad at not having Aemond by your side, his abnormally hot body curled around yours, his lips kissing your nape before making love to you at the brink of dawn: it was unnatural to not sleep with you husband, yet, he had left you with no other option but take this direct, if somewhat, unusual approach.

You had hoped that another night spent apart would have mellowed Aemond or, at least, helped him look at your stance with a kinder heart. You were wrong.

You hadn’t seen him for the whole day, until the afternoon, when he came to his mother’s room, where you were knitting, sitting on a huge armchair right where the sun was shining. Both Alicent and Helaena were with you, engrossed in their own works, while the twins played with their maids.

Alicent tried to defuse the low current of tension in the air, even the twins were silent, as if waiting to see what would happen.

“Wife.” Came, low and controlled.

“Husband.” You glanced at him, your heart sinking when you saw his displeased expression.

“Is there something you need, Aemond?”

You had stopped knitting to stare hard at him.

“I was simply looking for my wife, mother.”

“You know where to find me, husband.”

He had hummed, staring at you with his lips pursed in a thin, white line of displeasure.

“I see you are still being foolish.”

“The only foolish person I see in this room is you, husband.”

That had been a hard blow, you could see it in the way he stiffly turned around to leave, without a word; you were embarrassed by his conduct, and yours, enraged that a silly issue like the one you two were badly navigating, would exacerbate in two days, because your arse of a husband wouldn’t do you the simple favor of listening to you.

“You are disobeying your vows of obedience, wife.”

“And you’re doing the same, with yours of protection.”

You had excused yourself and curtseyed before either of the women could stop you.

As soon as you had reached your room, you had curled on the bed to cry your anger and frustration, wondering how you were supposed to share the rest of your life with Aemond.

Deserting the family meals hadn’t been a conscious decision: you didn’t feel like eating, looking at your husband’s face or pretend in front of everyone else that night, or the morning after, you simply carried on staying in your room, or leaving your sanctuary to go walk in the gardens, anger and sadness churning in your belly with every day your husband seemingly ignored your absence. Granted, you could have gone to him, tried to discuss the matter civilly, but why should you? He had been the deaf oaf, he should be the one to come and talk to you!

You didn’t know the way he struggled with his own anger, and loneliness how, for the first time since his late father assigned him this room, he felt as if cold was seeping in his bones, now that you didn’t sleep in his arms.

Why were you so impossible? So stubborn and childish? You were supposed to obey him, not put your feet down so strongly that his brother had started asking him, with unconfined glee, when you would grace the family with your presence, why his beloved good sister wouldn’t eat supper with them all. Aemond had to put his own grandsire into his place, when the old man had told him that your union was ill matched, that Aemond had to send you back to your family: Otto would never know how close Aemond had been to cut his tongue for his indiscretion, stopping only because the old man was family.

You were supposed to built a shared nest for you and him, not cut him off, because he didn’t want to adhere to your childish whims!

“You’re not going to win this one.” Aegon had told him one afternoon.

The king was hiding from the dreadful pile of paperwork he was supposed to sign, deciding to go where no one would search for him: the library.

“You should mind your work, Your Grace.” Aemond had hissed. “The whole realm needs your attention, not my wife.”

Aegon had rolled his eyes and sat next to his brother.

“Your wife is my subject, their well being is my concern.”

Aegon knew he shouldn’t have smirked, he couldn’t help himself though: it had been such a surprise to see how much Aemond was moping, because his brother had always been very reserved with his life, rarely had he openly expressed his emotions; it took this disagreement to show Aegon that his brother couldn't, indeed, have the perfect control over himself.

“I know what’s better for my family.”

The way Aemond had closed the book, his hand a white knot of anger around the old leather told Aegon it was time for him to find another hiding place.

“You don’t. Since you’re here, and your wife is not.”

Days had passed, a wall of unsaid words and anger slowly grew tall and impossible to climb: what were you supposed to do? And why should you make the first step towards reconciliation?

You hear Aemond’s footsteps stomp away from your door, followed by all of his siblings and your stomach closes tighter than it did before: you weren’t lying when you told Aemond you weren’t hungry.

It takes your upset stomach hours before the painful knot that forces you to curl into yourself on the bed, loosens enough for you to feel some semblance of hunger, strong enough to convince you to walk down to the kitchen, in search of some food.

You walk on light feet, making sure the guards patrolling the corridors don’t see you, loathing the thought of having to explain yourself to the men.

The kitchen area is enormous, and quiet, dying candles and the log slowly consuming itself in the hearth, illuminate the room and the furniture; thanks to the chatter of your maids, you know where everything is, the left-over, the plates and cutlery.

Mindful of the large sleeves of your dressing gown, you choose the food you think your stomach will manage: you have been living off tea and fruits, even now that you’re hungry, you fear your stomach will betray you.

Carefully you grab the tray and head back to your room, where you hope to curl next to the fire to eat, and to go to bed with a lighter heart.

You’re so focused on not letting anything fall, wondering how the servants manage to carry out those tasks, always in a hurry, that you don’t realize you’re not the only one who can’t sleep.

Aemond hasn’t even tried to fall asleep tonight, knowing all too well that he will spend most of the night staring at the ceiling, or tossing and turning, falling into an uneasy slumber when the first rays of light grace the sky.

He had always been a light sleeper, partly due to the constant pain in his face, partly because he knows that danger can come from any direction, but he had rarely issues with falling asleep, more so when he is as tired as he feels; he is not an idiot, he knows that his body needs yours next to him to find peace again.

It’s not only the sexual urge to be rooted inside of you, to listen to your sighs and moans of pleasure, but also waking up with your fresh smell in his nostrils, your silky skin under his roughened palms: you have changed the habits he had formed in a lifetime in a couple of weeks, and now he doesn’t know, doesn’t want to go back to the way life was before.

As your husband he is aware that he has the right to request your presence, that no one would bat an eye if he were to storm into your chambers to drag you back where you belong, or simply satisfy his lust to the send you back to your chambers. There’s a problem, though: he doesn’t want to. He loathes the idea of forcing you to sleep with him, he wants you willing, responsive to his touch, the way you had been before this rift.

If he simply wanted to empty his stones, he would have gone in any brothel to find that kind of satisfaction, what his restless mind, and body, are seeking is your presence, soothing and calming, like a balm for his nerves.

He decides to sneak down in the kitchen, instead of sending his personal servants, because he needs to move, to burn off some of this energy that he can’t seem to shake off, even after punishing training: he might as well find some warm water he can use to make himself tea, using the leaves the Maesters have advised him to use whenever the left side of his face starts to hurt more than usual.

Like you, he walks in the shadows, light on his feet, and he’s surprised to see movement in the kitchen. He’s dumbfounded when he sees you, clad in a forest green dressing gown, focused on organizing the food on the plates; he thinks that you’re pretty in the dying light of the fire, that the earthy tones you use for your clothing make you appear even more warm and comely, stroking the flames of his need, and longing, for you.

He retreats in the shadows when you walk through the open door; you’re so focused on the task you’re carrying out, that you don’t feel his presence and keep walking to your room.

With feet that are even more light than before, Aemond follows you, drinking down your lovely form the way a castaway would a jug of fresh water: he’s missed seeing you walking around the corridors and the gardens, or in the courtyard when he trains.

It feels like years ago that you were there, clad in a yellow dress that reminded him of the autumn foliage, clapping your hands and smiling at him: why you don’t want to go back to that? Why won’t you just see that he, Aemond, is right? That there’s no issue but your stubborn personality?

He waits until you’re inside your chambers, your back to the still open door, to enter and close it without a noise.

He hadn’t been in your chambers since the day you had moved your belongings here. His eye roams the room, enjoying the elegant way you have adorned it, the furniture you have chosen, and how the pillows and blankets give a homely look to the old place.

He notices that your personal writing desk, the one your father sent you from your childhood room, stands near the huge hearth, opposite to the padded settee and the short tea table, where you have placed the tray.

He thinks that you look truly happy without him and bile rises in his throat.

“I thought you weren’t hungry, wife.”

A petty party of himself rejoices when you jump in surprise and turn around with a hand closing the neck of your dressing gown.

“And I was led to believe you didn’t care if I starved myself to death, husband.”

Your heart is hammering in your chest, you haven’t been this close, and alone, with Aemond in days; you’re nervous and angry at yourself for the longing you feel in your heart.

Silence falls between you two, broken only by the creaking of the fire.

“May help you with something, husband?”

You know that your voice is as cold as ice, you wouldn’t have it any other way: if he’s here to sleep with you, like he would with a common whore, you want him to know he’s not welcome.

With long, slow strides, Aemond walks the length of the room, his long fingers light on the furniture and blankets, until he’s standing in front of you, forcing you to crane your neck to look at him.

“You have made yourself home, I see, all cozy.”

His voice is as cutting as yours to hide the pain.

How could you believe such a lie?

“Someone has to take care of me, since my husband doesn’t care about my well being.”

“You know that’s not true, wife.” He hisses.

You grab both his hands, stabbing his skin with your nails.

“Is it, though? I remember telling you time and time again how cold I found your room, I even fell ill, only for you to ignore the issue.”

“You’re still exaggerating, there’s no problem with my chambers!”

“Can’t you feel how warmer I am? Can’t you tell the difference from before?”

You try to control the rising emotions storming in your chest, the tears that want to tumble down your cheeks: why is he making this harder than it should be?

He’s not doing it on purpose, simply your skin had always felt colder to him because he isn’t capable of telling the difference: he runs too hot to truly notice, something all of Targaryens struggle with. Even his own mother’s hands had always felt cooler, whenever she would cup his face, it’s the same with you.

“You don’t feel any different, wife.”

He knows he’s said something wrong when you let go of his hands and turn around to face the fire, your shoulders trembling as if you were trying not to cry.

“Then I don’t think there’s anything else to say.”

You hate how small your voice sounds, how lonely you feel now that you have the incontrovertible proof that your husband doesn’t care about you.

Behind you Aemond is panicking, unable to understand why your words seem to have hurt you so deeply; he hasn’t said anything offensive, why are you shutting him out again?

Without thinking he grabs your arms to try and force you to turn around and look at him, stopping when you stiffen in his grasp.

“I don’t understand, wife.” He says, feeling like the words are forced out of his mouth. “Why are you acting this way?”

You evade his grasp to turn around and look at him with accusing eyes, full of anger and tears, your mouth twisted in an ugly snarl that bares your teeth like the ones of a savage beast.

“You don’t understand? You don’t understand?”

You try to push him away, to no avail, he’s too heavy to move, prompting you to hit his chest with your fists, until he grabs your wrist in a tight hold, fearing you would hurt yourself.

Your angers grows tenfold now that he’s restricting your movements and he’s not letting you evade his grasp again.

“How can you be so callous?” You scream in his face. “So uncaring? Let me go!”

Blinded by tears you can’t see Aemond’s pained expression: he’s surprised by the hate he hears in your words, he can’t believe you think he doesn’t care about you; you two have been fighting over nothing, he believed, why are you acting this way now?

His long arms curl around your body, forcing your face against the soft cotton of his undershirt, where you cry even more when his familiar scent attacks your senses: you missed him so much, the knowledge feels like a stab now that you know he doesn’t care about you.

Aemond genuinely doesn’t know what to do, what’s expected of him, or what he’s supposed to say to make you stop cry so desperately. Anything, he’d do anything if that meant you stopped pushing him away.

Still holding you tight, he helps you kneel on the soft rug, rocking both your bodies until he hears your dry hiccups.

You try to push him away with your hands trapped against his chest, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Let me go.” You manage to say, voice hoarse and small, muffled by his undershirt.

“No, I will not.” His arms tighten reflexively. “Not until you explain yourself to me.”

Oh Gods, you thought Aemond couldn't break whatever pieces were left of your heart, and he just did.

“Why would I try to explain myself, when you don’t care?”

“How can you say such a thing?”

“I can and I do, because it’s all you’ve been showing me: that I have an issue and you tell me you don’t see it, you’re not even open to discussing it! And even when I try to look after myself, because you showed me you wouldn’t, all you can do is be a stubborn oaf.” You extricate yourself from his arms, looking at him with puffy eyes. “Tell me, husband, why would I try to explain myself to you, when you don’t want to listen?”

Aemond Targaryen is many things: rider of the largest dragon in the known world, renowned swordsman and man of letters. He knows he can be as stubborn as Vhagar is, but he also knows he’s not an idiot, maybe daft, when his own pride is in the way of his intelligence, but not a downright imbecile, he’s not Aegon.

“I might have misread the whole issue, wife.”

He knows this is the understatement of the century. It’s still going to be the closest thing to a ‘I am sorry’ you’re going to get from him.

For the first time since this quarrel began, you feel he’s willing to listen to you.

You take a big breathe before you start talking.

“Your room is cold, Aemond. I don’t know why you don’t feel it, but I was freezing all the time, even bundled up in my warmest clothes. I fell ill, and still you treated me like a capricious child, not like a wife who is trying to solve a problem with their husband. You didn’t care about my discomfort, Aemond, you shrugged your shoulders at me: what was I supposed to do, when my husband showed me he didn’t care? I tried to find a solution that could be right for us both: I wouldn't freeze and you could stay in your beloved chambers.”

Yes, he realizes, he has been an utter at complete imbecile.

You weren’t antagonizing him because you couldn’t adjust into your new position, you weren’t acting unreasonable (that’s what he had thought when you had moved your belongings here) or spoiled, when you had told him you found his room drafty and cold: you had an issue he had completely overlooked and misunderstood. Then his pride won over his intelligence and a small issue had become a real threat to your union, something he can’t accept from himself.

Still, he’s not going to say he’s sorry.

He stops to look into your eyes, still red but lacking the anger and distrust.

“I sincerely didn’t feel the cold…”

“I don’t want to have that discussion again.” You stop him.

“Neither do I, wife. I say it because I never feel it. I am always warm, even during the coldest winters. I thought you’d acclimate yourself, that you would get used to it. Since you didn’t, and, as much as the architects can work on my chambers, they will always feel colder than the rest of the wing, which can’t satisfy your needs, we need to find a solution.”

And we could have been doing that since I moved, you want to say but keep it for yourself; in his own way, Aemond had admitted to his faults, which is something you couldn’t think would happen, not after those two awful weeks.

“I love my chambers, but I care about your well being, and our marriage more. The rooms you have chosen for yourself are big enough to house us both.”

“The mural above your bed, the painters can copy it here.”

“Only if you’re happy to share these chambers with me.”

“I am. It’s all I wanted from the start.”

“Would you let me sleep with you tonight, my wife?”

He hopes you’ll say yes, that you’ll let him show you how sorry he feels, since he’s too prideful to say it.

“Yes, my husband, sleep with me tonight, and all the nights that will follow.”

He smiles, happy that you two have reconciled.

Tomorrow he’ll think of an excuse to use with the rest of the family to explain why he’s moving here, with you, now his only goal is to make up for the weeks spent apart.

Aemond taglist: @fan-goddess, @xcharlottemikaelsonx, @qweencrimson

Ewanverse taglist: @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @zaldritzosrose @thought--bubble

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hallo! IT'S ME AGAINNNNN!

Okay, so I was listening to a song and daydreaming, and then boom—I came up with this idea,It might not make total sense(lmao), but here we gooooo...

So, Donna and the reader are close. They’re not exactly friends, but it’s definitely more than just “a lord and a random villager.” The catch? Donna has a girlfriend whom she genuinely loves. Every time she sees the reader, she can’t help but rave about how amazing her girlfriend is, always blabbing about her personality and how great she treats Donna.

But then, They break up over something (maybe Donna finds out that Mother Miranda sent her "girlfriend" to make her feel less lonely). Donna is heartbroken, but during one of her crises, she realizes the reader is the one who ACTUALLY cares about her. So, she gets her emotions in check and starts getting close to the reader, and they eventually start dating. Donna is OVER THE MOON because, this time, she knows someone is truly in love with her, and she turns into a total hopeless romantic. She loves the reader way more than she ever loved her ex (way more than ANYONE actually)

But here’s where it gets a bit shaky: the reader sometimes feels like she's not enough because she remember all the sweet things Donna used to say about her ex. So, the reader starts putting a ton of pressure on herself, trying to be better. Donna notices right away and makes it her mission to ensure the reader never feels that way again. (You can totally ignore this part if you’re not feeling the angst, though!)

yeah that's it.

THANK YOU SO MUCH, CUTIE! WISH YOU THE BEST! TSCHÜSS!

Yess!!!! Thank you for your request and for being here!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))

A fake love, a real love

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff

Word count: 7,643

Summary: You loved her, but she didn't...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

Walking to that isolated mansion might seem like an unwanted routine, something you had to do, but you didn't like. No one could blame you if you refused that usual errand, if you refused to cross that forest, those ruins, to get closer to the home where fear itself lived.

But you, a normal villager, young, happy and without much fear of everything around you, didn't see it that way. It was a normal transaction that had been common for you since you could remember. Your parents were farmers, a profession that couldn't be missing in an isolated village like that. Fruits, vegetables... everything that could feed a person was sold and grown by them.

Naturally, they weren't the only family that provided the village with food, but it was the only one who had the privilege of doing so for important people. Your father was related to a person who had long worked in the lands of the Beneviento family. That connection with one of the four noble families was what made you never lacked work.

Your parents were providers for that strange family long before you were born, like a kind of family profession that was inherited over time. You never knew the old family that lived next to a waterfall, that made dolls to brighten up the boring life of the villagers.

When you were born, they no longer existed. Misfortune had taken its toll on that Italian family. Not even your father could quite understand what exactly happened; he was only a child when Mr. and Mrs. Beneviento decided to end their life by jumping into the void.

It was the end of their existence, but not the end of their family. They left a girl too young to bear that horrible loss, a strange girl, carrier of a terrible mental illness.

No one could have guessed what would become of that girl after the death of her family. Only Josef Simon, the family gardener, and your young father were able to discover what was left in that horrible place, which then belonged to the only daughter who survived the tragedy: the young and sick Donna Beneviento.

You didn't know much about her, only what your parents talked about from time to time. Shortly after that tragedy, the Beneviento girl closed herself off even more, spending years and years completely alone.

But that was until, one day, when the young Donna apparently decided to give up, her destiny changed forever. Mother Miranda, the priestess who claimed to have the will of the Black Gods, saw something in that young woman with black hair and a horrible scar on her face.

The young Donna, barely 32 years old, became (you didn't know if voluntarily or not) one of the four Lords, the youngest of the witch's adopted children. That was too long ago, enough for your father to know something about who he was working for.

As time went by, the cold relationship with the lady of the mansion remained as a silent alliance. Serving a noble family and then, serving a Lord… It was definitely a good change for your family.

Since you were very young, you had accompanied your parents on their deliveries and, of course, you had walked the dangerous path that led to the mansion. You barely remember what your first encounters with that strange woman, with that veiled woman, dressed in black, who never, ever said a single word, were like.

You were just a little girl, and, well, the power that Lady Beneviento had, allowed her to give life to the Angie doll. You were a little girl, Angie was a doll. It was quite evident that it caught your attention.

Little by little you began to want to go to the mansion to play with the puppet, to laugh, to have fun with its irreverent attitude. Tag, hide and seek... For a girl without too many friends like you, the Angie doll began to seem like a playmate.

That silent appreciation of the lady, and Angie's playful attitude towards you was something your parents would always be grateful for. If Angie was happy, Donna was happy, if Donna was happy, you could live another day.

Of course you weren’t immortal, you didn’t have the grace of not aging, and as time went by, you grew up enough to get bored of playing with the doll. The lady, always hidden in the shadows, began to catch your attention. She was a lonely woman, a woman you didn’t know if she even noticed you.

Already in your teens, you began to show some of your slightly more daring attitude, asking questions to the lady in black, or even sharing books with her; a silent exchange that didn't seem to bother the Lord. Due to that lack of fear the lady generated in you, unlike your parents, at only 14 years old, you were the only one in charge of delivering the orders to that lost mansion.

Getting along with Donna was perhaps an exaggeration, but, unlike most of the villagers, you didn't feel uncomfortable with her presence. Her gestures were vague, and your voice and Angie's were the only ones that could be heard.

The years passed and that strange relationship you had with the lady in black mutated little by little, until, finally, you had the privilege of hearing her hoarse voice, addressing you.

Small talks, advices, personal experiences... the conversations became more complicated as you grew up, becoming a new routine that you considered pleasant.

Donna wasn’t your friend, she never was and she never would be, but your relationship certainly couldn't be limited to what it really was. You were both quite close, you had known each other for many years, and you learned to relate in a pleasant way.

At 21, you continued working for your parents. You continued walking through that dark forest, knocking on that door, talking with the lady in black.

She had lost her fear of the unknown, of that smiling girl who brought her vegetables. The trust increased enough for Lady Beneviento to do something unthinkable, uncover her face.

Your father barely remembered what her face was like, what that young, tormented girl looked like. No one had seen that woman once adopted by Miranda, no one knew what that black veil hid, no one, except you.

Beneath the black cloth there was no hideous monster, as your companions used to say or speculate. No, there was only a beautiful woman, black and shiny hair, a beautiful eye, an existing one.

You could sense why the lady in black covered herself, but you didn't quite understand it. Donna Beneviento, Lord and doll maker, wasn't a monster, and somehow, you knew that some time ago.

You tried to convince yourself, to deny the things you were starting to feel when you were with her, but you couldn't.

That strange woman who barely spoke to you, but who smiled, who laughed at your stupid comments, was no longer just a job for you. She was no longer Lady Beneviento, she was just Donna. Without being friends you were close, and, at 21 years old, with no hope of finding love, she became the involuntary target of your heart.

You couldn't help it, you were crazy about her. It didn't matter that you knew what she was capable of, that you had heard the horrible things she did in the past, those that your parents sometimes commented on. She was everything to you, the only reason that made you smile in your hard work.

Distracted, you approached the estate with your weekly order, clumsily checking that your working girl clothes were as neatly arranged as possible.

“Ahem,” you said, clearing your throat before knocking softly on the door.

“Who is it?” a squeaky voice asked, along with small footsteps on the wood.

Behind the door was not Donna, but the doll Angie, comically opening it and looking at you suspiciously.

“Hi, Angie, how are you?” you asked, crouching down pleasantly and smiling kindly at your old playmate.

“Oh, it's you,” the doll said, placing a hand on her chest. “I thought you wouldn't come, silly.”

“Of course I came, I-I'm bringing the vegetables,” you said, pointing to the boxes. “Is Donna here?”

“Um, yes,” Angie said, leaning over the boxes and picking up some vegetables. “But… she’s kind of… busy right now.”

“Oh,” you said, feeling a dagger stab your heart slowly, painfully. “T-Then I better go and…”

“No, no, don’t go,” Angie said, tugging at your dress hastily. “Stay, stay.”

“I don’t want to disturb you,” you said in a small voice, suppressing a sob.

“Nonsense, we like you being here,” the doll said, crossing her arms. “Come, come in.”

“Angie, I don’t…” you said uncertainly, picking up the boxes and entering the mansion. “W-Wait,” you said whispering when the doll closed the door and walked away from you and towards the living room.

“Hey, you two! Stop that!” Angie shrieked, causing some annoying grunts that you tried not to hear. “(Y/N) has come! Hey, silly, come here!”

Obeying without really wanting to, you walked slowly towards the voices. Just as you feared, on Donna's lap, there was a girl, one you had known for a while, who was part of your visits to the estate.

“Oh, (Y/N), I'm glad to see you,” the lady in black said with a soft voice, standing up and straightening her dress, with a kind smile.

“Hello, Donna,” you said, with a slight blush on your cheeks, looking away from the young woman who sat up, getting up from the sofa, putting on her clothes as well. “I-I'm glad too. S-Sorry to interrupt, Angie…”

“Mm, don't worry, we were just... wasting the time,” the Lord said softly, with an embarrassed smile. “Sit down, please... would you like some tea?”

“Oh, no, I don't want to disturb,” you said kindly, moving away from the overwhelming presence of the lady, from her addictive smile. “H-Hello, Anya.”

The girl nodded with a fake smile, checking that her dress, a little flashy one, was in its place.

“How are you, (Y/N)?” the young woman said, walking beside you.

“Fine,” you said dryly, looking at the floor and not at how the girl approached Donna, planting a wet kiss on one of her cheeks, causing a shy giggle that made you tremble.

“Donna, honey, I've taken up too much of your time, I'd better get home,” Anya murmured in her ear, looking at you out of the corner of her eye.

“Are you going to leave? Why don't you stay and have some tea with (Y/N) and me?” the lady asked, gently grabbing her hand, with a pleading eye.

“I'm sorry, sweetie, but I can't,” she whispered, approaching the coat rack to pick up her clothes. “Don't worry, sweetie, see you tomorrow, mm?” she said, approaching Donna again and running a hand over her chest. “I'll let you do whatever you want to me... Don...” she whispered, discreetly making you burn and kissing the lady slowly, before moving away and walking definitively towards the exit.

“Va bene,” Donna sighed, without losing sight of her girlfriend.

“Mm, don't talk to me that weird, you know I don't understand you,” Anya said, shaking her head as she opened the door.

“I'm sorry, I mean... it's okay, see you tomorrow,” the woman in black corrected, playing nervously with her hands. “Be careful, please.”

“Of course, baby,” the girl said, before throwing a kiss in the air and closing the door, disappearing, to your relief.

That girl was a bit stupid, but your opinion was clouded by spite, so you never told Donna what you thought.

Anya had been her girlfriend for some time. You still remember the pain it caused you to hear it from her lips, to hear that there was someone who had managed to make Donna fall in love, and that it wasn't you.

Donna loved her with all her heart. She did nothing but speak wonders of that young woman from the village, who appeared by chance in her life and turned it upside down. Jealousy and rage built up in your body every time you saw her approach Donna, kiss her, caress her, but you had to suffer in silence.

Confessing your love was something for which it was too late and, even if it was just a friendship, you didn’t want to lose it, you wanted to continue seeing that beautiful woman, even if her heart never belonged to you.

“She is beautiful, isn't she?” the lady murmured when her girlfriend left, biting her lip and turning shyly.

You smiled sadly, nodding and looking at your clothes, completely different from that Anya’s, from that love-stealer.

“Yes, she is,” you sighed with a fake smile, scratching the back of your neck.

“Sono pazza di lei,” Donna whispered, leaning her head towards the door.

“Yes, I see that,” you said amused, bending down to pick up the boxes and put them on the table. “Look, Donna, I brought you the vegetables you asked for.”

“Mm, let me see, (Y/N),” she said, getting a little closer to you to rummage through the boxes, carefully examining the vegetables. “Wow, those peppers look really good.”

“It's been a very good harvest,” you commented distracted by her slender hands, hands that would never caress you.

“No doubt,”  Donna murmured, going back to put the vegetables. “Aspetta un attimo, I'm going to get your money.”

“Okay,” you said with a kind look, without losing sight of her, without missing a detail of her walk, the hypnotic dance of her dress.

“Thank goodness she's gone…” Angie said, suddenly getting on the table, scaring you. “That girl is a pain in the ass.”

“Why do you say that?” you asked curiously, checking the vegetables again. “She seems nice.”

“Nice? She's dumb and boring as a rock. She never wants to play with me,” the doll said, making you laugh unintentionally and shake your head. “I don't know what Donna saw in her.”

“She's beautiful,” you said with a sad voice, looking at the place where the Lord disappeared and gently closing your eyes. “Donna didn't deserve less.”

“Do you like that stupid girl?” Angie asked, making you think carefully about your answer.

“Um, well, I don't know her very well, but if she makes Donna happy…” you whispered, trying to keep your voice from breaking. “I guess I like her.”

“I don't,” Angie said, with a brusque gesture. “I don't like that girl at all, but Donna doesn't listen to me, she's completely in love with her.”

“It's good that Donna has a girlfriend she loves, she deserves it, you know as well as I do that she's been through a lot of disgraces,” you said without wanting to say it, hurting yourself.

“That's what worries me,” the doll said, getting a little closer to you. “Donna's a fool too, suddenly a pretty girl comes out of nowhere, tells her she’s in love with her and wants to be with her… and all that shit.”

“What are you implying?” you asked, now paying full attention.

“I didn't imply anything, I'm saying it clearly: I don't want that stupid girl to be Donna's girlfriend,” Angie said, with a confidential whisper, almost speaking in your ear. “I don't like Anya, there's something about her that gives me a bad feeling.”

“I'm afraid that's what Donna has chosen, you can't do anything,” you commented with a sad sigh, watching the door.

“No... but you can,” the puppet said, pointing at you. “You are her friend, aren't you?”

“Me? I-I don't know if friend is the right word but...”

“You can tell her what you think of that stupid girl, Donna will listen to you,” said the doll, jumping comically on the table.

“What? No, I'm not going to do that,” you said, shaking your head. “Donna is happy with Anya and I have no right to butt in.”

“Another boring girl,” Angie said, getting down from the table when the lady's heels began to echo on the wood. “I wish you were her girlfriend instead that fool.”

Your eyes widened at her comment, but you didn't have much time to think about it, as Donna appeared through the door, a bag of coins in her hand.

“Prego,” she whispered, giving you the bag with a tender smile, to which you nodded.

“Thanks Donna, I hope you didn't overpay me as usual,” you said amused.

She laughed and shook her head.

“Are you going to question my will, (Y/N)?” she joked, gesturing for you to follow her to the couch.

“I would never dare,” you said, putting the coins in your bag.

“Sit with me,” she said, kicking the couch. “Do you want to play chess?”

“Chess?” you asked, sitting as far away from her as possible while she pulled out an old board. “I-I don't know, I always lose.”

“Don't talk nonsense, you've beaten me more than once,” Donna said, her gaze away from yours, placing the pieces. “White or black?”

“Black. You probably play a lot with Anya…” you commented, choosing a color while the lady focused on the board, looking at you briefly and shaking her head.

“Not really,” the doll maker whispered, sitting in front of you, with a thoughtful look. “Anya says it's boring. She doesn't like to play this… kind of games.”

“Oh, well, I guess there are all kinds of tastes, right?” you asked, ignoring that information. “Let's see…”

“Certo,” Donna sighed, making her first move. “Anyway, we don't have much time to play or chat. I'm afraid that... well, she really likes... kissing me.”

You swallowed a sob, moving your piece and nodding slowly.

“I understand why,” you whispered in a terribly low voice.

“Scusi?” she asked, concentrating on your move. “Did you say something, (Y/N)?”

“No, nothing, I was just... thinking about my next move,” you lied, erratically moving another of the pieces. “I guess it's wonderful to have someone so affectionate by your side.”

“It is, of course it is,” Donna sighed, with a tender smile.

Nothing that happened that afternoon was out of the ordinary. The conversations with Donna usually traveled between unimportant experiences or... well, or compliments and words of love from the brunette to her girl.

Anya must have been the most wonderful girl in the world, or at least she was to Donna. The lady never got tired of talking about her, praising her… You might think it was almost unbearable to spend time with her just to hear about her girlfriend, but it wasn't like that. You were her only friend, or her only truly close contact, surely the only one who listened to her.

You loved Donna hopelessly. Even if her words weren't about you, they were her words, it was her voice.

Another afternoon of soft laughter, another night of dreams and fantasies about her. At some point you should realize the mistake you made by falling in love with Donna Beneviento, the delay in your confession, the theft of her heart by that beautiful girl.

Donna was crazy about her, she always told you so innocently, without knowing the damage she was doing to you, without wanting to know, perhaps.

The days passed and your visits could be summed up in chess games or comments about how fabulous Anya was. Angie's words echoed in your head.

Naturally, the Angie doll was jealous and distrustful, but the insinuation that she would prefer you to be Donna's girlfriend... You just couldn't get it out of your head.

“Thank you, Mrs. Fritz,” you said pleasantly, after doing your daily shopping in the village.

“Give my regards to your parents, dear,” the woman said, making you smile before setting off on your way back home.

You didn't live as isolated as Donna, but you had a nice walk to the orchards, a walk you always enjoyed.

“Shh, hey, Anya...” a male voice caught your attention as you walked.

Behind one of the crumbling walls of the orchards, there was a boy hiding, gesturing to a young woman who seemed to walk slowly, looking around.

You recognized her immediately: Anya, Donna's girlfriend. You weren't usually a gossipy girl, but this situation was a out of the ordinary, so you slowly camouflaged yourself in the wheat fields, behind a stone wall.

“Sergei…” Anya sighed, looking cautiously as she approached the boy. You had to quickly crouch down as they both looked in your direction.

“Has anyone followed you?” the young man asked, grabbing the girl's hands while you peeked discreetly.

“Of course not, you know I'm careful,” Anya said, letting that boy grab her waist and… kiss her, kiss her passionately.

“Shit,” you whispered, covering your mouth with your hands, blinking in bewilderment at the sight before you. It couldn't be, it just couldn't be.

“I've missed you, I thought you came back every night,” the boy said, kissing her repeatedly. “Did she trick you into staying again?”

“No, she knows I need some room and… well, thank goodness, because otherwise I wouldn't be able to see you,” Anya said, leaving you more and more confused.

“This situation is awkward, Anya, I can't stand to think what you do with… with her,” he said, with an angry gesture. “To think that you kiss her, that you… Gods, Anya, you have to end this.”

“Do you think it makes me happy to be with that nutcase? That I have another option?” Donna's girlfriend asked, crossing her arms. “You knew what the situation is.”

“I know but… maybe if you talk to Mother Miranda and…”

“I've already told you, Sergei, I would never dare to contradict her, besides, it's not difficult to fool the idiot Beneviento, we can still see each other,” she said, leaving you frozen on the ground.

“Yes, but for how long?” the boy asked, resting his hands on the shoulders of the girl, who sighed with a sad look.

“I don't know, but... I promise I'll fix it, I promise you,” she said, with a much more genuine smile than the one you had seen in the mansion as if she really... were in love with that boy, as if she didn't care about Donna.

Your trembling legs moved nervously, accidentally stepping on a dry branch, which alerted the lovers.

“You better go, Sergei, I'll call you when I'm free,” Anya said, gesturing for the boy to leave.

 He did, and you stood up from your hiding place, terribly furious.

That perfect girlfriend that Donna adored was a farce, a lie. You wanted to throw yourself at her, pull her hair, yell at her for cheating on the love of your life, but you didn't dare to do it. You were just a coward, but something inside your head prevented you from letting that discovery go, and you started walking towards her.

“You,” you said, getting her attention, walking through the orchards. The girl didn't move. She just frowned at you, as if she hadn't recognized you at first.

“Hi, you're (Y/N), right?” she said with a fake smile, with a somewhat cocky pose. “How are you?”

“Great, I just found out what you're doing to Donna,” you said without wasting time, pointing at her in an unpleasant way.

“Please…” she sighed, rolling her eyes, with no intention of denying the evidence. “Are you surprised?”

“What? You're Donna's girlfriend, of course it surprises me. How dare you to cheat on her?” you said defiantly, dropping your bags on the snowy ground. “She loves you very much, did you know that?”

“Of course I know… unfortunately,” she muttered with a look of disgust. “Hey, vegetable girl, I hope you're not thinking of spilling the beans.”

“What do you expect me to do?” you asked furiously, hating that stupid girl even more. Angie was right.

“Mm, well, okay, let's talk, shall we?” she said, helping you pick up the bags from the ground and handing them to you kindly.

“There's nothing to talk about, it's all very clear,” you hissed, moving away from her, who shook her head, sighing tiredly.

“Six months ago, Mother Miranda asked me to go to church,” the girl began to tell, as if you were really listening to her. “Naturally I was willing to do whatever she asked me to do.”

“What are you talking about?” you wanted to know, stopping your steps.

“She told me that her youngest daughter, Lady Beneviento, was going through a rough patch, that she was very lonely and… well, she was afraid that she would decide to do something stupid. You and I know that Beneviento is not right in the head.”

“Don't insult her,” you growled, clenching your fists. “Don't you dare to insult her.”

“I'm just telling the truth, (Y/N), denying that she is sick would be stupid,” Anya said, with a serious expression.

“That doesn't matter, it doesn't matter at all,” you said in a low voice, looking away from Anya.

“Mother Miranda thought it would be a good idea to give her… well, some fun, I don't know if you know what I mean,” she explained with a sinister look. “Understand me, my family is poor, and I need all the appreciation of the Black Gods. At first I just had to go to Beneviento's house and have sex with her but… well, it didn't turn out as I expected.”

“How disgusting,” you said nervously, running a hand over your forehead.

“The stupid Donna fell in love with me and far from considering my work finished, Mother Miranda asked me to play along, to be with her so she wouldn't feel so terribly alone.”

“And you accepted,” you hissed, looking at her out of the corner of your eye.

Anya sighed and nodded, with a calm look.

“I assumed it was okay to play pretending to have feelings for her, surely Miranda would think that Donna would get tired of me, but… obviously she didn't,” the young woman said, lowering her gaze.

“You're stupid, Anya, you're playing with poor Donna's feelings, aren't you ashamed?” you accused, unable to believe her words.

“Poor Donna? What's so much affection for her about? You only bring her vegetables, don't you?” she asked, frowning at your revealing attitude.

“I've known Do... Lady Beneviento since I was 5 years old,” you explained, running a hand through your hair.

“I see... you know her... well,” the girl said with a sinister laugh. “Well, you should know, vegetable girl: I don't care about her. I just want to get on with my life and get away from her so I can be with my boyfriend.”

“I assumed so,” you said mockingly. “But do you know what you're doing? You're playing with her feelings, Donna loves you and...”

“I don't feel the same,” the young woman sighed, leaning against a wall. “It's very easy to judge others, isn't it? You don't understand my situation, vegetable girl. I can't do anything.”

“Of course you can, you must tell her,” you said, in a calmer tone. “She has to know the truth.”

“Wrong, silly girl,” she said, arching her eyebrows. “If I tell that nutcase that I don't love her, that it's all been a lie, I'm dead.”

“She adores you, she would never hurt you,” you said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “She loves you madly, she wouldn't dare to…”

“What are you saying? Are you saying that I should go to her house and tell her that it's all been a lie? Seriously, girl, where did you come from?”

“It's better than her finding out on her own, don't you think? If you want to get away from her so much… it must be you,” you said, without thinking too much.

“Why do you care so much about that crazy woman?” Anya asked, making you back away.

“My reasons are… only mine,” you murmured. “I don't want her to suffer.”

“You don't want her to suffer... if I didn't know that no one could feel anything for Donna, I would think that you were terribly in love with her,” Anya mocked, shaking her head.

“You're wrong,” you murmured in a dark tone. “You have to end this, Anya, for your own sake.”

“Mm, maybe I'll think about it, she's unbearable, you know?” Anya said in an unpleasant tone, moving away from the wall and passing by you. “It might not be such a bad idea, after all.”

“You are unbearable,” you growled when the girl walked away.

That conversation, that revelation fell on you like a bucket of cold water, freezing you, leaving you completely lost. You didn't feel joy or relief, only sadness for Donna. She was crazy about Anya, she would give her life for her if she asked. She was madly in love.

Breaking her heart, telling her what you had seen wasn’t in your plans, but you didn't want to go back to the mansion either, not when you knew that those kisses they gave each other were fake ones. You decided to get away for a while, just for a while, until you could forget that horrible truth and stop being tempted to reveal it.

“Honey, something's wrong,” your mother commented at dinnertime, surely looking at your sad expression. You faked a smile and shook your head.

“Mm, your mother is right, (Y/N), what is it…?”

Your father couldn't finish the question, as the phone rang to interrupt that attempt at interrogation.

“Hello,” your father said, picking up the phone, immediately moving it away from his ear, due to some loud, high-pitched screams coming out of it. “Hello? Who's speaking? Are you a little girl? Hey, listen…”

“What's wrong?” you asked, getting up from your chair and approaching slowly.

“It’s for you, (Y/N),” your father said, handing you the phone. “She must be a friend of yours.”

“A friend?” you asked, bringing it close to your ear and recognizing the screams. Angie. “Who is it?”

“Oh, it's you, thank goodness…” the doll said, with her voice distorted by a terrible cry that sounded in the distance. “(Y/N), you have to come, now.”

“Angie? What's wrong?” you asked somewhat scared, with your family looking at you with intrigue.

“There's no time to explain it to you, silly! Come, run, come! Donna is completely out of her mind!” the doll shrieked, before hanging up.

“D-Donna?” you asked, hanging up scared and looking at your family. Something had happened, something had happened to Donna.

“What's wrong, honey?” your mother asked as you ran out of the house. “(Y/N)!?”

You didn't pay attention to her calls. You just limited yourself to running without looking back. You didn't know what had happened, but Donna needed your help, and you had to give it to her.

In record time you arrived at the dimly lit mansion. The door was open and agonizing sobs echoed off the walls.

“It's about time!” Angie shouted, welcoming you and pulling your hand to guide you to the living room. “Quick!”

The sight before you shattered your heart. Donna, the lady in black, was sitting on the floor, her head between her legs, pulling at her hair as she sobbed inconsolably. All around her were traces of fury, of broken furniture. Something terrible had happened. Donna had lost her mind again.

“Donna...” you sighed, cautiously approaching the lady, who roared, cried and kicked the air without moving from the floor, muttering something you couldn't understand. “Gods, Donna, your hand,” you said when you saw her blood stained knuckles, looking at Angie sharply. “What happened?”

“Just like I told you, that whore wasn't trustworthy! She left my Donna!” the doll shrieked, approaching her owner. “My Donna is very nervous, she's having a very bad crisis, you have to help her! She doesn't listen to me anymore.”

“Anya's gone?” you asked, blinking in confusion.

“She left me!” Donna shrieked, making you look at her. “She didn't love me, she never loved me!” she screamed, pulling at her hair again, something you tried to stop.

“No, Donna, stop… don't hurt yourself,” you said, fighting against her sudden movements, against her nervous kicks. “Shh, Donna, please… I'm so sorry, darling…”

“Troietta! You bitch!” the lady shrieked, attacking you as if you were the girl who broke her heart, throwing herself at you, struggling.

“Donna, Donna, no!” Angie screamed, pushing the lady off of you with a thud.

You had to admit that you were scared, but you made a superhuman effort to stay calm, to soothe her wounded heart.

“No, darling, please stop…” you said, grabbing her shoulders, pulling her body towards yours to hug her tightly. “It's over, Donna… Shh… it's over…”

“Porca miseria!” the lady shrieked, trying to release herself from your embrace until, thanks to your strength and mental advantage in the situation, the poor lady calmed down, staying close to you, crying at your chest.

“Shh…” you whispered while, sitting on the floor, you tenderly rocked Donna, calming her down little by little. “Shh, it's over Donna… I'm here with you… calm down… that's it… very good, very good, Donna, relax with me…”

“Listen to her, Donna, she's here, (Y/N) has come to help you,” Angie said, carefully approaching your embraced bodies, the soft maternal movements with which you rocked her.

The sobs were horrible, piercing, but little by little they stopped sounding, being nothing but an agonizing lament while you rubbed her hair, keeping her head on your chest.

“Shhh, Donna…” you whispered softly, wiping her tears and moving her away from you when you saw she was feeling better.

“Mm?” the lady murmured, slowly pushing you away, her eye was red from crying and her cheek full of tears. Donna blinked confused at the sight of you, running a hand through her hair. “(Y/N)… what… what are you doing here?” she asked with a thick accent, looking at you suspiciously, disoriented.

“Angie called me a while ago, she said you had lost your mind,” you explained with a soft voice, while she got up from the floor in pain, sitting on the couch, looking at you briefly.

“I don't…” she stammered, still confused, shaking her head. “(Y/N)… I…”

“Relax, I'm here,” you said with a tender smile, sitting next to her and glancing at her hand. “Did you break a glass again? Wow, you have a serious wound, Donna…”

She looked away, embarrassed, but letting you play with her injured hand.

“You shouldn't be here,” the lady whispered with a dark voice, looking at you shyly. “I could have hurt you. I-If I lose you too, I'll...”

“You haven't,” you said, daring to run a hand over her cheek. “You won't lose me…” you whispered softly, looking at the doll again. “Angie, bring the first aid kit, please.”

Once again in silence, you healed the wound the lady had self-inflicted. The sound of the wind and slight moans of pain were the only atmosphere in that place, until the lady glanced at you out of the corner of her eye as you bandaged her hand.

“Anya left me,” Donna whispered in a sad voice, gripping the fabric of the sofa tightly. “She came this afternoon and told me that… she didn't love me.”

You looked at her, but repressed any attempt to speak.

“Mother Miranda sent her to pretend that she loved me, to make me believe that I wasn't alone,” the brunette explained, nervous, but at the same time, calm.

“I'm so sorry, Donna,” you said in a whisper, tying the bandages tightly. “I couldn't imagine that…”

“I did, I should have realized,” she said, looking away with a nervous moan. “I should have realized!”

“Shh, don't yell anymore, honey…” you whispered in a sweet voice, caressing her injured hand. “You must get over it.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Donna asked, shaking her head. “I-It's all been a lie… She cheated on me!”

“I'm sorry,” you said with a broken voice, feeling guilty for knowing it, and not having warned her before. “I'm so sorry, Donna.”

“I must look pathetic, right?” she said with a sinister smile, panting nervously. “How pathetic is Donna, who needs you to pay her a whore so she doesn't feel so alone, because, of course, no one could ever love her.”

“Don't say that, it's not true,” you said, holding back your tears, calming the doll maker's madness with your touch. “That's a lie, do you hear me?”

“You...” she hissed, moving away from your caresses, abruptly getting up from the sofa. “Is that why you came? She also sends you!” she shrieked, pointing at you with a deranged gesture. “You're a liar! Bugiarda!”

“No, Donna, that's not true, I came to help you,” you said nervously, somewhat scared. “You are… you are…”

“What am I? A moron who doesn't deserve to be loved? Poor Donna, she needs a toy to play with and not to think about the shitty life she has, right? You whores, you're all sluts! Sluts!”

“No, Donna, you're wrong, I…” you said trembling, putting your hands in a defensive position.

“What are you doing here then?! Why are you pretending to care about me? Huh? Talk, bitch!” Donna shouted, grabbing you by the collar of your dress.

“Silly Donna, let her go!” Angie said, fearing that her fury would be launched against you. “Donna, Donna…”

“I… I care about you because… because I'm in love with you,” you said with a broken voice, stammering and preventing her hands from applying more force, from hurting you. “I love you, Donna, I've always loved you.”

“What?” she asked, frowning and letting you go immediately. “What…?”

“I'm sorry to tell you in a situation like this, but if you're going to kill me… I want you to know what I feel for you, for longer than I'd like to admit…” you said, squeezing your eyes tightly, waiting for a nightmare that never came.

Again, the silence caused the atmosphere to become tense. Donna moved away from you, looking at you with distrust, breathing with difficulty.

“It's not true, you don't…” she murmured nervously, looking at you briefly and moving confused. “It can't be true.”

“I don't care if you don't believe me, I understand that you don't, but I want, I want you to know that you are a wonderful and beautiful woman and... you can say whatever you want, but you have made me fall in love with you, Donna, what I feel for you is what you have done, being who you are. Don't think that it's not possible for someone to fall in love with you, to want to give you their heart because I... have already done it.”

Saying those last words, ensuring your confession, you slowly stood up ready to leave the mansion, to leave poor Donna alone.

“A-Aspetta, (Y/N)” Donna interrupted, before you walked out the door. “Wait, please.”

You turned slowly, scared of the consequences of your confession.

“You...” she whispered, approaching with a slow step, with her chest rising and falling quickly, with her gaze lost. “Are you telling the truth?”

“Yes, Donna,” you sighed, wiping away a tear. “I would understand if you didn't want to see me again, I'll tell my father to take care of…”

“N-No, no, wait a moment,” she said, shaking her head, grabbing your arms, very tightly, but without any intention of hurting you. “You… you've always been with me… always.”

You nodded, suppressing the trembling of your body.

“I-I remember you took care of me when I lost my mind, and how you played with Angie when you were little,” Donna said, with a distracted look, but speaking without stuttering. “You were the vegetable girl, but for me you were something else, you know?”

“A fool,” you said amused, sobbing.

“No, you… you were my only friend… you were always there when I needed you, you never cared about my appearance and… you've never abandoned me. (Y/N), is it possible that you're telling me the truth? That you really have feelings for me?”

“I would never lie to you Donna, to me you were much more than a friend or a Lord,” you whispered, looking away, noticing how her grip loosened.

“You have always understood me,” she said, getting a little closer, moving her hand erratically to your cheek. “Angie was right… I-I was so blind with… with her that… I wasn't able to see that you were the only one who was by my side.”

“I will be if you want me to be, always, Donna,” you said in a very low voice, with her too close to you.

“Don't leave, (Y/N)… stay with me,” she asked you, squeezing your hand in hers. “Let me… let me… love you as you have always deserved…”

“Donna…” you sighed, letting yourself be carried away by the gentle swaying of your bodies. “You don't love me.”

“I may not have known until now,” she whispered, coming closer, placing her lips on yours, a sensation so dreamed, so imagined, that you already knew what it was like, but not how it made you feel.

A tender, salty and slow kiss… It was a quiet, calm kiss, emphasized by her caresses, a kiss that you didn’t expect, that you wanted, even at a time like that.

In that horrible and sad way, with a doubtful but sincere confession, her relationship with that poor girl ended, and one with you began.

At first you were suspicious that her love was real. Anya was too recent and Donna was resentful. It didn't take long for you to realize that you were wrong.

Donna was romantic, sweet, understanding and tender. Being her girlfriend was the best thing that had ever happened to you, you had never felt so loved, so cherished.

It was simply impossible, it was impossible for the lady in black to treat you so well after that breakup. Happiness occupied your entire life, you even moved in with her, but doubts also haunted your mind.

Every night, after the passion, came the thoughts, the fears, those horrible memories about Anya, about the admiration Donna felt for her, the love she had for her. You didn't know what that fake relationship was like inside, but, somehow, you felt inferior to that stupid girl.

Little by little, the pressure you put on your mind took its toll on you. Your movements and attempts to surprise Donna were almost pathetic and… over time, you started to look like that stupid girl, or try to.

The doll maker had no friends, she only had you. She wouldn't talk to anyone about how much she loved you, so you would never know if you had gotten over that stupid girl in some way, and that… that was killing you.

“Come on…” you said comically, trying to fit into a tight, provocative dress, one very similar to the one her ex-girlfriend used to wear.

Maybe your doubts were stupid, but they were doubts, and you had to do everything you could to not think they were justified.

“Okay, that's it,” you said, looking at yourself in the mirror. “I-I can see everything but... well, I guess Donna will like it,” you said, finishing getting ready for a special occasion, the celebration of your 6 months together.

“Here you go, amore mio,” Donna said, serving you dinner and wine elegantly, looking at you out of the corner of her eye and making a strange expression.

“Thank you, darling,” you said with a tender smile, putting yourself in a position that clearly exaggerated your feminine attributes.

“Um, yes, um...” she said nervous and confused.

Smiles, caresses and words of love accompanied you throughout the dinner, but, after dessert, a small moment of awkwardness formed.

Normally you didn't mind Donna looking at your breasts, you even found it funny, but that look was different than other times, very different.

“Donna, are you looking at my tits?” you asked amused, encouraged by the wine. “Do you like them?”

“Y-Yes, of course, you know I love your body, (Y/N),” she said, looking away, without her usual smile.

“You don't seem to like my dress very much,” you whispered distrustfully, with a sad sigh.

“Oh, yes I... just... (Y/N), what are you wearing?” she asked finally, crossing her arms.

You looked at yourself and shrugged with an amused smile.

“It's new,” you said in a seductive voice.

“I see but... You... you don't usually wear that kind of clothes,” Donna commented, with a cold look.

“Yeah but… I thought, I thought you would like it,” you said in a fearful whisper.

“(Y/N), you're… very strange lately, you don't want to play chess, you wear… those things… it seems like something's wrong with you.”

“I'm the same as always,” you said in your defense, with a somewhat dangerous tone and look.

“No, that's not true, you've changed…” she said, shaking her head. “It seems like you're trying to be like…”

“Well, so what if I do? You loved her a lot, didn't you? I have nothing to do with her, you'll never love me that much,” you said, bringing your worries to light.

“(Y/N),” the lady sighed, getting up and approaching you while resting two fingers on your chin. “I like the way you are, do you hear me? I don't want you to be like her, I don't love her. She was stupid and she never wanted to do anything that I liked. She could never, ever compare to you, (Y/N), I've never loved anyone as much as you, only you, and always you... do you understand? I love you, you are the love of my life, you always will be.”

[sicbaby]

sended this to another acc i really like but ill send this here too :p

vendetta!leon with the biggest corruption kink ever and the girl (reader) that lives in the house just next to his, that always make sure to wish him to "have a good day" when she sees him and gets all red when he says it back, that when she bakes something she always make sure to save some to give it to him, and she tries to have a "friendship" with him so bad but he always seems to ignore her

and he does tries to ignore her because he knows he is def not a good man, he knows it so he always try to show to her that he is not a person, but shes just too stupid to realize that to the point that it makes him a little annoyed and worried for her, it still makes him hard lol

i love vendetta leon cause let’s be real he’s the biggest piece of shit alive and he’s an alcoholic so added bonus! i fantasize about him treating me like shit… anyways.

i imagine reader being a bit of a bimbo of some sort. like so dumb in the brain that there’s absolutely no room for sad or depressing or actual real thoughts that would ruin her day. and leon’s the exact opposite. all he thinks about is sad, fucked up shit that would probably make you vomit on the spot. but he likes that about you, your innocence. it makes him a bit sick, realizing he wants to do nothing but take advantage of you and expose you to the dark thoughts he has.

he can’t deny you’re sexy. those short skirts and low cut tops that have your breasts practically spilling out when you wave good morning to him. the crush you have on him is so painfully obvious. leon isn’t used to that. are you his type? not exactly. but he thinks he could have some fun with you.

he doesn’t start getting annoyed until you start leaving shit on his porch. cute notes, food items, weird love letters that look like a middle schooler made them with cute stickers and heart doodles all over. he’s a grown ass adult for christ sake. he rips up the letters, leaves the remnants on the porch for you to see.

you do see it, makes your heart wrench. yet you keep trying. you really, really like him.

in one last attempt at trying to get his full attention, you take over some food to his house, not just leaving it on the porch this time.

leon answers the door with a scowl on his face. he sees the food and your hopeful smile. “come in.” he grumbles, no greeting necessary. it ticks him a bit that you genuinely think you could win him over this way. your heart flutters as you walk in, taking in his messy house, setting the food down on the counter.

“you know, sweetheart. i’m not an easy man to please. yet, here you are…” he trails off.

you’re so nervous, face burning and throat so dry you feel like throwing up. “i-i just.. wanted to be a good neighbor, you know?”

“bullshit.” he responds quickly, makes you flinch slightly. he couldn’t help himself.

“a good neighbor,” he repeats, a dark chuckle following it. “is that really what you think? you think leaving me food and love letters makes you some kind of saint? don’t kid yourself, sweetheart. this isn’t about being a good neighbor. it’s about you wanting something from me. something you can’t seem to get through that empty, pretty little head of yours.”

he enjoys watching your facial expressions. your smile faltering, face turning into uncertainty. he knows he has the power to turn you into anything he wanted. it was too easy. he called you pretty, though!

“you think i’m some prize, some object to be won, don’t you?” he continues. you’re stunned, mouth open slightly, wanting to interject but nothing comes out.

“relax,” he chuckles. “i’ll let you have me. but i want something from you, first.” he says, inching closer to you, trapping you against the counter. his words were not a promise, merely a trick to get you to give yourself up to him. but he probably didn’t even have to “trick you.” one word and you’d be on his knees for him, wouldn’t you?

you nod eagerly, just as predicted. god, it makes him laugh, it makes him hard. how’d he get so lucky? you didn’t even put up a fight. “anything. i’ll do anything.”

those words triggered something in his brain. and you had absolutely no idea what he was going to do to you. he grabs you by the wrist roughly, leading you to his dark bedroom, throwing you on the bed. he starts degrading you, calling you “slut” and commands you to address him as “sir,” or maybe even “master.” (he’s a sick fuck let’s be real, wants you to be his dumb little pet.)

he could see the flicker of uncertainty in your eyes, but you both know you had already given yourself up to him. but that didn’t really matter to him anyway.

he crawls over you, pinning your arms up above your head, kissing at your neck. you could smell the alcohol on his breath as he did so. it made your stomach churn but made your panties wet.

he continues to practically rip your clothes off, muttering things along the lines of “you’re mine now,” “such a pretty little slut,” etc,. every single movement he makes is rough. including spanking, choking, unleashing all his pent up anger, his darkest desires onto you. your pleasure comes second to his.

you’re completely at his mercy, almost like a toy to him. but you like him so much, so you let him :(. you just wanna be his dumb girl.

he ends up fucking you in every single position until you’re a drooling, senseless mess.

not only were you his dumb girl, but you were his slut, his toy, his possession. and in the end, that’s all that mattered to you. at least now, you were finally his.

[vixensbrainrotts]

Tokyo revengers headcanons

Content: Tr headcanons

Content warnings: None I hope, please let me know if there are any!

Vixen's two cents: I’ve been wanting to dump all my headcanons somewhere for a while now so here! I don’t think that these are all, but I’m gonna make a second post about any further headcanons I have. Also, i apologize for not including everyone here, ill make sure to include them next time. I hope you enjoy, and if you do, please tell me about it! Don’t be afraid to send me requests either, I’d love to write most anything (I’m uncreative sometimes)! Oh also, what are some of your headcanons? Do you agree with any of mine? I’ll link the part two once i figure out how to do that lol

(VOLUME II)

Kokonoi who is genuinely so bothered by bugs you won’t believe it. He has to leave the room as soon as he sees the „threat“, and fast.

Izana who curses loudly on Filipino whenever he accidentally hurts himself. You can hear him shout from across the whole house when he bumps himself on a corner.

Chifiyu who has a passion for graffiti. He loves tagging and wild styling and spraying elaborate throwup-styles on walls on Toman turf.

Inui who is colorblind, which is really unfortunate because he has an interest in fashion and styles. He relies on Koko for the greater part, but has recently discovered apps that identify color, which has vastly improved his personal style and allowed him to take on more challenging shades.

The Katawa twins who have an honestly really impressive Pokémon card collection and often play against each other to pass time. The amount they have spent on it is sorta concerning and more often than not stop by the little magazine store to buy another pack to "improve their decks" before gang meetings.

Hakkai who has a distinct dislike for the color orange but keeps finding himself surrounded it. He hates it but the walls in his room are orange. He could puke because his favorite faux-fur-coat is a darker orange. There’s no reasoner doesn’t like the color but something about it makes his skin crawl.

Hanma who is German/Russian and makes sure everyone knows it. He is proud of his heritage and will often use German and Russian idioms when conversating. It’s all fun and games till he starts swearing in his mother tongues during fights, bashing in his opponent’s skulls whilst cursing in a foreign, very aggressive manner.

Nahoya and Souya who work like devils in the kitchen. It’s a perfect tandem in between them, they somehow always know what the other wants and needs. If Nahoya needs a hand in opening the oven, Souya’s doing a 360 no look opening. If Souya’s hands are messy from kneading the dough, Nahoya automatically turns on the tap for hand washing. Twin telepathy is real and they’re the number one proof.

Mucho who can’t do shit in terms of math. You need him busy? Ask him for 7x9 and he’ll be unresponsive for the next 3-5 minutes. It’s really frustrating to him because he genuinely puts in so much effort to understand the formulas, but the numbers simply don’t click in his brain.

Smiley who got the smiley piercing the moment he found out about it. It’s really impressively healed and works so well on his face. Some even say that his smile has gotten wider ever since he got it. He also has a poorly healed nose stud on the left side that he only keeps in for sentimental value. He got it in the seventh grade during school and he got his ass whooped when he came back home with it.

Kisaki who unintentionally practices calligraphy because he writes exclusively in cursive. All of his notebooks look fake because all the letters look identical and everything is evenly spaced. The highlighter girlies in his classes wish death upon him on a daily.

Rindou who’s cracked at Chemistry for no reason. He doesn’t even have to try, it’s like the formulas unfold in front of him and the laws and rules just make sense. He can’t even explain it but ask him anything, and I mean anything he can give you the right answer. Just don’t ask him to be your lab partner. He has a nasty history of breaking test tubes.

Kakucho who knows how to dress. Like really know how to dress. Anywhere, anytime he’s looking like a Pinterest board. He doesn’t really try or occupy himself with things fashion, but he just looks so good and coordinated all the time. He thought it was natural to know what looks good or not, so he’s sometimes a bit perplexed by the things that his peers wear. He tries to be nice when he tells them it doesn’t work, but comes across a little brash because it frustrates him.

Kazutora who has unnaturally sharp canines. Like, it’s kinda scary sometimes because they poke out of his mouth even when it’s closed. He’ll commonly run his tongue over them when he’s bored, poking and prodding at them to check if they’re still sharp. It’s one of the features of his face he really does like.

Mitsuya who gossips like a Girl. He lives for drama and tea (silently) and due to his club being occupied by mostly girls, he’s surrounded by it constantly. The girls talk and talk and talk and he eats it up. The scary part is that he remembers nearly every part of it, so he knows so much. He’ll never share it with anyone but likes to know what’s happening. Sometimes he even correctly predicts scandals due to background knowledge.

Leading from the last one, Mitsuya who has a deep voice. One that rumbles softly when he speaks and sounds like the ocean when he laughs. It’s a killer during after-noon classes when he has to present or read something cause it has such a calming effect. He’s put multiple of his classmates asleep accidentally.

Draken who know just the tiniest bit about sowing from helping out in Mistuya’s workshop. He knows how to close a seam, he knows how to sew a button and he knows how to patch a hole and that’s it. He’s lowkey proud of it though.

[lovedrruunk]

'Mango Letters ♡⸝⸝💌⊹˖➴

Venture (Overwatch) x GN Reader

[Established Relationship!]

Authors note!!!; DID U MISS MEEE??? also...IM SO SORRYYY!!!! BUT I THINK IM JUST GONNA START WRITING WHAT I WANT :((( i realized im sososo bad with requests like genuinely ughhhh!! Ill def do some every now and then tho! Anyways im just clearing out my drafts cuz I’ve come to the realization that this is literally tumblr and my posts don’t have to be perfect lmao, enjoy!!

75 days 18 hours 46 minutes and 3 seconds. That's how long it had been since you've seen your partner Sloan. Being with them you knew how devoted they were to their work and how much it required them to travel but on pretty days like this one when the weathers just right and the flowers are in full bloom and the sunset is the perfect hue of orange, you couldn't help but wish they were by your side.

And although they were thousands of miles away they always made sure to send you physical manifestations of their love.

Through love letters of course!!!

It had been a tradition ever since they had started going on longer expeditions for them to send you things in the mail. So there in your shared closet in a cute little shoebox on the top shelf, laid all their feelings on coffee stained papers. Little crystals the same color as your eyes, maps with all the places they wanted to take you, polaroids of them doing silly faces, and your favorite part, the sweet scent of mango that came with it all.

And so although they weren't by your side, their feelings were. Their longing, their excitement, their thoughts, all in the palm of your hands covered in all types stickers and doodles.

Sitting outside on the porch of your shared home enjoying the calm breeze you smile holding the most recent letter delivered. Inhaling deeply catching the hints of mango as you carefully open it.

Dear Beloved,

It's been so looong!!! I can feel myself aging without you! Hope this letter finds you well! Notice how I used "beloved"? Fancy huh? Arn't I just the most romantic partner ever? (don't answer that.) This is my fifth time trying to write this and it's annoying the crew so this is my last chance before they jump me... It's just so hard y'know!? It has to be perfect. Perfect for you. Is that cringe? That was cringe sorry! I miss you lots and I think about you all the time... You'd love Petra! A camel ate my shemagh... but It's whatever. I'll buy a new one tomorrow, I'll get one for you too so don't worry! Now that I'm thinking about it the days seem to be going by pretty slow and I'm not sure if I like it much. Like I said I miss you a lot and it stinks being away from you for this long. Can't you just book a flight over here? Can't you do that for me pretty pleaseee? That's ridiculous? Okay just say you hate me and never want me to come back, just say you don't love me at all and want me to get stuck in a cave foreva. Just kidding! or am I?... (I am! >ᴗ<)

I like to imagine you’re missing me really bad counting down the seconds till I get back, which by the way I am too so don’t feel the need to deny it! I can see it now… You all shriveled up like a raisin crawling on the floor going “sloannn… sloannnn…” because of how bad you miss me hehe. Just kidding again! It’s probably the opposite let’s be real… I’m going insane without you seriously, I started talking to the hieroglyphics yesterday and the crew even caught me tasting some rocks earlier (sos!!!!)

But speaking of, they’re rushing me to “turn the lights off already” what a bunch of buzzkills ammarite? Promise to show up in my dreams okay? Who am I kidding, you’re always there regardless. Sweet dreams ᥫ᭡ᥫ᭡

p.s they really wanna meet you!

p.p.s take care okay? I’ll be home before you know it!!!

Yours truly,

(so romantic!!!)

“(๑´>᎑<)~*”

[fragileinthemaking]

hii, i hope youre doing well today and i was curious about some things about your ed (possible tw later?). I've been in your situation (somewhat, not to this extent) and am currently bul1mic with exercise as the form of purging/slowly healing idk. I wanted to know first of all how do you manage to burn more than 1k calories in a day because that is literally INSANE, I never thought that its possibls so I'm really really curious about your methods.

I also wanted to know your opinion on healing and the ed itself. Do you wish you never had one, do you hate counting c@ls, do you miss your life before the ed? Did it help you in any way (did you notice physical changes)? Are you experiencing any health problems because of it, are you dizzy or yellowish, have you ever fainted? Do you feel proud when skipping meals or anybody points out something ab the ed? Do you wish to heal but don't have the courage/will to, are you forced into healing, are you comfortable in the ed and want to continue and not start a healing process? How do you feel when you overeat or can't exercise the c@ls out? How do you feel about the future, do you wish to continue like so, do you wish to heal or neither of them?

I know it's A LOT of questions actually and I'm really sorry about it, I will explain now. When I was deep in my ed I never actually thought about it and what is going on with my life and I'm genuinely curious as to how it sounds and how my perspective was, I'm really trying not to offend you right now so please don't answer to anything if I'm offending you in any way!!

Hii I'm fine with any questions but damn that's alot (not in a negative way just alot of words and im bad at reading large groups of text)

First of all tw for ed stuff anyone that doesnt want to see this

with the burning 1k c4ls. my (almost) daily exercise typically burns around 500-700. secondly im a minor, im in school, pe is a legal requirement and that burns between 300-900 depending on what we do so combining those i can burn up to 1600 a day or if i do my normal stuff for twice as long that can also reach 1000 which i sometimes do on weekends when i have more time.

healing is something which if you want i highly encourage you get. i wish i had never gotten one, i wish i had never started counting c4ls, i wish i had spoken to someone before it got worse. i no longer feel like im able to get help and ive gotten myself to deep in the rabbit hole to get my mindset out so if you want help and its never to late then do it. get the help you need ill support you all the way.

i hate counting c4ls. i only eat in public when i have to and i always have to secretly look at the c4ls and hope nobody sees. ive written them on my hand afew times when theyre really random numbers and have been questioned about it so just had to lie to my friends which i hate doing. life before an ed fells like it would be so much more free and i would be more careless and do whatever i want without wondering how many c4ls in burning/gaining from that activity. if i could go back to when i started having an ed i absolutely would and change whatever i can to not end up like this.

the only physical symptom ive had is my stomach getting smaller but im waiting for the day my thighs / ass (idk what a more appropriate name would be) get smaller as they make me insecure. im not sure if its from having an ed but im almost always dizzy espescially when i stand up to fast. ive never fainted or been yellowed.

when i skip i dont feel proud more like im doing something correct and nobodys ever pointed out an ed but if they did i would deny it but secretly be proud someone noticed. i dont want to heal. i might have in the past but currently i have no plan to. i want to continue my ed without help. (my mindset is just 'if its a problem its your job to fix it' and i dont want to fix it). ive been put in counselling which has 6(i think) sessions left but if they think im really bad then i might be put in actual therapy. ive hinted about an ed with things like 'i often skip meals' and 'i just forget' or 'i dont have an appetite' and secretly hope they might catch on and get me help.

when i overeat or cant burn the c4ls i just feel sick and like im a failure. theres not really anything else i just feel bad and like i failed at having an ed. for the future my main goal is to reach my ugw and stay there getting lower if possible but not higher unless i really want help.

That was alot of questions but i feel like this is a place where i can talk about whatever(especially my ed) without anyone judging me or knowing who i am. im glad i could think about my ed on a deeper level other than just 'hmm weight be gone pls' so like thanks?? idk i hope i answered everything i might have missed a question. im always open to any question anyone has i just like talking to people and getting to know them.

[deakys-cool-cat]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO JOHN DEACON

not a lot of pictures because my stupid fucking thing wouldn’t work

JOHN DEACON. THE BEST MAN WHO IS CURRENTLY LIVING ON EARTH RIGHT NOW (besides my father) AND WHO IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE PEOPLE TO EVER WALK THIS EARTH. I LOVE THIS MAN WITH MY WHOLE HEART AND HES BEEN SUCH A BIG PART OF MY LIFE FOR THE PAST 3-4 YEARS, EVEN THOUGH I HAVENT MET HIM. IF THERE WAS ONE THING I COULD DO WITH MY LIFE, I WOULD SPEND IT TRYING TO MAKE SURE JOHN IS HAPPY, EVEN THOUGH ILL NEVER KNOW. WHY? BECAUSE HE DESERVES IT! EVERY QUEEN SONG HE WEOTE WAS BEAUTIFUL, AND YOU CAN TELL THAT THEY COME FROM HIS HEART AND SOUL. HE WAS A PHENOMENAL MUSICIAN AND JUST HAD KINDNESS IN HIS EYES AND SMILE. HE WENT THROUGH SEVERAL HARD TIMES IN HIS LIFE, BUT NOW THAT HES SETTLED DOWN AND LIVING THE LIFE THAT I THINK HE TRULY WANTS, I HOPE HE IS HAPPY. BEING A FAMILY MAN IS TRULY AT THE CORE OF HIS BODY, I BELIEVE, AND I TRULY, GENUINELY WISH THE BEST FOR HIM AND HIS FAMILY, BECAUSE HE MEANS SO MUCH FOR ME. SORRY FOR THE CAPS, BUT I JUST CANT STATE MY LOVE FOR THIS MAN ENOUGH. GORGEOUS INSIDE AND OUT, I HOPE HE HAS THE BEST DAY EVER.

WE ALL LOVE YOU JOHN!!! HAPPY 73RD!!!

[chaifootsteps]

Wanted to introduce you to a minor stolitz rewrite or I guess, interpretation? I came up with that has a blitzfizz angle if you squint, because I think you might like it.

Some time ago there was a deep and vulnerable moment which is rare from Brandon Rogers, when he was being interviewed by Anthony Padilla, he talked about being assaulted by a beating, and then getting up on stage for standup minutes after. But the audience never noticed. He said when performing for audiences it brings him a sense of fulfilment to know that during the few minutes or hours of that show he gets to forget about his pain, and the audience gets to have fun and enjoy the show and forget about theirs. Those moments of escapism were precious, and I wrote that for Blitzø, this was the extent of his affection for stolas. He’s basically an audience member, a loyal fan. This is why when stolas wants real devoted personal love, it ruins it for Blitzø because it feels like a fan who got a backstage pass once, and maybe even an autograph or handshake, but for some reason thinks this makes them real friends/lovers. And he keeps coming backstage without a pass, and doesn’t understand why security stops him, he even shows up to his house after the show ends. With no idea what he’s done wrong when cops turn up (this type of thing happens all the time to lonely people with mental illness, and is the type of moral complexity I think would suit stolas, someone who is dangerous but still sympathetic) And blitzo feels so much guilt and pity at this lonely, socially inept person, and not to mention feels the flattery of having a fan for once, he finds it hard to get really mean about it. But when stolas gets angry he feels genuine fear and does whatever he can to appease him. Which terrifyingly, is interpreted as reciprocation.

For “One Night Only” like his circus poster in his office suggests, they both got to escape and pretend-to be this powerful, seductive sexual being bringing amazement to a Prince who in turn, gets to pretend his true love has arrived to save him. But just like the circus episode, stolas got too obsessive with a parasocial attachment. He wanted to take Blitzø home, to keep him in his bedroom, to take out and play with whenever he needed. Forever. For Blitzø it was like encore after encore, a show that doesn’t end. And he just wants to go home to his partner, the other kid waiting for him at the circus to play horsies again, and the only other imp in the world who truly understands how it feels to be used as a toy (hell, he was turned into one!!)

And I think like the sex toys running out (if I can try to turn even that into a metaphor) he has exhausted all of his tricks and doesn’t have any more material for stolas. But the show must go on, he thinks, that is until stolas finally sees the cracks in him, and against his own wishes for this to be his soulmate, his attraction to Blitzø starts to die. Because it was artificial from the start. And he doesn’t like the real person as much as he thought. They’re just deeply incompatible. Which breaks both of their hearts, for very different reasons.

When stolas asks him why he ever gave him a night at all or showed kindness to him, someone who now has nobody, Blitzø says nothing and just calmly looks at the photo of stolas smiling holding Octavia, then looks back to stolas. As if silently telling him he knows he’s not a complete monster, that it’s not all over, he is capable of finding real connections with others, he has his daughter. His real ‘hero’ and light in the dark. And knowing how much this relationship has hurt and traumatised Octavia, its the nail in the coffin. There is hope for stolas, but not for this relationship.

In the end he gives him back the book, thanks him for their time together, and for loving him, even when stolas is protesting (kinda like Diane to Bojack) his final action to him is a bow, his last words to stolas before leaving his life forever are “You will be okay”

Goddamn, Anon...you owe me a box of kleenex for this one.

Thank you for this. It's gorgeous and perfect and I wish with all my heart that it were canon.

[k-dokja]

I'm having an heart ache, i badly need some Eli or Taehun crumbs if it's not too much 😔😔

Sorry this came so late, I had the mentally ill.

Eli has been pacing.

Back and forth. In and out. If he pokes his head out of his room and then narrows his eyes at Warren once more, Warren is going to lose his mind. "Dude, it's only a date. Stop freaking out."

"It's not only a date, it's our first date," Eli runs his hand through his hair after he steps out of the room again. There is a substance on Eli's hands that Warren suspects to be hair gel because it sticks his hair up in weird places. How he gets this far as a hair stylist remains the mystery for the ages.

"How do I look?"

Warren's face scrunches, "Like you fought a dry blower and lost," he says, "Dude, just dress normally, it's not like she agreed to go out with you because you're good-looking."

Eli inhales sharply then releases the most dramatic sigh Warren ever heard from him. "You don't get it at all," With that uttered, Eli stalks back into his room and Warren nearly blows up.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"

No one can deny Eli has the looks going for him.

If anyone does, they're either delusional or jealous. Warren knows as much. Still, there are times when he looks better than others. Nowadays, it's whenever Eli thinks about you or is around you in general. Yes, there are moments like this when Eli switches out of multiple outfits trying to figure out something that would look good in front of you.

But between all of the fretting and the anxiety, there is a smile. One that is genuine and soft and feeds everyone the false hope that everything will get better. It makes Warren want to believe sometimes.

As Eli steps out of the hostel, Warren perches on the window above to watch him leave. After withstanding his earlier fuss, it's only fair that Warren gets to see him off. It's nice to see his friend pursuing happiness again, even if it's tentative and uncertain.

"You think it will last?"

He doesn't know when Sally comes up behind him, but he doesn't turn to look. Not until Eli is out of sight, at least. "I hope so," he says, "for his sake, I really hope so."

If there's anyone among them deserving a resemblance of peace the most, it'd be Eli. Warren can only wish that it's attainable in this lifetime.

[kanekoii]

I’ve been thinking about this 4ever… I have a medical condition called POTS (postural tachycardia syndrome) it’s a lot like having low iron and causes me to pass out a lot… How about Luxiem + Ren (seperately) reacting to reader passing out due to this condition??

lyra’s notes -> i know it’s not appropriate to tell someone with a chronic medical condition to get better soon cuz i have multiple chronic conditions too so what i’ll say is: i hope it isn’t as bad for a little while, you deserve to be free from it for a bit yk <3 i know how draining and stressful these conditions can be and i see you. ur a precious bebe (sorry that was a lot)

pairings -> luxiem + ren zotto x gn! reader

genre -> scenario

song -> everlasting shine - tomorrow x together

warnings -> some medical stuff, worried boyfriends, written late at night

VOX AKUMA ->

he will be SO concerned the first time it happens. the demon has seen a lot, but he was NOT prepared for this in any way shape or form. but the longer he dates you, the more used to it he’ll get. he knows that it’s not exactly something you have much, if any control over. if you pass out, he’ll handle everything you may have needed to take care of long before you awake. it’s his job to take care of you and keep you as healthy as you can possibly be.

LUCA KANESHIRO ->

poor boy freaks out just like vox, but this one is a lot more panicked. i know it might sound a little dumb or like overkill, but he’s genuinely worried about you and your health! when you eventually wake up, you’ll see the poor boy hovering nervously over you. his eyes light up with relief as he kisses you ever so gently. when you get lightheaded, he’ll gently lay you down on the nearest surface with the most kind and gentle smile.

IKE EVELAND ->

he’ll be concerned the first time you pass out in front of him, but much more quiet and calm than the others. he understands that loudly freaking out or panicking openly would likely just make the situation more stressful when you wake up, so he stays calm and gently asks what happened so he can better understand your condition and how he can best help you.

SHU YAMINO ->

he’s here to support you in every way he possibly can. he would try to use his power as a sorcerer to heal you, but the things he uses typically revolve around curses, so his healing abilities aren’t the best, even if he could heal chronic illnesses like this. he wished he could, but it’s the best he can do to help you take care of yourself when you’re feeling lightheaded.

MYSTA RIAS ->

another loud freak out. he will end up calling shu or zali or, hell, even millie for help. he doesn’t know what to do and he just wants you to be alright. that was the first time you passed out in front of him, after that he became more calm about it and now asks every day what he can do for you that day to make things even just a little easier on you.

REN ZOTTO ->

he balances out the calm squad vs the panic squad as the third member of calm squad. he’s really, REALLY worried but he’ll wait until you wake up to ask you about it. and it’s not like he’ll bombard you with questions, that wouldn’t be nice. he just wants to know how he can best support you and what to do in these situations.

[st0rmyskies]

WarrTime anon back with more questions. (I don’t know if it’s annoying to ask several questions in one ask or not I’m not really familiar with the whole tumblr thing but now that I’ve found you on tumblr I’ve gotten a bit excited that I can just ASK you questions haha. If you’d prefer I not ask so many things at one let me know!)

1. In LMTCOY Ch. 20, is the reason Warriors freaks out more so because he wasn’t able to handle the idea that he could genuinely have something with Time that lasts and that Time really does want him and care about him and love him for more than just his body, or is Time being gentle with him just something he’ll never be able to handle because he’s not used to it/doesn’t like it? Would he ever let Time try treating him gently like that again and being sweet to him, or is that something that would take a while to work up to?

2. In Ch. 36, is Time genuinely more worried for Warriors’s safety than he is jealous like he concludes in his head, or does part of him kind of selfishly wish he could have Warriors to himself?

3. What is their relationship technically? (In that same Ch. 36 Warriors refers to it as a “whatever this is”, but what is it at this point?)

And last one, haha: 4. At this point in their whole mess of what they have going on, if Warriors was sick and missed one of his typically scheduled days with Time, would Time go looking for him and take care of him? Would Warriors even let him? (I have been ill myself was reading LMTCOY again to make myself feel less miserable and then I started thinking about these two haha. I can only imagine Warriors with a common cold. He probably would either be overly responsible about it or whine like he’s dying)

Thanks for answering all my other questions! I really love the thought you put into these two characters, they’re so wonderful to read about. I hope you are well

Hello!! You are more than welcome to ask as many questions as often as you'd like, I never mind. Shorter asks get answered more quickly, as I can address them on mobile. If I'm planning on writing an essay, there's going to be a delay in getting answers. But if you like longer answers, then maybe it doesn't matter.

In The Most Luxurious Indulgence, Warriors has several things working against him in his and Time's sex scene. Wars has been thrown of his game several times during this little vacation, between being given an expensive pair of diamond studs (which carry a significant meaning in Hylian culture, there's a post on that somewhere around here) and not getting plowed the night before when he was inebriated (his relationship with Time has been completely carnal thus far, so he takes this as a mixed signal that Time is losing interest in him), and it all kind of comes to a head in that scene. Some part of Wars feels like he 'owes' this to Time because he's been brought on this lavish vacation on the man's dime, given gifts and so on. And Wars is also relieved that Time is not showing disinterest, rather quite the opposite.

It starts out poorly because Warriors doesn't like being on the receiving end of oral, but he doesn't speak up for himself--again, thinking he owes this to Time. Which is a similar line of thinking Warriors pushed himself down when he was with Volga. That starts to bring up all sorts of complicated feelings such that by the time Warriors does express that he needs to tap out, it's a question of how much of his panic attack stemmed from what was going on between him and Time and how much of it was just him being in his own head.

Warriors does go on to have a relatively gentle coupling with Time, at least for them. I do think that in the future Wars will acquiesce to less violent sex, although the episodes will be few and far between.

In You're Jealous, Time is ABSOLUTELY being a jealous beef and wanting Wars all to himself. There is a legitimate concern for his safety, maybe, but most of Time's motivation here is that he doesn't like Warriors going to others for the things that Time can provide. It brings up feelings of inadequacy just as much as it does concerns for safety.

Neither of them is willing to pin down what they have with any sort of official designation, at least not verbally. The fact that Time gave !Warriors a pair of diamond stud earrings sends a pretty clear message of, "I have a serious interest in you as my partner." It's one step up from a promise ring in Hylian culture, sometimes called a "half-hitch" or halfway to being engaged to be married. For some, it's an incredibly serious statement to make. For others--think your glitzed-out Hollywood starlet-types--it's just another jewel on their person, casually wearing another man's devotion like it's merely a fashion accessory.

If you were to approach them walking down the street with a camera and a microphone and ask them what they are to one another, it would spark a days-long fight between Time and Wars that would likely never get truly resolved.

And for your last question, actually, I might treat that as a prompt for a future LMTCOY chapter. I'm sorry to hear you've been unwell lately and hope you're on the mend! And thank you much for the kind words.

[iamunabletothinkofablogname]

Isn't it SO fun to be harassed and bullied at school? /sarc

People call me a "FUCKING WEIRDO!" (Yes, that's word for word.)

They make faces at me like I'm sort of disgusting slob. (And they SHOW it and they WANT me to know they think that!)

Along with that, one kid pretended to gag and throw up at the sight of me, and used solar eclipse glasses to not look at me.

One kid called me ugly today! (YAY! /sarc)

They poke and prod at me like I'm a science experiment.

They fear the fact I smile all the time, that I tend to keep an emotionless expression in my eyes. (I'm only following Alastor's advice!)

They love to annoy me... But it's getting tiring.

Only a select few enjoy my presence, they keep me in and go along with my antics. My friend group likes having me around. And other kids I don't know much and we're neutral with each other.

I know I'm "weird" by their standards. But what's the fun in the world without differences?

I know I took on the persona of "weirdo" in my class. I want to go up to a teacher and cry. Because I didn't deserve to be treated like this?

I didn't deserve to be told "You know you should kill yourself" when I'm already suicidal. Did I?

Get told I'm retarded like 10 times already? Maybe more? (I'm not even exaggerating...)

And considering I might have mental illnesses such as possible autism, that's even meaner. At this point I'm not living, I'm surviving.

There's a reason why I've given up. My best friends are on the internet. I don't think without them I would be able to live today. Why do the people who care about me, share my interests, accept me for who I am, respect me, and TREAT me like I'm a human being, so far away?

I know I may be Xenogender, but that's no excuse for treating me no better than some sort of inferior species.

I see no one else getting treated like this, I'm the subject, no, the OBJECT of their bullying.

What the fuck am I supposed to do??? What do you fucking EXPECT me to do??? "Be yourself"??? I AM being myself, and you're fucking BULLYING me!? AM I SUPPOSED TO PUT ON SOME SORT OF MASK? I AM SMILING, MOTHERFUCKER, YET YOU STILL BULLY ME WHEN I DO HAVE A MASK!? /not you, to them

Like, please. Let me rest. Let me have a normal day where I don't have to face discrimination. Where I get treated with love.

I get treated so awfully so much, that I don't even know who I am anymore.

I lost myself.

My catchphrase has to be "I'm so done-" because I said that more than I needed to.

I feel like the next time someone does anything to me, I'm just going to burst out crying.

🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂

I hope you're doing alright right now, first things first, i need to let you know that you do matter, and you certainly don't deserve to be treated as subhuman as they treat you, I only wish the worst upon them <3 They are bitches who are a waste of oxegyn, they need to put you down to feel something or feel like they matter, and for that they are the weakest most disgusting subhuman people, genuinely hope they get more fucked up than they ever made you feel 🧡

It's pretty obvious that they're trying to make you feel shit, and i wish i was there to fight them off or comfort you when it happened, i said it before and i'll say it again, you don't deserve any of this. You deserve to be happy, and to feel like you are loved and cared for, the way they treat you is uncalled for and it's disgusting [them, not you, your cool] And agreed, your gender or your neurodivergence shouldn't be the reason you get bullied, they aren't things you can control, or things you have to change, they are litterally a part of your being/existence, I can't believe all of the shitty things they're doing, you don't deserve it. Have you tried to tell anyone? [although that doesn't work often, it's worth a try]. It seems like it's really affecting you, whether you admit it or not /nbr /npa I'd reccomend telling a teacher/principle [the meaner the teacher the better], if that doesn't work fight back, physically i wouldnt reccomend but if you have to, do it. Theres not much we can do about bullying, which is fucking shitty, but please hang in there at least and take care of yourself, i care about you and love you /p

I hope it gets better and they stop, they're pieces of shit who shouldn't be making you feel like this, they're insensitive cunts who should have their face cut up, hope they get bullied those fucking assholes

[pomplalamoose]

headcanons: Luke Skywalker and a mentally ill reader🫂🩵

A/N: I received several requests for Luke with a reader that struggles with their psychological health and decided to do one big post instead of three small ones.

Since I'm heavily affected myself I have a hard time talking about it, meaning this will be shorter than what I usually do; thank you for understanding <3

Nevertheless it's an important topic that shouldn't be ignored so here we goooo

Luke comforting you when you're afraid of being a bad Jedi due to your mental illness

• like I often mention, Luke always has an open ear for you

• I think he's especially understanding when you tell him you struggle with your personal image as a Jedi

• because in a similar way Luke often worries about this as well

• is he doing the right thing? Did he make the right choices? He doesn't know

• more often than not he wishes for Obi-Wan or Yoda to be with him still, to guide him

• his insecurities might stem from a different place than yours but in many ways you are able to draw parallels

• just like you he's afraid of not being good enough

• I think he'd let himself be really vulnerable in sharing this with you, hoping that it makes you feel less alone

• he doesn't want you to think you are in any way failing him or yourself

• most importantly though he wants to prevent you from thinking he's without faults

• he wants to give you an opening to relax, to show you that it's going to be okay as long as you're genuinely trying your best

• he does his best and is he not doing a good job?

• he wants to relieve you of the burden of perfectionism

• both of you are human and that is very much okay

• additionally the both of you don't have much information about what a Jedi should or should not be and while that certainly makes things harder, it can also mean a new beginning

• Luke spends a lot of time thinking about the principles and teachings he wants to pass along to a new generation of Jedi

• and I think a big part of that would be to embrace one's nature and being as they are

• some things can't be changed, it's the will of the Force

• in this regard he is big on following his senses and his heart and how could you ever be a bad Jedi if he sees so much goodness in you?

• while it may be hard to see for yourself, Luke will do his best to show you that your personal struggles don't equal being a failure

• mental illness isn't a flaw that makes you less capable or less intelligent

• you are not your mental illness

• it doesn't define you as a person even though it often times feels like it

• he will list many wonderful character traits of yours, trying to convey how others may see you

• he retells situations where you were able to overcome or even use your struggles in order to help another person

• you are allowed to be yourself and he's glad to have you by his side

• he values your opinions and insights

• in many ways you are able to view certain aspects from a totally different point

• with your unique experiences you are able to offer comfort to those in similar situations better than Luke ever could

Not wanting to burden Luke with your trauma

• Luke is familiar with the notion of keeping ones struggles to oneself

• especially when it's done out of consideration for others

• I don't think you'd manage to hide your mental state from him though, not post ROTJ and not when you're force sensitive as well

• he might have been rather blind to his surroundings earlier on, but has long grown past it

• of course he respects if and when you want to open up at all and will put no pressure on you to tell him anything whatsoever

• however I think he prefers his family and friends to be outspoken about how they're feeling

• not only does he want to help but is also aware that it's only going to get worse over time otherwise

• he knows what can happen when one gets lost in an endless maze of the same recurring thoughts

• to be able to realease something into the Force, to let it go, one has to confront it

• how this is done varies for each person though

• you know best where your trauma stems from and only you know what you are able to take on in order to leave it behind

• as much as Luke would love to be able to simply tell you what to do, he can't

• it's a journey everyone has to go on for themselves

• he'll want to be your company though

• Luke is happy to let you take your time

• if the possibility to retreat is important to you, it's what you get

• he wants your healing to come from a place of security and with the knowledge that he's there to catch you when you're not able to do so on your own

• still he remains firm in his believes and will tell you so

• nobody said it was easy, he knows for a fact it isn't and he is ready to be by your side when you are

• depending on your relationship he might give you gentle nudge in the right direction or, alternatively, a kick in the butt if that's what you need

• he won't stand by and watch you destroy yourself

Dilf!Luke realizing you're not doing well mentally

• since he always has his eyes on you, he can tell when something is just a little bit different

• depending on how well you're able to hide your mental condition though, it possibly takes him a while

• unlike is child he can't be around you all the time and during your car rides home the both of you don't talk

• maybe he realizes how tense you grow when a member of your family contacts you

• maybe he overhears parts of a conversation either when you have to take their calls or when you talk with your friend

• I think he'd ask his child if everything's okay with you

• he doesn't want to seem overbearing or like he's invading your privacy

• since they are your best friend they wouldn't tell him any details but maybe mention you're struggling

• again it depends on you as a person

• are you open about your mental health or not?

• if not they will lie for you

• otherwise they know what they can share without revealing too much

• after all it's your decision what you want others to know

• either way he's worried

• he will offer his help right away

• if you need someone to talk to, he's there

• he's not a professional of course but he'll listen! A second perspective can change a lot!

• the house is easily big enough for one more person, he doesn't mind you staying for the night or a few more

• you can always come over when you need space or a place to rest

• he'll look after you

• have you thought about moving out?

• are you making enough money to be independent?

• are you seeing a therapist?

• "Dad please calm down, I can't tell them you said any of this!"

• your friend will give you a watered down version of what happened because they're kinda afraid that you'll be creeped out by Luke's behavior

• you aren't

• in fact there's nothing you want more than for Mr. Skywalker to take care of you

• he may ask you about it himself once you are better acquainted

• if you're comfortable enough to drop a comment or two he definitely catches on to them

• you are welcome to celebrate the holidays with him and his child, you know?

• he's sure they would be more than okay with it too

• it's your choice of course but he'd be happy to have you

[annabellelupin]

so a lot of people headcanon lily as this very confident, plus sized women, but hear me out

(tw: fatphobia, tw: eating disorder)

lily always tries to seem very confident and accepting of her weight, in hope that other plus sized girls would feel more comfortable in their own skin

however, it's really hard for her to genuinely be excepting of her weight sometimes

sometimes the fatphobic comments start to get her, and she really does start to wonder if it's a genuine problem

even in the Wizarding world she doesn't escape the hateful comments most people that don't fit societal beauty standards are subjected to

while of course her closest friends (Mary, Dorcas, and Marlene) thought she was perfect as is, most men didn't exaclty think the same

she always reassured them she didn't mind, but deep down, it hurt her a lot

was she only going to be seen as beautiful if she was skinny? she often wondered about this, and believed she may never find a man that actually saw every inch of her as beautiful without changing her weight

ofc, being herself, she didn't tell anyone of these thoughts. she still wanted to set an example for others, even if sometimes she struggled with harmful thoughts herself. it'd be worth it if even one other plus sized girl looked at her and thought even people like them, often laughed at and made fun of, could be beautiful and confident despite beauty standards regarding weight (so lily thought)

one school year, the staring, comments, and rudeness finally fully got to her.

she started eating less and less, causing her to become physically sick and lightheaded most of times.

Marlene and Mary were quick to notice, but nothing they said got through to her. not even their constant pestering for her to eat more often to stay healthy

lily, who once tried to set good examples for others, was trying to change herself just to please others

she didn't listen to absolutely anyone that cared for her... well anyone that she was extremely close with at the time anyways.

James was pretty quick to notice her change in appetite- and in attitude

at first he didn't think much of it, everyone has a few off days right?

two weeks later he began getting really concerned. she had skipped class quite a bit that week because she felt ill, and he had a feeling he knew why.

he decided to accompany her alone in the common room one day she didn't feel well enough to go to class, in hope to finally get to the bottom of all of this

"what's wrong, lils? you haven't been your usual self recently"

"...oh, it's nothing"

"lily, it's certainly not nothing... I've noticed you've been skipping meals a lot recently, and you haven't felt yourself in weeks. What's going on?"

lily teared up. she wanted to keep all of it to herself, but she just couldn't any longer, it had become too much

"I-" Lily began crying even more, and James hugged her

"It's okay, take your time"

"...It's just... I want to feel good about my weight... i know im fat and I shouldn't care about what others think about it. usually i love my body but sometimes..... sometimes it all gets to me.... I wish there were more people out there that didn't see me as disgusting just because I'm plus sized.."

James hugged her even tighter and gave her a light kiss on the forhead

"I certainly don't think that, Lily, and I know a lot of people that don't. You're beautiful and smart just as you are. But you shouldn't care about what I think about you, or what anyone else thinks for that matter. it only matter what you think about yourself. now, without thinking about anyone else, how do you feel about yourself and your weight?"

"Sometimes it's hard to like that part of myself, but most days I love it. Being plus sized is something about me a lot of people can relate to, and I want to able to help others accept themselves through my own confidence, and I love that usually I can do that."

"So, you only ever had a problem with it because of others right?"

"Unfortunately"

"Well..." James pauses for a moment and sits back to get a better look at lily. "I really don't think you should worry about the jerks that think being plus sized makes a person ugly. Really, their attitudes are the true things that are ugly. I know it's easier said than done, but I more than willing to give you a reminder of how amazing you are here and will be there to help you out. And teach those idiots a bit of a lesson if need be"

Lily smiled for the first time in what felt like weeks

"Thanks, James. You're not too bad yourself, when you want to be" she laughed

James kept to his word after and made sure to help reassure lily anytime her thoughts about her weight got bad again, until she was easily able to put down the thoughts herself.

Now she truly was a confident, plus sized icon others could gather courage and and acceptance from

[simplydnp]

tw illness discussion

it's been a bit since we've done a late night illness update from char. it's not because i've been feeling better--no, no, i've been doing generally worse, really. i actually did write one of these a few weeks ago, but didn't post it because it was just. far too much. i process things by writing them out--and specifically 'out' not down. it allows thoughts and feelings to escape in ways very few things can. either way, that update was for me.

i want to be as realistic and reflective as possible in these, not only for you, the reader-- should you ever find yourself in a similar situation, i'll have at least done my best to be honest and real: illness sucks, mystery ones especially--but it's also an exercise i live my life doing: i don't see the purpose in lying to myself. this blog is a record of many of my unbridled, raw, hasty thoughts. who would i be if i only included the good ones? the main reason i'm even back here is because this illness forced my hand into making a good decision. a selfish decision. one that i literally agonized over for weeks because i thought that in order to truly be sick i must also be suffering. how dare i experience any joy during this time. that thought has mostly been quieted. one of the main reasons is that i get to spend every day here laughing with you all, and yet, i'm still in agonizing pain most of the time. they're not mutually exclusive. but i'm grateful for anything that's not pain--especially when it's something as special as this.

it seems this is a bit of a sappier update than usual. don't worry, we'll get there.

my medication isn't doing anything for me. we're over a month into this new one and the pain is so bad it's like i'm not even taking anything for it. it demands my attention. it must be felt. and my doctor doesn't know what to do. she was shocked when i told her, because this is thee go-to nerve pain medication. and i feel like i'm dying. it has done nothing. it's just my existence now. she suggested narcotics and i just can't. i can't do it. especially since the pain isn't 'real' in the sense that i don'thave a physical injury. so i'm scared of heavy pain medication, to be frank. we're trying a mood stabilizer and i don't think it's doing anything either. we're gonna try a muscle relaxant in the next few days. my hopes aren't high--it takes too much energy to put them up, only to have to tear them down a few days later and pretend like they aren't just in a heaping pile on the floor.

i've been going to therapy, as well. it's... something. i left one day feeling absolutely terrible. we just dug into something extremely sensitive that we really didnt have enough time to cover, and it left me in a tailspin for the next several hours and few days afterwards. i felt very. disconnected. from my body. and my mind felt,,, thick? this must be why they say aftercare is important--genuinely. i was lucky that i didnt have to do anything during that time. truly, truly awful. it hasn't been like that since, but i'm trying to figure out ways to cope if it does happen again.

so that's where we're at. i wish i had better news.