#i want to be aliveated from the humiliation that is basic human emotions… life is unfair | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spencersmagic · 4 years ago

Text

a knife twists at the thought - SR

Prompt: a knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark - Arctic Monkeys

Summary: Spencer is new to this, and the poor boy is terrified

Couple: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid (i picture season 2/3 Spencer but y’all do you)

Category: angst

Word count: 3086 words

Warnings: general criminal minds stuff, mentions and descriptions of torture, descriptions of loss, HAPPY ENDING!!, my 3am writing, tooth rotting love, uhmm spoilers for Orwell’s 1984 (if anybody hasn’t read it), humiliation, Spencer crying and breaking my heart (lmk if you need anything warned or trigger tagged).

A/N This is very loosely based on 2x15 (VERY LOOSELY). I’m quite proud of this one :)

masterlist // 505 series taglist

*****

They say you never see it coming.

When a tragedy occurs, and someone’s life is turned upside down forever, they never see it coming. It just... hits them. Like an oncoming car ramming into a bystander who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

No one has time to prepare. In our time-starved lives, there is no place for such a warning.

One day, you just wake up. And they’re not next to you. They’ve disappeared, leaving the stickiest, most unforgettable parts of themselves behind for others to grieve to: the smell of their shampoo in the pillows they used to share, the seconds just as you wake when you still feel like you have them - only to gain full consciousness and realise they left you behind - even the fucking jars, which never seem to be open because he’s just not there to do it.

And you feel your heart breaking all over again as your soul sticks to the parts that couldn’t be erased with the rest of him as he left. Because you needed him, you had him, and now he’s gone. No warning, no letter, no signs which could’ve helped you foresee such a tragedy, because how could he? He didn’t disappear on purpose.

She doesn’t understand why he's so absent. So unequivocally missing. And the person she would turn to to ask these riddled questions isn’t there to answer. Because he’s gone.

But they’re not there yet.

And she feels so close to that feeling - the helplessness, the pain, the empty cups next to her bed because he always carried them to the sink when she was finished with her tea the mornings of those rare days they got to sleep in. Those days when they had time. She can practically touch, with the tip of her fingertips, the waves of pain that would surge over her if he was gone for one more fucking minute.

She has to remind herself, over and over again, like a mantra. He’s not gone yet.

The “yet” at the end of her mantra just breaks her all over again.

She was always the one to tell Spencer “if you worry before something happens, in case it goes wrong, and then it does, you’ve managed to suffer twice through something painful for absolutely no reason”. It usually worked. Needless to say, she felt like a hypocrite right about now.

Because Spencer is gone. And she doesn’t know how to bring him back.

She knows only to watch the monitor, never once blinking, taking in everything that happened in that damned livestream - every word, every sound, every reference. She can only try to hear anything over the whimpers and sobs her love was letting out as he’s tortured by that man. She can only hear the cracks of his knuckles against Spencers soft skin, the same soft skin she had kissed mere hours ago before telling him to “be careful”. Her own way of saying the three little words the couple was too young to hear. She can only see his lips parting, sobs rumbling out of his body as the unsub abuses his frame over and over again - same lips which had kissed her forehead before telling her “i always am”.

Then again, she isn’t sure if its his voice which is filling her head with painful sounds or if her mind is playing tricks on her, memorising the horrifying vibrations coming from his chest for her to ever consider anything else. She hasn’t stopped hearing him since she turned on that damned computer.

She isn’t sure she’ll ever stop hearing it.

As a man of great intellect, Spencer always recurred to knowledge to understand difficult occurrences in his life. Burying himself in textbooks, novels, poems, and even music to understand pain, and himself having a life filled with it, he was an incredibly knowledgeable man.

He knew much. But right now, he only knew one thing.

In Orwells’ 1984, as Winston was being tortured (much like Spencer is right now), Orwell described the following:

“Never, for any reason on earth, could you wish for an increase of pain. Of pain you could only wish one thing: that it should stop. Nothing in the world was so bad as physical pain. In the face of pain there are no heroes, no heroes”.

And, as a man who had acquired most of his intellect by immersing himself in trivial content in the face of pain, he found himself doing the same thing as the unsub hurt him over and over again, each blow seemingly more painful than the last. As his skin bruised, a causality of his abusers torment, he analysed the seemingly logical quote.

It must depend on the person, he was sure. In fact, a number of factors must be taken into consideration at this statement. For starters, Winston lives in a society incapable of any human feelings. There is only dominance, and those who attempt, in vain, to challenge it. Surely, if he had felt happiness, like the one you feel when the first day of spring rolls around, or like the one that creeps up on you as you look into the eyes of your loved one, surely, he would understand that some things can outweigh pain.

Love.

If Spencer’s mind could make sense of what he was feeling right now, he would understand, something he would figure of were he to leave this damned place, that he was thankful to the Gods, were there any, for having the unsub kidnap him and not Y/N.

Winston hadn’t understood emotional pain because emotions weren’t dealt with regularly. They were discouraged. That��s why he believed that there are no heroes in the face of pain. Because he doesn’t understand emotional pain.

He knew he was suffering. He also knew that Y/N was at the other side of the blinking camera suffering more than he could ever imagine.

They say emotional pain lasts 12 minutes. Anything one feels after this would be the aftermath of the cause of the pain in question. Pure emotional pain, the one you practically feel in your chest, the one that says “i can’t think, feel or be. not until this feeling dissipates”.

She had learned this from Spencer.

And she wished it were true. As she watched that damned monitor, she wished that all the venom the unsub was spewing at Spencer, all the verbal abuse, was long forgotten. She wished he could only feel the physical pain. Because the mind is incredibly stronger than the body - it could keep him awake, alive, for just enough time for the team to rescue him.

The entire team had huddled around the monitor around her. She was painfully aware that other people were seeing this. Which meant it wasn’t her imagination. It wasn’t another one of those damned dreams she would have when she slept a little too far away from Spencer’s touch.

They had only been together for two months, but his touch was all that could get her to fall asleep.

She jolted as the unsub landed another slap on Spencer’s cheek, swiftly grabbing his hair for him to look into the camera. He had a cut above his right cheek, just where she would kiss him in the mornings, and bruises all over his neck, jaw and left eye.

“Say hi to your team!” he mocked Spencer, chuckling darkly as he moved his almost lifeless body around for the team to watch in horror. Spencer let out a heartbreaking sob, feeling so vulnerable.

“Why don’t we make this interesting?” he jumped, as if he had gotten an idea. The unsub reached behind himself to grab a pistol, clicking off the magazine safety to put one bullet in one of the eight slots, leaving the other seven free. He pointed it at Spencer’s temple.

Her entire body shook the thought of seeing Spencer’s lifeless body, held up only by the ropes and that sick man’s grip around his curls. The same curls she grabbed as she kissed his face when she wanted his attention.

“I’m going to ask you some questions...” he said, voice dripping with sickening sweetness as he turned the roulette, “and if i don’t like your answer i’ll pull the trigger! Let God decide what I do with you. Sounds good?”. He wanted to humiliate Spencer.

However, Spencer made the mistake of not answering him. He was quickly reminded as the barrel of the gun pointed right between his eyes, pulling the trigger, a loud bang! sound expanding through the barn.

“I asked you a question!” he suddenly yelled into Spencer’s face.

“Y-yes, Sir” he whimpered, shaking at the ease at which the man pulled the trigger.

“Good, you’re learning”.

She experienced it by bits. Hotch’s hoarse voice. “Talk to me Garcia”. “We’ve got coordinates”. Everybody rushing to the SUVs. Tripping over her own feet on the way to the car. Morgan’s voice. The iPad, which still carried Spencer’s whimpers and the man mocking tone.

“I’ve got your diary, Spence” his sing-song voice didn’t match the disgusting man she was looking at. Nothing made sense.

“And I wanna know why...” he drew out the ‘y’ as he looked for something between the worn pages between his hands.

Of course she knew Spencer owned a diary. But she was mature enough to keep her hands to herself and her eyes on her own pages as he wrote on his, eyebrows creasing as he recalled all which he had experienced during the day. His face would twitch slightly at the memories, both good and bad, as he basically described his day word by word.

“...why did you wait until you were 24 to lose your virginity?” he asked in a clear attempt to humiliate and ridicule Spencer in front of his team.

“I-I didn't-” he could barely finish a word before a sob wrecking through his body at the humiliation, chest rumbling and voice wavering. “I didn’t want to lose it before, i w-wasn’t in a hurry” he rushed out. The man brought the pistol to his own chin, tapping it as he thought. “Hmm... I’m satisfied with your answer. Let’s dig deeper, shall we?” he asked as he went back into the pages.

“ooh! This one is new” that sick bastard was having fun with this, completely unaware that the team was less than 5 minutes away from their location.

“Care to read what you wrote three days ago? Right here” he turned the pages so Spencer could read them, though he was painfully aware of that entry he was talking about. His body shook violently. “P-please. D-don’t ma-make me do t-this” he whimpered, body feeling defeated.

“Wrong answer” the unsub said before pointing a gun at him and pulling the trigger.

A shriek was heard from the iPad. The SUV went silent.

“He’s alive” she whispered, unable to speak up. “He-” she swallowed. “He’s alive. We’re not there, yet” her mantra became a reminder that she hadn’t been quick enough to help him. She had the tools to save him. Every second she had the knowledge to save him and didn’t was another second she remained impotent at the risk of losing the love of her life.

Spencer’s voice spoke from the iPad.

“C-can you at-at leas-st turn off t-the ca-amera?” he said between sobs.

And it hit her.

What hurt him the most wasn’t the memories he had to relieve, but the fact that the rest of the team would have to hear his most intimate thoughts. His deepest secrets.

He could bare the pain. The humiliation? That broke him.

“Aww” the unsub chuckled mockingly, “are you embarrassed?” he said, slouching down to look into his eyes. “Well too fucking bad!” he screamed into his face, spitting with every word he spewed at him. Spencer’s sobs got louder.

“O-okay okay!” Spencer caved, accepting the journal that got shoved into his face.

“Read, pretty boy” the unsub sang. That son of a bitch was having fun.

“We’re two minutes away, Y/N” Hotch said. Maybe it was he sobs, which were barely audible to herself, having accepted them as second nature after all the heartbreak she was experiencing, but Hotch needed her to be okay.

His own heart thumped into his chest, feeling as helpless as he’d ever felt. Seeing a member of his team - someone he was supposed to take care of, someone he was supposed to keep safe - was sobbing as he was physically and emotionally tortured. But he was painfully aware of the feelings Y/N was experiencing. The sheer fear that was running down her veins at the idea of them running out of time.

After a few sobs, Spencer started reading, interrupting himself occasionally with his whimpers:

“It’s been three months. Today, three months, seven hours and forty-six minutes ago, she did what I didn’t have the courage to do. She asked me out. “I’ve been wanting to ask you pretty much since the day i met you” she had said. Those words keep ringing in my head like a beautifully written symphony, intrinsically designed to make me face my deepest fears. Opening my scars one by one, dissecting them and reaching the simple conclusion that i was a coward.

She didn’t say it, but what she meant was “i’ve been waiting for you to do it, but you never did, so i had to”. We wasted time - a time so precious and sacred - because i was a coward.

I’ve never felt like this before. I never understood a love so deep as to move something so stubborn as the human spirit. I’ve read textbook after textbook, and novel after novel, and still I’ve never learned more than with her. But I was a coward. And i wasted her time. I fear that I still am.

A knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark. It’s impossible for me to ever be enough for her”.

Her heart broke at this confession. Even worse at the thought that he wouldn’t’ve told her, instead inhaling fear and exhaling rejection at every breath he took next to her.

“We’re here” she heard Hotch, looking at her. She grabbed a bottle of water and dropped the iPad, not hearing the teams objections at the lack of vest and preparation and ran into the barn.

She isn’t sure if she’ll ever stop hearing his whimpers. As she runs closer, she hears them louder and louder, decorated with sobs and cries, and small, meaningless replies to his abusers’ mocking words.

She kicked the door down, the loud bang booming across the room, only helping in raising Spencer’s sobs as he feared the sound had been the result of a certain trigger being pulled. As she looks at him, she realises just how much pain he’s been put through.

She remembers Orwells words, much like how Spencer had remembered them mere hours ago. And disagrees, wishing over and over, praying to the Gods that she would be the victim of such atrocious abuse. She wished she could take his pain. Morgan joined her at her side mere seconds later, yelling. “FBI! Put the gun down!”.

Spencer used the last bit of energy to lunge forward, hitting the unsubs stomach with his head, successfully getting him on the floor for Morgan to apprehend. Y/N rushed to Spencer’s side, untying him, as his now nonexistent sobs grew louder and louder, not only at the prospect of getting out of that horrible place alive, but also at the knowledge that Y/N had heard what he had so dreadfully recited.

Spencer collapsed into her arms, crying into her in the same way she was crying into him, and she wondered just how to take away all his pain. So they cried into each other, desperately grasping each others hair, skin, clothes, anything that would make them feel like they wouldn’t have to spend another damned second without the company of each other.

Spencer was the first to break the silence.

“I need-” he stopped, coughing. She reached for the bottle of water she had brought with her because she knew he would need it. She always knew what he needed.

He chugged it desperately, stray drops falling down his chin at his eagerness. He took a deep breath trying to steady his lungs.

“I need to get out of here” he choked out.

She grabbed him under the shoulders, careful not to hurt him - not being successful, realising that there wasn’t much of him the man hadn’t hurt. Y/N pulled him out, sitting down on the grass with him. Their legs intertwined, pulling each other impossibly closer. They kissed, over and over again. Not as an act of any sexual relevance, but as a reminder that they had each other in any way, shape or form. That they weren’t out of time.

The team was certain they would stay there, never letting each other go for another minute.

After what felt like seconds in their time-starved little world, she broke the silence, which had only been filled with their own cries and occasional sobs.

“Spence” she grabbed his chin to look into his eyes. They were dull, red and hooded. He was exhausted. “Mhmm?” he let out, looking into hers. She was his solace.

“How could you ever think you were anything but completely and unequivocally enough?” she whispered the words he dreaded.

But as Spencer looked into her eyes he knew, better than he had ever known anything, that he was enough. And she was enough. He realised that which she had known for the past three months (possibly longer). They fit like two marvellous puzzle pieces.

Her hands grabbed his cheeks slowly, as to not hurt or startle him, pulling his forehead into hers. “Baby, I can’t imagine anybody else waking up to me every morning. You’re so much more than enough”, she planted a small kiss on his forehead before resuming her position. “I’ll remind you every day of the rest of my life if that’s what it takes for you to believe it”.

And with their eyes closed, foreheads and noses pressed together and legs tangled between each other, pulling each other close, closer - around grass and voices and his abuser pressed into the hood of a police car, they only felt each other. With their shaky breaths, even shakier voices, fearing any words that would leave them in case they triggered a cascade of tears down their oh so vulnerable cheeks, they were more than enough.

***

I hope y’all liked it!! Feel free to let me know by liking, reblogging, or sending me a message :)

super cool kid taglist: @lady-anon-x @spencerreid-mgg @eoupe @inlovewithbabygirl @galaxydefenderjulia @username2002

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lizacstuff · 4 years ago

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😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭🤯🤯😭😭😱😤😭😭😭😭😭😭😭🤬🤬🤬🤬😭 What did you think of the episode? I always look forward to reading your thoughts.

Yep. Your emojis pretty much sum it up, don't they? LOL. I think the episode is decent in terms of quality, it was well-paced, very dramatic, the acting from Hande and Kerem was astounding, but watching it was just like constantly toggling between pain and fury, and that is not that fun.

Part of me wants to say it was a well written episode, because it definitely made me feel and I thought it flowed well, but part of me wants to say it was terribly written because the number of contrivances and character assassinations (spoiler alert, I don’t list Serkan in that number) that had to occur to set it up is way too much. So maybe I'll settle on that the episode was well written, but the nonsense they needed to make it work was hackneyed.

This was the first time I cursed the 2+ hour format. On shows I'm used to, if an episode is hard to take, you just have to suck it up for 42 minutes, 2+ hours was a lot of sucking it up. My apologies in advance if I curse a LOT. I think I'm going to approach this by giving my take on each character in turn. I'll start with the characters on the shit list and it will go from shittiest to slightly less shity. Characters not on the shit list are down below. (spoiler alert: Serkan and Eda are safely on the NOT shit list)

(Keep reading below the cut)

CHARACTERS ON SHIT LIST

Selin - WTF? I've thought she was a huge, pathetic turd since episode 18, and I thought she left in a disgraceful way, siccing psycho Balca on him, and it was frustrating that she never had to answer for any of her psycho moves, but this is a new level of crazy, bitter, fucked up that I could not have imagined for her. The writers really said: how can we make her the worst person ever? Plot wise, at least they made it make sense why he would call her. The last time period he remembers, she was his girlfriend. I get it, and I think I get why they did it. As I've said before, if amnesia Serkan wakes up and finds this amazingly beautiful woman standing over him, and finds out she's his fiancé, even if he doesn't remember her it's not the worst thing in the world. They decided, I suppose, to make their journey back together that much harder and earned. They wanted him in the least receptive frame of mind when he met the amazingly beautiful woman. Enter Selin to manipulate and poison his mind. And lose any last shred of dignity she might have retained from the first time around.

Is there anyone who didn't want to slap the shit out of her every single second she appeared on screen? I have no idea where she got the confidence this episode. The only saving grace is the bitch is going down hard. Piril and Ferit both tried to warn her, as did Eda, but it's not going to be pretty for her. And the only thing I hope is that she actually pays some sort of price other than the utter emotional devastation and humiliation she's going to get. Frankly, I think she should be charged with kidnapping since she was hiding someone with diminished capacity that was the subject of a missing persons case. (Aydan can go down with her for not reporting it) Outside of soap operas, that is criminal. However, I doubt any of that will happen, she'll just slink off once she's found out and Serkan turns on her.

Aydan - WTF? I don't think any of us predicted she'd be a villain this episode, and this is the first of the character assassinations that was required to make the plot work. First, her son was in a plane crash, and is recovering from severe injuries, she gets a call from Selin and she doesn't grab Eda and catch the first plane to where he is? He has amnesia and she thinks he's able to make rational, proper decisions? So she just respects his wishes not to be disturbed and leaves him with his obsessed ex-girlfriend? Who is this woman? Not Aydan. For the first 16 episodes she didn't give a damn about what Serkan wanted, she imposed her will on him and even though he resisted, she never lost him. She thinks she's going to lose him by flying to his bedside and bringing the love of his life? This makes no sense. Second, she allows devastated Eda to continue being in the AGONY of not knowing what happened to Serkan??? FUCK OFF, AYDAN. But again character assassination required to see it work.

The one thing that's sort of in character, I think, is her hedging her bets with Selin and Eda. I've always said her acceptance of Eda was born out of self-interest. True, she saw how devastated Serkan was when they broke up and she wanted him to be happy, but mostly because she found out he was moving away from her and she thought she was losing him. She's a shrewd woman and she saw that the path to keeping him was Eda, so she got on the Eda train. I do think she genuinely cares for Eda, but if the Selin engagement lasts more than a couple days I could see her not fighting it like she should. Because where was she this episode in trying to get through to him? I get that everything happened over two short days, but she could have tried harder to talk sense into him and to probe for what Selin was feeding him. And she could have questioned Selin a whole helluva lot more.

Piril - WTF? What is with Serkan's best friends just accepting Selin back into the fold under these circumstances? How is Piril not furious that Selin knew her good friend and business partner was alive and didn't tell her??? Selin let Piril and Engin continue to mourn him and think he was dead when he was alive, and Piril is calling her her good friend? WHAT THE FUCK? I'm not sure if this is character assassination because Piril is a bit of an odd ball, but this is assassination on just basic human reactions. Who wouldn't be furious? Who wouldn't be repulsed and incensed that she tried to move in on a brain-damaged man who had been about to marry someone else?

Piril doesn't even need to be his best friend or to have participated in all his wedding festivities to know that's fucked up. How was Piril not screaming "BITCH YOU BE CRAZY" at her? Like it takes Olympic level handwaving to accept Piril's conversation with Selin. Especially since she knows Selin wanted to ruin his happiness at all costs! Yes, she at least brought up the subject and very weakly said "You know we all know they are very much in love" and warned her that things might end badly, but it should have been a helluva lot stronger than that, and she should have been furious.

Ayfer - She actually didn't do much this episode, which is the problem, because she also did very little to support Eda. TBH, I can't stand her to begin with so she makes it to this spot on the list, above people who should have been better.

Engin - He gets a few points for telling Serkan the story and trying to bring it up again, however, he just always stopped shy from actually defending Eda or really probing for what Selin told Serkan. Again, there's a short timeline, and maybe he's planning to do it and not overwhelm Serkan, which isn't a bad thing. I just don't feel like he relayed how happy Serkan became after he met Eda. Though, to be fair, I sort of get why we didn't get really heartfelt testimonials for Eda, we want Serkan to start to fall for her again without being told to. I think they're going for a situation where Selin is the only voice in his ear, poisoning him against Eda, but even under those odds, he'll fall for her again.

But his interactions with Serkan are not why he's on the shit list. He makes this list for just seemingly accepting Selin back and not voicing any concerns over her UTTERLY, PSYCHO, BIZARRE, eFFED UP behavior. Everything I said about Piril applies here. How is he okay that she kept the news of Serkan's survival from his best friend and business partner? Engin was the person Serkan confided in, he knows how he felt about both of those women. How is he not calling Selin out to her face?? So I don't need his friends to be in his ear telling him how much he loves Eda, but I do need them in his ear poking holes in the nonsense Selin is telling him and setting him straight on the state of their relationship when the plane went down. And I need them to be calling Selin out to her face.

Erdem - He remains on the shitlist for gargantuan dumbassery not committed this episode. Ferit - Ferit is low down on the shit list, but he still makes it for once again not coming down HARD on Selin. As her ex-fiancé he's in a unique position to call her out, and while he did issue her a warning, trying to soften it in terms of him not wanting her to get hurt was weak and ineffective and it feels like maybe he is still harboring feelings for her. UGH. Man, stop it! What is attractive about this bitter, manipulative psycho? Get in there and battle her on her own terms. Threaten her with the truth, push her, make her feel pushed into the corner so she gets reckless. Threaten to tell Serkan in front of her about the conversation you overheard that made you decide to leave her at the wedding table. Do something, and make it not for her own good.

NOT SHIT LIST Leyla - Little she could have done, in light of her relationship with one year ago Serkan, but it would be nice if at some point she gets some sort of dig in at him, "You were a better person after you met Eda." Seyfi - It seemed like he was in the dark about Serkan being alive, Aydan must have kept it from even him, so he can be on this list. (Again Aydan would never keep it from Seyfi, so more OOC from her)

Deniz - So far he seems like a genuine, not psycho guy. He might be harboring feelings for Eda, but he didn't do anything creepy and was genuinely there for her more than almost anyone else. Did anyone catch the vibe between him and Ceren when she was leaving his shop? Ceren wasn't even mad at Ferit at that point, but there was a definite... charged moment. However this show does that from time to time, remember when Fifi seemed to have a weird tension-y moment with what's his name, Babaanne's bodyguard in one of his first episodes? That never surfaced again.

Ceren - She was trying her best to be there for Eda.

Melo - She was trying her best to be there for Eda.

Sirius - Good boy! You know who your mama is.

Serkan - Look, Serkan was a grade A asshole (you were right, Kerem) this episode. However, I have so much sympathy for him. He is a VICTIM. The man was in a plane that went down, had injuries including a traumatic brain injury, and lost the last year of his life. He appeared to be having some sort of PTSD with the nightmares. (Also thank you jebus he's sleeping on the cabin couch and that witch was going to her own home at night in Istanbul). It's natural he called the person who he thought was his girlfriend. He was not to know that she's an evil psycho who was going to brainwash him. She is manipulating him, and I'll say it again, he is her victim. Also, I know lots of people think he was out of character and more harsh than he was in the pilot. He definitely was harsher than the pilot, but I don't think he was out of character. In this episode, think of him as episode 3 Robot Bolat, but throw in having amnesia, experiencing trauma, being brainwashed by someone he trusts, and suffering from PTSD.

It's a lot. He was so overwhelmed. I say episode 3 Serkan, because that's when Serkan realized he was starting to fall in love with Eda and it caused him to freak the fuck out and he was so cruel to her. He was a grade A asshole then too and we had that again, but heightened, in this episode. Sounds like he had these inklings of feelings before he even came back (he told Engin) that he didn't know what they were, but clearly they confused and frightened him, just like in episode 3. This is a man who doesn't believe in love. So to find out that he not only fell in love, but he fell so hard he became someone he doesn't recognize, I think made him recoil even faster and further, especially after Selin had brainwashed him into thinking he was manipulated into it by a bad person. So every time that Eda came near him and it affected him, whether it was physically like his heart, or that ineffable pull he felt, it made him retreat to a robotic defensive position. He didn't understand the feelings, they confused him and Selin made him fear them. Plus you add in how emotional Eda was, including the slap, and it was more than he could handle.

It was enjoyable to watch the moments where Eda affected him, (kudos Kerem because you could see it on his face). However, those moments just pushed him into a corner, so he retreated to the place he thought was safe, which is Selin. He said it to Engin, in his retrograde amnesia mind, everything had changed but her (little does he know). It's interesting that the few flashes of Eda he had were from very early episodes. So he's not flashing to when he was fully in love with Eda, and was sure of his own heart and mind. He's flashing back to when he first started falling in love and was also scared, confused and felt out of control. And remember he's a control freak. So I'm sure that a taste of those wild, exciting, out-of-control, confusing first feelings are also fueling his current crazed state of mind.

And that's how the events unfolded, with that state of mind. When Eda kissed him, he felt it, and it scared the crap out of him. And he said it right there in the moment, he wasn't going to let her "confuse" him, and he was going to put an end to it. And that's what he did, try to put an end to those very confusing feelings for a person he's been told is trying to manipulate him and take advantage of him. So to make the out-of-control feelings stop, the robot malfunctioned and did the one thing he thought would get Eda to stop pushing him and shut all of it down. He proposed to the person who currently represents safety and for whom there are no confusing, wild, uncontrolled feelings. He doesn't love Selin, so there are no scary emotions attached. But did you see him when he made that speech? He was confused, and stuttering, and stumbling and looked dazed af. That's someone in acute crisis. And that shot of his face when he's hugging Selin? He looks like someone just shat on his head. Could he be more miserable? Poor baby.

Eda - THE REAL POOR BABY! And the other victim in all this. Hande knocked it out of the park! She was so good. How many times did she break me this episode? A bunch. I loved that Eda was unwavering in her belief that Serkan was alive, even though everyone else had given up (except Aydan the lying sack of shit). I'm glad we know that Eda was so upset she wasn't leaving her room or eating, but I'm also glad we didn't see that. It's enough to know she started out devastated without the viewer having to wallow in it in an already upsetting episode, it was a smart move to immediately time jump 2 months. However, she wouldn't be Eda if she wasn't able to pick herself up and do what needed to be done. Which in this case was take care of Sirius, take over the firm, and keep track of the manhunt for Serkan. That's a lot on her plate, and of course she thrived.

It was nice the whole company was behind her when she brought home the award, too bad they couldn't have backed her up like that when it came to Selin! (pick a side, Piril!) They all need to stop acting like it's normal what Selin did! It's not normal!!!! Stop normalizing it and her! It felt like Eda was being gaslit at times, like none of the people Serkan remembered cared that Selin had obviously been preying on someone sick and injured and with diminished mental capacity. Why were they all like that!?!?! I know, because if they’d reacted like a normal person would, Selin couldn’t have continued the charade.

I was wondering how their first meeting would go down and Eda fainting seems entirely appropriate. And of course, he caught her without even knowing it's his job, “If you fall, I’ll catch you.” *sob* Eda pulling out the old classics to get him to remember was the best. Even through the pain and fury, I thoroughly enjoyed many of those moments. I, along with everyone, was thrilled to see the handcuffs back. Good move, Eda! And they fell right back into bickering and bantering. Though I think they should have taken his car, because all their memories are driving together in that car.

Bless her heart, she was doing everything to jog his memory, and I applaud that. But on one hand I think maybe she made a critical error in being so emotional (not that she could help it) because he was really freaked out by her, and I know she had been put through the wringer and Serkan not remembering her was the blow to end all blows, but she sort of lost it during that first meeting. And he was so overwhelmed that of course he shut all the way down. The truth is it's not his fault he had amnesia, he's a victim. She's totally entitled to those feelings, and the anger at him and the situation and the universe, but in trying to get through to him the heightened emotion might have been a critical error, because he just wasn't receptive to listening to her after that. On the other hand, that's how their relationship has been from the start. She's emotional and spontaneous and fiery and he navigates it. So one might hope it would spark something that he would remember.

Same thing goes for the confrontation at his house. He was such a dick, and she broke my heart, but she was so overwrought that I don't think Serkan of a year ago, who has now been traumatized and manipulated, could handle it and it caused him to become the worst version of himself. Again I don't fault Eda, most of us would have collapsed due to the sheer weight of what she'd been through, but her approach, coming in hot, did fuel the situation and I can see how Serkan got to that emotional place.

At least they gave me one thing I asked for! The password. Serkan, maybe stop saying it's something you would never do, when you demonstrably did it. You bought her a star and then the coordinates were your password. At some point your brain needs to put two and two together here. But actually I want him to check and see that he really did name a star after her. Her stealthily leaving so she didn't have to give it to him, and thus not be able to change the password, was great.

As for the last scene, girlfriend was looking FIIIIINE when she walked in that restaurant and boyfriend was having to command himself to stop looking at her. The kiss was a big swing, but she had to try and I'm sure we all wanted to hug her when he malfunctioned and did a crazy thing out of sheer panic.

We, along with Eda, were put through the wringer this episode, but we survived and it can't get worse... okay nevermind, I'm not going to say that. Instead I'll just say, it WILL GET BETTER. There will be a reward for this pain. It's coming. We will see his awakening feelings in the next episode, I know it! Just hang on!

#Sen Çal Kapımı #Sen cal kapimi #edser #serkan bolat #eda yildiz #sckask #sck episode discussion #edser discussion #sck 1x29 #asklizac #anonymous #Anonymous

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oneweekoneband · 4 years ago

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her Nebraska (1982)

In July I flew to Massachusetts with a plague on, and I felt that it was wrong, but my mother had begged and I’d been out of work for months. Mornings there I ran in long, uneven ovals on the same roads I’d memorized in high school. There’s no sidewalks, but the few feet of dirt between the craggy pavement and the open mouths of the fields serve all right for a single body in motion. When a truck comes up close from behind, the ground shakes, and I step away bouncingly from the street toward thigh-high yellow weeds and grass, and keep going. I was slowly picking my way back in that dirt, sweat-slick from only a plodding couple of miles in peak summer heat, and sucking the wet cotton of my mask in between my teeth on every inhale, when Taylor Swift announced she was releasing a surprise album produced by the guy from The National. Not the guy from The National, like, the voice, but the guy from The National whose photo was circulated on Twitter earlier this year as some kind of antifa super soldier, which isn’t the case, but would’ve been rad. First, I stopped dead to send some outraged, misspelled text messages, and then I ran home faster than I’d moved in years.

Tall, blonde, patrician pop star Taylor Swift is to me something like a cross-between a wife and a boogeyman. Bound we’ve been since we were really children. Time and its changes haven’t rid me of her, and what’s worse is I have never quite been able to wish they would, though I claim as much all the time. Countless hours of my one wild and precious life have been spent on endlessly analyzing the minutiae of Taylor Swift’s music, the mind that made it, the real world events which influenced it. And though all the while I have known she is only a person, and that people, while each strange and lovely in their own ways, are, in the end, mostly dull, needful in just the regular manner, the fantasy is better, the sick dream of a megalomaniac songstress, curious, thrilling, probably evil, and I choose that. I don’t know Taylor Alison Swift, born to this world in, I presume, the usual way. But my Taylor Swift? I’m a renowned expert. I’ve always eaten up stories—movies, music, celebrity news, the one my grandfather tells about falling off his bike once in Ireland as a boy and his face “cracking open like an egg”—like a starved dog. I’m obsessive about my interests, but not inclined to intense fandom, and certainly not fandom in the mode of the stan. For one, I’m too self-absorbed. But caring intensely for a famous person is falling in love with a ghost, and that’s all right—I mean, what the hell? We’re here together just dying... Let’s enjoy—but is an affair best undertaken with the knowledge that everyone alive has their own complex interiority, as unruly as your own, and that you, a stranger, are not in any real way connected to the lawless, blurry middle of that celebrity, and will never be. It’s freeing and fun to know this. I mean, these people are basically in your employ. Glamorous dollhouse dwellers. Acknowledging that uncrossable distance allows for a different, healthier closeness of pure imagination. My feelings, then, can comfortably be at once both fiercely intense and entirely silly. I am a foremost scholar in the art of the Taylor Swift who exists in my head. The real person raised in Pennsylvania I don’t know at all. I have some conjectures on the matter, and, as with all my conjectures, every hackneyed theory, each picky little opinion, I’m sure they’re perfect, brilliant, just absolutely right, but that’s still all they are. Taylor Swift, figure of the cultural imagination, is the Jodie Comer to my Sandra Oh in Killing Eve, annoying and pretty in frills, taunting me endlessly and holding us trapped together in a dance of most enchanting death. But the real Taylor Swift has favorite bed sheets and a social security number and a British boyfriend, none of which I have any desire to know about, and if I saw her at a restaurant I’d politely avert my eyes before, yes, dive-bombing the group text. There’s nobody on Earth I’d stand in line to speak to, but then I’ve been speaking to a certain figment of Taylor Swift for nearly half my life.

I went to a Taylor Swift concert the night before I moved into college in 2009. My father’s work friend, firefighter by day, near professional gambler by night, got comped tickets to the Fearless Tour stop taking place at the nearby casino, and he let me have them as a reward, mainly, for happening to be seventeen. Live in-person and performed acoustically, “Fifteen” made me cry. A few years after that, in the thick, sticky part of my first post-college summer, I wrote approximately twenty-three million words about her in these very pages. (”Pages”) At that point, Taylor’s most recent release was 2012’s Red, and the work I produced that long ago July about Taylor and her career, writing I was fairly pleased with at the time, feels now, besides just being extremely clearly written by a twenty-one year old, strange to me for the way it favors the sweet over the sour almost uniformly. There is a wholesome kind of ardor in that writing which maybe I’ve outgrown the ability to hold. Or maybe Taylor just proceeded to spend the next half a decade plus releasing one bad single after another, and it was taste—and trespasses against taste—and not some shift in my nature which altered the tenor of our bond. I have real love for my particular image, gleaned from public statements and published art, of smart, bizarre famous woman Taylor Swift, and I admire the bulk of her output very much. I’m just no longer so inclined to fawn. This is not to say I am here to offer a Taylor Swift hate screed. I couldn’t swing it, and, anyway, I’m not a pop feminist-for-hire circa 2010. But we’re older now. Things are different. At twenty-eight, twenty-nine this month—Taylor will, also this December, turn thirty-one—I regard Taylor Swift warily, like an ex with whom you have a tentative friendship, perpetually on the brink of falling one way or the other into hatred or delight, only to wobble back the opposite direction again at the slightest provocation, but still, despite best efforts, even, I regard her all the time.

folklore was released at midnight on July 24th 2020, but I was at a cabin in rural Vermont without Internet or cell service. I drank Bud Light seltzers with my mother while watching the eerie pandemic return of Major League Baseball, and when I got into a strange bed there I stewed, knowing there were people out in the world all over who were hearing Taylor Swift songs I never had, and that this was a fundamental wrong, a disruption in the balance of the universe. I listened to it the next morning in a Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot.

And folklore is great. That’s the terrible thing. Slightly less great, maybe, than some people have insisted, tricked, I think, by just the pronounced shift in sound. But it’s great. A little gift I asked for a thousand times and was still surprised to get, like a wife who didn’t expect her henpecked husband to ever follow through and buy the paraffin wax hand bath as-see-on-TV. For years, I’ve been halfheartedly insisting that Taylor had a great album in her. I’d say it even, perhaps especially, while she stubbornly fed me gruel. Or worse, gruel with the occasional whiff of something better. With a ripe, little raspberry dropped into the slop. The bright, villainous thrill of “Getaway Car” made me believe Taylor, my Taylor, was in there somewhere under the lacquer of sequins and synth, which, while not objectionable by default, seemed a costume, and an ill-fitting one. The lived-in world of “Cornelia Street” made those old scars sting. That gay “Delicate” video. When she did “Call It What You Want” on SNL and played guitar while wearing an ugly sweater. If the abominable “ME!”, lead single off Lover, was the stick, 1989’s “Clean” was the carrot. I was Charlie Brown, and Taylor my Lucy, yanking the football back again and again. Over drinks I still yelled that Taylor Swift’s next album would be, “her Nebraska”, referring to my favorite Bruce Springsteen record, and learned to live with that egg on my face for good. I suppose I even came to like it. There was something inherently funny in taking up, like, “blind faith in the as of yet untapped greater artistic potential of massively wealthy and popular singer Taylor Swift” as my totally inane personal cause du jour, and eventually it was a bit, a gag I performed to be obstinate and didactic, but way down somewhere awful near my kidneys I meant it the whole while. And then she did it. A pandemic befell the world and amid a sea of human suffering Taylor Swift remembered she can write. She wrote, and with a massive, crucial assist from Aaron Dessner, whose music on this record is sometimes so beautiful it actually angers me, as the last thing I needed in already perilous times was to be made to try and marry my uniquely perverse emotional responses to beloved divorced dad band The National and fucking Taylor Swift, she made an album which, if not her Nebraska, per se (I’ve come to realize that a major part of believing Taylor Swift will one day make an album I find as quietly devastating and gorgeous as Nebraska is knowing that no album will ever actually be Her Nebraska... That each will, rather, to me, be more and more evidence that it’s coming still, more proof that the limit is untouched, on and on ad infinitum, or at least until the seas take us into a place of salty peace.) is a shocking credit to all my hard-fought and deluded confidence. folklore is great. This fact has made me feel almost equally as disoriented from my understanding of the world as the time-melting COVID-19 lockdowns have, and it turned my Spotify year in review annual collective AI humiliation kink thing into a glaring indictment of my mental state, but still, I mean... It’s great.

In talking about folklore a bit this week, there are a number of specific topics I intend to cover—what a thrill it is to hear Taylor say “fuck”; Taylor’s terrifying birth chart; the astoundingly perfect bridge of “the last great american dynasty”; “because my ass is located at the back of my body”; the bit in last year’s “Lover” where deranged WASP Taylor Swift implies that to “leave the Christmas lights up til January” is some signifier of being a love-struck bohemian, when actually everyone who doesn’t employ domestic staff to take their lights down does this; how reputation is the best of the Taylor Swift records released in the latter half of the 2010s, actually, and the people who can’t see that are cowards—but intend mostly to let the muse move me where she will. Against the advice of my better angels, she—that tie-in marketing eldritch terror—always does.

#taylor swift #folklore

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galaxitic · 4 years ago

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Nobody??? I'm a somebody!!! Tell me about your charactersssss

You are going to regret asking this. I will now proceed to explain to you my entire plot as it stands.

Just so you know, it’s very much incomplete.

........Well, we’re gonna have to start with the basic facts about my WIP, I guess—

(Also: potential trigger warnings for PTSD, war, drugging, hallucinations, torture, death, suicide, and a lot of other dark themes)

In summary, my story’s about a revolution that takes place in the tyrannical kingdom of Idris. We have three perspective characters (listed in no particular order):

- Brinne Alistair (22), the queen of the kingdom. Controlling, emotional, paranoid. Has bipolar disorder.

- Adrian Caldaver (22), the queen’s advisor. Timid, visionary, guilt-ridden.

- Rowen Pierce (25), the leader of a major rebellion in Idris. Passionate, sadistic, determined.

We also have four secondary characters as the story is right now (though that number’s undoubtedly going to go up over time):

- Lennox Warren (22), a noble of the kingdom. Controls criminal justice. Rigid, professional, calculating.

- Grace Hudson (22), another noble (although she’s secretly part of the rebellion). Controls public relations with other countries. Persistent, analytical, zealous.

- Evander Pierce (27), Rowen’s brother and moral compass right-hand-man in the revolution. Pragmatic, serious, good-natured.

- Zurielle Tessing (20), a noble of the kingdom, and Adrian’s fiancée. Shy, practical, melancholy.

We can probably start with some history. Six years before the actual story begins, before Brinne is queen, there’s an attack on the castle lead by none other than Rowen herself. Shit goes down, and a fuck ton of nobles and royalty die, including the parents of all my characters in nobility.

Brinne and Adrian aren’t killed, but Adrian is shot in the leg and Brinne is not only stabbed, but also gets the symbol of the revolution carved into her left cheek by Rowen. They’re both left to die, but neither of their wounds are fatal.

Flash forward five years, they both have PTSD from the incident.

Starting with the actual storyline, Rowen infiltrates the castle with help from Grace, looking for both Adrian and Lennox. She enlists their help in her revolution, promising that if they lend her their aid, they won’t be killed. They both agree.

Specifically, Adrian’s job is to convince Brinne not to make any decisions that oppress the people further. Lennox’s is to make criminal punishments more lenient, because the rebels are going to be committing a hell of a lot of crimes. Both are instructed not to get in each other’s way.

✨Time skipping✨, Grace executes a plan to fake her death and escape living as a noble. Her motives for it are somewhat tentative as of now, but they’re related to being able to work closer with the revolution and have it be less risky.

Over the next six months or so, Grace and Rowen do some gay shit, and Grace does a ton of stuff for the revolution. Things are going better than ever.

...That is, until Grace is found and arrested for treason.

Rowen goes to the castle after Grace’s arrest in an attempt to negotiate with Lennox for her. However, in the process, Lennox shoots and arrests Rowen as well.

Rowen is put on death row for treason (as is Grace), but before her execution, she’s sent to be interrogated by Lennox. Lennox finds a file on Rowen in the castle archives of the kingdom’s citizens, and based off information in it, he has Evander detained in the dungeons as well. Through Rowen’s interrogation, she refuses to say anything until Lennox threatens Evander’s life in front of her. That gets her...real talkative, to say the least.

Post-interrogation Rowen is not doing so well. She isn’t dehydrated or starving anymore, but the only food and water she’s given in captivity is heavily sedated and laced with hallucinogens. Lucky for her, though, Adrian comes to rescue her (and Evander and Grace) via Methods I Don’t Know Yet. His motives behind it largely relate back to his guilt and moral dilemma, but they’re also fear-based.

When Rowen, Evander, and Adrian get to Grace’s cell, she’s dead. She’d committed suicide with a vial of poison that revolutionaries have on them at all times after hearing that Rowen was captured. However, since Rowen is still under the effects of hallucinogens, she hallucinates that Grace is alive and well, and escaping with them.

When Rowen and Evander make it back to where they live, and it processes that Grace is dead, Rowen’s mental state collapses.

Adrian feels exceedingly guilty over helping the traitors, and figures the least he can do is tell Lennox they’re gone. He does, and Lennox decides it isn’t safe for him to stay in the kingdom.

He flees to another country with some rather...unconventional help from Brinne. He puts a gun to her head and demands permission to leave the kingdom, to which she complies. Brinne nearly kills herself after aiding him, but stops herself out of fear of death.

There’s going to be a lot in between that and the next thing, but I don’t know what any of it is yet - all I know is that after some time, the actual revolution both starts and ends, and spoiler alert: the rebels win.

Great! So the war is won, the people are happy, and now they just have to decide what to do with the queen. Rowen and Evander argue over how to kill her, which seems like a pointless argument, but considering Rowen’s idea is to burn her alive, it’s not really unreasonable that Evander’d want something more humane. If only he’d won the argument.

After being completely humiliated, Brinne is burned alive, and all the remaining nobles in the kingdom are hanged.

Meanwhile, Adrian finally does the same thing Lennox did: he runs. Specifically to the country next over. After a whole day of not stopping to rest, he eventually comes across a secluded cottage right on the beach. Not what he’s used to, but it’ll work.

Over the next year, Rowen works to establish a just government in Idris. Things go surprisingly well for her.

Adrian, on the other hand, is not doing okay at all. He’s completely suicidal at this point, and has attempted both drowning and starving himself.

Rowen visits the country Adrian is in for a diplomatic mission of sorts. She realizes there’s a beach nearby where she’s staying, and she’s never seen the ocean before, so she figures she might as well go.

She finds Adrian there, who’s contemplating suicide again. Adrian asks her to kill him using the knife she has on her, and at first she refuses, claiming she has no reason to. After some persuasion, though, she caves. She stabs him right below his ribs, and using the last of his strength, Adrian takes her knife and stabs himself a second time.

Rowen is scarred. She tells no one about that day, not even Evander. In truth, Adrian and her were always equally scared of each other, to an extent, and Rowen’s fear of him only increased with the encounter.

I’m bad at endings, but pretty sure it’s going to end with a reflection on Rowen’s part.

So yeah, that’s my WIP! I’m so sorry this was so long - I really hope at least somebody took the time to read all that, cause it took a super long time to write.

I really do crave validation for this - commenting/reblogging would mean the world to me, and asking me further questions or DMing me about it would mean even more. Thank you so much if you read all the way through that...I love y’all more than I can describe. Please don’t be shy to ask me more about any of this, it’d legitimately make my day.

#kylie’s asks!!#kylie's wip!!#oc: adrian #oc: brinne #oc: rowen #oc: lennox #oc: grace #oc: evander #sebby asks me things!!#ask to tag #i'm so so so so so sorry this was so long #long post #writing #writeblr

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slowburnsuicidee · 4 years ago

Text

This was made by @furiousgoldfish

“Have I been manipulated into believing abuse was my fault?” game! Bold all the items that happened to you, if you’re not sure, italicize! Alternatively, just write down the score for every category. TW for explicit abuse mention.

Brainwashing; forced to take responsibility for abuser’s actions:

I was forced to apologize after being beaten/abused

I was beaten/abused while apologizing and in obvious pain

I was beaten/abused while crying

I was forced to thank them for beating/abusing me

I was forced to promise them I would change my behaviour in the future

I wasn’t allowed to cry or express pain after being beaten/abused

I was told the parent was the one with the right to cry/be upset after beating/abusing me

I was forced to comfort them after they beat/abused me

I was forced to take on pain/humiliation/guilt until I would agree that it was all my fault

I was forced to agree that I was forcing them to beat/abuse me, with my misbehaviour

I was forced to agree that I deserved the abuse

I was forced to make up to them after they would abuse me

I was forced to clean up the mess they made during abuse

I was forced into breaking down to tears if I tried to fight for myself

I was forced to hurt myself to prove my remorse for behaviour

I was forced to repeat that it was my fault

I was told the abuser didn’t enjoy doing it and was in fact forced to do it for my own good

I was called a monster/demon/sadistic/evil and accused of enjoying abuser’s pain

I was told abuse was done for my own good and that one day I will understand and be grateful for it

I was expected to have positive reactions to abuse and any negative reaction was blamed on me

I was punished for showing trauma symptoms and for showing in any way that I was abused, only acceptable way of behaviour was obedience and unconditional gratitude

I was told others were treated exactly like this, even if they weren’t showing it, and that the abuse was completely normal

I was told my reactions weren’t normal and made to focus on how I was reacting to the abuse, rather than damage and injustice done to me

I was told my reactions to abuse were the reason of the abuse, and that I was in the wrong for fighting/pushing back/provoking/not listening/not being obedient enough/angering the abuser

I was told the abuse was because “I wouldn’t have it the nice way”

I was forced to endure harsh punishments for even a small mistake or no mistake at all

I was told all I got was what I deserved, even if I couldn’t connect to how I deserved it, except that the abusers felt I did

Note: Doing any of these to a child after having them go through beating or intense episode of shock, pain and fear will leave them in a broken and vulnerable state of mind, and anything said to them or forced onto them while in that state will imprint deeply into their subconscious, and they will accept the message without being able to fight it. This is a method of brainwashing. Abuser will do this to crush child’s spirit and to destroy the child’s ability to hold abuser accountable or responsible for any abuse that occurs in the future, to transfer all the guilt and responsibility for their own actions onto the child, and depict themselves as too powerful for child to ever be able to stand against.

Dehumanization: implication you are below a human being and thus do not deserve humane treatment

I was called animal names/slurs/insults and degrading terms continually

I was told I should be beaten up and abused more often than I was

I was compared to beasts and monsters when the abusers were angry

Beating/abusing me was talked about as if it was a good thing they were proud of

I was publically beaten and/or humiliated

I was threatened with public humiliation

I had my physical injuries minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my psychological and emotional damage minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my illness minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my needs and desires minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my achievements and accomplishments minimized and dismissed as unimportant

I had my opinions and thoughts disregarded and ridiculed as stupid, unwanted and unimportant

I was blamed for struggling with mental or physical illness

I was called crazy, delusional and insane if I pointed out the unfair treatment

I was looked at with disgust and contempt most of the time

I was accused of wanting to be abused and asking for it

I was accused of “causing a scene” when the abuser would lash out at me

I was forced to “learn my place” if I assumed the same rights everyone else had

I was excluded from positive activities the rest of the family participated in

I was denied the rights, benefits, resources and attention the rest of the family got

Forced gratitude/implication of debt: idea that you “owe” your parents to endure their abuse

parent kept reminding me of what they’ve done for me, even the most basic parental tasks

parent often stated or implied I was ungrateful/not grateful enough for them

parent insisted they were sacrificing themselves for me, implying they expect the same in return

parent kept pointing out others lower living standards to remind me I was “lucky” in comparison

parent demanded I would have to “earn” basic respect and boundaries

parent would not allow me to complain, object or resist their treatment and if I tried, they would remind me I deserved even worse

parent insisted any abuse is perfectly acceptable and rational and that I am wrong and “taking advantage of them/denying their rights” if I resist or fight it

parent stated or implied that I’m supposed to return their effort to them with favours, obedience, endurance and compliance, or I was not worth raising and being kept alive at all

parent insisted that they have the right to do anything to me since they’re the only reason I’m alive at all (I was treated like their property)

parent made it clear it was forbidden to speak of past abuse or past events that show them in bad light, but they would keep bringing up events which paint them as good parent and keep them central to how they should be perceived by me

parent accused me of making things up/lying/being crazy or mentally ill/trying to manipulate or hurt them when I tried to talk about an event of abuse and point out they hurt me

parent kept me hyperaware of how much I owe them and how much I would risk losing if I dared to accuse them/confront them on being abusive

parent would remind me it could be much worse, and would use other people’s suffering to shut me up and make me feel guilty for even thinking I could talk about my own issues

parent kept me aware that accusing them of any abuse is hurtful and abusive towards them, and that I am cruel and ungrateful if I dare to make any statement like that

parent told me I was wrong/weird/stupid for getting traumatized by abuse because “others wouldn’t get traumatized by that much”

parent made me aware of all the issues they were dealing with, and treated my needs for attention and positive environment like an extra issue they do not want to deal with

parent kept me aware of how sick/mentally ill/troubled/desperate/tired they were and kept me feeling guilty over not doing enough for them, not being enough of a support and help, and having my own needs and wants was out of the question

parent made me aware they’re ready to abandon me if I prove to be “too much work” or “too inconvenient” or even just “not obedient enough”

parent made sure I know all their other issues and life problems were more important than me, and that it was not my place to complain, ask for anything, or object to how I’m treated

parent accused of “living in the past” and “failing to be a bigger person” if I didn’t show perfect adoration and acceptance for them

parents assured me i would turn into a spoiled, arrogant brat had they not abused me

Societal brainwashing; forcing the idea that no parents are abusive, and that all parental abuse has to be forgiven at any cost

parent/society taught me I was a bad/selfish/ungrateful person unless I forgive and forget all and any abuse

parent/society taught me I was an awful, ungrateful and selfish child if I didn’t demonstrate perfect love and gratitude for my parents

parent/society taught me it was my duty to understand and accept my parents, and that no matter what, they were doing their best and wished only the best things for me

parent/society taught me that I was responsible for teaching my parents how to be better people

parent/society taught me I should never judge or accuse my parents because “I couldn’t possibly understand how hard time they’re having”

parent/society taught me any animosity, hatred, anger or any negative thing I had to say about my parents proved me to be bad, ungrateful and unappreciative person

parent/society taught me that all parents only want the best for their children and there are no parents who hate or hurt their children on purpose

parent/society taught me that there was nothing that can be done about me getting hurt by my parents, and that it was up to my parents to decide what I deserve

my parents/society taught me that being bothered by abuse was my own fault and if I wasn’t weak and pathetic, it wouldn’t have affected me at all

my parents had other people affirm they were good people and thus I was wrong to accuse or judge them for anything they did to me

my parents had other people agree that I was not normal and there was something wrong with my judgment and perceptions, so my point of view shouldn’t be trusted or even taken into consideration

my parents had other people agree that I was a selfish, unappreciative, and hard to raise child

i had family members/cousins/friends/teachers/acquintaces/therapists side with my abusers and against me

I had family members/cousins/friends/teachers/therapists defend my abuser and take their side, assuring me I have to, once again, forget my point of view and consider abuser’s side

I had other people/society defend the abuser and assure me I’m wrong to accuse them

my parents insisted the abuse/parts of abuse/events i remembered didn’t even happen, and that there was something wrong with me for making up such a thing (gaslighting;guilt tripping, maybe i should write another category for this one)

my parents were a part of religion/cult that excused all and any of their actions because they were doing it for the sake of the third party that had to be worshiped/obeyed (maybe i should write a cult category as well there is much more to this one)

If you bolded even one of the items on the first two categories, or multiple ones in third and fourth, you have undergone psychological abuse that would force you to believe it was your fault, or that you deserved the abuse. This is wrong, as you neither deserved it, nor it was your fault. You were a child, and there was no way for you to commit any crime bad enough to deserve anything like this. These methods are used for brainwashing and breaking a person, and abusers do these on purpose.

#well then #ow

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lolmyeyebags · 4 years ago

Text

Tempting. But nah, I’m good. Unless? ;)

Summary: You find yourself attempting to swindle a witch. Naturally, it doesn’t work out and she casts a curse on you. How were you supposed to solve this curse before seven days?

Warnings: No smut but it’s basically an intro to a smut series; a prompt?

Word Count: 5,538

A/N: Oneshot? Series? We’ll find out in the next episode of-

Ao3 Link

This is her place, right? You’re sure this is the place you agreed to meet up on. You’ve double checked, no, triple checked your messages with the witch you met on bledit, Tituba. You’ve been to her house before but never in the dark. With your paranoia, you could only imagine how mortifying it would be if you were to arrive in a random demon or witch’s home, knocking on their door, and possibly being eaten or roasted alive. According to her message, you were at the correct destination... which was in the outskirts of the devildom, in the middle of the night.

At least, it felt like nighttime. Since the devildom had no sun - excluding Lord Diavolo’s private beach - your body had to adapt to the climate change and learned to tell time in a different way, and by that it meant you relied on your gut feeling and occasionally, checked the time on your DDD.

The gravel crunched and shuffled with each step you took, and with each step, your gnawing anxiety grew stronger. Please, there’s no way this is the wrong house. Although, maybe it was since it was pitch black and you were a powerless human in the night - ok - get a grip.

You know, maybe this wasn’t your brightest idea. I mean, what if you died in the most embarrassing way? What if a creature of Devildom decided to make you their food, feed you to their offspring, and leave your naked and mutilated body to be found. That’s just… no, you’d rather not think about that. You'd simply pass away if you let yourself die looking crusty as fuck.

Though, you wouldn't have found yourself in your little nighttime adventures if you'd just get a grip and master lucid dreaming the normal way. If you just had enough patience and practiced in a neat and timely routine, you would’ve mastered lucid dreaming and the ability to shift into your ‘desired reality’ as those clickclock creators instructed.

But who were you kidding? You know your dumb ass could never have the patience and consistency to do that. That’s like, some normie type of shit. And you? A whole ‘nother breed. Those foolish little clickclock creators have no idea that you were basically y/n and have a main character complex. What? Don’t look at me like that, me. We’re built? Different.

“Lucid dreaming isn’t that hard, it requires patience and understanding, yeah right,” you mocked the various clickclock creators and sent a pebble flying to a pile of rocks. “Stupid clickclock, stupid lucid dreaming, stupid hard and unobtainable 2d waifus and husbandos.”

All you wanted was to lucid dream once! Just once is enough. You wanted to open you eyes to an animated world and see your beloved 2D characters materialize right before you. Of course, you know it wasn’t all that possible to do in real life. I mean, if even the hardcore otaku himself hasn’t managed such a feat, how could you - the lowly human - accomplish what Mr. The Lord of Shadows couldn’t do for centuries?

And yeah, he’s the Lord of Shadows alright. If you learned anything from your writepod addiction in middle school, it’s the ability to spot a poorly disguised fan fiction based off of celebrities in real life from a mile away. Although, it did surprise you to find that the great author of the legendary TSL series was THE Simeon himself.

I mean, Simeon? Hello? The holiest of angels? That was a shocker.

OOF! You face planted into something soft, almost like a jello cup you’d eat in the summer. You were snapped out of your thoughts as you fell on the prickly leaves, ass first.

“Oh, what the fuck?” You balled your hands into fists and attempted to rub the disorientation away, and standing at a good 6’10” was quite possibly the tallest being you’ve ever laid your eyes on - and the most amusing to make fun of.

The witch fixed her gaze onto you, “you’re late.”

You felt a swirl of emotions wash over you. I wonder how you were going to torment her into casting a lucid dreaming spell on you. Or better yet, have her teach you how to shift realities with her witchy powers. Oh! Or even better, blackmail her into sending you off into a parallel universe in which your favorite anime are real and you were the all mighty ruler of that world, giving you the powers to switch dimensions and warp your realities with a snap of your fingers.

A grin tugged at your lips, “what’re yOu looking at Cocksucker69?”

The witch, Tituba, pressed her lips into a tight lipped smile and hissed, “I thought I told you to not refer to me as that, xXdiavoloismybitchXx.”

“I—“

“Did you forget what followed after you endeavored to bring me humiliation in public? Forget the way those demons turned around, their jaws slack with shock as I uttered your bledit username, exposing you as bledit’s most notorious troller, and all of your-“

“YES! I mean no! No, I haven’t forgotten. You right, my bad,” you shivered at the memory and shook your head.

It was as if it happened yesterday, because it did. It wasn’t the wide array of emotions the demons bore that bothered you. It was the fact Tituba emphasized your username, while you were in the entrance of RAD, no less!

You were one of the two only human exchange students and that made you quite a celebrity in the school. The demons knew that! They weren’t fools. Your username probably struck a cord that inspired a string of gossip and rumors to spread, that would no doubt reach Diavolo. You couldn’t bear the thought of reliving the wave - no, tsunami - of embarrassment that washed over you. No, it felt more like it drowned you. Like damn, that witch really had it out for you!

“Right so,” with a cheshire grin, you prod her arm with your elbow, “where were we?”

She groaned in exasperation.

“Child, you are accelerating my expiration,” the witch brought two fingers and pinched the space between her eyebrows, smoothing out her wrinkles, no doubt caused by you.

“I’ll behave this time, I swear! Scout’s honor!”

“Despite my knowing of my inevitable regret, I’m obligated to continue,” the witch pushed her door open and ushered you in. You stepped inside and a fresh crisp breeze licked at your cheeks. You sighed in content, welcoming the verdant ambiance of Tituba’s cottage.

The lace of your shoes became undone in a second, and in the next, you soared in the air and flopped unceremoniously on Tituba’s sex pit. It wasn’t an actual sex pit though. It was simply an indentation on the wooden floor that Tituba renovated into a conversation pit, which turned into her designated sleeping area, thanks to your persistence.

Pillows, throw pillows, plushies, fluffy blankets - if you had to choose a place to sleep for eternity, it would be Tituba’s sex pit. Your eyes widened in delight as it settled on the long shape of the body pillow you gifted Tituba as an apology gift… After you fell against her cauldron she was using to ferment blood moon water. It spilled all over the floor and became ‘unclean’ as she called it.

“Oh!!! The Barbatos body pillow I gifted you! I knew you still love me! You tsundere simp, you~!”

Tituba met your waggling eyebrows with an unamused stare. “Get to the point, MC.”

Just the slightest, you dipped your head, narrowed your eyes, and put on the biggest smirk you could manage - your signature Robbie Rotten face you always wore as you plan to blackmail her.

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

Yeah, the transactions weren’t as smooth as you thought it would be. Sure, maybe you tried to manipulate Tituba via sabotaging her date who she was talking to through the cinder app. Well, you didn’t try, you succeeded. And as a result, you were put under a supposedly ‘excruciating’ curse that even Solomon himself couldn’t break. ’Supposedly.’

“Heed my words, MC. If you are unable to find salvation by the seventh day, you will meet your demise, devoured by a great and powerful hellfire, subject to—“

“Yuh, I’ma dip, I have to binge my new anime I’ve been obsessed with - bungee street cats - peach out!”

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

What type of curse, spell, whatever it was, was it though? You couldn’t help but ruminate over Tituba’s warning.

...

Nah, she’s just playing with me. She’d never! Right? Even if it was a curse, a prank if you will, what would it be? Were you cursed to break out? An irrational fear of yours you shared with her? Is is that you fear you’d be subject to an embarrassing sequence of events that’d take you out? Fuck, if it was something embarrassing, you’d simply pass away. You had enough with the second hand embarrassment you got from awkward anime characters. You weren’t about to live through your own embarrassment. That was just... too cruel.

Nothing strange or unusual has been happening so far. It was just the normal you, the pure, selfless maiden going on about her life with the seven demon brothers. Sure, it should’ve made you feel better but it only unnerved you even more. Fuck! What exactly was the curse? Maybe you shouldn’t have cut her off and dipped. You felt a thin layer of sweat slowly creep up and you brought a hand up to fan your face. Damn, was it hot in here or was it just your wet ass pussy?

♪ Yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah, you fucking with some wet ass pussy. Bring a bucket and a mop for this wet ass pussy. Give me- ♪

You were snapped out of your thoughts when a firm grip made contact with your shoulders.

A strangled cry left your lips as you doubled over. Fiery ropes of erotism enveloped your body. It was as if every nerve, every vein in your body was coursing with raw pleasure. You felt a blush come over not just your cheeks but your entire body as you locked eyes with the classroom that you disrupted with your lewd… sound.

The professor coughed and proceeded to point to the diagram of a demon, angel, and human anatomy, explaining what the three species have in common and what they don’t.

Your bottom lip sought comfort in being chewed by your teeth. With your head hung and your hair slightly covering your face, you followed the hand on your shoulder to its owner.

My, just how mortifying could it get? It was fucking Simeon. His cheeks were dusted pink and his lips were caught in an ‘o’ and his eyes were filled with surprise, then worry.

“Simeon, I,” your eyes were downcast, refusing to meet his gaze, “I-I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me.”

What the fawk. This is the worst day ever. Now the image of a little lamb you assumed Simeon had for you would be replaced by a horny, hormone monster.

Stupefied, Simeon sat still, staring at you.

Fuck! This is so awkward! I should probably explain that I didn’t mean to release a porn star moan just because he touched my shoulder! I mean, he’s an angel and this is just the worst fucking thing oh my gosh...

And with that, your dumb ass found yourself rambling to Simeon in great, excessive detail of your meeting with Tituba. Even going as far to expose your usernames and directly quoting yourself and that wretched witch.

“Oh my,” he lifted your chin with his fingers and you stiffened, resisting the urge to sing a song of the pleasure that coursed through you. He frowned and studied the way you reacted to his touch. He probably didn’t intend to almost send you into your first orgasm buuuut hot damn. Please, Simeon, stop being so breathtaking with your exposed shoulders.

Hold up. Shoulders? What the hell, just how far did you fall? You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain and you became the villain. You were literally a prime example of why dress code conduct in the human realm prohibited shoulders from being shown in school. Who would’ve thought?

“Not to worry, MC, counseling little lambs in their times of need is our job, after all.”

Fuck, why is he such a gentleman. You felt like putty from his touch alone and your thighs found itself squeezing together as a response to his touch.

“S-Simeon, please,” you grit your teeth and muster all of your willpower to not moan. Continuing with your impromptu explanation, you say, “it’s just, whenever I find myself bumping into anyone, it feels almost uncomfortably good. Like, pleasurable? I don’t know how to explain it but,” your chewed on your lip. “I don’t know how it came to that considering I’m literally as pure as anyone could get but I feel extremely overcome with lust for some reason.”

A husky timbre sang in your ear. “Oh? Is that so?”

Fuck. No no no! You hit back the urge to moan and doubled over in your seat, balling your hands into fists in an attempt to regain yourself.

Who-? Who fuck is this evil? You come back to your seated position and find yourself face to face with Solomon. His eyes were twinkling with pure mischief.

How in the world did you forget that Solomon sat right next to you? Directly to your left, no less. How much did he hear? Knowing him, he probably noticed your state of distress and took full advantage of it, listening in on everything you ranted to Simeon.

“Ah,” he stifled back his laughter, “so you weren’t kidding?”

You pressed your lips together in a tight line, bringing your hand up and preparing to smack a bitch until you realized you’d probably double over again from the skin to skin contact. “Ugh, you’re lucky I can’t strangle you.”

Well, you’re fucked.

“Aww, you shouldn’t be like that, MC!” Solomon brought a hand up to his chest and frowned. “After all, since a powerful witch like Tituba put you under a curse, you’d benefit from having The Greatest Sorcerer on your side.”

You groaned and slid down your chair, covering your face in equal parts shame and annoyance - only for Solomon, of course. Simeon, however, deserves the whole world.

“Little lamb, I think you should head over to the House of Lamentation early,” Simeon advised. You met his sympathetic gaze and felt a wave of relief wash over you. Truly, he was an angel.

“Can I really do that?”

“I’ll walk you over to the nurse’s office if you’re scared,” Solomon cooed. His lips brushed against the shell of your left ear and his fingers strummed along the small of your back.

“F-Fuck,” you whisper screamed and clutched your body, as if you were holding yourself down from the oncoming shockwaves his mere actions brought upon you.

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

You found yourself in the common room, back at the House of Lamentation. You sat down on the rightmost part of a loveseat, welcoming the warmth of the fireplace and the sound of wood snapping and cracking against the fire. Fucking Solomon. That sneaky rat bastard. Who gave him the audacity to act like Hugh Hefner, when at best, motherfucker was Voldemort.

It was a wonder how you got here safely, really. Considering that you weren’t the best at keeping yourself composed when you were under pressure. Maybe you were born with it? Maybe it’s Maybelline.

Ding! Your DDD vibrated against your back pocket. Shame coursed through you as heat pooled in between your legs. Even from that? Really? To think you were acting more like a crusty, musty, virgin than Levi.

Who was it that texted you this time? Your face fell as you read the banner on your DDD.

Solomon.

Great, you wonder what he has planned for you this time. Taking a deep breath, you click on the notification.

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

Solomon: This is so funny. Guess what kind of curse you’re under.

MC: ...MF. Get on with it!!!

Solomon: It’s a fucking curse of temptation, charged with eros.

MC: ...

Solomon: ...

MC: Say sike rn. Please. I’m begging you.

Solomon: Then beg.

MC: ...

Solomon: LMAO

MC: You can break it right?! It’s just a fucking horny curse. It doesn’t seem that complicated

Solomon: Stupid hoe. Did you not pay attention to Unit 1 of Incantations?

MC: TF?? Who do you take me for? That was like the first week I was abducted. Ofc I was tryna convince myself I was just high or something or like I was in a weird ass dream

Solomon: ...Well, the simpler and more direct a curse is, the harder it is to break. Obviously, complicated curses are more susceptible to flaws and mistakes. And it’s just your luck because the curse Tituba placed you under is lined with malicious intent.

Solomon: Didn’t you say she only spoke a single sentence when she cast her spell on you?

MC: Oh fuck.

Solomon: LOL! Literally. I could break it in a day or two if it was any other witch. But this is Tituba we’re talking about.

MC: Her breed? Different >:)

Solomon: ...

MC: Ok! I’m sorry. Please, go on oh great and powerful one.

Solomon: Hold on, I’ve only just figured out what type of curse you’re under. Give me a few hours and I’ll head over there and explain it to you once I’ve solved it.

MC: MAKE IT QUICK. IF THE BROTHERS FIND OUT, I’M GOING TO PASS AWAY FROM EMBARRASSMENT

Solomon: dO YOU WANT ME TO SOLVE IT OR NOT?

MC: I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please, take your time oh, Solomon the Wise. But come quick! Please

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

“LOL! You’ll never guess what happens in chapter 22 of Being An Old Man, I Thought It Was Too Late For Me To Have Kids With My Wife Sarah But God Blessed Me A Son!”

“You wouldn’t dare! I haven’t reached that part yet! You wouldn’t use such dirty tactics to distract me.”

“Abraham has to sacrifice his-“

“NOOO!”

“Levi, MC, please,” Satan sighed and lowered his book, meeting your sheepish grin and Levi's scoff with an unamused stare.

The common room was full of life. Satan sat right across from you, engrossed in another one of his nerdy books and Asmo sat beside him, humming a tune as he painted his nails - for like, the third time this week. Mammon sat right next to him, fixed on his DDD. You could barely make out the layout of the akuzon app. Stupid mammon, he’s already on another online shopping spree despite having more frozen bank accounts that even Lucifer himself could count.

Speaking of Lucifer, you turn your gaze to him as he sat on the armchair, smack down in the middle of the two loveseats right across from each other. He just came back from another meeting with Diavolo and was sorting through his papers.

What in the name of Christopher Gray... how could one man look that stunning after being holed up in a meeting for five hours. Your dumb ass would step out of the meeting looking like you haven’t washed your hair in years.

Beel sat to the left of Levi. He chewed on a stick of bat jerky and was watching some video on his DDD - probably about working out or food - and Belphie laid by himself, curled up right in front of the fireplace with his head resting on his cow pillow, knocked out cold. Or well, knocked out warm.

It was almost strange how calm the ambiance was. You felt a spike of anxiety churn at your stomach. Why do you feel like something bad is going to happen?

“Hey, pay attention normie! I’m about to beat your high score in subway swimmers!” Levi stick his tongue out in concentration, deft fingers swiping away at obstacles and collecting grimm as he ran away from the kraken security guardian.

“Oh no! NOOO!” You clutch your DDD, just in time to watch your character collide with a bed of coral. Your face fell at the words displayed on the screen. ‘Save me!’

“No, I ran out of keys,” you groan and threw your DDD at Levi, crossing your arms.

“The only reason you’ve been able to keep up with me all this time is because of all the money you’ve spent on keys, MC!”

“Hey!” You scoff, “you’re making me feel like Mammon!”

“Oi! I don’t spend that much money!”

Without missing a beat, Satan quips back, “Only because Lucifer confiscated Goldie from you - again.”

Beel nodded his head. He took the last bite of his bat jerky and hummed in agreement.

Ding! Dong!

Lucifer raises an eyebrow, “Who’s at the door?”

Shit. You forgot how the brothers don’t exactly hold Solomon in the highest regards.

Nervously laughing, you answered him, “Ah, that would be Solomon.”

Feeling his scrutinizing gaze, you look up and lock eye contact with Lucifer. His eyes narrowed and you feel yourself growing hot under his gaze. Not that he was turning you on, no. You never liked this kind of attention on you. I mean, who’d openly like to get gawked at?

As if answering your question, Asmodeus gives you a playful smile. “Oh? Solomon? I didn’t know you two were close.”

“Uhh, well, it’s-“

“Oh! Solomon! I’ll get the door!” Levi snapped out of his trance and pressed pause on his game. Thank goodness Levi and Solomon bonded over TSL. You couldn’t imagine any other brothers welcoming him inside if it weren’t for his connection to Levi.

Belphie began to stir from the commotion. He brought himself up to a sitting position, rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on?” He yawned.

“MC.”

You turned your attention to Lucifer who looks more daddy than ever. His arms were crossed and his eyebrows were pressed together in disapproval. His frown was only the cherry on the top. “Would you care to explain why you invited Solomon over?”

Fuck. Please stop being such an alpha male for once. Images of his physique towering over yours flooded your mind. His hands would pin yours right above your head, rendering your arms useless, and his strong legs would encase you in a cage like hold. Then, him being Lucifer, would say something clever and sensual at the same time, and you'd melt under his gaze.

Wait. UGH! Snap out of it!

You opened your mouth to respond to him when Solomon beats you to it.

“I’ve figured out the exact curse MC has been afflicted with,” and with a smirk, “and how to relieve her of it.”

Shit. Oh shit. He really wants to watch the world burn, huh? You grimaced, bracing yourself for the onslaught of questions from the demon brothers.

Satan’s glare directed at Solomon disappears and is replaced with concern, “a curse?”

“No! It’s not fair! You’re supposed to be my Henry for all of eternity! You can't be cursed!”

“Hey MC! Just what kinda things have ya been up to? I’m s’posed to be protecting you, ya hear?”

“Poor MC! She looks so stressed! That's sooo not good for your skin!”

“Can’t she just sleep it off?”

“MC,” Beel frowned and you returned his concerned expression with a small smile.

Lucifer slammed his hands on the coffee table, it was like thunder just went off inside of the house. “Enough!” His brows were bunched together in a glare and his arms were crossed. “Solomon, would you care to explain the kind of curse MC is under and who the identity of the caster is?”

Your jaw fell slack and you gave Solomon your best ‘please no’ stare you could muster. Your hands were collected in front of you like a prayer.

Solomon only smiled and a chill ran up your spine. That’s not how a smile is supposed to look. No, a real smile would be if your eyes shrank, forming half crescent moons, with wrinkles in the corners. No way. Was he really…?

“If you don’t mind, Lucifer, I’d like to get MC’s approval before continuing.”

Confusion. Yeah, that’s the best way to describe how the brothers reacted. Complete and utter confusion.

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

She signed defeatedly, “fine. Do your worst.”

Is that idiot really going to tempt me into unleashing as much chaos as I could possibly muster? Which is… a lot. I mean, I am known as The Great Sorcerer.

Though, she looks so tempting when she’s so defeated - so small and weak, pathetic, even - it only brings me more amusement. Now, I wonder what route I’m going to choose this time. Should I play as the devious sorcerer? The kindhearted and forgiving human friend of MC? Who am I kidding? Both! Yeah, that wasn’t even a question. I almost laughed out loud. Man, I really am a genius.

I cleared my throat, unwavering as I felt the collective gaze of the demon brothers fall upon my being. And a lustier one from emanating from Asmodeus. No surprise there.

Choose your words carefully, Solomon. You gotta be on her side.

“MC has been afflicted with a curse of temptation, charged with eros, by Tituba the witch. It’ll continue to affect her over the course of seven days, subjugating her to extreme heat that will boil her from the inside out lest she finds relief. She has until the clock strikes midnight on the seventh day.”

Perfect.

A furious blush cascaded over Mammon’s features. He was the first to break the silence. “O-Oi! You’re kidding right?”

“Wah!” Asmo crooned. He gave MC a half-lidded smile. “My my! Now isn’t this a wonderful turn of events~!”

Satan elbowed Asmo on his side. “That’s enough with the teasing, Asmo,” he lectured.

“Oh, don’t give me that, Satan, those bright red cheeks of yours aren't fooling anyone.”

“A-Asmo!”

“Whoa! This is just like the anime I’ve been watching! I Attempted To Manipulate A Great And Powerful Witch And Now I’ve Been Cursed And The Only Way I Can Break Out Of It Is For Me To Kiss The One I love!”

Beel gave Levi a frown, shaking his head at his antics despite the pink that dusted his features.

A glee of joy overcame me as I watched everything unfold. Lucifer looked as if his eyes were about to pop out of its sockets. He was torn between maintaining his stunned gaze onto me or onto MC, whose probably attempting to curl up into a ball at this point.

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

Y’know what, I really am going to smack a bitch. And by that, I mean Solomon and how that sneaky bastard carefully chose his words to bring forth a reaction like… well, like this.

You were so engrossed by the chorus of reactions harmonizing with each other, and focused on morphing into a ball of shame, you almost forgot about Belphie. That was, until he placed his hand on your calf, coaxing you out of your ball. He gave you a kind and sympathetic gaze. His lips were set in a small frown, his eyebrows downcast.

It happened in only a few seconds. You were filled with equal parts horror and pleasure because he didn’t know that simple touches like this could affect you to such a degree. Couldn’t blame him though, he was the only brother that didn’t react in such an inappropriate way to your predicament. And he didn’t even seem amused by it at all.

You, however, well... His warm touch, placed on your calf only sent you into overdrive. “N-No! Don’t touch me!” The absolute lewdest, cry - followed by a moan - escaped your lips. Your body shivered and as if on cue, an overwhelmingly hot fire washed over you. A deep, unyielding fire. It fucking sent you, and the brothers.

“Ah,” Solomon laughed, “I may have forgot to mention that during this period, MC’s senses will be hightened tenfold. If not, possibly more. I figured that’s what the extreme heat stood for and this just proved me right.”

“F-Fuck,” you breathed. Shit, fucking get a grip, MC! You’re in the middle of the brothers and stinky Solomon who’s thriving off of your suffering. Scowling, you sent him a middle finger.

You caught yourself staring at Belphie. His eyes, which were filled with sympathy was now clouded over by something else. It darkened, and you saw his pupils blown wide, threatening to devour the bluish violet color that surrounded it.

“I’m sorry, Belphie, I should’ve told you before,” you murmur.

This was it though. This is the day you die. Cause of death? Embarrassment. Yeah, that’s right. Like a fucking sim dying because it peed in front of the other sims in the club, probably because you kept on cancelling their whim to use the restroom.

“I can help you find relief.”

Pause.

Your moth fell agape at Belphie’s suggestion. Did he really just suggest that? To you? Do you pretend to be Helen Keller? Do you become Jared, 19? There’s no way you could say yes, despite the temptations you’ve felt, longing for sexual touch. After all, your first kiss happened such a long time ago. And even then, you broke it off after a brief moment because you found yourself unwilling to make a fool of yourself. Ha! You, accepting Belphie’s proposal. What a long shot. You were definitely prepared to pass away before you could make an even bigger fool of yourself in front of the brothers and Solomon.

“B-Belphie! Hey! Get your hands off my human!”

Satan and Beel were at a loss for words. To your surprise, so was Lucifer. And Levi, you could only assume, is passed out next to you on the couch after hearing your cry of pleasure.

“Guys, uhh,” you scratched the back of your neck, “it’s okay. I’ll just accept my fate and boil over by the seventh day.”

Right! I saved them from the discomfort of being obliged to help me relieve myself. Plus, that was sorta awkward. I mean, if it happened to someone I didn’t harbor any feelings for, why should I have to help them get laid or something? This was only fair.

At your words, Lucifer was roused to take control of this discord. “Absolutely not. As the eldest and trusted advisor to Diavolo, it is my duty to-“

“Oh, come on Lucifer! Don’t give us that! Just admit you’d be more than willing to help our little MC out in her predicament,” teased Asmo.

You fidgeted in your seat. How were you going to explain to the brothers in a logical manner that you’d rather die than admit you’re an inexperienced virgin that could rival Levi himself?

Oh no. You were too late. Solomon caught on to your trepidation and released a dramatic gasp, “MC, don’t tell me,” he paused, for dramatic effect, “were you not kidding when you claimed to be pure? Are you actually a virgin?”

You smiled like the calm before the storm, the waves pulling back before the tsunami crashed. It was the way the earth stilled before the meteorite connected. “I’ll take that as my cue to pass away.”

You closed your eyes and pretended you were in a place, free from embarrassment. Ignoring the gasps and murmurs from Mammon and Satan (and Levi who woke up after passing out), the hums of approval from Asmo and Belphie, the way Solomon stifled back his laughter, and you couldn’t hear it but you were guessing Beel and Lucifer were completely speechless.

“MC, you can’t just close your eyes and pretend we aren’t here,” Satan coaxed, "we're not going to let you perish because of this curse."

You cock one eye open and nodded, ruminating over the different ways you could respond to his infuriatingly rational comment. “I can try,” you maintained your smile and sat cross legged on the couch, meditating into the astral realm. That's where your soul was, of course, after you died from the embarrassment.

“Oh honey,” cooed Asmo, “we only want what's best for you. Plus, I could practically taste the desire oozing out of you.”

“Asmo!”

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

This was going to be a long night. Solomon bid farewell to the brothers after chatting with Lucifer, discussing the curse as in depth as he could without revealing the little snippet of information he decided to keep for himself. The rest of the brothers went back and forth with MC, trying to convince her to think over her choice and the severity of the curse but with a pride that could rival Lucifer’s, she rejected it with a shake of her head and kept her arms crossed. It took her a while before it dawned on her - the brothers would not yield until she gave them a satisfactory answer. Defeated, she told them that she would consider it.

It was getting late.

The brothers returned to their rooms and MC followed not long afterwards. The House of Lamentation was filled with a different tension tonight, one unlike any other.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #swd obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me fanfic #obey me fanfic x reader

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lorei-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Kenshin x Witch!MC

For the readers of the series: No, the ending isn’t sad. None of the endings in the series will ever be.

Content Warnings:

Background: animal attack, near-death experiences, war, death, torture, blood, human trafficking

Kenshin x Witch!MC: food, alcohol mention, war, severe injury, pain, death, anxiety, blood

Background:

It was said that she was blessed by gods themselves.

When she was still a little girl, maybe three or four years old at most, she was attacked by feral dogs. Her parents thought they wouldn’t get to her in time, that she would be bitten to death. However, her injuries started to heal before their eyes - that, they could not believe.

Fearing what would happen to her, her parents decided to move out of the city instantly, leaving behind their previous lives.

They decided to live in the village from which her mother came.

To her parents’ relief, she didn’t seem to be aware of her ability, the dog incident being nothing more but a nightmare to her.

That was meant to change, as the war swept through their region.

She was fifteen when the village was pillaged. They tried to escape.

Her parents were killed - and so, she was meant to die as well. Yet, to her and the soldiers’ disbelief, the lethal injuries inflicted upon her healed within seconds, not even scars left behind.

She would not die. Once the soldiers realised that, she was brought back to the encampment with them.

The commander found her to be quite a curiosity. Carefully, the extents of her ability were examined.

Her body would heal itself from any sort of injury. Even lethal wounds would close themselves up, although she did feel exhausted after that.

The commander was interested in whether he could use her to somehow gain advantage over the other side of the conflict. However, she could not heal other people at will. Seeing that, his irritation grew.

In his mind, she was a mere object, a tool - a tool that did not fulfil its duty, at that. Unbothered by the state of her health, he demanded for another experiment to be conducted.

The injuries of soldiers that drank her blood healed almost instantly.

Soon, the rumours of a woman with blood of eternal life spread.

Throughout the years, she was stolen away, sold off and kidnapped multiple times. She couldn’t find it in herself to care - in the end, she was not able to protect a single soul dear to her.

Kenshin x Witch!MC:

The shouts of fleeing soldiers filled the air, yet she couldn’t find it in herself to move. Why would she, after all? She attempted to escape multiple times, always to no avail. At worst, she’d change her owner, for she was just a tool. Not that it meant much - she had a very limited understanding of who her previous captors were.

The wet smacks of hooves against the blood-soaked ground, the agonized screaming, the sweet scent she knew all too well, for all the wrong reasons - but oddly enough, she just sat calmly, awaiting her fate.

The flaps over the entrance to the tent moved, the bright light causing her to squint. A man flickered in her vision, just to be gone the very second she blinked. She could have sworn she saw a tinge of regret in his eyes.

By the time the soldiers came for her, a couple of hours had passed. Within week, she was transported to Kasugayama castle, where she was granted a room of her own.

She couldn’t do anything, but wait, like she did so many times before. In her mind the time was frozen still, the seconds melting into a greater body of eternity - was it the day or the night? Had she even slept - and if so, why was she waiting in the dreams as well? She didn’t know the answers to those questions.

Although reluctantly, Kenshin’s vassals had to finally inform him of her state. She hadn’t eaten anything at all, hardly moving from her place. Hearing that, a strange mixture of feelings bubbled inside of him - regret? Guilt? Shame? Rage? Who knows. Maybe something else entirely.

Seeing as nobody could do anything about her condition, Kenshin took it upon himself to force her to eat.

She recognized him as soon as he entered the room. “ What is your name?” he asked and she replied, like she did for all those years, utterly compliant.

To her surprise, he didn’t come to appoint her as “a healer”. Instead, he sat across from her, demanding her to finish her meal. She obeyed the order.

Kenshin would come to make sure she wasn’t starving everyday. Unsure of what would happen to her, she asked: “ My lord, when will I be used?” “ If you want to be of use, you can work with the other maids.” She clenched her jaw - he wasn’t aware of her ability? Possibly so. Fearing of what would happen to her, had it been discovered, she didn’t say a word. Hope welled inside of her. Perhaps that time would be different.

As soon as she found it in herself to take care of her basic needs, he stopped visiting her. With a new purpose given to her, she began working as a servant.

Having been more of a human doll than a person, she had hardly any experience at tasks she was performing, her movements clumsy and slow, rusty at best. Other people seemed to have pitied her, but that she wasn’t concerned with - she didn’t exactly feel as if she belonged there either way.

At times, she’d get lost in the labyrinth of her mind. A burning sensation was eating at her fingers. She blinked fast, returning to reality - her hand was enveloped by the hot flames of the furnace. She retracted it immediately, seemingly not bothered by the fact, the injury already starting to heal. Only then did she realise that all the people around her were watching her.

Two men gripped her by the arms and brought her before Kenshin. Terrified, they forced themselves into his private quarters, claiming she was a witch. One of them lifted up a sharp knife, aiming to demonstrate her ability, yet was stopped by the lord of the clan himself. They were dispelled.

The anxiety sneaked into her soul, causing her legs to collapse under her. She stumbled to the ground, but managed to lift her gaze. Kenshin was staring right back at her. Assuming it was the end of her, she began explaining her origins, hoping honesty would save her. Did she see compassion on his face? She wasn’t sure.

Regardless of that, her situation changed. She was assigned to care for the castle’s bunny population.

Initially, it tasted like bitter humiliation, her task being both simple and meaningless. However, with the passing of time, she realised something: the other servants were looking at her with suspicion and resentment. It was safer for her to look after the animals, than to work with humans.

The job had another benefit to it as well: at times, she could witness how the bunnies surrounded Kenshin, nuzzling into his legs and arms, effectively enveloping him in a fluffy embrace. It was endearing. Every now and again, she managed to exchange a word with him, maybe chat for a while. Finally, she found a courage in herself to ask him to drink together.

Something started to sprout inside of her heart - something she couldn’t name, still lost in her confused state. However, she didn’t fight it either.

The rumours of her whereabouts have spread and not even a notion of her being in care of the God of War himself could ward off the greedy hands of other lords. United, they attacked Kasugayama.

She begged to be put in care of the wounded, hoping it would get her closer to the battlefield, the emotion stirring inside of her. However, her request was denied. She was dragged out of the bunny garden and hidden away in the depths of the castle.

Against her will, she was locked in one of the rooms, the guards keeping watch by the door. The memories of war flooded her mind, the very thoughts that haunted her everyday life licking at the borders of her consciousness. “ You brought it upon them,” the voice inside of her mocked. “ And you won’t be able to save anybody this time either.”

Her own doubts and intrusive thoughts were drowning her alive, the sheer panic causing her to tremble.

Shouts from the corridor forced her back into her body. She looked up, realising the enemy had entered the castle. Determined, she gazed outside, the prospect of falling terrifying her - yet, a second later, she flew through the air, blood buzzing in her ears.

She winced in pain, as her legs broke on impact from landing, bending awkwardly, the bone piercing though the skin. She bit on her arm, silencing herself while her body regenerated. Healed almost completely, she hurried towards the battle.

She dragged her feet through the reddened mud, the bodies of soldiers scattered around the ground everywhere. The fears in her head started to take over, urging her to run.

Finally, she saw Kenshin - or much rather, the God of War himself. The arrows seemed to avoid him on purpose, the rifles trembling at his sight. Yet, the enemy outnumbered them gravely, flooding them wave after wave. Blood seemed to have seeped into Kenshin’s sword, as if it was slurping each and every droplet of it. Perhaps it was a sentient entity of its own - how else could one explain the way that blade moved? However, even for a God, he was painfully human. His troops vanishing before his eyes, he had to issue a retreat.

The time broke, as Kenshin disappeared from his horse, the animal bravely moving onward. She dove forward, screaming in herself that it couldn’t have been too late, that she had seen him well just a couple of seconds ago, that he couldn’t have perished.

She found him on the ground, seemingly untouched, had it not been for the red staining his clothes, the colour moist and hideously metallic in smell. Gathering all the power she had, she pulled him into one of the emptied houses, praying nobody would find them.

Why was he quiet? Was it because of the fall or the injury? She knew nothing of medicine, she didn’t know the answer. She reached for the blade at his side with trembling hands, preparing herself to open her arm to heal him.

Seemingly awoken by her intention, he stopped her, placing a hand over hers. “ Don’t,” Kenshin rasped. “ We need the God of War now,” she tried to reason with him. “ Don’t,” he repeated, the words struggling to leave his lips. “ Please, let me protect you. Just this once,” she begged. “ I can’t fail again.” A glimmer of hurt lit up in his eyes. Perhaps he shared her feelings? “ I am the one who failed to protect you. Flee immediately.”

She refused, tears spilling over her cheeks. She wasn’t able to keep them from flowing anymore. Conflicted, she threw herself at him, the droplets from her face sneaking behind his collar.

He was the first human in years that didn’t treat her like a tool, yet she couldn’t bring herself to disobey him and save him. To her surprise, he embraced her back, his arms moving to hold her. Desperate, she bit on her tongue, until she felt the blood pooling in her mouth - and then, she bit on his shoulder, clinging to him with whatever power she had left. He struggled against her, yet to no avail.

Having completed her goal, she moved away from him. “ I’m sorry. I can’t lose anybody else.” He gripped her hand. “ Never do this again. You are not the woman with blood of eternal life anymore,” Kenshin uttered, looking away from her, his wound burning, but closing up.

Kenshin mounted a discarded horse. She promised to wait for him, this time obediently, hidden in the emptied house.

Not bothered by any injuries he sustained, the cuts closing up as he swung his sword, Kenshin cut through the enemies, collecting his scattered troops. By the end of the day, the opposing army was pushed back.

Kenshin rode to her hiding. She waited for him inside and stood up to greet him. He clenched his jaw, holding her in an embrace mere seconds later. “ Never do that again,” he spoke. “ Thank you,” was all she could muster, the words turning into sobs. Perhaps she gave a different ending to one of the stories of his past.

On the following morning, they received a notice of reinforcements arriving.

Note: I may write those again one day, I’m not sure I did Kenshin justice.

#kenshin uesugi #ikesen kenshin #ikemen sengoku kenshin #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikemen series #my hc

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hollowcanyougo · 4 years ago