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1d1195 · 4 months

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Traditional - Extra VII

Read Traditional here | ~4.1k words

Warnings: smut. 18+ only. oral (m), sex, maybe public if you believe enough. Otherwise, it's kinda fluffy

From me: idk I think Harry can be a little TOO self-loathing. And he is really so sweet and nice overall. I think he deserves some TRADITIONAL sugar-daddy CEO treatment.

Summary: Harry is a lot calmer now that the client fiasco is over. But he's still on edge. Fortunately, she has an idea to take the edge off.

Harry was much more pleased with the direction of his company now that the biggest crisis of his career was finally in the rearview mirror. Now that her arm was healed and his clients were stable, everything was much better.

Except Harry didn’t fully accept it.

It was like there was a little worm in his brain that ate at him and whispered directly into the auditorial processing space that something, at any moment, would go wrong. The other shoe would drop and he would be back at square one.

“Baby?” She interrupted his thoughts of worthlessness and impostor syndrome. God he needed to see someone. But when was there time? “I asked about dinner, it’s Monday,” she reminded him gently. His mind reeling but he wanted to focus on her.

He wasn’t angry. For the first time in months. It felt like that for everyone around him. It created an entirely different vibe in the office. People weren’t scared during meetings. He didn’t slam his phone down when something was late.

But she noticed how withdrawn he was because she knew him.

“Are you alright?” Her voice wasn’t accusatory. It was still quiet. Like she was a little afraid she would set him off. But he hadn’t bought new electronics in months. The accounting department joked they would get to decrease the furniture budget this quarter as it closed. Harry couldn’t do anything but laugh because it was true. It was the first time he felt at ease since the mess happened.

It was awful.

“M’fine,” he smiled gently at her. It was their daily meeting. The one Harry didn’t even know they had until he saw it written on her calendar back when her cramps made her sleep through it. But he knew she didn’t believe his hand-waving denial. He wasn’t fine, she knew it.

“Okay,” she sipped her drink and eyed him suspiciously.

He was looking at the papers on his desk and every little negative number made his heart skip a beat.

This wasn’t healthy.

“Are you sure?” She asked again.

That wasn’t helping him either. How perceptive she was and knowing exactly what he was feeling. It was almost annoying that she could do it. All he wanted to do was hide his feelings from her the way he was supposed to, and she made it so difficult.

God, she was perfect.

He nodded silently, not looking up at her because if he did, she would read him like an open book. She would praise him and tell him he was perfect. He didn’t want that. It was stupid, but he needed to believe it himself. It was partially his own fault. Styles Inc. suffered very few hiccups other than getting up and running. Back when he had just graduated, and he had stuffed every penny he had into the two offices he and Niall needed to get started. It grew before his eyes. He believed he was important and doing important things. He knew he was talented and doing well.

Almost having to fire her was the worst wakeup call.

“Harry,” her voice broke his thoughts again.

“Yeah, kitten?” He hummed trying to admire the green numbers on the spreadsheet before him. They were large and lovely. The red ones amounted to next to nothing in comparison. But it didn’t matter. They were terrifying.

“Baby, I just asked you if you think I should go out for drinks with a client that keeps hitting on me so that we can get a bigger contract from him, and you said that was a good idea.”

His head snapped up. Jealousy pierced his heart and ran hot through his blood in seconds. “What client hits on you?” He scowled. They were dropping said client. Effective immediately. Not even feeling like an impostor would deter him from that kind of behavior. It wouldn’t matter if they were his biggest client either. If they were hitting on her—

“You really think a client would be stupid enough to hit on me knowing you’re my boyfriend?” She asked a slight smirk on her lips.

He ran a hand over his face. Of course they wouldn’t. Harry had a scary side, and everyone knew it. If they even tried to flirt with her Harry would probably break their neck. The little jealous monster inside of his head was more powerful than the worm that told him he wasn’t talented, and he could lose it all at a moment’s notice.

And he hated that word lately. He needed to add another reminder on his phone to remedy that immediately as well. Boyfriend. It was so childish sounding. He was a successful businessman, and he had a gorgeous girlfriend who made him feel like... well... like he deserved to own such a successful company. Fiancé. Husband. That had a nicer ring to it. He needed to fix that soon.

“Harry,” she giggled.

“What?”

“You’re staring at me,” she was blushing. Looked away as she sat in the chair across from him on the other side of the desk.

He sighed and smiled tiredly. “Course,” he really looked at her again, not just spaced out like he had been doing. The way her hair fell, the way her lip gloss coated her straw. The way her nail polish chipped—he would send her for a manicure (with Eleanor so she’d actually go) even though she preferred when Harry painted them—hence the chipping.

Harry was so captivated by her. It did seem like a crime that he hadn’t given her his full attention during their coffee break. Part of him thought she should model for offices or office furniture. It was sexist and lizard-brained of him. But she was so pretty it was the only thing he could think of in that moment. Then he considered the notion of her being a professor or a doctor—even though he knew she wasn’t qualified for it. But it didn’t matter. He suspected she could do it without training. She was too lovely. The fact that she was intelligent and beautiful and nice was unfair. He didn’t deserve something so good when he could lose the biggest reason she was in his life. “You’re so pretty, kitten.”

Her cheeks turned red again. Harry thought he would explode. “Don’t change the subject.”

“M’not,” he pouted. She did the cute little nose wrinkle that made Harry’s heart skip a beat the same way the negative numbers on spreadsheets did but this time he didn’t mind.

“Your brain has been elsewhere during this whole meeting—”

“Can y’please stop calling it a meeting, kitten?” he grumbled. It felt so wrong to call it a meeting when he was in love with her. Like he needed a corporate excuse to have her sit in his office.

“Pretenses, baby. Don’t want anyone to know I’m your second favorite.”

He grunted, running a hand over his face as the irritation sank in again because of her words. “Niall is not m’favorite.”

She smiled impishly. Her cheeks looked like little apples that Harry wanted to kiss and take bites out of. Her eyes danced with mischievousness that he thought she could only have learned from Louis.

He loved her so much.

Which was why he was so mad that he was worried. If this company suffered the thought of letting her down, of telling her that he wasn’t successful anymore. He met her only because he did well and was successful. How would she love him if that wasn’t true anymore?

“Harry, I’m going to drag you to the hospital if you don’t tell me.”

“Can we talk ‘bout it at home?”

She frowned. “Oh, it’s not work related?” She asked.

He shook his head, confused as to how she would conclude such a thing. “What do y’mean?”

“Well... if it was work-related, you would tell me now. You only tell me relationship-related things at home. Which means now I have to go back to my office and conference call Louis and Eleanor and pull Niall from his work so we can discuss where I’m going to live because you can’t take the sound of me singing in the shower anymore. What’s worse is Louis will agree and he won’t want me to live with him and Eleanor either. Then I’ll have to find my own place and it won’t have room for a porch swing and—”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Kitten, shut up,” he sighed. She smiled sweetly, unperturbed by the way he said it because he sounded exhausted with her, which was almost definitely her goal. He knew she liked to annoy him—even when he was already suffering internally.

“I don’t want to say it’s your fault, baby. But if you would just tell me what—”

“I don’t feel successful.”

She tilted her head at him curiously. “You don’t?”

He shook his head feeling the nerves in every inch of his skeleton. Right down to the bone. Past the bone. Probably to the atoms or even further to each proton and neutron. Telling her made it real. Telling her anything meant he had to deal with what he was feeling because she wouldn’t let him brush it away.

She was about as bad as the worm in his head.

“Okay,” she nodded. Then there was silence.

They stared at each other for a significant moment. Harry thought it could have been ten minutes, but it might have only been ten seconds. “You’re not going t’say anything?” He asked.

She shrugged. “I could,” she smiled gently. Almost pitifully. It made Harry feel the slightest bit worse. But then she made it better. Of course she did. She made everything seem so... simple. In the best way. A point of view he hadn’t considered. “I could ask you why. Or tell you how it’s not true—all of which I do believe. But I actually think it’s kind of more serious than that. I think you went through a really difficult thing. It piled and piled and you dealt with it. More than anyone here. Because you care and love this place with everything in you,” she listed. “I think you’ll need to talk to someone more qualified than me to fully deal with it. But I will list every reason why you’re completely, totally, and simply wrong another time. When you’re not so sad looking and it won’t fall on deaf ears,” she assured him with a pointed expression that he had fallen in love with so many times over it was uncanny.

Had he mentioned he loved her so much?

“Oh,” he murmured.

She stood up, moved around his desk and leaned against the edge in front of him. Her eyes didn’t move from his and she brought a hand to his face, traced the curve of his jaw, the soft pink lips she loved so much. “Why are you worried you’re not successful?” She asked.

She really knew where to hit him where it hurt. “Y’won’t love me...if m’not successful.”

“Harry,” she cooed. “Baby—”

“I know,” he turned into her hand and kissed the center of her palm. “But I... I only met y’because m’successful. If m’not... then...”

“You know I don’t love you because you have money, right? We’ve been over this.”

“I know,” he nodded. “Really, I do. But s’like...there’s something in m’brain, kitten. I can’t turn it off and m’exhausted. After all that... I mean... y’saw. It was reallybad. Like really bad. M’still kind of worried and—what are you doing?”

“Turning your brain off,” she smiled, full of mischief once more as she slunk down to her knees. She wiggled into the space of his desk where he normally pushed his chair in. “Surely you’ve thought about this?” She asked, her hand sliding up his thigh.

Harry was suddenly illiterate. And mute. What was she talking about? Were they talking about something? The only thing he could hear was his uneven breath and the clinking sound of his belt and zipper. “Oh,” he groaned as her lips mouthed at the outline of his dick against his briefs.

“Cause I’ve thought about it. A lot.”

“You have?” He murmured dumbly.

She nodded, looking up at him from between his legs, crammed under his desk. It was a fantasy he hadn’t even imagined before thirty seconds prior and there she was: making it come true. Her lashes seemed so long, and her hand was massaging him through his underwear. His heart was pounding. All thoughts of negative numbers were gone.

She deserved a raise.

Her fingers hooked around his underwear, and she tugged on them, pulling him free. He didn’t even realize he was straining against the fabric. Within seconds her lips enveloped around him, and she sucked quickly. Hard. Everything was warm and wet instantly.

Harry had done this before with the companions he had found on the very website he found her, but he wished he never had because this was her. She was so perfect. She was everything he wanted. She was beneath his desk making him feel important and it was so ridiculous for him to feel that way but it worked. It was working.

Her mouth was meant to be around him. At least that was the way it felt. It never felt like this. She didn’t even care about herself. Which was fine because Harry would return whatever she gave him now plus interest. For the first time in a year, he felt utterly relaxed. Her head bobbing up and down the length of him. He put a hand on the back of her head, and she moaned softly sending a vibration through him and up to his chest. His cheeks felt hot. Not that he was embarrassed. But it was so much rapid blood flow. Everywhere. He was going to lose his mind.

There was a knock on the door.

She froze but didn’t remove her mouth from him. Harry grumbled a curse under his breath, carefully tucked himself further the edge of his desk without bumping her too much or crushing her. “Yeah?” He called tentatively.

Her lips focused on the tip of him making him struggle to maintain his composure.

“She’s not here?” Niall frowned from the doorway.

Harry shook his head staring at the screen trying not to let his best friend know that his girlfriend and Niall’s very favorite coworker was crammed beneath his desk and sucking him for all he was worth. Even though Niall was right there. “Ran an errand,” her tongue slid down the underside of him silently. He cleared his throat, shifted. Hoping she wouldn’t torture him in front of his best friend. When did she get so brave?

Oh. Traditional. That’s what that meant. Harry thought to himself.

“When she gets back can you ask her where the file from yesterday’s meeting is? I don’t want to mess with her organizational system,” she dug her nails into his thigh not very hard but so her presence was known. As if the thought of Niall messing with her system really was the worst thing he could do in that moment.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t,” Harry chuckled. But the movement made him shift in her mouth which nearly sent him cross-eyed. He cleared his throat again.

“You okay? She’s been worried about you.”

“M’fine,” he rolled his eyes.

She silently sucked harder as if to prove a point. Moved him further down her throat. Harry took a deep breath to maintain any semblance of control he had left over the situation. Which was very little.

“I like that she worries about you.”

“It’s unnecessary,” Harry muttered. To both of them.

“When are you going to marry her?” Niall asked.

That paused her. She released him, peered up through those sinful lashes and smiled more mischievously than he had ever seen. Harry shifted. Silently and blindly lining himself up with her mouth again to keep her from saying I knew it or just generally giving herself away in front of Niall. She obligingly took his length down her throat again and it was a miracle she didn’t make a sound with the amount of spit lodged in her mouth. “Soon,” he assured Niall.

“She left her cell in the office,” he said. “Hopefully she’s with the driver or something.”

“Yeah, I called for him,” he wanted Niall out. “What time are we teeing off tomorrow?” He asked the last bout of normalcy he had left in him. Her lips were dragging so slowly over him it felt nearly painful. The moment Niall left he was going to come.

“Nine fifteen.”

He nodded. “Alright, I’ll be by later for the new account model for—” He coughed as her fingers danced along the inside of his thighs, reaching for the space of his cock that didn’t fit in her mouth as well as underneath— “Excuse me,” he covered his mouth over the fake cough before dropping his hand to his lap—her head—and pushed ever so slightly toward the back of her throat. Fortunately, his phone rang. Niall nodded waving him off; allowing him to tend to his phone call—that he was not going to answer.

“I got it,” he assured him and closed the door.

Harry yanked from her mouth, shoved from the desk, barely pulling his pants up at all. He hurried across his office to twist the lock on his door. Once turned around, she was already there, knelt before him again and sucking him into her warm mouth again. Sucking hard. It was probably loud. Wet. Anyone that happened to be by his door at that moment would know what was happening on the other side. Maybe they would make a rumor. Maybe they would assume it was her—neither of which Harry wanted. “Not here, kitten,” he groaned quietly and lifted her begrudgingly from her knees. He pulled her toward the bathroom. He briefly thought of the first time he was in there with her, knelt himself, to take her shoe off and Louis and Eleanor assumed he was prepared to do something he loved doing to her and strongly considered doing it again. Just as he lifted her bum onto the counter she stopped him.

“Nope,” she slid down again. Knelt once more. “Said it was turning your brain off,” she reminded him. Her lips around his dick once again. Now, with an office separating them from the rest of the company, she openly slurped. Made obscene noises that would satisfy him just fine on business trips where he didn’t get to take her with him and leave him with nothing but fantasies before falling asleep in a lonely hotel room. He slammed the bathroom door shut just for further privacy.

He groaned lowly, meeting the bob of her head as gently as he could so as not to cause her to struggle but enjoying the warmth of her mouth and throat. Her lips looked so sexy around him he wasn’t going to last much longer at all. “Love,” he tilted his head back. “Y’need to—”

“Shh,” she pulled back, pressing the most chaste of kisses along his length which was an oxymoron. “Just worry about you,” she hummed. “Please?”

Harry groaned his hands gathering her hair at the back of her head as she slipped her mouth down as much of him as she could take and it felt so good it made him

“Aw fuck, kitten, s’good,” he groaned and held her in place as he released in her mouth. His breath was ragged, his hips stuttering slightly. She continued sucking even though it was sensitive. Even though it was more than he deserved.

“Do you really think I would stop loving you because you didn’t have money?” She asked, fluttering her lashes. Voice the slightest bit hoarser.

He lifted her from her knees, putting her on the counter again and shoved her dress up to her hips. Thank God she wore a dress. “This underwear is ripped,” he grumbled.

She frowned. “It is? It’s my favorite I didn’t notice a rip when I put them on this mor—”

But she didn’t realize he was predicting the future. He pulled on the nylon cotton blend with so much force her already hoarse voice died in her throat. He groaned, tossing them on the floor. He lined himself up with her entrance and brought her bum to the edge so the sharp corner dug into her flesh. It would leave a bruise and the only thought that was left in her head was that Harry would kiss it and make it better later.

His length slid inside her so effortlessly. She should have been embarrassed how turned on she was sucking him off—especially when Niall got to the office but she couldn’t help it. Now the length that had felt so good in her throat was making her core ache. He thrusted into her quickly. Hardly letting her breathe or realize what was happening, but it felt so good. She was moaning into the curve of shoulder. Clinging to him. “Baby, I—”

“S’good kitten. S’good. I love you so fucking much,” his hips were relentless. All thought escaping her mind. A fire could have broken out in the shower and she wouldn’t have moved—couldn’t have moved.

“Oh wow,” she sighed as Harry pulled her closer to him—her legs wound around his waist. Her butt barely on the counter. Her eyes fluttered with each thrust. “Oh, oh my God,” she moaned. “You’re—”

“Gonna come on m’cock, kitten,” it was a question. Or a command. She didn’t know. It was both. Neither. Part of her wondered if he even said anything.

But she did. She did come on his cock. Hard. She fluttered around him for what felt like minutes. Hours. Centuries. Color ceased to have meaning. There was no sound. That was heaven. She was sure. A blasphemous thought that she didn’t even have the strength to laugh about because she was deliriously good.

Her voice was hoarser than only moments before. Her face tucked into his shoulder and her breath shaky as he pushed her further back toward the mirror at the end of the counter behind the sink. Further from him. Her cheeks were flushed, and she could only imagine what he had done to her hair. But his pupils were massive. His lips pinker than ever. His chest heaved.

Clearing her throat, she gently tucked him back into his pants. Then tucked in his shirt too. With the same delicateness as she did with his cock. It was intoxicating. Made him want to go another thousand rounds with her. “So, in conclusion,” she whispered. “I will love you whether you have a kajillion dollars or one dollar,” she looked up at him, cheeks burning.

“That was very sexy, kitten,” his eyelids practically fluttered.

“I...” she cleared her throat. “I surprised myself, actually.”

“We should do this more often,” he pulled her skirt down and brought her closer to the edge of the counter again. She hissed at the contact against the bruise that was definitely forming. He frowned. “Oh, love m’sorry,” he cupped her face and gazed at her. “Was I too rough? I shouldn’t have—”

“Harry, if I didn’t fear for the stability of my leg muscles I would probably bend over your desk for you.” He swore under his breath. “You did bruise my butt though.”

“No good deed,” he mumbled and lifted her gently from the counter. His hand cupping her backside and gently rubbing each cheek as if it were normal. But it felt normal.

She nuzzled into his chest and sighed contentedly. “Niall’s going to see right through me,” she murmured.

“I’ll fire him again if he makes y’uncomfortable.”

She snorted and laughed, tilting her head up to look at him. “You are my favorite person Harry Styles. I love you so much. Even if you ruined my favorite pair of underwear.”

He smiled as mischievously as she had earlier in the day. “I’ll buy you more...a hundred pairs of them. Then I’ll ruin them all again,” he promised, then pressed his mouth firmly against hers. A gentle, soft kiss in comparison to all they did in the span of half an hour. “I love you too.”

She grinned. “Say it again.”

He shook his head at her, kissed her forehead, effectively turning her to mush, which was probably his plan so she couldn’t deny his next request. “Stop calling our coffee break a meeting.”

But her senses were returning. The ones that weren’t primal and horny about how massive Harry’s dick was in her mouth. She was going to say something funny; he could see it in the glint in her eye. “Well, I can’t put ‘sex’ on your calendar now can I?”

taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissitnhekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060

traditional taglist: @tpwkstiles @matildasatellite @jaded-and-hollow-souls @jerseygirlinca

@ameerakane20 @kimmi-kat @avasversion @youcouldstartacult @manrocket-mo

@golden-hoax @harryssky1 @soachibstel1 @morklee02 @harrysflorencex

@cherrycolas-things @emma34501 @wish-upon-a-star-1310 @acesofspadess

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #ceo!harry #sugardaddy!harry #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #traditional

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paperclip7805 · 2 years

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{Massive Toh s3 Spoilers}

This is just gonna be a diary of my thoughts before and well watching the special, get ready for me to fucking lose it.

Kings tide, and so it begins😀

We’re only on kings tide and I’m already crying cause eda kissed hootys head. I totally forgot that happened and I’m gonna lose it

I FORGOT HOW STRESSFUL KINGS TIDE IS IM NOT OKAY

I’m sorry but hooty in a ball is so funny, like, I wanna know how long he actully is.

Imagine if Luz actually got petrified, like she literally almost died. What would have the hexside squad and every one done.

Her almost getting petrified must have been so painful, remember how painful it was when Eda was almost petrified.

Tera turning to rain and asking “Raine? Belos is giving us paradise right?” Will always be a heartbreakingly good line. I get chills every time.

AMITY HAVING TO LEAVE HER DAD HAS ME IN TEARS AGAIN I CANT DO THIS

RUN LUZ RUN

YES HEXSIDE SWUAD IS HERE

willow is so powerful I love her

King looked like a bowling ball because of the way he fell down the stairs.

I forgot that Gus saw everything from hollow mind, is he gonna bring it up to luz and Hunter at all?

Ew, I didn’t know that they have earwigs on the boiling isles. I can’t escape earwigs

THERE ARE SO MANY GOLDEN GUARD CORPUSES:(

I love how amity and Luz protect eachother they are literally goals

OMG RAINE I LOVE YOU PLEASE BE OKAY

YES THE COLLECTORS THEME IS SO GOOD

the collector low key fucked Belos up lmao. I forgot how terrifying they are.

I still love the collector and his little “okay!:) boop:)”

Omg the collector is so cool, I feel like he would be an iPad kid

“I’m so happy I had you as a big sister” IM FUCKING WRECKED YOU DONT EVEN UNDERSTAND

Gus’s little cry I can’t do this.

Okay now thanks to them

I’m so fucking terrified

Amity with the tea omgit’s adorable, I need camila needs to teach her how to cook

Hunter really went “they won’t hate you, they’ll hate us:)”

AMITY AND LUZ ARE SO CUTE W THE BANDAID

BELOS NEEDS TO GET HUS UGLY ASS OUTTA HERE

Gus is so cute ONG but he needs to stop breaking stuff

LMAO CAMILA WAS LIKE “WTF” when Hunter knelt in-front of her

LUZ AND HER DAD ON THE WALL I CANT DEAL WITH THAT:(

LUMITY STUDIOS PRESENTS LMAO SHES SUCH A NERD

Amity leaving out odalia as she should on the family picture.

Huntlow is adorable

Gus you silly goose

LUMITY IN THE RAIN MY FANFIC DREAMS ARE COMING TRUE

I’m just waiting for something absolutely traumatic to happen and then Disney is like “BUY A BARBIE DREAM CLOSET”

THEIR ALL LEARNING SPANISH ONG

HOTTY ON THE DOOR THEY MISS HIM:(

Omg it’s duolingo

HUNTER IS SO BAD AT SOANISH

OMG THEY ARE TRYING TO HELP WITH THE HOUSE WORK

Amity you loser, she just ate shit

A MAP?!?!

OMG HUNTER IS CRUSHING SO HARD

omg luz has a Fanny pack lmao

Poor luz omg:(

PICTURES OF EDA IN LUZS LOCKER:(

the kid with the gauged ears look so cool

CAMILA ASKING IF THEY NEED TO DRINK BLOOD

Hunter practicing his sewing skills

OMG HUNTER WITH THE WOLF SHIRT

Hunter is so happy:)

Oh no, now he’s so sad:(

amity, go check on ur girl

CAMILA LOVES THEM SO MUCH

“You don’t want luz to turn out like you did” no that’s so fucking mean

Luz is so adorable saying to give the parliaments a kiss

“Hedgehogs”🙄

HUNTER AND GUS OKG THAT IS SO ADORABLE

TEANSPORT WORM

NO HUNTER OMG I HOPE YOUR OKAY

WILLOW WHYD YOU POKE HIM

Amity at the library is so cute

Ew not the historical society freak I fucking hate him

OMG THE COOL PERSON IS NON-BINARY

OMG VEE BLUSHED AT THE COOL GOTH PERSON OMG

THE SCRAP BOOK IS SO CUTE:)

OMG I JUST NOTICED THE LESBIAN FLAG HEART

Vee is so cool and smart and I love her

Oh thank god Hunter is okay but he terrified, I would be too

OMG ITS EXATLY WHAT HE SAID DURING THE SELKIDAUMUS EPISODE

Not the basement wtf

WTF IS IN THERE

Oh thank god it’s just a possum

Omg hunters crying and I’m crying we’re twins

Why is Camilla so weird ab the comic?

Luz and amity are so cute with the costumes they just love eachother so much

ITS NOT UR FAULT LUZ

everybody is such nerds

GET UR FUGLY ASS OUT IF HERE BELOS

IS BELOS GONNA POSSES HUNTER NO OMG? IS flapjack gonna be okay

BELIS NEEDS TO LEAVE THIS POOR BOY ALONE

Hunter needs to go to sasha for therapy

THE REASON SHE READS AZURA IS BECAUSE OF HER DAD:(

OMG IT GOT IN THROUGH HUNTERS CUT

HUNTER NO ONG

IK that this is a very dramatic moment ad all but it’s funny to me that he put the wolf shirt on under the costume, he’s adorable I love him:)

FlapjackNO WTF

WAIT THAT WAS OWLBERT ON THE VILE

O MF THE ANIMATIONIT LOOKS LIKE A MILLION DOLLAR MOVIE

OMG FLAPJACK NO YOU CANT DO THIS

Fight him Hunter you can do this

OMG HUNTER PLEASE BE OKAY

flapjack:( this is so not okay I’m so not okay. I will never be okay again

CAMILA OMG I LOVE HER

Mama IN THE DEMON REALM

Hunter talking to flapjack:(

Good witch luzura:) that’s so cute

IMG vee I fucking love you

I’m not gonna be okay ever again

My cry count is like 7:)

#toh 3 #toh spoilers #the owl house season 3 #the owl house willow #the owl house hunter #the owl house amity #the owl house s3 #the owl house spoilers #toh belos #toh #toh season three

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cinnamonest · 4 years

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Kaeya Alberich - Yandere Profile

YES I love my eyepatch boy!! I really like him as a yandere, because he's definitely got several traits and behaviors that would make him a very unconventional/different yet absolutely terrifying one to have. Him or Diluc as your yandere is basically like playing a game on maximum difficulty. He's so arrogant dammit why does he have to make it hot

More importantly, someone take the ability to write n/sfw away from me I s2g... I go from trying to make serious content to nasty weird kinks and completely feral in .002 seconds the moment I add that readmore

tws: gaslighting, manipulation, yandere, mentions of mutilation

tws (below cut): noncon, a good deal of sadism, mentions of an*l

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What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

He's actually one of the worst yanderes you could have in almost every regard, for two very simple reasons: his crippling psychological issues, and his intense selfishness. The first manifests as severe abandonment issues. It's the origin of his unhealthy feelings, most likely. Kaeya doesn't like the instability of people - based on his backstory, people always leave, or die, and even if they don't intend to, somehow it feels like abandonment, and he resents it. People leave him all alone and afraid and uncertain. That's generally all he knows, and despite the smug exterior, he's actually pushed people away quite a bit, keeps everyone at arm's length to ensure they can't become someone too important for him to accept their sudden absence. He can't care about someone, because that someone is fated to inevitably leave him, no matter who it may be.

That's why, once you manage to worm your way into his feelings and heart despite his best efforts, once he finally caves to acknowledging the feeling, he's aware. Painfully aware, because be can't stop worrying every waking moment about you, your well-being, your location. It reaches a point where he can't go about his job because he's simply too consumed with his worry.

The solution that kept him safest in the past was to avoid developing emotional attachments, but when he does, he's terrified of both your safety AND you intentionally abandoning him. Really, the latter would hurt worse, since he can't fault you for dying, but to abandon him? It would break him.

And, to some extent, he's developed a lot of prideful anger about it, deep, deep down. He feels that he doesn't deserve to be abandoned, doesn't deserve to just be left behind under the guise of some greater purpose, and he'll be damned if he just lets you toss him aside like he feels others did. Even if you reject him, he won't accept it. You don't get to reject him. He won't allow that. What has he ever done to deserve everything that's happened to him? Nothing. You're the one person who has stayed with him, and you're going to continue to be with him. Forever.

That being said, he's still somewhat confident because he's got that arrogance about him. He doesn't perceive rejection, because he's always gotten a lot of attention for his looks, even if he's never actually followed through on anyone else's attention out of those same fears. He'll write off any perceived rejection as being for some other reason, something besides an actual rejection, and he'll seek to eliminate whatever he feels is keeping you from just accepting him.

Honestly, one of the most likely to have a full blown, classic-yandere-style psychotic breakdown. He can be driven to a snapping point, if there's enough stress or obstacles, and in case of that, he'll be a lot more willing to kill, and a lot more willing to hurt you, but it's a point that would still take a lot to reach.

But what's really terrifying about Kaeya is his delusions, primarily his ability to mentally justify everything he does without hesitation. Even most delusional yanderes struggle - they feel like it's wrong, they know it is deep down, and they take time to convince themselves of their delusions, tell themselves it's ok over and over, beg for reassurance, and get defensive when called out because they know they're in the wrong. The same isn't true for Kaeya. He automatically justifies his actions by default, and has absolutely zero doubt or hesitation to do so. He doesn't even need a complex reason for justification - it's a simple one. He deserves what he wants. Anything necessary to achieve that is fair.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

Highly likely and very quickly, right up there with Diluc and Razor. And he's absolutely remorseless about it. It ties back into his delusional state and ability to justify anything he does - this is what's best for you. If you don't get that, that's your problem, not his.

He's another one to not want to pull some barbaric move like knocking you out, rather, he'd rather just trick you into walking right into your new home. He gets that you'll be upset about it, but to him, that's just part of the process. Not that he'll tolerate it for too long. 12, maybe 24 hours is enough time for you to reasonably be upset, but if you're still trying to fight him on this after that, he's going to get snappy about it, thinking you should already be over that by now.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

You're not leaving.

It's not worth trying, really. How he manages to do it is a mystery to you, but he'll manage to keep you locked in right there at the headquarters with him. How Jean and Lisa haven't found out about you being there, how he convinced all of his guards to be on his side of things, you have no idea. Realistically, if you get out, he's likely to make you out to be some kind of criminal that needs to be found -- just not to hurt you in any way, so goes the order, and the knights know better than to question why.

He has eyes and ears everywhere, it won't take them anytime at all to find you. He's so confident in that, and combined with his pride, he doesn't feel the need to go get you himself. No, it's a lot more satisfying to sit back and watch as they drag you through the doors of the headquarters, slowly pull you to the end of the room and drop you down at his feet, where he can look down on you with that closed-eyed, artificially wide smile that tells you that you have seriously fucked up.

Escape attempts aren't going to be met with a single shred of mercy, really. The thing about Kaeya is he's ultimately a selfish, selfish bastard with a lot of deep-seeded, highly repressed emotional issues, and he has absolutely no problem with keeping you bound hand and foot, or maybe even make some permanent modifications to your body if that's what it takes to keep you. It's not a wise idea to even try unless you're absolutely certain to succeed, otherwise you may find yourself never getting the opportunity again. You don't really need those Achilles tendons intact, you know. And your ankle bones are just so fragile, they'll snap with just a little twist. Actually, that wouldn't be too bad, giving you more reasons to be grateful when he's doing everything for you.

He's not one to just let it go, either. No, escape attempts are the one unforgivable thing for him, the one thing that will make him totally and completely snap. You don't get to do that. You're the one thing that doesn't get to just disappear out of his life in a flash. Half the reason he sends the knights to get you rather than going himself is to give him some time to let the rage settle down, otherwise he knows he might not be able to control himself and might end up hurting you even worse than he intends to. He's not going to buy any excuses and won't go any lighter on you if you beg and grovel or anything. But you will apologize -- you get to choose how hard it is. You can apologize the easy way, or, if you don't want to, there are many ways to force it out. But by the end, he'll get an apology, and a promise to never try again, out of you, no matter what that takes. It's by far the worst state you'll ever see him in, and really, once is enough to dissuade you from trying again.

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

You'd have to try pretty hard. He doesn't have the sheer amount of years of life experience like Venti or Zhongli, but he's not the captain for no reason - he's perceptive, and highly intelligent.

Rather than simply mastering reading human voice and facial expressions for telltale signs of deceit, he's good at learning individuals in particular - memorizing the patterns of thought and action of a particular individual, and predicting how they will act. He can do it with everyone else with ease, how much more, then, with the object of an obsession? If you're trying to formulate some plan to trick him, he'll already predict what you'll do, if you lie, he already knows. It's creepier than the others, really, because it's not just that he can tell when you're lying, but rather he already knows you're going to lie or try some scheme before you do it. It feels so tailored and personalized to your thought patterns, it almost feels like an invasion of the privacy of your mind, which, really, is the one privacy you thought you had left.

He's great at gaslighting himself, too. He's a very good liar, and can make you believe anything he wants. He'll target your fears and paranoias, make you believe you're going crazy, and he'll do it all so perfectly you'll never suspect a thing. You'll end up coming to him for protection and guidance, exactly as planned.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

Pretty strict. He doesn't let you have any outside contact, and you're limited on what you can do when he's gone. He'll bring you some books, maybe something to draw on -- no sharp writing utensils, though. In his mind, that should be enough to occupy you.

You won't get outside walks or visits. It's just too risky for him, and he really doesn't like seeing other people look at you. If you really, really beg, and you've been on amazing behavior, and you're well into your relationship, maybe a few months or so, there's a chance he'll take you out at nighttime, or sunrise, but at the slightest sign of intentions he doesn't like, you'll be dragged back, and you won't see the sun for a long time.

You'll have a very limited wardrobe, he doesn't see why you even need to wear anything, but if you're going to be stubborn, he can get you something simple, like an old shirt and some underwear, but that's about all you can have. Any requests for actual clothing are going to be denied. It's ridiculous for him to spend money on something you don't need, and besides, he prefers it this way, y'know?

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

Generally, it's a simple one: obey. You do what he tells you to do, and you don't do something if he tells you not to. This stems to similar rules that develop: be submissive, don't be argumentative, don't be defiant. Follow those, and you can both be happy, and that's what you want, isn't it? It had better be - he's not very lenient, and will harshly punish even small offenses. As for that punishment... most of it isn't going to be sfw. That's just how he is.

What he will do is emotionally manipulate you, and he's rather good at it. You wanted to escape? Ok. He'll let you have your way, let you be alone. All alone. All by yourself, in a little room, with no one at all, which is exactly how you would have left him, had you succeeded. He knows very well how that kind of loneliness bites. He's not totally cruel, though, and he won't withhold affection from you by the time he returns -- he doesn't need to, you'll already be crying and apologizing, which is exactly what he hoped for. Not that he won't briefly mock you for it.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're crying like that because you actually missed me. Oh, you did? Being all alone isn't particularly fun, now is it? I'm sure you understand that now."

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

Kaeya's an insanely jealous person. It doesn't show on his face, but it eats at him internally. It doesn't matter if it's a love interest, a platonic friend, even a family member. It's all the same -- people who want to take your attention away from him, people who you smile at that aren't him, people you love that aren't him. He's not one to delude himself into thinking everyone secretly loves you romantically, rather, it doesn't matter. Romantic interests are the worst threat, sure, but friends and family aren't much better.

He sees himself as above killing, though. He has people to do that for him, and he likes knowing that he has that much power. He's not going to dirty his hands with it, and frankly, they're not even worthy of his time and effort to kill them. Knights and other connections can take care of it just as well.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

As somewhat previously discussed, the primary form of making him mad is attempting an escape. That's on a whole new level of anger because it strikes at a very deep, wounding insecurity. On a normal day, though, he's more easily exasperated than angry. He gets frustrated somewhat easily, especially if you're trying exceptionally hard to be a brat. He has very clear warning signs. His signature little smirk drops, he gets quiet, he balls his hands into fists and digs his fingernails into his palms. At that stage, he's irritable and might snap at you, but won't get too angry until you ignore those signs and push it.

If you do push him, though, he gets genuinely mad, which is a very quiet anger at first -- he doesn't talk much when he's mad. He acts. You'll know he's snapped when he puts down whatever he's doing, and just silently stomps over to you, face completely empty and flat, looking down at you with a cold expression. It's enough to put fear in you, but at that point, even if you apologize, you're not getting out of whatever he's planned.

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

Strongly in the "below" camp, a rather unusual stance for a yandere. Like many things with him, there's an inexplicable duality going on there. You would think that if you loved someone so strongly you'd kidnap them, kill for them, and potentially suffer consequences just to have them, that you would really think highly of them. On the flip side, you would think that if you really saw someone as lowly, you wouldn't care for them, you'd see them as disposable.

But neither is true for Kaeya, no, he balances both obsessive love and complete narcissism regarding you. You're not disposable, no, he can't live without you, he needs you. But at the same time, you're not gonna be on any kind of pedestal. No, if anything, he sees himself on one, more like a throne, and you on the floor before him, how things should be.

He has a similar mindset to Zhongli or Albedo - you're fragile, you're dumb, you're incapable, and you need someone to care for you, protect you, guide you, someone who knows what's best for you, since you clearly don't. However, he's lacking in the attitude those other two have -- there's no seeing you as an angel here. There's no viewing himself as being absolutely honored to take care of you, or viewing protecting and caring for you as some kind of privilege that they're blessed to do, the way those two do.

No, as much as he loves those things, he'll never admit it, not even to himself really. Rather, his mentality is that you should be grateful. Here he is, a very highly respected, accomplished, capable person, and you...? You have what to offer, exactly? That's right, nothing, really, only cuteness and obedience, the latter of which you refuse to give him even though you really ought to. He's taking on the burden of making sure you don't get yourself killed, and how do you repay him? By getting mad about it, throwing a fit like some little kid? He puts up with your tantrums, which are really undeserved, by the way. He puts up with your disobedience and repeated rule violations, your sheer determination to defy him when he's going out of his way to do what's best for you.

One day, he thinks, you'll mature a little bit and understand why he does what he does, and when you do, you'll come groveling and sniffling about how sorry you are, how you'll never defy him again, how you'll be good and obedient from now on, and he'll love every second of it. He looks forward to that day quite a bit.

"Sigh... you know, you're pretty lucky I love you so much. You could stand to show me a little thanks, don't you think?"

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

He's strongly determined, and yet... doesn't do much to try. It goes back to his mindset that really, you're the one who should be grateful for him, and eventually, you will love him. He's not gonna grovel to you or try different ways of making you love him, no, he's far too proud for that. But he's a smart man. He knows the effects that complete and total isolation other than one other person can have on someone. He's just going to sit back and wait for that effect to kick in, and slowly watch your fragile little mind deteriorate until you're desperate for affection. At which point, well, he can use it against you.

"You were so mean to me before, weren't you? You fought me every step of the way, and now you're just going to turn around and act like that didn't happen...? Well, if you're really sorry, I'll forgive you. But how am I supposed to believe you really are...? Maybe you can think of a way to prove it, hm?"

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Probably the severity of his degradation. As aforementioned, most yanderes, even the more confident or cocky individuals, either worship the ground their beloved walks on and sees themselves as beneath them, OR sees their darling as some sort of fragile, angelic being, and they are simply a protector or caretaker to that being.

It's a bit different with him, ever the narcissist. It's a strange duality born out of a rare mix of neediness, obsession, and pride. You're more like a toy, or a pet - an invaluable pet that he could never part with, but a pet nonetheless. He certainly looks down on you more than the average yandere - he mentally associates you as naive, fragile, even dumb like a lot of the aforementioned protector/caretaker types, but without the reverence to make up for it.

It's a bizarre duality that not even he fully understands - don't think for a moment that that means he'll ever tire of you, or view you as disposable. No, he's actually one of the most obsessive ones, yet very demanding of attention and praise, rather than giving it.

He frequently tests you - things like leaving the door unlocked, waiting outside just to see if you'll try it. Seeing you open that door, watching your face go from ecstatic excitement and drop to wide-eyed terror, it's priceless.

"My, my, you didn't waste any time at all, did you? Why do you look so surprised...? You should know I wouldn't slip up that badly."

Pet names, but in the most infuriatingly condescending way, and uses them more often when he's mad and trying to warn you that you're pushing his limits. Particularly fond of "sweetheart," especially with a low warning tone and clenched teeth.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

Horny fucker, all the way. The man has a lot of stress and frustration in his life already, that much more if you're... less than compliant with your new lifestyle. Sex, especially rough and hard, is a fantastic stress reliever.

Very little reservation. He's not crude about it, but he tends to make subtle innuendos very frequently, and laughs at your embarrassed reactions. Definitely the type to pull the whole shtick in which he says something with a blatant sexual undertone, then elaborates in a way to make it sound like having meant something else, follows with that smirk and says, "Why? What did you think I meant?" It's something he really enjoys doing, and loves to get embarrassed reactions out of people, particularly yourself.

"Touchy" doesn't begin to describe it. Pretty much from the moment you meet him, he's got his hands somewhere on your person. He grabs your shoulders when he stands behind you, he wraps an arm around you from the side when he walks up to you, he's always pressing his hands on your back and sides whenever you're navigating the streets, walking through doorways, wraps an arm around your waist when sitting next to you. It's highly uncomfortable, but really, he's just got something very subtly, but very strongly intimidating about him. You almost don't want to confront him on it. If you do, he'll laugh it off, and stop -- for maybe 48 hours or so, and then he'll be right back at it.

To the surprise of, well, everyone who's ever met him, he doesn't actually live up to the rumors of having been around the block, so to speak. His experience is actually little to none - that kinda happens when you push everyone around you away. Not that he'd ever let you know that, of course, and will probably lie if asked, but you can gleam a little bit of truth from slightly awkward movements and a bit of noticeable shakiness.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

Kind of like Razor, the issue is that he loves you, and what better way is there of expressing love? He's not much for gift-giving or words of affirmation - no, he's a lot better with words of degradation, it comes more naturally to him. And he's certainly not one to enjoy acts of service -- well, not doing them, he'll gladly take them as a sign of your love, though. No, he expresses love through touch. It's like how, when you hug someone you really love, someone you missed, you squeeze them extra tight - the love manifests as a physical urge for some strong expression. Humans are physical about their emotions -- we punch walls when we're mad, we jump up and down when we're happy, and when you love someone, sometimes you just really, really want to pound them into a mattress as hard as physically possible. That's normal. That, and really, he's got his vices. He's actually fairly weak when it comes to resisting temptations, and prone to give in to urges for physical sensations like drunkenness and sex.

Is another one to be convinced that, with time, you'll come around. And is absolutely the top candidate to be one for using your own body against you - if you get wet, if you whimper, if you cum, that's just proof that you really do want this, that you're just being difficult because you enjoy being a brat, and he'll be sure to tell you that.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

This is nearly indistinguishable from punishment, sadistic bastard

D/S dynamics

Arrogant fucker wants to be served and worshipped, you could see it coming from a mile away. Anything that puts you beneath him is going to make him happy - anything where you're where you're supposed to be. There's a lot of options, but it doesn't really matter, as long as he feels like he's in control and ownership of you in some way, and as long as you act accordingly.

He wants it to be something that’s not just for sex, but rather, he’ll end up carrying it over into normal life, whether you like it or not. If you just went along with it in hopes of getting it over with once he cums, you’re going to be in for a treat when it starts to carry over. He gets a little too used to being worshipped, and decides he likes that submissive attitude on you enough to want to see it all the time.

Petplay/Collaring

It really helps that he sees you as something of a pet already, but really, the collar is the selling point. Even if you never go outside, there's something unbearably hot about the possessiveness of it all - really, it's there to remind you of your status as property. He wants to own you, and for you to be forced to acknowledge that he owns you, and there's really no better way to do that than something with his name on it. It's even better with a leash, one he can pull on when he's fucking you to pull you back onto him over, and over, and over, hearing it choke you the more he shortens it.

But really, having you crawl towards him on all fours and obey little commands so simple they're humiliating is pretty nice, too.

Impact pain/painplay

There's really nothing quite so powerful feeling as watching you cry and squirm from it, y'know? He's another one that just likes the marks his hands, belts, or anything else can leave all over the skin of your ass and the back of your legs. The thing with him, though, is it's not even always a punishment, he just does it for fun, and that makes it unpredictable. Will definitely make you count, it's a sadistic torture for your mind and body.

Throatfucking

May be used as a punishment measure, may just be because he's craving it, either way, even if you have a gag reflex, you won't for very long. He'll train it out of you gradually, grabbing the back of your head and just slamming all the way down into your throat, holding you there, making you choke - it's a beautiful sound, really, listening to you gag, all while your throat spasms around him, it's the best feeling, really, and will definitely be used as a threat if you need incentives to behave.

Choking

Ties into the dynamics, but really, there’s not much to say on this one. He likes the power trip from having his hands wrapped around your throat, seeing you struggle, watching your face go red, hearing those little choking noises. It puts power over you into his hands, and if you get pleasure from it against your own will, that’s even better.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

Absolutely one of the ones to use it as a tool. If you have a baby, you'll be so much more bound to him. You'll need him more, you'll want him around more, you'll be much less likely to leave, and in a way it feels a little bit like a sign of ownership over you.

That being said, he's also acutely aware of his jealous tendencies, and realizes he would also be very likely to become jealous if he felt like you loved a baby more than him, or gave it more attention and affection than you do him. He doesn't like the thought.

So ultimately, the latter side prevents him from willingly trying, but if you really, really have defiance issues even after he's tried everything he can to break you help you adjust, he might consider it.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

If it's mild enough, he can just take the route of extremely rough fucking - it gets rid of the frustration, he likes hearing you whimper and squeal, and he can leave lots of little bruises as reminders of what not to do in the future.

But, again, he already gets off to putting you in pain - it'll be that much worse when you've done something to deserve it. Harder hits, no mercy whatsoever, and he just loves all your little cries, wiping away your tears and smiling at you, right before bringing down whatever instrument of pain he's chosen again. If you really, really make him mad, and he really wants to make you cry, he's not above fucking your ass, either, watching you cry and beg, but you'll learn with time that begging doesn't ever get you out of anything.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

Definitely an ass man. Likes fucking you in doggy, seeing the ripple every time you bounce back off of him, pulling your hair or arms to add some force. He likes seeing all the little red marks that his hands and belts and anything else will leave on the skin, views it like marks of possession. Grabbing, beating, fucking, it's all good.

#Jesus take the wheel im too nasty for this #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere kaeya #tw: dark content #tw: noncon #tw: non/con

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belphies-cuhm-sluht · 4 years

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Hey... It's my first time requesting here, so here goes. Could you make a scenario in which the reader and Belphie had a baby? I saw you Lucifer one and it got me wondering how it would be like with Belphie.

Without You (Belphegor x F!Reader)

WARNING (Pregnancy, Children, Babies, Slight NSFW, ANGST)

A child was the last thing he wanted, literally the last thing, it was at the very bottom of his to-do list written in the tiniest print, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t even his handwriting. He had turned you down every single time you brought it up, and it was quite easy to turn it down, finding any and every reason for you and him not to have a child together. His main reason was quite simple, and very selfish. He didn’t want to share you, not even with his own child. He wanted you all for himself, he wouldn’t have some tiny, whatever the hell it would even be, taking your time away from him. That would be unacceptable. Think of all the naps the two of you would miss out on! Ridiculous, it would just be ridiculous.

There was also a small part of him, very small due to the fact that he didn’t really worry much about it at all, but it was always in the back of his mind, of what would happen if you did try to carry his child. He was a demon, and any child by him would obviously be part him, maybe even more, he didn’t know how potent his seed was. Of course, nothing had happened yet, and he had filled your womb many times before, so that worry was shoved to the furthest part of his brain. Nothing to worry about, there hadn’t been a mistake yet, and he was 99.999% sure that there wouldn’t be any mistakes made at all.

He hadn’t been thinking ahead though, and one important thing had slipped his mind completely. Breeding Season. You hadn’t even known about it at all, he didn’t feel the need to tell you, he thought that he would be able to keep control of himself long enough to keep you safe from himself. His plan proved futile, and his animalistic nature had taken over completely. It wasn’t his fault though, it was just how he was, who he was… what he was. He, in a way, completely blacked out. You were pinned to the bed in less than a second, your clothes torn to shreds and discarded onto the floor as he completely ravaged you, slamming into you, making sure his tip pierced through your womb with each and every thrust, filling your womb over and over with his seed. By the time he was done with you, you were a bruised, crying, cum filled mess. There was no comfort afterwards, no aftercare, nothing. Just the sounds of his light snoring next to you as you weakly crawled out of the bed, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

Days passed, and shortly days turned to weeks, and you still refused to talk to him. Why would you talk to him? You were terrified, and rightfully so. What had happened to you was traumatic, almost as traumatic as him killing you. Now he had two things to feel guilty for, but you still talked to him after he had killed you, so why wouldn’t you listen to his reasoning now? “Let her be.” “Give her time, Belphegor.” Everyone always had something to say, but none of them truly understood. He didn’t like being away from you, especially not for this long. You wouldn’t even respond to his texts, you wouldn’t even read them. Were you really that scared of him? Did you really hate him that much? He didn’t really care, he would stand outside your door all day, even going as far as to bring down his pillow and his blanket, napping right outside your room. He would wait there as long as it took for you to open that damn door and talk to him. He understood that it didn’t make sense to you, but the least you could do is give him a chance to try to make it make sense to you.

Finally, after almost a month of you not talking to him at all, you finally went to him. It felt like forever, and hearing your voice say his name, it sounded… heavenly. You were finally giving him a chance, a chance to explain, a chance to make you understand. He knew it would be hard, but even now you still seemed scared of him. It only made it harder, all he wanted to do was reach out to you and pull you into his arms and tell you that it would all be okay. For a couple of weeks after it even seemed like everything was okay. He had explained everything to you, and you were slowly coming back to him, letting him touch you again, letting him kiss you again, and he would thank the dark Devildom sky every morning when he’d wake up and see you curled up next to him. He had messed up twice, almost lost you twice, he wasn’t about to screw up a third time.

That was the problem though, he thought that the third mistake would never happen, not even realizing that the third mistake was already taking place, making its home in your womb. He was so happy that you were finally talking to him again, overjoyed that you had, in a sense, let him back into your life. All he wanted to do was forget about what had happened all together, move on from it, leave it behind the both of you like a bad nightmare. It would have been too easy though, he would have been too lucky if that were the case. If he just got to move on from what he had done and still have you. Luck was never on his side, and there were always two sides to every coin.

There were no changes, not for a while, no changes that he would have picked up on immediately. Sure, you were sleeping a lot more, but he just attributed that to you being around him so much. Plus, he didn’t really have a problem with it, you were constantly with him, always next to him, it’s not something that he would complain about. Then you started eating more, bringing bowls of ice cream up to the bed with you, crying into the bowl as you scrolled through your D.D.D. He didn’t get it, and he didn’t really know who to ask. Beel had no answers for him, but he’d supply you with food whenever you asked for it. He could get used to your strange eating habits, and he even got used to you crying at almost everything… you were just emotional. When you started throwing up every morning when you woke up, that’s when he started getting worried. He was panicking actually, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with you. Had you gotten sick? He didn’t know how you would have gotten sick though, you were constantly with him, and he was never sick.

Soon enough the physical changes started coming, the small bulge in your abdomen that was never there before. He knew he had never seen it before, he noticed everything, he could pick up any change in your body. It wasn’t just visual, he could feel it when he held you close, rubbing his hand over your stomach which seemed to soothe you more now. He tried to write it off as your eating, maybe you were just eating too much. He didn’t bring it up to you, you were already so emotional, he didn’t want to upset you even more, so he just questioned it mentally, paying more attention to you as the days passed.

It happened one night as you were laying next to him, snoring quietly, his hand rubbing over your stomach as he always did. Your abdomen had grown much more from when he first noticed the change, but he was still writing it off as your eating, you were eating way more now than even before. That’s when he felt it, something moving beneath your skin, almost like it was pressing up against his hand. Your body reacted to it, rolling over onto your back with a smack of your lips, he would have thought it was adorable had he not been silently freaking out. What the fuck was that?

He couldn’t keep quiet about it anymore, he had to ask you, he had to bring it up. That was the first night in a long time that he had actually lost sleep, his mind focusing only on his hand that was still laying on your stomach, waiting to feel the slightest movement. As soon as you woke up he asked. He didn’t have time to wait, he was panicking even more now. “Did you eat something bad? Did Beel give you raw meat? Did you eat raw meat? Did you go anywhere without me?” The last question seemed stupid, he knew that you hadn’t left the house, let alone left his side since he got you back. He was worried though. Was it a worm? Was it a parasite? He didn’t know, but whatever it was had to be taken care of immediately.

You didn’t have time to answer any of his questions before pushing yourself out of the bed and running into the bathroom. He held your hair away from your face, wiping the sweat from your forehead as you retched into the bowl. That’s when he sensed it… almost… smelled it… it was different, but not too far off from the smell of him and you mixed together. It was familiar but unique at the same time, he didn’t like it. As soon as he knew you were done he carefully pulled you up off the floor and led you into the bedroom, laying you carefully on the bed. “I need you to be honest with me, Y/N. What the hell is going on?” He hadn’t raised his voice at you, only letting show through his tone his genuine concern. He didn’t understand why you started crying, only reaching out to grab you, pulling you onto his lap as you cried on his shoulder.

That’s when you started telling him between choked out hiccups and loud sniffles that you didn’t really understand what was going on, that you just blamed the changes on the Devildom at first. Then the real changes started happening, and you caught on, everything finally adding up in your head, but you were too scared to tell him, scared that he’d hurt you again, and that killed him. You were scared of him, scared to talk to him, scared to tell him what was going on… you didn’t trust his rationale, and why should you? He had hurt you twice, what would make you think that he wouldn’t hurt you again if you told him something that he didn’t like. He tried to stay calm, keep his composure for you, but inside he was freaking out. He was pissed, pissed at himself, angry that he had even allowed this to happen. He was pissed at Lucifer, for allowing him to get to you, for not protecting you when he had gone through his season. That’s surely when it must have happened. Not only had Lucifer not protected you, he hadn’t even told Belphie that this kind of thing was possible, and now… here you were, proving the impossible to be possible.

The problem wasn’t just that it had happened in the first place, the bigger problem was that he knew you wouldn’t allow him to get rid of it, and he knew just how to do it too. If you didn’t mean so much to him he would do it while you were sleeping… but you were everything to him. He cared about you, he wanted you to be happy, he didn’t want to lose your trust again. So… he did what he never thought he’d be able to do. He thought of the good aspects of it, and while there were very few pros to what was going on, at least with his seed growing inside of you everyone would know not to go near you, at least they should know. He didn’t expect the instinct to protect it would kick in, but he found himself growling at anyone that even came close to you or your stomach, and he only realized how bad it really was when Beel came to bring you food and he damn near bit Beels hand off.

Watching it grow, watching you grow with it, that’s what scared him the most. He knew it would be strong, how could it not be? The thing was part of him, a literal demon spawn and it could hurt you, rip through you at any point. There was no way to tell how big it actually was or what it was doing, he could only see the movements through your stomach and attempt to measure it by rubbing over your stomach. He could tell it was bigger, as it would be, but that only made him worry more. Would it have horns like him? Would it even care enough about you to be careful with its movements? He had no way of knowing, he could only hope. Hope that the thing, the child, loved you as much as he did.

Months passed, and while most men found it beautiful to see their woman carrying their child, he found it terrifying. It didn’t take long for him to realize that not only did the child have horns, it also kicked like a bull, it was just like him and he hated that. He couldn’t stand to look at your stomach, it was almost painful to see the purple and yellow blotches that covered your skin, knowing that it was his fault, that he had caused this. He would try to clear them up every day, only for the beast inside you to kick just as hard, creating darker bruises, almost as if it were mocking him. It wasn’t just seeing what it did to you, it was watching you try to cover up your pain, pretend that everything was fine as you clenched your teeth together, rubbing your hand over your stomach in an attempt to calm the monster down. He hated it, and he hated himself for doing it to you.

What hurt him the most though… was actually thinking that you would make it. He had done everything he could to try to make you comfortable, to make it easier on you because you were so damn persistent, so dead set on carrying this thing that you would kill yourself in the process. He knew it was a possibility, but he had never actually thought of it happening. You had already made it this far and while, yes, you were exhausted, and you were being beaten from the inside, you were still breathing. You were still going. It was so close to the end, you only had to wait a little while longer, but the monster had different plans. They always do, but not even he, a monster himself, could have planned for it to happen the way it did. No one would have been ready for it.

Everything was calm, too calm. You had finally dozed off, and for once you actually looked… peaceful. The thing had finally stopped moving, almost as if it had decided to take a nap itself, and he thought that he’d be able to get some sleep in. It had been so long since he had actually taken a nap, a decent nap where he didn’t wake up almost immediately to the sound of you gasping or crying silently when the thing would kick you. He should have known better, he should have known something was about to happen, the calm before the storm, he should have woken you up, he should have gotten the thing out of you sooner… but he was too late. He was always too late.

It wasn’t a gasp, it wasn’t even a cry… your scream had startled him awake, he knew that scream, he had heard it before, it just wasn’t a scream that he ever thought he’d hear from your lips. His eyes were still clouded with sleep as he sat up and looked at you, and for once he wished that he hadn’t slept, that he hadn’t given himself that small joy, because now the greatest joy he had ever known was being taken from him. He knew that much, watching the blood stain through Beels shirt, the only shirts that even fit you at this point. It wasn’t only coming through the shirt though, it was oozing from between your lips as your breaths came out in choked off gurgles. He didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t even find his voice to call for help, to call for anyone. It was as if he was stunned into silence, watching it all happen, your eyes wide with panic and fear met his own that mirrored the same emotion.

Your scream had alerted the brothers, and they all came rushing into the room, but there was nothing anyone could do, what were they supposed to do? His eyes never left yours, even as the beasts horns, horns that looked exactly like his own, ripped through your chest with the most god awful squelching as skin and muscle was torn. Most of his brothers left at that point, even Beel could barely stand to stick around and watch, but he still stayed longer than the others. For emotional support or just to say his own goodbyes to you, he wasn’t quite sure, but he didn’t blame him for leaving. The only one who stayed was Lucifer, helping to rid your body of the beast that had destroyed you, the monster that had taken you so carelessly away from him.

Lifeless eyes stared up at him now, the sheets and blankets stained with your blood. It was quiet, eerily quiet, the silence was deafening and he hated it. At least he thought he did, until he heard the child crying. What right did it have to cry? He hated it, he didn’t want to see it, he didn’t want to hear it, he just wanted to have you back. He would do anything to bring you back, but he knew he would never get that option, he would never get that choice. He had screwed up, it was his third mistake, and now he had really lost you.

Everyone went on as if it had never happened. It was easy for them, but it killed him to see his brothers act as if you were nothing more than a mere visitor who had passed through. The only one who understood his pain was Beel, and not only did he understand, but he helped. Belphie wasn’t the greatest father, he wasn’t the best, he wasn’t even close to being a good father, but he tried. Not for the child, but for you, because he knew that’s what you would have wanted him to do.

He was never quite sure about how much time had passed, he relived that day every single day. In his mind, it was as if it had only happened yesterday, always fresh in his memory. Days could have been weeks and months could have been years and he would have never noticed. Not even the growing of his son helped mark the passing of time. Everything was a blur to him, without you there, he felt he had no reason. The only reason he even got out of bed at this point was for his son who he could barely even glance at without feeling a mixture of anger and sadness. He didn’t want the kid, but he looked so much like you, he hated that the child was the only living piece of you that he had left.

Days went on, and every day was the same. It was like a constant loop, feed the kid, keep the kid occupied, put the kid to sleep. It never ended, it never changed. He was laying on the floor, on the verge of passing out when his son pushed himself off the floor and walked to the door just as the knock came, pointing at it with a smile. “Mama?”

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gardenofgods · 2 years

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Why has Giratina taken so long to reconcile with her brothers, despite being out of the Distortion World for nearly 200 years?

She wasn’t too sure on where they were after being freed. Sinnoh, then Hisui, was a large place, and Arceus’ oppressive aura was the first thing that greeted her again after leaving. The lack of his aura was something she’d grown pleasantly used to in the Distortion World, so emerging to such an intense pressure that blanketed everything, including her senses made it difficult to feel where her brothers really were. She wasn’t sure if they were in the dimension, in their own dimensions, or if Arceus had done something terrible to them in her long absence. It partly brought her into a state of paranoia and terrified her, the latter thought inducing anxiety and making her go into hiding for half a decade, even if he likely knew she was out and could go try to kill her at any point.

Since then at least, her sensory abilities have become much more honed over time, and she’s acutely aware of her brother’s locations at the very least more or less. The worry that had wormed its way into her mind after her paranoia over Arceus lessened, and she came to realize they both were still alive, was that they hated her and wanted nothing to do with her.

She experienced the way humanity treated/viewed her firsthand, a glaring disparity from how they treated the rest of her family. Giratina saw how her statue was destroyed, while her siblings’ were left intact. She assumed that they viewed her the same way everyone else did, along with other reasons. Despite her banishment not being anyone’s fault but Arceus - a conclusion she reached during her time of solitude which dispelled any anger and malice she had towards her brothers - she still felt that, perhaps, they hated her because of it. Because she left them alone to face the wrath of Arceus afterwards. There was no little sister anymore to protect them and try to keep them safe, to vouch for them or to share food among them all when Arceus gave them little. Giratina felt that they resented her for leaving them behind, for not doing more for them.

There was also the fear of them seeing what kind of person she had become as well. Very clearly, Giratina is not the same meek child she was, bearing an intense hatred and anger now. All innocence was torn away, and a much more brutal and unforgiving person remained. There’s also the topic of her death in the Distortion World, shedding her dark-typing and becoming a ghost-type. Her death is something she doesn’t struggle with any longer, in fact embracing it, but such a jarring, damning fact had been difficult to talk to Dialga about, and their reaction cut her to her core.

Giratina loves her siblings with all she has, waking up from her blind anger and hatred upon her realization that it was Arceus’ fault for everything. If she still had a shred of hate for them, she wouldn’t have intervened like she did at Spear Pillar against Cyrus. There were, and still are, so many uncertainties.

#🔸 headcanon ➤ giratina.#long post #like she literally hadnt gone and talked to dialga up until like 4 years ago. almost 200 years after she'd been out #thinks abt how she didnt get to grow up w them. her seeing them all grown up now is like. holy shit i missed so much 🥺#this got so long but i have so many thoughts. she's just like well. the humans painted me to be a bitch so like. surely they feel the same.

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gallavictorious · 4 years

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So, chances are good that that's Mickey's money and weed Frank helps himself to, isn't it? Not sure if we've got any leads on anyone wearing that particular jacket (does it look like it's made of leather? Is it Ian's?) but let's face it: Mickey, like the Gallaghers, has exactly zero qualms about casually approrpriating someone else's clothes, so it can belong to anyone and still be his stuff in those pockets. And out of all the people in the house, he seems the most likely to carry around cash and pot nowadays, right?

Right.

So yeah, Frank has now robbed Mickey Milkovich, and while I can imagine Mickey just swearing up a blue streak and then letting it go because it's fucking Frank, right, what the hell can you do, I can also imagine him not taking at all kindly to this, and that's way more fun.

See, when Mickey first discovers the theft, I don't think he'll intially be too upset. He'll come ambling down the stairs to a bustling kitchen on a Sunday morning, yawning and jonesing for a joint, but alas! There's none to be found!

”The fuck's my weed?” he asks the room at large, and then, once he's put his hand down the other pocket, ”The fuck's my fucking money?” He glares at the Gallaghers gathered around the kitchen table: ”Any of you jokers went through my pockets? Gonna want that stuff back.” As I said, not too upset; it's family, it's whatever.

”Not me,” Debbie says.

”I'm ten!” Liam says (which Mickey doesn't actually think clears him as a suspect, but okay).

”C'mon, man, I'm a cop,” Carl says, and Mickey would ask him what the hell that's got to do with anything, but Ian interupts him, coming down the stairs and saying, ”It's probably Frank, I think I heard him yelling downstairs last night.”

And that's not whatever, because Frank ain't family, he's a fucking predatory worm, and if he think he can go through Mickey's stuff and take whatever, he's got another thing coming.

”He's a fucking dead man,” Mickey announces with great finality. ”Where is he?”

”Alibi opened about two minutes ago, so there probably,” Carl offers, then gives Mickey a meaningful look. ”You kill him, don't tell me about it.”

”Won't,” Mickey promises easily – as if he'd ever tell a fucking pig anything anyway – and grabs his (whoever's) jacket and heads out for a little terrify and retrieve.

He does find Frank at the Alibi, where he's already putting the stolen cash to good – bad – use by ordering a third shot of whiskey to go with his second beer. Mickey slams the door open, and he's got his full-on murder face on, grinning in horrible threat as he calls: ”Frank!”

And Frank looks up, startled, and he sees the jacket on Mickey and fuck.

”Oh shit,” he says, and he'd try to talk his way out of this – they're related now for God's sake, doesn't that count for anything?! – but he sees the look on Mickey's face and yeah, there'll be no talking if he lets Milkovich get hold of him, so he quickly downs the rest of his shot and rushes straight for the back door.

”It wasn't me! I swear to God, Mickey, it wasn't me!” he calls over his shoulder as he runs, and, ”It's just a loan! I'm going to pay you back!”

Now, Frank's got a few skills and running away is certainly one of them, so he actually manages to out-leg Mickey, turning corners and jumping fences until he's gained enough of a lead that he dares make it back to the Gallagher house. He storms through the door and finds – as he had hoped – Ian eating cereal on the couch.

”Your husband is trying to kill me!” Frank tells him indignantly. ”You have to call him off.” It's supposed to be a command but comes out mostly a pleading whine.

Normally, Ian's all about calling his husband off – or, more commonly, physically holding him back – before he does something violent and stupid, but this is Frank, so he doesn't even look up from his breakfast. ”Nah. Don't think so.”

And Frank groans because this is so unfair. How the hell was he supposed to know that stuff belonged to Mickey and not to one of his unloving and ungrateful but far less violent kids? This is Ian's goddamned fault, for marrying a fucking Milkovich... Typical Ian, always so inconsiderate, really takes after Clayton in that regard, and now he's going to stand by and do nothing while his man wife beats Frank to a pulp and leave him for dead in an alley?

He'd let Ian know exactly how unimpressed he is with his lack of proper respect and fidelity but for the second time that day a door slams open to reveal the deadly form of a homocidal Mickey Milkovich. Frank swallows his complaints and rushes towards and out the kitchen door.

”Hey,” Ian calls casually. ”So Frank's still alive, huh?”

”Slippery fucker,” Mickey tells him, flopping down next to him on the couch. He'll give up the chase for now; let Frank run himself ragged for fear of his vengeance while Mickey chills with his husband, that sounds about fucking right.

”Mm.” Ian pauses around a spoonful of Froot Loops, and gives Mickey a sideway glance. ”Just for the record, you're not actually going to kill him, right?”

Mickey raises an eyebrow. ”You'd have a problem with it if I did?”

”Told you, don't wanna be a prison widow.”

”Uh-huh.” He gets up and head for the fridge to fetch a couple of beers, calling over his shoulder as he goes, ”Didnt murder him when I thought he'd blab about us to my dad, not gonna off him over some fucking weed and a couple of twenties.” Returning to the couch and handing one of the bottles to Ian (who accepts it because yeah, it's only noon, but it is Sunday), Mickey adds. ” Asshole's not fucking stealing from me again, though. Gonna let him stew for a bit, then find him and have a few words, real friendly like.”

Ian hums noncommittally. Frank's been stealing everything he can lay his hands on for as long as Ian can remember, so he doubts he'll stop now – but then again, Mickey can be very persuasive and very scary when he wants to be, so who knows?

They drink in companionable silenece, enjoying the rare moment of quiet in the Gallagher household.

”Don't know how I feel about you chasing after another Gallagher with every intention of beating the crap out of them,” Ian notes suddenly, throwing a small grin Mickey's way. ”Thought that was our thing.”

Mickey grins right back at him, cocky and flirty and amused. ”Yeah? Want me running after you, Usain Bolt?”

”Wouldn't mind.” And Ian jumps up from the couch, snatching Mickey's beer out of his hand as he goes. He runs for the stairs, laughing at his husband's outraged protests, followed by the sound of feet in furious pursuit, because quiet moments on the couch are all very good and well but there's other fun to be had too, when you have the whole house to yourself and you're young and happy and stupidly in love with a man who’s rough and tough in all the right ways but still draws the line at murder.

#was mostly unmoved by hos but it did inspire some Thoughts #it got away from me a little #ah well #hall of shame: ghosts of gallaghers past #gallavich #frank gallagher #mickey milkovich #meta ficlet #shameless spoilers #my stuff

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sepublic · 3 years

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Barrel’s Warhammer!

YYYYOOOOOO SASHA!!!!

She really is the epitome, the pinnacle, of gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss! I love Sasha, she’s such an utter mess, morally ambiguous and then downright terrible in so many ways, and genuinely unhinged in just as many! She’s a freaking riot and SUCH an amazing character, y’all!

In general, I adore how Toads are handled in this show! Yeah, they’re big and brutish and used as thugs… But the show still clearly portrays them as people, and some of them are terrible like Bog, but others are just trying to live their lives, like Percy and Braddock! And how they’re all clearly working with this ascribed role as Andrias’ enforcers and iron fist across Amphibia, how they’re encouraged to be cruel brutes… But they’re still people and they’re still oppressed, which is why Grime is leading his rebellion! Good for him, good for THEM!

Also… GRIMMITY?!?! Beatrix?! Grime LORE! I like how Beatrix and Grime have blind eyes on opposite sides, and Sasha roasting Bufo by naturally connecting his name to Buffoon, WONDERFUL! Aldo’s also a legendary, killer design, he reminds me of VLD Zarkon, old and decrepit and fanged and clearly has seen a LOT of stuff, a real warrior of his time… Honestly, getting a look into the Toads and THEIR complicated role in this story, as the ‘bad guys’ but not really, there’s more to them; It’s such a fit to Sasha’s character, and I LOVE how she’s such an utter brute for someone who normally seems accustomed to using honey over vinegar to attract flies (to feed her Toads)! She’s nuts, she’s great.

I love the explanation for the eye symbol, I love Sasha really getting to appreciate Percy and Braddock, and for a moment I thought she really was learning her lesson… When she gave them an out, I thought maybe she took what happened with Anne to heart, but now…! Maybe this is what she’s always done; Made empty promises. God, I love this little arc for her character, how she wants to be a good friend, but she keeps valuing power and control over all else…

AND HER RAGE! HER JEALOUSY! At Anne and Marcy being with each other, leaving her out, Sasha’s mind jumping to all of the worst conclusions, and how THAT anger is what unlocks her gem power, not heroism or anything else! Sasha’s such a complex and messed-up character but you can’t help but root for her, she really IS a Problematic Fave! God, with how she’s going to meet Anne in a volcano, and the whole “Sasha is Anakin and Anne is Obi-Wan” just WRITES itself, with Sasha angrily accusing Anne of turning Marcy against her, Anne retorting that Sasha did that herself, etc.!

God Sasha’s such a complicated mess and ball of unresolved emotions and contradictions, denial that’s insisting everything’s fine when it’s really not… She’s a manipulator who prefers to be hands-off, yet is also somehow the raw brute with unthinking, unyielding strength! She’s utterly terrifying, no wonder all of the Toads are in awe of her ferocity and power!

Also, I like how Barrel’s Warhammer was included; At first I wondered WHY the Narwhal Worm would guard the weapon used by the Toad who fought it, but as we can clearly see… Barrel must’ve conked it out BADLY with his Warhammer, knocking it out, and the hammer has been stuck since! And once more, the hammer has been slammed into the worm… And in general, I love seeing the Toads just ROOT around Sasha and Grime, I love seeing villainous characters get to go feral and unhinged as you root for them, as THEY rise up and fight against all odds as the underdogs!

Percy and Braddock and the gag with the kawaii poses was great, but it’s also sad to see them go! They’re definitely a wake-up call for Sasha and I like it, I wonder if you could parallel them, one-by-one, to Anne and Marcy respectively? Perhaps Anne and Marcy were initially not taken seriously by Sasha at first, but ultimately she DID grow to care for them and not just as ‘tools’, who knows? With Anne and Percy and Braddock, I think Sasha’s going to have to reconsider things… And GRIME, how he just sort of accepts that, yeah, you gotta lose people to achieve a goal! I could see him being a bad influence to Sasha, unintentionally- Like her, he means well, they’re really great parallels to one another!

Like, Sasha and Grime are both brutes, power-hungry, and wanting control, but Sasha prefers subtlety and manipulation, appeals to both her and others’ emotions, while Grime prefers to be raw and unthinking strength, he’s a seasoned veteran from combat, while Sasha is likely a rich kid, young and learning… They’re such a dynamic duo with a lot to teach one another! Maybe Grime sees himself in Sasha; Himself when HE was a kid… Maybe when he was a gladiator, he had friends but left them behind to be promoted to Captain? I wonder if Beatrix has anything to say on this, too…

Could Beatrix provide insight to Grimmity? Did Grime leave her behind in a sense…? Does SASHA have a sibling, and that leads to her weird power complex, as another parallel to Grime! Either way it’s sweet, I adore the dynamic of two horrible people who are good friends and bad, enabling influences to each other… Being problematic faves, you can’t help but cringe at their mistakes but also cheer as they win as underdogs and turn the tables on their enemies! I like how Sasha is still supportive of Grime and vice-versa, Grime’s guiding this kid, but Sasha’s fully supporting Grime as the de-facto leader and backing him up, not trying to seize control!

I think it really parallels Anne, how she just wanted to get back home… But somewhere along the way, she realizes how much she loves and enjoys this, and values her friend! And maybe it could lead to Sasha not wanting to head back home after all, especially if there’s nothing there for her; Which could play into her keeping all of her gem powers as she opposes Andrias openly, while Anne has some of her power because again, she’s more neutral, and then Marcy has none because she’s fully bought into the Newt King’s schtick!

Also, it’s funny that Sasha is no doubt feeling betrayed, like her trust has been jeopardized by Anne and Marcy, considering she did the same to Anne in Reunion! Lying to her about what she intended to do with the Frogs… It’s wonderfully hypocritical and this kid does NOT want self-awareness, she’ll toy with it for a bit, but then immediately backpedal! Get better and well Sasha, for everyone’s sake… The confrontation and paranoia as she loses her friends and only has Grime, who means well but isn’t so great himself, is also nice!

Honestly, there’s even a parallel to the idea of Sasha meaning well, only to be ruined by her own toxicity… And Grime wanting a better life for Toads in his revolution, but still allowing a hierarchy to exist by the end of the day, instead of abolishing it for all! They both have good ideas and initiative, but it’s ruined by Sasha and Grime not backing down on certain things and not listening to others, being SO sure they’re right… Very compelling stuff. Now I’m starting to wonder if Sasha will be open to Anne about her suspicions, if they WILL get along for the Third Temple…

…Or if she’ll try to manipulate and fool her again, thinking that SHE’s been betrayed herself! And maybe Sasha will realize her faults in the battle of Newtopia, only for it to be too late, Anne has been too betrayed, Sasha has only herself (and, well, Andrias) to blame! In the meantime, as Sasha no doubt embraces her role as a rebel, but also unknowingly as a hero against Andrias and his master… I can see her tapping more into her gem powers and actually using them as part of her rage, hence the shots we see from the Third Temple! She’s going to be terrifying, y’all, and even more of a match for Yunnan at this point… And Anne, poor Anne’s going to be caught between TWO toxic friends!

Both mean well, but both have other bad points… And it just means Anne’s gonna have to forge her own path, make her own decisions and group and faction, be her own person and take initiative once more! But it’s also gonna be lonely and could contribute to more trust issues along the way… And maybe she’ll think she can only trust herself, only do things on her own, and how this might pair badly with her selfless martyr-complex. We’ll have to wait and see, though… We’ll have to wait and see.

#amphibia #amphibia sasha #sasha waybright #amphibia grime #captain grime #amphibia percy #amphibia braddock #analysis #speculation

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miraculous-ninjabird · 3 years

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Posting this older work at the request of @rosiehunterwolf

No I don't have anything else context wise for you, sorry

No Working Title

Rating: T for swearing and tw

This is Angst.

TW for: panic attack, mentions of pain/injury, mentions of body modification

Word count: 1862

Summary: Lloyd wakes up after a dangerous showdown with his father that ended badly. Something isn't right, he knows it. He's just not sure what. It doesn't help he can't remember what happened

The first thing that Lloyd becomes aware of is the pleasant sound of singing. The melody is unfamiliar, but soothing. It reminds him of a memory he can’t quite fully grasp. Just a fuzzy feeling of warmth, and safety. It’s a feeling he feels the need to cling to with all his might. A large part of him wants nothing more than to stay just like this.

Another, smaller, part of him is telling him he should do...something. But he is tired. So incredibly tired. He would much rather stay as he is, comfortable and listening to the unfamiliar song.

If he had been in charge, he would have stayed as he was forever. Unfortunately, his mind was being incredibly uncooperative and it was becoming harder and harder to focus. There was still something… Lloyd tries desperately to remember what it is. His brain short circuits and in the end he gives up, allowing the music to lull him back to sleep.

When Lloyd comes to for the second time, he is more aware. Soft voices are arguing above him. A throbbing pain makes itself known to him, pressing behind his eye. He makes an attempt to blink, and instantly regrets the choice. Doing so causes the pain to morph from something moderately uncomfortable into a white hot searing sensation that, for a terrifying moment, completely overtakes him. It starts to fade quickly enough, but it leaves him uncomfortable and upset. In an effort to distract himself, he focuses on the conversation above him.

“Please. It’s been three days. You have to take care of yourself Kai,”

“It’s at least partially my fault this happened. I’m not leaving until I know he’s gonna be okay,”

“I’m not going to get into the fault argument since we’ve already been there. But we know he’s stable. I’ll be here the entire time. Nothing is going to happen. Just six hours. Sleep, eat, shower.”

“I can sleep and eat without having to leave,” Kai counters weakly. Even in his hazy state, Lloyd could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

“We both know you won’t do either of those things.” Nya pushes gently. “I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve left that chair for something other than the bathroom in the last week. That’s not good for him or you. You won’t be any help to Lloyd, now or when he wakes up, if you can't at the very least take care of yourself. The last thing we need is both of you out of commission.”

There was a pause, followed by Kai grumbling his agreement. Lloyd struggles with himself, making an effort to do anything to let Kai know that he was here. A movement. A sound. Anything to reassure Kai that he is here. He feels himself slipping back into unconsciousness. He tries to fight it, but as the soft singing from before resumes, he knows he’s lost. Barely a moment passes before he sinks into the darkness once again.

When he comes around for the third time, he is actually able to open his eyes. He is once again met with a stabbing pain, but this time it is more bearable. Blinking slowly, his vision begins to come into focus. Something about it was off but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. All he knew is it was making it difficult to think and even harder to focus. The harsh lights do little to help.

The room he’s in is unfamiliar. Sparsely decorated with dull grey walls, there isn’t really much to look at. An empty chair is placed next to the bed with a blanket folded neatly across the back. There is a sink in one corner, and another door leading to what he assumes is a bathroom. He is alone.

As Lloyd struggles to push himself into a sitting position, the door slides open. Nya steps in, steaming mug gripped tightly in her hand. She looks up, starting in shock when she sees Lloyd. The mug slips from her grasp, shattering on the ground. She hardly seems to care as she rushes to his side.

“Lloyd!” She cries. “You’re awake? Since when? How are you feeling? Is there anything I can get for you?”

“Urghhhhhhh,” He groans, not quite able to quite form a coherent thought. Nya pauses her questions, seemingly realizing Lloyd wasn’t ready for that yet. Strong arms reach out, helping to settle him into a comfortable upright position. The lights are still too bright. He presses his hands into his eyes in an attempt to relieve the pain. It feels wrong, in a way. The skin under his one hand feels far too cool and strangely...metallic? That couldn’t be right. He must be imagining things.

“Is something wrong?” Nya taps his hand gently, bringing his focus back to her.

“Lights,” he murmurs.

“Oh! Let me fix that…” she gasps. There is some shuffling and the lights dim to a more acceptable level. He lowers his hands and squints. This he could deal with.

“Better?” She asks, and Lloyd nods. Nya gives him a smile. “How long have you been awake?”

“Since...a minute or two ago?” He blinks rapidly as one half his vision blurs strangely, almost like tv static. “Something is wrong with my eye. I can’t quite...I don’t know. It’s all blurry and weird.”

Nya’s smile drops instantly. She reaches out, grabbing both of his hands, fixing him with an intensely worried look.

“Lloyd, how much do you remember?” She presses gently. Lloyd racks his brain.. He remembers going to visit his dad, but the events afterwards are a terrifying blank.

“I...I don’t know,” he whispers. “I can’t remember anything from after I got there.”

Nya lets out a soft ‘oh’. The look on her face tells him there is something he should be remembering.

“Not to scare you or anything but…” She steps away, retrieving a hand mirror from the sink and handing it to him. Lloyd takes it, looks, and immediately drops it. He stares at the wall for a moment before hesitantly picking the mirror back up, studying the reflection.

“What the fuck. What is that? Nya. Tell me right now that I’m imagining things. Fuck. This can’t be real,” Instead of two completely normal matching human eyes, he has...whatever this is supposed to be. His left eye is now entirely black except the iris, which glows an eerie green color. Matching green lines etch the side of his face, extending up into his hairline and across his cheek. WHY DOES HIS EYE LOOK LIKE THAT? What the fuck happend to him?

As he stares, his vision once again starts to blur. Panic surges through him as he realizes what he is looking at. He has a robot eye. An honest to god robot eye that he has no memory of whatsoever. Someone had cut his eye out and replaced it with this monstrosity. Why can’t he REMEMBER?! Desperately he tries to recall something. Anything really. He comes back with nothing. Just one giant empty blank. There had to be something. You don’t just wake up one day with a robot eye and not remember it.

Out of nowhere, a thought strikes him. His eye. It looks just like Zane’s had. The lines carved across his face look just like the ones running up and down Skylor’s arm. The glowed the same shade as everything in his father’s stupid base. Did that mean…?

An uncomfortable constricting feeling takes root in his chest and he lets out a strangled gasp. No no nonononononono this couldn’t be happening. Stupid stupid stupid! He would never...but his dad. His thoughts begin to spiral as he desperately tries to stop himself from piecing things together. He no longer wants to know. Don’t think. Don’t remember. It’s too much. It’s all too much.

“Lloyd. Breath,” Nya’s voice cuts through his panicked haze. As she speaks, he becomes aware of the fact he has not, in fact, been breathing. He takes a gasping, shuddering breath. His lungs don’t like that and he devolves into a fit of coughing. The mirror is plucked from his grasp and firm hands squeeze his arms with just enough force to drag his mind back to the real world. Nya speaks again.

“Look at me.” He obeys, turning his gaze on her. She opens her arms, a silent gesture. Lloyd doesn’t hesitate, flinging himself at her with what limited strength he has left and pressing into her. With a start, he realizes that he is crying.

“You’re scared. I would be too. I wish I could tell you it was all a dream,” She murmurs softly. “This is undoubtedly strange and scary for you. There’s no avoiding it.”

Strange and scary? Life altering and utterly terrifying seemed more appropriate terms. Waking up missing part of his memories wasn’t a thing he really knew how to handle. Unexpectedly becoming part android was not something he was equipped to handle. Theorizing his father was responsible was NOT something he wanted to even think about handling. Not in the slightest. How was he supposed to move on from this?

Nya seemed to sense he was spiraling. Maybe the fact he has started to tremble uncontrollably had given it away

“Hey, hey. I wasn’t finished. You may be experiencing something horrible, but you aren’t alone. I’m here. Kai is here. The others are all here. Whatever happens. We are here to support you.” Nya pulls him tighter, pressing a light kiss to his forehead.

Lloyd doesn’t really know what to say. There isn’t really anything he can say. He finds himself clinging to her like she is a lifeline. His head is throbbing, and he finds himself feeling drained. Nya’s arms are warm and comfortable, but it’s not enough to drive off the fear. It clings to him, worming its way into every dark corner of his mind. He wants to scream, but the best he can get is a choked sob.

In response, Nya starts to hum. Lloyd recognizes the tune immediately. It was the same one from before. He latches onto the sound with everything he has. The effect was almost instantaneous. When focused on the soft notes, the panic fades to the background. It was still there, but more manageable than before. Slowly but surely, he starts to feel like he can breathe again. His whole body relaxes into Nya’s embrace. Maybe if they could just stay like this...

It’s only a few minutes before Nya hears the soft sound of snoring. Looking down, she sees that exhaustion has won out and Lloyd has once again slipped into unconsciousness. That was a relief. She’d screwed that up big time. Next time he woke, she would make sure to tread more carefully. And when Kai came in to relieve her, she would have to make sure to update him on the situation. He would undoubtedly be mad, but she wasn’t about to leave a panicking Lloyd to go wake him up. Looks like things were going to be far more complicated than they’d originally thought...

#Ninjago #Lloyd garmadon #Nya smith #Malcolm's writing #Tw mentions of body modification #tw panic attack #tw injury #uneditied #as of right now this is complete

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zet-sway · 3 years

Text

@the-wip-project day 35:

I don't know what today's question is but I gotta write a wall of text about what happened last night because holy shit

I was on the verge of falling asleep and, like I usually do, I decided to hunt for some spicy fanfics to read on my phone. I found one.

All my posts are long but this one is real fucking long. CW for touching on dub-con and injury mentioned in the type of context it probably shouldn't be.

It's time for me to admit that not only am I a oneshot writer, I'm also a oneshot reader. I am drawn to short fanfics. If I click on a chaptered fic, it's (usually) because it's rated E for smut and I'll go in with every intention of skimming it for the spicy bits. I'm not proud of this. I've avoided saying this for years because I don't want to disappoint people who work hard on their very long and well thought out chaptered stories. I have a short attention span, and I know what I want.

But anyway, last night I clicked on a fic with 5 chapters and some amount of words, around 30k? Long, by my standards, but I was tired and I just wanted something to read while I dozed off.

This particular fic hooked me in, though. I still skimmed it, but the writing was so unique in a way that made me writhe with writer's envy and admiration. Whoever wrote this had their own language - nothing borrowed - their own vision.

I guess I should tell the good people who read my posts (ya'll, seriously, thank you) that the fic in topic is called Fault Lines by Recidiva on AO3. I would link to it but uhhhh I may be using my work PC for "extracurricular purposes" right this moment ^^; so maybe when I get home I'll remember to add it.

I skimmed it - like I said above - for the spicy parts. It generally follows the plot of Bioware's canon. Thane begins as possessive and manipulative, likely uncomfortably close to dub-con for a lot of people. He kisses her and knows full well that his kiss will make her willing but intoxicated, and how he will use that to fulfil himself. But as the story progresses, he falls in love. Their relationship is what I'll call "edgy." Both of them are renegades. There's a scene where they get down in the shuttle after a fight and they're both still injured and it borders on downright unrealistic but fuck it, it's fanfic and I bought it. However their relationship develops a certain heart-wrenching tenderness. She asks him what Siha means over and over again, and eventually tells him she thinks "bitch" when he says it. But in that moment they have a playful banter, he knows full well she's probably already looked it up on the extranet, and they fall into bed together. The smut is mind-boggling.

By the time it gets to Shepard's arrest, he's taken up a place on Earth and visits her, breaks into her house arrest. There's a scene where they see each other for the first time in a while, she tells him how much she's missed his mouth and how it's not right how bad she wants him, and wants him bad enough to smother him with affection. She says something to the effect of "if you're looking to die, I'd volunteer to be the cause," implying that her lust is powerful enough to endanger his life. And it was at this moment I realized I fucked up.

It's established that I live in my own headcanon and I'm not burdened with considering the end of Thane's life as part of my fics. And the suspension of disbelief was such that I forgot he doesn't make it. So at this moment in the fic, chapter 4 out of 5, I realized "Oh shit this isn't going to have a happy ending." I skipped to the end right away, I wanted to confirm my fears.

In their final exchange, she asks him to lie to her - something that's repeated in other chapters of the story. I forget what he says, I was reading desperately, but he asks her in return to tell him something true. She kisses him and tells him she loves him, and he breathes his last breath with the lingering tingle of their kiss to carry him to the other side.

I was so entrenched in the depth of their relationship up to that point. The level of fathomless love the author conveyed, unlike anything I've ever managed to write before, but more realistic to my own understanding of love as I've experienced it. Not because they're renegades, but just the selflessness with which they feel, communicate, banter, and make love.

When I read that last paragraph, something inside me broke. That sounds dramatic but that's honestly how I would describe it. It felt like waking up from a night terror, when you bolt up in bed from a dream so bad you immediately get up even if it's 4am because nothing feels real and you're so terrified you have to get up and do something - literally anything to take your mind off it, to ease you back into reality. I put my phone down and stared into the darkness of my bedroom and told myself "it's just a fanfic, no need to get upset." And then I started to cry and I didn't stop for 30 minutes.

My husband was downstairs watching Bohemian Rhapsody and I went down there and wrapped myself around him so tight and cried. Bless this man, from the bottom of my heart - bless him - for his unfathomable kindness. I felt like a fucking fool because I was crying over fanfiction but he paused his movie and just listened while I tried to articulate how it wasn't exactly about the character death, or the characters at all, it was just the writing and how it wormed into my brain so convincingly. I felt the loss like it was my own loss. I am terrified of losing my husband. So many feelings coalesced and I realized one day I may be in that situation, kissing the man I love goodbye for the last time, never to hold him again. I'm at work right now and I'm tearing up because it's so hard.

I tip my hat to the author, but I genuinely wished I hadn't read that fanfic. And isn't it kind of funny after that grandstand I took yesterday about not wanting to write the pain of loss and grief, that I ended up reading it instead and probably fucking myself up just as badly, if not worse, than if I had tried to write it myself?

It gets worse, too. Because it got me thinking about my own writing, and how I could never hope to achieve what that author did. So I sat there crying out my painfeelings while simultaneously feeling like a shit writer and like nothing I put out matters. I got up from the couch, sat down at my PC and picked up where I left off in the Omega DLC in ME3 because video games are great for taking the mind off things. It didn't exactly help with the intensity I'd hoped for, but I managed to fall asleep, by 3am.

Fast forward to this morning. I dragged my sorry ass out of bed 4 hours later and drove to work. By some fucking miracle, no one is here right now except our field director. And I'm stewing in how this one fic really fucked me up bad, reconsidering everything. I feel like I've been put in my place.

So what changed?

Yesterday I posted about how I'm struggling to write a plotline. I know what happens, but I'm not interested in the little bits that tie it together. I want to write the romance. I think there's a way to write the plot and the romance at the same time, but it's damn hard.

I started doing this because I wanted to grow my skills as a writer, and I knew it might be more than I could chew. I'm at that moment now where I'm about ready to give up.

Even if I felt like a shit writer last night (and still kinda do this morning), I know that the stuff I've put out has value. We can't all write these epically tragic smut-romance-renegades-to-lovers tales, we'd all be sad all the damn time. There's a time and a place and - I would argue - even a need for lighterhearted fic out there. There are really no rules. I'm confident in what I know how to do.

But the plot. Fuck it, man. I think maybe I'm trying too hard to be something I'm not. I'm trying really hard to write like other people. I may have mentioned before that I saw a post about how many artists spend their time pining for the skills of others, thinking "wow, when I can draw like that, I'll have made it as an artist." That same post cautioned against this, basically saying you already have your own unique style, it's just harder to see through the lens of your own eyeballs. It's fine to challenge yourself but try to acknowledge what you do that sets you apart already. I feel like I have that something - maybe not to the extent that I wish, but I have something.

So what's the point of the plot? Why do I need to tell my readers how I cured Keprals? I'm asking myself important questions here. I like to think I've come up with ideas that no one else has, but as I said above, I don't read a lot of chaptered fics. I very well may have come to the same ideas as other writers and I'm not even aware of it. I don't know if my ideas are unique but I still arrived at them all by myself.

The challenge here - the thing I'm struggling so much with - is how to put them together with the same elegance of my fellow writers. I'm looking at you, shrios fam (yeah I'm calling you that, yall know who you are). I know I can write words, but it's like I have a bunch of pieces from completely different jigsaw puzzles and I'm struggling to make a new picture out of them. I struggle with the transitions between them.

The point here is I have to find my own way. And I have to stop taking myself so seriously. In fact this level of "seriousness" is one of the things that got me into so much angst over World of Warcraft over the last two years. At least I know how to recognize it.

I have to find my own way. I have my own things that are worth sharing. The author I read last night had a language all their own, and I have a language all my own too. Their wordplay was actually more choppy than I would ever write. I've talked before about how I'm scared of starting too many sentences with pronouns, how I maybe write too many run-on sentences, whatever. This author did that with reckless abandon. It worked for them. So if they can make that shit work, I can make my own shit work.

I have to find my own way.

My most current WIP is Thane and Shepard's first time. I've been working on it pretty nonchalantly because I hadn't intended to publish it until I built up to it. It takes place further into my timeline, and it would probably ruin the point of a slow burn if I put it out there now. There are some really memorably moments in this WIP, and there are other moments that need to be smoothed over as well. I never knew what I'd really imagined for their first time but I think I've mostly developed something that's unique in its own right, and I think will be fun for people to read.

I'm just so fucking torn over what to do with it. I feel guilty for working on it. I should be writing "other shit" leading up to it but I don't fucking want to. I actually wrote probably 2-3k words this weekend, which is a pretty staggering amount by my standards. Some of it was for this smutty WIP and some was for something I just threw together, Thane observing Shepard on Horizon and the emotional toll it takes on her. He's seeing her humanity. I don't know if it's worth it to continue but I wrote a lot of it and the words are more precise than usual for a draft, I don't know. I have so much fucking insecurity. Fuck dude. I want to write this longfic, but I don't want to write it. I want to skim to the spicy bits like I always do.

I am wracked with insecurity, of my own making. I know what I can do but I feel compelled to see this idea through. Somehow I have to find my own way.

TLDR I feel like if I don't publish something soon I'm going to burst and I don't even know what the fuck to work on first and fjslfjsojoiejrj

I would be really down for, like, a bunch of hugs and a bowl of ice cream shared over memes and fanservice.

#this post is EXTREMELY fucking long send help #ITT: i read something that probably changed my brain chemistry for a few hours and it's painful #zet vs 100days #i'm just glad to get this off my chest good lord #anyway if people want to send me links to their favorite shrios fluff i would welcome it

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scaryscarecrows · 3 years

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Breathe In, Breathe Out (Let the Human In)

AN: Happy deathday, Jason! Title from Of Monsters and Men's 'Human'. Arkham Asylum alternate ending thingy.

TW for attempted suicide.

* * *

It’s the Joker’s fault.

Well, okay, fine, it’s ninety percent the Joker’s fault and ten percent Cobblepot being a nosey Nellie, but because she hates him and he isn’t her boss, Dove is going to lay all the blame on the clown.

And he’s the one who made this spectacle, so there.

Whoever’s fault it is, Cobblepot demanded they trek to Arkham. He says that it’s because he’s a donor and has rights to see what’s going on. Dove knows for a fact he hasn’t donated a damn cent since his stint as the mayor way back when, but he’s playing at being Legal for now and, well, she’s curious too. Batman is there. Arkham’s got a pretty full house tonight. And the news is saying something about monsters.

The news is not wrong. Batman is here, on the roof, with--

Oh my God.

That’s. That’s Joker, but...but he’s done something to himself. Something awful. He’s monstrous, with...with spines (no, not spines, his spine, his bones) jutting up out of his torn back, and he’s. He’s huge, big enough to pick up Batman. And Dove’s been up close to Batman before, been picked up by the guy, even. He’s not small.

“What’s going on?” Cobblepot demands. He’s not alone. She recognizes some of the men gathered here, at the police barricade. Most of them are as corrupt as they come. “Jim! Jim, come here, I demand--”

“You don’t get to demand anything--”

Above them, Joker laughs. Dove has faith that Batman will stop him. He always does.

(He has to.)

She ducks, though, when the clown turns to peer down at them, and turns her head away. And that’s the only reason she sees the thin, trembling shadow stumbling out from one of the buildings.

Between the floodlights and the chopper, the lawn’s lit right up. The orange jumpsuit sticks out like a sore thumb and her first thought is ZSASZ.

“Harvey!” Harvey Bullock turns, toothpick already half-shredded in his teeth. “There’s a--”

“Shit--”

The shadow goes down and no, that’s not Zsasz. There’s hair. Harvey approaches so Jim can deal with this shitshow, turns the man(?) onto his back. There’s silence, followed by a horrified, “What the fuck?”

“What now?”

“What is going on--”

“Harvey?”

An explosion draws Jim back to his radio, shouting at the chopper to GET BACK GET OUT OF THERE RIGHT NOW. Dove risks inching towards Harvey and the orange shadow.

“Harvey?”

“Jesus Christ…” He’s all but sitting on his hands. “Jesus Christ, kid, what happened to you?”

Kid? That’s a kid?

“Who is that?”

He looks up, hat falling off.

“I think it’s Robin.”

No, Robin would be...up…

Oh.

Oh, my God.

She does go closer at that, and it is Robin. Not the current one, the new one, but the one before. The one Joker...Joker’d got hold of him...God, over a year ago, now, sent a tape out a few months back.

He’d been dead. Finally, Dove remembers thinking guiltily, out of his misery.

But apparently not. He’s older than she remembers (of course he is), but...but there’s a brand on his face, a goddamn ‘J’ burned into his skin like he’s a piece of meat rather than a boy, and he’d had that…

“Robin?” she whispers. “Can you hear me, sweetheart?”

He’s breathing, harsh, ragged gasps that stutter and catch (broken ribs or scared or...?), and he flinches when Joker starts laughing again.

“What did that bastard do to you, kid?” Harvey breathes, finally inching out a hand to brush against the orange jumpsuit. The thing’s hanging off the kid’s frame and it’s stained and torn. “Jesus…”

Robin’s eyes flicker open, and a second later he jolts upright for all of four seconds before collapsing back to the grass.

“No no no--”

“Robin. Robin! Look at me, sweetheart, c’mon, you’re okay, you’re okay, just--”

He freezes, eyes going from the medical building to Harvey to her. Then he swallows, hard, and whispers, “This is real?”

Harvey shucks off his coat and lays it over him as gently as possible.

“Here you go, kid. Just. Just stay real still, huh? Everything’s fine. You’re fine.”

“You promise--you promise you’re not--”

“Shh.” Dove reaches over, intending to just...ruffle his hair, or something, and he flinches back, eyes squeezed shut like he thinks she’s going to hurt him.

“No no please m’sorry m’sorry--”

“Don’t be sorry, honey.” Jesus… “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You’re okay, you’re gonna be okay, it’s over. We’re not gonna hurt ya, honey, I promise.”

He just lies there, shuddering under Harvey’s coat, and finally opens his eyes to look up at the sky.

“S’over?” he breathes. “I...you promise…” He cuts himself off with a choked sob and spits out, “I can’t go back.”

Jim’s suddenly there, confused and demanding to know, “What’s going on? Who the hell--”

Robin jerks at the suddenness of it all and the next thing Dove knows, he’s jolted up and all but crawled into her lap.

“What the hell--”

“Please--”

“Dammit, Jim, now look what you did--”

“Sh-sh-sh, kiddo, s’just Jim. S’just Jim.” Robin the Second is not pocket-sized. Once upon a time, almost. Enough. But pocket-sized or not, he’s emaciated and feverish and terrified. “S’just Jim.”

“It’s Robin,” Harvey’s explaining, voice cracking and shocked. “Jesus, Jim, it’s fuckin’ Robin, Joker didn’t--he’s still alive--”

Robin cringes at another explosion, scrunching down and burying his head against her neck with a whimper. Dove risks touching the back of his head, and when he doesn’t panic, runs her fingers through his hair. It’s matted and stiff and there’s a lump at the base of his skull.

“Shh, shh,” she murmurs. “It’s okay, you’re okay...we gotcha, we gotcha…”

“Mm--”

“Shh, Robin--”

“Jason,” he whispers, so quiet that she nearly misses it. “S’Jason--h-he would’a come for Robin an’ he left me with him--”

That is a can of worms she’s not getting into.

“Okay. Okay, Jason.”

He’s quiet after that, breathing slow and careful and clearly trying to calm himself down. And he’s almost there, or at least he’s not crying anymore, when Batman is suddenly there.

“Jim--”

Jason flinches and tries to curl into a ball, whispering, “Nonono I can’t do this again I can’t do this again…”

Batman stills and sinks into a crouch. Jason’s trembling in Dove’s arms and when Batman half-reaches towards him he all but knocks her over trying to get away.

“Shh, baby, shh, s’just Batman--”

“Get away!” He pulls free and crab-crawls backwards before collapsing on the grass. “Get away from me--please--”

She’s seen Batman be still before, but not like this. He’s, well, he’s shocked. Jason’s shuddering with dry sobs, and when Batman does finally move again, he squirms back behind Dove.

“Sweetheart, no one’s gonna hurt you--”

“You left me!” He jabs an accusing finger at the Bat. “You left me with him, you replaced me, you left me to die!” He struggles to his knees, wheezing. “Joke’s on you, Batman, I didn’t! So tell them! Tell them what happened, just...just…” He wobbles and winds up curled on his side, shaking. “Where the hell were you?”

Batman just looks at him like he can’t believe he’s here and breathes, “I thought you were dead.”

To be fair, that was...everyone did. Joker had sent that tape around, laughing all the while, and…

“Not the whole time,” Jason spits. “You replaced me in what, a week? If? Come on, Batman, quit hiding behind your pathetic excuses! World’s greatest detective, my ass, if you were, you would. Have. Looked.”

“Robin--”

“I’m not Robin anymore! Robin’s dead!” He pauses, and a sick smile creeps over his face. “Or. I guess not, huh? You got a nice, shiny new one! Where’d you find this one, the Wal-Mart parking lot? Amazon dot fucking com? Inquiring minds wanna know!”

Batman’s still and silent. Twenty feet away, the Joker’s being loaded onto a gurney. He’s normal-sized again, looks like shit (good), and giggling; until he thrashes his head.

And sees what’s going on.

Joker doesn’t laugh all the time. That’s a common misconception. But he laughs enough that when he stops, when that smile drops, that most people would rather be locked in a room with Scarecrow than be anywhere near him.

And he’s not laughing now.

“How did you…”

Jason freezes, smile vanishing. He manages, somehow, to go even paler before curling into a small ball, arms over his head.

“Get that animal out of here,” Batman snarls, and Dove’s never heard him sound like that. She’s not scared of the Bat...but tonight, she could be.

“How did you get out, you sorry little brat?!” The clown jerks against the restraints and they rattle. They’re not gonna give, surely they’re not gonna give, he’s small again--

Batman’s suddenly right up against him, hand at his throat.

“That’s enough.”

Joker looks from Jason to Batman and back again before plastering that godawful grin back on his face.

“You don’t think he wants you back, do you?” His voice is strangled. “Not after everything you’ve done--oog!”

Mercifully-finally-Batman slams his head back hard enough to either knock him out or shut him up. Dove doesn’t care which. He steps back, turns around, and finds Harvey Bullock in his space.

Harvey...Harvey talks a big game. But he’s a big old softie, really, and he had a fondness for Robin the Second*. And a long-standing distrust of Batman. With everything that happened, that distrust had only grown.

“I think you owe the kid some answers,” he says, voice trembling with barely-suppressed rage. “Where were you, exactly? How did you miss this?”

“Get out of my way, Bullock.”

“How long was he missing before you mentioned it? Or kidnapped the current one, huh? If you’d kept that pointy nose of yours out of our cases for once--”

“Bullock--”

“--you might’ve found him!”

Batman is, surprise, surprise, silent. Dove knows this kind of silence; men get like this before they. Before they hurt people.

“Bullock,” he says at last, voice very, very, low, “step aside before I force you aside.”

He’s bloody, holding one arm funny, and breathing far too evenly. Even Jim’s wary now, one hand inching towards his gun. Harvey huffs.

“Screw you,” he says, but he’s not dumb enough to fight Batman, and he steps aside. Batman’s still pissed, still ready for what Dove knows will be a one-sided fight, but he manages a stiff nod before turning that laser-focus back to Jason.

Jason’s still huddled in a ball. The fight’s gone out of him, the insane smile and that...that shine in his eyes. He’s not looking at Batman though, or at Joker. He’s just curled over his knees, arms wound around his ribs and head ducked down. Defensive, ready for a beating.

“Hey-hey, baby,” she murmurs, “no one’s gonna hurt you. Come on now, you’re okay.”

Jason uncurls a little, eyes wide, and before anyone can react he’s lunged at Jim and gotten the pistol out of his holster and aimed it at Batman.

“M’not doing this again,” he says, carefully flat. “M’not falling for it.”

“Robin--”

“Kid--”

“M’not falling for this again!” His eyes are wide and tears are running down his cheeks, but his hands are steady. Too steady. “I remember! I learned my lesson! M’not gonna let you get close enough to beat the crap outta me again!”

“Robin,” Batman breathes, and he’s not scary anymore. He’s just a man. “Robin, I never--”

“Stay back!”

Everybody knows Batman can disarm people in the blink of an eye. Dove’s not so sure he can get that gun from Jason before he pulls the trigger.

Jesus Christ, what did Joker do to him…

“All right,” Batman says softly. “All right. I’ll stay right here, and you can put the gun down--”

“No!” The word echoes off the buildings, a frantic, NONONONONONONONONO! “You think I’m stupid?” He laughs. It’s a flat, angry laugh that reminds Dove uncomfortably of the Joker. “You always did, huh?”

“I never--”

“Shut up!” Now he’s starting to shake a little and she sees Harvey shift, just a bit. Jason doesn’t appear to notice. “Just shut up, stop talking to me!”

“Hey. Kid.” What the fuck, Harvey? “C’mon, look at me.” Harvey steps closer. “C’mon. He’s not gonna get ya, just look at me.”

Dove doesn’t think he will, but she’s proven wrong. He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t lower the gun, but he looks at Harvey.

“Good. Good, kid. Now just calm down, okay? No one’s gonna hurt ya, this isn’t…” He takes another step. “This isn’t like that.”

“No, no…”

“Hey. You’re not gonna break my heart an’ tell me I laid a finger on ya, are ya?” Harvey manages, God knows how, to give Jason a real smile. “And you know Dove’s not gonna hurt ya, right? You’re out, kid. You’re okay. So Bats is a bit of a dope--” Batman radiates mild offense. “--but he’s been lookin’ all over the place for you. So come on. Put the gun down.”

People underestimate Harvey sometimes. He’s a disaster, smokes too much and doesn’t clean and yeah, his landlord did try to murder him that one time and Dove could totally see where he was coming from, but...he’s a good guy. Mostly. He’s the kinda cop that she would’ve talked to as a little girl, y’know? He does his best for this hellhole of a city.

Jason’s arms shake and the guns do start lowering. Dove’s just thinking maybe he’ll be okay when he looks back at Batman and whispers, “I can’t.”

“Can’t what, Robin?” Batman’s voice is very, very soft. “Talk to me, son.”

Jason hiccups and spits out, “I killed people! Beat ‘em to death because they looked like you, they looked like you, they were gonna kill me--”

Jesus. Jesus Christ--

Jason’s still blubbering, voice thick and angry and horrified.

“--you’re not gonna want me anymore and I can’t go back to him I can’t I can’t--”

“You’re not going back to him,” Batman insists. “You’re never going back to him, we’re going--”

“No.” Jason swallows and when he speaks again, his voice is steady enough. “No. S’okay, B. There’s no fixin’ me, I know. S’okay.”

He raises the gun again, presses it to his head.

“M’sorry.”

Dove doesn’t see Batman move. One minute he’s over there, and the next minute, Jason’s disappeared under a shadow and the gun’s out of his hand. Jim grabs it and backs away.

Batman stands up, keeping Jason’s arms behind his back. Jason’s slumped forward, breathing hard.

“Listen to me,” he says, the softness of his tone a stark contrast to the firm restraint, “there is nothing you could do that would make me leave you with that monster. I promise.”

“But I--”

“Agent A’s missed you,” he continues. “And Nightwing, and. And Batgirl. I’m sorry, Robin, for failing you. But I never left you, and I certainly never replaced you. We can fix this, at home.” He sighs. “Come home, son.”

Jason bursts into tears, legs buckling under him, and Batman turns him around to hug him.

“Dad--”

“I’ve got you,” Batman murmurs. “I’ve got you. We’re going home right now.”

Dove wonders how-they all saw the destroyed car, Cobblepot had laughed about it-when there’s a noise that can only be described as Hell dropping out of the sky and a…

Oh. Right. Batman not only has a car, he also has a goddamn plane. Because that’s just something that he needs.

The plane lands on the lawn. Batman picks Jason up-looks a little awkward, with the growth spurt the kid’s managed-and turns around.

Nobody tries to stop him. Nobody even says anything until the plane’s in the air, and then Harvey sighs, flicks his toothpick away, and turns to Dove.

“Fuck it,” he says roughly. “You got a cigarette?”

She should say no. He’s been tryin’ to quit, doin’ real good, but…

She needs a smoke too, after that.

“Here.”

THE END

*Canon! (It’s mutual. It’s precious.

#Jason Todd #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Jim Gordon #(but not much)#Harvey Bullock #Dove Marquis #Harvey is a Good Person when he tries #arkham asylum alternate ending #Joker #Joker is a monster clown #Batdad #Bruce loves his kids and that's FINAL #tw: attempted suicide #Jim is useless because he spends the game being kidnapped #the SECOND you're five feet away from him BAM he's a hostage #AGAIN

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senacal · 4 years

Note

Hey! Would u wanna write one where right after cuba in the hospital charles asks her to sing to him, and all she can remember is an old song from sweden (slightly personalized in that, i hope you dont mind!!) called Flyktsoda by ebba grön, she sings in swedish and he translates lyrics by telepathy. she ends up kinda confessing with the line "dont be scared of me, i am so scared of you" bcz shes a bit scary and mad all the time but shes super weak for charles. then u can decide how it ends 🥺🥺

Request: Requested by Anon

Pairing: Charles Xavier x Fem! Reader

Prompt: Hey! Would u wanna write one where right after Cuba in the hospital Charles asks her to sing to him, and all she can remember is an old song from Sweden (slightly personalized in that, I hope you don’t mind!!) called Flyktsoda by Ebba grön, she sings in Swedish and he translates lyrics by telepathy. she ends up kinda confessing with the line "don’t be scared of me, I am so scared of you" bcz she’s a bit scary and mad all the time but shes super weak for Charles. then u can decide how it ends 🥺🥺

Warnings: self deprecation? Charles isn’t okay and neither is the reader

Author’s Note: I don’t mind at all ^.^ I listened to the song and it was super catchy, even better when I found out what the lyrics translated to (I speak no ounce of Swedish lol 😅) Sorry it took so long btw, I fell into a funk but here I am, forcing myself out 😬

Requests Are Open!

After the events of Cuba, Charles hadn’t been the same. He wasn’t to blame, of course, his whole world had changed with a single bullet. It was heartbreaking to witness the once cheerful man turn into this broken person. He plastered on a smile when he needed to and he pretended to be the same cheeky man, but (Y/N) knew it was an act. Not only had he lost his legs, but he also lost Raven and his best friend Erik that day. Despite Erik being capable of making his own choices, Charles blamed himself for what happened. He blamed himself relentlessly and it annoyed (Y/N) because she knew the turmoil it was giving the man. She hated seeing Charles putting himself through that self-inflicting guilt.

No matter how many times (Y/N) or Hank tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault, Charles still continued to place the blame on himself. Charles did stop communicating that guilt out loud around them when they visited him in the hospital, but (Y/N) was willing to bet that it still resided in the back of his mind. She didn’t have to be a telepath to know that because she could easily see it in his eyes. She liked to think that she knew him well enough through everything they’ve gone through together.

Before Cuba, Charles and Erik had found her working a tireless job to keep herself off of the streets. She was barely scraping by and she lived in a crappy one-bedroom apartment. It was located in the bad part of town and the crime rates were skyrocketing, but the mayor didn’t care to fix that. So she suppressed her powers and forced herself to fight for what little she had. She couldn’t afford for her landlord to figure out that she was a mutant and kick her out. Thankfully her mutation was easy to hide, as long as her emotions were kept intact. The only hint at her mutant powers was the growing life around her wherever she went, meaning, she could manipulate plant life either with a thought or a simple touch. It aggravated her to see people treat the plants in her neighborhood soo poorly.

When Erik and Charles first went to collect her, she couldn't understand what they would want with a girl like her. She was on the verge of homelessness, worked a dead-end job, and had a criminal record. The charges against her weren’t too serious, a couple of shoplifting charges and she might have beat a guy up here and there who tried to attack her. But regardless, she knew she wouldn’t fit in with the others Charles and Erik had recruited. So when she met them, she glared her way through each conversation and ignored the CIA’s requests. But for some reason, Charles managed to worm his way into her heart. Maybe it was his charming smile that should have annoyed her or his eyes that were shockingly blue. Or maybe it was the fact that he understood her even though he was the complete opposite of her. Whatever it was, Charles was the only one who had seen her softer side.

It was almost funny seeing Hank’s shocked face when he witnessed her caring side for the first time. They had both decided to visit Charles in the hospital when Charles had asked for a small favor, some comfortable clothes, and (Y/N) had readily offered to get them. Hank was possibly more surprised than was necessary. (Y/N) did nice things! The other day she helped Erik with his powers, granted that was before he betrayed them and Hank wasn’t there to witness it. Now though, (Y/N) reserved her soft spot for Charles. Hank seemed to understand, he didn’t make any comments about it; but that was probably because when Alex did, (Y/N) manipulated the roots of a tree to keep him stuck for a whole night until Charles turned a disapproving eye on her. He learned his lesson after that though.

But that was all before Cuba. Now it was just (Y/N), Hank, Alex, Banshee, and Charles. But even Banshee and Alex went their own way. (Y/N) couldn’t say where they went, she wasn’t sure. But she did know that their departure had added to Charles’ grief and guilt. She made it her duty to stay by his side while he was in the hospital, a reassurance that she wouldn’t leave him. Charles had turned her into this soft mushy person and it scared her shitless. She couldn’t remember the last time she had loved someone. But the thought of him leaving or being taken away terrified her. Charles terrified her. But she pulled herself together so he wouldn’t realize anything was wrong, he didn’t need any extra guilt.

(Y/N) sat next to Charles's bedside, a book in her hands to keep her busy while Charles slept. She arrived early that day because of the construction happening on the street where the hospital was located and she didn’t want to be late. She wasn’t expecting Charles to be awake which was why she brought the book. She was immersed in the story when Charles woke up, which is why he surprised her.

“You’re here early,” He spoke groggily.

The flowers’ leaves on the other side of Charles’s bedside shot out of their vase and wrapped around Charles’s wrist, forcing it flush against the bed. (Y/N) might have gotten startled since she was distracted. She looked up with a guilty smile and released his wrist when he gave her an unamused look. “Sorry, you scared me,” She grumbled.

“It’s alright, love,” Charles rubbed his wrist. He hadn’t expected the grip to hurt since they were tulip leaves.

“How’d you sleep?” (Y/N) set the book in her hands aside and shifted so she could face Charles.

“Okay, I guess. I’m ready to get out of here,” He shrugged. He adjusted the bed so he could sit up.

“I can ask the doctor when you can be released if you’d like?” (Y/N) offered.

‘No, it’s okay,” Charles waved her off, “I’d much rather keep your company a little longer,” He smiled.

(Y/N) nodded, a faint smile on her lips. “Of course,” She drummed her fingers on her lap. “Did you need anything? The nurse? More medicine? Food?”

“I’m alright for now, thanks though… Can I ask you a question?” Charles hesitated.

“Yeah, anything.”

“Do you mind if, you can say no, but do you mind if I ask you to sing me a song? I’ve been quite bored here and the radio stations are rather crappy and there’s never anything good on the telly,” He rambled.

“Oh, uh,” (Y/N) furrowed her brows, what song would she sing?

“Never mind, it was weird of me to ask, you don’t-”

“No, I’ll sing for you uh, Is it okay if it’s in Sweden? I can’t really remember any songs right now,” (Y/N)’s cheeks flushed and her fingers began to fidget in her lap.

“I don’t mind,” He smiled kindly.

(Y/N) nodded and cleared her throat, here went nothing, “Lyckan kommer, lyckan går. Dom säger tiden läker sår. Jag släcker lampor. Jag öppnar fönster. Letar efter mönster. Jag kommer aldrig. Jag kommer aldrig, kommer. Kommer aldrig komma hem.”

‘Happiness comes, happiness goes. They say that time heals wounds. I turn off lamps, I open windows. Searching after patterns, I will never, I will never, will never come home,’ Charles lay back in his bed, his eyes closing as his mind translated the lyrics for him, one of the better aspects of his telepathy, the ability to understand any language.

“Flyktsoda, ta mig i hand. Sätt mig i brand, ibland ibland ibland. Flyktsoda ta mig i land. Sätt mig i brand, ibland ibland ibland,” (Y/N) could feel her stomach flipping, her chest filling with anxiety. She hadn’t realized how much this song actually meant until now. She hadn’t been happy before Charles came into her life. She was merely going through the motions, living because it was expected of her, but with Charles, hell even Hank, they gave her a reason to keep going. Only Charles was her reason for staying.

‘Escapesoda take my hand. Set me on fire, sometimes sometimes sometimes. Escapesoda bring me to shore. Set me on fire, sometimes sometimes sometimes,’ Charles inhaled deeply, (Y/N)’s voice soothing the ache in his chest. He appreciated everything she has done for him while he was hospitalized. If it weren’t for her, he was sure he wouldn’t have made it out in one piece. He barely made it with her there, but her persistent presence kept him grounded and kept him from falling into despair.

“Var inte rädd för mig. Jag är så rädd för dig,” (Y/N)’s voice stuttered over the words. They pierced her heart when she sang them. They rang true and she was afraid it revealed just how much Charles affected her.

“Don't be afraid of me. I'm so afraid of you,” Charles's eyes opened when he heard the vulnerability in her voice. He looked at her with questioning eyes, he almost felt bad when he read what she was thinking.

“Do you really think that I am afraid of you?” He asked softly.

“I, well, everyone else was, why not you too? I hurt you just a little while ago,” She pointed to his wrist.

Charles's wrist was rubbed raw from the leaf, but it wasn’t too bad, plus he had startled her, “I startled you, it wasn’t your fault.”

“That’s not the point Charles, I’ve done some bad things so why wouldn’t you fear me?”

“You fought to protect yourself. You are so much more than your powers, (Y/N). You’re magnificent, you’re amazing.” Charles wished he could reassure her and comfort her more, but his fucking legs couldn’t move. He shifted as best as he could, “Now why do you fear me?” He wondered.

(Y/N)’s heart was racing, she swore her heartbeat was louder than the heart monitor attached to Charles. “I- you don’t- why-” She ran her hand through her hair. “If I tell you, promise me this won’t change anything between us, okay? You’re all I have and I can’t lose you as a friend.” She spoke softly.

Charles nodded, “You could never lose me.”

(Y/N) bit her lip, wondering how to start. How does one even tell the person they love they fear them because of the hold they have on their heart? Charles managed to shove his way into her life and now she couldn’t picture her life without him in it. “I fear you because how easily you fit into my life,” She looked up at him, tears in her eyes, though she didn’t know why she was crying, shame maybe? “For a long time now it’s been just me, I had nobody, my parents didn’t want me, my landlord was looking for any reason to evict me, my co-workers were all selfish assholes, and I’ve been attacked countless times by men in the streets. I made sure no one could misuse my trust and I made sure no one could hurt me, but here you are,” She wiped a stray tear that ran down her cheek, “You pushed through the walls I’ve built and now I’m afraid to lose you.”

(Y/N) ran her hand through her hair again, she probably looked so pathetic to Charles.

“You could never look pathetic,” Charles reached his hand out to her which (Y/N) hesitantly took, “I know I said this wouldn’t change anything, but perhaps it can change just a little?”

(Y/N)’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Perhaps once I get out of here we can go on a date?” Charles asked nervously, “You don’t have to agree, and we can continue like normal, but now that I know for sure that you harbor feelings towards me maybe we can-”

(Y/N) stood from her seat to press her lips to Charles’s cutting off his ramblings. She pulled away from the kiss and smiled, “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

Charles grinned, almost looking like his old cheeky self. He might have lost some things in Cuba, but he gained something too. He’d be damned if he let (Y/N) be taken away from him too. “I hope you know you’re stuck with me now.”

“I guess I can live with that,” (Y/N) laughed, “But promise me one thing okay?” At Charles nodded, (Y/N) continued, “Never tell anyone that I sang to you.”

Charles laughed despite her serious look, “I promise not to tell anyone.”

#Charles Xavier #charles xavier x reader #charles xavier x fem reader #x men x reader #X-men #x-men x reader #x-men x fem reader #mutant reader

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traumatizeddfox · 3 years

Note

Borderliner here again! Glad if I could help even a little bit.

DBT was specifically developed for BPD if I remember correctly but I know we used CBT in the clinic too. It's funny bc although the clinic was equally as bad as it was good and it helped me and revealed a lot about me to myself. So although I'm not typical borderline bc I act in instead of out, I know for sure I'm quiet borderline.

Nonetheless every therapist I've went to introductory sessions with since then has immediately said I've been misdiagnosed after like 10 seconds of talking to me 🙃 either that or you just never even get to be added to the wait list bc they don't wanna treat you

But that's why we gotta all support each other!!

Anyway. I decided to go for a therapy trial with a trauma therapist that I was lucky enough to get (after lots of panicking over the multiple phone calls it took, and panic now about rescheduling and shit). So that starts in February. And we're starting out with secondary trauma bc my parents passed down their trauma to be (they're genocide refugees, and I have been back to the country and stayed there a lot in post-war times) and it has in the past caused almost psychotic states. I'm afraid it might trigger even worse panic over my parents bc they already make me feel unsafe (they're a big reason I have been self harming for 15 years now - and when I went to them during a full day break down/panic attack and told them I need help they just stared at me blankly. I could literally only shake and cry and think about how I'm about to kill myself without any control over myself all day and they literally told me "just finish the next 4 weeks of school and then we can all go on vacation" - and in my dreams my parents have tried to feed me to dinosaurs bc that's how it has to be, they've been he reason my cat almost died and got his leg ripped off, they watched my face get eaten alive by giant worms and told me it was my own fault (again all dreams) ). I still live with my parents. I'm still mostly submissive to them and I'm afraid.

But also I cant not do therapy bc I'm so fucking tired. No meds stop my nightmares. I dream of rape, war, violence, killing, running for my life, wounds, break downs, sobbing, my house being broken into, being shot at, fires all around, kids being abused in different ways, like every single night. It's just as torturous as being awake and I'm really trying to not use my secret stash for suicide plans so like I need this therapy

But... I'm so fucking terrified

In the bpd clinic I broke down and almost faint and developed migraines and had half my body go numb and useless - just when I was trying to stay present and acknowledge there was a problem. The therapist there had me bawling my eyes out bc he was like "say something good about yourself" and I legit couldn't. I had daily migraines for months. I actually have a job I like now (still in training tbh but it's with animals so it's really nice) but I'm so afraid I'm about to lose everything. It feels like I could get further if I got back into my bad regulating habits.

I'm trying so hard to do things right. I really am. But my mind and body betray me all the time and I'm so so scared

It's like no matter what I do there's no rest, no help, nothing right and good

I'm so sorry this turned into my whining lmao but uh yeah :(

I recently discovered your blog and I love it. I resonate with the rage and the dog teeth :D wanna get into vent art too eventually. If I can handle the emotion that is lol

i am so sorry to hear this angel 💔 i really hope life turns around for you & i hope the new therapist helps u! it sucks when you don’t feel validated. and tysm! vent art has helped me so much

#anon

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iwrestlenow · 3 years

Text

Many More To Die, Chapter 10

TITLE: Many More To Die (Chapter 10)

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: So many questions, a few answers--and the identity of the assassin is revealed.

SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), Moceit (Patton/Janus) and Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: CW for gore--please skip to the end for specific warnings that are spoilery.

This chapter may be garbage, but I've been STRUGGLING with this one (REWRITTEN FOURTEEN TIMES I AM NOT JOKING) so I'm posting it before I can change anything. The next one will come much sooner now that this ASSHOLE of a chapter is done.

If you've been waiting, I'm sorry and I love you. It's unbeta'd and uncooperative, so it's my fault if it sucks, but I WILL be making it up to you with a side story I'm now writing--Remile, anyone? >.> XD

Also, the content warning is for @elliot-orion, 'cause it's a loving nod to a lovely hooman. We morbid nerds gotta stick together. They are just the literal best. <3

NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more…hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD

Also located at AO3 over here.

Lazari.

The word rattled around in twenty two year old Logan Berry's head the same way the word Necromata had in the empty skull of twelve year old Logan Crofter.

He was lucky, once again—to be alive, and to be supported. Lucky to have some of his memories, at least, to have his blood by his side...

His blood, and something more. Something that scared him and thrilled him and made him ache for the years and the empty hole in his head that kept him from it. Something that blotted out the world and turned the word into...something else.

Lazari. Lazari. Logan.

Lazari.

“Logan.”

There was a hand on his arm, breaking through the blood roaring in his ears and the dim haze that had fallen over his vision—not like the Loom of Memory, but something sick and frenetic and shaking.

...so this was what Virgil's panic attacks were like. Interesting.

The hand slid down to his wrist, then down further to mesh their fingers together.

There's something under the skin, itchy and trembling, and it makes Logan want to pull away because it's just too much...

The Green Man never lets him.

“...Roman?”

“That's right, Starlight. Just...hold on. Don't let go—not this time.”

Logan tightened his fingers in Roman's, trying to find a rhythm to get his breathing under control. It was more than just the panic and fear and confusion, his heart was racing and he couldn't breathe and his limbs were sore...he'd been running. Running away, running—towards?

Running through the tunnels, running through the dark, running away...

Roman's thumb ran along the side of Logan's index finger, slow strokes back and forth. Logan tried to time his breaths around each gentle sweep...and it helped, at least a little.

“I never have.” he managed to reply after a few minutes of just standing, clinging, breathing. “I never will.”

Roman's face was finally in focus again. Logan's chest felt raw, scraped by sandpaper and flayed by knives—he was tousled dark hair and tanned skin and eyes of emerald, handsome and compassionate and so painfully kind, this prince, this king—

--and Logan loved him. He had loved him for so many years. Logan's mind had been stripped of the knowledge, but his heart was an open wound that knew, that remembered every second of that separation. It had clung, it had beat steady...it had waited for him.

“You did last time.” Roman pointed out with a sad smile. His free hand found his way into Logan's, leaving them standing there in one of the unused sewer tunnels, holding hands like besotted children as they stared into each other's eyes.

“You swore you wouldn't...and you let go.”

Logan shook his head. “No, I didn't. I was pulled away.”

“I...remember.”

Logan watched Roman frown at that, as if surprised by the knowledge of his own recollection—then watched the light in his eyes die a little.

“I can never forget.” he breathed, his eyes falling shut, lashes shimmering in the low light with the tears trying to escape. “The sound of your screams as you were dragged away...the door shutting, and how quiet everything got--”

“Why were we there?” Logan asked softly, stepping closer against his will. Everything in him was screaming for more, closer, all. He was starving for Roman, for his beauty and his smile and his laughter, for his wild optimism and boundless determination.

“Hmmm?”

“Why were we there? Why...why was I arrested? What did I hide?”

Roman opened his eyes, causing the tears to spill while his expression melted from pain to puzzlement. Logan reached up with hand, without letting Roman go, to wipe away one of the tear tracks with his thumb.

“What do you mean?”

“I remember being taken—my last glimpse of you. Before you grabbed me, I was hiding something.” Logan explained.

And that was...important somehow. He just couldn't put his finger on it...

Roman leaned into Logan's touch, shifting his grip so he could hold Logan's hand to his face, palm curled against Roman's cheek while he thought.

“I—I have trouble remembering.” he admitted softly. “We were looking for one of the Tomes. To...prove...”

Logan nodded. “I reconstructed a portion of that memory earlier—but something stopped me from finishing it. That was why I was so...confused when I left the Loom of Memory.”

Roman nodded. “I felt it. I couldn't see the memory, but when you were channeling from me, I...sensed what you were doing, and I tried to help. When you were thrown out of that trance, it felt—wrong. Painful.”

“But you can't remember?” Logan asked, something worming through his brain as he turned it over in his head. “That doesn't make sense. Why would...”

...he hung on until the grip on his collar finally yanked him out of the fourteen year old prince's grasp...

He stilled, something in the pit of his chest trembling.

“...I made sure of it.” he realized aloud.

“Made sure of what, Logan?”

Looking into Roman's eyes, Logan remembered that younger face, the desperation and fear, that glimpse of jewel green in the dark and that was all he wanted in the world before...before...

“When I was taken—I didn't let go, I was pulled away. I made sure of it.” he replied with more confidence.

Logan stared down at their remaining joined hand, lifting it up between them. He shifted his grip, unlinking their fingers until he had his wrapped around Roman's digits in a death grip. Roman's hand curled into it, clinging like he had that night.

When he'd been trying to drag Logan to safety.

The hand at his collar yanked, and Logan's fingers slid free, throbbing—

Only then did Logan feel the bite of the ring.

“What's this, Roman?”

Releasing his hand, Logan showed him the ring he was wearing—heavy silver, wrought with strange symbols that Logan did not understand anymore, but called to him in a way that made him think he'd known how to read them once upon a time. The ring was set with a stone blue as lapis lazuli and Patton's eyes, but rather than being flecked with gold, it was dotted red.

Roman stared at the ring on his hand, then at Logan, fear in his eyes.

“Remus.” he breathed. “He...he put it on me the night you were arrested. I was holding it, and he put it on me—Logan, why didn't I remember that? Why are there things I don't remember?...”

“Because I was wearing it.” he replied, running his thumb over the stone. Removing his other hand from Roman's cheek, Logan cradled Roman's hand between both of his and inspected the ring more closely. It was warm to the touch, and he felt a flare of power in his gut that terrified him. The ring was bespelled...

He'd been wearing it the night of his arrest—and Logan was still working the spell wrought into it.

“It's enchanted...I think the spell breaks if the wearer removes it.” Logan replied slowly, uncertainly. “I...I made sure I didn't take it off myself. You...you pulled it off my hand, I remember it wrenched my finger.”

He stared at the ring, then up at Roman again.

“I think...I think the fact that I never broke my connection to it means that it's spell is affecting both of us. Some spell affecting perception, or...memory.”

Roman gaped at him, then at the ring. Logan watched his brow furrow, then his jaw set with an anger he didn't recognize, but one that felt painfully familiar.

“Well then—let's see which it is.”

There was something Logan was missing...something about where they were standing...

Over Roman's shoulder, Logan spotted a steel ladder leading up.

He recognized this tunnel.

“Roman, no--”

Tugging out of Logan's grip, Roman removed the ring.

********** “...sorry, guys.”

“For the ninth time, Patton—it's okay.” Virgil soothed, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I didn't even expect him to spook when you told him he was a Lazari. That's normally my job.”

“I'm assuming that's why the prince is hanging on you?” Janus replied dryly.

Virgil looked over his shoulder—and wrinkled his nose when his face smooshed into the side of Remus's, who had his arms cinched around Virgil's waist and his chin on Virgil's shoulder.

“Not really.” Remus chirped brightly. “Though that's a fair point—physical contact does wonders for anxiety. Nah, I'm just copping a feel is all.”

Rolling his eyes, Virgil faced the other two again—and resisted the urge to lay his hands over the ones pressed to his stomach, to lean back into the solid line of warmth behind him that made everything feel smaller and quieter and safer. It was a larger, more intense version of the warmth that cradled him as he'd fallen into Logan, giving up his mind to expand his brother's...

It hadn't been that intense in a long time—coming back to himself was usually hard, shook him up, but...Remus helped. Weirdly. Sort of.

...fuck it: Virgil folded his arms across his chest, but leaned back into Remus and ignored him aggressively. Especially when he pretty much cuddled up to Virgil's back even harder.

“So how did this happen?” Virgil asked Janus and Patton instead. “Both Pat here and my brother—you said Patton's a Lazari?”

Patton shook his head. “Only Weavers can become Lazari—I'm a Herald! I was a Black Dog before I got my soul.”

Virgil blinked at that. “You are a Black Dog? You're nowhere near violent enough.”

Janus let out an abrupt laugh at that as he regarded Virgil with a raised eyebrow. “When you went through basic training, did your instructor warn you about gagging prisoners?”

“Yeah: not to do it alone. He told some story about a cannibal in the dungeons who took three of a private's fingers off.”

“Hmph.”

Virgil blinked, looking at the source of the huff—namely, the tiny curly haired cherub of a necromancer who was sort of...hugging Janus's bicep with both his arms, cheek pressed just below his shoulder with a petulant little pout on his round features.

“You...What? You...no. No, you did not--”

Patton huffed, holding onto Janus tighter as he straightened primly.

“He was mean to Logan.” he insisted. “And I didn't eat them, I spat them out and fed them to the rats. And that was just his fingers, he gave up his nose when he tried to kill Janus--”

“And this is why I had to arrange to make him Logan's cell mate very early on—sharp teeth when he's mad.” Janus sighed, all while casting Patton a look so warm and so infinitely luminous that it could only be called tender. “He was safer, and far less of a troublemaker, with companionship.”

Virgil's stomach turned dangerously, and as if he knew, one of Remus's hands pressed flat to Virgil's belly, like he was trying to steady him.

“Oh, Seven Hells...” Virgil groaned, shaking his head. “I can't—know what? Fuck it. I believe you, and I'm sufficiently terrified of the cannibalistic Black Dog.”

“Herald.” Patton protested. “And I did not eat his fingers! The tip of his nose was an accident, he shoved me after I bit him and I swallowed on reflex--”

“Can we please get back on topic?” Virgil protested.

“Oh, come on, toy soldier.” Remus laughed. “This is good stuff! If you weren't so cute and Pattycake there wasn't so gone on Lord Janus, I'd be checking out his ass right now!”

Virgil sputtered and blushed, trying to refocus on the conversation and not...the crap coming out of Remus's mouth. While he was currently a literal monkey on Virgil's back.

“So...that's how it's done? You...get a soul? But the Animata were the only ones who could give necromancers souls, and they don't exist anymore.”

“Actually...”

Virgil glared back at Remus. “What the hell do you know, you walking trash can?”

“Oh—you say the sweetest things!” Remus cooed, reaching up to boop the tip of Virgil's nose before grabbing onto him again.

“Seriously, Remus...”

The warning note in Virgil's voice clearly did something, because Remus finally sobered and lost some of that manic gleam in his eye. Instead, the green eyes he shared with his brother glinted more like blades carved of pure emerald: razor sharp, precise, and deadly.

“My big brother's a half-twin who got hung up on a necromancer. I did some digging.” he admitted. The nasal whine in Remus's voice softened as he spoke, turning his tone into something smooth and impossible to ignore: biting enough to catch the ear, pleasant enough to make listening enjoyable.

“In the few records we have of Zero—the first year of the time cycle we use now—there are documented mentions of the Animata. You have to lie, cheat, steal, and fuck to see those volumes of the Tomes, even if you're a member of the royal family, but luckily I'm good at all four of those things!”

“So the Animata are real?”

“Very. We just know them by a different name now.”

“What name?”

“...that's what I'm not sure of.”

“I am.”

Virgil looked to Janus sharply. “How?”

Janus glared at him, then Remus...then slid a look at Patton, who snuggled closer and nodded in encouragement.

“Animata is a word from the language of the dragons.” Janus finally admitted. “Even drakes are born knowing how to speak it. The word means 'life giver.' However, according to my mother, it was also the root of a pejorative—a slur directed at the entire race due to the crimes of one. A slur that means 'death giver.'”

He paused, then looked Virgil square in the eye.

“The slur was necromata.”

“What the actual fuck are you talking about?” Virgil asked—no, wheezed...no, something else, because he wasn't sure he had enough breath for that.

“I'm talking about the fact that your people never needed to be controlled, Virgil. You were—are the life givers. You animate the dead—give back life that was taken, remember the forgotten, grant warning to the condemned so they can meet their end without regret. The power your people possess is a gift granted you by the Fates, one the Animator turned his back on.”

“How do you know any of this? Who is your mother that she knows--”

“My mother was the Dragon Witch of Kolar!”

Virgil's mouth snapped shut as silence fell. For a long moment, he couldn't bring himself to speak as he thought about all the Festivals of the Forgotten past, of his grandmother's grave that Grandpap visited every week, and the one nameless child's grave in the celebratory fields, forbidding anyone to touch it for literal years...

“What'm I missing, toy soldier?” Remus murmured in his ear, making Virgil shiver reflexively—and also bringing him back to the present.

Oh, nothing. Virgil wanted to say. Only I think that Lord Janus, captain of the royal guard and the assassin's corps is my dead uncle, that's all.

Instead, Virgil just shook his head and sagged into Remus a little more, letting his steady warmth stave off the panic attack he could feel coming on.

“Then...what about the race of twin souls?” he finally croaked, dismissing the subject.

“There's no race.” Patton replied after a moment before looking up at Janus with an expression so soft, he half expected the drake to transform into a baby duckling. “Just...well...soulmates. In that they have two souls, and one of them belongs to us. Janny gave me mine.”

“You're a twin soul?” Virgil asked incredulously.

Janus raised an eyebrow. “I'm a drake—half human, half dragon? The duality is more than just tragic backstory, sweetie.”

Virgil tried not to think about the implications of that 'tragic backstory'--then his blood ran cold as he twisted to look Remus in the eye.

“You weren't hiding Roman because of his extra soul.” he breathed. “You were hiding the fact that he gave it away.”

“An extra soul? He—what?” Janus sputtered.

“King Thomas Roman II isn't a conduit, he's a twin soul. The princes are half-twins, split between the cusp of days.” Virgil explained. “When twins are born on two separate days, they get two different souls—not the one they were supposed to be linked to. It means that--”

“One twin gets a normal soul, the other gets two, his and the one his brother should have had—and the power of a completely unsullied soul is the kind of power that can easily ensure someone is mistaken for a conduit.” Janus realized aloud, cursing. “This is not the kind of thing you hide from the captain of the guard! How did that even happen, anyway?”

“Because Roman doesn't know.”

Virgil watched Remus's face as he spoke, strangely shaken by the look of regret on his features.

“What do you mean he doesn't know?” Janus protested. “That's not something that's easy to hide.”

“...unless he doesn't remember.”

Patton's sweet, gentle voice piped up, and Virgil watched as he left Janus's side to step closer, his eyes on Remus.

“He doesn't, does he?” he asked softly. “That's how Janny didn't know. That's--”

Patton was cut off by a distant cry of alarm that sounded suspiciously like...

Remus's arms tightened around Virgil. “Roman.”

Virgil looked to Janus, who was already staring in the direction of the voice. Looking to Virgil, he nodded in silent understanding.

The king was in trouble, and Logan was with him.

Janus swept his cape back, glancing at Patton. “Darling?”

Patton nodded, features screwed up in determination...

...and before their eyes, the diminutive young necromancer had melted, reshaped itself, until a hound roughly half Janus's height stood befor them, with a sleek, coal black coat and eyes that glowed bright, cheerful sky blue.

Patton's nose hit the ground like a shot, sniffing and snuffling before he whined and took off at a trot.

********** “Loganberry!”

A few turns down the tunnels led them towards a steel ladder leading up to a hatch that led somewhere into the lower levels of the palace. Just a few feet away from it, a prone figure was on the ground, unconscious.

By the time Virgil reached his side, Logan was sitting up, rubbing his face.

“Get him up.” Janus ordered. “We need to get you all to the king's chambers for safety's sake.”

Virgil nodded, facing Logan—Logan, who was staring at the steel ladder like it was some kind of phantom.

“Logan...where's Roman?” Virgil asked softly.

Something crossed Logan's features, an emotion so painfully intense Virgil couldn't quite identify it—then went cold and dead with an emotion Virgil knew very well.

One that could easily be mistaken for neutral in its total absence of feeling, but with the subtle curl of Logan's lip, Virgil could easily identify as pure, undiluted rage.

“The king has been taken.” Logan declared, rising to his feet and stalking towards the ladder.

“By who?” Remus asked, startling Virgil with the fact that he was directly behind him with Virgil never realizing he was there.

“The assassin.” Logan replied—just as he began climbing the ladder.

“Logan, get down here!” Janus snapped.

“You'll want to join me, Lord Janus—this leads to the dungeons. Please instruct Patton to resume his human form.”

Virgil could hear a snuffle somewhere behind him, but he was unable to tear his focus from Logan as he ascended the ladder. There was something about his voice, that look on his face, something that was making Virgil's chest tight and his ears buzz with a funny droning sound...

He followed Logan up the ladder.

At the top, Logan was there to help him up, grabbing his hand to steady him as he emerged in the middle of a dungeon hallway. The pair of them did the same for Remus, Janus, and a Patton now in human form.

“...this is the barricaded section.” Janus realized as he straightened, dusting himself off before turning to Patton. “This portion of the dungeons was shut down eight years ago.”

“Correct.” Logan replied, facing the four men and gesturing down the hall. “There is an office down the hall--”

The buzzing in Virgil's ears grew louder, and the world started to get a little washed out on the edges—sort of gray and blurry.

“This is where you were taken.” he wheezed, feeling a line of heat at his back when he started to sway.

Logan nodded, then turned away from them and knelt beside the open sewer hole. He thought Logan was going to slide the cover back in place, but then watched him reach inside. Only then did Virgil realize the hole had some kind of channel around the edge, slim but deep, possibly for some kind of drainage component that was never put in.

Logan reached into it, fished around, then pulled out a slim bundle wrapped in a faded, careworn child's coat.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Logan's shoulders slumped.

“Roman is still alive.” he sighed to himself, distracted and not quite soft enough to keep from being heard. “He never found it.”

Virgil felt his knees buckle. Arms wound around his waist again, and some of the gray edges in his vision cleared a little.

“You...you...Lo, you have...”

Logan replaced the sewer cover and stood, facing Virgil with a neutral, but softer look.

“My memory back, yes.” Logan replied. “It's a long story, but its restoration is the very reason Roman was taken from me. The assassin has him—that is why you should be here, Lord Janus--”

“Try uncle.” Virgil muttered—however, Logan heard him.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Ma'am-Ma'am was his mother, so he's Geni's brother.”

“Just how old do you fuckers get?” Remus huffed behind Virgil.

“The life expectancy of the average Necromata is about a hundred and twenty years—but the dragon blood in the Crofter family tree means we get triple that.” Virgil muttered as Logan regarded Janus with new interest. “My geni was born, not hatched, and they didn't meet Pari until they were a hundred and forty.”

“How do you know the assassin was the one that took the king, Logan?” Patton asked from his place at Janus's side.

“Because he tried to kill me when I was nine.” As quickly as possible, Logan relayed his memory of how he first met Roman, resuscitated after being found nearly drowned in a river.

“He is also the one who arrested me—and the one who just broke out of the dungeons.” Logan finished. “That is why I brought you all up here, Lord Janus. And this...”

Logan stopped to unwrap his precious bundle, revealing a small, leatherbound volume.

“...will prove his guilt, as well as provide us a means to stop him.”

“Logan...who is the asassin?”

Logan's features paled then, bright blue eyes dulling with remembered horror.

When he spoke, Remus's arms around Virgil tightened, and Virgil distantly heard Patton choke out a strangled noise that might have been a sob that echoed the sudden lump that was making it hard for Virgil to breathe.”

“The man you arrested yesterday, Lord Janus—the assassin is Colonel Mori.”

* * * * Specific CW for gore: mentions of cannibalism, both in general and specific--erring on the side of caution with graphic depictions of it, mostly discussing the details of a bitey little manpuppy being bitey. And a manpuppy. XD

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skeeter-110 · 4 years

Text

A Twist in the Tale (That’s Old as Time)

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a shining castle. As punishment for his actions, the young prince is transformed into a monstrous beast by a mysterious enchantress. Only condition is if he can learn to love someone and earn their love in return, the curse will be lifted. The prince - now turned Beast - felt doomed for eternity; until he met a little boy with a heart of gold.

AKA: a Beauty and the Beast Irondad AU

|| Chapter One ||

Chapter Two: The Castle in the Woods

"We should be there by now." May mumbles as she looks around the woods and down at her map, not really recognizing anything around her.

"Maybe we missed a turn. I guess I should have taken... Wait a minute." May says, stopping Phillippe in front of what appeared to be a sign and a cross-roads. Unfortunately, the words on the sign were all worn out and May couldn't decipher what a single one said. Phillippe just let out a huff before pulling them towards one of the roads.

"No. Let's go this way." May says, pulling Phillippe to the other road, which was quickly becoming covered in fog. Phillippe continued to try to go down the road on the left, making May angrily pull him back towards the other road.

"Come on, Phillippe, it's a shortcut. We'll be there in no time." May says effectively pulling Phillippe down the road.

The further they went down the road, the more the fog grew until they could no longer see the dirt in front of them. They kept trudging forward, only stopping when the howls of wolves were heard.

"This can't be right. Where have you taken us, Phillippe?" May asks, gasp when the howls got louder. "We better turn around." May says, yanking on Phillippe's reins and getting him to turn them around. As soon as they turned around, though, Phillippe started to get spooked by all of the howls.

"Whoa. Whoa, boy. Whoa, now, whoa, Phillippe." May tries to calm, hoping to stop Phillippe from backing up in fear. Of course, she couldn't stop him before they hit a tree, making a bunch of bats fly out and swarm around them.

That was the breaking point and what caused Phillippe to begin running, hoping to get far far away from all of the frightening things. May was just taken for the ride, barely managing to calm and stop Phillippe from dropping them off of the side of the cliff.

"Back up, back up. that's good, that's a good boy. Back up." May says, finally getting them turned around and away from the cliff. "Steady. Steady, now, steady." May attempts to gain control, only to lose the little sliver she had of it when the wolves began to howl again.

"No, Phillippe!" May cries when Phillipe throws her off his back and begins to take off.

May sat there on the ground for a bit, watching as Phillippe disappeared into the fog. May had no idea what to do now. She was left in dark unknown woods, with her lantern broke and no longer lit, and with wolves slowly surrounding her.

May quickly booked it, running and brushing off all the branches hitting her face as she tried to escape the pack of wolves that were now chasing her.

Because it was dark and she couldn't see, May ended up tripping over a tree root, causing her to tumble down a hill. Thankfully, when she fell down the hill, she landed in front of a gigantic fence.

Looking over her shoulder, May saw the wolves glaring down at her from the top of the hill, making May get over her pain and run to the gate.

"Help! Is-Is someone there? Help!" May shouts, wiggling the gate and managing to push it open. As soon as the gate was opened, May ran inside, slamming it shut just in time to shut it in the wolves' faces.

May quickly scrambled to her feet, sighing and huffing as she attempted to calm down. she only managed to walk a few feet before stopping and gasping at the gigantic castle that stood before her.

Almost as soon as she came across the castle, it started to downpour, making May run to the castle doors and begin banging on them; accidentally pushing the door open as she did so.

May peered around the door, noticing that there was no one around and therefore safe for her to begin walking in.

"Hello?" May calls out before hesitantly walking further into the castle. "Hello!"

"Poor Gal must have lost her way in the woods." A voice says, making May look around as she continued.

"Keep quiet. Maybe she'll go away." Another voice whispers.

"Is someone there?" May asks, looking around and still seeing no one around.

"Not a word, Rhodey. Not one word." The second voice says.

"I don't mean to intrude, but I've lost my horse, and I need a place to stay for the night." May explains, not wanting to make the people these voices belong to upset.

"Oh, Happy, have a heart." The first voice says, only to get shushed. There was only a split second of silence before the second voice was crying out in pain.

"Of course, Mademoiselle, you are welcome here." The first voice says over the second one's pain, confusing May even more.

"Who said that?" May calls out, reaching over to one of the tables and picking up the candlestick she saw there to try and see better in the dark castle.

"Over here." The voice says, making May turn.

"Where." She cries out, twirling all around in a desperate attempt to just find someone.

"Over here." The voice says at the same time that the candlestick hit May in the head. "Hello." The candlestick greets once May brings it close to her face, making her gasp and drop the candlestick. Once she realized that the candlestick was groaning and trying to sit up, she leaned over it and examined it more.

"Incredible!" May marvels, watching as the clock hopped down from the table and made its way over to the candlestick.

"Well, now you've done it, Rhodey. Splendid. Just peachy." The clock scolds, only to scream when May picked it up off the ground.

"How is this accomplished?" May questions, ignoring the clock's pleas to put it down as she began to tip and turn the clock in order to examine it.

"Ma'am, close that at once." The clock demands as May opens up the front panel and messes with the pendulum. "Do you mind?" The clock scolds as the panel slammed closed on her finger.

"I-I beg your pardon. It's-It's just that I've never seen a clock that-that-" May tries to explain, quickly being cut off by sneeze after sneeze.

"Oh, you are soaked to the bone, Mademoiselle. Come. Warm yourself by the fire." the candlestick offers, leading May to where she needed to go.

"Thank you." May expresses her gratitude.

"No, no, no! You know what the master will do if he finds her here." The clock worries, grabbing onto the back of May's coat in an attempt to stop her from going further into the room "I demand. You. Stop. Right. There!" The clock says as it tumbles down the stairs leading to the room.

"Oh, no, no. Not the master's chair." The clock moans when it sees that the candlestick was settling May in the prince's chair that was in front of the fire. Before the clock could fully stop them though, it was brushed past by a barking footstool.

"I'm not seeing this. I'm not seeing this." The clock moans, figuring that if it didn't see anything then the master couldn't get angry with it.

"Well, hello there, boy." May greets the footstool, petting it like it was an actual dog. At the same time that the footstool wormed its way underneath May's feet, a coatrack wrapped a blanket around May's shoulders, making sure she was cozy and warm. "What service." She marvels once again.

"Alright. This has gone far enough. I'm in charge here-" The clock tries to put a stop to everything once again, only to get cut off once again by a service cart running it over.

"How would you like a nice spot of tea, ma'am? It'll warm you up in no time." The teapot that was sitting at the top of the service cart offers. May gladly accepted, ignoring the clock in the background who was trying to dispute it.

May was just giggling with the little teacup when the doors to the room slammed open, causing the fire to go completely out, and all of the household objects quiver in fear.

May wrapped the blanket tighter around her, shaking in fear also when she saw the big, beast-like shadow looming over her.

There's a stranger here." May hears a gruff voice growl, not helping her fear even a bit.

"Master, allow me to explains. The lady was lost in the woods. She was cold and wet, so-" The candlestick tried to explain, only making the situation worse and making the beast roar to stop the candlestick from talking.

"Master, I'd like to take this moment to say I was against this from the start. It was all his fault. I tried to stop them. Would they listen to me? No, no-" The clock says, trying to put the full blame on the candlestick, the beast also not having his explanation and roaring once again to stop it from continuing.

May was looking around, trying to see what beast could make a roar as terrifying as that, gasping when she turned her head and the beast was staring right back at her.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" The Beast questions, walking forward as May continued to walk back away from him.

"I-I-I was lost in the woods and-and-" May stammers.

"You are not welcomed here!" The Beast shouts.

"I-I'm-I'm sorry." May stammers out an apology, still not being able to take her eyes off of the Beast as he continues to push her back.

"What are you staring at?" The Beast asks, making May shake her head.

"N-Nothing." May replies, the Beast clearly not believing her.

"So, you've come to stare at the Beast, have you?" The Beast growls, May taking this as her chance to run and book it out of the castle, only for the Beast to cut her off and run right back in front of her.

"Please, I meant no harm! I just needed a place to stay." May pleads, and for the second time that night, she couldn't help but think about how Peter was going to become an orphan once again.

"I'll give you a place to stay!" The Beast threatens, picking up May by her shoulders.

"No, no, please! No! No!"

* * *

Peter was laying in the field behind their cottage after completing all his chores when he heard the whinnying of Phillippe. Peter instantly sat up, confused as to why his Aunt was back so soon, only to see that his Aunt wasn't even on the back of Philippe.

"Philippe! What are you doing here? Where's- Where's Aunt May?" Peter asks, grabbing Philippe's reins and calming the horse down. "Where is she, Philippe? What happened?" Peter questions, knowing something was beyond wrong.

"We have to find her. You have to take me to her." Peter says as he rushes to get the carriage off of Philippe's back, dread filing the small boy when he saw that his invention was still sitting in the carriage.

Peter didn't allow himself to dwell on it for too long, choosing to quickly hop up on Philippe's back and snap his reins, making the horse book it back down the road he came from.

The small pit of dread that was in Peter's chest only grew more and more as he got deeper into the woods that May was left in. The fog was still thick around them and Peter couldn't ignore the faint howls he heard as they continued.

Philippe soon stopped in front of the large gate, Peter staring at everything around them in fear.

"What is this place?" Peter questions, trying to hide the quiver in his voice. Apparently, Philippe also didn't like where they were because he started whinnying and jerking around.

"Philippe, please, steady." Peter tries to calm, hopping off of Philippe's back and steadying him that way. When Peter looked over his shoulder, he saw his Aunt's hat sitting on the other side of the gate, making him gasp.

"Aunt May." Peter whispers as he goes inside the gate and picks up his Aunt's hat. Peter glanced up at the big castle that stood before him, taking a deep breath in before steeling himself and walking up to the castle doors.

"Hello? Is anyone here? Hello?" Peter calls out as he begins to enter the castle, walking further down the hall when he didn't see or get an answer from anyone.

"Aunt May? Aunt May, are you here?" Peter calls out, walking up some of the stairs that he saw to begin searching for his Aunt.

He began walking all throughout the hall on the second level, passing the room that the clock and candlestick were in.

As soon as the candlestick and clock saw him walk past, they hopped off of the table they were on and ran to peer around the doorway.

"It's a boy!" The candlestick points out.

"I know it's a boy." The clock says in annoyance.

"Don't you see? He's the one. The one we have been waiting for. He has come to break the spell." The candlestick excitedly says.

"Wait, the enchantress says Master must learn to love another." The clock points out making the candlestick be the annoyed one now.

"She never said it had to be romantic love. Look at him, he's a young boy looking for his Aunt, he looks like he needs another to love him." The candlestick says, quickly chasing after Peter, who was already turning the corner down another hall.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute!" The clock tries to stop, chasing right after the candlestick.

"Aunt May?" Peter was still calling out once the household items caught up to them, both of them opening the door behind the small boy, the creaking door getting his attention. Peter slowly made his way to the door, peering through it to see how it opened.

"Hello? Is someone here?" Peter asks, seeing the light from the candlestick go up the stairs. "Wait! I'm looking for my Aunt. I-" Peter tries to stop the person, running up the stairs, only to see no one.

"That's funny. I'm sure there was someone." Peter mumbles, looking over all of the prison cells. "Is anyone here?"

"Peter?" A faint and familiar voice calls out."

"Aunt May!" Peter cries, quickly grabbing a torch and running towards the cell that May was in. May was reaching her arm through the tiny bars at the bottom of the cell door, Peter getting the hint and grabbing her hand.

"H-How did you find me?"

"Oh, your hands are like ice." Peter says, holding May's hand up to his cheek to try and warm it up while May lets out a few chest-rattling coughs. "We have to get you out of there." Peter determinedly says.

"Peter, I want you to leave this place." May tells the boy in fear, making him angry. Who would do this to a sick old woman?

"Who's done this to you?" Peter voices said question.

"No time to explain. You must go. Now!" May continues to push.

"I won't leave you." Peter stubbornly says, his stubbornness coming to bite him back in the butt when a large hand grabbed him and pulled him around. Because Peter was yanked around the torch he was holding fall to the ground, causing the whole room to be engulfed in darkness.

"What are you doing here?" A large voice booms.

"Run, Peter!" May begs, but all Peter could do was walk backward into the wall while simultaneously trying to figure out who was speaking.

"Who's there? Who are you?" Peter asks in fear.

"The master of this castle." The voice replies.

"Please, I've come for my Aunt. Please let her out. Can't you see she's sick?" Peter tries to beg, tears quickly forming in his eyes.

"Then she shouldn't have trespassed here!"

"But she could die. Please, I'll do anything." Peter continues to beg, trying his hardest to not cry at the idea of losing his Aunt; his last living relative.

"There's nothing you can do. She's my prisoner." The voice says, causing a sob to escape out of Peter's throat.

"There must be some way I can... Wait!" Peter calls out when he realized the silhouette of the person was beginning to leave. "Take me instead." Peter offers.

"You? You would take her place?" The voice asks, sounding like they were genuinely considering it.

"Peter, no! You don't know what you're doing!" May cries, trying to stop her nephew from making one of the worst decisions of his life.

"If I did, would you let her go?" Peter asks, wanting to make sure he wasn't going to make a deal, only to have his Aunt get stuck here anyway.

"Yes. But you must promise to stay here forever." The voice says, stepping a bit closer to Peter, but stopping as soon as he got too close to the small stream light that was shining down through the skylight.

"Come into the light." Peter challenges, his eyes slowly growing wide when he saw a gigantic Beast emerge. Peter just gasped in fear before turning towards his Aunt, wishing he could bury his face in her neck like he used to do whenever he got scared.

"No, Peter! I won't let you do this!" May sternly says, Peter taking a deep breath in before taking one last long look at his Aunt knowing he'll never see her again. Seeing how sick she truly was, was enough for Peter to get up and walk into the light with the Beast.

"You have my word." Peter says, closing his eyes so he wouldn't be afraid of the creature standing in front of him.

"Done." The Beast growls, brushing past Peter to unlock the cell door. Peter just covered his face and fell to the floor, trying not to sob out loud right then and there.

"No, Peter, listen to me." May says, running over and grabbing Peter's hands when she was let out, lifting him up to face her. "I'm old. I've lived my life." May begins, trying to convince Peter to trade places with her. Although, she didn't get too far into her argument before the Beast grabbed her by the back of the coat and began dragging her out of the room.

"Wait!" Peter cries out, not quite ready yet to never see his caregiver ever again.

"Peter!"

"Wait!" Peter cries, watching as the Beast continued to drag his Aunt away. All Peter could do was run to the window in the tower, watching as the Beast threw his Aunt into a carriage, that quickly left the castle grounds.

That was the moment Peter allowed himself to cry, fat ugly tears streaming down his face as he fell to the floor once again and sobbed.

All he knew was his Aunt. His parents died from the plague when he was a baby, so he couldn't even remember them, and his Uncle had died in the war. His Aunt was the one that was there by his side through thick and thin.

Even when they could barely afford food for the winter, or new clothes for the summer, his Aunt always made sure he was well looked after.

And now he'll never see her again. He'll never get to thank her for everything she sacrificed for him.

Peter slowly looked up when a shadow loomed over him, his tears turning angry for a second when he saw the Beast.

"You didn't even let me say goodbye." Peter spits out before putting his face back into his hands. "I'll never see her again. I didn't get to say goodbye." Peter cries, the Beast looking a bit guilty before turning away.

"I'll show you to your room." The Beast says, making Peter sniffle and look up in surprise.

"My room? But I thought-" Peter begins to say, already testing the Beast short-temper.

"You wanna- You wanna stay in the tower?" The Beast questions, barely keeping his anger suppressed.

"No." Peter answers in a tiny voice, almost feeling scolded in a way.

"Then follow me." The Beast commands, Peter scrambling to his feet and quickly following behind the Beast.

Peter couldn't stop the tears as they walked down one of the long hallways. He also couldn't stop his curiosity from getting the better of him, making him look all around as they continued down the hallway. It wasn't until he started seeing all of the terrifying statues that he stopped looking around and ran to catch up with the Beast.

Once Peter caught up, the Beast looking behind him, giving the small boy a sad look when he saw that he was crying once again.

"Say something to him." The candlestick practically scolds the Beast.

"I... hope you like it here." The Beast awkwardly tells Peter, looking at the candlestick to see if that was good; apparently, it was good, but not good enough because the Beast was being shooed to say more. "The castle is your home now, so you can go anywhere you like, except the west wing."

"What's in the west-" Peter begins to ask, his curiosity once again getting the better of him.

"It's forbidden!" The Beast yells, making Peter step further back in fear until they began walking towards his room again. Soon after, they were walking in front of a pair of double doors, the Beast opening the doors up for Peter.

"Now, if you need anything, my servants will attend you." The Beast says as Peter slowly walks into the room.

"Dinner. Invite him to dinner." The candlestick advises.

"You will join me for dinner. That's not a request!" The Beast aggressively invites, slamming the door behind him.

All Peter could do was stare at the closed door in fear in shock before running over to the bed and throwing himself onto it.

And, what felt like for the hundredth time since he got there, Peter began to sob.

Tag List: @lost-lunar-wolf @joyful-soul-collector @spideyspeaches @hatakehikari @thatcrackheadsadbitchtm

#peter parker #tony stark #irondad #fanfiction #beauty and the beast #kid peter parker #platonic love

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alpacaparkaseok · 4 years

Text

Where you should be

Chapter 5: Latibule

Kinda a shorter one today, but the most important thing about today is it’s two people’s birthdays! Shoutout to Kim Taehyung (idk if you guys have heard of him) and @taylorroe3! 🥳

Genre: Hobi x oc

Warnings: this series contains stalking, blackmail, and similar stressful/fear inducing situations. Also unrequited love, which is perhaps the most terrifying of all.

Word Count: 2.7k

Latibule(n.): a hiding place, a place of comfort and safety

I’ve learned three very important details since exiting the building.

First, the man’s name is Jihun.

Second, Jihun worked for Source Entertainment’s CEO, So Sung-jin. He was his bodyguard.

And lastly, Jihun has since been fired.

Oh, and one bonus fact: he’s not very happy about it.

“-There is nothing worse than coming home to your wife - who’s six months pregnant, by the way - and telling her that your supposed steady job was suddenly bought out by another company. Except for one thing, maybe.” Jihun glares down at me, continuing to walk around the building. “Would you like to know what’s worse?”

I’m sure he can see me swallowing down the lump in my throat as I slowly nod my head. My hands are shaking and numb from the cold, but I refuse to put them in my pockets in case I need to somehow defend myself.

“What’s worse,” Jihun spits out, “is telling her that your job won’t be under fire. Telling her that So Sung-jin will still keep you, because he’s still the CEO, isn’t he? Why wouldn’t he need a bodyguard anymore? Well, I suppose he does. Just one.”

Everything begins to make sense with that statement. “...but before he had-”

“Eight.” Jihun stops, coming to stand in front of me. “Eight full-time bodyguards for him and the other officers of Source. How do you tell the man you’ve been protecting for years that he should fire everyone else except for you? Tell me, how would I go about going behind my friends’ backs like that?”

I blink up at him, taking a small step back and cursing myself when Jihun notices and steps closer. “I- I don’t know-”

Jihun laughs loudly, the sound harsh. “You don’t know? You?” He bends down just enough so we’re eye-level, and I flinch at what I see behind those eyes. “Don’t act innocent with me, Jung Ha-rin. Did Bighit promise you that all the jobs would be secure for those of us left at Source? Or did you not even bother asking when Jung Hoseok flashed his smile-”

“What do you want from me?!” I shout, seeing red. “I didn’t do anything-”

Jihun smirks, straightening back up as though feeling quite pleased with himself. “80% of the little people at Source lost their jobs thanks to you. Source may not have lost their company, but we lost jobs. Bodyguards, caterers, program coordinators, all gone. Source didn’t need all of us anymore, not when Bighit started taking care of them.”

He’s nearly panting now, but there’s a gleam of victory in his eyes. Like he’s got me right where he wants me.

“I...I’m sorry.” I choke out, my heart thumping like a rabbit. “I really am. I had no idea...I didn’t know. I didn’t think about everyone else. But, I don’t understand. What do you want me to do?”

Jihun’s eyes focus on me like a hawk. I’m sure I’m the little hare now, running for my life while he swoops in with his gleaming talons.

“You know what So Sung-jin said to me when I told him that I couldn’t afford to lose my job?” He pauses for a moment, but continues on with spite dripping from his tongue. “He told me to take it up with her. He said that if I needed a job so badly, I should take it up with the girl who started this whole mess.”

Jihun steps back, laughing a little as he looks to the skies. I take a step backward, but he looks back down at me with a snap of his head, silently daring me to try to run.

“It took me so long to find you, Jung Ha-rin. Bang Si-hyuk was smart, he made sure your ‘promotion’ seemed natural. Who in their right mind would buy out an entire company for one little producer? But there was always something about it that confused me. As it turns out, there were a few of us that were a little suspicious. So while we struggled to find new work, we found each other. And we began to look into things a bit more.”

I remember with a start the other two intruders who had left notes at my studio. They must have been other previous employees at Source. It would appear that Jihun found some friends to investigate with him.

“By the time we began to formulate an idea, you had already disappeared. ‘Sunny’ appeared in your place, but we couldn’t find anything to prove our point. That is, until I saw you outside of your apartment.”

Chills run up and down my spine as I remember all those nights I saw Jihun wandering up and down my street like a hound following a scent.

“It was the only good thing that came out of this mess. You see, my wife left me not long ago. I can hardly provide for our small family, turns out fired bodyguards aren’t in high demand. So now if I want to see my daughter, I have to travel to the other side of Seoul. Luckily for me, that’s where you live. Imagine my luck when I saw that you were not only still around, but that you had Jung Hoseok wrapped around your little finger!”

Jihun takes a moment to glance around, making sure we have no unwanted visitors listening in on our conversation. “So what do I want you to do?” He tilts his head, sizing me up. “Fix this. You’ve proven your ability to worm your way into whatever you want; now it’s time for you to think about somebody else for once in your life.”

“But how-”

“Oh, there you are!” Hajoon sticks his head out the door, smiling at me. “Adora’s looking for you. Everything alright?”

Staring at Hajoon with wide eyes, I shake my head as lightly as possible. “Hajoon, would you mind coming out here for a second?”

As Hajoon steps outside, Jihun chuckles. “It was nice catching up with you, Ha-rin. I’ll email the details to you later, ok? Unless you want me to just send off the photos?”

Jihun looks comfortable in his act, but as he tilts his phone to me I understand why. Right there is perhaps the most incriminating photo of all: me clinging to Hoseok as we sit in his car the night Jihun approached us. How he got a photo of us I have no idea, but I have a hunch that one of his little friends might have been present and with a camera handy.

“No!” I shout, Hajoon faltering in his steps as he nears. “I, uh...I’ll take a look at the email first.”

“Sounds great!” Jihun turns on his heel, waving at me over his shoulder. “See you later!”

I watch as he walks away, his back straight and shoulders back. Hajoon comes to stand beside me, utterly oblivious.

“Adora’s on the-”

“Hajoon.”

“Yes?”

I turn to him, feeling the tears welling up in my eyes. “I...I need to talk to Bang PD. Now.”

♟

“What do you mean-”

“I mean,” I say through gritted teeth, “that this is worse than we thought! And it’s all my stupid fault!”

Bang Si-hyuk stares up at me from his desk, Hajoon standing just outside the closed door to deter any visitors. As soon as I uttered the words ‘blackmail’ and j-hope, he was quick to invite me in.

“Ha-rin, I need you to sit down and breathe for a second. Can you do that?” I begrudgingly take a seat, staring down at my hands. “Thank you. First off, this is not your fault. If anyone is to take the blame, it should be between So So-jin and I. Not you.”

“But he said-”

“Are you really about to believe what some maniac stalker said to you?” Bang Si-hyuk gives me a look that perfectly explains how crazy he thinks that makes me.

I shrug, fighting the tears that have been threatening to fall for a while now. “I...I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Bang PD’s eyes soften for a moment as he takes in my shaken state. “We’ll work through this. I promise. For now, we need to work through this with Hoseok.”

Nearly choking on my spit, I glare up at him. “What? Why? This is about me-”

“And him! He is in those photos as well, Sunny. He’s being exploited too, and he deserves to be aware of the situation.” He leans forward, looking at me with an analyzing stare. “What do you have against Jung Hoseok?”

“...nothing.”

“Good.”

♟

By the time Hobi’s knocking on Bang PD’s door, I feel like I’ve successfully turned into a stone. My neck refuses to move as I hear the door open, my eyes remain trained forward as I offer up a prayer to whoever’s listening.

This is a dream, this is a dream this is-

“Thanks for meeting with me on such short notice,” Mr. Bang says, gesturing for him to take a seat. “How’s it going?”

I can hear the confusion in Hobi’s voice as he takes a seat. “I - great. Things are great. What’s all of this about?”

In my peripheral I can see him looking at me, but I refuse to look at him. The second I do, he’ll see right through me.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed in recent months that Sunny has acquired a bodyguard?”

Hoseok is silent as he processes the information. “Is everything ok?”

If this were a perfect world, I’d be sinking through the floor and disappearing right around now. However, it isn’t, and I’m still stuck here with my cheeks burning red as I dread what’s about to come next.

“We’ve dealt with similar situations in the past, but this time around there are certain factors at play that I must admit we’ve never encountered before. The two of you are close, are you not?”

Our shocked silence answers his question.

“It would appear that a few people with a grudge against Bighit and Sunny have noticed that. Now they are using that information against us.”

Hoseok sits up straight, his gaze jumping between the two of us. “Who? And how? We don’t hardly see each other as is. This is probably just some weird threat, don’t you think?”

Bang PD shakes his head, looking grave. “Sunny, would you mind logging into your email for me?” He motions for me to come around his desk. Rising on shaky legs, it’s a miracle that I’m able to make it over to his side without collapsing.

Hoseok’s gaze is like a hot brand as I log into my email, but I refuse to look at him. Not as the memory of that night in his apartment is playing over and over again in my mind.

Of course all of this had to blow up right as things were finally getting better between us.

“There you go,” I mumble, going back to my seat.

“Hoseok, take a look at this.”

Now it’s Hoseok’s turn to stand beside Bang PD, shuffling past me as he makes his way over to him. I instinctively hold my breath as he leans down to see what’s on the screen.

Hoseok’s eyes shutter as he sees the photos Jihun sent along with the email as a nice little reminder of why I should follow his instructions.

I watch as Hobi shuts down, his worried demeanor slowly turning cold and distant until he strides back to his chair and sits with a determined expression.

“What’s the plan?”

Bang PD leans back in his chair, looking back and forth between the two of us. “Well, first off, I need to know what all of this is about. I understand that photos like these can be misinterpreted, but I can’t help but think that the two of you haven’t been completely honest with me. Is that correct?”

Silence reigns in the office as neither one of us deign to answer him. Bang PD sighs, pulling his phone out and searching for something while we drown in the silence.

My eyes are burning holes into the wooden desk before me, and I wonder for a moment if this is what people standing before the guillotine felt like as they awaited their execution. Bang Si-hyuk sits before us, the unwavering executioner with his list of convictions. As he finds what he was looking for on his phone, I know for a fact that there is nowhere left for me to run. For a year now, I’ve hid everything away. I’ve done it well, I think.

I suppose I could only run for so long.

“Thirteen months ago I received a message from you, Sunny.” Hoseok stiffens beside me as he undoubtedly does the math in his head. We both know what happened thirteen months ago. “You were very worried as you had been spotted with Hoseok. You were quite convincing in asking me to not retaliate against Hoseok, and I didn’t even stop to ask myself why you were so quick to worry about him. You stated, ‘Hoseok is my close friend and has acted as a mentor for me during my time as Bighit. Please do not blame him for his kindness. I understand the terms of my contract, and I still respect them. I do not have feelings for him.’”

The small office has suddenly turned into the unforgiving tundra as Bang PD fixes me with an icy stare. Hoseok remains closed off and cold beside me, although I can see the way his hands have turned into fists against his thighs.

“I need you to realize all that is at stake here, Sunny.” Bang PD looks at me with a hawk’s glare, but I refuse to squirm in my seat like some child. “Were you telling me the truth that night?”

I’m pretty sure Hobi has stopped breathing as he waits to hear my answer. For so long now, I’ve known that I was lying.

For thirteen months, I’ve been living that lie.

I’m so tired.

Were you telling me the truth that night?

For the first time in what feels like ages, I shed the mask I’ve held onto so tightly.

“No.”

Bang PD’s eyes widen. “Am I correct in assuming that at the time of this message, you did indeed harbor feelings for Hoseok?”

So quiet in here. I wonder for a moment if they can hear my heart beating like a hammer. My mouth opens, but no words come out.

“I need an answer, Sunny. If we’re going to make it through this mess, we need to untangle your web of-”

“That’s enough.”

Hoseok’s eyes appear to be aflame as he sits up in his seat, slowly rising until he’s glaring down at Bang Si-hyuk.

“What do you mean-”

“I mean,” Hoseok hisses out, and there I can finally see it. That side of him that I’ve heard people whisper about. “That if you want to get ‘through this mess’, as you so beautifully stated, you don’t need to interrogate people for information you already know. This is a ploy for money and to take down your company, so I’d suggest that you take the necessary action to defend it before it’s too late.”

The frozen tundra has suddenly burst into flames as Hoseok turns to me, a sound that almost sounds like a sigh of relief pushing past his lips as he nods at me. “I think you should head home, it sounds like you’ve had a long day. I’ll have someone bring a car around for you.”

I get up and follow him out, hardly daring to look at him as he holds the door open for me. Band PD sits as his desk in silence as we exit.

Hajoon stands beside the door with a wide-eyed gaze, looking between the two of us as though expecting an explanation.

“Would you please retrieve Ha-rin’s things from her studio and bring them out to my car?”

Hajoon scurries away, and I look up at Hobi to see him slowly starting to calm down. “Your car?” My voice is scratchy as I ask the question, almost sounding like I haven’t spoken in years.

Hobi’s gaze turns soft as he looks down at me, and I find myself able to breathe easier as I glimpse the kind friend that always showed up with a bag of food at my studio door.

“Can we talk?”

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