#Please take those people. They are tempting me to hurt them

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

❤ Yandere Lawyer ❤

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female reader

WARNINGS: Obsession; Misogyny; slight Power Abuse.

This idea credit goes to @d-lioncourt cause she's the one that motivated me for this idea. Hope you like this :)

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◾ Yandere! Lawyer who works in the top law firm of the country. He’s cold, determinate and calculative. Always thinking 10 steps ahead of everyone, carefully considering all possibilities and creating extensive back-up plans. 

His job relies on his capacities and he always aims for the top. If he’s not recognized as the best lawyer available, then he doesn’t even know what he’s been doing so far. 

◾ Yandere! Lawyer who doesn't care about how things are done as long as he wins the case in the end. Who said lawyers are saints?

He may be an advocate of the law but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t bend it to his will, finding sneaky gaps to reach his goal: win. 

Isn’t that what makes him such a requested lawyer? Isn’t that what causes every big corporate company to try to sign him up, to offer several millions for him to represent them in court? Because everyone knows that he wins.

No matter what happens during the trials or how badly the opposite side tries, he wins. It’s an irrefutable truth and anyone that tries to contradict it is a complete and utter fool. 

◾ Yandere! Lawyer who is upset enough when he’s informed that he’s gonna have to take a Pro Bono case for a random civilian. It’s frustrating to spend his precious time and expensive resources on a worthless someone.

It’s stupid and he'd immediately refuse it if it wasn’t for the strict order he receives from the higher ups.  

◾ Yandere! Lawyer who rattles you up, insisting on long sessions so he can know your side of the story.

His questions feel like accusations and you hate spending long hours answering him. Makes you feel like you’ve actually committed a crime of sorts when the reality is none of that. 

He knows you’re bothered by the way he pays attention to each of your words, taking mental notes of every minuscule detail so he can bring it up later.

He’s highly aware of how unnerving he can get and it’s fun to see you get so quiet and shy over it. 

He loves it when people get intimidated by him and it’s particularly pleasant when a pretty thing like yourself gets too timid to spare him a few words. 

◾ Yandere! Lawyer who drags the case much longer than it needs to. He could definitely end it in a blink of eyes, it would be so easy for him. A piece of cake. 

But he doesn’t. 

It’s exciting to see you on court, a helpless expression covering your whole face and your eyes at the verge of tears as your future lays on his hands.  

So pathetically weak. You can’t even defend yourself, you need him to do that for you. To defend your honor, to protect you. 

◾ Yandere! Lawyer who makes sure you know that despite it being a Pro Bono case, you owe him. He wants you to know that he’s winning this case for you, wasting his valuable time just to save your pathetic ass from those embezzlement charges. 

That he’s the one saving you from going to prison - despite the very evident fact that you have such a weak personality that it’s practically impossible that you’d steal money from your boss. 

◾ Yandere! Lawyer who takes every chance to hurt your feelings with snide remarks.

You look prettier when you cry, something so enticing about those shiny diamond-like tears that glow in your eyes and the miserable way you furiously blink to keep them at bay - to which you fail. 

You’re crying because of him. That’s enough to make him buzz with a twisted sense of possession and control. He holds that much power over you. 

◾ Yandere! Lawyer whose mind wanders over the tempting fantasies of returning home to you. You’d do a submissive girlfriend, he’s so sure of that. If he gave you a nasty slap and a few harsh words, you’d bend to his will so fast - like a obedient girlfriend should. 

It would be so easy to control your life.

Order you to move in with him. Command you to become his stay-at-home girlfriend. Push you to cut off friends and family until only he remains. 

Those misogynistic ideas keep him thinking about you longer than he should. 

◾ Yandere! Lawyer who isn’t afraid to act upon his wishes and so he does. After a triumphing win on court, he leaves.

Storms off without even looking at you and you don’t even have the chance to thank him, but you forget about that quickly. 

You have more pressing issues to focus on, such as rebuilding your life all again. Celebrate your win. Find a new job. Move on with your life the best as you can. 

Your peace lasts exactly one week. And then everything comes down in rubbles.

Because then he comes to retrieve his payment. 

[breadbrobin]

skipping stones

clarisse la rue x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

summary: it’s been a rough day for you, and clarisse doesn’t know how to help, as much as she wants to try

warnings: none really, just fluff and a little sad slander oops, oh and maybe slightly ooc clarisse as always

word count: 783

(hiiii it’s been a minute. i wrote this after skipping stones at a river for like an hour while my friend sat around next to me and i wanted someone to support me in my skipping endeavours so here we are)

————————————————

clarisse could always find you skipping stones.

you weren’t good at it. hell, you were even bad at it. but that never stopped you.

you’d told her once that it kept you closer to your family, since you hadn’t been able to get back to them since coming to camp two years ago, and you missed them more than words could describe.

she wasn’t even sure how it happened; how you became her best friend at camp, and she became yours, despite your differences.

where she was hard, you were soft. where she was cruel, you were kind. and where she was cold, you were as warm as any fire she’d ever known. warmer, even.

she didn’t even know when those feelings had shifted—from indifference to care, from friendship to love—but it didn’t really matter. what did matter was she could always find you skipping stones. and that’s exactly where you were.

she sat next to you on the shore, staring out at the long island sound ahead of her. you were looking down at the rocks, no doubt searching for your next ones to skip. your knees were bent and pulled to your chest with your arm under your thighs to lean forward. she couldn’t help but smile. if anyone saw she’d be made fun of, but with you, she didn’t care too much. she picked up a flat stone by her foot and nudged you.

you looked up at her with a smile, taking the stone and preparing to skip it. “thanks.” this one skipped maybe three times. she wasn’t really paying attention. her eyes were on your face, mapping your features, the light freckles, the crease between your eyebrows as you searched for another stone. she was watching your hands as you weighed two up before choosing one. she was staring at your lips, seeing them pout, press together, curl into a slight smile as the stone skipped.

“what’s wrong?” she asked.

“do you wanna try?” you extended a flat stone to her, about half the size of her palm. she was tempted to take it and put it in her pocket.

but she shook her head. “i’ve never had enough patience to learn to skip stones. you know that.”

“i do,” you nodded, your lips pressed together again. gods, what she wouldn’t give for those lips to be pressed against hers. “worth a shot.”

you skipped it, pouting as it crashed through a small wave and disappeared into the sea.

“what’s wrong?” clarisse asked again. “you can’t avoid the question forever, n/n.”

“yes, i can,” you said, skipping another rock.

“no. i won’t let you. what is it? did someone mess with you? i’ll kill them—“

you cut her off by laughing. “no, clarisse! no one messed with me, and please don’t commit any crimes in my name.”

“yours is the only name i’d ever commit crimes in,” she said firmly. you believed her. “now, tell me what’s wrong.”

you sighed and looked out at the grey horizon. it wasn’t a beautiful day, but it was warm for early spring and it hadn’t rained yet. “my dad called camp. he wants me to come home.”

“i thought your dad didn’t know where you were.”

“so did i.”

it was silent.

“so, what? he sent you away? that’s bullshit!”

“yeah,” you didn’t drag your eyes from the horizon. your knuckles were tight around a stone in your grip. “it is.”

her red-hot anger died in her throat as she saw your face and the blatant hurt on it. she wasn’t good at comforting people. she was actually really bad. it was easy to comfort clarisse: just let her yell about it and punch things until she feels better. but you… she’d seen you upset before, but never defeated. you looked defeated.

she was stumped.

“do you… do you need, like, a hug?” she offered awkwardly.

a snort escaped your lips. “a hug?”

“yeah! i mean… what do you need? how can i help you?” she asked, trying to save face.

you paused, turning your gaze to look at her face. “a hug would be nice, yeah.”

she scooted closer and wrapped her arms around you. she was worried it’d be awkward, that you’d both be tense and uncomfortable and it would be terrible, but you settled into her arms like you were made to be there. and god you were warm. it was like hugging someone who’d just gotten out of the drier.

“and if this doesn’t help we can throw rocks in the sea and yell about how angry we are,” she suggested after a moment. “that always helps me.”

she took your laughter as a good sign.

[actiniumwrites]

𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇

synopsis: in which you find out the truth about lyney’s identity

characters: lyney x gn!reader

wc: 695

warnings: pure angst, established relationships, breakups, reader has a past with the fatui, mentions of physical harm and death, major spoilers for the 4.0 archon quest

notes: i am officially in writers block and want to die because of it. also, i know this idea is a little old since the quest came out a few weeks ago, but i still wanted to write something about his identity. also, yes, i would forgive lyney, but this blog has not seen pure angst in awhile so…🙂

“You were never going to tell me, were you?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you finally break the silence. Your arms are crossed as you lean back against one of the brick walls of the Opera Epiclese. Lyney stands approximately three feet away from you.

He’s silent, unable to answer the burning question. It’s been on your mind all night ever since Furina had so proudly announced it to all of the court. Lyney was a part of the House of the Hearth. Part of the Fatui.

“I can’t lie to you,” he carefully picks his words, terrified of further upsetting you.

Cutting him off, you scoff and turn away from him further than you already had, “What? Like you haven’t been lying to me this entire time? Real funny.”

Lyney takes a single step closer to you.

You take one back.

“Please, I wasn’t lying to you. I just left out some parts of the truth, that’s all, I swear!”

“You are part of the Fatui, Lyney. The Fatui! How can I trust you when you’re part of an organization who hurts people, kills people, even,” you frown. Not a single part of you isn’t affected by the hurt you feel. He hears the way your voice is beginning to break too, like the truth of it all is finally beginning to set in.

His hands come together as he pleads, “I promise I’ve never hurt anyone, not ever! Not everyone and everything in the Fatui is evil.”

For the first time tonight, you turn toward him and look him in the eyes. Your arms become uncrossed as you feel anger fuel your every action, every thought, every feeling. Walking toward him step by step, you hold out a finger, digging it into his chest as you speak, “You don’t get to pick and choose when you’re a part of something dangerous, Lyney! I don’t care if you aren’t the one doing the killing or the hurting, you still help them. What about all those people I told you about? My friends and family who got hurt by the Fatui? Did that mean nothing to you?”

He watches as tears form in your eyes at the mention of them. Of course he remembered, how could he not? The day you confided in him about your past and all the misfortune that you were dealt by the Fatui was eternally engraved in his mind. The organization who had taken so much from you that you swore you would find a way to end it one day, even if it meant dying. You had laid everything out to him and the entire time he was on their side.

You take two more steps back from him, voice shaking as cave in on yourself, “No wonder you were so quiet that day. God, and here I was thinking you actually cared.”

“Please don’t say that,” he whispers, tempted to reach a hand out to you, but not willing to scare you off. For all he knows, this could be the last time he ever sees you, “I care about you so much it hurts me. I really was horrified by the things you told me, I promise you that. Understand that I’ve only ever been talking to you as just Lyney. Your Lyney.”

It takes everything in you not to run into his arms and forget all of this is even happening. Give into his pleading words and return to who you thought was the only person who had ever really loved you. You want to pinch your arm to wake yourself up from the cruel nightmare, but somewhere deep inside, part of you has already accepted the truth and the fact that there is no universe in which you could accept his true identity. And so you take one final look at him before you take your final step, allowing the tears to fall from your eyes as you bid him a permanent farewell.

Lyney would never forget the final words you spoke to him. Four words that managed to break both your hearts more than the truth had.

“You’re not my Lyney.”

[milkteasweetheart]

『dream a little dream of me』

silver x reader

summary: he’s known you for so many years. will you let him be by your side?

warnings: yandere, female reader, breaking and entering, reader is yuu, a suggestive sentence, desperation

The stars and waxing moon illuminate the old, wind-beaten dorm. The weather is calm in this late hour, unlike his thoughts.

You’ve driven him mad with yearning. No one can see it, but his beating heart threatens to maim him from the inside. He’s loved you for longer than he has known your name.

It started with occasional dreams. A girl, about his age, showing up in a pretty dress. He had told his old man he had seen a princess.

The visits had at some point become nightly. And eventually, every dream had your face in it, no matter the subject. You could be in a pretty ballgown, a suit of armor, or more recently, nothing at all, and he was thankful for the comfort of your presence. A comfort he could no longer live without. He was enveloped in a self-inflicted obsession.

His heart stuttered for a good while when seeing you for the first time. Silver was sure he had gone insane, his waking and dreaming worlds melted together. He had stared for so long, you had started hiding behind those two freshmen when near him.

「He could be a much better guard. Your knight, even if you didn’t need one.」

The news of your confrontation with an overblot had nearly made his heart collapse in on itself. The second time had him ready to whisk you away to safety. Can’t you let him stay by your side? He’d draw his sword at any sign of danger. Could you hold him like you did in his dreams?

You’re not from this world. It’s a clear sign of fate! You appeared from the distance of his misty dreams to an arm’s reach away. It can’t be a coincidence, by any definition.

The door doesn’t creak like it used to. Did your two card soldiers help you? Or maybe someone else? So many of them had hurt you and still had the privilege of your time and company. He doesn’t like the way they look at you. They don’t know you.

The lounge is bathed in frosty moonlight. His gaze lands on the couch. You’re there, unaware of everything. He doesn’t know anything more beautiful.

The slope of your nose, eyelashes and cupid's bow. Crossed fingers and shiny hair. A visual blessing. Better than a dream, for it’s tangible and real.

Why? Why does his throat feel like it’s wrapped in sharp thorns every time he tries to talk to you? He’d make it right. You wouldn’t look uncomfortable in his presence. He’d give you the life his dreams show. You’d never be in danger again.

But he can’t speak. So, he’ll settle. He sits at your feet, and slowly rests his head on your lap. The only sound in the night is the breathing of two people. Your lips are slightly parted. If only your presence is enough to have him overflowing with life, he’s convinced your kiss would break his curse for good.

Do you dream of him like he does of you? He hopes and screams prayers in his mind that you want his company. Have you seen the same dreams he has? Even one of them?

Take his heart and treat it gently. Like a delicate rose or a little bird. If you hate him, it’ll be crushed and your fingers will be stained with blood for eternity. Please. Let him be by your side. You’ll never prick a finger.

Eventually, the milky moonlight is traded for gold as the stars fade in the sky. He’s reluctant to leave, even when he has to.

「I hope you dream of me too.」

It’s tempting to show his affection on your lips. But he knows it’ll be the best accompaniment to a confession.

So, he takes your hand. A reverent kiss on your knuckles will satiate his aching heart for a bit. It’s a pledge of loyalty to your unconscious grace.

He leaves with one last gaze to your being. And he exits the dorm with no sign of ever visiting.

[jojo-oliver]

How to tumblr for artists… my own version

A collection of things that have been working for me, but may not work for everyone

~~~ your posts ~~~

!!!reblog your own stuff!!! you need to reblog your own stuff, there is nothing morally wrong with reblogging your own stuff regularly. in fact, it is morally right to allow the chance for more people to see your artwork.

~~~ queue it!! ~~~ my queue is 500 posts strong. maybe don't try to make your queue hundreds of posts strong in the same day omg but like… once every month or two i'll go through my whole blog and just scroll and "add to drafts" to every one of my own posts i have. then i'll use the "mass post editor" to add content warning tags. and add to queue, and shuffle. and then I write down what the date was for when I last added my posts to be reblogged on queue. this is helped by turning on timestamps for posts in tumblr "dashboard preferences" settings.

queueing is necessary and life saving for me. It takes out so much work with decision fatigue and the anxiety around posting. It also guarantees that even if I suddenly need time off or away from my phone, I don't just disappear and lose all traction. It also breaks the instant-gratification cycle that you expect when you finish an artwork. It's hard to keep creating when you post something and, when you're expecting to get that gratification, you get none... If you queue your new artwork to come out at a later time, you've separated that expectation - with time. It hurts less and contributes to a more consistent gratification thing instead of peaks and troughs.

~~~ tag ya stuff ~~~ when you're making a new post, the first 20 tags are what gets put into the searchable tags. do not feel shame for using lots of tags. shame is the mind-killer. tags are hard. hard to know what to tag a post with. hard to remember the tags. so I found some ways to help myself. maybe they'll help you too. dedicate some time towards just figuring out what tags you want to use. i have a list in my phone notes that i add tags to and reference whenever i'm making a new post. i have the phone right beside the laptop while i'm tagging so that i can just look at it and scroll. tags are the only way for people to find your artwork, other than people manually coming to your blog because they saw you somewhere. there is no algorithm. posting without tags, until you have an established fanbase, is throwing something into the void.

When I'm doing tag research, I look at what people seem to use - when you put something in the search bar, tumblr recommends you some that have a higher following, typically. Looks like this on desktop:

if you like one tag, look at what other people who use that tag also tag their posts with. Observe and learn how this tag is used. search through a bunch of them and write them down.

here's what i got in my notes, for the specific kind of art I post and look for:

these tags are sort of specific to me and the kind of art I make. You'll want to research your own tags, but this is an example of how I keep them organized to make posting more effective. I generally only write down a tag when it's got more than 2k followers. You might be tempted to use the tags with millions of followers, but I've actually found those a lot less functional for small artists. If your stuff doesn't immediately get a bunch of notifications, you're drowned out and pushed to the bottom much faster. But the bigger tags are better than no tags, so I keep them if I can't think of anything else to tag something with.

~~~ post at the right times….? ~~~

fridays and saturdays is when I post fresh new things... usually. every website has it's own peak hours, and you can find those hours in many different online articles that try to sell you social media growth services. tumblr is unique in having later hours.

here's some random graph from google images:

please don't over think this. please don't let this consume the idea of when to post, preventing you from posting at all. it doesn't mean too much - if you post during very active hours, maybe your art would just be pushed down the feed faster. if you post at the end of hours, maybe everyone's going to sleep… if you post at inactive hours, maybe there's less 'competition'… if you post at the beginning of active hours, maybe that's just more time for your post to circulate for the day, if you have enough people reblogging it once it drops....

this also is in EST. So fuck the other time zones, I guess. I'm over here in europe knowing that the "best" time to post would be like 2-3am or something. It's like this for most english-speaking majority sites - higher traffic in north american time zones.

it's also worth mentioning that this is scattered as heck, compared to other social media sites. and it's not like, the activity times of your followers. it's not the best time to post for your niche. this is just tumblr, broadly. all of tumblr.

~~~ Plan ahead for annual dates ~~~

Your artwork will get more circulation if it's posted on a celebratory day. You could just put them on your calendar and if you're wondering what to make, look on the calendar for what's coming soon. For example, asexual awareness day, trans day of visibility, location-specific holidays, etc. Here's my phone notes thing with my own recorded annuals:

I got these dates from googling and reading different articles, but I find that I still miss dates, and then I add them for next year. If you know of some I missed, tell me and I'll add them please <3

~~~ reblog other people's stuff ~~~

tumblr is sorta about ecosystems. things get passed around within groups of people that are all following eachother. to enter this ecosystem, you must engage and reblog other people's stuff too.

if you reblog other artists' stuff, sometimes they'll come over and reblog your stuff too. sometimes they'll follow you back. this is called becoming a mutual. I'll search specific tags for the kinds of people I want to follow and the kind of art I like - those are listed in the screenshot of my tag note under "Tags for finding new people".

I see a lot of blogs out there that are very clean, posts are tagless, and are only for the artists' content. like scrolling through a portfolio. I imagine this is good for people who are migrating to tumblr but already have their own established fanbase from elsewhere.

you don't need to do reblog other people's stuff on your art blog, you can do this on a separate blog. but if the two don't look very closely correlated, it's hard to tell who you are when you're interacting. and hard to make sure people know that you are the same person as your art blog. and you gotta remember to promote yourself on your personal blog.

~~~ have an art tag ~~~

make your blog easy to search!

if i go to your blog, and you've written 'artist' or 'sometimes art' in your bio, i wanna see it… it make me so sad when i don't get to see it. i want to reblog it. please let me reblog it :(

to make a tag on your own blog searchable, you don't need to repost it to add a tag. you don't even need to reblog it. you can actually just go back to the original post and edit it to add your tag. I've seen post people just have their art tag be something like #(blogname)art . you can see my own in my tags image above. if it's very unique, then it'll work tumblr-wide. I think that's good, since the tumblr search function is really weird. Otherwise it should still work if it's not entirely unique, people just have to make sure they're searching specifically your blog to see only your stuff.

I like to have a link in my pinned post where people can click to have immediately searched for my art tag. Convenience is king. Keep in mind that most people are on mobile, and if something isn't immediately clickable, they often won't find it.

~~~ be consistent and be patient ~~~

!!!this time will pass anyway!!! how many notes you have is not correlated with how good you are as an artist. wanting to earn something from your art means you essentially have two jobs. two potentially full time jobs. this shit's difficult. most of the job is promoting yourself. don't undersell how hard it is to do… don't feel bad for not immediately succeeding. I would write about how hard it's been to promote myself, but it would just be long and sad I think.

This isn't a full guide, please feel free to add more!!

I'm sure in another year I'll disagree with a lot of this, it will become irrelevant with time, and I'll have a lot of different opinions. Chip in and share what you've been doing? Teach me? This is very overwhelming. Don't do it all at once, just like, try one thing at a time, and see how it works for you. Your niche might be different. One size does not fit all. If you're confused about some of the things I talk about in here, you might be on mobile. I do most of my queueing and posting from the desktop browser version.

I will update this with more as things change, but I think you'll have to click through to see the updated post

[nixie-writes-aot]

Reactions to S/O with Abusive Family

Warnings: mentioned abuse, abuse of power/status, hurt/comfort, fluff

Characters: Reiner Braun, Bertholdt Hoover, Zeke Yeager

Author's Note: This was written purely because I wanted some hurt/comfort fjndkdmd. There are two other parts because theres like 9 characters I wrote this for

Reiner Braun

Oh boy

Family is something that means a lot to Reiner. Especially s4 Reiner. He would do anything to protect his own so someone hurting their family member?

He can't fathom it

Reiner just wants to hold you close, shield you from everything that would dare even try to hurt you

Reiner is a broken man in many aspects but you make him feel whole, you make everything okay do seeing you hurt is not something that Reiner ever wants

When you come to him? Hurt and even scared? He wants to know why, he wants you to know he's there and always will be

Reiner is stunned when you tell him the stories, the way you feel around your family, how you felt the end to always always apologize or people please just to avoid conflict

Reiner decided then and there that he hated your family, that there was no excusing how they had been adults around you and instead of nurturing you, destroyed any semblance of a child that had existed within you

He pulls you close, enveloping you in a hug and let you sob and cry into his chest

Reiner had decided he would do anything just to help you move on from them

Although Reiner could barely hide his relief and a touch of disappointment when you said you hadn't seen them in years

Reiner was half tempted to mention his desire to make them suffer using his rank as Vice Chief but opts to keep that from you. For the moment, at least. Time and place and all

Bertholdt Hoover

When you tell him, Bertholdt is quiet at first. He's the kind to process things a touch slowly 

But he is horrified

Bertholdt became a Warrior for his sick father, not unlike Pieck, so when you tell him that you admire that but could never do the same for your family? That some fathers never earn the love of their children?? Bertholdt is stunned

Not because of the "but family is family" bullshit no no. Bertholdt is stunned at how you're opening up and with him of all people and the fact that anyone would dare hurt you

Bertholdt mutters about wanting to hurt them for hurting you

This is a man who was pushed into killing hundreds just because he was convinced that Eldians were devils and those who were on the island were the worst of the worst 

You can't tell me when faced with the story of how your abusers are still alive, he would be kind

Well. To you, he is kind

To them? He wants to feed them to the titans

Bertholdt slowly but surely pulls you close, buring his face in your chest and whispering positive affirmations that you are worth loving, deserved so much better, and are one of the best people he had ever met

Zeke Jeager

When you tell Zeke about it, he remembers his own parents

How only his grandparents earned his love and how his father especially received his ire

In Zeke's mind, Tom Ksaver is still his real father. Even if he had to eat him in the long run

Zeke is an odd man and he doesn't really emote much but he takes a hit off his cigarette, puts it out and turns to you. Zeke offers you a sympathetic nod, an apology, and pulls you close

Zeke, unlike Reiner, would absolutely use his position as the Warchief against the people who hurt you most

Zeke would lull you to sleep, letting you sleep in his bed and feel all the perks he gets as a Warchief that can actually speak during meetings with Marleyans 

His sweet nothings persistent until you've drifted away and then he steps out, probably finds Yelena while he leans beside him with a cigarette

"Find two people for me. Full name and everything, then frame them. Make them suffer. They've hurt someone I care about greatly."

Yelena doesn't even have to ask who that person is, she knows its you so she does so without question nor fail 

When you hear the news, you climb into his lap and sigh, kissing him sweetly and thanking him for the small amount of justice you get to see served

Zeke would do just about anything for you, he's sure of that much

[soap-ify]

kindly asking for more knight!gaz please? 👀🤲

kindly giving more to you!! | more knight!gaz drabbles can be found here.

cw — brief mentions of an argument with your father, hurt/comfort, very slight dark gaz hints here and there THAT I WILL EXPAND ON IN THE UPCOMING DRABBLES!

your relationship with your father was complicated, understandably so. he was always too immersed in his chores and duties as the king, and you can’t quite recall the last time he had sat with you for a proper bonding moment.

well, he did sit down with you today. only to slam you with a train of criticisms and remarks laced with how heavily disappointed he was with you. you were so exhausted and confused at this point, since nothing was satisfactory enough for your father lately.

so here you were, alone in the garden, leaning against the tree’s bark while you cried silently, praying that no one would see you here. it’s not proper for a princess to be so… dramatic publically after all.

“princess?”

you froze at the sound of the familiar voice, kyle’s voice, calling out to you from behind. hastily wiping your tears off your cheeks, a poor attempt to hide the evidence of you crying, you sniffled and tilted your head to look over at him, flashing him a weak smile. “hello, kyle.” you mumbled politely.

kyle stood there for a few seconds, brown eyes assessing your face carefully — taking note of your puffy and slightly red eyes. you had forgotten just how observant you could be, and before you could say anything, he was already on his knees beside you on the grass, gloved hand reaching out to tenderly cup your cheeks.

“who did this to you?” he asked softly, though his words clearly held a hint of demand in them — a subtle anger towards whoever dared to hurt you. the idea alone made your heart swell up, your lips quivering as you looked at him with those teary eyes.

“i-i just had a disagreement with my father.” you attempted to be as vague as possible, and kyle probably understood, considering the way his eyes softened up. he sighed and let his thumb brush away the new falling tears, his fond gaze completely drowning you in its warmth.

“kyle… people might walk by.” you grumbled weakly, eyes frantically looking around to make sure no one was around, though when his grip tightened just lightly on your cheeks, your eyes moved back on him.

“no one will.” he hushed you by pressing a soft kiss on your temple, causing warmth to bloom on your cheeks.

slowly, he pushed you slightly to the side and eased you down to lay on the fresh grass, your breath hitching a bit once you felt the grass gently tickling your back while your dress splayed over the glass, your eyes focused solely on him. kyle smiled and hovered over you, his fingers tracing strange patterns on your cheek.

“seeing you upset breaks my heart, princess.” the sunlight pouring onto him made him glow alongside his armour — and one could easily mistake him for an angel in this moment. “c’mon now. give me a smile.”

those words alone made your lips twitch, a shy smile soon adorning your mouth while your stomach felt all funny with the butterflies swarming in it.

“that’s better. so pretty.” the knight cooed, gently leaning down a bit. your faces were close, so painfully close that you were tempted to forget about all the rules and just kiss him right there and then. he was your knight after all.

“kyle…” his name fell from your tongue like a plea, your hands gently laying on your stomach to feel its rise and fall — restraining yourself from grabbing him.

he smiled sweetly at you, getting closer until your nose was gently bumping with his. he couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the way your nose scrunched a bit, his head tilting to a better angle until his lips were gently brushing with yours, just a fleeting lingering kiss.

you froze for a moment, your heart almost exploding. your first kiss. you couldn’t help but idiotically smile, ignoring the fact that it was just a soft brushing kiss and not a proper one.

“the next time someone upsets you, you tell me, alright?” he mumbled against your lips, slowly pulling away before laying down beside you on the grass, looking over at you.

“i won’t let anyone hurt you.”

the determination in his eyes could almost be scary if not so affectionate at the same time.

[dr5amatic]

AGAINST THE NIGHT ,

a sentence starter prompts list comprised of quotes from the novel a torch against the night by sabaa tahir. please be advised that this list may involve topics including, but not limited to, murder, death, and violence. change verbiage as needed.

how did they find us so fast?

if your sins were blood, you would drown in a river of your own making.

you ask what am i, but what are you?

stay out of the way. no matter how bad it looks, don't interfere, don't try to help.

when the fear takes over, use the only thing more powerful, more indestructible, to fight it: your spirit. your heart.

we have to keep going. we have to get out of the city.

if something happens to me, don't fear.

you took long enough. i’ve waited hours.

if you think i need an army to destroy you, you are mistaken.

don’t falter now, fool. you’ll regret it.

bad luck to lie to a comrade-in-arms.

do you enjoy it? the hurt you cause? the pain? i can see it. you carry it with you. why? does it bring you happiness?

i don’t mean to–i don’t want to hurt people.

you destroy all those who get close to you.

you are dead, you just don’t know it yet.

you’ve been blacked out for hours. i thought you might not wake up.

don’t you dare fade out on me again.

i can’t do this without you.

stay. don’t go back. i need you.

i’m going to hurt you. i hurt everyone. 

try to stay. you were gone for so long last time, and i need you to stay.

tell me another story. tell me another memory. something good.

if you care for [name], then do not let [name] care for you.

like the poison that rages within you, you have no antidote.

willpower alone cannot change one’s fate.

thirteen fractures is nothing.

i’m about as good with tears as i am with declarations of love.

every time i stare into your eyes, i see my nightmares.

now you seem older and harder and, perhaps most terrifyingly, wiser.

he insisted that killing you would lead to my doom.

to be honest, i’m tempted to slit your throat just to see what happens. perhaps i still will.

i’m yours to command, my lord.

i don’t have allies. i have people who owe me things and people who want things and people who use me and people whom i use.

you swore to be the sword that executes my will. now is the chance to prove your loyalty.

i need him dead and i want you to be the one who kills him. 

i want you to watch the light die in his eyes. i want him to know it’s the person he cares for most in the world who shoved a blade through his heart.

i want it to haunt you for all your days.

he’s sly enough to escape the bounty hunters quite easily, but you and i both know that he would never be able to escape you.

how do i kill the man i love?

forgive me, but how can you speak to me of obsession?

small victories have made you daring. do not let them make you stupid.

you have your orders. carry them out.

it will destroy you if you’re not careful.

would you care to hear my theory?

your injuries tell me you’ve seen battle.

the problem with greedy people is that they think everyone is as greedy as they are.

we’re surrounded.

i’ll catch you.

almost there. stay with me now.

i’m glad you’re alright and i know you’re risking so much to do this for me. thank you.

you kept me alive. you kept yourself alive. 

you’re as brave as your mother. don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

i can’t help the people i’ve hurt. i can’t change what i did to them. 

if i do this, then perhaps i’ll make up for some of the evil i’ve brought into this world.

how sure are you?

as long as you want to save him, then i will help you. i made a vow. i’m not going to break it.

i swore fealty. you made me swear fealty.

i trusted you. i believed you. i did what you wanted.

do not let despair take you. hold true to your heart.

this is what it means to have faith, to believe in something greater than yourself.

the blood, it won’t come off. it’s–it’s everywhere. 

most successful missions are just a series of badly averted disasters.

either we lost them, or they’re being very clever about keeping themselves hidden. i’m thinking the latter.

you want to talk now? after weeks of not even looking at me?

i look at you even when i shouldn’t.

i am the last person who will judge you for killing in your own defense. look at what i am. look at my life.

i left you alone because i thought you might find comfort in solitude. 

so much death. it’s everywhere. what’s the point then of living? will i ever escape it?

your emotions make you human. even the unpleasant ones have a purpose. don’t lock them away. if you ignore them, they just get louder and angrier.

why do you do that? you close yourself up. you shut me out because you don’t want me to get close. what about what i want? you won’t hurt me, [name].

i don’t trust you, not about this.

do not pull rank with me.

don’t take offense, but i don’t know you. so you’ll forgive me if i don’t trust you.

how long until they kill each other, d’you think? and who strikes first?

i won’t hurt you, but you can’t let fear take you.

i’m hurt, [name]. you’re not nearly as friendly as the first time we met.

if you do betray me, i will not go down without a fight.

even your ally is helping us. more reason for you to do the same.

you didn’t get to where you are by breaking promises. grant my favor. fighting it is a waste of time.

it has changed you, [name]. it does matter.

always so afraid of the darkness within. don’t you see? so long as you fight the darkness, you stand in the light.

i’ve been looking all over for you. stay with me! we have to get out of here.

i’ll distract them and meet you there.

you were my best friend. i can’t just throw that away.

don’t. don’t call me that. everybody calls me that. but not you..

i wouldn’t expect you to understand.

i have to leave, but i don’t want to hurt you. i’m so sick of hurting people.

i miss you. i’ll always miss you. even when I’m a ghost.

keep your head down and stay.

family is worth dying for, killing for. fighting for them is all that keeps us going when everything else is gone.

i know what it is to do things that you don’t want to for a greater good.

you are my temple. you are my priest. you are my prayer. you are my release.

we both know I’m not long for this world.

exhaustion makes for failed missions.

i’m the reason he’s dead.

sleep where you wish. i will not disturb you.

atop all else, are you an oathbreaker too?

keep your vow to me, and i will bring order to this empire. betray me, and watch it burn.

i hope i see you again.

forget that you did not say goodbye–you did not even give me a chance to object to your decision.

secrets are a snake’s way of doing business.

the vow I made to you, it was all for nothing.

most people are nothing but glimmers in the great darkness of time. but you, [name], are no swift-burning spark. you are a torch against the night–if you dare to let yourself burn.

you see assurances. i can offer you none.

breaking your fealty will have its cost, as will keeping it. only you can weigh those costs.

you think knowing will make it easier, but knowing makes it worse.

knowing is a curse.

stay alive. protect them. help any others you can. that’s the only payment i expect i’ll get.

what honor is there in a useless death?

how’s this for a trade: you tell me what i want, and i don’t gut you.

in the cold, you don’t realize how much you’re pushing yourself. you’ll collapse if you’re not careful.

we won’t get anywhere if we’re dead.

you’ll exhaust yourself into illness.

pain is how you know you loved her.

i wish didn’t remember. i wish i didn’t love her.

what point is there in being human if you don’t let yourself feel anything?

you’re not afraid. why aren’t you afraid?

true suffering lies in the expectation of pain as much as in the pain itself.

are we fools for finding comfort in the midst of such madness?

what is there to live for if not the moments of joy? what is there to fight for?

give me your guilt, i’ll hold it for you.

why didn’t you listen to me? look at you.

you always think everyone is your responsibility, but we’re not.

you are loved, you are not alone, and you deserve to know that.

you said i didn’t have to do it alone.

you brood and make questionable choices that put your own life at risk, but you’re a good person.

failure doesn’t define you. it’s what you do after you fail that determines whether you are a leader or a waste of perfectly good air.

what did we fight for if it was just going to end like this?

it is as if your very fate is to leave a trail of destruction.

you have repented long enough.

[shiorimakibawrites]

Code of Conduct (Part 1 of VG)

Code of Conduct - Part I of A Vigilante and a Gentlemen

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem! Reader Word Count: 2,594 Chapter Summary: You were just trying to get to work. Warning(s): Sexual harassment, fear of sexual assault, swearing Series Masterlist My Masterlist Tag List: @loves0phelia Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

Code of Conduct

When you saw the construction site on your way to work, you were tempted to find another route to work. Very tempted. But you were still learning your way around New York and didn’t want to get lost. Furthermore, you didn’t have time to get lost this morning. You couldn’t be late for work. You hated it but you needed this job. The rent wasn’t going to pay itself.

So you took a deep breath, trained your eyes on the sidewalk in front of you, and started walking at a fast clip. You hoped that you would be ignored. There was nothing eye-catching about your outfit – a knee length shirt, light weight blouse, both in neutral colors. You hoped it was too noisy for the sound of your heels to be heard. You hoped that these men would prove your worries misplaced by concentrating on doing their jobs.

Your hopes were dashed almost immediately. Almost as soon as you were in view of the crew, you heard a shrill whistle. This was quickly followed by a barrage of that mixed comments about your ass and your breasts with suggestions of various sexual acts you could perform with them. Your shoulders were hunched up around your ears and your face felt like it was on fire.

You didn’t know how many people were leering at you, how many were shouting. You didn’t want to look. You were already going to have those voices, those words echoing in your ears, when you tried to sleep tonight. You didn’t need their faces haunting your nightmares. You wanted to run but you couldn’t really run in these shoes. You were already felt humiliated enough without falling flat on your face. Or your ass. The best you could do was to hasten your pace.

Just a little further, you told yourself, seeing the end of the construction and the corner that would soon take you out of view.

Then one of the men – if the safety equipment he was wearing was any indication – stepped out on the sidewalk. Turned and planted himself in your path. You barely managed to avoid running into, skidding to a halt. The scrap of boot on concrete had you looking behind you. Another man dressed similarly to the first. Your heart began to pound. Your eyes looked frantically and your fear only grew when you realized the only way out involved running into traffic.

“Hey, bitch, don’t ignore me,” the man in front snarled. You might have called him handsome but the sneer and utter contempt in his eyes ruined any appeal he might have had. You also didn’t like how he seemed to enjoy your fear as he took a step closer. You wanted to take step back but you couldn’t risk getting any closer to other man behind you.

Movement out of the corner of your eye alerted you to someone else approaching. You risked a quick look and felt your heart sink even further as another large man walked toward you. You took a step back, preparing to run. You would take your chances with the traffic. The cars only might hurt you.

To your surprise, the approaching man stopped moving toward you. He was handsome through his nose looked like it had been broken at least once. His generous mouth was twisted into a scowl, dark eyes blazing with ice cold fury.

Fury, you suddenly realized, that wasn’t directed at you but the man standing in your way.

“Stop being an asshole and leave the lady alone, Jackson,” he said. Part of you wanted to shiver. He had a good voice, deep like a roll of thunder. It wasn’t a trained voice but there was a snap and bite of command to it. It reminded you of the voice that your uncle, who had been in the military, used whenever he was expected to be obeyed immediately.

The front man – Jackson – didn’t like being called an asshole. He took an aggressive step toward the newcomer and snarled, “What did you say to me Castigilione?”

“You heard me,” the newcomer – Castigilione – said. “Stop being an asshole and leave the lady alone. Right now.”

Castigilione wasn’t yelling. He was speaking just loud enough to be heard. But his voice was filled with warning, one that matched the look in those angry eyes. A look that screamed that Do not test me. You will not like the results.

The air between the two men crackled with barely restrained violence. On the surface, they seemed evenly matched. Both men were about the same size but there was something about Castigilione. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on, a feeling that this man was a lot more dangerous than he looked. And he looked plenty dangerous already – a tall, well-built man with an eerily calm expression on his face and eyes filled with grim warning.

Jackson was a creep but he was apparently a creep with at least some self-preservation instincts. Because he was the first to look away, turn and go stomping back into the construction site. Muttering no doubt unkind words under his breath as he went. Jackson’s unnamed friend behind you was made of even less stern stuff because it only took one hard stare from Castigilione to send him packing. Likewise, the men who had stopped working to come over and harass you, one look and suddenly they remembered they had actual work they should be doing. Immediately. Somewhere else.

Castigilione turned his attention toward you. The look in his eyes immediately thawed, his expression shifting from that eerie calm to contrition. “I’m sorry about that, ma’am. I’ll see to it that this doesn’t happen again.”

You didn’t quite believe him. You believed his apology. He looked and sounded sincere. But you had heard such promises before. Sooner or later, they always got broken. But you had neither the time nor the desire to argue with him. So you just nodded acknowledgment and continued on your way to the office.

Work was work. Stressful. Your job title might have been office manager but the duties were closer to secretary-receptionist along with whatever data-entry jobs your company was currently short-staffed on. Which happened a lot since there was a pretty high turnover rate. First because the bulk of the staff were college students who left after the summer or they graduated. Second because it didn’t pay very well. Third the boss was an asshole.

You often thought about quitting but couldn’t without another job lined up. This job search had been slow going. Usually because by the time you got off, your eyes ached from staring at computer screens all day. So much that you couldn’t bare the thought of looking at them for another couple of hours to go through job listings, let alone fill out an application.

You had tried resting them by laying on your couch with a cool damp washcloth over your eyes. It had helped sooth your tired, often itchy eyes but you also almost always feel asleep.

Those were the good days. On the bad days, you walked home trying not to vomit from the migraine pounding through your skull. Those days you made sure the curtains were drawn in your bedroom, slipped on the noise-canceling headphones, and tried to get some sleep. Pain relievers sometimes eased the pain a little but the only effective cure you had found for your migraines was dark, quiet, and a nap.

It was frustrating. And not just on the finding-a-new-job front. But on the achieving your dreams front. You wanted to be a writer. You had finished writing the outline for your first novel. You were actually writing your first draft of it. But completing that first draft was slow going when you were so often too tired to do anything but eat dinner and go to sleep. You were trying to get up early and write in the morning before work but it seemed like everytime you got on a roll where the words were pouring out of your fingers and onto the page, the alarm on your phone would signal that it was time to get ready for your other job . . .

Writing wasn’t the only thing that you enjoyed that had been falling by the wayside lately. Your to-read stack of books had barely been touched and the stack of e-mail notifications of fan fics you had been subscribed to was equally bereft. Your other creative endeavors were even more neglected than your novel. You hadn’t been cooking much and you couldn’t remember the last time you baked.

Stop thinking like that, you told yourself sternly. All you are doing is making yourself feel worse.

You tried to steer your mind toward the positives. It might not be going as fast as you would like but you were making progress on that first draft. It was getting to be summer and the company always hired a bunch of college kids during the summer months so your work load should lightened for a little while. You had found a job listing last night that had looked promising and had e-mailed your resume before you could talk yourself out of it. Maybe you would actually cook dinner tonight. Buttered noddles might not be fancy but it wouldn’t be microwaved or take out.

It was time for lunch. You hadn’t brought anything with you and there were no vending machines in the building. If you wanted food, you would have to go out and get it. Something that filled you with dread. Getting to the nearby restaurants meant going by that construction site again. And very thought was making your stomach twist into knots.

You considered skipping lunch but you had only had an apple and coffee for breakfast this morning. You weren’t sure you would make until you got off work without getting hangry. As satisfying as it might be to tell your boss exactly what you thought about him, getting fired would be far less satisfying.

So you did your best to swallow your nerves and went out to get lunch. As you got closer to the construction site, the tension in your body grew. Your hand was clenched so tightly around the strap of your purse that the knuckles were white and the veins were popping into high relief. You were starting to feel so nauseous that you weren’t sure that you’d be able to eat.

Like this morning, you walked fast. Unlike this morning, you watched the men. It would probably mean more hollering once they realized they had gotten your attention but you couldn’t trust them to stay in work site. What if one of them tried again? And this time you didn’t see him in time to avoid being grabbed? It might be the middle of the day in a densely populated city but plenty of potential witnesses hadn’t stopped them before . . .

You tensed when one of the men noticed you. Your heart sank when you recognized the same man from this morning. Jackson the Creep. Saw the leering look and his mouth started to open . . . only to abruptly snap shut when Castigilione smacked him hard against the back of the head.

Jackson turned to (you assumed) glare at him but it didn’t seem to phase the other man. Who simply returned his (assumed) glare with one of his own. The same hard stare with ice cold eyes from this morning. Again, he didn’t say a word. Did nothing that could be considered threatening. Just stared at him and waited, his body looking relaxed and confident. Jackson said something – you couldn’t hear what – but whatever it was had little effect on Castigilione.

The only change was this grim, little smirk that spread across his face. Castigilione looked like the embodiment of ‘fuck around and find out.’

It, to put it very frankly, made him look very hot. Which, now you were taking a closer look, he didn’t really need help doing. Those blue jeans showed off powerfully built legs and that white tee shirt under his safety vest was clearly one size too small because it strained to contain those broad shoulders and torso, those muscular arms . . .

“Are you alright there, ma’am?”

You jumped at the voice. You looked up and realized that Castigilione was no longer in a staring contest with Jackson the Creep. Also that you had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and had been staring, completely oblivious of the other pedestrians jostling past you. You felt your face get warm with embarrassment.

“Fine! All good!” you managed to get out and cringed. Your voice had come out high-pitched and squeaky. Like a chipmunk. You wanted to melt into the ground. Why were you always so awkward and embarrassing around cute guys?

It really didn’t help your embarrassment to see his lips twitch in an obvious effort not to laugh. Or that smile that spread across his face was so stupidly adorable that it made your heart flutter. You scurried off before you could embarrass yourself further.

The possibility of embarrassment did nothing to prevent you from checking him out again when you walked back toward your office with your sub. You added a nice-looking ass to his list of other attributes. Along with the observation that he had the straight-backed good posture you associated with people who had been in the military. Maybe recently in the military since none of his hair could be seen from under that hardhat. Granted some men just preferred wearing their hair very short but recently military fit with the manners. Only military guys had ever addressed you as ‘ma’am.’

Another thing you learned during that trip was the Castigilione didn’t miss much. He noticed you watching him almost immediately. Your face warmed at getting caught staring. Again. Warmth that only increased when he winked at you.

Work conspired to put Castigilione out of your mind by getting pulled into extra work when a coworker called out sick. You managed to get it done but it was late by the time you did. Night had long since fallen. Now you were nervous for a different reason. You didn’t like walking alone this late at night. Yes, this was the Kitchen and all you had to do was scream. Then the Devil would come. You believed that. Trusted it. But rather hoped that you would never need it.

But you couldn’t afford to take a cab everytime you worked late. Not unless you wanted your meals to consist entirely of cheap ramen. If you were lucky. So you prayed to whoever might be listening and felt inclined to be kind to lone travelers, and walked home.

The construction site was dark and silent as you went past it. The men had long since downed tools and went home. You tried not feel disappointed about missing seeing Castigilione again. Unless he had quit at the end of the day, you would see him again. You went this way every day that you worked.

You would probably check him out every day too. And maybe, just maybe, you might work up the courage to actually talk to him. Have a real conversation where – knock on wood – you wouldn’t squeak like a chipmunk. Or otherwise make a fool of yourself. Maybe while having a coffee or something.

You shook your head, pushing those thoughts out of your head. This was not the time for daydreaming.

[dearest-painter]

Wonder how Miguel would react to Villian!Reader being a lot like Robbin Hood? Like stealing money and donating it at the orphanage and giving it out to troubled kids and teens. (One-shot please if you still do those?)

Of course I can! This will all be in his POV

TW/CW:Yandere behavior, unhealthy behavior, unhealthy relationship, abusive relationship, abusive behavior, Villain!Reader is Robin Hood but like to extreme(Bitch is willing to kill the rich and heroes for the poor), Miguel being sorta delusional, a hint of flashing image on the gif as it glitches to red and blue, tell me if I need to add anything

Summary:We all know the story of Robin hood, he steals from the rich and gives to the poor which makes many people move and hate him. What happens when Robin hood happens again but this time it’s to the extreme? Some fatherly love can help them…just a tiny bit :)

No wonder some people defend their name…their the reason many kids have somewhere to call home, their the reason these kids are alive. This is why they target the rich and heroes, so that they can give it to the poor and in need. They always spend time around the orphanage and take care of the kids there…their doing the right thing. ‘Who hurt our child this bad to make them this way?’ They aren’t my child but…who did hurt them to make them this bad.

Their has to be a reason to why they did this, no one just decides randomly to become this. If I find that person…`kill them… it only makes sense, if they never hurt them then they would’ve just been Robin hood’ no I can’t kill that person…it’s tempting but I can’t..can I? Never mind that, I know they need a home or family and I’m willing to be their dad and get them a family after all, spider society welcomes anyone I introduce.

[mukuharakazui]

i feel like ive just gotten baited into sending one of those "WAIT, KIRBY HAS DEEP LORE!?" asks but please tell me about the magolor christian themes

HELLO. ok it is 2am so i will do the best i can. if this answer is utterly incoherent, blame that.

magolor's whole christian thing has been around since his concept art, which ensured that his design had notable yellow highlights as a nod to the color used to represent judas in classical christian art. (his ears were also originally going to be horns, so there could be some devil stuff there if you squint.)

this doesn't mean much if you only look at return to dreamland 2011. it's simply a clever, blink-and-you'll-miss-it piece of his character design that ties with the fact that he betrays kirby. some fans also found this funny regarding his symbolic link to apples, which he uses as bombs or. uh. microtransaction materials. lol.

however, once return to dreamland deluxe came out in 2023, the game dropped a MASSIVE bomb of their own by providing us with a new, post-game epilogue for magolor. spoilers ahead, obviously. via the epilogue, magolor's link to apples is explored in-depth by putting him through trials where he must collect 5 fruit (apple) fragments, which a game screen implies parallel the fact that magolor tricked kirby into collecting the 5 parts of the lor starcutter. that's essentially his "penance" process.

when magolor finished rebuilding the apple, which is known as the "ethereal alter" in english and the very unsubtle "room of eden" in japanese. the master crown that magolor had betrayed kirby for and stolen from its place on halcandra became a massive gem apple tree final boss. however, the tree itself is not listed as the boss--instead he is fighting the master crown itself.

he ultimately destroys the master crown, which had taken the form of the "forbidden fruit" that had tempted magolor into hurting people, including those he had come to genuinely deem friends, for the sake of obtaining personal power. the gem apple being constructed in the "room of eden" is enough on its own to build a base for a christian theme, but magolor's arc of redeption through either 1. trial and repentance (main gamemode with magolor epilogue; self-imposed; successful) 2. outside aid (extra mode + true arena; extended by kirby; failed) is what allows the christian imagery to shine.

however, his christian imagery chronologically extends past the return to dreamland deluxe epilogue, as that same epilogue confirmed that "microtransagolor" (the green magolor from kirby clash deluxe) is the same magolor from return to dreamland. he nurtures the gem apple seed which he obtained after defeating the master crown in that game. clash deluxe also introduces us to a weekly "magolor day," which, you guessed it, is on sunday, with the first of them occuring on an easter.

the major reason why i connect magolor to christianity in particular rather than all abrahamic religions is the judas connection, the easter sunday thing, and the process through which he repents or "must atone for his misdeeds." while genesis isn't exclusive to christianity, the specific actions which magolor takes along his path of betrayal and redeption mirror make more sense to me as a christian moral tale rather than judaic or islamic for some reason. not sure why, i'd have to unpack that elsewhere.

this isn't to say that kirby is indoctrinating children into christianity or whatever ofc. considering the whole hyness and mage sisters deal in star allies, the connection between kirby and religion as a whole isn't always a positive one. nintendo also tends to avoid real life religions and references to them as a whole in their games likely to avoid controversy and to make their games accessible and understandable to a worldwide audience with a wide variety of cultural backgrounds. that last point is WHY i find it super crazy that magolor has an obviously and intentionally christian narrative.

(also, for the books, i'm not catholic. but i think 4 years of catholic school and a catholic grandmother gives me juuuust enough background/authority on the topic to relate it to kirby)

[rinstrumental]

so kiss me

tanthamore /

# inspired by kiss me - sixpence none the richer 💋 occurs before the events of the show!! no beta we die like ballantine, cross posted on ao3, gave them a more dramatic height difference because I Can

"I can't stand these things," Kit declared, defiantly slamming her cup down on the table and earning a glare from Sorsha a few meters away. Not that she'd notice her mother's disapproval, anyway.

Jade set her own cup down slowly, as if the delicateness of her own actions would make up for the roughness of Kit's. It was another beautiful night spent in the stuffy confines of the banquet hall. Jade longed to leave the party - maybe even a little more than Kit did - but it was not her job to entertain the rebellious tendencies of the princess, as much as she wanted to.

"Would you like to dance?" Jade asked lightly, noting the restlessness of Kit's hands. The band was playing well tonight, and the dance floor was crowded. Those who weren't dancing were drinking and eating and chatting noisily away. She knew that the last thing Kit wanted right now was to be around other people, but it didn't hurt to try, right?

And Jade was right. "Have you seen the amount of people on the floor? I haven't seen it this crowded ever. And Mom will get me to dance with some stupid suitor from god-knows-where and maybe even talk to him." Kit shuddered at the thought, earning a laugh from Jade. Always the optimist.

"I wouldn't mind dancing, though," Kit admitted a moment later. "But only with you."

"I have to say the same, Your Highness," she replied. For a second, all Kit could see was Jade and her eyes that got so bright when they were under the light and her beautiful red hair and the freckles dotted across her face. I could count them, she thought. I could stare at her for hours and then tell her how many freckles she has.

When Jade finally looked away, Kit hadn't even noticed what had drawn her attention away in the first place. She followed her gaze to where the commotion seemed to be coming from. A barrel of wine had been knocked over and was leaking red all over the floor.

"How did that even happen?" Jade muttered, almost in awe. The crowd was split and running to avoid the mess, the commotion deafening, and without the melodic tunes previously playing in the background, it was chaos. Sorsha was dancing around the puddles on the ground, calling for someone to get up and do something to stop the leak!

Jade averted her eyes, the thought of seeing the queen in such a state feeling somewhat wrong. Kit, on the other hand, was absolutely thrilled, her face lit up and a laugh lodged in her throat.

"Let's go!" she hissed excitedly, and without another thought, Kit had swung her legs over the bench and jumped to her feet. Jade followed suit, not even realizing what she was doing until she was standing. "Wait, what? Are you actually going to help?" she asked in disbelief, eyes flickering between the mess in the middle of the hall and the wild look on Kit's face. Why was she even asking that? She knew Kit. She was not going to dive headfirst into saving her mother from embarrassment out of pure goodwill.

Right again. "Jade, as much as I'm dying to get drenched in wine, I have other plans. Now come on, please?" Kit's hand was outstretched, tempting.

"Where are we going?" Although Kit did often refer to these parties as 'so boring it'll make you kill yourself', she'd hardly ever actually left one halfway. Sorsha had her ways of coercing her daughter into 'royal duties', and they worked.

Mostly.

"You'll know. It's not like the grounds are that big," Kit teased, waiting for Jade to take her hand. Just waiting, not hoping - somehow, she didn't have a doubt in her head that she'd refuse.

Their hands collided together, Kit wasting no time in grabbing the other's the moment she reached out. She always liked the way Jade's hands felt. Warm and slightly bigger than hers - calloused and scarred but still gentle. Kit's were cold and unscathed, so it was a nice change.

The pair stole out of the hall and into the cobblestone courtyard, heavy skirts hitched up to reveal their scruffy matching boots underneath. Jade couldn't help but grin when she saw Kit wearing them too. Sure, they would wear troublesome gowns and pin their hair back into place for a night, but world be damned if they had to force their feet into those suffocating heels.

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her," Kit said, 'her' being Sorsha. She broke into a run, still pulling Jade along with her. There was no need to rush, but the adrenaline rush from their escape (and Jade's hand in hers') was nothing short of exhilarating.

They ran all the way around the castle to one of the gardens, next to a huge floor to ceiling window that looked into the hall that they'd just left. The surroundings were weakly illuminated by the light coming from indoors, a light breeze rustling the trees and bushes. Clearly the situation had finally been resolved, because the din was relatively softer now. The barrel had been run dry, and the servants were now dutifully mopping up the mess.

If someone inside the hall had looked at the floor near where the window ended, they would have seen two pairs of eyes peering into the room. Jade and Kit stood and watched beneath the window, the latter on tiptoes and thoroughly enjoying watching the aftermath of the disorder.

"Looks like nobody managed to stop the leak in time," Jade commented. "What a waste of wine."

"It was probably diluted to hell," Kit scoffed, dropping back onto her heels and dusting off her hands.

Jade turned away from the window. "What are you going to do when your mother notices you're missing?"

"That's for future me to deal with."

"You know, with the amount of trouble you get into, one would have assumed that by now you'd have a way to get out of it."

"Thinking ahead is… is not something I'm familiar with. You should know that about me."

"With all due respect, Your Highness, I know. Because you usually drag me into it too."

The band inside the hall started up again. The music was low at first, uncertain, but after a few cheers from the crowd the music came back in full force.

Jade took a deep breath of the sweet night air, glad to finally be outside and able to enjoy the wonderful weather. A radiant full moon hung above them, accompanied by a swarm of stars.

While she watched the sky, Kit physically could not take her eyes off Jade. If the flickering candlelight lit up Jade's eyes, the milky moonlight practically made them glow. Despite their mutual hatred for party gowns, Kit couldn't help admiring Jade and the way her dark green dress draped so prettily no matter the way she moved.

"Jade Claymore, will you dance with me?" The words left her mouth before she let herself overthink it. Jade's gaze shifted to the girl standing in front of her. The music played softly behind them, filling the silence as Jade shuffled across the lawn to Kit. Her dress dragged across the ground and rustled the grass, but she stepped carefully so as to not trample the wildflowers. She smiled again when she stopped, and Kit thought she'd never see anything more beautiful.

"Who am I to deny my royal Highness?" This time, Jade took Kit's hand first, to the princess' surprise, gently pulling her in close before letting her hands settle on Kit's waist. Her grip was loose, almost hovering. Kit put her arms around Jade's shoulders, hoping that she would take the damn hint and hold her properly.

There was barely an inch between them now, the slight height difference doing nothing to stop the fervent eye contact. Kit couldn't suppress her smile as they danced. It was nothing complicated like the tedious routines her mother forced her to learn years ago - this was simple. It was perfect.

"Why do they overcomplicate dancing so much?" Kit whispered. "All those stupid steps and unnecessary twirling. This is much nicer… just getting to hold the other person and move to the music, you know?" Jade's hands relaxed little by little as she talked, the tension melting as their usual banter returned.

"I think I like this more too. But maybe I shouldn't judge - I never had professional lessons like you did, after all."

"You know, I used to pretend the instructor was… someone else. It made it feel a bit less like torture."

Jade wasn't one to jump to conclusions, especially when it came to Kit - but the way she looked away when she had mentioned the 'someone else' was telling, needless to say. "Was it me?"

She'd meant to make it sound teasing, unserious. But once again her unwavering loyalty betrayed her, and the words had sounded a lot more genuine than she'd wanted them to. Kit's eyes widened at the response, expecting a change of topic instead of the boldest question Jade has ever challenged her with.

"What if it was?"

"…I'd be flattered, I suppose." Jade's mind raced to find the words, still caught up on the fact that she'd even said that. "And surprised?"

The music stopped, replaced by distant claps and cheers. It was like the noises in the vicinity had doubled in volume - the chirping of crickets, the whispering wind, and the quick beating of two hearts. None of them could remember when Jade pulled Kit in so close that their bodies were now pressed against each other, or when Kit's hands came to rest on the nape of Jade's neck.

Neither of them pulled apart, even though everywhere they were touching seemed to burn, even though their faces were so, so close.

For the first time tonight, Kit deliberated the words on her tongue. She didn't dare imagine what Jade would say or do in response, but she held onto that little spark of hope. The spark of hope she felt whenever she noticed Jade staring at her from the corner of her eye.

"Can I kiss you?"

Oh, was all Jade could think. Oh, oh, oh. The princess' bright blue eyes were filled with what Jade could only describe as longing, and she wondered if they mirrored her own. Wondered if all those years spent trying to convince herself that her heart beat for the kingdom of Tir Asleen and not the heir to the throne were for naught. Wondered if she loved her back.

Jade nodded tentatively, exhaling shakily. She hated false hopes. She waited for Kit to pull away, or laugh that she was joking, but it didn't come.

Kit leaned forward and her lips brushed against Jade's, more carefully and tenderly than anything else she had ever handled in her life. When Jade didn't reciprocate, Kit's eyes fluttered open, her heart dropping. Had she somehow misunderstood? And now her friendship was ru-

Jade crashed her lips into hers, banishing any other thought from Kit's mind as the taller girl pulled her in even closer and craned her neck to meet Kit halfway. Kissing Jade was beyond anything Kit could have ever imagined, her arms tightening around Jade's neck and for a beautiful moment she wasn't Princess Kit of Tir Asleen, she was just Kit and Jade was just Jade and this was all she'd ever needed. Both relief and want flooded her veins, so impossibly glad that the redhead had wanted this just as much as she did.

The loud thumping of two pairs of footsteps approaching, accompanied by a familiar voice shouting Kit's name, forced Jade to pull back, breaking the kiss. Kit made a whine of disdain.

"I think that's the Queen, Princess," Jade whispered, looking wistfully to the side. Her hands were still shaking, heart rate jumping off the charts from the kiss, but she fell to her first instinct - to protect the princess. Kissing her was nice, of course, but she couldn't do that when Kit's mother was angrily lecturing her.

"Imagine her face when she finds her daughter sneaking off to swap spit with her best friend," Kit deadpanned, unraveling herself from Jade's grasp. She missed feeling Kit against her already. Their hands remained tightly entwined as Kit hitched up her skirt, as if she was getting ready to make a break for it. "Don't worry, I have a plan."

"Which is to run from your mother and rile her up even more?"

"You know me so well."

[softandsourcream]

Stop, you’re loosing me - Teaser.

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Summary: The last time you saw Yoongi wasn't one of your fondest memories. And actually, you thought that after ten years you no longer had any more tears to shed for that memory, for that situation, for him.

What was the problem with meeting him again at his brother's wedding, right?

Right?

pairing: idol! yoongi x vet!f reader.

words: 1k

genre(s): angst, hurt- comfort, slow burn, fluff, smut (+18) (not this one tho)

au(s): childhood friends - to lovers, idol yoongi, normal vet reader, entertainment industry, denial and resentment.

warnings: curse words, family drama, grief, loss of loved ones, panic/anxiety attacks, damaged mental health, a LOT of struggling. Yoongi is here to help tho♡.

IMPORTANT: this fic contains a lot of sensitive topics touched upon explicitly. Please, if any of the tags trigger something in you, stop reading. You are more important, and there is much more content you can consume here. Take care please! ♡

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main.masterlist

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You didn’t want to be there.

Oh well, you did. He was your friend, it was your border’s best friend since kindergarten. Your mother and his mother had known each other since school, and they had been neighbors since they both decided to stay in Daegu to start their family, so they visited each other constantly. You were very exposed to them all the time, in fact, you considered them your family at some point.

Right?

Your family was used to seeing him eat on your table almost every day after school because your brother always brought it with him, and they were together all the time because you were neighbors, after all. They travel together almost every year, they spent Christmas together last one, they were roommates until Jae got engaged, but even while living with his fiancée, they saw each other every week, always.

They love each other still, and you were present in almost all those things. The only reason you hardly ever see them was because you didn't live in Daegu anymore.

But you and Greum get along very well. He was funny, smart, he was protective of you. You both got nothing in common, but you respected each other enough to accept it that way, and your relationship was confident enough to insult each other in every possible way and have fun with it, even when he was older than you. You hardly ever went home anymore, but when you did, you always went to visit him and Eun, his fiancée, because yes, they are your friends.

They are.

“Could you at least not look constipated when we get there? That’s very rude.”

You would like to say that in bare truth, you weren’t that close to Greum because at the end of the day, no matter how much you saw him at your house almost every day since you were children, or that you all played together from time to time, or that your parents loved the Min with all their soul, he was, finally, your brother's best friend, not yours.

They were much older when you saw them interact, they talked about things that didn't connect with you at that age, and it was supposed to be a bond that HE should keep.

Not you.

But Eun was your age, and you two were best friends back then, you still are, so the more you thought about it, the more absurd it became. Even your parents and your other siblings had been invited, you would go earlier because they were late and you two had a speech to give, but they would arrive and with that fact alone it was impossible to simplify the bond you had just to have an excuse not to go. Eun was your best friend, they were both practically your family.

Impossible.

It was stupid to look for the problem in people who really weren't the reason you didn't want to go.

You had only been in the car for 10 minutes, and the desire to open the car door on movement was too tempting.

“Maybe I feel like it.”

“Constipated?”

You smiled a little, “No.” and looked at your silk gloves, your hands shacking a little. “Ill.”

“Mh~” your brother coos, so you take a deep, deep breath.

Your family was very big.

Your parents always wanted to have a big family and children to raise, so they did, and you had always been grateful for that because as parents who really wanted kids, they were prepared, and they had taught them many things that the vast majority weren’t taught, such as how to manage their emotions, and how to communicate properly. But yeah, you suddenly realized that you were about to share the worst moment of your life with the most unbearable brother you had. For example:

“Wanna stop for a moment? We can, I don’t know, stop the traffic just for you.”

Fucking christ.

“I’m serious, dumbass.”

He didn't do it with bad intentions, though. He was unbearable, yes, but not a bad person, and when he turned to see the genuinely worried face of his sister, how your hands were sweating under the delicate gloves and how you were breathing hard, he sighed and sat up, so he could look at you better. Not only that, but he could swear that if he turned down the radio and paid attention, he would be able to hear your heart fighting with your ribs.

You were literally about to cry.

“I don’t want to go.” You said, lightly, almost week when you feel his gaze on you.

“What do you mean? You look gorgeous in that dress. You did your makeup for the first time in months and everything.”

He tried, and you covered your face needing a hug or something. Maybe If you had taken the car with your mother later this will be easier, you just don’t know why was this so overwhelming. You’ve tried everything on your hands to don’t feel like this, and to don’t ‘look constipated’, why-

“I know you don’t.” He finally says, softening his gaze, and his voice. “You never told me why, though… or even said it out loud until now. Bad yours.” You looked at him, and sighed.

“Because-" and this is why you didn’t talk about it before with anyone. It was for real, so, so stupid, and saying it out loud makes it real.“I can’t... I don’t feel good.”

Of course you don’t. It wasn't what you wanted to say because it sounded too ambiguous, and obvious to him. He wouldn't be able to assume things that way. But you didn't know how to explain it exactly.

“What if- I know that you have been the one who has had the hardest time here, we thought that seeing people you don’t see in a long time would do you good.” That wasn’t the problem exactly. “What if you try, hm?”

You were. If you weren't doing it, you would never have considered it in the first place. You’re just-

“Sensitive.” and Seun blinked a couple of times. “I’m sensitive, I don’t know if I can handle… I don't know if I can handle things like I always do. What if I saw him and freaked out, I’m unstable Seun. I don’t want to freak out and… look stupid.”

He clicked his tongue, and you remembered again that you weren’t with any other of your siblings.

“I was afraid it was about that. Deep down, I knew.”

But you didn't expect that answer, either. You looked at him surprised.

“Why?”

“Don’t ask me that. Don’t pretend I wasn’t there for you all these years. I was surprised when you didn’t deny the invitation months ago… In fact, I doubted that you were going to leave your room hours ago when we were getting ready, that's why I'm bothering you.” That doesn’t make any seance, and he seemed to notice your confusion. “It’s too late Y/N, what can I do for you if it's not distracted you or something? You accepted responsibilities. If we go back now, mom and dad would bring you there on your knees if it’s necessary.”

Yes, they will.

Although you didn't consider it a mistake, you did want to assist, it was just that it was still difficult for you to accept some things. There was nothing else to do, just pray that he wouldn't go to the event like he had been doing all these years (according to what Seun was telling you right now), but it also didn't help you not to be prepared to see him in any case.

It's not like you can just turn around and not go, stay home and cry alone. You had already confirmed, you had a plate to eat, a chair to use and everyone would be waiting for you because you had made a speech. Greum had asked you for a small favor, you couldn't fail, it was a surprise for Eun, it would cause you more anxiety to know that you would fail a friend.

You made your shoes click, no longer knew how to alleviate your discomfort. You really had tried everything.

“What if they don’t want me there? The family and stuff?”

He smirks a little. He knew you were worrying about impossible things. But he understood, the only reason he was calm was because he was in constant contact with them, and they always asked about you, and he hadn't seen Yoongi in a long, long time. Although you knew it because he mentioned it to you, you had a hard time believing it. They adored you, it had always been that way, but he knew that no matter how much he repeated it to you, nothing would change. You hadn't seen them in so many years that you genuinely believed that they hated you for not having kept in touch. You had your reasons, but you couldn't explain properly to them now, or ever, honestly.

“Nothing’s gonna happen.” You huffed exasperatedly, and he knew you were upset with him for not telling you what you wanted to hear. You were really having a hard time, you just needed more than that.

“You know”

but Seun always found a way to make his lack of tact work. You two are from the same family after all, you have been taught to contain others no matter what.

“I always tell you that you are the smartest person in this family, I know you want to be there, you love them, we all known each other for a long time just… don’t let someone ruin your night, okay?” your brother dry your tears softly to not ruin the makeup. You look stunning. “You have more important things to cry about right now, and you already gave him too many parts of your life before. Take a break. Be smarter, even if it’s fake.”

It was just there where you realized how much you missed all these people.

And you know, deep down, that Min Greum-Jae wasn't exactly the brother that had you worried.

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one

[darin-nidk]

One-shot ft. Scaramouche x Reader.

Content: Angst with no comfort because misery loves company.

"Is that all you have to say?", your voice was unexpectedly cold, and your visage showed a painful expression yet your shoulders were trembling, hands turning into fists and nails digging into your palm. The pain grounding you. Tears formed in the corner of your eyes, but you refused to let them spill, swallowing the lump in your throat because you needed an answer. One that made sense. One that justified all of this, all the misery and pain that you are currently going through.

"What? You want me to spell it out or speak slower to you in order to understand? Leave my sight before I order for you to get dragged away". Scaramouche replied a little too fast, too quickly as if he had practiced this exact same scenario playing in his mind, or maybe all of the potential consequences way ahead before they took place. It was necessary, he tried to convince himself over and over, everyone who had entered his life had only left him picking up the pieces of a broken doll unable to return to its original state. Once something is broken even if later on it gets fixed... It will never be the same. It will never be enough. He wasn't enough, that's why he was left behind.

"I know that all of this, all we have... or had", adding that last bit made the aching in your chest increase but you had to get your point across. "It was real, it was the truth. I don't understand why you keep insisting on pushing me away — I don't care if you have flaws, or whatever you need to do to fulfill your objectives. I accepted you for who you are, I am already past the feeling of being worried for my well being when I know you protect me, you do send people to watch over me, I am not fucking stupid. I know your ruthless nature and sharp tongue, I have seen the hate in your eyes and not even once you looked at me like that, so please tell me". Taking a deep breath to compose yourself and trying to supress the burning feeling of your throat closing up as well as the inhuman efforts to not break down crying right there and then, you mentally prepared yourself for words that you hoped wouldn't make you feel any more sick than this. "Tell me that you want me out of your life, tell me I was a mistake and the worst thing to ever happen to you... If, if you do so then I will leave. I will leave and never look back".

Don't. "You are." Don't say things that will hurt him more than it'd hurt you. How could you, of all people he met, be thinking such a thing? You, who could see glimpses of Kunikuzushi that he thought he had erased entirely for being pathetic; you, who could bring back hope and make him feel alive and with a purpose. You who made being alive somewhat worthy, you who turned all those haunting betrayals in his mind fade away with your sole presence. You who could make the whispers dripping with hatered and demons mocking, taunting his mind go quiet, as you smiled in his direction, your eyes reflecting him. Your eyes with so much love and devotion no matter how many times he'd show his fangs in order for you to run. "You are the most disgusting and horrible existence that I had the disgrace of crossing paths with", the crushing expression on your face made it almost impossible for him to continue, the desperate need to close the space between the two of you and apologize was tempting, to say this was all an elaborated lie to keep you safe from the future events that will take place. Almost. "You seriously thought I was in love with you? That shows how naive and stupid you are, don't flatter yourself. You truly are a brainless idiot, fine, I will say it: I wish we had never even met".

If you could die at that right moment, you would have done so. All air left your lungs and you could no longer contain the tears that blurred your sight, it was hard to breath, it was hard to feel anything at all. If it wasn't for the massive headache this situation was giving you, or the piercing pain in your chest, in your heart, either caused by Scaramouche himself or how you weren't breathing that made it feel like you were about to die, you would have felt numbness. Nails now digging further into your palms, now drawing blood. It was the only thing grounding you, the only thing confirming how all of this was real.

If you like my stories, consider donating to my Ko-Fi! Even cents are plenty of help!

[creature-wizard]

Sorry for taking so long. This is shy system ROMCOA anon and after seeing your response I realized I needed to write a narrative explanation of things rather then just a list of painful or difficult truths that have helped us which is more difficult then I expected. I'm going to do a bit of both I've decided. Jumping into it though, IMO simplified Narcissistic Abuse discourse can be a gateway to ROMCOA stuff when it is clear that people who hurt them aren't 100% evil monsters and another explanation is needed. I think that's how I got more interested in it. The NA explanation felt overly slanderous, plus being bitter isn't healing and is actually incredibly exhausting. The sentiments that undercut the issue of intent in a helpful way I think are these: - You don't have to know why someone did something because abuse doesn't need justified. - It is unfortunately true that love does not prevent mistreatment and abuse. - Something doesn't have to be intentional to have hurt. - It's harder that there is no such thing as someone who is pure evil and that nobody is born evil, but eventually you will find many truly kind but still imperfect people. - Intentional or otherwise, cruelty towards someone does not reflect on or diminish their inherent value.

I think people either want to absolve or hate those who hurt them because loving someone who has deeply hurt you adds an additional pain. The questions of "How could you have done that?" or "How could you not remember doing that?" tend to haunt people. Unfortunately, I also think life and trauma are often complicated in mundane ways. Nobody has to be evil or be targeting you specifically for abuse to take place, and no amount of good intentions invalidates harm done. I think this middle ground has helped me because it is tempting to imagine that my family was merely neglectful but not harmful towards me. To imagine that it was someone else with clear and bad intentions.

At the same time it is hard for others to see a middle ground where they didn't need to be evil to have hurt me. It's easier to invalidate my experiences then to own up to anything and it's hard to determine what owning up would even look like. In that regard I try to remember these things: - Everybody is affected by things differently and trauma is thus relative. (i.e. Autism made anything food related worse.) - Strong feelings do not indicate a trauma's relationship to what society considers serious, but it is no less valid to have those feelings. - "Lowercase t" traumas can stack into a bigger issue that is hard to discern the origin of because there is no clear bad thing or cause. Those seem to be the two major sticking points, intention and validity. I think they have so much sway as sticking points because if shit sucks and that's totally valid but most people and even you yourself may never fully understand it, what are you supposed to do then? It feels like a terrible hand to be dealt and an unfair game to play. While I do think the most realistic explanation also sucks ass, I also think that's not where things have to end. Some things that have helped me and system friends: - We'll never be someone without a painful history, that's ok, and it's valid to grieve. - You can't time travel, the unknowns and what if's are ephemeral so eventually the only thing left to do is make a better path forward. - Don't let the valid hurt and anger turn and bite you. If you can, use that energy to assert your value and make something better of life. (i.e. Spite is why I choose gentleness.) - Managing big feelings is a skill everyone has to learn and the process ebbs and flows, but it gets easier. - You're not alone in having complicated feelings and history and experiences. - If you can't believe the future will better, it could at least be interesting. It's worth it to wait and see.

(Please do not assume anything about me or the "level" of my trauma from this. We are diagnosed, though a diagnosis doesn't determine whether or not anyone has issues. I just gives them a name.)

(To anyone reading this: If you've heard the term "RAMCOA" but haven't heard how it originated among conspiracy theorists and was always meant to push conspiracy theories within legitimate psychiatry, further information is provided at the end.)

Oh oof I really forgot this in my inbox for over a month. 😵‍💫

And yeah, I'm not surprised that the whole "narcissistic abuse" thing can lead into RAMCOA stuff.

Like, the concept of "narcissistic abuse" is another iteration of the cultural myth that there's a distinct category of person that if we all just avoid or exclude, we can protect ourselves from abuse and toxic behavior, and it makes a pretty effective grift for people who've experienced severe abuse from people who just had zero interest in treating them well for one reason or another. The question of why anyone would engage in relentless bad faith behavior often torments people who've been through these experiences, and the concept of narcissistic abuse seems to finally provide an explanation that, while right about some things (for example,, it's true that people may lash out when their egos have been injured), is severely wrong about others (an NPD diagnoses is not a guarantee that someone will do this, and not everyone who does this has NPD). Basically, it's yet another half-assed solution to the problem of evil.

But like you say, many people have more complicated experiences with their abusers. And the alter programming conspiracy theory is absolutely a myth that seems to explain these kinds of experiences. Many people don't fully realize how someone might be handling a bad mental health day badly, or might be under some kind of stress they don't know about, or might have internalized some toxic belief that makes them act really shitty over some things, but not necessarily everything. "Your mom acted differently because she's actually a programmed multiple system, and what you experienced were different alters" is the kind of thing that makes sense when you know a little bit about DID, but not enough to understand why the idea of TBMC/alter programming is pseudoscientific nonsense.

I dunno how much you know about Michelle Remembers (the book that formed the blueprint of this mythology), but if you don't (and for the benefit of anyone else reading this who doesn't know), ritual abuse absolutely became a way to rationalize complicated relationships with parents. While Michelle Remembers didn't incorporate the DID aspect into the narrative (it just stuck with repressed memories), the short of it is that her mother was a single parent of three in the 1950's (her father basically walked out) who at least occasionally used alcohol. There's no way this lady didn't have some bad days. Plus she also died when Michelle was pretty young, which couldn't have been great on her psyche.

So yeah, it makes sense that people are getting into it today as a way to explain why their own parents were Like That.

For anyone who isn't aware: RAMCOA, which stands for "Ritual Abuse, Mind Control, & Organized Abuse" is not an innocent catch-all term for religious abuse, institutional abuse, sex trafficking, etc. It was coined by conspiracy theorists to try and make far right conspiracy theories sound respectable within legitimate psychiatry. For more information, see Cathy O'Brien - The First Project Monarch "Survivor" and Fritz Springmeier and Cisco Wheeler: Two Of The Most Dangerous Conspiracy Theorists Most People Have Never Heard Of.

[hoshinoyozora]

Warning of the Condemned

🖤 Pairing: Yandere! Rook Hunt x Female! Reader

💛 Word Count: 2,4k+

❤ Warnings: Major character death

[Edited]

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When you had a bad experience with someone, it was hard not to apply it to other people.

You knew you were only hurting yourself with that kind of mindset, but you couldn’t forget the image of Ace Trappola, your ex husband, when Rook Hunt proposed to you. He was famous, or infamous to some people, for his deep appreciation for everything and everyone he met. He complimented his suitors extravagantly yet nonchalantly, leaving them in a state of confusion and flattered. Gossips about his actions traveled to almost every social event until the nobles were split to two groups; the skeptics and the bulldozers.

Although you were neither of those groups, you still doubted his loyalty. If he could praise those yearning ladies so easily, then how long would it take until he fall for one of them too? There was also a problem about why he chose you, a mere widow, out of all the single virgins in the kingdom. But it wasn’t as if you could reject his proposal, either. Although he wasn’t the heir, he was still the prince and there was a pressure from both the king and your parents to accept. The former because Rook had been single for far too long, and the latter being the bulldozer group. Divorce might not be uncommon, but it still stained your reputation somewhat and your parents would do anything to improve it.

Even if it meant forcing you to marry this elusive prince.

“You don’t trust me, do you?”

You peered through your lashes, swaying and twirling back and forth in a dance that seemed to be endless under the judging eyes of the audience. You wondered why he asked you, when his smile clearly conveyed his knowledge. Then, you looked down thoughtfully.

“Everything still feels so surreal to me, Your Highness, so please give me a bit more time to adjust.”

A distraction, not quite a lie, to hide the truth. Once again, Rook humored you.

“Oui. Do take all the time you need, Mademoiselle. We have an eternity together, after all.”

You stiffened, tightening your grip on his gloved hand instinctively. Well, just because he said that, didn’t mean he’d be loyal, right? Marriages with the royals just so happened to be more binding than with the nobles.

“Of course, it doesn’t mean I will stop striving for your trust.” he simpered. “I do hope you remember my proposal, Mademoiselle.”

Yes, you remembered it alright. A fancy carriage stopped in front of your gate on one morning; the barrier between the rich and the poor, the curiosity of public and the privacy of family. Out came Rook Hunt, in his white and gold attire. His canary yellow hair shone brighter under the sunlight despite the white feather hat he seemed to love wearing. A pair of hunter green eyes pinpointed your flabbergasted face from the window, and a cheerful smile, as though oblivious to his mistake, curled his lips.

It was obvious that your whole family was thrown into chaos. Your mother wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and forced you to dress up as quickly and neatly as you could. Vaguely, you heard your father tittering as he welcomed Rook downstairs, and the latter’s flamboyant voice that drowned out all the greetings and polite questions. Glancing at the opened windows of your room, you were tempted to jump out just to avoid talking with him. It didn’t matter if you were already drilled with manners and pleasantries since childhood, you still disliked sudden visits.

Especially not from the royalty, who should’ve sent a letter beforehand.

Unless this was an investigation?

You shook your head. No, as far as you were concerned, your father had never done anything unsavory. At least, you hoped so. If he did, the knights would’ve come here by themselves. There was no reason why Rook would single you out when he’d never done that to other families.

Needless to say, your current dress wasn’t the best one, especially to receive such an important guest. But your mother was, fortunately, far more distracted by Rook’s arrival than your appearance. She urged you to sit on a chair, not quite facing him, yet still be the center of his attention anyway. You were reminded of all the Royal parties you’d attended, and, hell, even your own wedding. He was there; in the ballroom, in the garden, and in the church. Sometimes dancing, sometimes talking, sometimes drinking, but always staring. It was the main reason why you hated attending those parties, and which feeling bled to the casual events because you had a lingering suspicion that he’d be there somehow.

If he even came to your wedding when the royals were absent, despite the invitation being a courtesy at best, then what stopped him from coming to the events that were unrelated to him? He was the prince, after all, and a shameless one at that.

Still, Rook appeared unbothered by his own creepiness as he lowered himself to one knee and opened a velvet case. The diamond ring glinted like a grim reaper, and the proposal echoed like hell.

“Would you join me in the altar and create a happy life together, Mademoiselle? I vow – with my entire heart, body, and soul – that I will be loyal to you. Forever and ever.”

He smiled up at you with those sharp eyes that seemed to know more than they let on. Than you weren’t willing to admit. You knew it’d be hard to hide secrets, especially one as big as a divorce, from other people, but you thought you could at least pretend that Rook didn’t know about it. Really, there shouldn’t be any reason why he had to concern himself with you. Not even his parents cared much about the divorce of some noblewoman.

And yet, here he was, kneeling in front of you while your mother fainted behind you.

So, of course, you accepted it. You had to. If your father’s eager whisper and Rook’s knowing smile didn’t pressure you enough, the letter from the king sure did.

Then, Rook apologized for the ‘lackluster’ proposal, as though your mother’s reaction didn’t mean anything, and promised to hold a grand party to ‘repay’ it. Grand was certainly an understatement to describe the state of the ballroom right now, which gave more authenticity to your overall feeling of it being ‘surreal’.

“Let’s see. Perhaps I should start with him?”

He spun you until your eyes landed on your ex husband, Ace Trappola. He was watching through the crowd, one hand wrapped around his new fiancée’s waist while the other nursed a glass of wine. Since your first meeting with him, you already knew he was still childish. Marriage was too big of a responsibility to him, so you weren’t really surprised by his infidelity. Still, it didn’t mean your feelings weren’t hurt. A warm and loving marriage might be rare in your society, but you still expected some degree of loyalty from him.

“What are you going to do to him?” you whispered.

“Whatever you want me to do, I shall carry it out to the best of my ability.”

“Don’t be silly.” you scoffed. “We’ve separated amicably.”

“Oh, mon amour. What a huge heart you have, forgiving a delinquent who toyed with your feelings like a fiddle. Truly, your kindness knows no bounds.”

You merely huffed, unsure of how to respond. To his flattery, determination, or the implication that he was willing to do anything you ordered? You didn’t know anymore. He was just as romantic as he was enigmatic, and you feared the day would come when you had to betray him once you found out about his secrets. The day where you became no better than your own ex.

And his attempts at gaining your trust didn’t just stop at that dubious statement. Every day, Rook never failed to give you presents and praises. From your beauty, personality, down to the tiniest quirk you didn’t know you had. Now, you understood what those noblewomen felt whenever he complimented them; flattered yet confused.

Except, this time, he didn’t do it nonchalantly.

No, instead, he attacked you with all of his best weapons, but you were still too hurt and suspicious to lower your defense.

Although, right now, you wondered if you were better off resigning yourself to his attacks much sooner.

“What…?” you whispered, fearing that a loud voice might just burst the illusion created by your shocked brain. That maybe, just maybe, you were seeing things. “What is the meaning of this?”

Slowly, you withdrew to the iron door that separated you from the blissful world and gripped the cool handle. Ace and his fiancée hung on rusty chains, wounded and bruised beyond comprehension. Beside them, Rook stood with a proud smile as if presenting his masterpiece.

“My judgment to those who betrayed you, of course.”

“I didn’t ask for any of this!”

“You only said that I shouldn’t do anything ‘silly’. This, in my opinion, is far from silly.”

You didn’t expect that he’d use your words against you, but then again, did you really know him at all? Aside from his flamboyance, he kept everything else under wrap. In fact, you realized that you’d never seen his sadness. His anger was already a rarity in itself.

“So, what?” you inquired, voice shaking from the dread of his next actions. “Are you going to kill them now?”

Rook hummed in mock questioning and cocked his head.

“Do you want me to?”

Would you? Ace was a cheating bastard, loving that woman just because they had similar positions as a duke’s child and you a marquis’s. But other than that, and his occasional mischief, he’d never really done anything harmful to you. To torture them, or even kill them, would seem too cruel.

“No, please don’t. If people found out about this, they…”

Maybe you didn’t really care about their lives. Maybe you cared more about your reputation, just like any other noble. But it was still better than sentencing them to their graves, right?

“They?” Rook drawled, urging you to continue.

You gulped.

“They’d think I’m the one who killed them.”

“What if they found out that I’m the killer instead?”

What would happen? Surely, he wasn’t careless enough as to stain his own image for you, right? And yet, looking at his cavalier face now, you had a feeling that he wouldn’t mind it. Maybe he’d even find a way to turn everything into an advantage for you both. He was resourceful like that.

“I… I don’t know. A mere infidelity sounds a bit too… insignificant for such a big revelation.”

His smile changed, and with it, you felt like you were making a fool of yourself now.

“Mon ange.”

You grimaced at the nickname, deeming yourself undeserving of the meaning.

“Infidelity is never ‘insignificant’ enough for me to turn a blind eye to, especially if it involves you.” he mused. “But to the public, I have enough evidence of their conspiracy to replace my sibling as the leader with their own candidate, who is his own brother, to punish them properly.”

You gasped, torn between believing him and being skeptical. But, so far, Rook had never lied to you. Otherwise, he would’ve done that when he spotted you lingering in the entrance of the dungeon due to a man’s scream, which apparently belonged to Ace.

And the reason why he twisted your words was to avoid him lying, too.

“So, all this time, it wasn’t just because he loves her more than me? They’re actually… accomplices?”

“Indeed. Their romance is but a front for a dark secret underneath. It’d be most unfortunate if they were a couple from the start, but alas, fate just had to move this way.”

If that was the case, then what about him? Was his ‘romantic’ attempt a front too? Would he have proposed to you if you didn’t marry Ace at all? Would you have accepted him faster?

“… Why are you doing this?”

“I told you,” he simpered. “I won’t stop striving for your trust. Unlike him, I’m not the type to break my own promise, let alone the holy vow of marriage.”

You knew. You knew that all too well. From that grand engagement party, daily presents and praises, he wasn’t the type to give up on things he was interested in. Or someone. You never rejected him, either. You couldn’t, and that just gave him all the opportunities to win you over.

Which was why you weren’t surprised by their execution a week later. The gallows faced your way, and Ace was staring at you with a painful mixture of betrayal, hurt, and exhaustion from the seat on the right; the traditional ‘seat of honor’ in an execution. He opened his mouth, and you wished you couldn’t see or understand his words.

“Be careful with Rook.”

Even after all this time, he still cared about you enough to warn you.

You looked away, trying not to see the way his ankles and wrists were bound by manacles, and the white cloth that tied his arms to the sides and his ankles and thighs together. You tried to comfort yourself with the fact you didn’t know about his schemes until recently, and that everything was still his fault, even as you saw the guard finally put a white bag over his head through your peripheral vision. Then, Ace moved a few feet to the noose until he was fully positioned on the drop. The rest of his family stood beside him, but unlike him, they didn’t look at you or the Royal Family. They were too ashamed.

Suddenly, Rook leaned towards you and smiled pacifyingly.

“As expected, you retain your huge heart until you refuse to witness this fateful day. Worry not, I will not subject you to his misfortune any further.”

Because he was already your misfortune now.

You closed your eyes, trying not to imagine the way Ace’s stomach heaved and legs quivered when a few knights knocked out the supports holding the drops in place.

“Be careful with Rook.”

If only he said it much earlier.

If only he didn’t cheat on you.

Rook held your hand and looked at you knowingly.

“Do you trust me now, mon ange?” he asked, smile widening and eyes darkening. “Or should I strive even more?”