#and the fact that i did the presentation without a panic attack……

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Shaking (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have an anxiety attack in a public setting, but luckily, the doctor is there to help you through it.

Word Count: 2450

Warnings: Anxiety attack, mild cursing, mostly just ANGST and then comforting FLUFF

A/N: Wanted to write Spence comforting the reader during a panic attack. Fanfiction is better than therapy, right? At least, it’s cheaper! Also not my GIF

——

“You don’t want to just order it online?” Spencer asked as you walked beside him down the sidewalk. His longer legs would typically mean that he’d be several steps ahead of you, but he always slowed his pace so you wouldn’t have to strain to keep up with him. He also walked on the outside of the path because, let’s face it, he was a gentleman.

You shook your head. “No, I want the whole experience,” you said excitedly as you walked, your face lighting up in anticipation. You were on your way towards a local bookstore, where the third book in your favorite series was being released today. The bookstore was going to be packed, but you were so excited to be one of the first ones in the door, to get your hands on a physical copy. “I don’t ever do things like this, but it’ll be something I think about every time I look at the book sitting on my shelf.”

Spencer nodded, lifting his hand, his thumb and forefinger in an O-shape as he spoke. “Ah, the age-old concept of symbolic treasures. One of the main reasons why souvenirs are such a prevalent part of going on vacation. Did you know the tradition dates back to Ancient Egypt?”

You shook your head as you continued to walk with him. Your boyfriend carried on without fault. “As far back as 2200 B.C, Egyptian Prince Harkhuf traveled to what is now known as Sudan and returned with all sorts of objects to present to his father, the pharaoh,” Spencer explained. His words spat out quickly, compulsively, as though they had to exit his encyclopedic brain. “He brought back items such as incense, ivory, even the skins of leopards to show off to his father.”

“I had no idea,” you told Spencer as you neared the bookstore, smiling sideways at him. You loved it when he spouted off facts like that, like he had to get the information out or else he’d explode. He had confessed to you more than once before that most people found it weird or off-putting or even annoying, but not you. Rather, you loved learning new things. Whatever information he had to share with you was always relevant in one way or another, and it was just one of the reasons why you loved spending time with him - he made you a more knowledgeable, well-rounded person.

Before either of you could say much else, you’d reached the back of the line of the bookstore. You checked the time on your phone. The store would open in about fifteen minutes. The line stretched down at least a full block, from what you could see. Lots of people dressed like characters from the books, shuffling their feet in excited anticipation.

There were at least a hundred people in the line, and after a minute or two, a couple dozen more had filed in behind where you stood. You pursed your lips for a moment, scanning the crowd until your eyes met Spencer’s.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, inclining his head to the side.

You shook your head. “Nothing,” you said. “Just… lot of people.”

Spencer nodded understandingly, then reached down to take your hand. Your fingers twined with his and he squeezed his palm against yours. “I’m right here,” he reminded you. You didn’t love crowds. They always made you feel anxious, perhaps even a little claustrophobic. You and Spencer had gone to a fairly crowded French film festival a few months ago and there hadn’t been an organized line to enter; rather, it had been a cluster of people, all pressed together. And you had felt like you couldn’t breathe. Spencer’d had to pull you to a seat off to the side so you could catch your breath, and you’d missed getting a seat up front like you’d been hoping for.

Right now, you were okay, though. There were people in front of you and behind you, but they weren’t flush against you like they had been waiting for the film festival to open. And Spencer was holding your hand, and you were outside, with the cool, spring morning breeze hitting your face. It was fine. You were going to be fine. You inhaled deeply and exhaled, then nodded your head, feeling the anxiety dissipate. “I’m good,” you told Spencer, looking up at him.

Spencer nodded. He squeezed your hand once again before letting go, only so he could wrap his arm around your shoulders and tug you so you leaned against his chest. He kissed the top of your hair. “It’s going to be just fine,” he promised you, and you just smiled to yourself.

About ten minutes later, the store opened. You only knew that because the line started moving, and more quickly than you thought. You squealed in delight and matched the pace of the people in front of you, Spencer by your side with an amused grin on his face. He loved books just as much as you did, if not more, but this outing was definitely just for you. He’d read the other preceding books in this series (literally just because you asked him to and it took him an hour, tops), but he wasn’t a total geek for it like you were.

You finally made it inside the bookstore, a small business, a local place. You’d been inside several times before, but you hadn’t realized just how small the building actually was until you stepped in now. It was two stories, but everyone was tightly packed, with the people and the bookshelves crowding around you as you made it fully inside the store. There was even a line to go up to the second floor, like a queue at an amusement park.

There was little to no breathing room. Everyone was talking as they waited their turn to grab a copy of the new book, and the sound seemed to bounce off the walls and the ceiling and smack you right in the ear. The air felt thick despite the front door and handful of windows being opened, allowing the cool spring breeze to ruffle the pages of the paperbacks on display.

But it wasn’t refreshing. Rather, it was another stimulant that caused the neurons in your brain to fire even faster. You felt your palms get slick. You felt your heart start to pound, and your knees wobble as you shuffled forward in the line. What were you even waiting in line for? You momentarily forgot, blinking a few times before looking up at the man beside you. Spencer was engrossed in looking around the bookstore, the corners of his mouth quirking upward as he seemed to find something amusing. But when his eyes came full circle back to you, they were immediately filled with concern. “Y/N?” He asked softly, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You couldn’t even hear him. The sound of his voice just bounced off your brain, like you were trapped inside of cellophane. All you could think was trapped. I’m trapped. No way out. Stuck. Caged. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe.

You felt your breathing go heavy, and your eyes fill up with tears. Your cheeks were red, bright red, judging from how hot you suddenly felt. “Leave,” you managed to choke out, your voice coming out from your throat. It felt like your throat was lined with thorns, like the words you wanted to say kept getting caught.

Spencer nodded. “Leave? Yeah. Yeah, baby, we can leave,” Spencer grabbed your hand, tugging you along behind him as he murmured “excuse me, pardon me,” to the other patrons, to get through the crowd. Moving against the crowd was so much worse than standing still. All those eyes on you, seeing your red face and the anxious tears trickling down your cheeks. It was so embarrassing, freaking out like this is such a public space. Everyone thinks I’m a freak, you thought. Your anxiety became not about the crowd, but about your anxiety, about how you were being perceived. Your breathing picked up, quickened, and by the time Spencer led you out into the morning sun, you were fully hyperventilating.

The thoughts in your head were racing at the speed of light. You hated feeling nervous like this, but moreover, you hated that Spencer had to take care of you because of it. You felt like you had ruined the day because your head wasn’t on straight, because you couldn’t stand in a crowd of people and hear the cacophony of voices and tamp down your panic.

Spencer led you down the block, about twenty feet from the store, away from the crowd, and your breath was still coming out staccato, unstable as you looked down at your shaking hands. You were crying and hyperventilating and the whole world felt like it was spinning. Spencer kept his hold on your hand and stood in front of you, squeezing his palm against yours. His eyes, those light brown irises with little flecks of green, stared into yours. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, bending his knees so his face was level with yours. “Breathe with me, okay?”

You shook your head, your eyes clamping shut. You were so mad at yourself in that moment. You didn’t want to have Spencer take care of you, to have to drag you out of a bookstore because you were having a panic attack. “Baby, you’re trembling,” you heard Spencer’s voice laced with concern. “Look at me. We’ll get through this together.”

You opened your eyes slowly, and that’s when you realized your entire body was shaking. You looked into Spencer’s eyes and he released your hand so he could cup your face. His fingers anchored under your jaw, his thumbs rested on your cheeks, and his eyes were wide, full of worry, but his voice managed to stay soothing and calm. “Follow my breath, Y/N. Do what I’m doing, okay? In for four, hold for four, out for four.”

He inhaled for 4 seconds, and you tried to follow his lead, but you just couldn’t control your lungs. “It’s okay,” he assured you as your brows furrowed, presenting frustration. “C’mon, try again.” He inhaled for 4 seconds, and you managed to match him this time. “Hold for four,” you held your breath while Spencer counted. “And out for four,” you exhaled deeply. “Good, okay, let’s do it again.”

Spencer guided your breath for a few minutes, until you finally felt like you could do it on your own. And when you finally felt yourself coming down from the rush of panic that had sent you into fight-or-flight, you wiped at your wet eyes. “I’m sorry,” you croaked, and Spencer just shook his head.

“No,” he insisted, taking your hand and placing it on his heart. You could feel it beating through his long-sleeved t-shirt. “No, you don’t have to be sorry.” You rubbed your hand against his chest, finding it comforting as you hung your head. “Baby, look at me,” he requested, and you met his eyes.

“Please don’t ever apologize for having an anxiety attack, okay? For one thing, it’s not your fault. You can’t control the chemicals and waves in your brain and how your body reacts to situations,” Spencer began, his hand on top of yours that rested on his chest. You nodded, using the heel of your free hand to wipe away your tears. The crying was over, you were fairly certain, but god, did this suck. “You also should never feel ashamed for having a panic attack, Y/N. It happened, and we’re working through it. It’s a lot like boiling a pot of water, isn’t it?”

You let out a garbled sounding laugh and your brows furrowed. “How so?” You stammered out.

“Well, you set the pot of water on the stove, right?” Spencer began, and you nodded. “And then when it starts to bubble, that’s your anxiety. Some sort of external stimulant - the stove, or, in your case, the overwhelming feeling of being in a crowd - is causing the water to bubble. And when the external stimulant increases in intensity, so too does your anxiety. And sometimes, yeah, the pot boils over.” Spencer shrugged like it was no big deal. “But then you just turn the stove off, grab a dishtowel, and clean up the mess. Problem solved.”

You cracked a half-hearted smile. “So in this metaphor, you’re a dishtowel?” You asked, curling your fingers around the fabric of his shirt.

“Technically, I think it’s a simile, but yes,” Spencer grinned as he looked in your eyes.

“But the book,” you sighed, looking back at the bookstore, which was still filtering people in and out slowly. The patrons leaving the store clutched their new copies of the book in their hands, grinning and taking pictures with their phones, laughing with their friends excitedly.

“Do you want to get back in line and try again?” Spencer asked, and you bit your cheek pensively.

“I don’t think so,” you said softly, defeatedly.

“That’s okay,” Spencer said. You loved that he wasn’t coddling you, he was just feeling it out, seeing what you were up for. “Do you want to get brunch somewhere and come back? Maybe the line will have died down by then?”

You nodded, your lips curling into a small smile. “Yeah,” you agreed. You realized your hand was still over his heart, rubbing at his chest. Your movement halted and you retracted your hand, but before your arm could fall completely at your side, Spencer scooped your hand up and kissed the back of your palm. “What if we come back and they’ve sold out of the book, though?” You asked as Spencer walked with you in the direction of one of your favorite brunch places, just a short walk from the bookstore.

“There are twenty-two independent bookstores in the D.C. metropolitan area alone,” Spencer rattled off. “If this one doesn’t have it, we’ll drive around until we find one that does.”

“What article did you read that told you how many bookstores were in D.C?” You asked. You often liked to challenge him by asking him to cite his sources.

“No article. I did a search on Google Maps last night,” Spencer explained.

“What, because you knew I’d freak out when we walked into this one?” You asked him.

Spencer shook his head. “No, just wanted to have a contingency plan in case our first stop sold out before we got there.”

“Always thinking ahead, huh, Boy Wonder?”

“Damn straight.” A smirk formed across Spencer’s lips.

You shook your head. “You’re the best dishtowel a girl could ask for.”

[niallhorxns]

Niall Horan x Reader: Panicked

Prompt: You have a panic attack while you're on tour with him, he helps you through it.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: anxiety, panic attack

A/N: hello!!! i recently discovered there's a painfully limited amount of niall x reader fics out there, so i'm adding to the pot. feel free to send requests / prompts if anyone has ideas they want me to write :) (i especially love angst, so give it to me).

Niall’s laugh fills the air as he leans forward and chats back and forth with the driver. If you weren’t so busy gazing at the views around you, you would’ve held onto the sound of it longer– reminded yourself it’s still your favorite sound in the entire world. 

Tonight is night… forty five? No, forty six. Hell, you can’t remember. All you know is that as far as cities go, this one is small– but it has a certain charm to it that you’ve been admiring the entire ride to and from breakfast.

“Oh, take a look at that,” Niall says, reaching over your lap to point out the window. He’s motioning towards the river, sparkling blue underneath the clear sky, and lined with a cobblestone walkway. “That’s gorgeous.”

He says it longingly– like he wishes he could get out of the car and walk along the path. But of course he doesn’t suggest that. In fact, Niall rarely suggests outings when you’re with him on tour– because he knows how anxious it makes you. Not the outing itself, but the likelihood of him being spotted. You could handle a walk along the river, but you’d have a hard time handling a swarm of people bombarding you on a walk along the river. 

It must drive him crazy– the way you always prefer sticking to the venue or hotel. And while he always claims to understand each and every time you say no to a public dinner, or whatever adventure is planned for the day, you can’t help but wonder if there will come a time that he gets sick of you always anxiously hanging back. 

Your anxiety has ruined so much for you. It’s ruined school events and trips, it’s ruined friendships and opportunities. You don’t want it to ruin your relationship with Niall, too.

For the last year and a half, you’ve been attending therapy consistently– learning breathing techniques and grounding skills to cope with anxiety. 

You wonder if now was a good time to test if it was working. 

“Do we have time before soundcheck?” You ask.  

Niall checks his watch. “It’s only eleven thirty. We don’t have to be back at the venue until one. You want to walk around?” He asks, a hint of surprise in his tone. 

“Yeah, let’s do it,” you agree. 

Niall grins before asking the driver to pull over. 

Hand in hand, the pair of you stroll along the river casually, admiring the views around you. Summer is in full bloom– all the trees a brilliant shade of green, the sky stunningly blue. 

“Look there–” Niall uses his free hand to gesture at a family of ducks swimming along the rivershore. You both stop in your tracks and watch for a moment, a smile spreading widely across your face. 

“This is so nice,” you say. It’s so rare that you actually got quality time with Niall when he was on tour. Sure, you accompanied him to most shows, but you rarely got any shred of privacy. 

This is what life might look like if Niall wasn’t… well, if he wasn’t Niall. You could take quiet walks in the morning along a riverbend. You could sit on park benches and drink your coffee without being swarmed. You’d be free to live your lives– unbothered, undisturbed. 

But that wasn’t reality. And through the years, you learned that the only thing about your situation that you had control over changing was yourself. You couldn’t change the fact that Niall was adored and loved by people wherever you went. But you could try to change how anxious that made you.

You’d accepted the fact that you would always be introverted. People, present company aside, were draining. You’d never get energized from crowds like Niall did, and you’d never like being the center of attention. All you wanted was to be able to handle yourself when Niall inevitably was surrounded by crowds– that way you weren’t always restricted to what you could and couldn’t do whenever he was on tour. 

“It is nice,” Niall agrees. 

“And to think I’d never even heard of this town before,” you add. 

Niall chuckles while you lean further into his side. “I think we’re actually really close to the venue, too,” he says, tilting his head towards the direction of the road. 

The road, which is parallel to the path, curled around a corner and sure enough, in the distance, you could see the faint outline of the venue Niall would perform in tonight. 

“Oh wow, I didn’t realize–” you begin. But before you can finish your sentence, your heart clenches in your chest. Because as soon as you’re far enough along the path to see the road leading to the entrance of the venue, the line of fans waiting to get in appears. 

They’re across the street from the two of you, less than a football field away. Hundreds of fans sit– in their pretty clothes and outfits on the concrete, waiting in the hot sun for your boyfriend’s show. You are simultaneously proud that he is so adored, and terrified that you’ll be spotted. 

“Shit,” Niall mutters under his breath. “Let’s turn back.”

“We can keep going,” you say, trying desperately to prove to him that you really are getting better– that you don’t have to be coddled all the time. 

“We don’t have to–”

“The venue’s closer than the car,” you reply. “It’s fine, let’s just go.” 

“You’re right. Maybe we can just sneak by. Go in the side gate there,” he suggests, nodding towards a side entrance to the venue. “I’m pretty covered up today. You up for that?” 

You nod slowly, although you aren’t sure how true that really was. But at least Niall looked pleased– maybe even a little impressed. 

Following his lead, you keep your head down and just focus on taking one step after another. Your gaze remains fixated on the stone beneath your feet, hoping to evade detection. You breathe in, forcing the air to your stomach– just like your therapist taught you, hold it, and out. 

And slowly, the two of you get closer and closer to the venue, just enough so that you actually start to feel hopeful that maybe you’ll pull it off. 

Until the screaming starts. 

It starts off slow– one person shrieks. 

And then it becomes hysterical– the kind of screams you let out when there’s a snake in the pool or a spider in the shower. Except you know these girls aren’t screaming because of snakes or spiders. They’re screaming because of your boyfriend– who is currently pressed to your side. 

“Oh shit,” he says quietly. “Here they come.”

“Ni–” you whisper, already feeling the panic creeping up your throat. And suddenly, everything you’ve been taught– all the breathing techniques and grounding skills, go out the window. Your mind is blank– frozen. 

“It’s okay,” he encourages you, giving your hand a tight squeeze. “Stand on this side of me.”

He shuffles you so that you’re on his other side– furthest from the group of fans currently running your way while you continue walking towards the venue. You aren’t going to make it in time, you realize– they’re going to catch you first. 

“It’ll be okay,” he repeats to you. “We’re close to the venue, it’ll be okay.”

All you can manage is a weak nod. 

As soon as the group approaches, the warmth from their bodies engulf you like a blanket– slow and suffocating. Niall, of course, handles everything beautifully. “Hello, hello,” he says kindly, remaining so calm. “Afraid we can’t do photos this morning, I’m late for soundcheck… Gotta get inside.”

There are bodies in front of you– there are bodies pressing behind you, bodies around you… everywhere. You lean into Niall’s touch, your clammy hand clinging to his like your life depends on it. In the vague distance, you feel him squeeze back, but it doesn’t feel real. 

“Move please!” A firm voice suddenly shouts above the noise. Instantly, you recognize the voice as one from Niall’s security teaam. Relief floods through you as he makes his way through the group to collect the pair of you. He grabs Niall’s shoulders firmly and guides him forward. In the haste to try and keep up, your sweaty palm slips from his. Desperately, you try to latch back on, but as soon as it parts, bodies slip between you. In an instant, you’re separated from the one person in the entire world that can make you feel safe. 

“Niall—” you try to say, but of course your meek voice is drowned out by the crowd. 

You think you saw a flash of his hair ahead of you, but then a body slams into yours and you stumble, losing track of where it goes. People are pushing forward– to get closer to him. And then suddenly, you can’t breathe at all. Hot bodies all around you, the beating sun above– skin and clothing touching your bare arms. You can’t take it– you’re going to suffocate in here. 

And all you can do is continue to push forward– closer to the gate, hoping that eventually, the crowd will break. 

Everything is simultaneously moving too fast and too slow as the edges of your vision blur, like you’re getting sucked deeper and deeper into a dark tunnel. Chest tightening, you struggle to inhale. 

Until suddenly, someone grabs your elbow, tugging you to your left. You don’t even have the energy to fight it. Instead, you let them pull you sideways until you’re out of the thickest part of the crowd. 

Another one of Niall’s security team that you recognize gave you a concerned look. “You alright?”

You can’t get the words out, so instead you just nod. It’s a lie, though. 

With that, he helps you the rest of the way to the venue. “Move aside!” The security guard yells, his grip on your shoulders tightening as he tries to maneuver his way through. “Move!” 

Using his arm, he sweeps the remainder of the mob from your way and ushers you through the gate. Except, even once you’re inside– separated from the crowd, you’re too far gone to even appreciate it. Instead, you feel the familiar sensation of panic creeping across every inch of your skin, like it has already taken over your entire body. You know you have to get somewhere private, and fast– before you completely fall apart. 

Without even realizing it, your feet start moving. Luckily the attention shifts to the mob of people outside, so no one even notices your attempt to slip away. Or maybe you’re just too engrossed in your own panic to notice anyone noticing you. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is getting somewhere quiet– somewhere safe. 

You’ve never been to this venue before– but throughout the tour, you’ve learned that most of the layouts are the same. This was an amphitheater– outdoors, minimal options for private breakdowns. Your best bet is going to be the backstage room where you and Niall left your stuff earlier in the day. If you could remember how to get there…

Even though you have no idea where you are going, your body continues to move. It leads you around a couple of corners, past the merch booth and concessions and towards the stage… You’re going to lose it if you don't get somewhere safe fast.

Suddenly, a pair of hands grip your shoulders, causing your entire body to seize. 

“It’s me,” a gentle voice murmurs. "I got you."

Through your foggy haze, you recognize Niall’s touch– except you still can’t breathe. 

One look– that’s all it takes for him to know what was going on. Because he’s the one person on this planet that you’d willingly ever let get close to you during a panic attack. 

“One to five?” he asks, indicating the rating scale the two of you had created for moments like this– so you could communicate just how bad you were feeling. One meant you could stay where you were, maybe take some breaths. Two meant he’d guide you through the grounding skills he knew about, maybe rub your back. Three was on the cusp, probably needed to go to a quiet corner to take some space. Four meant getting somewhere quiet and safe– and fast. Five meant you were probably dying. 

You hold up four fingers. It feels bad– scary. Maybe you’re dying… but you also don’t want to be dramatic. 

“Tell me what you need,” he says. 

You try– honestly, you do. You open your mouth, but all that comes out is a gasp– a plea for help. 

“Okay, it’s okay– c’mon,” he grips your shoulders and begins walking. You have no idea where– honestly you don’t have the capacity to care. All of your energy is focused on not passing out. 

Niall flashes his badge to an employee who lets you backstage. You vaguely recognize the halls he leads you down as the ones where you dropped your stuff earlier. He’s bringing you to his dressing room… because of course he knows exactly what you need.  

Once you’re inside, Niall shuts the door behind you as you stagger inside. Then, he spins around, his hands cupping the sides of your face. 

“Look at me, baby,” he says. “It’s okay– you’re okay.” 

“I– can’t–” you gasp, your own hands flying up to grip his forearms for some sort of lifeline to reality. “I can’t– breathe–” 

“Okay, okay, okay,” he says. He’s trying to stay calm, but you can hear the uneasiness in his voice. “With me.” 

He gives a deep, methodical inhale before letting out a slow, intentional exhale. “Just do it with me. Slow, like this.” 

He continues, and you try to match his pace– to breathe with him, but it feels like someone is gripping your windpipe– squeezing so hard you just can’t get enough air– 

“Niall–” you beg, your voice hoarse. “I can’t–” 

“C’mon, with me,” he repeats earnestly. He’s looking at you with terror in his eyes, but you find comfort in their familiarity just the same. “We’ve done this a hundred times before, you know how to do this.”

“I– I–” you stammer, but the words won’t form. 

“Shh, with me. Everything’s okay. I’m here. We’re both okay,” he assures you. His gaze is just so tender and soft and careful while his thumb grazes your cheek. 

“I- I can’t-” you choke again, “Please-”

“Shh-” he soothes. “Look at me, nothing else, just me.”

Your wide, desperate eyes meet his. You don’t say anything, just shudder and gasp frantically.  

“With me,” he repeats.

Niall produces loud and deliberate, slow and calming, in and out breathes. After a few seconds, you latch onto the sound, mimicking it, and then finally follow along. 

“There you go,” he whispers.

Your facial features slowly start to relax as you’re able to breathe properly.  Without your loud, choking sobs, you’re able to hear your heartbeat pounding in your chest frantically.  

“Good job,” Niall sighs. “Look, it’s just you and me, we’re okay–”

But he can’t even finish his sentence before you lean forward and wind your arms around his neck– desperate and longing for some sort of comfort. Strong, sturdy arms wrap around you as you burrow your face into the nape of his neck. You breathe him in, letting his familiar scent wash over you. 

“It’s okay,” Niall soothes. Upon feeling your shaky body pressed against his, he squeezes tighter. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here, I got you.”

You melt against him in response, bunching the fabric of his shirt into your fist, trying to communicate just how badly you need him to hold you right now. 

And that’s exactly what he does— until you can finally breathe on your own again. 

And then the wave of guilt comes.

Suddenly the realization of everything hit you– what a basketcase you’d been, running off like that, having a meltdown– you probably scared the shit out of him, or at the very least made a fool of yourself in front of the entire venue. Slowly, you pull back. 

“Are you okay?” Niall says before you can even open your mouth. 

You exhale a deep, shuddering breath that you can feel down your entire body. “I’m okay,” you say, your voice raw. “I’m so sorry– I didn’t mean to freak out.”

“Shh. Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay,” Niall says. His hands grip the outside of your shoulders gently. “Don’t apologize– I’m the sorry one, making you go through a crowd like that. That was a horrible idea.”

“It wasn’t even your idea– and I should be able to go through a crowd like that. I don’t know why I always freak out–” you stammer, feeling so upset with yourself. “It’s so stupid.”

“We talked about this, love. Remember? Anxiety doesn’t always make sense. Right? It’s not rational.” 

“I just—” you start, but you stop when you notice how choked up your voice sounds. You take a slow breath. “I wanted to prove to you that I was doing better– that I wasn’t going to freak out every time we went out. But I guess I haven’t made progress, after all.” 

As soon as you feel the tears burning behind your eyes, you dig the heels of your palms into them frustratedly, like you were physically trying to push them away. 

“It’s getting so much better though, baby,” Niall says encouragingly. “This is the first panic attack you’ve had all tour. Unless you’ve been hiding them from me,” he says with a hint of playfulness to his tone. “First one in forty-five shows. That’s incredible. Last tour you were havin’ em every other night it seemed. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but that’s huge.”

You lower your arms and nod pathetically, gaze fixated on the floor. 

“What is it?” he whispers gently. “Talk to me.”

“I’m so scared,” you choke out, “that one day you’re going to get sick of me–”

“Baby,” Niall interrupts. 

“Maybe not me, but all of this,” you say instead. “I mean, you realize you could have anyone, right? But you could especially have someone who didn’t have a meltdown every time they had to face a crowd– Or someone who could actually handle going out in public with you once and a while.” 

“Please look at me,” Niall says, voice gently serious. Pathetically, you do– your lip quivering as tears threaten to spill. “I need you to listen to me when I tell you this, okay?” 

Slowly, you nod. 

“I don’t want anyone else. Not in a million years, okay? I don’t want someone who loves crowds or going out, because they wouldn’t be you. Baby, honestly, I don’t like getting swarmed or photographed, either. If it bothered me that we didn’t go out much– I’d tell you. But it doesn’t. What does bother me is you changin’ things about yourself because you think it’ll make me happy. You make me happy. You. As you are, no changin’ things.”

You let his words sink in and try to believe them. “I’m just sorry you have to deal with me all the time. You have enough on your plate,” you groan, rubbing your tired eyes. 

Niall sighs. “Baby, I sing and play the guitar– do a little dance or two if I’m really feelin’ it. I think I can handle being there for my girlfriend on top of that,” he says. “I love you. And I want you to be okay, always. That’s all I’ll ever want.”

With all your energy seemingly zapped, you lean forward and rest your forehead on Niall’s shoulder. His arms wrap around you again, anchoring you to him. 

“I love you,” you murmur into his shirt. It’s muffled by the fabric, but it's there just the same. 

You feel his hand cradle the back of your neck while he chuckles softly. “Good, because we still have about forty more shows to go.”

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hello, hope you are having a good day/night?

I was wondering if I could request something where Joker uses Jason Todd's DNA to create a child (male) and raises him. What would happen when Jason finds out he not only has a kid but the kid been being raised by Joker the man who tortured and killed him!

And how will Bruce react to seeing Jason's son and how much he looks like his dad?

Platonic batfam x kid reader

Headcanons

I’m still right in the middle of exam season right now, which is why I haven’t been writing much.

Like I said, you are a redheaded kid, because I love redhead Jason too much not to add it. Joker being the joker would most likely make you color your hair black though, just like Jason did when he was robin.

If Joker got Jasons DNA when he killed him, then you would be around 8, as Jason died at 15 and is 23 nowadays (I got this age from the dc twitter account), and because of Jasons genes you are most likely a small and skinny kid.

The smallness most likely also comes from the fact that Joker is the one raising you, alongside Harley if they are still together at that point.

Raising you is a very loose word, Joker does not have a parental bone in his body, and only clones you to taunt the bats. So, he is nowhere near a good parent and treats you like an extension of the Robin he killed.

This would lead to a lot of mistreatments, because it’s the Joker, what do you expect. Both mental and physical abuse would be present in your life, as the Joker wouldn’t feel any love or care for you as a person.

Because of this you wouldn’t be going to school either, but you are smart, so you teach yourself how to read and write, and you’ll have to learn math and the likes to be able to use some weapons to their full potential.

Instead of being allowed to be a child your only purpose to exist is to be a tool to taunt the bats, so you most likely wouldn’t be given a name either and would just be called Robin by Joker and anyone else who knows you exist.

Being “raised” by joker also means your morals are very skewed, and you have no problem with murder or torture, but what do you expect from someone like the joker.

The bats would learn about your existence during one of the Jokers latest plans. It would be during one of his more crazy ideas, you know, with a lot of hostages and a lot at risk.

I can imagine two scenarios. The Joker either tying you up and posing you bruised up and bloody whilst wearing the Robin outfit, to taunt Batman.

Or you are being used as a surprise attack when they get a little too close to catching the Joker. Joker of course wouldn’t care about your wellbeing besides being a tool for him, so if you get shot or break bones he doesn’t care.

They would of course all be shocked and shaken at seeing an 8-year-old kid wearing Jason’s robin outfit there, and especially with how little care you show about yourself and your own wellbeing.

Joker would whisk you away at the last moment, though not without you being hurt during the fighting, because he still has plans on using you to harm the bats, especially batman and red hood.

The batfam would panic at the knowledge that Joker has a child that hes using for his evil plans, they have no idea you are Jason’s clone yet, but they still want to rescue you.

They can only assume you’ve been trained since birth, with how skilled you are, which makes them all emotional. Especially the likes of Damian and Cass, since they were trained from infancy as well.

They would immediately start searching lost child cases for anyone fitting your description but come up empty handed because you are a clone.

After this encounter the Joker would use you in his plans more and more, because he gets great joy from seeing how desperate the batfam is to figure out who you are or to save you.

You’ve never felt kindness before and have never been your own person though, so you don’t trust them and just do whatever the Joker orders you to do, putting yourself in life and death situations more than once.

Bruce would be heartbroken with how familiar you look in your robin outfit, as you are a complete copy of how Jason looked back then. Dick and Jason, and maybe Tim, would be the only ones able to recognize your appearance, which would make them all want to save you even more.

After finally getting your blood and/or DNA to test after another deadly situation you’ve put yourself in, they take it back to the cave to test, where they learn your relation to Jason.

To say the batfam would all be shaken and enraged by the discovery would be an understatement. They’re shaken at the fact that Joker has had a child grown from Jasons DNA for who knows how long, and would be enraged at the fact that Jasons DNA was used and that you’ve obviously been abused this entire time.

They buckle down even more to get you to their side and make you come with them willingly, and it works in their favor as the Joker has become more lax with your reigns. It seems he’s growing bored of using the same thing over and over again, so he’s kinda just letting you run freely as he comes up with new plans.

It would start with Jason or Tim, or maybe even Cass, who would be able to get closer to you. They wouldn’t push to get you to come with them, and just get you to be used to their presence instead of immediately seeing them as a threat.

They know this is a slow process and that they can’t rush it, since you would run at the first sign of them trying to snatch you up.

As this is happening Jason can be caught reading parenting books, things about child psychology and the affects of child abuse. He already knew all of this, but he keeps refreshing it for when they get you to trust them.

Bruce would be going through a grieving process again, as you are a direct result of him failing Jason. But this time he would have a larger support system which would stop him from spiraling like last time.

Over time you get used to the presence of the batfam when you are on your own, they bring you meals or stuff to drink. Of course, you don’t trust it in the beginning, knowing they could be drugging you, but as time passes you start to eat with them.

At some point, Damian would end up telling you about his own childhood and how wrong it was, and that he didn’t deserve that abuse, and neither do you.

That would be what starts to make you understand that the Joker isn’t a good guardian and that you may be worth more than he says you are.

They don’t get much further though, as the Joker has gotten bored of you and the purpose you were supposed to serve, so he wants to get rid of you. He would try to recreate the day he killed Jason, with the crowbar and everything.

Bruce is the one to save you before you get blown up though, Bruce almost in a frenzy to not lose another kid that way every again. You would be bruised and battered with broken bones and a concussion, but you would be alive.

They would bring you to a doctor or healer, probably a league one for identity reasons, and the fact that they could use magic to heal you faster.

Jason wouldn’t leave you alone as you are unconscious for days, the batfam would stick close by but also be working hard on cracking down on the Joker and destroying whatever he has left of his cloning experiments.

After you wake up, a lot of time would be used introducing you to the life of a normal child, and helping you heal both mentally and physically.

Thankfully they have a lot of experienced with helping kids who were raised to be weapons, with Cass and Damian and the likes, so they know what to do for the most part.

Jason never thought he would be a dad, especially not with how young he is, but he takes to it like a duck to water. Hes always had a soft spot for kids, and maybe in the back of his mind always wanted a kid of his own, so you help him settle in a way he didn’t know he could.

They all joke about Bruce spoiling you, because you are like a mix of Cass, Damian and Jason, and that Bruce’s fatherly urges can’t be stopped. It isn’t a joke though, after you learn to have your own opinions and wants, Bruce would bend over backwards for you like he would for any of his kids.

The first time you call Jason dad, he has to choke back tears, because he never thought you’d see him as your dad or accept him. You two go out to bat burger to celebrate.

They of course make up legal papers for you as well so you can start going to school after healing mentally and physically. They wouldn’t allow you to run around at night with them for a while either, as they want you to find who you are before you decide to be a hero or not.

And whether you decide to be a vigilante or just a civilian, they support you the entire way. Even if you pick to be a hero, they’d still be overprotective since you are the youngest, much to your annoyance, but you know its cuz they love you.

They all love you, and you love them. And if you choose to be a hero and base your outfit around your dads and it makes him cry, who will catch him with the helmet on. The other heroes think you are adorable too. You have youngest child privilege in the hero world, learn to wield it.

[bird-inacage]

The Heart Killers EP6-EP7: "You think I'd go on living if you died?"

I'm sure everyone is still wiping away the snot from their face thanks to Episode 6's brutal ending. I want to talk about how next week's preview shows we're leading into the best invitation for reconciliation as far as Bison and Kant are concerned. Let me explain.

In the wake of Bison being confronted with the awful truth, he will likely assume (in the immediate instance) that everything - every single thing Kant has said and done was a total lie - a strategically crafted fabrication to get him hooked, including Kant's feelings. That Kant never loved him at all, it was all an act. We as an audience know that's not true but Bison doesn't.

With Bison getting shot next episode, this forces Kant to drop his mask in the most revealing way possible. In the face of losing Bison, this becomes the catalyst for Kant turning the tables, and proves twofold:

Kant's panic over Bison possibly dying indicates he genuinely cares about him. His entire demeanour during this incident will be under the eyes of everyone present including Fadel and Style. If there was any doubt about Kant's feelings, there won't be now.

Kant can no longer lie to himself. He can't live without Bison (by his own later admission). Throughout EP6, Kant's been trying to assure Style he will move on once this whole situation has blown over, but Kant's simply telling his best friend what he wished he could convince himself of. He tries to believe that he can give up Bison and be okay, that it will all be worth it if it means protecting Babe. But deep down he knows he won't be. This confirms it.

So firstly, Bison will witness just how much Kant cares about him. It doesn't deny the fact that Kant lied to him, but the truth is Kant has also undoubtedly fallen in love with him. The man sits by Bison's bedside sobbing and inconsolable, and I anticipate Kant may well confess why he did what he did whilst Bison is 'unconscious', who may recall some or all of what he says when he wakes.

Secondly, Kant will decide that he can no longer put Bison in any kind of jeopardy and that means: 'fuck the mission'. He's going to have to turn on Chris, and aid Bison and Fadel to escape the pursuit from the police that he helped them gain progress with. Chris already suspects that Kant has fallen for Bison which makes him a huge liability. Sealed by either by his own active choices to defy the police, or in Chris' eyes, Kant has effectively chosen to put a huge target on his back. By extension Babe is no longer safe either.

In the preview, we also see Bison disappear from the hospital, just as Chris plans to apprehend him. It's likely that the next time they meet, Bison has been in hiding (probably watching Kant from the shadows) before he intervenes to help. It could be that Kant is being hunted down by the cops or Mother. For Bison to do this shows he's already on the road towards forgiveness, having observed Kant and processed what he now knows. It's far more complicated than he first assumed, and he's willing to hear Kant out. They're ready to start the path to reconciliation and face what's to come together.

On a final note, I've been speculating who may be the ones leading the attack at the bowling alley. The obvious guess would be the police. But for some reason, I have a wild feeling it could be Keen. (I remember Pepper being on set when these four were filming for this scene). It's possible for example that Mother finds out it's Kant and Style who are the informants and Keen tries to score some brownie points by taking them out. In the heat of the moment, Bison protects Kant on instinct and gets shot. Now that would make this all the more heart-wrenching wouldn't it?

You can keep tabs on bird-inacage’s BL meta directory for my other long-form posts around The Heart Killers, which I’ll be updating in real time as the show airs.

[drunk-person]

Love you, goodbye (The Gossip) P.9

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x cousin!reader

Summary: One of the most talked about gossips among the lower class servants in Kings Landing is the fact (or not) that Aemond Targaryen got involved with his cousin Y/n Targaryen when they were both teenagers. Mainly due to the fact that at the age of 17 she was sent to Old Town overnight. Some employees claim that Aemond was caught between her legs. Some say that, like her father, she had had a horrible fight with her uncle and aunt and was sent away. And other than that none of this happened, she just became interested in the course offered at the Old Town conservatory. But now five years later, Y/n Targaryen is back, and rumors haunt those who favor them.

This chapter is a part of a main story The gossip, you can find the previous chapter, summary and general tags by accessing the link.

Summary of the chapter: After all the things that could go wrong have happened, guilt eats away at those it shouldn't haunt.

Warnings of the chapter: 18+, family fights, dysfunctional family, mention of blood, mild violence, no description for reader.

Word count: 14.300k

A/n: I hope you like the new chapter!! 💕💕 For those who want, the songs in the chapter are Coraline by Maneskin and Angels like you by Miley Cyrus.

"Hey hey kings landing, it seems that the Targaryen family's annual charity ball has just overtaken Cece Lanister's birthday as the event of the year in our city. That's because Aemond Targaryen caused a widespread uproar by physically assaulting Jason Lanister. Those present claim that Jason was merely dancing with Y/n Targaryen, and her older cousin attacked him in a fit of rage while uttering threats. What could cause such a temper tantrum in our dear Targaryen?"

❦❦❦

The music died in the hall at the same moment, leaving only silence and sounds of shock and horror emitted by the guests as they witnessed the scene. Y/n put her hands to her mouth when she saw a trickle of blood running down Jason's chin, who was looking at Aemond in a daze. But the stupor passed slightly quickly, as moments later Jason threw himself forward and punched Aemond in the chin.

Y/n screamed her cousin's name in horror when she saw the movement, but before the Lanister's fist hit him, the Targaryen dodged it with pure practice from the years of swordsmanship training and physical fights that fascinated him so much. Blinded by rage, Aemond threw another punch, breaking Jason's eyebrow and making him stagger back, hot blood gushing down his face and staining both Jason's expensive clothes and Aemond's hands.

Y/n's eyes screamed in panic as she stared at the scene, not knowing what to do. That was when Aegon ran behind her and pulled Aemond off Jason by the lapels of his suit with all his strength, which wasn't doing much good, since Aemond looked like a runaway horse that would trample anything in his path.

-Touch her like that again, Lanister, and I'll kill you! - Aemond shouted as he was held with difficulty by Aegon, whose eyes were wide open. - Did you hear me, you bastard? I'll fucking kill you!

Aegon could barely hold Aemond and nodded for Daeron to help him. The younger brother, who had gone out to get some air, came running from the doors of the hall's garden with wide eyes while everyone watched everything as if it were a spectacle offered at the Targaryen ball.

The guests looked at the scene in shock, none of them expected such an attitude from the always so well-composed Aemond Targaryen, who was now completely out of control being held by his brothers while threatening to kill a Jason Lanister covered in blood.

Y/n's eyes were wide and she could barely move while Daeron and Aegon tried to hold Aemond without success, while Jason was held by two security guards who had arrived. But even so, Aemond did not stop advancing on Jason, his face contorted with pure fury as he threatened him.

Coming to her senses slightly after hearing the whispers of two women behind her, Y/n ran towards Aemond, holding the older man's furious face between her hands while Aegon and Daeron pulled him by the arms and shoulders in an attempt to drag him out of the hall.

-Aemond, please. - She begged with frightened eyes as he tried to free himself from his brothers' grip. - Stop it!

As if looking at her was a point of concentration, Aemond stopped advancing on Jason, staring at her with wide eyes, adrenaline still flowing through his veins. And taking advantage of this, Aegon and Daeron pulled him away from the hall and the shocked looks of the members of high society present there.

Feeling her heart beating as if it were almost in her mouth, Y/n barely looked twice at Jason who was being held by his uncle with some bruises already blooming on his face.

And without looking at the shocked faces of those present at the ball, she just followed her cousins ​​down the hallway with a heavy heart of worry, but before she could go any further Oto blocked her path with his eyes smoldering with pure rage.

-What do you still want? - The older man hissed, taking two furious steps towards her. -Haven't you done enough already?

-That wasn't my intention… - She almost cried in front of the older man who had always scared her as a child, but she held herself back.

-Shut up. - The man roared, making Y/n take a step back with her eyes slightly wide.

-Oto… Oto… Oto… - Before Y/n could have any reaction, the cold and mocking voice of her father came from the end of the hallway. - I think it would be wise of you not to raise your tone to my daughter like that in my presence.

Y/n could feel her father's presence hovering behind her like a shadow. Oto clenched his teeth so hard she thought they might break. And without saying a word to Daemon, he turned and left in the same direction as his grandchildren.

-I didn't ask for your help! - Y/n screeched furiously, going in another direction, leaving her father behind.

She walked through a few corridors before being stopped once more, but this time by the last of the last people she would like to see in the entire universe. Floris Baratheon.

-You don't get tired, do you? - The oldest said ironically, looking at her furiously. - Of drawing all the attention to yourself, no matter the cost.

Y/n said nothing, she just threw her head back and gave an ironic and humorless laugh while looking cynically at Floris.

-If you think you're going to get anything out of this, then you're wrong, because I'm going to marry Aemond Targaryen no matter what! - Floris croaked even more furiously. - I'm going to be his wife and you're just going to be the trash I'm going to throw out after we exchange our vows!

Y/n felt a coppery taste in her mouth when she heard the Baratheon say those words, barely noticing that in her anger she had bitten her cheeks so hard that she had cut them. And with eyes smoking with pure fury she took a step forward, glaring at Floris.

-Do you really want to talk about this, my dear? - Y/n threw her head back, laughing, as if she hadn't been affected by Floris's words, and looked at her venomously. - He doesn't like you, he doesn't even care! He'll never care!

-Do you want to know where Aemond was while you were humiliated in front of the whole city at that ridiculous inauguration last Saturday? - Y/n looked at her, pouting her lips, her eyes shining while laughing.

And approaching Floris, leaving her lips very close to the older woman's ear, she whispered so that only the Baratheon could hear.

-He was between my legs, fucking me on a beach in Lys without even remembering your existence! - Venom dripped from Y/n's lips with each word spoken. - And the best of all is knowing that he never touched you like that and he never will. - Y/n laughed, her eyes shining. - Because he's mine!

Overcome with the fury of humiliation Floris delivered an audible slap to Y/n's left cheek, with enough force to make her face tilt slightly to the side. But the smile didn't leave Y/n's lips, she just laughed even more with that strange glow of anger in her eyes.

Before Floris understood what was happening, Y/n had already headbutted her hard, drawing blood from her nose.

-You bitch! - Floris yelped, holding both hands to her nose, which was bleeding slightly, only the pain preventing her from jumping on Y/n at that moment.

Before things could get really bad, Rhaenys appeared at the end of the corridor with her typical hawk face, even more grumpy, and with long strides she pulled Floris away from Y/n, interposing herself between the two.

-Could it be that you all went crazy today? - She growled, looking between the two, scolding them as if they were children. - There are two women, not war horses!

-Floris, go to the end of the hallway and ask Cole to take you to get that nose taken care of! - She hissed at Floris, whose once impeccable dress was stained by a few red drops of blood that had come out of her nose.

-Y/n, your father is looking for you. - Rhaenys looked at her very firmly as Floris disappeared down the hall with Cole.

-I'm not going anywhere with him! - She hissed, turning her back on Rhaenys.

-You should start considering your actions better, my dear, stop acting so much guided by your emotions and listen to your reason at least a little. - Rhaenys looked at her very seriously with her hands behind her back and serrated eyes. - Things don't usually end well for people who don't know how to control their own temper.

-It's been working well for me so far! - Y/n replied rudely, not wanting to be rude to Rhaenys, but unable to contain herself with so many negative feelings and so much anger inside her at the moment.

-Of course. - The older woman sounded ironic as she curved her eyebrows and lips. - Look where this has brought you.

Without looking back again, or giving an answer, Y/n opened the side door to the corridor and walked as quickly as she could through the gardens, with an almost overwhelming desire to get out of there as quickly as possible, barely able to breathe as she walked through the manicured grass.

She barely felt afraid when reached the empty, dark road that surrounded the place where the family's charity balls were usually held. The only things she could feel at that moment were deep sadness and anger, as she walked alone through the dark street in the middle of the night.

Until a flash of light illuminated the road, almost blinding her, followed by hundreds of others soon after as her name was called from several different directions.

-Y/n, where is your cousin? Is it true that he broke Jason Lanister's nose? - A woman's high-pitched voice sounded as she placed the camera very close to Y/n, who tried to cover her face with her arms without success.

-Are you fucking your cousin? - A man's much rougher and more vulgar voice sounded in the crowd, sending chills through her body as she shook her head negatively, gasping for air, suffocated by the crowd.

-Were you with Aemond Targaryen in Lys last Saturday? - Came the question in a croaking voice as another flash burst very close to her eyes, almost making her fall while she denied everything with her head, barely able to open her lips.

The crowd of photographers suffocated Y/n to the brink of despair. She could barely breathe, in every direction she looked more flashes came burning her eyes and making her dizzy. Her legs seemed to not obey and even if she had a way she didn't know if she would be able to run away from there.

-I heard from a paparazzi friend that he has some very interesting photos of you with your cousin on the beach in Lys. - One of the photographers shouted very close to her in a mocking voice, taking another photo, making Y/n's eyes widen in horror.

Everything was interrupted when a shrill horn blared through the air while the sound of a roaring car engine invaded the environment amidst the deafening noise of the flashes.

-Y/n! - Daemon's loud and firm voice came over the noise of the cameras. - Get that out of her face, you faggot. - He growled, pushing one of the photographers to the ground, causing more flashes to go off.

-Dad! - Y/n sobbed in panic as Daemon pulled her to him by the shoulders protectively, pulling her out of the swarm of photographers and guiding her to the car, slamming the door hard as soon as he put her inside.

-Why did you go out there alone? - Daemon hissed, getting into the car and slamming the driver's door, already accelerating the car once more, threatening to run over the photographers.

-H-he said he has a picture of me with Aemond. - Y/n whined in despair, staring at him and barely hearing her father's question.

-At this point, a photo of you two together isn't even that bad anymore. - Daemon sighed carelessly, watching the paparazzi in the rearview mirror with a furrowed eyebrow.

-A photo of us in Lys on the beach! - Y/n croaked desperately, almost in tears as she trembled slightly, and Daemon frowned, worried about his daughter's disproportionate desperation for a simple photo on the beach.

-Y/n, what were you and that asshole doing on the beach? - He muttered in a very serious voice, pressing his eyes slightly in frustration.

Y/n didn't answer, she just looked at the floor of the car and sobbed.

-What were you doing? - Daemon hissed, more seriously, staring at her.

-W-we swam… naked and then we… we… - She stuttered slightly, unable to say the words in front of her father.

-Fucking hells. - Daemon grumbled, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he understood the connotation of what his daughter was saying.

-W-what's going to happen now? - Y/n whimpered with her hands on her face.

-I'll solve this. - Daemon grunted, looking at the road ahead with a sharp gaze. - I assure you of that.

❦❦❦

Still holding Aemond firmly by the arms, Aegon and Daeron threw him forcefully into a room at the end of the hallway, slamming the oak door hard behind them.

-Holy shit! - Aegon grumbled without expressing any emotion on his face while Daeron looked from one brother to the other in shock.

Aemond still seemed to be slightly fuming with pure rage beneath the surface, pressing his hands together so tightly that his nails tore the flesh of his palms.

Abruptly, the room's door opened with a bang and Oto entered furiously with hard steps, followed closely by Alicent, whose lips were slightly trembling. As soon as he stepped inside, the older man slammed the door behind him with such force that the hinges shook.

-Have you gone completely mad?- He roared. - Lost your mind? Beat up Jason Lanister because of that little prostitute? - Oto hit a wooden table in the corner of the room with force, making Alicent shudder slightly.

For the second time that night, Aemond felt his vision turn red when he heard his grandfather referring to Y/n in such a vile and low manner. And unable to contain himself with such a large amount of anger and alcohol in his blood, he pulled the older man by the collar of his expensive suit, his eyes burning with fury.

-You will never refer to her that way again! - Aemond practically growled at his grandfather, his face contorted with pure rage, his heart racing in his chest - Do you understand me? - It sounded more like a scream than anything else as he almost lifted the older man off the ground. - Talk about her like that again and I swear to the gods I'll forget we're family!

-Aemond, let him go! - Alicent shrieked in panic, but he barely heard her voice, blinded by her rage.

-By the Gods, stop this, brother. - Daeron begged, pulling Aemond back by the shoulders again, along with Aegon, who watched everything in silence, just restraining his brother and not letting him do anything he would regret later.

Aemond released his grandfather abruptly, huffing in anger as he took two steps behind still being held tightly by Aegon and Daeron, while Oto stared at him with wide eyes next to Alicent, who bit the sensitive skin of her thumb unconsciously while her lips trembled.

-What the hell did you do, Aemond? - Viserys hissed, entering the room shortly after, limping slightly with pain in his joints due to the fatigue and stress of the night.

-By the Gods, attacking the boy like that in front of everyone we know?

-He deserved it! - Aemond shouted, making everyone step back slightly. - He deserved it for putting his damn hands on something that isn't his!

And with a bang the door opened once more and Floris entered the room with her face contorted in rage and a visible bruise on her nose still with blood marks, marks that were also on her dress.

-You bastard! - She shouted with bloodshot eyes, going towards Aemond furiously. - Lying son of a bitch!

-What happened to you? - Alicent asked with wide eyes, approaching the girl before she reached Aemond.

-What happened to me?? - Floris laughed ironically, throwing her head back angrily and then shouting. - That crazy bitch attacked me!

Oto lowered his head, placing his fingers on the bridge of his nose, his face contorted with anger and consternation. While hearing Floris curse Y/n, Aegon put his hand back on Aemond's forearm with a frown.

-By the seven, Y/n did this? - Viserys said, looking scared at the girl.

-Aemond? - Helaena's calm voice sounded through the room, completely out of tune with the chaotic environment, as she walked through the open door and towards her brothers. - Are you hurt?

She placed her hand gently on his face, looking at him worriedly, while carefully looking for any injuries on her younger brother's face.

-Where is Jaehaerys? - Aegon asked at the same instant he saw his sister.

-He's with Cole, don't worry, Aegon. - Helaena whispered calmly while still analyzing Aemond's face, who remained silent with his eyes slightly out of focus.

And bringing even more chaos to the room, the rude and cutting voice of Borros Baratheon burst into the corridor.

-Get out of my way, you imbecile! - He growled at one of the security guards in the corridor, already entering the room that seemed to be getting smaller and smaller.

-What does all this mean, Hightower? - He shouted, his face white with anger. - That's not what we agreed upon!

-Mr. Baratheon can believe that all this will be corrected… - Oto began very seriously, but was interrupted by the man again.

-Corrected? - Borros growled. - Your stupid grandson just made my daughter go through the greatest humiliation of her life! Floris has a potentially broken nose!

-You won't talk about my brother like that! - Daeron raised his voice at the same time, stepping in front of Aemond, Aegon and Helaena, as if he were not the youngest of the four brothers, while staring at the man twice his size without a hint of fear in his eyes.

-I'm still going to marry him! - Floris shouted furiously, not paying attention to her father's words or Daeron's complaints.

-Enough! - Aemond shouted with wide eyes and heavy breathing, making everyone's eyes turn to him.

-There will be no wedding! - He shouted, looking at Floris. - There will be no candidacy! - He looked at his grandfather. - There won't be any shit!

-What? - Floris screeched, walking furiously towards Aemond. - How dare you say something like that after everything we've been through?

The moment Floris put her finger in Aemond's face while screaming furiously, he grabbed her hand firmly and pulled the engagement ring with the excessively large diamond from the girl's third finger and threw it against the wall with all the strength he had.

-There will be no engagement! - Aemond shouted, shaking with fury as he let go of Floris's arm. - There never was an engagement because I didn't even agree to it!

-There really won't be any kind of engagement because my daughter won't marry that… that… lunatic! - Borros Baratheon shouted, pulling his daughter away from Aemond with furious eyes.

-You can forget my support in these elections, Hightower! - The man shouted one last time, leaving the room, dragging his daughter with him and slamming the door with a bang.

-What the hell is going on here? - Viserys asked in shock, looking from Alicent to Oto to his children in the corner.

Before anyone could say a word, Rhaenys appeared in the doorway with a deadly serious look.

-Viserys needs to come with me to the hall. - She hissed with serrated eyes. - Damage containment.

-We'll talk about it later! - Viserys murmured, leaving the room with an even more pronounced limp alongside Rhaenys.

A scathing silence fell over the room with Viserys's exit as everyone looked at each other. Aemond's breathing was uneven and he shivered softly, staring at his mother and grandfather, until suddenly a realization dawned on him.

-Where's Y/n? - He murmured, looking fixedly at Helaena.

-It's okay… - She smiled sweetly at her younger brother. - Rhaenys said Daemon was going to take her back to the hotel.

-I need to go see her! - He muttered, frowning, already heading towards the door with long steps.

-Are you completely crazy? - Alicent screamed, on the verge of tears, interposing herself between her son and the door. - Isn’t everything you did enough?

-You're not going to leave here and go after her! - Alicent's voice sounded shrill and angry as she glared at Aemond. - You can't go there! What if someone takes a picture of you after all this? - Distress oozed from her pores as she spoke while she furiously scratched the skin on her thumb. - What if one of the hotel employees at least tells the press that you went there?

Aemond grunted, walking around the room in despair, his skin burned and his head throbbed, the only thing he felt was pain throughout his body.

-What kind of hell is this life where I can't even decide what I want? - He growled, looking at his mother and grandfather in fury.

-You're making me wish I was dead, because being dead is better than being in this family! - He spat out the words in a hateful way with his eyes wide with anger and his breathing labored.

Alicent looked at him in shock with her right hand on her lips, while Oto had a look of disgust boiling in his eyes. Aemond's breathing was so uneven that he felt like he could hear his own heart beating in his ears, with his vision blurred and his hands trembling.

Little by little he felt as if he were observing all of this from outside his own body. Aegon and Daeron's voices echoed through the room along with Alicent and Oto's, while Helaena placed her hand gently on Aemond's shoulder, looking into his eyes, her lips slowly moving in what seemed to be his name.

-Everything will be fine. - She whispered to the youngest carefully, and the sounds gradually began to ring through his ears again.

-No! - Aegon's voice sounded furious as he stared at his grandfather and mother. - I'll take Aemond with me! What do you want to take him to the mansion for?

-To drive his head even more crazy? - The older one laughed ironically - To send him to that septon to mess with his mind? No, not this time! I won't let you!

-My brother is going home with me! - Aegon spoke very seriously, taking the lead from an enraged Aemond.

-Helaena, will you stay with Jaehaerys today for me, please? - He sighed to his younger sister who quickly nodded her head.

-Aegon, this is not your decision to make! - His mother hissed, staring at Aemond who looked away.

-That's enough, we're leaving. - Aegon rolled his eyes, pulling Aemond with him. - Daeron, take Hel and Jae home.

Aemond felt numb, he didn't know if it was from the alcohol or the mental confusion that was eating away at his brain, only realizing he was in the parking lot when he felt the breeze on his face as he got into the car.

-Hey you! - Aegon shouted to one of the valets, sticking his head out of the car. - The one with the weird hat… come here! - He waved, taking a 100 dragon note from his wallet.

-Take my brother's car to our house and give it to the doorman. Tell him I sent you.

And without saying anything else, Aegon accelerated the car and with a loud roar of the engine passed through the garden gates while some flashes were fired around the car.

❦❦❦

Y/n could barely breathe as she passed through the bedroom door, looking in all directions, feeling trapped in the long red dress while listening to her father grumble and shout angrily on the phone. Staggering as she took off her heels, she fell against the bathroom door, and without even undressing, she turned on the shower water and stood under the jet, feeling her heart racing in her chest.

She felt like the diamond choker was suffocating her as if it were a tight hand around her neck. And in the midst of desperation, she pulled hard, making the tiny stones break and fall onto the wet bathroom floor, while she cried, pressing her eyes shut.

Outside, Daemon paced back and forth in the bedroom hall mumbling into the phone.

-Since Sunday? - He muttered, narrowing his eyes. - The bastard has been trying to sell you that photo since Sunday?

-Uncle… - Came Rhaenyra's slightly worried voice on the other end of the line. - He's asking a small fortune for the photo and when I pressed him to see it he wouldn't let me… you know what that means… you taught me what that means… - She grumbled on the other end of the line.

-If he hasn't sold it to any tabloid so far and he won't let you see the photos before payment… - Daemon growled, squeezing the cell phone tightly between his fingers.

-It's because he doesn't have anything really impactful to offer. - Rhaenyra spoke as if she were It was obvious and Daemon was sure she was rolling her eyes.

-Tell the bastard you're buying the fucking picture. - Daemon grumbled angrily reluctantly as he looked toward the open bathroom door, listening to his daughter's sobs.

-What?! - Rhaenyra questioned him in a slightly shrill voice.

-What did you hear. - Daemon rolled his eyes as if she could see him. - She's in despair, I need to get this sorted out right now.

-Uncle, you were the one who taught me that giving in to this kind of thing is never the best way…

-Just do what I said! - He growled, hanging up the phone and putting it in his pocket as he stared at the half-open bathroom door, not knowing what to do, wishing more than ever that Laena had come with him.

With his eyes slightly closed, he entered the bathroom, sighing in relief when he saw that his daughter was still dressed under the water, her arms tightly wrapped around herself and her eyes staring fixedly at a fixed point on the wall. Daemon grabbed the hotel's terrycloth robe and walked slowly towards Y/n, turning off the shower and carefully feeling her flinch at his touch. He cradled his soaked daughter as he had done when she was a child and they were still together.

-Come with me. - He guided her to the room slowly while Y/n shivered slightly, pulling the robe closer and closer to her.

Daemon left her alone to get dressed, returning a few minutes later when he thought it had been more than enough for her to put on her pajamas. Feeling a brief flash of anger when he saw his daughter sitting curled up on the bed, still with that lost look in her eyes.

-Aemond won't forgive me if this picture comes out in the papers. - She whispered without moving a muscle. - It was my idea.

-It won't be published in any newspaper. - He approached the bed, staring at her. - I've already taken care of everything, the bastard wanted to sell the photo to Rhaenyra. I told her to buy it. This ends here, Y/n.

Y/n could barely breathe when she heard her father's words, and suddenly, when she heard him say that everything was fine with such certainty, a feeling of relief embraced her and for a moment she was able to draw air into her lungs again. Until the rest of the night came back like a bucket of cold water, and once again she felt those damn tears wetting her cheeks, while she tried to wipe them away with her fingertips angrily.

-What do you want, Y/n? - Daemon grumbled, sitting on the edge of the bed. - Tell me what's wrong and I'll fix it. - His voice was so convinced that for a moment Y/n almost believed him.

-It's not within your power to give me what I want. - She muttered softly before turning her back on her father and covering herself almost up to her head, pressing her eyes tightly in an attempt to forget that day.

❦❦❦

Not far away, Aegon was putting Aemond under the shower in an attempt to bring his brother back to reality while removing from him the strong smell of whiskey mixed with only the gods knew what else. After helping the younger one get dressed, Aegon frowned when Aemond refused to lie down on the bed, walking to the living room and curling up on the couch, staring at the window, just like in the previous days.

After so many incidents, the sun was almost coming out between the clouds under the melancholic gaze of both brothers.

-Thank you for defending me. - Aemond muttered to the older one without taking his eyes off the window for even a second.

-That's what I should have done a long time ago. - Aegon sighed with a small side smile.

A few minutes later, Aemond heard his brother talking on the phone in the kitchen and immediately paid attention, trying to find out if there was anything else going on in the midst of that endless torment, but it was just Aegon talking to Jaehaerys.

-Uncle Aemy is fine, daddy swears to you. - He murmured softly. - Obey Aunt Helaena and be a good boy. Sleep well, little mouse.

-He cares about you. - Aegon rolled his eyes as he walked into the living room once more after hanging up the phone. - I think it's cute, if you ask me.

Aemond's lips curved slightly in what was not quite a smile, but at least it was something different from the face contorted in anger and anguish of the last few hours. And without the courage to leave the youngest alone, Aegon sat in the armchair and leaned it back, groaning softly as he finally stretched his back after the long day, but feeling a slight discomfort in his butt from having put the apartment keys in his back right pocket.

-Brother? - Aemond's voice sounded sad and empty.

-Yeah? - The eldest turned his head towards him with a worried look.

-Do you think she'll forgive me after what happened today? - His voice still sounded a little strange, and Aegon couldn't tell if it was because of alcohol or sadness.

-Aemond, these things happen, you didn't do anything big. - Aegon rolled his eyes. - Everyone has already wanted punch Jason Lanister at least once in the life

-And well… apparently she broke Floris' nose. - Aegon made a face. - Then I consider you two tied for the biggest psychotic jealous outburst.

-Thank you. - Aemond murmured, motionless with his legs crossed on the sofa, looking more like a statue than a human and giving in to tiredness Aegon passed out.

Inside Aemond, feelings fought among themselves to see which would come to the surface with more force. The guilt for worrying Aegon, Helaena and Daeron. The constant and absolute pain of having hurt Y/n. More guilt for having disappointed his mother and grandfather. Even more pain every time he thought about Y/n, along with that pain of worry about how she was. And below all of that, anger still burned slowly, stirring with more force every time his brain rewound the scene of Jason touching Y/n.

Aemond couldn't say how much time had passed, the only thing he knew was that the sun was high over Kings Landing and that Aegon was moving slowly in the armchair.

-Did you sleep? - Came the sleepy question, but he just shook his head. After all, how could he? With so many thoughts eating away at his brain incessantly and unbearably over the hours that had passed.

-I want to go see her. - Aemond muttered after long minutes without saying anything.

-So go! - Aegon sat down, looking at him.

-I'm afraid. - Aemond finally moved and faced the eldest. - What if she doesn't want to see me?

-I honestly highly doubt that. - Aegon muttered. - I already told you Aemond. Y/n loves you, she wouldn't have come back here after all that shit years ago if she didn't.

-What if this isn't enough to fix things? What if I've hurt her too much for that? - Aemond whispered, squeezing his hands tightly and Aegon finally realized that he was once again holding Y/n's necklace between his fingers as if it were an amulet.

-You'll have to go there to find out. - The older man sighed, staring at him fixedly, his lips curling downwards in a caricatured way while gesturing lightly with his hands. - You know, little brother, when we make a mistake, sometimes no matter how hard we try, we can't fix it. But if we're patient enough… maybe time will fix everything for us.

-I've already wasted too much time.- Aemond murmured in a slightly bitter voice. - I don't know if her love can wait that long.

-Sometimes I wish I knew what it's like to truly fall in love. - Aegon smiled melancholically and Aemond laid his head on the back of the sofa with a sad laugh.

-No, you don't. Look what love did to me. - The pain was almost too much to bear, and he would only bear it if he could be with Y/n at the end of it all.

A little later, when Aegon had eaten something and insisted unsuccessfully for Aemond to eat, he finally decided to check his cell phone for messages from Helaena, but what he found was not what he expected. In addition to the hundreds of messages from acquaintances trying to ask questions in a subtle way, there were photos of Y/n in the middle of the road surrounded by paparazzi in the middle of the night.

-I really need to go out. - Aegon sighed, looking at the phone without letting Aemond see it so as not to go crazy again. - It's only a few minutes, try not to do anything stupid in the meantime.

-Yeah, like spending 10,000 dragons on your corporate card in a whorehouse in the fleabottom. - Aemond scoffed, irritated with the older man.

-This only happened once, and it wouldn't have happened if someone had taken the care to tell me that the corporate card expenses are public. - Aegon rolled his eyes, picking up his wallet from the table.

-Everyone knows that, Aegon. - Aemond closed his eyes impatiently as he heard the door slam behind him as Aegon left.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang and Aemond frowned, still sitting on the couch with Y/n's necklace between his fingers. Feeling a twinge of hope in his chest, he stood up and opened the door, finding himself face to face with none other than his uncle, Daemon Targaryen.

-Great, that's just what was missing in my day. - Aemond grumbled, turning his back on the door and returning to the living room without inviting his uncle in, but he did so anyway, closing the door behind him with a calmness that was unnatural for him.

-What do you want? - Aemond hissed, glaring at him angrily. - Tell me to get away from her? That this is all crazy? Get in the fucking line! - He mocked, sitting in Aegon's armchair angrily with the necklace still in his hands.

-You know, I was just like you when I was younger. - Daemon laughed, sitting down. - Full of repressed anger due to attempts at forced obedience, in my case it was my grandmother and not my mother.

Aemond frowned, leaning forward slowly, listening to his uncle's words.

-I don't like to talk about it. - He fixed his nephew with a scathing look, but even so, Aemond could see a glimpse of pain in his eyes.

-But like you… I fell in love with the wrong person when I was young.

Unable to hide the shock at hearing those words from his uncle, Aemond widened his eyes and stared at him without being able to say a word.

-A belly dancer from Lys who worked in a restaurant on Fish Street. She was beautiful, charming and extremely kind. - The older man smiled melancholy with a somewhat lost look.

-But my grandmother thought she wasn't good enough and made me choose, either I would marry Rhea Royce to strengthen the business and stop all that scandal, or I would be disinherited. - He laughed without humor. - I obviously chose the first option.

-I married Rhea in a grand ceremony held by the high septon with all the members of high society present. - Daemon rolled his eyes in a mocking voice, but Aemond could see a flash of pain in his eyes. - And my life became hell. Saena wasn't the kind of girl who would accept being anyone's lover, and I hated every second I had to share with Rhea.

-Nothing ever worked out in that marriage because nothing grows in bitterness. - His gaze was deadly serious. - Not even after Y/n was born did things get better, because no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't be there. All I felt was hatred for that woman and that damn place.

Aemond listened to everything with his serrated eyes and his breath held in his lungs, as if even breathing would make too much noise in the room.

-Years later, when Rhea died and I finally decided to go to Saena again… - His eyes burned with a mixture of anger and acceptance. - She had already married a fisherman, had two children with him, and it was too late.

-So if you're going to make a decision, make it now, boy. - Daemon growled. - Because it's not just your life, it's Y/n's life too. And you're hurting her.

-You understand very well about hurting her, don't you? - Aemond bit back angrily, after all, who in the seven hells did he think he was saying that, when it was Aemond who dried every single tear that Y/n had shed for Daemon over the years.

-It seems to me that you are starting to master the subject too. - The older man laughed disdainfully at his nephew upon hearing that, already getting up from the couch and looking around Aegon's apartment with clear judgment in his eyes. - Judging by the way she was when I left her earlier.

Aemond froze instantly upon hearing those words, all the anger towards his uncle disappearing immediately upon imagining Y/n once again hurt because of him.

-What did she say to you? - His eyes were glazed as he pressed the silver chain firmly between his fingers.

-Just decide once and for all what direction you're going to take in your life and whether you're not going to choose her… - Daemon hissed, staring at his nephew. -Say it at once so she can follow her own path free of you!

Without waiting for an answer, Daemon left the apartment, slamming the door firmly behind him.

The moment after his uncle left, Aemond felt his own bones compressing under his skin, as if they were going to snap at any moment. The words he had just said echoed in his head loud and clear, as if Daemon was still there repeating them.

Suddenly, the worst scenario he had ever imagined in his life appeared in his mind: Y/n married to another man, with a couple of children that weren't his. Aemond's stomach turned at the thought and, in view of that, he didn't even think about anything, he just left a note so as not to worry his brothers even more, and after passing by his own apartment as quickly as possible in search of clean clothes, he set off towards the Aegon's Fort hotel once again.

❦❦❦

Y/n felt her mind in pieces. She didn't even have the courage to touch her cell phone or read the newspaper with the news of the day, the mere idea of ​​what she could find there made her stomach turn after everything that had happened the night before.

At that moment, all she wanted was to talk to someone and vent about everything she felt, but unfortunately for her, the best friend in her life, who she would usually run to and cry in his arms, was the reason for the tears she had shed in the last few days.

Until a small flame of hope appeared in the back of her mind when she remembered her dear friend who, besides Aemond, had always been by her side. Helaena was so sweet and kind, always treating Y/n as if she were a little sister she had finally gained to play with dolls.

The youngest didn't know if her cousin would still like her after everything that had happened in the last few years, but she was the only person with whom she could consider having a minimally sincere conversation. Y/n put on the first dress she found in her suitcase, a black dress that reached her knees in a light fabric with short sleeves.

Without caring much, she tied her messy hair, still slightly damp from the contact with the fabric of the sheets, into a ponytail that did little to make her look more presentable. Still scared from the encounter with the paparazzi the night before, Y/n didn't dare leave the hotel alone. And just like she had done to buy things for the charity ball, she asked the hotel driver to take her.

The only problem was, she had no idea of ​​Helaena's correct address, she only remembered that Aemond had said that she was living at the exit of Rosby facing the sea, and that was what she told the driver. The man drove down the quieter street in front of the beach and as he passed by the houses, Y/n felt her heart ache and tighten more and more as she saw the happy families playing in the gardens with wide smiles on their faces.

The children ran and their parents chased them, some were going to the beach, probably for a day of family fun and Y/n smiled melancholy as she watched a little girl cross the street holding her mother's hand.

A few meters ahead, something finally caught her attention in one of the houses. A huge arch of leaves over the gate, and behind it a few meters ahead a baby yellow house with a porch that had at least eight different wind chimes and several hand-woven dream catchers hanging from the ceiling.

-Stop the car!

Her voice sounded almost desperate and the driver braked at the same time, only not throwing them forward because they were going at low speed.

Looking quickly around before getting out of the car in search of curious eyes or cameras, and when she didn't find any she opened the door and ran to the gate, pressing the intercom button right away. It took less than a minute for Helaena's gentle, dreamy voice to sound through the receiver.

-Hello?

-Can I come in, Hel? - She whispered into the intercom after a few moments of gathering courage.

Y/n hadn't even finished speaking when the gate had already made a strange noise when it opened and she sighed in relief, walking towards the safety of Helaena's flower garden.

-Cousin! - Helaena appeared at the door with a look of pure melancholy on her face.

-Hi! - Y/n replied, staring at her own feet and then raising her head when she felt Helaena's arms embrace her softly and warmly. Sighing with contentment, she simply hugged her older cousin back, not squeezing her as much as she wanted to, since she knew Helaena didn't like to feel trapped.

-Come in, I have mint tea in the kitchen. - She said, breaking away from the hug and walking back into the house.

The whole place was screaming Helaena's name at the top of its lungs, both outside and inside. There were several plants scattered all over the house, on the sofa a light blue wool blanket that Y/n was sure her cousin had made by hand, and on it a basket full of unfinished embroidery that Helaena placed on the floor so she could sit.

Y/n shivered slightly when she noticed that a large sliding door opened to an adjacent office where there were hundreds of small insects and other things that her older cousin was probably studying. She definitely preferred it when Helaena focused on the turtles and other more pleasant animals.

-How are you? - Helaena returned moments later with two cups of mint tea and sat next to Y/n, looking at her regretfully.

-I don't know how to say it. - Y/n sighed, looking into space, raising the cup tremblingly to her lips and taking a sip of the tea. - It's like I'm being torn apart little by little day after day.

-And things never stop going wrong no matter how much I try to make them work. - Y/n sobbed lightly, covering her face and wiping away a single tear that ran down her cheek before continuing to speak with a slightly choked voice.

-I can't stand crying anymore. - She looked at Helaena with teary eyes. - And I feel like this is the only thing I've done my whole life, it's like things could never work out for me. - She closed her eyes tightly while shaking her head. - As if I wasn't destined to be happy, I wanted so much to believe that Aemond was my destiny… that we were meant to be, but I think my destiny is only sadness and loneliness.

While Y/n sobbed, trying to hold back her tears, Helaena looked at her with a look of deep sadness, not knowing exactly what to say. Suddenly, with a soft snort, Dreamfyre jumped onto the couch and lay down between the two. The gentle Basset Hound stared at Y/n with sad, drooping eyes for a few moments and then licked her leg affectionately, making Y/n sigh and stroke her head.

-What's it like? - Helaena asked curiously, looking at her with melancholy in her eyes.

-How is what? - Y/n frowned in confusion.

-Being in love. I've never been in love in life, I don't even think I will, but I wanted to know what it feels like.

-It's as if there wasn't a chasm too big in the world not to jump over. - Y/n stared at the ceiling with her head lying back on the back of the couch. - I feel like I could jump off the top of Aegon's Hill right now if someone told me that after that Aemond would be mine forever.

-Isn't it absurd that I can have anything my heart desires, and the only thing it wants is Aemond? - She laughed without any humor, just pain and bitterness.

-And I hate so… so much to think that while I cried for him all these years… he simply went on with his own life without me, built new dreams… and just… forgot about me. - She spoke slowly and paused, slightly lost between words.

-To think that while I love him with all my strength, he's no longer sure if he wants me or not. - She gasped almost breathlessly, as if that mere prospect was taking the breath from her lungs.

-He didn't tell you? - Helaena raised her eyebrows in confusion when she heard her saying those words.

-Told me what? - Y/n looked at her, tilting her head to the left side.

-He was devastated, Y/n. - Helaena looked away to the floor as she remembered those days, practically sighing the words. - He didn't want to go back to college, he didn't want to do anything but stay in his room.

-Aegon called me about two weeks later and asked me to come home. - Helaena's eyes roamed the room slowly as she spoke and caressed the warm ceramic of the cup. - I left my college things in Dorne and took a flight to Kings Landing because Aemond wasn't even eating the first few days, asking for you to be brought back from OldTown.

-He was completely destroyed. - Helaena sighed in sadness. - I thought he was going to die from so much pain during that time and none of us knew what to do to help. It took him days to get back on his feet.

-And when he did… he focused completely on his studies and work. - She looked at the floor, playing with the handle of the cup. - He didn't go out anywhere anymore, no trips, no going to the beach, no parties, or anything that could be remotely fun.

-He just stayed locked up at home studying or working at the company. - Helaena bit lips gently, her jaw tense as she spoke. - And when he did go out, it was to go to the Sept to pray and talk to the septon, because if he wasn't our mother start to go mad.

-He asked me to call the conservatory every now and then to check if you were okay without anyone suspecting. - Helaena subtly curled her lips as she remembered that. - He cared Y/n… he never forgot you.

Y/n felt her heart ache as it hammered at high speed against her ribcage at that moment. Every word Helaena said made her want to run to Aemond and beg them to talk. Begging him to be honest with her, even if she herself didn't know if she could be.

-Auntie Hel! - Y/n heard a sleepy and insistent childish voice calling from the stairs. - I want to call Daddy again to see if Uncle Aemy is okay!

-Aegon left Jae with me. - Helaena smiled a little happier as she said that, but soon became serious. - Daeron is trying to calm our mother and grandfather down after last night.

-Aunty Hel? - Jaehaerys called confusedly from the end of the stairs, pulling a thin white hand-embroidered blanket close to him with his eyes still sleepy. - Uncle Aemy is okay, isn't he?

-But of course he's okay, my dear. - She smiled, going to the boy and picking him up with a little effort. - Your daddy is taking care of him and everything will be fine, Uncle Aemy just got very angry with an inconvenient man. - Helaena rolled her eyes as she remembered Jason Lanister.

-But what if he has one of those Sinks? -Jaehaerys held Helaena's face between the palms of his small hands, very worried.

-A sink? - Helaena arched her eyebrows and frowned in confusion, while Y/n watched the equally confused interaction on the couch.

-It's when you go many days without sleeping and fall hard on the floor like a fool! - The little boy explained very seriously to his aunt, still holding her face. - Uncle Aemy hasn't slept in days, Aunt Hel.

-And I don't know if he ate his vegetables too! - He whispered more quietly as if that were a secret.

-My dear, Uncle Aemy will be fine, okay? - Helaena reassured him as she stroked his soft silver hair, even though she herself was not at all calm when she heard that. - He's just going through a really bad week, but everything is going to be okay.

-And you can be sure that I'll make him eat all his vegetables. - Helaena spoke in false seriousness, making Jaehaerys relax and sigh in relief.

-Don't make him eat the asparagus, I hate it when Daddy makes me eat asparagus.

-Okay, so no asparagus. - Helaena smiled and left a soft kiss on Jaehaerys' nose, making him laugh and throw his body back, softening.

Y/n's stomach turned when she heard the boy's innocent words and concerns. As well as seeing Helaena's sweet interaction with the child.

-Hel, I need to go. - She murmured, getting up and straightening her rumpled dress.

-But you haven't even finished your tea! - Helaena looked at her confused, still holding Jaehaerys firmly in her arms, who had now laid his head against her shoulder.

-We'll have another tea later and talk better. - She smiled and spoke hurriedly. - Thank you so much for being so good to me.

-You don't know how much it meant in that moment. - Y/n kissed her own palm and placed it on Helaena's left cheek affectionately as she smiled at her cousin.

-See you later, Bean grain! - She smiled and left a kiss on Jaehaerys' arm, making him smile shyly and hide his face in Helaena's neck.

Leaving the now cold cup on the table she walked again to the hotel car parked in front of Helaena's gate, and before even slamming the door she had already given the driver a new destination, Aemond Targaryen's apartment.

Still fearful after the recent events, Y/n asked the driver to enter through the building's guest parking lot and went up to speak to the doorman right after.

-Can you tell my cousin that I'm here? - Y/n hung on the counter anxiously as she spoke.

-Mr. Aemond left almost an hour ago, miss. - The man said kindly.

-Oh, I see… could you give me the maid's keys so I can wait for him to come back? - She gently curled her lips. - He won't mind, I swear!

Without question, the man handed the keys to Y/n, who thanked him with a slight smile before going up the stairs, avoiding the elevator so she would have time to think as she slowly climbed the stairs, swinging the keys between her fingers.

When she finally arrived at Aemond's floor, she stood in front of the door for what seemed like hours before sighing deeply and opening it. Y/n couldn't help but smile when she saw Vhagar jumping off the soft couch and hiding beneath it as soon as she heard the door open. Little by little, when she saw it was Y/n, the cat took part of her body out of hiding, exposing herself more, making Y/n smile with the action, closing the door behind her.

She walk into the living room and seeing that everything was exactly the same as it had been when she left on Tuesday afternoon. Except for the fact that the room was brighter than usual and she then noticed that the thick, long curtains were open for the first time, illuminating the room with golden sunlight.

But then, her eyes were drawn in another direction, but precisely in the direction of Aemond's once impeccable bookshelf, which now looked unkempt. Since those bright orange clothes from the Lys hotel were thrown haphazardly over it. Frowning softly, Y/n walked over there, holding on her clothes and feeling her heart tighten with pain as she remembered the joy she felt in those days, and she thought with a heavy heart of sadness that she would wear those horrible clothes every day of her life if she could forever feel a third of the joy she felt that weekend.

Still overcome by melancholy, she looked down, feeling curiosity eat her alive when she realized that the trunk that had sparked her interest the other day, had the golden key in the lock, begging to have its secret contents seen. Y/n didn't want to go through Aemond's things without permission, she really didn't, but curiosity spoke louder, practically screaming in her ears.

Taking a deep breath, she turned the key, opening the lid of the trunk and finally looking inside while gently biting her lower lip. The confusion was visible in her eyes momentarily, with a subtle crease forming between her eyebrows, when she saw wooden boxes organized in the left corner of the trunk next to an old and worn book on "how to train your dragon", while in the right corner there were what looked like some scraps of fabric and a blanket.

Still with a frown, she put her hand between the fabrics, feeling something soft in the middle of them, little by little Y/n's eyes began to fill with tears as she began to realize what was stored inside.

Mr. Bunny was there, at the bottom of that trunk lying amidst what Y/n had now realized were poorly sewn clothes and the blue blanket of hot chocolate. He was much more shabby than in childhood, with his thin and thin plush, but even so, hundreds of memories flooded her mind, of all the times they played house and the stuffed bunny was her imaginary little son.

A sob escaped Y/n's lips when she, still hugging Mr. Bunny, pulled one of the fabrics from the bottom of the trunk and realized it was a child's shirt with one long and one short sleeve. The shirt she had made for Aemond the first time she hadtried to sew. The other fabrics were more failed attempts at creating life-size clothes that she had made over the years to give him as gifts, and a carefully folded blue scarf.

Feeling her hands were trembling and damp, she took one of the wooden boxes and placed it on her thighs, opening it carefully afterwards, losing her breath at the same moment when she noticed dozens of polaroids of her and Aemond as teenagers inside. Pictures of them laughing, pictures of them making silly faces, pictures of them exchanging kisses hidden from everyone, pictures that were too revealing for anyone's eyes but their own.

Tears ran freely down her face as she pulled each of the memories from inside the box, with each picture she sobbed as she revisited the moment it was taken. In one of them, Y/n found herself sitting in the meadow with her eyes closed and a smile, holding a bouquet of colorful flowers freshly picked by Aemond and she could see something written on the back, the tears running even faster as she read the words in Aemond's fine and impeccable handwriting.

"Will I see my spring again?"

With trembling hands she took the other box from the trunk, feeling her heart racing as she opened it. At the bottom of the box were a few sheets of paper that she carefully pulled out, sighing when she realized they were drawings she had made for him. Silly things like flowers and bears when she was starting to draw, better and more technical drawings of street cats and an attempt to draw that dragon from a movie the older one liked. But also detailed drawings of Aemond’s hands, face, jaw. Full-body drawings of him, drawings of him in ways that only her eyes could see.

There were several others in the box, and Y/n smiled when she saw one she had made of Aemond with baby Jaehaerys in his arms about one years after he was born, with her own handwriting written in the corner of the drawing.

"Soon it will be ours."

Amidst uncontrollable sobs, reading those words and seeing the drawing of Aemond with the baby in his arms, Y/n raised her head and looked out the wide window, where now with the curtains open she could see the sunset, and a crease slowly appeared on her forehead. Still trembling and feeling her legs barely responding to her, she got up from the carpet holding the drawing against her chest and walked to the window, feeling her heart burn as she looked at the horizon and for the first time noticed what was there.

Visenya's Hills.

Her eyes filled with tears again at the same moment, and when she pressed them she could practically see the memory again, as if the gods were giving her the opportunity to live it once more.

-I love you.

-I love you too, Aem.

-When we're old enough and no one can boss us around anymore, I'll buy a house that will be just for us. Facing Visenya Hills, and we'll be able to get married and build our own lives.. - Aemond's sweet, youthful voice promised once again in Y/n's mind.

He had done it, even if she hadn't come back yet, even if they weren't together. He had saved all those memories, he had bought the house facing Visenya Hills, he had been waiting for her all that time. And a smile appeared on Y/n's lips as she finally reached that conclusion.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the door opened without warning, and with a happy smile she turned towards the entrance, but the smile slowly died as she quickly dried her tears with the back of her hands when she saw Alicent standing at the entrance of the apartment with a deadly look on her face.

-Aunti… - Y/n began, finishing drying her red face, sticky with salt from her tears, but she was interrupted by Alicent at the same moment.

-I told you not to call me that anymore! - The woman spoke in a firm voice, taking a step forward and leaving her bag on the table in the entrance hall.

Those words cut Y/n as deeply as the first time they were spoken five years ago.

-What are you doing here? - Alicent asked in a voice as cold as the look she was giving Y/n at that moment.

-I-I came to see Aemond. - Y/n stuttered slightly, unable to look at her aunt directly.

Alicent gave the girl a mocking look while rolling her eyes, making her even more paralyzed, if that was possible.

-When are you going to stop, Y/n? - Alicent arched her eyebrows, shaking her head and walking slowly towards her. - Stop involving Aemond in your personal tragedies and dragging him to the bottom along with you? Wasn't everything that had happened before enough? Was that spectacle yesterday necessary?

-It wasn't my intention… - Y/n replied with a low and slightly trembling voice

-It's never your intention. - The older woman rolled her eyes in a condescending tone of voice. - And yet Aemond is always in trouble because of you.

-Like when you climbed the tree even when I told you not to… - Alicent squeezed her eyes slightly as she moved smoothly around the room. - And when you couldn't get down, he climbed up to get you and ended up falling and breaking his arm.

Y/n felt a pang of pain in her chest as she remembered that day, about how she really wanted a fruit that was on a very high branch and how when all the adults had moved away she climbed up the branches of the tree to the top, but then was too afraid to go down and screamed Aemond's name until he found her and climbed up to help her. She managed to get down with his help, but when she was almost there, Aemond slipped and fell over his arm, breaking it in the process. The look of pain in his eyes as he told her that everything was okay was forever etched in her memory.

-Or when you decided to play with Balerion even after I told you not to because he was a very irritable animal… - Alicent pointed out once again with an even colder voice as she looked at her from the bottom up, a look that Y/n had seen her use several times with people that her aunt considered inferior to her. - And the one who ended up being bitten in your place was Aemond.

Her aunt poking that wound was even worse, Y/n hated that memory and Alicent knew it. It was about a year and a half after she moved to the mansion, Y/n had always liked animals, her mother had several of them at home and she couldn't believe that Balerion could be so fierce. Until the day she ran her hand over the dog's fur while he was distracted and he advanced his jaw on her with a frightening bark. Before he could bite her hand however, Aemond jumped on him from behind pulling him backwards with all the strength he possessed at such a young age.

He managed to stop Y/n from being bitten, but he couldn't stop the dog from sinking its teeth hard into his shoulder. There was blood and screams, but not Aemond's screams, because he endured everything in silence as was his custom. The screams were from Y/n who cried in panic as she apologized, even though the problem had already been caused.

-You're just ruining his life. You've only been hurting him since the two of you met! - The older woman shook her head as she spoke and got even closer to Y/n, making her feel more cornered by the moment. - Can't you see that?

-I didn't want to hurt him. - She practically whispered, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.

-But you hurt! You hurt and get in the way all the time! - Alicent almost screamed as she gestured with her hands at that point, making Y/n take a step back. - He would have been disgraced just like Aegon if I hadn't sent you away at that time! He would be forever tarnished in the eyes of the shareholders, the company, and the media! I would miss the opportunity to surpass Rhaenyra!

-What do you think is going to happen??? - Y/n suddenly screeched upon hearing that, staring at Alicent. - Aemond is the most hard-working and competent person I know, but it's not just about that! Uncle Viserys will never leave him as the main heir as long as Rhaenyra exists because we all know he favors her!

-It's not just about that! Aemond is cunning, intelligent and exceptionally hardworking, he can do whatever he wants! - Alicent scolded, her eyes sparkling with anger. - He can build a political career like his grandfather in the future, but who do you think will vote for a candidate who married his own cousin? No one!

-Aemond has never been interested in politics. - Y/n bit back, because she knew all of Aemond's dreams, and this wasn't one of them. - It's always been business, I've always wanted to be a businessman.

-He didn't tell you about that, did he? - Alicent laughed ironically, turning her back to her suddenly while putting her hands on her waist and shaking her head. - My father got him a unique opportunity, he could be the youngest representative to be elected in the history of Kings Landing, and he was very excited about it.

-But now thanks to you! - She emphasized very firmly as she turned towards Y/n once again. - The party withdrew the offer! They no longer want Aemond to represent them alongside my father in these elections after last night's scandal! Do you know how good that would be for him? And now he's ruined!

Confusion and pain took over Y/n's features as she could barely look at Alicent with trembling lips, feeling as if her voice had been sucked into a black hole and would never be returned again. The only thought in her mind at that moment was "Did Aemond really want that?"

-If you love him as much as you say you do, why don't you leave him alone? He was doing much better before you came back. He was moving on with his own life, building his own future, until you came back and ruined everything by dragging him down with you into this hole bottomless that you call love! Leave my son alone! - Alicent hissed the words more and more angrily, making Y/n's heart flutter while her stomach churned, and as much as she wanted to, she couldn't raise her voice to her aunt. Her chest hurt when she heard those words, each one hitting her like a bullet.

-You ruin all possible opportunities for a bright future for Aemond. He's not like you, he needs more, he needs greatness, and you're only going to drag him down to mediocrity with you! - She shouted angrily, already very close to Y/n and stopping briefly to catch her breath while putting her hand to her chest.

-Just go away and leave him alone so he can be happy. - Alicent muttered very quietly, looking her deeply in the eyes as she said that, and without waiting for an answer, she turned back towards the door and left with hard steps without saying another word.

Y/n could barely breathe, the air was missing from her lungs and she felt frozen in place, as if she would never be able to move again, or speak, or do anything else. Little by little, as the minutes passed, she managed to move her legs from the spot, and still unable to think straight, she just walked back to the building's entrance hall.

-Miss Targaryen, aren't you going to wait? - The doorman asked kindly, and she just shook her head without saying anything else, just leaving the key on the counter and heading to the visitor parking lot.

-Where to, miss? - The driver's voice sounded as he opened the door upon seeing her.

-H-hotel. - She muttered without looking at him, getting into the car and closing the door behind herself.

As the car drove through the streets of Kings Landing, Y/n began to notice the informative signs of the newspapers and tabloids that made her stomach turn more and more with each news headline read.

"Sins of the father?" And right below a picture of Daemon and Laena with a picture of Aemond and Y/n as teenagers next to them.

"Emotional breakdown leads heir to attack Targaryen associate." Written in huge letters with a picture of Aemond at the entrance to the ball, before all the commotion.

"The morbid aggression of Aemond Targaryen that scared everyone at the annual ball."

"Will he be fit to lead in projects as bold as his older sister?"

In one of them a blurry picture of Aemond with his face visibly contorted with fury being held by Aegon and Daeron as he tried to jump on Jason Lanister again.

The sting of tears stung her eyes once again that day, it was her fault. The people of the entire city were thinking badly of Aemond because of her, it was always her fault.

Y/n could barely move her legs out of the car when she arrived at the hotel, having to use all that was left of her strength to walk to the elevator, and as soon as she got down to her room's floor she wanted to turn around and go away again. Since Aemond was sitting on the floor of the hallway in front of her door with his eyes closed and his head leaning against the wall. The moment Y/n turned around trying to get back to the elevator she heard the sound of his voice calling her softly echoing through the hallway.

She just froze in the middle of the hallway, unable to move forward or turn back. She just stood there motionless, with her eyes tightly pressed together and her lips tightly pressed together as she held herself back from crying once more. His footsteps sounded across the wooden floor of the hotel, getting closer to her with each passing moment and Y/n just closed her eyes tightly, barely able to breathe when she felt him stop behind her.

-Please tell me I can touch you. - His voice sounded in a painful murmur close to the shell of her left ear and Y/n felt all her skin tremble at the same moment, she just nodded without being able to say a single word, and also without being able to deny his touch in that painful moment.

When his hands gently touched her forearms, slowly turning her towards him, Y/n felt as if an electric current was passing through her body, and when she finally faced him head on, she thought she would faint right there when she looked at Aemond's eyes full of pain looking back at her.

-I'm sorry for yelling at you. - He murmured, slowly caressing her left cheek with his fingertips. - I'm sorry for the things I said, for hurting you and making you go through all of this, I really am.

Aemond's eyes were red and moist, his heart burning in Y/n's presence, he didn't even care about the fact that they were in a hotel corridor full of cameras when he slowly pulled her in for a kiss, being overcome by the purest disappointment when Y/n turned her face to the side, refusing him.

-L-let's go in. - She murmured very quietly, looking around for curious looks. - Someone can see us.

-I don't care if anyone sees! - He replied again, holding her face between his palms and staring at her. - I really don't care.

-Aemond, please, let's go in. - Y/n begged, looking around with fear visible in her eyes when she saw the red camera light flashing at the end of the corridor.

Letting an audible snort escape his lips, Aemond released her face and followed her back to the bedroom door, entering behind Y/n like a shadow and closing the door behind him. With the sound of the door closing, Aemond pulled her towards him, pressing both their bodies together.

-I want to fix things. - He murmured against her hair. - I can't lose you. I'd rather be dead than be without you!

-You're enough. - He looked into her eyes as he held her cheeks firmly with his palms. - I don't need the company, I don't need anything else. Just you, you are enough for me to be happy.

Those words would have made her scream with joy an hour ago, but now all she could feel was even more pain knowing that he would hurt himself once again for her, giving up his own dreams just for her, and that pain was unbearable.

-I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. - Y/n repeated meaninglessly, barely holding back her tears as she thought about Alicent's harsh words. - I'm sorry for hurting you.

-It's okay now…

-No, it's not! - She interrupted him, crying with trembling lips. - Not when I keep doing this! I'm not good for you.

-What? - Aemond's gaze was a mix of confusion and sadness as he held her close to him with his fingers lightly tangled in her hair. - Where did you get that idea?

-It's the truth! - She stared at him fixedly, nodding her head. - I've only brought you trouble! Look at the newspapers, look at everything they're saying about you, Aemond! It's my fault!

-No, it's not. - He murmured, bringing his face closer to hers, barely able to contain the pain in his chest when he saw her eyes so sad. - I did it. I hit that fucking bastard because I couldn't stand to see him putting his hands on you!

-You're mine, Y/n. - He growled softly against her neck, bringing them closer and closer. - Only mine! We were made to belong to each other.

-Aemond…- She began, trying to push him away from her so as not to let things go any further than they had, but he interrupted her at the same time.

-I love you. - His voice sounded raw, torn and sad as he stared at her with red, wet eyes.

-Aemond, no. - She cried and he finally kissed her on the lips, leaving behind a bitter taste of salt, sadness and pure pain.

-I love you. - He repeated as he broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against hers without breaking eye contact, still lightly brushing his lips against hers.

-Aem…

-I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, I didn't tell you as soon as you came back. - He begged, pulling her more and more against him, almost merging her body with his. - I'm sorry. I swear I still love you the same way. That I still want you. That everything is real to me as it is to you.

-We were meant to be Y/n, we always knew that. - He whispered close to her ear, his voice contorted with pain and sadness as he frowned. - From the moment we met for the first time.

-We both got it into our heads that we were destined to be together, Aemond. - She sobbed, feeling him pulling her closer and closer to him and not having the strength to free herself. - But maybe we're not, not when everything seems to be going against us.

"Not when it seems like all I do is disrupt your life." She thought silently, hugging him.

-We'll make it work for us, no matter what. - He grumbled very seriously, laying his forehead against hers again.

-If we were truly destined for each other, the gods wouldn't have brought us so much sadness. - She sobbed, pulling her head away from his, staring at him with eyes shining with sadness as she tried to sound determined, but unable to let go of him.

-My father called me to go live in Pentos with him. - Y/n sniffed as she used all the strength she had in her to move away from him, wiping the tears from her cheeks as more of them fell. - And I'm going with him… to spend some time with my father, my stepmother and my sisters.

-What? - Aemond's eyes widened in shock instantly and he stepped towards her once more. - Pentos? There's nothing for you in that place! Never had! You belong here, with me! You can't just leave again!

-Maybe that's for the best. - The youngest sniffed, looking at him with her lips curved down and her eyebrows curved. She could tell him a hundred lies to push him away, she could tell him that she hated him, that she was too hurt to continue. But she wouldn't be able to, Y/n would never be able to look Aemond in the eyes and lie like that, she would never be able to break his heart as she looked into his eyes. Maybe that was exactly why she didn't have the strength to talk about the past.

-I don't want to lose you. - Aemond's voice was a very low murmur while his eyes were broken with pain, he felt at that moment more than ever as if his heart was being torn apart inside his chest. - Not again.

-I love everything about you. - He kissed her neck with tears in his eyes making Y/n's heart race uncontrollably in her chest even though she didn't want it to. - I love when you get excited and smile in a way that makes my entire life worth living.

-I love that crease between your eyebrows that only appears when you're so focused on something that you forget the world around you. - He laughed melancholy with his trembling hands gripping Y/'s arms and kissing her forehead between her eyebrows with such affection that he almost made her melt and run down the floor, so soft in his arms that she could barely breathe or speak.

-I love the fact that you are sweet and kind to people, even when you don't need to be. - He sighed against her neck, brushing his lips there while he avidly smelled the aroma that was now the orange shampoo that she always loved to use in her hair.

-I missed you every day since the moment you left. - The older man held her cheeks between his palms again, looking at her with teary eyes and a racing heart. - I prayed in secret for your return when what I should have been doing was asking the gods for forgiveness for my indolence and begging them for the grace to forget you. - His lips trembled gently as he pressed his eyes together, as if the mere memory hurt him. -All I could think about all these years was you and how much I wanted you back.

Aemond kissed her on the lips again, this time deepening the kiss and tangling his right hand through Y/n's strands of hair, clinging to her tightly as he devoured her lips with longing. Unable to contain herself, she kissed him back, wrapping her arms around him like a vine, feeling that any closeness would still not be enough.

Slowly, Aemond's hands went down her soft thighs in gentle and soft caresses that caused uncontrollable shivers all over Y/n's body as she sighed against his soft lips. Soft, he brought his hands to the hem of her dress, holding it firmly and pulling it up slowly and timidly, as if he were undressing her for the first time.

Both Aemond and Y/n felt as if they didn't know what they were doing at that moment, all they knew was that they wanted to feel each other with all the strength of their existence. Little by little they got rid of each of the pieces of clothing, leaving them behind until they fell naked on the wide hotel bed. There were no smiles in either of their eyes, only unshed tears of pure sadness and melancholy.

The two exchanged those same salty and slightly bitter kisses as they pressed themselves against each other on the bed in search of more contact, as if each other's bodies could bring comfort where words could not. Y/n felt Aemond entering her, letting out a sigh as he finally felt a good sensation after so many days in agony, but after that he didn't move his hips, he just remained still inside her for a few moments, as if he wanted time to stop and for it not to end here.

Tear-soaked kisses were left by Aemond on Y/n's neck while she kissed the older man's long, soft hair. Slowly, Aemond finally began to move against her, drawing sighs from the lips he loved so much. Carefully, Y/n tangled her hands in his hair and pulled him into a slow, soft kiss where they both released the sighs and gasps resulting from the act they shared.

Their breathing became more erratic and Y/n shivered around Aemond, holding onto him with increasing force, crossing her arms behind his back and trapping him with her legs against her as if she would never let go. Feeling her walls writhing against him, Aemond poured himself deep inside her with his breath panting and collapsing on her body, leaving his head lying on the younger woman's chest, feeling a spark of happiness in his own heart when he heard her heart beating like a hummingbird in her chest.

Aemond couldn't tell if it was minutes or hours before he moved to lie down next to Y/n and pulled her close to him, never losing contact with her body.

The youngest looked at him confused, a mix of emotions eating away at her insides in a more than devastating way. On one side, the love and the desire she felt to be by Aemond's side, and on the other, the purest and cruelest fear that it really was everything her aunt had said, of really being to blame for each of Aemond's bad decisions. She caressed his chest softly and delicately, consumed by those thoughts, until her hand went up a little higher and reached a slight unevenness in the skin.

Y/n gently caressed the scar on Aemond's shoulder where Balerion's teeth had torn the flesh so many years ago. They were almost translucent, disappearing amidst his milky skin. Flashes of memories floated back into her mind, and Y/n pressed her eyes tightly, trying to make them disappear.

-You took such good care of me while I recovered. - Aemond sighed melancholically as he remembered her affection and concern while his arm healed and gently kissed the tips of her fingers that were caressing him.

-It was my fault. - She looked at him with sadness in her eyes. - You wouldn't have gotten hurt if it weren't for me.

-I would hurt myself for the rest of my days if it meant I could have you. - He sighed, leaving a chaste kiss between her hair, and Y/n felt a tear run down her face and land on Aemond's chest.

She couldn't continue hurting him and hindering him for the rest of his life, not anymore. As the hours passed, Y/n could feel his breathing gradually becoming heavy and rhythmic, signaling sleep. With a sigh, she stood up shakily, trying her best not to shed even more tears when she saw him lying naked between the sheets. His face still tense even in sleep.

With deep and uneven breaths, she tied her messy hair in a braid and dressed only in a moss green cashmere blouse with short sleeves and a pair of shorts while drying her own tears that wouldn't obey her and insisted on falling. Holding her arms tightly against herself, she looked at Aemond one last time, putting her hand over her mouth to contain a loud sob that almost escaped into the silence of the room.

-Goodbye. - She sobbed softly, curling her lips tightly into her mouth, biting them with her teeth as hard as she could, and gathering the little strength she had left, Y/n put on her shoes, picked up her bag and left the room, unable to resist looking back one last time and staring at Aemond's sleeping figure that resembled an angel more than anything else on earth. Her angel.

tag list: @afro-hispwriter @fan-goddess @strangersunghoon @zenka69 @callsignwidow @amanda08319 @alesswift-blog @marialikescherries @palomavz

Final Notes: Well, well, maybe Alicent is smarter than Oto after all! The next chapter will probably have another flashback...

We finally found out what was in Aemond's mysterious trunk, were you expecting that?

next chapter

[therabbitthatpostthings]

Okay let's talk about Reality in Welcome Home.

YES THIS IS JUST ME RAMBLING AGAIN BUT I SWEAR I HAVE A POINT TO MAKE. This is more of my collecting my thoughts and trying to make sense of what we have right now.

TLDR: The reality of Welcome Home is separated by the "fourth wall" that the characters are not aware of except for few.

So ever since the first update after the website launched I have been wondering about where the reality shift lies in Welcome Home. How can this be a haunted puppet show with no notable names for actors, production crew, puppeteers, etc. I was basically trying to figure out if this was Hello Puppets or My Friendly Neighbourhood kind of situation. Especially after Sally's Halloween Story, it came ever more clear that they are not fully aware of the fact that people are filming them.

This past update has somewhat solidified what I think is happening. The Welcome Home Puppet show exist in it's own version of reality literally separated by the fourth wall. The neighbours are completely unaware that they are puppets, being filmed, etc. The idea that a magic narrator can talk to them is normal (as it is in many children's cartoons, the Narrator from The Powerpuff Girls and The Storyteller from Into the Woods comes to mind). This really all comes together for me alongside the theory that some of the neighbours are self-aware. I'm not gonna argue who is and who isn't but I don believe the Neighbours featured in promotional material that directly speaks to the viewers or anything outside the show are aware.

(Note: It would be a big stretch to say the things like the TV and radio apprenticed were staged or faked by the Welcome Home Crew)

I think the ones most aware are Wally, Barnaby, Frank and Howdy. Everyone else is rather slowly becoming aware or going through the motions like Eddie. Wally and Barnaby are self-explanatory, they are closest to Home and the Narrator(s). Frank by the way of the Bug Theory and the fact that he "breaks script" to comfort Eddie. Howdy is because I cannot think of a way that he would participate in those commercials without knowing somehow. If Home really is antagonistic towards the Neighbours, I can believe they would act in line. Also during Eddie's panic attack, he doesn't move ever after expresses him desire to leave, because he can't move. He's a puppet. It's worth noting that everyone else has a puppeteer accept Wally and Home. Wally has a handler and Home's eyes are the only thing on it that can move via a crank on the side of it not showing to the camera.

I believe the cartoon reality is the one that the puppets see and why in all of Wally's answer videos we see it in IRL footage. He is not blind to what the show is doing. Eddie's panic attack shows up that what they see and we see are very different. This isn't like a foolproof way of thinking because it leaves a lot of holes but most of those holes have to do with things I believe will be answered later. Like:

What exactly is Home and the power Home has over the Neighbours?

Why did the show shut down?

The benefactor sending the packages

Why is Wally the one that remains? Where are the others?

Why were we able to see what Eddie and Wally sees outside of the reality they exist in?

etc.

Thats last point is still up in the air for me because that easier could of been a storyteller point but the fact that Welcome Home narrator and logo pops up at the end of the Homewarming Special alludes that everything Eddie went through we saw. Or at least it was filmed and probably cut out of the official broadcast.

I don't have any answers. What we do know now is that the show shut down, someone is still present and sending packages to the WHRP and Playfellow. This mysterious black goop has the power to influence those in contact with it, even causing loss of time. The WHRP went through an investigation internally and in the website. W is a part of the website and actively doing their own investigation after "supposedly" making contact with Wally in the post-halloween/pre-March 9th update (which you can see btw on the Wayback Machine). Wally, regardless if he is the one sending the packages, is using them to communicate. He wants someone to find him because he KNOWS we are watching and we are looking for him.

Personally I believe Home or whatever entity is controlling it, is sending the packages and trying to control others. I think Wally is a by product of all this and is trying to find his way out by any means necessary. I will never let my "Wally did nothing wrong" propaganda go.

This all btw does nothing to answer the mystery on the website. I have no idea how this reality breaking allowed Wally yo infiltrate the website. The fact that his eyes are no longer visible on the page means he's not here watching us (for now). Also the "You" character description is missing. As far as the Bug theory goes, I still believe that is Frank trying to give us more insight on what happened/happening. Same goes for W, who we know is human since they described the same events of the phone ringing and hearing Wally that the curator did. I don't believe this is Wally vs the Neighbours. I think this is the neighbours being physically or metaphorically trapped while not able to reach Wally they can reach this website and are doing the same as Wally, reaching out to us. I still believe Home/Entity has some control over them and is connected to who is sending the packages and infecting the WHRP and Playfellow. W is also apart of WHRP but has taken notice to everything going around and is choosing to document their findings since the WHRP is starting to run a tighter ship after the last slip up of W (probably) contacting Wally.

Hopefully this made sense to you guys...

[vodika-vibes]

sorry for asking for more mer au when you've done so much but I'd like to request hurt/comfort with hunter and a reader who has a fear of deep water since nearly drowning as a child, and being afraid of mer because of it, and hunter helping her overcome her fears :)

Please Trust Me

Summary: Hunter finally found her, his soul mate. She’s perfect. Pretty and kind and good…and absolutely terrified of him and the ocean. Luckily, Hunter has never been one to give up.

Pairing: TBB Hunter x F!Reader

Word Count: 1566

Warnings: physical assault

Prompt: MerSoul AU

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Alright, sorry that this took so long, I wasn't sure how to start it out, but I think I have it where I like it now! Happy reading!

Hunter has been watching her for days, long enough that he knows his brothers would give him a hard time if they knew about it. They don’t, of course, because he had to swim upriver just to keep an eye on her, and his brothers wouldn’t follow him.

Several days ago Hunter decided to sing for his soulmate, and she appeared. Confused and unsure, she clung to the railing on the pier. But when he tried to talk to her, she flinched as if he brandished a blade at her, and ran off.

He’s not sure if it’s the water she’s afraid of, or him, but Hunter is determined to figure it out.

And encourage her to love him.

His time watching her has taught Hunter a lot about his mate. For one, she’s kind. He has seen her tending to younger siblings (or perhaps cousins? The children look like her, but they call her by name so she can’t be their mother—), and the children clearly adore her.

She’s also very steady, when a neighbor came over to yell at her for something the kids did, she withstood his shouting without flinching and then tore him a new one.

It was insanely attractive.

He’s also noticed that she never wandered close to the lake that he’s temporarily living in. In fact, she gives the lake a wide berth, as though afraid that the water will reach out a grab her.

Which is a problem.

How is he supposed to win her over if she refuses to come near the water?

Hunter has spent several days considering this very problem and has finally come up with a solution. He’s going to sing for her, nightly, and use a messenger crab to deliver little trinkets and pretty shells to her.

With luck, she’ll be curious enough to come and see what’s going on.

And if she doesn’t…well, he’ll just have to try something else.

It takes three nights of singing and three mornings of her waking up with new presents before she comes to investigate the lake. 

She comes to the water early in the morning, following Hunter’s messenger crab, and she stops at the edge of the dock. She’s trembling, even from a distance Hunter can see that, but she’s clutching the string of pearls he sent to her this morning, and he can see the small blue shell he had delivered to her yesterday hanging around her neck.

She clearly likes the presents, and Hunter couldn’t be more thrilled about that knowledge if he tried.

He pops out of the water, far enough away that she can retreat if she feels like she has to, and he feels a surge of delight when she doesn’t back away from him as he approaches.

Instead, nervously, she folds her legs under her and kneels on the dock, her hands wrapped tightly around one of the railings. She’s terrified, but she hasn’t left.

“You came!” Hunter blurts, unable to stop himself as he lifts himself out of the water so he’s able to see her face.

She stares at him, specifically at his waist where skin meets grey scales, and then lifts her gaze to meet his, “You’re a merman.” She sounds stunned.

“I am,” Hunter agrees, “I’ve been following you since that day on the beach.” He admits, sheepishly, “I think I scared you.”

She shakes her head, “I have hydrophobia,” She explains, “I left the beach because I had a panic attack. Honestly, I’m not very comfortable being here.”

Hunter’s gaze softens, “You don’t have to push yourself. I can wait for as long as you need.”

Her hands tighten around the string of pearls, “You keep leaving me presents—”

“I do. You’re my other half, my soul mate.” He explains, “You can feel it, can’t you?”

She presses her hand over her heart and lowers her gaze.

“You can.”

“Yeah, I can.” She admits after a moment of silence, “You deserve someone better than someone afraid of water.” 

“Wait, wait.” Hunter lightly touches her arm, “I don’t want better, I have you and you’re all I want. I’m a patient person.”

She makes a face, “But what if I’m never comfortable in the water? I nearly drowned when I was a child, I don’t even know how to swim! I—”

“I would never let you get hurt.” Hunter interrupts, drawing a look of astonishment from her, “When you’re with me in the water, I promise that you’ll be safe. You just have to trust me.”

She averts her gaze for a moment and then opens her mouth to say something, but then someone calls for her from the house, “Um…I have to go.” She hesitates a moment longer, “Maybe we can continue this conversation later?”

“I’ll be here.” Hunter promises, “For as long as you need.”

She favors him with a small smile and then gets to her feet and carefully hurries back to the house. Hunter watches her leave before he lowers himself back into the water, he might as well try to get some rest while waiting for her to come back.

Several hours later, after sunset, Hunter is pulled from his light dozing at the sound of raised voices. The voices are muffled, but one is very obviously the voice of his soulmate.

Swiftly, he swims up to the surface and pokes his head just out of the water to see what’s going on.

Yelling isn’t unusual at this home, his soulmate usually isn’t involved though. 

Hunter immediately finds her, standing on the dock, her back to the water, and her family’s neighbor in her face, yelling at her. 

It’s almost as if time moves in slow motion. The neighbor lifts his hand and hits her with something, a stick of some kind, and Hunter’s heart sinks as she falls backward into the water.

His soulmate can’t swim, but she definitely can’t swim when she’s unconscious. 

He swims faster than he’s ever swam before, diving to the bottom of the lake and wrapping his arms around her, before dragging her back to the surface.

She coughs out some water, and her head lolls to his shoulder, but she’s breathing, and that’s good enough for him. Hunter brushes some of her hair out of her face, carefully tilting her head so he can see where he hit her.

There’s a clear gash on her temple, and it’s bleeding badly. Quickly, Hunter rips the sleeve off of her shirt and presses the cloth against the open wound, to try and stem the bleeding. 

He doesn’t dare bring her to shore, just in case the neighbor is waiting for her.

Eventually, something like 30 minutes later, she stirs awake and blinks, dazed, at Hunter.

“There you are,” He breathes out, “You scared me, pretty girl.”

She blinks at him slowly, and Hunter watches as slow awareness seeps into her dazed eyes. He recognizes the moment she realizes that she’s in water, as she tenses and her breath quickens.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay. You’re fine. I have you.” Hunter tightens his arms around her, “I have you, you’re safe with me. I promise. You need to calm down.”

It takes a few moments, but as she realizes that she’s not sinking and that she is, in fact, safe in his arms, the tension drains from her body and her breathing slows to a more even pace, “There we go.”

“What happened?” She asks him, her voice slightly hoarse.

“You don’t remember?”

She frowns at him, shifting in his arms so she’s able to wrap her arms around him, “I remember…I fed the kids and put them to bed.” She murmurs, “And then…” She pauses, “We had a visitor, I think? The neighbor. He was complaining about the kids, I told him he needed to stop yelling, and then—” her frown deepens, “And then…I don’t remember.”

“You were fighting on the dock, and he hit you with something, a stick of some kind.” Hunter explains, “You fell into the water.”

She stares at him, “You saved me?”

“Of course, I told you I would.”

She stares at him for a moment, and then she smiles at him and tightens her arms around him, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for doing the right thing,” He replies, “I’m just glad that I was here to help. You really should learn how to swim though, angelfish.”

She sighs softly and drops her head on his shoulder, “Yeah, I guess.”

“I can teach you if you like.”

She seems to curl into him, as best as she can, “I’d like that.” She pauses for a moment, “Oh, I have to get back to the house!”

“I have you, sweetheart. Hold on tight,”

As she hurries back to the house, slightly unsteady due to her head injury, Hunter watches her. He’s going to stick around for a bit longer, just in case the neighbor comes back, but he has high hopes for his connection with his soulmate.

He tilts his head and listens as she approaches the house, and he smiles when he hears her mother release a cry of horror, everything is going to be alright now. Her parents will take care of everything. 

And Hunter will be here to deal with the man who tried to kill his soulmate, should he get to close to the lake.

[emiplayzmc]

Of course the idea of Rodger being present on the run glisten gets left behind is great angst for the ship, imagine if he wasn’t. You can do so much with that too.

He’s just waiting by the elevator for the group to come back up, only to not see his boyfriend leave the elevator with the rest of them. Everyone in the group looks shaken up and emotional but when urged for an explanation struggle to get it out initially cause it’s so hard to admit. How hard it would be to process the idea that he’s just gone. Cause he can’t be gone, Rodger just saw him earlier that day. He helped him choose what bow to wear, they talked while glisten did his makeup. He was just there. Wondering if glisten was scared, did it hurt? Did he think about Rodger when he realized he was going to die? Did he even have time to think about anything at all, or was his mind completely clouded by pain? Was he still aware when the elevator left? Part of him hopes he wasn’t, for the idea of him hearing the elevator slam shut leaving him to his fate is too much to bear. The only slight comfort at the time being that twisteds seem to be numb to the pain and fear they experience. He can only hope that glisten wasn’t scared for long before his mind left him. Yet this is disproven the moment he sees him twisted for the first time, and has the disturbing realization that his mind is still there and has been since he first got attacked.

HIII HELLO I AM NOW NORMAL ENOUGH TO ANSWER ASKS, YIPPEEE ANGST!!!

OUGHHH YEAHHH.... he's just standing there as he hears the elevator come up in the lobby, watching for him to walk out arguing with Shrimpo or chitchatting with Teagan? He doesn't quite register it when he's not with the group that he'a gone at first, the others telling him they're so sorry and trying to explain through choked words what happened, just standing there staring as if he's expecting Glisten to teleport out from a hiding place even when his mind is already starting to panic. What if he ends up doing so many short solo runs to the Twisted floors without telling anyone so he can just *find* Glisten? Just... to confirm the worst, in his mind. A mix of denial that he's dead and trying to accept the fact that he's gone, and try to get a headstart on noting down his behaviours for when actual teams encounter him.

And he finds Glisten one time. Maybe alone, maybe with a team, but he hears him calling for someone, *anyone,* somewhere on the floor. He thinks it's just his imagination, but when he goes to check, *there he is.* Still seemingly alive. Very traumatized and a bit unstable, yeah, but conscious. He's been alone that whole time. Do you think Rodger tried to justify it by thinking of it as just some cruel trick? Ichor puppeting his body and making it seem like he's still sentient to trick the group into a false sense of security before attacking? And yet, he never attacks. Never acts like he's trying to manipulate or lure the other Toons. He just follows them around like a lost puppy, especially Rodger, engaging in conversation and maybe being a little too clingy or - for lack of a better word - 'Twisted' in his mannerisms but otherwise fine.

By the time they have to leave the floor, you think Rodger had to battle it out in his mind between protecting the other Toons from a potentially dangerous Twisted and try to convince himself that Glisten was just tricking them, even when his mind is screaming at him that he isn't, vs. pushing his reason and apprehension to the side to save the one sentient Twisted that he'd once been so close to and bring him with them?

(I saw someone started writing a fic / doing a comic with this concept recently and AUGHHH the ANGST it HURTS /pos)

[sykesandskittles]

CHAPTER 5

Harlow

I DON’T HEAR anything else he says. I abruptly rise from my chair, practically tipping it over, and get the fuck out of that cafe as fast as I possibly can.

By the time I reach the patio, my chest is so tight, that I can hardly pull in a lungful of air. I feel like I can’t breathe, like I’m going to pass out, and my heart is beating so fast, I can feel it pulsing in my throat.

Fuck.

I know exactly what this is. It’s a panic attack–one of several dozen I’ve had in the last few months. But regardless of how often it happens, each time is just as scary as the last. It never gets easier or less terrifying.

I feel a hand on my arm. “Harlow , are you okay?” Noah. Of course.

I shake my head and struggle to take in big gulps of air. It’s not working. “Breathe, Little Rabbit. In slowly, then out.”

His voice is oddly soothing, but the fact that he thinks he can talk me out of the panic attack that he created is infuriating. I swallow and jerk my

arm out of his grip. “I’m fine. Just leave me alone.”

It takes everything in me to get those two sentences out, but I manage it. “I’m not leaving you alone when you’re obviously having a panic

attack,” he says.

Everyone is still staring at us–even more so now–and that just adds to my anxiety. I need to get out of here. Somewhere safe, quiet. I have a class in a few minutes, but I’m not sure I’ll make it. I have no choice, though. I’m here on a scholarship, which means I can’t afford to be bumped from any of my classes—and the first week is crucial. Each class is only allowed a certain number of students, and if I’m not there to claim my seat, it’ll be taken by someone else.

I force my spine to straighten, and I suck in a deep, strengthening breath. My heart still feels like a jackrabbit thumping against my ribs, but I do my best to ignore it.

“My next class starts in a few minutes. I have to go.” And with that, I turn toward the social science building without waiting for Noah to respond.

Damn. Day two and I’ve already been nearly assaulted, claimed by the campus king, and had a panic attack. I’m starting to think this school has too much drama for me.

But it’s the only school that offered me a full ride, so I guess I’m stuck here.

I book it to the social sciences building and find a seat in my next class. Once I’m settled in the corner, away from everyone else, my heart rate starts going back to normal. Thank God.

I pull my phone out to text Talia .

Just had a full-on panic attack in front of everyone at the cafe.

She texts me back immediately.

You ok?

I type out my response.

Yeah, better now. We were invited to a sorority party tonight. Come with me?

Considering my anxiety level, I probably shouldn’t be going to a party tonight, but I know it’ll cheer Talia up. Besides, with a couple of drinks in my system, I’ll be fine.

My phone pings. It’s Talia .

Sure. Sounds good. I have to meet someone after class, but I’ll text you later.

I shove my phone into my backpack and try to focus on the professor, who is introducing himself, and for the rest of class, I’m just kind of there. Present, but not really paying attention. All I can think about is Noah. Why am I so transfixed by him? He’s such an asshole, and not only that, he’s surrounded by other assholes. I don’t need that in my life.

The queen of bad decisions. That’s me. I should have told Noah to fuck-off last night. Well, I guess I did, but I didn’t follow it up with the vitriol he deserves—and that’s on me.

At some point, Skye texts me with the information for the party, and I forward it to Talia . One of my classes runs kinda late, so rather than have her wait on me, I suggest meeting her at the party.

It’s dark when my last class lets out. About thirty of us pour out of the social sciences building, dispersing in multiple directions.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

A familiar baritone cuts through the crisp evening air, and I shudder. Not from cold, but from awareness spiking in my veins. Noah Sabastian was waiting for me outside the building. This is the third time being accosted by him today.

I keep walking. “Oh, look. It’s you. How do you have so much time to follow me around? Don’t you have your own classes?”

“My building is next to yours,” he replies, keeping step with me.

The physics building. Hm. Maybe the guy is more intelligent than I give him credit for. Or maybe he’s buying his grades, which somehow seems more likely.

“Didn’t we kinda say everything we needed to say this afternoon?” I huff. “Why are you here?”

“It’s dark. We don’t want a repeat of last night, do we?”

I stop and turn toward him abruptly. “Didn’t you say you took care of that? I mean, the guy is in the hospital, right? Sounds like he’s going to be laid up for a while. ”

“You’re dating one of the Sacred Sons, Harlow . He’s not the only one who’ll come after you.”

“First, and foremost, we’re not dating. So let’s get that clear. Second, why would anyone come after me? Why? I’ve been here less than a week. The only questionable thing I’ve done was attend your stupid ceremony.”

And, seriously, I’m looking for less drama in my life, not more

Noah shoves his hands into his pockets and narrows his eyes at me. “Listen, Harlow , I know this campus. I know the people here. Anyone connected with the Sacred Sons will draw attention.”

I start walking again, and he follows. I’m walking toward my residence hall, which thankfully isn’t very far. “If you run this place–like you claim you do—then can’t you just tell people to leave me alone?”

“It’s not that simple.” His voice is tight. “The only way people will leave you alone is if they see us together. If they know you’re under my protection.”

Jezus. “This is beginning to feel like some weird mafia situation.”

We reach my building, and I open the side door. When he amoves to follow me, I turn on my heel and put my hand out, stopping him, “I’m good, thanks. I don’t think anyone is going to accost me in the time it takes to get to my room.”

Just as I turn back to walk through the door, he grabs my wrist. “Are you going to the party tonight?”

If I say yes, I know he’s going to insist on coming, too. Or at the very least, walk me there.

“It’s been a crazy couple of days, and I’m exhausted. I think I might just go to bed early,” I lie

He nods once and releases me. “Text me if you go out.”

Not a chance .

“Sure, whatever.”

When I get upstairs, I stop by Talia 's room and knock. No answer. Her roommate isn’t even around. Not that I expected Talia to be there. She

probably headed over to the party a while ago. She’d never responded to my last text, but she can be a little scattered, and sometimes she forgets to reply.

Emily is on her bed when I enter. Her side of the room is so much cuter than mine. A couple of days ago, both her parents came to help her move in. Her mom, especially, had fussed over her—helping her set up her desk, and arrange the pictures on her wall. Her dad had set her computer up and made sure she was connected to the wifi, and all that.

I’d watched it all with envy.

No one had ever taken care of me like that. Never. Everything I do, I do alone. I’m an only child, and I’ve lived with my grandmother since I was eleven. And my grandmother loves me, but she’s tired and has a lot of health issues. My dad is nearly nonexistent, and my mom doesn’t give a shit about anyone but herself. So yeah, she’s not coming here to take me shopping and make my side of the room cute. I doubt she even knows I’m here.

“Hey,” I say as I walk in, tossing my backpack onto my bed. “I’m headed over to a sorority party. You wanna join?”

Emily glances up from her laptop. “Um, I mean, I need to get some reading done for class…”

I open my dresser drawer and pull out a pair of jeans and a tank top. We have a shared bathroom down the hall that I could use to change, but going all the way down there is so annoying, so I decide to just dress here. As soon as I shuck the pants I’m wearing, Emily averts her gaze. I tug my jeans on and replace my baby-T with a plain white tank top.

I’m refreshing my makeup when I make my last-ditch effort to convince Emily to join me. “Are you sure you don’t want to come? It might be fun.”

Honestly, I don’t even really want to go myself, but Talia is probably already there, and I really don’t want to walk over alone. Not after what happened last night.

“We could always leave a little early, so you can get your reading done,” I add.

She hesitates for a second, then closes her laptop and sets it aside. “Okay. Maybe just for a little while.”

We’re both ready in about five minutes, and we start heading over to the sorority. It’s only a block away, so it takes us about three minutes to get over there.

The place is a fucking mad house.

The house is beautiful, two stories, and right on the beach. Inside is chaos, though, and as soon as we get there, I text Talia .

I’m here. Where are you?

She doesn’t text back right away, so I leave Emily out on the back patio with a couple of her friends and go in search of Talia .

This place is packed to the gills with hot guys, though, I’ll say that. These guys definitely weren’t at the Burning Crown ceremony last night— which is a point in their favor. The guys here have that chill, beach boy look, which is right up my alley.

Inside, bodies are crushed together, undulating to the rhythm of the music, which is blaring over the din of laughter. As I look for Talia , I grab a drink—a solo cup half filled with cinnamon-flavored whiskey. It tastes like a Red Hots candy and goes down really easy.

I’m three sips in, and already feeling relaxed as I hunt for Talia . But she’s not here. In the span of ten minutes, I’ve looked in every closet and dark corner. I glance at my phone for the millionth time, and there’s still no response from her. Where is she?

I try not to panic, though. She’ll be here. Maybe she met a new friend and she’s just running late, caught up in some random drama. Who fucking knows with her. She’s always been the life of the party, and pretty impulsive. I wouldn’t put it past her to tag along with a group of girls she’d just met.

I don’t see my new friend, Skye, either, so I’m standing alone, just finishing my first drink, when someone sidles up beside me. At first, I don’t even notice. But after a few seconds, I hear a male baritone address me.

“Hey,” he says. “Didn’t I see you at Rush House last night?”

I glance over to see a cute guy with wavy brown hair, dark eyes, and a sweet, wholesome smile. He’s wearing a blue polo and looks like he just stepped off a golf course. I nearly do a double-take, because he looks so out of place here.

“Hi,” I say with a smile, raising my voice so I can be heard over the music. “Yeah, my friend, Talia and I were invited. Are you a member?”

“I’m not supposed to say,” he says with a smile. “I’m Nathan Hearst.”

I nod awkwardly. “Harlow .”

He looks confused and leans in closer to me. His clean, eucalyptus scent envelops me. “I’m sorry, say that again?”

I inch closer to him. “It’s unusual, I know. My mom is weird.” I laugh a little to cut the awkwardness. “It’s Harlow ."

“Oh, Harlow .” His head bobs. “That’s a really cool name.”

“Thanks,” I answer, draining the last of my cinnamon-flavored whiskey. He notices my empty solo cup. “Can I grab you another drink?”

“Oh, thanks. I was drinking the whiskey.” I hand him my cup, and he leaves to refill it. He’s back in under a minute, handing me a fresh cup. I nod, and thank him again, taking a sip.

“You look like you’re searching for someone,” he says, watching the girls in the middle of the room as they twerk against each other.

“Uh, yeah, I’m supposed to meet my friend here. She’s probably on her way,” I say, glancing at my phone. Still no message from her.

“So what are you studying?” he asks.

I tell him what my major is, and we make small talk for a bit—all the while, I’m watching the front door, waiting for Talia to walk through it.

It’s so nice to have a normal conversation with a cute guy, though. I’d almost forgotten what that felt like. All the guys I’ve been involved with over the last couple of years have been both hot as fuck and crazy like a devil—Noah Sabastian included.

This guy is just…normal. And the longer we talk about nothing, the more comfortable I feel. Maybe my luck in guys is actually changing.

Nathan and I are just chatting about nothing when everyone in the house

—and I mean, the entire house—erupts into a roar of excitement. Everyone stomps their feet in a rhythm they all seem to know by heart .

What the…?

Nathan glances at me, and I get the sense he’s trying to gauge my reaction–which, honestly, is just confusion. “Now the party has officially started,” he explains. “The Sons have just arrived.”

[cashandprizes]

The Boring CBT Final for the Fun CBT King - By Lexi Moon aka CashAndPrizes

Okay! People asked and I fought tumblr to deliver!

Hi, I'm CashAndPrizes also known as Lexi Moon, and I am a doctoral student studying clinical psychology. I wrote about Redacted (specifically Lasko) for my final for Cognitive Behavioral Therapies. Here's the paper.

Shout out to my beloved friends in the WhoreHome and W.A.R. for keeping me going through this paper. I love you dearly.

Words of warning:

I am a clinician in training. I am still being supervised. I have not been graded on this final yet. (I'll update when I get it!) And I am definitely not an expert. Take everything here with a grain of salt.

I am not a licensed therapist but even if I was I am not your therapist. I'm play acting as Lasko's therapist for a class. Take everything here with a grain of salt. If you read any of this and think "It's a bit loud in here" do not assume this is absolutely you. If you have the means, please try finding your own mental health professionals and if you don't, please do a lot of research on these subjects. Don't use this as a diagnosis please, I'm just a guy.

I filled in a lot of Lasko's backstory based on my experiences with patients and my beloved Lasko kinnies who were instrumental to the writing of this paper. (I won't tag you and call you out, but you know who you are an I love you.) Your headcanons might be different - that's cool. I'm not claiming canon over most of this - but I did use the transcripts and timeline very heavily.

If you don't like the idea of pansexual, transgender, Indo-Caribbean/Trinidadian child of immigrants Lasko - pookie this might not be for you. If that sounds like your jam though - come on in, the water's fine.

Without further ado. Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Mambo Number Five. Here's Lasky. I can, in fact, fix him.

Case Summary

This case conceptualization addresses the hypothetical course of treatment for Lasko Moore, a character in a modern-fantasy audio narrative. Lasko Moore presented to treatment as a 30-year-old pansexual and transgender Indo-Caribbean man working as an administrator and adjunct professor at Dahlia Academy for Magical Novices for persistent anxiety symptoms. Upon intake, Lasko reported experiencing near constant racing thoughts that he was unable to “turn off”, panic attacks, and increased anxiety about social interactions at his work. He described spending a significant amount of mental energy preparing for and reviewing social interactions with colleagues such that he often avoids his colleagues in an effort to minimize his anxiety. Lasko reported that the anticipation around coworker interactions (meetings, socials, etc.) becomes quickly overwhelming as he becomes preoccupied with what he will say and do in an effort to try and minimize his tendency to become hyperverbal and overshare information as well as stuttering. He described this process as starting with embarrassment over previous interactions which leads to critical thoughts like “I shouldn’t be so anxious” which leads to rehearsal of potential outcomes of interactions. However, in the moment of social interactions he becomes so anxious as there “aren’t any objectives [or] any specific roles” to the conversations that he “word vomits” and becomes tangential and overshares until he runs out of breath and stops himself from talking due to his own critical thoughts and begins to isolate himself. 

Lasko was initially diagnosed with Panic Disorder (F41.0) and Generalized Anxiety Disorder (F41.1) to capture his persistent anxious state with occasional intense bouts of extreme anxiety and panic. An initial long-term goal was collaboratively set as improving his coping strategies and tolerance of anxious affect to better network and create relationships. As this was Lasko’s first time utilizing mental health services, treatment began with inhibitory learning in combination with Acceptance and Commitment Therapy in order to facilitate willingness to experience interoceptive cues and extinguish avoidance due to fear of negative consequences. This was able to reduce his panic attacks as he felt more able to tolerate overwhelming anxious affect. Despite his clear engagement with treatment through attendance, homework, and skills practice, Lasko continued to struggle with critical thoughts and avoidance of coworkers which he identified as a major barrier to his continued professional development and potential non-academic relationships. Through collaborative exploration, a persistent early maladaptive schema relating to his critical thoughts emerged and treatment shifted to a goal of starting dialogue between schema modes to facilitate the use of coping strategies to build interpersonal effectiveness. Lasko was born as the human-born child of Trinidadian immigrants who moved the southern California in the early 1990s due to political unrest. From an early age Lasko faced high academic expectations from his parents who desired upward mobility for their child and a “piece of the American Dream.” His mother was emotionally labile to the point of explosive outbursts where his father was more passive and spent significant energy working and caring for his wife. This experience started Lasko’s early maladaptive schema regarding rigid standards with no support, which only became worse when Lasko’s elemental powers began developing at thirteen and his parents expected perfect control (and perfect suppression) of his powers with no training and a highly critical environment. This led to Lasko isolating himself at home as much as possible to hide his lack of control but left him with an environment that created a positive feedback loop where his lack of control led to increased yelling and criticism which led to worsening outbursts of his powers. This culminated in a final traumatic event when Lasko was seventeen and lost control of his powers, leading to his mother “calling [him] everything she could think of […] she was so loud and I just wanted her to stop” to the point that Lasko accidentally sucked all of the air out of the room and almost suffocated his mother. Though Lasko was able to find support with the Department of Uniform Magical Practices and become emancipated from his parents, these experiences developed a maladaptive pattern of hypercritical thinking about himself, especially in the context of social relationships.

Research

Avelino Cardoso et al. (2023) pose potential ways to modify and apply Schema Therapy to sexual and gender minorities. This work focuses on understanding how of harmful implicit and explicit messages about gender and sexuality contribute to early maladaptive schemas based on consideration of the minority stress model, and how Schema Therapy interventions can be applied to sexual and gender minorities. One area of particular relevance from this article is the conceptualization of an inner critic mode that specifically represents stereotypes and prejudice that are naturalized by society. When applying these principles to the case of Lasko, the environment of his childhood can be understood as an essential aspect of the treatment. Though Lasko did not present to treatment looking to discuss the impact of his pansexuality and transgender identity, potentially because of the clinician’s own advertised identities, the impacts of systemic oppression against sexual and gender minorities can be woven into treatment for his hypercritical early maladaptive schema. Based on the suggestions of Avelino Cardoso et al. (2023), it may be worth examining his secondary schemas around shame and social isolation as also being shaped by his experience as a gender and sexual minority and how that may contribute to his predominant hypercritical schema. 

A major concern for this section of the paper is the lack of research modifying second and third wave cognitive behavioral therapies for sexual and gender minorities. Results for Acceptance and Commitment Therapy with LGBTQ+ individuals only revealed one article about group therapy and a study proposal; results for Schema Therapy with LGBTQ+ individuals only provided Avelino Cardoso et al.’s (2023) theoretical essay. There does not appear to be much research and what research exists is extremely limited with no randomized control trials. This makes it clear that evaluating the efficacy of treatment for sexual and gender minorities is not a priority, which leads to a major critique of Avelino Cardoso et al.’s work. Though the article is useful for considering how to address systemic change in the room, it seems to attribute lived experiences of sexual and gender minorities to a schema rather than ongoing threats in a world where hate crimes and discrimination against LGBTQ+ individuals is on the rise. The abandonment and violence that these individuals may face is not imagined and it can be seen in the lack of interest in research.

ADDRESSING Model

When considering the case of Lasko, it is important to remember that psychology does not develop in the vacuum of individual experiences – psychology develops based on the global environment, which includes the social, political, economic, and cultural contexts as well as individual context. Utilizing Hays (2022) ADDRESSING Model, the impact of Lasko’s intersecting identities can be understood to have a major impact on his current symptom presentation and the development of early maladaptive schemas and schema modes. Lasko was born to first generation immigrants from Trinidad with strong Indo-Caribbean and Catholic roots – and he was assigned female sex at birth. Using a systems-focused lens, Lasko’s current symptoms can also be understood within the larger context of living in a world where several aspects of his identity are under intense scrutiny and political debate. As a child of immigrants and as someone Indo-Caribbean, Lasko likely faced explicit and implicit messages about his intellectual capabilities, his body, and his work ethic. While Lasko directly experienced his mother as extremely critical and never satisfied with his performance, it is just as likely that he received messages as a child about needing to work harder than many of his same aged peers for equal amounts of recognition based on his racial, ethnic, and sex assigned at birth. There is also the element of the disconnect between his sex assigned at birth and his gender presentation, and the messages he received about being transgender from his Catholic, Trinidadian immigrant parents as well as the American culture – which were likely discouraging at best and hostile at worst. 

Keeping all of this in mind, Lasko’s hypercritical, social isolated, and emotional deprived schemas can be understood as also being a direct result of the intersection of his identities – and this does not even cover the added layer of being an empowered human-born. In a variety of ways, Lasko has had very different experiences than his peers by virtue of being a transgender, pansexual, child of unempowered human immigrants. When Lasko describes feeling different from the people around him growing up and when he entered the empowered world, this is a real experience based on the multiple identity intersections – it is not hard to believe that he did not have many friends or family members between the late 1990s and late 2000s that had similar experiences to him. This left him with the acute sense that he was fundamentally different and needed to work much harder than those around him, and also that to get validation he needed to sacrifice his needs (or identities) for those of others.

Methodology

The initial treatment approach for Lasko was a combination of Acceptance and Commitment Therapy and inhibitory learning with interoceptive and in vivo exposure, which was successful in decreasing his panic symptoms but not generalized anxiety symptoms. Lasko reported that he experienced sudden panic attacks that seemed random and included symptoms such as accelerated heart rate, tightness in his chest, hyperventilation, feeling that he would lose control, sweaty palms, and loss of control over his magic. At the time of treatment, he reported that he had been having at least one panic attack every other month since he was a teenager and that they would occur more frequently when he was in periods of intense stress. After exploration, Lasko was able to determine that he often had panic attacks related when he spends time ruminating in anticipation of social interactions. Lasko explained that during panic attacks he tends to seek quiet, dark places to hide and “ride out” the panic attack and that he has thoughts like “I’m going to mess this up” or “I can’t do this.” 

Treatment started with Acceptance and Commitment Therapy and inhibitory learning as an evidence-based approach for treating panic attacks and generalized anxiety to address his symptoms and reduce further panic attacks as well as his anxious thought patterns (Barlow, 2021; Ruiz et al, 2020). Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) is a therapeutic practice that focuses on improving psychological flexibility and understanding the function of behavioral patterns (Gordon & Borushok, 2017). Much of early treatment with Lasko consisted of psychoeducation around the therapeutic process, behavioral therapy, and mindfulness. He took easily to ACT and benefited from understanding how avoiding social interactions was negatively reinforced by decreasing his anxiety while keeping him from creating connection. Inhibitory learning through multiple types of exposure (in-vivo and interoceptive) was able to make him more comfortable with feeling panicked, effectively reducing his panic attacks (Ramnero & Törneke, 2008). However, his baseline anxious affect and negative thoughts did not ease despite the use of ACT, so treatment shifted towards understanding the function of his persistent negative thoughts through Schema Therapy.

Lasko’s symptom presentation after several sessions of ACT and inhibitory learning was a persistent anxious affect and worry (especially around social situations) that felt uncontrollable and critical ruminative thoughts. As it seemed treatment had plateaued, the content of sessions moved towards a deeper understanding of his critical thoughts based on an indication of deeply held early maladaptive schemas. Barlow defines early maladaptive schemas as persistent behavioral, cognitive, and relational themes developed in early childhood that are reinforced throughout lifetime and that cause significant disruption and dysfunction (2021). Schemas are often viewed as truths about the self and others and are difficult to challenge because of the deep affective component and lifetime of reinforcement (Barlow, 2021). Movement towards schema work started with psychoeducation which involved discussing how schemas are reinforced through modeling (in this case by his mother’s critical comments about his performance) and how people can often act in ways that reconfirm schemas into adulthood. Lasko then completed the Young Schema Questionnaire - Revised and received high scores on schemas related to emotional deprivation, social isolation, and unrelenting standards (Rijkeboer, 2015). During the debriefing and explanation of the results, Lasko reported that when he was completing the questionnaire he felt “really seen” in a way that was uncomfortable but also validating to his experiences in childhood and as a queer person of color living in America.

The topic of sessions then moved towards further psychoeducation about the process of schema work, including delving into his schemas and determining schema modes with the goal of improving his understanding of schemas and working towards healthier integration of modes and coping strategies (Barlow, 2021). Lasko was committed to treatment but apprehensive about “what would come up,” speaking to his concerns about dredging up uncomfortable memories and feelings. In response, he was encouraged to revisit his understanding of ACT and his core values as a reminder of why he wanted to continue treatment and work through feelings of discomfort and grief. The next session started proper schema work, starting with Lasko explaining his understanding of schemas and how they were currently impacting him. He aptly summarized that his childhood experience of feeling intense pressure to do well academically and conform to socially and religiously defined gender roles left him feeling isolated from his peers and that he always needed to work harder and do more, while also feeling as though he had no support or anyone who truly understood him – this led to the development of schemas related to emotional unrelenting standards, social isolation, and emotional deprivation. 

The first step of schema work was to identify schema modes as recommended by Barlow (2021). Lasko completed the Young Schema Mode Inventory (YSMI) as homework (along with his regular thought and feeling records) and scored highly in the following modes: vulnerable child, compliant surrenderer, detached self-soother, punitive parent, and demanding parent (Lobbestael, 2015). With this in mind, the next session started with reviewing his thought and emotion records as a baseline for identifying schema modes. Lasko was able to sort different thoughts and feelings into categories that broadly resembled the categories for child modes, coping modes, and parent modes, but he struggled to come up with names for them. He eventually decided on “Young Lasko” to describe his vulnerable child mode, “The Doormat” to describe his compliant surrenderer mode, and “The Critic” to describe his punitive and demanding parent modes with suggestions from the therapist based on his results on the YSMI. Lasko was overwhelmed with sadness and fear during this session, describing how hard it was to name and admit these schemas out loud and how scared and vulnerable he felt. He reported a heavy weight on his chest and how badly he wanted to hide from the therapist and his own internal experience, and his wavering control over his powers was evident by the rustling of papers in the room. The second half of the session was dedicated to using ACT and mindfulness techniques to sit with the almost intolerable affect without judgement. The session closed with a discussion of how he could focus on his value of self-care after the session and he decided that he had plans to meet with his friend group the next day and try to talk with them about his feelings as a form of self-care and confirming his acceptance in his friend group. 

The following session he reported that his conversation with his friend group had gone “really well, better than [he] expected” and the session started by discussing how this did not conform to his expectations as a way to integrate the initial phase of inhibitory learning into the present. The conversation then moved to re-introducing the names for his schema modes and utilizing a combination of mindfulness skills and reaffirmation of his core values to give a voice to those modes and their needs by recommendation of Barlow (2021). Lasko explored that “Little Lasko” felt “awful, awful all the time” and was a sad little boy trapped in a girl’s body who “[held] onto all the bad stuff” including feelings of being completely isolated from others and deep sadness. Lasko further explored that “The Doormat” was a representation of how he had worked so hard in school and at home to make everyone else happy and that by avoiding his own needs and wants (for self-expression, acceptance, nurturance, joy, etc.) he thought he would get his needs met. At this point in treatment, discussing “The Critic” was still too affectively laden so discussion started with the first two with the goal of working up to “The Critic.” Based on guidelines from Barlow (2021), the next few sessions focused on identifying the ways these schemas had developed within his childhood and how they had once been adaptive and essential for his survival. Lasko’s homework between these sessions was to read handouts given by the therapist about schema modes and the ways they are internalized throughout childhood. Lasko was also willing to try journaling once a week from the perspective of either “Little Lasko” or “The Doormat” to better understand how integral they had been to his survival. 

Session Description

This transcript describes the first part of the schema work, where Lasko began to identify and label schemas with prompting from the therapist. Rather than just using the terms from the YSMI, Lasko was encouraged to create his own meaning to better represent his own understanding of the schema modes based on evidence-based methods from Barlow (2021). The goal of this session was to help Lasko observe the schema modes based on his thought and feeling record from the previous week and start thinking of the modes as parts of him that were observable separate from himself.

Therapist: You’ve summed up schemas and how they work, and I don’t even have anything else to add. Lasko: I really, um, want to make sure you know I’m serious about this. I want to get better, I want to be better. Therapist: It feels like it’s really important for you to feel like I know how hard you’re working right now. Lasko: Yeah, well… Yeah, I don’t want you to think I’m not doing the work. Therapist: It’s interesting because you’re the one paying for sessions, you know? While I’m glad that we are working together towards your goals, what you get out of this is really up to you. Can we talk more about how you want to make sure I know you’re working hard? I think that’s really tied to this whole schema thing I’m trying to sell you on. Lasko: I’m already sold on it!  Therapist: [Hm] Lasko: … That’s… that’s what you mean, isn’t it? Therapist: [Affirmative hm] Lasko: Fuck – sorry – shit! I um… I feel like I need to prove to you that I’m listening and trying really hard. Therapist: What will happen if I think you aren’t trying? Lasko: Well, you won’t take me seriously – at all. You’ll think I’m wasting your time and that I should – I need to be doing more and taking it seriously. Therapist: And how would I be feeling with you? Lasko: Angry, because I’m wasting your time – but I’m not, or I don’t want to. I don’t want to waste your time, you have so many other patients you could be seeing and if I’m not doing what I should be doing then I’m just- I’m taking up space someone else could be using and they probably need it more than me. I mean, I’m fine you know, I’m anxious but I can survive, right? There’re people out there who need your time more than me and I’m wasting it – or I would be. I’m not – I don’t think I’m wasting your time right now except I keep rambling. Therapist: There’s a through-line in there that I want to pull. You feel like you need to do what I expect you to do, right? Lasko: Yeah, I mean you’re the therapist. You’re the expert with – all the experience and degrees. So yeah, I should be doing what you expect. Therapist: It sounds like there’s some part of you that feels like you need to be doing what I say you should do, even if you don’t want to or have something else to say – like your “rambling” – and that if you don’t, you’re wasting my time. Does that feel right?

Lasko: I want to do this, I do. But um, yeah. That feels right. Therapist: And you do what I say you should do because if you don’t…? Lasko: Well I’m wasting your time. And then you’ll – I mean you probably won’t, you’re a really nice person and you’re so helpful but I just… I have this thought that you’ll get mad at me. Therapist: I would be mad at you. What would I do if I was mad at you? Lasko: You would um… Well I know you wouldn’t, because you just – you’re not like that but like my mom would start screaming at me. She would just… she would just yell and tell me that I was wasting their money because I wasn’t doing well enough at the school they paid for me to go to you know? Or I messed up the nice clothes they paid for. Or I just – anything like that really, I was wasting money and time and I was a waste of space and… Fuck – sorry – wait, um. This is hard to talk about and I don’t want to cry. Therapist: This is really hard, I’m really putting you through it already today, aren’t I? Lasko: [Affirmative hm] Therapist: I want to take what you just said and kind of summarize, kind of explain, is that okay? So, it sounds like you have these thoughts that you aren’t trying hard enough – or at least that I don’t think you’re trying hard enough, right? And these thoughts serve to make sure that you show me how hard you’re working so that I believe you, because if I don’t, I might think you’re wasting my time and become angry and yell at you.  Lasko: That’s a really succinct way to put it, but yeah. Therapist: So what I think is happening here, is that there’s a part of you that is so terrified that I will become angry and yell at you and make you feel just awful about yourself. And to deal with that, there’s another part of you that works really hard to try and anticipate and meet my needs so I won’t become angry with you. And then there’s also this third part of you, this part that is so critical and reminds you of how scary I could become if I got angry with you and kind of beats me to the punch by being mean first. And all three of these parts were working together in those last few minutes. Lasko: Wow… yeah, that um… you hit the nail right on the head. That feels right. It’s not – um, it’s not really great for me, though. Therapist: What I’d like to do is start by giving a voice to these parts of you, just letting them speak. Do you think we could do that? Lasko: That… That sounds really awful. But, yeah we can… we can do that. Therapist: And here I am, asking you to do these terrible things you don’t want to do and you’re doing them with me anyway.  Lasko: That’s the um.. that part of me that tries to meet your needs, right? That’s what you said? Therapist: I think so. I really want to hear more from that part of you.

At this point in the transcript, the therapist was using a combination of techniques to try and get closer to the schemas that were indicated in Lasko’s dialogue. There was a mix of rephrasing/restating what Lasko had said with the dual purpose of making sure the therapist understood and phrasing things in a way that would lead to more dialogue about schemas. The therapist in this section also started outlining the core schema modes operating at the moment in broad terms to gauge Lasko’s ability to tolerate and explore them further with the intention of eventually moving towards labeling schema modes. In this section, it is becoming clear that Lasko’s persistent anxiety about the therapy (proving he is engaged enough) is a result of active schema modes that attempt to anticipate and meet the therapist’s needs to prevent criticism and anger on the part of the therapist. This insight from the conversation can be broadened to potentially explain the utility of Lasko’s critical thoughts and anxiety around social interactions – he spends so much time preparing and planning for these interactions to try and anticipate and meet the needs of others to prevent criticism and anger from his peers, the mere idea of which causes deep feelings of fear and sadness, by criticizing himself first.

Therapist: I think so. I really want to hear more from that part of you. Lasko: I mean – geez, what should I say? Therapist: Maybe we could start with what that feels like…? Lasko: It feels like I’m always guessing, trying to figure it out. I feel like I have to do everything right, try harder, do more…I feel like I always need to be doing more, doing it better. Therapist: What emotions does this part of you have? Lasko: Um, I don’t – I don’t know.  Therapist: Do you think I should bring out your old friend the feelings wheel? Lasko: Yeah that might – might help. You know how much I love the wheel. Yeah – um, I guess I feel… inadequate? Maybe… Therapist: Can I suggest something that I’m sensing in you? Lasko: Please, you’re way better at this than me. Therapist: I’m wondering if this part of you feels desperate. Lasko: Yes, desperate. Therapist: Desperate… it feels like there’s more to that. Desperate for what, do you think? Lasko: Desperate… desperate to please – desperate to get it right. Therapist: Wow… desperate to please feels really powerful. I see you rubbing your chest right now, what are you feeling? Lasko: It’s like… my chest feels tight – a little like when I have panic attacks. Therapist: That connection feels really important. What do you make of that? Lasko: I feel – I’ve felt desperate when I’ve had panic attacks before. Like desperate for air, which is just – it’s funny as an air elemental you know, well not funny-funny, but it’s just – anyway, it’s like desperate for air but it’s also like I’m desperate for… I don’t know how to phrase it…? For it to stop, yeah, but also like I… I want to do things right when I talk to people but I always fuck it up – sorry – wait, don’t apologize Lasko. Sorry, I – sorry – fuck. I just- I want to have better interactions with people! I want things to go better and to communicate better so people like me and – I don’t know. Therapist: So people like you… do you think that’s what this part of you wants? Lasko: Yes – so badly… So badly it hurts. Therapist: It hurts in your chest, right there? Lasko: Yeah… it’s tight and heavy and then I start crying because I’m just – I’m a mess. Therapist: You’re feeling so much right now, and you’re doing it because I said we should. Lasko: Well… yeah, it’s um – it sucks but you know better than me. Therapist: That seems to be a thought you have a lot, we’ve talked about it before on your thought and emotion records – and I think it’s really tied to this part of you. Lasko: I mean… maybe, yeah. Therapist: What do you think you could name this part? How do you think we could refer to it? Lasko: Like a name? What kind of name…? Therapist: It’s really up to you, I think it’ll be more helpful to use whatever you think is the best way to describe it rather than my clinical-ese jargon.  Lasko: I don’t… I don’t really know. I’m not good at this kind of thing. Can’t you – you can just name it, right? Therapist: I could, but I feel like if I name it we’re staying in this pattern where you just acquiesce to my demands. Lasko: Which is like – the whole point of this, yeah. Therapist: Exactly. What feels hard about thinking of a name? Lasko: I don’t – I don’t want to pick some stupid name that I have to use, and you’ll think “wow that was a really stupid name choice, I should have picked it.” Therapist: [Hm] Lasko: Yeah, you don’t have to say anything, I hear it. Also, I just… naming it feels so real, you know? Then it’s a real thing. Therapist: And there’s something about it being “a real thing” then? Lasko: Then I’d… I’d have to talk about – acknowledging all of it – that feels really awful. I feel like I can’t breathe right now. Therapist: I can feel the air becoming thin too. Why don’t we take a few moments and just notice how you’re feeling and breathe through it?

This section of the transcript starts to explore and move towards labeling the schema mode of the Compliant Surrenderer. This mode attempts to anticipate and meet the needs of his hypercritical Punitive and Demanding Parent mode to protect his Vulnerable Child mode, which becomes clear in the transcript as he verbalizes that this part of himself is desperate to do well (whatever that may look like) so that others will like him. Just sitting with this part of himself causes Lasko almost intolerable feelings of desperation and panic, likely due to his fear of his Punitive and Demanding Parent mode as well as a fear of criticism and rejection from the therapist.

Closing Thoughts

I really enjoyed this case and this paper. While I didn't choose a current patient, I feel that I got a lot out of this assignment. It was really interesting to think formally about a character and work through a treatment plan and focus on a specific element of treatment. I managed to pick a case where I got to implement schema therapy, which is one of the forms of CBT that I find most interesting in addition to ACT. Despite this being a fictional character, I have certainly had previous patients who have similar struggles – and I also felt that I was able to use the media (and my previous experience to fill in gaps) to make the most of this assignment for my learning.

As I was working on this case, it occurred to me that though I felt like I was able to portray this character as accurately as possible I felt like so much was missing or unaccounted for. Because I was working from a CBT rather than psychodynamic lens, I felt like there were clear points where I would have ideally worked more relationally to address resistance or spoken more about the therapeutic relationship. There are always a million different things you could pick out of a patient’s response to respond to, and it was challenging to focus more on the schemas rather than talk about the relationship. I also felt like because of the limits of this paper, I did not have enough space to talk in the methodology or transcript session about how I felt his identities played a part in the development of his schemas. In this example, it was very clear to me that Lasko’s experiences of his parents were only part of the equation as development does not exist in a vacuum – there is a reality that his identity as a pansexual, transgender, Indo-Caribbean, second-generation immigrant and his experiences of xenophobia, racism, heterosexism, and transphobia would have also impacted his feelings of isolation/difference from others and internalized pressure to present and perform well. I also think that this would have been something I discussed in subsequent sessions as I believe this is another function of his schemas – to protect and prepare himself from his experiences of a hostile, sometimes violent world.

References

Avelino Cardoso, B. L., Paim, K., Figueiredo Catelan, R., & Liebross, E. H. (2023). Minority stress and the inner critic/oppressive sociocultural schema mode among sexual and gender minorities. Current Psychology, 42(23), 19991–19999. https://doi.org/10.1007/s12144-022-03086-y 

Barlow, D. H. (2021). Clinical handbook of psychological disorders: a step-by-step treatment manual. Sixth edition. New York, The Guilford Press.

Hays, P. A. (2022). Addressing Cultural Complexities in Counseling and Clinical Practice: An Intersectional Approach. Fourth edition. Washington DC: American Psychological Association.

Lobbestael, J. (2015). Validation of the Schema Mode Inventory. In M. van Vreeswijk, J. Broersen, & M. Nadort (Eds.), The Wiley‐Blackwell Handbook of Schema Therapy: Theory, Research, and Practice (pp. 541–552). Wiley-Blackwell. 

Ramnero, J., & Törneke, N. (2008). ABCs of human behavior: Behavioral principles for the practicing clinician. Oakland, CA: New Harbinger & Reno, NV: Context Press.

Rijkeboer, Marleen (2015). Validation of the Young Schema Questionnaire. In M. van Vreeswijk, J. Broersen, & M. Nadort (Eds.), The Wiley‐Blackwell Handbook of Schema Therapy: Theory, Research, and Practice (pp. 531-540). Wiley-Blackwell. 

Ruiz, F. J., Luciano, C., Flórez, C. L., Suárez-Falcón, J. C., & Cardona-Betancourt, V. (2020). A multiple-baseline evaluation of acceptance and commitment therapy focused on repetitive negative thinking for comorbid generalized anxiety disorder and depression. Frontiers in Psychology, 11. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2020.00356 

Home. (n.d.). Redacted Audio. Retrieved May 5, 2024, from https://redacted-audio.com/

Appendix

Character and Media Primer

Redacted Audio is an urban-fantasy audio narrative on YouTube that centers around the fictional city of Dahlia in southern California and its inhabitants (“Home”, n.d.). In this urban-fantasy world, people are separated into four categories: unempowered humans; empowered humans, which can be further broken down into elementals and energetics (people with control over the four elements, gravity, sound waves, magnetics, psychokinesis, telepathy, seers, or a jack of all trades) and shifters (e.g.: werewolves); vampires, who are turned unempowered or empowered humans that feed on blood to survive, have superhuman speed and senses, and cannot go out in the sun; and demons, beings of pure magic that are not necessarily evil or good. The character I have chosen is an empowered human who was born to unempowered human parents – a human-born – which is a rare kind of person who often faces discrimination and barriers to learning how to control their magic. Lasko is an administrator and adjunct faculty member at the Dahlia Academy of Magical Novices, which is essentially magical community college where students (of any age) can learn mastery over either their specialty or all aspects of empowered human magic. The Dahlia Academy of Magical Novices operates as a school under the larger Department of Uniform Magical Practices, which oversees magical practices, ethics, and maintains the covert status of magic. Lasko specifically has natural control over the element of air, giving him an increased lung capacity and control over air (making wind currents, taking air out of the room, making tornados, etc. – think air benders in Avatar: The Last Airbender if you are familiar), but chose to complete his full certification at The Dahlia Academy of Magical Novices to have a better understanding of all types of magic. He teaches an introductory class on magic for incoming students as a way to provide a less discriminatory experience for other human born students.

ACT Hexaflex

YSQ-R Table

YSMI Table

That's all, folks!

[loreleismusings99]

Symbiosis

Will Hunting x Reader, Hurt/Comfort

Hey there! I recently got a request to do a Will Hunting Hurt/Comfort Imagine, and unfortunately, it turned into more of a one-shot(if anyone has any tips on how to actually write an imagine, please do send them my way).

CW: sexual harassment, panic attack, sensory hallucinations involving the eyes and skin, reader implied to have asthma, verbal abuse from a professor, imposter syndrome, brief/blink-and-you'll-miss-it mentions of past physical abuse

Please let me know if I missed anything that should be in the content warning, please please please let me know.

Also, please look up and make sure you know of and have access to your university's Title IX resources. You have the right to go to school and participate in educational opportunities free from harassment and discrimination based on sex. Here's a link from the NSF on Title IX that includes some resources you can use if you believe you've experienced sexual harassment or any other form of sex-based discrimination. Also, look into your school's Title IX resources--they should have some sort of Title IX office or coordinator(it's actually unlawful for them not to if the school receives any federal funding).

°•○●°•○●°○•●°○°○•●•○°○●•●°○•●•°●°○•●•●•○°●•●○°•

Sandpaper. Or, maybe chalk. Not just the utensil itself, but the powder that flies off a board after a tired logician writes the punctuating Q.E.D. at the end of a proof. Yeah, that makes more sense--there’s chalk in your eyes right now. That’s the only feasible explanation for why you’re sitting on the coldest floor you’ve ever felt trying not to split apart at the seams. Your eyes are screwed shut while you shiver against the wall at your back, trying to remember the grounding exercise an old roommate of yours shared with you ages ago. 

One thing I can taste…

The faint memory of bile accosts your tongue. You poke a cold sore that’s starting to form in your cheek and taste blood, the sharp, ringing pain pulling you somewhere closer to the present moment and muffling the memory of your professor’s breath wafting over your face. Your diaphragm spasms while attempting to take in a deep breath, sending you into a coughing fit. You taste the beginnings of mucus making its way up your throat, threatening to choke you again. 

Two things I can smell…

Your perfume wafts up from your wrists, notes of Limonene and honey invading your senses and mixing with the faint smell of plastic and Simple Green from the recently cleaned floor. That was two things, right? Fuck, why can’t I think-- you say to yourself internally, interrupted by the effort it takes to choke back a sob threatening to tear through your lungs. The last thing you need right now is for someone to notice you in your current state. Losing your focus, your mind begins to wander. You remember your professor’s touch on your cheek that trailed menacingly down your neck. You jerked away from him at the time, not expecting him to blow up at you like he did. All you needed was help on a homework problem, and you got a quid pro quo. Refusing him feels like a mistake even though you know for a fact that it wasn’t. You remember how quickly his face turned sour, how laden with poison his voice was when he told you you had no potential. That you’re nothing without him and might as well give everything up if you weren’t willing to do something as simple as what he was asking. You froze under his explosive scrutiny and he was further angered by your unresponsiveness, eventually telling you to get out of his sight. Recalling all of this causes you to sink further into your panic attack, and you begin to feel phantom touches skirt over your skin before you continue trying to ground yourself. 

Um… three things I can hear…

I’m shaking, you deduce from the faint jingling of your keys--which are currently clipped to one of the belt loops on your chinos with a carabiner. You hazard another breath and can hear the thin whistle of a wheeze on the exhale, then Footsteps after a door shutting in the distance. You try to remember what rooms are in that direction, but right now you can’t recall anything other than who you are and what just happened. The footsteps seem to get closer before stopping, I guess they left…

Four things I can touch…

You drag a nail over the pad of your thumb before clenching your fists and running your knuckles over the fabric of your pants. You gingerly unclench your fists and set them down on the floor on either side of you, letting the cold linoleum draw heat from your skin. The muscles in your arms and shoulders are still wound tight and are starting to burn with fatigue. I need to relax, you think but you can’t quite will yourself to do that yet. I need to get up, I need to go home…

Five things I can see…

It takes every ounce of strength left in you to open your eyes. The first thing you notice is pain as your eyes adjust to the sudden influx of light after having your eyes shut for what must’ve been a long time. As the blurriness fades you see your legs crossed in front of you, quads still tense and ready to help you bolt if you need to. Taking in another shuddering breath, you look up at the wall in front of you, tracing along the faint lines of graphite that compose what looks like half of a Fourier transform coefficient calculation before the sound of quickly approaching footsteps makes you snap your gaze to the right. 

White Converse shoes… sandy blonde hair… blue eyes. Blue eyes…  

Will drops to his knees in front of you and takes your face into his hands. “What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Can you hear me? Please say something, you’re freakin’ me out--” Will looks over you frantically, presumably looking for injuries or any sort of sign of foul play. “What happened?” he picks up your hands from the floor and holds them between his warmer ones, rubbing them together to try to bring some warmth to them. 

“I need to go home--” The haggard grit to your voice surprises you and evokes a pained grimace from Will. He draws a hand into his sleeve and uses the loose fabric to wipe a few errant tears from your face. 

“Can you stand?” His voice sounds small and restrained and his grey-blue eyes look steely as he looks into yours. You nod a few times and try to stretch out your legs, slowly stretching out your fatigued and still tight muscles. He helps you stand, one hand on your elbow, the other on your back, and the two of you slowly walk out of the mathematics building. 

After you get into your apartment, Will helps you take off your shoes before situating you on your couch. He kneels in front of you and regards you for a moment before asking, “Have you had any water?” you shake your head no, staring down at your lap. You hear Will utter a soft ‘alright’ as he stands back up and starts to walk away from you. A bolt of panic tears through you and you suddenly reach for him, eyes staring at his hand, wide as saucers while you’re grasping onto it. He flinches unconsciously, causing you to let go and draw back from him in embarrassment, having forgotten about his own history. "S'okay…” he says before sitting down on the cushion next to you and picking up the hand you reached out to him with. He sits there with your hand in his, passing his thumb over the small patch of skin he can reach while still interlocking the rest of your fingers together. The two of you sit like this for what feels like an eternity before Will finally breaks the silence. “...Can I hug you?” You nod in response. “You sure?” he asks carefully, already scooting closer to you, and you nod again, with more conviction this time. You move toward each other and Will wraps you up in an all-encompassing embrace. He starts smoothing down the hair at the nape of your neck and all that you'd been blocking in the hallway comes rushing back to you with a vengeance. You break down again, your arms tightening around Will as you let out a pained cry, muffled only by the fabric of his shirt. He starts to rock you back and forth, telling you that you're okay while rubbing soothing circles into your back. 

The two of you sit like this for maybe twenty minutes before Will begins to pull back. “ ‘m gonna get you some water, okay?” You nod and free him from your grip, curling into a pseudo-fetal position while you wait for him to come back. Eventually, he returns with a glass of water, sitting back down next to you and putting a hand on your shoulder to alert you of his presence. “Here, have some of this, then maybe we can try some food if you're up for it.” He says barely above a whisper as you look back up at him and the water he's presenting to you. You take the cup and hold his hand while slowly sipping the cool liquid, the temperature difference between it and yourself shocking you further into alertness, finally fully taking in what's happening around you. 

After a few minutes of silence, Will asks you the one question you were hoping he'd avoid. “What happened? What's got you like this?” He brushes a stray lock of hair out of your eyes and you lean into his touch.

You shake your head in response and he clicks his tongue at you. “C’mon, please don't lie to me. I know this ain't nothin’... did someone do something to you?” Your silence speaks for you and you can feel Will tense up in front of you. His thumb pauses its repetitive journey back and forth over the back of your hand as he continues, his voice going cold with thinly veiled fury. “Say the name and they’re gone, I'll knock ‘em into their grave--”

“That's exactly why I can't tell you, you can't do that--” 

“What're they, God? I'll fight ‘im too, knock ‘im on his ass if he has one,” this starts you laughing; it's a wheeze of a chuckle, but more than you were expecting to come out of you. 

“No, no, I… I think… I'm gonna have to file a report. And if I do, there might be an investigation, and if there's an investigation I’ll have to sign an NDA, so I can't tell you…” you finish the water and Will takes the empty cup from you, setting it on the coffee table. 

“... so it was one of the faculty? I can ask Lambeau, maybe he can get ‘em fired--” 

“Do not tell Lambeau. Things like this… they'll all gang up on me just to stay in the good graces of their colleagues. I don't think I could handle being on anyone else's hit list right now.” you hold Will’s hand with both of yours now, feeling the contrasting textures of his nails and skin. 

The two of you sit in silence again before Will asks, “What're we gonna do then? Just wait for someone to pick up the case and hope something happens?” 

“That's what we'll have to do. I doubt anything will happen, but I really don't have the energy to think about what else I could possibly do right now…” You can feel Will's arm bob up and down slightly as he nods hesitantly. 

“...how're you feelin’? Can I convince you to maybe have a bite to eat, or is that too much right now?” you shake your head and breathe out a barely audible ‘too much’ before shutting your eyes again. “Okay…. Do you wanna lie down on your bed or do you wanna stay here?” 

“Here, please,” you whisper, leaning into Will's hand, which is currently drying a tear you didn't know was sneaking through your eyelids. 

“‘Course, no need to say please, I can't stop you from laying down on your own couch.” He breathes out a laugh before leaning over to pick up a throw blanket that was crumpled up behind you. He helps you wrap the blanket around yourself and eases you back into his arms before reclining back into the sofa's arm as much as possible, the two of you settling into a warm and comfortable silence. Or, at least it would be if you could get your brain to quiet down. 

Your mind is still circling back to what your professor said just before he made you leave his office. You’ve felt like this ever since you transferred to MIT last Fall--feeling like you somehow made it in by mistake, that you weren’t meant to be there. All of that’s been dialed to eleven since you’ve started classes, though, the intensity and pace of the work making you feel like a fish out of water. You’ve been keeping up your grades, but your success always feels acquired by the skin of your teeth. Maybe he’s right; maybe you really aren’t cut out for this. The prospect of having to give up the one thing you’ve been dreaming of doing since you learned how to count was beyond distressing, but everything seems so uncertain now. Your spiral into the depths of self-hatred is interrupted by Will running his hand over your hair, slightly scratching your scalp. “You know you’re fuckin’ brilliant, right? People only do shit like that because they don’t know what else to do to control you.” 

“I honestly find that hard to believe--” 

“Then find a way,” you can feel him looking down at your form, nestled within his arms. “Hey, look at me.” Reluctantly you turn your head to awkwardly look him in the eye. “I mean it. You’re perfect. Do you trust me?”

“Absolutely.” 

“Then you know I’m telling you the truth,” he says, cupping the side of your face with his free hand. “You are extraordinary. Please don't ever doubt that.” You feel your heart jump at his declaration. Will is usually sparing with compliments, but when he does utter them he has a piercing intensity to his demeanor that makes your face light up like a Christmas tree. He looks at you like you’re the universe staring back at him, the only thing standing between him and oblivion. “Please. Promise me.” 

Looking into his eyes, you feel that same reverence for him. Will has been through so much, and yet he still has the bandwidth to love you and the trust to open his heart to you. You try to match his intensity and sincerity while looking back at him, eyes glistening and gaze raw, “... I promise… Thank you.”

=================Thanks for Reading!=================

Thanks to @jolovesfandoms for the request!

[ajsnblog]

She is not the Queen.

(Long text).

I've seen a lot of posts talkin about what could have happened after time traveling and thinking about it has given me an idea for an au.

In this au, after Red and Chloe return to the present they realize that there is no welcome meeting like in the beginning, it's just a completely normal first class, No introduction to Principal Uma, and no trace of Cinderella and Bridget.

Confused by this, they set out to find out what is going on.

The first thing they discover is that Wonderland did agree to join Auradon when they merged the kingdoms under the rule of the King Beast, And since all magic was forbidden and Wonderland is made almost entirely of magic, its current state is not very... well, to put it mildly.

It was a garbage dump. Due to the King Beast's anti-magic decree, like the Isle of the Lost, an anti-magic barrier was installed around Wonderland, thus ending much of the ecosystem and inhabitants missing, leaving Wonderland as a sad shadow than it once was.

Horrified at the current state of Wonderland, they wonder how Bridget let this happen? So they investigate what happened and discover something shocking.

Bridget is not the ruler of Wonderland.

This creates too many doubts in Red and Chloe, why is Bridget no longer the ruler? Was I the victim of a coup d'état? Did she die? What exactly happened to her?.

By this point Red would be on the verge of a panic attack, remembering Maddox's warning about the danger of time travel and how she could lose her mother. How did stopping Bridget from being pranked cause all this?.

After several hours of investigation and no answer as to Bridget's whereabouts and no idea where Red lives now, Chloe insists that Red return to her castle with her.

Finally at the castle they are met with the surprising sight of Cinderella and Charming having dinner with Bridget.

Bridget, who looks just as happy and pink as she did as a teenager.

After a few questions they discover the reason why Bridget is no longer the queen and is instead the royal pastry chef of Cinderella's castle. Where she is still Ella's best friend, even more than before, since she now lives in the castle with her (and of course, Red lives there too).

Now after all that, Red and Chloe now have to choose between traveling back in time again to try to fix Wonderland without Bridget turning evil or staying with this happy Bridget but with a destroyed wonderland.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well that's what I had in mind, in fact I already have a plan for how Red, Chloe and Bridget's conversation goes at dinner (explaining in more detail why she is a pastry chef and not a queen) I don't know if they want me to raise the scene or you prefer a complete mini fanfic of this, I will upload what you prefer.

I should do a survey on this question? Does anyone even like this idea?.

Well, it's something I wanted to share with someone anyway.

[styrmwb]

A Minecraft Movie was the worst theater experience of my entire life

And none of it was the actual movie or theater's fault (spoilers)

I don't usually write my thoughts down in a big way unless it's a video game, but I feel like journaling or blogging or whatever I'm doing is the best way to really put my thoughts down after watching this movie. Cause jesus christ. I don't think I've had that bad of an actual anxiety reaction watching a film fucking ever.

I went to go watch the Minecraft movie cause it was my little brother's birthday, we all went for him, but also I've played Minecraft since it was still an in browser game. This is a big thing! I enjoyed the funny little jokes and Jack Black being Jack Black in the trailer, I expected this to be a very ok movie that was fun to laugh at.

The movie itself: it was fine! It was a Little better than expected, honestly. The human characters serve... a purpose. They're there to make funny quips. I laugh at some of them. There's good bits. The human world is... a part of the movie for sure! Jack Black certainly does in fact say things and it hits some of the time. But aside that, the actual animated Minecraft bits? I actually quite enjoyed them. Like we all made fun of how the movie looked when it was first shown but in action there's really a charm to it. It's really cool to see how these game mechanics are adapted in a "live action" or HD texture pack kind of sense. Not everything was accurate to the game, they made up some shit, but like, I could absolutely see what they were cooking and that made me happy. I think the Enderman fight scene is the stand out for me. The stare, the groan, the teleporting around and the flailing to try and hit it. There's also the sense of how reckless the mobs are, hitting and shooting each other by accident: literally just like the game. In this sense, I genuinely think the movie succeeded. I was honestly thinking if this was just like, a fully animated no dialogue film, it would have been perfect. They did really good at adapting that game world; like how they did the Creeper? Actually amazing. I loved that. It's just they threw in an isekai plot which like... isn't. Horrible. It's not a good film. It's enjoyable, but it's like... meme bait? It's hard to say, I'll elaborate later.

Now, the actual real life experience. Jesus fucking christ. I was presented with irrefutable evidence that people Literally don't give a shit anymore. I could absolutely be overreacting, cause the problem causers were children (teenagers), this could just be me being like "you damn kids", but I feel a more visceral reaction than that. I counted. The theater screamed, with roaring applause, 47 times. Just under 2 hours, were my ears met with a whole theater LITERALLY screaming and applauding as loud as they possibly can 47 times. It was clear to me that nobody actually truly gave a shit about anything. And yeah, I know that this is the fucking Minecraft movie where Jack Black says chicken jockey and flint and steel, but you would think that there could still be... an OUNCE. Of pretending that theater etiquette was still real. They threw popcorn! Everywhere! The stories you read?? They're all real! I felt GUILTY that I couldn't help the poor fucking workers who had to clean all that shit up! By the time the movie got to the woodland mansion, my heart started to beat out of my chest, I had a near fucking panic attack, because I knew they were going to scream at the top of their fucking lungs the moment that goddamn zombie fell on that chicken. I was lucky I had a hoodie and could use it to help cushion the sound, cause I could clearly hear the roaring when that infernal scene happened. I missed several lines of dialogue, because of the sound. This was, without a doubt, the WORST experience I've ever had.

Beyond the surface level. Beyond the screaming, the mention of Chungus. All I could think of was the dread beyond it. The implications. Again, I could absolutely just be overreacting. But when it comes to the audience, all I could think of is that humanity doesn't care. They're growing more selfish. Anyone beyond the "me" doesn't matter. I think of how it reminds me of the lands of the adult, how a selfish criminal was elected into office, and how the rich and powerful are tearing the country apart, and people don't care, cause they get to hurt others. I am simply reminded of how selfish people are, and how they do not care that others are present and suffering. All that matters is that they are so deep in their irony, and their funny jokes, that they get surface level enjoyment out of being loud and screaming about how this movie deserves 20 Oscars.

This... disgust, sours my experience with the film itself too. A part of me watches it, and thinks "you know, they all must have had a lot of fun working on this. There's a joy here. It's not peak acting, but it had to have been a blast". I think of how I might be if I was making something. "Wouldn't it be funny if we named the guy General Chungus and gave him a silly voice. Fuck it, we're having a good silly time"; and there is something in that! But on the other side. There was a part of me that could only think "this movie is a capitalistic cash grab that is depending on 2 second clips to make millions". Saying "chicken jockey" just so irony corrupted morons will turn the movie into a meme like minions, or barbenheimer, and go as a joke, cause that's still $15 per person.

In another universe, in another time; this was a really fun experience. Laughing at the silly acting, enjoying seeing the game I've played for so long rendered in this style on the big screen. But instead, I came out overstimulated, ears ringing, upset at the state of the world and the times I live in. I realize that it's impossible to stop the storm that's happening. Memes spread. They spread HARD. I think of that phrase "it takes a village to raise a child". It takes a corrupt village to bring that child down with them. How can I help teach my brother to be polite and mindful when nobody around him is doing that. How can I spread a message of kindness and thoughtfulness, when everyone around him is throwing garbage and laughing. It's horrible. I'm depressed. I wanted to smile, and I did some! I did laugh at bits. But mostly, I'm just upset. And that sucks.

But hey, I got to see Mumbo Jumbo on the big screen, and that was pretty cool. Did you know his name is Oliver Brotherhood? That's the most Mumbo Jumbo ass name I could ever think of.

6/10 movie

1/10 experience

[gaymingbinosaur]

Hey! Unsure if you're taking asks for the Laidir prompts, but 7 or 15, if you want!

It's the prompt of giving a gift in celebration for victory and thanks for the ask. Writing this is fun, I've written emmrook before but that actually didn't need me to write emmrich so first time writing him

Evie has always been impatient. It was hard to not let her mind wander to worse case scenarios while waiting.  And waiting for Manfred to find Emmrich, made it impossible not to focus on all the ways she could embarrass herself.  How much time passed before Emmrich arrived in his room. Minutes? Hours? Days? It was impossible to tell. All Evie knew is the gift in her pocket turned to lead as soon as he entered the door. 

Evie leaned against the desk and posed in a way she hoped screamed nonchalance and not panic attack. “Emmy!” Evie squealed, Maker have mercy on her. It’s fine she thought as she sauntered over to Emmrich, hoping the sway of her hips distracted him from her shaking hands as she handed him his gift. “Did you think that you could sneak away without a memento after killing a dragon with two Lords of Fortune?  It makes it so much easier to brag about your accomplishments when you have something physical to show. Trust me.”

Emmrich sighed before letting out a soft laugh that made Evie’s stomach flip, “I must admit I was planning on practicing a bit of humility.” 

Evie gasped in mock horror, “Perish the thought Emmrich! See this is why you need me. If I wasn’t here, you would tell no one that you protected the Necropolis from an undead dragon. Then boom! No free drinks!” 

“A fate worse than death.” Emmrich nodded in agreement, though he couldn’t hide the grin from his face. Emmrich unwrapped the present and pulled out the golden necklace. Emmrich gasped as he held the necklace to the candlelight to get a better view of the skeleton charm hanging off its chain. “Evelyn this is gorgeous.” Manfred came over, Evie wondered if he was hiding, trying to figure out why she needed Emmrich anymore but couldn’t resist the mystery of the box. He started clapping and hissing happily, which Evie took as he approved of her gift. “Oh Manfred, it’s probably a coincidence. Evie found this in The Formless One’s lair.”

“Actually, I made it.  I took some gold from the lair and pulled some strings. A friend of mine agreed to help make the necklace, to make it more Mourn Watchey. If I agreed to let him teach me how to make a necklace.’ Evie said smugly. Like what’s a harm in bragging when he and Manfred both seem to like the necklace.  Just a small brag that made him have that face he makes when she flirts with him. One of utter surprise and delight, but then that delight turned smug. And Evie knew she overplayed her hand.

“So the emerald for eyes wasn’t a coincidence. It is modeled after Manfred.” 

Evie scoffed. “No, well maybe. I had to pick a gem for the eyes and thought you like skulls with green eyes. It’s no big deal.” 

“No big deal! Evelyn, the thought you put into this gift is remarkable! Especially considering the fact you could have just grabbed any old trinket for me to show off. I’m left wondering, why would you put so much effort in getting a gift for me.” Emmrich knew the damn answer. Evie is sure of it. And oh Maker’s tits she came on too strong. He’s being nice now, but if he figures out how pathetic she is for him. He’d have to laugh. It’s ridiculous how much this man has been haunting her. And it’s not fair, if he was anyone else she could easily seduce him without looking like an idiot. She may not have many talents but being sexy and charming was one of them. And this bastard is taking that away from her.

“Pssh, it’s nothing. I just. It was.” For fucks sakes she can’t salvage it.  There is no way to convince someone grabbing a random ring would take more effort than melting down gold to make a skull necklace.  

“Evelyn, why are you being so bashful? You know as a Lord that bashfulness doesn’t get you free drinks. This necklace is a marvel and I insist I take you out for drinks.” Emmrich placed a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at the much taller man’s face. “I insist that you allow me to arrange some wine for us later. And I must insist I hear what inspired every detail. We can’t have you turn into a modest Lord of Fortune.”

Evie felt like her heart was about to burst out of her chest. But she can’t just pass out in front of Emmrich. So she decided to go back to being bold. “It’s a date.”

[noodlesoup1819]

Day 5: Chronic Illness - Sigma with endometriosis

(Cw: periods / menstruation, panic attack, throw-up)

(Read on Ao3)

For some naïve reason, Sigma thought this would stop once he joined the agency.

He had woken up multiple times in the middle of the night, lightheaded, nauseous, and hurting. He had probably only gotten a few hours sleep total and what he did get was restless and uncomfortable.

This wasn’t an entirely uncommon occurrence for him. 

Sigma might only have a few years’ worth of memory, but for its entirety, he’d felt like this. Nausea and headaches. Bone deep fatigue. Joint pain and body aches. Not to mention the sensation Sigma can only describe as someone trying to chip off pieces of his hip bones as they stabbed at his organs…

Not pleasant. To put it lightly.

Regardless of how unpleasant it is, it’s how it’s always been.

Dos-kun had once explained that stress could exacerbate the symptoms of periods. And both the desert and the sky casino and everything that followed were nothing but stressful. He also told him that all periods hurt. Sigma often spent time gazing at the women he knew wondering how they did it.

While the agency was no where near stress-free, it was still leagues better that anything he’d had previous. He’d only been there a couple weeks, but…he’d still expected things to get better.

Nonetheless, Sigma had a job to do and he prided himself on doing his job well, no matter if that was the casino or here at the agency. In fact, Kunikida-san often praised his exceptional work ethic and Sigma had no intention of messing that up regardless of how he felt.

Popping a few Tylenols, Sigma finished getting dressed and headed out the door. If he was lucky, he’d have enough time to stop in the café and get a coffee and something for breakfast before he needed to head upstairs to work.

-----

With caffeine to dull his headache and a small muffin in his stomach, he’d felt a little better all morning. The Tylenol was doing it’s job and while the pain in his abdomen wasn’t exactly comfortable, he was able to go through his daily morning routine of checking his emails, filling out mission reports, and assisting the office staff with anything they asked. He’d even managed a small mission with Kenji.

But by the time the two were heading back at close to lunch time, the sharp pains in his hips and lower stomach were becoming unbearable again. It was hard to keep walking without folding over and his nausea was building quickly. As soon as the two got back to the agency, Sigma excused himself to collapse onto the floor and heave into one of the toilets in the agency’s bathroom.

“—Sigma-kun~? Are you in need of my assistance? I’d be happy to help if you’ve gotten hurt on your mission~” Yosano-sensei’s voice traveled through the door. If Sigma was honest with himself, she still scared him a little.

“No, no. Don’t worry about it. I’m alright.” Sigma called back.

“Really? Because Kenji-kun said you looked like you were in pain when the two of you got back. And I’d be happy to fix you up~.”

Getting up and rinsing his mouth out, Sigma tried to make himself as presentable as possible before opening the door. “I’m alright, Yosano-sensei,” Sigma said, trying not to grimace at the pain, “I’m not injured. And besides, I don’t think your ability would help with this anyway.”

Yosano seemed skeptical. “You sure? You’re doing a pretty terrible job of hiding the fact that you’re in pain. And what is ‘this’ anyway?”

“I’m just on my period,” Sigma sighed. “This just happens sometimes.”

“Your period is causing this? And this is frequent?” Yosano seemed concerned. “Have you ever been to a doctor about it?”

“No?... I thought that it was normal for periods to hurt?” Was that not true?

“Sigma,” Yosano started, “periods are not supposed to hurt. They can be uncomfortable, sure, but they are not supposed to cause you debilitating pain. They are not supposed to make you so sick to your stomach that you have to heave in your work’s bathroom.”

“But… I was always told…” …By Fyodor. He was told all those things by Fyodor. The person who lied and manipulated more than Dazai. The person that lied about a whole world war and used it to manipulate someone revered as a hero into a weapon of destruction. He told him that it was normal. That that was what was supposed to happen. What an idiot he was for believing that load of crap.

If it wasn’t normal, what about him was. He doesn’t have a family or a home. He doesn’t even have a place where he was born and then tossed away. He was written down on a special piece of paper and then thrust into being a pawn for everyone he’s ever met since. He doesn’t have an ideal type or romantic fantasy. He doesn’t have a strong gender identity. And now, the one thing he thought was at least somewhat normal, isn’t either. Does he even count as human at this point?

“—Sigma! Breathe!” Yosano’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Was he not breathing? No? He was breathing too much? His chest hurt and his body hurt and he can’t breathe. Is he dying?

Something grabbed his hand. “Sigma follow my breathing. You’re okay. You’re fine.” Sigma doesn’t think he’s ever heard Yosano’s voice be so comforting. As he followed her instructions breathing got a little easier again.

“Sorry—I just…”

“Sigma, it’s okay. Let’s start from the beginning, alright?”

------

After that day with Yosano-sensei, things got better.

 She gave him some stronger painkillers and nausea meds and sat him down to explain things. He learned what was normal and what wasn’t.

He learned that periods usually only last 5-7 days once a month instead of the almost 9 days twice a month he was experiencing. He learned that periods usually cause cramping and could cause other things but were all things that should be managed (as in taken care of completely!!) with over-the-counter meds. He should not throw up or feel like passing out.

But, as much as he learned what was different, he learned what was normal about him. He learned that he was aroace and that lots of people didn’t experience romantic or sexual attraction. He’d even learned that Ranpo was aromantic! And he learned the word agender. Something that described his experience with gender completely.

He’d felt…whole. Like he was a whole person. Like he was normal. Like there was hope for things to get a bit better.

He’d started playing with different ways to express himself. He was diagnosed with something called endometriosis and Yosano-sensei worked to find meds that helped him. Even though they didn’t stop things completely, his flare-ups had become manageable.

The agency had been really accommodating too. It’s become common to see Sigma cozied up on the agency couch with a heating pad and his laptop on worse days. The president said he could take the day off on those days if he wanted to, but he liked being at the agency.

“—Ku-ni-ki-da-kun~ Sigma-chan looks so lonely sitting all alone on the couch! It’s my duty as a member of the armed detective agency to make sure all our members are taken care of! You should let me go join them!”

That was a new development, too. Being invited into Dazai and Chuuya’s weird situationship has been interesting to say the least. Even though she doesn’t experience romantic or sexual attraction, they’ve grown fond of the two of them and their relationship worked well.

“I can guarantee that Sigma is not lonely the all of seven feet away that he is. And Sigma actually completes their work when she’s on the couch! You’d just use it as an excuse to nap all day!”

“He’s right, Dazai,” Sigma interjected before the two could start actually fighting. “I’m fine. I’m a bit ahead actually. We can head home a bit early if you get your paperwork done.”

Yeah… that sounded nice. Heading home early to spend the evening in with both his partners. Chuuya would probably prepare a nice bath and he could relax as much as they could. Flare-up’s weren’t pleasant, but between her concoction of meds, the agency, and her partners, they were bearable.

“Hmph. Fiiiiiine. But only because Kunikida-kun will let us leave early if I do.”

“Sigma. You’re a godsend. Please never quit the agency, please.”

Yeah… Things were pretty alright.

[blackrobotfox]

TW: blood, wounds, mentions of death, crippled character

the story about defeating neferpitou I forgot to post. tried to translate this (sorry for mistakes)

"I'll answer simply: we were lucky. Neferpitou, apparently, was born quite recently, and therefore his habits resembled more an animal than a human, and he didn't have time to fully understand his strength. And if we had met him a little later - given the speed of development of chimeras - God knows how it would have ended. But it so happened that on this very day it spotted Kite and, full of determination, headed towards us, towards Kite and his wards. But then it happened that Pitou felt something else, something that alerted him more and somewhat killed his usually playful mood.

Do I consider Neferpitou evil? No, I don't. The duty of a guard is to protect the queen mother and the future, not yet born, king. We turned out to be a serious threat to his kind. Therefore, our meeting, no matter how it ended, was inevitable.

But I also had someone to protect. Each of us was doing our duty that day, and only one side had to come out of this fight alive. It often happens in nature that even a powerful predator miscalculates its strength and is rebuffed. Perhaps he sensed this danger with his animal instinct, but, as befits a guard, he came to destroy us anyway.

He who chases two hares catches neither, so he had to make a quick choice between Kite and me: obviously so weak and slow, so vulnerable, but somehow oozing danger. Having made a jump, he slightly caught Kite, instantly breaking his right arm. Everyone present was taken aback: Kite's agility and experience allowed him to come out of any fight without a single bruise, while here he was seriously injured in the first second. I think the fact that there were four of us and two potential dangerous targets distracted him, and Kite avoided a much more serious injury or even instant death.

As he straightened his deceptively frail body to its full height, I felt panic creeping up on me. However, there was no need to panic. The Guardian clearly had no intention of killing us quickly, since in those seconds, which seemed like an eternity to me, he had the opportunity to do this dozens of times. But no. It was as if he was assessing us, those with whom he would have to deal, and as if he was allowing us to assess the appearance of the death that had come to take us. And this, again, was for the best. Without thinking, I threw off my glove and let out a loud whistle, and then was thrown back by a powerful and very painful blow. But not his.

And so he met the one he should have sensed from kilometers away. Of course, Pitou's confusion did not last long. The intention to protect the queen was stronger than the shock he had experienced, and he resolutely rushed at the tulpa, and a moment later tried to reach us. However, Garmr's size and unnatural speed allowed her to successfully protect us from his attack. But despite all this, any attempts by the huge creature to damage his strong body were unsuccessful.

Pitou quickly realized that each of his attacks on Garmr had no effect on her, but at the same time caused me severe pain. Well... That's true, and he skillfully used this until he finally realized that any suffering on my part made her stronger. In any case, all this would not have lasted long: I risked losing consciousness and losing control over the only protector in the person of my tulpa. This would have meant our instant death. But, fortunately, these few unbearable hours ended with the fact that the tired guardian was wounded, and then finally held in place. The decision on what to do next had to be made as quickly as possible.

Like me, Kite was tired of pain and worry. The fact that Neferpitou was captured and seemingly immobilized lulled his vigilance somewhat. Watching the chimera convulse and then subside under the monster's hand, he decided to come a little closer. It seemed that Garmr had cut off his oxygen supply, and the battle was finally over. But this turned out to be a mistake. A split second - and Kaito's stomach was ripped open. If it weren't for the excellent reaction speed, the claws would have pierced him through and through, and it would have been impossible to save my teacher.

I will remember this moment forever. Almost ignoring the phantom pain from the attacks on the tulpa, from which my body was still shaking, I tore off the cloak and tried to bandage the teacher's wound, feeling how life was leaving his body along with rivers of blood. Without exaggeration, I was on the verge of madness. The way we dealt with the enemy, and at the very last moment mortally wounded the person I loved, made me scream and lose my voice. I was ready to do what Garmr could not: disassemble Neferpitou into atoms in the most brutal way. But Kite grabbed me by the shoulder and saved me from a fatal mistake: approaching the creature, now truly immobilized by Garmr, was very dangerous.

The battle came to an end. In any case, Neferpitou no longer had the strength to tear apart the giant hand holding him, or to think of other ways to save himself. Although, if he had held on a little longer, he would have had every chance of emerging victorious from this fight. After all, despite all the strength of Garmr, she is too dependent on her owner.

Just to deprive him of an eye, we had to fire a lot of rifle shots at point-blank range. Then, finally, the chimera's body gave in, and the creature sank into a coma. We were unable to destroy it, and it is still a mystery to me whether this is possible in principle. The enemy was temporarily neutralized, and we had no idea what would happen next."