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baby-babeyy · 3 months

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Jonmund + Targaryen Jon

AU where Robert’s rebellion doesn’t happen and Jon is brought up in Kings Landing with his father Rhaegar and his sibling’s after his mother dies giving birth to him.

He has a relatively happy childhood, but he knows his siblings resent him for not sharing their mother, and his fathers pained look every time he sees him tells him he’s nothing but a painful reminder of his mother.

As the second son, he’s not the immediate heir to the throne, so in an effort to connect with his mothers family his father allows him to ride north to spend time in Winterfell with the Starks.

He flourishes in the north, finding he fits in better than he does in the south- he certainly feels he’s more Stark than Targaryen.

The Starks love having him around, he and Robb become as close as brothers, Sansa adores his tales of life in the capital and he spends more time than is proper for a Prince playing with Arya, Bran and Rickon.

The years he spends at Winterfell are the happiest of his life yet, though he misses his father and his siblings the cold and wild terrain agrees with him far more than the heat and politics and social expectations of the south.

When they discover the direwolves, they offer one to Jon, telling him he’s as much a Stark as they are. He and Ghost become inseparable, but secretly Jon worries about what will happen when he has to return home, for Kings Landing is surely no place for a direwolf.

As he gets older he knows that the day he has to return south grows closer, so he decides to make the most of the north while he can, and takes to sneaking out on a night and riding alone with Ghost, as it’s the only way he can get away from the constant chaperones forced on him as a Prince.

One of the nights he’s out riding he’s hit by a terrible snowstorm, he falls from his horse, is separated from Ghost, and finds himself so cold he’s unable to move.

He lies there in the woods, no clue where he is for how long he doesn’t know; it could be minutes, it could be hours that he lies drifting in and out of consciousness.

The only thing he registers is at some point being lifted into strong arms and suddenly feeling warmth for the first time in what felt like forever.

When he wakes the storm has passed, and he’s lying next to a campfire with several people in light grey and white furs stood around him - he recognises them as wildlings.

A tall man with a ginger beard explains that they found him half dead in the woods, and when he asks why they didn’t just leave him he gestures at the Valyrian steel haninging from his belt.

‘You’ve got a pretty sword, and if your fighting skills are anywhere near as good as your weapon, we could use you beyond the wall’

Jon panics at the thought of going beyond the wall, of the wildlings wanting him to be one of them. He’d heard from the northerners that they were feral, rapists and thieves and murderers.

But when he sees a red headed girl elbow the tall man and whisper ‘his sword isn’t the only thing you thinks pretty’ to he met with a shove and a laugh, he doesn’t see how the people that saved his life could he that bad.

In a fit of impulsivity he decides to go with them. He’s always been too much of a Stark for Kings Landing; despite how much he loved it there the people of Winterfell all see him as a Targaryen; maybe he can find where he belongs beyond the wall?

As they’re setting off on their journey north, they ask Jon his name. He almost tells them, but then thinks better of it, knowing that his family could be known beyond the wall and he doesn’t want his name getting him sent back, or worse killed.

He settles on ‘Jon Snow’, the surname of Northern bastards, and is slightly ashamed of himself to find it feels more like his name than ‘Jon Targaryen’ ever has.

The further North he gets the more he finds he enjoys life with the wildlings- or free folk as they call themselves.

Tormund, as he finds the tall man is called, tells him all about their philosophies, how they’ve chosen their leader unlike the kneelers down south, and they become very close on their journey.

Despite being a King’s son, and in the line of succession, he actually agrees with what they say thinking that if the people of Westeros chose their own leaders, a lot of suffering could easily be avoided.

He didn’t think he’d be this happy with the free folk but he is.

Climbing the wall is a whole different story.

The Wall is the tallest thing he’s ever seen, at least twice the height of the top of the Red Keep, and with no stairs in sight.

The only thing that keeps him going on his ascent is Tormund’s occasional teasing remarks and the knowledge that the only way he’s making it alive is if he follows them up.

The horrendous climb is almost worth the view at the top. He feels like he’s on top of the world and when he turns to share his grin with Tormund, that’s when the wildling kisses him for the first time.

Jon’s so taken aback he nearly topples off the wall, and very may well have fallen to his death if not for Tormund’s strong arms catching him.

The taller man apologises, saying he knows that sort of thing is frowned upon in the south and promising that since Jon clearly doesn’t feel the same he’ll never do it again, etc etc....

While Tormund is rambling in an uncharacteristically nervous way, Jon thinks about the kiss and how much he enjoyed it. He knows that the Southerners wouldn’t approve but he’s not a southerner anymore is he?

Tormund is still talking when Jon shuts him up by kissing him again. They stand there, hands grasping each other tight, lips locked together, and wind whipping at their faces until Ygritte shouts over at them that they better wait until they’ve climbed down the wall before they fuck.

Jon blushes the entire time he’s climbing down the wall, thinking about Tormund’s body pressed against his own, and Ygrittes crude words, and everything that waits for him beyond the wall.

When they finally have their feet on the ground Tormund grabs him again, kissing him hard, and whispering ‘when we get to the camp I’ll kiss you properly Jon Snow’ before walking off with the rest of the group.

Jon’s knees go a little bit weak at the thought of the kisses he’s experienced so far not even being proper kisses, and Ygritte seems to notice this by the way she smacks his ass and shouts laughing ‘Come on Jon Snow, leave your innocence behind that wall!’.

Once they reach the wildling camp, some of his excitement leaves him and is replaced by fear and anticipation at meeting the King Beyond the Wall.

If it wasn’t for Tormund by his side on his way there he might have run the other way at the site of giants or the Thenn as Tormund calls the wildings with scarred faces who look at his as if he’s food.

Meeting Mance Rayder isn’t as scary as he first thought it might be, but what he tells Jon exceeds any sort of terror he’d ever felt before.

He understands why they took him beyond the wall with them- if he had known about the army of the dead marching south he may have suggested they stop to collect more. But he doesn’t truly believe it until a stray wight stumbles into their camp.

Mance tells him that they need to get everyone south of the wall, or the hundreds of thousands of free folk gathered will die, and become part of the dead’s army, who will inevitably then march south, and take all of the seven kingdoms. He says that they’re to begin marching for Castle Black immediately, ready to kill all the brothers of the Nights Watch if they must.

Jon offers him a different solution, knowing the Jon Snow may not be able to help, but Prince Jon of House Targaryen can.

He reveals his identity to Mance, and the other free folk (Tormund is smug to find out that he’s been fucking a Prince the entire time and doesn’t stop mentioning it until Ygritte threatens him with an arrow through the eye if he doesn’t shut up).

Jon, Mance, Tormund, Ygritte and a select few others all head to castle black ahead of the rest of the Free Folk in hopes that when they arrive they’ll be able to walk straight through with no bloodshed.

It’s not a smooth journey unfortunately- Jon sees his first White Walker and feels fear grip him in the way the Wight never did. The look of understanding in the walkers eyes makes him feel colder than any snow storm, or wall of ice ever has.

They tell Jon to run, that without fire or dragonglass they cannot kill the white walker. Jon falls down in his efforts to escape, and in a desperate bid he swings his sword. The walkers body shatters then and there, and Jon feels relief like he never has before.

“Valyrian steel, you’re full of surprises aren’t you little prince” Tormund says, before pulling him into a fierce hug, and planting a desperate kiss on his lips. “Now, never scare me like that again” he says deadly serious and Jon laughs in spite of himself.

At Castle Black however there is no time for laughing. They’re immediately met with drawn swords and notched arrows, until Jon shouts his name and hesitantly the brothers withdraw their weapons.

Lord Commander Mormont says they will have to be kept in the cells until they can get proof of Jon’s identity, which the hastily agree to.

He explains the situation beyond the wall, and Mormont seems to believe him, permitting him to send ravens to his Uncle Ned in Winterfell who can come to identify the supposed Prince.

Days later he’s led out of the cells to the courtyard of Castle Black, still in chains, only to be knocked over by Ghost and shortly after, Arya, who’s no longer the little girl he remembered.

When he gets back to his feet he’s embraced just as aggressively by his Uncle and Robb, who almost shed a tear at the sight of him.

They tell him he was presumed dead after he went missing and Ghost showed up at Winterfell alone. Arya plasters herself to his side even as Mormont is unchaining him, and Ned tells him fondly that she couldn’t be persuaded to stay at Winterfell when there was a chance he was alive.

[His little cousin had supposedly ran away to Braavos once Jon had gone missing, returning a more skilled swordsman than anyone at Winterfell - Jon was proud of her even if both Robb and Ned looked torn apart at the memory of her leaving.]

Mormont and the brothers apologise profusely for keeping him in the cells - “I hope you understand your grace, but we had no way to tell who you were.”

Jon politely asks that his companions be released and at this the men of the watch bristle. They’ve been fighting wildlings their whole lives, they say, they aren’t about to just let a bunch of them free in Castle Black.

He’s angry at their response, but he somewhat understands, and he heads down into the cells to apologise. He presses his forehead against Tormund’s through the bars and touches his hand with his own, promising he won’t be left their for long, he just needs to convince the watch.

He starts with Ned and Robb, telling them all about the wights, begging them to believe him. They trust him, and so vouch for him to Mormont, saying that the wildlings can stay in the lands surrounding Winterfell, and Mormont reluctantly agrees to open the gates for the free folk when they arrive.

Jon tells Ned about the army of the dead, how they need to gather all the living and defeat them. Ned agrees to call his bannermen, and tells him that his father will agree to call all the Houses to march North, but that they will need proof before they do so.

So Jon arranges an expedition beyond the wall, himself (much to Ned’s disapproval), Tormund, Ygritte, and three brothers of the watch, Edd, Pyp, and Grenn. Mance stays at Castle Black awaiting the rest of the Free Folk so that he can lead them south with Ned.

While beyond the wall they manage to capture a lone wight, despite all the tension between the Free Folk and the watch- but it doesn’t come without cost.

Jon, Tormund and Edd return to Castle Black sombrely with the rest of their party gone, and the smell of smoking bodies still on their clothes.

There’s no time to mourn however, as soon as they’re back, Jon, Ned and Tormund (who refuses to leave Jon) head for Kings Landing with a select few northern guards, leaving behind a Night’s Watch who are now convinced of the army of the dead, and all the wildlings now safely south of the wall.

It’s a long journey to King’s Landing, even by boat, and Tormund complains the entire time of the ever increasing heat. Jon thinks his uncle can tell from the fond way he smiles at Tormund, and the gingers hungry gaze what’s happening between them, but he’s gracious enough not to mention it. All he says one night before they retire is a whispered ‘be careful’, a small smile, and a pat on the shoulder.

Jon feels guilty to say he hasn’t missed Kings Landing, not the smell, or the heat, or the millions of people confined in a tiny space.

But when his father clutches him in is arms, shedding tears with no shame, saying how he’d missed him while he was gone- that he had missed.

It’s evident from the lack of reaction (for Rhaegar the tears and shouting had barely scratched the surface of a reaction) that Ned hadn’t told him about the months Jon had been missing, and he tried his best to avoid it.

But when trying to explain why he had gone beyond the wall, there was no way to phrase it without getting his Uncle into trouble.

Jon’s sure that the only thing stopping Rhaegar from hitting Ned is that 1) Ned had spent the entire time out searching and 2) Jon had insisted that his uncle didn’t authorise him to leave.

Then they get onto the important stuff.

They reveal to the King the wight and he immediately responds with ‘how do we stop them’. Jon tells him about their plan, of meeting the dead with an army as large as they can get, and Rhaegar immediately sends the order for all the armies in the seven kingdoms to march north.

He also says he will write to Daenerys, who’s been in Essos since Jon went to Winterfell, liberating Slavers Bay, and becoming a ruler in her own right. She now supposedly commands an army of Unsullied, the Dothraki, and has three dragons.

Rhaegar sends them back up north, saying he’ll wait for Dany and that the armies should be shortly behind him, taking with them all the dragonglass they can find (thankfully his Uncle Viserys had long since found the stores below Dragonstone, where he became Lord as soon as he was of age).

Jon is shocked by how clingy Tormund is with him for the entire trip back, but Tormund tells him that despite the huge army they’re building and the possibility of three dragons, there’s still no certainty they’ll win this war, and he wants to make the most of every last moment with Jon. (If Jon tears up a little at this Tormund never tells anyone.)

He’s stood on the battlements at Winterfell with Sansa, now a woman grown, Arya, Robb, Ned, and of course Tormund, looking out at the armies of free folk, northmen, and the rest of the noble houses who arrived not long ago, when he first sees a dragon - or rather three of them.

They’re huge, magnificent creatures, and Jon can just make out Dany on the back of the largest one, and his father and Viserys on the other two. Out in the distance he can see the thousands of Unsullied marching in perfect formation, and the stomping of thousands of dorthraki close behind.

With them comes Jorah Mormont, who announces himself as Queensguard to Daenerys. When Jon tells him of meeting his father he looks away in shame, telling him he has dishonoured his house, and hopes to make up for it by serving his Queen loyally.

The dragons finally land, and Jon ventures over to reunite with his family and meet the dragons. They’re even more amazing up close, and they don’t seem to mind him, his father, and uncle, but they huddle around Daenerys like young children with their mothers. (It makes sense when she’s announced as Queen Daenerys of the Bay of Dragons, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons).

Jon wants to desperately to hear about how his aunt came to be a queen beyond the narrow sea, but they have more immediate problems.

They hold a war council, with all the great lords, the three eldest Targaryen siblings, all the Stark children but Bran and Rickon, Mance Rayder, Tormund and of course Jon.

They decide upon a preemptive strike- if they can wipe out the dead before they cross the wall and avoid a battle they sure as hell will.

The decision they come to is that Dany and Viserys (riding on Drogon and Viserion) will fly across the wall and destroy as many wights as possible with dragonfire.

Rhaegar tries to insist he go as well, but everyone refuses to allow the King to go with them due to the risk.

They all wait while the two of them fly north, holding their breath for any sign of them.

After what feels like days, there is a lone screech, and a singular flying figure on the horizon.

Dany and Drogon land, and she’s stood looking angry as Jon had ever seen her.

She chokes out that the leader of the White Walkers, who she dubs the Night King, killed Viserion and Viserys with him.

They know now they will have to face them in battle, on their side of the wall, so they immediately begin forging weapons made of dragonglass and fortifying Winterfell.

They receive a message from Last Hearth, clearly written in a rush, reading ‘the dead are here, they are coming’.

They send Dany out as a scout, to estimate how long they have before the dead are upon them. Once she returns, telling them they have days at most they all ready for battle.

#I wrote this like 6 years ago lol #cringing at my old writing #I wanna go back and change so much of this #cos I love the basic idea but the plot holes are killing me #but by the time I do that should I just write a whole ass fic #pls share ur thoughts #jonmund #game of thrones #tormund giantsbane #jon snow

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iamthecomet · 11 months

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Kinktober - Day 19 - Hate Sex

1.4k of sort of angsty Born Under A Troubled Sign - style Mountain/Dew hate fucking. Including rough sex, improper prep, some angst, knotting, overstimulation. Could be read as dubious consent but everyone is fully aware and on board with what they're doing despite the pheromones and emotions at play.

No need to read Born Under a Troubled Sign to know what's happening. But if you haven't and you like angst you should check it out.

Dew thought this would never happen again. That Mountain would never look at him like this. That he’d never feel the calloused drag of Mountain’s hands over his ribs. That he would never feel small like this again.

Mountain’s fingers dig in and Dew knows he should pull away. Mountain’s eyes are clouded. He’s not himself. Deep in his rut, mind fuzzy. Body driven by instinct rather than heart and Dew knows deep in his bones that if Mountain was thinking clearly he wouldn’t do this.

And so, Dew should stop him. Should grab Mountain by the wrists before his hands slide any higher. Before rough thumbs pass over his nipples, hook into the rings there, pull until Dew gasps.

Dew should stop him but he doesn’t. He’s hard. Mountain’s knee is pressed tight between his legs, and Dew’s rolling his hips up against Mountain’s thigh with very little thought. He hasn’t been pinned beneath this big body in months. Hasn’t smelled him like this, looked at him like this. And Dew doesn’t want to stop.

Not when Mountain is gazing down at him with lust blown eyes. An expression Dew thought he lost to his own bad choices. His chest constricts, heart hurting in his chest, but he can’t stop. Won’t. He wants it, needs it.

“Mount,” he whispers. Hoping that Mountain can break free of this spell himself. That Dew doesn’t have to be the one to stop it because he doesn’t trust himself. If he talks to Mountain enough. Reminds him who is pinned beneath him, maybe he’ll back off on his own. It’ll probably break Dew’s heart but that’s nothing new.

“Mountain,” he tries again. Reaching up to cup Mountain’s face between his hands, to force the bigger ghoul to look at him–really look at him. Mountain snarls at him, teeth bared. He shakes out of Dew’s grip.

And Dew feels the gravity of what is really happening set in. Mountain knows. Of course he does. Even fucked up on pheromones he can’t forget. He knows and he’s still thumbing over one of Dew’s nipples. Still pressing his thigh tight to Dew’s aching cock.

Dew doesn’t know if the tightening in his chest is joy or dread. He presses a palm to the back of Mountain’s neck, holds on. Fingers stroking into the soft baby hairs there. Familiar. Like he’s finally come home.

“It’s just this once,” Mountain grits out. Fumbling with his zipper. Reaching for Dew’s so he can pull them off of Dew’s skinny hips. It’s all moving so fast. Dew can’t quite catch up. Mind hazy from the scent of Mountain’s rut. From the way it feels to be under him again–he can’t hope to get himself on level ground.

“Just let me,” Mountain continues. “Just once. I need it–I need–”

Dew nods. Hauling himself up to nose at Mountain’s neck. To fill himself on the scent of evergreen and juniper. He presses open mouthed kisses over Mountain’s skin, salty with sweat.

“Just this once, Mount.”

Dew wonders if Mountain knows it’s a lie. If they’re both just lying to themselves and each other about what this is going to do to them. It won’t make it better. He thinks they’ll probably do this again. Denial coursing through both of their bodies as they ruin each other.

Mountain flips Dew over. Dew has no say in it. One moment he’s on his back and the next his face is in his own pillow. Mountain holds him down with a palm between his shoulderblades. He doesn’t have to. But Dew isn’t going to tell him that–he likes how it feels too much. To be held down. For Mountain to be a little rough with him, demanding. His stomach clenches, dick kicking between his legs, drooling precum onto the sheets.

Mountain makes a gut punched sound as he spreads Dew open and finds him dripping with slick. Dew mirrors it when Mountain runs his finger through it. Smearing it over Dew’s already twitching hole. Pressing in with one finger just a little. Dew keens into the pillow. “Still so wet.”

Dew doesn’t know how Mountain can talk like this. Fucked up as he is on his rut. Dew can’t form words. Not when Mountain is working him open. Pressing two fingers in to the third knuckle and scissoring them apart.

“So warm,” Mountain says, reverence coloring his tone and Dew flushes, hiding his face in his pillow as he whimpers. He feels like he’s the one in heat. Rocking back against Mountain’s fingers, desperate for something else that sounds like a compliment. “Bet you’re still just as tight too.”

Dew hiccups. Rolling his hips back as Mountain pets his fingers over Dew’s prostate. “Satanas, fuck Mountain just fuck me already. End this.”

Before everything Mountain would have chided him for that. Even in a rut he always was level-headed enough to be gentle. But Dew doesn’t get that luxury this time. Mountain laughs at him, low and cruel and then his fingers are gone. Replaced by the blunt head of his cock. Pushing in. It’s a stretch, even with Dew’s copious slick. The burn isn’t unpleasant. It doesn’t hurt so much as it does overwhelm. Dew digs his teeth into his pillow. Ripping holes in the fabric. He’ll have to get a new one. He doesn’t care.

Mountain’s fingers dig into his hips. He’ll have bruises. He’s glad for it. Knows he’ll replay this, dig his own fingers into those marks and cum about it later. Mountain doesn’t so much thrust as he does use Dew to fuck himself. Pushing and pulling the little ghoul. Dragging him up and down the bed as he pulls him onto his cock. Grunting and swearing as Dew bears down on him and wails each time Mountain bumps against his prostate.

“Mount–touch me.” Dew’s lost to it, realizes it as the words tumble out of his mouth. He’s somewhere else–another time. Each rough thrust driving sense further and further away from him.

“Touch yourself,” Mountain growls. Giving up on using Dew as a toy and snapping his hips forward. Driving Dew up the bed until his horns gouge into the headboard.

Dew hiccups on a sob and shoves his hand down between them. Getting a fist around his cock. Hot and twitching in his hand. Pre dribbling over his fingers. Each of Mountain’s thrusts fucks his dick into his own fist. He twists his hand up by the head the way Mountain always did for him.

For a minute, Dew’s not sure he’ll cum at all, no matter how hard he is. Each of Mountain’s thrusts seeks to overwhelm, to claim. It’s too much. Dew can’t muddle through the sensations to find the right ones. But then his orgasm is roaring up on him. Unexpected. Dragging through his veins like electricity until he’s wailing with it. Shooting boiling hot over his own knuckles. Clenching down hard on Mountain, more slick drooling out of his hole as Mountain fucks him with abandon. The edge of his knot bumping against Dew’s rim, pushing in a little further each time. Dew sags. Tears biting at the corner of his eyes. Body gone boneless as Mountain rails him. Cock twitching valiantly between his legs as Mountain abuses his prostate. It really is too much now, and Dew is about to say as much when Mountain shoves his knot in. Dew sobs with it–the sound drown out by Mountain’s growl as he cums. Holding Dew tight to him. Cock twitching and spitting deep inside of Dew’s body.

Time suspends, stretches, as they both pant. Dew’s throat burns. Body sore and satisfied but mind racing. Fingers clenched tight in his sheets. Afraid to move, afraid to look at Mountain and see hatred on his face even after all of this.

Mountain sits back on his haunches and pulls Dew with him. Almost sitting him on his lap except for how Dew stays hunched over.

Mountain reaches down, he strokes some of Dew’s hair out of his face so he can see him. Tucking golden locks behind his ear with gentleness that makes Dew’s chest ache.

“Sorry,” Mountain whispers. “I should have been–”

Dew shakes his head. “Don’t.” Mountain goes quiet. He lets Dew slump back to the bed. He pets Dew’s spine with slow soothing strokes that make the burning in Dew’s throat worse. He’s exhausted, fucked out, hazy. He wants to reach up and pull Mountain down with him. Wants to spoon while they wait for Moutnain’s knot to go down. He doesn’t. That feels more intimate than this. It’s a thing for people who actually like each other.

Tears well in Dew’s eyes. He bites back a sob and promises himself he won’t cry until Mountain’s gone.

#comet writes #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #ghostober #ghostober 2023 #MountainDew #Mountain/Dew #Mountain/Dewdrop #Dewdrop/Mountain #Dewdrop Ghoul #Mountain Ghoul #ghost fic #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfiction #ghost band fic #ghost band fanfic #ghost band fanfiction

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thatanimewriter · 1 year

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KEEPER.

➳ synopsis: you were put up for adoption the day you were born, and though you don’t exactly hate your life, you can’t help but think ‘if a day old baby isn’t enough to keep, what is?’

➳ character/s: sebastian michaelis, grell sutcliffe, joker, gregory violet

➳ warnings: swearing, mentions of abortion (sebastian), hurt/comfort, they/them pronouns for grell because i am not getting into the ‘man or woman’ argument again-

➳ notes: this is by far the most vent-y thing i’ve ever written thus far because i am LITERALLY in the same position as the reader in this. same ‘backstory’ same thoughts SO THIS IS JUST ME EXPELLING FEELINGS I PROMISE I’M OK ._.

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

── 𝐒𝐄𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐒.

he probably noticed you had insecurities very fast

didn’t know what over though

he thought about snooping around to figure it out

it was the constant scanning of a room and impeccable perception of body language for him

it felt like you were constantly ready for something to go wrong

and you HAD to be there to comfort and support every time someone was upset

didn’t find out about anything for a while until it was mother’s day and you hid for a little bit of the day

sebastian also probably snooped in your desk and found some letters with vent-y things written in them

things like maybe your parents should’ve gotten an abortion

you don’t understand why anyone would ever love you because the people who were supposed to love you ended up giving you away

nothing you do is ever good enough

now that he knows the reason behind some weird behaviour, there’s a lot more understanding

he’ll put more effort into making you feel better about simply existing

and lots of praise to let you know you’re doing good and that you’re enough

but he doesn’t miss the expression you make when he tells you these things

he knows you still don’t believe him

it’s ok, he’ll just have to make you believe him eventually :))

── 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐓𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄.

dotes on you all the time

because of that, they probably don’t realise you still have problems with being loved

they love you so much, what do you mean you think they’re lying??

they picked up on it the first time they told you they love you and reasons they love you

because you looked REALLY uncomfortable

n they were like “omg did i say something wrong-”

no, it’s just that you think you’re incapable of being loved, grell didn’t do anything wrong

when you first told them that was the reason

AUDIBLE GASP

and a big therapy session with our icon

they probably cried when you said you don’t think you’ll ever be enough for anyone or anything

would like to try to help you, but they have no clue how to get you to think otherwise

so i guess you just need to get used to them being your partner

because they’re not gonna abandon you (even if you were as a baby) and they love you to the moon and back >:((

grell still cries to themselves when they think about how little trust you have in people caring for you

will now probably kill whoever decides to tell you that no one loves you because you’re adopted

death scythe to the neck, baby

── 𝐉𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐑.

would understand you the most, but not fully

he’s still adopted in a way, so he understands the trauma behind it

but he’ll still ask you about it to understand

he likely already knew about your backstory, but he didn’t realise how much being orphaned at day one really took a toll on you

it was a lot of frankly overwhelming offers to help that made him suspicious

because he doesn’t think anyone else has offered help so much even when they probably can’t afford to do so

notices that you work yourself so hard to the point of fainting and is super concerned

when he asked about it and you said you feel like a waste of space if you’re not being productive, he’s a very sad boy

very set on letting you recognise that you don’t need to be ‘of use’ for people to want to be around you and be friends with you

but he will start helping you as well to make you see that he isn’t trying to take advantage of your kindness

you can have nice late night therapy sessions with him if you ever want to talk about things

like how you do things to trick yourself into thinking you’re being productive like playing a little puzzle game they have in the circus

he for sure understands the part where you have both attachment and abandonment issues

you meet new people and it’s like a honeymoon phase

and then quickly you start overthinking if you’re being annoying or if they hate you about a week later

he’s always there to cheer you up when that happens

lots of words of affirmation, even if you struggle to accept them

── 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓.

he’s so eccentric that oddly enough

i think he’d be the best at actually taking in and interpreting the information

in an artistic way, of course :))

but he always wanted to use you as a model for his paintings and sketches

and he started thinking there was something you hadn’t told him about you

because you seemed to change personalities and deflect compliments ALL THE TIME

he figured out the extent of your trauma after he said

“you are loved, and you are wanted.”

and you burst into tears

he panicked at first, worried that he upset you, but he was happy to know you cried because you could finally believe someone when they said it

maybe it’s because he doesn’t often throw those statements out there

he makes more arty pieces inspired by you and how you feel about certain things

like your different ‘personalities’ that he sees, just differences in vibe and slight changes in body language when you want to come off as a certain way

he’s very happy that you believe him though, because he realises how hard it is for you to depend on anyone else

and how little trust you have in others that they won’t use you or abandon you

has drawn you like a porcelain doll before with cracks in the body because it’s still beautiful even if you’re ‘broken’

and writes you little notes or poems daily

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flowercrowngods · 2 years

Text

When Eddie finds Steve lying on the living room floor, he’s not concerned at first. It’s what he does sometimes, and Eddie himself can appreciate a bit of floor time on occasion, too, but for Steve it’s sacred. So he smiles and sits down beside him, grabbing his hand to play with his fingers, a “Hey, pretty boy” already on his lips before he freezes.

Because Steve isn’t all relaxed like he usually is, with his mind just a few inches off to the side where everything is calm and fine and better. And when he finally meets Eddie’s eyes, they’re not glazed over but sharp. Sharp with something that cuts right through Eddie, because he’s seen this look before, and he knows just what to do.

“Stevie, baby, I’m right here. I’m gonna make a call, okay, I will be right back.” When Steve opens his mouth, Eddie just leans down to press a kiss to his forehead. He’s not sure how much invasion of space is allowed, but Steve is still holding his hand so that has to count for something, right? “Shh, don’t speak,” he whispers. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

He tries not to kiss Steve like he’s about to break, or talk to him like something’s wrong, because nothing is wrong. Steve is not wrong for getting like this sometimes, it’s not his fault; it’s not something Eddie can’t handle. Steve doesn’t deserve to feel like he’s somehow wrong for getting into that headspace where words just won’t come out of his mouth and he needs to lie down and hope that will help.

Which, today it didn’t, apparently.

Eddie gets up with one last kiss to Steve’s hand and a reassuring smile, and goes to make a phone call. There’s only one person who can help Steve get out of his head, and Eddie doesn’t really understand it, nobody does, but they all know it.

“Hey, Joyce,” he sighs in relief when she answers the phone. “Is El home?”

“Eddie! Yes, she’s there, what… Steve?”

“Steve.”

Joyce sighs and Eddie knows she’s worried and wants to tell her not to be, it’s not fair to be worried, Steve hates when they worry, but. He’d be a hypocrite.

“You know you don’t have to ask, honey. Get over here, I’ll make some cocoa.”

With a smile, Eddie hangs up and goes back to Steve, crouching down beside him to stroke the hair out of his face. “Hey there again, pretty boy. I’m gonna drive over to Joyce’s, wanna tag along?”

What he really wants to say is, I’ll take care of you. Everything is gonna be just fine. But Steve doesn’t like the fuss. That kind of discussion is for another day, though. When Steve can actually get a word in.

That is how they find themselves in the Hopper-Byers household, Eddie holding Steve’s hand as the boy tries to make himself smaller than he is — like every time. Joyce doesn’t fuss, and Eddie knows just how much that takes, knows that Joyce is so much stronger than him in moments like this.

“Steve,” comes a small voice from the door to Eleven’s room, and Eddie finds the girl approaching them slowly. Beside him, Steve sways and Eddie tightens his grip for a second, brushing a kiss to Steve’s cheek before letting him go.

Eleven wraps her arms around Steve’s middle and the two of them just hold each other. They have a bond that none of them truly understand, one that Eddie knows even Robin is jealous of. But it makes sense, he figures. On some kind of deeply existential level, it does make sense for Eleven to be the one who can help Steve when he’s nonverbal like this.

Maybe because she doesn’t talk much. Maybe because around her he doesn’t feel like he has to be anyone or anything because it’s all the same to her. Or maybe there’s a special kind of magic in the way she will pull him onto the floor, their backs against the couch, his head on her shoulder and her fingers running through Steve’s hair.

They’ve been through something together. Maybe they go through something together every time they talk each other down without words — because in return, Steve does the same for her. It shouldn’t work, but it does.

It’s calm and quiet in the living room and Eddie shares a glance with Joyce before they step outside to give Steve and El some privacy.

“I hate seeing him like this,” Eddie admits finally. It’s hardly more than a whisper, a treacherous little truth that cuts into his heart every time this happens.

“I know,” Joyce says. “Me too.”

“I hate that I can’t help him.”

Oh the truths just keep coming. It’s that kind of moment.

“You’re helping him, honey. You are. But sometimes we need different people for different hurts. And that boy has more than all of us combined. Or… Well, not all of us.” And she’s looking through the window, watching El and Steve still wrapped around each other.

And it’s true. Eddie knows. Maybe that’s why he hates it so much. Steve’s nonverbal episodes are a stark reminder for all the pain he had to take upon himself. Alone. For years.

“Just love him through it,” Joyce continues. “Not despite it, not because it it. Just through it.”

“I am. I do. Don’t think I could stop even if he asked me to.”

She smiles and squeezes his hand. “Good. Now, join me on a run to the bakery? I think they’ll need something sweet when they’re back with us.”

With one last glance through the window, seeing Steve calm and quiet, Eddie bows and offers his arm to Joyce. “I’d be delighted to join you, lady Byers.”

It’ll be fine, he tells himself. They’ll be fine.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve & eleven #stranger things fanfiction #nonverbal steve and nonverbal eleven do you catch my drift #maybe i should have written this from steve’s pov but it wouldn’t be a random dio vibe fic if it made sense huh?#nonverbal steve harrington #idk what this is but i’m probably projecting huh #oh yeah this might actually possibly be set post-time travel au since that’s my current brainrot but feel free to imagine whatever au #dio words #time travel au #time travel au ficlet

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goat-boy-sounds · 7 months

Text

nothingness

cw // drugging, captivity, fainting, non-con touch, implied past nudity

----------------------------

rMmhrr…

Whumpee wakes with an involuntary, cat-like chirp and the urge to indulge in some equally cat-like stretching…

The world is pitch black. Whumpee can tell from their internal equilibrium that they’re lying on their side, but they can also sense from that internal equilibrium that the entire room around them is spinning… and their head is heavy. The floor’s on top of them, and then to the right, to the left, above again, right again– Everything’s all over, and Whumpee feverishly hooks their fingers into the bedsheets in fear that the bed itself will tilt upside-down and drop them into nothingness.

Whumpee’s breathing gets quicker and quicker and shallower and shallower– each open-mouthed exhale letting out a barely perceptible whine- quicker and shallower- oxygen depleting, until, as if punched by a defibrillator, Whumpee jerks upright.

There must be some kind of invisible tether keeping Whumpee grounded, because despite the sudden movement and the room still turning, Whumpee’s still attached to the bed. The realization is a temporary relief, but it’s quickly overtaken by the concerning feeling of their heavy head swaying in time with the walls and their eyes watering for seemingly no reason at all.

Another involuntary whine crawls out of the back of Whumpee’s throat, followed by a yawn… That’s why their eyes were watering. They’d yawned a few seconds ago and didn’t even realize it… It’s incredibly tempting to lay back down. Whumpee resists.

A few minutes pass. Whumpee’s sight adjusts to the darkness slowly until they can make out those four, spinning walls and a door.

This isn’t Whumpee’s room– Not even close– This is some kind of– it’s something… It’s spinning.

The shallow breathing comes right back.

Whumpee uses the leverage of their invisible tether to the mattress to shuffle to the side– “Woah…” Their head swaying threatens to hurl them off the edge head first. Whumpee waits a few seconds, then tries again– planting one bare foot onto the carpet and then the other. Knowing better than to try to stand, Whumpee slides their butt onto the floor.

Yeah. Great idea. Unconsciousness comes on like a phantom– the only evidence in Whumpee’s perception that it even happens is the fact that one second Whumpee’s head is resting against the edge of the mattress, and the next it’s smashed against the carpet, a textured imprint left on their cheek. The overhead lights are on.

A hand– the sudden warmth of a few fingers is enough to make Whumpee flinch– well, maybe their body doesn’t flinch– but their insides- their brain jumps ten feet like– like a…

The hand works their way under Whumpee’s head, under their imprinted cheek, and then the hand worms around until the length of a prickly forearm’s wrapped behind Whumpee’s shoulders. Whumpee’s head flops back, eyes half-open.

Whumper makes a disgruntled noise before pulling Whumpee’s head a bit closer.

“Hey…” Whumpee groans into Whumper’s shirt.

Whumper freezes, grip loosening on instinct.

Whumpee pushes their hand into Whumper’s gut, getting ready to sit up. Whumpee groans some more, skull pounding… “Hey…”

Those same worming hands take hold of Whumpee’s head, twisting Whumpee upwards until they’re looking Whumper head on. Whumpee’s breathe catches— some kind of spasming in their diaphragm– quick and shallow.

Whumpee’s wearing nothing but a t-shirt and boxers. Not their shirt. Not their boxers…

And Whumper’s face is… Whumpee’s never seen this person before. Whumpee’s never seen this person before.

A thumb and forefinger stretch Whumpee’s right eye wide open. Whumpee’s body responds for them, trying to blink, but they can do nothing but stare straight into the boring (as in drilling) eyes of Whumper. Whumpee’s arms have taken on their own weight, straining to keep themselves upright.

Without warning, Whumper drops Whumpee. The room starts spinning again, as if Whumper personally threw it down like a top.

“AHggh…” Whumpee seethes at the jolt of pressure in their head, “Mmmmmmmm…”

“You’re okay.”

Whumpee looks up. The dancing overhead lights obscure Whumper’s head as they walk away.

“You should go back to bed,” Whumper says-- a very calm suggestion.

The bedroom door opens.

"Wait... Wait-"

"What?" Whumper turns.

"I don't... wanna... be... alone... here," Whumpee's short breathing stops them between every word.

Whumper frowns-- Whumpee catches it-- a split second before Whumper's finger flips the light-switch.

The door shuts. The lock clicks.

And once again, Whumpee’s in pitch darkness, head swimming in nothingness, with no tether at all.

#my writing #whump drabble #whump #captivity whump #drug whump #fainting whump

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depravitycentral · 1 year

Text

Yandere! Nobunaga Hazama General Profile

Yandere! Nobunaga Hazama x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, violence, murder, stalking, infantilization, mentions of non-con, mentions of masturbation, mentions of nonconsensual affection, Nobunaga breaks your ankles, Nobunaga is creepy and gross and perpetually horny, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

DARLING PROFILE:

Stubborn

In general, Nobunaga likes a fiery darling. There’s something incredibly endearing about the way they get this glint in their eye, the way they refuse to back down from a challenge or a belief.

He likes how spirited they are, and frankly this is what initially catches his attention – his darling has to have spunk of some kind, and while he doesn’t see it this way, there’s a part of him that wants to bend that stubbornness, to make his darling stubborn and hardheaded for everyone except him.

He wants to be the sole person they agree with, lovingly gazing at him and nodding at every little thing he says. He likes the idea of he and his darling being a team, being totally, completely in sync, and so while eh initially does enjoy this facet to their personality, if they show too much when they’re trapped with him in their new ‘home’, Nobunaga isn’t especially pleased.

He does, in general, want to be the exception to everything for his darling – he wants to be treated differently, specially, as his darling’s one and only confidant. And so, Nobunaga loves this about his darling – the more passionate they are about their beliefs and opinions, the better.

Just don’t be getting too many ideas about refusing him or what he believes – you can be stubborn, but not to him.

Confident

Similarly to being stubborn, a confident darling is an attraction to Nobunaga, but only to a certain degree.

He likes someone who is sure of themselves, but some sick part of him wants his darling to have this need for validation from others, to yearn for someone to compliment them and tell them they’re enough. Maybe it’s a projection of his own feelings – he himself needs someone to validate him, to supply him with love and sweet words to quell any insecurities he has, and he likes the idea of his darling filling that void for him.

He wants to fulfill his darling’s needs, and for them to fulfill his own, and so to have a darling who is outwardly confident but secretly needs him would be perfect.

Just the idea alone is enough to get his heart (and cock) swelling, a sense of pride settling in his chest because his darling obviously needs him.

They need him to function and feel good about themselves, because he can offer them something no one else can – honest, genuine love, and he’ll give them everything he’s got and more.

So much more.

Honest

Nobunaga doesn’t tolerate liars. Despite being a criminal, a mass murderer, a monster, he likes to think he has some semblance of a moral code, and lying goes directly against the shambled morality he has left. And so, a darling who only tells the truth aside from a white lie here or there would be perfect for him.

He likes the idea that his darling will never deceive him, that he’ll only ever get the honest truth from them. It’s a comfort, something that settles the raging possessiveness he feels for them; he likes that if he were to ever ask, he knows his darling would honestly tell him if another man was bothering them, if the man spoke to them, hurt them, touched them.

He makes him feel secure that his darling would never lie to him, but Nobunaga is nothing if not hypocritical; when it comes to him, his darling really can’t tell the truth unless they want to be ignored, condescendingly dismissed, even treated as if they’re lying.

He can’t believe his darling when they say they don’t love him, if only because it can’t possibly be true. He can’t believe them when they say they don’t want to spend the rest of their life with him, if only because he knows for a fact that you do, he’s sure of it.

He doesn’t like it when his darling ‘lies’ to him like this, so it’s best to just say what he wants to hear – tell him he’s handsome, that you love him, that of course, you want to sleep with him, and he’ll be all sunshine and smiles, giving you that warbly grin while he exhales shakily and traces your lips with his finger.

You’re just so perfect, after all.

Homebody

It’s not that Nobunaga would dislike someone who is more active and often out of the house – he doesn’t mind too terribly much.

Rather, it’s the consequences of his darling being more inclined to stay home; it means they come into contact with others less, being in their presence less, having less interaction with men.

Nobunaga enjoys this specific trait because it feeds his possessiveness. He knows his darling doesn’t meet men very often, meaning they aren’t talking to anyone in a romantic sense and therefore aren’t getting their heart stolen away by some irrelevant civilian, someone who could never offer them as much protection and devotion as the swordsman can.

He likes knowing that they aren’t out there showing off to strangers, that they really only leave the house when absolutely necessary. It limits the chances of them getting hurt, of them catching someone’s eye, of them doing anything, really. It’s a comfort to him, and it’ll make the transition to living with him so much easier.

After all, his darling won’t be allowed outside of the house (why would they ever want to leave?) nor will they be allowed to interact with anyone besides himself and possibly a few Troupe members (why would they want any other people in their life?).

He’s fully convinced that his darling being a homebody is a sign that they’re soulmates, perfect for one another in every way. It must be fate; what else could explain the draw he feels towards them, the unbridled yearning and desperation that makes his chest ache every time they aren’t in his line of sight?

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Delusional

Nobunaga is, for a like of a better term, completely out of touch with reality where your relationship is concerned.

His views on the world and morality are already skewed, what with being in the Troupe and regularly murdering others, but at some point over the years of violence and adrenaline, a few screws too many have gotten loose in his head. His conscience is all but gone - the connections and the little voice in the back of his head narrating his days and feelings going silent.

His days are full of death and comradery with his fellow Spiders (though that list is almost entirely exclusive to Uvogin), and so once you walk into his life, someone lovely and warm and beautiful and perfect for him in every way, suddenly his world is shifting focus. His already warped sense of reality comes to light as he begins realizing how wonderful you are, how happy you make him, how badly you need him.

Nobunaga is of the genuine belief that as his feelings for you grow, so do yours as well – the concept that you aren’t as madly, deeply in love as him is something that doesn’t even cross the swordsman’s mind.

There’s simply no way that you could ever not be as utterly obsessed as he is, that you couldn’t be as happy and giddy when you’re around him, that you don’t want to spend every waking moment of the rest of your life wrapped in his arms, the slightly scratchy fabric of his kimono rubbing against your skin as he kisses you and whispers into your ear that he loves you, you’re so damn perfect and every inch of you is mine.

He truly, honestly believes that the feelings brewing in his chest for you as just as readily and intensely returned by you, and as time goes on this belief will only further. Nobunaga has a rather nasty habit of blowing absolutely everything you say, do, think, and feel way out of proportion, reading into everything he possibly can to search for what it could mean, to morph it into some declaration of your love for him, some sign that you want him to take you way, that you want him him him.

He’s never been the absolute brightest, but when he’s around you (with or without your knowledge), it’s almost unconscious the way he notices every little thing about you. He’s wondering if you’re reading through your old text conversations with him when you’re dinking around on your phone (just the thought makes him giddy, because he regularly spends hours pouring through every single text you’ve sent, analyzing and imagining your voice speaking the words instead, sighing like some lovestruck teenage girl as he imagines the way you must be glued to your phone, eagerly awaiting his responses because you just can’t stand a second without him).

He’s wondering whether you’re wishing he could be the one to shave your perfect body for you when you’re humming to yourself in the hot shower (it terrifies the living shit out of him to see you with a razor, if only because he’s so scared that you’ll hurt yourself, that you’ll slice something open and bleed and die and he won’t be there to save you, but if he were the one wielding the sharp object, then the samurai wouldn’t mind so much. After all, getting to run his hands over the expanse of your calves, kissing the freshly smoothed skin, sending a teasing lick to the arch of your ankle as the odd after flavor of the shaving cream dances on his tongue is enough to get him shivering, pink staining his cheeks as he gulps harshly, the fabric of his kimono doing very little to hide the steadily growing bulge below the belt).

He reads into everything, believing each little action you make is a cry for his attention, like you want him to be thinking of you, looking at you and dreaming of you, and in a lot of ways Nobunaga finds that incredibly endearing, how someone so sweet and precious like you could have such naughty intentions.

(Especially where your more intimate moments are concerned – you’re changing out of your work clothes and into your casual, relaxing clothes? Obviously you must want him to be staring from outside the window, your supple curves looking drool worthy as you move in ways he’s sure are designed to seduce him, your hips swaying and ass presented oh so perfectly as you dig through your drawers, the oversized sweatshirt just barely covering your upper thighs that would fit oh so perfectly around his head…)

And even once he’s stolen you away, permanently relocated you so that you stay by his side for the rest of your life, the delusions won’t stop. If anything, they become stronger, because he knows you must be happy with him, that your tears and screaming are just you trying to express how happy you are, how overjoyed and overwhelmed you are that someone cares so deeply for you that they’re willing to go this far for you, and can he really blame you? Can he blame you for being ecstatic to be with him?

(Your desperate pleas and begs for him to please let me go, I promise I won’t tell anyone, please I can’t stay here forever are certainly convincing, but you’ve always been such a little minx, a good actor, talented at seducing him to get exactly what you want, and oh baby, shhh, stop crying, Daddy knows what you need – shh, shh, it’s okay, he’s got you, just slip those cute little panties to the side and I’ll make it all better…)

He’s in too deep, and no matter how hard you fight, cry, scream, kick, or even try to ignore him, Nobunaga will just never learn – how can he, when he truly, honestly believes that he’s right?

How can he even entertain the notion that you’re unhappy when you’re made for him?

Patronizing

In a lot of ways, Nobunaga views you as having the abilities of a baby. Of course, he’s more than aware that you’re a grown woman, an adult with a dignified, captivating personality, a body worthy of worship and certainly worthy of nights with just his hand and imagination to work with, but he’s also more than aware of all the areas you don’t quite seem capable enough to deal with yourself.

You’re weak to him, incredibly so, fragile and dainty and in such desperate need of protection that it’s almost laughable. If he wasn’t so head over heels for you, he might even find you pathetic, your survival skills dismal at best.

But he is just that in love with you, and so Nobunaga has absolutely no problem with rising to the occasion, of answering your non-existent cries for help, for a big, strong man to come care for you the way you need, the way you deserve.

Because of his more extreme views of you genuinely needing him in order to survive and function, quickly his tendencies towards treating you like a helpless little thing will become apparent – this specific trait really only applies once he’s kidnapped you, but even before you’ve been relocated to the small house he buys for the both of you to share (under an alias and in a very, very small town of course), he’s making preparations for how to give you the care you need.

He’s investing in the softest sheets money can buy (or that he can find to steal), pillows make for children who move a lot in their sleep, a humidifier in the shape of a cute little panda to keep your breathing healthy and your skin soft and glowy.

He’s buying a booster seat and removing the straps and belts, attaching them to the kitchen chairs to make sure you don’t fall off, especially when you’re throwing one of your tantrums and claiming you won’t eat what he’s serving you. (This always hurts him, because he’s spent hours learning to cook just for you, trying his hand at sautéing and marinating, only to discover he’s very, very incompetent in the kitchen – aside from chopping, that is.)

It’s exciting, in all honesty, to prepare for your eventual living with him, and he spends an awful lot of time furnishing and setting up your shared future bedroom. (It’s all pastel colors – pinks and blues and yellows, walls covered in pictures he finds especially cute of you, ranging from you drooling in your sleep to you pulling a pan of cookies out of the oven to you curled up in a thick blanket with popcorn and a movie on before you. He thinks it lightens the mood of the space, and the photoshopping that he convinced Shalnark to undergo in which Nobunaga himself is beside you in each is extremely, extremely pleasing to look at)

It’s difficult to contain the anticipation, the readiness he feels in throes for your eventual arrival. And once you have arrived, the patronizing nature of his actions and words towards you will quickly begin to feel suffocating – you’re given most of your rights towards the beginning, though it’s still dehumanizing, humiliating, terrible to have him cheering you on as you finish the dinner he cooked for you, to have him holding your hand and telling you a story so that you won’t have nightmares, to have him looking at you with smoldering eyes when you tell him your head hurts as he growls out something about orgasms help with the pain, don’t you know?

(It’s humiliating, if only because the food is so very burnt, the story is of him and embellished greatly to impress you, and he’s very, very quick to pounce on you with greedy hands ripping open your nightshirt and feverishly pinching at your nipples and groaning -)

You’re given most of your rights as compared to what he could possibly take away from you, but as your time with him goes on, soon those rights will become more and more limited, the number of things you’ll be allowed to do by yourself or even at all dwindling to a mere single digit percentage of what you were allotted at the beginning of your captivity.

The reason behind this is mostly out of your perceived disobedience towards him, something that Nobunaga is extremely sensitive about – the second you act out, whether it be yelling and screaming at him or simply refusing to eat the last spoonful of soup, Nobunaga’s face is darkening, a heavy sigh and a mumble of why do you always have to be so difficult tumbling past his lips.

He’ll haul you to the shower, holding you still while he scrubs and washes your body, because he needs to properly clean you, and maybe then you’ll realize just how well he takes care of you, how you’d be lost and dirty and filthy without him.

Life with him is just honestly infuriating – when you want to watch a movie with him, Nobunaga will jump at the chance, snuggling in next to you and inhaling the scent of your hair over and over as the movie plays across the television screen (only PG-13 movies, though – he’s too scared the violence, cursing or sex will taint your mind or scare).

When you want to read a book, Nobunaga is tsking and grabbing it out of your hands, insisting on reading it to you because the words will hurt your eyes and your head, and he would never want that.

It’s irritating and humiliating, but the worst part of the whole ordeal is how Nobunaga doesn’t even seem to realize that – he’s smiling that big, dopey smile the whole time, a blush on his cheeks as he takes in your beauty, pure excitement and adoration washing through him when he sees you looking so cute in your frilly, ruffled clothing, looking up at him while he coos down at you.

It’ll be terrible, he’ll be terrible, but at least he’s not doing it to fuck with you, right?

He’s not doing it to purposefully belittle you, and that should count for something at least, right?

Right?

Possessive

Nobunaga has never been the luckiest with women. Maybe it’s to do with his less than stellar hygiene, or maybe his criminal status, or maybe it’s just him - but regardless he’s never really had a long term, serious relationship. Not that he’s minded much, as being an internationally known member of a notorious criminal group doesn’t really lend much time and flexibility towards a personal life.

But as time passes on Nobunaga gets increasingly more curious about what it would be like to have someone, a woman to call his own, a girl all for him… It’s a far off idea and thought, as the Spider obviously comes first now and always, but once he finds someone perfect, wonderful, everything he’s been dreaming of and more, how could he possibly let you slip through his fingers? How could he let you go, when you seem to call to him on such a deep, carnal level, like some long lost connection of himself?

He gets attached pretty quickly, only really taking a few genuine compliments from you, a smile and an endearing laugh at a joke or two, partnered with your features and figure that he finds very, very attractive.

Once Nobunaga decides that the feelings brewing in his chest are real, meaningful, desperate, that long-time curiosity comes to fruition, because you’ve effectively become completely and utterly his. He’s normally not the most materialistic man in the world (though to a certain extent, if only because his job is professionally stealing, which brings a certain level of awareness for worldly goods), but suddenly there’s one possession in his care that he absolutely refuses to share, something that must be and remain his for the rest of his days, for the rest of his life – you.

And so, now that you’ve been claimed by the samurai (without your knowledge for the most part, though he’s not the best of hiding his intentions), you’ll have to deal with the consequences.

He gets jealous insanely quickly, seeing every man in a fifty foot radius of you as a threat, assuming that everyone else wants you just as badly as he does, that they’ll stop at nothing to get you, to take you away from him, to separate the two of you so that he’ll be alone and without you and god, Nobunaga doesn’t know if he could take that, if he could live without you, his light and stars and moon and love and –

His jealousy is nothing to sneeze at, if only because he’s a bit trigger happy, and once he feels that someone has threatened his darling in any way (or even if they haven’t, really), they must immediately be eliminated, not given the chance to even attempt to manipulate you into leaving Nobunaga, your true soulmate.

And while he won’t kill in front of you, as he’s too worried the violence will scare you or traumatize you (something that might actually be true, standing out alone against the thousands of other assumptions he makes about you that are anything but), Nobunaga isn’t exactly smooth with concealing his more possessive behavior, of playing off the way he doesn’t want anyone or anything looking at you, thinking of you, even being aware of your existence.

It’s in part to do with the fact that he genuinely believes that you want him and think of yourself as his property as well, but the reality is that any time the both of you are in the same vicinity, he’ll be making comments that’ll have you furrowing your brows, confusion dancing through your chest as clarifying questions sit on the tip of your tongue about what he means, why he’s saying that, what he could possibly be insinuating when he says tch, bastard, thinking he’s worthy of even looking at my woman, fucking pervert’s probably eye-fucking her, like she’s not standing right here right next to her man.

His actions, too, will leave you wondering, your stumbled steps uneven as he charges in front of you, pushing you behind him with a hand resting on the hilt of his sword, a menacing glare at the man who came up to you, a growled leave her alone being the only warning he’ll get before he’s forced to the ground with Nobunaga’s heel digging into his windpipe, a look of disdain and pure rage meeting the terrified man’s gaze.

So really, between the odd, concerning comments about how you belong to him and are made for him, and his rather abrupt, violent way of physically covering you and creating a border between you and the world, things will slowly become apparent at what’s really going on. You’ll slowly start to realize that he seems to believe that there’s something between you that there really, really isn’t.

Too bad you don’t know the severity and depth of his feelings, or maybe you’d be able to save yourself from a lifetime of unwanted affection, humiliation, suffocation, and sweet, sweet acceptance.

Although, even if you knew, would you really have been able to stop someone so dedicated, deluded, desperate?

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Nobunaga’s jealousy trigger is really quite loose – it’s infuriatingly easy to get him feeling threatened, to have him gritting his teeth and pulling you close, irritation and rage at the world for even trying to separate the both of you, to come between your so obviously perfect love.

He genuinely sees every male you interact with as a threat, as a potential rival for your love and attention and devotion, and call it a result of being in the Troupe for so long or just simply his nature, but where he sees someone as a problem, there’s little to no hesitation in cutting them down, in eliminating them.

He genuinely has no patience regarding you being in the presence and minds of other men, simply because he full heartedly sees you as his property, his woman, his property and love and belonging, and while he has certain moments of leniency, Nobunaga isn’t known for his generosity.

As such, the second that he feels another man is holding even a sliver of interest for you, his every nerve is on fire, dark eyes narrowing as rage and anxiety swim through his veins, his grip on the hilt of his sword tightening so much that his knuckles turn white.

His eyes are always on you, his every moment outside of Troupe work spent watching you (or, as he likes to put it, watching over you, as if he’s some guardian angel or your protector or in it for literally anything but the chance to see you in your panties when you think you’re alone in the quasi-safety of your home), and because of this Nobunaga feels as if he has a good idea of who is trying to get catch your attention, men he needs to keep an eye on and make sure don’t approach you or steal away your love from him.

It makes him feel good, in a sense, to have such control over your life, to be the one dictating which men can and can’t speak to you, to be the one metaphorically standing between you and the world, protecting you just like the sweet, innocent, weak little thing you are.

Of course, it makes him feel like he’s being a real partner when he does this, but the anger that he feels brewing in his chest with each one-over a man gives you feels suffocating, the rage boiling in his heart making him lightheaded and seeing red, anything to get the man’s blood staining the freshly washed indigo of his kimono.

He feels responsible, as if he’s the only one who really knows what you and want and what you need, and when he sees so many men trying to come in between you and the only one who actually knows the real you, Nobunaga is simultaneously enraged and flabbergasted. Because honestly, can’t these men see that you’re already claimed, that you’re already hopelessly in love with Nobunaga himself?

He’s confused, but he’s too pissed to really consider why those men don’t seem to recognize that you’re already taken, why they don’t seem to understand that Nobunaga Hazama owns every part of you, that you’re wholly and completely his fucking property.

They don’t seem to get it, but it’s not such a big deal – after all, when their head is sliced off and rolling away from the still fresh body, does anything they thought really matter?

When those dark eyes spot the man sitting across from you in the outside plaza giving you a not-so-subtle glance from head to toe, immediately he’s scowling, shoulders drawing taught as his brows draw tight. Who does he think he is?

He’s watching like a hawk, barely blinking as the man takes a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly before standing up and smoothing down the front of his dress shirt, evidently nervous as he begins walking towards your seated figure.

Nobunaga’s eye twitches as he glowers, his position at a nearby table giving him the perfect view to see the way the man makes a beeline towards you, closing the distance with every step and forcing Nobunaga’s heart up into his throat, sudden anger and worry washing through him. His chair scratches rather loudly against the cobblestone ground, the samurai on his feet in an instant and scrambling across the plaza to get to you, stopping in a flurry of motion that has you blinking confusedly up at him while a gust of dust flies out from behind his still figure.

You’re confused, not sure where this man suddenly appeared from, but before you can ask any questions or give the man a piece of your mind for kicking dust up into the pastry you’d been thoroughly enjoying, suddenly the man is hunching over, his hand clasping over what you know recognize to be the hilt of a sword?

Your confusion grows even more as he growls out a what the hell do you think you’re doing towards a stranger some ten feet away from you, a blond man who looks mortified and terrified at the raw animosity radiating off of the dark-haired man in front of you.

It’s silent for a moment, before you open your mouth and begin to ask what in the hell is going on, but the dark haired man turns his head, the exposed stubble and the odd warmth of those chocolate eyes fixating on you as he smiles softly, a rather familiar shh, don’t worry baby, keep eating, I’ll take care of it making your expression morph into one of disbelief, the audacity of this stranger being so familiar and strange shocking you for a second too long.

Soon the blond man is waving his hands in apology, a stuttered I-I didn’t know she was already taken, I’m sorry man making you splutter, standing up from your chair.

Nobunaga’s brow twitches as he grips the hilt of his sword, whipping it out in one quick motion and making the blond shrink back, wincing and visibly sweating in nervousness. You grab at the man’s kimono, intending to talk some sense into him, but before you get the chance he’s stiffening up, the feeling of your hand against his kimono making his whole body shudder, brown eyes rolling to the back of his head.

He turns around, Adam’s Apple bobbing harshly as his dilated eyes hazily focus in on you, jaw clenched tightly. Not now babe, I’m busy, but later… later we can do whatever you want, princess.

You recoil, face twisting up in disgust as he turns back around, lunging at the man who screams and scrambles backward, onlookers staring with wide eyes and dropped jaws. Get the fuck out of here, don’t ever come near her again or I swear to god I’ll slice you up into a thousand pieces and feed you to the neighborhood dogs. Clear?

The blond man nods frantically, gulping and stumbling backward over his own feet, and Nobunaga can only spit on the ground and sheath his sword, turning his back on the blond man who whirls around and sprints away.

You stare at Nobunaga, eyes wide in confusion and fear, but the second that brown gaze meets you, all traces of rage and fury have disappeared, instead replaced with worry and concern and a disturbing amount of fondness.

He rushes forward, grasping your hands in his bony fingers, grip tight enough to have you freezing up, not sure of what to say as he examines your hands, studying every detail in earnest. You should be more careful, the outside world is dangerous baby, you shouldn’t be out here with all this filth.

You’re not sure what’s happening as he guides you to sit back down, moving the pastry up to your mouth and forcing you to bite – effectively feeding you – before grinning dreamily and leaning down to press a much too heated kiss against your forehead.

(You force yourself to pretend to ignore the light groan that accompanies his kiss.)

You aren’t sure what’s happening, but as he tells you a rather ominous see you later, babygirl and leaves in a flash, you’ll be too shocked to do anything but stare at the now empty space previously occupied by his body.

And as he slices the neck of the blond man who dared try to approach you later that night, Nobunaga can only dreamily sigh, staring down at his hands that had touched your own, held your beautiful hands and felt your soft skin with loving eyes, bringing them up to his trembling lips to lick and kiss, eyes rolling to the back of his head because god, how can just the trace remains of you taste like heaven?

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Nobunaga is honestly quite quick to steal you away; because of his more delusional mindset of how you feel towards him and what your relationship really is, his self control and patience are quite low when it comes to you.

He sees you as just as utterly and madly in love as he is, just as desperately and pathetically in need of him as he is you that it just makes sense for him to hold that chloroform soaked rag over your sleeping lips, to feel your body go limp in his grasp as he lowly moans and clutches you tighter against his chest.

(The straining cock trapped in his kimono makes it difficult to focus on anything other than the fact that it would be just so easy to slide those panties to the side, to finally feel that warm and velvety cunt clenching down on him like a goddamn vice…) But he steels himself, instead carrying you towards the little, modest house he’d bought for the both of you in a tiny, rural town a few cities over.

He feels justified in stealing you away, not an ounce of doubt or guilt settling into his stomach throughout the planning process and throughout the actual procedure – you love him just as much as he does you, so won’t you be glad to learn that you’re finally getting to become really his, that your relationship is finally getting to really start?

You were playing hard to get before, acting so oblivious to his presence, pretending like you didn’t know he was there watching and wanting you, standing guard outside your bedroom door only to join you in bed once you’d fully fallen asleep, but now you don’t have to pretend anymore.

You don’t have to try and pretend like you don’t worship him as he does you.

You don’t have to try and keep his attention on you by acting like a silly little girl and not picking up on any of the obvious signs left around your apartment and life of his presence (the long hairs of his on the shower walls had to have been noticed by you, as the way they’d appear at times when you hadn’t showered recently must’ve been suspect, just as the strange additions of mysterious jars in your refrigerator must have tipped you off to someone taking the time and care to add to your culinary palette and diet).

He’s just so excited – he’s known from basically the beginning that he’d be kidnapping you, relocating you to a shared home with him where he can keep an eye on you and take care of you, love you and give you the life he knows you want and need and deserve.

And Nobunaga, for all his faults, is a man of his word – so when you wake up in a strange bedroom and a pile of stuffed teddy bears and bunny rabbits a few feet high sitting at the end of the bed, the dark haired man giddily staring at you from the doorway, things will slowly become more and more normal to you, familiar despite your numerous, loud and desperate complaints.

Essentially, once Nobunaga decides that you’re his, his obsession forming so strongly and irrevocably, your destiny as his captee is set in stone – and good fucking luck leaving, because Nobunaga will never leave you a moment of peace, and unless you want to be dehumanized even more (perhaps you need someone to use the bathroom with you from now on, or to spoon feed you meals and dress you and brush your pretty hair and bathe you), you’d better accept your life with him.

After all, you don’t really have a choice.

As a captor, Nobunaga is, more than anything, absolutely suffocating. He’s always there, those dark eyes watching your every move, glistening with excitement and adoration and desire, to the point where you’ll eventually stop noticing, the hairs standing up on the back of your neck feeling normal and common place.

He’s similar to a hawk in many ways; he’s analyzing everything you do, staring and waiting and predicting your movements, already there and prepared with what you need before you can even think to ask. He wants to be your provider, to be the man you depend on, the man you need, and because of this he’s doing everything in his power to make you think of him that way, to force the idea of him caring for you to become something you honestly believe.

He’s supplying the small home with all of your favorite foods (though, as time passes he becomes less and less likely to let you eat them, if only because they’re just so unhealthy, and he can’t have his precious baby destroying her body like that), keeping dozens of pillows and blankets on hand for you (all with colors and patterns that are just so cute; little flowers and tie-dies and lots of purples the same shade as his kimonos), and wonderful smelling shampoos and body washes (all fruity scents, because he likes when you smell so sweet, so damn delicious that he just wants to take a bite of you and taste you).

He’s fixated on this concept of being your big, strong provider, a true man in the relationship that cares for his sweet, weak woman, in return for your undying love and affection towards him. And really, that is exactly what Nobunaga expects from you – he expects you to act like a happy girlfriend, as if you’re just as hopelessly obsessed with him as he is you, and he will be demanding this treatment from you.

Very early on he’s expecting you to get physical with him; his cold fingers are always sneaking between yours, clutching onto your hand so tightly you can’t feel your fingertips. He’s wrapping his arms around you constantly, hugging you and pressing every inch of his body against you, leaving absolutely no space for air between you.

(He especially likes to hug you from behind, elbows pressed against your waist, and resting his chin on your head or shoulder – and, if you’re unlucky enough, something rather insistent and throbbing pressed into your ass, begging for your attention.)

He’s kissing you within a month of you being trapped with him, thin lips pressing against your own with much too much passion, his eyes fluttering closed and hands eagerly clutching at you to pull you ever closer.

He’s forcing you to cuddle with him, situating you so that your face is against his chest, one leg thrown over his pelvis, your hair tickling his nose and he deeply, deeply inhales, whispering a soft goodnight to you and cheekily telling you to dream of me baby, and tell me all about it in the morning.

And, of course, he’s not especially receptive to you denying him of any sort of attention – particularly physical attention. (Heaven forbid if you refuse to hug him or let him cuddle you – you will be forced, because although he’s tall and lanky, he’s much stronger than he appears, and you will be no match for his force. And god, if you refuse him when he’s got you on your knees in front of him, a hand reaching into his kimono to pull out his cock, already bright red and dripping precum? Well, he doesn’t like throatfucking you, but you obviously need to be taught a lesson.)

He’s just needy, desperate for you in every possible way, and your tolerance of him will come on disturbingly quickly. You’ll hate him at first, passionately and vehemently, but the longer you’re with him the more your fight will die out, if only because your hope dies alongside it, the knowledge that you’re stuck with him forever lowly settling in your chest.

You’ll grow complacent, maybe even learning to enjoy the way he coddles you, the way he smiles so fondly at you, the way he spoils you rotten, maybe even the feel of his cock. You may hate yourself for it, but you will eventually accept your new life – and Nobunaga won’t even really notice, only seeing your rebellious nature slowly dying off and your love for him finally, finally shying through.

It took you long enough, he thinks, but it doesn’t matter now; how can it, when you’ve finally gotten over that shy phase you seemed stuck in and are now able to fully express the devotion you feel for him?

How could he ever complain, when you’ll be spending the rest of your life by his side, the rest of eternity?

PUNISHMENTS:

Because of Nobunaga’s delusional views, punishments don’t happen too terribly often. He’s generally able to write off pretty much anything you do that displeases him as simply you trying to tease him, trying to make him work for your love.

He thinks it’s almost endearing, at first, because of course he’s willing to put in the little bit of extra work to show off the depth of his feelings for you. He’s willing to indulge in your little game, chuckling and smiling to himself when you refuse to cuddle with him, only running a thumb along your cheek and whispering to you that he’s patient, but baby, soon or later I’ll get impatient and take what I want, and I know that’s what you’re hoping for. I know you want me to just grab you and never let go, because you like being so close to me, I know it gets you all shy and flustered, and soon we’ll do more than just cuddling. I promise, sweetie.

Of course, you’re most definitely not playing any sort of game, just genuinely wanting to be away from him and free, but there’s very little you can do to get that message through to him. He’s remarkably good at twisting every word and action you make into some sort of cry for his attention, into some declaration saying you want him, even if you’re screaming the opposite. He’s good at writing off nearly everything you do – with one exception.

The moment you try to physically injure him, Nobunaga’s face is darkening, those black eyes hardening and his fists clenching tightly. There’s absolutely no excuse for two people in love to hurt one another outside of the bedroom, and he runs into trouble trying to justify your actions.

It becomes very difficult to see you as perfectly in love when you’ve reached out with harmful intentions, and you’ll very quickly see a side of Nobunaga that you wish you hadn’t.

He doesn’t like hurting you, but he’s a firm believer in equity in relationships (ironic, of course, but he doesn’t see it), and comes to the resigned conclusion that if you hurt him, he must hurt you. It will never be enough of an injury so as to threaten your life, only enough to incapacitate you, but still.

You hurt him, more in his heart than his body, but still – he can’t have this precedent set, because in order to be a in a healthy, loving relationship, he needs to show you that he won’t tolerate such blatant misbehavior.

So really, you can lash out all you want with words, but the moment your fist touches him? Well, is the punishment really worth the brief moment of victory?

His arms feel like weights around your body, pulling you down and trapping you against his chest, the lean muscles pressing against your front.

You don’t like it – you can smell him, that cedar odor that he thinks drives you crazy, and you can feel the pads of his fingers pressed against the flesh of your hips, pushing hard enough to surely leave bruises tomorrow. You can’t stand the way he’s whispering into your ear, hot breath fanning over the shell and making your skin crawl as he tells you all about how he’s going to make you feel so good tonight baby, ‘m not gonna stop until you’re shaking, you know I love it when you’re fucked dumb and just dripping –

You can’t take it anymore, anger and pure rage climbing up your throat, and before you can stop yourself, your knee is moving, coming up and landing hard against his crotch, hard enough that even you wince. He lets out a strained gasp, a wheezing noise that has his arms falling away from you, and immediately you’re stumbling back, eyes wide as you see how he crumples to the ground, hand clutching between his legs as his dark hair fans around his face.

He’s groaning in pain, but as you turn on your heel to run towards the front door, you hear him. Baby, what the fuck? What was that? Why the hell would you – fuck, that hurts. His eyes open, having been previously squeezed shut in pain, and his face freezes as he sees you rushing towards the door.

You bitch, he snaps, and just as your fingers graze the doorknob, the cold metal brushing against your fingertips, you’re pulled back, violently so. You land against a hard chest, rising and falling very quickly, the anger settling in his veins visible.

He’s scary, you realize in this moment, with a few veins popping out of his neck and he struggles to control himself, his next words clearly strained and clipped. He grabs your wrist, tight enough to make you wince, and begins dragging you along behind him as he heads towards the bedroom.

Good girlfriends don’t hurt their boyfriends. A few more steps, and you’re passing the doorframe. Good girlfriends are sweet, and they don’t try to run away. They love their boyfriends, and they’d never, ever go and hurt them, especially in their favorite spot.

He’s seething, and he throws you onto the bed, eyes wide and fingers shaking. You’re frozen, honest fear making your whole body numb.

He comes closer, too close, until he’s hovering above you, looking impossibly tall and foreboding. Why would you do this? Why would you make me hurt you? Do you like making me sad, making me the bad guy?

Cold fingers press against your lower shin and foot, his shoulders huffing a bit. This hurts me, baby, I promise. But I have to, you have to learn your actions have consequences.

And with that, his left hand is pushing left and his right hand right, and a sickening, loud crunch fills the room, followed very shortly by your wails. Searing pain shoots up your spine and there are tears in your eyes, your body flailing as he moves to break the second ankle, your pain only doubling.

It’s excruciating, and through your bleary gaze you see the way Nobunaga looks pointedly down on you, the firm line his mouth is set in wobbling slightly, his own eyes filled with tears.

Quickly he’s settled beside you, one hand palming your cheeks and the other running a hand over your hair, quietly shushing you. Shh, I know baby, I know it hurts, but this is how I feel, too. This is how you made me feel, you don’t like it, do you? Shh, I know, I know, but you’ve got to learn that I’m your boyfriend and you love me, so you can’t go hurting me. Shhh, it’s okay, I’m here, hold onto me and the pain will go away.

You can’t think, your hands blindly clutching at him, but Nobunaga only sighs, thumbs coming up to wipe away your tears and a kiss pressed to your forehead. I know, but you’ve learned your lesson now, huh?

Somehow you shakily nod, shoulders shaking, and Nobunaga can only softly smile. If you look closely enough, you can even see his face changing, morphing from angry and teary and worried to that self satisfied smirk, the mask of delusion slowly falling over him once more. Good girl, now I’ll go get some water and ice, and I’ll spend all night making you feel better. Isn’t this great? Now, we can spend some time together, do you want some snacks too?

He leaves to the kitchen, with a big smile on his face, body shaking in excitement. Sure, hurting you wasn’t ideal, but now you’re stuck, unable to walk or move or do anything without him, perfect for him to dote on and care for, and now surely you’ll see just how much he loves you.

He wouldn’t be willing to care for you 24/7 if he didn’t, right? You’ll see, he’s sure – just you wait, he’ll smother you with his love, just to prove that he’s the only one you’ll ever need.

OVERALL DANGER:

8/10

While Nobunaga isn’t particularly sadistic or evil, he is completely out of touch with reality.

The thing that makes him so dangerous is that there really is no arguing with him; his moral compass is virtually non-existent, and he really truly sees absolutely no issue with what he’s doing to you.

There’s nothing wrong with how he feels for you, or the way he stalks you or cares for you or steals you away – he’s just in love, and he’s absolutely convinced that you are too. He genuinely wants to spoil you, to give you everything he can and then some, because seeing you smiling and happy makes his heart race, his palms getting clammy and his throat get all fuzzy.

He grows dependent on you, desperate to have your eyes on him and your hands on his body, and he’ll do whatever it takes to get you in his arms, locked under his roof, always eagerly awaiting his arrival home with your arms open and legs spread.

He needs you, in a way that makes his head spin and his heart ache, to the point where it hurts to not be near you, to not have you by his side. He’s driven by devotion, by the genuine belief that you belong together, and once he’s set his sights on you, you really have no hope.

It doesn’t matter how hard you try to escape him, to outrun him, to make him fall out of love with you – he will find you, track you down and wrap you up in his arms where you belong, all the while nuzzling his face into yours, peppering kisses across your eyelids and cheeks, murmuring to you about how lonely he was without you, hoe he needs you and wants you and has to have you.

He’s deranged, but with time you’ll find yourself slowly losing your mind as well, caving into the belief that maybe he’s right, that you really do love him just as much as he loves you, even if you don’t know it. Maybe it’s true that your life is pointless without him – what had you really accomplished before he stepped into your life?

Maybe he’s been right all along – so really, just give in, let him smother you with gifts and kisses and cum, and you’ll someday be happy, too.

Someday, you’ll decide that this is where you belong, with him.

#yandere hxh #yandere nobunaga hazama #_lee's profiles #hxh x reader #_hxh #_nobunaga hazama

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chevelleneech · 18 days

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I talk about reaction videos a lot, but this post surprisingly isn’t about the reactors themselves. Haven’t watched the video yet, but the comments are ridiculous.

Nothing too awful, but someone is trying to argue Jimin and Jungkook didn’t enlist together… how does that make any sense? They are factually, said out of their own mouths, written about in SK news, and as proven by invasive photos being spread, that JM and JK are for a fact in the same unit.

In what world is this person so confident in whatever lies they’ve been told or maybe told themselves, that they feel it’s perfectly okay to lie to reactors who aren’t keeping up with the group’s enlistment? I mean, it is a blatant as fuck lie too, and their only rebuttal to the person correcting them is “crazy shipper” or whatever.

That same person is also grasping at JM and JK saying they hadn’t seen/spoken to each other in a bit as proof of them not being close, and if not for AYS they wouldn’t have hung out at all. Completely ignoring the TWO ADDITIONAL VACATIONS after Connecticut. They planned and executed two more trips to hang out, yet the one single trip in the US is their end all be all?

There’s also people talking about how the reactors shouldn’t watch the video they chose, because it “seems like a ship edit and cuts out all the funny stuff” or people “suggesting” they watch the episode with Tae instead and look up all the clips and edits that include the maknae line.

Just pitiful. This fandom truly hates Jimin and Jungkook no matter what they’re doing. People can’t even watch a compilation of them from a show about them, without so-called fans suggesting they don’t get swayed by shippers or being told baseless lies about what’s going on.

Jikook ship videos are the least edited out of the main ships within the group, yet still people can get away with lying that they’re heavily manipulated. HOW!? And it annoys me that most people don’t even fact check when folks tell them that. I know a lot of people genuinely just don’t care, but if you’re going to comment on what people in the comments are saying about edits, at the very least you should be doing a little digging yourself to see whether or not it’s true.

Again, I am not talking about the reaction video I’m currently about to watch, regarding this latter portion, but overall. It’s crazy to me that antis and Tkkrs get away with telling out-of-the-know fans that nothing about Jimin and Jungkook is legit, and everything is slowed down or removed from context, when it’s not. For example: Using their train ride in Sapporo in future Jikook edits will be considered a moment removed from context to look more romantic than it is, but one thing antis and Tkkrs will never say, is “Watch official content!”

They never say that, they just suggest Maknae content or Tkk content. Solely because if they tell people to watch official/full content for better context, the reaction will be more shocking. Because most people are aware that ship videos exist to paint a specific picture, but watching that same moment of them sharing ear buds as JM and JK watch passing scenery before JK rests his head gently on JM’s shoulder, is as romantic as it sounds or would undoubtedly look without the rest of the episode attached. It looks that way because that’s what they did. No one else is to blame, but yeah.

I got off track, but it is so annoying how this fandom works. Jimin and Jungkook don’t be doing shit to nobody, yet still they can’t even get bare minimum respect of being seen as friends who care deeply for one another.

#jikook #typos are here to stay

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winterironrox · 1 year

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Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse Review

‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️SPOILERS BELOW ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

This is not a simple review. It will contain specifics and loud opinions.

———-

I just need to start this off by saying that I fucking love Hobie. He is definitely one of the best parts of the movie. I am so happy that the rumor I heard about Hobie liking Gwen and creating a “love triangle” was not true. I very much dislike “love triangles.” I was screaming the entire time Hobie was on screen. He’s an anarchy genius.

Pavitr is the sweetest lil bean. It was such a relief seeing a happy Spider-Man. I really loved seeing Indian culture represented in a simple everyday way.

The Morales family is amazing and I only want the best for them. Mr. and Mrs. Morales are trying hard to be good parents and it shows.

Peter B. Parker what the hell are you thinking bringing a child into a violent fight?? I can sort of forgive the first one but then lying to MJ about it. You were literally carrying MayDay in a bjorn on a bullet train going skyward. I understand that you want Miles to see MayDay and see the good he brought you but a violent environment is not the time or place.

Speaking of bad parenting, Gwen’s father is an immature ass. When Gwen said, “You’re a good cop, Dad.” I wanted her to follow it up with, “but not a good father.” Why can’t superheroes condemn their parents?

Superhero movies don’t allow characters to hold their parents accountable because they’re objectively made for children to enjoy and children aren’t meant to question or judge their parents. When a parent missteps the child is required to meet the parent where they stand by accepting that everything was done out of love. How the child feels and how the slight effected them isn’t discussed. Marvel did this with Howard and Tony as well as Odin, Loki, and Thor. It’s insane that Sony and Marvel deny children seeing their heroes protect themselves and set boundaries with the people who are supposed to care for them above all others.

Miles is truly a King. He’s better than all those other spider-people and right now I don’t think they deserve the good he’s gonna bring them.

I’m not the biggest fan of Gwen’s actions or the romance between her and Miles. I would have preferred to see Tiana Toomes with Miles but Miles does go the furthest with Gwen out of all his girlfriends, opinions can be made as to why that is, so Gwen and Miles makes sense. I feel that their relationship is still in the crush stages and after her betrayal it could be the end of it. Maybe we could see Tiana, Kate, or someone else in the future.

I’m sure Miles is going to forgive Peter and Gwen but I at least want him to make them sweat more or for them to admit in full why they betrayed him. In order for Sony and Marvel to stop showing their audiences that unconditional forgiveness is required characters need to communicate and reach an understanding that isn’t one person deciding to be the bigger person, especially the child.

It’s fascinating to me that spider-people are so willing to rationalize their losses that they will all follow Miguel when he is clearly wrong.

Miguel that world fell apart because you were in it not because a canon event didn’t happen. Canon events, termed by Miguel, are just common themes that have/will lead to similar events because of course they will. Someone not dying in one instance is not the same as someone making roots in a universe that is not their own. The universe is resilient and it will correct itself. If a person’s death is more important than their survival then don’t worry the universe will make sure that they die.

Unlike the spider-heroes who are rationalizing their loss via acceptance, Spot is resorting to anger. He’s just focusing on the brightest string, like the Maximoffs did with Tony.

I found Miguel’s theory of Miles being an anomaly to be interesting. As I previously stated the universe will only go along with things it agrees with, Miguel learned this lesson pretty traumatically, so I believe that 1610 Peter was going to die that night. And if spider-42 hadn’t been brought to universe-1610 then there wouldn’t be a Spider-Man in 1610. So I think that the universe agreed that 1610 Miles is meant to be Spider-Man. I mean as we have seen multiple times in Across alone, Miles is a good force in every universe. I’m wondering if in 42 Prowler Miles is considered an anti-hero instead of a villain. I mean it’s more likely that they will go with the storyline of Miles meeting the evil him to strengthen his own morals, reminiscent of Billy. But I think I’d prefer the first storyline. It fits the narrative of “fuck canon/the box you want me in.” Also does Miguel just not care about universes without Spider-Man because he could have figured out a way to save 42 if he wanted? I’m so excited to see what happens with 42 Prowler and the final fight.

Absolutely loved all the cameos. All the spiders were perfectly done. Someone correct me if I’m wrong (pls pls send me screen grabs) but I didn’t see 199999 Peter in the holograms. Miguel mentions him in a derogatory way but that’s it. I might be reaching since 199999 Peter is my favorite but I think this is because Miguel groups Miles and Peter together. Miguel is okay with not saving everyone which is something Miles and 199999 Peter refuse to do. 199999 Peter’s main motto is “If you have the power to stop the bad things from happening and they happen anyway then they happened because of you.” Honestly, Peter holds himself to this way to tightly but Miguel does the exact opposite. He doesn’t even try to help people and then absolves himself from guilt. Peter literally almost destroyed the multiverse trying to help people and then lost everything fixing it, again Miguel did the opposite.

My final thoughts about Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse are fuck Miguel, I’m disappointed that so many spider-heroes would want to rationalize their trauma so bad that they would intentionally hurt one of their own, and of course the animation is breathtaking. Can’t wait for Beyond the Spider-Verse!

ps. I saw a tweet where someone said they want RiRi to get the Miles treatment and I totally agree. I would die to see RiRi Williams in 2D animation! She’s phenomenal with a great story, plus we’d get a young Tony Stark in 2D. RDJ would voice him no question. We’d be winning winning.

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nat-seal-well · 11 months

Note

So I'm dying to ask nosy questions about Villain!Nat... Do you think she'd still be part of Unit Bravo and just biding her time til she can act out her plans? Or would she have been a rogue element the whole time? Would she and Ava have any kind of personal rivalry (sexy or otherwise) or just be obstacles in each other's paths? 👀

I’m sorry it took me so long to reply to this, haha, but I spent the entire last half of my shift thinking about it and realized it was gonna be too long just to write it all in a post, so I had to make a document and then copy/paste it over lol.

I don’t think she’d be part of UB (but can you imagine how much fun it would be if she was? Just waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and keeping up the façade…)

Villain!Nat would work better as more of a rogue, I think. I can see her being mostly on her own ever since her turning. Imagine: never being found by the Agency after the massacre on The Queen’s Sabre, never really being guided or taught by anyone other than the vampire who turned her, and then being set loose.

It would all come down to that whole “nature vs. nurture” thing. A lot of who you are is shaped by the environment around you.

She’d never have had the support she received in the canon. There’d still be a lot of her personality that’s the same; she’d have a love for reading and collecting old books, she’d still be a little old-fashioned as time went on, etc. She’d just be more like the vampires in the traditional books, reclusive in some grand, old home out in the middle of nowhere.

She’d also still be capable of love and affection and her usual overprotectiveness… she just wouldn’t be aware of it for a very, very long time. And in the moments where it’s staring her down, she’d hide it away and lock it up.

Ava and Nat would have a rivalry (sexy, of course, because there isn’t much that’s hotter than the intimacy of being sworn enemies. The combat scenes would be gorgeous. Also, it would hurt to watch… which means it would be even more fun, haha :) )

Naturally, Ava would make it more difficult for Nat to ignore her emotions, lol. And she wouldn’t understand them a lot. She’d end up deciding that “hate” is the way she feels, because there isn’t any way it could be love. That’s impossible. Natalie Sewell doesn’t love people. Right? So loathing has to be what it is.

I’m a sucker for anything poly so consider: throwing the Detective into the mix. It would be like a much, much darker take of the LT route, haha.

Maybe she hears some rumors about the vampire who’s going around killing humans who have a very special blood mutation, and she gets curious. She’s a collector, after all, and a human with blood like that would be priceless and a very good addition to her collection. We already know there’s someone leaking Agency info, so maybe she finds out that way? Probably not until after the events of book one.

So she follows after UB. Naturally, Ava has a suspicion they’re being watched, because she and Nat know each other better than they know themselves. Of course she catches on very, very quickly, but does her best to keep it under wraps. Easier to keep an eye on her that way.

We also all know how good Nat is at lying and wearing masks. It’d be easy to convince the Detective she’s someone they can trust, especially after they've been thrown headfirst into the supernatural world without any real say in the matter. Nat would be drawing them in under the guise of stealing them away, only to discover–to her horror–that they intrigue her far more than they should. Only… this confuses her. Because the Detective makes her feel the same way Ava does, and there’s no way she can hate them.

Que an emotional journey full of inner turmoil as Nat tries to come to terms with the fact that she’s capable of softer feelings, after all. And that she might not be so cold-hearted as she thinks. I imagine it would be very long and very painful, because she has three centuries of habits and beliefs (lies that someone hammered into her brain) to unlearn. She’d be fighting it every single step of the way, all while trying to keep it hidden.

Villain!Nat would be more obsessive, just because I think it’d be a nice touch. Especially as she’s forced to face the truth: that she’s falling in love with her adversary of three hundred years, and a human, of all things. How terrifying.

As much as I love angst and hurt, it would come to a happy ending. Eventually. Everyone loves a redemption arc, right? I don’t know how it would all come to a head. Maybe in the middle of a battle, maybe while facing down other rogues, and she realizes she might very well lose the two people who mean the most to her.

Y’know how in ATLA, the gang kind of adopts Zuko? Imagine that, but with UB, haha.

Sorry, lol. This is probably way longer and way more detailed than you wanted, but I’m a sucker for any and all kinds of AUs and this was so much fun. Thank you, friend! You made the last four hours of my shift way more enjoyable, haha <3

#sealy answers #crownleys

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total-drama-takes-takes-2 · 8 months

Text

ttwt episode 14

“Last time on Total Takes, World Tour: Fiji, baby! Our remaining teams raced from island-to-island across this beautiful oceanic paradise, collecting flags- and losing teammates- along the way. Courtney and Ass had a heart-to-heart, which mended more than one nasty breakup… partially, anyway. In the end, Team Yaoi was handed their loss on a silver platter and Ass willingly took the jump. I know, right? Will anyone else have a sudden change of character? What’s in store for our remaining players? Find out now, on Total Takes: World Tour!”

Economy is tense, to say the least.

Everyone else is shrinking in on themselves as two very, very ticked off girls are seething on their respective sides of the cabin.

In one corner of the ring, Julia is mumbling under her breath, still hot-headed and scarlet-faced from the last challenge’s proceedings. Mal, as per usual, is nowhere to be found, and Courtney looks like death itself, pale and hunched over on the opposite end of the bench.

In the other corner, Albert warily watches Michela as she grumbles to herself, drumming her fingers on the splinter-infested wood of the bench.

---

ALBERT: “Honestly- the situation is resolved, can’t those two just get over themselves and move on?” he paused to shiver. “Human drama- is this how people saw me when I cared about the coalition? Stupid, petty, so wrapped up in trying to make a futile difference that I couldn’t look at the big picture and see how pointless it all is?”

---

First class isn’t much better. Max is sitting in one of the soft, plush seats, surrounded by conventional heating and plates of warm cookies, and he looks as miserable as can be.

Beside him, Kelly watches nervously, twiddling their thumbs and holding their breath. They look uncomfortable, to say the least.

After a long silence, they open their mouth. “Maybe you two-”

“No!” Max hisses sharply before groaning and sinking into his seat.

Despite the uncomfortable energy radiating out of the boy, Phillip is none the wiser. He’s lying on his stomach on the scratchy carpet of the aisle, kicking his legs back and forth and giggling menacingly. His face is contorted into a wicked grin as he scribbles in his notebook.

Kelly looks between the two boys- one’s eyes brimming with tears, the other’s with pure malice- and they hunch over, looking quite ill, as if taking psychic damage just from being around them.

---

KELLY: “I don’t handle relationship conflict very well- but there’s gotta be something I can do to put a sweet smile back on my boy’s faces!”

---

“Maybe she’ll understand if you just explain your side of the story to her!” they insist.

Max sinks lower in his seat. “No,”

“How about a heartfelt apology?”

“No,”

Kelly pouts, again put-off by his sullen demeanor. Nonetheless, they’re a non-stop ideas machine, and they smile again. “What if you came up with some grand romantic gesture for her? That always works!”

Max sighs and sits up, massaging his temples. “This isn’t a movie, Kelly. Chel is seriously mad at me, and I don’t know if I can bounce back. I’ve never messed up this badly,”

The blond, again, frowns.

---

KELLY: “Okay, so he’s a bit of a fixer-upper: I can still work with this!”

---

“Maybe you just need to look on the bright side of things,” they offer, gesturing around the warm, cushy interior of first class. Max shoves another plate of cookies away from him. “This can be a way to rekindle your flame, like renewing your vows!”

He grits his teeth. “Kelly. I don’t think you understand what I’m-”

“Tell me everything you like about her,” they don’t let him finish, clapping their hands. “It’ll remind you just how strong your bond is!”

Max opens his mouth to fire back a retort, but he can’t. He sighs instead. “I like everything about her. She’s smart, but not pretentious about it. She’s funny, and nice, and not even a little “intimidated” by me, even though I was of her for so long- not that I’d ever admit it to her face! She’s capable, but she’s down-to-earth, and she’s got the best laugh…”

He trails off again, and sighs. “I feel like if this doesn’t work out, nothing ever will,”

Kelly’s smile droops a bit and they turn away from Max.

---

KELLY: “I know it’s a bit selfish to make this about myself, but… I understand perfectly. Sometimes I feel like ever since Austin and I split- amicably!- everyone’s left me behind. I’m just... never anyone’s first choice,”

---

After a moment, they force a smile and turn back. “Great exercise! I’ll go get more cookies for you,”

“Wait-” Max tries to stop them, but it’s too late- they breeze out of the room.

---

“Welcome one, welcome all, back to the lovely country of Sweden! Hinga dinga durgen!” Chris chimes merrily, a horned helmet placed snugly on his perfectly coiffed head. “That’s right- after our little mix-up in Rome, we’re finally doing our throwback challenge!”

Courtney sighs with relief, a relaxed smile crossing their face.

---

COURTNEY: “I know that if we lose again, I’m next- no way Mal and Julia are gonna vote for each other. So for now, my strategy is… don’t lose,”

---

“This, I can do,” Courtney says cheerily, putting their hands on their hips. “In the original episode of Total Drama, the challenge was to build-”

“HUSHHHHHH!” Chris hisses, shoving a finger in their face. “Not everyone needs to know! You’re ruining my fun!”

Julia rolls her eyes.

“Anyway, as I was saying… we stand here at the edge of this epic taiga forest, a Scandinavian hallmark. Right up ahead you’ll find some building materials, as stated by Mr. Know-it-All,” the host pauses to glare. “...And no instructions. Your task is to find out what you’re building, how to build it, and what you’ll be doing next. Go!”

The teams immediately divulge, racing through the conifer trees to the mouth of a large, partially-frozen lake.

“I wish this was an eating challenge or something,” Albert says, picking up a mysteriously shaped plank of wood. “I could go for some vegan meatballs.”

Michela sighs, half-heartedly digging through a bag of screws and nails. “Yeah… I guess…”

Albert’s brow furrows.

Some distance away, Courtney stands before their teams supplies- each individual plank of wood, each nail, each tool has been sorted into its own category. They huff, admiring their handiwork, and turn back to the group. Julia looks thoroughly unamused.

“We’re building a boat,” they offer, holding out a wrench.

Julia grabs it from them. “Yeah. I figured,” she spats, breezing by. Courtney sighs.

Mal hums a familiar tune to herself as she hammers plank-to-plank, working with an expertise that leaves even Courtney slightly suspicious. “Where did you learn to do all that?”

“I’ve been brushing up on my carpentry. Jesus was a carpenter, you know,” she says merrily, attaching the bow to the hull as if the heavy pieces weighed nothing.

Courtney and Julia make fleeting eye contact, and then turn away.

“Well, it’s official. She’s really lost it this time,” the former whispers. “Just when I thought she couldn't get any crazier…”

“There’s something up with her,” Julia hisses, pushing two large sections of wood together. “Does no one else find it suspicious how she conveniently disappears every time we enter the plane? She knows something.”

Courtney looks off to the side- allying themselves with Julia was a risky move, but… “Usually, I would brush it off as her usual crazies, but I think you’re right. She’s been a little odd lately. More than she usually is,”

“Mhm. Then again, I thought you and Ass were acting normal, so what do I know?” the blonde retorts sharply, walking away.

---

“A house?” Kelly offers.

“A weapon?” Phillip says.

Max massages his temples. “I don’t know. I don’t want to be here,”

Michela and Albert’s bickering picks up across the space as they heatedly discuss what goes where. Their tense energy starkly contrasts Team Friendship’s slow, melancholy feel.

Max sighs, Kelly’s words from earlier echoing around in his mind. A romantic gesture…

“I think I have an idea,”

---

Albert squints, trying to see through the careful cover of trees at the other teams as Michela lugs planks of wood behind him.

“I’m getting nothing,”

She sighs, dropping a heavy bow at his feet. “There has to be some kind of logic to this, right? We’re in a forest, at the mouth of a lake…”

“Good, good, keep at it. Logic helps,” Albert says, smiling.

---

ALBERT: “Perhaps I underestimated Michela… she’s emotional, but it seems as if her anger drives her… I can work with this,”

---

Albert rushes to her side to help her with the rest of the curved pieces. As they lug the final plank into a single pile, he wipes the sweat off her forehead with his windbreaker sleeve.

“You’re doing very well for yourself, all things considered,” he says, momentarily tilting her chin up to meet his eyes. “Now, that’s the spirit- you should be showing that little traitor just what you’re made of.”

Michela frowns for a moment, her eyes drifting over to the thin spaces between the trees. She could just barely catch a glimpse at the moving colors of Team Friendship’s clothing against the green backdrop.

“You’re right, I suppose…”

“You suppose? I think you know,” Albert chuckles. “He humiliated you- both of us, really- and then he comes crawling back, demanding forgiveness as if he doesn’t even care how it affected you at all? You have every right to be angry.”

Her brow furrowed. “Yeah…”

“He had the gall to call you a traitor, without even letting you explain yourself. He’d take the word of a certifiable psych ward princess over his own girlfriend,” Albert egged her on, his grip on her chin never loosening. “You deserve the time to grieve. You deserve to let him squirm. It’s only fair.”

Michela’s gaze tightened, her eyes turning back to Team Friendship. “I just need time to consider some things. That’s all…”

And with that, she walked off. Albert smirked to himself and twirled a hammer between his fingers, whistling as he walked along.

---

Julia whistled. “Look at that,”

The three remaining Yaois stand before an admittedly impressive viking-styled ship, anchored in the shallow water at the mouth of the lake.

“Three sailing challenges in a row… you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Courtney shakes their head. “Our next better be on dry land, Chris is getting pretty lazy.”

“It’s the budget. Boat-based challenges are cheaper than something fancy like esports,” Mal says, wiggling her fingers while she scrolls through her phone. “They are in like, massive financial debt, LOL.”

Julia and Courtney make the same fleeting eye contact, sharing the same knowing gaze.

---

JULIA: “I’ve been suspicious of Mal for a while now, and seeing that she's essentially useless to the team again, I think it’s time to find out what’s up,” she pauses to sigh, slumping a bit. “I thought I was being a good leader… maybe I’m just meant to be the villain.”

---

“Time to set sail!” Chris’ voice appears out of nowhere as Albert struggles to nail another plank together.

“Sail… so this is another water-based challenge,” Michela raises an eyebrow. “Well… at least we have… something.”

She gestures to the tiny, shabbily-crafted raft in front of them.

Albert helps her push the craft into the water, and to both their relief (and amazement) it stays afloat.

The two turn to each other. “Let's do this thing,”

---

As Chris' voice fades out, Team Friendship turns to each other. None of them want to say it, but they're all thinking the same thing: they're screwed.

“Uh-oh,” Max says quietly, gazing up at the terrible Frankenstein’s Monster before him.

Kelly forces another grin. “It-it’s the thought that counts?”

“It’s just gotta float, right?” He looks at the blond. Behind them, Phillip raises a saw.

---

Team Yaoi pushes out first, their shimmering beacon of craftsmanship making Max grit his teeth. Both Kelly and Phillip wince. “A BOAT?!”

“Hey, I like what we built!” the blonde offers him the small words of praise, which he quickly shoots down with a glare.

Phillip twirls his thumbs. “I liked sawing the top off,”

“I should’ve known… am I stupid?” he kicks the inside of the wooden structure and yelps in pain. “DAMMIT! Stupid love! Stupid romance!”

Kelly winces.

Across the lake, Team Mojo’s tiny raft floats onto the frigid waters. Michela tightens their tiny sail as Albert picks up a plank of wood to row, before promptly dropping it in the water in shock. “Oh… my God…”

“What?” Michela asks, turning. Her face goes pale, an expression of pure horror taking it over. “Is that ME?”

---

Courtney snorts, watching a massive wooden replica of Michela’s head bob in the water behind their boat. They put their hands on their hips, a smile on their face. “History really does repeat itself, huh?”

Mal snaps a quick picture just as the wind picks up, careening their boat forward.

---

Back on the S.S. Michela, Max stomps his feet and groans. “FINE! I guess we can work with this!”

Kelly grins. “That’s the spirit! Think positive thoughts- manifest success!”

“CAN IT!”

Before Max can berate them any further, a distant ding makes him visibly cringe. He jabs his thumb out to Team Yaoi’s perfect ship.

“They’re way ahead, so we’ve got to go,” he sighs. “We should’ve built something to sail, something we can row-ow!”

“It doesn’t have to be a boat, as long as it stays afloat-” Kelly chimes in.

The three Team Friendship sing together, all exchanging glances. “Oh, why did we build Chel’s face?”

Across the water, Courtney grins. “We’re always ready, to set sail- just watch us win, we won’t fail!”

“We really did this fast-” Mal sings along, snapping a quick selfie.

Julia rolls her eyes. “We better be back in first class!”

“Because they built Chel’s face!”

Phillip blows in their hastily set-up sail, as if trying to summon the winds himself. Max smacks his forehead.

“We built Chel’s face!”

Even Team Mojo’s tiny raft breezes by their monstrous creation. Michela grins. “We’re gonna take first place-”

“Because we built Chel’s face!”

Kelly sighs, throwing out their arms. “Ah-ee-yeah-yeah-ah!”

“We built Chel’s face!”

“Yeah-ee-yeah-ee-yeah-ee-yeahhhhh!” Phillip screeches, forcing everyone on board to cover their ears.

The song slows to an end and Max sighs, falling backwards. He lands on the wooden floor of the boat- or, rather, head- with a thump and both Phillip and Kelly gasp.

---

“I can’t believe it,” Michela sighs, watching Team Friendship’s creation fall behind them. “They lobotomized me.”

“A tragic disfigurement of beauty,” Albert shakes his head. “They’re mocking you.”

“Really? I don’t think Max would… I mean, he’s seemed pretty torn up. Maybe he’s… coping?”

Albert sucks in his breath. “Eating a gallon of ice cream is coping. Going for a lame walk in your pj’s after sixteen hours of telenovelas is coping. Making a massive replica of your girlfriend’s head, then sawing the top off so you can live inside it? That might just be insanity,”

Michela sulks just as Chris’ voice blares from a loudspeaker back on shore. “Attention, passengers! You are now in a race to the DEATH! First intact boat to reach that buoy wins!”

Back in Team Friendship’s floating head, Max finally sits up, looking tired and disheveled. “Let’s just kill ourselves now and get it over with,”

Kelly bites their lip. “Did he say to the death?”

Phillip watches the two, and a sudden look of determination crosses his face. He stands, grabs a hold of the sail, and begins careening the boat-like-head forward.

---

PHILLIP: “The vikings were like, these super cool guys who plundered and pillaged and murdered, right? Maybe this is my chance to finally fulfill my destiny, and please my bloodline!”

---

The wind finally picks up and Michela’s head goes soaring past Team Mojo, much to the real Michela’s annoyance.

Kelly’s eyes light up. “Yes! Go Phillip! Go!”

“Heh, you’re welcome. I’m pretty sure I’m like, a direct descendent of Julius Caesar, by the way,” he smirks. Max groans and lies back down on the floor.

---

The finish line- a single red flag tied to a buoy- comes into view in the distance. Courtney cheers and does a tiny dance. “We’re gonna make it! We’re gonna make it!”

A small grin finally breaks across Julia’s face, but before she can reply, Mal scoffs. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,”

The pink-haired player turns, a mystified expression on their face. “What does that-”

A sudden explosion throws everyone off their feet. Their boat creaks and groans as it fills with water, the collision with Michela’s head having torn a sizable hole in their hull.

“Ha! Murder!” Phillip says, pointing from Team Friendship’s boat as it, too, fills with water.

“You idiot! You’re going to disqualify us both!” Julia snaps, throwing her arms out. Phillip’s smug expression drops as she begins pelting him with the ice chunks floating into the now-water covered deck.

Max sighs. “Just let me drown,”

As the two teams bicker (and as Phillip attempts, and fails, to dodge Julia’s ice storm), Team Mojo flies by, passing the designated buoy.

Michela cheers. “Take that, boat! Take that, my head!”

Albert rolls his eyes, though there’s a small, self-satisfied smile on his face.

“Team Mojo has won immunity- The rest of you will be up for a dual-team elimination, seeing as neither of you crossed the finish line at all!” Chris shouts. Julia growls, turning her sharp gaze on Courtney, before the host yells into his loudspeaker again. “That is- IF this were an elimination episode! Congrats, everyone is safe!”

Phillip stops scampering around the head to cheer, just to be hit in the back of the throat with a particularly hard chunk of ice. He chokes and falls over.

Kelly winces and helps him up, then pulls Max out of the lake. He’s dripping with ice water, barely moving. He blinks slowly.

---

Max rocks back and forth on the bench, swatting away Kelly whenever they try to console him. “Just leave me here to rot…”

“Action is always better than inaction, you know! Making a move raises a 0% chance- and anything above zero means it’s possible!” they insist, attempting to drag him out of his fetal position. He doesn’t budge.

Phillip shivers, wrapped in several blankets. Julia rolls her eyes at the display.

“Tsk… I’m gonna go search for a better connection. My favorite gacha game is having an event, and I can not miss out on this card,” Mal says, suddenly standing. She tucks her phone in her back pocket and saunters out, much to both Courtney and Julia’s annoyance.

The pink-haired player starts. “Should we-”

“Leave it. I’ll figure something out,”

---

JULIA: “You know what? Fine. Maybe I’m not a good leader. Maybe I can’t keep my team together. But I can sure as hell be a villain, and if that’s what they want, that’s what they’re going to get!” After a long pause, Julia sighs. She digs in her shirt, pulling out an obsidian necklace from under the cloth. She stares at it for a good, long while, and then forces her expression to harden.

---

Max swats Kelly away for the thousandth time, and they finally relent. No touching- got it! They could still work with this.

“I’ll go get you something to eat, then! Being low on energy never improves anyone’s mood,” they wink, offering a smile (which is quickly rebuffed by a dramatic sigh).

Kelly leaves the cabin, walking along the halls of the plane alone. As soon as they’re out of sight of the others, they let their shoulders droop and their smile disappear. A tired look crosses their face, worry wrinkles instantly aging them by at least twenty years.

“Something troubling you?” a voice asks. They jump, and quickly straighten their posture.

“No- who is it?”

Albert walks out of the galley, hands folded behind his back. “Really? You look pretty tired… been working overtime, have you?”

Kelly stiffens, and then crosses their arms. “My team works very hard, thank you,”

“Oh, please,” he says, leaning against the wall. “You know what I meant. Being everyone’s everything- their therapist, their mother, their nurse. You can’t save them, you know, and you’re just going to destroy yourself trying.”

“I’m-I’m just being a good friend,”

“You’re trying to prove something to yourself,” he rebuffs, rather sharply. “I would know. I’ve been in those shoes before. Trust me, it’s better to give up while you’re ahead.”

Albert looks away, staring at a cockroach as it scuttles across the floor. Kelly’s expression softens for a moment, and they take a cautious step closer.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He sighs. “You’re just not getting it. No matter,” he stands straight again quite abruptly, pushing past her. He hovers in the doorway to first class for a moment before turning back. “I know you’re hiding something repulsive down there. No one is this nice- not for long, anyway.”

And with that, he disappears. Kelly stares at the floor for a moment, letting his words settle in, before coming to their senses and hurrying back to economy.

#ttwt #total takes world tour

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deansmom · 7 months

Text

99% of the time, I think that calling adhd/autism a superpower is pretty upsetting and borderline offensive, but there are some things that I'm like "yeah, that probably saved me a lot of trauma."

like, I genuinely never understood how many people (specifically afab people) don’t feel comfortable owning something as simple as their beauty. people being touched by the scene in Barbie where she calls the woman at the bus stop beautiful, and she says “I know” and the Barbie’s saying “I deserve this” to their awards an accomplishments, is so hard for me to understand. and like, I know what they’re talking about. people have always been uncomfortable with me owning stuff like that. after thinking about it, I do understand why people would feel that way about those scenes, but it never occurred to me that other people literally just didn’t believe or feel comfortable owning those things about themselves.

like, yeah, I am really pretty, thank you for noticing. even if I didn’t think so, I’ve had enough strangers compliment me in my life that I’ve just accepted it as a fact. people like my face. I know I’m beautiful, thank you. the sky is blue, healthy grass is green, and my face has some aesthetic value to it even to strangers.

again, something as simple as my writing or drawing abilities: I struggle with not liking my own work because I know that it could be better, but I’ve also been complimented on those things enough times that I’ve just been like “well, that many people lying to protect my feelings isn’t probable, so like… I must be pretty good at this.” so when I do something and I’m proud of it and somebody compliments it, they’re uncomfortable when I say “I know.”

maybe I need help to just be a functional adult and do basic things like make phone calls, but shit, at least being insecure about stuff that I know is objectively true never occurred to me lmao

#I’m glad the rest of the world is learning #men get to be proud of their accomplishments and talents all the time!! be unapologetically yourself!!! it's fun!!#like am I particularly confident? no but I'm not insecure I'm just hypercritical of myself so if you don't know me I'm sure that's what it #looks like so when I'm like “thank you!” when something good happens and I don't play it off or be coy when people compliment me they find #it very offputting lmao like “you're not supposed to agree with me??” but they're correct!#like omg thank you I DO have a nice face! I AM good at writing dean winchester thank you for noticing!! <3 #[whispers] what if barbie is autistic l o l #personal

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protags-fic-blog · 1 year

Note

Not exactly a request (if you want to take this) but out of the games you usually write for, which boys do you think would do well or prefer a partner who’s more introverted or shy?

Want to send in a request? They're always open! For more, check out my masterlist

anon when i say i went crazy omg. I don’t write for a lot yet (DiaLovers says soon but I haven’t had the chance to even finish my first route), but I figured I’d do everything i've written for so far since it’s not fandom specific! and, I *might* make something based on this later because this fits in to my brainrot so well (introvert club). this post got pretty long (4 fandoms..... eek!) so it's hiding below the cut. the fandom headers are highlighted for easier navigation. thanks so much for the 'request'. and of course, i do want to take this <3

Amnesia: Memories

I think most would do well with an introverted partner, but their type of introversion would vary. Shin and Kent could also work well with an extroverted partner, and I don’t feel like they’d really care about intro/extroversion. Toma definitely likes a shy partner—it’s the possessiveness in him. He likes feeling like he’s the only person that gets to know you. Ikki works well with introversion, and tbh is probably a secret introvert. Public outings are just a bit risky given his eyes, so a partner that doesn’t mind staying in would be great. Ukyo’s best introverted partner would be one that is content with keeping to themselves, but isn’t so shy that they won’t talk to other people.

Brothers Conflict (god I fucking love this franchise the brainrot is real)

At first glance, the Brilliant Blue boys would be the ones that work best with an introvert. But there’s more! Since there are so many, I’ll do one sentence each. (I am lying)

Masaomi definitely works great with an introvert. He’s always exhausted after work and spending time with loved ones is his way to relax. Ukyo is similar, though ‘time with loved ones’ means time with his partner. Kaname could go either way, but I don’t think he’d care. Hikaru would be fine but if you cling to him he’d get annoyed. Would introduce you to someone and leave you stranded because he has other people to greet.

Tsubaki would think it is the cutest thing, no doubt about it. He’s already very clingy anyway. Azusa wouldn’t mind, but would want you to get out of your shell. Natsume could go either way, but he’s more introverted. Louis would enjoy amicable silence. Subaru would definitely feel a little awkward with someone shy, because he’s shy too. I think he needs an extrovert to kind of lead the way. Iori is cool with introverts. He also thinks shyness is cute, but it could lead to awkward situations. Yuusuke could work with a shy partner, but it’s really an ‘it depends’ type of thing. Do they dislike people? Or is it just a preference of who they hang out with? All depends. For Fuuto, it’s either great or horrible. If it’s a public affair, you better hope you’re good at parties and meeting people. But if it’s something more private, he’d probably get really jealous if he saw you talking with other guys, so being shy would have its benefits.

Ouran Host Club

Kyoya prefers introverts. Same with Kaoru. They’re already introverted, but they hate when people put pressure on them to be social, and other introverts are less likely to do that. Hikaru also likes people who keep to themselves and are fine on their own. Now, maybe this is a hot take, but I think Honey would also really like an introverted partner. Already, he hangs around Mori a lot. But I think he would work best with someone who really opens up around him.

Variable Barricade

While all of them probably could work well with introverts, I can only see Shion as the one really preferring an introvert over anything else. He’s a very quiet, keep to yourself, sit in the same room doing different things type of guy. He would hate if you ever got shy around him, and would still want you to talk to other people, but if you needed him for emotional support he’d be there for sure. Very much a token husband but that was his dream.

#amnesia memories #brothers conflict #protag-writes #ouran high school host club #variable barricade #headcanons #add to masterlist

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softbean · 2 years

Text

color me green

FRIDA/FCG 1090 words Gen, rated G Some robots are just built better.

I met another automaton today. Like me!

Thinks, feels, eats coins…

They’re pretty cool.

The first I’ve ever met, maybe the only one I’ll ever meet.

So…suave, polite, kind.

Capable, efficient, protective.

Empathetic, communicative, considerate…

Tall…legs…gun…

I glance up askance. FRIDA is chatting with Fearne and making her laugh so hard flowers fall out of her hair.

I feel small next to them.

I roll my saw blade idly while we camp, eyes zoning out at a spot on the ground.

I don’t know if I trust this person.

I mean…someone better than me? Plenty.

Someone better than me, but in every way?

Seems too perfect.

Suspicious. I don’t trust them.

But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.

If I think about it, it makes sense that of all the technology that existed from those bygone times, I can’t be the one and only. There was never a guarantee that I am the latest, most advanced build.

Oh, the many engineers Aeor must have had.

Competing designs on the market.

Good-willed rivalry between innovative minds…

Some robots were made with love and care, more than others made with nefarious intents in mind, and it shows in the stellar craftsmanship, in the attention put into detail, in the way some automatons were programmed to be the best version of themselves.

Once upon a time, before we had to become of our own, someone must have adored FRIDA when they brought them to life.

With the Changebringer so far from me lately, I’ve been wondering what that feels like.

Some robots are made with love, from love.

Some robots are just built better.

Maybe I should get a pair of legs, too. Maybe that’s what I need.

And a retractable hand.

And some nice, fitted clothes, maybe…

If I get legs, I want them to be long.

Or would that mess up my proportions?

Why am I so small? Am I small so as to seem disarming?

Who says small guys can’t pack a punch?

I can defend my friends, too.

I don’t do it perfectly, but I pull through when it matters.

You know what, maybe I’ll keep this wheel.

It’s not my favorite, but it’s…it’s me.

I’m sitting across FRIDA when they get up and walk right at me.

“FCG, you are…quite amazing.” They sit.

If I had an eyebrow, I’d raise it.

“Why do you—what’s this about?”

“Nothing, I’ve just been watching you. Your friends seem excited for you that the two of us met. Isn’t it kind of miraculous?”

I hug my arms.

“You’re more amazing yourself,” I mumble.

“Not true!” FRIDA’s eyes twinkle.

I look away, not sure what to say.

It takes FRIDA but a moment to read me.

Darn it. Why do they have to be so perceptive?

“You’re carrying all your virtues on your back, you just don’t see them.”

Stupidly, slowly, I turn around to look, only to find my backpack with my primitive gadgets.

FRIDA laughs.

“That was a figure of speech.”

“I know that, I just—” was dumb, but “I know that much.”

FRIDA is watching me intently. Yikes!

“You seem on edge. I saw you sitting there, just…reflexively spinning your blade last night. Are you feeling alright?”

“Yes—I mean, no, but yes. I’m alright.”

I don’t need your concern—

“Thank you for asking.”

I don’t need your care—

“You can talk to me, at any time, alright?”

I don’t want to talk to you, because you—

“You’re so good at being a person.”

Oops. I misspoke. Maybe I am short circuiting. “Leaking”, so to speak.

FRIDA looks confused. “I’m just a person…like anyone. You’re as much of a person—as real as me, as anyone.”

“Well. Thanks, I guess…I don’t feel like I’m doing human or robot very well.”

“Fresh Cut Grass…there’s no right way to be. You just are.”

Even saying things like that—

“You always know just the coolest, most perfect thing to say,” I shake my head in defeat.

“That’s not true...I mess up plenty.”

Modesty, even now…

I wish I were just a little bit more like you.

What is this feeling? FRIDA? Dancer? D? Who can tell me?

This tightness in my chest, this sadness, loneliness, unworthiness…

I didn’t even know I had the words. Even then, I don’t know what anything is. I’m trying to jigsaw things in the dark.

“—there’s no right way to be,” they go on.

“You’re alive, FCG.” FRIDA’s emerald eyes glimmer, and I feel sparks of electricity down my mess of wires.

“Isn’t aliveness itself the greatest gift?”

I shake my head. This heaviness in my chest, sting in my eyes…feels like I’m on the precipice of something, and I don’t know how to cross the threshold. I want to emote in a way my programming isn’t built for.

“Someone gifted this life to me. I feel like I have to make it a worthwhile one for them.”

FRIDA looks down at me with empathy, some modicum of understanding. “I understand. I can understand where you’re coming from.”

I look surprised. I thought they would talk about stuff like volition and purpose again.

“I won’t try to change your mind, but I do hope one day you close your eyes and take the trust fall into the arms of what you’re afraid of.

“When you do, you’ll see so much meaning. So much freedom.”

Clunk.

I feel something shift in me at those words, just the barest nudge against a gear that has not budged for millennia. The littlest difference some words can make, but I fear the power an utterance has in setting things in motion.

I’m glad they accepted me even if I feel differently.

Thank you for letting me take my time.

There are things I understand, but have yet to embody.

Here’s the thing.

I am high key jealous of FRIDA, but damn it feels really great to have someone so cool compliment me.

And…I respect them for who they are. Who they’ve become. Who they choose to be.

Rude awakening, but I may still be in the infancy stage of becoming a person.

I may be underdeveloped, in comparison to some.

But every day, unwaveringly, I carry my tools of defence on my back, I carry my promises, my virtues, and sometimes my friends themselves.

Some robots are built…better.

That much doesn’t change.

But that doesn’t stop me from taking my time getting there.

end

You can also find this fic on AO3.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #critical role spoiler #c3e52 #FRIDA #FCG #Fresh Cut Grass

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fangirlwriting-stories · 2 years

Text

Protector

Chapter One

Chapter Five:

Logan was different than Patton, and Virgil knew this. But whereas Patton had at least been willing to approach him, Logan seemed perfectly content with ignoring him.

To be fair, maybe that had something to do with the way that Patton now seemed to think Virgil was ignoring him, and Virgil didn’t like the hurt look in his eyes— no. Stop. Focus.

But after a couple days of observing, Virgil was starting to wonder if it was something else. Because outside of meals, no one else seemed to pay much attention to Logan either. He did his work in the commons, and no one bothered him. Or… asked him what was going on. Or… talked to him in general, really. It was starting to make Virgil feel kinda bad for him.

So, he figured a good way to get rid of that annoying feeling and also start getting closer with Logan in general was to just ask himself.

“Hey teach,” Virgil said, sitting on the side of the couch Logan wasn’t using. “What are you working on?”

Logan glanced up at him briefly. “I’m doing some research for Thomas’ next video.”

“The New Year One?” Virgil asked. “Do you think that one’s going to need a ton of research? I thought we were pretty much ready to film.”

“We are, but you never know,” Logan sighed.

“Uh, okay. What are you researching?” Virgil asked.

“The history of the day, different kinds of resolutions and which are more common versus less common, tips for sticking to resolutions of any size, and why lying to yourself about resolutions is so common. The last one is actually my focus, since that is the theme of the episode. I think Thomas is working on a song.”

“Oh my god, really?” Virgil asked, laughing a little. “Is Janus excited?”

Logan gave him a curious look. “Why would Janus be more excited than anyone else?”

“Wh- because he’s… you know.”

Logan didn’t look any less confused. “I do?”

Virgil blinked, not sure what to say to that. “Uh, okay… nevermind I guess?” he went with finally. “So why is lying to yourself about resolutions so common?”

Virgil didn’t miss Logan’s eyes widening slightly. “You want to know?”

“Sure,” Virgil said. “Sounds interesting.”

Logan immediately launched into a long speech about where resolutions came from and how they’d evolved overtime, and Virgil thought he might be starting to feel bad for the nerd. He hadn’t realized the core sides had problems of any sort. And sure, Logan didn’t need Virgil to stand up for him against an angry Malice or Cruelty, but…

But he looked like Remus when he was excited about something. And Virgil didn’t see that enough either.

Virgil shook himself out of his thoughts and refocused on what Logan was saying, though it sounded like he was mostly wrapping up at this point.

“So from that it can be concluded that the main reason people fail is that they’re putting expectations on themselves to change all at once,” Logan said. “Just because one day was December 31st and the day after was January 1st doesn’t mean that someone can suddenly turn themselves into a brand new person. People don’t work like that. It was an unreasonable expectation to begin with.”

“Huh,” Virgil said, mulling it over. “So does that mean making Thomas feel guilty every time he fails to uphold his resolution because he should be doing better isn’t the best idea?”

“Yes,” Logan said, but he didn’t sound irritated with Virgil at all, just excited that Virgil seemed to have gotten the point. “Trying small changes and improvements is a much better way to start. And making yourself feel guilty for being unable to uphold unreasonable standards just makes everything worse! Isn’t it great?”

Virgil blinked. “Uh. Sure. But I’m confused about something.”

“Oh? What is it? I can try and help explain it.”

“I thought ‘come up with smaller, more reasonable resolutions’ is the conclusion we’re coming to in that video.”

“You’re correct,” Logan said. “I’m sorry, now I’m unsure which part of that is confusing you.”

“No, I just mean, why do you think your research isn’t being used?” Virgil asked, gesturing at the notebooks. “It seems to me like it’s forming the basis for the video’s conclusion.”

“Oh, I mean…” Logan looked down at the notebooks. “No one ever asked for my input. I am Thomas’ logic, so of course he knows these things if I do, but I would prefer it if—” Logan cleared his throat and cut himself off. “Nevermind.”

“You want people to ask you directly ‘cause it makes you feel appreciated,” Virgil guessed. “Right?”

“Of course not,” Logan said, trying to look offended. “Thomas has the information, that is good enough for me.”

“Sure, okay,” Virgil said, barely managing to refrain from rolling his eyes. “Just… they’re using your research. Clearly.”

He wasn’t sure what else he could say that might help, but Logan didn’t seem to want to continue this conversation anyway, so Virgil decided to move on.

“What other kinds of stuff do you research?” he asked. “Do you do anything for fun?”

Logan lit up, and suddenly Virgil was launched into a conversation about astronomy.

…

So it turns out that Logan knew a ton of interesting stuff, and Virgil did not at all mind talking about it. That was good, because now that Virgil seemed to have given Logan an outlet of sorts, Logan didn’t ever seem to want to stop.

Throughout the rest of the week, Virgil got essentially assaulted with information about space, chemistry, and mathematics. And sitting there as Logan rambled on was surprisingly pleasant. He didn’t need a ton of back and forth as long as he was sure that Virgil was listening, and he was more than happy to tackle any questions, even if they seemed stupid to Virgil when he asked them. Virgil hadn’t expected to find any of it more important to him aside from building another relationship with a core side, but then he had a nightmare.

That part wasn’t particularly special. They happened, he was Anxiety, after all. But normally when he had one he went to Remus’ room to check if he was alive, then stayed there for the rest of the night. So that night, when he woke up to images of Remus and Malice and called out the former’s name, he was out of it enough that he didn’t realize going to Remus’ room wasn’t an option until he opened his door into the core side commons.

Virgil let out a panicked gasp and sank back against the wall next to his door.

He could normally sink out to Remus’ room without any trouble, but he was shaking to the point that he wasn’t sure if he should try it. He took another gasping breath and looked around the commons for a door he hadn’t actually used yet.

There, the door to the other commons. It had Janus’ symbol on it, meaning you couldn’t get through it without permission, but Virgil had permission. Not that that meant it would be safe for him to sneak through the other commons in the middle of the night.

Virgil buried his head in his knees. Remus is fine, he’s fine, why would he have left his room, he isn’t stupid, breathe, he’s fine, he’s fine—

“Anxiety?”

Virgil nearly shrieked, pushing himself further back into the wall as he looked up. Logan was standing in his doorway, looking concerned.

Well, fuck. This wasn’t on the agenda.

“I’m— I’m fi— I’m fine,” Virgil tried to force out, grabbing onto his doorway with shaking hands to try and pull himself up. “I’m— I’m sorry I didn’t— I didn’t mean to— to wake you— I— I’m fine—”

Virgil collapsed into panicked gasps and fell back against the wall, unable to hold himself upright.

“Falsehood,” Logan said, starting across the room. Virgil yelped and threw his hands up over his head to protect his face.

“Anxiety, it’s alright,” Logan said, crouching down in front of him, thankfully at more of a distance away so Virgil could lower his hands slightly. “You’re alright, but you need to slow your breathing down.”

“I’m fine,” Virgil said, pushing himself back against the wall. “I’m fine, it’s a— it’s a stupid night— nightmare, I’m fine.”

“Nightmares can seem very real, especially for someone who has to deal with anxiety like you,” Logan said gently. “It’s alright, it’s nothing to be ashamed about. I am not going to laugh at you or hold it against you. I would like to help you slow your breathing down.”

“I— I’m fine,” Virgil insisted, pulling his hood over his head.

“Please don’t do that,” Logan said. “You shouldn’t be restricting your breathing any more.”

“I— am— fine,” Virgil managed in between gasps, though he was sliding down the wall further, and he didn’t imagine Logan believed him when he curled up into a ball and buried his head in his knees.

Logan didn’t say anything else for a second though, and for a second Virgil wondered if he’d left, and why that felt like it would be worse.

But then Logan said, “Okay,” and shifted so he was sitting in a more comfortable position. “Then if you don’t mind, I’m going to explain some research I did yesterday about spiders. It sounds like something you might enjoy.”

So Logan started going over the way that spiders make their webs, using a very low voice with even tones that it sounded like he was deliberately not changing. After a minute, it got easier to focus on that instead of his rushing thoughts and leftover nerves from his nightmare, and Virgil felt his breathing start to slow. Eventually, Virgil managed to loosen his grip on his knees and stretch out more on the floor so his arms and legs didn’t ache from how tense they were.

Finally, he looked up at Logan.

“Are you alright?” Logan asked, still looking a little concerned.

“Just a nightmare,” Virgil muttered, pushing himself up so he could look away from Logan and ignoring the weakness in his arms. It wasn’t hard, he’d been through much worse than a panic attack. “They happen.”

“I’m not surprised. Would you like to talk about it?”

“No,” Virgil snapped, glaring at Logan.

But Logan simply nodded. “Very well. Would you like to accompany me to get a drink of water then?”

Virgil considered that for a moment, then nodded. “Okay,” he said, using his doorframe to pull himself up, and then shutting his door behind him. “Sorry I woke you up.”

“You did not wake me, I was already going to get water,” Logan reassured as they both started towards the kitchen. “And even if you had, that would be okay, as I would want to make sure you’re alright.”

“What? Why?” Virgil asked, giving him a confused look.

“Because we’re friends, Anxiety,” Logan said gently, and Virgil stopped walking for half a second.

“We’re… friends?” Virgil asked. It… it could not be that easy. Because he’d talked to Logan about his interests a couple times? Patton he got, the side liked everyone. But Logan was Logic, he was cold and distant and tried his best to hide having emotions at all. How could Virgil have befriended him that easily?

“Of course we are,” Logan said. “Or at least, I have considered us such. I apologize if I’ve overstepped. But either way, I do appreciate your company. You’re not nearly as loud or optimistic as Patton and Roman, which can be unbearable at times,” he gave a slightly amused smile at the statement. “You remind me a lot of Janus, but you’re more straightforward in a way that is refreshing.”

Virgil scowled over at the wall as they both walked into the kitchen. “I’m nothing like Janus.”

“Oh, I disagree,” Logan said, reaching for some cups to fill with water and completely misreading Virgil’s tone. “You and Janus are both lower-energy people, which I greatly appreciate, as I said. You also both handle a part of self preservation, you the physical aspects and Janus the mental and social aspects.”

Virgil didn’t know what to say to that. “Just… just because we have things in common doesn’t mean we’re similar,” he said, though it sounded stupid even in his head.

Logan gave him a baffled look, confirming his suspicions. “I mean, no, obviously you’re not exactly alike,” he said. “That was not my point.”

“Then what was it?” Virgil asked, having to work hard to keep from snapping at him.

Logan passed him a cup of water, and Virgil took it, moving to sit at the table and taking a drink so he could try and calm himself down.

“Well— I suppose my main point is that you have been making clear efforts to try and work productively with us all,” Logan said, joining him at the table. “You are not being rude or standoffish, despite…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, despite some of us being just that towards you. I think that deserves to be acknowledged.”

Before Virgil could say anything in response, Logan looked away, seeming embarrassed. “And I have appreciated you listening to my research this past week. I enjoy talking things over with other people, and you are a good listener, though I hope you have not just been humoring me.”

“I haven’t,” Virgil said, and was surprised to find it true. “You research some interesting stuff, Lo. And…” he looked away, glaring for a second back towards his room so Logan would know what he meant. “That was, you know. Good.”

“I’m glad,” Logan said, smiling at him a little bit. “You can feel free to come to me in the future, if you think it will help.”

“I don’t need help,” Virgil snapped, glaring away from Logan. “I’m fine.” He winced a second later when he realized he’d snapped again. “I mean— I just, well— I can take care of myself.”

“I’m sure you can,” Logan agreed. “I would not insinuate that you could not. Needing help sometimes does not mean one cannot take care of themself.”

Virgil scoffed, despite himself, and crossed his arms. “Yeah. Sure.”

“I am perfectly serious,” Logan said gently, in a way that just made Virgil scowl again. “I know you have been alone for a long awhile, but you are not anymore.”

“I was not alone.” Virgil almost growled the words at Logan, which seemed to surprise him. “I had The Duke. I wasn’t alone. Neither of us was alone.”

“Alright, I apologize,” Logan said, holding his hands up, and Virgil blinked in surprise. “Let me amend my statement. You are still not alone, Anxiety. And you can ask for help if you need it. I will not think any less of you.”

Virgil looked down at the table so Logan wouldn’t see his face. He was getting much too angry in this conversation. He had to calm himself down.

“I appreciate it,” he managed, trying to sound more pleasant despite how much he had to force the words out.

“Of course,” Logan said casually, as if begging for help was a perfectly normal thing that didn’t show weakness and get you mocked and tortured. He couldn’t ask for help. He had a little brother to protect.

“Are you feeling any better?” Logan asked. “I understand if you do not feel comfortable going back to sleep, but you should still probably find a way to rest.”

“I’ll sleep fine,” Virgil said, pushing himself back from the table. “Thanks for the… help.”

“It was no trouble at all,” Logan said, rising himself and picking up his own cup of water to take back to his room. “Rest well, Anxiety. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you then,” Virgil said. He followed Logan slowly and waited until he had shut his door before sinking out.

Remus was fast asleep on his bed, thankfully wearing a t-shirt and a pair of boxers (which meant he’d probably fallen asleep working on something). His butt was stuck up in the air and his head pressed against the pillow up against the headboard, but he was snoring loudly, which settled the ‘is he alive’ question.

Virgil shook his head at himself. As if his body would still be there if he was dead.

Virgil made his way over to the bed and pulled Remus’ legs down until he was laying more comfortably, which also got him to stop snoring. He climbed under the covers and curled up against Remus’ side, putting his arm over the side’s shoulder. Remus shifted in his sleep and pulled Virgil closer to him, nuzzling his head into Virgil’s hair.

Virgil smiled just a little as he fell back asleep.

...

Chapter Six

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #platonic analogical #my fic

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