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kulemiwrites · 2 months ago

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VARIOUS | Unhealthy Relationship Traits

Characters: Masato Aizawa, Akira Nishikiyama(x2), Reina, Osamu Kashiwagi, Kaoru Sayama, Kazuma Kiryu, Goro Majima, Taiga Saejima, Shun Akiyama + Masaharu Kaito & Takayuki Yagami | GN! Reader

Prompt: Toxic/Unhealthy relationship traits

Note: Feel free to disagree. I don't claim to know it all and I'm not trying to tear down anyone's fave. I know with xreader type stuff, I sorta tend to overly romanticize our faves but I also get a lot of enjoyment out of thinking about ways they could fail. Rounding them out. I try to acknowledge that they're individuals who are less than perfect and deeply flawed despite trying their best.

Well, they’re far from perfect…

MASATO AIZAWA

Codependency. When he gets attached to someone, he sort of wraps himself up in them. They become almost one and the same. If he’s in need of reason, they’re the only person he listens to. His biggest fear, whether he admits it or not, is losing that person. He often acts off impulse and so, he desperately needs an anchor. Without it, he would spiral out of control for a while until he can find himself again.

AKIRA NISHIKIYAMA (Y0)

Jealousy. He’s about ready to come to blows if he suspects certain people are checking his s/o out. He gets pissy if he thinks that his partner is “too friendly” with someone else and will accuse them of flirting. If they’re out together, he may let them leave his side but they won’t be out of his sight for long. He wants his partner to succeed but not so much that he deems they’re doing better than him– or rather, they’d be better off without him. He doesn’t even like the idea of his partner making more than him.

AKIRA NISHIKIYAMA (K)

Trust Issues. Even if he knew that his s/o was someone who is incapable of lying, he’d still be hard pressed to take everything they do or say in stride without scrutinizing it. He thinks they’re only telling half truths. He doesn’t believe that they want to be with him and are only there until they’ve taken what they can get. He snoops. He questions. He has them followed under the guise of protecting them, meanwhile, his men are reporting each detail back to him– no matter how mundane.

REINA HATTTORI

Conflict Avoidant. She used to be more upfront about her feelings but now, she hesitates to even acknowledge to herself that she’s upset or hurt. She hesitates to issue blame and tries to rectify issues on her own. She’s more likely to accept fault, even when it’s glaringly obvious that she’s not the issue. It’s easier for her to beat herself up for doing something wrong to make her partner behave or react poorly than it is for her to tell them that they’re wrong. She allows her grievances to build up until she’s unable to take it anymore and instead of finally addressing it, she will simply check out.

OSAMU KASHIWAGI

Poor communication. In one world, he’s used to settling his problems with his fists but in the one he shares with his s/o, that’s out of the question. On the one hand, he’s fairly pragmatic but when it comes to his love life, he doesn’t know how to use his words. Or rather, he does know how but he just assumes that if he throws enough hints, he won’t have to. He can be passive aggressive sometimes. He’s even got a bad habit of stonewalling his partner instead of just discussing whatever issues may be afoot.

KAORU SAYAMA

Stubbornness. She has difficulty admitting when she needs help. She has difficulty admitting when she’s wrong. She struggles to apologize. She’s so headstrong that it can be her greatest detriment. She has the self awareness to understand whatever situation she’s in, but she’s hesitant to admit the fact that she’s flawed. It takes a lot of build up for her to open her mouth, be it to ask for help or to say she’s sorry.

KAZUMA KIRYU

Avoidant. The amount of conflicts he thinks can be resolved simply by walking away should be studied. He will humor his s/o with maybe 10-15 minutes of a serious argument before he packs his things and leaves to ‘clear his head’. Sometimes he’s gone for merely hours, others he’s gone for days, to the point that they’ll begin to wonder if he’s even going to come back. He’s not proud of it but he thinks that that’s the best way to keep from hurting/upsetting his partner more than he already has. He’ll promise not to walk away then break that promise not much long after.

GORO MAJIMA

Disrespectful. He can be mean. His s/o could truly be the center of his world. If he was put in a position where he had to lose his only eye in order to keep them safe, he likely wouldn’t hesitate but that doesn’t change how horrible he can be when he’s upset. Thankfully, it takes a lot to get him to that point but he’s got a nasty mean streak when it suits him. His insults can be laced with venom. He says things that will stick, even long after he’s apologized for it and the craziest thing? So often, he doesn’t even mean what he’s said. It was simply the heat of the moment.

TAIGA SAEJIMA

Disinterest in Change. He doesn’t realize how stubborn he is until he’s sitting next to his partner who is pleading with him to make changes. As much as he hates to admit it, he’s got a bit of a complacency streak. He just gets so comfortable that the idea of doing things any differently sort of bothers him. He’s a firm believer of if something ain’t broke, dont fix it.

SHUN AKIYAMA

Wandering Eye. If someone catches his eye, he wouldn’t fight his natural instinct to check them out. As far as he’s concerned, so long as he doesn’t do anything about his attraction to other people, it doesn’t really count. He could be hand in hand with his s/o and damn near break his neck watching an attractive passerby. If his partner communicates that this makes them uncomfortable, he’ll have a difficult time empathizing because he thinks that looking is natural and being upset by it speaks to insecurity rather than it actually being wrong.

MASAHARU KAITO

Overprotective. He trusts his s/o but it’s other people he feels he has to watch out for. Even if his partner has asked him to relax and attempted to assure him that they can handle themselves, he’s still going to keep an eye out. His protectiveness can be both endearing and overbearing. It’s not uncommon for a situation to escalate simply because he felt it necessary to intervene when it wasn’t. Impulse takes over and all he’s got at the forefront of his mind is that his s/o is in trouble and he’s not going to wait around for someone else to be the hero.

TAKAYUKI YAGAMI

Boundary Overstepping. He can’t handle not knowing things. Being in the dark irks him both personally and professionally. If he ever feels like his s/o is hiding something from him, he will get to the bottom of it. He pokes and prods and pries. Many times he doesn’t even realize that he’s overstepping until his partner is (rightfully) lashing out at him for not minding his business. In his mind, he’s an open book with nothing to hide and he can’t fathom why his partner wouldn’t be the same.

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adventuringblind · 1 year ago

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Monsters in my Mind

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Sometimes those thoughts won't leave, the ones you don't want... The ones that can be dangerous. All it takes is one person to help make them go away.

Warnings: Intrusive thoughts, referenced/implied self-harm, violent thoughts, impulsive behaviors, panic attacks, non-sexual dominance as a form of coping, dom/sub undertones

Notes: My thoughts are self stabby as of late. Pardon me as I write this for myself to keep my head and hands busy.

Side Note: Consider feeding my praise kink maybe...?

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

The head is a strange place. One's conscious is usually meant to help them make the right decisions and not engage in acts that could hurt them or others. Her head, however, is the opposite of that.

It's a dark twisted place where thoughts that aren't her own find refuge. They want to bathe her in the ecstasy of things that shouldn't feel good. daydreams about things that could repulse any typical human being.

Sometimes they are so strong and her bodies reactions are so out of control, that she has to find relief somewhere. The knife against her skin takes the edge off. Is it normal to moan at the sting and feel satisfied looking at her red stained thighs? She does, until the realization settles in and the guilt won't let her think.

The thoughts laugh at her for giving in so easily. They scrutinize the fact she gets off on the pain.

She walks around in fear of herself. The anxiety and exhaustion from constantly fighting herself are visible on her body. She's tired, and everyone knows it. It's why they don't come near her. Always to caught up in her own head to realize people are trying converse.

It's not like her job requires to much discussion with people. Puzzles keep her brain busy and Ferrari keeps her busy with all the strategy mishaps they throw at her. They throw her a problem, she solves it, plans for next time, and they fuck it up again by not using the solution.

Sometimes she thinks about throwing herself in front of an F1 car going full speed. That voice in her head screams at her anytime she's close to the live track.

Then there is Max. His voice sends the thoughts running and it makes her want to cling to him. She wants him to never stop talking about anything and everything.

Today had been particularly difficult with the of the driver switch coming at the end of the season. Carlos and Charles are the first drivers she's worked with and they all got along great. She doesn't want it to change. That means more unknowns.

The wind graces her cheeks and kisses her finger tips as she sits on the balcony of their apartment. Everything is to much right now and her thoughts won't quiet.

She was in Maranello when the news came out. Her head became so loud with the fear of change and worry for her friend. Enough to be sent home for the day - alone, and nothing to help her head aside from the burning desire to just end it all.

Max had made arraignments for her to spend some time with him in the Milton-Keynes. She was still alone for periods of time. Enough to have to settle herself somehow.

The color red makes something in her relax. Specifically when it's flowing out of her own body.

Now Max is with her and she's stuck in her own head. The never ending maze of twisted thoughts keeps her from moving. The fear of giving in has been looming over her head for longer then normal. It feels like she's losing something, always has been with this team, but change feels far worse then staying with them.

Max hasn't pushed her to do much aside from at least stay in his presence. Occasionally attempting to get her out of her own head with movies and games. He's even spent hours at a time just talking to her about anything and everything.

He opens the door to the balcony, but she doesn't look at him. Not until he holds his hand out for her to take. An action she does without hesitation. No thoughts are needed for this, just following Max's lead.

He leads her over to the couch and arranges them so she can sit tucked into his lap. A grounding hand runs up and down the lenght of her spine. "I've been doing some research about how we might be able to get your head to quiet down."

"I'll do anything, jus' want it to stop." Her voice sounds dry and cracked from how hard she's screamed and cried through the last few days.

"Do you trust me?"

"More then I trust anyone."

She finds herself slipping off the couch and onto her knees, in-between Max's legs with her head resting against his thigh. His touch doesn't leave her skin. "You're doing so good for me. Listen to my voice and focus on taking big breathes for me. Can you do that for me?"

She hums in response. The continual stroke of Max's fingers against her face and sound of his voice already helping immensely.

"That's it, just breathe for me. I've got you; you don't have to fight the thoughts alone. I'm right here with you, keeping them away, never leaving your side." Max grabs one of her hands with his free one. her fingers lay between his. Her favorite puzzle with how easy the pieces fit together.

"You're here with me; I've got you. Those scary thoughts aren't your own. The are unwanted and uninvited, but most importantly, they don't define you. You are brave, loved, beautiful without gaping wounds. You're not crazy or psychotic. You are yourself, with your highs and your lows."

Her body has never felt like this. Her entire being wants to give itself over to Max. His breathes guiding her own, his gentle yet firm hold on her keeping her where he wants.

She lets herself fall under his spell. If Max can take the control away from her, make her complaint and relaxed like this, then he can have her thoughts too.

"That's it, such a good girl, let me think for you. I won't leave you to fight or flounder on your own."

She follows Max's directions, lets him guide her in this place of trust and letting go of things. He's turning her brain off and letting her float without any kind of worries except what Max is telling her to do.

Until all she can think of is him. The calm the comes with his presence and the way his voice falls over her like a soft blanket. Max is all she knows, occupying every crevice of her mind and leaving no room for anything else to creep in.

"How're you feeling, geliefd?" There is a lightness to his tone that makes her swoon.

She hums against his leg. "Warm, fuzzy, head empty."

"Then you stay here as long as you need, okay? I'll keep you safe."

And she does.

She falls into the warm embrace of Max's words. She lets him protect her and keep the dark ugly thoughts away.

With Max, her head is quiet. The voices can't come though. When they do, he's there to fight them back.

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bookatans · 8 months ago

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After reading Dooku: Jedi Lost it's so hard not to get stuck on how his closest mentors happened to be on the opposite side of a very complex spectrum and how that has just as much to do with the way Dooku's opinions of both the Jedi and the Republic were formed as much as his years of messaging Jenza.

On one hand, you have Yoda, who we all know. "Wise and inscrutable," as Sifo-Dyas put it. Yoda is the picture of what a Jedi is supposed to aspire to be. He is the be all, end all of Jedi-hood. Under Yoda's teaching, Dooku was placed in a position where he forced himself to be the best — already an issue he faced before becoming a padawan.

On the other, you have Lene Kostana. From the first time meet her in the audiobook, they tell you that Lene Kostana is someone that the Jedi Council scrutinize and don't take seriously. Her interests in Sith history are seen as irrelevant more than they seem dangerous. Everyone is blind to the idea that the Sith could make a return, while she's preparing herself for a potential – and, to her, ineviteable – ressurection of the Sith.

In a perfect world, these two opposing forces would create a balance where Dooku might be able to learn from two teachers whose ideals might clash, but could ultimately be interwoven to form something coherent.

But this isn't a perfect world. From the very beginning, Dooku already has conflicts of interest, and they only add on over time. He's in contact with Jenza – a sister a Jedi is not supposed to have–, he struggles with an attachment to Sifo-Dyas, he has a tendency to let his emotions get the better of him.

Of course, all padawans have struggles that they have to face, but Dooku's are exacerbated by a couple of facts: Yoda is an absent Master when his responsibilities to the Council override his teaching, and Lene – who Dooku already knows is different, who Dooku originally wanted as his Master! – is the one who continues to mentor him when that happens.

Lene Kostana is not a perfect master. Of course, neither is Yoda, but Lene makes her deviation from the typical Jedi known and doesn't shy away from it. She's unapologetic in her search for Sith history, and while Dooku might find that fascinating, we as the readers can see where the faults lay, where that obsession begins to override everything and begin that rift in Dooku's faith and trust in the Jedi.

They suffer a traumatizing experience that unquestionably affects Dooku and makes Sifo-Dyas' visions worse, and what does Lene do? She asks Dooku to keep this a secret from the Council, because the Council already wants her to stop what she's doing. Then, when Sifo's visions do continue to get worse, she asks Dooku to hide it and places in him the fear that the Jedi will do something terrible to Sifo-Dyas, like institutionalize him. Lene tells him over and over again that the Jedi Council is not perfect either– tells him to be weary of them, that they''re afraid.

In contrast, when a situation comes up where the Council do find out about something else that's against the Code within the Jedi, Yoda tells Dooku that they would've helped had they been trusted and known, but Dooku doesn't believe him. He's even shocked and disillusioned by the Jedi taking legal matters into their own hands.

This isn't to say Lene's influence or Yoda's paragon status shaped Dooku into what he became. Everyone had a hand in that, Dooku himself most of all. Circumstances fell into place to create that path. Ultimately, it was Dooku's own hubris that became his downfall.

But, shit, having those two wildly different people to guide him sure as hell didn't make it any better.

#eza.txt #i wasn't trying to make a long post like this but i'm consumed by the grief of having read that fucking book #do i think dooku being not left under lene's care would've helped? maybe. probably not.#maybe because in remaining with lene he kept his attachment to sifo and maybe because that boy should not have been anywhere near sith shit #probably not because dooku's pride could and would find a way #idk idk i would fight lene kostana in a dennys parking lot but i'd also get down on one knee for her #book blogging #dooku jedi lost #count dooku #lene kostana #master yoda

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ednaarel · 3 months ago

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Not dev stuff, rather Severance stuff. I posted it to Severance community but I'm gonna post it on main too.

Spoilers for Severance season 2, episode 9. Additionally, TW for discussion of eating disorders.

In TLDR terms: I do think Helena suffers or suffered from an unspecified eating disorder. I'll explain my reasoning down below.

First of all, you need to understand that Helena is more or less a marketing tool. She needs to be pretty and look good in the pictures that Lumon propaganda is throwing into the world. Her getting severed was a giant PR stunt. She had so many moments of her work and possibly her life documented on camera. Therefore, she's got a lot of pressure on herself when it comes to her looks and her image - after all, she's not just representing herself but also the entirety of Lumon and the Eagan family.

Second: Lumon controls food. The vending machines on the severed floor have small portions of Lumon-branded snacks which can only be retrieved with special tokens, which are limited. Gemma gets her food in small, droplet-shaped form. The egg bar (which is, of course, coveted as fuck) is considered a reward, tying food to something you have to earn instead of something you need.

You need to remember that Helena doesn't exist outside of Lumon. She needs to be perfect as Kier's descendant, she most likely grew up extremely isolated, and if we believe what she said to Mark - that she never brought anyone home - she still is isolated and lonely. Her whole life is dictated by her family, by Kier's word, by Lumon principles. When she's told to go back to the severed floor, she does so, even though she clearly doesn't want to - she's treated like an asset instead of a human being. She's not in control of her own life.

This is a really fucked up combination: expectations of perfection, lack of control and already strange culture around food. Eating disorders in women can originate from the lack of sense of control - the food intake is a way to feel in control of something for once.

Which leads me to another point: the weak enamel line. In certain eating disorders, a person will binge eat, then purge, or, vomit in order to not gain weight. Frequent vomiting erodes your enamel. Lumon's obsession with tiny food portions could lead Helena to eat extreme amount of food as an act of rebellion... just for her to feel shame about it afterwards. Lumon is, after all, quite big on the shame factor (remember the break room?).

I thought about this line a lot but everything clicked into place only after today's episode.

Helena swimming. Rigorous exercise often accompanies eating disorders.

Jame telling Helena to eat and that he'll "watch her". This wasn't just a creepy line (though it really was creepy). Ill-informed people will often try to make sure that a person with an eating disorder will eat as they should, and to achieve that, they will watch them as they eat. This, however, often only adds to the stress and shame, especially if you behave like Jame (not engaging with a conversation that's NOT about food, for example).

Helena cutting that one egg into smaller pieces, clearly being particular about the plating (one half of the egg on one side, one on the other), eating in a highly specific manner (only the white, she didn't touch the yolk).

Jame commenting on Helena's egg preference. If you remember (and I don't blame you if you don't), Jame would prefer her to "take them raw" because Kier's favorite breakfast contained raw eggs. Helena's exercising the little freedom of choosing her own way to have eggs and even then, her choice is being commented upon and scrutinized through the lens of her ancestry.

If I got something factually incorrect, please feel free to tell me, I'm in no way an expert on this stuff. I just think that the whole thing is extremely tragic.

#severance spoilers #helena eagan #severance #I don't excuse Helena's actions but holy shit #girl has it ROUGH emotionally

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ryolina · 4 months ago

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Chapter 6. The Great Scandals

Pairing with Daemon Targaryen

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Sumarry: The tension surrounding the prince and the eldest daughter of Otto Hightower became increasingly heated as time went by. Along with the princess's tour, a new scandal involving the two lovebirds became increasingly unavoidable. Argent might still be unsure about the threat she gave to her father, but the prince, who knows, always takes every opportunity to persuade Argent to follow through. With the help being offered, it was indeed too tempting to ignore. But everything still has a price, and Argent, who has no gold to pay for it, can only wager her honor. Whether it still remains or has vanished along with her who flew on the dragon's back with the prince at that twilight.

WC: 4.6K+

A gentle breeze caresses the face of the girl who lost in thought atop her horse. Silent. Perhaps asleep with her eyes open. But she still blinked for a moment – proof that she was still very much alive, especially as the wind blowing became stronger. Her gaze looked far ahead at the expanse of green grass, at the hills rising are interconnected. A delightful comfort, so refreshing to the heart and mind. Cleansing it from the suffocating dust in King's Landing that was becoming thicker, as if trying to choke everyone.

Political debates became increasingly tumultuous as time went by. Especially for the King, who is always busy with his work to protecting the seven kingdoms, as well as the council's efforts to force him to marry soon. The stability of the realm must be maintained even though the heir to the throne has been determined. At least, until there is a male heir capable of bearing the burden to become the protector of the realm.

Argent was very grateful when Rhaenyra asked to accompany her on the tour. Of course, she was still accompanied by her personal guard, Ciston Cole. The mystery kningt that won the heir tournament. But actually Cole is not a mysterious knight. Just a poor knight whose family name was unknown to anyone before.

Argent's daydream was shattered when she heard the sound of horse hooves not far from where she was. And her face froze when she saw who was approaching her. "Lady Rhea," Argent greeted the hostess, who immediately received a smile from her.

"My Lady..." Rhea replied as she tried to greet back but didn't know the name of the person in front of her. "Argent Hightower, My Lady," Argent replied.

"Lady Argent Hightower, so you are the eldest daughter of The Hand." Argent's smile widened, though it was not something sweet, more like a small smirk as she turned away. "Yes, My Lady."

Rhea seemed to notice the change in her conversation partner's expression. "Please don't misunderstand, The Hand does have enemies everywhere in the realm. But that clearly has nothing to do with you."

Now the aura emanating from that smile has changed, no longer looking sour as before but clearly there is a hint of forcedness at the corners of the expanding lips. "Thank you, My Lady."

"I heard that you have privileges at the Citadel? How is the learning there?

"Only in the library, My Lady, and even then not every day. The guard only allows me if he is in a good mood.”

"Oh, very interesting."

"Yes, it's true, being able to read the books collected by the school of the Maesters is the greatest honor you can ask for if you come from a minor noble family like ours."

"You don't need to be a girl born as a minor noble if you succeed in marrying Prince Daemon,” she said.

The sentence was shocking that Argent didn't realizes she was choked on her own saliva. She never imagined hearing that sentence from the Daemon’s wife of all people. "My Lady," was all that came out of Argent's mouth, so shaken by the words she had just heard.

Meanwhile, Rhea just stared at Argent with a scrutinizing gaze, perhaps enjoying watching her conversation partner disturbed by the rumors spreading throughout the country. "It's getting quite late, we should head back, Lady Argent."

"Yes, My Lady."

Rhea directed her horse backward before passing by the girl who was still frozen in place. She had indeed never been seen with Daemon since they got married, but at least she might be happy if Daemon visited her occasionally. Rhea clearly knows who the man she married is, the troublemaker who shakes the entire kingdom. His presence could be a threat to anyone who dared to oppose him. Their marriage was indeed just a political exchange to strengthen Vale's support for the King and vice versa, but the treatment Rhea received was clearly so humiliating.

Prince Daemon is not only famous for his temperamental nature, with his blood so fiercely burning. But also his sick personality, like the other Targaryens. They never consummated their first night because Daemon immediately disappeared to the pillow house shortly after their wedding ceremony was over. Rhea, who was still very young, felt heartbroken at that time, but now she feels grateful because she doesn't have to spend the night with the troublemaker. His title was not just a word, but his true nature.

Meanwhile, Argent could finally breathe as a sigh of relief when she was left alone again, in the expanse of green sea and its refreshing cool air. If possible, Argent would want to stay there forever rather than having to kneel all the time in King's Landing. Hiding behind the castle walls so she wouldn't explode at the sight of her father's face again.

Regarding the marriage that Otto arranged for Alicent, it is clearly unavoidable. Argent has tried to find ways to sabotage it, but it has never worked. Otto was right about the King never accepting Argent around him, especially since Argent loves to debate instead of listening and nodding. Every solution they tried always ended in a dead end, making Argent feel like her head might explode at any moment. Too many thoughts in her beautiful little head.

"There you are."

“Here i am,” Argent whisper in her heart when she heard the voice she had just heard. Argent even felt that this person might have other hidden powers within him. "My Prince," Argent replied just before her gaze shifted.

"You looked disappointed when you found me here, Lady Argent."

This time, Argent really stared at Daemon, who had found her again. The corner of Argent's lips curled slightly, forming a faint smile that seemed subtle, trying as hard as possible not to raise suspicion. "Just your speculation, My Prince, I'm actually very happy to see you again. What an interesting coincidence.”

That sentence sounded sarcastic to Daemon, making him even more intrigued until his grin became uncontrollable. "I also enjoy seeing you again."

"I can see it from your silly-looking smile, Prince."

“Daemon,”

"Daemon," Argent repeated, following the justification that Daemon had recounted to her.

Nothing was said after that. At least until the silly smile on the prince's face turned into a small laugh that looked just as ridiculous as the blush on his face. I don't know what kind of pleasure Daemon feels when he annoys Otto's eldest daughter. "You rode the horse I usually use when I'm in the Vale."

"Oh, is that so? I didn't know you visited often; I thought your only stop was Flea Bottom and then disapeard like you were swallowed by the realm." Argent's gaze was completely fixed on Daemon's face, which for some reason looked brighter than usual. This time, for some reason, she became curious, "If you don't mind me asking, where are you coming from, Daemon? Because it seems like you're always everywhere."

"I am indeed everywhere."

Argent truly regretted asking, for a moment she might have forgotten that the person she called a friend, the one who would be more than happy for the show she prepared for her father, was not someone who was serious all the time. Argent forgot that Daemon was a skilled player. "Okay, forgive me," he said then when he saw Argent's face was not very pleased with the answer the girl received. But her facial expression didn't even change after Daemon apologized. "I have urgent business here."

This time Argent only nodded, clearly not wanting to get further involved with someone who bore the title of another person's husband, especially when that person was the host who treated her like a guest of high nobility. "Alright, whatever your business is, it surely has nothing to do with me. So, excuse me.”

Daemon had to move away from where he was standing or he might get hit by the horse Argent was riding. The girl was about to completely leave him if only the calling voice hadn't reached her ears. "My offer still stands, Argent, shouldn't we start the show now?"

"Hah? What are you talking about?” Argent turned back then. "I was just warning my father, not that I would actually do it."

"So, that was a lie?"

"Not really, I just..." Argent's gaze weakened as she thought about it again, until she finally looked at Daemon and finished her remaining sentence, "Not sure yet, I think."

A small laugh was heard from Daemon's direction as his eyes returned to the girl in front of him. His steps quickened as he approached the horse's body, which was slowly walking backward. Daemon would not take the same action as before; the rocky plains of Vale might soon break the girl's neck if she fell from her horse. Daemon's hand finally managed to grasp the rope tied to the stallion in front of him. His words were true when he said the horse Argent was riding belonged to him, as evidenced by how the large animal appeared calm, even as if it were asking to be petted on the head. And more than happy to do so, Daemon did.

"We don't really need to make it a show, hasn't the show already started? We just need to see it through to the end, Argent."

"What do you mean, My Prince?"

"You will know after this. Now, give me a ride, we have to get back before night falls." Argent was surprised when she saw Daemon suddenly jump behind her. She shouldn't be surprised anymore when she meets someone named Daemon who can do anything. Anything to the point where you should stop being surprised by all his behavior. Argent really wanted to protest, but this position became very awkward every time their horse took a step. With the cold wind greeting them and the warm breath sweeping from their earlobes to their necks. All of this is too much to handle, and Argent prays that God is kind enough to save her once again this time.

"You have to start getting used to this," Daemon whispered to the girl, who was immediately startled upon hearing it. Because his words were not just words, but a reality she had to face.

The welcome they received just after passing through the front gate was not a warm one. More precisely, it might not be a welcome at all, more like whispers that continued to be heard until their horse stopped, and Daemon jumped to help the girl down from her horse. Of course, Argent would never accept an outstretched hand, not in front of all the eyes that were glaring at them. Also with whispers that felt more like shouts in the lowest tone. Daemon's hand still loomed very high, waiting for the girl to meet it, but that never happened. "Do you really want to see my hand break from waiting too long?" he said, indifferent to the world.

"What are you doing?" Argent let out a quiet scream upon hearing those words.

But Daemon is Daemon, the troublemaker who won't care about anything in this world. The challenger who will face every obstacle standing in front of him. Daemon is not known as someone who is patient, let alone one who compromises with any situation. His blood always burned as hot as the breath of his dragon. And he would gladly face all challengers who dared to stand before him.

Without waiting, Daemon immediately pulled the girl down from her horse, of course a bit dramatically with a gaze that would send shivers down anyone's spine upon seeing it. Argent didn't waste time being too mesmerized by that gaze; she knew Daemon was a skilled player when it came to dealing with women. Argent was very aware that she had gone too far to turn back now. Indeed, the show has already started, and all they need to do now is finish it properly. Let the audience react, perhaps they will give the most thunderous applause while throwing flowers because they are satisfied with the performance, or maybe they will curse because they are too emotionally moved by the actors' excellent performance.

The performance was not over yet; Daemon, undeterred by the increasingly loud whispers, continued to sprinkle more wood, making the fire grow larger, as he took the girl's hand and entered the castle where his wife lived. Indeed, Daemon's lawful wife, Lady Rhea Royce, stood not far from the scene but remained hidden atop the fortress.

+++

A scandal remains a scandal, and everyone loves to talk about the rumors circulating about the royal family. Especially the troublemaking prince who spends most of his time in Flea Bottom with all the whores who would gladly lick the prince's shoes for a few gold coins he brings when he visits. This time, the scandal circulating is quite hot because the prince is fooling around with the eldest daughter of The Hand of the King, who always clashes with him when they cross paths.

A month has passed since Argent and Rhaenyra returned from The Vale, along with rumors that spread very quickly with them. The Princess seems to be unaware of the unusual closeness between her friend and her father, but the princess knows that her beloved uncle has something unusual with her new friend. Rhaenyra really wanted to ask, but she didn't want to experience a more terrible loneliness than this if a misunderstanding occurred between her and Argent in the end. Let her endure a little suffering as the price to alleviate her loneliness.

Rhaenyra stared at Argent across from her, who was reading a book about the history of the conquest of Dorne by the Conquerors. "So, the dragon skull in the Sept is Meraxes?"

"Yes, it was given by Princess Deria as a gift of agreement, although Aegon the Conqueror was not very pleased when he received it. Killing sacred animals often bodes ill in Westeros”.

“Mhhm so that's how it is. But now Dorne has knelt before the Iron Throne, right?”

"No, we did make a peace agreement, but House Martell has its own family motto."

Argent nodded in understanding upon hearing it; this girl had completed her studies on the ruling families of Westeros long ago, so she clearly understood the conversation taking place between them. "Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken."

"Absolutely correct."

Argent closed her book as their small discussion ended there. "So, what should we do now?"

Rhaenyra seemed to be deep in thought as she rested her face on her hands on their study table. "I don't know, what do you suggest?"

Argent couldn't help but smile when she heard the enticing words; they had indeed grown into partners in crime over the past year. All this time the idea of sneaking out of the castle was hers to get some fresh air but then it became Rhaenyra's suggestion every time the girl felt increasingly sidelined from the small council meetings. Her suggestions were never heard, as if her coronation was merely a formality to fill the void. And Argent knew why her friend felt that way, of course, blame Otto who increasingly dominated the small council meetings. As if the man had a plan for every situation, as if he had eyes and ears all over the country.

Argent, who was deep in thought, finally came up with a small, delightful idea. But her speech was soon interrupted when they saw a servant walk in after bowing briefly. "Princess and My Lady, I apologize for the interruption, but the guest of honor has arrived and the King expects your presence, Princess."

Rhaenyra nodded in understanding as she listened to the report. And the servant who delivered the message immediately left once his task was complete, leaving the two girls to prepare to welcome the guest of honor, the King's cousin, Princess Rhaenys—the queen who never was, oh no, Argent preferred to think of her as the queen who should have been.

All the scattered books on the study table in the library Argent tried to clean up before they left. Actually, the girl was trying to buy time so that the princess could soon welcome the honored guest, but her feet didn't even budge an inch from where she stood. This action made Argent look towards Rhaenyra, but instead received a similar gaze.

"What are you doing?" Argent asked the princess, but was met with the exact same sentence in reply. "What are you doing?"

"Rhaenyra, I can't keep getting involved in all your business Let me stay here, okay? I don't want to mess things up again.”

Rhaenyra smiled upon hearing it, her hand immediately reaching for Argent's while continuing to gaze at her gently. "You never mess up, you make everything easy because of all that. Thank you for making that suffocating tour end quickly.”

Argent's head bowed when she heard it, even though Rhaenyra said it that way, Argent still had a sense of humility because of her immoral behavior. Even perhaps because that was so unworthy, her faher had never spoken to her since Argent returned from the princess's tour. "Princess."

"No Argent, you should just call me Rhaenyra. You always call me Princess if you have another escape plan.

“Wow, you have sharp eyes"

Now the smile widened until the row of pearly white teeth was visible on the face of the princess. Rhaenyra immediately released her hand from Argent's fingers, replacing it by linking her arm with hers. "I am the Princess, I must learn to know everyone's secrets."

"Wow, what's your plan? Becoming a tyrant?”

"Maybe"

Both of them laughed as they left the library heading towards the garden behind the throne room. Passing the small stairs as they exited into the Godswood courtyard, they were both surprised to find Daemon standing there with his eyes closed, enjoying the warm air along with the morning sun perched low on the horizon. Rhaenyra's grip on Argent quickly loosened as the girl ran towards her uncle. They only met in the Vale for a moment before Daemon left again, who knows where.

"Uncle," greeted the princess enthusiastically as she approached the young man. The call immediately made Daemon turn and open his arms to receive a hug from his niece. "Rhaenyra."

Meanwhile, Argent stopped in her tracks, frozen in place by the sight before him. The good relationship between the nephew and uncle in front of her is not a secret; in fact, almost all Targaryens have good relationships with each other. Too good to the point that their obsession with maintaining the purity of blood leads them to marry each other, brothers and sisters, uncles and nieces, aunts and nephews, cousins and cousins. Everything they did to maintain the purity of the dragon blood that flowed strongly in their veins. And the view in front of Argent gave her something that tickled her. Especially after seeing Daemon who kept staring at her with a sharp gaze that made her shiver instantly.

Daemon then released Rhaenyra from his embrace, making the girl feel awkward because she was too happy upon learning of his return. "Your guest is waiting in the garden, Princess, you should go see them soon."

Rhaenyra nodded at Daemon's words, then immediately ran off, leaving him behind. Hoping that her business would be finished soon so she could spend time with her beloved uncle.

Rhaenyra's departure shifted Daemon's attention to the girl standing frozen near the stairs. So stiff, as if she were truly a statue displayed as an ornament among the blooming flowers. The more he observed, Daemon felt that there was something unusual about the presence of the girl across the street. "Oh, where is your green dress?" Daemon asked while walking closer.

Argent tried to act as normally as possible when she heard that voice after a month of not seeing each other. Maybe only Argent didn't know that the bright violet eyes always followed her wherever the girl went, even when she was comfortably asleep in her private room. "I kept it," Argent replied as he watched Daemon walk closer.

"You will look better in a red and black dress."

"Like your family emblem? A three-headed red dragon on a black background. I prefer my white dress. “

“Like a bride."

"Sorry"

Daemon just smirked when he heard it; he never repeated conversations to anyone. "How is your father?"

Argent shook her head, "we haven't spoken since then."

The prince merely nodded, not curious enough to ask further questions. His interest now shifted to something else, to the girl who looked down again as if she didn't dare to meet his gaze. "Please don't misunderstand?"

"About what?"

"You know what I mean," Daemon whispered softly. His eyes gazed at the girl's bright iris, which finally turned back towards him. Their distance became close enough that Daemon was sure his voice could be heard even if he only hissed. "I like your appearance, it's refreshing. I think it looks prettier. But as I said, red and black would suit it better."

Daemon passed by Argent, who was still standing with her head down. The girl even looked blushing to the point where she had to hide herself. Daemon enjoyed this but he couldn't bear to tease her any longer, so he finally left for real. There is a place he must go before leaving again. Kings Landing is more suffocating than the battlefield he has traversed throughout his life. And honestly, Daemon prefers being on the battlefield compared to King's Landing, which is full of leeches, gnawing on them until only their bones are left.

Daemon has another, more important mission. Although it won't be as enjoyable as when he disturbed the eldest daughter of the King's Hand, it is necessary. Before his brother gets further entangled in the council meetings that always corner him, if only his brother were aware.

Daemon's feet moved very quickly down the entire corridor. Ignoring the eyes that stared at him with the same shock. Even though Daemon was always around them, it seemed that no one realized that the prince might have already prepared sharp nails on their comfortable beds. What disgusting leeches, if Daemon refers to the council members who only think of their own gain. Indeed, what they mention is the stability of the nation, protecting the people, but what they truly do is only for their own benefit. Keeping their gold high, keeping their seats warm.

Daemon's arrival in the small council chamber certainly surprised everyone, but it was an entertaining spectacle. The familiar, disgusting faces that were shocked and afraid as he approached his seat, next to the king, right in front of the biggest leech that was so repulsive to him, the Hand.

"A pleasant surprise, my brother." Viserys looked at his brother, who never let go of his smiling face.

"Your Grace," Daemon replied to Viserys's greeting without taking his eyes off Otto, who looked stiff in his place. "Lord Hand. I believe you must have something very important you want to say to me.”

The entire council fell silent, confronted with a situation that suddenly became suffocating before them. These two figures looked at each other with unhidden hatred. Everyone is well aware of the enmity between The Hand and The Prince. The situation worsened when the scandal that was circulating dragged the eldest daughter of the Hand into it. A terrible scandal that might be disgusting to everyone.

"My Prince," Otto replied softly, returning the Prince's greeting while trying his best not to be provoked. At least not in this place where all eyes are on them and the situation might be heating up.

Apparently, the news about the king's wedding plans quickly spread throughout the country like the warm morning sun, dispersing rapidly. The happy news made the realm rejoice. They indeed did not forget about the princess who was crowned as the heir to the throne, but the people could not help but hope for the presence of a male heir.

The traditions in Westeros do indeed place more burdens on men compared to women. In fact, the original tradition brought by the Targaryens from Valyria hardly considered gender. As long as someone possesses strength and other resources, they can lead the kingdom under the wings of their dragon, protecting their people.

It feels like several weeks have passed, and all kinds of wedding gifts keep coming in like the tide hitting the shore. For the first time, Alicent experienced a service she never imagined she would feel. The sudden luxury that came to her might bury her, but along with it, there was a sacrifice she would never be able to end. Alicent would never again be Lady Alicent from House Hightower. She is now the queen, a dove trapped in a golden cage with no chance of escape. Their marriage can never be annulled or one of them must die. And killing the king is the same as attempting suicide. So, there will be no way out at all.

Behind the beautifully carved wooden door, Alicent cried again for the umpteenth time, and her sister, who had promised to always be by her side, was also there. Unable to do anything. Just staring while holding his younger sibling, occasionally uttering comforting words that have no meaning at all.

"Alicent, calm down," whispered Argent for the umpteenth time. The older sister could not provide any comfort other than ensuring her presence remained close to her little sister. Slowly, as Alicent's body stopped trembling, Argent released her embrace, cupping her younger sister's face and gently wiping her cheek. Argent tried her best to smile at her, "At least, save your tears for later, hmm." But Alicent didn't respond at all; instead, her tears flowed again. Argent was so helpless yet she had tried hard to maintain her sanity, slowly Argent kissed her sister's face. On both cheeks, on both eyes, and ending at the top of her forehead. "Alicent, forgive me, I should have been able to prevent all this. But I am even more powerless against the King's decision."

They hugged each other again, and Argent just let it be. "Alicent, this might be the only marriage you will face, so I hope you consider my words. No matter how bad the situation gets, you definitely want to be painted beautifully, right? So, what I really want to say is, cry to your heart's content just until today. Because tomorrow, you will never again be Lady Alicent sitting at the end of the room; you will be the queen standing in the middle of the room, shining to accompany the king and becoming the center of everyone's attention. You will have everything you have ever hoped for. All your desires will not be disputed by anyone. But perhaps, you will pay a small price for all those privileges.

[tbc...]

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #daemon targaryen smut #alternate universe #the rouge prince #house of the dragon #hotd #romance

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idaisyy · 3 months ago

Text

Tag , you’re in - a cmpunk x oc enimies to lovers

-chapter 57

As soon as the front door swung open, Daisy barely had time to plaster on a polite smile before her mother's voice rang out, dripping with that familiar condescending tone.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to come home," her mother said, her sharp eyes scanning Daisy up and down. "And you brought ... him."

Daisy forced a tight-lipped smile. "Hi, Mom."

Her mother barely acknowledged the greeting before shifting her focus to Punk, her eyes narrowing as she took him in. "So, this is the boyfriend that people have been talking about you being with?"

Punk, ever the professional at masking his emotions, simply smirked, wrapping an arm around Daisy's waist in an easy, possessive way that felt way too natural. "That'd be me."

Her mother arched a perfectly manicured brow. "Hmph. I expected someone... different."

Daisy bristled. "Different how?"

Her mother ignored the question entirely and stepped back. "Well, don't just stand there. Come inside before the neighbors start talking."

Punk leaned in slightly, just enough for only Daisy to hear, and murmured, "Charming woman."

Daisy shot him a warning look, and he held his hands up in mock surrender as they stepped inside.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, the interrogation began. Her mother, never one to waste time, turned to Punk with a scrutinizing gaze.

"So, what exactly do you do?"

Punk barely blinked. "I'm a wrestler."

Her mother sniffed, unimpressed. "Yes, I know that much. But do you have any real plans? Something stable?"

Daisy clenched her jaw. "Mom."

Punk, however, just smirked. "I'd say being one of the best wrestlers in the world is pretty stable."

Her mother let out a forced, insincere laugh. "Oh, I'm sure. But that's not exactly a long-term career, is it?"

Punk shrugged, completely unfazed. "Guess that depends on how long you plan to stay on top." He tightened his grip around Daisy's waist and added, "And I don't plan on going anywhere."

Daisy felt her stomach flip. She knew he was just saying it for show—for the sake of playing boyfriend for the night—but damn if it didn't sound good.

Her mother didn't seem convinced, but before she could fire off another condescending remark, the rest of the family started filtering in, and the night of forced smiles and gritted teeth truly began.

Dinner was exactly as miserable as Daisy expected.

The dining room was uncomfortably pristine, the kind of clean that felt staged, like her mother had spent all day making sure every little thing was perfect just to make Daisy feel small in comparison. The tension was thick, and the forced conversation wasn't helping.

"So, Phil," her mother started, cutting into her steak with calculated precision. "How serious are you about my daughter?"

Punk barely reacted, simply pausing mid-chew before swallowing his bite and smirking. "Pretty serious."

Daisy could feel him watching her, but she didn't dare look up. She just focused on her plate, pretending she wasn't waiting for her mother's next move.

Her mother hummed. "That's nice. And what exactly does serious mean to you?"

Punk leaned back in his chair, effortlessly cocky. "Means I put up with this without running for the door."

Daisy's grip on her fork tightened, and she had to bite back a smile. Her mother, however, was less amused.

"Well, I just hope my daughter knows what she's getting herself into," her mother said, voice dripping with judgment. "I mean, after everything with Cody—"

Daisy stiffened.

Punk did too.

Her mother pretended not to notice, taking a delicate sip of wine. "It was such a shame, you know. Cody was so sweet, and he really cared about you. We all thought he was the one—"

Punk let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Yeah? That the same 'one' who cheated on her?"

Daisy's head snapped up, eyes widening. Punk's expression was blank, but his fingers were gripping his knife a little too tightly.

Her mother scoffed. "That was complicated—"

"No," Daisy finally cut in, her voice firm. "It wasn't."

The table went silent.

Her mother's gaze hardened. "I just don't want you to make the same mistakes."

Daisy exhaled sharply, pushing her plate away. "Trust me. I won't."

Punk draped an arm over the back of her chair, casual but possessive. "Yeah," he added, voice low and edged with something dangerous. "She won't."

Her mother opened her mouth to respond, but Daisy wasn't interested in whatever she had to say next.

She was done.

And if the way Punk's fingers brushed against her back was any indication, so was he.

The conversation didn't get any better after that.

Her mom kept going, nitpicking every little thing about Daisy's life—her career, her choices, even the way she was sitting. The rest of her family wasn't much better, either chiming in with backhanded comments or staying silent as her mother took jabs at her.

Punk could feel Daisy tensing beside him, her nails digging into her napkin as she forced herself to stay calm. He hated it. Hated seeing her sit there and take it like she was used to it. Like she thought she deserved it.

His hand found her thigh under the table, squeezing gently. It was meant to be reassuring, grounding. He felt her stiffen at first before slowly relaxing under his touch. She didn't look at him, but the way her fingers lightly brushed over his hand told him she appreciated it.

He bit his tongue when her mother made another passive-aggressive comment about how wrestling isn't a real career.

He clenched his jaw when her aunt asked if she'd ever consider settling down with someone normal.

And when her uncle muttered that Cody was always polite at the dinner table, Punk nearly snapped.

Instead, he inhaled deeply, forcing himself to be strategic. If Daisy wanted to make it through this dinner without a fight, then fine. He'd play along. But he'd do it his way.

"Daisy," he said suddenly, his voice cutting through the conversation. "Want some dessert?"

She blinked, clearly caught off guard by the abrupt change. "Uh—what?"

"Dessert," he repeated, already pushing his chair back. "I'll go get you some."

Her mother raised an eyebrow. "She can get her own."

Punk ignored her completely, standing up and leaning down to press a firm, lingering kiss to Daisy's lips. Not just a peck—a statement.

Daisy barely had time to react before he pulled back, smirking at her dazed expression. "Be right back, sweetheart."

Then he walked off, leaving the entire table stunned.

Her mother looked livid. Daisy, on the other hand, was fighting back a smile as she touched her lips, still feeling the ghost of his kiss.

For the first time that night, she felt like she could actually breathe.

Punk returns shortly with a nice strawberry shortcake on a plate , with extra whip just how he knew Daisy would like it

Just as she was about to take a bite , her mothers voice agin took control of the room

"You guys don't even need a hotel tonight ! , you two would be fine here , right sweetie?" She question with false sweetness in her voice , testing daisy's limits

Daisy immediately wanted to say no. She wanted to blurt it out, make an excuse, anything to get them out of there. But before she could, her mother was already smiling sweetly—too sweetly—waiting for her response.

"That way, you don't have to waste money on a hotel," her mom added, feigning innocence. "It's just one night."

Daisy swallowed hard, looking at Punk, hoping he'd come up with an excuse, but he just shrugged. "Your call, babe."

Babe. He was still playing the doting boyfriend role, and she could kill him for it.

Daisy hesitated, knowing if she said no, her mom would make some kind of comment about how rude she was, or worse, about how she and Punk must need their privacy.

She sighed. "Fine. Just one night."

Her mom beamed. "Perfect! I'll go set up the guest room."

As soon as she left the room, Daisy turned to Punk, her voice low and sharp. "You were supposed to back me up."

He smirked. "Nah, this is more fun."

She groaned, rubbing her temples. "This is going to be a disaster."

"Nah," Punk said, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in close. "You'll survive. And if not—" He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. "At least we'll have some fun in that guest room."

Daisy elbowed him hard in the ribs, making him chuckle.

One night. They just had to survive one night.

As soon as they shut the door behind them, Daisy let out a deep breath and flopped onto the bed. "I can't believe we survived that," she muttered, rubbing her temples.

Punk leaned against the door, arms crossed, watching her with that amused glint in his eyes. "Wasn't so bad," he said. "Your mom's a piece of work, though."

Daisy groaned. "Tell me about it." She sat up and looked at him, softer now. "But... thank you. For not being an asshole tonight. For playing along." She hesitated before adding, "You were... really good at the boyfriend act."

Punk smirked as he kicked off his boots. "Yeah? Almost like it wasn't an act."

Daisy's breath hitched, but before she could say anything, he shrugged.

"Don't let it go to your head, though," he added. "I'm just that good at everything."

She rolled her eyes but smiled. "Right. Of course."

Punk moved to sit beside her, their shoulders brushing. "Seriously, though," he said, glancing at her. "You okay?"

She swallowed, nodding. "Yeah. Just exhausted."

He didn't say anything, just reached over and squeezed her thigh gently. It was comforting, grounding.

Daisy exhaled and let herself lean against him, just for a moment. "One more night," she murmured. "Then we're out of here."

Punk hummed in agreement. "One more night."

Punk watched as Daisy's jaw tensed, her hands clenched into fists in her lap. She was holding it all in, refusing to break, but he could see it—the way her eyes were glassy, how she was swallowing too hard, forcing herself to stay composed.

"You don't have to do that," he said quietly. "If you need to cry, just do it. I'll be here."

Daisy shook her head immediately. "No," she said firmly. "I'm not giving them that. I refuse."

Punk sighed, running a hand through his hair. He wanted to tell her that she didn't have to be strong all the time, that letting it out didn't mean they won. But he knew her. Knew how much pride she had, how much she hated feeling weak.

"Alright," he finally said. "Then tell me what you need."

She hesitated for a second before turning to look at him. "Take my mind off of them," she whispered. "Off tonight. Please."

His eyes darkened slightly as he studied her, understanding exactly what she was asking. He could see the way she was shifting, trying to distract herself, desperate for something to make her forget.

Punk exhaled, then tilted his head. "You sure?"

Daisy nodded, a silent plea in her expression.

He reached for her then, his fingers curling around her jaw as he pulled her in, his lips meeting hers in a slow, deliberate kiss. It wasn't rushed or aggressive—it was deep, grounding, something for her to focus on besides the pain her family had caused.

He felt her exhale against him, her body relaxing just slightly as she let herself get lost in him. And if he held her just a little closer, touched her just a little softer than usual, he wouldn't acknowledge it.

For tonight, he'd just give her what she needed.

#cm punk #cm punk smut #enimies to lovers #slow burn #wwe imagine #wwe raw #wwe smackdown #wwe smut #seth rollins smut #wwe gifs #wweedit #cm punk imagine

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mumms-the-word · 1 year ago

Note

Hello my lovely friend!

I've chosen a song from one of my favourite musicals for you!

Hopefully it sparks some inspiration (I love this song I think i't so much fun)

Enjoy! <3

HELLO MY LOVE this is very late but I had fun writing it, so I hope that you enjoy it <3

(fun fact for those who don't know, which is probably most people, I am an avid broadway nerd and I listened to Wicked like...ad nauseam in my middle school/high school days so the minute I saw the title I had this song immediately in my head, which was very fun. As soon as I ran a few of the lyrics in my head I knew exactly what I had to write)

Anyways without further ado, I gift you with (drumroll pls)...some more Blackstaff Librarian x Gale fic ;)

under the cut and also on ao3 now

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Loathing

Gale x Blackstaff Librarian

After their initial encounter on the librarian's first day at Blackstaff Academy, Gale and the librarian now have fairly low opinions of one another. They both decide to vent to their parents about the other person (as one does when they hate someone).

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“Gale, darling, so good of you to join us for tea! Let me have a look at you. We haven’t seen you in a tenday, you know.”

Gale smiled and bent to exchange a strong, rib-cracking hug with his mother, the inimitable Morena Dekarios. He kissed her cheek as a greeting before letting her take his face in her hands so she could scrutinize him.

“Forgive me, Mother, the academy has required much of my attention the last several days,” Gale said, as Morena pursed her lips as she studied him.

“Have they been working you too hard? You look peaky.”

“I’ve been telling him that for days, Mrs. Dekarios,” Tara said, padding into the room. “He simply refuses to take care of himself.”

“Tara,” he chided, giving her a look. He took his mother’s hands and pulled them away from his face, squeezing them briefly. “I feel fine, I assure you.”

“Hmm.” She clearly didn’t believe him, but she let it go for now. “Well if you insist. Come, come have a seat, I’ll have tea ready in a moment. I want to hear all about how things are going over at the Academy.”

Gale blew out a long breath as he followed his mother onto her balcony and took a seat at the table there. “Where to start? We have a new librarian, for one.”

“Oh? Not another tired old Candlekeep retiree is it?”

“No. No, she’s…young. Nearer my age.” Gale tried to picture her in his mind’s eye, to try and guess her age, and then quickly decided against it. The less he thought about the librarian, the better.

“Oh?” Morena‘s eyes brightened with interest at that little fact. “Hold that thought, darling, I want to hear everything.”

She disappeared back inside to fetch the tea things while Tara hopped up onto the cushions that were stacked in her seat. That place at the table had been her teatime spot practically since the day Gale first summoned her. Though the cushions and chairs had been replaced over time, they were always placed in the exact same spot, with the cushions stacked at just the right height for her to comfortably look over the table’s edge and indulge in a spot of tea.

Gale leaned closer to her and lowered his voice. “You haven’t said a word to my mother about our new librarian, have you?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Dekarios,” Tara said, licking at her paws to clean them for teatime. “Why would I talk about librarians of all things to your mother?”

The answer didn’t exactly allay any of Gale’s suspicions, but he let it go as Morena returned with the tea tray all prepped, including a plate of Gale’s favorite sandwiches and a shallow bowl for Tara's tea. She poured them each a cup and insisted Gale eat something before finally settling in her chair and taking a sip of her own tea.

“So,” she said, cradling her cup in her hands and leaning forward slightly, her eyes sparkling with interest. “Tell me all about this new librarian.”

“Well, for starters, she’s only been with us for a tenday and she’s already caused quite a…stir.” He frowned, recalling how she frog-marched him out of the library in front of a crowd of students and colleagues. “On her first day at the Academy she refused to let anyone into the library while she was ‘cataloguing’ and kicked out anyone who dared to enter. Ever since then things have only gotten worse.”

“How so?”

“Well, she—she’s come up with this ridiculous new organization system for the books and it’s taken her days to rearrange everything. Now no one knows where to find anything and we’re all forced to ask her for assistance, which she seems to find exceedingly annoying.”

Though perhaps it was only when he asked that she got annoyed. He ignored that thought for now.

“Her new system doesn’t make the slightest flicker of sense,” he complained. He should have left off two or three sentences ago, but he was getting worked up now, all warm under his collar. “It’s been a disaster. I’ve taken to hoarding books I need in my study just to keep track of them. Honestly, I don’t know what the Blackstaff was thinking, giving her the job—she has completely upended the entire academy with her little project to reorganize the library. She has delayed everyone’s studies in the process and she is maddeningly unhelpful if you ever try to talk to her. Most unprofessional, in my opinion. In fact, I think she is without a doubt the most infuriating woman I think I have ever met.”

“Oh dear, that does sound like a torment,” Morena said, though the way she smiled behind her next sip of tea suggested she was more amused than sympathetic. “How much are you forced to interact with her?”

“If I had my way it would be never,” Gale huffed. “But unfortunately the reorganization of the library has taken over her main office as well. Blackstaff Vajra has temporarily given her the empty study adjoining mine, so it is impossible to escape her entirely, now that we share a common room.”

“Roommates, is it?” Morena teased, smiling broadly. “I can’t recall the last time you were forced to share a room with anyone.”

“At Blackstaff? It must have been ages ago.”

He had shared camps and tavern rooms with his companions, back when he’d had an illithid tadpole in his brain and the entire world needed saving from a Netherbrain. But this was different.

After Gale returned to Blackstaff, he’d been given one of two empty studies clustered around a common room for use as his teaching office. But now Gale’s days of having both study and common room entirely to himself were over. Now, whenever he tried to enjoy a relaxing cup of tea or reinvigorate himself with a cup of coffee and a good book, she was there, passing through with arms full of books, her curls falling out of whatever hairstyle she had attempted to wrangle them into. Each and every time, she took one look at him behind her wire-framed glasses, glared, stuck her pert little nose up in the air, and stalked away. Before he could even so much as say hello or good evening.

Not that he wanted to, of course.

Any interest he had in her, any intrigue he might have felt, was quickly dissolving into pure and utter loathing. She was surly, rude, and waspish, she had no patience for simple conversation, and no care for the sheer amount of disruption she was causing across the entire Academy. Every time she saw him with a book in his hands, she glared. Every time they passed in the hallway, she glared. Every time he stepped into her chaotically catalogued library, she glared!

When he was fairly certain he hadn’t done anything reprehensible to her! She seemed to hate him simply for existing.

Her name was on everyone’s lips these days, to the point where he felt he couldn’t escape it. If she wasn’t there in front of him taunting him with her hazel-eyed glares, he was forced to hear of her while eating in the dining hall, trying to teach his classes, monitoring students during study hall, and even relaxing with his colleagues at the Yawning Portal. There was no escape from the Blackstaff Librarian. Not even in his own teaching study.

“And of course I’m expected to put up with it as the newest professor at the academy,” Gale finished, throwing up his hands, having related all of this to his mother as well. “Ridiculous.”

“Yes, dear, and it’s so good of you to martyr yourself by sharing rooms with her," Morena said, hiding another smile behind a sip of tea.

“What is that supposed to mean? And why are you smiling like that?” he asked, growing frustrated with her now too. The whole time he had complained, she continued to smile and chuckle and sit with her cheek leaning against her hand, a fond and amused look in her eyes.

“Oh, no reason.” Morena finished off her tea before lowering her cup back onto its saucer, that same smile still on her lips. She exchanged a subtle look with Tara, who gave a little amused squint of her eyes and then delicately pretended to be busy washing her face.

"You can't fool me so easily, Mother," he said. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing much, darling. I am only thinking that I should like to invite her over for tea.” She leaned back in her chair, her hands folded comfortably over her middle, and let her gaze trail off in the vague direction of Blackstaff Academy. "She sounds like a young woman I should get to know."

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

In her sparse new temporary office, a certain Blackstaff librarian crumpled up the letter she had been trying to write and tossed it to the side, letting the balled-up parchment join about a dozen other crumpled-up letters on the floor. She huffed to herself and pulled out a fresh piece of parchment to write on, dipping her quill back into the ink.

Dearest Papa, she began. She continued with inane lines about her health, the weather, and how much she appreciated Blackstaff Vajra for offering her the position as Chief Librarian of Blackstaff Academy, as she had done in every other letter she started. She was determined this time not to ruin it by mentioning a certain annoying professor with whom she had had too many interactions already.

But inevitably, as it had happened in the other dozen letters before this one, he elbowed his way into her writing, just the same way he had elbowed his way into her library.

Regrettably, she wrote, nowhere is perfect and I’ve found that quite a few of my colleagues here at the Academy can be more than a little trying on my nerves. There is one man in particular, a professor with whom I must now share a common room, who is absolutely, without a doubt, the most provoking, vexatious, exasperating man I think I’ve ever had the displeasure to speak with. He is careless and arrogant and swans about the place as though he and not dear Vajra were the Blackstaff! I cannot understand how he of all people has been accepted to teach here, beyond that everyone must be fawning over his renewed status as a Chosen of Mystra and hero of that nasty illithid business down south. As though we do not have enough Chosens and heroes! He is constantly in my way, hoards books like a dragon, and seems to intentionally put himself where I must see or speak with him even when I expressly wish to avoid him. If I have to spend one more day sharing a common room with this most infuriating man I may just go mad. Do you know, just the other day I caught him sprawled out along the sofa of the common room like a Calishite pasha, filthy boots on the table—

But here she stopped, glaring down at the page. She was being untruthful, if not unkind. She had not yet caught him in a state of such blatant disarray—yet. She stared at her letter, her mind taking her back to two days ago when she had come into the common room, hoping for some peace and quiet, only to find him there.

He’d been stretched along the sofa, that was true, but with his ankles hanging off the edge and crossed, the soles of his boots mercifully away from both sofa and table (though dangerously close). He’d been reading when she entered, one hand cradling the book on his chest and the other combing absently through his dark hair, his lips pursed faintly as he studied the text. The setting sun had been streaming in through the windows, giving his lightly tanned skin an all-over bronzed look, and when he’d looked up as she entered the light caught his dark eyes in such a way as to dust the deep, rich brown of his irises with a sprinkling of bright copper.

He was handsome, she’d give him that, but it only made her dislike him more. Handsome men always had a sense of arrogance and pride about them and his reputation had more than preceded him in that regard. Of course, it didn’t help that when he looked up, he’d instantly sat up all surprised—and then he had the audacity to look disappointed.

Disappointed!

Oh, she hated him. Absolutely, utterly, completely loathed him.

Him, with his stupid little Mystra earring, and his fussy way of styling his long hair, and the way he pursed his lips when he was deep in thought, and the careless way he held books sometimes, his fingers tucked between pages—

Gods, she was thinking about his hands now?

She sat back in her chair, glaring at her letter, her face flushed and her lips pressed in a thin line. And then, after a moment, she crumpled the letter up, the same as the others. She gathered all the failed letters into a metal wastebin and, with a snap of her fingers, promptly set them all alight. The soft crackling of the flames did little to cool her off, however.

She’d just have to write her father a letter another day, when her mind wasn’t so wrapped up in all the things she hated about one Professor Gale Dekarios. For now, perhaps it was best to simply give up and go home.

And perhaps take a cold bath to cool her flustered nerves.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

#asks #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale #gale dekarios #gale x blackstaff librarian #gale x oc #bg3 fic #my fic #we continue the saga!#and we continue to refuse to name the librarian #can't get too attached after all #also I’ve had this song stuck in my head for days and I DIDNT EVEN CLICK TO LISTEN TO IT

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eternal-love-song · 7 months ago

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Traveling Mask AU - Odile

Raised in Vaugarde, Odile has always felt a bit out of place, something that not even becoming a housemaiden was able to cure. Maybe the apocalypse was what she needed to force herself into motion.

[Odile POV, Second person pov, Odile centric, Role Swap, Housemaiden Odile, Introspection, Character study]

AN: I've been thinking about a role swap for a while now and while I don't have all the kinks worked out yet, here are my takes on Odile.

You find Vaugardian culture rather oppressive. Even as the people around you have always been very open, and kind, and welcoming, it's almost… It's too open. Everyone smiles too widely, seems too chipper, too energetic. When you fail to match that energy, you can see them look at you like something is wrong. Wrong with you.

Like clockwork, every time, once you fail whatever social test they've given you by not being Vaugardian enough, they start to scrutinize. They peer at you as if they can see what's wrong with you hiding right under your skin. They pick out the parts of you that don't belong and throw them in your face like an attack.

"Oh, your name, is that…"

"Ah, those features, you must be…"

"With that kind of expression, you remind me of…"

All throughout your childhood it was the same. Reminders of how you were wrong, how you were failing to fit in disguised as kind observations. It was oppressive, honestly. You couldn't understand how everyone around you found it so easy to smile, to leave their doors open to strangers, to give everything that they could and expect nothing in return.

The stories that your father told you of Ka Bue always made it sound like it might be an easier place to live. You tried not to resent him for raising you here instead. Tried not to resent Vaugarde as a whole.

You resolved to try harder to fit in. Even if it meant your smiles were fake and half the words on your tongue were lies, you would try. People deserved that much from you, didn't they?

When you decided to become a housemaiden, it was for the same reason. You wanted to understand. Vaugarde, it's people, yourself. You tried to chase that understanding with a zeal that seemed to surprise those around you. They interpreted it as faith, as the Change God inspiring you. As half a dozen different things that it would never be, but you wouldn't tell them that.

You didn't like the Change God. It was too lazy and too pushy at the same time. It was a god that never seemed to do anything but was always demanding that others do everything, anything, all the time without stopping. A God that never wore the same face twice did not feel like a being that could be trusted to you, but… well, no one asked for your opinion so you didn't give it.

You become a housemaiden anyway. By the time you do, you've learned to lie well enough that you no longer need to fake as many smiles. Your words do the heavy lifting, your robes, your pierced ears. You let others' assumptions tell the lies you no longer care to create for yourself and when they don't carry you, a mysterious smile is enough to make others curious without needing to truly address that curiosity.

You learn of The Expressions of Ka Bue and they make much more sense to you. There are more of them than you could possibly count, but you only need to pray to the ones that you worship, or need, or want to. It's choice. It's freedom. It eases something inside you that you hadn't realized was being wound up so tightly.

As soon as you get the chance, you take the right classes in the house to help you make what you need. What you feel like you need. You make small charms to represent The Expressions that you want to pray to. A small magnifying glass for The Expression of Search, a pen for The Expression of Writing, an open book with the symbol of craft for The Expression of Creator Craft. They praise you for making a change, for taking your devotion so seriously. Whenever someone does, you give them a wry smile at the irony and nod your head without giving thanks.

The charms jiggle a bit on your hip when you walk, the sound reminding you that you arn't lost, you're just searching for your purpose.

After a few years at the house, you tell your father that you want to travel. You want to go to Ka Bue to learn more about them, but you can't bring yourself to say so just yet. You're more honest with your father than you are with others, but… not quite that honest.

Your honesty pays off. Within the year, he sees you both moving to another town and you have another House in which you can continue your quest.

This pattern continues every few years. People praise you for changing so often, even though the only thing that truly changes is your location. Still, it's better than things were in your youth, when everyone knew you were wrong just from looking at you long enough. You've camouflage yourself now. It feels like wearing the skin of your enemy. You carved off a piece of The Change God and crawled into it's skin to hide from predators.

It's a terrible way to think of the people of Vaguarde. They're kind, they don't deserve your disdain, your disregard, your deep resentment. So you keep your mouth shut, brush your hand against your charms, and keep your head high.

You search for whatever scraps of information about Ka Bue that you can get your hands on. Stories, books, rumors. You beg stories from your father whenever you go to visit him, strike up a conversation with any traveler that you come across. You chase these scrapes around Vaugurde, from one House to another, one city to another. Chasing and searching and writing notes and studying craft. You're hoping that one of these things will eventually lend you the closure you're so desperately searching for, but none of it truly does.

Your father dies and whatever hope you had of eventually visiting Ka Bue dies with him. Even after all this time, you don't have the confidence to visit alone. What if it's the same as Vaugarde and everyone can look at you and know that you don't fit? What if it's worse than Vaugarde somehow?

What if, what if, what if.

You sound like a child, you know you do. You scold yourself, but it still doesn't help. You don't go to Ka Bue, you just move from House to House, traveling around Vaugarde but never to the actual place you want to be. You're a coward and a fool, a fraud and a fake.

You add more charms to your hips, and you hate yourself, and run from House to House as if running from yourself will help you at all. It won't. It doesn't. All it does is use up more and more of your time.

You go from being young, to no longer being young, to being rather old. You've wasted half of your life studying from half baked sources all because you lack the courage to just explore on your own! Because you don't have the good sense to put down roots anywhere, to make friends that you keep longer than a few years, to reach out to someone without expecting that they'll know you're different. Other. Wrong.

You're… rather pathetic, aren't you?

You hate yourself a little, but not enough to actually change. You wonder if the Change God is laughing at you.

When no one is looking, you find a bunch of their statues and break them in spite. It doesn't help, but it's cathartic nonetheless.

And then The King shows up and suddenly, none of those things matter all that much. All that matters is that you're the only one immune to his powers, so you're the one that has to stop him. But, even if you were too caught up in yourself to find friends, or put down roots, you're not too stubborn to look for allies to save the world. This is an entirely different thing, isn't it?

You're not "Odile the housemaiden" when you set off on your journey to save the world. In light of the country freezing, you don't feel the need to keep up your ruse. You shirk your housemaiden robes, toss away your reminder of the Change God, and you call yourself a researcher. It feels more fitting, more honest, than anything previous. And it gives people comfort, to think that someone experienced and intelligent is going to save the world.

You hope that they never have to find out how wrong they are. The people of Vaugarde don't deserve that.

Read the follow up here: Enter Siffrin.

#ELS Writing #In Stars And Time #ISAT #Odile #role swap au #Traveling Masks AU #Fanfiction

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butchriptide · 10 months ago

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Falls to my knees. Qiblijou. Kinkabli. Whatever you want to call it. Does anyone understand. Does anyone understand.

Now, as a certified AroAce, I am not the type to pedal that every dynamic ever has to be romantic. But also. I think they're cute as a couple. But ALSO also, even if you do not care for them as a couple, I need more people to discuss and write about and draw their dynamic. I need more if it like, yesterday.

Having to put this under the cut because it got crazy fucking long but like trust me. Trust me okay.

The element I find so compelling about them is that they read very much as similar characters at first-boiling down largely to "silly and kind". They diverge from this shared center point largely in how they react to trauma; They both are survivors, persistently... Goofy in the face of hardship. Kinkajou's seems to act as a natural element of her personality, rising up in face of being a generally lonely and somewhat disliked child. It's interesting how her impulsive nature and cheery demeanor overlaps with the genuine emotional intelligence she seems to hold. In moments of low-tension, where her head's clear and she's not immediately tunneling down something else, she seems fully able to process the fact that her trauma DOES effect her and often at least somewhat how. She doesn't have any big feelings on it, but she can still recognize her knee-jerk reaction to a Nightwing roommate being due to her trauma. Later conclusions about Moonwatcher being an exception due to some general difference from Nightwings as a whole, while not fully "correct", does still show her own ability to recognize these knee-jerk feelings as irrational-At least when faced with significant proof of that being the case, rather than doubling down on her own internal logic that's been shaped by her traumas. Her impulsivity and general hyperactivity tends to push this understanding to the side however, leaving a lot of her trauma something she's working past but not necessarily resolved. It isn't that Kinkajou is purposefully trying to avoid her pain to an unhealthy degree, so much as I think she largely doesn't think about it until she's forced to.

Meanwhile, Qibli's goofy exterior seems to largely be a mask; Or, at the very least, somewhat purposefully curated. He lives almost entirely in his fight or flight response, and seems to interpret his own overthinking and anxiety responses as a boon rather than an effect of his trauma. He likes his scar, but can't reconcile how he got it; Can't reconcile the part of him that loves his mother and wants to believe she loves him back with the fact that she hurt him, repeatedly, through pretty much every avenue one can neglect or abuse a child. This makes his optimistic veneer a lot more purposeful, an attempt to earn people's love because there was never any guarantee of receiving it from anyone. I don't believe that being this silly, playful person is necessarily fully disingenuous of Qibli, so much as I think he forces himself to amount to ONLY this. Shoves himself into a box which is used largely to ignore his trauma, as opposed to cope with it. He can't acknowledge everything that's happened to him affecting him because its incongruous with his image-both to others and himself. Despite being perceived as traditionally intelligent, Qibli's honestly incredibly lacking in the realm of emotional intelligence.

I think that ultimately, this leads them to having a very interesting balance and chemistry that's effective in getting me invested in them even though they have very little one-on-one time during the arc. They don't have any particularly "deep" moments together, but there's this implicit understanding and trust in a lot of their interactions. They match each other on a level that the rest of the Jade Winglet doesn't quite hit due to the vastly different levels they're coming from. While Qibli's not lacking his own impulsivity issues, his tendency to scrutinize and overplan becomes much more effective when it's actively curbing Kinkajou's tendency to fling into danger head-first, while Kinkajou's high-energy and quickness to action forces Qibli out of his own head in order to keep up with her.

Beyond the way they balance each other out, there's a strongly showcased, implicit trust between the two of them. Kinkajou and Qibli are co-conspirators, and them dealing with Chameleon in Book 10 (for all the gripes I hold against this book) showcase this perfectly. Qibli keeps Kinkajou from immediately jumping to action, but he doesn't talk over her, and Kinkajou's information is both pivotal to their planning and prompts Qibli to act. An important element too is that Qibli's trust in Kinkajou doesn't result in excessive idolization, like it does with Moon-Not to say that Moonbli is bad, but rather, it's an element of the relationship that makes Kinkajou and Qibli mesh much easier while Moonbli, I wholeheartedly believe, requires a lot more work to make work than canon would suggest. I think this trust is particularly important due to Qibli's issues with control, which he still easily puts aside for Kinkajou when he lets her simply keep the scrolls from Chameleon, instead of doubling down on them destroying them. Kinkajou opts to keep the scrolls at that's the end of it; even if Qibli's worried over Chameleon coming after them, he simply trusts Kinkajou to take care of them, and that's the end of it.

The way they match each other's energy is also just incredibly sweet. The Vase SceneTM comes immediately after it, so nobody ever talks about it, but they literally greet each other like 2000s scene kids who just found out what a "glomp" is.

My ultimate point is I think Kinkajou and Qibli's personalities bounce off each other in a very compelling way already as friends, and find the idea of them as a romance interesting largely because I don't think it would change much of their chemistry. I think they already feel very natural from what we're shown of them (although a lot of the non-ship dynamics in arc 2 are vastly underutilized due to how fractured everyone in the winglet is through the series to begin with) and I think they're sweet due to how much I think they can understand each other. They're interesting parallels that doesn't really get to shine in a lot of books due to the pacing of Arc 2 nor in fan works due to how people don't really read much into Kinkajou and choose to take her as just sort of a flat comic relief.

Also Kinkajou likes tortured guys <3

#wings of fire #wof #kinkajou #kinkajou wof #qibli #qibli wof #qiblijou #kinkabli #jade winglet polycule #I don't usually post like SHIPPING shipping content idk what tags y'all use #meta #analysis #god i haven't longposted in ages I don't remember my own tags...

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anderfels · 5 months ago

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tell me about ur ocs so i can make mine kiss urs 🫣

yes, hello! assuming this is for dragon age!! some blurbs about them underneath the cut!!

origins:

julien tabris - on the more reserved side. actions speak louder than words. tends to keep his emotions to himself. pretty tumultuous on the inside. someday, that dam is going to burst. lovisa aeducan - sweet, if a tad condescending. quick to anger, but quick to cool down. however! she's also an eternal grudge keeper. forgive, don't forget. doesn't enjoy not being listened to (<- got sent to die in the deep roads the last time people didn't listen to her). saoirse cousland - the light in her died with her family. she'll claw her way to greater power no matter what it takes. nothing like this will ever happen to her again. ruthlessly pragmatic.

konstantin "kon" hawke - the person you go to if you want something done and you want it done right. charismatic, yet confrontational. domineering. doesn't much care for what other people think of him—unless it gives him an advantage. red/purple. safiya hawke - genuinely wants what's best for people. takes on other people's problems whenever she can. gradually becomes more jaded and cynical as life in kirkwall goes on, but she still tries. if she won't, who will? blue/red (as a last resort).

inquisition:

davhalla lavellan - forced optimism. if he thinks too deeply about his situation for more than 3 seconds he might break down. heavy is the head and what have you. excels at compartmentalization. just wants to go back home to his family and friends. meraad adaar - please get her out of here. she doesn't want this. all of this responsibility. all of these people's lives depending on her. all of them looking at her, scrutinizing her every move. constantly anxious. she'll do her best with what she's given (and to be fair, she does damn well), but man.

veilguard:

arvid thorne - listen, okay, he's actually a chill dude. he's able to make jokes. it's just that when the going gets tough, he locks in. as severe as an axe wound. no nonsense. off the clock, though, he enjoys a nice lager and some banter. dante de riva - down-to-earth, shy boy-next-door, you think he's cute then oops! knife between your ribs! it takes a bit to chisel through that exterior. then he stares at you like a deer in headlights. like wow you weren't supposed to get this far lol. eleni ingellvar - curious! insatiably curious! wants to know anything and everything. awkward. means well. abandonment issues because she never really got over being left in a crypt as a baby. bit of a show-off.

i am, of course, an advocate for ocs kissing other ocs 😤 thank you for asking about them! is it okay for me to say that i've also gone through your ocs? i quite like ramsay, elwyn, and antonio! but also ngl crises of faith are kind of my jam so i also have my eyes on ariadne 👀but also i love the idea of a cousland being inquisitor? that's so cool? ahhh!

but also like don't feel obliged to make them kiss if none of mine seem interesting to you. okay?

#sorry this took a while i'm still shy orz

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seraphbliss · 3 months ago

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apr. 1 happy april fool's day x_x

march wanted to see me rot and enter spring as nutrients for the newly emerging flora. at times i wish i took the offer. i feel like i keep ruining shit. the month droned on and on and on, and i realized some things. times are changing and so am i. it's better that my expansive friend group has narrowed down to three people—not everyone around me want to see me change. to be honest, i don't know if i'm changing in ways i like, either.

theres a lingering guilt that sits beside me on the bus. i walk home with it, watch it watch me from my window. no conflict started this month had a resolution. my friend updates me on people i've lost. i feel like a unwilling voyeur. i know why she does it, but it feels like the hour after i scrutinize my face: flakey, bleeding scabs that are painful to look at, worse to touch. it's my fault she does it. had i not fell out with those people she wouldn't want to tell me about their seemingly loser-esque lives. but it doesn't bring me peace. instead, i feel confused and even hypocritical. it's not like i feel too good at the moment, either. i'll never pretend to be holier than thou when it comes to drama. i hate speaking in those terms. i don't throw stones and hide my hand. in fact, i will tell you when i'm throwing the stone and how hard. i'm pro confrontation because i'm pro let's get this shit over with. but that's not happening at the moment. i think it's time that i stop this entire mess from sprawling further than what it already has. other people that i care about, that had nothing to do with the initial conflict, are negatively impacted by it, and for that i feel responsible. this morning i sit across from someone i know i need to stop being friends with and smile and wave. i'm acting like one of the things i hate the most: a coward. a wise victoria walker once said, "it hurts now to smile, it hurts more to breathe. it makes me so angry, all i do is grit my teeth."

i found my dad's facebook, and i am like him, i guess. there's something to be said about how i look most like him when i'm smiling hard. i'm in an odd spot in my transition where i pass online and nowhere else. i hope that in auckland i can medically transition without many social or emotional hiccups. i'm giving up a lot by going. honestly, i'm giving up everything that i wanted to keep and the remainder is what i've been trying to get away from for so long. five months before i'm eighteen when i'll be starting uni, and after, i'll be on my own. in those five months, i'll be in this weird limbo still with my mom. i don't think it's fair that i still have to play pretend while everything in my life moves on, just to appease my mom. its fucked that i have to, since my conditional offer requires that she be there until i'm an adult. i mean it when i say all i do is take shit on the chin. it's just annoying to deal with at this point. when people tell you who they are, believe them. this goes both ways.

i quit my job saturday. i feel good about this even though i'll miss my coworkers and the environment. i need money for the summer. my birthday is in july, and i plan to make the most of this extended vacation before college. i don't want to grow up, in all honesty. i say that, ignoring that i already have. i take on an extended amount of responsibilities for someone my age. i'm probably well off for it, but damn does it suck to be so disillusioned so young. so, my summer break will be real nostalgic. movie marathons with my grandma, super soakers, crackly nail polish. i owe it to myself to enjoy it without guilt. i expect to have several sd cards full of my memories captured in my digicam.

getting better at capturing likeness. i accidentally happened upon creating a self portrait. i look good as a man and it shows. i do keep up with my appearance to an obsessive extent at times, which leads to all the gross acne scars and scabs i have on my skin. if only i were a creature of habit instead of mania—i could just do my skincare routine instead of picking at my face until it bleeds. all for the sake of aurafarming. sunday night i went buck wild trying to capture my image in video. i think the reason i had such a hard time was because i didn't have vine or musically as a kid, and didn't post myself during the short time that i had tiktok two years ago. i can't say i'm unnatural in front of cameras, because i will take many pictures of myself pretty frequently. i'm being reminded of when i was punished by my dad for having a lot of selfies and being called conceited for it. i know i'm vain, but i still find that hilarious. it was not funny at the time, though.

i'm still over dating and relationships but i will always be an attention whore. the huzz luv tanz but not enough to really care that much. most people are just imagining who they want me to be so i'm disengaged from the start. roster so dry i'm disgusted by everyone on it (1.5 persons). thankful that i'm over that one guy from last october. it's true, you really do just realize you've moved on while getting ready for work one day several months removed.

looking forward to lots of music this month. definitely 2hollis getting the first listen on friday. waiting patiently for unmusique, pinkpantheress mixtape too. i'm going to buy my bôa ticket towards the end of the month. starting my new side job at the racetrack, which i'm actually excited for. i've always been vaguely interested in racing and cars from an aesthetic standpoint. the technical aspects seem too confusing for me to get into it at this point. maybe that will change soon. i still haven't gotten that macbook—ebayK i will be winning a bid this month even if i need to threaten someone to do so. i have therapy for the first time in about three years today. i'll probably begin to talk about those sessions here. despite the absolute bullshit that was march, i think april will look better for me.

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