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izzuku · 2 years

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suck the soul out of me. - 2

summary- on one scary night, your car broke down on the middle of the road. Not being able to contact anyone, you searched for a nearby place to stay for the rest of the night. After discovering an old fashioned, crumbling house you decided to lie down for a bit before waking up some time later. Who would have known that there was a special guest waiting for a prey like you.

characters- luxiem x gn! reader part 2

c/w- biting, mentions of blood, suggestive touching , needy luca (it is shorter on Luca's part but it has more text!) , a little bit of brat tammer mysta (could be considered dub-con since he doesn't ask for consent so skip it if you're uncomfortable please)

a/n: second day lesgoo. I hope it isn't troublesome for you guys to read it in two parts. Please keep in mind these are not their real personalities, all of this is fictional and it shouldn't be taken seriously!

MYSTA RIAS

You shifted under your jacket, trying to get some warmth because the broken window didn't help at all to stop the wind. You could hear animals outside the house and rustling from trees nearby but you tried to pay no mind to it since it could make you stay up all night (and you needed that good rest).

After some time the noises stopped and your mind started its journey to Dreamland. Before you could drift off you felt some weight on top of you and your instincts kicked in.

You couldn't see his face clearly but you knew there was a man on top of you, trying to make you stay still while grabbing your wrists.

“Let go of me you weirdo! Don't touch me!” you shouted out, doing your best to push him off but to no avail. “Stop fucking wriggling I'm not gonna hurt you” he sounded mad, not angry but you moving so much was pushing his buttons.

“I just need some blood, nothing else.” He looked at you and you could see the blue of his eyes, even the grey strands of hair falling on his face as he bent over. “I'm not giving you shit, get off” you spat out, getting more and more angry at the man in front of you.

He chuckled, grabbing your face with one hand so he could move it to the side. “Bad for you, I don't care what you want I just need to drink. ” You fought the gasp that was tempted to leave your lips when his mouth found your neck, biting into the skin to take out the blood he wanted. Your hands instantly grabbed onto his blouse, pulling a bit when instead of pain you were greeted with a warm and tingling sensation.

“See? It isn't that bad. Let me help you warm up faster.” The hand on your face travelled down your body to hold your waist; cold fingertips burned each time they caressed your skin, making patterns then grabbing a little bit tighter.

You could feel the blood dripping down the collarbones to your chest causing you to let out a moan and even to grind onto the man's hips when his hold of your lower half tightened. After some more biting and kissing around, the guy pulled back to clean his messy mouth.

“That's all I needed of you little thing although I think I'll visit you more...”

LUCA KANESHIRO

To find yourself in this position would have been impossible to imagine, or that's what you thought. You couldn't really pinpoint the moment it all started, because sometimes things don't go the right way but they end up being better than what you expected.

The trembling of your thighs accompanied the creaking of burnt wood inside the house. Loud 'slurps' and puffs reverberated the old living room along with your own panting.

“I don't know if I...fuck- please” you mutter, looking down to the man in between your legs. Your soaked pants were drying near the chimney and the look on his face changed your mind. “Please...just a little more, I promise I'll be gentle” his gloved hands caressed the flesh of your thighs. His eyes begged for your sympathy but the way he licked the blood out of the bites sent shivers down your spine.

How could you not let him, you thought to yourself. Yes, you didn't know this man an hour ago but despite his height and big complexion, he made sure you could trust him (even in a creepy house far away from the city). Another sigh ran through your lips but nonetheless you nodded as a form of consent.

He have made a beautiful collage of bites around your inner thighs before he was asking for more blood. In your mind, you justified it as a poor guy who needed to feed on someone and you just happened to be there. Poor you didn't expect it to be an almost slow make out session with a stranger but instead of kissing he was biting and licking.

"Thanks again for letting me...you just taste so good...” his lips kissed some marks before licking over the newest ones. You couldn't care enough for the fact that instead of feeding from the top, he thought it was better to spread your legs, put his head in the middle and bite on the inner side, a very, very, sensitive area.

The heat between your legs came back again when he locked his arms around your thighs to secure you, mouth quivering at the thought of him just ravaging you out. To your luck, vampires could hear a lot of things that the human ear was not capable of.

“Do you...need help down here? I think I heard something”

#gn reader #izzuku #nijisanji x reader #mysta x reader #mysta x gn reader #mysta rias #luca kaneshiro x gn reader #luca kaneshiro #luxiem #luxiem smut

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gleefullypolin · 8 days

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Ok it is part 2 of Stacy’s Tipsy Ramblings about Season 3.

I apologize once again as I have had another night of Red Bull and spent time on Reddit and doing my favorite thing that I do all day long which is talk to @devastatinglygreen about the things that irk me the most when it comes to fandom musings and questions. You will have to thank her for this being somewhat readable at least but it may have gone off the rails in parts. Again, the thoughts are my own but they are definitely RANTS. Goooood luck!

Is Pen not telling Colin immediately about LW the same as what Marina did?

Ok lets break this down shall we. Marina came in to the family in a bad situation. She was in love with a man who was on the battlefield. She was put into the sights of Portia and immediately set to be married off. During this she finds out she is with child, something I think she may have suspected but then confirmed once she arrived. That is where my sympathy starts to wane.

Now she must find a husband and quickly. She finds one pleasant to look at, young, and gullible. She is able to immediately pursue Colin who at the time was very green. It did not take much to earn his affection and move him along the path she needed. She then LIES to him and convinces him to marry her. She in no way planned to tell him EVER about being pregnant with another man’s child. She tricked him willingly and without remorse. She tried to get him to comprise her, which he did not acquiesce to. She did so with no love in her heart for Colin. She held him in “high esteem”.

Let’s look at Pen, who writes a gossip column, in which she tells NO LIES in her column. Along the way she without even trying to, the man she has been in love with for most of her adult life, falls in love with her and proposes to her in a swift and confusing night. She accepts and is immediately thrown into a whirlwind engagement. She then attempts to tell him many times about her secret but is interrupted. While she should have told him immediately, it does not appear she will get to and is found out. However, she never tricked him out of hate, and it appears to pain her to hurt him. She tried to kick him out of a carriage before he got on his knees, professed his love and compromised her in the best way with love in his heart. Did I mention she loves him?

Anyone see the differences?

Is El’s anger mostly about protecting Colin after the engagement announcement?

Ok let’s see if I can rile up the masses here.... This might be fun. Is she protecting her brother. Yes, of course. Is that what this is all about. Good God no. Let’s get serious here, it would take a lot of rewriting for this to be true. El has always been a tad...a lot...self-absorbed. She spent so much of her time talking AT Penelope that she never stopped to notice that Pen was having conversations with Colin that they were involved in that she was DRAGGING her away from. She never took her OWN brother’s letters seriously, even when Pen mentioned she was writing to him too, she laughed it off, like why are you writing to HIM? Boring!

Had El stopped for a single moment she might have noticed her friend staring with heart eyes at her brother for a single moment, any moment, for there were MANY. Or all the times they ran off together, unchaperoned? Many. Men of the ton took notice, because they were teasing him about it as well, but not El. El is out here lost in her own world.

When she found out that Colin was helping Pen to find a husband and they were laughing in the ballroom, she was annoyed by their giddy friendship. But why? Jealousy? El is so caught up in her own BS that she can’t get her own head and her own anger at Pen to even see what was going on in front of her own face. So no, I don’t think this is about protecting her brother as much as it is about protecting her own feelings and anger, she is still reeling over her hurt she has from Pen not sharing and telling her the truth about LW.

How do you feel about the Cressida/El friendship?

Ok, I’ve had 2 Malibu Red Bulls so this might sting a bit guys. Hang in there! If there is one thing that gives me the puke feelings more in Season 3 it’s this shit. Let me start with this. I get that El was mad at Pen. I GET IT! She found out that her friend was writing the column that she so coveted and didn’t share the info with her and now she’s butt hurt and refusing to listen to anything Pen has to say about why she did it and instead she thought...I’m going to go and talk to the one person who has been the meanest person to the friend I have known most of my life who I am mad at.

Ok I got that out of my system. Let’s get down to the next reason I hate this. Cressida allowed her to see how blessed it is to have a good family supporting her based on how Cress is treated at home. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW? This is the stupidest shit I have heard in all the stupid shit I have heard. Her best friend since childhood who has Mama make you feel like a piece of shit and Sister let me treat you like a piece of dirt and garbage, lives next door and SHE DIDN’T LEARN ANYTHING AT ALL? Ok nice try but I also wasn’t born last night.

All of this to say, El watched Cress rip her dress...whoops. Knows Pen needs to find a husband by episode 2 and has one prospect in Debling...still helps Cressida try and fuck that up anyway. Tells Cressida....YES YOU READ THAT RIGHT...Pen’s BULLY, that Colin is helping her find a husband, you know the one thing she just told Colin would be AWFUL news if it got out, then 2 seconds later BLABS quickly about it TO this bully in the middle of a ball....Yeah I know...she says “oh sorry” for each of these things in a polite whisper, but each of these things are absolute rubbish and I just don’t care what anyone says, it displeases me.

Is Pen actually Colin’s second choice since he could have married Marina?

Ok wait....So this was an actual thing I was told is an actual thought. Like WHAT? I don’t know how else to tell people this. But Colin had a choice. Even after LW column came out, he had a choice, he could have still married Marina. He CHOSE not to. He saw that she lied to him willingly, she admitted she did not love him, and he CHOSE not to marry her. Could he have married her, yes. He could have married Cressida had he bloody chosen to. But he did not. He chose to marry Pen. He got in a carriage, fingered his way to a proposal and walked her right into his mama with pride (and dirty fingers) but there is only so much you can do with that. Either way, Marina is a non-factor and needs to die in all thought processes at this point.

Will it be unfair if Pen has no consequences with the Queen at the end of the season?

Will it be fair? What were people expecting? A beheading? Do you all realize that Queen Charlotte enjoys LW? She gets bored as fuck with these debutantes. Like BORED BORED! This woman loves gossip. You also realize that this is a woman sitting on the throne. A woman in this age! At the end of the day, a woman being successful in any realm might actually have the respect of the crown. Yes, she gets annoyed, yes, she goes after her! It’s sport. She wants to know who she is. But I’m telling you, she never intended to punish her. You all are mad if you thought so and most people asking for this just hate Pen anyway. And I will ask you ONE MORE TIME! What exactly has LW ever LIED about in her column? She reports the news. Not her fault these ladies and gents out here acting like fools. Be better people!

Should we tar and feather Colin and Penelope because of the *gasp* premarital sex of it all?

Clutching our pearls once again are we fandom. I actually read something today that Pen/Colin are the ONLY couple to have sex before they are wed as the main couple. After I got done laughing and watching Ant/Kate fuck before their marriage in S2, I came back to this question and said FUCK NO! Let these two get their freak on. My God! Are we really going to get all high and mighty because lil Pen got fucked? Like you all hate her that much? Get over this shit. Where is this coming from?

This was such an important thing in the book for them. Polin really are winning with how much of their book stuff is coming over to the show. The really important stuff, the stuff you highlighted because it was impactful when reading, that’s the stuff they are adding and that’s winning. And obviously certain people are taking note of that because they be mad as fuck out there about this shit.

Is Colin a free loader living off Anthony’s good graces and money?

I am sooooo over this question. First off, EDMUNDS family money that Anthony now manages, is one thing, the inheritance that each kid has is a different thing. And yes this is going to sound really dickish, and it’s meant to in order to prove a point. What did Anthony do besides be the sperm that came out first, and after he got done fucking his way through all of London, he finally decided to run the house. Then he said, let’s let mom do one more season then I’ll buckle down and run all this MONEY that is mine.

But the main point I would really like to know, and honestly, this is a serious question. Why does this question only come up in relation to Colin? Why is no one asking why it’s ok for Ben to be out there painting and fucking his way through all the widows and modieste’s in town, but Colin goes traveling and OMG what a dick, loser, who does nothing at all but fuck over his brother. You got a tell people. It’s called asshole syndrome.

Ok that's all you get out of me tonight...I leave for Las Vegas tomorrow so I will try and behave for a few days!

#polin #stacy's tipsy musings #bridgerton spoilers

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sanjisprincesswifey · 2 years

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hiii! May I request prompt 34 w/ Eustass Kid and fem reader plz <3 Thank you and I send magical inspiration your way >:D

note: bae, your magical inspiration helped me so much, so thank you

♡: gender-neutral reader. 700+ words. content warnings: mentions of wounds & blood. sfw content.

you knew the consequences of being a pirate. it came with ridicule, judgment, hate, and even fear...you just never expected to be the one feeling all those things.

your seemingly peaceful venture into the nearby village turned sour the moment you were recognized. anything the villagers could’ve gotten their hands on was thrown at you, cuts and bruises accumulating across your exposed skin as you fled the scene just as fast as you arrived.

you don’t bother greeting anyone, not even your boyfriend, as you climb aboard the ship and head right back to your room. you tug your knees to your chest, letting the warm water fall down your back as the painful sobs mercilessly fall from your lips.

kid stood outside your door, ear pressed against the wood, trying to listen in on what was going on.

although he’d never admit it, he’d never tell you how much it saddened him when you didn’t greet him with a kiss when you returned.

now, as any concerned boyfriend would be, he was awkwardly standing in front of your door unsure of how to approach the situation.

it’s not until he can hear your cry that he barges in without knocking, a habit you did your best to instill in him.

kid panickily scans the area, nothing seems out of the ordinary until he notices the droplets of blood on the floor leading to the bathroom door.

he pops his head in, your whimpers sound more broken now that he’s inside. he coughs stiffly, which causes you to flinch at the sudden noise.

“y/n?” he shifts awkwardly, scratching the back of his head, “ are, uh, are you okay?”

the question alone has you break out into another sob, causing kid to scramble to apologize and freak out again. you pull the curtain back and the small but littered scratches across your arms and legs have kid kneeling next to the filled tub, staring at you in disbelief despite the crimson blush that stains his cheeks.

“what the—? who did this to you? when i get my hands on that son of a bitch i swear, i’ll—”

“—no!” you interrupt, holding tightly onto his hand before he can storm out. “…no…it was my fault.”

he raises his brows; your grip on him is forceful as if it was a plea for him to stay right beside you. and he does, wiping off any irritated expression he had for a sympathetic one only you had ever been able to see.

“i got recognized in town and they started chasing me, accusing me of stealing, calling me names, saying they hated me…” you weep, laying your head against the edge of the tub. kid nods, you both know he doesn’t understand how you feel, you’ve always been at the sympathy of your emotions. “do you, do you think i’m a bad person? like they said?” you ask, staring up at him with unintentional puppy dog eyes.

kid can feel his heart racing in his chest, when you stare at him like that, he wants to say things to you he couldn’t imagine coming from his own mouth. his eyes flicker between you and everything else in the bathroom, unable to hold eye contact, but unable to look away at the same time.

“they don’t know you…” he starts, a sharp tone lingering in his voice, “not like i do.”

you tilt your head, confused about what he means when you notice he's nervously playing with your fingers. “you’re not like a normal pirate. you’re kind and you care about people. you never want to hurt anybody, not like the rest of us,” he whispers, “and those bastards are idiots for thinking otherwise.”

a smile cracks at your lips, sniffling softly at your boyfriend’s unexpected confessional. when he reaches out to examine your arms, you hook an arm around his neck, yanking him down so that his lips meet yours. shocked by the sudden affection, he stumbles forward causing you to yelp as he falls into the bathtub with you, drenching his bright red hair.

you burst out in laughter when he huffs, throwing his wet hair out of his face. he glances down at your naked body before replacing his frown with a mischievous smirk. “well, since i’m here,” he mutters, before cupping your chin to kiss you some more.

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! (✿◠‿◠)

#eustass kid #eustass kid x reader #kid x reader #one piece #one piece x reader

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dnangelic · 6 months

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Sorry I'll ask a more serious one. Are there any hopes that dark and daisuke have for each other? or develop for each other?

this has the potential to turn into an entire convoluted essay so i'll just try to keep things short to start off with. tldr they do absolutely have hopes for each other that they canonically develop, though i usually write them as having reached both of their end development points more or less already. it's about them becoming each other; daisuke more confident and mature, dark loving and tender; fulfilled and human.

dark: dark seeking coexistence has been a thing even before daisuke was his host, so there's that. when it came to his other hosts (daisuke is specifically niwa-host number 19, actually,) what dark mostly wanted out of them was his own body. he's veered into dangerous, creepy-manipulative territories with the whole 'hey hey merge with me, stay as me forever!' bit but it isn't long before he drops that with daisuke. this drama CD track that he narrates basically says it all. there's a part of him that legitimately wants to support and protect daisuke, even if it's usually in a mean, prideful, tough-love, backhanded tsundere way. there's a lot of implication that daisuke ever failing to believe in himself is also something that collaterally wounds dark. quickest and most blatant example i can think of is this:

vol 1 vs vol 4. for context, that's still daisuke (just in dark's form) speaking in the v first panel, and in the rest, daisuke's transported into dark's (but really his own) dream where he and dark's roles are essentially reversed. dark exists as "daisuke" while daisuke's the "one who doesn't exist anymore" in the world, and every single one of daisuke's thoughts and dialogue lines ends up practically a complete parallel to what would normally be dark's thoughts, one after another. i can't publish a whole manga arc in an ask, but the gist is that what dark wants out of daisuke is pretty simple, actually. beneath even the destiny of phantom thievery dark's existence pretty much forces upon the niwa, beneath the imbalance of dark's arrogant pride and daisuke's insecurities is the fact that no matter what, even if he never gets to 'live' with his own life or his own body, dark, as just dark, still wants to be accepted and remembered.

it hurts him to be rejected, even if it's something like daisuke's own lack of self confidence unintentionally rejecting him. 'i'm not, i can't be dark/i am you + you ARE me.' it hurts dark to be abandoned and separated from, ("that is... even if you say it like that, i'm already used to it. sorrow is just the one thing i can't get used to.") it hurts dark to be a half-existent "curse" imbued into a bloodline that his hosts only ever want to cut off and avoid without any sympathy so they can get back to their own lives, a life dark constantly longs for but can never obtain. it's bittersweet to be the one always left behind, over and over, to have been born of the niwa's love, thereby knowing and desiring love, yet being forever doomed to exist (also seemingly forever!) without it. dark even specifically mentions the 'pain of separation' that he feels, knowing he's the one who's always destined to disappear, be forgotten, then reappear in the end. that's also why he can ultimately settle for someone to be able to say with absolute confidence that he existed as his own individual just as much as he was a part of his host(s). in the very end, he can only rely on daisuke anymore for that, which is simultaneously what also makes dai the christine to his erik.

'i've always been inside you. don't you know that? if not for you, i wouldn't be here either. that's what i am.'

'because you're here, i'm able to live.'

when they're in a healthy unison, it doesn't matter whether dark is his own 'live' entity or just a persona for daisuke to wear and act out on his own. dark's 'eternity' is believed in; he and his memory is preserved as more than just a miserable, pathetic haunt and forced destiny. his empty, vacant, hollow and immortal existence is given human meaning; daisuke's love and acceptance fulfills him. if i shall be saved, it will be because your love redeems me! (also this post.)...and this is really all the hope dark could ever have, not just for himself, but for daisuke as well. to meet his faith and belief that daisuke can not just match but make his steps, and accept 'him', the one and only 'great phantom thief dark,' as himself.

daisuke: setting aside the things i've said for dark's portion already, daisuke's always personally wanted to change. sugisaki's even said that change was what the series about! it kicks off with daisuke trying to make the first attempt at it: giving his initial crush his love letter and getting rejected, then transforming into dark for the first time. daisuke doesn't want to be a loser. he hates himself for being 'incapable' and 'clumsy' and 'useless,' and if he has any hopes, then it's for that to change through dark- through being, becoming dark. that being said, daisuke did also absolutely only want to get rid of dark at first, but there are implications that he had also been lying to himself here and there. when it comes to phantom thievery, daisuke has grow into it. he has to realize that it's not solely theft and criminal behavior for the sake of it, (it's very important that while he's absolutely committing 'human' crimes, his thefts are simultaneously a form of protection for the arts themselves,) and that even as a phantom thief, he can still create wonder and awe and inspire dreams, and the same mercy applies to learning about dark.

it takes daisuke around 20 volumes to get to a place where he can essentially, confidently say that he and dark are on equal footings, but just a little before that, is the way daisuke goes from someone who would have done anything to get rid of dark to becoming someone who felt he could only do things BECAUSE dark was there. daisuke is always the one far more openly admiring and looking up to dark, the nervous one blatantly relying on dark's encouragement and presence to keep him from curling up into his knees and staying that way forever. to that extent, dai's now at the point where he doesn't want to let dark go. in canon he essentially has no choice. cue the loop back to 'because you're here, i'm able to live' and everything after it, but within rp, if he isn't set back at square one (a la 'i'm just here because i want to get rid of dark!!!) then the sorts of hopes he has are to simply continue improving and changing himself to be a good fit for the title of a legendary phantom thief. dai is, ultimately, the protagonist, so between him and dark, he controls the entirety of the outcome of the narrative between them. dark's hopes are entirely reliant on his, so it's good that dai's entire chara basis is compassion and attempting to meet, fulfill, and accomplish the hopes and happiness of others through his own.

between him and dark, their hopes really ultimately end up the same: they want to be with each other! they want to be each other! do not separate them or else they'll Both freak out.

#*･ﾟ⊰ 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒. ⊱ ✦ › OUT.#*･ﾟ⊰ ANSWERED. ⊱#this is probably sooooo messy n goes all over the place/says shit ive been saying 28483958 times already #BUT.#its rlly what it is. JFDKGKJGJK #THANK U LITAAAA my friend....

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orqheuss · 11 months

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The sun does not weep for Icarus PART 2

(Ominis Gaunt/Sebastian Sallow/GN!Reader ANGST) Can be read as platonic, implied Ominis/Anne and Sebastian

Parts: 1 2 3 4

Summary:

His body shook like a leaf on a fall morning, desperately holding on to any semblance of security and promise of life. But, the cold touch of death did not feel sympathy— not for the leaf, not for the tree, and not for the boy who had just lost everything. *** Mere days after receiving the news of Sebastian's demise, Ominis gets a chilling letter from Anne that changes the course of his life entirely, as well as brings a new possibility to the fate of their doomed friend.

Word count: 4.5k

Tags: suicide, suicide idealization, death, panic attacks, mentions of murder A brief synopsis of this chapter will be posted at the beginning of chapter 3 for those who do not feel comfortable reading. Your mental health is important!

AN: I’m moving all of my fics over from Ao3 to make them more accessible! These are my fics.

Chapter 2: I Am Not There, I Do Not Sleep

My Dearest Ominis,

I appreciate you checking in on me, it was most definitely something that I can tell we both needed. I apologize for the brevity of the visit, the pain seems to come quickly as of recent, and takes inordinately longer to leave. Time seems to move slower these days— they blend into one another like the cusp of seasons, or like rain falling into a pond. I did not truly know the meaning of the word lonely til this moment of my life. “Lonely.” It is such a full word. It carries so much with it, so much misery. So much despair. Each new sunrise brings it to my doorstep, brimming with sorrows and unhappy memories. Maybe that is why they call it “being alone.” To be lonely and to be alone; one cannot exist without the other. What a terribly unfortunate oxymoron.

I miss Uncle Solomon everyday. I know that he was not the best man; he was curt, discourteous, and unyielding in his opinions, but he was still family. He was the last of our family, after the death of mother and father. Each day I stand at his grave, bringing new flowers from our little garden. The chickens have long since left— it is just me and the Chrysanthemums now. I feel indebted to him, in a way. He took us in, fed us, gave us shelter, and, albeit harsh and in sparsity, he gave us love. He held me in my moments of weakness, he did not try to fix what couldn’t be mended, and for that I will be forever grateful. Now, I fear that there will no longer be any Sallow’s come next year. With my pain, and with Sebastian’s fate… there is not much more to mourn in this world.

I do mourn for Sebastian, though, more than I mourn for anything else. He is the last soul that I grieve. I ache for my twin, my only brother. The last I saw of him, he was not the person I grew up with. There was so little of him left, it was like looking at a reflection— a painting of sorts. It was his form, his face, but the eyes were not quite right. There was something missing in them. Maybe a wrong color, or a misplaced brushstroke, or an accidental drop of ink where it shouldn’t be. It was simply wrong, all the same. That was not my Sebastian anymore, and I fear that he has not been him for some time. His horrendous fate will not heal the hole in my heart, but I doubt that there is anything that truly will.

I know that I do not have much longer on this earth. The pain is becoming unbearable. I cannot leave my bedchambers most days, and when I am able to, I am left with very little life to live. I cannot do this on my own, Ominis, and I wouldn’t dare ask anyone to carry my burdens for me, let alone you, who has so much on his shoulders already. I worry for you, dear friend. You carry so much in that heart of yours, and have very little places to put it down and let it rest. You deserve safety, more than anyone I know. That is why I know that If I don’t end this soon, I fear that the pain may end me instead. I will not let this ailment, this curse, take me. I will go out on my own terms. At the arrival of this letter, I will be peacefully resting next to mother and father once again. I ask that you do not grieve for me. I know that it is inevitable, much like the truth of death, but please know that I am now in my little paradise. It was truly wonderful to be in your life, even if it was only for a short while.

I must ask you one more thing, my darling Ominis. I do not wish to be in my paradise alone, and I do not wish the fate that has been dealt for him on my brother. He is not completely gone— I saw a spark of himself deep inside on that terrible day. I do not think that it is reachable anymore, but I think that he can still be saved from his treacherous fate. I know my brother, and I know that he would not want this to be his end. He is as headstrong as I am, even more at times. He would also wish to go the way that he chose, not at the hands of a demonic creature and unfeeling prison guards. Even with all that he has done, he does not deserve that. Please help him leave this world with some semblance of his soul still intact. I know that he will greet me on the other side if you are with him when he moves on. You and your new friend, of course. I wish we were able to meet on better terms, they were truly a wonder to see. In another life we would be a quartet, one that they would write legends about in the books that I read. There would be no pain, no sadness, no dark magic, no death. Just us, the world at our fingertips, and stars in our eyes. I hope that day will come— someday, somehow.

Please take care of yourself. It may feel like you have no one, but you have so many people who care for you. Just because we may be gone does not mean that we are no longer there. We will be in the air you breathe in the Hogwarts courtyard, the laughter you hear in the common room, the sparks of magic that linger on your fingertips in the Undercroft. Most importantly, we will live in your heart; there is more than enough space in there for us.

Live fearlessly, and love earnestly, Ominis. Live your life, and find your happiness once again. We will wait for you in our little paradise, under the lone sycamore tree at the top of the hill where we would laze about for hours in the summer. Please do not rush to greet us, though. We have all the time in the world now, and have no qualms with waiting.

All my eternal love,

Anne Sallow

The sound of paper fluttering to the ground fills the desolate chambers of the Undercroft. A lovely white Chrysanthemum rests atop of it, petals stained slightly grey with dirt and dust. Tucked away, in the farthest corner from the only doorway in and out, sat a young boy. His knees were drawn up to his chest, only the smallest puff of ashen blond hair poking through the arms he had cradled atop his head. Withering, sorrowful sobs escaped between the gaps of his gangly limbs. Scattered around his tightly balled form was the shattered splinterings of crates, each destroyed with a level of fury only shown in grief. Singed marks littered the corners, filling the room with the scent of fire and ash. A lone wand blinked on the ground, calling out for its owner like a mother calls for her child. The boy was much too young to feel this level of anguish. Much too young to feel this level of pain. His body shook like a leaf on a fall morning, desperately holding on to any semblance of security and promise of life. But, the cold touch of death did not feel sympathy— not for the leaf, not for the tree, and not for the boy who had just lost everything.

Ominis desperately wanted the world to slow down, just this once. Everything felt like it was moving too quickly, much faster than it ever did before. His head felt like it had been through a wall. Pounding pain bounced around the inside of his skull and landed directly behind his eyes, pushing the tears that rested there out even faster. The young boy had felt loss before; there had been many family members in the Gaunt household that were lost to the dark after reaching hopelessly for the light, one being his aunt Noctua. He remembered her sunny disposition and the love she held for the good in the world. Many had told him that she was beautiful in an almost ethereal way— like an angel that had fallen from heaven to the dark depressing depths of earth. She radiated joy from her very soul, and she took her nephew under her wing and gave him the space to breathe in the fresh air of the outside rather than the smog of his childhood home. He had felt her disappearance in the very core of his being. Day after day he waited for a letter from his dear aunt, but when days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and months turned into years, he slowly gave up any hope he once had of feeling her presence again. His life had been lacking a little sunlight ever since that moment.

Yes, the boy was familiar with the feeling of loss. What he wasn’t familiar with, though, was receiving a goodbye.

He could hear each word of the letter read to him in Anne’s sweet voice. Every lift and fall in her speech had been memorized by him long ago. Ominis lived his life in two timelines: before the Sallow’s, and after. Anne was the first he had met, and what an impression she made. She was his treasure— his sister— his friend. The girl brought a freshness to his dreary world, a lightness in her laughter and a calming energy in her cadence. She wasn’t sunlight, like his aunt, she was the moon on a cloudless night. Ominis associated her with the smell of the outdoors, the cooling wind of a fresh fall breeze and the windswept blades of grass that flew into the sky after a rough game of quidditch. She always had an air of mischief about her, every word she spoke came from a wayward smirk and a twinkle in her eye so bright the boy could see it without the gift of sight itself.

Then, there was Sebastian. If she was a gentle fall wind, he was a tornado; sweet, blissful calm at the center of maximal chaos. Much like Anne, the Sallow boy was more than a friend, he was a brother to Ominis. With him came an air of mystery and adventure— late nights filled with sneaking about the castle and muffled laughter against shoulders and behind grandiloquent pillars. There was nothing in the world that he couldn’t conquer with that boy by his side. Ominis associated him with the smell of old books, hidden deep in the depths of the restricted section and just begging for someone to take a look at its forbidden pages, and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he was told a particularly preposterous joke. If Anne brought the joy, Sebastian brought the laughter. There was a time, not that long ago, that Ominis would do anything, go anywhere, become whatever, for the twins.

Now, one was a dimmed light across a blackened sea, and the other would light no more.

Ominis felt like his heart was being stabbed into his chest. The words as sharp as damascus steel pierced his ribs and wiggled its way into his most loyal organ. Never once had the boy worried about if his heart would stop— if he would ever cease to be. Not for a long while, at least. But the moment he had picked up that final letter from Anne, he felt like everything in his chest stilled in solidarity with the dearly departed witch. The boy was truly a ghost, and the world around him continued to move like his entire soul hadn’t just been unrooted from his body and tossed into the black lake to drown.

Such as life, he supposed. It does not stop turning. Not for the sweet hello of life, nor the dismal goodbye of death. Why curse at or plead with something that does not owe him any favors.

Still, the Gaunt boy rested in his personal mausoleum and mourned for the beautiful life lost. He did not care if the world continued, for him it had stopped. The world did not end with a grand bang, nor with a soft whisper. The world ended in silence, and the demeure promise of nothingness.

A despondent creak sounded from the Undercroft gate, almost like it too cried for its fallen companion. Ominis held himself, willing his breathing to still and his sniffles to quiet. He wanted to blend into the darkness that surrounded him and disappear once again into the sweet nostalgia of his mind. The idea of speaking to another person, even someone he regarded so highly and held so dearly in his heart, set a deep pain in his teeth that spread down his arms and ended at the tips of his toes. He had mourned with them not long ago, a week in the past at most, but he was not prepared for this level of emotional vulnerability. They had known Sebastian as personally as he had— they did not know Anne the same.

The sound of his friend’s steps echoed against the high stone ceilings and were swallowed by the soft ground below. He could feel their vibrations getting closer, but they had not spoken yet. They approached him like a frightened animal would tiptoe towards the outstretched hand of a stranger, hesitant and wary of each possible reaction. The animal did not know if the hand would feed and care for them or snatch them up and cook them for dinner, and neither did his friend. Each gentle sound sent his heart roughly against his chest once again, jump-starting it from its eternal slumber nonconsensually. The gentle brush of cloth against concrete silenced his brain. His friend had sat next to him with not a word said— absolutely no questions asked. They were just there. His breathing stilled in his chest in startled silence. Ominis counted the breaths of their companion, each one filling the still air and pushing on the moments of quiet. They were waiting for him to allow them to read the crumpled parchment at his feet. Minutely, the boy nodded his head against his knees, and he heard them shift and reach for the letter. The sound of paper rustling kissed his ears once more and every hair on his body rose to attention. He could hear their breathing catch in their throat at Anne’s confession and shakingly release once again at her death wish. Ominis did not know what was to come next from his stoic partner. Would they leave him in his solitude to fester and rot alone in agony? Would they laugh at his grief and cringe at his weakness? He wasn’t sure which would hurt worse.

A soft brush of a hand against his neck drew him from his stupor and shocked the skin that rested there. He stiffened under the light touch, shoulders rising around his ears in protection. A zephyr-like voice crashed against his barriers like a benign tide.

“What can I do to help?”

He stilled again. A sudden cold crashed over his body like falling through the ice of a frozen lake. He was not expecting this. He was prepared for the darkness to consume him; for the giant squid resting in a deep slumber under the black lake to wrap its twisting tentacles around his ankles and drag him deep, deep down below. He was prepared to drown. But this? Mutual grief was understandable, but compassion? This he was not used to. A part of his comatose heart thawed at the notion of someone caring for him that weren’t the Sallow children, and at the same time it frightened him to his bones. He did not want anyone to get close to him again; all he brought was death and destruction and destruction and death. He raised his haunches even higher, shrugging the soft hand from his skin like it had burned him.

“You did not know her like I did— did not love her like I did. What could you know of my pain? How could you possibly help me?” Ominis spit at the student, defenses raised and teeth bared like a wild animal in a cage.

The student paused, lowering their hand to their side once more. They may not have known Ominis for long, but they had not heard the bite of his anger since their fateful first meeting outside of the Undercroft. Even still, his vexation was not that startling. They could hear the stuttered breaths of their companion, the thick coating of tears in his voice, and their heart broke. It was true, they did not know Anne like the boy did, but they knew him, and they knew that he needed help. Ominis was not one for emotions— showing the slightest change in expression in the Gaunt household was often met with harsh consequences. He often hid himself away when something bothered him, lashing out when the status quo is challenged in any way. They had noticed this soon after arriving at Hogwarts. His slight shift in expression and posture whenever they were around Sebastian was all they needed to know about his opinion on change. They wished to tell him that they did not wish to encroach in his world, did not wish to take what he protected so dearly, unless explicitly invited, but did not want to hurt his pride in the process. The easiest way to thaw a seemingly unthawable heart? Simply be kind. So, that’s what they did— they were kind to the young Gaunt boy who so rarely experienced the notion itself.

“Yes, I did not know her. You are right about that. But, you did. You loved her, that much is obvious.” He heard his friend shuffle on the ground, searching for the words and the comfort they hoped to bring with them. “What I do know, though, is that I love you. You are hurting, and I am here to answer the call. I will not leave your side, Ominis. I will stay until you are ready to speak, and we will work through this together. I'm here, if you'll have me.”

Tears sprung to his eyes, wetting the slightly dried flesh of his cheeks and erupting him back into sobs. How was this person real? How could the torturous world outside of these castle walls create something so tender, so human? They didn’t wish anything from him. They were not forcing him to talk about his feelings, or silence his crying and move on with his day. Such a simple courtesy that he had never been allotted before.

Ominis relented in his stubborn solitude. Releasing one arm from the petrified stance he had been in for what felt like hours, he rested his hand between the two students as a show of peace. A pinky brushed against his own, and that was all there was. That’s all there needed to be.

With the heavy weight of the world a little lighter on his back, Ominis wailed, and he grieved, and he yearned for something better.

The two friends rested in silence for what felt like years. Ominis could feel the ghosts of time-shaped vines crawl around his ankles and up his legs, the flowering buds along its tendrils tickled at his arms and tightened around his chest in a pleasant hug. If he closed his eyes and thought hard enough, he could feel the leaves enter his mouth and curl around his brain, only to exit once again out of his eye sockets and bloom with beautiful nature. He couldn’t help but think of Anne, six feet under the ground. He hoped the flowers were kind to her.

Once his breathing calmed down and his sniffles retired to sleep until the next cry once again, his friend spoke.

“I know what we can do.”

The boy raised his head slightly in confusion, silently asking the student to his left to continue.

They sensed his trepidation and clarified in a voice filled with a strong eclipse of finality. “I know what we can do for Sebastian.”

Ominis paused, going back through the letter in his head for context. He was so overtaken with the grief of Anne’s suicide that he didn’t pay any mind to her last wish. Like the rapture itself had been born in the room, the boy’s fast spinning world stilled in its movement. Of all things that she could have asked for, she had asked the pair of them to help Sebastian kill himself and escape his fate at the hands of dementors. Could they do that? Would they be able to do that? The rational part of his brain said yes. The rational part of his brain reminded him that he had lost Sebastian long ago to the hands of dark magic. The Sebastian he knew died that night when the loyalists cursed Anne and took his sister from him. The irrational part of his brain, though? The idea of helping with the death of his best friend caused the same sorrow that he had gone numb to moments ago rear its ugly head once again with a vengeance. He was too tired to feel any more emotion, too tired of the pain in his body to listen to his aching heart. His mind filled with the sound of static, encasing all of his senses in a perturbed nothingness. It was like one million tiny lacewing flies were trapped behind his eyes, buzzing at a frequency that could only be heard by someone with the same heightened senses as his. His rational side took over, locking away the steely gaze of his turmoil behind the iron vault doors of his own personal Gringotts. Anne was right, Sebastian would want to leave the world on his own terms, but could they truly give that to him? In the grand scheme of things, which was better? Saving the rabbit from slaughter only to cook it for dinner, or throwing it to the wolves and watching it get torn limb from limb?

Either way, someone kills, and someone gets eaten.

He decided to hear them out. They had obviously thought about this for a while; he could smell the determination on them like the pungent odor of a badly brewed potion. He cleared his throat, not trusting himself to speak quite yet, and nodded his head for them to continue.

They took a deep breath before beginning their plan. “I was doing inventory for Professor Sharpe a few days ago, just something to clear my mind from this hell of a year, and I saw something peculiar in his stores. Have you ever heard of the nightshade berry?”

Ominis shook his head at the fifth year, a look of curious confusion muddling his features.

They continued, “It’s a small berry, no bigger than a gobstone, I’d say. It’s used frequently in muggle medicine. One or two berries can be helpful in curing ailments; a handful can cause death.”

The boy’s eyebrows raised to his hairline in intrigue, silently asking them to finish their tale. Their friend fully faced them and spoke animatedly.

“I remember a young girl in our village went into the woods to gather some blueberries for her mother one day. She had been gone for hours, and a search party was sent out to bring her home safely— the woods were very dangerous, you see. They stumbled upon her completely by accident, tucked under a bush not far off the beaten path. She had found a bushel of nightshade and mistaken them for edible, snacking on a few of them before planning to bring the rest home. She must have eaten enough to stop her heart indefinitely. The adults of the village gossipped about it for weeks. Apparently, they hadn’t known that she was dead until they felt how cold her skin was. She looked peaceful enough to have been asleep under the stars.”

Ominis met his companions eyes, seeing meeting unseeing, and puzzled through their story. A muggle poison would be their best option, he mused. They would never think to check for something like that, as muggleborns weren’t allowed in places run by the Ministry so they likely wouldn’t know about anything other than magical deaths. They could easily crush the berries into an extract of sorts; easy to conceal and easy to take. The question was, how would they get into Azkaban? The prison was guarded by the best Aurors that the Ministry had to offer, not to mention the fact that it was the main nest of all the dementors in the wizarding world. They couldn’t just simply walk in for a visit, it was unheard of. Sure, there were always ways to bend the rules, but how could they bend something as immovable as Azkaban?

He could hear his friend’s footsteps as they paced the length of the room, likely pondering the same questions that he was. When he spoke of his hesitations, they quickly made their way back to his sitting form, squatting down to his level and placing their hands atop of where his were on his knees. He could hear the sad, mournful smile in their voice as they spoke.

“Let me worry about retrieving the poison for now. We will convene back here after supper and plan the rest.”

They leaned close, brushing a stray hair that fell from his quiff back into place before pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. He timidly smiled at the gesture, feeling the love they held for him in that touch. Even after all these years, the young boy was still not used to the feeling of unconditional love. Everything always came with a price, even the simplest joy of finding comfort in another. He tried to push his past trauma down deep into his gut, far past the scars of childhood and the fear of the future, but his smile still did not reach his eyes. His friend could see this, of course. They were astutely aware of everything to do with the young blond boy. The student chose to ignore the pain in their companions' expression, just this once; they knew that he did not want to share any more than he already did that afternoon. Softly, they bumped their forehead against his in a show of unity and whispered some final soothing words against his skin.

“You are not alone, my dear Ominis. Please do not feel like you must solely hold up the world for others. You are not Atlas, and we are not Zeus.”

The two friends departed the Undercroft with a new air about them— a freshly bleeding chunk missing from their souls, each holding a needle and thread for the other.

Only a tiny, sterling white Chrysanthemum remained in the sheltered hideaway.

***

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traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors · 7 months

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cw: csa mention

looking for advice regarding therapy + rambling a lot idk if it even makes sense

how exactly do you go on about therapy when there might be something to solve but it's just crumbs of something bigger? i'm a csa survivor (just saying that feels like an exaggeration given how well i'm doing) but right now i'm not dealing with "the big haunting survivor stuff". i just know i'm not at my best regarding that but the impact is so minor and i tend to emotionally detach so much that speaking about it makes me feel like i'm using my victimhood to get something i don't need (like if someone got into a plane crash and just got a small cut but ultimately went through the same crash as the person who lost a limb). what i mean is csa is such a big thing but what i'm dealing with isn't. and i don't want to have to describe a huge plane crash when i really just need to slap a bandaid on my wound? if that makes any sense??

i honestly feel so embarrassed. i know ultimately things could be better but i opened up to one person already and i feel so bad for talking. i feel like i always have to make it very clear that while what happens sounds bad it really isn't serious and idk how to ever talk about abuse with it being just too serious compared to how it affected me. and i feel embarrassed going to therapy for something so small that i'm not sure i'd be able to properly describe. ultimately it puts me in a position of wanting to feel worse or wanting something worse to happen to me so that it makes more sense to talk about.

last thing is: i genuinely feel so ugly and insecure that i just feel like it strips me of my victimhood. whenever i wanna speak up about what happened to me i feel the urge to just show a picture of my child self, because while i at least looked small and worthy of some pity regarding what happened back then, right now i just feel so pathetic that i want to just laugh at my own self. like i'm seriously too disgusting to complain about anything tragic happening to me. i feel like the pathetic guy in cartoons that goes through awful stuff to make the audience laugh, zero sympathy just pointing and laughing.

wow okay sorry that was a wordy mess.

– three dots anon

Hi three dots,

It's okay if what happened to you doesn't affect you a lot. But it's important to respect the pain that does exist. Regardless of how much it impacts you, you're still a CSA survivor. The analogy you gave about the plane crash is really interesting, and I think it actually ties into your experience. Because no matter what kind of injury you sustain from a plane crash, it doesn't change the fact that it can be equally traumatizing to the man who lost a limb and the man who got a little cut.

Trauma isn't defined by what happened, but by how we respond to it psychologically. The man who lost his limb may not actually be that affected by it, and the man who got cut may be severely traumatized. Things like genetic factors, the environment you were raised in, the support you have, can all affect your resilience - your ability to cope with stressful events, and that looks different for everyone. So it's not really fair to objectively define what counts as trauma.

This is something I say a lot, and I never get tired of saying it because I know it needs to be said more. Our society encourages comparing your trauma to those who've "had it worse" or that things like rape is "the worst" trauma. But none of these sentiments actually address, center, or heal the pain you endured - instead they minimize your experiences. In reality, your experiences do matter, they are significant, and they're worth honoring. But being raised in a culture that says the opposite makes it hard to internalize this.

Another thing society likes to encourage is trauma olympics, like competing for who has it "worst". But I think what people don't realize is, as a trauma survivor and as an abuse survivor, healing from your experiences means reaching a point where you are living a happy and fulfilling life. And I think with society's sentiments, reaching that point almost feels like you're gaslighting yourself, as if what happened to you wasn't traumatizing, awful, hurtful, whatever describing word feels natural. It can be so dangerous to feel the need to indulge and wallow in the pain of trauma just to feel like you're a valid survivor (this is my problem too). I've personally found that healing means allowing honoring the pain and moving forward to coexist. Reminds me of the quote "I want it back so I drag its dead weight forward."

I can understand that disconnect between your current self and your child self that endured the trauma. And while it's not like you're still a child, that child is you. I think sometimes the internally-directed shame and disgust around validating your experiences can stem from self-gaslighting or self victim-blaming, which often work hand-in-hand.

I hope that you can find the answers, closure, and healing you seek through therapy. If anyone has any comments or suggestions, feel free to add on. Otherwise, I hope I could help, and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

#mod bun #trauma talks #tw abuse #tw child abuse #tw sa #tw csa #tw r #tw emotional abuse #three dots anon #three dots

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thatgirlwithasquid · 2 years

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Okay- but since I first noticed it a couple of days ago I literally cannot stop thinking about the parallel between Billy fighting his dad and Billy fighting the Mind Flayer.

(I mean these scenes btws)

In both situations Billy throws himself between someone who showed him even a drop of sympathy or affection and his abuser, with no regards for his own safety. Aside from the incredible courage of that, it's the main reason I am so strongly of the view that Billy deserved his redemption.

You literally cannot say that the young boy protecting his mother from his abusive father on the left was not worthy of help, care, understanding, and redemption. You literally cannot. That is a child, and a child doing something so heartbreakingly selfless that he should never have been in a position to need to do at all.

The fact that the Billy on the right does the exact same thing seems to heavily suggest, at least to me, that Billy is still that same boy deep down. He did the the same incredibly selfless act, showing that even after everything bad he had done, he was still capable of bettering himself and becoming a good person like he would have been without fate dealing him such a poor hand.

I also like the parallels that draws between Neil and the Mind Flayer. Aside from the obvious (Neil is a monster, even if not the literal kind), it displays the role Neil had in Billy's life. The Mind Flayer forced Billy to hurt countless people, despite it being something Billy would not do as evidenced by the tears and pleading for help. While Neil's impact on Billy's actions is not quite so literal as him controling him and making him do it, I do think there's an element of similarity there.

Neil and his abuse is what pushed Billy into becoming a more violent person. Maybe Billy found hiding his pain and fear with anger easier, or he liked feeling like he had power over others for a change, or maybe it was a defence mechanism to make sure no one else would be able to hurt him because he hurt them first. The hell if I know, but the point of the matter is that Neil's actions pushed a sweet boy into violence he would not otherwise have enacted. He and the mindflayer are being compared.

Does this justify Billy's violence? No. It puts it into context, but it was still shitty. That, however, does not mean he is no longer worthy of redemption and kindness. Billy has been resorting to objectively awful behaviour because of his abuse since he was a child and this - again - has been paralleled to the Billy we are more familiar with.

You cannot tell me these shots were not meant to parallel one another. Billy has always lashed out violently at people to an extent that is unjustifiable and cannot be excused. He did it when he was young and he did it later. And we know the younger version of Billy was violent in response to his father's behaviour because he uses his father's insult of being a "pussy".

The root cause of Billy's toxic behaviour is his abuse, which suggests that if he was able to leave the toxic environment he is living in then he'd be able to improve. We know he still has that capability for goodness in him, that it never truly left (as the first parallel indicates); and we know that his actions are mostly tied to his suffering (as the second indicates).

The Billy on the left, as I have already mentioned, undeniably deserved help, because he was a child, and since these parallels indicate that the situation is exactly the same then so does the Billy on the right. Besides, Billy was only eighteen when he died. He was still a teenager and should have had plenty of time to change, and probably only hadn't yet because he was still stuck in that same environment.

Billy Hargrove deserved his redemtion.

Thank you, that is all.

#billy hargrove #was this way too much rambling about stuff everyone already knows?#yes #but do i just really fucking love how these scenes blatently display it?#also yes #this is my blog so i can rant about whatever i want #stranger things

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trashlie · 1 year

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hey it's the same anon as last time ^^ i'll try to stop by your inbox more often when i have the time and some thoughts to share. discussing these things is fun and you make such great points about the characters and the story. i'll be signing these asks with lil anon (like lil buddy 😼) so you know it's me. and good to hear! i hope you continue to get better 🥰

i get why you're invested in kousuke's story. he is, objectively, a really interesting character. it's unfortunate that people disregard him, bc understanding him is a key part of understanding the story. and understanding him doesn't necessarily mean having sympathy/empathy for him. like on a personal level i can't stand him and want to smack him with a broom lmao but as a reader/observer it's interesting to try and understand his motivations/actions, if that makes sense 🤞

oh yeah you're completely right about kou getting worse as the story progresses. his recent development has felt like watching a car crash in slow motion - tragic, but fascinating and you can't look away. if ily was a less interesting story, a character like kousuke (typical rich asshole with some redeeming qualities) would have had significant growth by now. but that would be such a cliché, right?

and sometimes i do wonder if kousuke is doomed by the narrative, or if he eventually will be able to break free from... himself, essentially. the thing is, kousuke's is trapped. in order to grow and change, he needs to separate himself from the hiraharas/this fake reality that's been constructed from him, and see his situation from a different perspective. but in order to even want to change, he needs to grow as a character first. which he cannot do as long as he's involved with the family. it's like a snake eating its own tail. nothing/no one has been able to get through to him yet, so i guess there needs to be an outside force (maybe a revelation) that breaks him out of this cycle, shatters the very foundation of his fake reality, or maybe removes his safety net. and i really wonder what's that going to be. like... even though christmas is coming up in the ily universe, i doubt he'll be visited by the ghosts of the present, past, and yet to come and then all of a sudden he's a gentler, kinder man the next day lmaooo idk what do you think it'll be that's going to push him towards (positive) change? i think it's undeniable that kousuke needs to crash and burn first, and then maybe he can build himself up from the ground. i really do hope that's what's going to happen eventually! he is (mostly) a victim of his upbringing/environment, so it'd be nice to see him make steps towards growth/healing/being his own person. either way we're still so far from anything like this happening so who knows.

re: nol and fear - wow i didn't make the connection that nol is also driven by his fears, but you're absolutely right. i saw him as someone mostly controlled by self-loathing/self-destructiveness/low self-esteem, but these feelings are ultimately rooted in his fears. thanks for pointing that out. such an interesting parallel between the brothers.

all the ways the brothers are two completely different people with similar issues are endlessly fascinating to me (i just love me a complex siblings dynamic). you mentioned that neither of them have that family relationship with their parents at this point, and i agree. however, i think it's important to keep in mind that a key factor in nol and kousuke being such different people are that their early days were completely different.

nol had a very loving mother who shaped him during his most critical years of development (ages 0 to 5). and i actually believe nol got his best qualities (kind, caring, generous, brave, funny, etc) and morals from nessa, not rand. also, the hiraharas hadn't poisoned him yet. the layers of pain and trauma came later. on the other hand, kousuke received a completely different version of care and was taught a number of really negative traits - that his wealth and name make him better than other people, that his family doesn't function like others do and that that's normal, that he shouldn't feel guilty taking advantage of people and situations, that he deserves to have everything he wants, that his sole purpose is to inherit the company, and - as you said - that love as a reward, rather than something he's inherently deserving of. no wonder nol was/is such a threat to him - he's competition, and there can only be one winner. how can this boy, a 'mistake', have received this "reward" (=rand's love (nol hasn't actually received it but kousuke thinks he did)) so easily, when he didn't do anything to deserve it? that can only mean that nol is better, that kousuke is in his shadow, somehow inferior. and that just contradicts kousuke's entire worldview. idk it's just. much to think about.

oh wow i wrote so much, sorry about that. btw feel free to copypaste this in a separate post under a cut so it doesn't take up too much space if you feel like it, i wouldn't mind! have a good weekend 💗 - lil anon

Lil' Anon, I love it, perfect! Hehe!!!

You are SO right about Kousuke, too, in that you don't have to love a character to enjoy them. In-verse I would not get along with Kousuke or even want anything to do with him lol. He frustrates me a LOT - but right, you can understand WHY a character is frustrating. You can become invested while knowing you would absolutely fight them lol. The thing about compelling characters is that, for the most part, they are the drivers of plot and story and if they aren't a character worth investing in, you run the risk of caricatures of antagonists, villains who fall flat and cartoonish. ILY certainly borrows from the truth that everyone is going through something, no matter who they are. That doesn't always validate what they do, but as far as a story and PLOT goes, it makes everything far more interesting. That's the main thing I want people to come away with, not just as far as ILY goes but media in general. Because it's fiction, there is no harm in enjoying an antagonist. Your plot and story wouldn't be as enjoyable if they WEREN'T compelling or intriguing. When I say Kou has become a character I'm very invested in, it doesn't mean I approve of the things he does. In fact, I root for him BECAUSE I want to see him grow, because I want to see if he ever takes the reigns on his life and comes to much-needed realizations.

Because you are right - there is a big chance that Kousuke IS doomed by the narrative. I've talked about this re: Alyssa before, too, in that just as in real life, there's a chance he may never come to the terms he needs to. He may never find his way out of his safety spots, may never try to leave what is safe and secure. That's what's so important about acknowledging how fear drives him - if he cannot overcome that fear of being uncomfortable, of facing disappointment, of being outside what he finds safe and secure, then he really can't make the changes he needs to. He won't have the opportunity to see himself in a way that might give him the perspective he needs. In general, growth requires courage. If we want to grow, we have to face scenarios that bring us discomfort, that maybe make us fall apart, in order for us to learn just how much we can take, just how much we can overcome. But Kousuke has never really been in that kind of position. He's had everything handed to him, whether or not he wants it to be.

I really like the analogy that it's like a snake eating its own tail; I think that really sums up the vicious cycle and why we've not seen him wake up to reality, why things seem to go in one ear and out the other.

Over on reddit I've been talking to someone a lot about Kousuke, too, and a thought we share is that not only does Kousuke need that crash and burn - I think everyone is in agreement about that! - but maybe something that can be a wake up call for him is his career. They made some really great points, too, I'll link to their response here, but we know that Kousuke isn't truly happy in his life and career. To him, we endure uncomfortable situations, or one's that aren't fun because that's life. We don't live in an ideal world, we have to do whatever we can to get by. But Kousuke literally could have his pick of anything in the world, couldn't he? At some point, when does he realize he's unfulfilled? The whole purpose of his career trajectory was to earn Rand's affection. At what point does he realize it isn't going to happen - if he's not already at that realization? At what point does the empty, hollowness set in? When does he realize he doesn't feel fulfilled because none of this was for HIM, this doesn't mean anything to him without Rand acknowledging him? And suppose he does get that acknowledgement. Then what? The quest is over, there's no higher goals, nothing more to achieve. Oh, sure, he can go on to be the CEO as he was born to. But would it MEAN anything to him?

I'm thinking - or hoping? - that this might be the kind of thing that gives him the wake up call. That there is no point in his life that brings him joy - except maybe eating sweets lol. But that can only be a catalyst. You're right in that a big need is for him to get away from his family, for him to exist outside of their reach, to lose that safety net.

I have a couple thoughts in this regard. Whatever Yujing is working on - likely an expose - syncs up with Shinae's graduation and Nol's release from prison. It clearly has to do with the Hiraharas - and this means Kousuke, as well. When she found out Nol had pleaded guilty, she'd been looking at an old article about Nol attacking Kousuke, which we've seen may not be what we thought it was at all, that perhaps it was Kousuke who attacked and Yui blamed Nol. There's also that incident Kousuke is so DESPERATE to hide, something Yujing knows about. It seems likely that this expose, this piece, is something that could taint the Hirahara name. Even if Kousuke was not involved in other aspects, this would end up affecting him, because a major part of his identity is that he is the Heir, so what happens if his identity is that he's the Heir of a dirty family? If it becomes known that he is not the ideal gentleman bachelor he's been made out to be? Is that enough to make him step back and see his family - especially his safety net Yui - in a new light?

There's also my favorite crack theory, that Kousuke is not Rand's son. Now, again, I don't necessarily think I believe in this as much as I enjoy exploring it, but there's been a number of little moments that feel like they could be foreshadowing - or red herrings lol. Suppose it was true, Rand isn't actually Kousuke's father. Aside from the fact that he's spent his whole life trying to earn love from this man, I think it would also be detrimental in that he'd finally have to face the unsavory parts of Yui that he tries to ignore or deny. The one pillar in his life having lied to him and egged him on to chase after this pipedream, reassured him that if he's good enough, he'd be acknowledged. Wouldn't that shatter him? Again, I'm not so sure if this is likely - it kind of feels overdramatic, but then again, the deeper we delve into the story, the more those kinds of dramatics start to feel normal.

At any rate, yes, I think he needs a wake up call that will make him see his family for what they are, make him see himself in a different light. And that's just the beginning! I really look forward to our big timeskip to see where we find Kousuke, if he's yet in a place where he can start making these changes to himself, if he's got a security network to push him to make those changes (and if he cares enough to do it lol).

Also yes, yes, very good points about Nol! Nol and Kousuke are definitely foils in that Nol had the kind of nurturing, affectionate childhood that Kousuke lacked. We've seen instances of Nol surrounded by peers his own age and we might be able to assume that, aside from being teased for having such a long name, maybe he actually got along with them? But also, because of the teasing incident, Nol had that safe space in his mother - Nessa comforted him and gave him a nickname to make up for the teasing. We've never once see Kousuke receive such affection, and I just always think about that little flashback where he's in the bush watching Nessa dote on Nol and then Yui appears before him without eyes. It's such a cold relationship, it doesn't feel like it was nurturing. She goes through the motions of being a mother, certainly, but that's the thing - the difference between mother and mom. Nol had a mom, Kousuke had a mother. And we can see that even when Nol was driven by fear, even when he was trying to distance himself, he couldn't help but indulge in those traits his mother passed on to him. He started to care about the friendships that weren't supposed to matter because he's such an empathetic person. He understands loneliness so well, how could he help but reach out to people he thought needed help? But Kousuke never developed those kinds of skills or traits. How is he meant to empathize with or understand people he was literally raised to see himself apart from. They're not like him, they are Other. Literally a formative foundation of the way he views the world!

Light and shadow plays such a role in the ILY universe. Nol is literally in the shadows, but Kousuke thinks that its him who is in the shadow cast by Nol, that he cannot let Nol shine, lest it drown out his own light. I think that really sums up the root of their relationship and their issues: Nol didn't so much want to shine as much as just share that spot with Kousuke. I think at some point he gave up trying to earn Rand's favor and instead sought out Kousuke who was in the same boat as him. But Kousuke thinks only one of them can be in the light and if it's not him, that means it's Nol - Nol who is so undeserving who hasn't put in the same effort as him. Isn't that funny? Kousuke literally was born into privilege, knows he is afforded things most others never will be, knows that he has things others could work for their whole lives and never possess. But he thinks it's Nol who has earned something without making any effort. The irony of it, man.

Don't feel bad about how much you wrote hehehe! I.... also cannot hold back when it comes to anything ILY so I'm delighted to receive equally long messages haha! Looking forward to more fun conversation with you, Lil Anon! And thank you for the well wishes! I'm going to try to make myself do more painting today! Fingers crossed (I am not doing the best job at taking care of myself this week lol I'm hoping some painting will help!)

#ILY Brainrot #I Love Yoo #Lil Anon #Kousuke Hirahara #Nol #Nolan Oliver T. Lochlainn #it's funny how like.... Kousuke has been such a focus of all my brainrot posts lately LMAO #i promise that when I jot down my 218 thoughts it will be about OTHER STUFF #.....but also like... still really on a similar tangent so LMAOOOOOO #IT IS WHAT IT IS MAN #THIS IS THE ARC I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR #THIS IS ALL OF THE STUFF I'VE BEEN WANTING TO DIG INTO #Kousuke really IS a slow motion car wreck i can't look away from

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berrizzesworld · 2 years

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Reflection on positive psychology

Have you ever heard about positive psychology? If not, don't blame yourself. I didn't know anything about it until recently either. The definition of the term sounds like this:

“Positive psychology is the scientific study of what makes life most worth living” (Peterson, 2008).

In fact, positive psychology is a field of general psychology that spends much of its time thinking about topics like character strengths, optimism, life satisfaction, happiness, well-being, gratitude, compassion (as well as self-compassion), self-esteem and self-confidence, hope, and elevation.

Personally, I was lucky enough to learn about this science from watching a Ted-Talk by Martin Seligman, who is the founder of positive psychology. In the video he talks about how science has changed over the last few decades and about his research, experiments and results. On the importance of studying exactly "Positive Psychology". (I am attaching a link to this speech below for those who are interested in the topic and want to watch the full video, not just read scraps of my thoughts, philosophies and reflections)

youtube

First of all, what I found interesting about this video is that Mr Seligman talks about how people's attitudes to this science have changed over the last few decades: if 20 years ago, while sitting in an airplane, Martin was telling people about what he does - they would move away from him and stop talking. Now, on the contrary, people are becoming interested in the scientist's line of work.

So what has changed? It seems to me that it's all about people's attitude towards psychology itself, as a science of 'what is wrong with us'. Whereas in the past people were repulsed by the issue and did not want to think about their problems and shortcomings, now they are interested in understanding their problems and eliminating them in order to improve their lives. I consider this to be due to the widening of boundaries in the modern world: now everyone is free to express themselves and their opinions, to share their own problems, and without fear of being judged. People have become more open, which means that their shortcomings are not something to be ashamed of. People are now ready to sort themselves out and therefore psychology is very relevant at this stage.

Secondly, the main theme of Martin's speech was still positive psychology, which, as I said earlier, argues that one should not only pay attention to illnesses and the darker sides of personalities, but also to the beneficial ones. People need to learn to think positively, to reason and to celebrate not only the negative events in their lives, but also the very happy moments. And try to make sure that the latter are the majority

I certainly agree that this is the right way to set your mindset, but it actually sounds a lot easier in theory than in practice. And sometimes the system stops working altogether… I will tell you an example of my own.

Brief background: My name is Anna, I am from Ukraine and almost 10 months ago a war broke out in my country. On that day, February 24th, I had to leave everything I had ever treasured or loved and start life anew, as pathetic as it sounds. Since then, regular memories of taking my dog for a walk in the park near my home, or ice-skating with a friend in my town's New Year's Eve square, have never left me. On one hand, these memories are some of the happiest moments of my life, and I agree with the theory that they should only make me feel better. But in reality, they don't. The slightest mention of my past life before the war ruins the whole of my 'new life' that I am trying so hard to build. I realise that I will never be able to relive those days and moments again, I will never be the same and nothing will ever be the same again. Each time it causes me more and more pain.

I don't want to make you feel sympathy for me or make you worry. I just want to tell you about an insight I got after watching the lecture: I guess positive psychology should rather teach people not just to think positively, but to learn to let go of the bad and the past, the things that cannot be changed or returned. Only then will living and breathing become easier.

Take care of your mental health and smile more often, because it has been scientifically proven that the production of endorphins in our bodies increases happiness!

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lunaria1 · 1 month

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Chapter 3

Meanwhile with Scarlet, she was still looking for that rabbit in the waistcoat determined to find it. She eventually bumped into Aunt Imogene who was still seated in her spot waving her fan back and forth, looking as if in a trance. Scarlet did tense up for a split second, thinking that it was her mother or someone else going to bother her, but breathed out a sigh of relief when she realised who it was. "Aunt Imogene! I think I'm going mad. I keep seeing a white rabbit in a waistcoat," she said starting to believe that she's hallucinating things out of bored or because she was crazy. "How very strange. What kind of waistcoat?" her aunt asked but it was clear that she wasn't paying much attention, stuck in her won little world inside her head. "Brocade, I think. What does it matter? It's a in a waistcoat!" Scarlet replied trying to think of a reasonable explanation herself. No one here had a pet rabbit and if they did they wouldn't let it run around the garden with Lady Ascot around. Aunt Imogene shrugged proving that she's not fully in the conversation, "I haven't seen your fancy rabbit. I'm waiting for my fiancé, that should be here somewhere and arriving soon. Perhaps the fancy rabbit is my fiancé" she said looking out into the distance as if in a dream. Scarlet gave her aunt an uncertain look. "You have a fiancé?" she asked sarcastically knowing that it wasn't true but at the same time she didn't want to upset or offend her aunt. She than noticed the white rabbit dart by and quickly followed it not wanting to lose sight of it again.

"He's a prince." Aunt Imogene continued her story unaware that Scarlet had already left. " But, alas he cannot marry me he reclaims his throne." The woman laughed dryly before letting out a sigh. " Isn't it tragic?" Scarlet was just faintly able to hear her and that only confirmed her thoughts about her fiancé being made up. Though she did genially feel sympathy for her aunt and could only hope that she didn't end up the same way.

However both Scarlet's and Alice's pathways crossed with one another as they both followed the rabbit. Though instead of finding the rabbit they found something that would break Margaret's heart, Lowell kissing Hattie, his 'friend'. Scarlet was beyond pissed seeing that. "That guy has the goddamn audacity to cheat on Margaret and think that he can get away with it." she said as she marched over to him and punched him in the face the moment he and Hattie stopped kissing. Lowell grunted and grabbed his face in pain, he stared up at whoever punched him and immediately got scared when he saw Scarlet. "Scarlet, Alice" he started as he stepped towards both of them whilst Hattie ran off. "We were..." he fumbled not knowing how to explain this without getting another punch in the face. "Hattie is an old friend." Alice and Scarlet were obviously not buying that. "I can see that you're very close." Alice spat in distain, looking up and down at her brother-in-law.

"Oh yeah definitely a friend. Last time I checked friends don't kiss each other on the lips for that long." Scarlet said ready to throw another punch at him if she needed to. "You won't mention this to Margaret would you?" Lowell asked worried about what would happen if they did. This caused Scarlet to pause in her tracks and wait for Alice's response. "I don't know" Alice said stepping back, setting her brow defensively. "I'm confused. We need time to think" she said causing Lowell to have some hope that this incident will be forgotten about. "Well, think about Margaret!" he countered immediately. "She would never trust me again. You don't want to ruin her marriage, do you?" he reached out fingers brushing against Alice's cheek. Scarlet slapped his hand away knowing that he's only saying this to save his own skin. "You're the one who's becoming a man around town kissing girls whilst being in a relationship already. Alice please hold me back before I slam his face into the bloody dirt where he belongs." Scarlet said getting more and more agitated.

"There you are!" Hamish's voice could be heard as he put a hand on Alice's shoulder, causing her to spin around with a gasp. The proposal. She almost forgot about it. Head spinning with images of Lowell kissing Hattie, of how Margaret would react to the news, of their mother crippled with shame and the burden of two unwed adults to take care of, Alice allowed Hamish to lead her to the gazebo.

The whole crowd had gathered on the small lane and Alice felt her heart skip as she felt all of the eyes on her as she ascended the short few steps up to the wooden gazebo. Her breath began to shorten as she noticed the string quarter, now housed discreetly in the shadows, bows positioned to play. At the front of the crowd stood an artist with an easel before him, his gaze altering between the delicate brushstrokes on his canvas and the scene before him. Scarlet watched her sister get dragged away before giving Lowell one last glare. "Be glad you lucky little bastard" she said before walking away from him to cool her head. She didn't go to the gazebo knowing that it wouldn't help her calm down and she was very much against the engagement anyway.

Hamish dropped to his knee and held Alice's hand in his. "Alice Kingsley" he started but got interrupted by Alice saying his name.

#alice through the looking glass #own character #oc x oc ship #oc x oc #alice in wonderland live action

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herosace · 1 year

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⠀ ⤻ ⠀ continued ⠀ reply ⠀ with ⠀@squarecranks, ⠀from ⠀here.

the two have been friends for so long now, they go way back, that chris can not help but notice the sudden jolt that goes though the other man’s body. he frowns at it, his hand outstretching, as if he’s going to rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder, yet, it falls short as barry suddenly moves. it makes him yank back, as if being close to the man burns. at barry’s words, he feels his throat tighten, nerves overtaking him, especially when barry refuses to meet his eyes, it’s not like him, and his stomach twists in discomfort. even though he can’t see it, he nods, as if to agree. it’s true, there’s a lot to unpack.

yet, there’s more. after this whole horrifying night, the words that leave his friends mouth are so unexpected. his words, admitting to helping wesker betray their whole team, it is a sharp pain, another knife in his back. this one, however, feels closer to his heart. while wesker had been their captain, he couldn’t say he was as close to him as he was to barry. he is unable to say a word, his whole body frozen into place. all he can do is stare. as barry explains, there’s a flash of sympathy in his eyes, at the mention of his family. how can he blame him for wanting to protect his family? chris would do the same for his. the words hit more than he thought they would, chris in this very moment feeling like a fool. was he not to be considered family to barry, too? it is a weakness, of course, holding him up to such high standards, but after everything, he had been his family.

the more he hears, the more he wishes that barry would just shut up. but he’s right, he does have to hear this, if he hadn’t found out about it right now, who knows how he might react to it later? chris knows that at this very moment, he is sick of secrecy. despite that it doesn’t stop the anger, frustration and hurt all building up inside of him – forest is the final straw – the one that makes the dam fall down. lips quiver, and his jaw and fist clench in unison. chris’ face shows all of his emotions, before he composes himself. though he is able to keep his composure calm, fist still loosely clenched at his side, he cannot do the same for his voice, and so, when he speaks, it quivers, ❛ you didn’t leave him to die. ❜ it is the truth, and barry should hear the truth as much as chris deserves to now. the next words lay heavy on his heart, the guilt of it all, making it so chris is the one to tear away his gaze from the other, ❛ you left him there to turn – someone else’s mess – huh? ❜ his words are venom, maybe a little too cruel, but chris can’t find it in himself to care right now. ❛ he attacked me – and i’m the one who had to kill him. ❜ even with admitting it, even though forest was gone, consumed by the virus, it did not make him feel any less guilty about pulling the trigger.

❛ fuck, barry, ❜ he chokes out after his sudden outburst, ❛ fuck, you could of told me, y’know? i would of – ❜ he stops himself before he can finish his own sentence. what could he of done? in reality, the answer was probably nothing. after tonight, he has found out that in a fight with umbrella, you were likely to lose. in defeat, chris lets his shoulders slum down, glancing pitifully at barry as he does so.

#⠀ ⤻ ⠀ ✩ ⠀/⠀* you da man chris，in character.#⠀verse，1996 - 1998 ⠀/⠀* a clueless marionette.#squarecranks.#( why yes i am crying about them. )

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uvobreakmylegs · 3 years

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Fascination

wasn’t sure if i was going to upload this one but uhhh fuck it

Feitan x reader x Chrollo (or at least the beginnings of it)

Warnings: torture, mentions of torture, implied violence, mentions of death, threats of violence, possessive behavior

It wasn't terribly unusual to hear more than one pair of footsteps coming down the stairs. However, it was strange to hear them coming at such a calm, steady pace.

Usually it was Feitan dragging down another unfortunate victim of his to be tortured, and that would be accompanied by their panicked yells for help as they attempted to escape their captor's grip. That never worked, as Feitan was much, much stronger than he looked. Something that you knew very well from experience.

The sounds of Feitan bringing down his soon-to-be torture subjects signaled you to prepare yourself in your spot next to the wall, your wrists in cuffs and your hands pulled up by chains that lifted you so high you needed to balance on your toes. If you didn't do that, you'd be forced to hang by your arms, something that was incredibly painful to do for long periods of time as it would eventually feel like your arms were going to pop out of their sockets. But it was impossible to get any sleep while trying to focus on keeping your weight on your toes, so the only times you could get any rest was when you couldn't keep going and you were granted a bit of a reprieve as your body attempted to catch up on much needed sleep that would only last for a few minutes before the pain in your arms would force you back awake. The only real break you got was when Feitan would unchain you and allow you to go to the bathroom, making you walk up the stairs on your own so your muscles wouldn't atrophy.

Chaining you up in this manner had happened after the initial punishment for your transgression, and so far there was no end in sight with this treatment.

If he intended on letting you out of this hellhole, you promised yourself you would never talk back to him ever again. But at this point in time you couldn't say if you might even get the chance to play the part of the submissive pet he seemed to be looking for, because it seemed just as likely that he would kill you just for the hell of it.

There were voices that accompanied the steps, speaking at a seemingly normal volume but incomprehensible to you due to the door of the room being closed. You were able to tell that one was Feitan's voice; you had no clue who the other belonged to, though it sounded to be another man.

When they stopped just outside the door it was still impossible to tell what they were saying, though you were able to now catch a few words here and there. It seemed to be an incredibly casual conversation. Whoever this person was, it didn't seem like they were just another torture victim.

That was somehow scarier than it being another unwilling participant like yourself.

For Feitan to have brought this person down here, it meant they must have been comfortable with Feitan's “work”. Someone who was just as sick in the head as the man who had kidnapped you and made your life a living hell, who probably didn't care about all of the people Feitan had murdered and would have no sympathy for your situation.

That only made the anxiety in your chest swell further. Was he throwing you away? Possibly to someone who would treat you worse than he did?

Did they even intend on keeping you alive?

The door opened and you turned your gaze to the floor, uncertain of what you might see but wise enough to know not to feign sleep whenever Feitan came into this room. Doing that at this point would only add more time to your punishment.

Two people entered, and from your peripheral vision you could see two sets of black shoes walking across the floor. One moved faster than the other and you could recognize that one as belonging to Feitan, having become all to familiar with the sound of how he walks in the torture room he has set up in this basement. The other walked in just slightly slower, following Feitan in but pausing only a few steps in.

“Is this the woman who was hiding the key?”

A voice you didn't recognize spoke, and you cautiously glanced up to see Feitan with a man you had never seen before.

Raven-haired like Feitan, in a long black coat with white fur along the edges and sporting an unusual-looking cross tattoo on his forehead, this man was looking you over with one eyebrow raised ever so slightly. He was remarkably calm as he took in your exceptionally miserable state, which only confirmed that this man didn't care at all about your well-being. There seemed to be something of a mild fascination in his gaze.

Feitan glanced over at you for a moment before focusing back on a table at the side of the room, continuing to walk towards it while he answered with a quick “no.”

Your gaze went back to the floor when Feitan looked at you; the few times he had let you outside before, he'd gotten mad whenever he felt you were looking at another person for too long. Maybe his guest would be an exception, but you didn't want to risk that.

You hadn't expected Feitan to say anything more than he had, but as he reached the table, he added “that's a personal project.”

The man hummed a bit at Feitan's words, but turned his attention away from you as Feitan picked up something that had been laying on the table.

Maybe if you had been like you were at the start of all of this, you would have been insulted that Feitan had referred to you as a project. But right now, the man's reaction and Feitan's response gave you a little bit of solace: the man clearly wasn't here for you, and for Feitan to have used those words, it meant that he hadn't given up on you yet. That was what you told yourself, at least.

You looked back up when Feitan walked towards the man as he said “she hid the final key by swallowing it. Covered it in wax beforehand so it would go down easier.”

You gulped as you realized who Feitan was talking about. You had been there for that, hanging in the exact same spot as you were now when Feitan had brought that woman from earlier down here, and you desperately tried to keep those memories at bay, not wanting to think about how he had managed to get that key out when he realized the woman had hidden it in her stomach.

The man wasn't at all disturbed by that information, only giving the barest hints of a smirk as he accepted the key (that Feitan had made you clean once he had retrieved it) and thanked the torturer for his hard work.

It seemed like this particular transaction had ended; the man placed the key in his coat pocket and turned as though he was about to leave the room. He was saying something about a next job, but you weren't really listening, your mind almost shutting down as you anticipated the two of them leaving you by yourself again. It seemed like this was going to be the high point of your day: Feitan came in and didn't do anything bad to you, and for the first time in ages you actually got to see someone other than him. What a treat, you thought dryly.

You weren't looking at either of them anymore, but you did catch when the man stopped speaking.

Then-

“I am rather curious, Feitan. Would you mind if I took a closer look?”

…. Was he talking about you?

Your gaze darted up just in time to catch Feitan giving a short nod of his head, and then the man began to walk towards you. Gray eyes were on you once again and that small hint of a smirk was back on his face as he approached. This wasn't what you had been expecting, and you looked to Feitan in the hopes that you could at least get some hint as to what you were supposed to do in this situation. Feitan just gave you a narrowed glare when your eyes met, as if warning you not to do anything stupid.

The man now standing in front of you brought you back to attention, and he smiled at you as you looked at him.

“Hello, I'm Chrollo.”

After a moment of silence, he tilted his head at you as though he expected you to introduce yourself. But the words were caught up in your throat. When the hell had you spoken to anyone besides Feitan?

“Tell him your name; you're not that stupid,” Feitan said from behind Chrollo.

That snapped you out of it, and you hurriedly responded by telling him your name.

“Sorry, I- sorry,” you stuttered. Feitan didn't like excuses, maybe Chrollo was the same. Best to just apologize for the awkwardness of your introduction and not linger on it.

Chrollo chuckled a bit.

“How long have you been down here?” he asked.

“... A while,” you answered, hoping that your tone conveyed the fact that you truly didn't know exactly how long Feitan had left you like this and not that you were being vague just to be spiteful.

“Why?”

“I was rude to him.”

Feitan scoffed at your answer but didn't actually say anything to that. It wasn't like what you had said was inaccurate.

“I'm assuming you must have said something to him, correct?”

You nodded.

“What did you say?”

There was a lump in your throat again. When Feitan had first started this punishment, he told you that if you ever said something like that again he'd keep you down here twice as long. And now Chrollo wanted you to repeat what you had said in front of him? Was this some kind of trap Feitan had set up? Was he just looking to cause you more pain and distress? But why would he bother finding an excuse to extend this punishment when he was perfectly capable of just keeping you down here for as long as he liked?

“Chrollo asked you a question.”

Feitan practically growled the words out at you; if you didn't answer now you'd be facing harsh consequences.

“I told him to go fuck himself.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper, but they both heard you. Chrollo's eyebrows raised slightly while Feitan's eye twitched at the memory. Somehow that day you had managed to hit some breaking point and went off on him, saying aloud that thing that had been in your head at times but you would never dare say aloud. Why you had said such a stupid thing to him or what had pushed you to that point you couldn't recall, but you sincerely regretted it. Feitan had made sure of that for every day you were stuck down here.

And now you'd been made to say it again, possibly reigniting his anger.

You hung your head low as you awaited something to happen. Feitan was mad again, you were certain, and while Chrollo had been rather polite to you considering the circumstances, you worried that facade might break and perhaps he may also do something to you.

“I'm amazed this one is still breathing after speaking to you like that, Feitan,” Chrollo said.

You still hadn't looked up from the floor, but you could almost sense how Feitan merely shrugged in response.

“What makes you still want to keep her after that?” Chrollo asked him.

Feitan then mumbled something in his native language, and you tensed. You were accustomed to things becoming exceptionally violent when he spoke in his native tongue.

Chrollo chuckled, and after there was a hand on your jaw that lifted your head back up. Those gray eyes met yours once again, and Chrollo observed you for a few moments, taking in the way you had begun to shake once more because of the position you were being held in, and the way your eyes had already begun to tear up upon hearing Feitan speaking in his language that you associated with danger.

“I wouldn't want to interfere with your personal business, Feitan, but would you mind terribly if I let her down?”

…. Huh?

The question seemed to be a surprise even to Feitan, who looked at Chrollo curiously.

“I don't mind,” he answered slowly, “just a bit unexpected.”

“I can understand how it would be,” Chrollo said, humming a bit to himself before he continued, “I suppose she reminds me a bit of a wounded animal; you just can't help but feel sorry looking at it.”

…. So Feitan saw you as a project, while Chrollo saw you as an animal. You weren't sure which was the better thing to be, and your role in this world only seemed to get worse as time went on.

Chrollo brought up his other hand to brush the hair out of your face, and you thought to yourself that he didn't seem to feel sorry for you. Just thoroughly entertained.

“You do know her better than I, but she looks to be remorseful. I think she's learned her lesson.”

Feitan didn't say anything. You were expecting him to tell Chrollo 'no' and that you needed to stay down here for longer.

So when Feitan pulled the key to your cuffs out of his pocket and tossed it to Chrollo, the shock of that action was almost overwhelming.

Chrollo managed to persuade Feitan to let you off the hook?

With two twists of the key, the cuffs opened and you nearly fell to the floor as your arms dropped immediately and you didn't have enough time to properly stand on your feet. But Chrollo caught you, and for a few moments he held you, his arms wrapped around your midsection, supporting you as he had that slight smile on his face again.

There was relief upon being released, but also a wave of panic. With how Chrollo held you, you couldn't see Feitan's reaction to any of this. There had been a time once, during one of the very few outings Feitan had allowed you, where a man had greeted you as you were walking by with Feitan. Maybe Feitan had just been in a particularly bad mood that day, or maybe there was something about the man that had just set him off, but only seconds later Feitan had sliced the man's head off. That random stranger had died for the crime of saying hello to you, and Chrollo was going as far as to touch you. To hold you against himself, even. If what he was doing right now was upsetting to Feitan, your captor wouldn't be able to take his anger out on Chrollo, and in that case, his only option would be to take it out on you.

What was going to happen to you once Chrollo left?

Eventually Chrollo set you down on the cold floor, told you that it was lovely to meet you, and then stood before he began to leave the room. As he walked off, you finally looked to Feitan, scared of what you might see when you made eye contact with your captor.

Yet he was also walking off, making his way to the door but not before he glanced over to you briefly.

“Stay there,” he ordered.

You nodded, but you weren't sure if he even saw that as he was looking back to Chrollo, the two of them discussing something that must have been related to that key from earlier. They were gone without any more acknowledgment to you, and before the steel door closed behind Feitan, you caught a particular look in his eye as he looked up towards Chrollo, something you had never seen before.

So that's what it looks like when Feitan respects someone.

You'd managed to fall asleep while leaning against the wall, so you had no clue how long it took Feitan to come back down. But despite how exhausted you were, when you heard the sounds of him coming back down the stairs you instinctively woke up. You stayed where you were, looking at the door as you waited for him, still uncertain as to what would happen to you after all of that. The best you could hope for would be that he would just chain you up again.

It was incredibly sad that was the best case scenario in your mind.

The door creaked open, and you sat up straighter when you caught sight of Feitan standing at the entryway. On seeing the way he entered the room and how he looked at you, you were inclined to feel a bit hopeful; he didn't seem angry. That was a good sign, though you reminded yourself that could change quite easily. Still, it was something that Feitan hadn't immediately gone into a blind rage after all of what happened with Chrollo.

Feitan still seemed calm as he stood before you, hands in his pockets as he looked down at you. The cogs in his mind were clearly turning as he looked you over, clearly considering something regarding you. Even though the silence made you nervous you kept your mouth shut. Right now, you would only be allowed to speak when he had made it clear that you were allowed to do so.

“You managed not to embarrass me too much in front of the boss,” he finally told you.

It didn't seem like he wanted you to respond to that so you kept quiet.

“Should I let you out of here early?” he then asked mockingly.

Not a good idea to just flat-out say 'yes'.

“If you think I'm ready to come out,” you began quietly, “then I would like to.”

You answered his question while also making it clear that you understood he still had complete control over you. And that didn't seem to displease him, based on the way he didn't really react to your answer. He only visibly reacted to any answer that upset him, while answers you gave that either pleased him or that he had no real feelings on would earn you an unreadable stare.

But even then the chances of him keeping you down here were high.

“Have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes.”

Your answer that time probably came out too quick, but you were too caught up in feeling like you needed to be direct with this answer.

Feitan hummed to himself.

“I'll let you out for now,” he eventually said, “but I might stick you back down here tomorrow.”

He then stepped out of your way, motioning to the door with his head as he continued “go upstairs and get a shower. After that you can eat.”

You waited a few moments before you slowly pulled yourself up, every bit of you tense as you anticipated this being some sort of cruel joke, that he'd lash out at you for seriously believing that he had been serious about that. But as you made it closer and closer to that door, nothing came. He even snapped at you to hurry up a bit and you did so, despite the way your muscles ached when you moved a bit too fast. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, you heard him shut the door to that room behind him, and then heard him as he began to ascend as well.

Chrollo had not only managed to take you down from where you had been hanging, but he had also managed to convince Feitan to let you out early? It was amazing that Feitan was willing to listen to another person like that, but it only served to make Chrollo even more terrifying. You remembered the look of respect Feitan had on his face when he and Chrollo left you, and you shuddered to think of what kind of person he must be to have gained the respect of someone like Feitan.

Though it felt amazing to take a shower, you decided not to take too long with it. Wasn't worth it to risk angering Feitan again. If he didn't throw you back downstairs come tomorrow morning, you knew that for the next few weeks you'd still be tiptoeing around him for fear of accidentally pushing his buttons and making him snap again.

After dressing in the clean set of nightclothes that had been left for you in the bathroom, Feitan was waiting for you in the kitchen when you came out. He sat across from your spot at the table and pointed to a bit of fruit he had left in front of it. Nothing too much, but that made sense since it'd been a while since you had an actual meal. Anything more than that would probably come right back out. Keeping that in mind, you made a point to eat slowly, occasionally looking up to Feitan who had yet to say anything.

“What do you think of Chrollo?” he suddenly asked.

Oh God.... This was the first time he had ever asked for your opinion of another man, and since this was one Feitan seemed to like, you weren't sure how to answer him.

You swallowed a bite of your food before you answered “from what I saw he seems nice?”

That probably shouldn't have come out as a question.

Feitan let out a short laugh at that.

“Nice, huh?” he continued, repeating your answer in a mocking tone.

Guess I was wrong there, you thought to yourself.

“Do you prefer him over me?”

…. Now that was a dangerous question, and if you didn't answer quickly it would be bad for you. But given how important Chrollo clearly was to Feitan, it couldn't just be 'no'.

“Why would I?” you asked in return.

“Because he's nice.”

Clearly you had fucked up a bit by using that word, but the situation didn't seem entirely unsalvageable.

“I only just met him today; I've been with you for longer,” you said, “how could I like him better?”

There was silence for a while, interrupted only by the sounds of you finishing up your sparse meal. Had you still managed to mess up in this line of questioning? Probably. Only after you gave that last answer did it occur to you that Feitan might interpret from it that you could like Chrollo better if you spent more time with him. You wouldn't put it past him to jump to conclusions like that. It'd probably be back downstairs for you. You just hoped he would leave you where he'd left off and not redo the things that he'd done to you the day he had started that punishment.

When you glanced back up to Feitan again, you could see those cogs turning once more, considering something involving you in his mind. You looked down to your lap, telling yourself it was best not to try figuring out how his mind worked. You'd go insane if you did that.

“Chrollo likes you,” Feitan finally said.

“.... Is that good?” you asked.

“What do you think?” he snapped back at you.

“.... I'm guessing 'yes'?”

“Mm.”

It had been made clear from the very beginning that he considered you to be his and only his. To have this new situation where there was a third party who seemed to be interested in you was entirely unexpected, and you truly didn't know what to make of Feitan even being okay with such a thing.

“Do you want to see him again?” he then asked.

The immediate answer you wanted to give was 'not really', but you doubted that would go over well.

“If that's what you want,” you answered, still trying to be diplomatic.

Feitan slammed his hand down onto the table and you flinched.

“Answer yes or no,” he ordered.

“Y-yes.”

You didn't really think about beyond just wanting to keep Feitan from getting angrier, and so you stuttered out that reply.

But once again, as soon as you finished speaking you were questioning if the answer you had given was the one he wanted to hear.

The silence returned. Feitan wasn't one to talk too much, but after something like that, you would've thought he would have had something to say. Nervously, you glanced back up.

He didn't seem upset. He actually seemed somewhat pleased, and when your eyes met, you could see the way he smirked despite the bandanna that covered his mouth.

“Chrollo will be happy to hear that.”

He didn't allow you to say anything to that as Feitan then ordered you to go to the bedroom and get some sleep. You had now returned to that person you had been before you had snapped and told him off, just wordlessly nodding and doing as he had told you. Whatever that had been that day, where you had forgotten enough of your fear to say what you did, that was only a one-time thing that you had paid dearly for.

If it were to happen again, you doubted you would live long.

And if it happened with Chrollo, your short existence after would no doubt be a very painful one.

Chrollo.... You were going to have to deal with him now, too. It was difficult living with Feitan on his own, but now you were going to need to do that while also navigating what you could and couldn't do with his leader.

Your legs carried you to the bed, and the second your head hit the soft mattress, you were out, your body no doubt desperate for some proper sleep after how long you had gone without it.

And the way you had passed out on the bed was a small mercy, in it's own way, as you were allowed to go to sleep without needing to think about that conversation with Feitan, and what exactly you had signed yourself up for.

#reader insert #feitan x reader #yandere feitan #chrollo x reader #hxh feitan #feitan portor #chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo #yandere x reader #yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #chrollo

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everafterkeiji · 3 years

Note

Hi can i request a hcs for itadori,megumi and gojo react to their s/o death?.

Please Feel free to ignore this request if its triggering or u don't feel like writing it! Thank you<3

i love angst requests so it's really okay with me! thank you so much for requesting (ngl i did cry thinking abt yuji) and i hope u have a lovely day even if this was incredibly sad

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇

PAIRINGS: JJK BOYS x gn!reader

CHARACTERS: Itadori Yuji, Megumi Fushiguro, & Gojo Satoru

WORD COUNT: 2.7K

WARNINGS: heavy angst, character death, mentions of blood and panic attacks, as well wounds and bruises. mentions of Shibuya arc/implied location in Shibuya during that arc.

⟡ 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 eyes dared to erase the sight ahead of him, his body was frozen—every sense began to fail for its purpose and nothing else was responsive except for the shout of your name that echoes through the battle field, the level of immensity to his voice that covers his throat with pain as every pace towards you was a step leading to a waste of a second that terrifies him the more his being tugged away by his own fears.

Dropping to his knees, he was numb to the sensation of the ache overwhelming his legs while he craddles you in his arms as every part of him shook with uncertainty, his hands didn't have the courage to hold you with as much as strength as he should've.

"..Y/N?" He whispers, a croak to his voice as if it was barely alive with droplets created from his sorrow began to trail down your cheek whilst your blood paints his hand in a hue he never expected to come from you. His mind was in the midst of being empty to a havoc that wanted to deny every rage in his system so he could love you even if he could tell how your chest wasn't rising the way it was supposed to do.

"Love?" Yuji calls out one more time as your eyes flutter subtly, signalling him not even an assurance for your state. His hand falls to your cheek, not caring if he couldn't hold you weakly because what matters more is that you held onto him. He painfully leans his forehead on yours, a loud sob escaping him with a struggle to catch up with his breath.

"Don't let me go, don't ever leave me, I beg of you, God!" He shouts as the gods grow concerned of the boy whose heart was wrecked to every piece as the sky began to cry with him. "Save them— God— Please! Stop taking everyone that I love and let me come with them." He begs, as he pulls you more as if the distance could've helped him better because even when you were close to him, he knew you were already at the farthest place that he couldn't reach. All that could be heard from him were screams where he forfeited ever begging for your life when everyone around seems to follow in your path.

"I'm so sorry, my love." Itadori confesses, arms tight around your figure as every beat of his heart began to die with you when all the seconds that he seemed to waste without you by his side began to haunt him. If he had gotten there sooner, maybe then he could've reminded you one more time that you were the energy—the surviving light in his life for him to exist without being told of his faith.

"I love you—so much so please remember that even when you're away." He couldn't even explain how his words manage to fall in such a manner, he could've sworn a second ago he only wanted to let time freeze so he could deny the view of your lifeless body that he miserably failed to save from the hands of death.

"I promise you, in the end, I'll be with you soon, Y/N." Itadori places a delicate kiss to your forehead, having no courage to leave the contact of your skin to his as his eyes went with the rain that poured over the two of you. He intertwines one of his hands with yours, shivering at the temperature he faces but with the other hand, he rests it on his cheek. Maybe if you looked at him now, you'd want him to smile because if you were the source of his reason to exist, Yuji's smile was the one to let your hearts worries disappear but sadly, the source has been removed from him and nothing else in the world could ever bring the joy in his smile no more.

"All I've ever wanted to do was to love you, so I hope you're willing to wait because when I see you.. I'm gonna embrace you with everything I've got," He then kisses the hand intertwined to his before he achingly pull his hand away and the regret closing on him but he had no other choice.

"And love you again and again, Y/N. Always and.. forever—like what we promised." Yuji, as torturous it was to let you go, he sets your hand that was on his cheek to your chest just like he did with the other before he ends his goodbye with a lasting kiss to your cheek.

"Stop crying, Yuji! C'mon smile for me, will you? I didn't come here to see you all gloomy."

And with the remaining memories left for him, it began to be the weak strings for his heart to compose itself because if he knows one thing that you hated, it was the sight of him crying.

So he smiles, the everlasting wish of yours being granted even if his body was corrupting as the love of his life enters a new realm where forever was possible for the both of you.

"We'll meet again, my love."

As he stood up, he hesitates to turn his back on you but once he does, the sun never looked the same to him ever again.

⟡ 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 encounters a feeling that he's been through before—a course of emotions that has his body in a tight hold but now, it seems the hold on him was deadlier than the first time. Your name had left his lips, draining him of his exhaustion to run to you before you could fall, every fiber in his body was holding on to his fear. He didn't need to feel the ache in his legs that were covered in wounds because his mission was for you to perfectly land in his arms even if he had to risk getting more injuries.

His heart began to pace in frantic pace when he catches you, there wasn't a split second of joy that entered him just because he made it in time. Instead, his eyes widen in trauma at the sight of your dull eyes that looked above to the heavens sky.

"Hey—hey!" He shouts, trembling hands feeling every bit of your skin and ends with it down to your cheek. "Talk to me—anything, please!" Megumi pleads as a drop of your blood that came from your forehead started to flow onto his skin. He gulps with his breathing unable to coordinate with him as his head frenetically looks up, any sign of help could've been the better reach but they were just in the mere corner of a building in Shibuya.

"Y/N? Please say something." He whispers, furiously wiping his tears while he despises the warmth of your blood that paints his hands. "C'mon please, let me hear your voice one last time." He sobs on your shoulder, embracing you with every corrupting piece of his heart, looking for a beat from your rather cold ones. His hands go to your hair, caressing it so lightly that he felt it resembled glass from how careful he was. Your head was buried in his neck, eyes barely awake for him to ever find that heartbeat.

"I love you, did you hear me?" Megumi says, gulping in the grief. "Say it back to me like you always did, please?" He doesn't know that begging would've been his lasting choice—maybe someone up above would take some time to listen to his pleads and eventually bring the life to his lovers body once again for you to say you love him back a thousand times more.

"Hug me one more time, will you? You told me you loved to do that." He desperately wishes your arms could just return to the place he loved, wrapped around his neck as his hands were to be on your waist or to your cheek with a smile to your lips. Unfortunately, your arms were covered in their own bruises—latched with dark purple hues and tints of red from the debris of buildings and cursed spirits.

"We have to go, Megumi!" One of the sorcerers shout, he didn't even have the time to decipher who it belonged to but he sniffles, reaching for his phone typing a quick message to the others to be able to take you out of this place with somewhere more deserving of a beauty that has passed.

"I'm not going to say goodbye because I know you'll always be with me, right Y/N?" He takes your hands, placing it on your chest on top of each other as his tear lands on your temple. He softly wipes it away before he kisses your forehead, closing his eyes shut at his misery.

"I wish I could've saved you. I really wish I did." He sobs, forehead in tact with yours but he seems to receive a sensation to his body at the wind that came his way.

"You've saved me the minute you met me, my love." You wish you could've whispered to him but he took it as the wind was the only embrace he'll ever get now.

"And you saved me too." Panda walks in to this horrid scene as he feels the sympathy rush to him. Megumi looks up at him with the liveliness dying along with you as your lover delicately holds your cheek one last time before kissing you on your temple muttering one more time,

"I love you always."

Standing up was the second hardest thing he had to do because turning his back to you came at first as his knees threatened to fall but alas, he has to do continue on because that's what you would've wanted right?

"I love you, Megumi. I'll be here waiting for you."

And the upcoming battles for him to face were laced with rage and the never ending bitterness that love seemed to haunt him with.

⟡ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎's phone rang as while he stops to stare at the caller. It was odd for him to receive a phone call from Megumi at this hour but he supposed it was probably for some guidance since they were sent to a mission. Being aware of their location, he didn't hesitate to transport as fast as he could to get there but there's this calling to him how it wasn't bound to be what he expected.

Panting heavily, Megumi ran with life on the line as he carried you in his arms without the ability to pace your breathing the same as his.

"GOJO-SENSEI!" He shouts with every power in his lungs the second Gojo had appeared, who stood stunned at the boy who was approaching him with a familiar figure.

"Y/N?" Satoru says, uncertain of what he just saw but when Megumi reached him, out of his breath as Nobara and Itadori followed behind him. His student places you in your lovers arm as he kneels down with a hand to your chest, alarmed at how your heartbeat was nowhere near notice. Fushiguro could see the worry in the mans eyes as he bites his lip in sympathy before telling the two to spare a moment for the so called strongest sorcerer who was now on his knees for only one person.

"We saw them being followed by a cursed spirit but they led Y/N to a trap." Megumi briefly explains as Gojo could only spare him a nod as your eyes would flutter once a while as the three students let them be.

"I warned you, didn't I?" He says, a low whisper as your hand weakly reach for his blindfold while Gojo's own rhythm of a heartbeat began to ache. Once he felt how you raised it with a cough of blood spoiling his uniform as his expression grow more frantic with every second.

"Hey there, pretty. You mind staying with me for a little longer?" He asked as if your ears were as attentive as it were before when his eyes stared back at your dazed ones. You didn't respond which was troubling him, what more was that your hand immediately dropped to your chest when he finally looked at you. A shakey sigh leaves Gojo while he rose, ready to fly you anywhere as long as you promised to stay.

"A little more please, can you do that for me?" He begs of you but instead, your head fell unconsciously in his arms with the threat of your eyes to close before he could ever look at you again, not too mention the flow of blood that came from your stomach that didn't seem to stop. He hasn't had the confidence to look at your body before because the fear on Megumi's face made him certain of how the damage had been rough on you. Up this close, he can see two massive wounds to your lower body as well as scratches on your forearms with some bruises on your wrist, hinting how their grasp on you was too strong compared to someone who was powerless.

The hue of his eyes appear to be less saturated than before and for the first time in the life of the honored sorcerer, his heart was irreparable and no amount of technique can reverse the way love his love for you had been the fault for your end.

Unknown to his own senses, his tears fall to your cheek as he pulls you closer like an embrace that didn't bring him his usual amount of comfort.

"Satoru, stop messing around!" You said as he spun you around, tight arms around his neck as he flew in the air, not bothering to listen to your protests of putting you down.

"I won't let you go, how could I ever do that to you?" He assures you, with his own arms tied to your waist with a bright smile on his face.

"And if I fall?" You asked him, glancing at the heights below you but Gojo only tucks a piece of hair behind your ear as you looked at him with the sun in your eyes since two lovers were up in the sky to reach for the clouds.

"I'll be there to save you."

But where was he when you fell from the skyscrapers?

"You hate me, I'm sure." He says biting his lip in agony as he buries his head to your chest, silent sobs and unsteady breaths coming from the sorcerer.

"I love you so much." Satoru breathlessly said. The head that was once on your chest began to move away when he heard nothing more than the silence that came from your heart. They were out to get you, how stupid was he to let you out of his sight just for a second? Maybe then he could've danced with you one more time, up in the sky for the two of you to conquer the heights of being in love.

"I'm so sorry, darling." He then kisses the side of your lip as his feet met in contact with the floor as the rest of the Jujutsu tech as Shoko lets out a saddened sigh.

"Wait for me okay? I'm not done loving you yet." He whispers to you one last time while he hands you over to Shoko as Megumi spares him a glance to notice how wretched his mentor looked.

"I have some things to do." Gojo announces, withstanding the grief to plot revenge to the ones who took you away from him as the rest didn't bother to object knowing there was no possible way to stop a man who had lost the love of his life in revenging your death. He disappears in a split second as the rest of the students didn't notice the tears that kept flowing from the person they look up to.

How can he be the strongest when he failed to protect his only weakness?

Until then, Gojo Satoru could only look at the sky to remember you since his infinity that he swore was to be spent with you died in his arms along with his lover.

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Text

The Wrong Idea | Lee Bodecker x reader

summary: you weren’t exactly a rebel in the eyes of the law, but that didn’t mean you cared for the corrupt, alcoholic town sheriff. and that certainly didn’t mean you would care at all for him marrying your mother. if only you’d known how much worse it could get...

word count: 4.5k

warnings: smut!! (heavy dubcon/noncon), age gap (reader is 19), stepcest, loss of virginity, pain kink, creampie kink, infidelity, degradation, oral (m and f receiving), spanking, choking, slapping, daddy kink, authority kink, subtle ddlg themes?, reader’s mom being toxic af

You’d never cared for the Sheriff. Even you, being generally a well-behaved young woman, thought he was a little too intense and a little too corrupt. Up until now, you’d assumed your mother agreed with you on that, because she never protested to your complaints about Sheriff Bodecker and his ‘fascist reign of terror’ as you called it. Apparently that was a poor assumption, though.

“You… what?!”

“I never told you we were seein’ each other because I knew you had your childish rebellion against him and his police force,” your mother explained with a demeaning eyeroll. “But now that we’re engaged, I can’t hide it anymore.”

“How long has this been going on?” you asked quietly, still in shock at what you were hearing— and unable to take your eyes off of the sparkling diamond wrapped around her finger.

“Oh, I’d say… about two months now,” she decided.

“Two—” you stopped and started over, so bewildered that you couldn’t finish your original sentence. “You’re engaged after two months?”

“Don’t make that face at me, you look so ugly when you scowl like that,” she frowned. Of course, she could never miss an opportunity to nag you. “He’s a respectable man, and he treats me well. The wedding is in three weeks— and he’s generous enough to let you live with us after that. Says there’s a spare bedroom for you in his house.”

“His… his house…” you slurred, suddenly feeling light-headed. “I’m… we’re moving…?”

“Yes, honey, and with your work ethic it’ll take you the whole three weeks to pack up, so you should start now,” she informed you with that cruel, fake smile of hers.

She walked away as you sat down on the couch, staring off into space, trying to comprehend what you just heard. It’s not like you thought your mother was flawless or anything, or that you and her had a perfect relationship, but you thought she would’ve been a little more… gentle about all this. She could do better than him anyways! But she didn’t care about that, only money and status. You could almost laugh at her small-mindedness to think the Sheriff of a nothing-town like Knockemstiff was actually plentiful in either of those things, but right now you couldn’t laugh. You couldn’t even cry as you packed your things and said goodbye to the home you’d known your whole life. You were just numb.

You couldn’t look him in the eye when you arrived at his house, duffel bags in hand and shoes stained with the dry red dirt of summer. It was nicer than your old place, and if it were anyone else’s you’d say it had charm, but everything was tainted because you knew it was his. You could sort of tell that this had been his bachelor pad for a while, but it had a half-assed attempt at hominess with the rug in the living room and a centerpiece on the kitchen table. He even had a TV, presumably funded by bribes and all his other nefarious dealings— meaning you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to watch it.

“Nice to meet ya, properly,” Lee greeted, though his monotone didn’t come across as particularly impassioned.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” you mumbled quickly, hoping to get this conversation over with.

“You don’t have to call me Sheriff anymore, you know. Not in the house, at least.”

You nodded but said nothing, following him as he motioned for you and moved into the hallway. You trailed behind him, noticing the eerie lack of any personal effects on the walls (no family photos, apparently, and not much of a family to photograph in the first place from what you’d heard), and stopped when he reached the door at the end.

“This is your room,” Lee informed you stiffly. Opening the door, you were horrified by the assault on your eyes of pink. Pink everything: pink wallpaper, a pink fuzzy quilt, pink bedframe. There were even assorted stuffed animals on the bed, disturbingly enough.

“When my mother told you she had a daughter, did she not mention that I was grown?”

“You may be nineteen, honey, but you’re nowhere near grown,” he scowled. “She didn’t tell me she had a daughter until two days before the weddin’. This is what I managed to... improvise, since then.”

You almost had sympathy for him, just in that you two were both victims of your mother’s eccentricity. Almost.

“Must’ve inherited your expensive taste from your ma,” he frowned. “Sorry, princess—” the nickname made his lips curl like the word itself tasted sour— “but this’ll have to do.”

“Oh, I’m nothing like her,” you sneered back, “cause I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.”

“What are you two chatting about?” your mother’s voice called from the kitchen.

Both of you answered at the same time: “Nothing!”

With a grimace, you dragged your bag into the room and shut the door in his face. It was those little acts of rebellion that had to tide you over. You weren’t audacious enough to do anything actually cruel, or illegal, but you weren’t going to make this any easier for him.

At first it was just refusing to leave your room. That worked for a week, until you realized you were going to starve to death. So then the only times you saw him were at the dinner table, which you made into a protest by pretending he didn’t exist and refusing to answer his questions. You occasionally relented when he asked you to pass something from your side of the table, but you never looked at him while you did it.

He didn’t seem angry or sad about your determination to avoid him, if anything it seemed like he was happy to pretend you weren’t there either. And that should’ve made it easier, but for some reason it bothered you even more. You realized that maybe his attention did matter to you, even though it was negative attention that you were hoping to inspire, but you knew that was ridiculous and you tried to fight it. Still, for all your plans to never see him, you sure did think about him a lot. You thought about where he might be, so you could be somewhere else. You thought about what he must be doing at work, and how he was probably continuing to be a nasty mean drunk as frequently as possible. You wondered if he and your mother were making love just across the house, although you were lucky enough to never hear anything. Just knowing that could be happening made you feel sick, even though you realized it was none of your business.

You sometimes found yourself listening for it at night, just in case.

Your mother had decided to spend her new husband’s money on a trip, but the man himself couldn’t tag along— too much work to do, apparently. The prospect of being left alone with him was nightmare fuel, but you didn’t even try to ask her to stay… you knew she wouldn’t listen. She’d been totally absorbed in her own world since the wedding, seeming to be very fulfilled by the social role of ‘Sheriff’s wife’ to the point that she had lost all interest in her former position as ‘your mom’.

There was a balance to the silence with her gone, though. You avoided him, he avoided you; it was a tense truce, but a survivable one. At least without her, nobody was going to try to make you two get along. Friday night was different, though. This time when he came home from work, you knew you were stuck with him until Monday morning. That thought made you realize that you needed to get out and you didn’t care if you weren’t dressed for it. It was hot, and it was just a walk so nobody was going to see you in this miniskirt anyway, right?

Too bad Lee was sitting on the couch, still in his uniform, not giving you any mind but likely to harass you before you could make it outside. You figured if you just walked casually enough, he wouldn’t even notice, so you made your way towards the door.

“You’re not going out like that,” he announced suddenly, seemingly without even looking up from his newspaper.

“Says who?” you deflected quickly with a raised brow. It wasn’t that you wanted to pick a fight, but you just couldn’t understand why he would even care what you were wearing.

“Says the guy who doesn’t want you to give all the neighborhood boys the wrong idea.”

“What idea?!” you asked, crossing your arms. He shot you a look, quickly raking in your body and outfit which made you feel more observed than you cared for.

“The idea that you’re a slut,” he explained coldly.

You gulped at his words but tried to keep a poker face. You didn’t let it get this far just to give up. You were so sick of his shit; what made him think he could boss you around when he’d never even tried to get to know you?

“What makes you assume that’s the wrong idea?” you shot back, fighting the nervousness in your voice.

You hadn’t expected him to stand up instantly, the coffee table wobbling a bit when his knee bumped into it.

“The fuck did you say?” he hissed.

With his teeth bared at you he looked like a predator, and you felt like small, helpless prey. You tried to muster some of your former confidence, but everything came out shaky and weak. “I— I said that maybe it’s not the wrong ide—”

He pounced, crossing the room and slamming you back against the wall, a hand at each shoulder; you instantly cowered, shrinking back and turning your face away from him as far as you could. You never thought he’d put his hands on you like this. Your heart was pounding so loudly that you were surprised you could hear his hoarse whisper.

“Watch your tone with me. I’m not kidding around.”

“I’m an adult,” you weakly fought back, “I can do what I want.”

“Not in my fuckin’ house you can’t!” he bellowed.

For some reason, it all hit you at once. All the emotions you’d been suppressing since your mother had gotten engaged— all the anger and fear and betrayal and indignation, they came bubbling up before you could stop them.

“I don’t even want to be in your ugly fucking house!” you cried in response. “I don’t wanna be anywhere near you! You’re a fascist and a tyrant and a pig!”

You expected him to get more aggressive but he suddenly stilled. It was the scariest anger, that outwardly-calm type that made your blood go cold.

“Go to your room.”

You didn’t question it, turning to walk away (any excuse to get away from him, right?), but you didn’t expect him to follow you in and shut the door behind the both of you.

You were paralyzed with fear as he stepped past you and sat on your bed. It was sort of strange as you realized you’d never seen him in your room before. He stood out against the somewhat childish decorations, but you were in no mood to appreciate the humor of the situation as he patted his knee.

“Lay across my lap. Don’t make me tell you twice.”

He couldn’t possibly be doing what I think he’s doing, could he? you wondered to yourself, but did as he asked. You realized you’d never been so close to him before, the warmth of his body radiating through his clothes. He smelled like cologne and booze, although you didn’t think he’d actually had much to drink yet today— at least compared to his normal habits. It was almost worse to think that he wasn’t acting on drunkenness now.

“It’s prob’ly too late for it, but you are in serious need of discipline, young lady.”

You had no idea what he was talking about, but your body reacted to it differently than you expected.

His fingers slipped between the top of your skirt and your skin, having to pull pretty hard to get it down due to how tight it was. You bit your lip and hoped he wouldn’t notice your arousal, but as your pussy was exposed, you could feel the breeze from the ceiling fan and you knew you were undeniably wet. You didn’t know why, but you were.

“Count them for me,” he instructed coldly and before you could ask what you were counting, he brought his hand down firmly. You felt his wedding ring in the slap and it made you feel a little sick.

“O-one,” you stammered.

He delivered four more, alternating cheeks, and you tried not to react with visible pain. But as the intensity increased, you realized that not reacting might’ve actually been making it worse. Either way, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying out when the eighth made your whole body lurch forward from the force.

“Eight!” you squealed, but both of you noticed the way you pushed your hips forward. Unintentional as it may have been, you were trying to rub yourself on his thigh, desperate to be touched where it felt like all the energy of your body had focused. You were sure you’d never been so horny before, and now your clit was nearly throbbing. What the fuck is wrong with me?!

He quickly delivered the final two slaps before grabbing your neck, hoisting you up until you were on your knees before him. He examined your face closely and you tried to keep your lip from shaking.

“You’re worse than I thought,” he hissed. “You are in dire need of a punishment. You should thank me for going so easy on you so far.”

You realized when his grip on your jaw tightened that he was being literal. “Thank you, for going easy on me…”

“Where’d that fire go, huh? Guess you’re all talk,” he laughed.

He roughly shoved his fingers into your mouth, moaning lowly as your tongue rubbed against the pads of his fingers. “This fuckin’ mouth. You just don’t know when to keep it shut, do you? Come on baby, open up. I’ve got a better use for it than your fuckin’ disrespectful attitude.”

He used his free hand to work on his belt right in front of your face, and your eyes went wide.

“Don’t act so surprised sweetheart,” he said with a hint of irritation, “this is exactly what you’re asking for.”

You gasped a bit when his cock was freed from his trousers, springing up and already red at the tip. You’d never seen one this close before and it was intimidating in every way.

“Like what you see? You’re so wet for it,” he purred. You tried to speak but words abandoned you.

It was all a blur as he held your mouth open and shoved his cock inside— it tasted like skin and salt, and the size made your chapped lips crack until you worried they would bleed. His moans were deep and gravelly, making your skin break out into goosebumps as he pumped smoothly into your pliant mouth. He slapped your face a few times, not quite hard but plenty strong enough to make it sting. You winced with each impact, the tears which had welled from your gagging finally falling down and dripping from your chin.

“Suck on it, princess, like a popsicle… fuck yeah, like that,” he groaned, and your mind resisted obeying him but your body was completely at his mercy. “Aw baby, ya look so good chokin’ on my cock. Is that what you were gonna go do in this slutty little outfit you’ve got on?”

You tried to shake your head but he was holding you down, not even giving you a chance to breathe. His protruding stomach rubbed against your forehead when his cock was this deep in your throat, and the disgust and fear somehow made your arousal stronger.

He let you go, finally, and you pulled back with a gasp and a cough. You weren’t given much reprieve, though, as he started to tug at your blouse as well.

“No, wait,” you whimpered, weakly trying to bat his hands away.

“Wait? I think I’ve been waiting long enough,” he growled. “Your ma’s a fuckin’ tease, hasn’t touched me since I got her that ugly fuckin’ ring. Let’s hope you learn from her mistakes.”

Your blouse was torn open and tossed aside, leaving you only in the pulled-up skirt and your bra. Reaching up to cover yourself, you were discouraged by the shockingly-gentle brush of his hands.

“Don’t cover yourself, sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured. His gaze made you feel hot all over, and it wasn’t just because of the summer weather outside. “Nobody ever looked at ya before?”

You shook your head, looking down at the floor. A finger under your chin guided you to look up at him.

“Nobody ever touched ya before?” he pressed, his stare boring into you. You shook your head again. “Fuck,” he whispered, but then he started to smile proudly. “Knew you were a good girl, princess, you just didn’t wanna act like one for some reason. You gonna be good for me now?”

You nodded weakly, swallowing as you tried to comprehend what was happening.

“Then I’ll be good to you, too,” he promised darkly, a shimmer in his eyes that made you throb between your thighs. “Come get on the bed, pretty girl.”

You almost resisted, but it was your need driving you now, not your mind. You had been waiting too long to let a boy touch you, and now that a man had touched you, you felt all kinds of wrong and yet craved more. Before you had even finished sitting down beside him, he was slipping off your bra and pushing you back onto the quilt.

“Sheriff!” you yelped instinctively, a little disoriented as he started to climb on top of you.

He chuckled, clearly amused by your unexpected appeal to authority. “Wanna know a secret, sweetheart? Wanna know the real reason I said you didn’t have to call me that anymore?” He leaned down, his breath hot and moist against your neck when he spoke: “Because it made me so fuckin’ hard when you said it.”

He pressed his cock, still wet with your spit, against your thigh; maybe just for emphasis, a reminder that he was still hard and wasn’t anywhere near done with you.

“What are you gonna do to me…?” you asked weakly, your voice so wavering and broken that you cringed just hearing it.

“Just gonna make you feel good, princess,” he smiled, and before you could ask what that would entail, he was groping your tits in his large, calloused hands. A low groan echoed in his chest, and you tried not to squirm as he teased your nipples between his fingers. They were already hardening from the moment he’d touched you, but somehow it was getting even worse when he played with them, watching your face and surely seeing the shame you wore there.

His hands trailed lower, rubbing your waist, your thighs… you found yourself anticipating that he’d remove your panties, so much so that when he did, you quickly lifted your hips to help him slide them off. You couldn’t believe how easily you were letting him do this to you.

“I can tell how much you want it,” he taunted lowly as the fabric slid down your legs and was tossed to the floor. “I can smell how much you want it.” He growled a little before diving in, licking a thick stripe through your folds and taking a moment right at the end to tickle your clit with his tongue. “So fuckin’ sweet, princess; I knew you would be,” he praised. You were forced to wonder how long he’d been thinking about this.

The noises were beyond obscene and you felt your face burning— but there was a burning in your gut, too, and shooting down your legs. You’d never felt like this before (being a very good girl who never even touched herself), but you knew that if he didn’t stop, you would come. And you really, really wanted to come.

Everytime he put pressure on your clit, your leg quivered involuntarily. It was nearly too much, the sensation so powerful it almost hurt, but he pushed you right to the edge without knocking you off.

“Please,” you found yourself begging before you could stop it, “please, Sheriff—”

“I’m not your Sheriff anymore, sweetheart,” he informed you gruffly, popping up from between your legs with the entire bottom half of his face covered in your arousal, “I’m your daddy now. Go on and beg your daddy to fuck you.”

Eyes shot wide open, you stared back at him in bewilderment. Rage flashed in his eyes, and he snarled as his hand suddenly wrapped around your neck, tightening and choking you.

“You heard me,” he groaned through his teeth. “Beg me. To fuck you.”

“Daddy,” you stammered, hoarsely fighting to speak through the pressure on your throat, “fuck me, please.”

He slammed his cock into you and you nearly screamed. It burned and you instinctively tried to crawl away but, of course, his weight on top of you made it impossible.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned. He laid down on top of you entirely then, slipping his arms under your torso and holding you tightly.

Each thrust made you feel like you had reached your limits, as if you couldn’t be stretched further which was probably true. And yet, in spite of it (or worse, because of it), you found yourself moaning and writhing under him, even arching your back to make his movements smoother. He laughed a little as he bit at the shell of your ear.

“You love it, baby,” he moaned, “you love my cock.”

You couldn’t respond, just sob as you clutched at the shirt still on his back, your jaw tight as you tried to bear the pain.

“It’s not always gonna hurt like this,” he promised between heavy breaths, “s’gonna feel good soon. Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, pretty girl.”

Truthfully, you weren’t sure if that meant that this would happen again or not. At the moment, you were incapable of thinking that far ahead, too focused on the way the sting of the stretch was melting away and morphing into such powerful pleasure that you couldn’t even see straight.

He kissed you, and only then did the weight of it hit you. Who he was, what he was doing, what you were doing… it had been distant and vague before, but something about his tongue inside your mouth made you remember that the metal digging into your back was his ring; that the lips on yours were sworn to somebody else— and at that, the one exact person that made this so fundamentally wrong.

Tears welled in your eyes, gentle sobs shaking your chest.

“Don’t cry, baby,” he whispered, pulling back and kissing your tears away, “feels good, don’t it? Feels good when daddy fucks you?”

You knew speaking would only make you cry more, so you only nodded your head shamefully.

“That’s my good girl,” he moaned as he fucked you deeper, harder, rougher. Your fingers held onto the back of his neck, running through his hair and pulling him closer. He kept mumbling praises but they fell on deaf ears, pleasure clouding your mind and making every hair on your body stand upright. He didn’t stop as he reached down between your bodies and laid his hand over your stomach, growling with satisfaction at what he found there.

“I can feel me inside ya,” he grinned. “Feel that, sweetheart? Feel how deep I am in your wet little cunt?”

When you didn’t answer, you got a quick slap to the face. “Yes,” you replied quickly, “yes, I— I feel it.”

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting you there until you nearly screamed. You couldn’t figure out why something so objectively painful only pushed you closer to your peak, making every spot inside you more sensitive, but somehow it did.

“Gonna come, pretty girl? Want daddy to fill you up?” he groaned against your ear, pushing down on your stomach even harder.

“Yes, daddy!” you sobbed. “Please!”

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me,” he hissed, “don’t fuckin’ stop. Keep milkin’ my cock and m’gonna fill ya up so good, princess…”

You couldn’t stop even if you tried— your orgasm hit you in powerful waves, your head falling back as your walls clenched involuntarily (as did your fingers and toes, so hard that your nail tore the sheets a little bit, which you wouldn’t notice until the next day). He grunted as he came, pumping into you with each thrust until you felt more full than you ever had before, in a way you could never describe.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, him catching his breath and you losing yours as his weight threatened to crush you. “Fuck,” he groaned as he sat up and pulled out. He grabbed your legs and held them up for you, staring at your abused pussy and making you feel uncomfortably observed.

“Push it out for me, wanna see my come leak outta ya,” he purred, moaning a little when you did as he asked. It felt even hotter as it gushed out of you, and you mindlessly bit your lip. He tucked his softening cock back into his trousers, rezipping them and buckling his belt. “We’d better get ya cleaned up, huh princess?”

The bathroom wasn’t far, so he carried you, setting you down to stand on your own as he started to draw a bath. You watched him, although you weren’t really watching him so much as staring into the void of space that happened to be in his general direction. You were so out of it that you didn’t even register when he turned around and smiled at you with an air of pride.

“You look so good like this.”

It pulled you out of your trance, though you had to ask him to repeat himself with a mumbled “huh?”

“I said you look good like this,” he explained, stepping closer. “Fucked out, braindead, just my empty-headed fucktoy.”

“I… I don’t…” you began to disagree.

He used your jaw to turn your face to the mirror, and you gasped when you saw yourself: your hair was a mess; your whole face was red, especially your eyes and nose from crying, but plenty on your cheeks where he’d slapped you; your lips were swollen and slick; bruises were already forming on your arms where he’d grabbed you, and along your neck and shoulders where he had bitten you.

His form dwarfed yours as he stood behind you, looking at your reflection with a smile.

“Look at us,” he announced wistfully, “one big happy family, huh?”

#lee bodecker x reader #dark!lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x y/n #dark fic

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