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illyrian-dreamer · 1 year

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Overwritten – Part 6

Azriel x Reader

Summary: After months as his prisoner, Hybern has hijacked your mind, turning you into an enemy of your home, your family, and your mate, Azriel.

Warnings: None

Words: 2,069

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Part 6 ∇

A faint drizzle coated the window, blurring the view of the cluster of winding cobble streets and sparkling river that ran through Velaris. It was hard to imagine yourself strolling this city, browsing shopfronts and dining at restaurants, arms linked with your friends, your family, even your mate.

But as impossible as that felt, it had been your life – or so your family told you. You hadn't the faintest idea of your life before Hybern, your favourite past times, music, food, genre of books – all of it was as foreign to you as the people that insisted on helping. But the way they described it, the way they described you, it was clear you had been happy. Overwhelmingly so.

“Does that book not interest you?”

Behind you, Rhys and Feyre stood together, friendly smiles on both their faces as the High Lord wrapped an arm around his mate’s waist. You looked down at the book in your hands, forgetting you had even come here to read.

After many weeks of treatment, seeing their faces and hearing their voices had become more bearable. You were no longer triggered into episodes of violent hysteria that you could not remember, instead a dull headache would throb behind your eyes, but you managed to stay composed, forever fighting those voices in your head.

The journey to come this far had been exhausting and painful, but you were proud to have moved from the medical wing to your own chambers. Outside of the ongoing treatments with Feyre and Mor you were free to explore the townhouse, the library being your favourite sanction despite how often you were too tired to read. The Inner Circle would check in frequently, all except Azriel. As you were told, his presence was too high of a risk to unravel the progress you had made. You tried not to think about how that must hurt him.

Turning to the couple now, you forced yourself to return their smile before clearing your throat. “I’m not sure romance novels have my interest.” Despite her good intentions, Nesta’s taste in books were not something you could indulge in at this time. It took just one chapter for flustered-ridden heat to stain your cheeks, and you were far too shy to explain that to a house of strangers.

Feyre laughed softly, while Rhys’s smile grew to a grin. Your High Lady walked over, gently taking the book from you and instead held your hands in hers. You couldn't help the thud of your heart. While you found Feyre to be the most approachable of them all, her kindness and empathy radiating just as her beauty did, it was hard not to associate her with the physical and mental labour it took to undergo your treatments.

Swallowing thickly, you looked up at your High Lady. “Are we due for another session?” you asked, cursing your child-like vulnerability. You hated being like this.

Feyre smiled softly in return, understanding written all over her face. “No, not today. I actually wanted to invite you to an event. An afternoon tea, tomorrow.”

You cocked your eyebrow, glancing back at your High Lord, who offered a nod of assurance. “Afternoon tea?”

“Yes, at our house by the river.”

Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm your heart’s thunder. “That’s very kind,” you forced yourself to say.

The High Lord and Lady waited for more. You hadn't left the townhouse yet, and the world beyond that was so unfamiliar. What if you were triggered into another episode? Who might get hurt this time? You would hate yourself even more if you harmed any of these kind people again.

Feyre, catching the spiral of thoughts that twisted in your mind, spoke quickly to reassure you. “It will be a small group, Mor, Nesta, Elain and Amren. Just an afternoon with tea and cakes. We would winnow you there and back, and you can leave anytime you want.”

You swallowed as you tried to picture what that must look like. An afternoon tea – with friends. It was hard to imagine yourself talking and laughing amongst them.

“It could be fun,” Rhys added, walking over now.

Looking at Feyre’s hands that still held yours, you didn't want to offended her by rejecting the invitation. Trusting that she always had your best interest at heart, you forced another smile. “I think that would be nice.” Both of them shared a small breath in relief, almost unnoticeable.

“Excellent!” Feyre clapped, before moving to her mate and giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “I need to check on Nyx, but I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N. Try and get some rest.”

You offered a short smile back before she bounced out of the room, and waited for Rhys to do the same. Instead, he kept his violet eyes fixed on you. There was a moment of silence before you shifted in your seat, uncomfortable under his gaze. “Please don't use your mind magic right now,” you asked softly. Again, so child-like. You were weak still, and all you could do was plead for your own privacy.

“I wouldn't without permission, unless the situation is dire,” he replied calmly.

You nodded, turning your gaze back to the window. You believed him, at this stage you had no reason not to. To your surprise the rain had stopped, but tumbles of grey clouds still plagued the sky, dimming the vibrancy of the outside world.

“I’m curious,” Rhysand spoke, drawing you back to the room. “This is the third day you’ve sat in this chair, staring out of this exact window.”

Your eyes flickered to him, and you tried to hide your annoyance. You knew you were under surveillance – every behaviour, every quirk assessed and judged and analysed. Despite your families best intentions, it was completely alienating, and served as a constant reminder of how dangerous you truly were, and that you could not to be trusted.

Rhys waited for you to respond, his gaze patient, as if he would wait forever until you told him how you truly felt. “It’s a nice view,” you shrugged, not really sure of what else to say.

“The Sidra is spectacular,” he agreed.

“I care more for the shopfronts and restaurants,” you added, nodding your chin to where they splayed miles away.

Rhys cocked an eyebrow, moving to lean against the arm of your chair. “Why’s that?” he asked gently.

You shrugged again, suddenly self conscious. Had you overshared? Or maybe it would be used against you? Did he think you had intentions to harm the people of Velaris, and were plotting from his very home? The breath that left you then was heavy, weighted. How could you convince him, all of them, that you never meant them any harm?

Rhys waited for an answer again, his patience admirable. With a sigh, you gave in. “I suppose… it’s where life beckons.”

“Ah.”

You looked up at him now, the High Lord so casual with his arms folded across his chest. His friendliness and ease was not a forced thing, that much you could tell.

“We must have been close friends,” you noted. You could be observant too.

A half-smile formed on his face as he flicked his eyes down to you. “We attended education lessons together. 486 years ago.”

486 years. Gods, knowing how many forgotten memories laid in that span of time made your mind reel. You bought a quick hand to your temple, clenching through the pain as your mind sifted to remember just one of those moments. You drew up blank.

“Shall I ease it?” Rhys offered, his magic serving as useful pain relief these past months.

“No, no. It’s bearable,” you replied, rubbing your temples before blinking your eyes open again. You were well practiced at recovering from the headaches. “Classmates then?” you spoke through a tight jaw.

Rhys’s grin returned, as a wicked memory flashed in his eyes. “You were a bad influence,” he laughed, nudging you in the arm.

“I was?”

“Always trying to convince me to skip class and take you flying instead.”

You let out a small laugh, dropping your head in embarrassment. “Sorry,” was all you could say.

“Don’t be. I didn't need much convincing.”

“Still trying to relive the glory days Rhys?” a gruff voice chimed in from the doorway. Cassian didn't wait for an answer before he walked to the other side of your chair, peering out of the window you all faced. “What are we looking at?”

“I was just telling Y/N about how we used to spend our time outside of our lessons.”

Cassian chuckled with a knowing nod. “I always said you should have been born with wings yourself Y/N. You’re the only non-Illyrian I know who enjoys flying as much as we do.”

You gave Cassian a smile. It was comforting to hear them both speak about you so knowingly. “I’ll admit, it does sound exhilarating.”

“Well, what about a quick flight now?”

You almost gawked at the tall male. You hadn't even left the house yet, could you truly handle something like flying? It was instinct to cast an unknown glance at Rhys, who was already smiling at you.

“You don’t need permission Y/N,” Rhys levelled your look. “Do as you feel comfortable.”

“Besides, you need the fresh air,” Cassian added, his tone teasing.

You bit your lip as you pondered your choices, excitement brewing in your belly – a unique, distinct feeling that called with such familiarity. “Alright,” you said tightly.

Cassian whooped, before extending a formal hand to the door, the other offered to you. “Your flight awaits,” he joked with the wiggle of his eyebrows. If you hadn’t been so nervous, you might have laughed.

Cassian escorted you to the nearby verandah, flexing his wings as he prepared to take off. “I’ll go slow sweetheart, and if at any point you want to stop, just say the word.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as strong arms scooped you from your knees, pulling you tight against his chest.

“Why don't you do the honours. You do remember how to count, right?”

With a roll of your eyes, you began. “One.”

Wings flared then – dark, massive things, their breadth consuming the space around you.

“Two.”

Cassian braced himself, his knees bent for takeoff.

“Thr–”

Your words were cut off as you were launched into the sky. You clung tight to Cassian, who laughed freely in your ear. The flap of his wings was faint against the roar of the winds, you hair whipping this way and that.

Cassian speared higher and higher before momentum paid off and he was able to glide.

You dared to look beneath you. The city of Velaris, while faint under the overcast clouds, was still vibrant and bustling, full of life. You took a deep breath, letting the crisp air feel your lungs. Cassian had been right – you did love flying.

“Enjoying yourself?” Cassian spoke loudly, at competition with the winds.

“Very much so!” you yelled back, your smile widening every minute you spent in the air. For who you were now, this was your first time flying. You had never known such exhilarating joy.

Up ahead, rain clouds loomed in threatening darkness. “I’ll have to turn us around,” Cassian spoke, steering his body sideways as he made for a wide turn in the sky. You knew it was a half-excuse, and he likely didn't want to push you physically. But you didn't mind, this wouldn't be your last time flying – that you would make sure of.

Soon enough, Cassian had landed you safely back at the townhouse.

“You look healthier already,” he grinned, flicking your nose. You couldn't help yourself as you rushed at him, wrapping your arms around his waist. Cassian took a moment of surprise before hugging you back, placing a few firm pats on your back.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Anytime sweetheart.”

No longer able to hide the bite of the cold that nipped at you, you pulled away from Cassian, offering him another wide smile before heading inside. He watched you enter the house, his breathing heavy from the exertion of the flight.

It was heavy enough that he didn't hear the Shadowsinger approach.

Cassian didn’t have enough time to dodge the scarred fist that swung for his face.

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Part 7 >>>

AN: Thank you for all of the kind feedback for this story so far, and I’m sorry this took me so long to get out! Appreciate each and every one of you ❤️ Comment to join the tag list 💕🌙

Tags: @hyacinthoideshispanica @kennedy-brooke @cosmic-whispers @jazmin2211 @psychobookaholic @fieldofdaisiies @marina468 @itscaitymoore @timecharm @icey--stars @lucyysthings @valeridarkness @alw-aysjanuary @brekkershadowsinger @ladygloucester @ciannemar83 @wiitchkiller @xtreme-shipper @thorslonglocks @im-bili @kexrtiz @shadowcrowsworld @lillithathecat @marina468 @aroseinvelaris @cynicalpotato95 @goldentournesol @maddithefangirl @holywolfsstuff @banasheefan56 @banasheefan56 @im-bili @v1olentdelights @cardanenthusiast @mandarin-lmao @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @ttreader @shadowsingersmate24 @auggiesolovey @percyjacksonspeen @starxqt @reiincarnatiion @thefandomplace @highladyofillyria @ariels-thingamabobs @optimisticbabydreamer

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lovelykhaleesiii · 2 years

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Childish Love

HEADCANON

PAIRING: Modern!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader [Childhood Friends AU]

WORDS: 2,104.

SUMMARY: Growing up as childhood friends to lovers with Aegon ii would look something like this...

WARNINGS: fluff, angst, overprotective!Aegon, NSFW, smut, breeding kink, praise kink, slight innocence kink, p in v, female receiving.

A/N - to the incredible anon(s) that sent in those AMAZING asks/prompts about modern!Aegon, you have inspired this and it’s dedicated to you all!!! I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the engagement, seriously <3

You first met Aegon as a shy, little girl, at the mere age of 5. He was a just few years older than you.

The story differs between Aegon and yourself, depending on who is asked.

He hates how you recount it, finding it humiliating, however no matter how hard he tried to deny it, your version is technically the truth.

It was a normal day on the playground, although today the swing set that you’d normally go to was already occupied by a boy, much larger in size than you.

You shrugged it off thinking it was a one time coincidence, and yet each day that went by he kept showing up on your favourite swing.

You had grown annoyed to the point you actually shoved him off with all your might, causing him to fall face first to the ground, a bloody graze on his knee.

No one else was close around to witness it unfold, and as he turned to see who it was that had abruptly pushed him off, he did not expect to see you standing there ever so...Innocently.

You remember the pure shock on his face as if it only happened yesterday, and from then you’d always tease him about it.

He didn’t get angry at you nor did he retaliate back: instead he watched as you seated yourself on the swing set, and began to slowly sway.

After that incident, he would always excuse himself off if you wanted to play, and any other child that tried to rush you, he would deal with.

And still, no words exchanged between you, so Aegon resumed his normal ways.

Although, you started to follow him around now mindlessly, like a lost pup. Constantly by his side, he never questioned you directly, although his school friends found it rather unusual.

They began to taunt you one day, only to be harshly shut down by Aegon himself. And following that, you found the courage to speak, just a faint whisper of a “thank you” escaped your mouth, though it was enough of a sign for Aegon to take initiative.

As you began to grow alongside one another, you both found that you were polar opposites, although most of the time it worked in your favours.

Aegon was quite social and popular, constantly invited to parties and gatherings, you on the other hand, remained reserved, studious and shy. Only engaging in some conversation with people more acquired to your tastes... Aegon’s crowd were not your favourite, and he knew this.

He admired that you did not force him to change, as you genuinely liked him for his natural, organic self, and vice versa.

His family would always remain in awe as to how he even managed to land a companion like you, always remained a mystery as to how your friendship lasted through the ages.

His family deeply admired you, always inviting you over for their own family gatherings, you were part of the Targaryen crew. Alicent and Rhaenyra considered you their own daughters, constantly on Aegon’s back that if he ever harmed or bothered you, they'd have his head (figuratively speaking, of course).

Regardless, Aegon took you everywhere with him (even if he was not permitted a plus one, for many of his friends knew that you would be the lucky girl), he did not care.

As children, Aegon did not think much of your appearance, however as you grew into the stunning, young woman at present, he began to see you in a very different light.

Ultimately, because of this Aegon grew to become very overprotective of you.

He noticed how guys looked at you, hunger flashed in their eyes, and it made him livid, he swore he could feel his blood boil, as his body tensed in anger.

Initially in the early stages of the friendship, Aegon’s feelings was limited to just friends, nothing more. And yet now, now he was desperate for you to be his, completely.

On the other hand, your feelings for Aegon as children was always a simple crush. As you matured, and caught the eyes of many young suitors, your understanding of attraction began to alter. Although undeniably, no man could ever come close to how dear Aegon meant to you.

No one in the world could nor would ever possibly amount to know you as well as Aegon did, and yet you never acted in your feelings, hesitant to be met with unrequited love.

Despite, becoming slightly more open and extroverted, with Aegon you always found yourself to be meek and shy, blushing and giddy whenever he showed an ounce of affection towards you.

Aegon would definitely instigate many confrontations and find himself in brutal physical altercations with guys that even made a pass at you: he even started one with a lad that he felt stared far too long at you for his liking.

You hated how battered and bruised Aegon would be following these, and urged him to have some self-control. You felt that Aegon had no right to intervene with whom you spoke with for whatever reason. Although the more you contemplated the matter, you felt he actually did. And if you were being brutally honest with yourself, you rather liked the attention he now gave you, convinced he no longer saw you as the same little girl in the playground nor as a ‘sister’, although something more.

Aegon did (secretly) love the attention from your part that he received, after such fights. The way you tended to his wounds, and went above and beyond, nurturing him and healing him back to good health. It made him feral to see you so maternal.

Aegon definitely loved to spoil you. His family were quite wealthy, so his gifts were often grand, materialistic and expensive, whereas yours generally leant towards the sentimental side.

You loved making photo albums, and making collages of your trips and adventures with Aegon growing up (definitely not planning to show your future children of their parents in their youth).

Aegon would gift you with identical, gold chains for your 22nd Birthday, yours had his initial ‘A’, whereas his had yours.

Aegon would even gift you a promise ring, and this basically confirmed to you his feelings, as you both openly talked about how you felt, into the long hours of the night.

You found yourself becoming more clingy and needy for him, always attached to him whenever you had the chance.

He did not mind nor was he ever irritated by it: he thrived off it.

The way you’d either play with the bulky, metal rings on his fingers or buried yourself in his arm, or held him from behind, as he spoke with his friends. You never engaged in their conversation, and he much preferred it that way.

Although, you had grown to dislike many of his female companions, for some you’d noticed especially at parties where Aegon was susceptible to being tipsy, would try to sway him with their ‘charm.’

You would always intervene in a timely manner, finding yourself comfortably seated on his lap, as you allowed him to indulge himself, whether he was nibbling your neck leaving a wet trail of soft kisses, or even a naughty hickey.

In the morrow or whenever Aegon would recover from his hangover, you would persuade him to ditch said friends, and he wouldn't question it. Whatever you wanted, you got.

Aegon struggled to say no to you.

Throughout these years, Aegon did try to contain his carnal urges of wanting to take some advantage of you. Although you always made it difficult for him, he was often torn between being good and decent or being fucking feral.

Though now that you were exclusive with one another, he could please himself whenever and however, although he made sure he was careful with you, and that it was special.

He knew he was your first (and last, as he decided appropriately), he was experienced and could tell by the anxious look on your face, that even though it was only him, your Aegon… You were nervous.

With the other girls in his past, he never grew any real attachment, nor did he ever commit to a proper relationship (he would fuck them whilst envisioning you in his mind, even go so far as to lose himself in the moment, moaning your name, he could care less).

He was very tender with you, although once he knew you were comfortable with sex, his true nature began to peak through.

He never before was into aftercare, although took pride in it with you. He was a bit uncertain of what to do, although he did what he could and overtime he improved.

Seeing your naked, bare body for the first time, was definitely a moment that took his breath away. You were perfect.

Even though he'd never actually been with you before, he knew his way around a woman’s body.

The way he held you, lifted you, pleased you, it was divine, although he could be sloppy and aggressive at times.

You guys would use protection, for the sake of his family, although Aegon always argued there was no point, for he knew he wanted to have children with you, so why not start now?

The boy loved to cockwarm you, always moaning how your cunt was made only for him, even though you struggled to take him all in.

His dick wasn't too long although it was very thick and girthy, always stretching your walls out, the pain was there although it was bearable and soon became pleasurable as he eased himself in slowly.

Aegon was obsessed with your tits, the way they'd bounce as you rode him, as he loved to see you on top occasionally, and he had a soft spot for your ass to, the way he could squeeze, spank and even bite them.

He always praised you in the bedroom, calling you his “princess”, how perfect you were and that you were too good for him, “I don't deserve you at all, but I’m never letting you go.”

You often joked outside the bedroom, calling Aegon “Daddy” as he always gave you instructions on what you can and can’t do, always so protective when it came to boys, that it seeped into the sex.

The moment it slipped out so sultry, with an innocent, sheepish look on your face when you called him “Daddy”, he pulled your face up to look directly at him, firmly holding you by the jaw as his thrusts became slower, more intense, as he tried to shove himself deeper.

“Say it again.”

Like mentioned previously, Aegon knew he wanted to have children with you. He craved it. The thought of you pregnant, tits large and tender ready with milk for the babe, as your belly swelled with his child inside, drove him mad. The fact that it would be evidence of him having defiled you, made his cock twitch with excitement.

“All in good time, my love,” You would innocently tease Aegon.

You guys often had talks of the future in bed together, as you laid naked against his chest, his arm wrapped around your warm, exhausted body.

Aegon usually was always tired after sex, although if you remained awake, he would too.

In the mornings, he loved waking up to see you in his clothes, and did not mind that you would occasionally steal his jumpers and t-shirts. He actually encouraged you to wear it publicly, to send a message that you were his.

In college, Aegon was always at your dorm or with you in the library, he never wanted you venturing the male dorm rooms. He lacked focus in his academic studies, although admired watching you.

You would definitely help him with assignments, notes and exams, and in return he would spoil you through material means or just some good sex.

He’d definitely would fuck you in the library: loved tormenting you, holding back your screams and moans, as you collapsed under his touch. If he got bored whilst you were studying, he’d even finger you under the desk, watching you vulnerably squirm, suppressing the urge to helplessly moan his name, wanting to beg for his cock.

HE fucking LOVES IT!

Aegon did not mind your friends (specifically the female ones), although they did not like him. They thought of him possessive and controlling, although you tried to reassure them countless times, that was not the case.

They struggled to believe it, although eventually surmised that you were genuinely happy with him.

Nonetheless, Aegon was destined to be yours as you were his, the moment you’d met in your childhood. Love like this was rare, and thus, you both pledged to cherish it forever with each other.

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writing-for-life · 5 months

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Dream’s Therapist

Insomnia

I have prepared for the session by pulling up the notes from the intake.

The client is very punctual again, albeit only 15 minutes early this time. I have made sure that my office is not too bright since this seemed to have caused a certain amount of discomfort during our intake session.

Like the previous time, he will not take off his coat, and he does not engage in friendly smalltalk at the beginning of the session. My remark about the terrible weather brings up, “You have no idea what terrible weather is,” or some such like, and I begin the session without further ado.

DT: I would like to start today’s session with examining your current sleeping habits, since you hinted you were suffering from insomnia during your intake.

Dream: Sleep eludes me. But truth be told, I do not have any need for sleep. I inspire, and I have dreams and nightmares to create.

DT: And why do you think that is?

Dream (I notice a certain annoyance in the way he leans forward in his chair): It is my purpose and my function. And I am quite certain I told you this the last time. (I notice the wish to be perceived). As I have already pointed out: I weave dreams and stories. But lately, I have been feeling... uninspired.

DT: Uninspired? Are you feeling particularly stressed?

(I notice he is still rather enamoured with the paperweight on my desk. He proceeds staring at it without replying).

Would you like to hold it?

Dream (I notice his eyes dart towards me, and he looks at me for a moment with rather wet eyes): May I?

DT: Sure.

(I notice the way he picks up the paperweight and then holds on to it not unlike a pre-schooler would engage with a stuffed animal. I decide to carefully explore childhood nighttime memories)

DT: Tell me about your childhood. Did you have a teddy when you were little, or a favourite stuffy that you took to bed at nighttime?

Dream (deadpan): I am the anthropomorphic personification of dreams and nightmares. Stuffies are beneath my notice. (I might have hit a sore spot since he puts the paperweight back on the desk rather unceremoniously)

DT: Have you always believed you are a cosmic entity?

Dream (I notice the way he sharply exhales through his nose): I do not believe I am a cosmic entity. I am Dream of the Endless. I walk the realms of imagination and story, and I conjure dreams and nightmares. How often will I need to repeat myself?

DT (I notice the wish to be perceived again): I am aware of your beliefs. Do you think that all of these… responsibilities are a bit much and might be the cause of your lack of sleep? And before we go any deeper, let me quickly check in: Have you tried the usual, like counting sheep or a warm glass of milk?

Dream (I notice a degree of exasperation): It is usually I who sends sheep to dreamers, even to the ones who would rather opt to count lost socks, and milk is for mortal stomachs. Strictly speaking, your kind shouldn’t even drink cow’s milk, but not to get too involved in human delectations. That is to say (he leans forward in his chair again and gives me a piercing stare): I exist beyond such trivialities.

(The delusion seems to run deeper than I imagined, but I decide to stay on the topic of insomnia for today’s session. A better sleep schedule certainly won’t do any harm and will aid in tackling the deeper issues.)

DT: During our last session, you briefly mentioned that you have commitment issues (I notice he looks at the paperweight again). Take it, please.

(I notice his eyes turn wet once more, and I will need to get to the bottom of why a paperweight made of rose quartz creates such a strong reaction in him, but not right now. He takes the paperweight and this time, he lets it disappear in his coat pocket. I decide to ignore the attempted theft for now).

Is it possible that your problems with commitment extend to other areas of your life? Like committing to a sleep schedule?

Dream (I notice a degree of confusion that seems to morph into annoyance): I assure you, I am extremely committed to my realm. I do not shirk my responsibilities and adhere to… rules meticulously.

DT: I don’t doubt it. Do you avoid the bed?

Dream (He straightens in his chair and looks me dead in the eye. I notice his pupils have dilated considerably, which suggests sympathetic innervation/a surge of adrenaline): No. However, I do not peruse it to… sleep. (I notice he is not sitting still as a statue anymore. His legs are crossed, and his supporting leg is engaged in a tapping motion originating in his foot)

DT (I try not to linger on the uncomfortable silence that is only interrupted by the slight squeaking of the sole of his boot and the accompanying tapping): Did you ever try a bedtime routine that is more to your liking than counting sheep? Warm bath? Reading? Chamomile tea?

Dream (I notice teeth grinding): Chamomile tea tastes like mortal tears.

DT: And smells like urine, not keen myself (I notice a fleeting facial expression I cannot quite place. His mouth twitches). Are you open to suggestions?

Dream (I notice slight hesitation, and I decide to shrug my shoulders and smile. Daring move. He furrows his brow): You may… suggest.

DT: I think journaling might be helpful for a while to see what keeps you from sleeping. Write down whatever comes to mind, from what you have experienced during the day to what you’ve eaten.

Dream: I do not eat.

DT: You do not?

Dream: Well, sometimes I do, but… (He seems to contemplate something for a moment). No matter, I shall… write.

DT (I sense a basic degree of cooperation, which is a start): All day, but especially around bedtime. We can use it the next time and see if we spot any patterns. It might also be helpful with the topic of emotion processing.

Dream (I note he engages in his habitual nose-bridge-pinching, and he closes his eyes. I am fairly certain he is also rolling them behind closed lids, and I wonder if his cooperation has just disappeared into thin air): I already told you I do not “feel”. It is a…

DT: Quaint human invention? Like love?

Dream (I notice his eyes open at alarming speed. He looks annoyed for a moment. He then quirks one eyebrow): You have paid attention to my words after all.

DT: Did you expect me not to?

Dream (I notice uncertainty): Perhaps.

DT: Then why are you here?

Dream (I notice a facial expression that hints at confusion): I… because I respect your… delusional expertise.

DT (I am not certain if that is a compliment or an insult and decide to pay no heed): That does not answer the question though, or at least not in its entirety. Because this is not about my expertise, is it?

Dream (He leans forward in his seat): What is it about then?

DT (I notice he is trying to engage in subversion tactics): You.

Dream (I notice he flinches and immediately leans back again. His eyes are wet, and he does not speak. I decide to give the silence space.

The silence lasts for 12 minutes. One needs to be able to sit with the discomfort on occasion.

He stands up all of a sudden): I trust our time is up?

DT: No.

Dream: Good, I shall leave then.

DT (I notice the same pattern to end the session as the last time. He begins to walk out): Are you going to keep that?

Dream (He turns around): Keep what?

DT: My paperweight.

Dream (I notice he looks flustered and reaches into his coat pocket.): My apologies. (He hesitantly comes back and places the paperweight back on my desk.)

DT: No harm done, we all forget things from time to time.

Dream (I notice he lifts his chin and seems affronted): I do not forget things. Ever.

DT: Well, you just did.

Dream: I… (I notice he blinks thrice in quick succession) Same time next week?

DT (I notice the reversed initiative compared to our last session and choose to reply accordingly): Yes, let us pencil it in.

Dream: You may use ink…

< Previous Session

> Next Session

#the sandman #sandman #dream of the endless #Dream’s therapist #morpheus #dream of the endless rp #morpheus rp #satire #or possibly still a #tragicomedy #and walking that line kills me

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fieldofdaisiies · 1 year

Text

Cauldron Boil Me

ship: Sirius Black x Reader type: angst word count: 2,8k warnings: none request: @dreamingofmarauders Don't really have a concrete idea but perhaps a Slytherin reader, where she puts up a very rude and cold front, and Sirius is always picking fights with her. One day, he pulls a prank on her, but she was already stressed since she would get branded as a Death Eater when she would go home for the holidays, and she just snaps and cries, unintentionally blurting out what she is going through. Sirius feels bad and just please give it a happy ending! (Only if you want to write the request though)

"Filthy little mudblood."

You send your friend a glower, grinding your teeth so hard, your jaw starts to ache.

It is already bad enough that you and Sirius Black are potions partners, you don’t need your house mate, Evan Rosier, and childhood best friend to insult young Hufflepuffs on your way to the potions room.

Evan either ignores your glower, or he really did not notice, but he just keeps on walking, rather casually strolling through the corridors of Hogwarts. "Are we going to Hogsmead this weekend?" Sofie pops up out of nowhere, she is your best friend, shares a dorm room with you, and you every little secret. So, she technically also knows how you feel about Sirius and what might happen in the summer holidays, but these are all problems for future you, not something you want to be thinking about now.

"I think—"

"It is a great idea. We could go to the Three Broomsticks?" It is Mulciber who makes the suggestion and is immediately supported by Bertram Aubrey and Alecto Carrow.

You only shrug, not really in the mood to go to Hogsmead, knowing how dangerous it could be, and all in all you are not really motivated to do things these days. But you also don't want to let down your friends, and so you somehow have to agree.

"Yeah, why not," you say after Sofie nudges you with her elbow.

"I will be fun," she hums, smiling at you from the side. She wants to distract you, hoping to bring the smile back onto your face these dark times have stolen from you.

You try hard to avoid the groan from bursting out of you when you walk into the Potions classroom and the first thing you see is Sirius Black, the brightest star in the sky and the thickest idiot Hogwarts has ever seen. He is balancing his chair, leaned backwards, his arms stretched wide, holding onto the desk and the back of your chair.

"Good morning, my favourite little snake." Sirius grins, from one ear to the other. But it is not the sort of kind grin, it is wicked, almost a little gleeful and you already feel like slapping him. But obviously you don't do it, you are not a violent person.

You simply ignore him, grab the back of your chair, careful not to touch him and pull it backwards.

"Grumpy this morning?" he comments, and you decide to ignore him again.

"Got up on the wrong foot this morning? What is the problem? You always have a lovely comeback—"

"You are the problem." You turn to him, frowning. "And your face is."

"Because I look so incredibly dashing and stunning?" He wiggles his brows.

"Because you are even uglier than the large squid in the Black Lake."

Sirius dramatically folds a hand over his heat and gasps. "Ouch, that hurt."

"Good if your ego is a little harmed, it got too big for your body anyway." You sneer, and then turn away from him, focussing back on the front of the glass where now your teacher, professor Broomscattle, who already prepares everything for the lesson ahead.

When everyone calms down, and also your anger about Mr Black settles, you relax back in your chair and turn your whole focus onto your Potions teacher.

"Good morning, class, today you and your partners will be brewing a wonderful potion."

He opens his book, closes it, opens it again and flicks through the pages, a testament to his already starting forgetfulness and confusion. "Today we will be working on the Fire Protection Potion, also known as the…"

You rhand shoots into the air and when the professor calls your name you answer immediately. "Ice Potion."

"Amazing, five points to Slytherin."

You smile happily, at least something that is going well. But the smile immediately vanishes from your face again.

"Swot," Sirius comments and you kick your leg out, hoping to hit is shin. When he yelps, you grin in triumph.

"At least I am not as thick as a brick."

Sirius throws you a fake grin, but you are both ripped out of your bickering when the professor loudly announces that you should start brewing now. And so, cauldrons start to bubble, mist rises from the bubbling liquids and shadows are casted upon the castle's walls.

"You need to slice the brusting mushrooms, Sirius, not crunch them," you retort, and instead of arguing back he really follows your orders, but chuckles. "Alright, captain, so bossy," he mumbles under his breath, but once again you decide to ignore him.

Just like the cauldron in front of you does, so does Sirius make your blood boil. He enrages you, his sheer presence does. And your tiny little crush on him, which some happened totally on accident and without you being fond of it, does not make it any better.

"Clockwise. You need to stir clockwise, smartass." Sirius leans over you and the cauldron, his brow raised.

"Now who is the swot."

"Still the teacher's pet who earned herself house points moments ago."

"I dislike you so much," you seethe, stirring the liquid with more fore, it nearly swaps over the edges.

Sirius grins and small laugh escapes him. And despite him looking hella amused, some unreadable emotion that almost edges onto hurt passes over his face.

Next up, after the liquid turned blue, you add salamander blood and this time stir it anti-clockwise. "Anti-clockwise now," you tell Sirius, holding his gaze. "So, our smartass is happy." Your voice drips with sarcasm.

"Very happy, brewing potions with the person who loathes me the most in all of Hogwarts."

"That is not true!" you snap and want to cover your quick mouth with your hand. It is really not true, but…ugh, you curse yourself and quickly say, "I am sure there are many more who hate you even more than I do."

"Snivellus?"

"Severus!" Your voice drips with anger…you don't like Snape that much, but you hate that everyone is always mocking him, and bullying him. He does not deserve it, not at all.

Sirius coos, "Aww, are you two dating. Are you sneaking away to kiss secretly? The slimy git and his little snake."

You throw your head back and groan. "Shut up, Sirius, honestly. Or I'll hex you."

The potion in front of you has turned green by then which tells you it is time to at the crushed Wartcap powder and once again stir it clockwise until it turns red.

The air between you, enhanced by the high humidity and scent of potions, is thick. You are both walking on thin ice, and yet Sirius once again wears his usual mischievous grin. Stupid, silly Sirius Black grin…

"Y/l/N, remind me again why I got stuck with you as a partner. Honestly, I would rather brew with a three-headed dog."

"First and last time that I will agree with you, Black." You narrow your eyes at him, watching how his eyes sparkle at what you said. "But I think you are stuck with me, because it might be your one chance to pass this school year, we all know that in your brain there is not much except for hot air."

Sirius chuckles under his breath. "Well, Y/N, you might discover I'm a natural at this. I am smart, brilliant, intelligent, absolutely handsome looking. I don't need you to help me get good grades, but maybe you need my help?"

"You forgot one thing about yourself." You sneer. "You are also incredibly…insufferable."

In all honesty, you just want to be left alone. Your whole life is already so much to deal with, you don't want to spend your lessons bantering with Sirius. You don't want to think about him at all. You have a crush on him yes, but you are also very aware that nothing will ever happen between the two of you. It is not possible, he is all good and anti-Death Eaters, anti-Slytherin, despite his little brother being in the house. But you are…you are also anti-Death Eaters, anti-Voldemort, anti-war, but you can't escape your family's beliefs. It is not so easy for you. You are trapped and you have no choice. It hurts.

Despite the relentless banter with him, you manage to add all the ingredients together, though with a great deal of unnecessary shoving and bickering. The cauldron bubbles and releases a puff of smoke, making both of you cough.

"Well, done, you are getting us both in detention," Sirius grumbles, acting like it is your fault that the cauldron or potion just did that. You frown, then throw him a glower. "You don't have to talk, you are practically a walking detention. Wouldn't be anything new for you," you retort, your irritation evident in your voice.

You keep on mixing and brewing, silence stretching out between you.

Just as the tension between you and Sirius seems to be easing, he can't resist one last opportunity to stir the pot — or cauldron…

You both stand there, looking at your potion, he slyly waves his wand below the desk and mutters a spell under his breath. Suddenly, the potion changes colour, and bubbles vividly, frothing splashing and flowing over the edges and all over you. You cloak is stained in more than one colour, the liquid slowly trickling down.

Your jaw drops in disbelief, and you can feel your cheeks heat up with anger. "Sirius Black, what have you done?" you demand, voice tinged with fury.

Sirius bursts into laughter, his shoulders shaking. He did not expect the potion to blow up like this, but…

"Relax, Y/N, it's just a bit of fun. You look amazing by the way!"

You glare at him, your fists clenched at your sides. "Fun? This is an important assignment!"

Irritation burns through your veins and you feel how tears start to burn behind your eyes.

You only have school, you only have school were your work is appreciated, where you are seen. And now Sirius messed everything up.

"Relax, it's just fun." He grins but it vanishes immediately when he sees the hurt in your eyes.

"No, it is not. Not always is everything fun!"

You push off the desk, turn and sprint away, desperately wanting to get away so no one can see the tears now flowing out of your eyes.

It was just a silly prank…but it is too much. Everything is too much and this was now the straw that breaks the camel's back.

Unbeknownst to you, Sirius is following after you, not minding at all that your Potions professor is shouting after you, telling you to come back. You don't hear it over the blood rushing in your ears, Sirius simply does not care — there are more important things to deal with now.

Tears of frustration and anger blur your vision, as you try to escape from…everything.

You run through the corridors, not really sure where you're going. The weight of everything—Voldemort's looming threat, the pressure of being in Slytherin during these turbulent times, your parents and the whole situation at home and now this stupid, this absolutely idiotic, prank—feels like everything is going to crush you. You find an empty classroom and slump down in a chair, burying your face in your hands, sobbing.

You're crying, and you can't make it stop. It's all just too much, and you feel utterly alone. You don't even realise how much time has passed when you hear the door creak open. Startled, and with read puffy eyes and ragged breaths leaving you, you look up and find Sirius Black standing in the door frame.

"Hey," he says softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

"Hey?!" you blurt out and wipe away some burning tears with the back of your hand.

He startles, taken aback by your sharp tone. His expression — actually his whole demeanour crumbles— and he takes more steps towards you.

"Leave! What do you even want here?" you mutter, your voice cracking.

Sirius takes a step closer, his expression serious. "I didn't mean for it to go this far. I didn't want to upset you like this. I did not think you would react in this way, it was a silly prank."

You can't help but feel a bit surprised by his sincerity. A lot actually. This is not like him. You've never seen him like that ever before.

You expected him to make fun of you or taunt you further. Instead, he seems genuinely apologetic…

You are torn…should you tell him why you reacted like that? Curse him? Shout at him? Make him leave?

You don't know and you struggle a lot. You wipe away more tears and sniff.

And decide to finally open up a little. You have to tell someone at some point, why not him? Well, there are many reasons for why not him, but the situation is quite fortunate. And he comes from a pure blood family but is against blood purity, he might understand better than some others.

"It's not just about the prank, Sirius. It's everything. The current situation, Voldemort, the Death Eaters, my parents… It's all so overwhelming, and I don't know how to handle it."

Sirius pulls out the chair next to you and takes a seat, his gaze fixed on yours. "I get it," he says quietly. "It's scary. It's all too much for anyone at this moment I think. But you don't have to do it alone."

You look at him, searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity, for the normal taunting and teasing glimmer in them. But all you find is warmth and understanding, empathy. It's a side of Sirius you've rarely seen — never actually.

"I just... I don't know who to trust anymore," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Everyone is acting suspicious…Everyone starts to hide things. I don't feel happy anywhere anymore. Except for school and then in school…this stupid prank."

Sirius reaches out and gently places a hand on yours. "I am so sorry," he says, his voice soft but resolute. "This was so idiotic."§

You swallow, the warmth of his palm somehow so soothing and lovely.

Sirius breathes out a long exhale, and throws his head back, dark curls shifting with the movement. "Good Godrick, I care about you. I care about what happens to you. I know it might not seem like it, has never seemed like it, but I really do."

Tears dwell in your eyes again, but this time, they're not tears of sadness. Somehow they are tears of gratitude. For his kind words and the showing you a side of him, he never lets anyone see. You never expected this side of Sirius Black, and it's both surprising and comforting.

"Maybe I also don't hate you as much as it might seem." You meet his gaze again, locking.

"You might think I am crazy about what I will say next…" His thumb strokes over the back of your hand, his eyes never leaving yours.

"I like you, you know," Sirius says, his voice almost a whisper. "I mean, I really like you. More than just a friend."

Your heart skips a beat, and you can feel your cheeks flush. Your eyes widen in surprise. "You do?"

Sirius nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I do. And I know it's a crazy time to say it, but I couldn't keep it to myself anymore. You know, I am a little impulsive, sorry if that was too straightforward."

You can't help but smile back at him, despite your tears. In this moment, the world outside seems to fade away, and it's just the two of you in that empty classroom.

"This might sound even more crazy, but I like you too, Sirius," you admit, your voice filled with honesty. "More than just a friend. Except for the one moment earlier, I really despised you then."

He grins, and without warning, he pulls you into a warm, comforting hug. You bury your face in his chest, feeling safe and cared for in his arms. It's a strange and unexpected turn of events, but maybe, just maybe, there's a glimmer of hope in the darkest of times.

"I am still sorry, and I promise to never ever do something like that again." His hand strokes over your back and you find yourself nodding against his chest.

"Alright," you whisper, a single tear sliding down your cheek. "Alright. Apology accepted."

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #marauders #marauders era #sirius being sirius #sirius orion black

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 5 months

Text

Thank you @spacecampauthor for this commission.

Commission description: a simple fluffy fix with Yves and reader having a spa night and watching the IT horror films. I just want them to have a nice night.

654 words

You lay your head on his lap, allowing yourself to relax in his presence. He had set the mood of your shared bedroom with him perfectly, the lights were dimmed and warm, and soothing music was playing in the background from his specially curated playlist. You didn't stop to wonder where the music was coming from, as there wasn't a speaker in sight. The air smelled of your favourite fragrant essential oils, yet there was no diffuser in sight.

You and him had just gotten out of the shower, clothed in fluffy bathrobes that shields you from the cold.

He starts off the session by lowering a warm, moist towel on your face. Letting the heat open your pores and calm your nerves further. Only after a few minutes of serenity, he gently lifts the towel up and set it aside. You heard him snapping a bottle open, you craned your head to see that he's applying toner onto a soft cotton pad. To which, he will then use to further cleanse your face in feathery swipes.

Yves whispered about how he finds you beautiful, revering you as he went on to apply an expensive moisturizer on his fingertips. After that, began massaging your cheeks. His smooth fingers skillfully glide through your skin sent tingles down your spine. Yves continued sensually caressing you from forehead to your neck.

Yves understood that you may personally find the IT horror films enjoyable, but from what he observed before, they tend to elevate your blood pressure and heart rate. It almost seems inappropriate given the context of a relaxing spa day, but he knows you like your adrenaline rush after.

So he switches his wide, flat screen television on. Waking you up with a sweet kiss on the forehead when he noticed that you were about to drift to sleep. You opened your eyes to see Yves, bare faced and smiling, he is still as stunning as ever. Even without his usual light makeup. While the movies are starting off, Yves picked up the bowl of homemade potato chips from the table. You kept your rested eyes glued onto the screen while Yves hand fed you crispy carb disks.

The choice in snacks is deliberate too, as there will be gore in the movies, Yves had to prepare that doesn't resemble anything disgusting you saw. As it may ruin your appetite and create a negative association to that one food. It would simply give Yves a headache when trying to reverse that memory.

He avoids feeding you a few minutes before any jump scares, as he fears you might choke. But he loves how you would snuggle close to him whenever you felt uneasy due to the film. A shame that you were to engrossed with the screen to notice Yves doesn't even flinch throughout the entire run time. He knows what's coming and when, because he had watched it numerous times prior to today. He has to, as he doesn't like uncertainty. And he only wants to make this night nothing short of lovely for you.

The night went on with you jumping at every scare while Yves sits unmoving with a disciplined posture. Establishing himself as a safe haven to retreat to whenever it becomes too much for you, allowing you to bury your head in his sides. But you didn't have to do much of that, as the gentle, loving strokes he would do on your hair would bring you back to Earth. You knew that you're safe and sound with him, nothing can ever harm you as long as you're with Yves.

He smiles. Because he gets to hold you, take up your time and mind. He loves you oh so dearly.

In the end, Yves rests his head on your shoulder too, closing his eyes in bliss as the characters in the film scream in terror while being mutilated by that clown.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere male #oc yves #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #male yandere oc x reader #thank you so much for your commission #fun fact i have never watched any of the IT movies before because i do not love horror </3

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mgjiyu · 6 months

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I cannot keep my mouth shut so here are the three main things I’d like to remind everyone after the Australian GP

1. You can dislike a driver, even hate him, without insulting him or being disrespectful. I swear it’s possible. And it might surprise you but you are totally allowed to wish for a driver to dnf as long as you don’t wish him any harm or a very nasty crash. Let me tell you, I manifest for Verstappen’s engine to fail on every race but I’ll never wish him to get in a bad crash because before being the incredible driver who annoys every non-RB fan he is, he is a human being.

2. Liking one driver more than the other one in your favourite team doesn’t make you a bad fan as long as it doesn’t interfere with the first point up there. Concrete example, I’m a Tifosa but I’m also a Charles Leclerc’s fan, of course I’m happy with the 1-2 today but of course I would have preferred if it was the other way around. Nothing wrong here because I know Carlos did an amazing weekend and deserves his win, it doesn’t mean I cannot be a bit disappointed for my fav.

3. Your opinion during the race can be different that the one you have after the race, and two hours later, and two days later, and so on. Your feelings are evolving with the things you see or even just with the way you rethink what you saw. Another concrete example, when the race finished I was so disappointed because for Charles that I couldn’t enjoy the Ferrari win 100%, it changed a few hours after when I rethought it and saw interviews and celebration and it truly made me happy for Ferrari. And it also took me some time to accept that Charles was just less performant than Carlos this weekend and that it was still a super good result both for him and the team.

The last point makes me want to add that, please, you don’t have to hate on another driver to appreciate your fav’s achievements or justify their misfortunes/less good moments.

I’d probably have so many more things to say because even if I enjoy some drama as much as the next girlie some people just make me want to throw things.

#this comes from someone who’s been watching f1 for less than a year #so I won’t take any risks at talking about something technical #but please these are just some basic rules #and lord knows how I can hate on vertsappen or perez during a race #even on Carlos sometimes because I know that everytime he outperformes Charles I’m gonna see nasty things online #people saying that Charles is washed can go touch some grass #f1 #ferrari #charles leclerc #formula 1 #carlos sainz #scuderia ferrari #formula one #max verstappen #australian grand prix 2024 #aus24

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gunkbaby · 3 months

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Thinking about Shuu BPD headcanon again. He’s 21 in TG, and given his loneliness I think it’s fair to assume Kaneki was his first favourite person. Like I acted very similar to Shuu when I had my first favourite person - including when the ‘relationship’ (i wouldn’t call what i went through a relationship personally. It was an internet mutual lol) ended, it went on to affect me for several years, to today, mentally and physically.

I get sad when I think about it, because I don’t like thinking about Shuu going through or feeling what I have - that horrible moment where you look back on your experience with someone, and you can only feel guilt, because you can see now that all you acted so inappropriately. Being overly clingy - dependent - on someone you barely know - because Shuu doesn’t know Kaneki in TG. Not deeply. He’s still in the moment of only wanting to eat him, everything he learns is compartmentalised as knowledge to use as manipulation and such. So his breakdown when Kaneki is taken away from him is a shock to his system - because this is the point where maybe one realises that this is not just about wanting him to eat anymore. It’s indicative of Shuu feeling something more for someone, which he’s probably never had before, and one can imagine how it might feel to realise - oh. I really fucked this person I adore up, because I didn’t understand myself well enough. And that shit hurts man.

Whilst a neurotypical person might be able to look at this realisation and handle it better, for someone with BPD/neurodivergence, this can affect one’s mental and physical health for years afterwards. A known symptom of BPD is not being able to recover ‘typically’ from breakups (meeeeeeeeeeeeee), often leading to self-harm, depression, and such, as well as taking a much longer time to actually recover from the breakup (generally. Ofc not everyone has it like this).

This also explains why in :RE, Shuu is seemingly just as obsessed with Kaneki - because he can’t fucking let go of it. He goes out of his way to ‘get Kaneki back’ for his own benefit, and I wonder if maybe, Shuu wants that Kaneki back so he can right his past wrongs. His newer awareness of his past actions weighs on him, and he wants to show that version of Kaneki that he has changed, that he’s not like That anymore - but he is, in a way. He’s still ill, and this is never brought up. Shuu gets better throughout :re, but we never see how, and either man’s on Elvanse or something, or he’s actively making an effort to restrain the ‘BPD side’ of him. I compare having BPD to having a dog on a muzzle - controlling it is horrible and it’s difficult, but if you don’t, the muzzle comes off and your dog is going to maul someone. Having BPD can be really terrifying sometimes - note: people with BPD are not monsters and if I see one more person say Shuu’s feelings are ‘creepy’ istg—

In early :re, Shuu’s actions can be viewed an overcompensating - trying to fix the damage he feels he might’ve done to Kaneki. He wants Kaneki back for himself, but not to eat him, to show Kaneki that he’s not the person he was. That he’s changed - but he hasn’t. He’s become self-aware, but this isn’t enough to change someone. Shuu still doesn’t understand that. He’s like a beautiful butterfly in that stage where the chrysalis is clear and starting to shake, but the butterfly isn’t out yet, and when it is out, it still has to wait for its wings to dry. Shuu is impulsive, and fails to properly think things out especially in a social situation (another symptom of bpd is impulsivity, particularly in regards to self-destruction). So he’s bombastic in rushing in and trying to get that Kaneki back, even if he doesn’t exist, and we can argue that this brazenness, this impulsivity, goes on to foster more destruction.

Therefore, it becomes even more weird that Shuu seems to recover after Kanae’s death in particular, because I feel like Shuu was already grappling with some guilt in regards to his past self. Kaneki throwing Shuu from the rooftop is met with Shuu’s acceptance of it - it’s a passive kind of suicidality. What better repentance is there - what is the best way to say sorry - than letting the person you hurt kill you? I know I’ve attempted or hurt myself in attempt to repent and say sorry for the people I’ve hurt, (I even became Christian, briefly!) But Shuu isn’t killed. Kanae is, and directly because they save him. Shuu’s love for Kanae is evident by this point, so one has to question how someone who already seemed to be passively suicidal, who presumably held a quite a hefty amount of self-loathing - would be able to recover from someone they love dying specifically to save them. Shuu tells Kanae to save themself (in my translation), he seemed passive in the prospect of Kaneki killing him, so this turn of events should be absolutely fucking devastating to him.

His entire family, bar one person, were killed to protect him. People gave up their lives, for him - a person who was extremely mentally unwell. Shuu is egotistical, arrogant, and selfish, but too often I see people conflate this with narcissism or self-love - narcissists don’t even tend to love themselves, it seems the opposite (I am not well-versed in npd pls correct me). I don’t think Shuu likes himself, particularly in :re. I’m honestly surprised he survived through :re sometimes, because I feel like the events of the Tsukiyama extermination would eventually kill someone who was already mentally unstable.

But after the Tsukiyama arc, there is very little acknowledgement of Shuu’s mental state. It’s like, oh, he’s fine now. Kanae isn’t even mentioned again, (I think), and it’s really weird. One can argue Shuu is just pretending to be fine, maybe Kaneki being back is enough to shift his focus from those events back to his favourite person - but that’s not mentally healthy. That’s not recovery. You can argue that maybe he learnt to cope, did DBT or whatever, but I doubt he would’ve had time for that in :re? Iirc it was kind of busy, I mean…Man got fired from like 4 jobs after losing his family - self-worth must’ve been in the shitter fr

Shuu is supposedly better by :re and the end of :re, but I can’t fucking buy that. Maybe I’m projecting too much, but I still haven’t recovered from my favourite person and it’ been three fucking years, and I have a parent who is willing to literally die for me, and it feels like shit. These things don’t just go away. They condense, and they stay. It’s like the dog won’t die unless you do, and even then, the pain stays.

I’m off track - the point is. I don’t like it. I get narrative time and that - Shuu isn’t the main character, but still. TG has so much depth and nuance in its characters and I wish more work had been put into Shuu post-Tsukiyama arc. (I also wish Kanae hadn’t died but fuck my stupid Baka life i guess)

I can’t help but feel like Shuu was ill at the start of Tokyo Ghoul, got even iller. And by the end of :re, he’s still very much ill.

sorry if this doesn’t make sense I cried halfway through and im tired

#Analysis #shuu rambles #shuu tsukiyama #shuucore #Pretentious posting #tg gunk #Tokyo ghoul #fuck it main tag

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olivia091108 · 8 months

Text

How to be a jackass:part 1

Summary:meeting bam and Ryan in westchester

Word count:3306

So far filming for season two of jackass has probably been the best time I’ve ever had even though I’m getting injured or pranked every day.

All the guys are great and at first I thought it’s gonna be awkward not only being the new person but being the only girl.Thank god I was wrong for once I don’t think any of them actually cared as long as I actually did gnarly stunts.

The only people I haven’t met are the boys from westchester but Jeff says that we’re gonna film a group stunt with all of us soon.

I’ve done some mediocre stunts like pouting glitter in my eye which didn’t come out for a week and licking a mouse trap Owch. I also did one with wee man where he dressed as a baby and put in a pram and when people would ask to see ‘my baby’ they would be kinda disturbed.

Today I walk on to set and check the stunt list. Today I’m gonna get a pregnant belly strapped to me and walk around town drinking some beer.

——————————————————

Time skip

After getting a mean old lady shouting at me for ‘destroying my baby’ Jeff called all of us over and told us that at 5:30am to meet here because we’re driving to westchester tomorrow.Jeff actually banned us from going out after like we usually would do we finished for the day and I got the bus back to mine and my sisters apartment

Don’t get me wrong I’m excited but really 5:30 I’m sure there’s no harm in waking up later. I walk into the apartment and go to my room to pack since we will be staying there for 5 days.

I walk into my room and start packing stuff but I can’t find one of my favourite tops so I walk into Ella’s room to see if she’s taken it and I barge in without knocking to see her and Oliver mud sex scrambling to cover themselves with the sheet.

“Get out!”

“In a sec do you have my blue top the one with the buttons”

“Are you serio-“ I sigh and lean against the wall and she knows I won’t leave until she gives it to me. “It’s in my closet” I walk over and grab it off the hanger and scrunch it up in my hands

“Oh yeah by the way I’m gonna be gone for a few day”

“Leave!” She throws a pillow at me but I dick out the room before it can hit me

An hour later ella and Oliver knock on my door and wait for me to reply before walking in with very serious looks on both their faces.

Y/n we need to talk to you about something. You can’t just walk in without knocking we don’t have any privacy with you.

Alright I’ll knock next time

“It’s not just the knocking you always come home late and wreck the houses remember you broke olis computer at like 5:30 you never clean up after yourself and we just think that you should move back with mum and dad because we can’t keep living with you.”

“What your kicking me out I pay rent here”

“You don’t even pay a quarter y/n your’e basically living here for free.I rang dad he said it was fine you moving back soon”

“You know I can’t do that el”

“You could always get your’e own place I could help you have the money know”

“Fuck you. you know what I’ll leave right now.” I grab all my clothes in my wardrobe and try to shove it into my small suitcase and mange to mostly zip it and I grab a few personal thing and hold my piggy bank under my arm before leaving

It might’ve been a irrational idea because now I have nowhere to stay for the night and I can’t go to my parents not how I left there

It’s 1am I might as well go to set and wait till morning but with busses not running I have to walk 5 miles uptown.

Once I get there I only have to wait 2 and a half hours so I set my suitcase down and use it as a seat I dig around in my pocket for the taser I took from Johnny just in case.

I feel a hand grab me and by instinct Tase whoever it was. By the time my eyes have adjusted I realise I must’ve fallen asleep and everyone’s here to go to westchester.

While Jeff is complaining the taser Dave asks if I’ve been here all night. Nah I just thought I should get here early yknow only been here half hour.

We separate into 3 cars to get there and I’m in with Johnny Dave and wee man. I’m in the back with Dave and decide to use the 6 hour car drive as an opportunity for some sleep since I got 2 hours max last night.

—————————————————-

I wake up not being able to breathe and feeling plastic on my face I try and pry one of my friends hands off of me but it’s no use and I have to rip the plastic bag now being able to breathe properly

I hear Knoxville’s laugh and a Camrea is pointed in my face all that adrenaline woke me up quick but I’m still not wide awake and I just flip him off while sitting up and stretching being confined in a car really isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world.

“Cmon y/n we’re here grab your bags.” I take my almost bursting suitcase and walk it into the large house we will be staying at. I hear taking and follow it to the living room seeing Johnny talking to the two boys I recognise from episodes but still haven’t met.

Jeff introduces them the one with the dark hair and blue eyes is bam and the blonde one with a beard is called Ryan. We all introduce ourselves and start chatting and getting to know eatch other. Another girl is here called Jenn she’s bams girlfriend she seems nice but I haven’t spoken to her much

I excuse myself to the bathroom and i see a blonde lady in the kitchen and ask her if she needs a hand. If you don’t mind that would be great

“I’m April bams mum it’s so nice to have you all hear but I am a bit worried honestly”

“Im y/n thanks for letting us stay and I promise I will try to protect you and your house.”

Me and April talk about all kinds of things and I soon meet her husband Phil who is such a sweetheart and it makes me feel even worse for him seeing how bam treats him.

I’m sorry your supposed to be getting to know eatchother and I’ve stolen you away thanks for your help with the dinner.

“Oh it’s no worries you seem wayy more interesting than them boys.”

Speaking of Chris has snuck up behind me and lifted me up and body slammed me onto one of the sofas it wouldn’t of hurt that bad if people weren’t sitting on it.

I sit up and move off of whoever I fell on and jsut laugh it off and I start talking to Ryan about some of his stunts and his life and what not. While telling me about cky videos and high school with his friends bam started to join in adding to the story.

After an hour of talking to the two of them we got along really well and had quite a few things in common with them. We got called for dinner and while I was eating I could feel myself drifting off even though I slept in the car for 6 hours.

I ended up face planting into the food which made everyone laugh and while I used the bottom of my shirt to wipe it off the topic of rooms came up.

Some people were gonna have to share because there’s not enough rooms Steve o and pontius are sharing as well as Dave and ehren. Johnny is with me and wee man and Preston are together.

We all go to our rooms and get unpacked and settled. “Yknow we’re only here for 5 days don’t you”.

“Can’t a girl have options” i didn’t want to tell Johnny about getting kicked out I just wanted to have fun here. While I get changed into my pjamas I get into bed and shut my eyes trying to fall asleep but either from the excitement of tomorrow or because I napped today I couldn’t.

I looked at the clock and it was 12:34 Knoxville was asleep by now I could tell by his heavy breathing. I decided to go downstairs and have some water so I snuck out of my room and when I got downstairs I see Jenn down their about to leave

“How come you aren’t staying?”

“Bams just being a bit of a dick right now but I’ll see you in a couple days bye”

I sit in the kitchen having some water and once I’ve finished I still don’t feel like sleeping so I decide to look around. As best as you can in the dark. I quietly open the front door and step into the garden it had a skate ramp and a swimming pool in it. I went to go back inside but the door is locked I’m not gonna ring the doorbell or id wake everyone up.

I walk round the back and I see a window open so I jump from the ramp to the roof and pull myself up I walk along to reach the window but I see something move next to me. It’s a squirrel. Shit I’m fucking terrified of them they’re Satan reincarnated.

“Oh my god oh my god stop”I try to move as quick as I can to the window and quickly climb in to the room and close the window quietly while repeating those words.

“Jenn I told you to go away”bam room shit. I don’t answer and attempt to just get out of the room but I step on something and it slips out from under me and I fall onto the bed.

“Shit sorry.” Bam leans over and turns his bedside lamp on and rub his eyes. “What are you doing”

“I got locked out of the house then I had to climb threw your’e window to get away from the squirrel like I said sorry and night.”

“Are you on something” bam asks not believing me. I pull a confused face not knowing why he would be confused. “ why were you running from a squirrel?”

“Cos they’re fucking scary haven’t you seen Charlie and the chocolate factory?” At my distress yknow way he does. Laugh.I soon join in and we’re just sat they’re laughing together in His room.

Once the laughing stops he breaks the silence. “How did you even get up here?”bam asks thinking back on my story “I jumped off your ramp.you any good at skating”

“Yeah pretty good you?”

“Stepped foot on one once and fell onto someone’s bed. It seems pretty cool other than that though”

“I could teach you sometime.”

“I’ll hold you to that bam” me and bam speak about anything and everything with me now sitting above his covers on his bed and we switched the lamp off.

He tells me all about his family and when he asks about mine something in the room shifts it’s awkward.

Well I actually left home when I was 16 because me and my mum never got along she always preferred my sister i always hung out with my dad but I didn’t have many friends but these girls invited me to hangout with them and I snuck out an we went to some abandoned school and we would go there smoke some weed and whatever and once we were spray painting and the police turned up my friends ran and a policeman got me and I kicked him in the balls and they took me to jail and when my mum got that call she went crazy she said she was so disappointed in what I’ve become and that she won’t bail me out because she didn’t actually want me to come home. My dad eventually came in and took me home but I got there and my room was all boxed up and she kicked me out and said she didn’t want to see me again so I moved in with my sister.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t know”

“Yeah well how could you I don’t tell anybody so I’m could u try not to mention that”

“Pinky promise”we interlock pinkies and I kiss my hand and he copies.the conversation moves on and soon enough we’re shushing the other to stop Laughing until I notice the clock and see that it’s 2:12 and I can tell bams tired and I am as well.

“Wait y/n it was cool talking to you and if you need to talk I’m always here.” I grab a pillow an throw it at hand face. Don’t get all sappy now bam I thought you were supposed to be a cool skater boy.

I leave and head back to my room and wriggle into bed having to shove Johnny over a bit and for a second I lay there thinking about bam and how much I trusted him I wonder what tomorrow will be like before I know it I’m out like a light.

This one was acc really long

Omg guys I’m so pissed I wrote this like a week ago but I didn’t press save and I LOST RVEYTHUNG the first one was way better

Requests always open

-liv

#liv’s writing #jackass x reader #bam margera x reader #steve o #bam margera #johnny knoxville #dave england #danger ehren #wee man #preston lacy #ryan dunn #chris pontius

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sunkissedscribbles · 2 months

Text

Prejudiced - Chapter Six

this is only a part of the series, the previous and next chapters can be found here

a/n: GUYS this is my favourite one so far, i had so much fun with this. was listening to meddle about by chase atlantic while writing the first part of it. enjoy<3

word count: 3297

tw: um probably swearing, cassie getting a little carried away, mention of sex

summary: cassie finally breaks and tells kiara what’s been bothering her but as always, things only get even more complicated when she tries to apologize to mattheo.

dividers by @chachachannah

As dramatic as it might sound, I spend my Sunday morning locked away in my room in fear after what I've done. Thoughts regarding my stupidity rush through my brain, not leaving me a split second to think about anything else. If I were able to think of something else, I'd be thinking about how big of a genius I was for doing my homework yesterday. But there's no time, nor enough capacity in my brain to keep my mind off that kiss. Almost kiss — it wasn't a real kiss. It was just a little peck on the lips, wasn't it? Like a friendly smooch.

But friends don't kiss each other's lips, I remind myself.

Damnit. Why do I always have to prove no one can fool with me? Mattheo was just teasing, no harm was done by that, and I was an idiot, there's no denying that one.

An hour into me rushing into my dorm dramatically, shoving past fellow Gryffindors who must've thought I've given in to the stereotypes, declaring I'm a psychopath like my aunt and other ancestors by how I was behaving, Kiara knocks on my door. One thing is for sure about her; she does not know personal space, and she never knocks. But now, I think she knows it's different. I've pushed it too far. But wasn't I just responding to Mattheo?

No. It was outright the stupidest thing I've ever done in my life.

"Cass. I'm coming in," my best friend's voice echoes through the wooden door, seconds later she's sitting on my bed next to me, awkwardly patting my head as I cry, and unintentionally finding humour in her way of comforting people, I let out a brief laugh, followed by a big sob as I lay my head into her lap.

"I've ruined it, Ki. I-I... he won't ever-" I must stop to gather my thoughts for a moment. "He won't forgive me for this. I'll be the reason we part. Us five."

Kiara just listens for a while, gently caressing my hair as a way of comfort. "I'm so sorry-y," I sob and she immediately starts hushing me. "It's not your fault. You didn't ruin anything. If I were him, I would've enjoyed it," she reassures me. But I can only think of one thing.

"So, he didn't? He said I kissed badly?" I let out another big sob and she smacks my forehead lightly, not to cause me any pain.

"Fuck off. I bet you're a great kisser."

"But-"

"No buts. You are and you know it too. Plus, it wasn't even a real kiss."

To that, I respond with heavier cries. Because she's right.

"My first kiss wasn't even a kiss. And it wasn't real either," I bury my face into her thigh, but she makes me look at her by commanding me to do so.

"Why'd you do it?"

I shrug and shake my head, my voice trembles as I speak and it's barely above a whisper as I can feel my throat tighten with guilt, "I don't know."

After a few minutes, I sit up and start to play with the gold ring on my finger.

"I-I guess I let my frustration take the best of me," I let out a sharp, breathy exhale and run a hand through my hair before continuing. "And... he was right there. And I guess I just wanted to, you know..."

"...Kiss someone?" she helps me out patiently, speaking calmly, to that, I nod. I now realize how stupid and childish it sounds. And Ki sees right through me if I haven't been embarrassed enough for today.

"But it's not only that, is it?"

I look away and shake my head. "No."

"Talk to me. You know I'm right here."

To that, my blood starts to boil again because how would she understand? She's got everything, all the experience and what've I got? Fear of not being enough, fear of running out of time and missing out on life.

"I'm running out of time, Ki. I haven't had my first kiss yet and you have already lost your virginity-"

"It comes in different times for everyone, Cass. Don't compare us."

"I know! I know it does and that I shouldn't, but I can't, okay? Not when all of you are smoking, drinking, attending all those parties where you leave me alone, you and Theo to do that, Mattheo to dance with a girl who's not at all like me, and Enzo not even turning up! And then no one notices I've left. Not even Matt who's been there with me after you two left. Maybe I'm doing something wrong-"

"You aren't."

"-or maybe the problem is with me but I'm not feeling well, for fuck's sake," I blurt out, and my voice trembles while another tear is running down my cheek unstoppably.

Kiara just looks at me with an expressionless face and she nods. She knows. I freeze. She knew this whole time...? Does she know about my problems with my body image too?

She waits for me to continue but I don't. I just turn the conversation back to the topic.

"And now I kiss this twat. All because you three don't know when to stop teasing and because I don't know where to draw that fucking line, okay? I'm a horrible person and my actions will cost a whole friend group. I'm so fucking sorry that I can't be a better fucking person," I spit furiously. It's not Kiara I'm angry of — it's me, my unspoken feelings, and the world that got me this enraged.

In the end, she gets me to calm down. It takes some time but that's enough for me to go down to the Slytherin common room and apologize to the curly-haired boy.

I watch the scene escalate the second I step into the common room. For a moment, I freeze to make sure I'm not hallucinating. I see two boys fighting in the Muggle way, throwing punches.

"You fucking moron," I hear Enzo's voice echo through the space and his voice bounces back off the cold stone walls of the castle as he hits Mattheo back. The other students are only watching the scene before their eyes, rooting for either boy to win. Enzo already has a black eye and Mattheo bruised lips, from where Enzo's fist last found him.

A few seconds later I take the initiative and getting Blaise Zabini, — whom I learn from the fight's about some girl — and another Slytherin student to help me separate the boys, they hold a raging Lorenzo Berkshire back as I pull the other delinquent, Mattheo back. But it doesn't help at all. Where are Ki and Theo when they're needed?

Even when telling Mattheo those sweet lies of how it's alright, how it's not worth fighting, he doesn't stop but nor does Enzo. It takes all my physical strength to shove Mattheo under a cold rain of water in the Slytherin bathroom when his dark eyes don't seem to soften and my words do not look like they're helping, at all.

"Look at me!" I demand. The cold water's dripping from Mattheo's hair, hitting his face like a heavy London rain in the summer, and soaking the both of us' clothes. When he finally meets my gaze, his eyes remain darkened but now, with another emotion, apart from anger it isn't violent, it's just aggressive. Lust, desire.

He pushes me against the wall of the shower, keeping me steady sandwiched between him and the cold bathroom tiles with his hips as his fingers dig into my waist, making a small grunt escape my lips. Not even a millisecond later, his lips press aggressively against mine, not caring that they're bruised because of that punch delivered by Enzo. I need a second or two to realize what the fuck is happening right here, like damn, I'm being kissed by Mattheo Riddle, but then I warm up against his lips and reciprocate the kiss. He kisses deeply, aggressively, and not at all hiding his lust, but this is what's so beautiful about it. My hands wander up his back until they reach his wet curls — might I mention we're still standing under the cold shower. I pull on his hair here and there while my fingers rake through his locks, causing a few low growls to leave his throat and as a response, his hands travel lower onto my hips, and they slowly make their way to grab onto my butt. To this, my head snaps back, against the cold wall and Mattheo's lips trace a line of kisses along my jaw, making their way and stopping on my neck but not at all draw an end to the kissing. His one hand remains on my ass but the other finds its way to the hem of my long-sleeve and travels under it to tease the soft skin of my stomach. The second his palm presses against my wet skin I let out a gasp and Mattheo's lips find their way back to mine while he groans as a response to the pleasure and excitement that we're both feeling right now. I tug on his curls again, following his lead of aggression while his one hand starts travelling further up my body under my top. My breathing's shallow and it as well as my heartbeat are uncontrolled and rapid as a sense of euphoria washes over my whole being that is right now only dedicated to the boy kissing me. His hand, though, stops right before reaching my breasts and after one last kiss, to my dismay, he pulls back from me, and after staring at me with those chocolate eyes in which lust has just been replaced by regret, he steps away, and giving me no reaction time, he turns around and storms out of the bathroom. I stare at the shut door for a few seconds, digesting what had happened just now. Then, I turn the water off with a disappointed look in my eyes, and with a longing ache in my heart and in dripping wet clothes, I make my way to Kiara's dorm.

Disappointed, crushed, destroyed — this is how I would describe my mood after the kiss we've shared with Mattheo under the shower. Not because it happened, though, more of it ever ending; even if it sounds cliché. Over the days following the kiss, I find myself thinking about it, maybe even more than I should, as well as I find myself staring at the curly-haired boy in question over the classrooms, again, more than I should, as I'm trying to figure my feelings out. If I even like him, or it's just the mental image of us, and how we shared a moment. How he satisfied my five senses; the taste of his lips that I can still recall, being met by his lustful eyes that would make me weak in the knees, the feeling of his hands wandering, grazing my skin as they made it their personal mission to explore every inch of my body, the scent of how his cologne mixed with his shampoo as the running water washed everything together, and hearing the sound of our greedy kisses and the sounds he made, driven by pure desire. I wanted a kiss? Well, I got it. But I might have lost a friend as well. I don't fancy him — I can't fancy him.

He doesn't talk to me. Not a word is spoken between us for days, but I know for sure he's approached Theo the same way I did Kiara. "I did something bad, something extremely horrible," this is how I stormed into Ki's dorm on Sunday, clothes dripping with water, on the verge of crying and panicking.

It's one thing he doesn't talk to me and doesn't even try to get in touch. But it's another that Enzo now officially despises us both. Because I also learned it's my fault they'd got into that fight. Because I 'kissed' Mattheo. The kiss that morning that I referred to as a 'friendly smooch.' Well, this second one for sure wasn't an innocent little smooch on the lips. And why does that bother Enzo; I spent too much time thinking about it, looking for an answer. According to Kiara, Theo, and even the twins, he likes me, but in my opinion, maybe he only wanted to protect me from, well, the monster people claim Mattheo to be. But from Ki and Theo's constant teasing back when everything was alright, I doubt I'd be right with the second option. Which is bad. Horrible. Horrible, because I love Enzo, okay? But not at all romantically. Enzo is the guy I'd live together and adopt 60 cats with, taking care of them as platonic cat parents, not the guy I see myself falling for.

So, now my entire friend group is falling apart, all because of me.

And it goes like this, everyone drifting away and the only mutual connection being Theo and Ki, for three weeks. What happens after three weeks, you might wonder. Kiara and Theo, the two kind souls deciding it's time for Mattheo and me to make up ("Make ou- up, I mean. One way or another, him on top, or you, I don't care. I've had enough of this bickering," if I may quote Kiara's words) for what happened. As a solution, we arrive at the present day; they shove us into a broom closet and lock the door until we're done having a heart-to-heart.

"So..." Mattheo's voice is unsteady, so he clears his throat.

I've been thinking about this a lot; about what we should do if he ever were to talk to me again. And I've come to a sensible conclusion.

"Can we forget about it?"

"Let's be more," Mattheo says right when I blurt my suggestion out. And because we're talking at the same time and since I'm focusing on saying the right words, I hear my words louder than his, thus I don't understand what he says.

"Sorry," we mutter at the same time. "You start," I pass him the ball.

"No, you," to that, I sigh and nod.

"I said let's forget about it. We'd just ruin the whole group and there's the Enzo problem too. We were just... acting on a whim, weren't we?" I offer an apologetic smile and to that, his eyes become a little colder and his muscles tense up in his whole body, all too perceptible as I see his facial features change, his muscles twitching underneath the soft skin I'd like to touch the way I did three weeks ago.

Fuck, Cassie, stop this.

"Yeah. I was thinking the same," he nods. I'm not even able to read his expression because of the cold eyes he's giving me. He's shutting down again. Oh, I know for a fact he's a Pisces moon.

"Mattheo," I frown, "have I said something wrong?"

He shakes his head and lets out a sigh, his exterior softening. "No, you haven't."

Before I could ask him if he's sure about that, the snickering from the other side of the door catches my ear and I immediately forget that I've even wanted to ask anything. And our broom-closet-duo is supplemented by a cursing Enzo who stumbles in by being pushed in by two pairs of hands.

The second he notices us, he becomes defensive, having his arms crossed in front of his chest and his expression dark and hardened. "Am I interrupting something?" he asks coldly, clearly hurt as his sarcastic words ring in the tight space. He can't even look at me — he's only staring into Mattheo's eyes, coldly as never before. Then, after a few seconds, he looks at me and speaks bitterly. "Or is one guy not enough for you?"

The muscles in my face all tense up at his sarcastic remark. I see the twitch in Mattheo's fists — he'd jump right at Enzo and start another fistfight. Enzo's words though, in me, cut deep, and now I'm just becoming more sure that Kiara and Theo have been right about how Enzo might like me. Might. May. Must do so. And I want to shovel dirt on me and bury myself alive.

"Can't we talk this through?" I suggest in a hurt tone.

"I'm not having this discussion with this in the room," Enzo spits bitterly with a straight back, clearly referring to Mattheo. And again, I'd like to turn the time back to where I messed it all up by acting on a whim when I gave Mattheo that smooch the morning after his nightmare.

"Neither do I," Mattheo claims through gritted teeth, glaring at Enzo while trying to hold his disruptive anger back.

"If you want a threesome, not with him," Enzo shoots back and before I can even respond, a fist is thrown in his direction, followed by a grunt from Enzo.

I try to pull Mattheo back but there's no use. I make my mind up — if I can't get them off each other by my hands, I'm gonna do it by wand. I grab the vine-wood wand from my back pocket and point at them both. "Immobulus," I say in a relatively calm tone that covers my frustration, watching as a blue light flashes from the tip of my wand, freezing the wrestling boys in their movements.

"Let's keep it short," I start in an annoyed voice as I glare down at the boys, the frustrated, almost angry undertone growing upon my words the more I go on. "Have I kissed Mattheo? Yes, I have. But it has nothing to do with Enzo. I'm friends with both of you, nothing more, and less only if you two keep this bickering shit up. You are my best friends, you are my only family, but if you can't appreciate it, then I guess we should call this off. We're all hurting and I know I made a bloody mistake, but we are hurting Kiara and Theodore too with what we've been doing in the past weeks. You two have to get over this, and I have some unfinished business with both of you, but I can only do that if you finally listen to me. And if you actually have some intelligent thoughts in those shrunken brains of yours still, let me know. And stop fighting over childish nonsense, finally. We're not in nursery school anymore, for Salazar's bollocks!"

Okay, saying I'm in a mood is an understatement, I have to agree on that one. But who wouldn't react similarly in a situation like this? Or I do have gone mental — and if that's the case, I'll have to apologize to Hermione.

I'm still looking at the boys lying on the floor under the effects of the Freezing Charm, and I can only hope their brains could process my previous rant — but after a few more seconds, I do the counterspell on the arses of the bloody morons.

They sit up and do a little shake of their hands, both looking at me as if they saw the basilisk, neither of them saying a word but they get up eventually.

I cross my arms in front of me and glare at them. "Shake hands."

"What?" they ask in unison.

"Do it. Shake hands. And get over this shit."

Reluctantly, but they do it, exchanging angry, frustrated gazes, then they both look at me. I have no intention of talking about what happened between either of them and me, not like this, when they're both present — that wouldn't do much good to anyone. All I say is "Sorry," and they mutter a "Me too."

thanks for reading it, and don't foget to comment if you'd like to be on the tag list<3

tag list: @reyys-letters @mqstermindswift @inksoakedparchment

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mrsbluehands · 4 months

Note

Can I request assassin Creed yandere Enzo x gender, neutral, reader headcannons

Cara mia

Yandere headcanons (x reader)

Assassin's creed Ezio x reader

Thank you for the request anon! Hope you will like it! I got a bit creative in terms of head canon.

Tw: Dark themes (yandere, but soft), blood

Pronouns: Gn

There is just so much to say about this guy as a yandere, it's not hardcore yandere, but I hope you like it either way!

How did you two met

He had never seen someone like you ever before in his life, and he had seen all kind of people! You were just special in his eyes.

Ezio isn't the kind of man to fall in love in the blink of an eye. Being an assassin was a full time job an didn't leave any moment to spare for a childish crush.

He also couldn't bear the thought of someone getting hurt because of him. But it all changed when he met you. He knew was could protect you. He knew nothing could ever harm you as long as you were his.

It was a normal afternoon for you. The sun was slowly setting, giving the whole alley a orange hue. You were gathering the rest of the clothes you were trying to sell on the streets when he saw you. Maybe it was how the sun was making your hair shine? Or how your eyes swiped on him like he wasn't even there, but something awakened inside of him. You finally looked up from your marchandise, the light catching into your magnificent irises. This first time, his feet dragged him up to you like they had a mind of their own. He stopped himself, hiding behind a wall in the alley, just to observe your graceful form moving among the crowd. How could you be so pretty? You had to be an angel.

His heart was pounding in his chest when you finally looked up to him, showing him your brightest smile. "Hello! Would you be interested in something?" You said gesturing at your marchandise.

Oh then he knew. He knew you had made your way into his heart never to leave it again.

When he fell for you

You might think about Ezio as an impulsive person, but with you, he couldn't just take the risk of scaring you away.

He took his time with you.

First by observing your every move. What did you like to do in the morning? When were you going to bed? Where were your favourites places to be.

Second by being exactly where he had to be. Oh? On Mondays you would pay a visit to your family? He would be right here waiting for you on the road to give you a small smile, as you walk pass him. On Wednesday you would go to the market and sell your goods? He would always be your very first customer.

He was there like always. A shadow figure leaning against a wall near your parents house. He smiles and give you a small wave. Why do you feel so drawn to a complete stranger? Maybe it's how he always dresses in your favourite colours? Or how he offered you your favourite flowers one day. How could he know?

"Hello mister, how are you doing today?" You greet him with your usual smile. "Better now that I have seen your face!" He takes your hand and leave a small kiss on the back of it, his lips lingering on your skin. Strangely enough, the feeling was something you started to crave every time you would pass by him.

You fell for him too?

It was starting to feel like dates when you two would "randomly" run into one another in town.

But it just wasn't enough. He wanted more of you in his life. He had to have you by his side all the time. Can't you imagine how beautiful you would look hands wrapped around his arm?

The way you gently take a hold of his hand when you two walk is making him even more crazy for you (if that's is even possible at this point).

You two weren't married, but what was a little harmless flirt?

It's a beautiful evening. The sun is slowly setting reminding you of the first time you saw him in town. It's getting a little chilly, but with his arm wrapped around your waist and the adorable way you cling to him, there is no way you could feel the cold. You felt happy when he held you. "I want to see you more often, cara mia." You smiled at him. "Don't you think we can see plenty of each other already?" His grip tightened on you, pulling you flush against him by your waist. "Let me accompany you at your house, just for today..." he says in a deep tone.

You don't know if it was the way he looked at you or how he slowly caressed your hand in his, or even when he pressed his forehead against yours, but you accepted right away.

"Alright."

Of course you did

He was everything you could have wanted. Sweet, caring, protective... he treated you better than anyone could've.

But he had his flaws, oh of course it was nothing major! Just observing you from afar conversing with one of your regular client. Too regular for him. He saw where his eyes were wandering when you weren't looking.

Just a minor inconvenience.

He wipes his blade on the dirtied shirt of the man laying in a pool of blood beneath him. Third one this week. You surely wouldn't get that much clients in the next week, but he would make sure to comfort you as best as he could. The same evening he visits you house for the first time feeling a wave of affection for you. Nothing could go between you and him. You were made for each other.

Forever together

He would visit you from time to time, He was aware that you two couldn't exactly live together. (your parents wouldn't have approved as you two weren't exactly married) but it was only a matter of time.

It wasn't a real wedding, of course that would be a little problematic for the assassin, but you understood. Your love was enough to create a permanent bond between you two.

Your parents were delighted! You marring a nobleman? A real dream for a poor family like yours!

You could almost say you were living together at this point. He would never leave the house, but to go to some of his secret missions he couldn't talk about.

He smiled softly at you, but something in his eyes had shifted. He looked in love. Too in love. As you both held hands and pronounced your vows you felt your heart skip a beat as you promised each other that even death wouldn't tear you apart. It was a warm summer evening. You two were alone but for Leonardo who you chose to be your witness. "I love you cara mia" he squeezed your hand tightly.

#assassin's creed #ezio auditore #ezio x reader #assassin's creed x reader #x reader #yandere x reader #headcanon

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lost-in-lamentation · 1 year

Note

prompt twenty and leviathan, please! 🧡

a/n: i thought of this scenario while i was on genshin and accidentally let all my chars die cause i scrambled to type it out lmao fly high chongyun

prompt #20: leviathan + “thank you.” “for what?” “for coming into my life.”

content: levi realises how much you’ve done for him all this time.

no warnings!

fluff. leviathan x gen!reader (you/your).

levi figures that there’s no harm skipping dinner for the 5th time in a row this week. after all, there’s raids he has to take care of, and a new banner on one of his favourite gacha games is dropping soon. he’ll have to grind for hours if he wants to guarantee the best results. it won’t matter to anyone if he’s not there today, the demon decides. he slips his headphones on, cracking his knuckles as he flops into the chair in front of his monitor. the hours tick by faster than he would have liked; before long, there’s a knock at the door, accompanied by a welcome voice.

“levi? you didn’t come down for dinner, are you okay?”

levi pulls one side of his headphones away from his ear. “just come in MC, i can’t pause my game here,” he calls out, skillfully controlling his character with only one hand on the keyboard.

the door clicks open softly, your figure slipping through with a bowl of food in hand. “is now a bad time? i can come back later-”

“no! no, just- one second-” levi fumbles on his words. within a minute, his character is standing under a victory banner, and levi is quick to slide his headphones down to his neck. “what is it?” when he turns around, he sees you brushing the thin layer of dust that has collected on some of his figurine shelves. his heart twists at the sight.

“dinner,” you repeat with a chuckle, searching around his room for the small foldable table. he hears you mutter a “found it”, and all he can do is watch as you bring it over to him. the table unfolds with ease, and you’re placing the food on it when you’ve determined it won’t collapse. “eat something before your next raid, okay?”

“r-right,” levi stutters out, surprised at all you were doing for him. “i don’t have any more for the next few hours, so i have some time,” he says softly, eyes following you around as you slowly tidy up the things that were cluttered on the floor.

“great, so start eating dinner!” you send him a smile, then turn back to cleaning the mess.

levi hums out an acknowledgement, tousling the food with the spoon you had provided before digging in. time begins to pass by again, a comfortable silence laying over the two of you as he finishes his dinner. when levi finishes, he places the bowl on the table with a low clink, shifting his gaze to find you watching the fish swim around in his aquarium. “

“oh, are you done?” you take the bowl away from his side before he responds. “you can’t keep missing dinner, levi. it’s not good for you. ah! i forgot to bring you water!”

levi waves his hands at you, his chest aching at how you were concerned for him. "MC, it’s okay, i have water here,” he assures you. “and uh… i won’t miss tomorrow. i promise.”

you smile at him again, and levi wonders how you haven’t become tired of him yet. “i’m gonna bring this back to the kitchen. do you need anything?” the avatar of envy shakes his head in return. “alright then. before i go, i wanted to ask. can i come back here later tonight?”

“what for?”

“i wanna hang out with you.” levi doesn’t know if his heart is in his throat or his stomach; he can only stare at you in disbelief at such a question. “i don’t hear a no, so i’ll be back later!”

before long, you’ve disappeared from his room, leaving levi to debate all the reasons why you might want to return. you’re gone for longer than levi expected you to be, but he wishes you left him more time to mentally prepare himself. when you walk back into his room, pyjamas on and blanket draped around your shoulders, levi feels heat spreading across his face.

“m-make yourself comfortable,” levi finally manages to say aloud.

“already am,” you say nonchalantly, shuffling over to sit in front of his bathtub and pulling a book out from behind your back. “don’t mind me, just play what you were going to.”

the pounding in levi’s chest echoes all the way up to his head. his mind swims through reality, and he briefly thinks that he’s imagined a new world for himself. but the way you wrap your blanket tight around yourself and giggle at a line from your novel makes levi think otherwise. he can barely focus on the game at hand, and eventually gives up altogether. out of frustration, he rubs his hands against his face, sighing into them before swivelling his chair around to face you. “MC, you can sit in the tub. o-only if you want to! it just, might be better for your back there.”

with a grin, you’re clambering over the side, sliding in to cushion yourself against his blankets. “maybe the bathtub isn’t so bad,” you giggle, burrowing yourself further in. “i like how it smells like the ocean here. it’s just like you.”

“h-huh?!” the demon jumps out of his seat. “don’t just say stuff like that!” a part of him wants to kick you out; to reject everything you’ve done for him, and to forget the feeling that you always stirred in his stomach. and yet, he can’t bear to see you go. you’re laughing now, and it draws him closer to you. his feet carry him to his bathtub, and he stops just at the edge so that he can crouch down and lock eyes with you.

you look directly at him, and levi wants to believe that there’s something other than friendship in your eyes. “sorry,” you say, rather non-apologetically. “you okay there?”

levi takes a breath for courage, then swallows the rest of his nerves. “MC, i…” he crosses his arms and leans them on the bathtub. “thank you.”

“...for what?”

“for- for taking care of me, and keeping me company. and also, for coming into my life.” the instant the words leave his mouth, levi feels both regret and relief flood into his veins, and he nearly crashes onto the floor.

you act quicker, hauling him into the bathtub next to you. he stiffens against your touch, but relaxes immediately when you pull him on top of you. you lean back against the side of the tub, guiding levi’s head to fall onto your shoulder. all embarrassment forgotten, levi feels the tension leave his body. “i’d do anything for you, levi.” your breath on his ear tickles, and he shudders at the sensation. “you’re more calm than usual, you know. did you stay up all night again?”

levi shrugs against you. “i don’t know how long i’ve been up for.”

“well, that explains it.”

he feels you smile against the crown of his head, and levi doesn’t want this moment to end. “MC?” your humming vibrates through both your chest and his. “please don’t leave.”

levi sighs contentedly as your arms wind around his waist, hugging him flush against yourself. “not in a million years.”

a/n: there are so many mistakes in here and it's kinda #cringe but i feel free

reblogs are really appreciated (´ω｀) ♡

prompt list here.

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me levi fluff #obey me levi #obey me levi x you #obey me leviathan #obey me levi x reader #obey me levi x mc

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soraviie · 2 years

Text

you compare yourself to him 2.txt

━ type: bts x f! reader ━ navigation ━ part I here

━ about: angst atop of angst and some fluff

━ a/n: Bacchus here is a reference to a Korean energy drink in Yoongi's part. Jimin's part is my own favourite one :)

━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON: The world is...beige. Since when? Blinking away the heavy grogginess, you reach to touch the material on your face before removing it. Looking around one might think you'd slept through the whole warfare as every surface is covered in clothes. Amidst the maelstrom like a blur in the wind is Namjoon, tossing everything he could find all around. You reach to hook a finger around a silver chain necklace inexplicably dangling on a bedside lamp. You remember this one. You'd gifted him this in Tartu on a whim of being overwhelmingly lovesick for his dimples.

"Are you fleeing the country?" you rasp, voice falling gruff from the disuse. It had been...hard to talk after the gallery. Or look at yourself in the mirror. Or leave the bed.

At the sound of your voice, Namjoon whips around, accidentally pulling along with him a lightbox. Dimly you watch it clatter on the ground.

"Baby! Hello! Did you sleep well?" he asks with an eagerness of a zealous labrador and you frown.

"Well enough. Have you gone mad? Perhaps?"

He laughs as though this simple remark was the finest joke in the land.

"No, I'm very focused and logical," he chirps and your frown deepens. No way his brain was not harmed somehow. This was...suspicious to say the least.

"Listen, I'm going to be on the TV today -"

"You always are," dryly you point out but then he crawls on the bed and practically sticks his face into yours, so close you go cross-eyed.

"Make sure you watch it, okay? It'll be a live. Starts at 3."

"Okay," flustered you comply and as his breath fans your face the suspicion surges. "How many energy drinks have you had?"

"Nine!"

Your eyes pop open but you can't do much about it as he glimpsed down, finds the necklace glimmering between your fingers and lets out a jubilant cry.

"I've been looking for this thing! Thank you!" he begins leaving rushed kisses all over your face, graciously ignoring any protests. "Thank you, baby! My moon and stars!"

Was he drunk as well?

Pulling back just as haphazardly he glanced at the clock, breathing a horrified gasp.

"Oh, shit, I'm late! But the mess..." he tosses a guilty glimpse at the destroyed closet before you push him.

"I'll..I'll clean it, just go."

You had little to do anyway, not like you could go to a gallery to have worldly people fun. At that, a natural scoff worms upon your face.

"Thank you! I love you! I love you so much!" he yelps and presses himself fervently against you, capturing your lips in a sloppy, frantic kiss. The taste of energy drinks spills onto your mouth. The next you know, your boyfriend becomes Sonic and is out of the door leaving nothing but destruction in his wake.

Typical.

You're still folding some pants when reluctantly the weight of the promise burdens you too much and end up switching the TV, knowing in your heart that seeing him in his role as an idol, you'll only feel more distant. What sort of girlfriend tunes into the TV to see their boyfriend not just call them? What sort of girlfriend were you at all? You frown at the leg of the pants, bunching it in your palms before releasing it. A lame one. You were a lame girlfriend.

It couldn't be said that this interview was anything else that you hadn't seen and heard hundred times before but one thing does stick out like red in a sea of mourners. Namjoon looks like a goddamn patchwork game. You can squint and frown, an action which is done by many, including the interviewer, his band, and the camera operator probably as well. The look presented makes it seem he was blind, drunk, and high when choosing his clothes and also made that choice in a closet belonging to a crazy person. Green baggy pants, a red turtleneck, a white, little scarf, a beret and the necklace proudly laid to glisten in the middle of his chest which that turtleneck is giving it all to protect.

Was this his way of saying he needed a break?

"Uh, Namjoon, to address the uh...elephant in the room," the interviewer begins, pulling the collar of the shirt aside, under pressure to both ask and be very polite about it. "Are you experimenting with new fashion these days?"

"No," he beams back, suspiciously innocent and wide-eyed. "These are my favourite clothes! They give me comfort and remind me of being loved whenever I go."

You think back and start piecing together, a patchwork of your own if you will, that these were all things you got him. Some you had forgotten - the joke beret, the necklace but the red turtleneck was an impromptu Christmas present while the green pants he wanted but didn't have the time to go out and buy himself.

"I see," the interviewer drawls. "To segway off what you said, as k-pop idols, love is certainly a big part of your songs, may I ask how you view love on your own? Is it something you share with your image or is it completely different?"

"Well, I-" Taehyung begins but is immediately interrupted by Namjoon whose eagerness makes him look like a complete maniac. Poor Taehyung can only blink owlishly and then let the matter be.

"Thank you so much for asking! I've thought a lot about love, I always made it complicated in my head, but now I know better. Love is being understood," his eyes snap straight into the camera and you flinch as you hold eye contact. "It's to be comfortable and feeling heard. Most of the time you know people say you have to be of similar interests, that then you'll be able to bond better but that is simply not true. People are not bonded together by their diplomas, how many stamps they have on their passport or how many painting meanings they can discern."

Your cheeks flush.

"They are bonded because they share one another and that's what's important not the trivial nonsense others may push upon them. The world is made of perspectives and whenever our loved ones express their thoughts it becomes a better, more interesting place. And I think we ourselves as well. What matters is not how many, let's say, artwork meanings they get but how much of us they get."

"And do you feel..."get"?" the interviewer asks awkwardly and Namjoon splits into a broad smile.

"Very much so. I need nothing of no one else."

YOONGI: He stands there menacingly. A (not so) tall shadow cast over your bed at the very break of the dawn.

"You slept well?" he asks. Menacingly. Cause that's what he was. Menacing. Even the package in his hands is...menacing. You scurry to press yourself against the headboard. There's a determined gleam in his eye, one that says he was up to something and will see the fruits of his labour even if it kills him.

"Umm it was okay. Why are you cosplaying as the boy from the Grudge?"

He whines and the sinister aura disappears. You had hoped to avoid him for some days. Despite your best intentions, the words that you were only charity to Yoongi repeated their heinous loop over and over in your head.

"It was meant to be cute," he pouts. "Like watching over you in a guardian sort of way."

"Ended up with Brahms," you mutter and then erupt in a fit of coughs, dryness in the throat making it hard to speak.

Yoongi's face sours in an instant.

"Did you fall mute again?"

You shrug. It's easy not to talk when you don't exist. He sighs but doesn't prod, knowing full well he can't force things to be alright.

"Would you be up for dinner? A fancy one?"

You incline your head to the package and he hands it over. Inside sits dinner wear made of the finest quality.

"Why?" you rasp. "You don't usually like dressing up."

He shrugs and something about it has your eyes narrowing.

"Just wanted to do something different," he replies a bit too offhand. "Are you up to it?"

"I-" another cough interrupts the sentence and Yoongi rushes to get a glass of water. "Thank you. Okay. We can go to dinner."

Another dinner, yey, you think to yourself dryly but he seems for some reason excited and it would be no good to be a curmudgeon to him as well.

"Thank you, Bacchus," he bids softly and leans to kiss the top of your head.

You snort at the nickname.

But the dinner extravaganza didn't simply end there. With every passing second, the mystery tightened like an Agatha Christie novel. Yoongi insisted on you taking the car he ordered, tinted windows to add, to an undisclosed restaurant and with the driver oathed to not speak a word of it. Your phone he asked to shut off as well. Not put it on mute but turn it off entirely. You partially wondered if he hit a psychotic break of sorts and/or has unfortunately turned into a murderer. Mulling over the heartbreak that would be if your honey boy would turn into a killer, you were stunned to see a familiar face when climbing out of the car. Your mother.

"Mom? What are you doing here?"

She was dressed to the nines as well and seemed rather shocked to see you climbing out of the car. Around her neck sat a pearl necklace one you don't recall her having and she was nervously twiddling with it in front of the restaurant's host. A restaurant that you very purposefully avoided as one of its managers was none other than that annoying, grating, stick-so-far-up-her-ass-its-practically-impaling-her cousin of yours.

"I don't know," she replied, glancing around. "Your boyfriend asked me to be here."

Before you could answer anything, the host urged you to enter into a private area as was the case when you dined with someone who needed absolute security at all times. The group wasn't all that large, consisting of yourself, your mother, your aunt, the aunt who wasn't as cool as the first one her weird husband and their dog even, who was sporting a fancy bowtie for the occasion. By the table sat Yoongi and though many would say he appeared stoic you knew exactly what that sly, scheming son of a biscuit had done this evening. He raised to stand, politely bid welcome to all your relations who as always didn't know how to act so they settled on an ungainly silence, and then gave you flowers before kissing your cheek. By the bar, her eyes glinting like two wildfires, sat your cousin gurgling her own poison most likely.

"I'm so going to choke you for this," you discreetly whisper into his ear but he only smiles.

With alcohol loosening much of the knotted tongues, the dinner progressed smoothly. Yoongi occasionally coquettishly leaned in, so unlike him, and brushed his nose against your cheek. All, of course, a part of an elaborate apology.

"But you were afraid of my mother," you argue, walking hand in hand back home. Where your cousin went you did not know but it was unlikely she would be present at the next meeting.

"Still am," he chuckles but even then there is an undercurrent of fright running deep. "But after you hung up I called her and she relayed that you looked like a ghost for the rest of the evening. And I know I said this a thousand times but I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm not always there for you, I'm sorry for being absent, I'm sorry if anyone ever made you feel like you're invisible," he sighed, stretching he tie looser from his neck and you adjusted his hair, mussed by a strong gust of wind.

"Still you don't need to do all that," softly you say. "It's enough for you to just show up sometimes and be awkward in the corner."

"I know," he kisses the top of your head pushing the doors open. "Just wanted to show that you're the only one I see."

JIN: In a fashion that probably millions of other people did before him he pretended everything was fine. That it was all fine. What was it? Fine. Normal. Nothing was happening. Everything's usual. The same old. And then he cried in the bathroom stall for ten minutes, before forcing it to all stop and pretending that it was all fine.

But as your things became scarcer and two lives that he meant to unite forever were separated, clinically and detached like a scalpel of a surgeon, the less he could pretend it was fine.

It wasn't fine. It was over.

Jin was never one for relationship theatrics to say that his life was over as well but now he realized that it was - the life he wanted at least and possibly could have had in the future - was dust.

But there is some truth to the idea that sometimes loving someone was leaving them, letting them go in a wind, like a migrating bird, away from the winter of discontent and into the summer of ease.

And you assure him it's nothing he had done. Perhaps that's the most infuriating part, it's nothing he'd done so he can't correct, he can't change the world for you even if he wants to oh so bad. But harder still is to watch, watch you be a hollow shell, driven to a point of insecurity so high you ill. No jokes of his, no smiles, no well-meaning words of his can change the sentiment.

"I can't do this anymore. I can't handle the world you live in."

Even if he wouldn't be an idol, it's a world Jin has always lived in. He knows how to not buckle underneath the waves of judgment cause he had swum in them since but a bare-bottomed infant.

"You can always crash here or call me if you need help," he offers, trying to sound as light as possible while helping you pack the last boxes. Such a strange thing to help the love of your life leave you but despite all Jin has always wanted to take care. So he takes care one last time.

"That's not how it works," you laugh. It's dry and humourless and he wonders how long will it take for you to move on. The love is not lost it just couldn't conquer all as lovely as that would be.

"Yeah, I guess so," he scuffs his slipper against the floor. The home is empty now. It feels physically wrong and Jin hopes to himself this would all be a bad dream. That this is the same night he got you from the police station and this was a concoction of the mind, wormed and plagued by guilt.

"Eat well, okay," he reminds. There's so much he wants to say but he lets himself choke on those words. Why? He doesn't quite know but the last thing he wants to do is make you feel any worse. That's not what a good partner does. Even if he's soon to not be one.

"I will," you promise. "Remember to stretch once in a while, you play too many video games, they can make your muscles tense."

He doesn't trust his voice so Jin nods. And just like that, it's over. A thirty-second walk to the elevator is all he gets instead of a whole life he'd been so certain of. But even now he thinks that better you be happy than miserable by his side. The elevator dings and he's buying seconds, he would put his entire fortune for just a minute.

"Where will you be travelling exactly?" he asks.

"I don't know. Somewhere warm, somewhere cold. Find myself again," you reply, pretending it's all fine as well. If you acknowledge the reality for just a second, you'll break and so you delude yourself. For just a bit.

Jin nearly says to send him a lot of videos but then bites on his tongue. The elevator opens and you climb in, a suitcase behind you, a carton box in the crook of your arm. Jin smiles.

"You know, life is strange. Should we suddenly cross paths five years later who knows how it'll turn out, right?"

It's, of course, a hopeful delusion, a length of rope many have tied around their necks with a smile on their face but he can't stop. He doesn't want to stop. If the movie has a hopeful ending, it's a love story, if not - it's a tragedy and Jin was never one for tragedies.

Be that as it may, you open your mouth to say something, anything, but the elevator closes and the rest is silence.

HOSEOK: He glowers. Hoseok is not known for glowering but he does so to his earnest. The foot tapping the floor nearly makes a dent in the material as he waits. Waits for you like a disappointed parent or a hunter lying in an ambush. Hoseok himself doesn't particularly care what he is as long as he gets what he wants which is you at home.

She's not cheating, she would never cheat, he tells himself but isn't that what all poor bastards of the world thought. The hallway is dark and you stumble freely, assuming he's not here and then nearly crack your skull open when seeing him stand stoic like a statue in the dark.

"Fucking hell!" you yell and he jumps, somehow startling himself by the loudness of your voice.

"Welcome back," he greets you cooly, turning on the lights. "Hoped I was out?"

You stand squirming in guilt and avoiding his gaze exactly like a cheater would but there's no cologne on your blouse or a hickey on the neck. The only thing you carried was a plastic bag with snacks. Cheap, cheap snacks.

He takes it away from your hands and peers inside. Ramen, cotton buds, chocolate chips, and seaweed for some reason.

"I don't understand," he breathes out. "You're...all this time...every time you're not home you're doing grocery shopping?"

You don't answer anything and his brows furrow in confusion.

"_____________, I don't understand. Please, tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing wrong per se," you brush off. "It's just I..."

"I?" he urges.

"It's where I feel like I belong."

For a while, he leans into the wall and then it clicks together.

The store was perhaps the most normal thing possible with people going about their day, hardly any limelight. Hardly any luxury.

"You're with me, I love you," he sighs. "My world is your world."

"Yeah," you brush off, clearly lying. "I know."

And perhaps it's the stress or perhaps the fierceness with which he's ready to tie himself to you, a move he never thought he could wholeheartedly make, he has none of it. Which brings him back to a party, one in his name once more just a tad more covert.

"I don't know about this," you stammer, trying to pull your hand away from his.

"Just trust me. Don't you trust me?"

"Not with that tone," you whine crossing the street. "Listen, I'm happy your album is a success, couldn't be prouder -"

Hoseok's ears flush to this day when hearing any praise from your mouth.

"Thank you."

"- but you can, you know, have fun and I'll chill out somewhere else."

He whips around.

"Is it something someone said?" he confronts and you awkwardly glance away.

"They don't need to say it, it's apparent. I'm sticking out like a sore thumb in these places."

"I don't care for them and neither should you! If these parties are about me, then you should always be a part of them. I invite all the guys, all the time -"

"Yeah, you all work in the same field," you roll your eyes and he lightly flicks your forehead.

"Dummy, they're my family, you're my family and my family is with me in celebrations."

You gaze at your intertwined hands.

"Obviously, I can't and shouldn't force you to be here but trust me and maybe I can make you feel a little bit better."

You draw a heavy sigh, bemoaning to yourself about the sacrifices of love and with gritted teeth step into the enemy territory. It's loud and bright with many strangers surrounding you like flies around honey. You notice Jin and Jungkook tucked away neatly in the corner and they offer knowing nods of the head. You frown at them and turn to the stage where there's a podium and a magnificent chair like a throne behind it. Hoseok sits you, confused, down in it, sort of in the background but always present like an overarching symbolic presence and if people look then even faster they swerve away in guilt. Hoseok's smile is bright and polite but there is no question about it that the line "let's be friendly" means no one so much as opens their mouth to toss a curt comment or swerve their eye your way in an inappropriate manner. In between Hoseok frequently checking back and Jin pulling you into a nameless 1v1 phone game, you forget of the crowd, their judgement and your need for their opinion. Whenever you glance up, Hoseok is there giving an encouraging smile and you realize the one opinion that matters the most will never waver from always being in your favour.

JIMIN: The money spilt all across the counter as Mari yelped, startled when the door was simply kicked open.

"I-I'm sorry but we're clo-"

"What is this?" Jimin's voice comes with a sharpness you'd never ever heard before. It makes you swallow nervously, eyes lingering on the paper slip clutched in his palm.

"I...I explained what it is," you squirm anxiously and Mari's head is a blur, switching to left and fro in between you both.

"We..we have to keep closing," she whimpers, shrivelled small by the register squeaking in a barely audible tone.

Jimin's eyes snap towards her and she immediately withers underneath his rage.

"Just go home," you order her, tired, and she doesn't have to be told twice. Only a second passes before she's scurrying to the door. Momentarily, you can see that she recognizes the masked stranger but that makes her eyes only hang lower as she desperately tries to not be remembered, probably counting the sum of his displeasure in her head. When the bell rings to announce her exit, the air presses down with tension.

You twist the towel in your hands, pulling a deep breath to speak a string of words that cut your heart open.

"Jimin, I want...I want to break up."

"No."

A pause.

"No?" stunned, you echo.

"I'm not breaking up with you."

He has pulled the mask off his face and his eyes are crazy. They're rimmed red. He's been crying.

"You can't just -" you begin to object but he quickly interrupts.

"Do you still love me?"

The question takes you by surprise but he's not content with silence.

"Do you still love me?" he reiterates with more strength and you nod, voice catching in the throat.

"I do, but -"

"When we got together I said it would be hard but we promised, you promised that we would work through our problems together."

"I'm sorry," you murmur.

"Not accepted," Jimin snaps and you flinch. "What was this - "I'm sure in time you'll find yourself a more appropriate partner with whom you'll feel happier." With all due respect, ______________, you do not get to dictate what or to whom I should feel something. I'm dating you because I want you, not a model, not an idol or whoever you think is "good" for me. I want you."

"But what if I begin to resent you?" glaring at your shoes you listlessly argue but Jimin's face doesn't differ from the hard scowl with which he barged here into.

"I'm not going to part with the love of my life on a what if," he sneered throwing your breakup letter decidedly into the trash.

"But I'll just be a burden-!"

"Oh for the love of!" he throws his hands into the air. "You're not a burden for asking my help. I want to do it, you understand? Me! I want to help you, I want to provide for you, that's what I want not what you force me to do," completely worked himself into a heated tirade, he barely took a breath before pelting the words one after another like hail upon your shoulders.

"We're going to go home, talk about our problems and then live happily ever after, god fucking damnit!"

You stand mutely, hunched in yourself quite like a berated kid. Exhaling slowly through the nose, Jimin's rage seems to abate, if a little bit, and for a lingering pause, there's only the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock filling the air.

"I still need to close," you shuffle, sensing the familiar sting in the eyes.

"Fill out the documents," he replies stiffly but at least not sneering anymore. "I'll do the rest. You must be tired."

You comply without a question sitting down to fill out the proper numbers. Jimin's ensnared with dusting the countertops, mopping the floor, and gathering the trash. An unsightly, lowly work that a national star like him shouldn't be doing but he does. He does it all.

TAEHYUNG: He keeps thinking that it can't simply end like that - on a slammed door in the silence. But it does. It's inevitable like seeing your favourite movie with a sad ending over and over again, always hoping that the familiar reel will somehow change, that the world will be a better place than it is but the movie is set and the ending is set and everything is set in stone. Taehyung's role is set to play the irredeemable villain and be ruined by his own actions.

"This..you know...big city...but lovers find their way," he slurs in a bar with only Jimin to keep tabs on him. He's angry, untalkative and quite upset as Taehyung lost the love of his life and he lost a good friend all in one fell swoop. It's only because of Jimin's curt text of "way to miss your girlfriend's birthday, prick" that he came to his senses. He'd rushed home all at once though it did no good. The apartment was empty, the neighbours vouched for you moving out and in the trash, he found a single, crumpled note. It began and ended with only one word - V. Not Taehyung the one he's always been to you but V. There was nothing after it but he kept it still.

"Lovers...they find each other in every life right?" he asks but Jimin remains obstinately quiet yet when comes the time to weep he reaches out to pat his friend's back.

"It's just a scarf!" he yells into the stylist's face. "It's just a scarf! What's the big deal? It fits the theme, right? Just let me keep it!"

Namjoon having rushed to the room inspects this strange friend of his, backed into the corner with an expression so vicious he fails to recognize him. He doesn't know what happened but he knows the way Taehyung hugs the scarf to his chest, to protect, to cradle it like a kindling flame. He knows grief when he sees one.

"Just leave him alone," he orders the stylist and Taehyung is let on the stage with a scarf on his neck, one he doesn't stop touching throughout the entirety of the event. It was the only thing left besides the note, otherwise, you'd been very thorough, combing your life free of him in all conceivable ways. World as always goes on and Taehyung hates it for it doing so. Rather it'd stop, rather it stand completely still so he can mould himself into time itself and stop existing. He sees fractures of you in scenarios of happy strangers, of hands intertwined and smiles shared, a life lived together as he always wanted to. He intended to with such certainty it's like the very basis underneath his feet is crushed. He never assumed it'd go so wrong.

Largely he keeps this obsession to himself, of fear of being judged, of being called crazy, only Jimin knows and in his neverending love for his friend, he tolerates it. Partially in the happier moments, Taehyung tries to romanticize the situation. In any good love story, one person meets another and they are split apart by circumstance only to end up together. Forgiveness always wins and love prevails. That's what he was told since being a baby. This was...this was his term of punishment, a way to apologize for his actions but nothing of the sort is of course real. The reality which Taehyung was never too fond of was much more sterner and cutthroat. You didn't love him anymore = you left. The End.

The End.

He lives in dreams and he lives in love that now is just an echo.

But the wronger still comes the day when your scarf splits at the seams. It can't be fixed, it can't be brought back, it's just ruined and gone and it sits in Taehyung's hands - useless. Still, he shoves the threads in his pocket, fully aware that there was a line, a fine line to be drawn but he can't bring himself to draw it. If he stops hoping, just for a second, his movie will end like it was always meant to be.

JUNGKOOK: "Please come home."

"No."

The begging had been going on for almost half an hour. Both attempts were fruitless, his - to get you back, yours - to get him to leave.

"I'm sorry."

"You didn't accidentally step on my foot! You told me my entire life is useless. That I'm wrong for being not like you."

He licks his dry lips and runs a hand through the messed-up hair. Unwillingly, you notice that his knuckles were faintly bleeding. The temperature had dropped suddenly overnight. He must have forgotten to lotion them. Not that it mattered now. Though he had quite a lot to argue about that.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for what I said. I was stupid, petulant and..." he sighs, staring at the floor. "Jealous."

"Over what?" you tilt an eyebrow.

"Yoongi. You get along with Yoongi. He gets you and I was scared so I lashed out."

"It's not an excuse," listlessly, you frown at his figure lodged halfway into your friend's apartment. A safe haven, he somehow managed to find out about. One couldn't argue with how driven Jungkook was. A quality you did not appreciate much right now.

"What do you want here? That I'll spring back into your arms, magically find some sort of passion and suck you off in gratitude?!"

"No!" he objects. "No! It's not like that!"

"Then explain! Explain for us lowly, dispassionate losers what is this all about?!"

He begins to twiddle with his thumbs, tongue playing with the back of his lip ring. It wasn't often that a 1.79m, tattoed muscle mass known as Jeon Jungkook could possibly appear small but he appeared as such in this very moment.

"I just want you back. Want to eat my words," when you open your mouth to tear him a new one, he hurries faster. "But I know I can't. So I am asking, I'm begging to give me a chance. Not forgiveness, just a chance to start over. As...friends...if you'd like. I'll get to know you anew, open mind this time. Be as you are. That's all I'm asking."

"Friends?" you parrot, part scornful, part impressed. He used to drone on and on about how he always wanted to be more than friends, how that name was like a lightless void to him, an unshakeable role in the distance he was desperate to breach so to hear him offer that very role so eagerly was if anything a symbol of truly wanting to listen. If he could be trusted.

You assess him sternly, tucking away the feeling of a girlfriend far way.

"If we do it, if!" you emphasize yet his eyes gain a hopeful tint. Retribution. "I want to be able to cut ties without you throwing a fit, tracking me down and doing this because this," you wave over his crouched figure. "Is not cute. It's annoying. One strike and you're out! And we start as friends!"

He's not deterred in the slightest on the opposite his face is glowing.

"I'll get to know you as I should have," he promises. "No judgement."

You let out a prolonged, irritated sigh.

"I hate you."

"I don't," he replies, nose scrunched in happiness. "Not in the slightest."

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tavyliasin · 9 months

Text

The Abdirak Essay - Fandom, Pain, and Loviatar's Love

Another day, another Lia Essay - and if you're really really deliciously sinful my very dear darlings, I shall give you yet more when the sun rises again upon the morrow. So, today in Niche Fandom Adoration Hours, I give you:

For The Love of Loviatar: Why Discomfort Can Be Delightful, How Agony Alleviates Anguish, and All The Ways Abdirak Fans Are Also TavyliaSin's Very Favourite People (Who Also Probably Need A Hug) ((Do We Love The Long Titles?)) (((If No, Consider This Essay Title Part Of Your Penitance)))

The themes of this essay will discuss: BDSM, Kink, Chronic Pain, wounds/injury, Acute Pain, Mental Health, mentions of harmful behaviours, a discussion of psychological elements from someone with absolutely no formal training or experience, vague mentions of trauma, and the magic of friendship. So please make sure you are in a comfortable place within yourself if you feel any of the above might be difficult to read for any reason. It is ok to skip sections as each has a topic header, or you can leave at any time. Nobody is judging you for that at all. Additionally, NSFW discussion further through, so minors DNI as usual. Very little of my blog will ever be suitable for under 18s, for your safety and for mine. Editing in to add a link to the Abdirak fandom gift to chronic pain pals A Cameo from Declan (Abdirak's Performer) (Fully SFW)

All that said, the main theme of this piece is actually:

To truly understand suffering is to avoid being its cause.

So, let's understand what "Suffering" is first, shall we, Dear Ones?

The Difference between Pain and Suffering

Lia hasn't completely lost the plot darlings, the two words may seem almost interchangeable but they are not. At the very least, this is the interpretation I have and the discussion that follows will stick with it too~ Pain is the sensation itself, whether physical or mental, it is the hurt, the bruise pressed upon, the moment a heart breaks. That is pain. Suffering on the other hand, is the effect that the pain has. It is the anguish, the torment, the overwhelm and the exhaustion. So, whilst two people might have the same pain, let's say a stubbed toe for a simple example, their suffering might be very different. One might feel able to walk it off, maybe swear a little and move on. Another might need to sit immediately, feel tears in their eyes, or even become utterly overcome by misery from the intense sensation. This might sound like a difference in tolerance, but it can also be seen as taking the bigger picture into account. One brick might not feel so heavy to someone with empty hands, but added to a pile of bricks already carried it may feel as if it weighs a dozen times as much.

What about Abdirak? How does he relate to Pain and Suffering?

When I first heard Abdirak speak, I knew he understood this concept to its very core. His goddess wants pain, but in himself he does not seem to want actual suffering. He does draw a different line, with pain being physical and suffering being the mental aspect, however the principles are very close to my own. Some people might see Abdirak and judge him as cruel, as a torturer delighting in anguish, but that could not be further from the truth. When he speaks of delivering pain with a loving hand, that really is meant. When he was speaking to the player character, for a moment I felt so intensely seen when he speaks of seeing a greater suffering.

"Forgive me, but that look in your eyes - something terrible has happened to you. ...I see those same eyes when I look in the mirror, dear one."

This, to me, was such a moment. He recognises trauma easily, and we also have this chance here to either interpret this as "oh, right, the tadpole stuff, the things in the game" or we can allow our own feelings about a player character's backstory as the interpretation of what he has seen. Either way, he immediately offers to alleviate that suffering with pain, something he is familiar with, something he knows to help from personal experience. There's the important point. His motivation is not to cause hurt, but to relieve it.

How does pain make anything better?

Deep breaths loves we're getting to the heart of a few things here and it may get heavy. At the most basic broken down level, right at the bottom of everything, it's about distraction. Pain is instant, sharp, a sensation that draws our nerves tight and fires off that electricity directly into our brains. It takes our attention and focus away from whatever else is on our minds. Usually? This would be detrimental, to be unable to concentrate on something because pain is intruding. However, think back here, "delivered with a loving and measured hand." This is precise pain, sensation that is welcomed and applied with expert care in order to reach that point right between where pain is suffering and where it cuts out the thoughts. BDSM darlings will know this as similar to "subspace" which I will discuss later~ Whilst there is some short term benefit to using strong sensation to distract the mind and alleviate intense distress, if taken into real life scenarios there are a lot of things to consider, and it is far better to speak with a therapist. Though the most commonly suggested low-harm methods can be things like gripping an ice cube for a minute or two, or even something like exercise that can push the mind to focus on the body instead of the source of the distress. The element of penance is also there. Abdirak brings to the fore those thoughts of struggle and guilt, so those are the thoughts that are stripped back by the physical pain. It's intentional, careful, and taps at the other core of using pain to alleviate suffering.

Why we love Abdirak, and the importance of recognising the weight of unwarranted guilt.

Remember my little villain essay? Back then I spoke of how a love for villains can also come from the way we are prone to judge ourselves unfairly, to heap undeserved guilt at our own feet, and to believe every slight mistake to be a heinous sin. Sorry, darlings, the only heinous "sin" you are allowed to believe in is me. Name puns aside... Part of the draw is indeed right there, believing ourselves deserving of punishment it's appealing to want to submit to that and find absolution from everything we judge ourselves for. And yet, it isn't a horrific thing, it's coloured by love and affection. The Love of Loviatar from Abdirak does not ignore that first part. But I do encourage you, if you are feeling particularly called out right now, to stop seeking punishment for things that are objectively not your fault, and instead treat yourself with kindness and forgiveness. By all means continue to indulge in our beloved priest of Pain and the joy he brings, but do so without any negative self-assessment, alright? Good, I'm glad we agre- THAT MEANS ALL OF YOU. No exceptions.

And what of the Fandom?

Ahh Abdirak fandom. Small, loving, welcoming, and utterly devoted~ Similarly to villain fandom (Abdirak is obviously not a villain, but is arguably villain-coded), his fandom also draws a lot of kindness and understanding. Despite how we might see ourselves, we are remarkably free from judgement in how we treat each other. There's endless encouragement, genuine warmth, and alongside spicy takes that might make lava look like a suitable spot for ice fishing there's a profound amount of respect and consent. By which I mean, there's no shame. There's no allowance for "I hate that character you like", or "that kink is bad because I don't like it". Tags and CWs are applied to posts and works with care and nobody is treated poorly for enjoying what (or who) they enjoy in the fictional space. To go back to the quote at the start of this essay, "to truly understand suffering is to avoid being its cause." I feel the vast majority of us have that depth of insight and recognition for suffering and have the empathy required to wish to avoid it. And that is why I would perhaps feel safest in the company of Abdirak fans (and likewise Raphael fans), there's another level of connection in those tadpoles~ Which leads me neatly forwards to...

Endurance: Abdirak and Chronic Pain Sufferers

Here, loves, we're going to get a bit more personal. Those of us with chronic pain conditions may find an even deeper connection. So I'll go over a little for those who are fortunate enough to not have personal experience here: Chronic Pain - This applies to pain which is constant or frequently recurring, that lasts (and/or is expected to last) for more than 3 months. It's not like a broken bone that heals and has an end, it's not like a few headaches that come and go with little consequence, it is either always present or always on the edge of flaring up at any time. It's different to acute pain, because most conditions have no cure, many barely have any treatment so all one can do is try to endure the worst of it. The other side-symptoms can be reduction in physical ability, exhaustion, mental health difficulties (because for some odd reason constant pain is not a path to happiness), low self esteem, and of course carrying the guilt of feeling like a burden if you need help from others (you are not a burden, and anyone who says so can receive the blessing of forever feeling like there is a stone in their shoe that they cannot find). As an aside, this can apply to chronic mental health struggles too - it is still pain, only a different kind. Though I will be looking primarily at physical pain here, as that's where Abdirak's focus is. Now, where are we going with this? The difference here is in how pain is treated. Abdirak speaks of pain as a wonderful thing, as something that is sought after, that is a way of worshipping Loviatar. This is something that might feel strange to someone who is plagued by pain, but there's another quote I'd like us to remember.

"Pain without purpose is a terrible thing, wouldn't you agree?"

Chronic pain has no purpose. It's there whether by illness or injury, or some other unseen cause. It was not a choice, it doesn't bring any relief, and often it drags us right down with it.

"Please let me alleviate this pain."

And there's another line, one we wish we could hear, one we wish so very deeply in the core of our being that we could believe. That there could be someone who could bring an end to the pain even if only for a brief time, a fleeting hope of relief.

How fanworks can be a means of coping with chronic pain.

So here's the next point... What in all the hells do I mean, how can fanworks help a single thing? Well, have some personal moments. I had a deeply unpleasant flare up the other night, so I put out a brief ask to writing groups for some comforting fiction shorts. In the past, I've written a few myself - like these: Abdirak - Migraine Comfort Yurgir - Migraine Comfort Tav - General Comfort, with Audio Multi-Character Comfort Drabbles (Including Abdirak) Full AO3 fic of Abdirak x Chronic Pain Reader (Spicy, NSFW)

These are the two I received from some writers very dear to my heart who have more talent and skill than I could ever hope to aspire to in their works. Elfvamp (who does not have tumblr) (image description is attached to the image)

and this one from @morb-untamed

Darlings, when I tell you there were tears in my eyes at these, I mean it. THIS is just an example of the understanding and compassion possible in the community, the care and consideration, and the emotion that words can carry through them that make things genuinely feel more bearable in the moment of distress. Both captured something that it took me too long to realise. Perhaps what follows might sound entirely unreasonable or unhinged, but for someone like myself who has not known a single second of what "0%" feels like in over 10 years, it's beginning to seem far more sane by the moment. What if, within the confines of my mind, I try to rewrite the understanding of pain as something different. Just tell myself each new pain is an offering to some vile deity who has decided my mortal vessel is worthy of enduring, rather than one that is being punished with suffering. Breathe through it and listen to those character voices, find my own purpose to the pain. Let it become inspiration, note it down, get that visceral and intimate knowledge to the page instead. Naturally, this probably isn't a healthy coping mechanism, nor one that is infallible, but there have been moments recently where thinking that has made the moderate levels less distressing, easier to tolerate for a time. Perhaps it could do the same for you, but perhaps not, either way - it is there. Please do read through the comfort pieces too, and if you would like to see more - even ones with more specific aims and pains, please do just ask and I will make them happen. Either through my ask box, or in comments/reblogs, or any other way you wish to contact me honestly.

Alright, Tavylia, we've covered personal pain, but you promised NSFW discussion!

Oh my very dear darlings I had not forgotten this part~ You may here people talk about "good pain" and "bad pain", and wonder how/why pain can ever be good. It's not just about a physical hurt sensation or using that as a distraction. Pain can cause a rush of adrenaline, and even endorphins - similar to how people enjoy extreme sports, horror films, or theme parks, it's a pleasant feeling from something that would usually be scary, because it's safe and controlled. Falling from a high place? That's terrifying, dangerous. Parachuting safely from that same high place? It's controlled, there's no real danger, but the feeling of danger brings that adrenaline rush. There's the key. In real life BDSM there is control in the safe signal, in knowing it can and will stop when needed, that although there is someone causing pain they will stop at a moment's notice. (Anyone who does not respect a safe word/signal is not someone you should be in that situation with, if you are engaging in or want to try BDSM with real partners please PLEASE do your research on safety, that's too long a lecture to add here) In the context of fiction, we can go a lot further. Could a real person easily withstand Abdirak hitting them with an axe in their back? Obviously not, that's far too much. But this is a world with magical healing, and our fantasy and fiction is quite safe to extend where we find is interesting. So when reading - and especially writing - with pain and pain play, I encourage you to remember these links to adrenaline, endorphins, and that it isn't about harm, it's far deeper, and finding an understanding of that (even if you never wish to experience it) might be of some benefit to understanding those around you who have this intimate relationship with pain.

A title for the End

I think I've covered a lot here, but I do just want to round us off now. If you have any questions about this topic (or any of my other essay posts), please do feel free to ask - that's why my box is there, for all kinds of discussions to open up. Not just for smut and creative writing, but for all the ways we connect with fiction and characters. There is so much more than a single story being told, each of us experiences it through the lens of our own experience, we all find our connections in different ways, and I will have more character essays on this later. There's so much more to see, to learn, from all the interpretations throughout the fandom. I'm very grateful to be here to witness it, and for you being here to share in these thoughts and explore them more with me. Pain can teach us many things, about ourselves and others. Empathy, kindness, compassion - when we know how much we need them ourselves, we begin to see how much others may need it too. Much like how Abdirak sees the pain behind the player character's eyes, and feels that strong desire to help in the ways he knows how.

A Final Note for the Pain Pals

To my Chronic Pain Pals, darlings you do not always have to be strong. It's alright. It will not break you entirely to let go of that incessant need to try and quietly endure. Find those places it is safe to let it out, look for those tricks you can use on your brain to make Loviatar's Favour just a little more bearable. You are worthy of kindness, support, and compassion. The same you are likely giving of yourself to everyone else. You are not a burden, these are pains you do not choose, and you deserve something more gentle without any guilt attached to it. You are also not alone, find community, find those who understand.

Pain without purpose...but have we given it one now?

So I hope this time the pain has had a purpose in teaching, in helping us connect in new ways, to find compassion and understanding. Until next time, Dear Ones, look after yourselves.

Oh hey look I know who made that gif that came up in the search~ What an absolutely wonderful coincidence ;) (And a final final footnote, hello Abdirak fan community, you are perfect and I wish you nothing but the best in all things)

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #abdirak #chronic pain #fandom essay #pain #pain and pleasure #comfort in fanfiction #comfort in fiction #coping with pain #the best fandom corners can be in the most unexpected places #the lessons pain can teach #to understand suffering is to avoid being its cause

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