#unless the trauma or anxiety comes from those things I guess

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

I know it’s not a reliable way to judge how things work for most alloromantics, but apparently you guys are having romantic feelings a few times a month, sometimes a few times a WEEK?! I just thought… you guys felt it every few years or when you have had a few dates or something. But huh?! A week?! Is that true?

I have literally only had crushes. I don’t feel little instances of quick attraction (which other people apparently do???) I’ll see someone and go “huh, they look nice” but it won’t really be romantic, just aesthetic. And even that only happens every once in awhile. The only time I ever really feel romantic attraction is when I get a strong crush. My feelings, annoyingly, have no in-between. They also can’t be prompted by me attempting to set them up, like a date. It just doesn’t do anything, and not “it doesn’t happen every time” that I think is normal, no, it just doesn’t happen at all. I wish it worked, I really do. It would make my life so much simpler, but it never does. Sometimes I’ll see someone do something and go like, “aww, that’s cute” but it’s more just general endearment or maybe affection. It doesn’t feel romantic. I’m so confused.

[thecalmdaisy]

Social Anxiety was a Blessing and a Curse: The Childhood

Short Story

It's crazy how social anxiety can literally turn you into a whole different person. On the inside, you're full of energy, super social, and want to spread your true colors to others, but for some reason, you just can’t seem to let the inside of you come out. You feel this sense of fear that you can't seem to fully understand, a fear that can stem from many things in our lives, such as judgment, personal insecurities, stress, bullying, past traumas and many other things. In my own case, I was afraid of being judged by others for being so different from the societal norms of a normal Black girl. So, what did I do? Well, I stayed quiet and never let anyone in unless I knew they wanted to be my friend. No matter what, I was like as an individual. And let me tell you, not many made it into my small circle. But what can I say? I was the shy one.

The Beginning

After my last year of elementary school, my mom, my little sister, and I had just moved to a totally different state to start a new life. I was actually excited about it, but I knew how much it kinda sucked leaving behind the friends I had bonded with for years. But shockingly, the thought of making new friends at the time didn’t scare me much until the first day of middle school actually approached. As I walked through those huge double doors, I felt so much more awkward than I had anticipated. I guess seeing all those unfamiliar faces really overwhelmed me, and the thought of possibly being too weird for others was swirling around inside my head like crazy. This caused my lips to remain sealed, which equaled to social life being absolutely nonexistent. As time crept by, I started to think about my old friends frequently and returned home, dreading how I couldn't seem to fit in with others. But I knew my anxiety played a huge part in it. I must say that 6th grade year was truly a lonely one for me. I sat alone on the bus, at lunch, and in class, which made me unhappy because I knew I could be a great friend to someone. I even remember some nights before bed I would cry to GOD, asking,“ Why can't I be outgoing like everyone else?” I was so tired of being the quiet one who couldn’t seem to get out of her head at such a young age. As the 6th grade year slowly went by, my mom got me accepted into a performing arts middle school I had no clue about. But I was enthusiastic because I loved acting at the time and thought joining the drama program seemed like a great opportunity for me to break out of my shell.

Side note:

It didn't work at all. I would literally shake like crazy, my heart would beat through my chest, and I forgot my lines once the spotlight hit me.

Now, back to the story. There I was in the 7th grade, with no friends, at a new school, in a new year. As the school year progressed, I did manage to make a friend after two months. However, it was largely because she talked to me and broke me out of my shell a bit. She was a very talkative person, and I was a good listener. It was truly a match made in heaven. She became my only true friend that year, and I was totally happy with that. By the time 8th grade rolled around, more people were talking to me because they had seen me the year before, and they all started to realize how shy I was, especially the class clowns for some reason. But I absolutely didn’t mind that because I love to laugh. So hands down, that year stands as the best school year of my life. My friends at the time made me feel so welcomed, which helped break me out of my shell for the entire 8th grade year. As 9th grade approached, sadly me and my friends had to split apart to different high schools, which really sucked for me because as you know, I'm not a great conversationalist, and it was nice to have friends who appreciated my weirdness. But as I entered the new school year as a freshman, it felt like a reset button had pushed me back in time because there I sat all alone most of the time, chilling outside on the back steps before class started preparing to sit alone at lunch or skip lunch and head straight to the library. Not having friends again really sucked. Later that year, though, I became friends with one very special person who opened my eyes spiritually. She didn't have many friends either, and we both seemed to click. I started to sit at lunch with her, go to Bible study with her, and sit on the bus with her. She was literally my only friend that year, and I couldn't have asked for more.

As I approached my 10th grade year, things started to get better. People who saw me last year started to talk to me more, and we became associates. My friend from the year before graduated and left for college, so I never got to speak to her again, which really sucked, because I wish I could’ve told her thank you for reopening my eyes back to what was important in life. Once I made a few friends that sophomore year, I started getting comfortable at my school—until my mom got accepted into law school in another state, which was amazing. Until this day, I am still so happy for my mom, and I completely understand why we left. So, again, I packed up and said goodbye to my friends and moved into a new home. As my 11th grade year started, I was still shy, and I only spoke when someone wanted to talk, but only small talk. I could never really hold a conversation, so I kept them short and sweet, which kept me from getting to know new people. But honestly, I didn't mind it at that time. Many people my age were into things I just didn't agree with. Therefore, I felt like it was safer for me to be alone and focus more on my spirituality. And through the process of just doing me, I was able to make three friends in the last two years of high school, and I was completely okay with that because they were the kind of people I wanted in my life, very caring, helpful, motivational, and understanding of what the word friend truly meant. Once the end of my last year of high school came to a close, I threw my cap proudly for all to see, before I officially said goodbye to the mixed emotions of my childhood life in the public school system.

To be continued….

“Being a bit of a loner isn’t so bad when you live in the world we live in.”

Q/A:

What happened to your friends from middle school?

We never spoke again after middle school. I didn’t have a phone or social media until the end of my freshman year of high school, so it was hard to keep in contact.

What happened to your high school friends?

We went on different paths and changed as individuals.

Is there more to the story?

Absolutely! Anxiety has been a huge part of my life.

Written By: V

[dzpenumbra]

8/15/23

What a day!

I went skating 2.5 hours today. I was a bit anxious and reserved at first, but the college-aged guy I met the other day showed up after a little bit and we waved, so it made me feel a bit more at home. It's fucking odd to have people recognize me, I missed it.

I skated the same side of the park I usually do, just doing the same old bag of tricks. But at one point, I tried boardsliding that round rail again... and it wasn't that bad. That was sorta... the beginning of my "real session", I guess you could say.

I have been pacing myself so I don't skate huge stretches non-stop, I'll just do a run out and back trying a few tricks, then stand around and rest for a bit, unless I'm really working on something. Partly to pace, partly just out of awkwardness. During one of those long standing around sessions, I overheard the people next to me talking about teaching... and art... It was the college aged guy I met the other day and some other guy a bit older than me, who was really good at skating. Like... he was a hair away from landing switch tre flips. That's really good in my book.

I actually approached the guy after his conversation. I asked him if he knew anything about requirements to be a college teacher, that I was interested in getting into teaching but I wasn't sure if I could with just a BA. He unfortunately wasn't able to help, he's a teacher for a home-school group, likely much younger kids too. But I actually approached a stranger and initiated a conversation today. ... I actually approached a stranger, introduced myself, and had a conversation with him. Like... for me? That's fucking massive.

I noticed something though. I was nervous and fumbling for that conversation. And that conversation was about work stuff, career stuff. Fast-forwarding with some spoilers, I hung out and had conversations with 3 different people today. The college aged guy from the other day who ollied the jersey barrier, the homeschool teacher and the kid who landed the BS 180 the other day, who had the beaming smile when I cheered for him. And I streamed for 3 hours. Of all the shit I did today, and I'll tell more detail on how anxiety inducing a lot of that should have been... the conversation about my career and work was where I was stumbling over my words and felt like I could barely form coherent sentences. Like, I even felt like I was close to stuttering at points. There is no doubt in my mind now, that's a big trauma trigger for me. And no fucking duh it is, good lord, with how fucked up I was treated during conversations about my work shit? I'm honestly... kind of afraid it might be my biggest one. And that is really bad - how the fuck am I going to build my career... if things of potential importance to my career... make me turn into a fumbling mess?!

I doubt the guy noticed, honestly. At a certain point after that guy left... I cruised over to the other side of the park and started skating the low box. This was where the whole fucking game started to change. I learned how to ollie-to-manual today. First time doing it. I'm sure I've ollied over cracks into manuals before, I've ollied out of manuals before, but never ollie-to-manualed on a box. And I did it a bunch of times. It wasn't nearly as scary as I thought. I didn't hang my trucks up on the edge one time. It's actually much easier to balance manuals that you've ollied up into rather than coming down out of an ollie onto flat, at least in my experience. Once I felt what it was supposed to feel like, it was surprisingly simple. It took a bit of a grind to get my first one though, probably a good 10 back-to-back tries? Maybe more?

This inspired me to keep building off of that. They have a "rail" that's two concrete parking blocks raised on cinder blocks and waxed to shit. I boardslid most of one of them, a few times. That was fun. And not just like... the side of it... it's flat on top, so you can actually feel it when you get on top of it, and I got really on top of it a few times. Just doing that started to bring back a lot of feelings of... board confidence. Just... confidence being on my board. Confidence is such a big part of skating that is really starting to come back now. I feel so much more natural on the board, and not just my trick board, on my hybrid too. Once the board starts really feeling like a natural extension of you... that's when shit starts getting real.

I then had a short conversation with the kid from the other day, I gave him a tip that I learned from watching skate videos, to try to lock the box coping in between the truck and his heelside wheel (for front 5-0). He then went and did a 50-50 like that and fucking nailed it first try, super smooth too, and looked back really happy. I talked about how I was scared of that trick, and he seemed anxious and didn't really know what to say. I ended up going and devoting a bunch of time to trying FS 50-50 on the 8" box, and I landed it a few times. Yep. I didn't just learn one new trick today... I learned two.

I can't even explain the difference between my nervousness and social anxiety when I got there, versus cruising around the whole park and trying new tricks by the end. It really helped that at the end, it was just me... the college aged guy and the kid. Being in a park where the only people there are people whose names you know makes a really big difference, to me at least. Maybe it shouldn't... but it did.

So yeah, it was a really good session, and I skated for a good 2-2.5 hours. I cruised home the new route again, I go by a big church now, which is cool. I love church architecture, it's nice and quiet over there too. This route feels so much less sketchy compared to the main drag I used to take.

I got home, made dinner, ate, and then streamed for 3 hours. I actually just ended stream to hop over here. I worked on my pants the entire time, doing the white outlining for the celtic knot. It looks really good, the paint is being cooperative, my paintbrush... not so much...

The majority of the stream was a fucking nightmare. It was silent. A guy showed up, someone who I've "known" for a long time... aka he has dropped in, talked about himself for 5 minutes and then left a bunch of times over the years. I have no idea why he keeps coming by the stream, he obviously doesn't like what I stream, he literally only comes by to tell me what's going on in his life when I didn't ask. He only stopped by to brag about how he lost weight, then left. So weird. Like... I'm a stranger to you... why do you care that I know that? So odd to me, and like... really not what a streaming site is designed for... Just go to a Discord group or Facebook or something.

Then I had a person come in and tip me 100 Bits! 100 whole bits, can you believe it! That's... that's $1. That's one fucking dollar. The single apple I ate on the way to the skatepark was more expensive than the random tip I got. But, you know, it's a "big number", so you're supposed to get all excited for these people and jerk them off for their generosity. Seriously. It's so fucking degrading, and even more so when you've been doing it for fucking 7 goddamn years, and you're just like... okay... you're just throwing quarters at me at this point... Normally I'd appreciate the tip, you know, if it was a viewer... it's money I didn't have... but... here's what set me off...

This person had made an account specifically to - and they told me this overtly, as a point of pride - go around and find "small streamers" and give them Bits, and "leave them with a smile", then head off to find another one. So... they go into my stream with no viewers, they give me one viewer, which raises my ranking on the search results and raises my chance of drawing an audience... they give me one dollar... they expect a huge "thank you"... then they leave and bring my viewer count back down to zero. And they are "helping me". That shit gets under my skin. You're just doing it to feel like you're helping people. You're the kind of person who gives money to homeless people simply so they can brag about it later. I mean, how can they really care about the people they are claiming to want to help? They don't even remember their names! You want to really be appreciated by a streamer? Watch the fucking stream. Put your agenda away and just fucking sit down and watch the entertainment that is being given to you for fucking free and actually process what you are watching. If you like it, follow them, subscribe to them (so they can get $2.50/mo of support from you), maybe gift some subscriptions to other people, so more people come and hang out? And go tell a fucking friend. Go talk to your friends and genuinely, honestly tell them about the good time you had in that stream. That is how you help a stream. Otherwise, you're going into an empty room, saying "I support struggling poverty-streamers", throwing a dollar at them, and strutting out the door thinking "I just made their day"... while they're going... "crap, I thought that was a real tip, I thought someone actually liked my art." It fucking sucks, and these people are just... oblivious.

After that, I got a "troll" with an IQ that could fit in a Sudoku square. Their opening line was trying to get me to read something backwards that was clearly some kind of genital-related phrase intentionally (?) misspelled. I asked them what their age was, if they were over or under 18 and made a comment about how... good lord, it was a Monday night... XD And he followed up by saying "your art is banal". And I was really proud of how sharp my comebacks still are. Good lord, I've been in isolation for like 5 fucking years and I still have wit that outclassed this guy like a 13 year old green belt taking on Mike fucking Tyson. I asked him where he learned that word, presupposing it was likely from misspelling "anal" in google and accidentally learning something useful. And then I went on to let him know that I appreciated his critique, but his opinion was really only of as much value as the time gone into forming it. I then decided to continue musing on how fucking odd it is that someone would be trawling low-population art streams at 11PM on a Monday night just trying to trick people or bring their self esteem down. He left, no mic drop, nothing. These people are just as bad as I remember. They've got their one prepared line, maybe a follow up, maybe a backup line... then they run like children. Meanwhile, I'm on camera... I'm using my voice... and I made him look silly. I doubt he learned a lesson there, but one can hope. The internet makes people act really fucking stupid sometimes.

Just a bit after I told my empty stream that I was getting ready to wrap up, I got raided. It was a streamer that does pixel art, they brought 23 viewers with them. It was appreciated. Most of them left, but one stuck around and chatted for a bit and even checked out my Instagram, which was nice. They didn't follow my Instagram or my Twitch though... So yeah. It was nice to get some interest and actually explain the piece a bit, and they seemed actually interested in the medium, so that was a nice chat. I love talking shop, I never have people to talk shop with.

So... despite the stream being an absolutely nightmare... I got about half the knot outline done. I streamed for 3 hours. And I did have some positive interactions. I am, however... tempted to try streaming here... or on Instagram. I just don't know if I can use OBS for that, I really fucking hope so. If I can use OBS, I'm absolutely going to try doing art streams both on here and Instagram. I really... ugh, I don't know if I'm reading into it but... I really don't like what Twitch has become. It really feels like people are just using it like a social media site? Or kinda like Omegle? Like... it's not people coming to watch a host who is providing entertainment for them... unless you have a built-in audience... they come in and start acting like the center of attention, when the camera is literally pointing at a different person. It's weird. I kept thinking over and over tonight "this site is a like a fucking magnet for narcissists". Not just on the camera side, but viewers too. It's weird.

So yeah, that was basically my day. And now I'm fucking bushed. I'm wiped. I'm just going to go take a quick shower and head to bed.

[bellsliturgy]

sry for the lack of activity on my part here it’s been v stressful wrt the crimis season i’m dealing with a lot of small things and a couple really big things and it makes me want to eat my own hands more details under the cut if ur interested (tw mention of a horrible certain swamp scum transphobe author; fellow transpersons beware)

1) my gma is 85 and is on her last legs idk how much longer she’s got left in her and with her being in the hospital with afib (atrial fibrillation for those who dont know, basically her heart is beating 2 fast and out of rhythm (but afib can be any kind of heart beating speed, it just means it’s Not Normal) and the winter storm she is staying with us which means my mom is more Aggressive and Demanding and Hateful towards me and dad bc idk i guess hosting ur small quiet kind grandma calls for attacking your husband and child (very important ingredient cannot skip)(btw my grandma is fine she’s just very weak and is struggling to physically move around by herself but insurance company is refusing to let her go to a physical rehab center for treatment???? lol????? hashtag AICAB (all insurance companies are bastards)

2) speaking of whom i also came out to my mom as trans after an argument abt justa kunt r*wling (mom doesnt know anything abt how nasty of a creature wizard bitch is but i’m still like mom pls there are better authors out there with fictional work that isn’t harmful) book that she bought for my cousin’s step-daughter (she’s fucking NINE) and i was so triggered i was like i need to get this out it’s weighing on me (it was every time i wanted to come out to her and didn’t it was so damaging to me mentally) so that was wild and lukewarm but she didn’t kick me out of the house and says she loves me and wouldn’t reject me no matter what (unless grandma is around??? for some reason idk) so while that is a good thing it’s still been a very hard birthday month for ya boi greg

3) i’m also on the phones at work which in itself isn’t a bad thing because the calls i get are from ladies who work at the courts across the state and they are for the most part very nice and easy to work with but i have Big Phone Anxiety thanks to my time working at the call center for the same agency (i don’t even answer the phone at home anymore and i get scared when it rings, members of public are nasty and i hate them and they belong in a zoo) so that’s causing me anxiety at night andd also at work even tho when i’m actually talking on the phone it’s not really an issue it’s just the Anticipation of a Call

4) i’m in therapy!!!! with a transgender therapist and he’s WONDERFUL but we are focusing more on cbt (cognitive behavioral therapy) which is digging up a lot of pain for me and forcing me to deal with my emotions and my past trauma so THAT’s A LOT and now i have “I came Out to my MOM” for him for next time so that will be interesting (i need to just let myself cry in front of him i have a VERY hard time crying in front of ppl bc i was horribly abused for crying at a babysitter’s house but that’s 1) very heavy and 2) neither here nor there)

5) BEACUSE OF ALL THE STRESS and cold weather my lip split open and 2 canker sores formed in the split area so that’s been cool

6) christmas is just stressful for me and also my mom has been On One this whole month because murphy’s law keeps going into effect w grandma being in the hospital and her brother my uncle suggesting we have christmas separate because of covid (he and my aunt both had covid VERY recently), grandma being sick in the hospital, and the winter storm and i also have 3 cakes i’m baking so THAT’s stressful to think about and i just want it to be over lollll

[aro-is-gay-af]

The Midnight of Despair | Volturi Kings x fem!reader | Part 3

I reckon, that if you’re reading Part 3, then you know two previous ones. In case you didn’t read them yet: Part 1 | Part 2

Thank you for all warm words and praise! It means world to me. 

I also love this series, folks! I need to admit, I did get addicted to it a little, so I thought it’d be great to set updates schedule. It won’t be precise, but you can expect another part roughly in two weeks time from now. 

As per usual, sorry for any confusion and grammatical mistakes. 

Warnings: Rape (mentioned), Depression, PTSD, Forced Pregnancy, Blood

Word count: 6200

No summary this time. Also, this one has very sweet parts in it!!!

ENJOY!

The next day, you had your appointment with the doctor. A doctor was apparently a woman and you were sure the kings were paying her something extra for the visit to be immediate. Unfortunately, she didn’t know any English, as she was a local gynaecologist. Your mates didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable in any way, so before the visit, Aro asked you, who you’d like to be the translator for you.

The ideal situation would be a woman, but you didn’t trust anyone in the castle, except the kings. For this reason, your first shot was Aro, as he had already seen your memories. There was nothing that would shock him, you also didn’t need to hide anything from him and you knew, he was the best at dealing with others. You figured it’d be an ideal solution and you had to admit to yourself that you simply wanted him to accompany you.

The whole visit took place in your room, which meant a lot of carrying the necessary equipment, but more mental comfort for you. In those two days, you managed to get quite settled in and didn't want to leave the castle. You felt safe and secured in your suite. Kings seemed to notice that, as it was Marcus, who proposed, it would be a great idea to have an appointment without the need of leaving your room.

While you both were waiting for the doctor to come, it was the first time you had seen Aro with brown eyes. He looked really out of place. You shared this thought with him, by saying you prefer when his eyes are normal. That’s what it took. Two days, to consider red eyes normal. As usual, he was polite and revealed to you that he also hated the colour, let alone the lenses.

When the doctor finally arrived, you were already a nervous wreck. Aro tried to distract you, asking questions mainly about your house in Forks and whether you had already spoken to Bella about family heirlooms. He succeeded for a while, but it couldn't last forever, could it?

The lady was extremely kind and gentle. The truth was, it was hard to hide how stressed you were about this visit. You didn't want anyone to touch you, not when you weren't ready, and this time you definitely weren't. Despite the doctor's initial efforts, you were unable to shake her hand in greeting. She only smiled sadly, as if understanding perfectly what you were going through. Aro assured you beforehand, for he had not told her anything and only if you wanted to, you should share your trauma with her.

The doctor, seeing your nervousness, decided that you should talk first. While she asked you questions, you noticed that she chose her words carefully and only then did you realise that she was also stressed, but in her case it was probably Aro's presence that made her uncomfortable. Although Aro tried not to impose his presence on her, you understood why it might overwhelm the doctor. You felt confident being in the same room with Aro, while she probably sensed danger, even if she could not rationally explain it to herself. You promised yourself that you would try to learn at least the basics of Italian before the next visit.

She needed to ask you about exactly everything since, unfortunately, you didn't have any medical records with you - neither from the obduction, nor from the subsequent visit to the doctor, where you confirmed the pregnancy. You made a mental note to tell Bella about it, so she could send your documents, along with the things she was supposed to take from your house.

Aro was great in his translator role. Of course, you were still looking at the doctor, while answering the questions, but Aro’s voice, at least, soothed your shattered nerves just a little bit. When the questions started to get more complicated or more intimate, Aro used such words as to not make you feel uncomfortable, while still conveying the meaning.  The more difficult part started, when you had to describe the situation from the hospital and how long it took for the bleeding to stop. Every word seemed linked to a particular image or smell from that night, until finally, you were unable to say anything at all.

The doctor was very understanding, probably having already guessed what exactly was your weird behaviour all about. You didn't say anything directly, you only described the situation from the hospital and then told her the details of this strange bleeding after the rape. Mainly because the doctor was very concerned about it. She explained to you that it was definitely not normal, even if you had wounds inside.

The worst part, however, was the examination. You didn't even want to think about whether you would have to undress, but it turned out to be unnecessary. The doctor had a great intuition, even if she herself was under a bit of stress. You told her that, indeed, you had been to the check-up before and that was how you found out you were pregnant. And that the doctor then checked if all the wounds had healed. The lady didn’t discuss the issue, for which you were very grateful.

After the interview, the doctor told you to lie down on the bed and only pull your blouse up, high enough for your belly to be visible. You didn't feel comfortable with this, but you preferred this way to undressing from the waist down. This was the first time you didn't feel comfortable lying on that bed. You knew that once the visit was over, everything would return to normal, but it wasn’t meant to become a memory you would return to with pleasure.

As it turned out, your first trimester was long over. The pregnancy was about 14 weeks old and that would explain the slight curving of your belly. Before the appointment, you were not sure if you would even look at the monitor to see the baby, but you did. You could not deny yourself this. The room fell silent and you could not tell what you were feeling.

The doctor pulled out some kind of a strange device and after a moment, you could hear the baby's heart. You glanced in the direction of Aro, who was obviously alarmed by your face. You grimaced, too overwhelmed to say anything to him. Up until this point, you were sure that the decision, if you should terminate the pregnancy or not, would be fairly easy. Now, you were certain that nothing in your life could be simple enough.

 *

 Over the next few weeks, your day usually looked the same or similar, yet you managed to do something completely different every day. You were glad you had so much to do, because you didn't have time to think about what had happened. You didn't want to analyse it over and over again. The kings respected your choice - unless you yourself mentioned the traumatic events, not a single insinuation or implication about it fell from their lips.

Your days were filled with various activities. Every day you spent at least some time with each king in private - you knew you needed this to create and strengthen your bond. To keep you from being inundated with information, you learned something new from each of them about vampires and their lifestyle. After all, it was supposed to become your lifestyle in the nearest future. You discovered that thinking about your transformation caused you far less anxiety, than any memory associated with rape. Even after you learned that it more or less consisted of burning alive for a few days.

During your time with the kings, you tried not to show the insecurity you had acquired about your body, and yet, you were sure they knew anyway. However, the time spent with them was what you treasured most. With each of them you did something different, as you wanted to know what they like to do in their free time. Marcus, as he had promised on the first day, taught you Italian for two hours every day. It was not easy, but after a few weeks of intensive course and communicating in broken Italian, not only with Marcus, but also with the other two, you were able to maintain basic conversation.

Marcus was a great teacher, but that wasn’t the only reason why you loved spending time with him. He was the one who had the most time for you - he wasn't as busy as Aro or Caius, and besides, he had countless amounts of patience. He wasn't tired of your constant questions, not only about vampirism, but also about his past. You would often sit for hours in the library or in the gardens, which, by the way, were breathtaking. You both loved books and your only regret was that you weren't able to read most of their vast collection. Marcus assured you, you would have all eternity to do so. You could talk with him endlessly, as these conversations were truly effortless – even the most difficult topics seemed simple and uncomplicated.

You were surprised to learn about a gift of his. Your human mind was unable to comprehend it in the full sense of the word. Mostly because of this, he was the one to explain to you, what your bond even was and how exactly it worked. You have learned that after your transformation, you will feel the bond even more strongly. It is not often that one person has as many as three matches and is able to feel the bond while being human. Marcus explained to you that for now, both your mind and body are only subconsciously sensing the presence of the mates, as it’s impossible for human senses to do anything else.

It was so remarkable to you that you discussed it for hours. You also learned that the bond can be broken, as it is not forced in any way. However, this would be emotionally painful and very few vampires would choose to take such a desperate step.

One afternoon you were spending time in the garden again. You loved being outdoors, but for your own safety you did not go outside the castle grounds. Together, you decided that it would be safer to do only after your transformation. Besides, you didn't want to go anywhere. You were safe under the watchful eye of your mates and Renata, who, apart from the time spent with the kings and in your room, followed you in a constant manner.

The gardens were gorgeous and you wondered, who was taking care of all those magnificent flowers. You were strongly convinced that this was exactly what Eden might have looked like. You and Marcus had your favourite bench. You spent a lot of time outside, especially on sunny days. When you first found out why sitting in the sun might be a problem, you couldn't take your eyes off Marcus. He shimmered brilliantly, but your eyesight couldn't stand it for too long, because of the blinding effect. The gardens, however, were fenced off and inaccessible to the common passer-by, so you were safe to stay, as long as you wanted to.

“I asked Aro recently, if vampires can be killed in some way,” you began cautiously, not wanting to scare him away from this conversation. No one had talked to you about it, however, it still crossed your mind what state Marcus was in when you first saw him. You were willing to swear you looked exactly the same after your mother died. Now, knowing what all the mating bond was about, you were convinced that Marcus had lost someone dear to his heart.

As per usual, he smiled gently at you.

“I'm sure his answer was sufficient, my dear. What are you aiming at?” he asked, looking at you obliquely.

You took his hand in yours. With Marcus, physical contact was as easy as a conversation. He, however, never initiated any touch. He waited for you, just like he was waiting now, to reach for his hand or gently grasp his arm. The only movement he allowed himself was to stroke your hair every now and then, but only when he was absolutely sure you were willing.

“I wanted to ask what happens to the bond, when the vampire…is no longer here,” you said bluntly, not taking your eyes off him. Your understanding was unique. Marcus was gentle in manner, patient and extremely caring towards you. In no way did you want to ruin, what you had built over those few weeks.

His smile turned into one of the saddest you've seen on his face. By the time he answered, you regretted asking at all. You didn't want to cause him pain. You squeezed his fingers in your palm.

“Until you came to Volterra, I was sure that a vampire could only experience this special, unique bond once in a lifetime. I did experience it, yet this story does not have a happy ending,” he said, with utmost sadness in his voice.

Your heart ached, as you watched his suffering and grief. You had asked the question unnecessarily, but now there was no turning back. You continued to stroke his fingers, holding his hand securely in yours.

“When one of the vampires connected by mating bond dies, it does not mean that the bond disappears. It exists, but only on one side. It cannot be cherished, it cannot be repaired in any way. It isn’t reciprocated. What remains are the memories, and they are the only reminder of what the bond really meant, when it existed,” he explained in a distressed voice, slowly and carefully.

Holding his hand, you laid your head on his shoulder and sighed heavily.

“I'm so sorry this happened to you,” you whispered after a moment, feeling tears stinging under your eyelids. Even now, you couldn't imagine losing any of them and you couldn't possibly envision the amount of pain Marcus had gone through.

He embraced you carefully and gently hugged you to his side.

"Don't fret over it, cara. I've made my peace with it. However, that doesn't mean I've forgotten. I still miss her, after all these years," he said with longing in his voice, stroking your shoulder gently.

After a long moment of silence, you were in a genuinely poor condition. Tears dripped down your cheeks and your breathing quickened. Not only because of the pain Marcus must have gone through, but also because of your own yearning. You had come to terms with the death of your parents, but you missed them so much. You wanted to have them at least a little longer. Now, standing on the verge of immortality, you wished you had spent more time with them.

Marcus placed a kiss on your hair.

“Sob it out, dear. Nothing helps the soul more than honest tears,” he whispered, and you were ashamed, because you should be the one providing comfort for him. However, the memories were too fresh and you couldn't hold it back.

Once you had calmed down a bit, he handed you a handkerchief to wipe away your tears.

“I wish I could change my memories. Even if it was only for a brief moment to be able to forget that I will never see them again. To be able to forget what this…this monster did to me,” you whispered, snuggling tighter into his shoulder.

You heard his sigh and his embrace around your shoulder tightened.

“You have been terribly abused, cara. No one deserves such a fate. The most important thing now, is to get on with life. Our loved ones would not want us to dwell on their deaths,” he said, as wise and thoughtful, as ever. The hatred towards your abuser was palpable in Marcus’s voice.

“You are so good to me. I don't deserve this,” you whispered after a while, your voice swollen with emotion. He only smiled indulgently.

“You deserve the very best, dear. I've already lost one mate. I won't let anyone hurt you.”

“I’m sure she would be proud of you,” you said with compassion, after another moment of silence.

“I’m not quite certain about that,” he said, placing another kiss on the top of your head.

But you were sure. You were also sure, you would do anything to prevent Marcus from experiencing something like this again. You knew all too well the taste of grief.

 *

 You truly had little time to think about the rape and pregnancy at all. If you weren’t with Marcus, it was Caius who loved to kidnap you, so he could spent some private time with you. Caius was the complete opposite of Marcus – absolute chaos, you could say. You had no idea how the brothers even got along. You had already noticed that Marcus rarely spoke, while Caius was rather impulsive and liked to discuss things in detail. However, until you started spending time alone, you had no idea what he was really passionate about.

It turned out that his greatest passion was art. He would show you countless paintings he himself had painted throughout the centuries. He could talk for hours about types of paint and how to mix colours properly. Although you were not very good at painting, you tried to learn a little with Caius’ help. When he was alone with you, he was still abrupt and impulsive, but in a charming way. He never imposed himself on you and you discovered that annoying him was really great fun. So banter and frequent teasing were the order of the day.

You often spent afternoons and evenings with Caius. He taught you how to paint, but not only. Art history was his passion and you loved to listen to him tell stories. His voice was mesmerising and hypnotic. He also eagerly answered all your questions about vampire race. You listened about the horrible children of the moon and how Caius singlehandedly had almost slaughtered them all. He warned you that after the transformation you would be violent and impulsive, that you would have nothing on your mind but to satisfy your thirst. This frightened you slightly, but at times when things got weird or dangerous, Caius assured you that you would always have full support of your mates. You never doubted that. You knew they would help you to grow accustomed to your new life.

Caius loved every variety of art you could name. When he asked you for permission to sculpt you, you were so surprised that you made a strange sound. He said that, of course, he wasn't going to overstep your boundaries and you yourself would choose some beautiful casual attire, so he could portray your beauty in sculpture. All you had to do was dress once as he asked and stand in the right pose. He remembered every detail of your posture, including your facial expressions. Often, he would sculpt you, while you would talk about insignificant things also learning how to sculpt...well, things that didn't resemble anything. Yet, you wanted to be as good as he was.

You were in your nineteenth week, when he invited you for a long painting session. His studio was huge and consisted of nothing but breathtaking works of art. You were decorating some random sculpture that you had never seen before. Caius also loved contemporary art, so you could go wild. Taking classes with him was better, than any therapy. You could smear paint on everything - the canvas, the sculptures, yourself, and even him, because he was usually in a good mood and you could enjoy it. He never showed you even a trace of anger, and you, fooling around with him like that, were genuinely pleased and happy.

When you finished, the room looked rather bad, not to mention the clothes or your hair. Caius would never have appeared that way to the guards, let alone on trial, but with you it was different.

“I wanted to show you something,” he said, wiping the paint off your cheek.

You took his hand. Caius, like Marcus, did not invade your personal zone, unless you specifically gave permission. However, carnality and touch were important to him, and so, once you were more comfortable in his presence, he liked to show you affection by stroking your cheek or your back, and intertwining his fingers with yours, when you held hands. You didn't mind his cold skin – by now you were accustomed to it, as three of them had similar body temperature. You were the hottest here. Literally.

You walked slowly to another room.

“I didn't tell you, but I finished craving” he said, and you could hear the excitement in his voice. You smiled at him. That was the main reason why you had agreed to have yourself sculpted in the first place. You wanted to get close to him on a level, which was inaccessible to do in any other way.

“Before you show me, will you tell me as to where you even got the idea of carving me?” you asked, amused. Caius was much taller than you, you had to slightly lift your head to look him straight in the eye.

At first, he smiled archly, but immediately his smile softened. He pulled at the material that covered the sculpture, so that it fell to the floor. You were simply speechless. The woman, who stood opposite to you was over four metres tall. The sculpture was made of marble and the woman looked, as if she was an actual person. There was something elusive about her. Her face, thoughtful yet serene, her hair flowing freely over her shoulders onto her back. She was clad in a fine fabric that flowed in waves down to her bare feet. She looked nothing like you and yet, you two looked exactly alike.

You had no idea that you started crying. The woman was beautiful. You could feel the power and dignity emanating from her, and on the other hand, she seemed to you as if... fragile and ephemeral. Caius had captured in this sculpture all the feelings you had been feeling, without even knowing it.

You felt his hand on your cheek, his fingers gently wiping away your tears along with some paint, which remained on your face.

“I thought I would like you to see yourself through my eyes. Exactly as I see you – without a single flaw, yet with all your imperfections. I don't want you to be unable to look at yourself, because of what this animal did to you. I don't see it. I only see you, [Y/N]. The real you. Beautiful and fragile, yet powerful, without inhibitions or scruples. Capable of anything.”

The words were trapped in your throat. You wanted to say something, but you were sure, that as soon as you were going to open your mouth, uncontrollable sob would come out. You looked first at Caius, then at the woman carved in marble, then back at Caius. He only smiled gently.

“Who we are – we decide that ourselves. No one else does. To me, you are beautiful. Pure. Never think otherwise, dolcezza.”

Without warning, you hugged him so hard, that it hurt. You forgot that his skin was different from yours. He embraced you without hesitation, even though you were all covered in paint. You wept, cuddling into his chest, as he soothingly stroked your hair and back.

Once you had slightly calmed down, you looked up at him. His blond hair looked like a halo over his head. He amazed you in every sense of the word.

“Thank you. Thank you for letting me see this,” you whispered poignantly, and then went straight back to hugging him.

“There's nothing to thank you for, my lovely [Y/N]. I would like you to accept yourself as you are. Because you are truly magnificent.”

 *

 The only person you talked straightforward about pregnancy was Aro. Was it because of his gift? Most likely, and you simply felt you could trust him. From the moment you first found yourself in his arms, the bond between you two only strengthened. Also, a memorable visit from the doctor was also significant, and then, together with him, you went through the documents that Bella had sent you. To say he was furious, was an understatement. Yes, Aro saw your memories, but the reports were written from a third-person perspective. And the other evening was really awful – you couldn't stop crying because you couldn't block out the flow of memories.

You were close with each other; close enough for you to try to overcome your insecurities, to talk about how you really felt about this whole situation you found yourself in. It was far from easy, but Aro was a really patient specimen. In the course of these talks, you discussed practically everything. You knew that every scenario had to be worked out and discussed, because there were many different options of the outcome.

Despite many conversations, you were still unsure about keeping the baby. You didn't know if you wanted to, if you would be able to raise it and then tell it that it would forcibly have to become a vampire. After the doctor's appointment, things did not get any easier for you. You heard the heart and knew that the child was not to blame for its father’s actions. You were raped, but this child had nothing to do with it.

So you waited. You waited for a miracle to decide for you or for the baby to move when you were thinking of having it removed. It’d be a sign not to do it. However, nothing of the sort was happening and fate was not deciding for you. Aro convinced you that, even if you decided to have an abortion, there was nothing wrong about it. No one would blame you for it. The only person to blame here, was the monster who raped you.

You hadn't decided what you would do about the pregnancy, but you and Aro knew what would happen, if something went wrong. For your mates, it was your health and life that came first. Aro assured you of that a thousand times over. Because of this, if anything went wrong with the birth or if there were any complications, you were to be changed immediately. Also because of this, Aro talked to you about all aspects of your transformation. He was the one who introduced you to what transformation actually looks like. He didn't scare you with the pain you were about to go through, but only gave you the facts. Facts that you needed to know.

When you weren't talking about such serious matters, Aro also loved to spend time talking to you, but about different topics. He seemed to know all your thoughts, but you were still able to surprise him. He explained to you, that the human mind was more disordered and chaotic, than vampire one and that he certainly didn't see everything. Your brain chose the memories, often associated with strong feelings and emotions, which were meant to be remembered. You were joyful about this, because you could talk endlessly and he kept finding out something new about you. And you kept finding something new about him. You knew from the first moment that he was extraordinary, and the more you talked, the more you became certain about it.

Besides, Aro adored dancing. You were not convinced about this form of activity, but it was the intimacy of this act that convinced you. In his arms, no one was able to hurt you. You felt safe and, after many attempts, quite confident in your movements. He literally beamed, being able to teach you to dance and to be so close to you. You found nothing in his eyes but the infinite adoration he had for you. When you found out the reason behind this, your heart almost broke with sorrow and compassion.

“I must confess something to you, cara mia,” he whispered, holding you securely in his arms. It was evening, you had long since been prepared for sleep. He found your long nightgown to his liking, when he came to check how you were doing and if you needed anything. You rested your head on his shoulder. There was no music, he was the one giving the rhythm to your movements, yet it was the most wonderful dance you had yet had the chance to dance with him.

“Do tell, please,” you said, trying not to lose the rhythm. You were tired, as throughout the day you sorted through the things Bella sent you from Forks. In addition, you worked with Marcus to sell your house, because you were, after all, a little concerned about what hands your family home would pass into.

“I have been bound over the centuries to both men and women. My ex-wife, Sulpicia, whom you know and, to the best of my knowledge, whom I permitted to leave, was my faithful companion, basically from the beginning of my immortality. However, until now, I did not know what it meant to have a true mate.”

He tilted you gently, wishing to look into your eyes. You continued to sway to a non-existent rhythm, completely oblivious to your surroundings. You furrowed your brows.

“Are you serious?” you asked in a whisper, not wanting to ruin the moment. The light emanating from the candles, illuminated half of his face. He smiled, and you were unable to take your eyes off his red irises.

“Yes, my dear. I have waited over three thousand years for you. I must tell you, that I could wait another three millennia, only to see your beautiful face,” he said affectionately, holding you tighter against him to stroke your flushed cheek with his fingers.

Your eyes welled up with tears and he slowly bent down and kissed your forehead.

“That's enough for today, cara mia. You must rest well. Caius has something planned for tomorrow, but he didn't want to reveal what, under any circumstances,” he said amused, giggling under his breath. You loved when Aro was in a good mood, because then you were in a good mood too. Before he walked you to bed, he wiped away your tear. You squeezed his hand in yours, then climbed onto the bed. He covered you carefully with a duvet and stroked your hair.

“I'm glad I came here,” you whispered, looking into his eyes. “I never want to leave you,” you said with force. He smiled softly at you and stroked your hair once more.

“We will always be by your side, [Y/N]. Good night, cara.”

His voice so soft and tuneful that as soon as he snuffed out the candles, you drifted off to sleep in an instant.

 *

 Apart from the fact that almost everything was going great and your mental state was in constant improvement, your relationship with Bella had severely worsened. In the beginning you talked every evening. She still couldn't understand why you were selling the house and why you wouldn't, at least, want to visit Forks. After a while, you got fed up with explaining it to her. There were an awful lot of things she wasn't happy about and she didn't hide it. She kept criticising the Volturi without knowing them and having no idea, what they were actually doing.

You loved her like a sister, but because of that, she could annoy you exactly like one. Because of her pinching remarks and your lack of patience, you called each other less and less. You didn't want to keep getting annoyed and you were tired of explaining things to her. Besides, you didn't like that she didn't say a single good word about your mates. You at least tried to accept Edward. Suddenly, what he did to her was all forgotten and you couldn't understand it. You didn't know, what was happening to your sister and your stay in Italy didn’t exactly make things better. You still hoped that once you saw each other after the transformation, you would be able to explain it all to one another. You didn't want to lose Bella, the last person you considered family.

So you talked less and less or not at all, and when you did, you avoided difficult and sensitive topics. It was not like with Bella at all and it made you anxious. You were at ease with each other, almost always, and you didn’t get why she was so bitter and hateful towards your knew, chosen life. Especially, because partially your presence right then, in the trial chamber, was the reason for her to be alive at all.

Shortly after Caius presented you with your sculpted self, you were to spend the whole day together, the four of you. These were the days you loved the most. Although you cherished the time spent with each of your mates separately, the presence of all three put you in an ecstatic mood. You usually spent your afternoons like this – there were still a lot of things to do and solve, and a lot of trials to carry out.

Being in Volterra for so long, you learned a lot about the existing laws and how to enforce them. You knew that kings were not flawless, but it was logical to you that keeping the entire vampire world in line, required some sacrifices. Some greater than the other ones.

You usually sat down in the study, where you had ended the very first day, at a round table. You listened to the discussions and arguments, but also just spent time with your mates. You often sat on Aro's lap or tried to calm Caius down, when he became too agitated.

You were extremely excited since the morning, because they promised you a whole day outside. It wasn't often that all three of them wanted to spend time with you in the gardens, so you couldn't restrain your exhilaration. However, there were also days, or rather moments, when, under any circumstances, you could not leave your room. Such a moment was to occur today, after breakfast. You slept for a long time, almost until eleven o'clock. When you ate your breakfast, it was Renata who informed you that it was time to eat. Of course, you knew what it was about.

The only situation, in which you could not leave your chamber, was at lunchtime. Not yours, though, but the lunchtime of all the vampires, who inhabited the castle. For your own safety, usually for about two hours, you were not to leave and to occupy yourself with whatever you wanted. The only two hours, in which Renata or anyone else was not around you. Not many people knew about your stay in the castle and because of this, the kings decided that Renata should eat with the rest of the company.

You did not consider it strange in the slightest. Of course, you tried not to think about the fact that people would die, but you knew that they were chosen at random. Which meant that they could just as well have been run over by a car or they could have died in a fire. You did not think about it. You were just enjoying your two hours of freedom. Sometimes you sunbathed on the balcony, prepared your outfit or just played on the computer. These were little things that still reminded you of being human.

This week, when Renata told you that she would be gone for a while, you were already enjoying a long soak in the bathtub. The home spa was one of the favourite things you and your mum liked to do together. You poured hot water into the tub, applied a mask that you had prepared yourself with a few ingredients and relaxed.

Since you had no idea when, you were no longer afraid to look in the mirror. Sure, your body shape was far from ideal, but at least you weren’t terrified to look. You weren’t terrified to acknowledge that, yes, your body was raped, but you were recovering from it. And that you started to think that your body didn’t cause any of this.

After some time you spent in the bathtub, you felt a little dizzy. It wasn’t exactly a good sign, so you figured it’d be wise to get out of the tub. When you rinsed yourself off with clean water, you stood up, and that was the moment of terror. The room immediately started spinning, like you were on roundabout for the last forty minutes. You felt nauseous, but there was nothing near you to which you could cling to. You managed to step out of the tub, on the marble step, and then you felt it. Pain, excruciating pain, suffocation. Streams of blood went down your legs and before you fell onto the ground, you could only see white marble floor all covered in sanguineous blood.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Can you make headcanon with Demons Brothers ( Obey me ) who finds out about reader was abused ? Sorry for my english, it's not my first languague.

Well, I don’t know what’s like to be physically abused by your family, but I’ve been through my fair share of abuse in a relationship, so I can understand where you come from here.

For anyone who sees this post and needs comfort after any kind of dark thing that happened to you, including abuse of any kind - Yes, even the types that happen in relationships - You get what I mean - I will write for that.

I had BNHA blogs who wrote comfort pieces for me and it helped to make me feel better, and if I can help anyone feel better with themselves after this like that, then I’m happy x

Also, I don’t write for so many characters in one post anymore, it’s honestly draining and I can’t bring myself to write like that anymore, so I will just write for Lucifer, Mammon and Satan x

- - - - -

Lucifer

Out of everyone, Lucifer is the only one who can keep his composure, albeit barely so.

He is a demon, he knows all humans sin, but unlike demons, humans are supposed to be both good and evil, so what the hell possessed those idiots to behave so terribly with a pure angel such as yourself?

He just couldn’t comprehend why the hell humans are capable of such atrocities, when not even demons behave this way.

Ahh, the anger he’s feeling, not even Satan, in his worst phase, could understand - It was a monumental, infinite, incomprehensible kind of rage that burnt his heart so badly.

Despite everything he was feeling as you told him everything that happened, he merely bit his lip to contain himself, and hugged you tightly, letting you cry in his arms, as he stroked your hair, knowing that it can calm down a human - Or at least some sort of sense of protection and warmth.

He would tell you how you were so incredibly brave for managing to tell someone about the horrible, while also, you are so strong for being able to live with this for so long, and bear with the consequences of abuse.

But you managed to break through, somehow, and you were amazing - In his eyes, you were the strongest human alive.

Lucifer knows how horrible emotional pain is, and he would much rather feel physical one, than the other type, because he knows he won’t break that way.

But seeing you so fragile, small and broken in his arms ultimately shattered his heart, and he swore to get revenge in the worst way possible on your abusers.

He knows revenge solves nothing, but at least he’ll get some satisfaction, and somehow, knowing that the people who did bad things to you are there no more, may make you feel just a bit safer.

Despite being one of the most sensible brothers, he will still search to do more and more human psychology research, and with your help and insight, will try to help you recover, even a tiny bit, and will be there every step of the way as you are healing, never letting go of your hand.

- - -

Mammon

Okay, lemme tell you straight -

While Mammon is the most in-touch with his emotional side, he will suffer the most hearing that you, his most beloved person alive, had to go through such terrible things in your life.

You were just a small, frail human, you barely lived, compared to him, so why did you have to go through such trauma?!

He would outright cry, like anime waterfalls, and would cling on you, rocking with you back and forth, but he wasn’t sure if he was trying to comfort you, or himself, at that point, since he was hurting so much.

His brain would stop for a little while, and he would remember all the shit he got from Maddi, and sometimes, even the bad things that he accepts from his brothers, as a way to keep them happy, but ultimately, he would manage to get to the point where he tries to find ways to ease your soul of your burdens and traumas.

He will be even clingier than before, will spoil you even more, will make sure NOBODY yells around you, does moves too abruptly to scare you off, and basically, will thread carefully every step of the way to prevent anything from being a potential trigger.

Will literally kill Asmo if he tries to hug you without consent, or if he tries to flirt or make advances towards you, and while he won’t say why, he’ll just throw Asmo away and drag you away, to a safer place - Unless you reassure him that his younger brother isn’t a trigger or a threat in your eyes.

Poor Mammon will be a bit paranoid and will go overboard with a lot of things, threating you like a frail snowdrop, and it isn’t until you tell him that you won’t break from little things like this, that he can afford to take it a bit easier than before.

But don’t forget that he will even yell and fight Lucifer if he dares get mad at you for whatever reason, or use his demon form or powers around you.

And the same goes for the Avatar of Wrath, or Gluttony, when he’s dangerously hungry.

Also, he will kill Belphie if he attempts to kill you.

- - -

Satan

Satan.exe stopped working.

I mean, how is he supposed to react anyway?

His most precious person tells him that they have been mistreat, and he’s supposed to stay...Calm?

That’s impossible.

He will literally get up and leave without a word, will leash out his rage in a place where you couldn’t possible go, and when he’s finally done, will return to you as if nothing happened, albeit, with the necessary apologies for leaving like that, and returning with a lot of sweets, comfort food, flowers and anything that he knows you love and would bring a smile on your face.

Despite how much he reads, he only knows things in theory, and needs your guidance to apply things practically because, as he knows very well, every person is different, and different things work for different people.

With you, and around you, he will be the calmest specimen possible known to this realm, and the others, because he knows his rage could be a horrible trigger for you, and the last thing he wants is for you to be afraid of him, or, Heaven forbid, cry because of his mistakes.

Satan will make sure to check on you at all times, either f2f or via texts, and when you’re going out somewhere, or just chilling together, he will hold your wrist.

He will say he thinks you have very cute and delicate hands, but really, he subtly checks for your pulse to see if you have any anxiety spikes or anything that would be proof that something is bothering you in any way, shape or form.

As everyone knows, Satan is very attentive about literally everything, and incredibly detail-oriented, so he will over-analyse anything and come up with his own conclusions, and once he’s used to understanding your behaviour, he will automatically go and solve anything in your place, and it will shock you, ‘cause he’s so on point?? How did he even guess??

He won’t treat you any differently, considering that he’s always been sweet and polite with you, but will definitely criticise his brothers or other strangers if they behave in a way that may be triggering...Or hell, maybe annoying, ‘cause it gives him a motive to get away from nuisances who won’t stop talking.

Apart from his inferiority complex, he never received any kind of abuse, so he isn’t familiar with the feeling, nor can he claim to fully comprehend or sympathise with what you’re going through, however, he understands logically, and knowing how much it hurts you even know, and how it still affects you long-term, he is aware that he is unable to let you brave this storm alone.

[dragonofthestone]

general mental health related trigger warnings apply.  feel free to include more or exclude those facts / test results that take too much time or don’t apply, you can check out this list for more personality-related quizzes to include!

Putting under cut because this is very long and also cause you know lots of potentially triggering shit so no one has to see it unless they choose to.

quick facts

diagnoses: none, It’s early 1900s even with their advancements at best he’s a ‘clumsy child’ and ‘weird’ or something. Modern (or even going off his mainverse) setting: Adhd and or autistic, ptsd, c-ptsd to definitly if only cause of what happened to his lil bro lab stuff aside, does Insomnia count?? I guess that’s more symptom, anxiety, quite likely depression to an extent. He’s got a lot going on okay. Also like being some where on the Ace/Aro spec probably would have been considered a disorder or something back then so lets throw that it too. triggers: Literally anything to do with doctors, hospitals, heavily medical stuff, anything that reminds him of the lab (Needles are big one), the smell of like antispectic/ that sterile clean smell, Alchemy- when/if used near and especially on him. Nope, nope never again. He will jump back fast and try to distance himself from it. Depending on who it is and how it’s done touch. Can’t stand anything snug around his neck- even his scarf is always, always pretty loose. BLINDFOLDS/anything that completely takes away his sight. Having lost part of his vision losing it all TERRIFIES him. Loud noises- like gun shots (Because heightened senses and animal instincts that keep you on edge are FUN ) positive coping skills: Pfft at best he might open up and talk to a friend but he hates worrying and bothering people soo.... negative coping skills: Trying to just ignore it all and hopes it goes away and just trying to bury it down, When alone and espcially if he hasn’t slept well his mind might spiral a bit (and then tries not to think about that either). Just puts on a smile and tells everyone it’s okay not wanting them to worry. attachment style:  (Personally I’d say somewhere between Avoiding it and perhaps a bit clingy and very protective if he allows himself to get attached) Disorganized / Fearful-Avoidant love language:  (Personal thoughts is all of the above but dependent on the person) Basically all of them-  With the thing he loves the most is simple quality time and physical touch, touch is very very dependent on the person tho. Recieving gifts is his lowest love language which I can agree on he loves being given things but honestly he’d value the persons time more then any gift. Just having them in his life is enough for him. myers briggs / mbti: (Is that that weird letter one always confused me tbh - idk I know it’s one I’ve heard of and don’t think I’ve ever bothered with so)

history exploration

are their diagnoses formal ( via a doctor, therapist, etc. ) or informal ( self diagnosis, a hunch, unrealized, etc. )

At best it’s informal but honestly not all. Look his folks love him and his dad may be a doctor but like.. he’ll be the first to admit he doesn’t know much when it comes to psychology. Considering people think/thought he’s strange enough as it is perhaps it’s for the best- It would also involve Tim opening a massive can of worms he’s all but trying to ignore.

Besides it’s 1914 probably better off without it lest he get thrown in, if you excuse the phrase ‘the loony bin’ and probably have more horrendous test and things done on him only making the trauma worse.

have they ever been treated / medicated?

Nope- besides what ever was done to him like his fellow Chimera/ experiements but I don’t think that counts. And most regualr medicine doesn’t tend to work well with his bizzaro body anyway. Only thing that has somewhat been treated was his father managed to find something that could help with his Insomnia but it’s not perfect and doesn’t always work.

have they ever been hospitalized or treated on an inpatient basis?

Not happening. He’d fight tooth and nail even in a modern setting on going.

how old were they when they first started experiencing / realizing symptoms?

Realizing?? Does knowing that he’s different count?? He’s always known he doesn’t fit in and everyone thinks him... Odd. But uh call it deep denial

do they have a family history of mental illness?

Maybe?? Not that it’d matter for him as he’s not even blood related

how was mental health handled / discussed in the family?

I mean his dad tried to help best he could - although can’t say it was really talked about. Mistakes were definiley made (grandfather sure as hell was no help) even his folks realize there are things perhaps they could have handled better but not for lack of love.

what are their thoughts on mental health / their diagnosis?

Uhh, some combination of aware of it and that people are affected by these things (and he’s pretty open and happy to accept people as they are) but in some amount of denial that HE has these things/ if not fully unaware. Like anythting that happens he just considers his normal and doesn’t question it (and Being at the Nest has made him wonder if maybe he isn’t so weird, different or may have just enforced the idea of he’s weird but has fold people who are just as odd now so that’s okay )

in what ways has their diagnosis shaped their life or experiences?

Just a bundle of anxious nerves, terrified of being alone, forgotten. Of hurting anyone who gets close. Wants to be close to people of scared of getting close and losing them. Kept him from making friends, close connections.

symptoms

bold all that are present, italicize those that are resolved or in the history.

depression.    anxiety.    panic attacks.    dissociation (maybe???).    derealization.    depersonalization.    suicidal ideation.    self harm.    homicidal ideation.    psychosis.    auditory hallucinations .    visual hallucinations.    delusions.    mania.    hypomania.   racing thoughts.    hyperactivity (But less in a physical way and more mentally hyper active).    attention difficulty.    flashbacks.    nightmares.   hyperarousal.    hypoarousal.    hypersexuality.    hyposexuality.    psychopathy.   risky behavior.    catatonia.    somatic / bodily concerns.    mutism.    phobia.    agoraphobia.    hoarding.    obsessions.    compulsions.    body dysmorphia.    hair picking.    skin picking.     amnesia.    illness anxiety / hypochondria.    sensory loss (does his loss of vision count?? idk).    speech difficulty.    comprehension difficulty.    communication difficulty.   tics.    defiant behavior.   irritable mood.    vindictiveness.     aggression.    pyromania.    kleptomania.    paranoia.    attention seeking.    narcissism.    avoidance.    dependency.    pica.    rumination.    food restriction.    food binging.    purging.    soiling the bed.    insomnia.    fatigue.    sexual dysfunction.    delirium.    developmental delays.

note that all of the above are, on their own, normative and typical aspects of human functioning. they become “symptoms” when they last longer than “normal” or when they pose a significant impact on someone’s life / functioning.

explanations / elaborations on any of the above symptoms

A lot of italicized stuff I either consider as maybe things (ideas I’d never considered but make sense given what he’s been through and stuff he already experiences. As well as a lot of things he dealt with in the past (but also may still crop up now and again in his adult life. Everything else you can almost guarantee stems from being “born” and for a time raised in a lab setting as well as his more recent uh stint there. Though some of it is just probably more naturally what he is but to any person would be seen as uh not normal. - The Homicidal thing- he’s a good guy would never actively hurt any one unless pushed but there’s definitely been moments where his mind has wandered the path of what if. He has all this strength now after all and they were the ones who wanted a monster in the first place so what if he... (I can promise he’d never act on it unless pushed and put a position where it was an option then... maybe..) If asked he’d probably deny it

Phobia: He has ALOT Most notably terrible Clausterphobia (as well as like doctors/needles/ being restrained/ loss of vision ect..)

Auditory Hallucinations: Well that gets complicated considering he frequently hears thye screams and wails of the damned animal souls used in his creation- so to anyone else it might come across as him having audittory hallucinations- that being said on rare occaisions he probably does/ has experienced actual hallucinations (but chalked it up to oh he was just imagining it or something)

Visual hallucination I’m letting stay in itallics cause honestly I just don’t know. Like I couldsee him having dealt with them but never really thought about that one - although given his whole host of other issues I mean not out of the realm of possibility

His Hyposexuality in part are probably just his ace/aro spec- obvs they aren’t the same I know and even if he got treatment for them he’d be just as ace/aro spec as before. But honestly yah never thought about it until now but that’s def something he’s got going on

Developemental delays and just anything to do with learning all relating back to him being a lab experiment and basically havbing a very oddly wired brain that trying it’s hardest to function as humanly as it can allow with the animal bits getting in the way. Just another piece of his messy confused puzzle.

The Sucidal/risky behaviour thing is a big iffy maybe?? Like he’s never thought about actually doing it but the thought of who would miss him if he disappeared or if he did this thing would anyone care? has crossed his mind. Espcially early on in his time at the Nest when he waws pretty convinced no one would really give a damn if something happened and might have been more wiling to do something stupid and consequences be damned

Psychosis- eh not frequent if he does have/show it. I’d say mostly might manifest after rather abrupt wake from a nightmare where for a bit his mind is rather muddled and sometimes has a hard time coming out of it

Not on the symptoms list but uh he’s got some questionable amnesia/memory issues as well. Like it’s been an always thing but his most recent trauma’s has kinda made it..worse

Most notably is uh for better or worse he doesn’t remember his little bro is actually uh dead.

Stolen Tagged in spirit by @bidotheuncanny

And just if you see it and haven’t done it consider yourself tagged (Never know who has or hasn’t been tagged you know and hate to be a bother)

[sendme-2hell]

Rating the Books I read after Gideon the Ninth (in order) by how well they made me forget my Gideon the Ninth angst

I starred the ones that I actually recommend if you want something similar to gtn.

I was bored so I made this. Mostly just so I can look back at this and laugh at myself in a few months and remember what I’ve read. 

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

**Harrow the Ninth -Tamsyn Muir 

Summary: A depressed girl has to navigate murder attempts by both the mom and the dad of her dead ex-girlfriend who she can’t remember. She tries to make soup and writes fanfic to cope. 

How well it helped me forget: -100/10 but also 10/10 

Rating explanation: This one gets a 10/10 because it did make me feel better about a *particular* GTN plotpoint which I was very angsty about, but tragically it did make me more feral. After reading it I reread both books so I don’t think it helped me forget my angst. 

Similar themes to GTN: all of it, plus more memes 

I Want to Be Where The Normal People Are - Rachel Bloom 

Summary: Rachel Bloom who wrote the world’s most relatable song: “You Stupid Bitch,” and starred/created in Crazy Ex Girlfriend, writes about having anxiety, feeling like she’s not normal, and Harry Potter fanfic.

How well it helped me forget: 8/10

Rating explanation: For a few minutes I actually did forget about my griddlehark angst while I learned more about Bloom’s life and laughed at the painful relatability of it all. 

Similar themes to TLT: ummm depression, feeling very out of place, memes

Fingersmith - Sarah Waters

Summary: The book The Handmaiden was based on. A girl is sent to become a Lady’s handmaiden to con her out of some money. She falls in love. Many plot twists. 

How well it helped me forget: 5/10

Rating explanation: I was sadly still thinking about TLT the whole time I read this. I liked it but I actually like the Handmaiden better because the women spend more time together. Like in this book, I wish that Harrow and Gideon could spend more time together. 

Similar themes: wlw enemies to lovers, at some point you realize the main character’s love interest understands what’s going on way more than the main character

Kindred - Octavia Butler 

Summary: Very dark book about slave narratives. I cannot make a joke here, but this book is excellent. 

How well it helped me forget: 10/10 

Rating explanation: Again, I can’t make a joke. But Octavia Butler is amazing. 

Ash - Malinda Lo 

Summary: A wlw retelling of Cinderella with fairies and an emphasis on stories 

How well it helped me forget:7/10

Rating explanation: This was really quick and fun and I definitely was rooting for the lesbians. Also it was nice it had a happy ending! If you liked Crier’s War (which I did), this was clearly an influence for Nina Varela. 

Similar themes: wlw, the magic one + the fighting one dynamic

Station Eleven - Emily St. John Mandel

Summary: A deadly pandemic wipes out so many people that the world spins into chaos and no one can figure out how to use electricity apparently? But the book is really about fame and wanting to be remembered. Go figure.

How well it helped me forget: -10/10 

Rating explanation: Ok that’s not fair. It helped me forget about Gideon and Harrow but it did NOT help me forget about Corona. It was technically good and a lot of people I respect love it, but either because I was still thinking about TLT or because it was about a pandemic, I couldn’t really enjoy it. 

Similar themes: post-apocalyptic 

Red, White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston 

Summary: The Prince of England and The son of the president of the US are enemies. They are definitely enemies.

How well it helped me forget: 6/10

Rating explanation: This was such a fun read that it almost distracted me! Tragically I was in such TLT headspace that I kept pausing to read fanfics where Gideon and Harrow switch eyes. 

Similar themes: Enemies to lovers, queer

Troubling Love - Elena Ferrante 

Summary: In true Elena Ferrante fashion, an event spurs an Italian woman to do a lot of internal processing and have some flashbacks. 

How well it helped me forget: 7/10

Rating explanation: This book was a bit disturbing so it distracted me in that way. Plus I love Elena Ferrante’s writing so much that it felt like coming home to an old friend. Unfortunately for me, this is Elena Ferrante’s least queer book. I know because I have now read them all. Her most queer book, The Lying Life of Adults, would have distracted me better. Also just using this space to tell anyone who’s still reading this (probably no one) to go read My Brilliant Friend (and the corresponding Neopolitan Novels). They are not similar to TLT except they are vaguely queer and about competitive friendships where the girls are obsessed with each other in maybe an unhealthy way. Ok so a bit similar. Genuinely my favorite books ever. 

Similar themes: mommy issues, daddy issues, childhood trauma

On This Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous -Ocean Vuong

Summary: A Vietnamese immigrant reflects on his mother, grandmother, and his own life experience in the US. It is poetic and beautiful and will make you cry. 

How well it helped me forget: 10/10

Rating explanation: This book is beautiful. It really changes how you think about the US. Plus really interesting stuff about the western way of telling stories. Cannot recommend it enough, though very little to do with TLT. 

Similar themes: queer, stuff about language, childhood trauma, you will cry

**The Priory of the Orange Tree - Samantha Shannon 

Summary: OK sorry none of those were good suggestions for what to read after GTN. THIS is what you should read after GTN. It is an incredibly slow burn wlw enemies to lovers. There are dragons, there is magic, there are very cool female characters who I am in love with. This is like Game of Thrones but if it was good, queer, and only one 800 page book. 

How well it helped me forget: 10/10

Rating explanation: Enemies to lovers!!!! What more do I have to say? Also very cool world-building, interesting religious themes. 

Similar themes: wlw enemies to lovers, religious themes, magic, very old wizard milfs, also mlm

*The Traitor Baru Cormorant 

Summary: Baru is a very smart girl in a colonized island. She decides she will play the game of the colonizers, rise up in their society, and destroy them from within. How is that going, Baru? 

How well it helped me forget: 100/10

Rating explanation: This DID make me forget TLT. The only book to truly make me. It made me forget so badly that I wanted my Griddlehark angst BACK. GIVE ME IT BACK I don’t wanna feel sad about Baru anymore. I cannot recommend it more, it is so good, but it did make me ugly cry. It also made me majorly depressed about colonization and the state of the world. 

Similar themes: wlw enemies to lovers, ending will make you cry

*The Monster Baru Cormorant - Seth Dickinson 

Summary: Baru is depressed, has brain damage, throws up a lot, is sad about (redacted), does some things without remembering them because there’s something going on in her brain. Sound familiar? It’s kinda like Harrow the Ninth but more depressing. Oh also a lot of new characters are introduced, old characters come back, a lot of setup for the next book. Euler’s identity shows up out of nowhere?! 

How well it helped me forget: 10/10

Rating explanation: Again, it made me forget but only because I was so engrossed in this story. Also kinda depressed. This book is kinda depressing. But Baru is very fun to be around, and there are some other great characters. Marry me, Yawa. 

Similar themes: again, this is just harrow the ninth on steroids, I am in love with every single woman in this series

*The Tyrant Baru Cormorant - Seth Dickinson 

Summary: Baru makes a new bestie, reunites with an old bestie, and discovers a dead bestie in her brain!

How well it helped me forget: 1000/10

Rating explanation: I loved this book. There were a few scenes I reread >four times. This book makes the other books in the series worth it. 

Similar themes: please see my venn diagram comparing tlt, baru, and A memory called empire for more information

*The Ninth House - Leigh Bardugo 

Summary: A girl has seen ghosts her whole life and because of that, gets accepted at Yale even though she didn’t finish high school. Yale is like a hotspot for ghosts I guess. It’s dark academia, the girl has a secret, the narrator is pretty funny.

How well it helped me forget: 6/10

Rating explanation: I was trying to get distracted from TLT (and Baru at this point), but it’s hard to forget about Harrow and Gideon in a book called The Ninth House (hello?). It was enjoyable and there was some good humor. I’m curious about the next book in the series when it comes out. It is not wlw unless you squint (which I do). 

Similar themes: debatably wlw body posession, nine houses, the ninth one being important, nerd boy who reminds me of pal, woman is revealed to be MUCH older than I originally thought, soul eating, revenants, tombs, necromancy, character named Mercy

The Bone Season - Samantha Shannon 

Summary: It’s the future and London is a hotspot for clairvoyants. Paige is a woman who has a special gift and can jump into people’s bodies and possess them briefly (among other things, this is a terrible explanation). Because of this, she is sent to a secret part of the city where clairvoyants are trained to be monster fighters (but also like, kept there in captivity against their will). Unlike every other book on this list I honestly wouldn’t recommend. I know there are other books in the series. If you’ve read on and it gets better let me know. (I know no one has gotten this far reading this but still)

How well it helped me forget: 4/10

Rating explanation: This one was disappointing because I loved Priory of the Orange Tree so much. This book did not distract me from my griddlehark or barhu feels. There’s also a character named Warden so I thought about SexPal a lot. 

Similar themes: enemies to lovers, ghosts, possession, queer but only background characters 

****The Unspoken Name - A.K. Larkwood 

Summary: A girl is in an isolated cult that wants her to die as a sacrifice (sound familiar?). A definitely not evil wizard helps her escape. She meets a cute necromancer who’s also kinda from a cult. She goes on some gay adventures, gets the help of a morally grey older necromancer (who I’m in love with), and fights with her frenemy. 

How well it helped me forget: 10/10

Rating explanation: This is the most similar to TLT on this list. Gideon and Csorwe would be friends. Seriously I recommend this! And the second book comes out soon! And it’s not sad like TLT or Baru! 

Similar themes: sword lesbian + necromancer dynamic, wlw enemies to lovers, cults, tombs, necromancy, character named “the sleeper”, also mlm

The Invisible Life of Addie Larue - V. E. Schwab 

Summary: Adeline Larue made a deal with a demon in 1714 France, because she wanted to see the world and stuff. It backfires of course. She is immortal but no one remembers her. This causes all sorts of problems and makes her very angsty. The narrative flashes between her going through the years, and her falling in love with the only person who will remember her. 

How well it helped me forget: 2/10

Rating explanation: I know people loved this book but I did not. I liked the last 50 pages, I’ll give it that. I wish it was more queer (it was a little queer). 

Similar themes: as I said, a little wlw, immortality, demons, I guess falling in love with someone and them not remembering you now that I think about it 

Sula - Toni Morrison 

Summary: A story about two black women in the 1920’s-1960’s in an Ohio town. It is really great and interesting. It is a book about complicated female friendships (among so many other things that better writers not writing a list no one will read about their TLT feels have outlined) which I love. I was told I should read this after the Neapolitan Novels by Elena Ferrante and it did not disappoint. Same vibes. 

How well it helped me forget: 10/10

Rating explanation: This was just a great book. Has really nothing to do with TLT

Similar themes: debatably queer 

*Murderbot Diaries: All Systems Red, Artificial Condition, Rogue Protocol, Exit Strategy, Network Effect,  - Martha Wells

Summary: Muderbot is an artificial construct who just wants to be left alone to watch tv, damnit! It doesn’t want to interact with humans, and it definitely does not want to talk about feelings. Too bad some humans want to become friends with it.

How well it helped me forget: 10/10

Rating explanation: These books were so good. They did help me forget! The books are really about having anxiety, making friends, and letting yourself have feelings. Also they are SO FUNNY. Highly recommend. In the way that I love Gideon’s POV, I love Murderbot’s POV

Similar themes: funny narrator, queer characters, space, people who don’t want to deal with their feelings being forced to deal with their feelings

*A Memory Called Empire - Arkady Martine 

Summary: Mahit is sent a dangerous, evil empire to be an ambassador. Lots of beautiful writing about colonialism, assimilation, language, and culture.There is gay angst and funny characters. I am once again in love with a morally grey older woman character. 

How well it helped me forget: 10/10

Rating explanation: Yes this book is great and did distract me from gtn (mostly. I did end up reading a great fanfic about wake, g1deon, and pyrrah in the middle but otherwise...). It is part of my holy trilogy of wlw books (this, baru, tlt) that I just read recently. The next book comes out on March 2nd so it will be a good distraction from waiting for Alecto. Like Baru, it made me feel like shit about colonialism but unlike the other two books in my trilogy (redacted but if you’ve read those books you know) didn’t happen. It had a not too sad ending. 

Similar themes: see my venn diagram, but seriously what is going on with brain surgery in these books...

*The Luminous Dead - Cailtin Starling 9/10

Summary: A woman needs money and to get the money she goes on a risky cave dive. It turns out the only contact she has with the rest of the world is a woman who’s kinda a dick. It’s 400 pages of creepy cave diving and these two women talking to each other. It’s creepy and uncomfortable and I loved it. I did spend the whole book thinking it would be such a good story podcast.

How well it helped me forget: 10/10

Rating explanation: It did make me forget about tlt! There are some kinda boring parts but it pays off. The relationship between the two main characters is very interesting (though a bit fucked up). 

Similar themes: wlw enemies to lovers, traumatised characters, shitty moms

[bookofmirth]

I haven't read ACOSF yet, and tbh I'm rather rusty with the characters but it was really interesting to read your opinion on Elain! I feel there's a lot of complexity to her. And how she presents herself as well because as you said we literally have no chapters from hers or Lucien's POV and I think that's the important point to note because right now we're all just guessing and assuming her to be like Feyre, but she's not. People deal/show their traumas in different way and l think people expect Elain to deal with it as Feyre did. But, Feyres trauma and Elains are very different!

I don't really know what I'm saying. But I read your answer and it made me go 'oh... Huh!' in a good way, it sparked my curiosity! So thank you! But I think Elain perhaps is the most complex person with their trauma. I know people say 'oh Nesta is so different' but (I specialised in drama therapy so I love psycho analysis) and what Nesta did is self destructive to prevent relationships to avoid hurt or more emotions that she doesn't want to acknowledge (in my opinion!)

Elain just shuts down. She doesn't drink, she doesn't screw, she just remains in her garden which in itself says a lot! That's a very grounding way to handle trauma and not a lot of people are aware of that side!

So yeah I don't know what I'm saying but I think it's a really interesting discussion!

I have so many thoughts about Elain! This took me a few days to get to because i knew I had a crapton of thoughts. So this is basically me using this ask to explain the way I see Elain post-acosf!

There are three important scenes in acosf off the top of my head: when Elain talks with Nesta and they fight, and then with Nesta and Feyre and she gets mad and leaves, and then Feyre and Rhys talk about her in their chapter. We’re getting a lot more information about her, and for me, it wasn’t so much about who she is, but why we don’t know who she is.

So far, what we’ve had is Feyre’s and Nesta’s POV. Even when Feyre and Lucien tried to help her in acowar, they were unable. So we’ve never had anything about Elain from someone who didn’t grow up with her and experience the same trauma (such as becoming destitute, their mother’s death, their father being beaten, the Cauldron, etc.)

The sisters do handle it very, very differently. And I think that at this point the fandom consensus is that Elain runs away from her problems, but I actually disagree, and partly because of what you mentioned - that she isn’t using those self-harming, destructive coping mechanisms. Nesta was avoiding her problems, hardcore. It’s absolutely possible that Elain avoids things, but I don’t think that she just runs from all of her problems because:

Elain grieves her father. Openly. She tries to accept the fact that it wasn’t her fault and that she couldn’t do anything about it. (See: her going to his grave in acofas, her first talk with Nesta in acosf.) Elain does not run from her grief, she doesn’t pretend it doesn’t exist, and she doesn’t hide it from others. As one of the most defining events we’ve seen her go through in the series, that’s a pretty big deal.

Elain does not cling to unhealthy coping mechanisms. There could be ways that she does this that we are unaware of. She does seem like the type who would be really, really good at making people think she’s okay, all while she’s silently imploding. But we don’t know that yet?

Elain does not isolate herself. 

However, Elain definitely needs to deal with some stuff! She definitely needs to deal with Lucien, and she needs to have an actual talk with Nesta because I don’t remember a single satisfying resolution between those two in acosf. Not like Nesta had with Feyre. 

I have this idea that is purely based on Elain’s line in acosf:

“I went into the Cauldron, too, you know. And it captured me. And yet somehow, all you think of is what my trauma did to you.” (pg. 233)

And then Feyre tells Nesta that yes, Elain was right. 

This is so so so sossosososos important. I cannot emphasize it enough. Elain is used to putting on a fake, smiling face because she doesn’t want the weight of her sisters’ concern. She has been pretending to cope for so long - and tbf, she seems to have been doing better than Nesta - that people not only forget that she has suffered, but she doesn’t feel like she can even express that suffering.

Emotional labor often means negating one’s own feelings in order to acknowledge or tend to someone else’s. And that is Elain’s major role, in the series. Feyre has been caring for everyone’s physical wellbeing (hunting), while Elain’s role has been to care for everyone’s emotional wellbeing. But, like with most emotional labor, it has gone unnoticed.

I’ve made posts about emotional labor in the past (four years ago!!!!) but I’m gonna spare you the link because a lot of it was about a ship that’s no longer a ship, so here is the relevant content:

What I am talking about is the regulation of emotion - any time that you give comfort, are especially attentive to someone’s needs, stop thinking about how you feel in order to focus on how someone else feels, try to cheer someone up, make sure that they are taking care of themselves, try to allay their insecurities, etc. Basically, helping them with any sort of emotional distress.

You know those posts you’ve seen, about women protecting men’s egos constantly? Or about making time for self-care? Or about recognizing toxic relationships? That tell you “if X is being demanded of you in a relationship, get out”? Those are ALL about emotional labor, broadly speaking. They are warning you not to do more than you can handle, more than you need to do, because it can be harmful to you.

If you have ever been expected to make a person or people feel better any time you are around each other (including when they are angry, upset, anxious, ill, frustrated, insecure, etc.), you have performed emotional labor. Pretty much everyone has done this at some point, unless you are a completely insensitive jerk.

Notice, though, that I said expected to and any time you are around them – this is where the problem comes in for YOU. This is not about just being there for a friend.

Making loved ones feel better is fantastic. Seeing people be polite and kind to one another makes my heart shine. That is not a problem in and of itself. That can be seen as emotional labor, but there are no requirements on you in those circumstances. This is something you are doing of your own free will.

The problem, again, is when this is expected, constantly, over time. Now, in my experience, the expectation is not necessarily coming from the other person. One of the problems with this type of labor is that not only do others expect women to perform these tasks, but women expect it of themselves.

It’s super easy to see this – who is expected to take care of a child when they fall? Who is expected to baby-sit? Who did you want when you were sick as a child, mom or dad? Who is expected to be sensitive and pay attention to others’ emotions?

For more info on this idea specifically, read Of Woman Born by Adrienne Rich. As a woman, I realized how much work I had been performing and how much it was harming me and I just… got real upset. She comes at this mostly from what a woman’s role is expected to be within the family, and might actually be a bit outdated in that respect because I feel like family structures and dynamics are shifting (that is a totally un-academic evaluation of the situation, don’t quote me on that), but still, it’s really informative.

While I was doing some research for this post I came across a peer-reviewed article about nursing and basically, high amounts of emotional labor led to anxiety and burn-out in those performing it. It literally will cost your mental health – not to mention your time, energy, attention, and it often requires you to ignore your own needs (this last part came from me, not the article). On the other hand, high levels of emotional intelligence (being able to recognize your own and others’ emotional states) meant less emotional labor (and therefore less anxiety & burn-out). One of the most important things to realize is that while you are taking care of someone else’s emotional needs, your own are frequently unmet. That is why it’s important to recognize this in yourself, not just in these characters.

So where does Elain fit in? Elain is the #1 emotional labor provider of the family, and she is about to freaking SNAP. I know, because once I realized how my trauma was hidden in order to spare someone else its consequences, I fucking SNAPPEd. I’ll also spare you the personal details, but Elain hasn’t been “okay”. She hasn’t been “boring”, or “nice”, or “chosen” Feyre over Nesta. She has literally been unable to express herself because (and I am NOT blaming Nesta or Feyre or her father one bit) her family’s emotional state has been so fragile, there hasn’t been room for Elain to feel or express her emotions in years. 

In the feysand short, Rhys says:

I wonder if everyone has spent so long assuming Elain is sweet and innocent that she felt she had to be that way or else she’d disappoint you all.

And that completely tracks. Everyone has gotten used to Elain being not just “nice”, but being the emotionally predictable one. The one they know they can go to for a smile. The one they can count on for never, ever making them realize that she has been through Some Shit Too. And being that person is exhausting.

When Feyre thinks about Elain not using Lucien’s gloves, 1) she still has them, otherwise she couldn’t think about Elain not using them, and 2) I like to see the gloves as something that she will come to use, once she realizes that she can feel and express those emotions without it causing a breakdown in the family. Right now, she just wants to feel. And she can’t do that emotionally, so she’s doing it physically. Once she heals and finds a better balance, she won’t need to resort to physical pain. (Which, lowkey has me thinking some other thoughts, but.... maybe later.) But anyway, once Elain does go through her very own special journey, I fully expect her to welcome those gloves. She won’t need physical pain to feel anymore.

Not to mention my completely unacademic and non-professional opinion that people will judge a nice women harshly for being rude once, but accept a woman with a history of rudeness for just “being that way”. It’s another way that Elain may feel trapped in her “nice girl” persona. I think she started out that way - kindness and light and generosity is 100% in Elain’s character in the first place. It’s not as if she went into the Court of Nightmares and suddenly Cassian thought, “wait, she fits right in to this shithole of depravity”. No, he still thought the literal opposite. It’s just that once people get used to you doing all their emotional labor, they will continue to take advantage of it, even if they don’t realize its cost.

[goddess-aelin]

OK let me just word vomit all of my thoughts about A Court of Silver Flames right here.

Overall, I LOVED IT! Say what you want but Sarah J Maas is a fantastic writer and storyteller. She is great with world building and most of the plot is centered around the characters, their feelings, and their relationships with each other.

On Nesta: listen, I get that she did some shitty stuff. Like VERY shitty stuff. Does this make her evil or inherently bad? Nah. She went through a lot of traumatic stuff and was groomed literally from childhood by her mother to be this cold, aloof person. This book was about her finding her way in life away from all of that, forging her own path and finding out who she really is. Most of all, it was about her healing. I related so heavily to Nesta throughout this whole book. I would really like to say that the sister I’m most like is Feyre because she’s an angel but in all honesty, I’m probably most like Nesta. If it’s hard for you to show your emotions (because of trauma, childhood, or whatever) you will know that sometimes you act out in ways you might not want to. It obviously doesn’t excuse shitty actions but it also doesn’t make you an inherently bad person. If you can’t relate to being in a dark place and lashing out, just wanting people to get away from you because you either can’t take the attention or feel like you don’t deserve any kindness, then I’m so happy for you. Because that place sucks. I honestly cried so many times throughout the book because what Nesta was feeling was what I had been feeling at points in my life. Thankfully, I had therapy and meds to help my anxiety and depression and work through traumas, but obviously Nesta didn’t have that. The points in which Nesta felt one thing and lashed out and said another were happening to me on a regular basis. I felt so shitty prior and saying those things, even if I apologized, made me feel SO much shittier. Coming out of that cycle of hatred of yourself is so difficult and her journey was so real and intense. So thank you, Sarah, for writing this. Most cathartic scene was where Nesta was dancing at the court of nightmares, feeling alive again. It’s exactly how I felt when I got back into my art and realized how much I was missing. 

*note: I also see a lot of people complaining about Nesta not apologizing to Feyre. While I am the biggest Feyre fan, I also understand that this was a portion of the story. Nesta only just started to be in a good place in the last few pages of the book. I didn’t really expect a full resolution, especially with so much going on. Would I have loved an extra 200 pages of resolution? Of course!

On Cassian: I’ve seen so many people say that this book made Cassian seem like he was just a dumb guy who can only think about getting laid. I didn’t see that at all? Obviously there were a lot of smut scenes (I was sweating whew). Idk if some people can’t read between the lines but he literally knew Nesta was his mate almost the whole time and if this was the only way she’d let him have her, then he was willing to be ok with that. I felt like this book brought out a really nice, softer and nurturing side of Cassian. (Is he my new husband? Yes, yes he is) Also NESSIAN SUPREMACY. Am I as obsessed as I am with Feysand? Probably not but I’m definitely close to that point. We love a warrior couple who is soft for each other. Literally how does SJM write these perfect couples? She’s ruined any relationship for me unless it’s with a sexy strong illyrian male. 

*Sigh* on the Azriel/Elain/Gwyn/Lucien situation: I want to say that I have no strong opinion on this situation and would honestly be ok with whatever happens. Mostly because I trust that Sarah knows what she’s doing and she hasn’t let me down yet (even if she has ripped my heart out multiple times). Would it be cool to see a deviation from the mates? I mean, I guess. I’m kinda a sucker for there being that person out there for you so I don’t hate this trope? I do lean more towards Gwynriel and Elucien because of this. This is not to say that Lucien is entitled to Elain because obviously he’s not. I do see more potential though in Gwynriel because of both of their histories. I will say that before ACOSF, I shipped e/lriel but I did a little switcheroo after I met Gwyn. I think she’s the perfect compliment to Az and would be a really cute dynamic. Maybe she’d help his self loathing, they could help each other heal from the trauma? Possibilities are endless, really. I do think a few things point to Gwynriel, though. One, Elain is described as not being suited for the night court or the color black. Not necessarily a deal breaker but interesting that the author put that in there. Perhaps she would be more suited towards the Spring court or Day court *side eyes Lucien and daddy Helion*? Two, without taking the extra Az chapter into account, I think the Gwyn/Az dynamic is so good. They are building to be equals and compliments of each other. Three, taking the Az chapter into account, while he and Elain have chemistry, I don’t see the give and take that Gwyn has with him. Not saying he doesn’t care or that it’s superficial because I don’t agree with either of those statements. That Az chapter did seem it was a push towards Gwyn though, not Elain. Someone also pointed out that Az hides his hand scars from literally almost everyone as if he’s ashamed. But he’s never done that from Gwyn. Lastly, I also think Az deserves his own mate. He wants that so badly now that his brothers have mates and I just think being with someone who will always have that bond with someone else (even if they don’t want it) is doing him a bit of a disservice. But who knows what will happen! I will reiterate that I trust Sarah fully and she has not led me astray. So whatever happens, I know it will be good and satisfying. 

The single part I did not like was the fact that somehow Gwyn/Emerie/Nesta could take out 6+ fully grown and trained warriors with only 5-6 months of daily training... especially when it took Cassian 7 years to wield a sword... I just keep telling myself it’s because Cassian and Azriel are such great teachers. 

Anyway, if you were debating reading it because you heard some not great things like I did, I hope this helps to sway you. Because it was a fantastic, entertaining book and I 100% enjoyed every second of it.

[riding-with-the-wild-hunt]

Day 1 of Fëanorian Week: Maedhros and Medicine

Hello, my lovelies! I hope you are all having the most amazing Monday. Anyways, it's my first Fëanorian Week as an active creator in the Silm fandom (cue confetti and balloons), and I'm trying my best to participate in (hopefully) every day! Wish me luck, friends!

Anyways, I thought I'd start out with some Maedhros-themed meta. I chose to work with the prompts "torture," and "adjustment/coping." Many thanks to @feanorianweek for all their hard work on this. You all are awesome!!

(TW for discussion of: torture, medical procedures, severe injuries, general body stuff)

Disclaimer: I'm not a doctor or a nurse and I haven't extensively studied medicine. I'm just into speculative biology and speculative medicine (pretty much speculative anything, tbh), and I wanted to write about this. I invite all you wonderful medical professionals out there to add on if you care to. Just be kind, please, okay? :)

Now, on to the meta!

Most everyone knows about Maedhros' capture by Morgoth. There's a lot of writing on the subject, and on the subsequent topic of his recovery (the ever-so-lovely @outofangband has many resources on both of these things if you want to check their work out).

Maedhros is tortured for approximately 30 years before Fingon rescues him. Think about that for a minute. 30 years. To put that in perspective, that's more than double my entire lifetime. It's slightly under half of my father's.

I'm going to guess that the amount of time Maedhros spent hanging on Thangorodrim is much longer than the amount he spent in Angband itself, simply because he's more useful as a visible trophy/symbol than hidden away in a cell somewhere. This is definitely speculation, but for the purposes of this, I'm going to say he spent 8-12 years in Angband and 18-22 years on Thangorodrim.

Now, we know that Morgoth is an, er, less-than-courteous host. Maedhros probably would've been beaten, starved, burned, experimented on, assaulted, maimed, poisoned, and otherwise harmed in all sorts of ways before he ever gets on Thangorodrim.

And then there's the matter of those 18-22 years he spent hanging from a mountain, suffering respiratory damage from the polluted air and the hanging, starvation, thirst, extreme damage to his bones, muscles, and tendons, hypothermia, potential animal attacks or parasites, infection of previous wounds, sleep deprivation, and, well, you can imagine the rest.

(And this doesn't even include the psychological consequences. We'll get to that later.)

But anyways. He gets rescued. What then? I highly doubt that any elf had actually returned from Angband before, so....do the doctors know how to handle Maedhros' injuries? They've probably seen missing limbs, broken bones, stab/slash wounds, etc. from battle, but what about a partially collapsed/stretched diaphragm (yes, this happens if you are hanging from your hands/arms for a long period of time), or extreme blunt force trauma, or internal bleeding, or repeatedly opened and probably gangrenous wounds, to name a few?

Unless there's a REALLY dark side to the Valar that we don't know about, elven medical professionals wouldn't have had to deal with these things in Valinor, and probably not even on the Helcaraxë. Which leads me to believe that most, if not all, of the healing techniques used on Maedhros were experimental, purely theoretical, or the highly respected Fëanorian method of"guess we'll wing it."

This means that Maedhros probably never healed right in a lot of places. Even if elves have different physiognomy than humans, his immune system and his capability for recovery were both probably compromised from extreme strain. Chances are, Maedhros wouldn't have been able to walk for years after his return. He would've had to relearn a lot more than just how to write and fight with the other hand. And even if he managed to get close to how he'd been before, he would never have been the same physically, and he would've been constantly pushing through fluctuating levels of pain. For the rest of his life. For thousands of years.

Oh, and he probably would've needed to relearn how to talk to a degree. During the mountain years, he probably would've created a whole new vocabulary of words for things that weren't connected to his former linguistic knowledge. At the beginning of his recovery, it's possible that most of his speech would've sounded like babble to everyone else, even if it made perfect sense to him.

And then there's the psychological and neurological effects! PTSD, severe anxiety, suicidal ideation, chronic depression, selective mutism, extreme dissociation, eating disorders, hallucinations, paranoia, phantom pains, no/low self-worth, memory loss--these are just a few things that can come out of having been tortured.

All of this leaves me with a lot of questions: did elves have physical therapy? Did they understand nerve damage? Would their surgical techniques have been helpful to Maedhros? Were they aware of the extent of his injuries? How good were their painkillers and antibiotics? Did they even have those? Were new procedures developed because of Maedhros? Did he, as king and after, advocate for better medical understanding of torture survivors, or write about his experiences to help others? Did he spend time with recovering elves? Did he have to hide his pain because ableist views were widespread? Did he use mobility aids? Did he have nonverbal episodes? Did he always have lingering respiratory/lung problems? Was he really sensitive to light (hint hint: ask me about my eye headcanons)? Did he ever forget who people around him were, or become disoriented and afraid?

Whatever the answers here may be (and there are many, many possible theories) my conclusion remains the same: it was an absolute miracle that Maedhros survived--and not only survived, but continued on to be a ruler, an accomplished diplomat, an incredible soldier, a caretaker, an ambassador, and so much more, all while persevering against physical and emotional pain and probably facing ableism.

And probably most people never even realized just how strong he was.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this big honker of a piece and/or learned something. I'm glad I got to write about this, because Maedhros matters a lot to me. Like, a lot a lot.

May the Valar smile on the rest of Fëanorian Week! I look forward to appreciating all of your wonderful creations and commentary. 😘

[rinharu-purple]

Lucien: MLQC’s Mastermind

Yes, I said that Lucien is the creepiest LI in my opinion, and I wouldn’t choose him in a million, billion years. BUT, Lucien is by far the one person, who is pulling the strings and is the driving force of the MLQC universe. He is the only person who acquires all the information from all sides and is connected to every important actor in the story. Therefore, Lucien has become the second LI I’ve started to follow more attentively. Mind that the ranking ist 1) Gavin 2) Gavin 3) Gavin 4) Lucien ;)

In my manifesto, why Gavin is MC’s choice, I’ve already mentioned briefly, that Lucien has the strongest EVOL among all the characters but is also the strongest character (it’s not the MC or the Black Queen, let’s not fool ourselves)

The Machiavellian

Before we talk about Lucien’s part in the MLQC universe, we should first look at him as person and observe the elements that make up his personality.

In the game, all our guys have their personal priorities. Gavin and Kiro are on the front line, fighting for peace and prosperity, Victor, well...I don’t think that he cares for anything else besides MC, maybe his position. But with Lucien, his priority is not a person or a concept, but rather a philosophy. Lucien wants to see the next step in human evolution and is determined to take any measures necessary to see it to it’s end. Other guys can not stand oblivious to other things that come up their way in achieving their goals but Lucien only has his eyes on the prize and to him nothing else matters, no one else matters and no ethics matter. 

Machiavellianism denotes cunningness and claims, that those dark triads use whatever means necessary to gain power. If we consider the choices Lucien has made throughout the story so far, we can clearly find his manipulative ways in getting other actors to the positions of his conjecture. He lies to MC and hides his personality as Ares, penetrates Black Swan to use their facilities, but also uses LFG’s resources for his R&D projects all the while concealing his true nature. 

Another trait of a Machiavellian, is that he is charismatic and friendly, all the while displaying no emotions. I think, there can be two possible reasons as to why Lucien has limited display of emotions. The first possible explanation has something to do with his parents passing and the trauma he suffered afterwards. Among all LIs Lucien is the one with the most loveless childhood and teenage years, the most important years in developing one’s psychological traits and during those years Lucien received alongside with Kiro the most blows. That resulted in him losing the connection to his emotions as a defense mechanism. 

Another possibility might be him losing the connection to his emotions as a result of a chemical reaction in his brain due to excessive testing Black Swan objected him to. Lucien’s EVOL was created in a lab and he was the first man-made Evolver. Lucien is called various times a psychopath, because he shows signs of psychopathy such as lack of remorse, empathy or compassion. It is said that that kind of behavior might occur due to a misconnection between the ventromedial prefrontal cortex (vmPFC) and the amygdala. Considering the fact that Lucien’s parents were killed right in front of him and that he was both physically and psychologically abused for the coming years, this might have led him to experience an imbalance in his chemical balance. One might argue, that his altruistic actions in the orphanage are an evidence for his compassion, I think it is yet another disguise for his unethical ways of reaching his goals.

The Orchestrator

In all honesty no one is actively seeking alliances and keeps tabs on other’s actions for their agenda like Lucien does. Maybe Commander Leto but he mostly fails in drawing others to his side, because he is not able to speak in their pendants’ language or resonate with their perspective. Lucien, on the other hand, is gifted with an extraordinary ability to observe his surroundings and companions, making it very easy for him to talk to them in their terms and desires. Lucien doesn’t show much empathy, UNLESS, it contributes to his cause, in that case he can perfectly put himself in other’s shoes and plays them in such a meticulous way, that they join him willingly.

That is how Lucien directs MC successfully in entering the Black Cabin or in understanding the evolution core.

Lucien is not exactly a piece on a chess board, but is a player, who knows all the pieces very well, knows the rules of the game, has observed many games and took notes of how they all has turned out and therefore knows what kind of a game he is going to play. Just watch closely. how he co-operates with Kiro and the Black Queen. He knows that Kiro is using Black Swan for his goals, much like he does, so he uses his hacking abilities to access to information. The Black Queen is the initiator of everything in S1, so he makes sure to stay close to her. He knows that Victor is searching for MC and trying to understand the Evol gene, there he has an investor. 

The Cool, Calm and Collected Type

in the MLQC universe, everyone loses their composure at one point or another, because...who wouldn’t? Time and space warps constantly and people are also changing their stances depending on the time-space constellation they find themselves in. 

MC loses her cool almost on a daily basis, Gavin was in a constant haywire in the Daybreak era, Victor literally threw people into black holes in CH11 and freaked out as he saw the Black Queen for the first time and Kiro walks around in a bipolar state. So, everybody is pretty unstable due to understandable conditions but we never see Lucien lose his cool and this is one of his best qualities. 

Here is the thing about Lucien. This guy is always at least one step ahead of everyone and he achieves this by two simple rules: 

1) Acquire all possible information

2) Observe everyone and everything at all times

Why am I saying this? It lies in the basis of anxiety and angst. We humans tend to feel uncomfortable in the face of an uncertain situation, meaning in the wake of the unknown. MC is constantly anxious, because she doesn’t know what is going on, why is everyone after her, why is she blessed with the unconditional affection of 5 equally attractive men? (ehm, but not quite equally ehm *Gavin* hihi, sorry, Gavin-stan gotta Gavin-stan ^_^). Anyway you get the picture. Gavin went haywire in CH22 because he was pushed in a tight spot and therefore had angst. Same goes for Victor in CH11 his mind went blank as he saw history repeating itself and then in CH18 when he saw with his own eyes what could the girl of his dreams might become.

We don’t see Lucien in such deadlock situation though do we, and I think it is mainly because he is always prepared for every possibility and he can calculate them meticulously, because he possesses the largest chunk of information and also keeps tabs on everyone and everything that’s going on. So, when a crisis occurs he doesn’t freak out, sure he gets surprised at times, because the outcome of a a certain situation is the possibility, which he calculated to be no higher than 1% and yet there it is. But since he’s already took this into consideration, he has a plan. Combine this with his knowledge about the persons and organizations involved in the matter, then you have a calm Lucien, who is in control of the situation. Thus, he is calm. You can actually also bind this behavior of Lucien with that of a predator, whose movement are languid, is non-reactive and doesn’t mind turning his back to his opponents, since he doesn’t perceive them as a threat.

If this wasn’t enough, Lucien manages to joggle all of this without exposing himself. Even in the last stage of the play he never gets caught. Unless he willingly exposes himself, as in the case of revealing Ares to MC. MLQC actors can usually see through each other and use their weaknesses to meet their own ends. MC is obviously Gavin, Kiro and Victor’s weakness and their opponents can see this pretty easily. IT’s not quite the same with Lucien though and he doesn’t let himself be blackmailed or threatened by any weakness. He always keeps his cards close to his chest. 

Considering the fact that Lucin is the least outstanding LI, this is pretty impressive. So I guess this makes him the embodiment of the phrase “still waters run deep”.

The Renaissance Man

Lucien is a man of science and aesthetics. Explaining phenomenons with associations and loading them with philosophical substance. He doesn’t necessarily perceive things bluntly as they are, but interprets them in a meaningful way. The way he associates MC with a butterfly, how he wants to entrap her in ajar, so she wouldn’t get away, alas taking the only resource of color in his life away. Not only that, but he can also break down the matters at hand to its fragments and can therefore work his way up from there. He is blessed with a strong deduction ability, so he can connect the dots easily, come to a conclusion and act accordingly. No doubt that the other guys have very good deduction abilities, but because Lucien always has a bit of an information more than them, he can find the solutions just a little bit faster in my opinion. 

Reading is a necessity for his guy much like eating and drinking, Which is why we see him reframing events in the context of a certain story he’d read at some point in his life. With time, I will add here some of his quotes about certain situations to explain what I mean. Or even better, if you have some, that are evident in you opinion, you could add them in the comments. I really enjoy reading/hearing Lucien’s philosophical, scientific explanations to certain moments in MC’s life. They are always to the point and helpful.

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

So this is my very first analysis on Lucien and I have to admit, I still have  so many material to check on him, so if anything is missing please bear with me here :)

I was watching Joe’s Twitch while I wrote this, so there are many spelling, grammar mistakes, which will be corrected gradually.

This post will get better and better, scout promise!

[bubonickitten]

Fic summary: Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Chapter summary: The process(es) of resigning from a terrible, no good, very bad assistant position.

Previous chapter: AO3 // tumblr

Full chapter text & content warnings below the cut.

Content warnings for Chapter 22: discussions of eye-gouging/eye horror (not graphic); brief mentions of spiders/arachnophobia; anxiety/panic symptoms; lots of dissociation/dpdr; Peter Lukas being a manipulative shit; Lonely-typical content (including fear of abandonment & some abysmal self-esteem on Martin’s part); allusions to police violence & Hunt-related themes (re: Daisy’s past actions); swears. SPOILERS through Season 5.

Chapter 22: Resignation

Georgie paces in a slow circle, alternating between biting her nails and picking at her bottom lip – entirely immersed in her own thoughts, judging from the faraway look in her eyes. Jon hasn’t seen her this overwrought since the last depressive episode he witnessed. Just watching her is enough to make his chest tighten with vicarious unrest.

Wary of contributing to a vicious feedback loop between the two of them with his own customary pacing and handwringing, he forces himself to keep his knees locked and hands at his sides. Still, he can’t help rubbing his fingertips together and rocking minutely on the balls of his feet.

“Why don’t we sit?” Jon finally interjects, wincing when it comes out more curtly than he intended – more like a command than a suggestion, but luckily without any accompanying static.

Be mindful, he silently chides himself: being on edge like this only makes him more susceptible to accidental compulsion.

“What if something goes wrong?” Georgie whispers. Jon doubts she even heard him beneath her nervous refrain. “What if –”

“Georgie?” Jon tries again. No response. He steps into her path and places a hand on her shoulder. “Georgie.”

“What?” Georgie raises her head, but she isn’t looking at him so much as she’s looking through him.

“I think you should sit down?”

“What?” Georgie says again, sounding utterly lost. Her eyes are darting around the room now, as if she doesn’t recognize her surroundings.

How the tables have turned, Jon thinks grimly.

“Come on,” he says, taking her hand and guiding her to the nearest chair. She offers no resistance, trailing behind him like a flagging balloon. When he presses on her shoulder to coax her into a sitting position, she goes easily. Keeping hold of her hand, he drags another chair closer to her and takes a seat.

Okay. Now what?

Jon jiggles his leg as he wracks his brain for the right thing to say. She deserves more than handholding and awkward silence, but soothing words have never come naturally to him.

“Do you, ah… do you want to talk about it?” Jon cringes at his faltering delivery. “I’m sorry, I’m – I’m still not very good at this,” he adds with a self-deprecating laugh – then immediately shuts his eyes, kicking himself. Why are his attempts to relate to others always so clumsy and – and weirdly self-centered? “I mean –”

“I’m scared,” Georgie blurts out.

“You… what?” Jon tilts his head. “But I thought – you don’t feel –”

“Fear?” Her clipped, brittle laugh dies in her throat. “No, I don’t. And that’s exactly the problem, isn’t it?”

Jon strokes the back of her hand with one thumb, but remains silent. She always elaborates on her own time, given some space to order her thoughts.

“I don’t feel… terror,” she says slowly. “After I had my… encounter, I did a lot of research on how the brain works. Trying to understand what was happening to me, you know?”

Jon nods. He’s intimately familiar with that urge. As a child, he went through a spider phase, as his grandmother called it, obsessively seeking out any information he could on them, hoping even then that he could conquer his fear if only he could see the world through a detached, academic lens. There were plenty of academic odes to the spider to be found; no shortage of enamored arachnologists waxing poetic about the wonders of evolution and the vital role that arachnids play in their particular ecological niches.

Unfortunately, a phobia – especially one arising from acute trauma – tends to be resistant to reason and reality. His obsession only ever yielded heart palpitations and lucid nightmares. Despite that failure, he never stopped clinging to that idea that if only he could know everything there was to know about a thing, he could finally scrape together some semblance of control over his fear.

In many ways, that fixation is exactly what drew him to the Magnus Institute.

Unless the Spider really was pulling the strings all along, he thinks, and then: No, we are not going there.

“As far as I can tell,” Georgie continues, “my sympathetic nervous system still functions. I can still experience all the physiological aspects of sympathetic arousal – and fear is only one possible trigger for those sorts of responses. What’s missing is my capacity to interpret those responses through the lens of fear. To emotionally process or identify them as fear.

“I can still experience anxiety, to an extent – or something close to it. But mostly in the context of worrying about others, being scared for them. I mean, I can feel apprehensive about the possibility of experiencing pain or loss or failure myself, I have a stake in my continued existence, I can recognize danger, but sometimes it feels… I don’t know – mechanical, almost? There’s just always the feeling of something missing. Something important. And there are times when I feel that void more acutely.”

“Like now.”

“Yeah.” Georgie looks away, chewing her lip in silence.

“I’m listening,” Jon coaxes, sensing that there’s more she’s holding back.

“It’s just… hard to feel like a full person sometimes, you know?” Georgie says helplessly. “I worry sometimes that it – I don’t know, does a disservice, I guess, to the people I care about? Like no matter how much I love someone, it isn’t… complete? Or – genuine, in the right way? It’s – hard to find words that actually describe it. There are times when it feels like I’ve lost something vital that made me human, that made me me, and it’s… difficult to reconcile who I was – who I could have been – with who I am now.”

“That I understand,” Jon says softly.

“I know.” Jon wishes he was less familiar with the sad smile she gives him just then. “It’s just… I remember a time when I would have been terrified of all this. Not just worried, or upset about someone I care about being hurt, or devastated by the prospect of losing someone I love. Terrified. And knowing what I should be feeling – what I would have felt at some point – is… it’s unnerving. There’s a void there that shouldn’t be there. It’s like… having part of you gouged out and left hollow. An absence that’s so present it’s almost visceral.” She frowns. “Does that make any sense?”

“In my future I had a Flesh Avatar reach into my chest and wrench out two of my ribs, so… yes, actually.”

Georgie blinks several times, then laughs breathlessly. “Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not.” Jon returns a cautious smile, but the levity evaporates after a few seconds. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think that you don’t have to have access to the full spectrum of human emotion in order to count as human. And I don’t think any of this makes your concern for others any less heartfelt, or – or comforting. You might not be the same person you were before you were marked, but that doesn’t make you any lesser as a person.”

“You should try applying that metric to yourself sometime,” she replies, not unkindly.

“It’s –”

“Don’t say it’s different,” she cuts in. “Just… keep it in mind, okay?”

“I’ll, uh… I’ll try.” Georgie nods, but says nothing. Jon grips her hand a little tighter. “Listen, I – I know you’re worried for Melanie, but I think it’s going to be alright? I can’t predict the future –well, I have knowledge of one possible future, but that’s because I lived it. I don’t have any precognitive abilities, or anything like that. But… it turned out okay last time.”

Until I jump-started an apocalypse –

Jon reins in the thought before it can gain momentum. Georgie doesn’t need his brooding right now.

“Melanie is a fighter,” he says instead, offering a tentative smile. “And she has you.”

Georgie shakes her head. “I can’t believe you came out of the apocalypse sappier than you were when you went in.”

“Side effect of traversing a post-apocalyptic wasteland with a hopeless romantic, I think.” That gets another little chuckle out of Georgie. “I mean it, though. I think Melanie will be okay, especially with you looking out for her. Not to mention, the Admiral is a perpetual serotonin generator.”

“You really miss him, huh?”

“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve pet a cat, Georgie?” Jon practically whines, playfully dramatic. It manages to keep the amused smile on Georgie’s face, he’s pleased to note.

“Maybe I should bring him by sometime.”

“Absolutely not. This place doesn’t deserve him.” Georgie snorts. Although Jon is reluctant to ruin the temporary shift in mood, this is as good a time as any to broach a subject he’s been dreading. “Also, I, ah… I don’t want you to feel obligated to continue visiting here.”

“What?” Georgie says, eyes narrowed.

“If you have to take a step back,” Jon says carefully, “I’ll understand.”

“I mean, I might not be able to come by as often as I have been, especially while Melanie is still recovering, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be around at all.” Georgie’s frown deepens. “I’m not about to cut you out of my life, Jon.”

“I know. And I don’t want you to. But – no, listen,” Jon insists, seeing Georgie about to protest. “What I’m trying to say is – I know Melanie wants to put as much distance between herself and the Institute as possible. If it turns out that you staying involved in all of this is too close to home, then… well, I don’t want her to feel like she’s still trapped in the Institute’s orbit, is all.”

Or mine, he doesn’t say. He doesn’t want to be a reason for Melanie to feel unsafe. In the past, he has been – and that’s not who he wants to be.

These days, Melanie has come to view him more as a fellow captive than a complicit enemy. Lingering resentment still sparks to life from time to time; she still struggles with her anger, and once or twice, she’s had to leave a room for fear of that rage boiling over. Overall, though, she no longer directs the majority of her ire towards him. When they do butt heads, it hasn’t gone much further than bickering – and even that feels comforting in its familiarity and mundanity. Almost companionable, in its own way.

Most significantly, ever since their talk, Melanie hasn’t once likened him to Jonah Magnus. Jon doesn’t know if that’s because it’s no longer an automatic association at the forefront of her mind, or because she’s consciously watching her words around him, actively taking care to avoid tripping that perpetual trigger. Either way, Jon is grateful.

But Jon also knows that he’s inseparable from the Institute. Despite his intentions, and regardless of whether or to what degree the others hold him personally responsible, the fact remains: he’s embroiled in something unspeakably evil, and that poses a danger to anyone who stands too close to him.

Georgie doesn’t immediately respond, instead taking the time to seriously consider his words. He’s always appreciated that about her, as uneasy as these moments of silent suspense can make him.

“I’ll talk to her about it,” she says eventually, “once she’s recovered enough to have that discussion. I don’t know how she’ll feel about staying in direct contact herself, especially at first, but… I doubt she expects me to cut you off. And I imagine she’ll still want to know how everyone is doing, even if she doesn’t want the details.” She glances up to meet his eyes. “Anyway, regardless of how often I visit in person, I’m still going to be checking in with you, so answer your damn phone, will you?”

“I do answer my phone,” he says defensively. “I just… forget to answer texts sometimes. And I don’t get service in the tunnels –”

“Well, come up for air and cell service from time to time.” She wrinkles her nose. “Honestly, I don’t know how you can tolerate being down here for hours on end –”

Jon startles slightly as the trapdoor creaks open above their heads. Georgie stands as Melanie makes her way down the ladder, hurrying over to fold her into her arms. Basira follows behind, closing the trapdoor behind her as she goes.

“Mission successful, I take it?” Jon says quietly as Basira approaches him, giving Georgie and Melanie a moment to themselves.

“Uneventful,” Basira says with a shrug. “A few sidelong glances, but otherwise, none of the library staff even acknowledged us. Definitely didn’t seem keen on asking why we were rummaging in the repair supplies.”

“They probably didn’t want to know.”

“Yeah.” A small, rueful smile crosses her face. “Some of them used to talk to me, you know. Nothing personal – we weren’t close – but… when I returned a book, they’d ask what I thought of it, give me recommendations, that sort of thing. Now, though…”

These days she prefers to wait until everyone has gone home for the day before visiting the library, Jon Knows. He also Knows that the library staff are well aware that she’s the one pilfering research materials in the dead of night – and that they have no plans on confronting her about it. She never leaves a mess, after all, and always returns items to their proper places once she’s finished with them, which is more than can be said for many of the students who make use of the library’s resources.

“You know, I don’t think any of them have looked me in the eye for months.” There’s a distinct note of regret in Basira’s voice. “They just watch me out of the corners of their eyes when they think I’m not looking. I don’t know if that’s because they’re afraid of Lukas disappearing them for fraternizing, or because everyone is leery of the Archives these days, or because I’ve just become less approachable. Maybe all three. Suppose it doesn’t really matter.”

Jon knows the feeling well. Before he can answer, though, Melanie clears her throat. Jon looks over to see her facing his direction, one hand clasping Georgie’s tight enough to blanch her knuckles.

“This is it, then,” Basira says solemnly.

“Yeah.” Melanie closes her eyes and breathes a long, shaky exhale. “It’s time.”

“You’re sure you don’t want me there?” Georgie asks.

Melanie shakes her head. “I don’t want you to see that.”

“But –”

“She won’t be alone,” Basira says. “I’ll be right outside the room.”

Melanie faces Georgie fully, taking her other hand as well. “The plan hasn’t changed. Basira will call 999. I’ll make it quick, and – once it’s done, Basira will come in and sit with me until the ambulance gets here.”

“I have a general idea of what the response time should be like,” Basira adds, looking at Georgie. “If we time it right, Melanie will have medical assistance within minutes. I can come get you when the paramedics get here, if you want to ride in the ambulance.”

Georgie nods and tightens her grip on Melanie’s hands. “Is that okay?”

“Only if you want,” Melanie says haltingly. “But – maybe try to avoid looking too close, if my eyes are uncovered? It’s just – it probably won’t be pretty.” A stressed laugh claws its way out of her throat. “Potential trauma fodder, you know? I don’t want to worry about you remembering me like that every time you see me, even after I’ve healed.”

“Okay,” Georgie replies softly.

“It shouldn’t take long. Just – wait here with Jon until then, okay?” Georgie nods again, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “Speaking of which –” Melanie glances at Jon, as if just now remembering his presence. Startled by the sudden direct eye contact, he reflexively straightens his spine and stands at attention. “I guess this is goodbye, huh? For a while, anyway.”

“I, uh. I suppose it is.”

“Right. So, um… good luck, I guess?”

No disclaimers or ill will tacked on this time, Jon notes privately.

“You too.” He forces a smile, but he suspects that it comes off as awkward rather than reassuring.

“Try not to die.”

“Yes, ‘not dying’ is relatively close to the top of my to-do list.”

“If I come to find out that you’ve gotten yourself killed and broken the eldritch employment contract binding us all to this place after I’ve gone and gouged my eyes out, I’m going to be livid.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Jon says wryly.

“Seriously, though.” Melanie’s smirk melts away, taken over by a somber, quiet sort of intensity. “Either beat Elias at his own game, or get the fuck away from this place the instant you find an out. Whichever comes first. Preferably without any of the self-sacrificial bullshit.”

Fractious as its delivery is, the demand is oddly touching, coming from Melanie.

“I, uh… I’ll do my best?”

“You’d better.” Melanie nods – a curt but cordial dismissal – and turns her attention back to Georgie. “Hey,” she says, her voice going measurably softer, releasing one of Georgie’s hands to reach up and cup her face. Her watery smile belies her mental state: resolve warring with trepidation. “Look at me?”

For a long minute, she studies Georgie’s face, clearly enraptured. Jon forcefully tears his gaze away from the intimacy of the moment.

“Okay.” Melanie takes a deep breath in and releases it slowly. “I’m ready. I’ll see you soon, okay? Or – well, I won’t see you, but – you’ll see me, and I’ll…” She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Oh, whatever – you know what I mean.”

Georgie lets out a tearful chuckle, and Melanie relaxes marginally.

“I’m sure about this,” she says. “I promise. This is what I want – a life with you, away from all of this. And if this is the price I have to pay, then… I’m okay with that. Really, I am.” She stands on tiptoe to give Georgie a peck on the cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Georgie says, leaning down for a return kiss, smiling weakly against Melanie’s lips. “See you soon.”

When Martin first heard the bustle outside his door – coworkers venturing outside their solitary offices to trade whispered questions and eager gossip as word of paramedics in the archives made its way upstairs – his stomach gave a little lurch: a combination of horror and wonder. He hadn’t expected Melanie to change her mind – he knows how determined she can be once she’s settled on a course of action; how desperate she was to extricate herself from Elias’ – Jonah’s – schemes. Still, though, faced with the reality of it, he found himself in awe of her nerve.

That was yesterday. Martin didn’t get much work done, preoccupied as he was. He isn’t having an easier time of it today: his attention keeps slipping away to linger in remembrances of sterile hospital rooms and muted hallways, thoughts drowned out by the ghosts of sirens and beeping machinery.

“Well, this is an unexpected turn of events.”

Martin jolts in his seat, heart leaping into his throat. It only takes an instant longer for his alarm to mutate into aggravation.

“Peter!” Martin spins around to glower at the man. “How many times do I have to–”

Peter flaps a dismissive hand. “To be honest, Martin, the drop in temperature tends to tip most people off. The only reason you continue to be surprised by my arrival is because you’ve become acclimated to the Forsaken.”

The revelation is slow to sink in, a stark chill blooming in Martin’s chest and snaking its roots outwards. Only now that it’s been brought to his attention can he feel the nip in the air.

“Here I was certain you were becoming estranged from our patron, but it seems I needn’t have worried.” Peter’s smile is laced with malice. “Or should I?”

Martin says nothing, eyes wide and stinging from the now-conspicuous cold. Peter sighs, folds his hands behind his back, and begins a meandering back-and-forth pace.

“Our success is dependent on your voluntary isolation, Martin.”

“Yeah.” The word turns to fog as it touches the air, and Martin finds himself transfixed by the sight. “You’ve said.”

“It seems you need a reminder.”

The condescension dripping from the words is enough to drag Martin back into the present moment. Heat rises in his cheeks, contrasting with the temperature in the room and making the chill that much more noticeable.

“You still haven’t told me your plan,” he snaps. “You keep expecting me to just – go along with whatever you’re scheming, no questions asked.”

“You ask many questions, Martin –”

“Yeah, and you never answer them! You’re so – so bloody cryptic about all of this.”

“Martin, Martin,” Peter says, placating in the most patronizing way possible. Martin bristles: he hates the way Peter says his name. “There’s no need to get so worked up –”

“If you want me to be a partner in – in whatever it is you’re planning, you can’t expect me to go on blind trust!”

“I’m still conducting my own research,” Peter says mildly. “I would rather not confuse you with extraneous details before I have all the kinks worked out.”

“I’m not an idiot –”

“Rest assured,” Peter interrupts, “if I was capable of stopping the Extinction alone, I would. Unfortunately, it will require someone touched by the Beholding.”

“Why?”

“Because it requires this place, and this place” – Peter’s lip curls in distaste – “is the Eye’s seat of power. The One Alone has no dominion here.” Martin crosses his arms, unimpressed. “You are the only one who can do this, Martin.”

“Why?” Martin repeats.

Judging from the muscle ticking in Peter’s jaw, his limited supply of patience for conversation is precipitously depleting.

“No, really,” Martin presses, “why me? I mean” – he spreads his arms out with a scornful chuckle – “look at me. I’m not exactly hero material, am I?”

“That really depends on you. I can’t force you to cooperate. It won’t even work unless you’re a willing participant.”

“And what makes you think that your plan is the only way? You – you keep going on about how it’s my choice. Well – what if I choose to work with the others? It can’t hurt to have more eyes on the problem –” Martin rolls his eyes at Peter’s unconcealed revulsion. “Yeah, I know. No one would ever accuse you of being a team player, obviously. But I can be the liaison; you don’t have to interact with anyone at all.” Would prefer you don’t interact with anyone at all, Martin thinks. “I mean, that’s already my role, isn’t it? Dealing with people so you don’t have to?”

“Martin,” Peter says, low and dangerous.

“I’ll do it off the clock, even. I’ll isolate myself in my office during the workday, or whatever” – Martin gives a flippant wave of his hand – “and continue researching the Extinction.” And practically running the whole damn place on an assistant’s salary, he grouses silently. “After hours I’ll pursue my own research with the others.”

“Part-time isolation will not suffice to equip you with the power you’ll need.” Peter presses his lips into a pale, rigid line. “Be reasonable. Are you really willing to risk an apocalypse, just because you can’t appreciate solitude?”

“If it starts to look like there’s no other option, I’ll reconsider.”

“And if the Extinction emerges while you’re wasting time searching for an alternative that doesn’t exist?”

“Based on the limited information you’ve given me, I don’t think the Extinction is going to just… emerge overnight. I’m still not even convinced it’s going to be worse than any other Fear. I mean, the Flesh is relatively new, isn’t it? And it didn’t… leave the fear economy in shambles, or whatever.”

“It isn’t about competition, Martin.” Peter releases a slow plume of fog through his nose before continuing, voice cool but simmering with pique just under the surface. “The Extinction is different from the other Powers. It is defined by widescale eradication. The other Powers may seek to change the world, but none of them strive for a world without us.”

“But what makes you so sure the Extinction would?”

Peter’s eyes narrow. Ignoring him, Martin runs his thumb along his bottom lip as he replays Jon’s impassioned conjectures on the matter: It thrives on the potentiality of a mass extinction event, not the fulfillment of one.

“What’s to say it wouldn’t be just fine with the world as it is, like the End?” Martin says, more confidently now. “People have been prophesying about the end of the world for – all of human history, probably. I doubt we’ll stop anytime soon. Maybe at its core the Extinction is just… the fear of an uncertain future. And a particular future doesn’t have to be realized in order to inspire fear, as long as the potential is always there. It’s about the suspense – the ‘what ifs’, the unknown, the – the lack of control in it all.” Martin laughs. “In a way, that’s… that’s what most fears boil down to, isn’t it?”

“The stakes are rather high to gamble on a thought experiment, don’t you think?” The temperature plunges a few more degrees as Peter speaks. “I think that the most important ‘what if’ you should concern yourself with is what if you’re wrong?”

“And what if I’m not?” Martin counters. “You act so authoritative, but aren’t you also just speculating? When I agreed to work with you, you told me you would provide me with evidence to support your theory. So far, I’m not convinced. You’re going to have to give me more to go on than just ‘trust me.’ I mean – if it’s between trusting you and – and trusting Jon, and the others? You can’t really be surprised if I choose them over you.”

“Oh, Martin,” Peter tuts, shaking his head with derisive, disingenuous pity. “Since when has the trust you’ve placed in others ever been reciprocated?”

“I trust him,” Martin says defiantly.

“But does he trust you?” Peter pauses for effect. “Of all the times you’ve allowed yourself to form attachments, has anyone even once genuinely returned those affections?”

Jon did.

Whatever expression Martin is wearing brings a sneer to Peter’s face. Martin clenches his teeth and ignores him.

Jon does, he corrects. Present tense. He said as much.

Martin still can’t fathom what Jon could possibly see in him, but Jon wouldn’t lie about something like that, right? He wouldn’t.

…would he?

No, he wouldn’t, Martin chides. You know he wouldn’t. Trust him.

“Sure,” Peter persists, “you may open yourself up to the potential for something more, but you know as well as I do that it won’t last. Is the inevitable loss really worth the risk?”

“I don’t know,” Martin says. He tries to ignore the slight quaver that insinuates itself into the declaration. “But if I never take the risk, I’ll never know, will I?”

“I think you already know the answer.” Peter’s pale eyes glitter with spite. “Remember what it felt like, languishing at the Archivist’s deathbed. Recall the state you were in when you first came to me.”

The words are incisive, sliding under Martin’s skin and lodging there like shrapnel. He can feel his confidence waver, the conviction he stood fast on only seconds ago splintering underneath him like thin ice.

“How many times do you think he can court death and survive? He all but died stopping the last apocalypse; he was willing to bury himself alive for a woman who tried to kill him. How do you think he’ll react if you tell him about any of this? You think he’ll listen to reason? Trust in your judgment?” Peter fixes Martin with a smug, hungry look. “Or will he throw himself in front of the first bullet he sees?”

He already knows about all of this, Martin reminds himself. Jon isn’t about to sacrifice himself on account of the Extinction. Moreover, he seems to be genuinely committed to working as a team rather than striking out on his own.

But he also sees himself as a cataclysm waiting to happen, says the nagging doubt skulking in the far corners of Martin’s mind. As much as Jon insists that he doesn’t want to die, he’s already lived through one apocalypse. Martin has no doubt that Jon would sacrifice himself to prevent another, if it came down to it.

Jon is a powder keg of fear and guilt, and there is no shortage of potential ignition sources waiting in the wings. It only takes one untimely spark to set an archive ablaze.

“I trust him,” Martin repeats to himself, but the statement is rendered feeble by the leaden, frozen knot unfurling in his chest.

“Can you really weather another round of grief?” Peter continues, triumphant. He knows he’s found a gap in Martin’s defenses; all he needs to do now is twist the knife. “You’ve already done your mourning, cut the infection off at the source. Let him back in, and you only open yourself up to more pain. Better a numbed scar than a wound that never heals, don’t you think?”

“No.” There’s something off about Martin’s voice – as if it doesn’t belong to him; as if it’s originating from outside of himself, faint and frail and faraway, smothered by the cold, empty fog clogging his lungs. “N-no, I…”

“Connection is a fleeting, fickle thing,” Peter persists. “It’s a lie people tell themselves. The truth is that we are all alone. In the end, all we have is ourselves. Think about it.”

Unthinkingly, Martin shrinks away as Peter steps closer.

“You asked for more evidence.” Peter slides a few statement folders onto the desk. “Take some time to yourself. Consider whether you’re willing to wager on the fate of the world.”

When Martin looks up, he is alone.

“It’s so loud,” Daisy mutters heatedly, stalking to and fro like a panther in a cage. She scratches furiously at her forearms as she goes, blunt fingernails leaving faint red stripes on pale skin.

“Daisy,” Jon says evenly, “I think maybe you should –”

“Itch I can’t scratch.” She pivots on her heel, retracing her short path in the opposite direction. “Feels like fire under my skin.”

“I don’t think clawing your skin off is going to help.”

Daisy barks a laugh. “With what claws?” She stops short and brandishes the backs of her trembling hands, fingers splayed to highlight nails gnawed to the quick, ragged cuticles stained rust-brown with dried blood. “Dull now.” Her eyes go unfocused, staring vaguely at her hands as if she doesn’t recognize them. “Too dull.”

“I’m sorry,” Jon says, and he means it.

It never gets easier to witness her like this, frenetic and fraying in the throes of the Hunt’s compulsion. These spells have a way of making her features look sharper, her mannerisms more animalistic. She’s all protruding bones and sallow skin, but that seeming frailty does nothing to tame the violence thrumming in her veins. If anything, that all-consuming hunger only makes her more fearsome.

Jon’s strict rations have given him an underfed, pinched look as well, but at least he has something. Not enough to put meat on his bones, so to speak, but enough to stave off starvation. Daisy, though…

When Jon takes a step forward, she rounds on him with teeth bared and a snarl in her throat. Jon flinches at the sudden movement.

“You’re afraid of me.” Daisy exhales an exhausted rattle of a laugh, as if vindicated. “Good. You should be.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Jon says. “I have an overactive startle reflex. Always have, really.”

“You’re lying.” Daisy breathes heavily through her nose, fists clenched at her sides now. “Admit it.”

Jon knows what she’s trying to do. She wants him to lash out, to bite back, to make her bleed. He’s uncomfortably familiar with that craving. It’s like looking into a mirror.

“I’m not afraid of you,” he reiterates.

“Liar,” Daisy hisses, fixing him with a baleful glare.

He’s seen her like this many times before, hunger-ravaged and swamped by bloodlust. She’ll doggedly bash herself against the nearest witness to her shame like a ship crashed against a jetty, driven forward again and again by cresting waves of guilt and self-loathing until she’s free-floating wreckage. Every time, it gets more and more difficult to gather up all the debris and repair the damage. Jon fears that one of these days, the storm will pass and there won’t be enough pieces left to put her back together.

“I’m not a knife you can cut yourself on, Daisy,” he says patiently.

Daisy looks positively mutinous, mouth opening and closing several times before erupting: “Why wouldn’t you be afraid of me?”

“I used to be,” Jon admits, leaning back against the tunnel wall to take some of the weight off his bad leg. “Before the Buried. I was terrified of you. Dreaded every moment I had to be alone with you. Thought it was only a matter of time before you finished the job.”

“It was,” she rasps out – and with that, her shoulders slump and her fists relax to hang limply at her sides, fingers jumping and twitching with the last dregs of her agitation.

“I know. But then you changed. You were different, after the Buried. As afraid of yourself as I used to be of you. As afraid of yourself as I was of myself.” He looks her in the eye as he speaks. “I looked at you and saw my own fear reflected back at me. There are so many things to be afraid of. You were – you are trying very hard not to be one of them.”

“If I’m afraid of me, you should be, too.”

“Are you afraid of me?” Jon asks, shaping each word carefully to keep the compulsion at bay.

She pauses, considering the question.

“No,” she says eventually. “Afraid for you, sometimes.”

“As I am for you.” Jon’s tentative smile fades after a moment. “I’ll admit, I do have… reflexive reactions, sometimes. There were a few incidents where I walked into the breakroom and you were holding a knife, and my fight-or-flight response kicked in before my conscious brain could catch up with reality.”

Daisy squeezes her eyes shut, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. When she opens her eyes, the look on her face isn’t pleading so much as it is resigned. She isn’t asking for forgiveness. Jon doubts she ever will.

It’s just one more thing they have in common.

“I know,” he says quietly. “To be clear, I don’t feel unsafe with you, as you are now. It’s just… flashbacks. They can be – unpredictable. And if I’m already feeling on edge, or – or not quite present, it doesn’t take much to set me off. But,” he adds, giving her a serious look, “I don’t want you walking on eggshells around me. That only puts me more on edge.”

“Fine. But will you tell me if I do something to scare you?”

“Yes.” She made the same request last time. “But I’ve never had to. You could always feel when I was afraid. From a few rooms away, even.”

“Yeah,” Daisy says with a choked laugh. “Your blood is – very loud sometimes.”

“And now?”

These episodes tend to be capricious. Sometimes, what seems to be the calm after the storm proves to be only a lull before a second wind. If the way she’s wobbling on her feet and favoring one leg is any indication, Jon suspects that the worst of the flare-up has passed for now, taking her adrenaline surge with it. Still, he waits for her confirmation. Daisy takes a minute to mull over the question, head cocked slightly to the side as if listening.

“Quieter,” she says.

With that, Jon lowers himself to the ground and sits with his back against the wall, beckoning her over to take a seat. She hesitates for a moment longer before following his lead, slumping down next to him with a labored sigh.

“Sorry for growling at you,” she says sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Daisy tilts her head back to stare at the ceiling. “You said I ended up going back to the Hunt last time.”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“September. But – but that doesn’t mean it has to happen again,” he adds hurriedly when he sees her face fall in a mixture of anguish and resignation. “It was – sort of a perfect storm of extenuating circumstances. Like I said before, if you didn’t let the Hunt back in, you and Basira would likely have been killed. But I think you knew you wouldn’t be coming back from it. Before you changed, you made Basira promise to hunt you down and kill you.”

“And did she?”

“She lost track of you in the chaos. You gave chase after one of the Hunters. Once you killed her, the other Hunter started hunting you. For revenge.” Jon’s voice drops to a low murmur. “A few weeks later, the world ended.”

Which makes it sound far more passive than it actually was, but Jon isn’t in the mood for a scolding should he opt for an ‘I’ statement.

“And then what?”

“You were a full-fledged Hunter in a – a perpetual fear generator of a world,” Jon says grimly. “Do you really need to hear the details?”

“Tell me,” Daisy says. “Please.”

Jon understands the need, but recounting the apocalypse never gets any easier. He closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and takes a moment to gather his thoughts.

“When I opened the door and let all the Fears into this reality,” he begins, “the world was divvied up into thousands of different domains, each belonging to a different shade of terror. With few exceptions, most people were confined to one domain – usually whatever aligned with their deepest fears. Avatars and monsters were subject to the Ceaseless Watcher, but otherwise able to exercise control over the humans in the domains of their patrons. Most seemed to stake out territory and settle in one place – customizing their own little spheres of influence, creating playgrounds of their own making. But some got around. You were one of the ones that traveled.”

“What was –” Daisy grimaces. “Who was I hunting?”

“Well… in that place, no one got what they deserved, only what would hurt the most. And people are rarely afraid of just one thing. Most were magnets for multiple fears. The more nomadic Avatars and monsters would gravitate towards whatever individuals were most susceptible to their power, so to speak.” He bites his lip. There’s really no tactful way to phrase this next part. “In your case, you had a roster of specific targets that you were tracking. Former prey. Whether you were drawn to them because of their own fear of you, or because some part of you judged them to have ‘gotten away,’ so to speak… I’m not entirely certain. It may have been a bit of both.”

“I see,” Daisy murmurs. “Guess it makes sense that I would rank high among some people’s greatest fears.”

“Basira was tracking you when we ran into her. We were with her when we found you.”

“And was I… still me?”

“Yes and no,” Jon says hesitantly. “You were you, in a way, but only a small part of you. The Hunter. Everything else was buried too deep. Drowned. Even if I could have brought you back, it would have killed you. You – you didn’t even recognize me, or Martin. You recognized Basira – saw her as pack, wanted her to join you in the Hunt – but…”

“You were prey,” Daisy says quietly.

“Yeah.”

“You never did manage to grow a self-preservation instinct, did you?” Daisy squints at him. “I went full monster on you, and you still want me to sit next to you now.”

“You had sharper teeth then,” Jon says drily. Daisy scoffs and nudges his shoulder with hers. She doesn’t draw back after making contact, and when Jon doesn’t pull away either, she leans into him.

“Basira kept her promise?” Daisy asks after a minute.

“Yes. She didn’t want to, but…” Jon swallows thickly, the memory of Basira’s heartbreak bringing to mind his own. “It wasn’t an easy decision.”

Daisy rubs at her chest with one hand, as if to soothe an ache. “It wasn’t fair for me to ask that of her, was it?”

“Maybe not,” Jon sighs. “It seems fair choices are hard to come by, for most of us.”

“I… I don’t want her to have to make that choice this time.”

“Neither do I.”

“It’s never going to stop, is it?” Daisy glances at him, allowing her head to rest lightly on his shoulder. “It’s only going to get worse.”

“I’m sorry.” What else is there to say?

“Melanie got away,” Daisy says, a tinge of bargaining in her tone. “She managed to purge the Slaughter. And break away from the Eye.”

“Her situation was… different from ours. She wasn’t as far gone as we are. The Slaughter hadn’t fully claimed her, and the Eye never took her as an Avatar. But you’ve been living with the Hunt for most of your life; I signed myself over to the Beholding the moment I became the Archivist. We’ve become… attached to our patrons, dependent on them for survival. Symbiotic, in a twisted sort of way.”

“You really don’t think there’s a way back, then.”

“I don’t know for sure. I’ve seen it before, in my future, but – the world was different then. During the apocalypse, I was able to, uh… shift a person’s status from Watched to Watcher. I – I mean, technically everyone was Watched – the Eye had dominion over everything – but I could give someone control over one of the smaller domains. Create new Avatars, for lack of a better term.

“But turn a Watcher into solely the Watched, and they would typically unravel. I don’t know if that’s because the full focus of the Ceaseless Watcher’s gaze just happens to be lethal – particularly for Avatars aligned with other Powers – or if an Avatar is simply unable to survive being cut off from their patron regardless of the means of separation. I do Know that I wouldn’t have been able to survive being cut off from the Eye unscathed. I was… too much a part of the Eye in that reality. Not sure about now. For either of us.”

“That’s a roundabout way of saying ‘no.’”

“I’m not saying no, I’m saying that I don’t know. Supposedly escaping the Buried was impossible, and here we are.”

“Apples and oranges,” Daisy says sullenly.

“Maybe. I think it’s all too complex for clear-cut categories. Even the hard-and-fast ‘rules’ are only as strong as our collective belief in them. Almost like our expectations shore them up. I’ve witnessed all of reality being rewritten – all physical laws and supposed universal constants reshaped to center the Eye.” He reaches one hand up to tug on the hair at the back of his neck. “After all I’ve Seen, it’s difficult to conceive of anything being categorically impossible. Between all the dream logic and reality bending, there’s plenty of space for firsts and exceptions to the rules.”

‘I don’t knows’ are where the hope lives, Martin said once. At the time, Jon teased him for being a hopeless romantic, but truthfully, Jon was just as hopelessly endeared by Martin’s belief in such things.

“Have you talked to Georgie yet today?” Daisy asks, apparently ready to change the subject.

“Oh, uh – yes. This morning.”

“And?”

“Melanie was out of surgery and stable, but she wasn’t awake yet. Georgie promised to call tonight with an update.” Assuming nothing major comes up before then, a worried voice in Jon’s head supplies. He shakes his head to jog the thought loose. “Speaking of Georgie… have you given any thought to her suggestion?”

“What,” Daisy says, drolly skeptical, “playing a video game?”

“I realize it’s… somewhat out of the box, but it might be worth a try. Like Georgie said, there are multiplayer games where you can, uh… hunt down other players.”

Daisy plucks absently at her collar, glowering at the opposite wall as if the bricks there committed a personal offense. “It’s not the same.”

“A simulation might not come close to a real hunt, no, but – you might still get something out of it? Maybe?” Daisy directs her scowl up at the ceiling. Jon only digs his heels in, undeterred. “There are even some that have a survival horror theme. An aesthetic that already puts players in the mindset to be frightened, you know?”

“People play those games for fun, Sims.” She finally looks at him, eyes narrowed. “It’s about thrills, not mortal fear.”

“Sometimes genuine fear can sneak through. Haven’t you ever been so creeped out by a horror story that it stayed with you after nightfall?”

“Not really?”

“O-oh. Well, some people have that experience.” Jon gives an awkward little cough. “Anyway, under the right circumstances, a game can get the adrenaline pumping as well as a chase can. A fight-or-flight response doesn’t necessarily require a real physical threat.”

Daisy raises her eyebrows, transparently cynical. “Do you really think the Hunt is going to be satisfied with jump scares and – and low-stakes adrenaline rushes filtered through a screen?”

“No,” Jon admits. “But it might take the edge off. Sort of like reading old statements does for me. Not enough to stop you starving, but maybe enough to distract from the hunger pangs. At least temporarily. If nothing else, you did say you need a new hobby, and it’s not like this place is overflowing with viable entertainment options.”

“I guess,” Daisy sighs. “I mean, it’s not like I’m paying rent. May as well squander my paycheck.”

“If that’s the case, you should see if that eBay listing for that vintage The Archers board game is still up,” Jon says drily. “Last I checked, it was £2 with no bidders.”

“Yeah, and £30 shipping.”

“Sounds like £32 well spent, if you ask me.”

Daisy snorts and bumps her shoulder against his. “You, Jonathan Sims, are an absolute menace.”

Adrift and thoroughly divorced from the concept of time, end of the workday passes Martin by without his notice. Once again, he wonders whether Peter deliberately assigned him an office with no external window, not only to put another wall between him and the rest of the world, but to make it easier for him to lose track of time.

For an interminable stretch of time he sits catatonic, mind peppered with sporadic sensory input: Dead-weight limbs, listless and foreign-feeling. The brush of fabric resting against bare skin, every point of weightless contact a violation. The distant ticking of clockwork, rote and irrevocable.

Stand up, comes the thought, detached and intrusive: an instruction he cannot parse; empty phonemes wafted into a vacant mind, abandoned there to echo and disperse until they lose all meaning. A fragment of a signal from brain to nerves to fingers presses numb fingertips to thumbs, a cautious test yielding no sensation but for the vague, spongey give of flesh.

Then the body ostensibly belonging to him is on its feet, the connection between floor and soles disturbingly incongruent with unreality. Walking now, every footfall jarring in its impact; every step stretched and blurred like a botched time-lapse photograph; every molasses-sluggish forward motion met with invisible resistance, like swimming against a sludgy current.

He does not remember how or when or under whose direction he arrives in the Archives, swaying at the threshold of the Head Archivist’s office. Empty and still. Silence so pervasive it’s almost tangible. Viscous and inexorable. Trapping him like a fly in honey. Drowning.

When next he becomes aware of his surroundings, he’s wavering at the bottom of a ladder. Walls curving up and over his head, a brickwork warren stretching on and out into the murk.

Standing in place. Hovering like an afterimage. Rootless and incorporeal. Searching for… staring at… calling to…

There: something real.

“Martin?” Jon’s breath fogs the air as he speaks, but the way he says the name… his voice seems to cradle the word, shielding it against the cold. He sits up straighter, keen gaze sweeping the area like a lighthouse beacon. “Martin, is that you?”

That’s me, Martin thinks, and then, wonderingly: He says your name like it’s something precious.

At that thought, Jon’s eyes land on him like a searchlight.

“There you are.” His soft smile immediately falters, brow furrowing in concern. “Are you alright?”

He’s sat on the floor with his back against the wall, one knee drawn up to his chest, and Daisy pressed up against his side in a mirrored position, sharing a pair of corded earphones. Daisy is already thumbing at the screen of her phone, presumably pausing whatever it is they’re listening to, as Jon removes his earbud.

Martin opens his mouth to speak, but the air in his lungs has turned to viscid fog and the confused tangle of half-formed thoughts in his mind refuse to coalesce into actual words. Jon exchanges a glance with Daisy, who is already moving to stand. Martin wants to object – she doesn’t have to leave on his account; he can see that they’re busy; he’s fine; he’s just overreacting – but before he can cobble together a protest, she’s halfway to her feet, gripping the wall for support.

“I’m alright now,” Martin can hear her say.

“You’re sure?” Jon asks in a low murmur.

“Yeah.” She winces as she straightens her spine. “Knowing Basira, she’s still pouring over the same statements as she was this morning. She could do with an interruption.”

“Can you manage the ladder?”

Daisy stretches her leg out, testing her mobility. “Think so.”

They give each other another long look, a shared nod, and without another word, Daisy staggers her way to the exit and mounts the ladder.

As it does every time he witnesses these displays of unspoken understanding between them, an ugly pang of jealousy burns in Martin’s chest – some combination of envy, inadequacy, longing, and loneliness. Possessiveness, almost – and an instant later, the shame sets in.

But then the trapdoor closes, Jon looks Martin in the eye again, and the sincere, tender warmth sheltering there is enough to leave Martin reeling. It’s hard to comprehend anyone – let alone Jonathan Sims – looking at him like that; difficult to reconcile requited affection with a lifetime of fruitless want. Martin can’t shake the feeling that it will always be this way – and that his inability to trust in unconditional love is precisely what makes him so unlovable in the first place.

Jon clears his throat and pats the floor beside him. He’s seated on a blanket, Martin just now notices, folded over several times to cushion the hard ground.

He’d better not be napping down here, Martin thinks to himself.

“Martin,” Jon says, in that impossibly soft tone he’s taken to using around Martin these days, “I’d like you to come sit, if you’re amenable.”

It’s such a Jon way of phrasing the invitation, and the familiarity it engenders has Martin accepting without a conscious thought. He settles himself beside Jon, close but not touching. Those few inches of distance manage to be simultaneously loathsome and assuring. Martin lets his hand rest in that vacant space, fingers clenching around a fistful of blanket.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jon’s hand twitch, as if fighting back the urge to reach out and touch. Instead, he starts to rub the fabric of his trouser leg between his thumb and forefinger.

“What do you need right now?” Jon asks.

“I…” Martin pauses, unsettled by the sound of his own voice, grating and almost unfamiliar to his ears.

“Take your time.”

It takes a minute for Martin to wrap his mouth around more than one syllable.

“Nothing,” he says, the weight of the word nearly pinning his tongue in place.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing.”

Several more minutes pass before Martin is able to construct a full sentence.

“I’m just being stupid.” The words seem to echo faintly in the tunnel, despite how quietly he says them.

“What do you need?” Jon asks again.

“Nothing,” Martin repeats dully. He doesn’t need anything.

Jon doesn’t immediately respond. Martin can feel himself go rigid, anticipating… what – aggravation, impatience, disengagement? But Jon only runs a thumb along his jawline, a thoughtful frown on his face.

“Okay,” he says eventually, “what do you want, then? What would – what would help you feel better right now?”

“I… I don’t know,” Martin says in a voice so feeble it’s nearly inaudible. He flexes his fingers uncertainly, chasing after any physical sensation at all, only to find them numb and deathlike. The helpless sigh that shudders out of him wants to be a whimper. “I just – didn’t – don’t – feel real. Feels like I’m not really here.”

“Hmm.” Jon looks at him – really looks at him, taking his time to study Martin’s face. “Well, I can confirm that you are here.”

“You… you can see me?” Martin asks meekly, pleadingly, dreading the answer.

“Yes.” Jon pauses. “And if you’re agonizing over being a bother, don’t, because you aren’t. I always like seeing you.”

He should trust Jon – he does trust Jon – but it’s still a constant struggle to drown out that Lonely part of him that insists that isolation is safer, more dependable, and far more habitable. Unthinkingly, Martin reaches over, hand trembling in the air above Jon’s, fingertips just barely ghosting across scarred skin.

“Would you like me to hold your hand…?” Jon ventures.

Martin’s fingers curve inward as he pulls back slightly. “I, um.”

“You can say no,” Jon reminds him.

“I… I want it, but I – I – I don’t know if I can handle it right now, and I –” Martin draws back entirely, flapping both hands in frustration, trying to relieve the pins-and-needles sensation prickling through his veins. “I hate this. I hate being like this.”

Martin grimaces at the outburst, but Jon doesn’t seem to be judging him. Instead, he’s looking off to the side, a crease between his eyebrows now, as if he’s working through a problem.

“No skin-to-skin contact,” he says to himself, and then he looks to Martin. “Pressure helps me sometimes, when I feel like I’m not real. You could… lean against me? If you want.”

“I…”

“You don’t have to,” Jon rushes to reassure him.

“It’s – not that I don’t want to. I guess I’m just…” Martin can feel himself flush with embarrassment. “It’s daft, but I’m worried that I’ll be – I don’t know, incorporeal, or something.”

“I distinctly recall you telling me that you’re not a ghost.”

It takes a few seconds for Jon’s deadpan humor to sink in. When it does, Martin nearly chokes on a surprised laugh.

“I still can’t believe you thought I was a ghost,” he says, cracking a smile. The tight, bitter-cold knot in his chest yields just a little, like ice disintegrating under a spring thaw.

“In my defense, I was quite distraught at the time.” Jon’s eyes wrinkle at the corners and Martin is struck by overwhelming fondness. He doesn’t pull away when Jon reaches out, open palm hovering just above his shoulder. “May I?”

Cautiously, Martin nods.

“Hmm.” Jon applies the lightest touch at first, watching Martin’s face carefully. He waits until Martin nods for him to continue before he presses down more firmly. Before long, Martin can feel the warmth of Jon’s hand through his jumper. That warmth carries over into Jon’s smile. “Feels solid to me.”

The confirmation comes as a relief, as foolish as that makes Martin feel. He braces himself and leans against Jon’s side, releasing his held breath when his body meets with tangible resistance. At first he worries that Jon, scrawny as he is, won’t be able to support the weight, but he doesn’t budge when Martin melts against him. After that, it’s a struggle for Martin to keep his eyes open.

Jon must notice, because he whispers, “You can rest. I’ll be here.”

Martin doesn’t even have the strength to nod, let alone the energy to argue. He allows the steady rise and fall of Jon’s chest to lull him into an almost meditative state, his mind still floating somewhere outside of himself, but now tethered to the ground.

Then the silence starts nipping at his heels.

“Too quiet,” he mumbles. “Talk to me?”

“What about?”

“Anything.”

“Did you know that highland cattle have a double coat?” Jon says after a minute of consideration. “It insulates them against the cold. The outer layer is long – the longest hair of any cattle breed, in fact – and oily, which helps ward off the rain. Underneath is softer, almost woolly hair.”

Once Jon gets started, those little scraps of trivia soon progress to a nearly encyclopedic lecture. It doesn’t take long for Martin to lose himself in the rich timbre of Jon’s voice as he goes on about various Scottish breeds of cattle. Although he doesn’t fall fully asleep, Martin manages to drift in and out of consciousness enough that he loses track of time once more. This time, though, it’s a comfortable daze: there’s someone to keep him from straying too far.

At some point, he unthinkingly seeks out Jon’s hand. Jon presses his thumb into the center of Martin’s palm, rubbing small circles there, coaxing Martin further into peaceful relaxation.

“Sorry for interrupting you and Daisy earlier,” Martin murmurs groggily into Jon’s shoulder.

“Oh, we were just listening to The Archers.”

“Are you taking the piss?” Martin asks, opening one eye to scrutinize Jon’s expression.

“Unfortunately not.”

“You like The Archers.”

“Good lord, no. Blame Daisy.”

“Daisy likes The Archers,” Martin says, even more dubiously, sitting up now to squint at Jon.

“There are stranger things.”

Martin snorts and nestles into Jon’s side again. “If you say so.”

“Feeling better now?” Martin reflexively snuggles closer. Jon laughs softly, a little puff of a breath that rustles Martin’s hair. “I’m not going to deny you cuddles if the answer is ‘yes,’ you know.”

“Cuddles,” Martin whispers, the word dissolving into a clipped giggle.

“What?” Jon tilts his head. There’s a puzzled scowl on his face, as if he’s trying to decide whether or not he should take offense. It’s impossibly endearing.

“Cuddles,” Martin repeats, in a poor approximation of Jon’s voice this time. “Not a word I ever expected to hear from you.”

“Quiet, you,” Jon huffs, but he can’t disguise the way his indignant pout cracks into a smile under the weight of his own amusement. He almost seems to preen, as if pulling a laugh from Martin is a victory on which to pride himself. He reaches up with his free hand, pausing just above the top of Martin’s head. “May I?”

At Martin’s affirmative, Jon begins to comb his fingers through Martin’s hair, fingernails lightly scratching against his scalp. For the briefest of moments, some primal fragment of him recoils from the contact, instinctively unnerved by the vulnerability inherent to such closeness. Martin spurns that voice, breathes through its fit of angst and panic, and leans into the touch.

Little by little, step by step, he’s acclimating. He just wishes that it wasn’t such a process each and every time he lets his guard down like this.

“Bad day?” Jon asks once Martin settles.

“Something like that.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Martin groans. “But I should.”

“Only if you want to.”

“No, you should know, I just…” Martin heaves a wearied sigh. “Peter’s back.”

Jon gasps like he’s had the wind knocked out of him. The hand stroking Martin’s hair abruptly stills; the other, still clasped in Martin’s, constricts like a death-grip.

“Did he hurt you?” The question is steeped in an artificial, fragile sort of calm, but Jon can’t quite mask the intensity buzzing just under the surface: fear, protectiveness, and desperation all intermingled and reinforced by that ominous inkling of power that, despite his intentions, lurks behind every word.

“He didn’t do anything out of the ordinary. Just… trying to get me to recommit to the Lonely.” Martin scoffs. “And of course he was trying to do it in a way that would make me feel like it was my idea. Get me to convince myself that it was what I wanted, rather than something he was pressuring me into.”

“Of all the Powers, the Lonely is one of the most insidious, I think,” Jon says quietly. “It seeks out victims who already have one foot in the Lonely, reinforces those fears, promises kinship – a paradoxical form of it, anyway – and then it just… waits. Spend enough time disconnected from the rest of the world, and it doesn’t take long to start telling yourself the lie that it’s for the best. That it’s what you are; that it’s all you’re meant to be.”

“And I fell for it,” Martin mutters.

“Anyone would, subjected to the right conditions.” Jon waits until he catches Martin’s eye before he continues. “It isn’t your fault. This is what the Fears do. It’s what they are. They find an opening, they sink their hooks in, and they pull you under. They don’t let go until either you drown or you learn to breathe fear. The only way out is for someone to throw you a lifeline, and even then, the odds aren’t great. And the Lonely in particular – one of the first things it does is make it difficult to even conceive of a lifeline. It’s hard to catch hold of one if you never think to look for it.”

“I thought you hated convoluted metaphors.”

“Yes, well, unfortunately the Powers That Be tend to elude any sort of straightforward, concrete discussion,” Jon grouses. “Just one more reason to begrudge them, really. My point is, the Lonely is an insufferable liar and so is Peter.”

“What do you know, they’re perfect for each other.” The remark succeeds in putting a lopsided smirk on Jon’s face, much to Martin’s delight. “Anyway, Peter said his plan won’t work unless I’m voluntarily Lonely.”

“He’s right, although his plan has nothing to do with the Extinction. He needs you to choose the Lonely because those were the terms of his bet with Jonah. He poaches you out from under the Eye – gets you to pledge yourself to the Forsaken – and he wins, with the Institute as a prize. He fails to convert you, he loses, and he does what Jonah wants, which is for me to be marked by the Lonely.”

Jon says that last part so nonchalantly. As if it’s a foregone conclusion; as if he’s become so accustomed to dehumanization that it doesn’t even give him pause. Martin grits his teeth, biting back a surge of anger on Jon’s behalf.

“Yeah, well,” he says tightly, “Peter bet on the wrong horse.”

A sharp intake of breath leaves Jon sounding strangled when he says, eyes wide and lips parted, “Oh?”

“I mean, he can’t just sic the Lonely on me like he would any other victim, right? That wouldn’t count as a win. He needs me to choose it. And I’m not going to do that.”

“Yeah?” The expression of unguarded, cautious hope dawning on Jon’s face makes him look years younger.

“Yeah,” Martin says, feeling increasingly emboldened. “The funny thing is, I don’t – I don’t think I ever chose loneliness. I never wanted it – that was just a lie I told myself, and the Lonely just – echoed it back to me. S-so Peter’s out of luck, because if there are other options, then the Lonely will always be involuntary. Because it’s not what I want.”

“You – you mean it?” Jon brightens, leaning forward.

Martin’s heart skips a beat and flutters hummingbird-quick against his ribs. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Jon smile – not like this, that is, beaming and uninhibited and altogether breathtaking. Immediately, Martin decides that he wants more. It seems wrong for something so exhilarating to be so rare.

He doesn’t know which of them moves first, and it doesn’t matter, because Jon is in his lap, and Jon is nuzzling into his shoulder, and Jon is here and solid and so, so alive in Martin’s arms, breathing warm and steady into his neck, smiling against his skin, hands scrabbling at his back to cling to his jumper. Martin’s fingers seek purchase of their own, and then something clicks.

“Jon,” he says, leaning back just far enough to confirm his suspicion, “is this mine?”

“Are you just now noticing?” Jon asks, devastatingly fond. “Martin, I’ve been wearing this jumper off and on for the last several weeks.”

“You have?” Martin all but squeaks, heat creeping up his neck and to the tips of his ears. “No. No, you –” Jon’s grin is widening, leaving Martin increasingly flustered. “I – I mean, yes, you have, obviously, I know that, but I – I – I –” Martin gulps, mortified, as Jon finally fails to contain his suppressed laughter. “Look, I didn’t recognize it until just now, alright?”

“Well,” Jon says, ducking his head to chuckle softly against Martin’s throat, “it’s mine now, and you can’t have it back.”

Which is fine with Martin, really, because he would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t helplessly charmed by the newfound knowledge that not only is Jon an unrepentant clothes-thief, but apparently also an insatiable cuddler.

End Notes:

To address Martin’s concern: Jon does, in fact, nap in the tunnels sometimes. Listen, with Jurgen Leitner (derogatory) in absentia, there was an opening for the position of Beleaguered Tunnel-Haunting Hermit and Jon has all the necessary qualifications.

So anyways, who else thinks Peter’s bio on a dating app would probably just be that “every living creature on this earth dies alone” quote from Donnie Darko? I bet he thinks 'survival of the fittest' means 'every man for himself'. What an insufferable clown.

No Archive-speak in this chapter to cite.

I wanted to make a joke about a The Archers-themed Monopoly, so I asked duckduckgo if it was a thing. Sadly, it is not. There IS, however, a 1960s The Archers board game, and yes, there ARE eBay listings for it.

The first section of this chapter was written before eps 190-192 dropped. I think it still lines up well enough with what we saw of Melanie & Georgie’s characterization in these most recent episodes, with the qualifier that things have gone very differently in this AU compared with canon. (Also, I took some liberties wrt Georgie’s not-feeling-fear thing, obvi. Some of it matches with the most recent episodes, some of it not so much, but I decided to keep it anyways.)

Oh and I think I might have given myself cavities with the last section of this chapter. (I’m aro-spec; it’s hard to tell when I’m going over the top, but hopefully it’s fluffy without being overly cloying.)

[kathleenzhao]

BASIC INFORMATION:

Name: Kathleen Zhao.

Nickname: Most people address her by her full name, but the few she’s close to call her Kathy. Don’t try it unless she likes you, though.

Birthday: July 1st.

Age: 33.

Gender: Female.

Place of Birth: New York City, New York, United States.

Places Lived Since: Chicago, Launceston, and Porto Velho, United States. London, United Kingdom.

Current Residence: Knightsbridge, Kensington and Chelsea, London.

Nationality: American.

Parents: Kenneth Zhao (father), Ga Xiaoyou (mother, deceased)

Number of Siblings: One older sister, Rachel Zhao (38)

Number of Children: One son, Luca Salerno (4)

Relationship With Family: Eh, not terrible I guess, but not good. I think she just views things in a ‘they could be worse’ kind of way. They were never hostile toward each other or anything. Kathleen’s father had zero relationship with his parents (was pretty much adopted into his Italian best friend’s family) and her mother left hers behind in China to move to the United States, so Kathleen has never had grandparents in her life. It was always just the four of them. Her mother died when she was fourteen due to illness (which hurt, because Kathleen and her mom were close) and her father didn’t really handle it very well. At all. Losing his wife devastated him, pushed him more into his work. After that, he just had less time for his kids? Kathleen still hopes it’s because they hurt him as a reminder of their mother, and not because he cared that little about them, but he’s not the kind of man who talks about his feelings.  Kathleen and her sister barely talk because she disapproves both of their father’s work for the Lomazzo family, and Kathleen’s connections to the mafia. They don’t see each other anymore, apart from the holidays, and even then things are kind of tense. Rachel has her own life now, and she’s made it abundantly clear there’s no space in it for them. As a result, she has never met her three nieces in person, because Rachel keeps her two families very separate; likely out of shame, I suppose. Kathleen makes an effort to keep in touch with her father when she can, though. Things aren’t always easy with him, but she still loves him. 

Happiest Memory: Cooking with her mom. Can’t say there was ever a specific time that stood out, but she remembers those afternoons as being her favourite part of childhood. Probably where her own passion for being in the kitchen comes from. Tries to hold on to as many traditional recipes that her mom shared with her as possible as a tribute to her.

Childhood Trauma: Losing her mom pretty much broke her heart. She was the only one who every really supported her pursuit of ballet. The only one who really showed her warmth at all, to be honest. Kathleen misses her a lot. Wonders if things would be different for her now had she not lost that pillar in her life.

PHYSICAL:

Height: 5′9″

Weight: 118lbs.

Build: On the thin side, especially for a dancer.

Hair Color: Brown.

Usual Hair Style: Something like this. Casual, but she prefers longer hair over short.

Eye Color: Brown.

Glasses? Contacts?: Only needs them for reading.

Style of Dress/Typical Outfit(s): Kathleen lives in dresses, for the most part. Has a very typically feminine approach to attire, but keeps it classy. Is not afraid to spend a hefty chunk of money on her wardrobe, that’s for sure.

Typical Style of Shoes: Always heels. Expensive heels.

Jewellery? Tattoos? Piercings?: This necklace was given to her by her mother on her twelfth birthday and she’s worn it ever since she died, pretty much. Doesn’t have any tattoos. Has her ears pierced once, and that’s it.

Unique Mannerisms/Physical Habits: None.

Athleticism: Very high. You don’t maintain a dancer’s physique by sitting on your butt eating pasta all day. Though to be honest, I think she’d prefer to do that.

Health Problems/Illnesses: Had some pretty severe issues with anxiety in her early twenties, but she has it mostly under control these days.

INTELLECT:

Level of Education: Finished high school. Was more concerned with pursuing ballet after that, rather than a college degree. 

Languages Spoken: English and Italian fluently. The Mandarin she learned from her mother leaves something to be desired, though. Makes her sad.

Gifts/Talents: Well, she was definitely a talented ballerina who probably had a more promising career there than one as a burlesque performer. Pity that went out of the window. 

Mathematical?: Not really. 

Makes Decisions Based Mostly On Emotions, or On Logic?: Usually emotions. Kathleen likes to think she’s ‘logical’ but it’s rarely the case. She doesn’t often lose her temper, but she’s definitely a follow the heart type.

Life Philosophy: Life is what you make it. 

Religious Stance: Was raised Catholic because her father is religious, but her mother was not. Doesn’t really practice much, and when she does, it’s usually out of habit rather than because she’s actually a faithful person. 

Cautious or Daring?: A healthy mix of the two. 

Most Sensitive About/Vulnerable To: Eh, a certain past relationship certainly made her vulnerable to conflict with men. If a man raises his voice at her she nopes out pretty fast. Doesn’t talk about it, doesn’t think about it, removes herself from the situation.

Optimist or Pessimist?: Optimist.

Extrovert or Introvert?: Extroverted. 

RELATIONSHIPS:

Current Relationship Status: Single.

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual.

Past Relationships: One bad. Two with great men who taught her plenty. And one that she wishes hadn’t ended at all. There will be a post on this. 

Primary Reason For Being Broken Up With: Kathleen had always been the one to do the breaking up until Dante, actually. His reasoning was essentially that being with him was dangerous because of the enemies he’d made. He didn’t want her to be a convenient way to get to him. 

Primary Reasons For Breaking Up With People: Eh, the other three relationships all had their own reasons. There was no common denominator. 

Ever Cheated?: No. Though she has been the person someone has cheated with.

Been Cheated On: By three of the four.

Level of Sexual Experience: Look, being a Vixen certainly has its perks, but she also has pretty steep standards. Average by choice. 

A Social Person?: Absolutely. Kathleen loves being in the company of others, particularly her fellow Vixens. That being said, she’s also learned to be content on her own. I think she has a pretty healthy balance. 

Most Comfortable Around: Peyton and Cece.

Oldest Friend: Cecelia Hathaway.

How Does She Think Others Perceive Her?: Honestly, to those who don’t know her well, she can seem kind of aloof sometimes. Maybe kind of full of herself, or just the type to give off that ‘I think I’m better than’ you vibe. I think that’s mostly part of her Vixen character that she finds hard to turn off, though. 

How Do Others Actually Perceive Her?: I mean, she’s a fucking dork. Absolute Vixen mom. Warm, friendly, caring once you get to know her.

SECRETS:

Life Goals: Be a top tier actual mom, not just a top tier Vixen mom.

Dreams: They mostly revolve around Luca rather than herself. Just wants him to grow up happy, healthy, and with a good support system in his life. Given that Dante feels the same way as her, I also think she has high hopes that he’ll stay away from a life in the mob, too. That’s pretty important to her.

Greatest Fears: Losing her son. Anything bad happening to him at all. I don’t think she’d cope honestly, because he’s the best part of her life.

Most Ashamed Of: Her first relationship.

Secret Hobbies: None. Kathleen loves to cook and adores ice skating, but doesn’t keep either of them a secret. No need.

Crimes Committed (Was she caught? Charged?): Kathleen is an angel, thank you.

DETAILS/QUIRKS:

Night Owl or Early Bird?: Night owl.

Light or Heavy Sleeper?: Light.

Favorite Animal: Red panda. Look at their little faces!

Favorite Foods: Kathleen tries to maintain a vegan diet, but that always flies out the window when she’s drunk because sushi. Also pasta. Anything involving pasta. Feed her pasta, and she will love you forever.

Least Favorite Food: Beets because what the fuck.

Favorite Book: Nothing specific, but romance novels that make you cry are her go-to when she can find the time to read.

Least Favorite Book: Anything too intense, because she doesn’t have the attention span to stay involved if she has to decipher what’s going on.

Favorite Movie: Loves all the cheesy Hallmark ones that make normal, functioning human beings want to die.

Least Favorite Movie: Horrors. Absolute coward. 

Favorite Song: If ABBA sang it, she loves it. (Waterloo is her favourite, and also, conveniently, her go-to karaoke song.)

Favorite Sport: Misses the heck out of American Football, though the New York Giants are her team, so is she really missing much? Also got dragged into soccer by her dad. That man cheered louder for Italy than most of the Italians she knows.

Coffee or Tea?: Coffee.

Crunchy or Smooth Peanut Butter?: Neither.

Type of Car She Drives: Kathleen doesn’t drive in the UK. 

Lefty or Righty?: Righty.

Favorite Colour: Yellow.

Cusser?: Occasionally, though usually jokingly or to make a point. I don’t think she resorts to it much as a way to express anger or anything. 

Smoker? Drinker? Drug User?: Never, occasionally (though she’s not a huge fan of being drunk), never.

Biggest Regret: Staying with her first boyfriend for as long as she did. I wouldn’t say she regrets letting him control her life, because no matter how bad things got, had things turned out differently, she never would’ve become a Vixen, but Kathleen sure could’ve done without all the other fucking baggage.

Pets: Two. A cat here named Mr. Data. And a puppy here named Pip she just adopted as some company for herself and Luca. Mostly because it brings her a little comfort to have an extra yappy layer of security in the house in case anybody comes creeping. Kathleen loves animals. Would have ten dogs if she had the time for them.

[rainbowwing251]

Oh, curious for the headcanons for the Mario Bros!

I haven’t played too many of the games in the Super Mario Franchise, but I think I can do this!

But first, I would like to make this statement: I am very sorry for all of the Mario fans out there. Fire Emblem fans may have lost a localized Shadow Dragon and the Blade of Light, but Mario fans lost Super Mario 3D All-Stars (I have a digital copy of that game, by the way. I want to get back to playing it at some point), Super Mario Bros. 35 (which was a very fun game, in my opinion), the Super Mario Bros. Game & Watch, and the ability to upload your courses in Super Mario Maker on the Wii U (though I guess that was going to happen at some point).

Needless to say, you guys have lost a lot. I hope that these headcanons will make you feel a bit better!

Starting off with Mario, I think he would be a ler-leaning switch who is incredibly ticklish. He isn’t as sensitive as his brother is, but he’ll still break down in laughter if someone were to put their hands on one of his worst spots.

Before I begin the lee!Mario headcanons, I would like to make an announcement: Mario is canonically ticklish! This is shown in Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door, Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga, and Mario & Luigi: Dream Team. There might be more, but for now, these are the games that Mario can get tickled in!

If you want to know how Mario can be tickled in these games, feel free to ask! I got this information from the Mario Wiki, and I would be more than happy to provide the links to the pages that I found all of this information on!

Now that I have gotten that out of the way, I’m going to list off Mario’s worst spots. Those spots are his sides, his knees, and his neck.

His often gets targeted by Luigi, Princess Peach, and Princess Daisy. All three of them love to sneak up on him and launch a surprise tickle attack. He’ll react as if he had just jumped into a pool of lava, and it’s one of the funniest things that you’ll ever see in your entire life.

He doesn’t squirm around or fight back all that much while he’s being tickled. He may prefer to be the ler, but he won’t get mad at his ler for making him laugh, especially if it’s Luigi. Mario seems like the kind of guy who would enjoy a good laugh every now and then, and tickling would definitely help out with that.

If his ler is Luigi, and if he gets in the mood to fight back against him, he will do so, but not out of anger. He’s not going to discourage his brother from tickling him. If anything, he’ll try to initiate a tickle fight so he can encourage his brother to fight back and turn the tables.

He is weak to teasing, but only if the teasing is coming from someone he knows. Don’t try to tease him if you are a stranger to him, he will hate it. A lot. Don’t tease him if you are anything like Bowser or Bowser Jr., either. He’ll hate it even more.

If he knows who you are, then you are more than welcome to tease him while you tickle him. He is especially weak to Peach and Luigi’s teasing. Something about Peach’s tone and the way that Luigi teases him just kills him on the spot.

Teasing is one of the few things that can make him blush. His blush will be a light pink color when you start tickling him, and it will gradually darken as you keep going. Teasing will speed up the darkening of his blush.

Mario’s lers are Luigi, Peach, and Daisy, as I mentioned earlier. The Toads will occasionally join in on the fun if they think he needs a good laugh. In Smash, the first three people in the previous list will continue to target him, but now, they are joined by Link, Ness, the Villagers, and the Inklings.

Let’s move on to ler!Mario headcanons. To me, Mario seems like the kind of ler that will tickle those who want or need to be cheered up. He will not tickle someone into hysterics (unless he is explicitly told to do so), and he will not overstep any boundaries.

His favorite way to tickle someone who’s has a particularly bad day is to lightly tickle their sides and the bottom of their ribcage to get quiet giggles out of them. He’ll keep it up until one of the following occurs:

His lee tells him to stop. He will always comply with this the request, even if he hasn’t been tickling that person for long.

His lee tells him to increase the intensity of the tickling. He’ll do his best to comply with this request without making it harder for his lee to breathe (unless he is explicitly told to tickle them until they are nearly breathless. He’ll hesitate to go through with this request, but he will eventually fulfill it).

His lee has been cheered up successfully. He’ll retract his hands as soon as his lee tells him that they are in a better mood, but if they tell him to keep going, he will comply.

Unless he is tickling Luigi, Mario will not initiate a tickle fight with anyone. He doesn’t know why, but the idea of getting into a tickle fight with anyone that isn’t his brother sounds unappealing to him (though he will occasionally make an exception).

The idea of teasing anyone who isn’t Luigi also sounds unappealing to him (but once again, he can make an exception), so unless you ask him, he won’t incorporate teasing into his tickling. If Luigi is the lee, then he will let loose a flurry of teases that are meant to make him laugh a little bit more than he already is.

Obviously, Luigi is his main lee, though he will go after Peach and Daisy from time to time. In Smash, Luigi is still his main lee, but he will also target the younger fighters. Out of all of them, Ness and the Inklings are the ones that will be targeted the most.

It’s Luigi time, now! He is definitely a lee in my mind.

I recently made a post about the most ticklish fighter for each Smash game, and how they would get into a tickle fight with one another. In that post, I said that couldn’t come up with an idea as to who the most ticklish fighter of Smash 64 would be. After thinking about it, I decided to give that title to Luigi. I hope the upcoming headcanons will make my reasoning clear.

Luigi is FAR more ticklish than his brother is. He’ll jump at the slightest of touches, regardless of whether or not the touch was intentional. He will squeak if you catch him off guard. He might fall over if you tickle his worst spots. And he secretly loves it all.

He doesn’t like to admit to it, but he enjoys being the lee due to the fact that he is getting attention. It’s not like anyone is intentionally ignoring him, but he definitely lives in his brother’s shadow for the most part. To him, tickling gives him the attention that he secretly craves, and it also gives him the satisfaction of making someone else smile, even if he’s the lee.

His worst spots are his underarms, his stomach, and his ears, but you could tickle him anywhere and he would laugh.

He is VERY squirmy! Seriously, he’s worse than both Pit and Shulk, and those two are even more ticklish than he is! If you pin his arms down to his sides, be careful while you are tickle him, because he could knock you down on accident due to his squirming.

Despite all of this, he won’t try to fight back, unless he’s in a tickle fight. If that’s the case, then he will try to get payback on his ler, even if it ends with him getting tickled to death.

Luigi can easily become overwhelmed by tickling, and he might become scared of you if you go too far with it, even if you didn’t mean to do so. This is another thing that you should take into consideration if you want to tickle him.

I probably should have said this earlier, but I can totally see Mario sending the Polterpup after Luigi if he sees him in a bad mood. I can also see him destroying his brother with tickles as payback for laughing at him at the end of Luigi’s Mansion.

Before I list off the names of his lers, I want to make one final lee!Luigi headcanon. Be warned, this headcanon will contain a spoiler for the plot of Luigi’s Mansion (and a possible spoiler for the plot of Luigi’s Mansion 3).

After the events of Luigi’s Mansion (and possibly Luigi’s Mansion: Dark Moon and Luigi’s Mansion 3), Luigi would therefore suffer from frequent panic attacks due to trauma. He became afraid of people sneaking up on him, and he fears that something will jump out at him at any given moment. He’s especially afraid of paintings after seeing Mario in one during the first Luigi’s Mansion and Luigi’s Mansion 3.

To help him recover from his trauma, Simon and Richter will tickle him after he makes a full recovery from a panic attack. Overtime, his anxiety will decrease as he begins to replace the terrifying thought of someone coming to harm him with a more positive image of being tickled by Simon and Richter. He hasn’t made a complete recovery just yet, but he is on the right path.

In his homeworld, Luigi’s main lers are Mario, Peach, and Daisy. In Smash, Simon and Richter will join those three, and they will all work together to help Luigi recover from his trauma.

As a ler, he is rather nervous. His nervousness can be compared to Pyra’s nervousness when she was getting used to the idea of tickling other people.

He’s always afraid of something going wrong while he tickles someone. He’s worried about his lee passing out, worried about digging his fingers a little too deeply into someone’s skin, and worried about his lee getting angry at him. Needless to say, he has a hard time with tickling other people, and he might leave his lee lying and waiting on the ground.

If this happens to you, you have two choices. You can either wait it out, or try to help him with calming down. You can even encourage him to tickle you. That way, he’ll know that you are comfortable with him, and he will regain the courage to tickle you.

He doesn’t like to tease his lees (even if his lee is Mario), but unlike his brother, it’s not caused by a lack of interest in teasing people who are not related to him. Instead, it’s due to the fact that he will make himself blush if he tries to tease his lee. He knows that people will take advantage of this weakness, so he won’t tease his lees.

Just like his brother, he won’t engage in tickle fights, unless they involve his brother. However, unlike Mario, he’ll stay away from tickle fights because he knows for a fact that he will likely lose the fight.

In his world, Mario and Daisy are his main lees. This is carried over into Smash, where Simon and Richter will join them (though Luigi tends to tickle them far less often).

And that’s that, I suppose. I’m a little nervous about posting this, but I’ll be brave and post it anyway.

P.S Is Luigi canonically ticklish? I have a feeling that he is, but I’m not entirely sure about that.

[razorblade180]

I love writing Ilia. I've a lot of self discovery I reflect on the version of her that I write but I find myself fearful of the world daring me to use her for that. As if her being a lesbian is non-negotiable even though I've been in a relationships with someone who was a lesbian prior. Being childhood friends meant that we could look passed established preferences and see someone as a partner regardless. It was a part of discovering who we were but there's this looming anxiety of even wanting to share that part of my past in a character I feel could deliver it.

How do you deal with sharing that? You've a courage to be admired for writing a demi-Ilia, but how do you keep the fear criticism from getting to you?

I’ll be straight up honest and say sometimes I don’t; especially starting out. I think I played around with Sunshower in my head for a solid 8 months before even introducing the idea. There’s even sometimes till this day I want to write a simple fluff post about a ship and I don’t use Sun and Ilia because I don’t feel like stirring any pot and I want that post to gain notes. Not exactly the best reason but most creators can agree it sucks to make something that’s barely noiced. That being said, I’m happy to say that rarely happens nowadays and there’s a few key reasons for this.

First of all, I’d like to thank people like you and my other active followers for not only letting me know that you admire/adore this, but for coming to my defense respectfully to others who are rude in my thread. That genuinely means a lot and inspired confidence.

Second, I’ve come to terms that no matter what, there’s gonna be someone online that will be rude for some reason or another about any given thing I say. I am not above just hiding those comments or blocking those people. Most insults are weightless and I just make them disappear that way when it leaves my head, there’s nothing around for me to remember it. Others get flat out ignored. The only time insults grab my attention and I comment back are ones that sound really stupid, because I have a problem letting people just be stupid. They gotta know to a degree how insane they sound. I must work on not doing that. 😅

Third, I understand what I’m getting into vs what I’m doing. This isn’t my first rodeo. I understand why people would have a problem with what I’m doing and how there are other people who all but blatantly try to disrespect/erase what makes a character resonate with an audience. That is indeed rude, offensive and calls aggressive people forward. However, I understand that’s not my intention and that I’m not erasing anything. I’m not writing a story where Ilia wakes up one day and decides “I guess I’m straight now” or “I just had a phase.” No, Ilia is still very much into women and tussles with this feeling of being into this guy because that’s her friend and also being into guys is not a normal thing for her. Everyone knows this in the show and the fandom. We’re all the same page that this is different from the norm established and the story itself is trying explore and discover how that’s possible. I would blatantly write something to spit in the face of others. I can’t those who get offended but they also have to deal with the fact they can not read it or understand that I’m not attacking them.

The fourth is the most important reason. The slight anxiety I get from negative people does not come close to the joy and love I have for this story. There isn’t an ounce of my heart that doesn’t love making this, because it is this personal self expression piece to pretty big degree. I love writing a romance slow-burnish story about two people craving, yearning to be in love and accepted whole heartedly through all the insecurities; the mental and emotional loops they put theme through when the simple answer is just allow yourself to be in love and to be loved back. It’s how romanticize and envision the kind of love I want for myself. How could I not be thrilled to write it!? I put elements of that in multiple things. All my works are personal and intimate to myself to an extent. A person could argue if you’re that patient about it then why not write my own original story with it. One, those people are rude. Two, that’s a lot of work. Three, why wouldn’t I use perfectly good characters I can fit into this theme? Lastly, less people would read it. Fanfiction, I don’t gotta work for an audience lol! I pick characters that people already know and have an interest in. It hard to sell to people original characters; especially when you can’t draw.

Anyways, I hope this helped or made things clear. There’s two more important things I’ll leave off with. The first one is a bonus. If you’re ever anxious about what fans might think of what you’re doing, then take a step back and look at what already exists in comparison to what you’re doing. You realize certain things are kinda nonsense. People get angry because I want to write Sun and Ilia in this healthy relationship that explores their emotions even though that’s not canon, meanwhile some other account is drawing Cinder making out with Ruby or Jaune. Cinder, the woman that causes those characters immense trauma. I feel no shame in Ilia wanting to cuddle a guy.

Second thing is for anyone whose read all of this. Just wanted to say thanks and I genuinely love questions like these. I generally don’t talk much about myself or how my work relates to me because I don’t think people typically care and I’ve grown up in an environment where you simply don’t talk about yourself unless asked. I know I don’t need permission to talk about myself on my own goddamm account, but I get really excited when somebody gives me an excuse to talk about the things on my mind in detail in relaxation to my interests. Have a nice day.